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Rose Red - Epilog	By : Le_Lethe Category: Fairy Tales, Fables, Folklore, Legends, and Myth > Fairy Tales Views: 6772 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: "Snow White and Rose Red" was originally written by the Grimm brothers. This is fiction. Any resemblance to person(s) living or dead is coincidental.

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- 1-Rose Red - Epilog
- 1
Rose Red: Epilogue
Arthur’s castle wasn’t so much a castle as a too-large house located on too-much land a few miles from a too-busy city. Red had left the breakfast nook when Arthur’s man of business and nephew had come in to discuss the dukedom and upcoming harvesting season. If Arthur had seen him slip away, he gave no indication, a fact Red was grateful for. He got on well enough with Arthur when they were alone but he was still uncomfortable around the rich and powerful friends and acquaintances that Arthur always seemed to have around. After their first night, where desperate passion, shock, and overwhelming lust had fashioned a perfect environment to lose one’s inhibitions Red had taken to sleeping in a small guest room. It was embarrassing enough to be too uneducated to contend with his supposed lover on the social forum, but to also expose his inexperience and comparatively inferior body to that perfect man every night seemed a torture too cruel to bear.
So he slipped off sometime during the day and spent most of his time venturing through the confusing halls and sometimes out around the impossible gardens closest to the house. In all honesty, he couldn’t say if he was sleeping in the room every night or not. One looked like another in the dead of night and had no personal affects to set around. Now, Red found himself ambling into a cozy library, the third he’d found, and searched out fairly reasonable tome on dukedoms and property laws. It might have been a futile effort, but he thought if he could just understand Arthur’s work, then maybe he wouldn’t feel the need to run away each day.
*
Arthur sighed and glanced out the window behind his desk for the fifth or sixth time that hour. His nephew smacked the stack of papers concerning the harvest and city taxes on Arthur’s over large desk.
“Really,” Ralph said, “Arthur you’ve been more distracted since you’ve come back then you ever were before you left.”
Arthur cast a distracted and only slightly contrite smile at his nephew. “You’d think you wanted me to be cursed, speaking like that.”
Ralph sighed and sank into the stiff-backed chair opposite Arthur. “You know that isn’t true,” he said. “I just mean that I’m worried for you. You’re not yourself and I know it’s got something to do with the boy you brought back.”
“Red?” Arthur almost glanced out the window behind him again but caught himself. “I just…I wish he was happier here. I thought he might need time to adjust, but it’s been two weeks already and he doesn’t seem to be getting any better.”
“You mean you haven’t been getting any at night,” Ralph said, wagging his eyebrows.
That was true enough, Arthur’s bed had been as cold as it could be since Red fully recovered. But that wasn’t the only thing. He wanted Red to stay and talk with him during the day when he had a moment’s peace from his infernal duties. He wanted Red to offer an excuse for him to slip away for a moment to deliver stolen kisses and moments of solitude with his lover.
Instead he only caught glimpses of the captivating boy when he occasionally wandered through the gardens outside Arthur’s window. He doubted the confounded man even knew he was teasing Arthur with those precious few glances. It was strange that his scattered memories as a bear, with Red’s constant chatter and gentle fingers, were his solace now that he was free of his curse.
“Because of the neglect of our fields this year, the farmers are welcome to offer their tithes in crop weight. But be sure to figure into that how much we need here and what we will export," Arthur said.
Ralph scowled at the obvious change in subject and flicked his fingers against the papers he was still holding, a clear sign that Arthur was up for more questions later, but grudgingly pulled the appropriate agreements to check over them and begin calculating the exchange rate.
The day had long since faded by the time Arthur was able to extricate himself from his office. He hadn’t even thought of the amount of paperwork and legal responsibilities that would build up in his absence. Ralph and his secretary had done their best to handle situations as they arose, but many of the larger cases had merely been mollified until such a time as Arthur could handle them personally. It was somewhat sweet, their absolute faith that he would break his curse. But right then Arthur wished they had been less optimistic and more pragmatic. Still, a few more weeks and he should be fully caught up.
Arthur’s mood didn’t improve when he finally found his bed. The room was as dark and cold as it had been the last two weeks. Stripping off his jacket and vest, Arthur considered the cold bed and the fitful sleep it would bring and decided instead that a late night stroll would do him good. Perhaps he would find himself in the kitchen for a late-night sweet.
The hallways were eerily quiet and still. All the lamps had long been extinguished and Arthur’s little candle only illuminated a small semi-circle in front of him. The shadows crept around him, reminiscent of the forest and the many lonely, wondering days he’d spend before being rescued by Red.
A slash of light cut into his brooding thoughts. One of the public libraries. Someone besides himself had not been able to sleep then. Red? Possibly. Though he wasn’t sure if the man could read. He seemed smart enough, but it was one of the many topics they hadn’t been able to discuss.
Somehow hopeful and yet reluctant to look inside, Arthur moved reluctantly to the door. Pausing with bated breath he listened carefully at the door. For a moment there was nothing then the low sounds of paper turning and the clink of porcelain on porcelain drifted through the thick wood.
Gripping the cool brass door handle, Arthur slid open the catch and pushed his way inside. Red was curled on one end of a short, decorative couch. He was in the same clothes he had been wearing that morning, a soft lawn shirt, dark green vest, and gray pants. His shoes had found their way beneath the table in front of him where a small pile of books was stacked.
More were resting open across Red’s lap, the couch, and the remainder of the table. Red himself didn’t seem to have noticed the intrusion and was currently glaring at the text in his hands, flipping between three different pages and making little marks with a pencil someone must have given him. An old tea set was resting in another chair in the room, clearly abandoned long before.
Even from across the room Arthur could see the tense way Red was holding himself, the shadowy skin beneath his eyes, and the subtle slump of his shoulders. The man was exhausted and, it seemed, had spent the entire day cooped up in a tiny, nearly-useless library. Which explained why he hadn’t seen him wandering around the gardens after lunch like he had become used to.
Arthur was across the room before he had made a conscious decision to move. He slid the book from Red’s loose grip, earning him a small yelp and jerk back from the man.
“What are you studying so hard, Little Red?” Arthur asked, glancing over the text in his hand. The book’s title was “Provincial Properties in the Historical District and their Taxes.” “This is a very dull book,” he said, glancing up at Red’s ducked head, “Does it interest you so much, love?”
Red lifted one weary shoulder, still not lifting his head.
Arthur sighed and rested the book face-down on the table, carefully preserving Red’s place, in case he wished to return to it. Then he sank into a crouch, sliding his hands over Red’s, which were gripped tightly in his lap. “I don’t understand,” he said, looking up at Red’s face. “And I’m sorry you’re unhappy here.”
Red didn’t say anything and his eyes were averted, apparently focused on the corner of a book on his lap.
Arthur sighed. He hadn’t wanted to do this. He wanted to work on their relationship, but he wouldn’t torture Red more than he had to. “If,” he began, the words clotting up in his throat. “If you want to go home, I wouldn’t stop you.”
Red’s head whipped around, staring at Arthur with wide eyes. And Arthur knew: that was relief. Red wanted to go home. All this time.
Trying not to expose how tight his throat was, or the biting pain that had settled in his chest, Arthur began to stand but familiar hands suddenly wrapped around his fingers.
“No,” Red said. “No, I don’t want to go home.”
The relief was so immediate that Arthur really did almost cry. Shifting the books onto the floor he settled on the couch next to Red, making sure to keep at least one of their hands clasped. When he was more comfortable he looked at Red again, who wasn’t watching him directly, but was at least alternating his glances between Arthur’s face and their joined hands.
“Then, what has you so sad, Red? And why in god’s name are you sitting in this tiny library reading droll books that are mostly for show?”
A pink flush wrapped over Red’s ears and across his knuckles. “I, ah, well…you see…” Red seemed to huff in frustration and used his free hand to shove back the bangs that were crowding his face and looked Arthur full in the face. “YouarealwayssurroundedbythemostintelligentpeopleandIdon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingaboutandIjustthoughtthatmaybeifIl-earnedwhatyouwereworkingwiththenIcouldbeofsomeuseandcouldmaybenotleaveeverymorningthoughIknowthatwasmen-andnotyouandyouneversaidtogosoIshouldn’thaveassumedbutI’mjustapoor…”
Arthur cut off the jumbled rant with two fingers to Red’s lips. “Wait, are you saying, you were worried because you couldn’t discuss taxes and politics with us?”
Red paused a moment then gave a slow nod.
Arthur almost smiled at the ridiculousness of it, but he could clearly see Red’s worry and so restrained himself. Instead he brushed his fingers over Red’s lips and around the back of his neck, tugging him forward gently to capture his mouth in a consuming kiss. He freed his hand to curl it around Red’s waist, pressing the man back into the couch, and enjoying the tentative brushes and teases of Red before those hands settled on his hips.
“Love,” Arthur said, pulling back just enough to speak, “I don’t want you to talk about property tax with me. Or what I should do with the farmer’s disputes.”
“Oh,” Red said. His eyes fell and Arthur noted the tightening around his lips that he knew was an attempt to suppress disappointment.
“Love, Rosey Red. I have more people than I care to have talking me to death on these topics. Of course I’m happy you want to learn about our home. But I want you to be able to pursue what interests you. If that’s property tax then I will happily hand over that responsibility to you. But don’t study it for me. God know only one of us should suffer that hell. Read what you would like. I’ll have teachers brought in if you want to learn something else. You can hunt or practice archery. You can garden or raise sheep. I don’t care what it is you want to do to fill your hours, as long as you’re happy. And as long as you’re mine.”
Now Red was smiling slightly, shyly watching Arthur from beneath his eyelashes. “So, what if I decide to keep a pig in the guest room? Or Chicken in the study?”
Arthur smiled, glad to see the return of his mischievous and spicy lover. “Then I will have mud brought in and hay laid down.”
“And if I exchange your pretty race horses for sturdy mountain ponies?”
“Then I’ll withdraw all my bets and strap on my leathers.”
“But what if I decide I want to eat mutton stew, or salted pork, or rabbit mmph.”
Arthur had bent to stifle Red’s word with his lips and tongue. When they were both flushed and bright eyed he finally pulled away. “Nothing you can do will make me love you any less. Though if your breath smells of mutton, I may have to restrict the frequency of my kisses.”
Red surged up, trapping Arthur’s lips against his. “Then no mutton stew,” he said.
Arthur grinned and kissed Red again, heady with the scent and feel of him. Dizzy in the desire that consumed him, his head clearer and heart lighter than it had been in a week. His hands sought more contact almost of their own volition. Soon clothes were discarded on the rug and slick skin met slick skin. As Arthur moved down, intent to taste his lover, to memorize the feel and scent of him, he felt red hesitate again.
Nearly growling in annoyance he moved back up. Slowly. Every inch he tortured Red with his tongue and teeth, drawing delicious moans and whines from this lover until he was face to face with him again.
“What is it, my love?” He asked, smoothing the hair and sweat from Red’s cheeks and brow. “What has you hesitating so?”
“I,” Red breathed, “I don’t know what to do.”
Arthur chuckled at that, he had seen Red in action. If only once before. The man knew what to do, of that he was sure.Red blushed more furiously than before, clearly misinterpreting Arthur’s reaction. Arthur soothed the hurt with soft kissed and gentle caresses. “What do you mean, you don’t know what to do? I’m very sure you performed excellently before. And I am in a position to give such an opinion.”
“Ah, well, I’ve been with a man before. But, ah. I’ve never had a lover. I don’t know, what I should do.”
Arthur smiled at that. Though the thought irked that Red had other men in his life, at least Red was viewing him as a lover more than just a sex partner. And his first, at that. “Then let me show you, lovely,” he said and began to do just that.
Arthur began at Red’s jaw, mouthing the almost-rough skin stretched over the angular bone, then nipping beneath his ear and down the pounding pulse of his throat. His fingers slid up Red’s back, fingers tracing the spine and finding hard muscles filling his palms. While one hand massaged at the tense neck muscles, the other drifted lower, teasing over Red’s tail bone before sliding between his cheeks to brush over the bud of his opening.
Red jerked , slamming Arthur’s hand between him and the hard couch. Wincing slightly, Arthur urged Red up, who looked, if possible, even more embarrassed than before.
“Shhh, Rose mine. Making love isn’t like a performance. There aren’t any choreographed moves. We learn, and experiment. And sometimes we’ll laugh and sometimes we’ll have to adjust, but none of it is meant to be embarrassing.”
Red nodded, but still looked a little uncomfortable and was carefully arching his back off the couch.
With a chuckle, Arthur shifted up, happy to see the disappointment in Red’s face. He tugged on Red’s hand, “Come up here.”
Red moved obediently until Arthur had him straddling his lap.
“There, much better,” Arthur said and resumed his explorations.
Red arched up, hands digging into Arthur’s shoulders as Arthur teased at his entrance while his other hand sought out Red’s weeping member.
Arthur swiped a bit of the precum gathering at Red’s head and used it to wiggle the first finger into Red. The scent of his lover doubled almost immediately. The musky smell of lust wrapped around Red’s sweet tangy skin.
“Give me two of your fingers,” Arthur demanded.
Red shyly held out the index and middle fingers of his right hand. Arthur took them in his hand, sucking vigorously as his own finger pumped in and out of Red gently. Carefully coating the two digits in saliva and wishing they had begun their reconciliation in a more convenient place, Arthur removed his mouth and finger from Red’s body.
“Now, use those fingers to comfortably open yourself,” Arthur instructed.
Red nodded, his eyes glued to Arthur’s face.
With painstaking deliberateness, Red reached behind him and began worked his spit-slicked fingers against his opening. Arthur kissed and sucked Red’s nipples, working them to gentle peaks then blowing cool air against their sensitized nerves. He had one hand braced on Red’s lower back to keep the man from tumbling backwards and the other he used to lazily pump Red’s cock, distracting him the pain of loosening his backside.
When Red was twisting and humping more than he was grimacing, Arthur determined he was ready and gently grasped Red’s wrist, drawing his fingers out and using it to hold Red up, supported by his knees on the couch but dangerously vulnerable straddled over Arthur’s aching, untouched cock.
Keeping his member in place with his free hand, Arthur began lowering Red by increments until he felt the first ring of muscles give way and Red visibly relaxed. Arthur released Red’s wrist completely, giving over control of their intercourse as he braced one hand behind him on the back of the couch and the other he used to loosely grasp Red’s cock, giving him something to thrust against.
Red gripped the couch one either side of Arthur’s head. Then he was staring down at Arthur intently and sinking the rest of the way down on Arthur’s dick. He set a brutally patient pace, taking his pleasure as slowly as he pleased.
Arthur was amazed his dick didn’t explode from the intensity of it all, though he did throw his head back against the couch, unable to absorb the floodwater of sensation throughout his body.
Then, finally, he heard the word he’d been waiting for. “Faster.” Arthur pumped Red obediently as Red rocked himself up and down at an ever quicker pace, a soft chant falling from his lips. “Arthur, Arthur, Ar, Art.”
Arthur liked the sound of that. The breathy moans. His name cut to the first three letters, too much lust and passion for more.
Then Red jinked his hips at the last thrust and came hard as Arthur slid over some wonderful hidden spot deep inside him.The feel of all that heat tightening brutally around him mixed with Red’s frantic little humps threw Arthur over the edge and he released while still buried hilt-deep in Red’s backside.
Sweaty, sated, and tired beyond belief, they collapsed together on the couch. Red was passed out in minutes, his mumbled words drifting off with him. Arthur stroked his back, content to feel their bodies pressed so close. But the night air wasn’t getting any warmer and the fire was rapidly dying. With more than a little effort, Arthur convinced himself to get dressed and slide on Red’s pants. Disregarding the mess they’d made in the library, he scooped Red into his arms and made his way back to their rooms, acting on memory alone. A cool wet cloth did the job of straightening them up as best as was able without a full bath. Then Arthur was able to collapse into bed behind his slumbering lover.
Whatever paperwork he still had not finished could very well wait, he decided as consciousness slipped from him and his arm wound over Red’s hip. Tomorrow he was spending all morning ‘instructing’ Red on what it was to have a lover. First was tea and…
Arthur never got to finish the thought, but he had many more nights, early and late, to contemplate how to spend morning with his lover. And after that Red began improving his archery and eventually fell into studying animals. He would read reports of naturalists and compare them with older books while Arthur argued law nuances with his nephew and advisor. Then Red would slip off to the garden or library on some pretense of study and Arthur would soon find a moment to break for tea or to address some previous engagement and they would meet in the small alcoves of their home, content to sit quietly or talk of their interests, or merely share a secret kiss behind the pillar or bush before striving on with their day. And it was as near to perfect as anyone had a right to be.
A/N: Thanks for your support and I hope you enjoyed this little extra bit!
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Rose Red - Epilog