Stratford-upon-Avon, England,1887

The forge was stiflingly hot; if Gideon Hartwright had been human he would have been drowning in his own sweat by now. He was sure that his employer thought it odd that Gideon never sweated at all, but he'd never said anything about it.

He crouched down to examine the glowing slag at the bottom of the furnace, feeling the heat blast his face. It looked about ready to work with. Using a large pair of tongs, he pulled the slag from the hot coals and carried it over to the anvil where he could start hammering it into shape.

Thanks to his vampire strength, he could do it in now time at all – which was probably why Lonnie Cudd, the man who owned the forge, had given him a job, despite his lack of prior experience.

Gideon had learned quickly over the months that he'd been here.

He'd just finished fashioning the molten slag into a horseshoe when he heard the sound of clopping hooves outside, and a little thrill ran through him.

Lonnie was training him to be a blacksmith, but Lonnie was also an experienced farrier, and his forge often dealt with horses from one of the nearby coaching inns.

An inn where a certain ostler worked.

Putting the horseshoe down, Gideon hurried out of the forge, shielding his eyes against the brightness of the sun – all the brighter after the windowless dark of the forge.

He'd been a vampire for nearly fifty years now, long enough to have built up some resistance to the sun. He couldn't stay out for hours on end, but he no longer had to fear it the way he once had.

In the paved area in front of the forge, Lonnie was talking a slim young man with a head of dark curls, who was holding the reins of a big, black horse.

Gideon's stomach fluttered, just as it always did whenever he laid eyes on Isaac Ebbs. Isaac noticed him looking, and gave him a small smile, one that meant nothing to Lonnie and everything to Gideon.

"Are you here for a reshoeing?" he asked, as if Isaac was just another customer, and not the man that was creeping into Gideon's heart.

Isaac patted the horse's neck. "I think his hooves need a trim."

Lonnie lifted one of the horse's front legs and examined the hoof. "You're right about that," he said. "Gideon, fetch me the hoof stand."

Gideon obeyed. As he bent to put it on the ground, Isaac's hand brushed his hip, a movement so tiny that Lonnie couldn't see it, but enough to make Gideon close his eyes. He could barely feel Isaac's hand through his trousers, but it wasn't the touch itself that was important, as much as the promise of what was to come later on. He glanced at Isaac from the corner of his eye, and Isaac gave him another little smile.

Sometimes, Gideon thought Isaac wasn't careful enough, and it was worrying. It was like Isaac didn't truly understand what would happen if they were caught.

Gideon watched as Lonnie lifted the horse's hoof onto the stand and got to work with the nippers, the tool used to cut off excess hoof growth. Gideon had already proved himself a capable blacksmith, and he hoped that one day Lonnie would start teaching him how to be a farrier too. It seemed like a useful skill to possess, and over the last couple of decades he'd spent plenty of time doing general labour for farmers across the country, including working with their horses. By this point, he liked and understood the horses well enough to believe he could work with them in a different capacity.

Lonnie glanced up, realising Gideon was still watching him. "Haven't you got work to do, boy?" he said, not unkindly, and Gideon nodded.

He looked at Isaac once more before going back into the forge, and Isaac mouthed a single word at him.

Later.

Gideon had met Isaac shortly after he'd started working for Lonnie. Much like today, Isaac had brought in a horse that needed its hooves tending to, and when Lonnie had come into the forge to fetch a new horseshoe, Gideon had glimpsed Isaac through the doors before they swung shut.

He'd almost dropped the tongs, complete with scorching-hot slag, on his own foot.

Isaac was lean and handsome, with sharp cheekbones that emphasised the fullness of his mouth, and smooth brown skin that Gideon never grew tired of stroking. Besides being so very good to look at, he was also kind and warm, with a deep laugh that Gideon adored. He'd worked at the coaching inn for years, taking care of the horses that were either hired out in teams to stage lines, or rented by individuals, and he was fiercely protective of the animals in his care. He spoke passionately about the cruelty of the bearing rein – fashionably used on carriage horses to force their heads to remain extremely high at all times – convinced that it affected the horses' backs and made it hard for them to breathe, and hoped to one day see the practice abolished. He would snatch the whip from the hand of anyone who used it too much, and Gideon had even see him come to blows with someone who refused to stop beating their horse.

Gideon hadn't been able to hide his feelings, and Isaac was quick to return them.

Almost a little too quick, if Gideon was completely honest.

He had taken one other lover since Howard, but it had been a brief and unsatisfactory affair. His name had been Lawrence, the bored young son of a noble, and like Patrick, he had shown little regard for what Gideon wanted. Gideon had still been raw over losing Howard, and had found himself stripped of the confidence that Nicholas had once helped him find. Lawrence had become impatient with Gideon's hesitation. He wanted sex and only sex, and once again Gideon had been made to feel like he was just a body to be used, rather than a man who deserved to be loved.

Isaac never treated him like that, but with him, Gideon had become strangely reticent about sex. He wanted it, but sometimes it was almost like he was afraid of it. He remembered his father's anger and disgust, the contempt in Godric's eyes as he finally told Gideon what he really thought about him, Patrick's aggression and threats, Howard's horror when he realised Gideon wasn't human, and Lawrence's casual indifference.

It had taken him a long time to feel ready for sex again, and though Isaac had never pushed him the way Patrick and Lawrence had, Gideon knew that Isaac had sometimes struggled to mask his frustration and impatience. He didn't understand why Gideon had always stopped things before they could go all the way, and Gideon had struggled to explain. He couldn't exactly tell Isaac that, including his human years, he was sixty-seven years old now, and his sexual experiences over those decades hadn't always been positive.

But a couple of weeks ago, Gideon had finally felt ready to be with Isaac fully. Now he spent his evenings sneaking into the small room that Isaac had at the inn, climbing up an old oak tree that grew outside so he could get in through Isaac's window. It wasn't ideal, but it seemed to bother Isaac more than it did Gideon. He supposed it made sense – after all, he'd had decades to get used to sneaking around. Isaac hadn't.

After he'd finished work at the forge, Gideon made his way to the coaching inn where Isaac worked and lived. Lonnie had given Gideon a small room to stay in at the back of the forge, but it was next to the one that Lonnie himself lived in, so Gideon couldn't bring Isaac back there. The coaching inn was always busy, always filled with the sounds of people going about their lives, so they didn't have to worry so much about someone hearing them.

He wore dark colours and kept to the shadows. Isaac wasn't the only ostler who worked at the inn, and sometimes the innkeeper himself visited the forge, so they all knew Gideon by face, and Gideon didn't want to risk anyone recognising him and wondering what he was doing sneaking around the inn at this hour.

All the lamps were lit in the coaching inn, casting yellow pools of warmth into the night, and the horses were quietly stomping and snuffling in the stables. One of the other ostlers was smoking a pipe outside, and the smell of tobacco clashed with the warmer scents of horses and straw.

Gideon waited until the older man had finished smoking and disappeared into the stables, before slipping across the grounds and around the back of the inn to where that tree grew. Isaac's window was always left unlocked for him, and it didn't take long for him to shin up the tree and climb through the window.

Isaac wasn't here yet.

It was a tiny room, with nothing but a bed, a washstand, and a battered wardrobe in one corner, containing the few items of clothing that Isaac owned, similar to the room that Gideon occupied back at the forge.

His days of living comfortably with Nicholas seemed so long ago now.

Sometimes Isaac talked about them getting a place of their own one day, and Gideon didn't know how he felt about that. He needed more time.

The door opened and Isaac came in, his whole face brightening when he saw Gideon. "Sorry, I hoped I'd be here before you." He locked the door behind him before kissing Gideon deeply, clutching Gideon's face with both hands.

This was what Gideon liked – the passion and the feeling that he really mattered to Isaac. His hands went to Isaac's shirt, fumbling to pull it open.

Footsteps creaked outside as someone passed, and Gideon froze, listening.

Isaac sighed.

"The door's locked. No one can get in, even if they wanted to," he said.

Gideon did know that, just as he knew that if someone – for whatever reason forced the door – then he could easily hide in the wardrobe or under the bed, or just jump out of the window. But he'd seen so much cruelty and ugliness in the hearts of otherwise ordinary people. He knew what people were capable of, and Isaac never seemed to grasp that.

"We still have to be careful," he reminded Isaac.

Isaac huffed and slumped onto the bed, draping the back of his hand across his eyes. "See, this is why we should talk about finding somewhere to live together. We wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted. We wouldn't have to be on our guard the whole time."

"Yes, we would. Just not when we're in bed together. Living under the same roof isn't a shield against the rest of the world," Gideon said.

Isaac lowered his hand and shot Gideon a look. "But aren't you angry about this? Doesn't it make you want to scream sometimes? By law we're are not allowed to be together, even though we are hurting absolutely no one. All we want is our own little world together, but the world won't let us have it."

Gideon sat beside him, running his fingers through Isaac's curls. "Of course it makes me angry. I'm just good at hiding it."

"Well, I'm not."

Gideon couldn't help a smile. "I know."

Isaac propped himself on his elbows, looking at Gideon with dark eyes. "Do you even want to live with me?"

Gideon hesitated, and Isaac's expression plummeted.

"It's just . . . it feels too early to be talking about that," Gideon said.

"Why? If we love each other, why is it too early?"

Gideon didn't point out that he'd never actually said that he loved Isaac. He felt very strongly about him, but he was still grappling with his fears and misgivings, and that made it hard for him to properly assess whether or not he actually loved Isaac. He needed more time to come to terms with his feelings.

"Because I don't feel ready," he said to Isaac.

Isaac looked away.

This was the bone of contention between them.

Isaac had been keen to get Gideon in bed almost from the beginning, and it had taken much longer for Gideon to get to that same point. Now, he was getting more and more comfortable with the sexual side of things, but Isaac had jumped ahead again, trying to plan out their future together.

"That doesn't mean I won't want it one day," he said, taking Isaac's hand, "but it's too soon for me and I need you to understand that."

Putting a finger under Isaac's chin, he guided Isaac's face up so he could kiss him, and Isaac melted into the kiss. He surged against Gideon, pushing him back on the bed, and lay on top of him, kissing him like he was the air Isaac needed to breathe.

His hips made small, desperate movements.

"I need you," he whispered.

There was a raw ache in his voice, one that Gideon felt too. Just because he wasn't ready for the things that Isaac was, didn't mean that he didn't desperately want this man. He pulled off Isaac's clothes, his hands almost shaking with sheer need, and when Isaac was naked, Gideon knelt in front of him and took him in his mouth, until Isaac let out a low groan and bucked his hips forward.

This wouldn't be the last time they had this discussion, and sometimes Gideon was more frustrated with himself than Isaac was.

What exactly was holding him back?

Why had it taken him so long to be ready to sleep with Isaac?

It certainly hadn't been for lack of wanting.

His father's face flashed across his mind, red and screwed up with rage, his fists falling like hammers, and Gideon flinched, recoiling from the memory. Isaac, eyes closed and head tipped back, didn't notice.

Why now?

He hadn't had these problems with other men that he'd slept with, so why was he struggling so much with Isaac? Especially when he wanted him more than he thought he'd ever wanted any man?

Isaac opened his eyes, and they were glazed with heat. He pushed Gideon onto his back, and shifted him onto his side, before sliding on a condom and lying behind him, lining up their hips so he could push inside.

"I love you," he whispered into Gideon's ear as he began to rock his hips, and Gideon opened his mouth to say it back, but the words wouldn't come. He wasn't ready, and it felt insulting to say it if it wasn't actually true.

So he said nothing.

And if Isaac noticed he didn't say anything either, but the knowledge of it lay between them, like a cold space, even though their bodies were pressed tightly together.

No, it would not be the last time they had that discussion.

Stratford-upon-Avon, England, 1890

"I can't do this anymore." Isaac's voice was as flat and hard as the plough blades that Gideon had hammered into shape that morning.

He stood by the window of his tiny room in the coaching inn, gazing out at the tree that Gideon still used to climb up.

Gideon gripped the metal bed-frame, squeezing tightly to ground himself.

He'd had a feeling that this was coming. These last few weeks, Isaac had started pulling away from him, becoming distant and withdrawn, Gideon hadn't addressed it because he'd hoped – perhaps foolishly – that if he ignored the problem, it would go away on its own. But deep down, he'd known that wouldn't work.

"Clearly we both want different things from each other," Isaac said.

"That's not true –" Gideon tried to say.

"It's been three years, Gideon," Isaac snapped, whirling around, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. "Three years and nothing has changed. You live at the forge, I live at the inn, you sneak in through my window whenever you can, and whenever I try to bring up any discussion of our future together, you don't want to talk about it."

"I needed time –"

"And you've had three fucking years!" Isaac's chest was heaving and tears glittered in his eyes.

Gideon's own heart ached in response.

Sometimes Isaac had pressured him to move things at a faster pace than he was comfortable with, but equally he'd waited a long time for Gideon to show a proper level of commitment – the kind that Gideon had kept insisting he would eventually be ready for. Maybe it would have been fairer for Gideon to walk away from the relationship a long time ago, he cared about Isaac and he really did want a future with him. He'd just wanted it at a slower pace.

Now the relationship was crumbling in front of him, and there was only one thing he could do to save it.

"Isaac, I'm ready now," he said, approaching the other man. "If you want us to leave, we can. We'll go anywhere you want –"

"It's too late for that."

Gideon tried to touch Isaac's cheek, but Isaac shied away like a skittish horse. His arms were still crossed, and grief and anger clashed like a storm in his eyes.

"I know that I haven't always been easy, but I really do want to be with you. If leaving Stratford-upon-Avon with you will prove that, then we can leave right now."

Isaac just stared at him.

"I'm serious," Gideon said.

"It's too late," Isaac repeated, carefully enunciating the words as if Gideon hadn't heard them the first time.

"No, it's not –"

"I've met someone else."

Isaac's words plunged the room into silence.

Gideon felt cold all over, and he moved back to the bed, gripping the frame again so he had something to focus on. He'd known that things hadn't been right for a while, but he'd assumed it was simply because of him. It had honestly never occurred to him that if he wasn't able to give Isaac the life he wanted, Isaac would find someone who would.

But what was he supposed to have done?

If he'd run away with Isaac before he was ready, then the relationship still wouldn't have survived, just in a different way. Gideon would have resented Isaac for pressuring him, and Isaac would have resented Gideon when having a proper home together didn't fix all the problems.

Maybe this had always been doomed.

But that didn't make it hurt any less.

Gideon managed to find his voice. "Who is he?"

"Does it matter?"

Not really, but Gideon didn't know what else to say. The pieces of his relationship with Isaac were lying around him, jagged and sharp, too broken to be put together. All he would do was cut his fingers on the edges.

He wanted to tell Isaac that he loved him, that he wanted to make this work, but the distance in Isaac's eyes made the words die in his throat.

They wouldn't make any difference now.

It really was too late.

Isaac had always been more invested in the relationship than Gideon, and by the time Gideon caught up, Isaac had given up.

There was no salvaging this.

"I'm sorry," he said instead.

"I don't want your apologies," Isaac said, but his face softened a fraction.

Gideon looked around at the room which had become so familiar to him over the last few years.

This wasn't just the end of his relationship with Isaac; it was the end of his life in Stratford-upon-Avon. It didn't have to be – he could easily stay a few more years before anyone started getting suspicious of his inability to age, but sooner or later he would have to move on, so why not make it now?

Maybe that was running away from his problems rather than facing them, but who cared?

Maybe he was running away.

But that was his choice.

"Will he make you happy?" he asked Isaac.

"I think so, yes."

"Good. You deserve it."

Isaac finally let his arms drop to his sides, and the anger faded from his eyes, leaving only the sadness.

"So do you, Gideon, and I really hope that one day you let someone in. You're a good man, and you deserve to be happy. But sometimes I think you don't realise that yourself."

Gideon felt like there was something sharp stuck in his throat, and suddenly it was too hard to look at Isaac.

He vaguely gestured towards the window. "Should I . . . do you want me to leave?"

"I think that would be for the best."

Isaac moved back, giving Gideon space as he approached the window, but when Gideon stepped towards him at the last minute, Isaac didn't pull away. Gideon pressed a brief kiss to Isaac's cheek.

"Goodbye, Isaac," he whispered.

"Goodbye, Gideon."

His heart feeling like a rock in his chest, Gideon climbed out of that window for the last time. 

On Friday, you're finally getting the Ludovic/Roux story that some of you have been asking for :)