Chapter 1 #6
Dazzling elves. Hawk didn’t need to wonder if they were adame.
Every person in the room was pristine in a way that could make his eyes hurt if he stared too directly at them.
Their blonde hair, pale skin—though there was more variety than he may have expected.
None were purple, of course, but he saw freckles and brown eyes and red hair and more.
A few eyes landed on him, taking him in, but mostly the other elves were chatting quietly amongst themselves. March stepped to Hawk’s side and said, “Grab a tea, or coffee, and go chat.”
Hawk turned a startled stare to March. “What?”
“Go socialize with some of those under Sutaire’s employ. Ask any questions. Get to know people. You know. Chat. You’ll be living here, should you choose to. And you may ask anyone questions about their craft. Some here are intimate with patrons, some are not. They can tell you what it’s like.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m fine,” said Hawk, throat tightening.
March’s grin made an appearance. “Don’t be nervous.”
“I didn’t say I was nervous.” He was, but he didn’t say it. “I simply have no questions to ask.”
March placed a hand upon Hawk’s back. He was warm—his hand was large—and Hawk wanted to stay here with him instead. But March gave him a gentle push. “Go. Go on.”
Hawk’s fists tightened at his side. Fine.
He took a step forward, nearly tripped upon the corner of one of the many rugs that lined the room, and found himself stumbling to the table of drinks.
He steadied himself and looked at the options presented.
Coffee. Or tea? What would make the right impression? Did it matter?
He snatched a black mug and poured hot water within.
Squeezed a presliced lemon into it. And spun back around to face the room.
One of the adame—a willowy young woman with ringlets in her blonde hair—began to play a harp.
Another bard, then. Those were probably the most common of adame, he guessed. Performing in more than once capacity.
“Hello,” said a voice from one side. Hawk jerked back, surprised, and spilled his lemon-water over his knuckles.
“Shit,” he said, and then he realized such language probably wasn’t becoming of an adame, and cringed.
“Goodness,” said the voice. And then the person responsible for the voice stepped in front of him. A cherubic, round-faced young elf—probably close to Hawk’s age—with white-blond hair, and eyes so light blue that they nearly glowed. He smiled apologetically and said, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I’m fine,” Hawk said, and he knew his cheeks had flooded pink.
The elf giggled and said, leaning in close, “Yes, you are quite fine. You’re here for the Open Call, right?”
Hawk nearly snapped again—he hadn’t come here to work as an adame—but instead he took a deep breath. “I am.”
“My name’s Angel.” He held out a fist for Hawk to tap with his own.
“I’m Hawk.”
“What a strong name.” Angel tilted his head. “No wonder you’re our only recruit this month.”
Hawk said, “Mmhmm,” because he didn’t register what Angel meant. He sipped his water, paused, and said, “Wait. What?”
“Unless Lovey took her time with one of the girls?” Angel leaned back to peer at the door March and Hawk had entered before. “But I think you’re the only one that made it past intake.”
Hawk’s brow furrowed. “There were several others, though. In line with me. Much fairer than I.”
Angel laughed and it sounded pretty, which was absurd—he had a pretty face and a pretty laugh?
“We’ve no shortage of fair elves.” He looked over at the other adame—half were women, yes, and four of those were tow-headed.
Many of them were peering at Hawk more openly now, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was speaking to Angel, or because March had disappeared and taken some type of magic shield with him.
“Well, that’s what’s in demand,” Hawk said. He sipped his drink.
Angel hummed and said, “That’s what’s expected. Do you want to have sex?”
Hawk choked on the warm water in his throat. He coughed and turned a wide-eyed, baffled look Angel’s way. “Excuse me? Certainly, I do not.”
Angel laughed again, the sound soothing. “I wasn’t offering. I meant—if you joined Sutaire as an adame, did you seek sex work, or were you hoping only to exchange kisses and blood?”
That made far more sense. Hawk’s face felt uncomfortably hot as he said, “I don’t really care either way.” Should he tell Angel he thought he’d be working in their garden? No, that was more embarrassing.
“Well, what’d you tell March?”
“Why do you want to know?” Hawk could feel his hackles rising, shoulders growing tight. “Does it matter?”
“Because,” Angel’s eyes narrowed in confusion; like he couldn’t possibly understand Hawk’s hesitation or anxiety. “You’ll get to have sex with someone if you said yes to the intimate roles.”
Get to? Hawk hid his own confusion behind the mug of water, sipping deeply. Exhaling, he answered, “I said I was amenable to sex work? I think I am? I’ve never done such a thing.”
Angel’s responding smile eased some of Hawk’s insecurity. “Then, what’s your type?”
“I’m sure that’s none of your business.” Hawk said, “What’s your type?”
Angel said, without hesitation, “March.” He sighed, wistful. “You should see him work. It’s masterful.”
“You watch one another have sex?”
Angel relaxed against the drink table. “Sometimes. It’s not a requirement or anything.
But March has been here for a very long time.
He used to regularly host our Winterend Brothel celebration—an open festival with masks.
I got to see him work for the first time during one of those.
” He sighed wistfully. “He stopped performing at them, though.”
“By work, you mean fuck,” Hawk clarified.
Angel’s smile looked less innocent as he said, “Fortunately, yes.”
“What if I don’t want anyone to see me…” Hawk’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Work?”
“I told you; it’s not a requirement.”
Hawk began to scan the room for March again. Still absent. “I guess March is into that.”
“What are you into, then?” Angel slid closer, and reached out with one finger, and placed it gently between the muscles on Hawk’s chest, exposed through the deep V of his tunic. “What’s your type?”
Hawk felt the answer stick in his throat, felt a fever of a kind warming his belly and chest. He was rescued, most fortunately, by March’s return. He entered the room with all his billowing robes and silk-looking hair, and greeted Hawk with a wave.
“I see you’ve met our most troublesome adame,” said March.
Angel gasped, feigning offense. “Troublesome? I’m an angel. It’s in the name.” He shifted to hug Hawk’s arm and said, “I’m befriending our newest recruit. You should thank me. He seemed afraid to speak a single word to us before now.”
“I wasn’t afraid,” said Hawk. His lips pursed. “I’m simply more discerning than some.”
Angel gasped, truly offended this time. But the flash of anger within his eyes faded, nearly immediately, behind a laugh. “You’re also aptly named. So sharp!”
March reached a hand around Hawk’s shoulders—all these men were so handsy, and Hawk couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched so much, and so casually—and extradited him from Angel’s grasp. “Come this way, then.”
The other adame in the room were looking with rapt attention, now, as March guided Hawk towards a step elevated above the rest of the room.
“The next part of intake involves intimacy, as I said. We need to confirm your ability to spend; and your comfortability in helping others reach an end. It’s not for everyone, and it will not mean your time with Sutaire will end, so please worry not. ”
Hawk watched March as a means to ignore the many eyes now focused on him. “You need me to have sex with someone?”
March confirmed, nodding. “For your intake—you may choose any adame available.” He swept a hand out, gesturing to all present.
Hawk tightened his hands, both of them, around the mug. He squeezed. “You mean it, truly. I may join you here—” that gossiping elf said it was the most premier brothel in the entire kingdom. “After this step?”
March tilted his head one way, then the next, and said, “You’ll then apprentice with someone here. With me, or our two other available masters.”
“And that pays…?”
The other adame in the room giggled. Hawk continued to ignore them, focused solely on March at his side. “Apprenticeships pay a medium rate. Plus room and board. Your own room, even—we don’t have dormitories here like some of the other houses in Abblesbet.”
And all he had to do was pick one of the beautiful adame seated across the lounge and get off. A small knot loosened within Hawk’s chest. It was replaced, instead, by a sense of awe.
Hawk swept eyes over the dozen elves before him. Half were girls—not a match. And of the men…
March took Hawk’s mug from his hands. “Go on. Pick any you’d like.” And he leaned in to add, in a whisper, “They wouldn’t be here if they weren’t interested in you; you needn’t worry about that.”
Hawk didn’t know what to do with his hands, or with the simmering, erotic tension in his belly.
He stepped down and circled the room. The harpist had gone quiet in the corner, and she offered him a wink when he met her eyes.
As he circled the room, he made his way back around.
Angel stood, arms crossed behind his back. He beamed as Hawk approached.
But Hawk walked by him instead and approached the step. March blinked curiously, tilting at the hips to look Hawk in the eye. “None, then?”
Hawk said, “I would like to choose you.” When the room sat in stunned silence for a beat too long, Hawk added, “You are an adame, are you not? You said any in the room.”
March peered down at himself, almost as if he hadn’t realized he was in the room. “Indeed I did.”
Hawk’s fists dug nails into his palms as he said, “Obviously you needn’t do it if you d—”
“No, no. Quite fine. Quite alright.” March held out the mug, and Angel strolled over to take it from him.
Angel said to March, grinning, “Well, you won’t have to teach him good taste, at least.” Get to, said Angel before. He’d get to have sex with one of them.
As Hawk followed March from the room, he realized he was quite right.