Page 17

EZRA

I stagger down the hall and lock myself in the red room, pressing my forehead to the cool wood of the door. My cock throbs in my jeans. I almost reached down to the smooth place between his legs and touched it to see if he was hot.

That’s not being a friend, Ezra.

Pulse racing, I press the heel of my hand into the base of my cock and swallow a groan. Fuck . I want to keep giving him what he needs, but the signals he’s throwing off are way more than just friendly — at least by human standards.

Of course, he’s not human. Maybe cuddling with your friends would be normal for fairies if no one was at risk of being poisoned. Friends with benefits, but the benefits are platonic touching.

The problem is that my brain keeps misfiring, trying to take Lysander out of the friend box and put him back in the I want him box.

The show is mind-blowing, as always. Lysander is utterly ethereal in his new costume. Far from being annoyed at the audience the way I was at first, now I get a weird sense of pride knowing how hard he worked on it.

Mostly, however, my brain is stuck on how soft the lace was under my fingers, all warm from his skin.

The crowd breaks up for smaller shows and I hang at my table, nursing a soda.

I’m not staying over tonight and I have no excuse to see him — I stopped in to wish him luck on a whim.

The idea of going home to my empty apartment leaves me cold, but I’m also totally uninterested in the rest of what’s going on in the club tonight.

It’s not that the novelty’s worn off, it’s that I only came to see one person.

Part of me knows he’s probably got a whole post-show routine that doesn’t involve me.

The other part of me is stuck on the moment I looked down and saw something swelling distinctly under the lace.

Suddenly needing a silent moment to think, I finish my drink and slip down the back hall to the staff room. I nod to Orion, guiltily wishing the room was empty.

“You heading out?” he asks.

“Not sure.” I get a mug out of the cupboard and start making tea for something to do with my hands.

“Not interested in Bear’s knot demo later?”

I fiddle with the mug. “On Lysander?”

“Nah. He has a nymph sub for the close-up demos. It’s safer.” Orion arches a shadowy brow. “You’re spending a lot of time with His Highness. Guess you don’t need to worry the way the rest of us do.”

“Is he… uh, do you know anything about his…” I falter. Orion’s eyebrow climbs higher. Fuck, this was a bad idea. I valiantly try to pull it together. “Has he ever…?”

Orion grins, way too knowing for my liking. “Well, Ez, I can’t say one way or another if he, uh, ever.”

“Fuck off.” I flick the hot water button on the machine.

“Uhuh.” He chuckles.

“If you asked me to guess, he hasn’t. Poor guy’s been hidden away from the world for who knows how long. If anyone’s gotten close enough to him it’d be Bear, but he’s for sure not Bear’s type. Plus, y’know, I don’t know how it’d work with the gloves and all. Although I hear Bear’s a master of —”

“Okay! I get it.” I slump against the counter, my gut churning and sweat dampening my back. Am I relieved, scared out of my wits, or coming down with some kind of flu?

“He’s really taken to you,” Orion says, as if it’s a totally normal, casual statement and doesn’t make me spiral harder.

“I know,” I mutter.

I’m half a second from deciding I’m gonna be normal and go home when the door opens and Bear looms, looking annoyed.

Up close he’s even more intimidating — he’s at least a foot taller than me, twice as broad, and his skin looks like armor, a deep grayish-blue all down his shoulders and the backs of his arms. It still boggles my mind that he’s a dragon.

Not the big, lizard-y, flying kind, obviously, but still…

His silver eyes flick over me coolly. “Human. Lysander’s asking for you.”

I straighten, my whole body suddenly on alert. “Yeah?”

“Red room, five minutes. Bring whatever that is,” Bear grunts, jerking his chin at my mug. Then he’s gone as silently as he arrived.

I shoot a look at Orion. “Is he mad?”

“That’s just Bear. Better do what he says, though.”

I hurriedly mix honey into the tea — lots of it, knowing Lysander’s sweet tooth.

I feel silly carrying a mug of tea across the busy club floor, past a St. Andrew’s Cross where a naga is squealing as he’s flogged, but no one gives me a second look.

One of the red rooms is closed, with the sign flipped to ‘ Occupied ’ . I knock.

Bear opens the door. “He’s still under. Takes him time to come up, especially when I can’t touch him.”

He steps aside to let me in.

“Under?”

“He’s a submissive. He drops when someone Doms him. Lately he drops hard.”

Oh. “What can I do?”

I catch a glance of Lysander on the couch, but Bear steps in front of me, drawing my eyes back to him. “He needs aftercare. Hold him, if he wants that — he probably will. Talk to him but don’t ask questions. Tell him he did good.”

Ohhh.

The back of my neck heats. That seems… incredibly easy. A privilege, even.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” I ask.

Bear gives me a dark look. “He’s an adult. He asked for what he wanted.”

“Ez?” Lysander’s voice comes from behind us, and this time Bear steps aside. I hurry to his side. He’s wrapped in a deep blue velvety blanket and shivering faintly. “You came.”

“Course I did.” I put the mug down and crouch in front of him, pulling the blanket tighter. “You look amazing up there. I love watching you.”

His eyes flicker away. “You do?”

“Absolutely.” I cup his hands — they’re cool. “Are you cold, sweets?”

“I feel fine.” He smiles hazily at me.

“He can’t keep warm on-stage. Get him wrapped up,” Bear says gruffly. “I’m going to run the demo.”

I’m worried I’m gonna do something wrong if Bear leaves, but Lysander reaches for me and it’s just natural to get on the couch and pull him into my arms. I arrange the blanket around both of us — he’ll be warmer with my body heat. Slowly, his shivering subsides.

“Drink some of this.” I reach behind myself awkwardly and grab the handle of the mug.

Lysander sits up and takes it with both hands. His eyes drift shut as he sips. “Was scared you’d leave. It’s not our day.”

Our day. My heart squeezes. I’m in trouble, alright.

“Nah, I just stepped off the floor for a few minutes.” There’s no reason to let him in on the mess inside my head. “You warmer now?”

“Yes. Thank you.” His eyes are clearer, which makes me feel better.

“You seemed pretty deep under. Is it always like that?”

“You try getting tied up and hung from the ceiling,” he says with a soft snort.

“I wouldn’t look half as good as you,” I joke, and a smile flickers across his mouth.

This room is obviously for play, but from the couch it’s hard to tell.

It’s cleverly designed—when the lights are down all the instruments and hooks and the velvet bench in the periphery become almost invisible.

Outside the warm circle of lamplight all I can see are shadows.

Still, the knowledge of where we are and what’s going on outside keeps me from totally relaxing.

Lysander is lit like a painting, the pale green of his skin fading to deeper green under the lace costume.

It’s exactly as sheer as it looked when he held it up and it hugs every angle, the pattern perfectly fitted to his slender hips and squarish shoulders.

He might be slim and pretty, but he’s most definitely male.

And just like when I’m in his bed, my cock stirs in response.

He leans over me and puts the mug down, and instead of putting distance between us he lies back down on me, resting his head on my collar.

His long, slender ear presses into the crook of my neck and his warmth seeps through my shirt.

Goosebumps race up and down my arms. Now that he’s back to himself I’m treading on dangerous territory again. To distract myself, I start talking.

“What’s it like up there?”

Lysander hums, a vibration that goes all the way through me. He curls his slender knees onto the couch so more of his weight falls on my chest. “It’s hard to explain. Have you ever been helpless?”

I don’t have to think back far. “Yeah. I have.”

“What was it like for you?”

It sucked .

“Hard,” I tell him. “It made me feel… small.”

He nods, his silky hair brushing my neck. “Imagine if it did the opposite. Imagine if you were helpless, but it was exactly where you wanted to be because someone you trust made the decision for you. When I’m suspended, I feel strong and free. Because I chose to let it happen.”

There’s no one I’d trust to make that kind of decision for me.

I did trust someone like that once. Traveling backward through the bad times, there was a time when trusting Jasper didn’t feel like putting a noose around my neck.

In the early days, it made my chest swell and my heart sing to do exactly what he told me and get that condescending, dog-pat praise from him. Before I grew up.

Lysander looks up at me. “Your heart is beating faster.”

I can’t help a wry smile. “Brought back memories.”

“Bad ones,” he surmises.

“It’s okay.”

“I was born with only three wings,” he says, letting his head fall again.

His hand comes up to rest over my heart, and I swallow.

The room is quiet and cozy, but my body is telling me I’m standing on the edge of a cliff without a parachute.

“Fairies don’t truly fly, not like harpies.

We can only go short distances, like up into the forest canopy or across a river.

But with my abnormal wings, I could never even get off the ground.

I always wondered what it was like to fly. This is the closest I’ll get.”

I pull the blanket up to disguise the sudden swell of emotion that threatens to overtake me.

Lysander falls silent. The soundproofing in the red room is impeccable, so the silence is only broken by his soft breathing.

Slowly, it evens — then it grows deeper.

I stroke my thumb across his smooth shoulder.

I think he’s asleep when he stirs again.

“Ezra,” he whispers.

“Hmm?” I open my eyes, but he doesn’t keep going. “Yeah?”

“What Bear said.” His nose brushes my collar. “Will you tell me how well I did?”

“Of course I will, sweets.” Prickles break out across my neck.

“You were stunning. You always are. It’s a privilege to watch you.

Just like I feel privileged to even be here, in this room, to be trusted by you.

” My thumb moves restlessly. “Everyone in this world adores you, y’know?

Not just because of the show. They know there’s something special about you. ”

“But they don’t see me.” His fingers trace the band logo on my t-shirt restlessly. “Not like you do.”

I put a hand over his. “That’s cause I’m an outsider. I don’t see all the layers of your world, I only see what’s in front of me.”

He pushes off me suddenly, letting the blanket fall. “What do you see? Tell me.”

His eyes are piercing.

I grip the back of the couch. Honesty is a bad idea, but he deserves it. “I see someone who’s scared, yet capable. Smart. Compassionate. Maybe a bit lost.”

Like me.

I hope.

He looms on his knees, his wings straight out behind him and unmoving. My heart hammers at my ribs. “What else?” he demands.

“Someone who’s elegant. Beautiful. And kind of, um.” I gulp. “Sexy.”

“What does it mean ?” he hisses, leaning in.

My pulse does triple time. “What?”

“When my heart — does this.” He grabs my hand and presses it to his chest. “And my…"

He drags my hand down.

A bolt of lightning strikes me in the gut as the tips of my fingers graze something firm and distended. Heat bursts inside me. I reel.

“Lysander, are you…?” I croak, my voice strangled by sudden, fiery arousal. I’m one move away from throwing all my hesitations out the window. “I have to ask. Have you done any of this before?”

“Done what?” The frustration in his eyes is answer enough.

“Have you had sex,” I say bluntly. “Or had any experiences.”

“I’m not fertile,” he says, mystifyingly, which doesn’t answer my question at all.

“Okay.” I ignore my cock, which is now an iron bar in my jeans. My nipples brush my t-shirt as I sit up, sending sparks down my spine, and I ignore that feeling, too. I don’t know anything about fairy anatomy, but these signals are blaring, no matter his species. “You’re a virgin.”

“Of course.”

I carefully consider how to word the question. “Do you want me to touch you? Now, or ever. It doesn’t have to be now.”

“Now,” Lysander chokes out immediately, his brow furrowing as if he’s in pain.

Shit, I’m in so far over my head.

I cup his jaw. “Alright. Now. But I’m not gonna go down on you before you’ve even had your first kiss. Is kissing okay?”

He nods silently, eyes huge. I draw him in slowly.

My hands are shaking. It’s the gentlest kiss I’ve ever experienced — his lips are butterfly wings against mine, trembling, letting out tiny puffs of breath.

I deepen the kiss, eyes closing without my permission as I sink into the softness of his mouth.

My heart beats somewhere in the vicinity of my throat. Lysander makes a tiny noise.

My body tells me to pull him close and use my hands to get him off, hold his lithe form against me while I make him feel good. But the rest of me wants to show him the stars.

Reluctantly, I break the kiss and open my eyes. Lysander looks dazed again. His bottom lip glistens and his pupils are huge.

“Sit back,” I tell him.