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The evening was drawing quiet breaths of honeyed silence, and everything bathed in the gentle light from the moon and stars. Yes, he thought, that was the right description. He adjusted his perch on the chair and propped one foot up against the wooden railing, his lyre held in a loose grip. He took it in a firmer hold and brought the instrument up to his chest, hesitatingly running his fingers over the strings. Then he listened closely. But no, no complaints. He sighed. Well, it was uncommon for any villager to make any complaints about his handling of the lyre. But it was getting late, and some people would perhaps prefer total silence by now.
A shame really. This evening was made for a song! A sweet melodious tune about the gentle beauty of the late summer evening. The wind in the trees, the hushed conversations, the smell of cooking, and everything cocooned in the warmth still lingering from the rays of the setting sun. He wanted to put all that in song.
He continued to pluck at the lyre, trying out a few different things. If he was satisfied with the result, which he would be, he could play the song at the next village banquet.
There was movement right under him, and for a few heartbeats he lost track of the music. Who could that be? He craned his neck, and got a glimpse of Ordralfabétix who was making his way towards Cétautomatix’s hut. Inwardly, he groaned. Now what? What kind of mood was the fishmonger in? What kind of mood would he find the blacksmith in? He racked his memories of the day, the past week, but no, nothing amiss between them. His shoulders were once again relaxed, and he chuckled quietly. Honestly, the two hotheads were actually capable of getting along most of the time. And it was not really their fault that half the village felt like joining in every time they kicked up a scuffle.
Still, he felt as though he aught to keep an eye on the proceedings. To be sure.
From where he sat he had a pretty good view of the dying embers and glowing lanterns in Cétautomatix’s workshop. And a clear view of the man himself. He looked…..a bit conserned? He could not see Ordralfabétix’s face, only his back and the way his braids moved when he talked. But from what he could observe, he appeared a bit concerned too. Like they did not really know how to have this conversation.
Suddenly he felt alert again. Was there a reason for that? He was unsure, because the situation was not familiar. If this had been a usual pre-fight talk they would have been rolling on the ground by now. And they would have been shouting. He could not hear them at all. The night and distance taking their words before they could reach him.
Soft spoken was not their way. But there in the warm glow of amber flames and flickering shadows it came easy to them.
His lyre was almost forgotten in his grasp. But led by an almost unacknowledged feeling he picked up his playing. As if the spell between Cétautomatix and Ordralfabétix would be broken if he let complete silence fall. Because in the back of his mind, he thought they might notice him looking, if he stopped playing.
An outreached arm! Not fast and violent, neither companionable and boisterous, but gentle and somewhat unsure. Ordralfabétix reaching out to cup Cétautomatix cheek. Even from this distance he could see how Cétautomatix’s eyes fluttered closed and his breathing hitched. And his broad rough hand was placed on Ordralfabétix’s forearm, before he turned his head to give the inside of the other man's wrist a slow kiss. His eyebrows attempted contact with his hairline, and there was an unfortunate twang from the lyre. Well, that was. He wanted to say unexpected, but truth be told he could not find it entirely so. More like a confirmation. Of something half-thought that had been in the back of his mind for longer then he had been aware of.
He should not pry, this was not for him to observe. But as per usual in situations such as this, it proved difficult.
Cétautomatix manoeuvred Ordralfabétix around, walking him backwards until his back hit the wall. Partly in shadow they were now, but he could still see how Ordralfabétix were blinking rapidly and his mouth opening and closing. (the phrase “like a fish on land” came unbidden to his mind and he had to smother an unwelcome giggle) But words seemed to have failed him with the muscular bulk of Cétautomatix so close. If he had owned any form of plan when he had walked over, it had left him by now. Cétautomatix twined Ordralfabétix long hair around his fingers, giving a gentle tug. He had seen him do that before, quite often. But never when sober. When drunk Ordralfabétix did not give any indication that he thought much about the hair-tugging at all. Now when sober, and presumably unobserved, he smiled gently and, though it might be just a trick of the light, looked to be blushing.
This was all…..honestly he could not find a proper descriptor for what he thought and felt right now. Surprised, but not really. Discomfited, but not as much as he perhaps according to some people should be. Intrigued, in all honesty. All he knew for quite certain was that he would never tell anyone about this. Not his place, not his right.
And when Ordralfabétix manoeuvred Cétautomatix into a position that allowed him to see both their faces, before pulling the blacksmith in for an evidently deep kiss, well….he was only human, and he could not deny that the sight was rather appealing. Cétautomatix slid his hand down Ordralfabétix’ ample waist, rough palm caressing his backside. Ordralfabétix put his hand into Cétautomatix’ copper mane, pulling at the strands. Their mouths locked into a kiss they were obviously enjoying. A very appealing sight truth be told. He shifted in his seat, suddenly restless. Watching Cétautomatix push his tongue into Ordralfabétix’ mouth provoked a warm tightening to bloom in his lower abdomen. Observing their tongues duelling for dominance, he swallowed down a sigh.
Lips and tongues meeting, slow, deep and deliberate. Broad and rough hands caressing fondly, up under loosened shirts to expose soft flesh and hard muscle. All alone there was a whole other dynamic to them. Wanting and needing.
His lyre was hanging on precariously from his loose hold, close to the floor where his arm hung heavily over the armrest of his seat. His other hand balled into a fist around his shirt, right over the lining to his trousers. Propping his leg further up on the railing, but the tell tale growing bulge between his legs could not be denied. He could honestly say, with his hand on his heart, that he had never though of neither Cétautomatix nor Ordralfabétix in this manner. Lacking in desire to bed either of them, but flushed and hard at the sight of their passion and the thought of them bedding each other. He unclenched his fingers from his shirt, and let his hand finds its way between his legs.
Cétautomatix pulled Ordralfabétix further into privacy, where they would no doubt take care of their mutual arousal, and affection for each other.
He tried to get a hold of his laboured breathing. Blushing hotly at his actions.
He closed his eyes and imagined his friends.
Ordralfabétix removing Cétautomatix heavy leather apron and pulling his shirt over his head to reveal the firm muscles of his arms and torso. Cétautomatix smiling a bit smugly when Ordralfabétix caressed his chest and stomach. But gasping softly when Ordralfabétix would pinch his nipples. Cétautomatix’s rough hands upon Ordralfabétix’s soft belly, pulling the blonde down so he could kiss him, from the hollow of his throat down to the warm and ample girth of his stomach. Teasingly biting and kissing where his belly hung slightly over the lining of his trousers. And Ordralfabétix would push a more then willing Cétautomatix further down, so the blacksmith could use his mouth on his cock. Cétautomatix would give a cocky grin when tugging Ordralfabétix out of the confinement of his clothing, taking his cock into his mouth in earnest. Blissfully sucking and licking, Ordralfabétix tugging and petting his copper hair and whispering praise and encouragement.
He shuddered at the headed envisioning. Dragging his hand steadily up and down his own hard shaft.
The two of them chest to chest. Kisses open mouthed and Cétautomatix once again tugging at Ordralfabétix messy blonde locks. A look between them and a quiet ‘please’, when Cétautomatix slid his hand down Ordralfabétix back. Working him open with thick fingers, and kissing him hard to silence his pleasure.
The night air was cool over his flushed skin. Shirt pulled up and the lacing to his trousers pulled open.
Cétautomatix’ hard and muscular chest against Ordralfabétix’ back. Heated and sweat-slick as the two shuddered and Cétautomatix pushed in slowly, biting down on the shoulder of his lover to muffle himself. Ordralfabétix bracing himself against the wall on his forearms when Cétautomatix picked up the pace and took him hard. His fingers no doubt making marks upon the soft flesh of Ordralfabétix’ hips and belly.
He arched his back and there was a small thump when the back of his head made contact with the tree behind him. Bottom lip caught between his teeth for silence.
Imaging Cétautomatix spilling his release inside Ordralfabétix, then making sure the blonde found his. Having his thick cock in a firm grip, murmuring softy when stroking him, wanting to make his friend come. “I’ve got you, you look so good like this, you know that don’t you?” Ordralfabétix nodding, a mischievous smile tugging at his mouth, moaning when Cétautomatix pulled out of him, only to replace the girth of his cock with his fingers. “That’s it, you’re so close now I can tell, let me make you come”
He reached his peak when the Ordralfabétix, of his mind did. Cursing under his breath when spilling copiously over his hand and staining his clothing. Slumping back into his seat he tried to get his breathing and his heart back to normal, lacing up his trousers with quick movements. Well…...that was certainly new. Looking around he found where he had dropped his lyre, picking it up and inspecting it for damage. But that instrument was a sturdy piece who had survived a lot more then being dropped to the ground. He cradled the instrument to his chest, fighting down the urge to laugh at this absurd situation. At least it had been a very satisfying moment of self-pleasure.
Picking at the strings he began to contemplate a love song. Full of shared looks, heated words, touches under the amber glow of firelight and those quiet moments that nobody else knew they were capable of.