Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

was forging needed to be perfectly made and it all began with the heat.
    Zosimos needed a good sword for his travels, and he would be damned that his brother would get anything but the best. He hadn't seen Zosimos in months, and the war-loving idiot needed a new sword before he left for places unknown again.
    He pulled out the blade from the forge and quickly carried it to the anvil, setting it just right. With hammered strokes, he beat the blade into submission until his muscles ached. When he felt it was perfect, he dipped the blade into the barrel of water, watching the steam rise. With that done, he walked to sit on the seat he had placed in front of his wheels, pulled the ropes he had connected to the wheels, and placed the edge of the blade against the slowly turning stones and heard the grinding sound of metal against stone as the blade curved to take on its true shape. Now, all that remained for him to do would be to create the hilt, and Zosimos would have a new sword.
    Eleftherios grinned. Nothing gave him greater joy than to know that his customer would enjoy what he created and who better than Zosimos to enjoy the feel of a well-made sword?
    "You know, Theris, I do believe that you look happier after making those damned swords of yours than you do after we've made you come." The words were spoken with a laugh.
    Eleftherios spun around and mentally corrected himself. Nothing gave him greater joy than to see the two men he had come to regard as his lovers smile at him that way.
    He leaned over to receive the kiss that Nikandros placed on his lips, opening his mouth to allow the invading tongue to enter. His eyes closed in bliss, and he then moaned as he felt Vasilios's open mouth at the base of his neck, sucking and nipping. When had he crept behind him?
    Groping hands were on his ass, squeezing and bringing his body to Nikandros's now taunt body, an answering erection in front of his and another behind his ass. He was undecided whether he should shift forward and grind against the one before him or move backwards and rub against the one that wanted to be buried in his ass.
    The choice was taken from his hands by the laughing voice of Agathangelos. "The three of you should get a room. Zeus be thanked that there are no children around. You three lack any sort of control."
    Nikandros lifted his head, his brown eyes winked at Eleftherios as he shouted out to Agathangelos. "You are just jealous that you don't have someone like Theris. If you did, you would be spending your afternoon fucking like we plan to do, or am I wrong Vasilios?"
    Vasilios finally lifted his mouth from its position on Eleftherios's neck. "Your words are true Nikandros. Agathangelos, leave us be with our lover and go find your own."
    Eleftherios could hear Agathangelos's laughter fading away, indicating that the man had moved back into his shop. The brief respite had been enough to restore Eleftherios's senses though, and he regretfully pulled away from his lovers, glancing at the half-finished orders scattered around the room. He was aware that Nikandros and Vasilios could see what he was doing and would come to the right conclusions.
    Nikandros pulled him back to place a soft kiss on his lips and turned him over to Vasilios who nuzzled his hair. "Come over to our house tonight. We have a surprise for you," Nikandros said, pulling away and walking towards the door with Vasilios behind him.
    "Oh, and Theris," Eleftherios directed his gaze to Vasilios, his eyes questioning, "Do not come late. Work can wait." With that said, they walked out of his shop, and Eleftherios sank into a chair.
    It had been three years after his mother's death when he had met Nikandros and Vasilios. The two lovers were soldiers from Melite and had visited Lucania on their way home, stopping at his shop to have their swords fixed. He had been immediately fascinated with them— Nikandros with his black hair and brown eyes and Vasilios with his brown wavy hair that curled even when wet and green eyes. They had the bodies of soldiers, well-trained and honed, and had an air that commanded attention.
    He had admired them from afar, never dreaming that his interest would ever be returned. Then one day, they had caught him watching them, and Nikandros had kissed him right in front of his shop with everyone watching. Some had turned away in disgust while others had laughed, whistling and calling out encouragingly for them to continue.
    Their kisses had left him flustered and