by Lex Chase
It also wouldn’t help to let his words fly, not with the sleeping dragon that now inhabited his soul. She must stay asleep at all costs. He decided the dragon was a girl and named her Zee, after Princess Zellandine, his ancient ancestor. Contrary to the historical texts, Princess Zellandine wasn’t a passive Sleeping Beauty, but Sleeping Dragon, the Dragon Slayer. It was pretty cool once Taylor had time to digest it all—despite being depicted as the most worthless princess in pop culture, who excelled at power napping.
He stared at himself in the foggy mirror, lost in his contemplation, when a warm hand rested on his hip.
Corentin slipped behind him like a passing trail of smoke. They watched each other in the mirror, and Taylor sized them up as a pair.
Corentin wasn’t even close to his type back then. He was dirty, rugged, had a knack for being an insufferable shit, and was everything Taylor never wanted. The intricate tree tattoo that wound up Corentin’s left arm warned him and yet fascinated him. The seven branches scrawled across Corentin’s chest and over his back. Every branch had their leaves today. But one by one, the leaves would fall away, and Corentin would leave him again.
Taylor should have run. It had been so easy in the past to tell a would-be suitor to get lost. Taylor’s type had been the clean-cut, blond yuppie Adonises. Type-A Prince Charmings, so he could run about and be the wild princess arm candy.
But Corentin never approached Taylor as a suitor, or even a friend, and not even remotely an ally. But that fateful night they kissed…. Corentin was perfect. Even with his faults and horrid habits, as well as Taylor’s ever-expanding list of princess Enchant rules he had to live by and even more faults, Corentin was the Prince Charming who had been in front of Taylor’s face the day they met.
“You’re thinking harder than I do,” Corentin whispered in Taylor’s ear. The warmth of his Creole accent made Taylor’s stomach clench. Corentin explored the flat of Taylor’s lower belly and scraped his nails across the intricate dragon tattoo just over his groin. “Stop it,” he ordered before planting a kiss on Taylor’s shoulder.
“You stop it,” Taylor said and gave Corentin a playful swat. “You’re going to wake up Zee.”
“That’s not all that’s waking up.” Corentin chuckled conspiratorially, and Taylor watched himself get hard in the mirror.
“I hope it’s in your notes that Zee blew up the microwave last time.” Taylor tried his best stern warning expression, but it broke quickly when Corentin took him in hand and pumped.
“I suppose I blew your mind, hmm?” Corentin nipped Taylor’s earlobe.
Taylor glared but couldn’t resist riding Corentin’s hand. “I so fucking hate you.” He turned around to face Corentin, and Corentin’s expression held not a shred of remorse. He leaned back into the edge of the sink, and Corentin crouched before him. Taylor gawked wide-eyed and his face heated.
“Do you know how bright red you are right now?” Corentin smirked as he settled at his knees.
“Shut the fuck up,” Taylor managed to curse three seconds before his head fell back with a heady groan.
“Oh no! Storyteller, no, no, no, no! Oh hell! Honeysuckle! Get the fire extinguisher!” Ringo screeched from the downstairs kitchen.
“Fuck! Zee!” Taylor jerked forward and shoved Corentin off him. He scrambled for a towel and then dashed out of the bathroom, with Corentin close behind.
Taylor couldn’t get his footing on the steps but caught himself before he went ass over teakettle. He slid across the throw rug and collided into the doorjamb of the kitchen with a loud thud he’d definitely be feeling tomorrow.
“What is it?” Taylor panted through the throbbing ache in his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” Corentin asked from behind Taylor. His firm tone suggested he was ready to defend his home.
Ringo’s pixie wife, Honeysuckle, manned the human-sized fire extinguisher as jets of foam exploded over the oven.
Taylor brought his arms up over his face to protect himself from the chemicals, and Corentin pulled Taylor against him in a protective grasp.
With a few final blasts of foam, Honeysuckle puffed a silver curl from her face. “And that’s how it’s done,” she said and then grunted in apparent satisfaction.
Taylor inched into the kitchen, careful not to slip in the foam coating the floors. “Do I dare ask what happened?”
Ringo sniffed, large tears welling in his humongous eyes. “My frittata…,” he croaked and gestured at the foam-filled pan.
Taylor glanced at Corentin, and he shook his head and smiled in return. But Taylor knew the truth. He had gotten too excited again, and Zee got excited as well. Only, Taylor’s sense of excitement and Zee’s sense of excitement were two entirely different things.
“S-S-Sorry,” Taylor stammered and grabbed the roll of paper towels as he stepped fully into the kitchen.
“Whatever for, sugar pea?” Honeysuckle asked as she returned the fire extinguisher under the sink. “You know him, always thinking that setting the oven at five hundred degrees means it’ll cook in three minutes.” She winked at Taylor, and Taylor swallowed. Honeysuckle knew what Zee had done, but Taylor understood she was trying to make him feel better.
Corentin joined the cleaning effort by grabbing the nearest dish sponge and then wiping the counters down. “You know what? Who’s up for donuts?”
“I’m always up for donuts,” Ringo said and clapped his tiny hands. He hesitated and stared at Taylor. “I see what you’re always up for.”
Taylor arched a brow, not following.
Until he looked down at his bathroom towel on the floor.
“Oh.”
Honeysuckle covered her eyes. “Scandalous!”
Taylor slipped behind Corentin and thumped his forehead to Corentin’s back. “Please let this be the only humiliation I endure today.”
Chapter 3: Anything But Ordinary
May 3
Jesup Memorial Library, Bar Harbor, Maine
CORENTIN SEEMED lost in his own thoughts as he guided the truck into the Jesup Memorial Library parking lot. Taylor studied his expression, recognizing the awestruck look in his eye. Corentin was fresh to the world once again, so everything was a little wonder as he pieced his mind back together. Taylor smiled discreetly as he picked a Munchkin out of his Dunkin’ Donuts bag.
This would be a good week, and Taylor looked forward to every moment of Corentin’s laughter until next Tuesday. He took a tiny bite of his Munchkin as Ringo slurped his coffee while sitting on the dashboard.
“It’s a nice place,” Corentin said, smiling.
“Keeps me calm,” Taylor said absently. The memory of Miss Miriam’s judgmental frown kept him far from calm. “Helps me work on keeping Zee quiet.”
He then glanced at the bank sign across the street and noted the time scrolling across the LCD display. It was fifteen minutes till opening. Devon was likely inside, setting up for the day. Miss Miriam would be in soon with her kindergarten class. How such an embittered woman was trusted to teach small children escaped Taylor. There should be a screening process for dried-up old hags.
He picked out another Munchkin from the bag and popped it in his mouth, then chewed in slow contemplation.
“Problems?” Corentin asked, and Taylor snapped back to reality.
He swallowed his gummy mouthful and looked down into the Dunkin’ Donuts bag to hide his cheeks heating in shame. “Miss Miriam doesn’t like me,” he confessed.
“That bitch,” Ringo snapped.
“Hey! She’s a kindergarten teacher,” he scolded Ringo, though he thought it too.
Ringo crossed his arms and snorted. “That doesn’t give her permission to judge you.”
Taylor’s stomach flopped as Ringo refused to budge on the issue. He sighed and caught Corentin’s frown. “It’s really not that bad,” he said and twisted his coffee from the cardboard tray. He tried to minimize the topic. “She just doesn’t think I’m very professional.”
Corentin pressed
his lips together and remained silent as he handed Taylor a sugar packet. “But you love the kids,” Corentin said.
Taylor tore the packet over his coffee. “I know,” he grumbled. “If it isn’t my hair, it’s what I’m wearing, it’s how bloodshot my eyes are, and the side comment to Devon, ‘I think he might be on the sauce,’” he whispered in a snide tone, trying to mimic Miss Miriam’s particular irritating voice.
“But your eyes are pink!” Ringo spat, tossing out his arms.
“You think I haven’t noticed?” Taylor said, pointing to his face. “Enchant genetics don’t have to make sense.”
Corentin leaned toward him, and Taylor swallowed. He knew. Taylor held his breath as Corentin cupped his cheek, ran his thumb along Taylor’s lower left eyelid, and hummed.
“It’s fine,” Taylor grunted and tried to dismiss exactly what Corentin was going to say next. “My eyes are pink. I got the memo. I’m a princess. Totally got that too.”
“Your eyes really are bloodshot. And you have some dark circles going on,” Corentin said as he squinted. He nudged Taylor’s face to the light for a supposed better observation. Taylor puffed an agitated breath. “Have you been sleeping?”
“It’s fine,” Taylor insisted, jerking his chin away. “I sleep when I can.”
“Oh,” Corentin said, and panic shot up Taylor’s spine.
He waved his hands dismissively, trying to banish Corentin’s thought. “Oh no, nononono!” Taylor took Corentin’s hand and smiled, but he could see Corentin’s expression falling by the second. “It’s not y—”
“It’s fine,” Corentin said, and Taylor wasn’t fooled by his fake smile. He leaned away from Taylor and looked across the street to the banking sign, noting the temperature and time. He maintained his grin, and Taylor wished he could start the day over. “Anyway. Ramona called with something up with her septic tank.”
“What a shitty job,” Ringo said, then casually sipped his coffee.
“Again?” Taylor asked with a mouthful of Munchkin. “That’s the third time in two months.”
Corentin rubbed his chin, and Taylor caught the embarrassment on his face. “Well. You know how it is. Supposedly single handyman.”
Taylor nudged Corentin in the arm. “I would have never figured a tough guy like you to be so weirded out by women.”
Ringo grinned. “You gotta admit, you have a certain je ne sais quoi with the ladies.”
Corentin winced and shrugged. “That’s fine… I guess. Just as long as they stop answering the door in their bathrobes.”
Taylor cackled and clapped his hands. “You are seriously uncomfortable with women? Never even slept with a woman? No way! I thought the huntsman shtick was to seduce the fair maiden and then dispose of her.”
“You’ve got a lot of learning to do about huntsmen lore. We’re not all wired the same. And while we’re on the subject, have you ever gotten off on straight porn?” Corentin said, and Taylor smirked.
“Come on now. I actually had a reason I never could. I’ve seen my fair share of Playboys in college. Naked women aren’t bad, just not my thing, y’know,” Taylor said. He blinked as Corentin looked like a spooked rabbit. “So…,” Taylor purred and leaned in to whisper in Corentin’s ear, “never?”
Corentin sputtered. “Fuck, guys! No. Never. Can we drop this?”
Taylor blinked, then slowly grinned. He pointed, but Ringo was the first to blurt it out. “Dude. You are so blushing.”
Corentin narrowed his eyes. “Remember how I threatened to skin you? Yeah. That deal is still on.”
Taylor yawned, stretching his arms over his head. He popped his back and mashed his elbow into Corentin’s chest.
Corentin took Taylor’s wrist and pulled him to lie across his lap.
Ringo cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Should I make myself busy?”
Taylor slapped Corentin’s thigh. “I am not fucking blowing you in the parking lot.”
“And I don’t want you to.” Corentin gave a contented purr as he leaned back in the driver’s seat. “Though… I won’t stop you.”
“Asshole.” Taylor growled, then settled when Corentin ran his fingers through Taylor’s hair. He couldn’t fight the blush flooding his face. Stupid dainty princess bullshit. “I gotta admit,” Taylor muttered after a moment of silence. “I’m kind of getting turned on.”
“Ho-kay,” Ringo said, tossing up his hands. “I’m totally going to make myself busy. I’ll leave the napkins. For… y’know….”
“Hey!” Taylor squeaked as he bolted upright in his seat. “We’re not gunna do it,” he snapped. His face burned despite himself.
He was too late to stop Ringo, who had already fluttered out of the truck.
Corentin smirked, holding up the napkins. “At least he was courteous.”
Taylor checked the time on the bank sign. They had ten minutes, and that was more than enough to get Corentin off at least twice. He could do three times if he worked hard enough. He furrowed his brows and pulled his lips into a pout.
“You know, you like it too much,” Taylor said and clicked open the glove box. He rummaged for the stick of lip balm as Corentin adjusted the driver’s side seat.
“You’re just good at it,” Corentin said, unbuckling his seat belt.
“You made me good at it.” Taylor scowled as he uncapped the balm and then smeared it on his mouth.
“Good is an understatement. A prodigy is more apt.” Corentin reached for the button of his jeans, and Taylor smacked his hands away.
“I’ll do it,” Taylor commanded. “My job.”
“Fuck,” Corentin groaned, tucking his hands behind his head.
Taylor worked fast, propping himself up on his hands and knees in the passenger seat. He licked his bottom lip. Corentin’s cock had already swelled against his jeans with the anticipation. Taylor made sure Corentin watched him as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans and then dragged his fly in a long growl.
Corentin shivered, never breaking eye contact. Taylor cupped Corentin’s hardness through the fabric of his boxers, and Corentin pressed his lips into a tense line as he gripped the headrest.
After working Corentin’s cock free, he gave a quick series of three strokes. Corentin stuttered a breath, and Taylor shook his head. “Make a sound and everyone will know,” he whispered.
“Good thing the parking lot is empty, yeah?”
“Good thing,” Taylor said with an impish smile, then gave Corentin’s cockhead a tentative lick.
Corentin gasped and clenched his teeth as Taylor took him into his mouth. “Fuck Storyteller in the eye,” Corentin cussed before his cock hit the back of Taylor’s throat.
Stilling his thoughts, Taylor opened his throat to swallow Corentin down.
“Dammit, princess,” Corentin growled as Taylor tormented him.
Taylor’s stomach tightened with his own arousal. Zee stirred in return, and Taylor diverted his attention to settling her. He couldn’t imagine what she would do if he couldn’t keep his thoughts in check. She’d probably pop the tires on the truck at the very least. The insurance payments on the new Chevy were already worth a kidney and a firstborn.
Corentin arched his hips to angle better into Taylor’s mouth, and Taylor made a pleased moan.
Taylor had read enough sleazy Letters to Penthouse during college to know in detail how delicious a man tasted when blowing them. He had cringed, finding the sentiment over the top and disgusting. But in his own experience, he learned there was more fact to fiction. Corentin was delicious—intoxicating, even. Taylor surmised it was from their true love bond, or his lack of experience with other men. But other men didn’t matter anymore. He wanted Corentin, wanted him any way he could have him. The thought made his dick jump.
Taylor let out a squeal around Corentin’s length and pulled away. He panted for air, his face hot.
“What is it?” Corentin whispered.
“I’m so fucking hard…,” he whined. “I’m going to pop the tires if I can�
�t calm down.”
“Come here,” Corentin said and beckoned him closer.
Taylor didn’t need to say anything further for Corentin to know what he meant. He’d lose control on Zee, and who knew what would happen if he got too turned on. They called it a controlled burn. If Taylor came in a carefully measured fashion, the damage would be minimal. But there would still be damage.
Taylor scooted up, with his back to Corentin’s side. He didn’t need to speak, just unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them and his boxers off his hips. His cock jutted free, and he flushed at the sight of himself.
Corentin looped an arm around Taylor and took his length in hand.
Taylor cried out at Corentin’s touch. Even with the handful of years with Corentin, Taylor’s sensations never stopped being as intense as the first time. They had theorized it was yet another princess thing in the ever-expanding list of princess things.
Corentin pumped in a gentle, slow pace. Taylor didn’t need it hard and fast like others. The slightest of touches made him scream with pleasure.
“I wanna blow you, though,” Taylor cried out, disappointed he wouldn’t be able to taste Corentin’s cream.
Corentin took himself in hand and jacked them off together. “Shh, shh, shh,” he whispered. “There will be time for that later. Just relax.”
Taylor’s heart slammed in agonizing slow beats and Zee rumbled in time. Under Corentin’s practiced touch, Taylor mewled in heat against his hand.
Corentin fell silent as Taylor made long groaning sighs. He didn’t need to exert himself too far or too fast, so he rocked his hips with the tiniest of motions. Corentin’s hand pumping his own cock was the only sound telling Taylor that Corentin was seeking his own pleasure. The sound made Taylor cry out loud enough to be heard outside the truck.
