Wednesday, 11 July 2018

The Faery of Beacon Lake Part 14

A little reminder. What are Wednesday Briefs. They are short stories, or parts in an ongoing series, of no more than 1000 words, posted every Wednesday by an array of talented LGBT authors.

They are usually written around a prompt which are supplied by the lovely Julie Lynn Hayes. Lately though I've lost the plot a bit so this week I don't have a prompt to promise you, only another installment in the lives of Owen and his fairy husband.

“When you two boys have stopped fooling around, perhaps you would take your husband to bed before he freezes solid at the kitchen table.”
Owen seized up. “Bed?”
“Did you think he was going to sleep on the hearth like a dog, boy?”
“N-no. Of course not. I…. No.”
Bran was cold in his arms, but the shiver that went through him had nothing to do with the weather. Owen was pretty sure Bran was thinking just about the same thing he was.
“Do you want to go to bed?” Owen whispered against Bran’s hair.
“Oh yes,” Bran whispered back.
Owen glanced up and caught Aggie with a soft expression on her face as she watched them. As soon as she noticed, her face hardened  and she frowned at him.
“Just sleeping mind. I may be old but I’m not deaf.”
His cheeks blazing, Owen took Bran by the hand and led him upstairs.
Bran wandered around Owen’s room, peeping into cupboards and opening drawers.
“There’s not much to see,” Owen said from his vantage point on the bed. He lay at ease against the pillows with is arms behind his head. He shivered when Bran bent to sniff whatever was in Owen’s bottom drawer. Owen readjusted himself and made a mental note to get Bran some pyjamas; to get them both some. For the moment, Owen had compromised by slipping on a pair of boxers, but Bran had refused point blank and Owen didn’t blame him. They were way too big. But that meant Bran was naked, and naked Bran was a real distraction.
Bran straightened and gave Owen a shy smile. “It’s so different.”
“Not what a faery prince is used to, I guess.”
“No. There’s so much more colour. I like this one.” He picked up one of Owen’s sweaters and rubbed it against his cheek. Owen thought the sweater was ugly. Orange marl, like someone had tipped a jar of marmalade on it. He could see why Bran might like it though. From what he’d seen so far the predominant colours of Bran’s world had been blue and sea green. There would definitely not be much fire under the lake, and to be fair the jumper did make him think of flames – if he squinted.
“You can have it if you want.”
Bran’s head jerked up. “I can? But it’s yours.”
“And I’m giving it to you.”
Bran beamed and hopped up onto the bed, still hugging the jumper. He crawled up to Owen, who was frozen with something like fear, and kissed him in a purely joyful, unsexual way. Owen’s arms moved automatically to cradle Bran’s slight form against his body and before he knew it the nature of the kiss changed, and his body flushed hotter than the imagined fire.
Bran moaned softly against his lips and buried his long, slender fingers in Owen’s hair, massaging the back of his neck, idly and melted into the kiss.
Pulling Bran closer, Owen caressed Bran’s back as Bran slid over him, tangling their bodies, cool skin against hot.
Bran’s breathing hitched, and Owen panted. He flipped over, pinning Bran under him, straddling his thighs. Bran gazed up at him, his expression startled but so open it took Owen’s breath away. For a moment, all he could do was stare at the breath-taking beauty beneath him. Bran lowered his eyes, looking coy and fire surged up through Owen’s gut. With a moan, he lowered himself onto Bran and took possession of his mouth. Bran echoed his moan and arched up to meet him. They rolled together, and the fire was about to carry Owen away when a loud banging startled him. He froze.
“I told you, just sleeping,” Aggie’s voice called up the stairs. She gave a few more thumps on the ceiling, probably with the handle of the brook, then a shocked silence descented.
Bran began to snigger. Owen couldn’t help but follow suit and in moments they were laughing joyfully in each other’s arms.
Owen sobered and gazed at his husband. My husband. Bran stilled, the smile fading from his lips to be replaced by a pensive expression. Owen smiled and brushed the hair away from Bran’s face.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “She goes out a lot.”
Bran’s smile was hesitant. “It will be alright, won’t it?” he said tentatively. “All this. I didn’t think. I…. It’s very different, and there are people. Many people.”
“Don’t worry about any of it,” Owen said, pulling the duvet around them. “I’ll take care of you, I promise. Yes there are people, lots of people and we’ll have to go back to the city eventually, but we have all summer to get you used to that, and I’ll always be there with you.”
“I wish I could show you my world.”
“Maybe one day.”
Bran smiled softly. “Maybe.”

Settling down, with Bran’s head tucked into the crook Owen’s arm, neither took long to drift to sleep.

Now, off you go to read the rest of the briefers and see what they have on offer this week. We're a very mixed bunch

No comments:

Post a Comment