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The day was soft with low clouds, shrouds of distant storms draped over the horizon. Ren pulled away his pipe to take in a deep inhale through his nose. The rain was heading his way, but there was still plenty of time to tend to the sheep and bring up some venison from the storeroom for a mincemeat dinner.
“Radge! Bonnie! Git!” The two border collies at Ren’s side shot out across the green, rounding up a few stray sheep that became spooked by a rattle of thunder. “Good girls,” Ren encouraged as he brought his pipe back to his lips. Hand raised from whelps, Ren looked upon his collies like his little foot soldiers. He felt a great swell of pride as he watched them circle swiftly around the herd.
A crying flock of black birds rose up from the distant forest. Again, the sheep were startled but Radge and Bonnie kept them in line. Ren squinted his eyes to see what had caused such a stir. A thick layering of trees ran along the road outside Innerwick. Seldom was it used by anyone but Ren Kyllian and his partner, Aodhagan Hux.
Hux had left at dawn with wares for the market. Despite his cold disposition, Hux was a rather creative and thoughtful man with an incredible eye for detail. He was a weaver who deftly worked his loom day and night to make intricate tartans for kilts. With winter close at hand, blankets and thick swaddling for babies was in fierce demand from the stoic highlander.
Never had Ren known Hux to return early from market. Ren wondered if perhaps Hux had outdone himself and managed to sell everything off before market’s close. Then again, Hux had planned to get his beastly Belgian draft horse re-shoed. That was a task that often took McFinn the farrier and smith a good hour or so to complete.
In the end, Ren decided to let it be. Deer were plentiful in the settling cool of autumn. If he strained, Ren could hear the cracking of the buck’s antlers as they tried to impress a doe. No doubt the ruckus was startling all the timid creatures of the forest.
The flock finished grazing just as the first sprinkling of rain rolled in. Instinctively Radge and Bonnie knew to guide the herd of bleating sheep back to their pens. Ren sauntered behind with his knotty crook, smoking his pipe as he thought about how nice it will be to crawl into the big warm bed with Hux tonight.
Aodhagan Hux had arrived in Innerwick on the wettest, darkest night Ren could recall. The townsfolk had gathered in the pub, The Rogue Knight, to drink and find company in the miserable storm. Hux had slipped in when their revelry was at it’s peak, cheering the lyrics of The Road and the Miles to Dundee for the fifth time that night.
Only Ren nursing a berry cider noticed the cloaked stranger.
Ren’s hand hovered over his pistol, but the tense muscles softened when the stranger removed his hood.
‘At once she consented and gave me her arm,
Ne'er a word did I speak wha the lassie might be,
She appeared like an angel in feature and form,
As she walked by my side on the road to Dundee!’
His hair traveled down his shoulders like wildfire. Lily white skin like a flash of lightning across the green. In a strange moment their eyes met and Ren felt a fearsome cold shoot down to his bones. Only men from the furthest of the highlands, past the icy shores of the Moray Firth and under the shadow of the Orkney Isles had such a stare.
The man broke his gaze and began looking around the pub with frustration for what Ren could only assume was the keeper…
…Who was drunk and upstairs with his wife.
The normally reclusive Ren Kyllian, bolstered with a pint and a half of cider, made his way across the pub.
“Ye need a room for the night?”
“Aye,” the stranger’s voice was steady and direct, “yew the keep then?”
“The keep be sottered,” Ren smiled, “takin’ a roll with his lass.” This did not impress the highland man, whose sneer made harsh shadows upon his face.
“Am I to bed down with me horse in the stable?”
“I got a place here in the village,” Ren, once more at the behest of the cider, placed a hand on the strange man’s shoulder.
“Careful, lowlander,” he shifted away, drawing back his cloak. A dirk was fashioned to his belt.
“Tis only a friendly gesture,” said Ren, removing the offending hand. “I mean you no harm. Come now, my place is not far, and the maid keeps the fires stoked.” The highlander regarded him with a wary eyes, but gave Ren a nod.
“Till the storm passes.”
The storm passed two days later, but Hux did not. Rumors began to spread around Innerwick about the Kyllian boy and the strange man from the north. Instead of addressing them, Ren bought a parcel of land and a few rams and ewes and built a modest business with the highlander he now knew as Aodhagan Hux.
Ren walked over the hill that led to new home he and Hux had had built; side by side, stone by stone. It was small but sturdy. They set the ridge of the roof higher to fit Hux’s loom and thatched it with reeds and marram grass and fraoch, or, heather. The chimney in the center was billowing out black smoke into the wet sky.
Hux had indeed returned.
The collies herded the sheep into their pens and Ren checked to make sure the gates were all secure. Around the side he could see Hux’s cart and his big Belgian draft under the eaves of the stable. Milling about the space between was Hux’s highland cattle, their hair long and thick and ready for the cold season ahead. Had it not been raining Ren might have taken the time to milk one of the cows. The sight of their dragging udders was a sure sign they needed it.
Ren walked in to see Hux’s clothes hanging on the line beside the fire. There was a small hope he might catch a glimpse at his modest mate mid-change, but coming through the curtain of clothing he found Hux on the bed, already dressed in his linen nightshirt.
“M’love?” Ren asked, stepping into the space, “All’s well in Innerwick?”
“Aye.” Hux’s attention was focused on the fire.
“You sell everything off, then?”
“Aye.” Ren laughed.
“Got that brute of yours shoed?” At this Hux turned. His eyes as fierce and chilling as the night they first met.
“Go on and look for yerself!” He snapped, “I got him shoed and fed and the money is in the safe! Yew have a new satchel of tobacco in the kitchen. Now leave me be Ren before my dirk finds yer throat!”
Hux could run hot on a whim. His controlling nature was both his strength and foil. Ren had learned to let him be.
Where there would have been a quip about where he would hide a dirk on his nightgown there was only silence.
Ren continued on with his plans for the evening. He sloshed through the fresh mud out to the storeroom and bring back a healthy slab of venison. A good meal often set Hux right, especially one he did not have to toil over himself.
As promised, a satchel of tobacco was waiting for Ren in the kitchen. He brought it to his nostrils; Hux did not spare a coin, it was a fine leaf. He then perused the herbs hung on the drying rack. The warm, damp summer had yielded a varied collection; thyme and fennel and spiced baldmoney, whose roots would be chopped to make the mince.
Beside the mortar and pestle Ren found a small bushel of thistle. Mostly it looked standard with a thick, prickly base and a full bloom. Instead of purple, the thistle head was a bright cornflower blue.
Ren frowned and returned to the bed. Hux had not moved an inch.
“Gairloch thistle?” He kept his voice soft as to not to sound accusing. “M’love, has the heat come again?” Hux was silent.
Ren closed his eyes and tried to focus on his partner’s scent. He felt a bit embarrassed that as an Alpha he had not noticed. Hux’s heat always brought gentle fragrances that matched the open land around them; rain and wildflowers, burn piles of distant farms and even a little pipe tobacco. Subtle as it was, if Ren focused his attention he could find it.
Hux was indeed headed for another heat.
“I bought all I could find. I even,” Hux was once more focused on the fire, shame tugging his lips downward, “I had to go to yer uncle. He said nay a word, but there were a glint in his eyes. I’m sure he’ll be tellin’ yer mum.”
“Tis enough to last the winter?” Hux shook his head.
“You should go-”
“Go?” Ren roared, “Go and leave you here alone all through the winter? Through the thaw?”
“I’m highland man!” Hux rose to his feet. “I have known cruel winters, dug with me hands in the hard earth to bury me kin! Aye, Ren Kyllian! I will ride out this heat alone!”
“Nay,” Ren shook his head, “I will not go.”
“McFinn’s new wife is with child, she told me today. Spirited as that English woman is, she will be no good to him come winter. Go make yerself useful to him!”
“Perhaps the time has come,” Ren crossed the space between them. “We have built a solid home, our business is sure. My herd has doubled in size just this year.” He reached up and gently drew the knuckles of his loose fist down Hux’s cheek, “Your heats are coming closer together.”
“We are yet proper married!” Hux batted his hand away. “What then? Yew to bed me through the winter and take me fat with yer pups to the magistrate after the thaw?”
“I would be proud to!” Ren declared, “I’d take you around the village, show off your belly to my ma and uncle! To McFinn and his wife!”
“And what would they say, eh?” Hux laughed half-heartedly. “That wild highland Omega, no respect for nuttin’. Come and stir up that poor sweet Kyllian boy and got him in a fix!” He turned away. “My tartans be good enough for them, but I’ll never be a lowlander. I’ll never belong here.”
“Because you belong here!” Ren gestured to the stone house around them. “Highland, lowland and Innerwick. They don’t mean anything!” He grabbed Hux by the arm and drew their bodies close, “You belong here, you belong with me. And come the spring I will take you to the magistrate and make you my husband. I will carry my head high,” Ren smiled, “full belly or not.”
“I have always been able to trust your word,” Hux whispered. Once more, his eyes fell from Ren’s. Beneath the smell of the wood fire, Ren picked up a sharply pungent scent.
“You ready for me now, M’love?” He purred into Hux’s ear. Hux did not look at him though a needy sort of mewl did escape his lips.
Ren reached down to grab Hux’s nightshirt and hike it up past his hips. It did not take his fingers long to find Hux’s hole, warm with slick, and test its willingness. To Ren’s surprise and pleasure, he was able to push right in.
“You be hot like a fever,” he gasped, burying his face in the crook of Hux’s neck, “and you smell like a dream.”
“And yew smell of yer sheep,” Hux scoffed.
“Aye,” Ren laughed as he stepped back. He slipped off his wool coat and let it fall to the dirt floor. Next was his ghillie shirt, well stained from a long day with the sheep. A smile curled Hux’s lips as the heavy trousers caked with mud were removed and tossed aside.
“Better?” Ren asked.
Hux responded by pulling his nightshirt over his head.
The summer had made them both lean and sinewy. The newly built barn and retaining wall showed in their arms and legs. Orange firelight carved them into reliefs worthy of the grandest of ancient temples.
Rain began to fall on the thatch roof. Thunder clapped in the distance.
Ren dropped to his knees before Hux. His dark eyes locked with highlander’s green, asking silently for permission to begin the ritual. For a moment Hux drank in the sight. The proud Ren Kyllian, son of the most affluent family in the county, naked and on his knees. Lovingly he ran his fingers though Ren’s hair, now thick and curly from the rain.
“M’love,” Ren said in the way that made Hux’s stomach tight. No matter how many times he heard it, that simple pet name made him feel like a thirsty man who had been thrown into a lake. An all consuming adoration.
Hux nodded his head.
Ren gripped Hux’s hips and began to lick at the salty precum at the top of his firmly erect penis. The small taste stirred a great hunger, and without further instruction Ren took all of Hux’s length into his mouth. Hux gasped and twisted his fingers into Ren’s hair.
“Not so quick,” he whispered, “slow…”
Ren pulled back, Hux’s cock slipping out between his full lips. He licked absently at the corners of his mouth before leaning back in to rub his nose in the thick hairs that covered Hux’s crotch.
“Ready?” He sang. Before Hux could answer, Ren’s fingers were inside him once more. Hux was now more acutely aware of his wet he was. The slick was hot, thick. It was dripping over the inside of his thighs. The more Ren fingered him the worse it became. Hux could feel his legs tremble with weakness.
“Ren,” it was a plea, a begging. He needed his mate, he needed to be mated.
Ren’s hands guided him gently down onto the bed, the pile of furs strangely cool on his back.
“We will be warm this winter,” Ren whispered as he climbed between Hux’s legs. “We will not need to keep a fire!”
“Hold yer whist and g’on!” Hux nearly growled.
“Aye, now he wants me to be quick!”
“Ren!”
“All right, M’love,” Ren positioned himself, the tip of his penis pushing on Hux’s opening.
For all his begging, Hux’s eyes still wound themselves shut as he winced at the pressure. In time his body found a rhythm with Ren’s, hips bucking as his mate pushed in, trying to take in all his could with each thrust.
“I shall stay,” Ren whispered, kissing Hux anywhere his lips fell, “I will ease the ache, I promise you.”
“I know, I know, “Hux reached up around Ren’s neck, pulling their foreheads together. Encouraged, Ren began to quicken his pace. Hux tensed but his quiet sniffles were now wails of pleasure as he came spurting over both their bellies.
“I need,” Hux’s voice was hoarse, “need…please, fill me…” Ren acted quickly. Hooking an arm under Hux’s knee, he turned the man beneath him on to his side and pulled his legs apart. Ren could now push in his length completely. Spent, near limp in Ren’s grip, Hux put up little resistance. His loose hole began to produce more hot slick and Ren could no longer control himself.
He came with a breathless cry of Hux’s name and collapsed into the furs.
It was almost a full minute before his knot began to swell. In his arms, Ren could feel Hux squirm with displeasure. Small whimpers escaped his lips. There was some guilt as Ren was certain the knotting must be uncomfortable. A need to protect quickly overwhelmed him and Ren gathered Hux up into his arms.
“M’love, M’love,” he said over and over, “I love you so…” Ren continued to kiss and pet Hux and ease him through the knot, nuzzling his face into his hair and giving encouraging words.
“A fine mum you’ll make. Aye, I cannot wait to see you full with my pups. More than McFinn’s little English girl, eh?”
“Ren,” he finally groaned once the knot subsided, “Ren; did you make the mince?”
“No,” Ren said slowly, “I have yet to start. Why?”
Hux kicked weakly at him.
“I’m hungry.”
Ren laughed.
They ate dinner together and slept in the next morning. The rain was long gone by then, which gave Ren and Hux a full day to milk the cows and sheer the sheep to make wool for carding. There would be one last market before the winter.
Hux worked at his loom all through the dark months.
Their bed stayed very warm.
Come spring, McFinn and his wife Rey had a new baby girl, Elspeth.
Ren took Hux to the magistrate the day before first market. The magistrate did not hide hid displeasure at Hux’s swollen belly but still issued them their license.
They had dinner with Ren’s family that night. His mother, Leia, was over the moon with joy.
Through a long and humid June night, Hux pushed out three children. The two boys, Aongus and Domhnall, came out with their heads full of black hair. Little Rhona was the only red head and quickly became the apple of her mother’s eye.
Rain rolled in early with the fall.
At night, Ren would sit by the fire and smoke his pipe. Hux would feed the babes one by one and sing them each a lullaby.
Together they slept in their big bed; Ren and Hux on the endss with the babes in the middle. Bonnie and Radge by the door keeping watch.
Thunder in the distance.