Was a man, once, wore a long black coat, hands deep in the pockets, walked like he wanted to get somewhere.  He walked down the middle of a dusty road, smiling.  Another man, thin, redhaired, was sitting by a fire beside the road, stirring something in a pot propped crookedly in the flames.  Bony wrists poked out of his sleeves, long thin hands.  He looked up suddenly, sensing something maybe, saw the man in the black coat walking down the middle of the dusty road.  The copper head bent for a minute, a tired curse whispering from his lips.

Then he looked up.  “Not you again.  I don’t need this.”

Still a length away but getting closer, the man in the black coat grinned a beautiful, cheerful grin at him.  “It doesn’t matter what you need, but what I need.”

The redhead stood hastily, clumsily, hands dangling awkward by his sides.  “All right, what do you want then?”  He rubbed his palms against his pants, edgy, glowering at the stranger like he already knew the answer and didn’t like it.

The man in the black coat flicked a dark eyebrow at him, smiling, stopped and put one hand on his hip, standing a yard from the redhead.  “Foolish question for a smart man to ask.”

The redhead looked away, kicked at a stone in the dust, scowling. 

“Do I have to?” he said after a pause, voice low.

“You owe me.  You know you do.  A lot.”  The man’s voice was quiet, not gloating but merely stating the score.  Then as the redhead scowled again his smile faded, voice turning implacable as the lines beside his mouth hardened.  “You owe me more than a life, Lori, you owe me a soul.”  The mask broke and he smiled again.  “But I have no use for your soul, and this is the only currency I accept payment in.  You know that too.”

Reluctantly the redhead nodded, gaze still on the ground.  “You know I don’t want to.”

The man in the black coat sighed, raised a hand to cup the redhead’s cheek, turning his face up to meet his eyes.  “Oh come now.  Surely it isn’t that bad.”

Blue-grey eyes stared up into eyes of the deepest, richest gold, the color of amber and tigerseye, and blinked, and looked away again.  A pale flush colored his freckled cheeks as the redhead kicked at the dirt.  After a moment he shrugged.

“Took me three days to recover last time.”

The golden-eyed one threw back his head and laughed, clapping the shorter man on the shoulder.  “Only three days, eh?  Let’s see if I can better myself.”

Shaking his head, the redhead started to pull back, gesturing at the fire, the road.  “I really don’t want – I have things to – ”

“Lori.”  The man’s voice was unyielding.  “Now.”

Shoulders slumping, the redhead glared up at him for a moment before casting his eyes up to the sky and whirling to stalk away.  With his long legs swinging over the ground, head flicking every little while to shake uncut bangs out of his eyes, he somehow reminded the man of an offended fox twitching its tail as it walks off.

As he followed, passing by the fire, the man in the black coat reached out to fish the pot out of the flames, holding it up by one hot cast iron edge as he spoke.  “Let’s not let this burn.  You’ll be wanting it later.”

The red-haired man turned to see and his blue-grey eyes widened.  “Careful – !”  White teeth spread in that beautiful grin as the golden eyes glinted amusement.  With no sign of pain, he switched hands to hold up the palm of the first one, unblistered, unscorched, not even reddened. 

“…Oh.  Right.”  Snorting his disgust, Lori turned back and walked on toward the shelter of the trees as the man set the pot down on a patch of bare earth and stirred its contents one last time. 

Then he moved to catch up, striding long-legged and leasurely across the meadow.

 

The red-haired man sat, long arms wrapped around his knees, watching the other man as he pulled off his long black coat, hung it on a tree branch.  Under the shaggy copper bangs the blue-grey eyes were shadowed, wary.

The golden-eyed man turned to look down at him, shaking back shoulderlength ravenwing hair, and smiled.  Lori always tried to find something to compare him to – a lion or a couger, maybe, for the graceful power of his movements.  A deer for the occasional poised stillness.  A snake for his speed, anything for his beauty… nothing worked.  Nothing breathing could match him, only sunlight on water, starshine and wind.

Unbuttoning his long vest, the man continued to smile down at him, tolerant of his hesitancy.  He tossed the vest over the coat, pulled off his green tunic.  Toed-off boots were set under the branch.  His eyes were warm and understanding on the redhead’s face as he undid his pants and slid them off, and Lori blushed, unable to look away.

The golden-eyed man stood before him clad in nothing but his own pale skin, and the redhead had to stand.  He stared down at himself and undid his own shirt with clumsy fingers, kicked off his boots, shucked his pants, all without looking up from his own hands.

Long, pale fingers touched his chin, lifted it gently, forcing his eyes to meet the golden gaze closer than he expected.  The taller man smiled, brushing their lips together, and pushed him down to the moss.

The redhead was a marvelous creature to look at, thought the man with golden eyes.  Long bony limbs sprawled with an odd sort of grace, ruddy and freckled where the sun hit them, the hairs bleached platinum.  Everywhere else he was pale as cream and light-furred with copper wire, ribs poking through solid muscle.

And when he arched in ecstacy, writhing under the black-haired man’s ministrations, clutching him close and closer and calling out his name, one could almost suspect that he didn’t mind the whole thing as much as he professed. 

They moved together, necks curved back and mouths open, panting in rasping breaths.  Sheened with moisture, pale skin glowed in the green dimness beneath the trees.  Black hair swinging around his face and shoulders, the golden-eyed man cradled Lori in his arms, rocking him back and forth as he gasped and cried out.  Every minute, every breath, those amber beacons seemed to intensify, blazing brighter as the flames built again inside the red-haired man.

When he broke for the fourth time, shattering into three thousand tiny, dazed pieces, the taller man finally let go himself, shuddering once and humming a long, satisfied growl before he lowered himself to the moss beside Lori, one strong arm over him, holding him close.

Blue-grey eyes flickered, slowly opened halfway, dazed and lost with pleasure.  Humming a chuckle, the black-haired man kissed him gently, tiger’s eyes glowing soft with something like relief from hunger, from weakness.

“There.  That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

The redhead shifted, breathing restlessly, mouth open and trying to find the words.  Finally he closed his eyes, shook his head, giving up; whispered the same two words he always did at this point.  “Damn you.”

Gold eyes flashed with amusement as he threw back his head and laughed.  “Many have tried, young one, but they remain unsuccessful.”

With a certain amount of effort Lori managed to drag a hand up to rake the sprawl of copper out of his eyes, glaring at his companion.  “You know, I’m really not that young.”

“Only compared to me.”  Untangling his shapely limbs from the redhead’s, the man with golden eyes sat up, still smiling, stroked one hand over copper hair and down a bony spine.  Rising, he began pulling on clothing as the redhead leaned on one elbow and glumly watched.

“How old are you?”

Pulling on his tunic, the tall one laughed, arched his eyebrows at the man on the ground without answering.  Lori rolled half onto his stomach and glowered to himself, stayed silent while the other finished dressing.

 Then, in his black coat once more, the man with the golden eyes stepped over to where the redhead lay, kneeling beside him on the moss.  He cupped the solid, freckled jaw in one hand, brushed the copper tangle off his forehead again, waiting for the sulky slate eyes to meet his.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, meaning it.

The red-haired man looked away, looked back, staring into the golden gaze like he was looking for something, not sure if it was there.  “I – can’t say you’re welcome…” he said awkwardly after a moment.

The man in the black coat smiled.  “I know.  But I appreciate it.”  He leaned forward, kissed the redhead one last time and bony arms came up around him, holding him there almost desperately for a moment.  Then he was rising, gentle fingers stroking across one freckled cheekbone before he pulled upright again.

Smiling that warm, joyful smile.  “I will see you again.”

Lori swallowed, opened and closed his mouth, nodded.

Black coat spreading like wings, the man swept his arms out to the sides and bowed, gracefully.  “Until then, be well, and may luck go with you in all your endeavors.”

“Sure, til I meet you again,” the red-haired man muttered under his breath, and the other laughed.

“Ah, Lori, be kind,” he admonished, smiling still.  “And fare well.”  With a swirl of his coat he was gone in long strides back across the meadow.

Behind him the redhead lay back in the moss, staring up at the green canopy shielding him from the sky.  Quietly, in a tired, resigned voice, he began to curse the man with the golden eyes.  He was sore, and filthy, and his dreams would be full of ravenwing hair and pale skin tonight, and for many nights to come.  His heart ached, and he knew from experience that he would wake in the dark hours of the mornings, crying for no reason that he could remember, long after the dreams left.

Of course he could’ve asked him to stay.  Could always ask him to stay, but even if he agreed, he wouldn’t understand.  He would keep close for a few days or a week, friendly and fond and uncomprehending.  They would lie together whenever, wherever, and the black-haired man would appreciate it, and every once in a while he’d shoot Lori that little questioning glance asking if this was long enough, could he go now, and the redhead would feel his heart dying by pieces.

So now, some day in the future he would discover that he hadn’t thought about smooth black hair for weeks, and seeing sunlight glowing in a piece of amber didn’t send shivers of memory down his spine, and he would smile in relief, knowing that he was well again.  Himself, he didn’t need anyone else, he was happy on his own.

And the next week on some deserted road he’d see that long black coat coming towards him and his heart would shatter in his breast once more.

“I hate you,” he whispered to the sky.  “Hate you, hate you, hate you.” 

Because you do not know what love is.