by A.M. Burns
21
Dusty’s strong hands felt wonderful as they worked the warm soapy water of the shower across the sore muscles of my back. I hadn’t done this much back-breaking work in a long time. I’d be sore for days. We retreated to the shower as soon as we walked through the door, handing Tiffany the vial of glitter and the dismembered fairy wing. Unfortunately, we had an intercom system in the house and she was updating us as we cleaned up.
“So this stuff in the vial is definitely fairy dust and not the normal kind either. It’s the highly-explosive kind,” she explained from her desk.
“What do you mean explosive kind?” Dusty asked, his hands stopping in the middle of my back.
“Well there are several kinds of fairy dust. Fairies can decide what kind they are dropping based on their intended purpose. The most common kind is just the basic sparkly glitter they normally use for marking territory or in mating displays. There is a hallucinogenic kind that they often use for making people think they are not there, or see things that they want others to see. They also have a kind that fertilizes plants.”
“That would be called fairy shit,” I snickered softly.
“I heard that,” Tiffany barked. “And there’s the explosive kind that they use when everything else fails. Now the interesting thing about the explosive kind is that it’s extremely volatile in the right circumstances. It can be set off from a distance by magic, but only by the magic of the fairy that created it.”
“Do we have any idea what kind of fairy created it?” I asked as Dusty handed me the shower head so I could rinse the soap off his chest. It was always a lot of fun to spray water all over Dusty and run my hands across the hard hairy expanse of his body.
“I haven’t gotten anything out of Carmine yet, even though I sent the sample over via portal twenty minutes ago. You two should be about done up there. But, based on the pattern of the veins and the size of the wing, I would say it was probably one of the larger species like either a Fae Gloaitha, or a Fae Cycolpia. Either one can produce explosive fairy dust and is large enough to have a seven-inch wing, which means its wing span would be around sixteen inches if you allow for a two-inch body width. That would make it standing about fourteen inches tall. Not something that would be easily missed flitting around Dallas.”
Dusty turned off the water and grabbed a towel.
“How about the feed from the bar’s security camera?” I asked, trying not to moan with pleasure at the soft towel pressing gently into my back.
“That should be coming up any minute,” Tech replied. He was still down there helping Tiffany.
“Here it comes.” Tiffany said as I took the towel from Dusty and started working on getting the water off of his totally-awesome physique. “Okay now going back about ten minutes from the time of the explosion.” In the silence, I ran my hand over Dusty’s firm ass as he opened the shower door so we could go out and get dressed. “Wait a second. Go back and slow it way down,” Tiffany directed Tech.
“Guys you should see this. It looks like there is some kind of scuffle, nothing that makes it real clearly onto the camera feed, then the wing floats down.”
“I’m going to try and enhance it a bit,” Tech said. “The Council has developed some new software that helps magical things show up better on recorded media.”
“We’ll be there in a few minutes.” I pushed the button on the intercom turning it off and turned to Dusty. He was already pulling on his jeans. “You know showers with you aren’t nearly as much fun with Tiffany in the room.” I smiled at him and I pulled him close, feeling his naked torso press against mine. I loved the feel of him against me.
Dusty kissed me as his hands explored the well-known paths of my body. “We don’t have time for that now.” But he gave me a teasing squeeze. “Besides she’ll be up here in a minute or two if we are not down there.”
“I know,” I muttered, reluctantly releasing him from my embrace.
I caught the jeans he tossed me and slid them on. He chose one of his tightest t-shirts, a forest green that made his eyes go almost dark. It showed off his chest nicely. I could almost make out his washboard abs. He tossed me one in a sky blue, as he pulled a green and burgundy striped button-up shirt to go over the t-shirt. It muted the affect the tight t-shirt had on his chest, but he still looked great. I selected a midnight blue button up before he could finish me off in light blues. It was almost a game with us, dressing each other. But I wanted something that would go with the dark duster I was planning on wearing for the interviews that we had tonight.
