Page 8 of The Elves and the Shoemaker (The GriMM Tales #4)

Lost in a tangle of heat, limbs, wet lips, and the perfect pressure against his length, Elias erupted between them. A few more thrusts later and Henrik followed, their releases combining and covering their stomachs like icing on a cake.

Henrik flipped onto his back beside Elias, panting from the exertion, and they both took a moment to catch their breath.

As they lay side by side on the small mattress, Elias lifted Henrik’s right hand and began playing with his fingers, making swirling patterns on his palm with his fingertips.

“I love your hands,” Elias said mindlessly. Henrik’s hands were bigger than his own and still looked refined despite the hard labour of the mills. Elias had been unaware that he could find hands to be so erotic, but he didn’t question it too much.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t chop them off, then,” Henrik replied dryly.

Elias turned his head to face him with a confused expression marring his features. “Why would you have chopped them off?”

“There was a time when we were at the mill that I thought if I were redundant to our captors, maybe they would set me free.” Henrik’s voice was solemn.

He’d really considered chopping his hands off in a bid for freedom?

The thought made Elias’ stomach churn, grateful that he had evidence of Henrik’s hand in his own as reassurance.

“So in this scenario where you’ve chopped off your hands, where was I? You were going to leave the mill handless, and I would remain?” Elias tried to make the question sound a little playful, but he couldn’t deny that his feelings were hurt.

“No. If the price of freedom had actually been our hands, I would have chopped yours off, too. However, I realised quickly that the reward for doing so would have been death, and I wasn’t quite ready for that form of freedom yet.”

Elias let the words sink in; they were macabre but also oddly touching. “That’s quite romantic in the most horrific way imaginable.” Elias chuckled.

“Is that what we are to each other? Romantic?” Henrik asked, only, his tone was almost belittling of the fact, like it was an absurd suggestion.

Elias sat up on his elbow and looked down at Henrik. “If we are not romantic, then what are we to each other? Do you kiss me and touch me to pass the time? Is that all this has been to you?” Elias rarely found himself angry, but he was furious now.

Henrik’s eyes widened, and he looked panicked. “I don’t know,” he said.

“You don’t know? We are never apart, Henrik!”

“And what choice have we had in that? Is it truly romantic when we have had no other option than to rely on one another to survive?”

Elias was certain that if you opened up his chest in that moment, you’d find his heart clawed to pieces, blood seeping out, and the wounds preparing to fester because he couldn’t imagine how a heart could heal from such a thing.

How could he have been so wrong about Henrik? What else had he been wrong about?

“There were over one hundred elves in that mill; I chose you, Rik. I thought you chose me, too.” Tears streamed down Elias’ cheeks, and he climbed off the mattress, retrieving the nightshirt and shorts that Henrik had stripped him of not even an hour before.

He hated himself for crying right then. Hated that Henrik could see how much Elias had let him in, let him get too close. All so that Henrik would have a warm body to share his bed with. Elias felt sick.

“Where are you going?” Henrik asked.

“Anywhere else but here. I will not lie with you again, Henrik. I deserve more than to be a convenient thing for you to rut against,” Elias spat.

“I—I never said that, Elias. You are twisting my words.” Henrik retreated to the far corner of the mattress, bringing his knees to his chest protectively.

“No, you only told me this is not romantic to you while your release dries on my stomach. Damn you!”

Once Elias had shoved on his clothes, he stormed out of Johan’s workshop without glancing back at Henrik. The only downside to his plan was that he really didn’t have anywhere to go. He eyed the stairs, which led to Johan’s home, and decided it was preferable to returning to Henrik’s side.

At the top of the stairs, he pressed his ear to the door, trying to hear if there were any sounds coming from inside. There were faint footsteps, which at least reassured Elias that he wasn’t waking Johan from sleep. He knocked gently on the door.

The footsteps got louder as Johan approached. He opened it and peered down at Elias, looking understandably surprised to find him there.

Elias took Johan’s quizzical look as an “Is everything okay?”

“Henrik is impossible. I cannot stay down there with him. I will find somewhere to live tomorrow, but I wondered if I might sleep up here. Just for tonight? Not in your bed, of course, just in the corner somewhere. I’m quite small.

I won’t be a bother,” Elias rambled on at Johan, who looked worried.

Johan pointed down the stairs towards the workshop and tilted his head to the side in question.

“Henrik is fine. Now we are free, he doesn’t want me around anymore, so I refuse to burden him with my company any longer.” Elias tried to puff his chest out with confidence, but he hiccupped at the end of his speech and then burst into tears again.

Glancing down the stairs once more with a concerned frown on his face, Johan pressed a warm hand to Elias’ shoulder and guided him inside.

Johan’s home was small but clean and tidy, and he pulled out a chair at the table for Elias to sit down. Once Johan had fetched them both a drink, he dipped his chin at Elias in a way that he assumed was asking him to explain what had happened.

Elias took a large gulp of his drink and then some steadying breaths.

At first, he wasn’t sure how much to say since he knew that men being with men was generally kept behind closed doors in this kingdom in contrast to the norm of it amongst the elves back home.

But then he looked into Johan’s kind, warm chestnut eyes and trusted his gut.

Henrik had already told him that Johan had seen them curled up together the night they’d arrived here, and he had been nothing but kind to them regardless.

“Henrik has been… more than a friend to me?” he phrased it like a question, and Johan nodded in understanding and, thankfully, without judgment, so Elias went for it.

“Well, I love Henrik. I thought he was my… my forever, you know? But it seems he was with me because he thought I was the only option.” Elias hiccupped again.

Johan looked sadly at Elias and shook his head.

“It’s the truth,” he tried to explain.

“Your truth,” Johan rasped out. Elias was momentarily shocked by hearing anything at all come from the silent man’s lips that it took him a few seconds to register what he’d said.

“No. The truth,” Elias insisted.

“No,” Johan spoke again and wrapped his big hand over Elias’.

Somehow, Elias knew that Johan had reached his limit on words, and so he merely huffed in response. They finished their drinks in silence before Johan guided Elias over to a large mattress on the floor.

“I can sleep on the ground; it’s okay,” Elias tried to argue.

Johan just shook his head, and Elias found he was too exhausted to really put up a compelling fight. He crawled into the far corner of the bed, leaving the blanket for Johan on the other side.

Johan, however, picked up the blanket and placed it over Elias, tucking in the edges and making him feel like a cocooned caterpillar.

“Thank you,” Elias whispered.

A short while after, Elias could hear footsteps fading and the front door closing.

Why was it that Henrik could rip out Elias’ heart, crush the only thing that had kept him alive the last few years, and yet he was left to comfort himself while Johan sought out Henrik? How was that fair?

Elias almost laughed. Nothing in his life had been fair. Why would life change its mind now?