Choked in Warmth

He had forgotten to ask the name of the man that swung his mind in a circle. He tried for weeks to ask, but he had to be coy about it, show no interest or care, he was below him, his lord, and a lord cannot care so badly of another man's touch. Rumors were all too common. To a bigger embarrassment, the man of captivation worked in the stables, washing horses and shoveling shit. There was little chatter when Ábel came by to pick up his horse.

It was 'Elio', just 'Elio'. No town to call forth with pride. He learned of his name through a light bicker, when the man asked if he could breathe fire. And there had been no name to reprimand. A tricky little fox that man was. At night, he would repeat that name over and over again. Jealous of it. Speaking of it in anger, shame, and love. He had barely known the man for a month, but he consumed his thoughts each night. No obligation to town, nor to anyone else. Desireless.

This winter felt far too quick to him. He had caught Elio leaving at the first sight of a sprout. He was a man of his word, he would leave in spring. And where would Ábel be? Attending banquets and courts, and maybe a battlefield if he was lucky. Coy in his words, he asked Elio to display his riding skill. He could be a knight, if he put more effort into his appearance and stuck his nose out of unnecessary banter. Perhaps, they could duel properly, no dance, just twisted bodies and one victor. Elio could even try to cut off his head. Thrilling.

They would ride from the castle stables to the last town by the kingdom edge. When Ábel was next to him, he was always 'the man', a captivating thought, uncalculated, nameless and wild. He rode like the flames of hell were after him, distant from his laid-back demeanor. In brief glimpses, the man changed. Disfigured, ugly like a drunkard, breathing sloppily. But when he would feel Ábel's gaze, the expression softened into a lazy and dazed smile. And Ábel yearned to understand him more.

It was not a race, but Elio was always moving faster. It was to be expected, as Ábel had been held back by his weight and tail. The only horse that could carry him proper was a draft horse. Strong and proud, the two were more alike as they both helped carry the weights of others. Both would be worn by overuse, and both would keep pushing forward, exceeding ordinary effort by at least three times.

"You could fight for me. Someday. If you ever desire to work in a cavalry."

The man had no words for him. A nod, and a smile.

It was his own perverse thoughts of death and love that kept him thinking of Elio. It stung to think that his kingdom was just another stop in the man's short life. It was better for him to leave, he was not himself with that man present.