Chapter Text
“Excentum firoun,” Liir said, pointing two fingers at the unlit candle in front of him. Nothing happened. “Excentum firoun,” he repeated. He reached a little further to touch the wick and repeated it a third time, then muttered, “Light, you stupid candle.” The insult didn’t seem to help. He grumbled to himself, then looked back at the page of the book he’d been reading from. As the sun was setting, it was getting too dark to read – ironically, a lit candle would have been just the thing. He sighed, stood up, and turned the striker of the oil lamp that hung above the table. After a few sparks, it was going strong, and filled the living room with enough light to read by. The stable-house had received new plumbing and running water in a remodel two years prior, but electricity was still expensive to install and maintain in Colwen Grounds.
He sat and looked over the page again. It was one of the simplest of spells; he really didn’t understand why this was so hard. His mother had had a gift for magic, as did his daughter. Even Lady Glinda had managed sorcery, through study if not innate ability. So why not him? The worst part was the inconsistency. If it never worked, then he’d assume the ability had simply skipped a generation, give up, and move on. But it did in fact work, sometimes. He’d managed this very spell just two weeks ago, before Rain had come to visit. It had probably helped Glinda that she had studied at a prestigious university, whereas he was trying to learn what he could from a secondhand and probably outdated sorcery textbook.
He flipped back to the previous chapter – the first chapter – and looked over the exercises on grounding again. Perhaps he was simply in the wrong frame of mind. He placed his hands on the table, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Then he opened his eyes and turned his head about, taking in everything around him. Observing, without judgment, without thinking of anything beyond the here and now. Behind his seat at the table was an unlit fireplace. To the left, behind an iron spiral staircase, the door to the stables, with the kitchen next to it taking up most of that side of the narrow stable-house he now called home. Ahead, windows looking over the small side yard to the right and then to the house across, though that was getting quite dark. To the right, the door to the back garden, then two bookshelves on either side of a sofa with a pull-out mattress, and finally the door to the new bathroom. It was small, but much preferable to the old outhouse in the garden.
At that moment, the stable door banged open, and his husband entered. Knowing that Trism, despite his best efforts, got grumpy if he talked to him too soon after his work was over, Liir left him to his routine and continued his exercise. Naturally, his eyes followed Trism as he shucked his mucky work boots, then scrubbed his arms and hands in the kitchen sink. His work clothes were quite a bit looser than the more fashionable ones he liked to wear in his leisure time, but they still couldn’t hide the voluptuous body underneath. From here, Liir had an excellent view of Trism’s wide back, and his shirt, wet with sweat, revealed the movement of muscles underneath, with braces over the top framing them nicely. Glints of golden hair shone off his forearms in the lamplight. And below – even the baggiest of pants couldn’t hide that rump, especially bent over as he was. Big, round and firm and yet oh-so-soft…!
Behind Liir, the fireplace crackled to life. There were only a few logs in it, no kindling, so there wasn’t a bright blaze, but he immediately felt the heat. His head whipped around to goggle at it, and he felt at the same time elated and a little scared.
That
hadn’t been part of the lesson, but he had been trying to light a fire, after all. Maybe all the failed attempts had added themselves together somehow and been set off once he’d reached the right state of mind. But if there hadn’t been a nearby fireplace, what would have happened?
“Oh, you started a fire?” Trism asked, padding over barefoot. He had a glass in one hand and a full pitcher of water in the other, and he set these on the table. Liir turned away from said fire, all innocence. “Good idea,” Trism said as he pulled a chair and sat down heavily. “It’s supposed to get chilly tonight.” He poured himself a glass of water, drained it, then poured another and drank that, too. Then he slumped forward, head resting on his other hand. He nodded towards Liir’s book. “Sorcery practice, huh? How’s that going?”
“Mixed,” said Liir. “It’s not important, though – I was just killing time. How are you doing? You look wiped out.” He rose and walked behind Trism’s chair, and began massaging his neck.
“Last day of the Flower Festival,” Trism replied. “People bringing their animals in and out, all day. Take in a horse, take the tack off, clean the horse, give fresh food and water, clean the tack. Then go to the next stall, do everything in reverse, then clean the stall. Repeat about a hundred times. Even though Jahl is back in to help, there was never a quiet moment. And that’s not even getting started on problem customers that want to waste my time on some complaint or another. Everyone has someplace to be today, but yelling at me or my crew isn’t going to make it go any faster!”
“I keep saying, you need to hire some more people.”
Trism sighed. “I know, I know. I’ve wanted to this week, but everybody’s hired up for the festival. I’m going to start looking next week, though. Get some people trained while it’s quiet.”
“At least the festival’s over, right? So you have a few days off to look forward to.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a date with the bathhouse. Probably more than one, actually. Where’s Rain, by the way?”
“The market part of the festival may be over, but there’s still one last night of festivities. She said she’d check it out.”
“Didn’t think she’d enjoy that sort of thing,” Trism said. “She doesn’t like crowds.”
“She doesn’t,” Liir agreed. “She might only be ‘checking it out’ from the air, for all I know. Or maybe she’s doing something else entirely. That’s just what she said she was going to do. Later she’ll meet us for dinner at The Two Amas. Not for a couple hours, though. I could only get a late reservation.”
Trism grimaced. “Does it have to be there?”
“But you love Two Amas! And it’s too late to get reservations anywhere else, what with all the festival-goers in town.”
“It’s just…the food there is so heavy.”
“Well, yes: that’s why it’s good.”
“It’s too good, that’s the problem.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve lost me,” Liir said. “Don’t tell me you’re not hungry after working all day.”
Trism just sighed. Something was bothering him more than simple fatigue, but Liir hadn’t a clue as to what.
“Is there something wrong?” Liir asked. He paused his efforts at massage. “And if possible, let’s skip past the ‘It’s nothing’ / ‘It’s definitely something’ part of the conversation and get to the part where you finally tell me.”
Trism had to laugh dryly at that. He relented and fished something out of his pocket to hand up to Liir. It was a thick piece of paper, small and rectangular, with perforated edges, and neatly stamped on it was a number, 245. Trism gestured at it with a half-shrug, as if it explained everything. Liir checked the back, but it was blank. “I give up. What is it?” he asked, putting the ticket on the table before getting back to the massage, now working on Trism’s shoulders and upper back. There were some palpable knots in it, and though it would take a professional to really take care of them, he could at least provide some temporary relief.
Trism realized then that he’d left out necessary context. “I did get out of the stables once today. Had to deliver a prize sow to the market square – wouldn’t normally, but they paid extra. On the way back, I passed a stall where they were showing off all these tiktok contraptions. One of them was this fancy scale. You stand on it, put in a coin, and it automatically stamps out one of those tickets. I can usually only check when I see the doctor, and there wasn’t a line, so I thought, ‘why not’.”
“Ohh,” said Liir, finally understanding. “So this is your weight. Hm. Seems a little high.”
“Exactly! It was 235 at the doctor’s, and that was only four months ago.”
“No, I meant, it seems inaccurate. Did you leave your boots on?”
“Oh. Yes, I suppose I did.”
“Well, there you go,” Liir said. “Those boots have to weigh, what, 4 or 5 pounds? And assuming you didn’t strip in the square, there’s your clothes to factor in, too. So really, we could call this 240. At
most
. A five-pound change is next to nothing.”
“Okay, fine, I didn’t consider the weight of the boots. But even so. This isn’t a one-time thing, it’s a trend. When I moved in here five years ago, I weighed 225. That’s fifteen pounds in five years.”
“As someone who’s put on
sixty
pounds in
three
years, that still doesn’t sound like much to me.”
“You were emaciated. Not at all the same thing. Also, you’re quite a bit taller than me, so it gets spread out over your whole height. And, you don’t have this. ” He lifted up the bottom of his shirt, and pinched a bit of excess flesh at his side. To Liir’s eyes, it didn’t look any different – and it certainly didn’t look bad . Giving, comforting, and warm were words that came to his mind. He supposed Trism was just looking for reassurance, so he decided to try it.
“Looks delicious,” he said. “I could nibble at it if you like. Although that won’t reduce it any, unless I bite really hard.”
“You’re not taking this seriously,” Trism said. “I know it seems like nothing to you, but it really does bother me. You tend towards skinniness, you don’t have to worry about getting fat.”
“That’s true, but that’s not always a good thing. You remember what I looked like when I got here – it wasn’t pretty. Is that your ideal?”
“No, that’s the other extreme. In my army days, I weighed 185. It’s been creeping up ever since.”
“Is that what you want to go back to? I’ll try to be supportive if you do, but I can’t say my heart’s in it. You looked cute at 185, true. But now? You look hot . Every part of you is a delight to my senses. To look at, and to touch. I like a little heft, it has to be said.”
“A little, sure,” Trism grumped. “But if this keeps up, what will I look like in five years? Ten? Like a fat old man.” He really did look glum about it.
“Would that be so horrible? What was it, fifteen pounds in five years? So that’d…be forty-five pounds by the time you’re sixty. You’d definitely have a belly, then.” Trism looked like he’d eaten a lemon. “...and you’d still look good. You’ve got the frame for it – your chest and shoulders would balance it well. Look, ‘old man’ is going to happen to us both, no matter what we do. And I want to be around for it. Fat old man or skinny old man, it truly makes no difference to me.”
“Are those my only options?”
“How about ‘sexy old man’?” Liir suggested. “I know there are some people who are into that. And if it’s you, I’m sure I’ll be into it, too. Whatever it ends up looking like.”
“Thanks…but I’m not that concerned about your interest. I mean, I appreciate it, but it’s the thought of what other people will say that bothers me. ‘Look at him, he used to be so hot. What happened?’”
“You care way too much about what other people think,” Liir said, going back to the neck and this time working his fingers under the straps of the braces. Trism leaned into it, closing his eyes.
“I can’t help it. I keep imagining everyone staring behind my back.”
“Because they often are. The curse of being beautiful is you can’t hold onto it forever.”
“...I guess I’m just worried about getting old. Right as I get a good life here, I’m over the hill. My body’s changing, and I wish I could just…stop. But I can’t, so I just have to watch it decay. I feel like I’ve squandered my youth. Should’ve modeled for some paintings in the EC when I had the chance.”
Liir wondered when that had been an option, but decided to not derail the conversation by asking. “You’re not alone in having regrets; I’m going to go into decline, too. But with any luck, we’ve got another good thirty to forty years in us, maybe more. Aging’s inevitable, but are we going to spend that time mourning it, or enjoy what we have?”
“That’s…suspiciously wise. Did your Parrot therapist give you that one?”
“Sort of. I’m adapting other snippets of advice for this situation, but yes, the general idea comes from Doctor Parton.”
“Sage advice. Maybe I should start talking to him.”
“Couldn’t hurt,” Liir agreed. “And, if it’ll make you feel better, we can work on your weight. Honestly, some of it’s probably my fault. You’ve had to work so hard on getting my weight up, and keeping it up, that you haven’t put as much effort into yourself. When we cook at home, we tend to match portions, after all. Oh, and , you work too hard in general. You can’t do your job well while going hungry, and if you try, you probably end up eating more later to compensate. Once you get some more people – and then when we move out to the ranch this summer – you’ll be better able to cut back if you want to. But again, I think you look great regardless.”
“If I could at least maintain my weight where it is now, I could live with that.”
“So, that’s the start of a plan. But whether it works or it doesn’t, I don’t want you to obsess over it and let it taint the good parts of your life. That’s not easy – believe me, I know – so I do think you should see Doctor Parton to help you not do that. I’m a little surprised you’ve never seen him yourself – you’re the one who recommended him.”
“My friend Paquey – you know, the little redhead who plays the fiddle? – recommended him to me.”
“Then that’s on your to-do list for next week. Hire extra help, schedule a therapy session.”
“I will,” Trism said. “And thanks for listening.”
“I am more than happy to help. It’s actually nice to be the one providing help for once, instead of needing to be helped. Anyway, this one isn’t too hard for me. I’ve already made my peace with being the less beautiful one.”
Trism put his hand up on Liir’s arm at his neck, and looked back at him. “Hey, you know you’re handsome, too, right? I didn’t pick you up as a charity case. My intentions were never that pure.”
“But you’re the one who gets all the attention. Which is fine: I don’t like too much attention. But also, if I look good, it’s only a reflection of the care someone’s put into me. On my own, I tend to neglect myself.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“Maybe not, but I’ll keep you around anyway, just in case. Besides, if you’re having so much trouble being at the top of the male beauty ladder, then it must be a public service for us both to be as attractive as possible for as long as we can. By showing everyone else that they’re not as pretty as us and never will be, we’re sparing them the pain of losing it all. They may resent it now, but they’ll thank us later. And of course, there’s the public good of providing free aesthetic appreciation, which inspires and delights.”
By now he’d gotten Trism to start laughing genuinely. “You should host a symposium! Was it your philosophy books that taught you how to defend vanity?”
“No, I’ve always been able to argue terrible ideas. Mostly to myself.”
“You’re ridiculous. Come here.” Trism pulled his arm down until his face was close enough to kiss.
After breaking off, Liir knelt down and worked his hand under Trism’s shirt, running up and over his disputed curves, then working his way up to grab a meaty pectoral. Then he whispered in his ear, “How about we go upstairs and I show you exactly how much I appreciate your body?”
“I might be too tired…” Trism said before gasping as Liir flicked his thumbnail over his nipple. “Oookay, I think I could get in the mood. As long as I don’t have to work too hard at it.” Liir had started nibbling at his ear, and just hummed in agreement. “Wait, what if Rain comes back?”
Liir backed off from his ear, but kept the hand on his chest. It was warm, soft, and a little sweaty. “Oh, no need to worry. We’ve got the house to ourselves.”
“Did you kick her out on purpose?”
“Actually, it was her idea.”
“You’re kidding.”
“She brought up that it was considerate, if unnecessary, of us to keep our, ah, ‘couplings’ so quiet while she’s staying downstairs. I admitted we hadn’t actually done anything together these past two weeks, and she got a little upset with me. She said, among other things, that she’s not a child, ‘protecting’ children from any knowledge of sex is a stupid idea anyway, and she’s not going to have responsibility for another marriage going downhill on her account.”
“I resent that – I may be going downhill, but our marriage isn’t. It’s only been three months! Anyway, it’s not just because of her. I really have been tired – what with the extra work from the festival – and then I’m out so cold, I don’t even notice when you come to bed.”
“That’s what I told her, but she wasn’t having it. And she does have a point – normally we’d have an evening or two to ourselves, but I’ve been prioritizing spending time with her.”
“As you should: you haven’t seen her in years.”
“Well, she decided that she was giving us the evening, and I couldn’t talk her out of it. Not that I tried very hard – it’s a good idea, and generous of her. So, she’ll meet us at Amas. And if we don’t make it, she’ll eat alone and order a few things to bring home.”
“That is generous.”
“I did give her some money for it. And I think she’ll enjoy the alone time herself. She’s ferociously independent.”
“I’ve noticed. Let’s not waste it. But before we do anything, I need to get these dirty clothes off and wash off the grime. See you upstairs in a few?”
“Sure, I’ll get things ready.”
Trism hauled himself up, and before letting him go, Liir pulled him in for another kiss and caress, just to preview what was to come.