The Lady's Gift

NOT FOR THE first time in the last hour, the thought that maybe — just maybe — leaving his house to take a look at the festivities hadn't been such a great idea crossed Luke's mind.

He gave himself a reprieve from the colourful fanfare and closed his eyes. The deep breath helped him get a grip on the pain radiating from his left leg after exerting it more than he had on any other day of the year that was saying farewell in less than an hour now.

Luke rolled his ankle, leaning heavily on his cane as he proceeded with the familiar exercises he'd learned from the village's healer.

Child's laughter came from his right; a boy's laughter. As Luke let his left foot reconnect with the still wet cobblestones, he risked a glance his way. A beautiful boy with dark curls and green eyes, carried on his father's shoulders. Both laughing as the middle-aged man kept a red apple at the edge of his son's grasp, challenging him. The boy, hands still rosy with remnants of melted caramel, apparently couldn't be happier to chase what couldn't be his, for the mirth of his torturer.

Luke smiled, instinctively looking for the mom, but there was no one else. Just the two of them, going hysterical over a silly little game. Luke shook his head and kept on his way down the wide street.

It took just a few seconds for the smile to give way to sorrow as memories assailed him. Luke remembered how it was to laugh; remembered the time it had been just mom and him, too. Both happy, laughing at silly little games.

Before the accident.

Three years ago, strolling through the annual carnival would've been a blast; an excellent idea. Now? Now he was alone, working a job he hated so he could just survive and pay exorbitant taxes to the king. All of it while all these folks laughed and rejoiced the chance for three hundred and sixty-five new chances to lose, the fools.

It was difficult, but in seconds Luke was hurrying along the street — as much as his disability allowed.

The different artists singing and dancing around became a blur of colour and sound, and the more ground he covered, the farther he seemed to be from home. The crowd thickened when he finally reached Rianchi square. His home was just across. Luke started pushing people out of his way and, as he did, the music coming from somewhere ahead made itself more present to his ears.

The gypsies were back and the inflaming melodies of the old songs resonated through the whole of Rianchi. An involuntary frown marred Luke's forehead. Even the usually welcome oblivion of sleep wouldn't be easily reached tonight. Not while this lasted.

Luke shoved more people out of his way, ignoring the expletives thrown at him, until he finally got to the front of the wide ring of people that had formed around the artists. This close, he couldn't tell what was drums and what was the beating of his own heart. So loud that it shook the cobbles beneath his feet.

So many dancers. Girls covered only in the thinnest of red silks in all the kingdom. Moved so gracefully it broke his heart. He had to get out of there.

Eyes fixed across the square, through drums and undulating silk, Luke started his march ahead. Barely ten steps later, and they assaulted him.

Luke was lost in the middle of music and fabric. Soft red that caressed his skin like fire as the girls came to dance around him. He made sure not to give them not even a hint of a smile, so they'd know what he thought of all this. Luke didn't like music. It brought out emotions best kept buried. He had no use for them.

The more he walked, the more the dancers flocked around him and all Luke could think about was that they could at least have been men. Girls had never done a thing for him, not even when showing as much skin as these ones were.

Halfway through, they started turning him around in slow circles as the drums reached a maddening rhythm and the male gypsies began to sing. So much red silk that it seemed his eyes had been covered by rivers of blood.

Luke tried to extricate himself from them, but failed. All he could do was roll around in circles until he didn't know what way was home anymore.

When he was about to shove them all away, as they laughed and danced around him, all the red sea disappeared in front of his eyes, replaced by a woman.

A beautiful woman with an oval face, dressed in strands of the purest gold. Luke gasped, lost for words, as the golden lady, glowing like the sun, approached him with gracefulness unmatched. He didn't have time for anything before she leaned forward, brought her right hand to her lips and blew at his face, and then everything was confetti. Thin sparkles of gold blinded him, invading every orifice available.

Luke tensed, getting ready for the itch and coughing fit that was sure to follow.

Nothing.

The golden lady smiled at him as the music got louder and louder, but no itch; no cough.

He hazarded a look down at himself to see how covered in the substance he'd gotten, but there was nothing. His heartbeat picked up. He scrubbed at his eyes and hair to catch the confetti. Still nothing. When he looked up, the woman was gone.

Everyone was applauding, seemingly unaware of everything that had just happened. The song was over.

"Did you see that?" he demanded from the dancers. Some of them were bowing to the crowd; only a few paid him any mind.

"See what?"

"The woman. The confetti."

The two girls looked at him in complete bafflement.

"You didn't see her? What she did to me?"

The girls traded a look, then refocused on him. Before any of them could utter a single word, Luke whirled around, murmuring to himself. All crazy. That's what these people were. And they were getting him crazy, too.

The cane clicked against the cobbles as he faced the crowd and marched ahead. A few minutes later and he was latching his front door with the heavy pinewood plank. This was the only good thing his scoundrel of a father had ever given him: genes that made it easy for him to get some muscle after hours labouring away at the king's woods. He wouldn't be able to handle that plank with scrawny arms.

But that was all they'd ever be good for. He was plain and simple ugly. Eyes too large. Fan ears and crooked teeth. Finding a lover in such a small village would be hard for a man like him, that liked other men, even if he were pretty. His strong arms would never hold a lover.

That was what Luke was thinking about when he propped the cane beside his bed and got under the woollen blankets.

"Hi," he whispered to the stuffed bear.

As usual, it didn't answer.

The candle on the crooked nightstand created different patterns over Luke's hand as he stretched it and reached for his only friend. So did the dancing flames on the nearby wall.

Bigger than the average stuffed toy, it was the only thing he had left from his childhood. From mom.

For the millionth time, Luke found himself stroking the stitches that ran across bear's face. Mom had sewn them herself. Besides his genes, they were the only memory he had of his dad. Of the night when he tried to kill them. When he ended up with an arrow through the neck.

A shiver ran through him and he shook his head, trying to shut the dreadful images out.

He'd barely leaned back from blowing out the candle when loud voices, bellowing their joy, came from the Rianchi when the clock struck midnight. A few moments later, firecrackers fired in the sky. Luke hugged bear tighter and tried not to feel anything.

It was a hard fight.

"Happy new year, bear," was the last thing he whispered before sleep overtook him.

Luke didn't notice when the rebellious tear dropped from his cheek and landed on bear's eye.

***

LUKE HAD BEEN dreaming the strangest of dreams, before he woke up to terror. In the dream of golden rain and dropping stars there hadn't been so much heat involving him. So much weight around him. There surely hadn't been heavy, hot breath at the back of his neck.

Heart pounding as dread shrouded him, Luke tried to get his bearings on the unexpected predicament. Clearly, some drunkard invader had managed to get past his heavy wooden plank and was now in his bed. And he was... shirtless. Luke had the habit of going to bed naked, since the heat from the fireplace was usually enough to stave off the cold. The skin of his back was currently blanketed by warmth coming off the invader's chest.

The man was big, that was for sure. Luke wasn't a small man, but wasn't big either. Strong and fit, sure, but not big. This man was big, if the weight of his arm holding Luke firmly by his middle was anything to go by.

Luke was about to jump from the bed and confront the invader, when he thought better of it. The man was probably drunk. He'd probably stayed too long at the festivities, got too drunk and couldn't get back home. But then how had he found the focus and strength to invade his little house? Even with his size, Luke knew his door was solid. He would have had a hard time breaking in, even sober.

In his sleep, the man shuffled closer, unknowingly inserting a thick, hairy thigh under Luke's legs.

Luke tensed all over.

The invader wasn't simply shirtless, he was completely naked. Not only naked, but aroused. As the man's hard member touched him in a place he'd never been touched before by any other, Luke gasped and trembled. It was so big that, when he shuffled closer, the shaft lodged itself between Luke's legs, too. And when it did, the man moaned in his sleep and the arm holding Luke captive tightened around his abdomen.

That was it. He'd take advantage of the intruder's inebriation, dislodge himself as carefully as possible and get to his knife. And then they'd have words.

Luke held his breath and closed his hand as gently as he could around the man's forearm.

Well, closed was a pretty strong word for it.

The man's forearm was so thick Luke thought there was at least four fingers left for him to close his hand around it.

Praying to all that was good, Luke squeezed his eyes shut and pushed the man's arm away from his torso. He succeeded for about two and half seconds before a deep growl came from behind him and the invader brought his arm down around him even tighter than before. Then he shuffled forward and the hot shaft between his thighs slid further in until it touched Luke's balls. And damn if he wasn't starting to become affected by the whole thing. Waves of shame for being aroused by a stranger that had invaded his home crashed on him, but he couldn't help it.

In nineteen years of existence, he'd never been touched like this. Never had a man's hard, veiny cock making direct contact with his skin. A man's scruffy beard scratching the back of his neck. A man's body enveloping him in warmth that was starting to make him sweat, even though only embers remained in the fireplace, no longer protecting him from the cold.

Luke was hard as a rock now, too, and he didn't even know the name of the man who caused it.

"Luke?" came the unexpected, muffled question. The stranger had a beautiful voice.

"Are you awake?" When soft lips kissed the back of his neck with the lightness of a feather, Luke squirmed and tried to turn around to face the stranger. The man didn't let him. He only chuckled, murmured a, "Finally," and buried his nose in Luke's hair. Then he took a big whiff and squeezed him closer to his body.

Luke's heart was racing and he was pretty sure he'd forgotten to breathe for the last thirty seconds or so. He exhaled heavily, the words with it. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

The man took another whiff off his hair and, to Luke's utter astonishment, rocked his hips in a small circle. A light moan rumbled from the chest connected to Luke's back as the man took his pleasure on his body. The heat of the moment went right to Luke's cheeks.

Luke repeated his questions.

The man took a few more seconds to answer, but eventually said, after another little chuckle, "I know everything about you."

Luke tried to find words, but couldn't.

The man relaxed the hold he had on him, and Luke's first instinctual reaction was to try and run. Folly. Effortlessly, the invader rolled him over and caged him with an arm on his right and another on his left. The only light in this corner of the house came from a window a couple yards away now. A heavy woollen curtain protected him from outside view, but the material was thinned from several washes in the nearby river. Not thick enough to completely block the moonlight.

And it was like that, under the moonlight, that he caught the first glance at the invader.

Glorious. He was glorious. Big, broad, made of muscle and hair, easily double his weight and probably two or three heads taller than Luke. He wouldn't dare touch him, but he could bet he couldn't cover one of the meaty, firm pecs even if he stretched his hand all over it. He had a full head of dark brown hair. Light scruff covered his strong jaw and circled full lips. Even the scar that lined his face from left to right made him beautiful.

Luke shivered.

The man was probably dangerous. Probably a crazy person and a drunk. But the way his eyes glimmered at Luke and his soft smile made Luke feel special made him want to ignore those things.

"Hey," the man said, soft smile never faltering as he covered Luke's body from waist down.

It felt so good having those firm, heavy things pressing his legs into the mattress. Luke could feel the man's hardened length almost reaching his belly button. Another shiver ran through him.

"Are you cold?"

"Who are you?" Luke repeated through clenched teeth.

The man flashed him a half grin, as if amused. One of his canines was slightly crooked, but it only made him look more charming. "Bear."

"You do look like a bear."

The man only grinned and brought a hand to Luke's cheek. He started tracing a meaty finger along his jaw, like the contours of Luke's ugly face interested him. It was freaking him out.

"Seriously. Who are you?"

The smile finally fell from the invader's lips and, curiously enough, it made Luke's heat hurt a little.

"Bear."

"Your name is Bear?"

"I don't remember my name. But I'm Bear."

"I think you had too much to drink, sir. You should leave."

"No. You don't understand. I'm Bear. Your Bear."

"M-my Bear? Wha — "

The stranger leaned a bit down. His hot breath caressed Luke's face. He smelled nice. Like thunder and rain. "It's me, Luke. Bear. Don't you recognise me?"

"I — "

"I've been waiting so long for this," Bear continued; whispers against Luke's lips. "Dreaming of the day the Lady would finally show mercy. Wishing it could be while you still lived. And today..." He let out a light chuckle, as if in disbelief. "Today she finally has."

"You gotta be jesting."

"Look around, Luke. There's no toy. It's me."

And look around Luke did, and when he shifted his head so he could look, the stranger took advantage by kissing him behind the ear. The unexpected slickness of Bear's tongue against his skin pulled a whimper out of him. Panic rose from deep in his heart when he found no trace of his mom's old toy, passed down to him when he was only a baby.

"What did you do to my toy?" he screamed, right hand punching one of the intruder's massive pecs. It was like punching a rock. He flinched from the pain.

"Oh, Luke. Are you hurt?" The man brought Luke's hand to his lips and kissed each of his knuckles.

"Stop."

Sadness crossed the man's features, but quickly turned into determination.

"Ask me anything. Let me prove myself to you."

Luke almost punched him again in the chest, but thought better of it at the last second. His hand ended up resting against the man's hot flesh. He had a strong, steady heartbeat. "You're crazy, aren't you? You really think you're a toy turned man?"

The muscles in the invader's perfect square jaw flexed. "C'mon, Luke. Ask me."

"What was my mom's name?"

"Eleanor."

A chill ran down his spine and, this time, it had nothing to do with the man's carved muscles and hard cock pressing against him. Nothing to do with his delicious weight pressing him against the mattress.

How did he know that? How?

The astonishment didn't last long. Not once Luke realised anyone could've known that. His mom had grown up in this exact village and her untimely death had been recent.

"That doesn't prove anything."

"Shoot another one, then. Anything. I'll know it."

He had to be specific. Really specific. It was the only way he'd ever convince this lunatic to give back his bear and get away from his bed.

"What song I sing everyday while I prepare my porri — "

"The Maiden and the Goose."

Luke gasped. "How did you know that? Have you been spying on me?"

The handsome stranger leaned his head down until they were touching noses. "Why won't you believe me?" He brushed his nose down until it touched the corner of Luke's lips. "Please, believe me."

"This is impossible."

"It's the Lady's will."

Luke decided to save questions about the Lady for later.

"What is my favourite food?"

The invader's dark eyes were back on his, hot breath too close to Luke's lips. "Pie. Any pie."

"My favourite colour?"

"You don't have one. You love all of them."

Luke's chest was heaving at this point. "What is my favourite animal?"

The invader's eyes twinkled in the dark and that soft smile was back. "It's bears."

"Wha — "

"I won't ever answer the wrong thing, Luke." The smile faded. "Don't you understand? We could keep at this for months on end and I'd never miss. We could be here until you'd asked all the questions of the universe and I'd never fail, because I'm telling the truth."

"No. This is impossible." Luke's voice was shaking.

"It's me," the man said, piercing him with sincerity, "Bear."

Luke shook his head, words coming out in a shaky voice. "Stop lying to me."

When the man brought his massive hand to Luke's face again, he flinched. "Please, don't hurt me."

Silence.

When he finally opened his eyes again, the man looked completely distraught.

"I could never, ever hurt you. You're my best friend."

Luke shook his head. "This is crazy."

The man brought his hand up again, carefully this time, as if afraid he'd scare Luke away. He started rubbing circles on Luke's cheek with the pad of his huge thumb. "You're so brave, Luke. So strong. So smart. Just think, please. Just see."

All Luke could do was shake his head as he tried not to break down under this madness.

"You know why I'd never give you the wrong answer?"

"No."

"Because I was there. Always."

The little kiss the man pressed against his cheek, where he'd just been caressing him, was the best kiss Luke had ever gotten.

"When you talked for the first time, I was there. And when you cried for the first time I begged the Lady to lift her curse even for only a minute so I could hold you.

"When you were eight and came home with bloody knees after falling from that horse, I begged her to transform me back so I could blow on your wounds and kiss them better."

Another press of lips, this time to his forehead.

"When your cursed father tried to end both Eleanor and you, you don't know how utterly useless I felt lying in this bed, able to do nothing but watch and hope to the gods that he wouldn't succeed.

"I cursed the Lady for robbing me the chance to kill him in your mom's stead."

Lips pressed to the tip of Luke' nose.

"All the nights you held me tight and cried yourself to sleep in the last three years after the accident... You don't know how deeply the impotence cut at me. How I begged the Lady to give me my true form back so I could hold you as tight as you held me."

Before he knew it, Luke had his hand tracing the scar that turned the man even more appealing. Exactly as he'd traced the stitches on bear's head for so many years; so many nights.