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Seff whistles a low sound and clucks his tongue, while Theo shuffles across the wooden floors—another thing in need of sanding and varnish—kicking at the leaves and dirt that had blown in from somewhere.
The floorboards are made with timber from the Woods themselves. My grandpa told me as a kid that the house had been a gift from the Woods, providing for our family for as long as we protected them. As a kid, I’d always thought he’d just been spinning tales, but the older I got, the more I understood that he wasn’t telling tales. The Whisper Woods are fickle, but they protect their own however they can.
A pang of nerves hits my stomach as I watch Theo take in my family home, inspecting the remnants of my past. His eyes narrow on the ceiling of the living room where my mum had painted the constellations in gold paint when I was in primary school. A wooden chandelier hangs below the painting— a simple circle to hold the candles used to illuminate the room. A small smile passes over Theo’s lips, and my shoulders loosen a bit.
“It’s, uh, obviously a bit of a mess. This was the sitting room. Back in the day, it was the only real living area.” I feel compelled to explain. Seff has switched into professional mode, examining the window sills, poking at all the wood. Muttering to himself, he moves on to the bookshelves, lovingly caressing the carving before checking everything for its structural integrity.
Theo and I watch him in silence for a moment because watching Seff is always a fun time, but then I point to the arched doorways exiting the room. “Through there are the stairs, the dining room, and the sunroom. That’s the room my grandfather added for a bit of extra space. Downstairs bathroom’s that way too.”
Theo nods, chewing on the sleeve of his jumper, the other arm crossed across his chest. He looks overwhelmed. I want to pull him to me, wrap myself around him, and promise it will all be okay, but I don’t. My fingers itch with need, so I stuff them in my pants pocket and nod to the other doorway.
“Kitchen’s that way. I should probably tell you, it’s a wood-fired stove.” Theo’s face drops, his hand falling from his wide open mouth as his eyes practically bulge.
“What?!” At Theo’s indignant screech, Seff chuckles from wherever he went, still in Professional Builder Guy mode. I smile wide and ruffle his hair, unable to not touch him any longer. All I can do is keep it friendly as I walk past, leading the way to the kitchen. Theo squawks again and hustles to keep up.
I can feel the heat of his scowl on my back, and my cock swells—just enough to make my pants uncomfortable. Feisty Theo is my favourite Theo.
“I’m just kidding. Itwaswood-fired. But it was a pain in the ass. Inigo had the house and the tavern converted to havesomeelectricity back in the day. It was a fight and a half, but he managed it. The tavern still runs old school except for the cookers. So long as the wiring’s not destroyed, you’ve got electricity in the kitchen, and that’s it.” I throw my arm wide, presenting the kitchen.
Theo moves around quietly, throwing daggers my way and stroking the benches, opening cupboards here and there. The kitchen is spacious with an exposed beam ceiling. My great grandmother's collection of copper cooking pots used to hangfrom the rafters, but it’s all empty now except for a small round dining table with four matching spindle-back chairs.
I spent many an hour at that table as a kid, eating my mum's chocolate chip biscuits, doing my homework after school, chatting with her while she cooked dinner.
The kitchen holds a lot of fond memories for me, hanging out with her. Especially as I got older, and it got harder to catch up around life. Mum and I are close—I even call her every week like a good son—and visit her whenever I make the trip to Twin Heads.
The cabinets had been replaced when Inigo and Mum were kids, but Mum painted them blue when we moved in, and then in later years, she painted a white floral pattern over the blue. Mum loved to paint small details over the place.
There is a large white sink underneath a big window, which, back when it was clean, had a magnificent view of the Woods and opened outwards to let the fresh air in.
Theo turns on one of the brass taps, physically recoiling at the murky brown sludge that runs for a moment. Thankfully, it turns clear eventually.
“Why only the kitchen?” I am too busy staring at him and don’t catch the question at first.
“What?” I grunt like a buffoon, and he rolls his eyes, waving his hand around the kitchen.
“Why just the kitchen for electricity? Why not the whole house?” Ah, yeah, that. I lean my shoulder against the arch frame while he pokes and prods at the large oven and stove top in the nook where the old wood burner used to be. The old one is in my place, mainly as an ornament because I never use it, preferring to nip over to the Black Stump.
“The Woods wouldn’t let him. Caused problems after problems. Then there was a big storm when they were trying to hook up the house.” Despite everything we’d been through in theWoods during his rescue, he still gives me a little look like I’m pulling his leg. I shrug a shoulder at his disbelief. “It’s true. Big snow storm in the middle of summer. There was even a small landslide that blocked the truck’s access.”
“Uncle Inigo ended up going into the Woods for a couple of days. He never said what happened but when he came back, he said to keep it in the kitchens, and it will be fine. Never had a problem after that. But then he also negotiated the plumbing for the toilets so…” I shrug again, like a family member negotiating house renovations with a sentient Whisper Wood is entirely normal, and push off the wall. Like I said, I’d learnt a lot after my grandpa’s tales.
Theo frowns at me like something is wrong and goes to ask another question but shakes his head. Seff pops his head into the room, a big grin on his face.
“I’ve checked downstairs, everything seems safe. Just gonna head upstairs.” We wave him off and move on to the other rooms. The bathroom is only just off the kitchen and is obviously a recent addition. With only just enough room for a toilet and handbasin, the onetime-storage-closet-turned-bathroom was small and relatively boring. Except for the hundreds of miniature strawberries Mum had painted over the walls one summer.
What really seems to thrill Theo is the sunroom. A large, airy room built onto the rear of the house, with giant windows that run from the ceiling nearly to the floor. The glass is a patchwork of regular and coloured glass, with delicately curling framework.
Bench seats and more bookcases hug the perimeter of the windows. Half the ceiling itself is glass, too, and, thankfully, the room was at the perfect angle that it only ever caught the sun's full force for a brief time in the morning in summer, spending the rest of the day in light shade. There are even ornate doubledoors leading to the backyard—a small courtyard completely private from the tavern.
I watch Theo spin in the centre of the room, head thrown back, copper curls glistening in the sunlight that beams into the room. Rightness settles in the pit of my stomach, and that feral thing inside me that was awakened when I saw Theo lying on that Godsdamned table growls inside me.
I can see him here in this room one day, clean and tidy and furnished. Filled with plants and books, just like my dad had. Hopefully, in the not too distant future. Happy and healthy. Healed.
Mine. That devious little gremlin growls, and I shove it back down, swallowing against the hard lump in my throat.
Theo finally realises that I’ve been staring like a creeper again and stills, that shy smile back on his face, a pretty pink tinge to his sharp cheekbones. I clear my throat, hoping to clear away the fantasies in my head. Of fucking Theo in here under the starlit sky. Watching him writhe on the floor covered in luxurious blankets and cushions, bathed in our cum and the moonlight. The force of the vision is so hot, so real, I feel it viscerally, heating my blood, making my cock throb with desperation.
“Uh, what do you think so far?” Godsdammit, is that my voice? I sound husky, sex drunk.
