It was late summer. The energy and strength of the season was peaking, leaving lush green leaves in its wake. The gentle trickles of rain from May and June had transformed into heavy thunderstorms, which had been appearing so much now that even that the air itself seemed heavy and warm. All the empty and carefree summer joys were transfixing themselves into darker, more rich ones. Suddenly responsibilities mattered again, and the drama brought on by the earlier months settled into something more. The forest was filled with an unspoken but increasingly undeniable discomfort.
At the center of this strange predicament was the king of the fairies. Although the events of midsummer had disappeared from most of the fairies' thoughts weeks ago, the fairy queen maintained an uncharacteristically high level of bitterness. She had never been one for close contact, but as of late she seemed increasingly distant. It was tradition between the two of them to meet each morning at the overlook on the outskirts of the woodland. While Titania still made her daily appearance, her mood was odd. Gone was her sweet cynicism, and gone was her starry-eyed air of mystery. She was a lovely woman still, but she had no more sparkle.
Titania posed a constant threat to him now, as he never knew if she planned to enact any sort of revenge. Clearly, his mistake would not be forgotten easily, although the fairy court must be told otherwise. Oberon knew it was his wife's duty to remain strong for her followers, even as she caught in the midst of turmoil. He admired this strength in her, although he would no longer dare mention it, for his admiration was newfound. He still adored her, but it was a new sort of adoration. It was a love for her earthiness, for her silent power, for her strength as a leader, but for little more.
Oberon didn't want to focus on the reasons why. He blamed himself for his loss of passion, assuring himself the midsummer incidents must somehow have led him to lose his capacity for emotion. There was no logic behind his speculations, but they kept him from jumping to any other conclusions. Titania pointed to other things, blaming him for loving his position as king more than his position as her husband. His time spent alone or with his servant greatly outnumbered the hours spent with her.
He could not deny this fact; any fairy who paid any attention to the goings on in the forest could see that the king spent most of his time in solitude. Indeed, and when he was not alone, he was with his servant. His Puck.
These words felt dangerous. Perhaps simply a bit wrong, as if there was some sort of newfound and uncomfortable undertones involved with them. Naturally, Puck served Oberon well. He was his, from the perspective of servitude. Perhaps the discomfort with the words was due to the constant imposing accusations from Titania, blaming the king for being disloyal and untrue. He was not disloyal. Certainly, he had no feelings for his servant. Certainly he was stronger than that.
Even so, the lack of passion from his wife oftentimes brought strange thoughts into the mind of the fairy king. Far too often he found himself watching as Puck pranced about, paying close attention to the lines of his sloping collarbone and his angular shoulderblades. More than once he caught himself staring at the smaller fairy, then awkwardly glancing away to gather his thoughts. This sort of pleasurable admiration had always been present, but never before with such a fierce sharpness attached. Suddenly Oberon was not allowing himself time to admire his servant, because doing so emitted odd and uncomfortable feelings, and a tightness in his chest he could not seem to untangle. Why was he unable to maintain his composure around his closest confidant? Surely these feelings would wither with the season, the king told himself.
But the days came and went, and each day there was something more beautiful and strange about his playful servant. He noticed the way the fairy's thin arms waved ever so slightly like the young branches of a tree on a peaceful day, and how his thin hair wisped in the wind. He found himself wondering how that small waist would rest under his fingers, and how soft his pale skin must feel. The two had touched plenty before, but these new desires outshone any that had been felt in the past.
On this mid-August evening, it was particularly hot and the air was especially heavy. This didn't help much with the tightness in Oberon's chest. Lounging by the creek would otherwise have been peaceful had it not been for Puck's presence. Trying desperately to beat the feelings out of himself, Oberon focused actively on everything other than the fairy's thin figure. He couldn't tell whether the heat in cheeks was from the weather or from attraction. Either way, he didn't feel much like holding in his yearning for much longer. He was a king; why should he put himself through such turmoil? Still, there was something about the gentle way Puck was tossing stones into the shallow water that demanded to just be watched. There was such a simple beauty in the way he absentmindedly stared at the little ripples, watched with raised eyebrows and fluttering eyelashes and heavy eyelids, like nothing mattered…
"My Puck?" he mumbled, not so much sure if he was preparing to ask a question or asking if such a title were suitable. Oberon swiped away at the beads of sweat that had gathered on his forehead. Lord, he was so flustered. His Puck? His? What did such a term even mean? Would the servant be willing to tell what it meant? What it meant to him?
The small fairy turned his head, glancing up curiously. "Yes, my Lord?" Innocent. Lovely, and innocent. The fairy king had to catch his breath before going further. It was then when he realized he had nothing to say. Often, in the past, he had went on quite often about this and that, telling Puck of the news with Titania or the goings-on of the human world. At this moment, however, Oberon was at a loss for words entirely. The heavy, sticky air brought his intellectual thoughts to a standstill. All he had were odd and primal instincts, bent on telling him to do things he couldn't bring himself to do, and convincing him to say things he couldn't bring himself to say. But Lord, what a sweet and lovely fairy sat before him. And heavens, how much more aflame with passion than his wife and her icy stare!
"Do pardon my forwardness," he stuttered, his voice no louder than a whisper. His mind reeled in preparation for what to say next. He had no words. Why in heaven's name was he so flustered? Was it in the air? The instinctive drive to pull the fairy into an embrace overcame him, so instead of speaking Oberon grabbed Puck by both wrists and pulled him to his feet. Holding both of Puck's thin arms over his head, he planted a quick, firm kiss onto his mouth. After a second or two, he pulled back, shocked a bit by his own sudden behavior.
Puck's eyes shot open, battered by the sudden jerk. Was he frightened? Embarrassed, Oberon released his counterpart's hands, which fell awkwardly to rest at his side. Despite a few attempts, Oberon could not break the eye contact. One short kiss was not near enough for his now burning need, but the king knew of the impropriety of such forced embraces, and he intended not to recreate the awkward act. Instead of reciprocating any emotion or running away, Puck stood there with a shocked expression.
They had shared several kisses before, and each of the times Puck had seemed to freeze up into a near statue, upon which Oberon had left. But not now. No, he was not leaving this time. He was not teasing.
Oberon was very tired of pretending his servant was only there for superficial reasons. In this moment, something turned in his mind. The time they spent alone together ought to be respected as such.
"My Lord?" Puck repeated, this time very softly, so much that his lips hardly moved. Oberon could feel his airy, light breath upon his face and could not help but smile. This smile prompted Puck's features to soften, his oversized owl-eyes returning to their usual demeanor. Then, with a small grin, Puck hummed, "You are pardoned."
Oberon was not used to anything other than being in charge, but he couldn't do anything but tremble as Puck's spindly fingers passed under his muscular arms and climbed up his back. Puck's expression was timid, as if he was not sure whether or not he was allowed to touch his king in such a way. Oberon couldn't bring himself to confirm or deny this as acceptable, so he resorted instead to closing his eyes. Puck's fingers shyly traced his wide shoulder blades, sending a shiver throughout the entirety of his body. Trying to match the tenderness of such a touch, Oberon placed his hand in Puck's hair and pulled him closer, planting light kisses on his nose and cheeks. Puck's hands clenched tight onto the back of Oberon's shoulders, and the nimble fairy released a tiny giggle.
After quite a few seconds of this, Oberon lost patience, proceeding to wrap his arms around Puck's waist and hoist him up off his feet, planting another, longer kiss onto his slightly parted lips. This time, however, this elicited a response from Puck, who was smiling widely through the kiss. This kiss felt different than any he'd ever shared with Titania. Even long ago, when there was passion between them, he could never feel this sort of longing from her. Never had she cared so much about his kisses that she pulled at his hair, trying to keep him close, as Puck was doing now. Never had she ever dared to whimper under her breath while they embraced, or at least not anything like this. Her lips had never tasted so sweet, her arms never moved with such youthful naivete, her hips never…
At the thought of hips, he grasped Puck's and pulled them close to his own. Puck grimaced, landing a soft bite on his king's bottom lip. Their kisses fell into a steady rhythm, and Oberon could feel his legs weakening. The sensations of the moment were overwhelming. The sticky, thick air made their embrace quite the more personal, as each touch was increasingly sweaty and rough. But this was magic. This was magic more than any flower ever dared to elicit.
"My Puck…" he moaned, grabbing tightly at those small hips. He could feel each heartbeat now, and thus took this opportunity to break the string of kisses and rest his head on his servant's chest. In doing so, he accidentally pulled Puck down with him, and the pair collapsed down into the dirt.
And for a few more minutes, the king forgot about everything. He knew that he was being quite irresponsible, but his trusty servant was irresistible. He couldn't quite put together in his mind exactly what it was that made him feel this way, but there was a certain fragility about his servant- his sharp, pointed nose, defined collarbones, and thin limbs- that quite reminded Oberon of a twig or a branch. Then again, what on Earth was inherently appealing about a branch? The king of shadows wiped this thought from his mind; now was certainly no time to ask himself why.
The moments passed, and eventually the duo sat up from their lying position and began gathering themselves. Neither of them spoke a word as Oberon helped himself to his feet and stared down at the creature beneath him. His instinct told him to yell; to harass Puck for enticing him as he always did. He couldn't bring himself to go through with this, though, for he knew any wrong was his own fault. Instead, he reached out his large hand and helped the smaller fairy to his feet, then planted a gentle kiss on those bony, worn knuckles.
Of all the times the king had found himself in a similar situation with his Puck, this had been the most difficult part. Leaving...pretending like nothing had happened. This was certainly the most physical they had ever been, and this fact increased Oberon's uncertainty.
He coughed lightly. "I have duties to attend to. Follow if thou do please."
Puck's face lit up, and he then spoke a quote he'd heard from a wandering lover in the woods not too long ago: "Follow? Nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl!"
finis