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The Pact (OT4)

The winner of the previous monsters poll was fae! This fill is NSFW

The Appletown Fourth of July parade is an exercise in despair. It’s been this way ever since Joseph was six and someone threw egg salad at his sister, Lily, while saying her parents crashed planes into their fathers ship, before dashing off as she yelled that their dad was Korean, not Japanese.

This, the 1960 parade, is shaping up to be worse. Sweat is dripping down his back, his hair is stuck to his forehead, and his father hasn’t even come marching by with the other veterans. He and his younger sister, Iris, are making the best of it by teasing Lily for her seemingly all-encompassing crush on a rotating cast of boys. Joseph, at seventeen, thinks a few of them are cute, and Iris, in spite of being thirteen, seems unconvinced by the idea of boys in general.

It’s not the heat, the noise, or the threat of lukewarm pasta salads that’s making his skin itch; it’s the anticipation. Tonight, while everyone else is distracted by fireworks, he’s going to execute a plan that will change everything. He’s going to summon a Fae.

So he waits, and waits, and smiles, and waits. When they’ve gone home for dinner and a respite from the soupy air, he slows his movements a little, asks Lily if she’s feeling cold or if it’s just him. By the middle of dinner, he pushes his half-finished sandwich aside and asks if it’s alright if he lays down awhile, he’s not feeling well.

He’s still on his bed when his father pokes his head in to ask if he’s feeling well enough to join them. He shakes his head and so his father ruffles his hair and tells him they’ll be home in an hour or so.

Once the tail lights of the car are gone, he sneaks out the back door and crosses into a patch of undeveloped, scrawny woods, a piece of paper clutched in his hands. He found it tucked in the back of a copy of The Lord of the Rings and intends to follow the directions on it down to the last letter.

He stands in a clearing in a patch of moonlight, then begins reciting unfamiliar words as he walks the shape of a winged sigil in the grass. The night goes silent and his skin prickles as if there was lightning on the horizon.

“You wish to make a pact?”

The lilt is barely louder than the whisper of the grass, but when he turns it’s speaker towers over him. He puts Joseph in mind of a mouth, feathery, black antenna sprouting from moonlight silver hair and a ruff of black, speckled feathers around his neck. He’s cloaked in so much black Joseph wonders if he’s no more than a shadow, a trick of the light.

Then he steps forward, red eyes glowing as he takes Joseph in with a placid gaze.

“Well? Do you have something you would ask of me? Or is this one of those cases of idle curiosity?”

“I do.” Joseph clears his throat, reads from the paper, “great and wise emissary of the other realms, I ask that you…you make me a man.”

The fae studies him closer, perplexed “But you are one.”

“I am! Or, I am but no one will acknowledge it. I want to be one they’ll never question and I want…I want everyone to forget I was ever anything else. Can you do that?”

“I can. But surely a young man clever enough to summon a fae knows any favor comes with a price.”

“I’ll give you whatever you ask.” He frowns “if it’s money I might have to save up and summon you again. Is that an option?”

Soft footsteps cross the grass and slender fingers reach out, lightly touching his cheek. For a hopeful moment, he thinks the fae will kiss him, that the payment will be something he’s eager to give.

“No, Joseph Stern, I will not ask for money. My offer is this: you must promise me I may take your hand some time from now. I cannot say when. Will you agree to that?”

He looks down; if he starts now, he can probably be ambidextrous by the time he loses a hand.

“I do.”

The fae extends his hand and Joseph places his own within it. Instead of shaking, the fae bows, touching first his lips and then his forehead to Joseph’s knuckles.

“Then it is done.”

Joseph blinks once and he’s in bed, his family clamoring through the door downstairs. As his sisters shout that he missed some big ones, his dad pokes his head into the room.

“Are you feeling better, son?”

His smile could light every town from here to San Francisco.

“I am. Thanks, dad.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------

His deal with the fae resides in a special corner of his mind, one he never looks at purposefully but returns to when he isn’t paying attention, unable to forget cool fingers on his skin or the glimmer of power in ruby-red eyes.

It’s just past five years past the bargain. This morning, Joseph made a pact of a different kind.

His college years were marked by a distinct lack of sex or romance; he was busy with a stack of classes, his workload at Berkeley threatening to crush him if he turned his back on it for too long. In spite of the fact some of his male classmates snuck into the city to find boyfriends, Joseph’s deep-seated fear of getting in trouble kept him from joining them. Half of them thought he was some kind of government plant anyway, so it’s not like he was invited often.

His junior year, a transfer student took the seat next to him in an entomology class. Joseph was taking it to fulfill a science credit and Duck, as the transfer student introduced himself, was taking it as part of his forestry degree. He’d needed a pen and Joseph had several, and they struck up a conversation that continued after class as they walked to the dorms. When Duck came to a stop at one of the women’s dorms, a familiar expression crossed his face and Joseph understood.

Joseph asked if he’d like to join him for coffee tomorrow, and to his delight, Duck said yes.

They became friends over those two years, and when Duck was, bafflingly, rejected from every forestry position he applied for, it was Joseph who sat and commiserated (with some help from Duck’s friend Juno, calling on the landline in Joseph’s apartment). And when Duck began worrying about moving home, about being pressured to get married, they came up with an idea.

Joseph needed a “wife.” Duck needed a husband. Q.E.D, they should get married.

It was only after they were engaged and on a trip to West Virginia to meet Duck’s family that Joseph realized he was actually in love with his friend. Lucky must be his middle name, because Duck loves him, too.

And that’s what finds him here at an elegant suite in Yosemite Lodge, the two of them having driven down from their wedding in San Francisco this morning.

“How do I look?” Duck steps from the bathroom in his suit, the black fabric showing off the strength of his thighs and an ass that would make god cry, and the jacket holding his muscular arms just right.

“Like a dream, Mr. Newton.” Joseph sets his hands on Duck’s lapels, “thought you won’t be keeping that on for long.”

“That so?” Duck’s hands find Joseph’s ass, “how do you know I ain’t gonna keep it on while I bend you over this here bed and fuck you into next week?”

“Please.” Joseph tugs him towards the bedroom, “let’s-”

Static on his skin, prickling out from his chest to concentrate in his left hand.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” Duck pulls back, green eyes wide with worry.

“Do you remember that deal I told you about?”

“You mean the one with a fairy?”

“Fae. But yes. It’s, I think he’s about to collect.” He watches silver and black light curl around wrist and up to his fingers, “god damn it. Of all the nights to lose a hand, why did he have to choose this one?.”

“Joe? You sure that’s what he meant?” Duck points to where the smoke is coiling around Joseph’s wedding band.

“Oh shi-” Is all he gets out before the room is gone. In its place are wood walls, painted black, with windows that tell him he’s up in a tree. Smoke is still curling around him, and the fae from years ago is grinning like a cat that ate all the canaries.

“Hello, Joseph.”

“H-hello….”

“Indrid” the fae bows, black-feathered wings spreading slightly as he does, “since we are to be husbands, you may know it.”

He summons as much politeness as he can, “Indrid. Magnificent lord of the other realms. May I please have a little more time. I, well, I’m literally on my honeymoon and I, I can’t” he thinks of Duck alone and alarmed, “please don’t make me leave him so soon.”

“I’m afraid a deal is a deal. Though perhaps now and then you could see him? Time can be a bit odd here.” He frowns, “I am not certain of the exact conversion of fae days to human ones.”

As he’s despairing at the thought of not making it home before Duck is dead of old age, the smoke to his left coalesces into a hand.

Indrid’s head snaps back up, “What in all the world?”

The hand grabs Joseph’s shoulder and pulls, sending him through a rabbit hole between realities and right back into a hotel room in Yosemite.

As he stumbles for his footing, Duck drags him into a bear hug, mumbling, “Thank fuck, I wasn’t sure I’d grabbed you” into his shoulder.

“How did you do that?” Joseph strokes his husband's hair with awe.

“Since the smoke wasn’t gone, figured the door was still open. So to speak.”

Joseph kisses him hard, laughing as the shorter man dips him. When they stop for breath, he keeps Duck’s face between his hands.

“We need to get some salt from the kitchen and sprinkle it around the room.”

“This a kink of yours?” Duck teases.

“No, but it will ensure my showing you a good time for saving me isn’t interrupted by an angry fae.”

—---------------------------------------------------

Indrid stares at the spot where his betrothed was only seconds before. Then he looks over his shoulder into the dining room, antenna drooping at the table laden with candles and a lovely meal for two.

—--------------------------------------------------------

Joe’s jumpy for the first month after their honeymoon, making their move up the coast to his new teaching job more stressful than necessary. But as they settle into their little house and there’s not so much as a wisp from the fae, his husband returns to his normal levels of stress.

While Joe teaches history and folklore at the small college, Duck finds a job at the botanical garden, one of the tourists draws in a dying logging town. While a few of the staff at the college are weird about it, most of the town accepts Duck when he introduces himself as Mr. newton; god knows he and Joe aren’t the only two men sharing a home in this place.

A year passes in a blink, mornings having coffee in the garden and evenings pressed together in bed blurring together in a steady hum of happiness.

Duck usually beats Joe home, but tonight he had a special stop and the lights are already on when he pulls up the drive. As he steps inside, a baritone voice croons from the record player

And I'm sitting with friends, where forty-five cents

Will buy another glass of beer

He's got something to say, but I'm so far away

That I don't know who I'm talking to

Cos you just walked in the door, and honey, all I see is you

“You’re gonna run out the grooves on that thing.” Duck opens his arms and Joseph sets the duster aside to come get his kiss.

“I can buy a new one if I do. It just makes it so much easier to relax after work. I saw in the paper he’s playing at the Hornets Nest next week but I think I missed the window to get tickets.”

“Nope” Duck produces two, narrow rectangles from his pocket, making Joe clasp his hands over his mouth with delight. It never fails to make him smile, this show of excitement from his dignified husband, “what do you say, darlin? We got a date?”

—---------------------------------------------------------

A week later, Joe is practically in his lap as they wait for the show to start. It’s not that the crowd is huge, more that the space is tiny; the bar, stage, and tables take up less room than their house. Of the two of them, it’s Joe who sticks out; he looks a little square, a little soft, compared to bohemians and bikers smushed around them. Duck puts a protective arm over his shoulder, just in case anyone gets any ideas.

Barclay Cobb takes the stage to rowdy cheers, thanking them all for coming before strumming his guitar and staring in on his first song. Duck could take or leave the sea shanties, but he likes the folk and union songs plenty, and has to admit the guy writes a mean love song. Joe, on the other hand, is having a religious experience, face growing more rapturous with each song.

These tickets were worth every goddamn penny.

The show lasts two hours, and when he’s through Barclay tells everyone he’ll be hanging around to have drinks and talk. Enough of the audience drains out in search of more excitement that he and Joe can actually reach the bar without throwing elbows.

Duck kisses Joe on the cheek, promising to be right back, and goes in search of a bathroom. It takes a shockingly long time to find somewhere that isn’t occupied by people doing each other, drugs, or both. By the time he gets back to the main building, it’s nearly empty and Joe is still at the bar.

He’s not alone.

Barclay is leaning against the battered wood, listening intently as Joe talks. His beer is at his lips but he doesn’t drink, as any time he tries Joe asks something or makes him laugh. Duck can see a smitten glint in his eye all the way from the door.

He gives them more time, ordering a beer and drinking half before coming up behind Joe and slipping a hand into his back pocket. There’s barely a foot between them and Barclay, but to his credit the instant Joe turns and smiles at Duck, the singer steps back.

After Joe introduces them, Barclay shakes his hand and then fidgets with a bracelet on his wrist, “Sorry, didn’t realize you weren’t flying solo.”

Duck glances at the pink in his husbands cheeks, the only tell that he knew damn well he was flirting, and says casually, “I don’t mind Joe gettin’ some on the side. Long as I get to watch.”

The nervous sip Barclay was taking turns to a cough, and Joe turns to him, eyebrow raised.

“We talked about it before we got hitched, remember?”

They had, but it was before they’d admitted they were in love and were each assuming the other would want to have a partner outside the marriage. Duck’s overall stance hasn’t changed; he doesn’t need to be the only man in Joe’s life to know Joe is the man for him.

“I guess we did.” Joe smiles, face like a movie star’s, and Duck watches Barclay’s knees wobble when Joe turns it on him.

A voice calls for Barclay from the back door and he mutters, “Fuck. We’ve gotta hit the road. Uh, here” he grabs a napkin and scribbles on it, “I’m home starting week after next. See you then?”

Joe takes the napkin, folding it carefully and tucking it in his pocket, “Of course. Big guy.”

The singer says his goodbyes and hurries out, nearly banging into a door when Joe winks at him. Then he offers Duck his arm and they head for the car.

“Can’t decide if I feel real lucky or real sad you never flirted full-on with me. It’s hotter than the fourth of july, but think I might’ve walked into fucking traffic from it.”

“I’m not that smooth. Am I?” Stern pauses at the passenger door, looking across the roof at him.

“Smoother’n ice and twice as cool. C’mon, hop in. And keep your eyes peeled for a quiet spot; not sure I got it in me to wait until we’re home to fuck you.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay’s house is an hour and a half north of them, up a small, hilly road that’s so rough both Joseph and Duck wonder if they’ve taken a wrong turn. Then the cabin is waiting for them, windchimes and suncatchers dangling from the covered porch while the forest renders the whole picture dappled and dream-like.

He’s asked Duck over two dozen times if he’s really okay with this. It wasn’t until his husband took him by the shoulders and said, “the second-hottest thing in the world is the thought of you getting fucked into next week by someone else. First hottest is doin’ it myself.”

Barclay welcomes them in with a golden retriever grin, showing them their room and giving them a tour as bread bakes in the oven. Joseph relaxes the longer they’re there, and not solely from the fact Barclay looks as excited as he feels; the singer is being incredibly friendly to Duck, and the two are getting along famously.

They eat a light lunch, all made by Barclay, and have iced tea on the porch in the afternoon sun. Then the singer is offering him his hand.

“Ready, baby?”

He nods and lets Barclay lead them to his bedroom. The singer pulls a chair to the foot of bed, offering it to Duck and then saying, “How do you want him, babe?”

“Tied to it.”

“Now that’s just fucking mean” Duck is already sitting and puts his hands behind the chair, “or are you just doin’ this because you like how I get when you ain’t bein’ good?”

“The second one.” Joseph pulls off his shirt as Barclay ties Duck’s hands.

“Then as soon as the big fella is done, I’m roughing you up and riding you into next week.” Duck growls, tilting his face up for a kiss. Joseph gives him one, then another just because he can.

“Can I get one of those?” Barclay purrs, voice rich and dark as caramel.

Joseph turns to him, lets calloused hands cup his face and draw him into a sweet, exploratory kiss. His short, auburn beard tickles Joseph’s skin, and as big hands glide down his body Joseph moans and pushes closer.

“You really are something, babe.” Barclay spins him so his back is to the singers chest, kisses trailing down his neck, “fuck, no wonder he wants you so bad.”

“That I d-” Duck stiffens, eyes darting to where a swirl of smoke rises from the floor.

“Are you kidding me?” Joseph tries to pull away, but Barclay just grips him tighter as Indrid appears in the room.

The fae offers Barclay a smile, “Thank you for your assistance, dearest.”

“Nope, fuck this” Duck struggles against the rope, glaring ar Barclay, “and fuck you for tricking us into whatever the fuck this is.”

“This” Indrid glowers at Duck, “is only necessary because of your cleverness” he points at Joseph, “and your stubbornness.” For that he points at Duck, who makes a rude gesture in return.

“Look, Joe don’t want to go with you, so fucking drop it.”

“I am aware. If Joseph does not wish to give me his hand, fine.” The fae’s voice is oddly calm, “but a fae bargain does not care about his wishes, nor mine. Once I invoke the contract, I have five hundred days to collect. If I do not, I become what humans call a ‘fairy ring’ for a hundred years. And we are approaching five hundred days far faster than I would like.”

“And how, exactly, do you come into all this?” Joseph looks over his shoulder at Barclay.

“Indrid’s the reason I’m famous.”

“I heard him singing and was so enchanted by his voice that I offered him anything he wanted if he would give me the honor of a private concert each month. That and, ah, one other favor, to be called in at my discretion.”

“So he got you with that too” Joseph murmurs.

“Very few futures showed you having a marriage you like!” Indrid throws up his hands, “Yes, I can see them, and when you offered me anything I wanted that summer night, I looked and saw a man who intrigued me and who had fallen into a loveless marriage to please others.” He points at Duck once more, “he was completely unexpected! And when I summoned you I thought… I thought…” his whole body droops, imperious tone gone in a breath, “never mind what I thought. It was clear you abhorred the idea of a life in my realm.”

Joseph breathes in for a count of three, out for four, and in his best professor voice says, “Barclay, please untie my husband while I talk to Indrid.”

The singer doesn’t even look to Indrid before obeying, and is apologizing under his breath to Duck as Joseph takes a careful step towards the fae.

“Indrid, the idea of living with you fascinates me. And you’re right, had it been anyone but Duck, I probably would have agreed to stay with you. I don’t want to break our bargain.”

The fae chirps, unconvinced.

“I mean it. And I didn’t know avoiding it put you in jeopardy. There’s nothing in the books about that. If there’s some way to keep both my promises” he looks back at Duck, who’s clearly poised to pull him from another realm again, “I need you to tell me.”

The fae clicks his nails together, “If a human comes willingly–no tricks, no vague language–they may move between worlds as they please and without losing time in the mortal realm.”

“Seems like an important loophole there.” Duck says.

Indrid shoots a displeased glance his way, then bites his lip, “Here is what I propose. I am a very generous, attentive partner. Barclay can tell you that much. Allow me a week to court you, to show you that I could make you happy and you would not lack in the days you left your waterbird and visited me. If at the end you do not wish to come willingly, I…I will make our bargain void and accept my fungal fate.”

Joseph looks to an equally surprised Duck, who nods when he meets his eyes. He holds out his hand and, for the second time in his life, makes a deal with a fae.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck and Joseph decide to stay at his place for the week, neither of them wanting a fae near their actual house. Barclay isn’t complaining; he likes them both. And this will give him a chance to apologize more than he already has for tricking them.

Part one of his apology is breakfast, which is why he’s been up since four, trying to get everything perfect. A little after six, Joseph’s reflection appears in the kitchen window.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” Barclay swallows down his nerves, “Joseph, look, about last night-”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it; Indrid tricked you too.” Joseph, unfairly handsome even when sleep-rumpled, hunts for a mug, “I just don’t appreciate someone pretending they’re interested in me when they really have an ulterior motive. Oh, thank you.” He takes the offered cup and turns his focus on the coffee pot.

“I don’t! Or, I, I did but it wasn’t my only reason for inviting you. I didn’t even know about the deal with Indrid until after we met at the bar. I was telling Indrid how excited I was that you wanted to see me again and he realized who you were. And yeah, he had that favor to call in, but I…shitty as it is I woulda helped him anyway. He’s been my patron? Partner? For years. I really care about him.” He feels silly saying it; Indrid dotes on him, but only the way you would a pet you wanted to show off.

At least, he thinks that’s the case. It’s hard to tell what Indrid is thinking sometimes.

Joseph sets his mug down, studying Barclay’s face. Barclay wonders if he turns this kind of scrutiny on his students, or on Duck, and how anyone survives it without getting a little turned on.

“Okay, you’re actually interested in me. But you still fucked me over”

“Please let me make it up to you. Just tell me how.” He winces at his own earnestness; here he is about to add a “professor who’s not even a one night stand” next to “fae lord” on the list of people he hopelessly pines for.

Whatever Joseph reads in his expression, it softens the suspicion in those blue eyes, “You can start by telling me where you keep your cream.”

Once his coffee is to his liking, Joseph sits at the kitchen table and asks Barclay a dozen questions about his life, about Indrid, about the food Barclay heaps in front of him. When he bites a cinnamon roll and moans, Barclay thinks he might die of wanting to kiss him again.

“Mornin’, darlin. Whoa damn, Barclay did you make all this?”

“Yeah, it’s part of the ‘oh god I’m so sorry’ breakfast.”

Duck snorts, rests his hand on Joseph’s shoulder, “I’m gonna take a walk before we eat. No fuckin’ the big fella until you’re sure he’s trustworthy.”

Barclay grips the edge of the sink, wondering at what point getting on his knees and begging is justified. There’s a soft clink of tableware, and then Joseph sets his plate in the sink. Barclay turns his head to say something and gets a chaste kiss on the lips instead.

“Thank you for breakfast.” Joseph murmurs, “need some help with clean up.”

Even his “mmhmmm” comes out as a whine. Joseph just kisses him again and goes to find a dishtowel.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Duck knows the birdcalls of this area, so he’s guessing that anxious twittering is coming from somewhere else.

He reaches a place where the earth dips down into a grove of redwoods. Indrid is standing at the center, glowing writing in the air all around. He’s paced a path in the leaf litter and muttering to himself as he erases and replaces words. Then he stills, looking out into the trees beyond them.

“You can say it.” He sighs, defeated.

“Say what?” Duck descends the slope.

The fae keeps his back to him, “You are going to say that none of this will work, that Joseph is not a fool and will not fall for anything I offer him, no matter how shiny or magical.”

Duck reaches the edge of the writing, and it morphs into English, “Was mostly gonna ask why you came out here to do this.”

Indrid turns, only barely hiding his surprise, “You…you do not wish to taunt me?”

“More wanna chew you out for buggin’ Joe. But I believe in second chances. Third ones too.”

“...I came out here to give the rest of you space. I see you both forgiving Barclay more easily if I am not around. And I also enjoy it out here. I love the woods of earth.”

“Me too. More or less what I went to school for.”

“Really?” Black antenna perk up, “do you know what bird keeps making that-” he cheeps “noise?”

“Chickadee. Folks say the name comes from the call but I don’t really hear it.”

“And what’s that?”

“Fern. You get ‘em on the coast sometimes.”

He goes on to explain why when Indrid asks, then answers six more questions about the world around them before realizing something.

“Can’t you just see my answers in the future?”

“Yes. But I like this way better. Your voice is so much more pleasing in the real moment, and you keep adding these little stories and asides at the last moment that make it all the better.” The earnestness is too clunky, too awkward, to be anything but genuine.

Duck looks at the glowing letters once more, “It’d make Joe happiest if you just talked with him. Let him ask questions about fae and your world and whatever other weird stuff comes to mind. He loves gifts as much as the next fella, but when he gets to investigate things, puzzle them out…he lights up like a Christmas tree.”

Indrid nods, waving a hand to clear the air. Last night he seemed ageless, old features mingling with young on an alien face. As the morning light spreads, Duck sees lines of worry on his forehead and that his lower lip is chewed raw.

“Thank you. If it is alright, I will walk back with you.” His wings rustle in the breeze as they start for the cabin. Then he stops, hesitates, and touches Duck’s arms with his fingertips, “They are few, the futures where he chooses to see me again. But I promise you that if they come to pass, I will cherish him no less than you do. And that I, I will never seek to keep him permanently from you” a nervous laugh, “I am not sure I could. You are rather determined. An admirable trait.”

He smiles, reserved, until Duck returns the expression. Then his eyes glow brighter, and he talks with Duck all the way back.

—---------------------------------------------------------

“And that is how new fae royalty comes to be.” Indrid cocks his head at the drawing he made at Joseph’s behest, the two of them sitting side by side at the coffee table, “I fail to see how this is any less convoluted than human government.”

“Slightly fewer duels. At least these days.” Joseph closes his notebook; he’s going to need another one before the week is out. Over the last two days, Indrid has talked with him for hours, the two of them trading questions and stories about their realms. It’s clear that Indrid is as intrigued by human life as Joseph is by the fae realm.

Duck and Barclay will join in the conversation from time to time, and tonight Barclay is passed out on the floor after fiddling with new songs on his guitar all evening, and Duck is asleep on the couch behind them, book open on his chest.

There’s a tingle of magic, and then a notebook, bound in blue leather, appear on the table.

“You were about to say you were running out of pages.” Indrid nudges the books towards him, “that one will always have more space to write.”

“Incredible.” Joseph smooths his hand over the cover as the clock ticks over to one in the morning. He stretches and murmurs, “I should go to bed.”

“Then I will say goodnight. And thank you once again for allowing me to pass an evening in your company.”

Joseph catches his hand and kisses it, smiling at the resulting, breathy chirr, “My pleasure.”

—----------------------------------------------

“Y’know, thought Duck was joking when he said your back is just solid knots.”

“I can’t prove I’ve gotten where I have by worrying about everything, but I’m not about to stop now.”

Barclay chuckles, running his hands over Joseph’s shoulders. They’re on a patch of secluded beach, Joseph laying on his back with his head in the singer's lap. A fog bank curls up the sand, but the sweater Indrid gave him keeps the damp at bay, making him feel like he’s sitting by a cozy fire.

Strong hands massage his neck and shoulders and he lets his eyes drop closed. For a while there’s no sound but the wind and the waves. Then Barclay hums to himself, soothing and slow, and gradually he starts singing The Sailor’s Boy. Joseph’s favorite.

The singer’s voice pulls him down, first into the calm of the moment and then into a deeper, dreamy place where he’s a lost sailor floating in the dark sea as a merman circles him, singing him back to life.

Barclay sings two more love songs before Joseph opens his eyes and reaches up to rest a hand on his cheek.

“How Indrid was the first person to offer you anything you wanted is beyond me. I’d give you the world just to hear you every day.”

“You don’t need to. You’re the first person who could cage me up like a bird and I’d still sing for.” Barclay’s fingers trace Joseph’s jaw and pet up his throat, “I’m crazy about you.”

“Then I guess this isn’t my final visit.” Joseph grins flirtatiously and a deep, needy whine rumbles out of the other man.

“Fuck, I was hoping you’d say that. But I, I need to show you something.” He eases Joseph into a sitting position, squeezes his eyes shut, and pulls off the bracelet on his left hand.

Fur the same auburn as his beard appears on his arms, face, and chest, his ears turn pointed, and his fingers show short, black claws.

“Oh my god.” Joseph desperately wants a closer look but now doesn’t feel like the moment.

“Indrid says it’s a side effect of the initial spell he used, and of me and him spending a lot of time around each other. I don’t really mind it, but I figured I shouldn’t hide it from you.” His posture turns shy, “what do you think?”

Scratch that, this is exactly the moment.

He climbs into Barclay’s lap, the singer letting out an adorable, rumbling purr as Joseph runs his hands down his chest.

“I think you should let me” he bites the tip of one ear, earning him a growl, “investigate.”

His beast flops obediently onto his back with a grin, “I’m all yours, baby.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------

They’re five days into their week, and Indrid has walked with Duck for every single one of them. Barclay’s cabin isn’t far from a series of barely maintained trails, and in spite of his dislike for the cold, coastal breeze, Indrid seems content to stay beside Duck for hours.

He’s talking about the drawing he did of Joe that he hopes he’ll like when he gets distracted by a hummingbird zipping between the bushes. When he glances at Duck, smile breathless and bright, Duck shakes his head.

“I don’t get it, Indrid. How come you had to trick Joe into that marriage deal? Seems to me you’re charmin’ enough to get anyone you wanted back home.”

The fae’s antenna droop as he crosses his arms comfortingly around himself, “You are kind to say such things. But to my kind, I am rather offputting. Insectoid fae are not common and are seen by many as harbingers of doom, or incapable of true enchantments. Some days I fear they may be right; being near my magic is already causing Barclay to morph into something less human, for which I am certain he will hate me one day.” He gives a wistful smile, “we cannot all be such perfect suitors as you.”

Duck laughs, hurrying to explain himself when Indrid looks hurt, “Lots of humans have made it real fuckin clear they disagree with you. Took me awhile, but these days I think they’re as full of shit as fae who can’t see you for the gorgeous, sweet thing you are.”

Indrid’s ruff poofs slightly, then turns away, wings open enough to cover the movements of his hands. When he faces Duck once more, there’s a small, obsidian planter cupped in his palms, the plant at the center blooming gold and blue.

“Please let me woo you?”

A blush seeps up his ears, “Hell yeah I will.”

Indrid trills happily, taking Duck’s hands as the plant floats beside them. Duck tugs him closer, kissing him first on the cheek and then on his lips. When he meets red eyes, they’re wide in shock.

He writes it off as first date jitters. Though he hopes it means Indrid will be fun to fluster in bed.

That evening, he and Barclay have drinks on the porch while Indrid teaches Joe a painfully complex, fae card game. Their talk turns to Indrid, and when Duck–only half joking–says he must be as giving in the sack as he is the rest of the time, the singer frowns.

“I wouldn’t know. He’s been in my life years and he, like, never touches me. Offers his hand or arm sometimes but that’s it.”

“Huh. He ain’t done more than that with me, either. And from what Joe says he barely touches him. You think he doesn’t want to?”

“At first, yeah. But there’ve been times it was really fucking obvious he did. He almost kisses me, then pulls back, or I offer to cuddle and he gets to the point of sitting next to me before changing his mind. And it’s like…like I can feel him still looking at me afterwards, like there’s this whole wave of want rolling off him and he’ll just sit on his hands and his voice will go tight and it’s so frustrating. Like, I know fae aren’t just about courtly love; I’ve run into a few who asked me to fuck without knowing my name. I just…I’d give him anything if it would make him happy. Doesn’t he know that?”

It’s like looking through a camera lens, the image only coming clear when you focus on the right thing.

“I got an idea. But we’re gonna need Joe’s help.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

His time is almost up. Were he braver, he’d look to the futures to see if they’ve changed since that first day. But now that he knows Duck and Joseph better, it will hurt all the more to see them turn him away. And Barclay…

He’ll miss him so much, even when he’s asleep. And humans don’t live to be a hundred and thirty.

Indrid tries not to think about that as he sits on the bed as Joseph requested, the human opening the gifted notebook and starting a new page.

“Thank you for letting me do this. It occurred to me I don’t really know how wings work on someone with a human body. Shirt off, please.”

He removes the loose fitting,short sleeved, black tunic.

Joseph sits on the bed in front of him, “Open your wings a little?”

Indrid obeys, gasping as the human sets a warm hand on his chest, feeling for flight muscles, “You know, I would not do this for just anyone. To open your wings is to offer vulnerability and even submission.” He manages a grin, “but how can I not spoil you, my pet?”

The fingers on his chest still, “What was that?”

“N-nothing. A slip of the tongue!” He squeaks as Joseph’s left hand digs into the sensitive patch of his wing.

“Try again.”

“I called you pet!” He chirrs as the hold tightens, “I am sorry, it slipped out, you are not my anything.”

“Don’t be silly.” The hand switches to stroking his wing, “I’m your fiance. At least I was the last time I checked.”

He gives a helpless chirp; what is Joseph doing, addressing him like this? As if he was the powerful one and Indrid no more than his toy.

“Speaking of which, I appreciate your attentive courtship. But there’s an important piece of information I’m missing.” Blue eyes pierce into him, “any husband of mine needs to treat me right in bed.”

“I, I don’t, you do not need to-”

“Indrid” Joseph rests a hand on each shoulder, “do you not want me that way? Or Duck and Barclay for that matter?”

Tears well up, unbidden and deeply unwelcome, “I do! I want you all so badly but look at me. Even if Duck finds me handsome surely none of you could truly desire me, not when I look like this and am a conniving, powerful fae who you fear deep down.”

The human catches his hands before he can hide his face in them, “You couldn’t be more wrong. Did you two hear all that?”

“Yep” the door opens and Duck steps through, followed by Barclay. The singer is on the bed immediately, arms wrapped around Indrid’s waist and face buried in the dark feathers of his ruff.

“I was never afraid of you, little moth, never ever ever.” His beard tickles Indrid’s skin as he traces kisses across his neck and shoulders, “I’m so sorry you ever thought that, I love you so much-”

“You what?” His words cut off into a chirp.

“Love you.” Barclay’s voice is muffled against him, and the singer seems wholly uninterested in doing anything but pressing himself as close to Indrid as possible.

Indrid glances at Joseph and Duck, who are trading a remarkably conspiratorial look.

“Not sure we feel the same as the big fella does-”

Barclay lets out a little, affectionately apologetic howl as he kisses the back of Indrid’s head.

“-Joe and I have talked it over and, uh, we wanna take you up on your offer.” Duck scratches the back of his neck, bashful in a way Indrid’s never seen.

He turns his attention on Joseph, heart gnawing on his ribs, “You will honor our bargain? Freely?”

The human takes his hand, pressing it first to his lips and then to his brow, “Indrid Cold, I’ll gladly be your husband.”

His hands act without his permission, grabbing Joseph’s shirt and pulling him into a kiss. It’s as precise and clever as everything the human does, and when Joseph breaks free Indrid clings to him, chirping and pleading for another.

“I’ll do anything pet, please.”

Duck laughs, sitting down beside Joseph, “Damn, darlin, he’s even needier than you were the night we got hitched.”

“I am not nee-EEP” his whole body is lightning bolt as Barclay bites one antenna, “alright, I am needy, I need all three of you like a tree needs the sun, I need you to never stop touching me because I will disintegrate from loneliness if you do, and you” the looks over his shoulder at Barclay, “I need you to take me this instant because I have loved you for years and wanted you so badly my heart aches.”

“Fuck yes.” Barclay grabs his face, kissing him, and Indrid swears there’s honey on his tongue by the time they part, “gonna be so good for you.”

“Unless fae are real different, these have gotta go.” Duck grabs Indrid’s flowing black pants and pulls them down. They’re barely clear of his ankles when Joseph is between his legs, full attention on his cock.

“Oh, this is gorgeous. I expected it to be human but this is so much better.”

Indrid looks at his lap; he supposes his cock, which goes from narrow to wide and back again three times before reaching the base, is more elaborate than the uniform shaft of a human.

“Duck, get on it.”

“Yessir.” Duck offers his husband a teasing smile, pulling off his pants and oh, Indrid understands now why Joseph was so upset to be taken on his wedding night.

Duck’s belly sticks out from under his grey-green shirt, and Indrid runs his nails over it with a purr. When he digs them into the skin, Duck moans.

“He likes it when you bite”

“Hey, no fair tellin’ him th-AH” Duck shudders in his arms as Indrid nibbles his throat, “okay no this is fuckin amazin nevermind. Still gonna tell him how to fuck you so you cry.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Don’t you ‘yes dear’ me” Duck lunges backwards, dragging a laughing Joseph into a kiss. Indrid only tears his eyes away from the scene when claws tap his arm. Turning, he finds Barclay without his bracelet, auburn fur stunning in the lamplight and smile sharper than usual.

How could he have ever seen this as some unwanted remnant of his power?

“You are a vision, my dearest.”

“Glad you like it, little moth. It’s funny, there’s more colors in your feathers when I’m like this. Whelp, question for another time.” He growls, playfully, “you still want me to be good for you?”

“So badly.”

“Uh, how should I warm you up?”

“No need” Indrid waves his hand, loosening and slicking himself up, “fae magic is good for more than strange bargains.”

He straddles Barclay’s lap, facing away from him, and sinks down on a thick, long cock.

“Ohhh, oh I was an absolute fool to deny myself this for so long.”

“Don’t worry, gonna make it up to you.” Barclay rolls his hips, “Indrid, Indrid, you feel so good.”

“Bet he does.” Duck is in his lap once more, staying up on his knees to line Indrid’s cock up with his entrance, “you wanna fuck me, sugar?”

He chirps at the nickname, nodding frantically until Duck lowers himself. Then he makes a rather undignified noise and throws his arms over the human’s shoulders. Claws dig into his hips and he keens, Barclay’s strokes turning rough as he fucks him deeper.

“Like that, baby?”

“Yes, yesyesOH” he trills as he bottoms out inside Duck, who’s busy kissing his chest.

The bed dips beside him as Joseph joins them, fully clothed save for where he’s unzipped his pants enough to release his cock. Indrid has never wanted anything in his mouth quite so badly, but his position prevents it.

Joseph leans in to kiss his cheek, then moves on of Indrid’s hands from Duck’s shoulder to his cock.

“Are you going to take care of me like a good husband?”

“Yes, always, anything you wish.”

“Then prove it.” The demand is loving but an order all the same. Indrid curls his fingers around Joseph’s shaft, stroking it until he’s hard and panting.

“What do you say?”

“Th-thank you, thank you my darling pet.”

Joseph pets his wing, “Good boy.”

“Holy fuck darlin, where’s this comin’ from?”

“These two, oohgod, bring it out in me.” He smiles, “well, Barclay does some of the time. Yesterday he ambushed me in the kitchen and held me against the wall .”

“That’s where that hickey came from.”

“Yeah” Barclay grunts, holding Indrid’s ass flush against his body, “sorry man, but you know he’s cute when he pretends to fight back.”

“Damn right he is.”

“Careful, big guy” Joseph’s hips begin to stutter, “if you get cocky I won’t let you blow me anymore.”

Barclay whimpers, “Would sharing Indrid’s ass make up for it? Bet he’s got a spell that could make him loose enough to take us both at once.”

“Another time, right now I, I need him to be a good boy and open his wings.”

Indrid obeys and a moment later Joseph cums across them with a moan. It’s one of the filthiest things a fae can do to another, and the fact that he has while another uses his ass like a toy and a third tells him to be a sweet little thing and cum in is all too much at once. Indrid cums, wings spreads and body thrashing, chirping and trilling for more even as the exhaustion hits. Barclay must cum right after him, as by the time he’s floating back to earth the singer is soft inside him and thanking him over and over for the honor.

Before he can apologize to Duck for finishing before him, Joseph is kissing Indrid while rubbing swift, practiced circles on Duck’s dick. Then he moves Indrid’s hand and uses it for the same purpose.

“That’s it” Joseph whispers in his ear, “any husband of mine is going to be a good boy and make damn sure my other husband cums.”

“Fuuuck” Duck groans, tightening around him, “Jesus fucking christ, Joe, we shoulda gotten someone in bed for you to boss around ages ago.” Duck turns his attention back to Indrid, “you okay, sugar.”

“I am in heaven.”

Duck chuckles and kisses him, the gesture at once playful and so grounded Indrid wants to put down roots.

Once the human slides from his lap, Duck goes to fetch water while Barclay tidies up the room and pulls back the covers on the bed. Soon the four of them are crammed into it, Joseph on one side of him and Barclay on the other, Duck spooning Joseph so his hand can reach over and hold Indrid’s.

It’s a tight fit, but nestled in the heart of this tangle of affection, drifting off to sleep as the others discuss logistics of visiting each other, Indrid knows he’s never been happier.

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