The Hunter's Trap Pt. 02

Dennuuk never looked forward to it on account of all the trouble it made for living off the land like he did. Fewer animals came out to hunt which meant gathering up all sorts of salt and working double-time during the Plenty to get enough meat and food to preserve for winter. During winter that meant eating a lot of salted preserves over and over again. The stream froze over too, meaning getting water became cracking off and melting ice or trudging out four miles or so over to the river and gathering water from there. He was lucky that his father had taught him rune work so well or else he'd be spending more time reinforcing his cabin's wood and he'd still be bundling up inside.

At this time of year, he'd normally be drinking in the last burnt orange days of the autumn plenty and appreciating the gradually quieting life of the forest. Instead, he'd been feeling unusually lonely, unusually pining. He'd notice how the squirrels played in pairs and the birds chased one another through the air. He'd even catch himself sighing. All of that worried him much more than the erotic thoughts that had become a regularity in the last week.

It brought him back to a time when he was younger and spending more of his time, money, and effort to go into the cities and the towns looking for cures to his loneliness. It wasn't a time he wanted to return to. The deep feelings of loneliness and the heavy emotions that stuck to everything he touched was enough for him to not want it back and that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was the danger of trying to find someone. The cities on the north end of the Central River Valley weren't open about two men fucking. If he wanted to find lust alone he had to crawl the dangerous parts of cities he barely knew anything about. In the towns, there was the risk of reading things wrong and getting chased out by a mob or shunned from one of the few places around where he could trade out furs for food if he ever found himself in a tight spot. He'd nearly died twice because he'd wanted a man in his bed. All things considered, he was lucky; he was lucky it was only two times he'd nearly died and he was lucky both times didn't take anything from him but the respect of people he didn't give a damn about or some gold coins and trinkets he didn't need.

He wondered, was he lucky that Tawn had come along? He thought the question over while scrubbing his long johns in the river. The answer all depended on what happened next. He wasn't sure how he'd bear falling back into the quiet loneliness of the woods again. A part of him even thought of going to Tawn but it would hurt a lot worse to go to him and to be ignored. Dennuuk had lived the same moment with men he'd been half as taken with and it stung in a way that didn't make him want to take it on at twice the venom.

A sigh ran out of him like wind falling through the trees. It seemed to him that life was all a long wait for short moments.

Dennuuk finished his washing, filled his flask, and walked back to the cabin to hang his long johns up to dry. Then he went to his shed and set a few traps out before returning to the wood around his house and chopping up more wood to prepare for the coming cold. He often used runes for heat but at times he would need wood instead.

The Sun wouldn't stay in the sky many hours more and Tawn knew that he couldn't spend any more time walking to and from the door. He had already made the decision but it felt like the decision was easy to make and much harder to follow through on.

All his work for today and tomorrow was done, he had the blessing and encouragement of his favorite person in town, and he felt such a yearning to go but still, it was nerve-wracking. Unlike before, he had no good cover for going out into the forest now. No one would go out to forage knowing they'd be coming back while the Sun was setting. No one would go out as he was either, dressed in tight, midnight blue half-calves and a black short vest that was in truth designed more for women, though the difference would be hard for half of the Mitals to see. He was wearing the fine and form-fitting clothes common to the time of spring dances and rituals where attraction was supposed to bloom. For a minute he even thought to color his face some but realized that would be too conspicuous if any townsfolk caught him leaving.

As it was, he was still plenty conspicuous. The half-calves started at the top of the hips and cut off in the middle of the calves (hence the name), where a thin, light blue ruffle puffed out around the leg. They fit tightly around the hips but gave some space for comfort in the loins, though not necessarily space to hide attraction. A black velvet vest wove around his chest and just a little below his ribs, leaving a thin zone of midriff bare. When he looked into the fitting mirror he found the outfit accentuated curves he hadn't remembered having until Dennuuk had ran his hands along them.

The man of the night in Ura had commented on how Tawn could pass for a woman but he'd buried that memory shortly after the morning came. He'd seen it now in he filled out much more of the back of his tight pants than the front and how the tight vest cinched his ribs so that it was even more apparent how his thin waist sloped out into his wider hips. Normally it made him embarrassed to look at his features like that but thinking about Dennuuk's hands tracing the boundary lines of his body made a heat rush through him as, for the first time in a while, he felt a sense of arousal at seeing himself.

Still, the embarrassment and worry over his form pushed him to put on a long coat. It wasn't just his form that worried him either, it was also the clothes themselves. They were an odd fusion of Grinlands and Central River Valley fashions he wasn't sure about yet.

The pants were a classic CRV piece. They were tight fitting and more than a little fanciful. Most folks wore the especially form-fitting clothing during the spring ritual to give other lovers and townsfolk of marrying age an idea of who was attracted to who. Tawn had at one point sown his tighter and at some points even stuffed it to pass as though he was interested in what he was supposed to be interested in.

The spring ritual was supposed to be a time of open and honest love – and for about half of the folk it was – but for the other half, it was a time to for the old to meddle in the romances of the young and try to force them to woo into the right families. For Tawn's parents, it became trying to get him to woo into any family that had a patch of dirt to their name.

The vest didn't come with such social designs. Grinlands fashion was preeminently practical and that was more the reason it was becoming in vogue. Vests were light and thin but pretty sturdy, making them nice for a hard day's work outside in the summer sun. A person like Meila would never let any of her family wear a vest but for many of the younger folk or the families that made their money with hands-on work like logging and hunting increasingly asked him to make vests.

He'd made the black velvet woman's vest with intention to display it in the store as a bit of Grinlands-formal experiment and see if anyone would bite on it. Instead, he found himself wearing it because there wasn't a lot else he'd made for himself that he liked for the occasion. The old shirt he had that matched the blue of the pants felt overly fanciful and overloaded with frills that called back to both his grandma's childhood and a gaudy city look returning to the fore. Most other things were in the duller, plain colors he wore during the workdays.

For what he was going for, this was the best he had. In truth, it wasn't bad it was just worrying. It was worrying to think about anybody catching him before he got out of town or seeing past the long coat. Like Touissa, they'd easily see he was slipping off to meet someone. Even the simple act of putting a sign up letting folks know he was out worried him. Most likely no one would notice but it would look strange to anyone who did see that he wasn't open right at sunrise as he usually was.

Yet, if he daydreamed more days away behind the counter how long was it before more people caught on like Touissa had? Besides all that, he wanted to see Dennuuk. He'd dreamed of the company and the sex for most of the day and often in the night too. Much as he didn't want the desire to be there, he knew he couldn't wish it away and he'd learned now that meeting it head on was exhilarating.

He strode up to the door one last time and finally pushed it open and exited his little shop, bowing his head slightly and covering it with his hood. Getting out of the town without anyone paying attention was easy enough though it had his heart beating. In cases like this, it was fortunate that his shop was not far from the edge of town so that he did not have to pass many people and those that he did pass didn't take much notice of what was going on.

That the town was growing and becoming more cluttered also made it easier for him to leave. Not everyone knew each other anymore – at least not well. As one of the principal tailors, for the town he was more prone to be known and recognized than others but not well enough to be spotted past the long, hooded coat.

As the sun sunk lower into the sky Tawn put more of the distance in between him and Mital. The chirping of crickets and calls of birds replaced the bustle of the Mitals. With each step, it all became a bit more real. What he was doing, where he was going, who he was seeing, who he was, all became a bit more real until he had nearly arrived and terrified of how truly set in the world he was.

Dennuuk sat and watched the one eye of the world fall into sleep. The shadows of the trees crept forward until they started to cover the green earth and the amber leaves. As the lines of everything began to blur and converge in the coming dark a sense of peace came from how the forest quieted. In the quiet and patient waiting Dennuuk felt himself flutter. He felt his emotions and thoughts bubble past the brim with wonder.

He liked to sit and watch the dark drape over the forest before he fell asleep but it was different when his eyes weren't aimless and wandering; it was different to be looking out for something beyond another night and another day. This would probably be another time where the night turned into nothing but another day. Still, he sat and watched and looked for something despite his best efforts not to. Something in his mind liked to feel hope and curiosity again even though for the last two weeks they'd led to nothing. At times the feeling coated his blood and bones in cold but it was worth it for the warmth. It was worth it to know the warmth of wanting again, even if just for a bit. Maybe even if it was fleeting, even if it emptied out into the cold.

Then, as if spilling out from the flutter inside him, there was a rustle along the thin path up to his home. He felt himself move forward out of his seat, trying to remind himself that he should still be cautious, that this could still be a dangerous wild animal. But they never came to his cabin. Nothing short of a bear or a mountain king came this close to hunting folk.

A smaller man wearing a nice long coat poked out from the foliage and Dennuuk failed to fight back a smile.

"Hey traveler."Dennuuk stood up. "Glad to see you again."

"It's..." Tawn was slow to speak, shaking on two accounts – nerves and shivers, "it's good to see you too."

They stood fifteen feet apart, wanting to move closer but oddly unsure.

"How've you been keeping?"

"Fine. A little busy. A little, a little distracted too." Tawn let out a nervous laugh. "Can we go inside? It's colder than I thought it'd be."

"Oh, yeah, of course." Dennuuk opened the door for Tawn. "Happy to share the same soil."

Tawn smiled at that, less shyly than before, and skittered in.

Progress, thought Dennuk.

There were still the old anxieties in Tawn's head about the various dangers of this little foray into the forest but wanting to get into the warmth of the cabin crowded much of it out. He'd nearly forgotten how pleasant Dennuuk kept it. Very few things cluttered the open main room, which only had a few chairs, a low table, and a trunk inside. It almost seemed barren but the runes, a large pelt on the wall, and a small fireplace gave the place character.

Last time the runes (and fatigue) had grabbed Tawn's attention to the point that he'd missed much of the main room. When runes were well made they looked downright artful, swirling and moving as if a part of a divine language and when well-made runes were well-spaced they were essentially art. Such was the way with Dennuuk's cabin that he had missed the bear pelt on the wall. Had Dennuuk really killed a bear?

"Let me get your coat for you," Dennuuk said, gingerly walking behind Tawn, giving the man space to react.

"Oh," Tawn felt that nervousness build in him but this time he pushed against it, "thank you." He leaned his shoulders back toward Dennuuk and felt those large and firm hands brush against his shoulders and the light fire of memory brush against his mind. Old touches resurfaced as phantom feelings running in trickles down his skin.

Dennuuk folded the coat over an arm and took Tawn in for a moment. Last time they met he'd thought Tawn had worn decent clothes – about as decent as he owned. It had been years since Dennuuk had seen clothes as nice as Tawn as was wearing and even longer since he'd someone wearing them as well as Tawn was.

He wasn't kidding about being a damn fine tailor.

"Did you make those clothes? They look great on you."

"Thanks." Tawn blushed a little – more at the compliment to his frame than his clothes. He'd become used to compliments on his craft. "It's a bit of an odd pairing but it was the best I had that fit me. I haven't had a lot of time to make myself clothes."

"A little ironic and a lot common. I didn't start hoarding up furs for myself until two or three years ago."

"Did you get that one on your own?" Tawn pointed to the bear pelt on the wall.

"Yep. It'd got caught in a trap of mine and I'd tracked it down after a while."

"Now that's impressive!"

"Seems so but by the time I found it I was more ending its misery than hunting it."

"Oh." Tawn had no idea what to say.

Dennuuk chuckled, "Shit, sorry. That was more parts sad than sexy, huh?"

That got out a snort out of Tawn. "It's okay. I know you can't talk animals out of their furs."

Dennuuk gave an easy laugh at that. So many of the things Dennuuk did seemed to come easier to him than to Tawn and Tawn wondered if it was all real or if it wasn't a well-trained social sleight of hand.

"Maybe you can. I haven't tried to yet."

Tawn smiled and they both lost hold of any words to say.

Dennuuk broke the silence, gesturing to a fur on the ground, "take a seat if you want. I'll be right back."

Tawn sat on the fur, bunching it up underneath him to make it more comfortable.

Dennuuk popped into the pantry to check on a stew he'd set on a heat rune. It was usually better to cook over coals or fire but as it got colder he preferred to use a rune for cooking and knew how to use them well enough that most things came out fine. He stirred the stew a little, already knowing it was fine.

It was strange to him how much this scenario looped through his head and how he had no real handle on what to do now that he was here. It felt easier the first go around because that whole day was unreal. It played out like an odd story he'd tell to himself until he wondered what parts of it were real. Now that Tawn had returned there was more to this. There was a reality to a thing he thought might just be fodder for more fantasy.

If this was gonna be reality Dennuuk didn't want to dance around it. He wanted to, as smoothly as he could, cut to understanding what Tawn wanted and why Tawn was here. There was a chance being so upfront might frighten Tawn off but if it did they might not suit each other in the first place. As much as Dennuuk's dad had taught him ways to turn phrases and make conversations, he couldn't much stand beating around the bush.

The Tawn that Dennuuk saw now was a good deal different than the one before. Without all the tension and the exhaustion weighing down on him Tawn had an almost rigid posture. Everything in the man seemed alert and curious and when he wasn't stealing glances at Dennuuk he was tracing the lines to runes, rubbing furs, or stretching his fingers. Dennuuk sat across from him, the low table separating them.

"A-are you making something?" Tawn asked, fearing too much silence.

"Stew."

"What kind -"

"Rabbit. You can have some later if you want." Dennuuk interrupted as kindly as he could. "Tawn, it's good to see you and I like talking with you but..."

Awakened and refreshed, Tawn could read Dennuuk like he couldn't last time. He could see the small ends of the large man – the fingers, the lips, the skin on the brow – quiver with nervousness. He could see the green eyes look into him steady and soft but concerned too. Tawn understood that he needed to help, needed to walk some of the way to where they both wanted to go

"But you don't wanna talk about rabbit stew." Tawn smiled. "I – me neither."

In that moment Tawn pulled in a bit closer to the table and to Dennuuk and the confidence returned to the big man. Dennuuk took a breath, straightened, and fell into himself fully.

"I wanted to talk about why you're here. What you want."

"I – I guess..." Tawn paused, the words clogging his throat for a second. He was keenly aware of what he wanted to say and how to voice it but it felt hard to say it out loud.

We didn't do anything wrong.

Dennuuk had turned steady again. His shoulder slouched slightly forward and his hands laced together into a rock of hardened green fingers. The calm had come back to his eyes and he was waiting.

We didn't do anything wrong.

He wanted to stay quiet but he had come all this way. Touissa had been right, he needed to chase this. At least for now, he had to explore this because if he didn't explore it in reality he'd be exploring it in fantasy all day. When the fantasy left he knew he'd be exploring the dull grind of loneliness. Besides, maybe Dennuuk was right and maybe they hadn't done anything wrong. He spoke past the lump in his throat.

"I liked what we did." I can't stop thinking about it. "I think, I think I'd like to keep doing it. Maybe, I'd like to do, do other things with you too."

A great big breath fell out Dennuuk's lungs and a solid grin came to him. He stretched an open, upturned palm to Tawn. Gingerly, Tawn placed his soft, radiantly white palm on top of Dennuuk's earthy green hand and Dennuuk closed around it with his other hand. The grasp was firm but soft. Dennuuk ran his thumb over the back of Tawn's hand in a gentle stroke that lit Tawn's insides up with a strange warmth. Being held even in that small way made him draw deeper, heavier breaths. Something in him felt strangely valued, strangely treasured by being held so softly and firmly.

Inside that feeling of being treasured and held was a gentle arousal that bloomed in him.

"We can go as far as you want but I'd like to know how far that is."

Tawn bit lightly on his lower lip. I want to be yours. For so many reasons, he wasn't able to say that yet. Still, he had to say something. He had to answer the eyes looking into him and the hands holding onto him – not because he was forced to but because he wasn't. He'd chosen most of this. He didn't choose how inescapable the thoughts of Dennuuk were or how badly he wanted to lie with another man but he had chosen – for the first time in his life – to lean in and let come what may.