Page 9 of Heart of the Mountain King

"Rask not say that," Rask admitted. "Not easy, between our kind. Needs great care. Bad to rush. But Rask told bedding humans very…enjoyable. If bergsrå patient."

"Patient? Why…?" Sten trailed off, attention drifting to the heavily embroidered apron of the bergsrå's loincloth.

Rask could almost hear the potter's wheel as it turned, slowly shaping the lump of clues into something like understanding. He chuckled as Sten's eyes grew comically large, barely resisting the urge to adjust himself, if only to see how the little man would react.

"You mean, if I — if a human, that is — were to try taking your cock, don't you?" Sten asked in a stunned voice. There came a flash of that pink tongue again, like a kitten licking milk off its nose. "Just…how big a difference are we talking about here?"

"How would Rask know?" Rask said with a shrug, the alcohol warming his belly and loosening his tongue. "But Sten very small and fragile, even clothed. Easy to break."

Sten laughed. "Easy? Perhaps. But not so fragile as you might think, Rask. And none in my village would recognize me by your description. If anything, I am too large, and I've collected quite the assortment of bruises thanks to the low ceiling beams of my cottage as proof."

"Small," Rask repeated, grinning in high humor as he reached out to pat the top of Sten's head patronizingly. "Fragile. But if Sten so curious, bring Rask more brännvin. Then see how humans and bergsrår measure up."

Humming brightly, Sten eyed Rask's loincloth anew. "Maybe I'll take you up on that."

Startled from his drink-softened thoughts, Rask glanced down at his travel companion. Here he'd been joking, but…hrm.

Sten might not be much to look at, but he was proving interesting enough, Rask supposed. There hadn't been a great deal in the world that Rask had found interesting in some time. It made the bergsrå want to poke him, to see if the little man would squawk again.

There was a pleasing warmth to the tone of his skin, too. Like river clay baked by the heat of a summer's day. Rask half wanted to reach out and touch the small human, to watch his slate-blue skin slide against Sten's own.

Dangerous, such thoughts were exceedingly dangerous. Foolish, too. Sten had only sought out the bergsrå for help with his quest, and he'd be gone as soon as it was over. Rask was old enough to know better by now. He certainly shouldn't be thinking about how soft that skin would be to touch, how pleasing Sten's voice was in his ears; how Rask would like to hear more of it, would like to —

"So then, you've never — " Sten coughed. "I mean, with a human…?"

Rask frowned. "Why Rask want ugly and weak human in Rask's bed?" he snapped, as much at himself as at the human's question.

"Why indeed?" Sten muttered softly, the line of his shoulders sagging like an old nanny goat's back.

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Chapter 4

A Problem

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"You know, I'm thought to be quite handsome in my village," Sten said as he hopped across one of the little rivulets that crisscrossed this part of the slope. "At least, judging by the number of women who kept trying to push their daughters at me during the Ságastine Festival this spring."

"Congratulations," the bergsrå replied flatly. "Rask wishes Sten many fat, squalling babies."

Sten's face darkened.

"I don't want to marry their daughters."

"Then marry their sons, Rask not care."

"Much more my type!" Sten laughed. "If only it were so easy."

Rask snorted. "Humans cause many problems, especially for themselves."

Sten laughed again. It…was a good sound.

"We really do, don't we?" Sten said, flashing Rask a grin. "It must be very different for bergsrår."

"Yes," Rask agreed. "Bergsrår much smarter. Why keep secret? If want mate, give gifts. Give lots of gifts. If other bergsrå agrees, get lots of gifts too. Everyone happy."

Sten hummed softly.