Wednesday, 18 July 2018

Wednesday Briefs. The Faery of Beacon Lake Part 15

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 Owen woke the next morning, it was to sun streaming through the window directly onto the bed. He was boiling, but just as he was about to throw off the covers, he realized he was not alone. His waking sense of calm and tranquillity vanished instantly, flooded out with memories of the previous night.
Bran was curled up in a tight ball, facing away from Owen toward the wall. The covers were tucked tightly around him and he clutched them under his chin with hands that, even in sleep, held on tightly. Rising on one elbow, Owen gazed down at his new husband. Oh shit. He balked from thinking about that. For now, Bran was his…what? Boyfriend? Lover? Hopefully. He smiled and brushed a long lock of white hair back from Bran’s face. Bran whimpered softly and curled even tighter, if that were possible. Owen frowned. What was Bran dreaming of that made him so tense?
The answer wasn’t too difficult to find, but more difficult than it ought to have been. Owen felt like a complete dick. From the very start he’d made this all about him. What he wanted. What he felt. What he was comfortable with. He’d barely spared a moment thinking of Bran. Had he really thought that one conversation would have settled Bran into a comfortable acceptance of his new life?
Bran was a stranger in a strange land. He must be frightened or at least apprehensive, so tense he couldn’t relax even in sleep. It was time Owen stopped being so selfish. It’s not as if it would be a hardship having Bran around. Here in his room, in the bright light of day, some of the ephemeral feyness had vanished to be replaced by a softer but more substantial beauty. Even though the blue tinge had faded from Bran’s skin, it was still almost unnaturally pale, alabaster pure even in bright sunlight.
Unable to resist, Owen touched Bran’s hair. It was so soft and before he knew it, Owen was stroking it, caressing Bran’s head. Bran murmured and shifted slightly, rolling his face toward Owen. Owen gently stroked Bran’s cheek, the skin cool and smooth under his fingers. He watched, entranced as his fingers explored Bran’s face, then trailed over his hair to the swell of his shoulder, nudging the covers back as he did so. Bran sighed and turned onto his back. When Owen glanced up, Bran’s eyes were open.
“Good morning,” Owen said softly, freeing some hair that had stuck to Bran’s cheek and tucking it behind his ear.
For a moment, Bran simply stared at him, then his lashes fluttered and he rubbed his face against Owen’s hand that hand lingered on his cheek. A much happier sigh escaped Bran as he covered Owen’s hand with his own and kissed the inside of Owen’s wrist. “Yes,” he whispered raising his gaze to meet Owen’s.
Owen gazed into the two clear, blue pools and felt as though he were falling. “You have such beautiful eyes.”
Bran smiled. “No. In my world everyone has blue eyes. Sometimes green like the sea. But you… Your eyes are green like the land. Like the leaves of trees, or grass, or flowers. It’s yours that are beautiful. “He lowered his lashes coyly then glanced up again, a light flush warming his cheeks. “Like you.”
“I’m not going to fight you over whose eyes are the prettiest,” Owen said. “I can think of much better things to do.”
“The Lady will hear.”
“The lady? Oh, you mean Gran. Don’t worry, she’s usually out by now. And if not….” He grinned. “We’ll be quiet.”
“We weren’t quiet last night.”
“Then we’ll have to try harder. You can start.” Owen slowly drew back the covers, exposing more and more pale, perfect skin. Bran lay still, hardly seeming to breath as he gazed up at Owen. The only sounds he made were little sighs when Owen reverently stroked his shoulders and chest. His arms encircled Owen and drew him down into a long kiss.
Without raising his head, Owen swept the covers off entirely furthered his gentle exploration. Bran arched into him, his breath hitching. He was so responsive. Owen couldn’t wait to see him completely unravel. His balls ached with anticipation.
Owen moved his kisses down over Bran’s neck and shoulder, brushing his long hair out of the way. When he reached Bran’s nipple, he swirled his tongue around the pert little nub and Bran moaned. He nipped it gently and Bran gave a kind of strangled squeak. “Sorry. Sorry,” He whispered, putting a hand over his mouth.
Owen laughed. “You’re so silly. You don’t have to be completely silent. We’re married now, remember. If Aggie has an issue with sex, then tough on her. She’s going to have to buy earplugs.”
Bran’s eyes widened. “But….” His words were cut off my a moan when Owen pinched his nipple.
“That’s better.” Owen grinned a wicked grin, then went back to licking Bran. He was quickly becoming addicted to his taste of salt and spice. He licked a trail down over Bran’s abdomen, but something wasn’t quite right. It puzzled him, and put him off his stride. Raising his head, he caressed Bran with a heated gaze, that stopped at his abdomen.
“You don’t have a belly button.”
Bran raised his head, as Owen traced lazy circles over his belly.
“A button? No? Do you have button? Do you….” Bran squirmed, and Owen laughed.

“No, we don’t open. At least not there. We’ll talk more later.”

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

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