Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1035694.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work, Fairy_Tales_&_Related_Fandoms, Fae_Tales_-_not_poignant
  Relationship:
      Mafydd/Gwyn
  Character:
      Gwyn_ap_Nudd, Mafydd, Crielle, Lludd, Efnisien
  Additional Tags:
      Child_Abuse, Seelie_Court, Seelie_fae, D/s, Hurt/Comfort, Abandoned_Work
      -_Unfinished_and_Discontinued, Domestic_Violence, Torture, systemic_and
      long-term_child_abuse, Secrets, Unreliable_Narrator, sexual_awakening,
      Consent_Issues, Uninformed_Consent
  Series:
      Part 7 of The_Fae_Tales_Verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-07 Completed: 2013-11-10 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 22259
****** The Drawn Bead ******
by not_poignant
Summary
     A tie in with Game Theory, and will really only make sense if you're
     up to date with that.
     Deliberately isolated from others by his family, Gwyn has never had
     the chance to make friends, or bond with people, until Mafydd comes
     to visit the family estate. His awakening into what it is to have a
     friend, and even a lover, happens quickly - but it's dangerous,
     Mafydd is a Reader (empath) and Gwyn has a terrible secret that he
     cannot share. And with Efnisien lurking nearby, Lludd disapproving
     and Mafydd and Gwyn having to hide their relationship, they are in
     more danger than they can possibly know.
Notes
     An unfinished work, though I will be posting the 3.5 chapters of it
     that I've written. This is more of a mini-story designed to flesh out
     Gwyn's back story, for those who want to know more about it. I
     initially wrote this for myself, so I had a very clear picture of
     what Gwyn's childhood was like, so the writing style is a bit
     different than usual, and the narrative is very much a 'Gwyn
     narrative' (i.e. quite rough and straightforward).
     Though I warn for Major Character Death (Mafydd's death), this never
     happens 'on screen,' since it's meant to occur in chapter 5, which I
     don't plan on finishing. Some things are too sad for me to write, and
     you can always check later Game Theory chapters to see how Gwyn
     reacted to that. :/ For those who want to know exactly *how* it
     happened, feel free to Tumblr message me, or leave a message in the
     comments in the last chapter (chapter 4).
     Gwyn is 16 in this (but his mental age is closer to 13), and Mafydd
     is about the fae equivalent of 18/19. Hence the underage warning.
     Please read the tags. This had originally been marked as enthusiastic
     consent, but due to the age discrepancy, this has been upgraded to
     consent issues and uninformed consent. While I still believe Gwyn
     would have consented regardless of his age, Mafydd is quite coercive,
     despite constantly checking in on Gwyn's wellbeing, and checking if
     they need to stop regularly.
     *
     Feedback would be very, *very* welcome for a little side story like
     this, no matter what it is! Thanking you in advance!
***** Bold *****
Gwyn released his arrow, using the new hold that his tutor had taught him, and
watched the pear he’d aimed at split into three different pieces, pale creamy
juice spraying up into the air. He lowered his recurve bow and looked around,
before clenching his hand into a triumphant fist. His father didn’t like it
when he got too excited after getting something right during training, but Gwyn
couldn’t help it. The new grip was working. He was far more accurate now. That
was his first shot, and he’d gotten it straight away.
He practiced until the sun was setting, then retrieved and cleaned his arrows
of pear juice in the river by his father’s estate. Weekends were his to do what
he wanted with, provided he studied and trained, and that never bothered him
too much. Training on his own, choosing what he read, it was an uncommon
freedom.
Now that the weekend was ending, he found himself wishing for the next one
already.
He saw the horse-drawn carriage up by the property and swore. He’d forgotten
they were having guests for dinner, that they would be staying for the week. He
bolted up through the servant’s entrance and down towards the cleaner’s
station. He didn’t have time to ask someone to draw him a bath, and he didn’t
like to bother the servants overmuch anyway. He ended up scrubbing himself down
with a bucket of pre-soaped washing water, ignoring the exclamation of dismay
when one of the cleaners spotted him. It was more important that he be clean
and presentable, than they follow their protocol.
He sprinted up to his rooms, taking the stone steps two at a time and nearly
stumbling on the last one. He threw his door open and then froze.
A boy – another teenager, his age maybe – was standing, looking at Gwyn’s
longbow. He had short, dark hair, and when he looked up, Gwyn saw that his eyes
were an uncommon brown; paler than usual, like weak tea.
‘Hallo, I’m Mafydd. My parents are over for dinner tonight. I can’t say I’m
looking forward to it, can you?’
‘Why are you in here?’ Gwyn said, looking around nervously. There wasn’t
anything to be nervous about, everything was in its proper place, and besides,
he had nothing material that could reveal his secrets. But...no one ever came
in his rooms without his permission, except his father.
‘That’s not very polite,’ Mafydd said, ‘You’re meant to say, ‘hallo, I’m Gwyn
ap Nudd, pleased to make your acquaintance.’ You’re highborn, you know that.’
'You’re not supposed to be in here,’ Gwyn said, placing his recurve bow on the
bed, along with the quiver of arrows.
‘Oh, I know, but then I’m not quite as highborn as you. I can break more
rules.’ His voice had a cheerful lilt to it, and Gwyn found himself smiling
despite himself. Mafydd’s eyes gleamed when he did that, as though he’d been
angling for that response the entire time.
‘Family dinners, eh? I hate them,’ Mafydd said, ‘My parents will chat with your
parents about something and then we’ll have to be quiet, except of course, when
they either talk about our achievements, or mock us for our disappointments.’
Gwyn laughed under his breath. That sounded exactly the way family dinners went
when guests were over.
‘You should sit next to me,’ Mafydd continued, ‘Keep me company. You’re young
like I am. There aren’t many of us, you know.’
Gwyn did know. He and Efnisien were of an age, and so everyone thought they
should spend time together. But Efnisien was cruel, and if he wasn’t directing
that at Gwyn, or at animals, he was sleeping. Gwyn’s method of dealing with
Efnisien was to lose him in a forest, and make sure that he put down any animal
that Efnisien tormented as quickly as possible. He didn’t want Efnisien to find
out he was doing that, but he couldn’t leave the animals to die slowly, either.
‘You’re kind of cute, actually,’ Mafydd said, and Gwyn stared at him. ‘Oh, come
on, like you haven’t heard it before!’
Mafydd laughed, and Gwyn flushed hot. He didn’t have friends and his father
kept him away from social events, unless they were supervised family dinners.
He’d never been called cute by anyone, let alone a boy of similar age whose
laugh made his room sound friendlier than it ever had.
‘Oh no, I’ve made you uncomfortable? I’m sorry, I do that.’ Mafydd swung on
Gwyn’s bedpost, and then traced his finger down the recurve bow. ‘My Da is
pretty irreverent too, actually. Runs in the family.’
‘Then father likely won’t enjoy his company,’ Gwyn said, taking the recurve bow
away and hanging it up on the wall properly.
‘Actually, my Da and yours go way back. They used to fight in the field
together. S’why we’re here, actually. So they can get pissed and reminisce on
old times. You know how these guys are.’
Gwyn blinked. His father had acquaintances, and colleagues, and family members,
but friends?It was hard to imagine.
‘You’re not all stodgy like your Da, now, are you?’
‘I...’ Gwyn didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think he was, but then, he
certainly wasn’t as open or laidback as Mafydd either. He flushed again, and
Mafydd laughed when he saw it.
‘S’okay, we’re staying for the whole week. We’ve got plenty of time to get to
know each other. And if you hate me, then so be it!’
Gwyn stared as Mafydd walked easily out of his room, heading down for dinner.
Gwyn followed a few steps behind, rubbing at the back of his neck – still
flushed – frowning. He didn’t know what he thought of Mafydd, but he was sure
he wouldn’t hate him. Gwyn found it hard to hate anyone, and Mafydd was
strangely endearing.
*
Dinner was as terrible as Mafydd had predicted it would be. Gwyn focused on
eating slowly, trying to savour each bite. He was ferociously hungry after his
day training, but he hadn’t been able to stop in the kitchens first and wolf
down some proper fare. So instead he was stuck with this fancy, formal food
that lacked anything approaching proper nourishment.
Mafydd dropped his salad fork, and they both bent down at the same time to pick
it up, almost bumping heads. Gwyn looked up, surprised to see Mafydd looking at
him, that impish gleam in his eye. This close, Gwyn could see little golden
flecks in his irises. He had a brief moment where he wondered what kind of fae
Mafydd was, before Mafydd looked pointedly behind himself at the conversation
still going on, and them dramatically rolled his eyes.
‘See? Boring,’ Mafydd whispered. Gwyn’s breathless chuckle left him before he
knew what he was doing, and Mafydd grinned in response. ‘Back to the
grindstone,’ Mafydd said under his breath, and they both rose up again above
the table, pretending that nothing had happened.
Gwyn’s father looked over at them both, stern. Gwyn felt something cold move
through him. All he had to do at family dinners was be on his best behaviour.
He looked down at his plate and waited a long, tense minute. When he looked up,
his father was still looking at him, and Gwyn returned the gaze as steadily as
he could. He wouldn’t be sent away while guests were there, but has father was
looking at him like he wanted to.
It wasn’t until he turned to pick up his goblet that he noticed Mafydd looking
between his father and Gwyn with a barely hidden curiosity.
And Mafydd was staying the whole week?
Gwyn repressed the urge to groan.
*
After dinner, he’d gone straight to his rooms. He had a parchment that his
father wanted him to memorise. It was tedious and dry, but he thought if he
memorised it, his father might offer that tight-lipped smile he offered about
once every three or four weeks, when Gwyn had done something that Lludd deemed
worth his while.
He was poring over the parchment when his father strode into his room. No
knocking, as usual.
Gwyn’s heart started pounding when his father sat down on the bed. He stared at
the parchment, but his attention was completely taken up with the presence of
his father. He couldn’t concentrate properly. The letters in the words kept
swimming together.
‘You were late to dinner, this evening,’ his father said coldly.
‘I wasn’t, I arrived at the same time everyone else d-’
‘I am not in the mood for your dissent,’ his father said, and Gwyn bit his
tongue.
Silence between them. Gwyn didn’t apologise, because his father rarely wanted
to hear apologies. He looked past his father to the recurve bow hanging on his
wall. He’d just lost track of time. He should have been to the house far before
sunset. Maybe then he also wouldn’t be so incredibly hungry. He didn’t dare
duck back to the kitchens until his father went to bed. He wasn’t supposed to
do things that lowborn people would do. But he liked everyone in the kitchens.
They were down to earth and they fed him things. His mother had always said he
was easily pleased, like it was a bad thing.
‘You are to stay away from Mafydd,’ his father said, and Gwyn’s brow furrowed.
‘Why? Isn’t he the son of your friend?’
‘Friend?’his father said with disdain. ‘We fought a few times. He was efficient
with a catapult. In all honesty I have been trying to put off this dinner and
visit for years. But he won’t hear another word of it any longer. As for the
son, he is a Reader.’
Gwyn startled. A Reader fae. They were rare. They could see into the emotions
of other fae, though it was likely that Mafydd was untrained and not yet in
control of his powers. It was still dangerous, even Gwyn knew that. His heart
fell. He’d come to like Mafydd already. But he could see, immediately, why his
father wanted him to stay away. Readers could pick up secrets and other
tantalising hints of stashed emotion as quickly as a mongoose searching out a
snake. As they got older, they often occupied valued places in the Court.
He’d probably have to avoid Mafydd for the rest of his life.
‘So you understand,’ his father said, and Gwyn nodded.
‘I do.’
His father stood and peered over Gwyn’s shoulder, and Gwyn tried not to tense
further and failed.
‘You’re reading the parchment I gave you.’
‘Yes, father,’ Gwyn said.
‘I gave it to you two weeks ago, and you are only just reading it now?’
Gwyn’s jaw tightened, he ground his teeth together.
‘Well, I suppose you have been training a great deal lately. Make sure you
memorise this one.’
Gwyn nodded. His father offered him one of those rare, tight-lipped smiles that
Gwyn craved, and then walked out of his room, closing the door behind him.
Gwyn sighed out the breath he’d been holding, and rubbed his fingers over his
forehead. He was hungry, his stomach kept screaming at him for food, and he
didn’t have any stashed in his rooms anymore.
He’d liked Mafydd, too. A lot, for someone he hardly knew.
He forced his attention back to the parchment, and committed the sentences to
memory.
*
It was past midnight when Gwyn woke up with a start, Mafydd pulling the
parchment out from under his head. He’d fallen asleep at his reading desk,
again.
He looked around wildly only to see and sense that it was very late.
‘You’re not supposed to be in here,’ Gwyn said, and Mafydd peered at the
parchment.
‘This looks bo-ring.No wonder you fell asleep on it. You’re cute when you
sleep, too, you know? Why aren’t I supposed to be here? Your Da, right? Is he
ever stern.’
Gwyn pushed his chair back and put some distance between them. Mafydd was a
Reader,it just wasn’t safe. Even if Mafydd didn’t know hardly anything about
his powers. It could never be safe.
Mafydd, oblivious, walked up to the recurve bow and took it off the wall.
‘We should go out,’ Mafydd said, looking over at Gwyn conspiratorially, sienna
eyes gleaming in guttering candlelight. ‘Your Da won’t know anything. But I can
shoot a bow, you know. You take the recurve, and I’ll take the longbow, and
that’ll be perfect. Not hunting anything, of course. Just...for fun.’
‘It’s...late,’ Gwyn said. He looked at the recurve bow that Mafydd held out to
him. It was tempting. He’d never been able to do something like this with
someone his own age before. And he enjoyed learning with his tutors, but his
father had forbidden them from befriending him.
‘Is it? I hadn’t noticed,’ Mafydd said. ‘I have insomnia. You’d be helping a
mate out. I know you want to. I can tell.’
Gwyn swallowed. His mind kept yelling that Mafydd was a Reader fae, he probably
wasn’t throwing those words around lightly. He probably couldtell. He stared at
the recurve bow, and then looked up through the ceiling to the upper levels
where he imagined his father was sleeping. He snuck out at night sometimes on
his own. His father never usually woke up for it. He drank at night, he slept
quite soundly.
‘Or you know,’ Mafydd said, looking over at Gwyn’s four poster bed. ‘We could
just say here. Make our own fun.’
‘You are forward,’Gwyn said, affronted and strangely flattered and even curious
all at the same time. And then, helpless, he laughed. ‘My father has told me to
stay away from you.’
‘I just didn’t expect Lludd to have a son that looked like you,’ Mafydd said,
rubbing at the flush on his cheeks. ‘I’m just pushy. If it makes you
uncomfortable, I can stop. But I don’t think it really makes you uncomfortable.
Does it? You should let go a little. We should go out and shoot. You can get to
know me better. I can get to know you a little better.’
‘I...’
‘Come on,’ Mafydd said, leaning on the syllables. ‘I know you want to. I bet
you know how to sneak out of here. You look like the upmarket type, but I bet
you’re not.’
Gwyn took the recurve bow hesitantly, and then swallowed when Mafydd handed him
the quiver of arrows. He took up Gwyn’s longbow and hefted it in his hands, and
then measured it against his own height. Gwyn was shorter than Mafydd, so the
longbow was a little too short for him, but Mafydd shrugged.
‘I have my own bolts in the carriage, but I didn’t think to bring a bow.I
should have, but this still has a nice feel to it. Now, how do we get out of
here again?’
Gwyn took a deep breath. He shouldn’t be giving in so quickly, but he couldn’t
help it. Mafydd made everything seem so easy, and Gwyn daydreamed sometimes of
meeting someone like him. Of practicing in the forest only to stumble across
another fae his age, who enjoyed some of the same things he did.
And though he didn’t like angering his father directly, he was at an age where
he didn’t like doing everything he said, either. It was complicated. It went
against his own centre, but he couldn’t help himself. His father would control
every minute of his every day, if he didn’t carve some time out for himself.
Gwyn nodded resolutely, and then lead the way out of the estate. He thought
Mafydd might betray his presence, might keep talking in that jocular way, but
Mafydd was quiet as a mouse, and even better at keeping his footfalls silent on
uneven ground than Gwyn was. It made him feel confident, good even. This could
be alright.
*
Gwyn was so hungry that he only managed two hours of shooting before he
wandered off to the orchards and shook some oranges off one of the gnarled
trees. He picked one up and peeled it with his fingers, getting the sticky
juice all over his hands and not caring that Mafydd was watching. A moment
later, Mafydd picked up his own orange and began to peel it neatly.
‘You shoot well,’ Mafydd said, sectioning off the orange and biting into a
piece far more neatly than Gwyn, who had just bitten into the entire fruit, and
then laughed when juices dripped down his chin. He ran the back of his forearm
over his mouth and smiled, abashed.
‘Thanks. You’re better than me with the longbow.’
‘Even so,’ Mafydd agreed. ‘Can you imagine how good I’d be with one that was my
size? Well, I’m better than what you’ve seen, anyway. If only we lived closer,
you’d be fun to shoot with. You bring out my competitive streak. Not many
people do that. I’m the best at our estate.’
‘Estate? You said you were lowborn, before,’ Gwyn said, digging his thumbs into
a second orange and leaning against the orange tree itself, watching Mafydd
with a greater sense of ease. Mafydd was only up to his third section of
orange.
‘No,’ Mafydd laughed loudly, ‘I said I was less highborn than you.Which, Gwyn,
most people are. Your family, honestly, god knows who they sold their souls to
for all that status, but shit doesn’t stick to them, does it?’
Gwyn shrugged.
‘You haven’t met Efnisien, then.’
And you don’t know about me.
‘If I hadn’t seen you eat with all the right cutlery at dinner, I’d never guess
you could right now,’ Mafydd laughed as Gwyn shook orange juice off his
fingers. And Gwyn smiled back.
‘I didn’t eat all day. I was out shooting. I was meant to come back soon enough
to get some food from the kitchens but instead...formal dinner. I hate them.
It’s not real food.’
‘It’s really not,’ Mafydd said. ‘We are growing boys. What am I supposed to do
with that dish with the slivers of almonds? That’s not enough to grow the
fingernail on my littlest of fingers. Our cook makes this bread for the
servants, it’s filled with stew and comes out piping hot and I swear, it’s
ambrosia.’
‘Maybe our cooks should exchange recipes,’ Gwyn said, stomach rumbling at the
thought of bread and stew. Not that cook needed any more recipes, what she made
was already wonderful enough.
Mafydd walked closer to the tree that Gwyn was leaning against, and Gwyn
watched him, biting his lip and then licking orange juice off of it. He’d
demolished his third piece of fruit, peel littered the floor around him. Mafydd
came quite close and then bent down and picked up one of the oranges that had
been shaken off the tree, turning it in his fingers.
‘I amforward, you know,’ Mafydd said, smiling over at Gwyn as he turned the
orange slowly. Gwyn’s awareness heightened, his skin prickled at the way Mafydd
was looking at him. ‘I’m only here for a week. It’s not long. I might not see
you again.’
Gwyn swallowed, he rubbed at his cheek with the sleeve of his tunic, uncertain.
‘I want to kiss you,’ Mafydd said. ‘Here. Now.’
‘You don’t know me,’ Gwyn said, staring at Mafydd’s eyes, and then looking down
at his mouth, before looking away.
‘This would help a lot,’ Mafydd said. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘Why?’Gwyn said, curious, sticky with orange juice that he hadn’t been able to
wipe away properly. He shifted against the tree and then stepped away from it,
not wanting his back against something, wanting the option to retreat. He was
curious, but that was the worst part. His father had warnedhim, and the more
time he spent with Mafydd, the more he liked him.
‘I want to know what your mouth tastes like,’ Mafydd said.
Gwyn made a noise at Mafydd’s brazenness, and then licked his lips when Mafydd
stepped forwards.
‘And as I’ve just eaten an orange, I imagine I’ll taste quite sweet, really. Do
you want to find out?’
Gwyn nodded and then stepped backwards when Mafydd went to close the space
between them.
Mafydd laughed, and Gwyn smiled, embarrassed.
‘Generally, we have to be close for this to work. You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Sorry,’ Gwyn mumbled, and Mafydd grinned. He reached out with an easy hand and
grasped Gwyn’s hand in his own, juice tacky between their skin. Gwyn found
himself wondering what Mafydd’s mouth would taste like as well. Mafydd had been
so blunt, that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. And he was still thinking
about it when Mafydd pulled him over, until their chests were touching, until
they were very close.
‘A whole week I’m stuck here, and I’m just about the luckiest fae on the
planet, that I’ve found a way to pass the time.’
Gwyn shook his head, and then paused when Mafydd rested a thumb on his lip. He
felt a spark of warmth zing all the way down the back of his spine.
‘I’m not a way to pass the time,’ Gwyn said, and Mafydd laughed gently.
‘Me either. It’s just a saying. You want to stop?’
Gwyn swallowed, and then his eyes drifted shut when Mafydd trailed his thumb
along his bottom lip, back and forth. His breathing hitched when Mafydd pressed
closed lips to the corner of his mouth. And when those lips opened, and the tip
of a tongue traced the orange juice that was drying there, he reached up with
his other hand and placed it on Mafydd’s upper arm, steadying himself.
‘You forgot to answer the question,’ Mafydd said, against the corner of his
mouth. ‘Do you want me to stop?’
‘Please don’t,’ Gwyn said, wincing when he realised his voice was shaking. And
then he smiled, tentative, as Mafydd grinned against his mouth.
Mafydd pressed closed lips against Gwyn’s, and left them there, lingering. It
wasn’t until Gwyn shifted, restless, and his mouth started to open, that Mafydd
slid his tongue easily into Gwyn’s mouth and licked at the inside of his upper
lip. Gwyn shivered, and then groaned at the sensation of it, and Mafydd grinned
against him, breaking away once more.
‘See? Oranges. You taste good, Gwyn. You should try it.’
‘Let me try,’ Gwyn said, and Mafydd nodded, let go of Gwyn’s sticky hand and
stroked his palm down Gwyn’s shoulder.
‘Try anything, go on. I’m not fragile.’
‘Okay,’ Gwyn said, breathless, leaning forwards and pressing his mouth to
Mafydd’s. He didn’t move for a few seconds, getting used to the feeling all
over again. For some reason it was different, even though they’d just had their
mouths together, kissing, a minute ago. He grasped Mafydd’s shoulder more
firmly, and was rewarded with a slight sound that made him want to know how to
find more of them. He opened his mouth against Mafydd’s slowly, and then Mafydd
dipped his tongue back into Gwyn’s mouth and stroked at Gwyn’s tongue, coaxing
it forward. He hummed in approval when Gwyn slipped his tongue into Mafydd’s
mouth, sensory feedback translating everything into sudden textures. Heat.
Slickness. Oranges. Salt.
‘Oranges?’ Mafydd whispered as Gwyn broke off to catch his breath.
‘Yes, it’s good,’ Gwyn said. ‘Can we keep doing it?’
‘Oh,’ Mafydd said, laughing warmly. ‘Remind me to tell you how I really,
reallywasn’t looking forward to this week.’
‘Okay, let’s do that later,’ Gwyn said, leaning in again. Mafydd chuckled
against his mouth and Gwyn followed suit a moment later, unexpectedly
delighted, filled with a rush of warmth. His other hand came up and grasped
Mafydd’s other shoulder and he licked into his mouth, chasing the sweetness
with his tongue. It was heady, and he found himself wanting more.
When they broke away a second time, they were both breathless.
‘You’re only here for a week?’ Gwyn said, licking the taste of Mafydd off his
lips.
Mafydd laughed again, and drew Gwyn back in to kiss him once more.
***** Taste *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is pretty much just character development PWP, lol.
     Sorry not sorry.
     *
     Thanks to all who have commented, left kudos and even bookmarked or
     subscribed so far! And to the people getting in touch on Tumblr! Oh
     my goodness I love you guys, and you help the world to go around.
     Seriously, I have no reason to put this up, except for you folks. I
     hope you know that. <3 :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Mafydd had joked that Gwyn would need to sleep in after a night of kissing
underneath an orange tree, but Gwyn woke early as usual. He was tired, giddy,
but he kept his face schooled to a careful indifference. If his father caught
him with the stupid smile on his face that Mafydd had gently mocked in the
early hours of the morning, that would be it. He’d never be allowed to see him
again. Let alone the actual consequences if his father found out he’d disobeyed
and seen him again, had patently notavoided him.
Gwyn was starving. He didn’t wake early enough to make it by the kitchens. By
the time he’d finished with his athletics tutor, he was light-headed. He passed
by the kitchens on the way back to his rooms, scrounging up two small bread
rolls as he went to pick up his books. He tore into them, and was sucking
crumbs off his fingers when he opened his door, only to see a clay cooking pot
in the middle of his bed.
He walked over to it, noticed it was still warm, stew inside. A note in messy
scrawl simply said:
Will see you later, after classes. Boring! –M.
Gwyn picked up the pot and saw a spoon underneath it, and ate so quickly that
it was a miracle he was able to savour the stew and appreciate the flavour at
all. He couldn’t help but taste the faintness of oranges, as though Mafydd’s
tongue was still inside his mouth. The giddiness returned, a fuzziness that
spread all the way to his fingers. Mafydd had brought him something to eat. He
was touched.
When he arrived at his second lesson, his tutor kept asking him why he was so
happy. Gwyn had backtracked quickly and said it was because he’d finally
managed to memorise a scroll his father had wanted him to.
But he wanted to see Mafydd.
He wished he knew what ‘later’ meant.
The rest of the day dragged by, Gwyn a mixture of excited and impatient and
wondering if they could kiss again. The night before, Mafydd had kissed him
until his lips ached, and then had rubbed his fingers across Gwyn’s swollen
lips, groaning something about how, ‘I’m definitely gonna have to try that
later.’ And when Gwyn had said, ‘Beg pardon?’ Mafydd had winked at him and
said, ‘Eh? What? Did someone say something?’
It was an effort to keep his expressions from his face. He was used to hiding a
great many emotions, but giddiness was not one of them. Even when he schooled
his face to indifference, he caught himself in a looking glass and saw that his
cheeks were flushed, his eyes hectic with brightness. There was very little he
could do about that, except perhaps to say that he’d trained harder than usual.
No one asked, but he did make sure to keep out of his father’s way, and
Mafydd’s way. He desperately wanted to see Mafydd, but as his heart started
pounding violently in his chest at just the thought, he knew his father would
suspect something if Lludd saw them in the same room together.
What could ‘later’ mean if Gwyn couldn’t see him around the others?
Dinner was a tense affair. Gwyn had been seated next to Lludd, away from
Mafydd, and he kept his head down and ate his food, hoped that it came across
like he was very diligently avoiding him. Eventually he was drawn into
reluctant conversation with Mafydd’s father – glancing at Lludd several times
to make sure it was okay for him to talk at the dinner table. But Lludd didn’t
eye him with disapproval and his lips didn’t flatten into that thin line, so
Gwyn allowed himself to be drawn out on matters of his training, only answering
questions when asked, and not prolonging the conversation any longer than he
had to. That was the way he’d been taught, but it was difficult. It was obvious
that Mafydd’s father knew a great deal about war and battle, and unlike Lludd,
wanted to freely and cheerfully speak on the subject.
It was hard to hold his questions in, but he did.
He was so studious at avoiding Mafydd that he didn’t even know if Mafydd had
been trying to look at him all night. Would Mafydd understand? Probably not, he
realised, with a sinking sensation that turned to heaviness in his gut.
Still, he wondered if he imagined the weight of that sienna gaze on the top of
his head for the rest of dinner.
*
Gwyn was stepping out of the shower and startled abruptly when he saw the
figure in there with him. He was still catching his breath when Mafydd pushed
him back against the cold tiles and splayed both of his hands on Gwyn’s naked
body, exhaling hard.
‘Mafydd!’ Gwyn said, looking past him furtively, swallowing at the sensation of
another person’s hands on his bare chest. Mafydd’s hands were large, fingers
long and clever and callused. And they were almost cold, his own skin flushed
after the heat of his own shower. It was one of the few places he allowed
himself to indulge at all.
‘Told you I’m forward,’ Mafydd said, flicking a grin up at him.
‘Mafydd, my father might come in,’ Gwyn hissed.
‘Into your bathroom?Gross. I don’t even want to know.’
‘Mafydd!’ Gwyn said, and Mafydd was laughing at him.
‘The door’s closed and locked, and your da isn’t going to barge in I’m sure.
Well, look at you, I did wonder,’ Mafydd said, eyes finding Gwyn’s limp cock
and settling there. Gwyn tried to side-step away, and Mafydd’s hands tightened.
‘Don’t look at it like that,’ Gwyn whispered.
‘No? Why not? What’s wrong with it?’
And then a hand curled around his flesh and Gwyn gasped at the audacity,
because that wasn’t even something he did to himself.
Gwyn reached down to move Mafydd’s hand, but Mafydd squeezed with his palm and
Gwyn’s mouth dropped open, enough that Mafydd only had to lean forward and he
could slide his tongue inside. Gwyn made a sound of shock, and Mafydd chuckled
into his mouth. He didn’t taste of oranges anymore, a mild saltiness and
something that was just Mafydd. Gwyn leaned forwards into the kiss even as he
tried to arch his hips away, disturbed that Mafydd could do this so easily.
Gwyn didn’t think of his body in this way, not at all. It was an object to be
trained, not a...
Mafydd squeezed his hand again, and Gwyn made a small, cut-off sound when he
felt himself begin to harden.
Mafydd was stroking his tongue against Gwyn’s sensually, over and over again,
and it was distracting. This wasn’t like training, where he had to focus on
different parts of his body at once to coordinate everything. This was...
When Mafydd withdrew, Gwyn’s mouth went to follow and Mafydd shook his head.
‘You have to be quiet, okay? You want this to keep going don’t you?’
‘I, what are you-?’
Mafydd sank down to the floor, muttered something under his breath and then
dragged Gwyn’s shirt and pants over and pushed them under his knees. He settled
and looked up at Gwyn, and then grinned cockily. He still had one hand around
Gwyn, and he leaned forwards and opened his mouth, licked the head of him.
Gwyn’s mouth hung open, a soundless gasp was followed by the back of his head
thumping into the tiles. The inside of Mafydd’s mouth was still cooler than
Gwyn, so hot had he run the water in the shower. But it was wet and there was
suction and it was like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life. He knew of
it, he’d heard talk of it, but he’d never thought, he’d never dreamed...
‘Baby, you’re shaking,’ Mafydd said, leaning back and pressing a hand to his
thigh. ‘Remember, keep quiet. Put your fist up by your mouth, okay?’
‘But Mafydd, I-’
‘You can do it, you want to listen to what I say don’t you? Right? I guessed
right about you, didn’t I?’
‘What are you even talking about?’ Gwyn said, confused. ‘Guessed what? Am I
doing something wrong?’
Mafydd’s eyes widened, and then a grin split his features. He was so quick to
smile,Gwyn realised. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile back, just a little. And
there was Mafydd on his knees in front of him, hand still around him, and Gwyn
was hard now, aching. Mafydd’s mouth was right there.
‘Gwyn, no, you’re doing great. Nothing to worry about. I just have some
instincts about you. Just listento what I’m asking you to do. Put your fist up
to your shoulder and rest it there, you’re gonna want something to bite into,
okay?’
Gwyn did what he asked, feeling awkward, but Mafydd only winked at him, leaned
back in and took the head of his cock back into his mouth. Gwyn’s teeth slammed
together and he braced himself against the tiles, shivering like he was cold.
Mafydd lowered his hand down to the base of him, and then took more of him into
his mouth. Mafydd made it look easy, he didn’t even hesitate. One moment it was
the head of his cock resting on Mafydd’s tongue, the next he was taken deeper
and the suction was one of the most incredible things he’d ever felt in his
life. His back arched, he raised the flat of his palm to his mouth, blocking
off a sharp moan of pleasure. When Mafydd groaned in amusement and approval,
Gwyn kept his hand there, grunting at how good it felt, unable to believe that
this was happening.
Steam curled around them, thick in the back of his nose, and he sucked it down,
desperate for air. Light jumped like agitated dust motes in his blood, he felt
it leap higher and higher, a painful heat that added an edge to everything that
Mafydd did. Alongside it came a thread of apprehension, but he couldn’t
remember why. Heat was coiling low in his pelvis, a spring that was pulling
tighter and tighter, drawing his balls up into his body.
When Mafydd started moving his hand back and forth, Gwyn had to remember how to
breathe, and then suddenly panicked because the light was too close.
‘Stop, stop, stop,’Gwyn said, hearing the sound of his own hyperventilation as
he jerked sideways too hard and earned an accidental scrape of teeth against
his shaft for his trouble, whimpering in pain.
‘Sorry, shit, what’s the problem?’
Gwyn stared at him, frightened. He was supposed to keep the light in,but that
felt too much like...too much like he wouldn’t be able to keep it under
control. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even supposed to talk about it,
except to say that he was light fae and that his light was a neutral light.
Mafydd was wiping at his spit-slick mouth with the back of his hand and Gwyn’s
cock twitched in appreciation. Mafydd laughed when he felt it jump in his palm.
‘Okay, talk to me, what’s wrong?’
‘I felt...’ Gwyn stared at Mafydd as though Mafydd could tell him the answers.
What had just happened? He’d had orgasms before hadn’t he? Woken up with the
sheets sticky and a feeling of shame and pleasure spiralling all the way
through him. And he’d never released his light then.
It was just...it felt so close.
Mafydd’s face cleared in understanding.
‘I didn’t even think, sorry,’ Mafydd said, keeping his hand around him. ‘Your
power, huh? You’re too young to have it under control? It’s not like mine is
it? Not dormant until you’re of age? That’s no matter, I can teach you.’
‘Teach me what?’ Gwyn said, heart fluttering in his chest. Did other people
have powers that they were supposed to suppress? He thought it was only him.
Was there someone else who had the light like he did? Who had done the terrible
thing he’d done?
‘Well you know, some fae feel like they’re gonna blow their power when they
come. You have to learn how not to do that, because otherwise your da is gonna
find out, isn’t he? Can’t have you glowing like a torch lit with pitch.’
‘You can teachme?’ Gwyn said, and Mafydd nodded, moving his hand absently on
Gwyn’s cock. Gwyn made a strangled sound and Mafydd chuckled when he realised
what he was doing. Instead of stopping, he did it more deliberately, brushing
his thumb over the head of Gwyn’s cock, collecting precome and smearing it back
over him, deliberately pushing his foreskin further down.
Gwyn’s hand clapped back over his mouth as he cried out. He felt the sting of
it on his lips.
‘Yeah, I can teach you,’ Mafydd said roughly, hand stilling. ‘It feels like
it’s building underneath your skin, right? That’s how it’s been described to me
before. I once fucked a fae who blew out his power by bursting into flames.
Like, let me tell you, that is notwhat you want to have happen if you’re gonna
fuck someone. You’re not as dangerous as that, but I think the mechanics of it
is the same.’
Mafydd was lazily moving his hand, too slow to have Gwyn coming, but not so
slow that Gwyn didn’t feel it there, the light creeping along underneath his
skin, hungry and desperate.
‘Close your eyes,’ Mafydd said, voice firming. Gwyn’s eyes drifted shut
immediately, responding to the tone in his voice. ‘Great. Now, find your light.
There should be a core of it inside you. Everything is coming from that.’
‘I...’ Gwyn’s brow furrowed. He thought it was meant to be hard to find the
centre of something, but it seemed like as soon as he looked for it, it was
there. It was a wild, massive ball inside of him, with huge loops and ropes of
light spinning out of it. The whole thing shook with a massive need to
devour.Gwyn shook to see it there. He had dreams about it sometimes. ‘I have
it.’
‘Don’t panic, this is the easy part,’ Mafydd said. ‘Build a glass ball around
the whole thing and then imagine that ball shrinking along with the power until
you can pick it up.’
As soon as Gwyn imagined the glass ball around it, the sensation of light
immediately dropped down from underneath his skin. He breathed out a sigh of
relief, and then he moaned when Mafydd’s hand sped up against him.
‘M-Mafydd...’ Gwyn said, hesitant. The light didn’t feel like it would be held
for long.
‘Shrink it down, can you hold it yet?’
Gwyn had forgotten to do that part.
‘I can’t concentrate,’ Gwyn pleaded.
‘You have to concentrate,’ Mafydd said firmly. ‘Or we can’t do this. So
concentrate,shrink the ball down. You’re gonna have to do this every time,
okay? One day it’ll become second nature, but for now you need to concentrate.’
Gwyn nodded, gasped, squeezed his eyes shut as Mafydd kept up that faster
speed. He could feel the light leaping and bouncing against the inside of the
ball he’d made around it. And as he shrunk the ball down, he could feel the
light fighting back against him, its hunger a terrible thing. He whimpered in
distress, and then felt another hand rubbing the outside of his thigh.
‘You’re doing great,’ Mafydd said. ‘You shrinking it?’
Gwyn nodded.
‘Okay, grab it, is it small enough to grab?’
Gwyn mentally reached out hesitantly, worried that if he touched the ball in
his mind, he would somehow shatter it and unleash the light. But he was meant
to trust Mafydd, after all, this was the most control he’d had over his light
ever.Short of just ignoring it all the time and not doing the things that
agitated it, this was incredible. He didn’t know it could be like this. And
that hand on his cock, he didn’t want it to stop.
But he didn’t want to hurt Mafydd.
‘The glass will crack,’ Gwyn said, shakily.
‘No, no, baby, it won’t. A lot of fae have to learn this, okay? If more of them
cracked the glass, wouldn’t we know about it? People would care a lot more
about this kind of stuff. So just, touch your fingertips to it, and then grab
it. I promise it won’t break.’
Gwyn reached out mentally with his fingers and touched it, expecting to be
burned. Instead he felt the cold surface of glass in his mind’s eye, felt the
light quivering.
‘Okay...okay,’ Gwyn said. ‘I’m-’
‘Shove it down,’ Mafydd said. ‘Literally grab it and push it down towards your
feet.’
Gwyn did, and he felt resistance immediately. But the more he mentally pushed
the ball down, the further the light fell from his skin, the less close and
agitated it was.
‘By the gods,’ Gwyn said, amazed.
Mafydd’s hand sped up immediately. Gwyn moaned past his hand, which had gone
lax against his own mouth, and Mafydd tightened his grip, spread more precome
down his shaft so that some of it was slick, some of it dry.
‘Keep that ball down.You concentrate, or we’re gonna have some problems in
about sixty seconds.’
And with that, Mafydd let his mouth envelop the head of Gwyn’s cock again,
applied suction so intense that it edged on painful. The light leapt up again
and Gwyn felt like he was splitting himself apart to keep the light down, to
keep focusing on the pleasure that Mafydd was wringing out of him. His own hand
clawed at his face, fingernails digging in as he tried to concentrate on both.
I can’t,Gwyn wailed at himself, but he couldn’t, he couldn’thurt Mafydd.
Sounds were being torn from him now, and a hand on his hipbone, the other at
the base of his cock stopping him from thrusting forward too hard. He was
whimpering on every exhale, dragging breath in, starving for air. And Mafydd
kept working him over, determined, lacking so much shame that Gwyn forgot to be
ashamed.
The glass ball escaped his grip, light crept on a rapid swarm of spider’s feet
beneath his skin until Gwyn, with one gargantuan amount of effort, grabbed onto
the ball again and shoved it down just as Mafydd hummed around him and his
concentration shattered.
The light couldn’t rise fast enough to blow through him, and instead something
else moved violently through his nerves. He keened up against his own hand,
biting into his lower lip so hard that he bled. And Mafydd kept his mouth
around him, swallowed him down as he found his release. It was the first time
he’d ever experienced it while conscious, not asleep, and he didn’t know it
could be better.His hips spasmed, his legs were shaking so hard he thought his
knees would have buckled were they not locked into place.
And Mafydd licked at him, stroked him through it, even reached down and tickled
his fingers over the underside of Gwyn’s balls. Gwyn made a strangled noise of
protest at that because everything was too sensitive. He felt stretched too
tight beneath his own skin, as though he might – at any moment – split apart
even without the light to do that for him.
Mafydd withdrew, smacking his lips together lewdly. He opened the fastening of
his pants as he stood up, and his cock sprung free. He rubbed at it, easing his
own arousal, and then grabbed Gwyn’s wrist and pulled his hand away from his
mouth. He sealed his lips to Gwyn’s, pushing the taste of his seed inside of
his mouth. Gwyn made a sound of protest, and Mafydd ignored him, painting it
over his tongue, licking it up into the roof of his mouth.
Gwyn’s protest had been kneejerk, and it wasn’t until the taste of it actually
reached him, that he realised he didn’t mind it so much. He licked back at
Mafydd’s tongue, curious, and Mafydd laughed against him.
‘Your turn,’ Mafydd said, not unkindly. He ruffled Gwyn’s hair in his fingers
and then leaned back and looked at him appraisingly. He saw where Gwyn had
bitten into his own lip and leaned forwards again, lapping at the spot of
blood. ‘Oh, baby, you had a good time, didn’t you?’
‘How did you know to teach me that?’ Gwyn said against his mouth. ‘I didn’t
know.’
‘Yeah, some older fae just forget we aren’t born knowing. Mine isn’t like
yours. Mine is like...a really fucking stubborn glass ball beneath the ground
that I have to dig for and I usually can’t find it, let alone bring it above
the surface. Yours started above, and you have to push it down. Mostly it’s all
about just shifting it where you need it to go. You did so great. You sound so
good when you come. Fuck, I need to get you somewhere I can hearyou.’
Mafydd stroked a hand down Gwyn’s chest, and then reached out with both hands
and turned him so that Gwyn was standing on his own clothing where it was
rumpled and creased on the damp floor.
‘Your turn,’ Mafydd said, leaning his shoulders back against the wall and
canting his hips forward. ‘Get on your knees for me, okay? Do you want to? You
don’t have to, but-’
‘I really want to try,’ Gwyn said, getting down on shaky knees and then
laughing when he managed none too gracefully. His legs felt weak. Mafydd
ruffled his hair again, chuckling with him, and Gwyn beamed up at him,
surprised at how good he felt. This was...nothing like what he thought it would
be.
Mafydd shimmied his hips out of his pants, let them crease into folds around
his ankles. Gwyn stared at his thatch of pubic hair, which was surprisingly
thick. He reached out his hand and feathered his fingers through it. Gwyn
didn’t grow much body hair at all, except on the top of his head. He didn’t
need to shave. Sometimes he wondered if that was because of the light burning
through him, that it picked away at all his hair follicles, crisping them
before he could grow hair on his chest, under his arms, between his legs. He
felt embarrassed by it, especially now, combing his fingers through the
curliness of Mafydd’s.
‘You can look and touch all you want,’ Mafydd said, a smile in his voice.
‘Anything you do will be good. Except teeth. Try to avoid teeth. Yeah?’
‘Yes,’ Gwyn said, stroking the pubic hair more. Mafydd had a smell to him, a
muskiness which Gwyn thought was not unlike his own. There was a glistening,
clear droplet of fluid beading at the tip of Mafydd’s cock, the head of which
was flushed dark. Gwyn reached out with his index finger and gathered it up,
bringing it to his lips. He tasted it with the tip of his tongue, and Mafydd
swore, a hand coming out to grasp at his hair, burying fingers close to his
scalp.
‘Just like that,’ Mafydd said. ‘How does it taste?’
‘Different. Different to mine.’
‘Yeah. It’s pre-spend, it’s saltier.’
Gwyn looked up at him, eyes wide. There was just so much he didn’t know.He
wanted to learn everything. He leaned forwards and pressed the tip of his
tongue to the slit of Mafydd’s cock, wanting to taste more of it, and Mafydd –
as though on some invisible command – leaked more precome, so that Gwyn could
lap it away.
Gwyn liked it, being on his knees like this, Mafydd looking down at him. He was
sure his father wouldn’t approve. It wasn’t only that he had forbidden Gwyn
from seeing Mafydd, but also that he was the one on his knees, about to give
something of himself to someone else. He wanted it so badly, but he knew, he
knew from hearing soldiers talk, he knew from hearing offhand conversation,
that wanting this as much as he did might not be approved of by his father, no
matter who he got it from.
Gwyn touched his fingertips to the place where Mafydd’s cock met his pelvis,
and rubbed curiously. Mafydd sighed happily, did nothing else. He then trailed
up over the softer skin of Mafydd’s cock, feeling how Mafydd was so hard that
his skin was taut now, it barely shifted over the stiffness of him. Cautiously,
Gwyn wrapped his fingers around Mafydd’s length and squeezed hesitantly, like
Mafydd had done to him.
‘Put your mouth on me,’ Mafydd said, breathless. ‘Please.’
Gwyn would have done it anyway, but hearing Mafydd say pleaselike that, it
unknotted something inside of him. It felt so good. His cock twitched curiously
between his legs and he shivered, surprised at how much he was enjoying
himself.
He opened his mouth, opened it wider again, and then licked forwards with his
tongue. The taste was good, and he let the head of him fall inside his mouth.
He kept his teeth away, remembering how the scrape had felt against his own
flesh. And then he tried sucking, knowing how good that had felt around his own
skin.
Mafydd’s hand tightened in Gwyn’s hair, pulled at his skin. It sent a shiver
through Gwyn’s body. He moaned softly, Mafydd swore in response.
Gwyn pressed forwards, curious to see how much he could take. He let his jaw
hang lax, saliva building uncomfortably in his throat. He pulled back suddenly
and swallowed it down, brow furrowing. How was he supposed to deal with that?
He looked up at Mafydd in confusion, even as Mafydd reached down with his other
hand and rubbed at his lips sensually.
‘Your mouth is so hot,’Mafydd said, happily. ‘Spit’s becoming a problem, huh?’
Gwyn nodded.
‘Let it,’ Mafydd said. ‘It’s supposed to be messy. Either swallow it while I’m
inside your mouth, because that will feel amazingfor me. Or let it come out.’
‘But, then I’d just be...’
He couldn’t say it.
‘Drooling? Yeah, fuck, yes,you would be. Trust me when I say that part of
taking someone into your mouth is not only messing the other person up, but
messing yourselfup. It might be hard for you to imagine, but for me, it’s
gorgeous. Okay? So whatever you do with it, swallowing it, letting it out, it’s
all good. All of it.’
Gwyn flushed hot, his cock twitched again to hear Mafydd speak so casually
about these things to him. There was a hunger in Mafydd’s pale eyes as he
stared down at Gwyn. His fingers were still tight in his hair. It was as though
Mafydd was holding himself back, as though he wanted to pounce on Gwyn and
devour him, and that...thatwas appealing. Gwyn found that he wanted to be
devoured.
And he adored Mafydd, that Mafydd would tell him all of these things. Mafydd
had brought him stew, had shared oranges with him in a grove. Mafydd who was
different to anyone else he had ever met.
Gwyn leaned forward without being prompted, took Mafydd back into his mouth, a
dull, minor ache striking up in his jaw as he lowered it down again. He shifted
his hand and pressed further, and then suckled first carefully, and then harder
as Mafydd groaned in appreciation. Mafydd’s hand shifted on his head,
encouraging him to move backwards, and then encouraging him to move forwards
again, while pushing in with his own hips. Gwyn flushed hot when he realised
that it was very much like what he knew of fucking, and he made a small noise
in the back of his throat to have his own mouth used like that.
The saliva built up again and he hesitated a moment against the pressure of
Mafydd’s hand, swallowed while Mafydd was still inside his mouth and Mafydd
hummed. Gwyn suddenly knew what he meant. The back of his throat had closed
against the tip of Mafydd’s cock, it would have provided an involuntary
pleasure. Gwyn swallowed again on purpose, and Mafydd started to stroke Gwyn’s
hair with his other hand. It was affectionate and sweet, and Gwyn went back to
moving, pleased.
Gwyn’s cock twitched again and he was surprised to feel himself getting hard.
It happened slower this time, and there was a faint ache to it, far duller than
what he felt in his jaw. It was like forcing himself to work even when his
muscles were over-tired, but he savoured that sensation, and he savoured it
now.
‘Do you trust me?’ Mafydd said suddenly, breathless, and Gwyn nodded. ‘Okay I
want to try something. Just...patience. Stop me if it feels wrong, okay?’
Mafydd’s hands both clenched on the top of Gwyn’s head and drew him forwards
until Mafydd hit the back of his throat. Gwyn choked a little, tears sprang to
his eyes. He resisted, hand clenching harder around the base of Mafydd’s cock
in protest, but Mafydd kept him there, indicating that was the point. But Gwyn
couldn’t breathe properly, it felt frightening. Mafydd withdrew a little, and
only then – as he caught his breath – did Gwyn realise that he’d forgotten to
swallow, he was drooling.
‘You can take this down the back of your throat,’ Mafydd said. ‘It’s hard, and
it’ll hurt a little, but it feels sogood, Gwyn. You would make me feel so good.
Do you want to at least try?’
Gwyn looked from Mafydd’s hip up to his face, and Mafydd’s expression softened
when he saw his eyes.
‘Oh, just keep looking at me like that.’
Mafydd thrust forward a little and Gwyn made a sound of shock, swallowing
automatically, realised he was trembling.
‘You were made for this,’ Mafydd purred. ‘Will you try?’
Gwyn hesitated for a long moment, heart beating painfully in his chest. This
was...he didn’t know what this was. But he wanted to make Mafydd feel good, and
he wanted to try. He wanted to learn as much as he could. He nodded once in
assent, and Mafydd beamed at him, cheeks dimpling, eyes gleaming with pleasure.
‘Take the hand you’ve got wrapped around me away,’ Mafydd said. Gwyn unwrapped
his fingers from Mafydd’s cock, but placed his hand on his thigh in case he
needed to stop him again. He could sense Mafydd’s hunger, his need for this.
And it made him anticipatory, it made him want,but it also made him
apprehensive.
‘Okay, I’m going to push to the back of your throat again, and I just want you
to try swallowing. Okay? Just try. It doesn’t matter if you can’t get it. Not
everyone can do it.’
Gwyn nodded and Mafydd slipped deeper into his mouth slowly. When he edged up
against the back of his mouth, he lowered his hand down to Gwyn’s throat and
massaged it firmly. Gwyn felt his instinct to swallow there, and held back from
it, frightened.
‘You only need to try, baby,’ Mafydd said. ‘Just try for me.’
He swallowed automatically, the back of his throat closing and opening, and
Mafydd slid forwards into that space, angling Gwyn’s head upwards suddenly with
a hand at his neck, the other grasping his hair and pulling backwards.
Suddenly, even as he finished swallowing, Mafydd was in his throat and he
couldn’t breathe.And just as quickly, Mafydd withdrew and Gwyn was choking and
coughing, squeezing absently at Mafydd’s thigh and blinking tears out of his
eyes.
His cock was getting harder.
A hand was stroking through his hair, petting him like an animal, and he
blindly opened his mouth and took Mafydd back in again, overwhelmed and curious
and wanting to know why it made the lower half of his body burn like he was on
fire. Mafydd helped him, pulling him forwards, and Gwyn swallowed when Mafydd
reached the back of his throat again. Swallowed, angled his head, and suddenly
Mafydd was there,deeper than before, and he felt fulland like sparks were
dancing in front of his eyes.
Mafydd drew back, slipped out of the cramped space of his throat and Gwyn
sucked in air around his cock, drew it down the back of his nose. Caught his
breath and even as he did, Mafydd pressed forwards again and Gwyn suddenly
realised what Mafydd wanted him to do. To open his throat for him like that, so
that he might only catch his breath when Mafydd withdrew, and heat flared low
in his belly and made him moan thickly against the head of Mafydd’s cock even
as it pushed rudely at the back of his throat, forcing its way down until Gwyn
suddenly had his nose pressed into pubic hair and his throat was aching.
Mafydd ruffled his hair, held him still.
‘Oh, Gwyn, fuck,you’re going to let me come down the back of your throat,
aren’t you?’
Gwyn hummed in agreement, because he was hard.Mafydd wasn’t even touching him
there. Breathing was becoming a problem and it made Gwyn feel like he was
falling into some sink of pleasure and apprehension and pain and when Mafydd
withdrew, he withdrew all the way and Gwyn fell forwards slightly, gasping.
‘I’m hard again,’ he rasped, his own voice shocking himself.
‘I knewit,’ Mafydd said, keeping his cock pressed against Gwyn’s cheek. Gwyn
couldn’t tell what he felt at that, but he didn’t think he minded too much.
Mafydd made things that Gwyn thought were shameful seem normal and fine, and he
was easy about everything. Gwyn thought that even if he couldn’t do it, even if
he had to stop, Mafydd would be okay with it and probably just find something
else for them to do.
But Gwyn liked it a lot.
 ‘Alright, you do this at your own pace, and when I’m gonna come, I’ll warn
you, okay? I would really, reallylike it if you would let me come down the back
of your throat, but it’s gonna feel good if you let me come on your face too,
so whatever works,’ Mafydd said and Gwyn shivered, looked up at Mafydd, and
then looked at the tip of his cock as Mafydd got ready to push in again.
Precome leaked freely from the tip.
Gwyn opened his mouth and leaned forwards, moving quickly now, beginning to get
a sense of the rhythm of it. His mouth was wet, his jaw hurt, and when the tip
of Mafydd brushed against the back of his throat and Gwyn swallowed, he
realised that his throat hurt too. But none of it made him feel bad, it all
made him feel even better. And every time Mafydd bottomed out against him,
every time his nose bumped against the skin of his pelvis, Gwyn felt himself
flush with a growing heat. He realised that he, too, was beginning to leak
precome.
Mafydd was true to his word, he let Gwyn find a rhythm that suited him, one
that kept a fire stoked low in his gut, throbbing through his length. It was
incredible, and Gwyn realised his light was building again. This time he caught
it visually, lost in the rhythm of Mafydd’s movements, sucking hard when he
could, catching his breath and drooling and lost in the mess of it all. Even
then he was still able to find it before it spun too far out of control, and he
shoved the glass ball of light back down again to buy himself more time.
Gwyn didn’t think he could come without his cock being touched, and was
reluctant to touch it himself. He’d always had problems doing that. But he
didn’t exactly mind either. This was...this was much better than he thought it
was going to be.
Mafydd picked up the rhythm slightly, and Gwyn knew he was close. He sped up to
accommodate, but Mafydd pushed harder, pressing in longer when he was all the
way down the back of his throat, not withdrawing as long, making Gwyn feel
light-headed and dizzy from lack of air.
Mafydd began groaning on every exhale, using Gwyn’s head now, two hands clasped
in his hair and directing him, and Gwyn whimpered because he was close.
Mafydd became rougher suddenly, his cock swelling and his thrusts scraping
harder at Gwyn’s mouth, making him choke and then gag. And it was on the second
gag that Mafydd pulled Gwyn’s head forward sharply and Gwyn felt the sensation
of come moving through Mafydd’s cock and then flooding the back of his throat.
Gwyn swallowed helplessly, throat aching, feeling surrounded by Mafydd. And it
was this along with the fact that he just couldn’t breathe,couldn’t move, that
made his hips stutter forwards as he came without a single touch, spurting come
onto his own clothing and the bathroom floor.
Mafydd withdrew quickly, one last spasm causing him to release a small amount
of seed onto Gwyn’s tongue. Gwyn swallowed it automatically, tasting a flavour
more bitter than his own, and not caring because he needed air.He fell forwards
slightly when Mafydd withdrew properly, gasping and swallowing down saliva and
his face wet with tears. He needed anothershower.
Mafydd slid down the wall and then, with a tired, lazy smile on his face, he
reached forwards and slid his hand around Gwyn’s softening cock, squeezing it
until Gwyn hissed and batted at his wrist, oversensitive.
‘Quit,’ Gwyn said, his voice more hoarse than he could remember it being in a
long time. His throat ached and it wasn’t entirely pleasant. That had been more
difficult than he’d thought, but oh, so wonderful. He wanted to do it again.
‘Why didn’t you do that to me?’
‘I can’t,’ Mafydd said ruefully. ‘My gag reflex is too strong. I have tried,
just doesn’t happen. Did you like it? Are you okay?’
Gwyn nodded, feeling weak now. He’d come twice, he’d spent the entire day with
his nerves alight and terrified Lludd would realise that he was disobeying him.
He shuddered with a sudden wave of exhaustion, and Mafydd leaned forwards and
placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘You’re alright,’ Mafydd said. ‘You did just great. And this is okay isn’t it?
No one’s noticed, we can keep doing this?’
‘If father finds out...’
‘Lecture of a lifetime?’ Mafydd said, though his eyes narrowed as though he was
looking for something else.
‘Something like that,’ Gwyn said evasively.
‘Then we just make sure he doesn’t find out, huh? Besides, you’ll heal pretty
quickly. I know your throat is raw right now, but-’
‘I’m Court,’ Gwyn said, and they both nodded. That explained everything.
Something as minor as a grazed, bruised throat would not be a problem in the
morning. It was a pain that Gwyn would savour until it disappeared.
He didn’t say anything for some time. He looked up as Mafydd stood, pulling his
pants back up.
‘I want to stay,’ Mafydd said. ‘But I stole this time and stayed longer than I
thought I would. I know we have to be careful. I should go, huh? I can’t stay?’
‘I want you to,’ Gwyn said.
He really, really did.
Mafydd’s face broke into a weary smile.
‘Aye, me too. You’re sweeter than all your family combined. You’re like finding
a rabbit amongst crocodiles. Why is that, hm?’
Gwyn blinked, he had no idea. His family always made him feel like that wasn’t
the case at all.
Mafydd ruffled his hair, and then pressed his fingers closer and rubbed at the
wet curls of his scalp soothingly.
‘My da and yours are going away tomorrow for a little while. And-’
‘Yes,’ Gwyn said eagerly, without thinking. ‘Yes, please. Could we?’
Mafydd smiled down at him and Gwyn flushed when he realised how he must have
sounded, how desperate.He looked away, embarrassed, but Mafydd only smeared
some of his tears off his cheeks.
‘You’re the best thing about this place, of course I’ll come find you. If it’s
safe and no one will tattle, we’ll spend some time. Now, you need a shower
again, clean that pretty face of yours up. And I am going to go back down to
your family and my da, and pretend like I didn’t just fuck your throat raw.’
Gwyn swallowed and still tasted Mafydd in his mouth, he watched as Mafydd
turned and left, smoothing down his shirt as he closed Gwyn’s bathroom door
behind him. Gwyn stayed on his bathroom floor a little longer, dazed and sated
and his mind free from clutter in a way he couldn’t ever remember experiencing
before.
Something about that whole encounter, whether it was Mafydd giving him orders
he actually wanted to follow, or the feeling that he had – almost the entire
time – been doing the right thing...something about it all left him feeling
pleased. And the sensation was so alien, and so unlike him, that he simply
stayed paralysed on the floor for several minutes until it abated enough that
he could move again.
Chapter End Notes
     One and a half more chapters to go.
***** Full *****
Chapter Notes
     These titles are super subtle, aren't they?
     *
     Warnings for like everything in this chapter. Rough sex. Domestic
     violence. Child abuse. Mafydd being really explicit. Gwyn being a
     puppy. All the warnings. Wait those are warnings right? They are to
     me!
     Only 'half' a chapter left now, and then that's all she wrote
     basically (for once!)
     Thank you guys so much for your continued feedback, *loves*
Gwyn was nervous and agitated all day. He couldn’t believe what Mafydd had
shown him the previous day, and in his second shower he’d run his tongue all
along the inside of his mouth, imagining that he could taste him. His throat
hurt for some time afterwards, and he thought it still ached in the morning,
but he couldn’t be sure. By midday, the ache was gone and he only had the
memory left. But he clung to it, because it was one of the best things that had
ever happened to him.
He wasn’t supposed to leave the estate for anything other than training or
tutoring, but he found himself wondering if he could somehow – somehow –find a
way to beg some time away with his father. Surely he could say that Mafydd’s
father was going to teach him some other weapons? Or perhaps he could say he
would be learning longbow with Mafydd’s tutor.
But the deep well of dread in his gut reminded him that Lludd would never agree
to it. Gwyn was meant to be staying awayfrom Mafydd, not courting his company.
But it wasn’t like Mafydd’s Reading had activated around Gwyn – as far as Gwyn
could tell – and Gwyn was certain that he would be safe. No one had found out
so far, and no one would in the future. The consequences were too dire. Gwyn
knew that.
He kept himself scarce while Lludd got ready to leave on a hunting trip with
Mafydd’s father. And Mafydd – he heard from the servants – was staying close to
his own father and being ‘such an obedient, sweet boy.’ It made Gwyn laugh
under his breath, because he knew that Mafydd was sweet, but not obedient, and
so much more than that too. Their illicit meetings sent his blood racing
through his body, and more than that, he was so, soexcited that he finally had
a way to properly control his light.
He practiced the glass ball technique all the time, bringing his light up,
sending it down again. Why had no one taught him? It was amazing.
But it left him agitated, keeping the light down for too long. Still, he
couldn’t help casing it up in visualised glass and sending it away.
Sometimes he pretended he sent it so far away, it could never come back.
*
Mafydd slapped him on the back while Gwyn was in the weapons room, and then
made a show of picking out daggers and looking at them.
‘You should show me the stables,’ Mafydd said, staring at the tang of a blade.
Gwyn’s face shot up. He stared at him.
‘What if they come back? What if they forget something and come back?’
‘We’ll hear the horses won’t we? And we’ll run away. But I really want to see
the stables. With you. So you should come meet me in a couple of hours.’
Gwyn’s nervousness pounded up through him and he fumbled the bow he was
holding, dropping down to catch it with fast reflexes before it hit the floor.
Mafydd made a sound of shock, and Gwyn looked up. Mafydd had a hand pressed to
his chest, the other held the knife loosely, absently.
‘Oh, I think I felt that,’ Mafydd said in some surprise.
‘What?’ Gwyn said, breath deserting him. He straightened, shaking.
‘Nervousness. Nerves. That’s you isn’t it? Oh, baby, you don’t have to be
scared. It’s going to be fun! Come meet me. I’ve scoped the place out. And I
checked with the servants about your classes, I know you’ll have a bit of time
free. You’ll like it, I promise.’
Mafydd dropped his hand and offered a bemused smile to Gwyn.
‘It’s gone now. Feel much more like myself again. Yeah, my da said I was gonna
hate Reading, and I’m starting to wonder if he was right. Anyway, see you in
the stables!’
And with that, he left Gwyn shaking with fear in the weapons room, wondering
what he should do.
*
He couldn’t stay away.
He couldn’t, Mafydd was lovely, and even if Mafydd was a Reader, his father had
promised him that Readers couldn’t tell he was...the way he was. He’d had a
procedure when he’d been little. He remembered the pain of it, and Lludd had
said it would keep him protected. So even if Mafydd couldread what he felt, he
wouldn’t know why, he’d have to ask. He was an empath, not a telepath. And even
telepaths couldn’t read him properly. His father had made certain of that.
Even so, his heart was racing so fast that he ended up dry retching behind the
kennels, with the few dogs that had been left behind  baying at him in
excitement simply to know he was there. He hushed them, and continued on his
way, apprehensive, listening for the sound of hooves, convinced that at any
moment Lludd would come home and realise what he’d done.
But Lludd didn’t realise, and Gwyn crept through one of the back entrances into
the stables. No one else was around, and Gwyn wondered if Mafydd had sent them
away. He seemed like the kind of person who knew how to do things like that. He
heard instead the sound of the horses remaining in the stables shifting and
shuffling quietly, whuffling out exhales of acknowledgement as Gwyn walked by.
As he passed his own – a grey, dappled mare – he put his hands to her muzzle as
she hooked her head over the stall and stared at him with a grave face.
‘Hello, Greyness. I’ll come back and see you later, alright?’ Her nose was
velvety soft against his palm, and he smiled as she wrinkled it to lip at his
skin, keeping her teeth safely away. After a minute of that, she stepped back
into her stall and nosed around in the hay for bits of feed that had fallen out
of her bucket. Gwyn left her, continued down the stalls, looking for Mafydd.
Their stables were large, and Gwyn found Mafydd tucked into the very last room
– a storage space used for polishing and working tack and bits and other
equipment, where old and new items hung alongside each other, needing
adjustments or repairs. The room smelled of leather and liniment and oil, and
hay and horses and earth. Mafydd was sitting on a bench, one leg crossed over
the other at the ankle.
When he saw Gwyn, he stood up and bounded over, scruffing his shoulder length
hair up in his hands and kissing him, the smile making the kiss more fun than
sensual. Gwyn laughed, couldn’t help himself, caught up in the infectiousness
of it, and Mafydd licked his way into Gwyn’s mouth, pressing thumbs behind his
ears and groaning happily.
‘You made it, I wondered if you’d make it.’
They kissed until Gwyn’s lips were swollen and he could feel them tingling,
Mafydd scraping his teeth across them and nipping them. He licked and sucked
where he bit. His hands came down to the hem of Gwyn’s shirt and tugged
upwards, and Gwyn stepped backwards out of his grip, eyes widening.
‘But-’
‘You’re beautiful,’ Mafydd said, stepping forwards again. ‘Let me see you. Come
on. I’ve seen you after a shower, this will be nothing.’
‘But others might come.’
‘Might they? I bribed the stablehands, they won’t come by. We’ll hear anyone,
and I bet you know how to get dressed quickly. C’mon, you pretty thing. Here,
let me lead the way.’
Mafydd pulled down his pants first, his half-hard cock revealing itself. Gwyn
stared at the flushed length for several seconds and then blushed when Mafydd
noticed and grinned. He distracted himself by taking off his own shirt, his
heart still thundering with nerves and excitement and dread. He knew what
Mafydd wanted to do, he had an idea. He’d heard servants talking about it,
among other things, and it left him with gooseflesh all across his body.
Gwyn kept looking at Mafydd, even as Mafydd picked up his pants and his short-
sleeved shirt and taken them over to a wooden chair and draped them over the
armrest. He was muscular and tan, with hair on his chest and starting halfway
down his belly in a trail that led to the pubic hair between his legs. He had a
single, long scar that curved around his back shoulder blade and Gwyn stepped
towards it, placing his fingers over it curiously.
‘How did you get this?’ Gwyn said, as Mafydd paused and let Gwyn look at his
leisure. The scar was dark, it looked badly healed.
‘Ah, that, well, a couple of years ago a Mage stormed through our village and
wanted the land, my da lives on sacred land and he wanted it for his magic. I
went up against him. He used- he fought with chains made of red fire. I got it
in the shoulder when I wasn’t looking. The Mage got it too.’
‘You were triumphant?’
‘Yeah,’ Mafydd said, turning back to him and grinning, curving his fingers
around the back of Gwyn’s neck and drawing him close. ‘Come on, over here.’
He was dragging Gwyn with him towards the bench, kissing him at the same time.
The cold, compacted soil was cool on Gwyn’s bare feet, and Mafydd licked at his
lips over and over again, messy and wet and eager. Mafydd tightened his grip on
the back of Gwyn’s neck and used pressure to encourage him down, so that they
were both kneeling. And then Mafydd reached forwards and curled his fingers
around Gwyn’s cock, tugging him erect quickly, fingers playing with his
foreskin with an easy familiarity that made Gwyn gasp and choke on his own
breath.
‘You’re gonna lose this?’ Mafydd said. ‘Soldiers don’t get to keep them, you
know.’
‘I know,’ Gwyn said, blushing dark. Mafydd’s foreskin had already been cut
away. ‘Did it hurt?’
‘A little, yeah. Kind of a shame really, because look how sensitive it is.’
Gwyn could already tell, was taking huge breaths and feeling dizzy as Mafydd
idly played with the tip of him. He pushed it back and then circled the bare
head of him, using his calluses to create a sharper, edged friction. Mafydd had
his other hand on Gwyn’s neck, encouraging him to look down. Gwyn found himself
staring at Mafydd’s hand, his clever fingers. A rush of adoration surged
through him.
‘I really like you,’ Gwyn said, voice breaking.
Mafydd laughed.
‘Then return the favour, yeah? Put your hand on me.’
Gwyn reached out and felt the weight of him in the flat of his palm, Mafydd now
completely erect. Then he curled his fingers around him and squeezed
experimentally, moving his hand in the same way that Mafydd had, copying him
and his mouth going dry when Mafydd groaned, abandoned. Gwyn looked around,
scared again that they would be discovered. And then he was distracted by
Mafydd slipping his hand beneath his cock and rolling his balls in his fingers.
Gwyn blinked stars out of his eyes, suddenly had to concentrate on his light,
casing it in imaginary glass and thrusting it down.
Gwyn couldn’t make any noise at all when he came back to himself, the
sensations were too sharp, and he was instead left with his unsteady breaths,
huge and shocked.
When Mafydd let go of him, scratched blunt fingers down the inside of his leg,
Gwyn thought he might not be able to hold himself up.
Mafydd withdrew and stared at him, and then the corner of his mouth turned up.
‘Yeah,’ Mafydd said, as though to himself. ‘You know I’m going to fuck you,
don’t you?’
He reached around with a shocking familiarity between the cheeks of Gwyn’s ass,
making Gwyn startlingly glad he’d showered, and Gwyn half-fell forwards when
Mafydd pressed his index finger up against his entrance.
‘I’m going to put my cock in here,’ Mafydd breathed, and he sounded savage with
lust. Gwyn could only nod, because if he thought about it too much, he was
going to find reasons to protest, and he didn’t want to.
‘Okay,’ Gwyn said.
Mafydd laughed as though he realised exactly how nervous Gwyn was, and then
removed his hand slowly, petting him on his ass like Gwyn might a dog or a
horse. Gwyn flushed, embarrassed, and Mafydd only grinned at him. Getting up
and stepping away, picking up a pot of something.
‘What is that?’ Gwyn said, staring at it. It looked like salve, but he didn’t
recall seeing that particular pot in the stables, kennels or falcon stalls
before. Mafydd opened the pot and dipped his fingers into it, kneeling beside
Gwyn. He painted a smooth, cold stripe down Gwyn’s side.
‘Makes things easier,’ Mafydd said. ‘Won’t hurt you.’
Gwyn’s heart started pounding a mixture of apprehension and excitement in his
chest. He knew a little about this, not just from overhearing things. He’d once
visited a library with his father, to pick up more scrolls on strategy, and
Gwyn had lost himself amongst the rows and rows of parchment and hand-bound
books, finding himself down an aisle which was dimly lit and quietly tucked
away. He’d ended up passing two hours in that aisle, looking at scrolls that
depicted acts which had left him flushed and aroused, constantly looking up to
make sure his father wasn’t coming.
‘But-’
‘It’s gonna feel a lot like the first time you nailed a target in bow
practice,’ Mafydd said, sienna eyes gleaming at him. ‘Put your arms on the
bench, and rest your head on them.’
Gwyn shifted across the dirt floor, trusting. The wooden bench was damp and
cold against his forearms, and he rested the side of his head on his own skin,
breath moving the little hairs on his arm. He shivered when Mafydd pushed a
firm hand into the base of his spine.
‘Bend here,’ Mafydd said. ‘Go on. Show yourself to me.’
Gwyn’s cheeks and then entire face burnt hot as he slowly allowed his spine to
curve inwards. He felt ridiculously exposed. It was nothing like the kissing.
He felt like Mafydd had found another way to strip him bare, a way he hadn’t
known about. He took a shaky breath, started to ask if they could do something
else, and then he felt Mafydd place a kiss over the curve of his ass and he
blew out a surprised breath.
‘That’s...Is that not indecent?’ Gwyn said, and then gulped when Mafydd’s hands
rested on either side of his ass. Thumbs came out and spread his ass-cheeks and
Gwyn buried his head in his arms, tensed to move away. Two of Mafydd’s fingers
were slick against him.
‘No, but this is,’ Mafydd said, a grin in his voice.
Gwyn felt Mafydd bend down behind him, and then his entire body froze when he
felt Mafydd blow softly over his entrance, and then a hot, wet tongue lick at
him. He reared up off the bench, and Mafydd reached out and pushed him back
down again, arm surprisingly strong, showing in no uncertain terms where he
wanted Gwyn to rest.
‘I-’ Gwyn’s words were stolen from his throat as Mafydd pushed his tongue into
him, and Gwyn thought his eyes couldn’t get any wider. He felt too warm, his
legs already shaking, and Mafydd pressed his tongue into the ring of Gwyn’s
entrance with an intimate familiarity that reminded him of kissing, and he made
a thick, sobbing sound before he could help himself. He’d had no idea that
people did things like this.
Mafydd kept his ass cheeks spread, pulling him apart until Gwyn hissed at the
stretched of it, licking at him over and over, pushing his tongue in with a
relish that made Gwyn feel like he was drowning. And the sensation of it, he’d
never felt anything like it. His whole body sensitised and he felt as though
he’d been tuned to Mafydd’s energy, shaking in anticipation whenever Mafydd
pulled back slightly, moaning when Mafydd returned.
Mafydd withdrew and pressed a kiss against his entrance, blowing against it
again, and then Gwyn shouted when Mafydd bit into the curve of his ass while
pushing the tip of his finger inside. Alarm swirled alongside anticipation, and
Mafydd rested his cheek against him, rubbed stubble against his skin.
The fingertip waited just inside of him, and Gwyn opened his mouth against his
own arm.
‘Will it hurt?’ Gwyn said, and Mafydd pushed deeper. Gwyn’s back arched at the
unusualness of it; not bad, exactly, but different, intrusive. Mafydd pushed
him back down again, wiggled his fingertip and chuckling when Gwyn hiccupped a
breath.
‘A little,’ Mafydd said. ‘Your body has to get used to it, and I’m impatient.
Never much liked the story of the tortoise and hare. But you’ll come. And it’ll
feel good too. I can promise you that much.’
Gwyn groaned when Mafydd pushed in deeply, tensed at way he felt full, the way
Mafydd’s fingers, limber and strong from years of pulling drawstrings on bows,
felt much longer than he knew they could.
‘What does it feel like?’ Gwyn said, and Mafydd pulled his finger back and
pushed it back in, repeating the movement over and over again, until Gwyn felt
a strange, thick pleasure move through him.
‘Like I have a finger in your ass, watching you shake beneath me. What do you
think that’d feel like? I’m happy.’
Gwyn wanted him to be happy. Mafydd who had brought him something to eat and
who had kissed orange out of his mouth and was now making him feel nervous and
shaky and warm and curious. And as Mafydd continued to move his finger, he
realised he wanted more. He pushed back with his hips, and Mafydd hummed behind
him, a confident, pleased sound.
When he pushed back in with two fingers, his index and middle, Gwyn winced. He
felt the stretch of it now, a sting, and he shifted on the bench.
‘I can’t believe no one’s done this to you before,’ Mafydd said. ‘No one, and
I’m the first. Alright you, hold onto that bench.’
Gwyn hardly realised what he’d been asked, and then gripped the bench
automatically when Mafydd pushed his fingers in quickly, stealing the breath
from Gwyn’s lungs and making him grunt at the impatience of it. He shifted his
legs, uncomfortable, and then cried out when Mafydd withdrew his fingers almost
all the way and then slid them back in, forcing them against Gwyn’s tightness,
spreading his fingers deep against him. Gwyn opened his mouth on a long, drawn
out cry and Mafydd shifted between him, leaned into his own fingers.
‘Feel it?’ Mafydd said, and then bit at him again, sucking hard at the skin
underneath his ribs. He kept his fingers splayed, and then curved them
backwards, a level of intimacy that brought stars to Gwyn’s eyes, made his
light spark deep inside of him.
‘Mafydd,’ Gwyn said, and Mafydd kept stroking him from the inside, crooking his
fingers like he was asking Gwyn to come closer.
And then Mafydd brushed against something and Gwyn felt his body light up from
the inside, his voice taken from him. He would have shouted, instead he could
only arch his back again.
A long inhale later, and Gwyn whined on the exhale, hardly knowing what was
happening to him.
Mafydd did it again, fingers withdrawing slightly and then stroking again, and
Gwyn wanted to stop holding his body up. Wanted to slump to the floor. Wanted
something else, more, but didn’t know what more there could be, with Mafydd
wringing responses from him that he didn’t know existed.
‘I’ve...I’ve never felt like this before,’ Gwyn managed and Mafydd groaned
above him.
‘You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself,’ he said.
‘It’s...ah,intense,’ Gwyn said, voice cracking as Mafydd seemed to find that
bundle of nerves inside of him and pressed at it, before withdrawing his
fingers and fucking them back in again, scraping over that point. It was almost
pain, but not quite. Like stretching too far and realising your muscles might
cramp.
‘I hadn’t guessed,’ Mafydd said, grinning, and the pace of his fingers sped up.
Gwyn hung onto the bench for dear life, trying to focus on catching his breath
but finding himself distracted over and over by the sensation of it. He bit
into his own arm when he felt noises building up inside of him, and Mafydd’s
response was to curl his fingers up and drag them backwards, brushing over that
place inside of him that made his whole body jolt. His head flung up and he
cried out loudly, and then felt light zinging at him underneath his skin and
was gasping ‘Wait’ before he could stop himself.
Mafydd slowed down and Gwyn took the opportunity to shove his light away again,
moaning brokenly as he did so.
‘That was...what is that?’Gwyn managed, and Mafydd crooked his fingers once
more and found the place inside of him, brushing it only lightly this time.
‘It’s a gland,’ Mafydd said, drumming his fingers against it and chuckling when
Gwyn sobbed into his skin, writhing against him, not knowing if he was trying
to get away, or exacerbate the feeling of it.
‘How do you knowthis?’
Mafydd shoved his fingers back in hard, twisted them, and Gwyn’s mouth opened
wider, breaths falling out of him as Mafydd struck up a much harsher rhythm
that edged him back towards that precipice of pleasure and pain. Gwyn knew he
wasn’t supposed to like it, he’d never really liked pain, but this was
something new, something delicious, and it scattered through his body
insistently.
‘Yeah, about that, we can talk about my education later,’ Mafydd said, Gwyn
could hear the smile in his voice.
Mafydd kept moving his fingers until he could add a third, and at that Gwyn’s
hands clenched and he shook his head, because he wanted more already, because
he wanted to know. Even if they only did this once, he had to know what it was
like. He didn’t know if he’d get the opportunity again. No one else had ever
liked him as much as Mafydd seemed to.
‘Please,’ Gwyn rasped. ‘Will you just...? Please?’
‘Uh huh,’ Mafydd said, removing his fingers. After so long with Mafydd inside
of him, it felt strange, he felt open and became aware suddenly that he was
bent over a bench, in a stable, and that anyone could come, anyone could come
by. He stiffened, looking over his shoulder, and swallowed when he saw Mafydd
slicking himself up, one hand around himself. He looked up and smiled, and Gwyn
wanted to smile back, he did, but he was nervous and he couldn’t make it go
away.
Mafydd shifted forwards and Gwyn looked away when he felt his cock press up
against him, rub up and down between the cleft in his ass with a friendly
intimacy that was dizzying. Gwyn’s head dropped again, and Mafydd placed
himself more precisely, his other hand holding onto Gwyn’s hip.
Mafydd flexed forwards just slightly, and Gwyn felt himself stretch. He gasped.
‘Oh,’Gwyn said. It was different. It was...he couldn’t believe this was
happening. He’d be murdered if anyone found out, he’d be-
‘Breathe,’ Mafydd said quickly. ‘Breathe, baby. Relax a bit more. No one’s
coming, and I’ll stop if you tell me to stop, got it?’
‘I- Yes.’
‘Good.’
And with that, Mafydd pushed all the way in him at once, a shove that rocked
him forwards on his knees and made Mafydd dig his fingertips hard into Gwyn’s
hip, leaving bruises. Gwyn opened his mouth, a high, sharp sound building
inside him and needing to spill, only to find a hand pressing hard at his lips.
He keened against it, because Mafydd was longer than his fingers, and wider,
because he’d gone from empty to split in seconds and he couldn’t move, was
aware of pain and heat and sparks of light and the fullness of it.
Mafydd’s thumb rubbed over his cheek over and over again, he bent over Gwyn and
kissed the arch of his back. It shifted the cock inside of him and Gwyn moaned,
the sound breaking into pieces and whining out of his nose.
‘Breathe,’ Mafydd said, his voice a little harder. Gwyn tried to steady his
breathing, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything except the feel of Mafydd
inside of him. He felt like he’d been taken over, somehow. As though he wasn’t
quite himself anymore. Cracks had appeared inside of himself, and he was
bleeding through them, too large for his own body. Nothing fit.
He whimpered, over and over, and Mafydd eased his hand away from Gwyn’s mouth,
rubbing instead at the top of his shoulder, grinding his hips into his ass and
groaning when Gwyn shuddered beneath him.
‘It’ll ease up,’ Mafydd said. ‘I promise.’
But even though it hurt, even though there was an ache that pricked claws all
the way up his spine, it was not something he wanted to stop. He shook his head
at the fullness of it, wondered if this was how everyone felt.
Mafydd withdrew and pushed back in, knocking the breath out of Gwyn’s lungs
again, and then set upon a rhythm that was steady and turned him into
sensation. He didn’t know anythingcould be like this. He bit down into his
forearm. The pain flared and faded, flared and faded, but each time it flared
as Mafydd pushed into him, there was something else behind it, a darker,
viscous pleasure that curled and shifted inside of him. And every time Mafydd
withdrew, Gwyn found himself wanting to know that quality of pleasure again,
hungry for it.
But everything was building too quickly, the pain-pleasure of it, and Gwyn
didn’t know how to contain it all. He felt almost like he had to keep one eye
on his light all the time, and that meant that he couldn’t concentrate on what
was going on around him. When Mafydd wrapped the fingers of his hand around his
cock, Gwyn’s spine bowed into a sharp concave and that made everything sharper
inside of him. He bit through the skin of his arm, tasted a rush of blood in
his mouth and moaned high and long, his vision blurring, his lungs deprived of
enough oxygen.
He came hard, jerking forwards helplessly even as Mafydd followed the movement
of it, even as his own thrusts became erratic. Gwyn’s sight went grey at the
edges even though his eyes were closed, and he lifted his head up, gulping down
breath after breath, feeling unconsciousness nearby, beckoning. The pleasure
trembling through him was a peak of sensation, made his blood feel like it was
boiling.
It lasted for some time, even once he’d stopped spending his release, his body
was still shivering through aftershocks, his hips still stuttered forwards. And
Mafydd was moving faster now, hips slamming into him, and Gwyn became more
aware of soreness, but was more relaxed as well, so the pain was less acute. It
was almost its own kind of pleasure, and Gwyn groaned softly, going boneless
upon the bench, resting his cheek on his forearm and looking at the blackness
behind his eyelids.
He loved Mafydd.
Gwyn’s eyes flew open in shock at what he’d realised, just as Mafydd pressed
deep inside of him and spilled his own release. It was warm, and Gwyn was
surprised that he could sense it. His voice broke on a sound, and Mafydd made
soothing sounds back at him that pressed warmth into his skin.
A minute later, Mafydd withdrew and Gwyn winced, because that stung. Fingers
pressed up against his entrance and he looked over his shoulder again.
‘Just checking everything’s alright,’ Mafydd said, and then his eyes widened at
Gwyn’s face. ‘You got a little something on your cheek there, hey.’
Gwyn raised fingers to his cheek and felt wetness, drew it away and saw blood.
He realised he’d been resting in the wound he’d bitten into himself.
‘Oh, I...’
When Mafydd saw the bite mark on his forearm he raised his sticky hand up and
rubbed Gwyn’s lower back instead. Gwyn stared at Mafydd, frightened of his own
feelings, because he’d never felt anything like this before. Not really. It was
like what he felt for Greyness, or the hounds, but moreand different.It
was...he wanted to be close to him, and spend more time with him, and please
him.
He averted his eyes, shyly, as Mafydd got up and picked one of the clean rags
off the tack bench. He came back and rubbed roughly at Gwyn’s cheek, then his
forearm. He ‘tch’ed’ when he saw it, but Gwyn thought he sounded pleased, too.
And then Mafydd was encouraging him to kneel upright and pressed the rough rag
between his legs, overly familiar, and Gwyn made an undignified sound.
‘What-?’
‘Just making it a bit easier for you to get back to your own shower, alright?’
The cloth rubbed at him, made him aware that he was sore, and he leaned his
head tiredly against Mafydd’s shoulder, his whole lower body feeling far more
sensitive than usual. Mafydd pressed a kiss into the side of his head.
‘I liked it,’ Gwyn admitted, blushing.
Mafydd made a pleased sound and kissed him again, withdrawing the cloth and
balling it up. He didn’t return it to the table. Instead he cleaned himself off
as well, and then stood up, pulling his clothing on. Gwyn watched him for a
minute, and then pushed himself upright, unsteady. He felt weak, and he wasn’t
sure why. It hadn’t lasted that long and it was different but...
‘I wish you were at our estate,’ Mafydd said, looking up at Gwyn suddenly. ‘My
father doesn’t mind who I bed, so long as I’m discreet about it. And you and I
could have so much fun.’
‘But...we can have fun here, can’t we? Still? You’re staying longer?’
Mafydd smiled at Gwyn and stepped forwards as Gwyn smoothed out his shirt with
shaking hands. He kissed him again, sucking his lower lip into his mouth,
scraping teeth over it.
‘A few days,’ Mafydd said. ‘But something tells me you could learn a lot more
than what we can steal in a few days, yeah? Ah well. It is what it is! I will
take what I can get. You did so great, sogreat. Is your arm okay? I have to
admit, I’m a little happy it felt so good.’
‘Intense,’ Gwyn said, and Mafydd’s eyes gleamed at him.
‘Yeah, even better.’
With that, he pulled Gwyn in and instead of kissing him, raised his forearm and
licked at a small amount of blood oozing from the bite mark Gwyn had made. Gwyn
hissed at the sting of pain, and then was distracted when Mafydd leaned up and
kissed the taste of it into his mouth, grinning against his lips.
‘Go on then, Princess. Back to the castle with you.’
Gwyn blushed so red he could feel it in his ears, and he turned to leave, aware
that they couldn’t steal any more time than they already had. He was halfway
through the stalls of the horses, when he heard thudding footsteps and two of
the horses made sounds of surprise. Mafydd grabbed him again, tugging him
around, and pressed his lips to Gwyn’s with so much force that the inside of
his lip was cut.
‘Thank you,’ Mafydd said against his mouth.
‘For what?’ Gwyn was dazed, he was the one who should be thanking Mafydd.
‘Letting me be your first. I’ll come find you later if the coast is clear,
alright?’
Mafydd reached out and rubbed one of the curious mares on the nose, and then
winked at Gwyn and walked out ahead of him, his hands deep in his pockets and
definitely looking like he’d been up to something suspicious.
Gwyn ran his fingers through his hair, a surprising amount of tangles in it
given he hadn’t rested his head on the floor. He straightened his clothing, and
then when he was close enough, he jogged all way back to the estate and
straight up to his rooms to shower and hope that no one would know. No one
could know. The servants might keep it a secret, maybe, but some of them might
get paid to betray his secrets, that had happened before.
He just had to get back to his studies, and focus, and everything would be
fine.
Except that it was uncomfortable to sit, and he ended up lying on his bed in
the small amount of free time that he had, thinking about Mafydd, and how full
his heart felt just to imagine him. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know
he could feel like this. He couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or a bad
thing, only that sometimes he felt like his heart hurt too much to fit in his
chest, and other times it felt too full and light and full of warmth.
He cupped his hands over his heart and closed his eyes.
*
Much later that night, after a formal and hardly nourishing dinner with
Crielle, Efnisien and Mafydd – thathad been fun, the sniping had been non-stop
and Mafydd didn’t have much grounds to protest at what they were saying to
Gwyn, since it was all couched in graceful, polite language – Gwyn ducked down
to the kitchens and stole some stale rolls from the bread basket, tearing off
the tough crust and chewing at it, glad of something filling. He cut off a
wedge of cheese as he went, left a small note explaining who had taken it –
otherwise the servants could get blamed – and he made his way back up to his
room.
In the distance he heard the steady clip-clop of hooves from multiple horses
and knew that his and Mafydd’s father were back. There were some shouts of
excitement from the servants, which meant they’d likely landed a boar or a
stag, something significant and replete with meat. Lludd could afford deer,
boars, cattle from the market, but theirs was a hunting family, and most of the
meat they ate they hunted for themselves as a way to keep their skills up. Some
of the older ways died hard, in the An-Fnwy estate.
Gwyn bolted down the rest of one of the rolls, and checked himself in the
mirror. His lips had healed, but the bite-mark he’d given himself was still
healing. It was hidden well by his long-sleeved shirt. He decided it would be
more conspicuous if he didn’t come down and greet them, so he took the stairs
two at a time down to the back of the estate, servants and keep moving back for
him so that he might make his way easily to them. When he saw Mafydd in the
corner of his eye on the front steps, he ignored him too, and walked straight
up to the giant boar that they’d landed, a single thick bolt protruding from
his eye. His father didn’t use the crossbow, and Gwyn felt a faint shiver of
dread when he realised that Mafydd’s father landed the boar. Lludd wouldn’t
have appreciated that. He didn’t like being slighted on his own land.
‘Gwyn!’ his father barked. ‘Here.’
Gwyn straightened and walked over to his father, offering a nod of
acknowledgement to Mafydd’s father. His heart was still beating far faster than
normal. The horses were tired, and he brushed the neck of one as he passed. He
could feel its fatigue. They’d ridden hard for decent quarry. Lludd most likely
wanting to show off the powerful beasts that lived all around the estate.
‘That is some boar, father. Did it give you any trouble?’
‘A hound, that is all.’
Gwyn’s face fell. One of the hounds didn’t make it. He looked around at those
nearby, tired also, but still lazily wagging their tails, the excitement of the
hunt so high they’d not registered they’d lost one of their own. He saw
immediately that it was Backer, one of the best of the hunting hounds. Backer
had been his father’s dog, and would have worked so hard for him. Gwyn
grimaced.
‘Was his death honourable?’ Gwyn asked. Expressing sympathy in any other way
was not allowed.
Lludd looked down at him, gave him a cold, furious stare. Gwyn couldn’t tell if
he’d done something wrong, or if his father was just displeased at losing a
valuable hound and not landing the quarry himself, with someone he didn’t care
much for.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m glad you’re well, father,’ Gwyn said, wishing that he couldn’t hear the
meekness in his own tone then.
‘Am I?’ Lludd said. ‘Go to your room, Gwyn. You’re dismissed.’
‘Yes, father. Of course.’
Gwyn walked away briskly, trotted back up the steps and ignored Mafydd once
more, who was hanging back. He could tell in his peripheral vision that Mafydd
had tried to catch his eye, and wished he hadn’t, because Lludd didn’t miss a
thing.
Before heading straight to his room, he lingered in one of the sitting rooms
downstairs, watching as the boar was taken off to be hung and prepared
properly, as the hounds were shepherded back to the kennels and the horses were
led off back to the stables. Mafydd, Mafydd’s father and Lludd stood around
talking for some time, and Gwyn could see the dra’ocht he used while talking to
them, the waves of energy that were hard to perceive up close, but easier to
spot from a distance. Lludd wasn’t naturally charming, and Gwyn suspected he
got his own need to consciously force his glamour from his father’s side of the
family.
Mafydd came back inside a short time later, and Gwyn held his breath as Mafydd
passed the darkened sitting room, because it would not be a good idea to be
spotted now. He watched Mafydd go, watched him raise a hand to his forehead and
rub at it as though he had a headache. What had they been talking about? Gwyn
resisted the urge to follow him, to ask if he was okay.
He waited another hour, until everything was truly starting to settle down, and
he escaped back to his room before his father could return to the house from
the stables.
*
Gwyn’s body stiffened at the sound of the footsteps marching towards his room
before he’d even registered that he’d heard them. He was standing up hurriedly,
even before his father opened his bedroom door and closed it behind him with a
sharp, awful click.
He looked absolutely livid, from the muscle jumping on the left-hand side of
his jaw, to the ruddiness of rage in his cheeks. Gwyn knew then, Lludd had
found out somehow. He backed up quickly, stopping just before he hit the wall.
‘I thought I told you to avoid him,’ Lludd said.
‘I have been, father.’
‘Don’tlie to me! I am a tracker!Do you think I cannot spot your footsteps in
the stables? Your knee-prints in the dirt,in the tack-room? If I had known you
found the lifestyle of whoring preferable to that of the merits of being a
soldier, I could have organised thatbase training for you instead. Would you
prefer it? Hm? You’ve known that boy less than three whole days!’
Gwyn’s mouth was dry, he couldn’t even move his tongue to lick at his lips.
‘Of course you are so low that you would take it up the ass like some commoner.
So, do you want me to change your tutors? Shall I bring in the ones that will
make you at least earn moneyfor it?’
‘Father, no- I, his reading is dormant, he’s kind and he’s from a good family,
I thought-’
He knew better than to duck out of the way of the gut punch, knowing that his
father made things worse whenever he avoided punishment. Gwyn dropped to the
ground, pain blazing. His father had always been economical with his violence.
The jab to the side of his head sent him sprawling.
‘You do not deservekindness, nor anyone from a goodfamily. If I have my way,
you will not be matched with anyoneat all, lest they see what sort of
monstrosity you are. That he is a Reader, that his Reading is dormant, none of
that matters so much as you flagrantly disobeying me! No, you stay down.’
The heel of Lludd’s right boot ground down in between his shoulder blades, and
Gwyn scrabbled at the floor to brace himself. Gwyn knew he’d be lucky to escape
with his consciousness.
‘Father, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, you know how stupid I am. I don’t have any
excuses, I did the wrong thing, I did...’
He didn’t know how he could be wrong if it made him feel so good, but maybe
that was why it was wrong. Maybe that was the point. Gwyn lowered his forehead
to the floor. He was always so slowto realise these things.
‘Papa, I’m sorry.’
‘Your apologies are meaningless,’Lludd spat. ‘But perhaps you should enjoy it
while it lasts, hm?’
Gwyn’s brow furrowed in confusion. When Lludd leaned over him, the sharp heel
cut through his clothing and pushed a bruise into his spine. He gasped at the
pain of it. A hand twisted sharply in his hair, pulling strands loose.
‘These tutors of yours who like you, do not know what you’re truly like. And
this boy who finds something worthwhile in you, clearly doesn’t understand what
you are. Is that it, Gwyn? Do you want something you don’t deserve, because
you’ve never had it before? Is that how ungrateful you are, after we’ve housed
you and fed you and educated you? And of course you would enjoy being ploughed
like some green farm boy, of course.Are you so determined to fail in
everything?’
Gwyn stayed silent, and squeezed his eyes shut in relief when he realised that
was what Lludd wanted. Sometimes he was supposed to stay silent. Sometimes he
was supposed to agree.
Lludd let go of him all at once, stepped away. Gwyn started to push himself
upright and was punched back down into the ground again, curling around the
pain in his other kidney.
‘Do not keep seeing him, or there will be consequences.’
And with that, Lludd walked briskly away, opening and closing the door behind
him. His room was still.
Gwyn groaned in pain, forcing himself to uncurl a little. He would heal, he
always healed, but in the moment the pain disarmed him. He sobbed once, then
forced himself to stop by grinding his teeth together, digging his nails into
his palms. He knew there was no point, because once he really started, he found
it so hard to stop, and that infuriated Lludd as well. And there was still a
small chance Lludd might come back.
He pushed himself up to his knees and then decided against it, letting himself
fall back down to the ground again, pressing hands to his abdomen.
He was torn between trying to tell himself it had to end, it had to be over
with Mafydd, and listening to the other voice that was bewildered, that didn’t
understand why it was so wrong to feel what he was feeling. If Mafydd’s Reading
stayed dormant, then why wasn’t it okay?
Because you don’t deserve it, remember?
Gwyn threw his forearm over his eyes as he rolled onto his back, and froze.
Mafydd was standing in the doorway, his bathroomdoor, looking like he’d been
struck. He couldn’t have just entered the room, Gwyn would have noticed. Which
meant that...which meant that he’d been there the entire ti-
‘No,’Gwyn said, staring at him. ‘No, you weren’t supposed to see that. You
weren’t supposed to, how, how did-’
‘Hush,’ Mafydd whispered, staring fearfully at the door while rushing to Gwyn’s
side. ‘Hush now, quiet.’
He knelt by him and placed his hands gingerly, one on Gwyn’s head, the other on
his shoulder.
‘You weren’t supposed to see that, Mafydd, I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be here.
You-’
‘Hush,’Mafydd said, his voice breaking. Gwyn could see his chest heaving for
air, though he couldn’t hear him breathing.
‘Why are you here?’
‘I wanted to surprise you,’ Mafydd said absently. ‘Ha. Joke’s on me.’
Mafydd subsided into silence, and  when Gwyn tried to speak again, confused and
pained and horrified, Mafydd pressed his fingers to Gwyn’s lips. It was only
after several minutes of silence, Mafydd still staring at the door, that he
looked back down at Gwyn and removed his fingers.
‘You shouldn’t be here, Mafydd. Sometimes he comes back.’
‘You’re fuckingkidding me,’ Mafydd spat, rage crossing his features. And then
the expression vanished and he was suddenly clutching his own chest, face
twisting in pain. ‘Ah, no, stop it.’
Gwyn pushed himself upright, ignoring the flares of pain that made his body
work clumsily.
‘What’s wrong?’  Gwyn whispered. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s my Reading,’Mafydd groaned, and then shook his head stubbornly over and
over, as though he could force it from his body. Gwyn backed away, leaned
against his own bed, wanting to help, not knowing how to help.
Mafydd’s expression cleared slowly, he lowered shaking hands from his chest, he
stared at Gwyn and then looked back towards the door .
‘The lecture of a lifetime, huh?’ Mafydd said, almost to himself. ‘And you go
and say ‘or something like that.’ This is the something, yeah? Right. Right,
well. Oh, look at you. Come here.’
But it was Mafydd who came over to Gwyn, drawing him into his strong arms and
staring at the door like Lludd would come through it at any moment. Gwyn would
know if he was, he’d hear him, the footsteps. But there were no footsteps
outside of his room. Gwyn lay stiff in Mafydd’s arms. He didn’t want to be
comforted. He shouldn’t be with him at all. It didn’t matter how he felt, it
didn’t matter how much he liked him, this was a recipe for disaster.
‘I’m sorry, Mafydd, he’s right, I shouldn’t be doing this.’
Gwyn started to push away but Mafydd tightened his grip.
‘This isn’t right,’ Mafydd said quietly. ‘And if my Reading is anything to go
by, it hasn’t been right for a longtime. I’ll...I’ll leave, I’ll stay away. But
Gwyn, something’s not right.’
It’s me,Gwyn’s mind whispered, traitorous.
‘Don’t stay away,’ Gwyn said, almost without thinking. Mafydd stared down at
him, expression unreadable.
‘At least a day, Gwyn. For your own safety. But...maybe...’
‘Don’t stay away,’ Gwyn said again, closing his eyes. If he was already so
monstrous, already so irredeemable, then what was one more monstrous thing in
his life? What was this short-term dalliance with Mafydd? Gwyn knew that it
would not last much longer, and then his life would go back to what it had
always been. ‘Don’t stay away.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Mafydd said, ruffling his hair. ‘I got it. Against my better
judgement – not that I have much of it – I got it.’
***** Secrets *****
Chapter Notes
     Alright; this is it - an unfinished chapter for an unfinished series
     of chapters, because I simply found the ending too confronting to
     write. Please see the notes at the end for a summary of how this was
     *supposed* to end.
     And I am sure I'll see you all in Game Theory.
     Thank you so much to those who read this and reviewed it, and an
     extra-special thank to those of you who expressed an interest in
     knowing more about Mafydd, long before I had intended on putting this
     online. *hugs*
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Mafydd had wanted to stay by Gwyn’s side that evening for far longer, but as
soon as Gwyn could get his feet under himself, he insisted that Mafydd leave.
His mind was spinning, he had a terrible headache. Mafydd had seen and heard
all of it, his Reading had kicked in again, it was awful. Eventually – after
some pushing – Mafydd had left. Gwyn refused to be drawn out on the topic of
his father’s violence, and Mafydd refused to agree with Gwyn, when Gwyn
insisted that it was fine.
It was the closest they’d ever gotten to an argument, and even though Gwyn
could tell Mafydd was concerned – even if that concern was misplaced and
misguided – it left him bad-tempered and frustrated.
Worse, he should have known better. It would have been easy enough to cloak the
signs that Mafydd and Gwyn had been in the stables together, Gwyn was also
training to be a tracker like his father, and he could have done enough to make
sure Lludd didn’t suspect. Instead he’d let himself be happily dazed, had
forgotten about the signs they’d left – the footprints, the kneeprints – and
he’d paid the price of Lludd discovering them both.
He feared, momentarily, there would be consequences for Mafydd too. But then he
doubted it. Lludd didn’t punish guests. The general understanding was that if a
guest did anything wrong, it was because they didn’t understand how things were
done at the Estate, or because Gwyn had somehow led them astray.
Gwyn wondered if some of the pain in his gut came not from Lludd’s punches, but
from the aching knowledge that he might lose another chance to be with Mafydd
again.
He half-expected Mafydd and his family to be sent away the next morning, but he
heard from the servants they were still about. Gwyn stayed firmly out of their
way, nothing less would be expected of him, and his father would make up some
excuse for him as he had done in the past. Extra training, late-night tutoring,
a combination of innocuous acts to make it seem like Gwyn hadn’t made such
grave mistakes, but was just too busy to be seen.
He was grateful for that, at least. It saved him public humiliation.
Going through his classes with his tutors with pain roiling through him was
nothing new, though still unpleasant. And if any of his tutors noticed that he
was slower than usual when he got into and out of chairs, or when he went
through drills, they said nothing. Many weren’t remotely sympathetic. Those who
had been sympathetic in the past, who asked too many questions, were sent away.
They were there to teach and tutor and train Gwyn, not coddle him like he was
some infant. Gwyn’s father had told him that before, when some of his favourite
tutors had been sent away.
Sometimes it made it easier, anyway. Mafydd acting like what Lludd had done was
wrong was far more painful than having to navigate a few days with a milder,
physical pain.
Yet he craved Mafydd’s company, he felt like every part of his awareness leaned
in his direction, reached for him. He imagined filaments of his thoughts
tangled and snarled together in their rush to find him on the Estate. He wanted
to touch his skin again. Wanted to feel the boneless sensation of being taken
by him, the pleasure of it. He wanted his voice and his eyes and his hands that
already showed the spurs from frequent archery.
If he were a better son, perhaps he would find it easier to listen to Lludd,
easier to turn away from him. But he was not, and he wanted.
*
The next day, Gwyn only had two lessons in the morning, both physically taxing.
Training with the longbow first, and then the long sword. His arms always shook
by the end, no matter how much stronger he became, no matter how he practiced
on his own. The dual lessons were designed to show him something of constant
exhaustion. After, his bicep was twitching in his right arm, and he rubbed at
it absently.
When he made his way back to his rooms to shower, he saw an unmistakeable
carriage at the Estate.
Efnisien.
Which meant that Efnisien’s parents were visiting and his cousin would have the
run of the house as usual and Mafydd...Mafydd wouldn’t have the first idea how
to protect himself from him. Efnisien whose core energy was cruelty.
Gwyn’s blood ran cold. His steps picked up as he walked into the house, and he
grit his teeth as he forced himself up to shower first. He would be roasted
alive if he wasn’t presentable. He scrubbed himself quickly, dressed in such a
hurry his shirt was back to front and he was still settling it the right way
when he ran downstairs. He slowed his quiet run to a brisk walk, then peered
into the room where Mafydd’s parents and his parents were entertaining
Efnisien’s parents. There was no sign of Efnisien or Mafydd anywhere.
Crielle’s eyes snapped to Gwyn’s, and she smiled at him invitingly. It was a
lie. She never wanted him in the same room she was in unless she could hurt
him.
‘What is it you want, son?’
She only ever called him that before the presence of guests.
‘I beg your pardon for the intrusion. Have you seen Efnisien anywhere? I wished
to show him something that I learned earlier.’
Even Efnisien’s parents knew that was a lie. After all, Gwyn avoided his
cousin’s company wherever possible. Any time they spent alone together, was
time when Gwyn was invariably tormented or outright tortured by his cousin. The
first time Efnisien had spent the day playing with Gwyn, Gwyn had needed his
full Court healing ability to recover, and it had been four weeks before he was
hale again.
His heart was pounding so painfully he could feel it pulsing behind his eyes.
‘Efnisien is out playing with Mafydd,’ Crielle said, grinning toothily. ‘Boys
will be boys, won’t they?’
‘Thank you, mother,’ Gwyn said. He bowed deeply, respectfully, and then backed
away until he was out of eyeshot. As soon as he was sure they wouldn’t hear
him, he bolted barefoot from the Estate, the servant’s doors flying open with a
bang behind him, feet pounding over gravel and then grass as he tacked towards
the target fields where Efnisien liked to take Gwyn. Where Efnisien would find
it easy to lure Mafydd. After all, Mafydd liked the longbow.
Gwyn’s cold sweat quickly became a proper sweat, turning his skin frigid where
the air touched it. He’d already exerted himself to exhaustion, and his muscles
and legs protested as he pushed himself across the fields.
He jumped over a wooden fence leading to an apple orchard, needed a shortcut.
The longbow target fields were furthest away. Stray arrows could do a lot of
damage, best they weren’t shot anywhere near other people. They were far enough
away that his family couldn’t hear him scream when Efnisien had him.
And Efnisien wasn’t like Lludd and Crielle, he had no sense of ‘family only.’
He shared his cruelty with everyone he wished to. And his parents pardoned him,
everyonepardoned him. You learned quickly with Efnisien. You stayed away from
him, you didn’t provoke him, and you made sure you were never everleft alone
with him. He’d been responsible for the death of at least four servants that
Gwyn knew of, and that didn’t include the ones that no one had been given a
chance to gossip about, the servants that just ‘disappeared’ from service, no
body to be found.
Gwyn made a sound in the back of his throat, ran faster. Efnisien wouldn’t kill
Mafydd, he was almost certain, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt him, and
badly.
And Gwyn’s father had no respect for Mafydd’s father. Didn’t even want him
there.
Gwyn tripped over a rabbit warren, strained his ankle, forced himself upright
and onwards through the pain of it. Long grass whipped past him, and his ears
strained for noise. He was in sight of the target fields now.
There.
Gwyn swerved towards the low, dull cry of pain. His heart hammered. Blood
rushed through his veins. He imagined Mafydd bloody, stabbed, tortured.
And there,the form of Efnisien crouched over something – someone – a delighted
look on his face. Efnisien had Mafydd with an arm twisted up hard behind his
back, the glint of a knife that cut into his upper arm. Mafydd cried out again.
Efnisien was so caught up in what he was doing he hadn’t even noticed.
Or he had noticed and didn’t care.
Rage twisted through Gwyn, exploded in sparks up and down his spine. His light
prickled up so close to the surface of his skin that he felt it tearing and
shredding along his arms, down his backs of his legs, even along his scalp.
Efnisien looked up, smiled the same charming smile that his mother was capable.
All blonde hair, blue-eyed beauty, looking impossibly stunning in the high
afternoon light.
‘Get OFF him!’Gwyn roared.
He knocked Efnisien sideways so roughly that Mafydd was hurt in the process,
the arm twisted up behind his back not being released in time. But Gwyn had
thrown his full weight against Efnisien and eventually Efnisien had to let go.
Gwyn smashed his fist into Efnisien’s neck, and Efnisien choked on it, strange,
gargling laughter spraying from his mouth as he kneed Gwyn in the gut and they
ended up grappling with each other.
Gwyn had gotten the upper hand again, when Efnisien finally caught his breath.
‘He was much more fun than you. He actually makes noise.’
Efnisien’s head came up to headbutt him, but Gwyn reared out of the way, only
to get another knee to the flared black bruise in his gut where Lludd had
punched him. He choked on the pain of it, slammed his mouth shut to stop
himself from crying out, but he fell weakly, splayed forwards into the grass
when an elbow fell between his shoulder blades.
‘You, stay down,’Efnisien said. ‘Good dog.’
But Gwyn was already forcing himself to turn. He had to help Mafydd. It was one
thing to be tormented by Efnisien knowing his own parents didn’t care; it was
another for Mafydd – who had done so much for Gwyn already – to be targeted by
him.
Gwyn pushed himself upright, kicking at Efnisien’s shin. And Mafydd was silent
as he followed that up with a kick to his gut, forcing Efnisien down to the
ground. Gwyn looked at Mafydd quickly, saw a combination of fear and outrage in
his eyes.
He splayed his legs in a fighting stance, and Mafydd did the same, fists up. He
looked like he’d been taught to brawl.
Efnisien pushed himself away and then upright, laughing.
‘Two against one, not really a fair fight, is it?’
‘Oh sure,’ Mafydd said. ‘Because you care about fair fights.’
‘Well,’ Efnisien drawled, ‘I do when it involves mebeing on the rotten end of
it.’
Efnisien stared at both of them, an amused gleam in his azure eyes, and then he
ran a hand through his hair, making it fall neatly around his jaw-line once
more. He blinked in the direction of the Estate, shrugged and then made his way
to it. He only turned back to look at them once, and laughed when he saw they
were still in a fighting stance.
‘At ease, gentlemen,’ he called behind him.
Gwyn relaxed slightly, lowered his fists. He didn’t think Efnisien would return
while the stakes were against him. He was a lazy sadist, and if he couldn’t get
his way easily, he often didn’t bother. When Gwyn ran away from him into the
forest, Efnisien almost never followed, knowing that Gwyn was better at hiding
than Efnisien was at finding. Mafydd kept his arms up, was shaking, even once
Efnisien was out of sight.
‘He won’t come back,’ Gwyn  said. ‘It’s two against one. He won’t like those
odds.’
Mafydd stared at him, lowered his own arms and looked at his bleeding arm. Gwyn
reached out for it immediately, concerned, and Mafydd jerked it away, staring
at him with something like betrayal on his features.
What did I do?
‘Mafydd?’
‘What...what are you dealing with here? Day to day?’
Gwyn swallowed, didn’t answer for a long moment. He reached out for Mafydd’s
arm and stepped over, placing his hand over the knife wound. He wasn’t a
healer, but Mafydd was Outer Court status, and he would heal fast anyway. But
he wanted to offer something, so he offered the warmth of his palm, a gentle
touch.
‘Family matters, Mafydd. It’s nothing.’
Mafydd stared at him so long that Gwyn shifted nervously under the gaze. He
looked in the direction Efnisien had left, and then removed his palm to look at
the wound, at the blood that had trickled down to meet his own fingers.
‘Did he hurt you anywhere else?’
‘A few bruises but that’s it, that’s enough,seriously. Yeah, I can’t believe
this. And the things he fucking said, that ass, talking about torture and
cutting out parts of me and...’
Mafydd’s voice was shaking.
Gwyn closed his eyes to think of it. It was what he feared most, and Efnisien
had threatened it. Maybe he wouldn’t have gone ahead with it, Efnisien was
slowly starting to learn that it was less appropriate to torture high status
fae, or perhaps he was simply learning more restraint, but he had threatenedit.
Gwyn’s heart twisted.
‘No, I wouldn’t have let that happen,’ Gwyn said. ‘I love you too much for th-’
Gwyn slapped a hand over his lips, stared at Mafydd in horror.
Mafydd seemed to forget about his injured arm, as something of a frail smile
spread over his face.
‘What’s this now?’
‘I wouldn’t have let that happen?’ Gwyn hedged, feeling his face flush with
embarrassed heat.
Mafydd laughed.
‘The other bit?’
‘There was another bit?’ Gwyn said, a weak attempt at being evasive. ‘I don’t
remember saying anything else.’
‘Here I am, half tortured by your cousin, and you’re still gorgeous. Baby, but
no,’ Mafydd said. ‘It’s just puppy love, not that I blame you, since it looks
like you’re growing up in some Unseelie monstrosity of a family.’
Gwyn’s gut clenched. It had started at the ‘Baby, but no,’ and kept on going
right up until the end of what Mafydd had said. He dropped his hand to his side
and frowned.
‘Puppy love? You mean...infatuation?’
‘Yeah, I- Wow, you really don’t see anything weird about what happened just
now, do you? Alright, yeah, let’s talk about this. I mean infatuation. We
hardly know each other, and you’re not in love with me, baby, you’re just young
and experiencing a ton of new things.’
‘I think I know what I feel,’ Gwyn said, stiffly.
‘Howwould you know? Baby, can you tell the difference? Real love hits you like
a bolt of lightning. This...’ Mafydd waved the hand of his non-injured arm
between the two of them. ‘This is fun, and great, and you’re the loveliest
thing to come out of that family and I called them crocodiles didn’t I? I’m
starting to think that’s an insult to crocodiles. And what did your cousin mean
that you don’t make noise?’
‘He responds to noise,’ Gwyn said, shaking his head in irritation. He didn’t
want to talk about Efnisien. He wanted to talk about how easily Mafydd had
dismissed his feelings, but then...what if Mafydd was right? What if Gwyn
didn’t know? He couldn’t recall having felt infatuation before either. What if
infatuation was his chest twisting up, and a discordance of pulse points inside
of him, and real love was even worse?
He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.
‘Stay away from him,’ Gwyn said. ‘Don’t ever let yourself be alone with him. He
can’t be trusted.’
‘Yeah...couldn’t have gathered that myself, thanks.’
Gwyn’s brow furrowed. He felt like Mafydd was angry with him, and he didn’t
know what to do about it. He wished he’d arrived sooner. Perhaps he should have
said something from the beginning. He’d taken his own wariness of Efnisien for
granted, maybe he should have warned him on the first day, instead of thinking
about himself.
He was too selfish, he thought about himself far too often.
Gwyn was sinking to his knees in the tall grass before he was aware of it. He
reached out to the fastenings of Mafydd’s pants and didn’t hesitate, wanting
something that would distract them both, hoping that Mafydd would just-
‘Wait, wait, baby, wait a minute,’ Mafydd said, sounding an entirely different
type of shaky now. His voice has gone deeper. ‘Shit, Gwyn,wait.’
‘No,’ Gwyn said, and even though Mafydd was telling him to stop, he wasn’t
stepping backwards, he wasn’t doing anything more than twisting slightly to
look over his shoulder towards the Estate. ‘I’m hidden, like this. No one can
see.’
A hand threaded through his hair and then drew him upright, and Gwyn went
reluctantly, refusing to meet Mafydd’s eyes. He felt shamed, like he’d been
caught doing something wrong, again.
‘Baby the grass is tall but it isn’t that tall. And your hair colour is pretty
noticeable, yeah? I think your hair would look pretty visible from a distance,
bobbing back and forth on my cock, wouldn’t it? But fuck, you’re so eager.
Fuck. Is there somewhere we can go?’
Gwyn swallowed, his heart beat faster in his excitement and he dared to risk
Mafydd’s eyes. And Mafydd was watching him hungrily, other expressions merging
on his face, though Gwyn couldn’t be certain what they were.
But as Gwyn tried to think of some place they could go, he realised with a
sinking heart that they couldn’t do anything at all. His father would notice
Efnisien returning and Mafydd and Gwyn staying out together. They had to
return.
‘No,’ Gwyn said, shaking his head. ‘No there’s...nowhere.’
He started manipulating the grass beneath his bare feet, where he’d
accidentally bent the stalks into a position that his father might realise was
him having been on his knees again. He sighed as he did it.
‘Follow me back to the Estate. I’m pretty sure Efnisien won’t come back, but
it’s best that you not be on your own outside the Estate walls. After,
just...spend some time with your family. Don’t leave them. And lock your door.
Your door has a lock on it, doesn’t it?’
‘Yeah,’ Mafydd said.
He sounded unhappy, and Gwyn looked up once he’d finished masking the worst of
where he’d knelt. Mafydd looked pensive, his own eyebrows pulled together.
Gwyn wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he thought that was quite obvious,
given what had happened, given Mafydd’s arm.
‘I can take you in through the back, there’s a trough where you can wash your
arm, if you wish.’
‘I should go on my own, since we’re not meant to be seen together.’
Gwyn nodded, and then Mafydd set off in the direction of the estate. Gwyn
couldn’t even ghost him properly to make sure he was okay, because outside of
the tall grass, the land was flat, and Mafydd was visible. Instead, Gwyn stayed
in the tall grass himself, ears listening out for any more cries of pain from
Mafydd, and catching instead the quiet calls of birds.
He made his way back to the estate and didn’t see Mafydd again, that day or the
next. Efnisien and his family left, Gwyn was too occupied by lessons and
memorising scrolls to pay much mind, and he found that throwing himself into
work and education didn’t stop the pain in his heart, but made it more
bearable.
Mafydd had been angry at him, and Gwyn wasn’t even the one who had hurt him
like that! It didn’t make any sense, except that – as his father was constantly
telling him – he was just put together wrong. Maybe that was what would happen
with anyone he met, maybe he would just never know what it was that turned
others against him.
After all, Efnisien’s parents still liked Efnisien, and he was a torturer.
Gwyn felt like he was carrying something broken around in his chest, and he
hated it. He worked harder than he could remember working for months, and slept
curled up on the corner of his bed, not even allowing himself the comfort of
pillows and blankets.
Something in him was wrong, and he sometimes wondered if he could chase it out
of himself if he was just mean enough to whatever it was.
*
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     SUMMARY OF WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN:
     After having sex again in the stables once more, on the straw, while
     Lludd left on unexpected business, Mafydd finds Gwyn's anguish too
     much to bear and starts begging to know his secret. And Gwyn - of
     course - refuses for some time, trying to clumsily comfort Mafydd,
     and terrified of breaking the blood oath.
     But when he accidentally reveals that he swore a blood oath to
     Mafydd, Mafydd starts to laugh in relief and tells him that this is
     impossible, blood oaths are illegal before a fae comes of age at 225,
     and he certainly hasn't made one in his childhood. Not a real one.
     Gwyn is uncertain, but of course he trusts Mafydd, and Mafydd is
     telling him that his father lied to him to preserve a lie. So Gwyn,
     desperate to tell someone for the first time in his life, reveals to
     Mafydd that he is Unseelie.
     Immediately, the blood oath is broken, and Lludd and Gwyn both feel
     it. For Gwyn it is an agony of pain, and he passes out for some time.
     When Gwyn awakens, he is both exhausted, hysterical, and Mafydd is
     rocking him, telling him that they will get him out of there, and go
     to the Unseelie Court and ask for asylum (Gwyn, generally against
     anything Unseelie, is not receptive to this plan).
     Lludd arrives, aware the blood-oath is broken, and drags Mafydd away,
     knocking Gwyn unconscious again. When Gwyn awakens, he goes looking
     for him, certain Mafydd has already been killed. He finds his father
     on his own and Lludd lays into him, furious and telling Gwyn that if
     he lacks the mettle to keep a blood oath, then he can certainly do
     what's necessary. He drags Gwyn into the indoor target room, where
     Mafydd is strapped to a target, and clearly distressed. Lludd hands
     Gwyn his recurve bow, and his quiver of arrows, and this is when the
     pitting of their wills against each other begins.
     But Lludd's centre is ruthlessness, and Gwyn's loyalty - specifically
     to his father. And though Gwyn puts his all into trying to resist the
     will of his father, and even attempts to free Mafydd a couple of
     times, and then simply threatens to run away, he is left begging his
     father to kill him instead, 'like you have always wanted to.' Even
     this is not enough, and eventually, numb and shattered, Gwyn pulls a
     single arrow on Mafydd and shoots him through the heart. The internal
     strain of this, as well as the pain of the broken blood oath and his
     injuries inflicted by LLudd are so much that Gwyn collapses.
     When he wakes up, he is certain it is a dream; a nightmare. Dazed, he
     looks up, and realises that Mafydd is still dead. He is alone. A note
     has been left by Lludd:
     'Clean up your mess.'
     And after long, broken hours of gathering Mafydd to him and crying,
     that's exactly what he does.
     Mafydd's death is explained as a hunting excursion gone wrong amongst
     two teenagers who didn't know better, and while Mafydd's father
     always suspected something wasn't entirely right, there wasn't much
     he could do about it. Gwyn never recovered, and spurned all advances
     (not that there were many) afterwards, he developed an outwardly cold
     and heartless demeanour, and he tried to leave and get out into
     campaigns as much as possible (for a while there, he wanted himself
     dead as much as his father did - going to battle 'too early' seemed
     like the perfect answer). If he had any doubt about his true nature
     or how awful he was before then, he lost it all afterwards, and
     became despairing of his own true self.
     And now you can probably see why I wasn't able to write all of that
     out in detail. *hugs everyone who wants hugs*
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