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The midnight breeze was cool and crisp in the lonely wood, the stars and moon twinkling from between the leaves and casting Demetrius in dappled blue light as he charged through the night in search of Hermia. She was all he spoke of now. His new obsession, borne not of love but of some misplaced obligation to become something he wasn't — something he would never be.
Once, Helenus had been the sole object of Demetrius' affections. Helenus had taken to strumming his lute near the market to pocket coin tossed his way by those who appreciated his music. One morning, he caught sight of him — a man with deep brown skin bathed in fresh blue sunlight, his wooly black hair kissed by morning dew. ‘Till then, he had never seen Demetrius; had no way of knowing he was any noble’s son. In hindsight, the young man's fine clothes should have made his status clear; at the time, Helenus had been far too preoccupied with the fantasy of removing them to think of anything else.
So he stopped his strumming, pocketed his earnings, and pursued him. In no time at all, he learned exactly what he looked like beneath those fine breeches and rare silks. Within a matter of weeks, the man was professing his love for him. Many nights passed with Helenus drifting to sleep wrapped in Demetrius’ arms in some private place known only to them. Among Helenus’ finest memories was waking to the warmth of Demetrius' lips on his own, coaxing him into the land of the living.
“Demetrius!” Helenus stumbled after him, boots stirring grass and ferns and sleepy wildflowers in his haste. “My love, why must you run from me? Why do you despise me so?”
Demetrius, damn him, responded only with silence, whipping shrubs out of the way with his arms as he stomped through the wood. Beneath their thundering footsteps was the gurgle of a nearby pond, which turned the air cooler and brought goosebumps to Helenus' skin.
“Oh, Demetrius, I beg of you, please speak to me. All I've ever wanted—”
Demetrius stopped in his tracks, and Helenus slammed into him hard, the force of their collision sending him stumbling.
“I love you not, therefore pursue me not!” Demetrius yelled, his baritone voice striking Helenus straight to his core. Demetrius surveyed the black pond which stretched out beside them, brooked by sweet-smelling hydrangeas in bold purples and blues. Fireflies blinked around them, glistening against the cold water and catching on the whites of his eyes like green fire. “Where are Lysander and fair Hermia? You told me they were stolen unto this wood, and here am I, having searched for hours and turned up nothing!”
Helenus scowled, a coil of anger flashing through him as hot and bright as thunder. “Why do you suddenly obsess over this woman, Demetrius? Before the last moon, I had never heard you speak her name! Now, it is only, ‘Where is Hermia, find me Hermia, I will marry fair Hermia if it is the last thing I do.’ Dare I say your newfound love for Hermia is only a—”
“Begone, Helenus!” Demetrius waved his hand dismissively, baring his teeth. “Take your leave and follow me no more.”
“You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant!” In a single wide step, Helenus closed the distance between them, taking Demetrius' face in his hands and stilling him with his gaze. Demetrius’ beard tickled his palms, warm and soft beneath his touch, and Helenus’ own face turned hot recalling the ticklish sensation of that beard against his stomach and in the hollow of his neck. “Leave you your power to draw,” Helenus breathed, “and I shall have no power to follow you.”
A flicker of hesitation flashed in Demetrius' eyes, dark as coal in the cold moonlight. Helenus' skin tingled beneath Demetrius' touch as he took him by the wrists and slowly pulled his hands from his face. This tenderness lasted only a moment, for Demetrius then pushed him away with a hard hand to his chest. “Do I deliberately entice you?” he hissed. “Or rather, do I not in plainest truth tell you that I do not, nor I cannot love you?”
Helenus drew a hand through his thick black hair, a futile attempt to tame the mess their trek through the woods had made of it. It fell around his shoulders in loose, angry curls, frizzing up in the damp night. "How would you have me be, proud Demetrius, that I might reclaim your heart which you once so passionately promised me? Would you have me be but a duplicate of fair Hermia, with blonde curls and a tongue that speaks of you only in disdain? Would you have me hate you, Demetrius? Must I conceal my affections and gaze upon you with revulsion as does she?"
Demetrius laughed, bitter and joyless. "This is folly, Helenus. You pursue me in vain, for I am sick when I do look at you.”
"’Tis very bold of you to lie to me — to me , the one and only man who knows you best in this world!” Helenus spit. “So do you lie to your own heart, Demetrius. A moon ago, you did look upon me and see not a monster, but a man whose beauty you praised and worshiped as I do worship you. Love me, Demetrius — or hate me if you must, but I beg of you, give me leave to follow you, that I may drink in your beauty and marvel at your voice."
"Lest I run from here and leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts, pursue me not!"
"Should you demand of me anything but that, proud Demetrius, I will obey you immediately,” Helenus said, his voice cracking with emotion. “But I cannot let go of that which stirs me to feel such powerful love. I will not allow you to break my heart — nay, slay my spirit — simply because you cannot bear to shirk your prejudice and admit that you, Demetrius, are in love with a man."
“A man?” Demetrius grinned, nasty and false. “A man who lays with his own sex is no man at all.”
Helenus breathed a bitter laugh. “Why do you speak so ill of yourself, Demetrius?”
Demetrius stormed forward and took hold of Helenus’ collar, backing him up against the trunk of a weeping willow. “Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit, Helenus, with your pathetic words, for you are but a parasite!”
“Oh, wound me, Demetrius!” Helenus wrapped his hands around the fist that gripped his collar, his voice raw and wet. “Strike me, beat me, pull at my hair — just touch me. Touch me, that I may remember when you touched me in tenderness and murmured , 'Sweet Helenus, you have my heart forevermore.' "
Hot tears spilled over Helenus’ cheeks, and he raised his hands to hold the sides of Demetrius' face, his eyes roving the man's deep, dark skin as if beholding a treasure of the most delicate beauty. With a tender thumb, he traced Demetrius' bottom lip, as plump and soft and perfect as it was the night they first kissed. “I know no greater truth than this: that your lips were warm and soft as silk; that you knew me behind the cover of a sapphire tapestry and made love to me there, again and again. This is my only truth,” Helenus whispered. “You took my soul with you and nothing has been certain since."
Demetrius drew a soft breath. “I loved you… once.”
“Only once?” Helenus smiled, soft and solemn. “Do not take me for a fool, Demetrius, it was many times. You professed to me in the starlit field, in the hallowed temple, in the shade of weeping willows.” He cast his eyes up towards the willow vines dangling over their heads, and Demetrius, to his surprise, followed suit.
“You yearn for a time long passed, Helenus,” Demetrius said, his voice deep and quiet. “Would you have me summon Cronus to turn back time to suit your fantasies?”
Helenus smiled ruefully, and crooked his mouth towards Demetrius’ own, hesitant, longing for the man's touch and heat. “‘Tis not necessary to turn back time, Demetrius. Your love for me did never truly cease. You’ve only hidden it.”
Demetrius’ breath caught in his throat, soft and subtle, and just as he began to lean the slightest bit closer, he scrunched his eyes shut and pulled away. "I do not love you, Helenus.”
Helenus’s heart sank into his stomach, cold and sour. He dropped his hands from Demetrius’ face to fiddle at his collar, his body set alight with new determination. “It is just as well. Hold fast to that lie, then, Demetrius, and kiss me — not out of love, but to seek your own satisfaction. Use me as one may use their own hand in secret." Helenus made quick work of Demetrius' buttons, baring his chest and tracing the skin there with tender palms. "It matters not to me, so long as I feel you."
Demetrius lowered his hand from Helenus’ collar, sliding his palm down his clothed chest, his touch leaving a burning trail of goosebumps in its wake. "You would lower yourself in such a way, Helenus?” asked Demetrius. “You would make yourself but a whore?"
Helenus met Demetrius' eyes. "I would be anything for you, Demetrius. I am your Spaniel.” Gently, he took hold of Demetrius’ chin, ran his tongue across those sweet, plump lips, and kissed him, hot and languid. It felt like reclaiming him; like drinking in his soul and tasting the essence of his beauty from the source. Breathing a moan against his lips, he took Demetrius’ hand and pressed it against his erection so he might feel his lust. “I’ve no pride to be bruised.”
Demetrius groaned against Helenus’ lips, the sound torn between frustration and sweet agony. He pulled away and spoke, his voice bass-gravel deep. “You planned for this, Helenus. Didn’t you? Hermia is not in this wood. You intended to seduce—” his words were smothered against Helenus’ lips, killed on contact as the man surged forward to silence him. Demetrius pulled away once again, but his eyes were smoky with lust. “Tell me… where is she, Helenus?”
Winding their fingers together, Helenus tightened their joined grip around his cock. “Imagine, for a moment, Demetrius, that I am she.” With his opposite hand, he circled the back of his neck and tilted his head lower. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, then pressed gentle kisses to his eyelids. “Picture her breasts. Her flowing hair. Her supple thighs and lilly-white skin. Picture every quality of hers that I do not bear.”
Demetrius smoothed a hand along Helenus’ hip and ran hot fingertips beneath his shirt. “Helenus… I need not—”
But Helenus did not relent, pulling his shirt off over his head and baring himself to the cool breeze of midnight. Demetrius released his cock and smoothed a palm up his spine until it rested at the nape of his neck. Slowly, gently, he wound his fingers into Helenus’ long, dark hair and pulled back his head to bare his neck so he might grasp it with his opposite hand. Helenus swallowed against Demetrius’ grasp, his adam’s apple bobbing beneath his palm, and groaned as the man squeezed gently.
“The starry-eyed boy who pledged himself to you forevermore looks through my eyes once more and admires the man whose gentle spirit touched his most tender dreams,” Demetrius murmured, pressing his lips to his ear and letting Helenus feel every word. He released his throat and trailed his fingers down to Helenus’ trousers, loosening the laces until they fell. “Oh, do you tempt him.”
“Demetrius…” Helenus gasped as the man drew one light finger up the underside of his cock and smoothed his thumb across the tip, smearing the wetness that had beaded there. “I beg of you, my love. Indulge him.”
Demetrius’ lips curled up into a smile, dark and faint on his onyx skin in the darkness of night. “By the gods, I should not.”
“Then may the gods be damned,” Helenus breathed. “Just tonight. Just this once.”
“Just this once, Helenus?” Demetrius wrapped his fingers around Helenus’ cock and stoked it once, slow, firm, making the man moan and tremble. “Do not lie to me. You are insatiable.”
“Only for you.”
“True enough,” Demetrius murmured, and silenced his needy breaths with a deep, slow kiss.
It burned Helenus’ bones to ash, flowing through him magma-hot, consuming him, destroying him, and he wrapped his arms around Demetrius and raked his nails down his back, committing every divot and muscle to memory. With every quick, smooth pump of Demetrius’ fist, bright explosions of bliss thrilled up Helenus’ body, bringing a tremble to his legs and spilling goosebumps over every inch of him. “Gods,” Helenus breathed, pulling away to bury his face in the crook of his neck.
Demetrius’ grip tightened in Helenus’ hair, the sweet pain mingling with the agony of sex, and Helenus was too far gone to make sense of the baritone words the man murmured against his ear — affirmations or curses or unthinkable filth, all made meaningless in the perfect heat of Demetrius’ touch and voice and solid body pressing against him. "Oh, Demetrius. Gods, yes, yes, yes…”
Demetrius jerked his head back by his curls and smashed their mouths together, hot and heavy and wet, and with one last, firm twist of the wrist, Helenus spilled between them, smothering a breathless moan against the man’s mouth. It felt like victory. It felt like perfection.
Helenus drooped against Demetrius, quaking and trembling and struggling to catch his breath as he held himself up against the man’s solid chest. It was a cherished memory come to life: boneless and blissful in the arms of his first and final lover, shrouded in darkness.
“I do not love her,” said Demetrius so quietly, Helenus nearly missed it over the sound of his own heaving breaths.
He slowly straightened and met his gaze, not daring to believe his own ears.
“I do not love her, Helenus,” Demetrius repeated. He bit his lip and averted his gaze, but Helenus placed a hand on his cheek and drew back his attention, forcing him to look him in the eyes.
“Then why do you pretend, sweet Demetrius?” Helenus asked, his voice soft and gentle. “Why do you choose to live in shame—”
“My father forbids it.”
“Gods damn your father,” Helenus bit, furrowing his brows in disdain. “And Hermia’s father, for that matter. No father should abuse his authority to compel his child to love in the way he wants.”
“My love,” Demetrius began, and Helenus gasped, for he had believed he would never hear that word from his mouth again. “It is not so simple. He believes you to be a curse sent to rob him of a grandchild. He believes that you poisoned me. Poisoned me with your love…” he said, and stroked his cheek, “and your beauty… and your kindness.”
A fresh tear streaked down Helenus’ face, and Demetrius leaned down and kissed it away. “One moon ago, he revealed to me that he wished to have you killed. I was obligated to promise him that I would marry a woman. Those things, Helenus — those terrible things I said to you… I did not believe a word of it. I only intended to protect you from a bitter end, and if I’d had any other option—”
“Run away with me.”
Demetrius froze, staring Helenus in the eyes, and Helenus quickly pulled up his trousers, laced them, and drew a kerchief from his pocket to wipe the seed from Demetrius' hand, driven with new purpose. “I have collected coin from my performances in the market; doubtless, you have the wealth of your father. Let us compound our wealth, purchase a steed, and steal away from Athens. I know not our destination, but it matters not so long as I am with you…” he planted a kiss on Demetrius' lips and tucked the kerchief into his pocket. “And you with me.”
Slowly, far too slowly, Demetrius' mouth broke into a smile, his white teeth glinting green in the light of the fireflies that surrounded them. “Truly, you believe it to be so simple?”
Helenus nodded. “I do. You and I, my love, are capable of anything.”
Demetrius' smile bloomed into a full grin, as radiant as if the sun had risen in an instant and set the world alight. “Come, then,” he said, and pressed a kiss to the back of Helenus' hand. “Let us steal away into the world together.”
A firefly landed in Demetrius' hair, and Helenus, alight with sweet joy, laughed, stood on his toes, and blew it away.