Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

8.2

The value of something is best appreciated only when that something is lost. Never before did Alva appreciate his beauty. Being beautiful, elegant, seductive came as naturally to him as breathing air. Oh no, he didn't become ugly. The irony was that now he became more popular than ever before. Those who previously would have gawked at him from afar and dared not to approach, now clapped him unceremoniously on the shoulder, offered to buy him a drink or even to take him straight to bed. And they no longer looked at him with amazement and admiration, worthy of an art object, of something breathtakingly beautiful, unattainable, rare. Now they looked at him with open lust.

Alva's scars didn't make him unattractive. They made him accessible. There was some guy who put it bluntly, "As if the likes of you can afford to be choosy!" Alva remembered how deadly Kintaro was now (deadly in the most literal sense of the word), so first and foremost he gave him a warning kick under the table and only then hit the rude guy in the face. During his time in Ujjay he had mastered the art of fisticuffs rather well. He trained with Kintaro for days in a row, in order to make his burned hands more flexible.

They had spent half a year in Ujjay. After Trianess it was the longest time they had spent anywhere. And for the first time they had their own house. They had built it themselves − a small hut near the village. Even if Jarsh hospitality would have applied to a shapeshifter, Kintaro still couldn't enter the enchanted village fence, not even in his human form.

The villagers avoided their abode, and Alva didn't blame them. At first, he too was rather afraid of Kintaro in his animal form. Ithildin raced with the huge panther, wrestled with it in the grass, playfully pulled its ears, yet Chevalier Ahayrre warily sat aside, clutching his silver amulet, like a fool. Bringing himself touch the glossy black fur took him quite some time.

Old Dshetra came almost every day. Under his guidance the nomad learned how to keep his beast in check. It wasn't easy. His self-control weakened in his sleep, in the state of arousal, with the smell of blood, at full moon.

More than once they happened to fall asleep in the evening with the nomad in their bed, only to find in the morning the gigantic black cat, purring sleepily, in his stead. The first time Alva nearly had a heart attack. Since then he stopped taking off his amulet for the night and never slept by Kintaro's side. The amulet scared shapeshifters in their animal form away; when Kintaro was in his human form, he could look at it and even touch it, but it felt unpleasant, as any other silver object. Worn around the neck, the amulet was effective in holding back the metamorphosis, but Kintaro proudly refused to wear it, preferring to rely on his own wits.

He had sorted out all of his beast's triggers. Even had learned not to change form during sex, or rather learned not to have sex without changing into beast and back again beforehand. Only he couldn't or wouldn't curb his catlike sexuality that had awakened with the beast. That's why he was having sex mostly with Ithildin − only the elf could withstand the unbridled lust of a shapeshifter.

Kintaro treated Alva like a fragile thing that could be easily broken. In a sense it was true; if Kintaro were careless in his animal form, it could have been fatal for Alva. Even in his human form Kintaro became rougher and more vigorous than before. After sleeping with him Alva felt as if he had sex with an entire cavalry regiment. Their horses included.

The drumming of the rain would always remind him of sex. Always.

In Arislan Alva always went outside under a lacy parasol; it was partly for emphasizing his female disguise and partly for shading his face. The fierce southern sun caused the premature withering of skin. And his own light golden complexion of a seaside dweller was far too precious for him. Now his skin was almost brown from sunbathing; Alva had hoped the tan would make the scars less visible. He was right, but it also made him look tough, coarse. His hands became callous from the simple peasant work. He became broader in the shoulders, and his youthful supple grace gave way to maturity.

The hair on his burned temple grew up again, but grey. It seemed a trifle compared to the scars. Once Alva was back to civilization, he went straight to a barber. Alas, the barber couldn't find the dye to match Alva's natural hair colour. So his whole hair had been dyed with the closest match (still rather far off).

Of course Alva had tried everything that Kimdiss physicians had to offer: herbs, powders, ointments, compresses, massage. His healed scars had faded a little, became smoother, but that was all. There was no way to tell if it was the effect of the medicine or the usual process of skin regeneration.

A travelling mage offered to cast a spell of glamour. "Everyone will see you exactly as you have been before, noble Chevalier." But Alva wouldn't; glamour wasn't reflected in the mirror. "What about those who can see through the spells? Mages, elves?" Alva asked suspiciously, in his mind adding 'shapeshifters' to the list. "Why, what is the chance of meeting an elf?" the mage exclaimed with false cheer. I happen to live with one, Alva wanted to say, but didn't.

In the end the mage had talked Alva into trying a one-day spell, as a test, for free. Alva didn't get any reaction from his lovers upon return and ventured a question, "Don't you notice anything new?" "Plucked your eyebrows, did you?" Kintaro asked, and though it was a punch line of an old joke, he was perfectly serious. Alva decided not to try the spell again.

There was only one recipe left − Fanneshtou, the Temple of All Gods. The three of them bought a Scroll of One-Way Portal and used it. In the Temple they rented two rooms − a tiny sitting room and an equally tiny bedroom with two beds, as narrow as a monk's. The Temple was full of guests all year round, and there were no better rooms available.

Here Alva had found hope and lost it again.

~~~

To lighten up this angst a little, I'll tell some funny jokes made by my friend Sataniele after reading this and the previous chapter. I hope they are as funny in English as they were in Russian XD

* The fifth night had passed, and Kintaro still couldn't turn into a human, since Ithildin and Alva didn't think to kiss him on the mouth even once...

* After the inseparable trio visited Jinnjarat, shapeshifters started to tell a scary story about two demons who catched a shapeshifter at the night of full moon and screwed him to death.

* Since Kintaro became a shapeshifter, there were always kittens trailing him in every town and village. The nomad swore they weren't his.

* A stranger was looking at Alva from the mirror. The stranger had restless catlike eyes which no one would compare with emeralds. The stranger's hair, once the color of flames, now was the color of dull copper. Understandable, because Alva was watching Episode 8 of Ekleipsis TV adaptation.

* In Creede it's customary to celebrate the events which have been the results of your personal efforts. For example, a house built by you, a neighbour seduced by you, a child born by your friend's wife, your mother-in-law's funeral and so on.

* Old Dshetra came almost every day. Under his guidance the nomad learned how to keep his beast in check. It wasn't easy. The old man was not his type.

* More than once they happened to fall asleep in the evening with the nomad in their bed, only to find in the morning a gigantic black cat, purring sleepily, in his stead. Every time Alva went hysterical, grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck and threw it on the laughing Kintaro.