by Sarina Dorie
“A couple hours.”
“You are a moron.” She growled. “They’ve probably murdered each other by now.”
I shook my head, wanting to deny that they would harm each other, but perhaps she was right. Maybe it had been a bad idea to leave them alone. I looked to the quiet mansion, knowing I had to go back, hoping it wasn’t too late, and no true damage had been done.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Brokeback Hogwarts
Vega shoved me toward the house. “Show me where you left them.”
It was difficult to keep up with the long strides of Vega’s legs. She dragged me, not slowing as overgrown branches in the path hindered our movements and caught on my dress. The groundskeeper, a slender man with flesh that resembled tree bark, dodged out of the way when he saw Vega barreling toward him. From the way Vega squeezed my arm, I wondered if she had mastered a pain affinity and was drawing strength from my discomfort.
“If you don’t stop holding on to me so tight, you’re going to give me another episode,” I said.
She didn’t answer.
“If I let prolonged pain overcome me, it’s going to weaken me. Guess whose husband I have to sleep with again to tip the balance into pleasure? Not mine.”
“Shut up,” she said.
At least she let go of me.
I led her to my room. I had no wand and so little magic I doubted I would be able to use it if I did. Fortunately Vega was a strong witch, and a Celestor at that. She zapped open the door with her wand, the wood slamming into the opposite wall.
The room was quiet, save for a soft murmur coming from the far side of the room. The chamber was much as I had left it, tapestries hanging on the walls. The curtains of the bed were drawn, though, which might have hidden a dead body. On a silver platter next to the door rested the charred and shredded remains of the finger trap. That probably wasn’t a good sign.
Vega strode forward, lips moving in an incantation as she paved the way. I tiptoed after her. She abruptly stopped just on the other side of the curtained bed. I walked into her and stumbled back.
“On your knees, bitch,” Thatch said in his dry monotone.
At first I thought he was talking to Vega, but as she slowly backed away, I saw Elric naked, kneeling on the floor before an elegant, throne-like chair. He was turned away, gracing us with a view of his toned backside.
Thatch’s eyes were locked on the other man. He was completely naked, the intricate linework of his tattoos etched onto his arms. He lounged in the chair, tall and regal, projecting so much confidence I would have thought he was the prince here.
I was so stunned at seeing them in this compromising position, I stood there openmouthed.
As usual, Vega showed more sense than me. She darted to the side, ducking behind the curtains of the canopy bed. She glanced over her shoulder at me. She waved me over to the bed. I scooted closer to her, hiding behind the curtains with her.
Thatch tossed his head back, his black hair even more beautiful than usual, the light from the window casting blue highlights on it. His smile was catlike and mischievous. His abdominal muscles contracted, showing off washboard abs I hadn’t known he’d had. I didn’t know if it was the lighting or a glamour, but his muscles were more defined than usual, his veins more vascular. Maybe he’d just finished working out . . . in his torture chamber.
“Please, Thatch. Won’t you punish me again? I know you want to,” Elric said. He rubbed his hands over his rear end. That’s when I noticed the pink stripes across his skin.
I had always assumed I was the only one Thatch spanked with his wand. I wasn’t sure if I felt jealous or aroused.
Thatch held his wand between his steepled hands, contemplative. “You haven’t done anything worthy of my attention. We’ll see if you can satisfy me and earn back that privilege later.” He leaned forward and placed a hand on Elric’s head, shoving it closer to his crotch.
Vega covered her mouth with her hand. I shook my head. This couldn’t be real. There was no freakin’ way these two would end up in a scenario like this. Elric would never voluntarily kneel to Thatch, for one thing. It had to be an enchantment. Could the Chinese finger trap have been magic? Had I given something to them that would coerce them into pleasuring each other? It was hard to imagine either of them could ever get along, let alone tolerate each other long enough to satisfy each other sexually.
Vega waved a hand in the air with her wand, a blue shield of stars cutting us off from them. The curtain was translucent, with glittering flickers of light that defined the size and shape of the barrier.
Vega rounded on me, her eyes still full of shock that surely mirrored my own. “Is Thatch capable of projecting his will over Elric?”
I hesitated. There had been that time at the swing club when they had battled for control of Thatch’s body. Elric had won and forced Thatch into a puppet-like dance. Thatch was a strong Witchkin, one of the strongest. He might have been able to retain control of his body if he had been willing to use his affinity. But he hadn’t used it in the swing club because he hadn’t wanted Elric to know.
Elric did know his affinity now. Thatch might have once been Elric’s match in magic, or close to it. But I didn’t believe he had the strength to dominate a pure-blooded Fae anymore. Elric had said he didn’t have the power to heal me. That, and we weren’t in the Morty Realm, surrounded by electronics, cold metal, and plastic that would drain Elric’s powers.
“I don’t think Thatch can,” I said.
“That means this is consensual?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It might be a bargain. They might have made some kind of agreement, and Elric lost a bet.” I stepped toward the edge of her curtain of stars, ready to stop what I was seeing.
Vega hooked an arm around me and yanked me back. “Not so fast, buzzkill. I want to see more first.”
She waved her wand at the curtain of stars. The blue tint faded to almost transparent, but the stars remained.
Thatch moaned. I couldn’t see Elric’s expression from this angle, but it didn’t sound like he was gagging, even with his deep-throat experience. Vega hugged the banister, watching with relish. I wasn’t sure how I felt. Guilty, mostly. What if I had somehow caused this? What if they hated me afterward?
Thatch clutched at Elric’s silvery-blond hair. He leaned back into the chair, moaning louder. Elric’s arms circled around his waist, fingers digging into Thatch’s flesh. It looked like he was inflicting as much pain as pleasure, which must have been how Thatch was able to tolerate the act. That and Elric was Fae, he could do all sorts of things with magic that I couldn’t see. My heart sped up as I watched, aroused at the sight of them together.
“Have I pleased you, Thatchy? Will you satisfy me now?”
Thatchy? There was no way Elric would get away with calling him that, but Thatch didn’t react.
“No.” Thatch leaned back in the chair like he owned the place, smug and cold. He sounded like his usual, monotone self. “You don’t deserve to be satisfied.”
“Please,” Elric begged. He lifted himself up, arms wrapping around Thatch’s neck, leaning in as if wanting to be kissed.
His desperation was so raw, it was painful to see. And yet, I couldn’t stop staring. This was like watching a train wreck. Or porn. Or a train wreck with porn actors.
“I’ll let you satisfy me again. Get up, you filthy little faerie slut.” Thatch smacked Elric on his backside.
I tried not to giggle. Slut? That didn’t sound like Thatch. This had to be an act. Surely they knew we were watching. I didn’t understand why they would do this, maybe because I told them they had to get along. Suddenly I felt far less guilty as the amusement factor went up a notch.
Elric pushed a section of closed curtain aside and leaned over the bed, exposing his rear to Thatch, who smacked him with his wand. Vega sucked in a breath. Thatch grabbed Elric by the hair, yanking him closer to his chest.
I nudged Veg
a. “You can get rid of the curtain. They know we’re here.”
She ignored me as she hugged the banister. Her breath came quickly.
I walked around the curtained canopy. Neither Thatch nor Elric acted as though they noticed me. Even as Thatch faced the bed and Elric allowed him to plow into his back door, neither looked in my direction. The bed creaking and the slapping of sweaty skin were the right sounds. Thatch’s grunting was realistic.
I pushed more of the curtain aside and sat down. The bed didn’t move underneath Elric. The mattress didn’t shift, and the covers didn’t even wrinkle from their exertions.
A sheen of glittering sweat formed beads on their naked bodies. Thatch’s hair grew mussed, and that was the true giveaway. The realization of what I was seeing made me laugh even harder.
“This isn’t real,” I said. “It’s a hologram.”
Vega fanned herself. “What do you mean? What’s that?”
“It’s pretend. Some kind of fantasy,” I said.
Vega’s voice came out in a rush. “My fantasy.”
Elric’s voice was low, so close to my ear that his breath brushed my skin. “What gave it away?”
I jumped and whirled. He sat just behind me on the bed, a sneaky smile on his face. I glanced at the scene of the bromance in front of me and back to him. The Elric seated behind me on the bed was fully clothed. Beyond the reproduction in front of me, Thatch stood next to the window, his lips turned up in amusement. His cravat was tied, and he was dressed as impeccably as someone might who was about to attend a dinner party.
He strode forward, walking through the scene, and pushed more of the curtain aside. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Pray tell us, Clarissa. What gave it away?”
I ticked off the list on my fingers. “First of all, you both were just a little too pretty. At first I thought it was a glamour—”
“Aren’t I always pretty?” Elric asked.
“Always,” Vega said from the other side of the curtains. She shifted closer, ogling Brokeback Hogwarts continuing next to me.
I ticked off the other reasons. “I could almost suspend my disbelief Thatch would address Elric as ‘bitch’ and under the right circumstances, Elric might not punch him. But, Elric would never call Felix ‘Thatchy.’ And Felix would never allow him to—”
“What do you mean? I call him ‘Thatchy’ all the time,” Elric said.
Thatch raised an eyebrow.
“Also, I know Thatch would never go for the backdoor cucumber canal, and he would never, ever allow his hair to get messed up.”
Thatch grinned at that, a genuine smile.
I stretched out a hand at the hologram. My fingers passed through the fantasy like the image was a mirage. No wonder they didn’t rustle the covers.
“I told you she wouldn’t believe it as soon as she saw that last part.” Thatch chuckled. There was genuine merriment in his eyes. It was nice seeing him laugh.
I placed my hand in his and squeezed his fingers. “So that’s what you thought I meant by getting along?”
“Hardly.” Thatch brought my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers.
“We just thought you might like to see us work together . . . against a common enemy.” Elric waved a hand at the enactment, and it disappeared. He wrapped an arm around my waist, tugging me a little farther from Thatch. “It wasn’t difficult to get Thatchy to agree to a little prank after that torture you put us through with the penis trap.” He nuzzled his face against my neck.
A spark of disappointment flashed across Thatch’s face before melting away. Part of me wanted to scoot away from Elric and closer to Thatch, but I couldn’t without hurting Elric’s feelings. Thatch had insisted I give Elric a chance, to allow him to bring me pleasure because he couldn’t.
Thatch shifted his gaze away from me. “I told you, it’s called a Chinese finger trap, not a penis trap.”
“You weren’t supposed to destroy it by magic.” I waved a hand toward the entrance where I’d spotted the remains on a tray.
“We didn’t!” Elric laughed. “Just as you said, we cooperated on removing it.”
Thatch stroked my foot. “Then we destroyed it together once it was off so that you would never subject us to such torture again.”
The way they smiled, I could tell they were quite pleased with themselves. It was hard not to laugh at them. It was a pretty clever trick, and no one had gotten hurt. The only one who wasn’t smiling was Vega. She stared at the place her fantasy had been.
“Did it get you hot and bothered?” Elric asked.
I glanced at Thatch’s neutral expression, giving nothing away. “Um, is that what was supposed to happen? I was too worried one of you would try to kill the other, or I’d accidentally cast some kind of spell, and someone’s will had been stolen away.”
“That’s my Clarissa, such a tender heart, always thinking of others.” Elric kissed my cheek.
From Thatch’s unnatural smile, I could tell he had noticed Elric’s possessiveness as well.
“Isn’t anyone going to ask me how I felt about it?” Vega asked.
Elric drew away from me and opened his arms to her. “I think I know how you felt about it from your reaction, love.”
She sank onto the bed, snuggled up into his embrace, and giggled like a teenager. I had never seen Vega look so intoxicated with love. She circled her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Disgust flashed across Thatch’s face, but only for a second. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. He didn’t meet my gaze, even when I scooted closer to him.
Elric touched the tip of Vega’s nose playfully with his finger. “I’m rather surprised our little production had that effect on you. I had no idea you still found Thatch so . . . appealing.”
She waved a hand at Thatch dismissively. “It was never Thatch’s looks that I found fault with. It was his personality. No offense, Professor Humdrum.” She said it in that offhanded way that I had come to expect of her.
I never could tell whether she didn’t realize other people had feelings. Or she just didn’t give a damn.
Thatch inclined his head. “None taken, Ms. Bloodmire. The feeling is mutual.”
She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone, even though Thatch and I were right there and could hear everything she said. “I told you what a wet blanket he was. Absolutely boring in bed.”
Thatch’s expression remained neutral. This had to be torture. I hugged him around the waist. “I don’t think you’re boring.”
“That’s because you’re so vanilla,” Vega said. “But that fantasy—that was truly interesting. Unexpected. Two hotties fucking each other was twice as much fun to watch.”
“Twice as much fun as what? Having sex in a coffin?” I asked.
Elric whispered in her ear. “Maybe I should dress up in Thatch’s skin and give you a more interesting version of him later to play with?”
Vega squealed.
Thatch sighed in exasperation. “Please don’t. It’s bad enough you had to even think up such a depravity, let alone speak it out loud in my presence.”
“You know what I think we should try next?” Elric winked at me. “We should put on another tableau for you to watch, but this time with Vega and Clarissa in bed with each other.”
Ick! Vega locked eyes with me. She shook her head.
At the same time we both firmly said, “No!”
Thatch chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. It made me smile seeing him find joy in our mutual agreement.
Vega murmured something in Elric’s ear. He kissed her with the kind of abandon I might imagine from a man enamored with his wife. The tongue action with my frenemy was a little too much. I had to look away before I barfed.
“This is our room,” Thatch said. “Do you mind?”
Elric broke away. “This is my cottage. You can stay and watch if you want.”
Thatch pushed himself from the bed and tugged me to my feet. We
took a long walk in the garden. I didn’t particularly feel like I needed more time in the garden, but it was either that or Thatch’s room.
“You could show me your dungeon,” I said.
“Another time, perhaps.”
He tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow. With his white cravat and my long dress, I might have felt like a Jane Austen character if he hadn’t spoiled the moment by talking about our modern lives and problems. “You never did say if you found the tableau we created enjoyable.”
I blushed. “It was . . . entertaining.”
“I told him the tableau wouldn’t arouse you. He thinks a touch affinity means anything sexual will turn you on like a light switch. That might work for some women.” He didn’t say Vega’s name, but I knew who he meant. “But you have the discerning taste of an artist. You prefer quality over quantity.” He spoke like a true snob.
I squeezed his arm. “That’s right. Me and my superior taste.” Though I had been aroused watching, I had been more concerned than anything else. In any case, he was right about how my affinity worked. I needed more than arousal. I needed physical contact as well.
He kicked a pebble out of the path.
“It’s the thought that counts,” I said. “You did work together to make the tableau.”
“Indeed. That isn’t all we’ve made. Nor was it our first collaboration.” He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a book. At first, I thought it was his sketchbook as it expanded. But it wasn’t black or leather like the one I saw him draw in. The cover was green fabric.
“He calls it a scrapbook, but don’t let the name deceive you,” Thatch said, his voice a calm monotone. “It’s more of a menu than anything else.”
I reached for it, but he didn’t let go. “Perhaps it’s best you should sit for this.”
He ushered me to a stone bench covered with cushions of moss.
The spine crackled like a new book being read for the first time. I let the pages open to the middle, my gaze falling on a beautiful watercolor painting. There were three figures, a red-haired woman, a blond man, and a dark-haired man. Their bodies dominated the page, twisted into a jumble of limbs. Part of me wanted to make an objection that I wasn’t a redhead. I liked pink hair, but I decided now wasn’t the time to comment on hair color when he’d obviously put so much effort into this gift.
