8. Hiero

Chapter eight

Hiero

A s Skylar studied me over his steaming cup of hibiscus tea, twitchy as a sinner on Sunday, it was painfully obvious that both of us were struggling to make morning-after small talk. It probably didn’t help that we’d slept very little the night before. I’d kept my promise and made him come three times during our lovemaking, until we’d both passed out from exhaustion. I’d woken late in the morning to find his pale body stretched across my bed sheets, ass streaked with my spend and thighs bruised from where I’d manhandled him the night before.

Pretty as a picture.

I’d thought about rolling him over and sucking him off to wring one more orgasm from him, but his expression upon waking looked startled and somewhat disoriented, which made me question if he’d been drunk on more than lust the night before .

We showered separately. Skylar had repossessed his silk robe from the bedroom floor while I wore loose trousers. I made us both tea with honey, wearing a ridiculous grin on my face the entire time, waiting for my handsome fae to emerge from the bathroom. When he did, he approached me with the timidity of a church mouse, causing me to have doubts of my own. Was he regretting his decision to bed me last night? To call me his Daddy? I sincerely hoped not.

As for me, there were several things I wanted to say, ranging from, when can we do that again to move in with me. But I wasn’t sure how my advances would be received, so I studied him from across the table and concentrated on not saying the wrong thing.

“So, what do you have going on for today?” I asked, trying to sound casual about it when I was anything but. Our bodies had known each other intimately under the cloak of darkness, but in the bald light of morning, it seemed we were strangers again.

He ran one hand over his hair, which was still braided, though mussed with damp wisps sticking out here and there. I found it adorable but didn’t say so, not wanting to come on too strong.

“I might take a stroll around town. Collect some of the flowers I saw blooming on the mountainside,” he said absently. I liked the picture he painted, my beautiful fae boy getting lost in a patch of wildflowers .

“You want company?” I asked, hoping I’d struck the right balance between interested and nonchalant.

“Oh no, that’s okay. I’m sure you’re busy here. Besides, I don’t mind being alone.”

I nodded, not sure if that was an outright rejection, or if he was refusing me simply to be polite. “I’ll probably need to do some laundry,” I said with a teasing grin.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking alarmed.

I squeezed his hand. “I’d do laundry three times a day if it meant having you in my bed.”

“Oh, okay then,” he said but still wore a sheepish expression, which made me question if I was being too forward with him. He seemed to enjoy it enough last night?

“So, how long do you plan on being in town?” I asked, trying out a different tack.

He swallowed and stared at me with a grave expression. “I won’t be a problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I only meant that…” His gaze flitted away. “I won’t be a bother to you. At the bar or elsewhere. No one has to know. I understand what this was.”

That was news to me because I was still trying to wrap my head around it. “What was it?” I asked carefully.

“You know, a fae and a minotaur walk into a bar. There’s a wet t-shirt contest and they decide to make a night of it.” He gave a weak, if not bitter, chuckle .

I nodded. Clearly, he’d meant for this to be a one-and-done sort of deal. Well, I was used to that, wasn’t I? At least he was being honest. There didn’t need to be any hard feelings between us.

“I had fun,” I said, and it must have been the wrong thing to say, because he jumped out of his chair faster than a frog on a stinging nettle and started searching the room.

“You’re right. I should be going. It seems I misplaced my underthings.” He gripped his silk robe tighter.

“I’m not trying to rush you out the door.” I stood slowly, a steady counterbalance to his agitation. What had I done to spook him?

“I’ve taken up too much of your time already. I’ll just…” He glanced again at his skimpy clothing.

“Would you like to borrow something of mine?” I offered. That was one way to possibly see him again.

“Yes, that would be very kind of you.”

He was so oddly formal today. Gone was the smooth-talking seducer who’d batted his pretty bedroom eyes and flaunted his goods for all to see. This version of Skylar seemed painfully young and even… scared. Was he afraid of me?

“Here you go.” I handed him an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats that were a little small on me but would probably swamp him nonetheless. “That’s one of my favorite shirts so make sure you return it.” He glanced down at the old ratty thing that had “Wolfsbane” scrawled in jagged, red lettering across the front. “It’s a rock band me and a couple of my pack formed a few years back.”

“You play an instrument?” he asked with renewed interest brightening his eyes.

“Guitar and bass. Some drums too. We play out at Church sometimes.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.”

“Do you play?” I asked.

“No, not really. I’m not part of the Music Guild, but I used to sing in the town square from time to time.”

He’d spoken of this guild business before, and it made me curious. “Do you have to be part of a guild to learn to play?”

“Yes, only Music Guild members are allowed access to instruments.”

“That seems… wrong. Music shouldn’t belong to any one group. It’s for everyone to enjoy.”

He bit his lip and seemed to not want to talk about it. I turned away so he could dress in private. When I turned back around, he was wearing my clothing with the silk robe over the top of it, blending our fashions.

“You look cute,” I said and gave him a friendly peck on his forehead.

“Thank you,” he said as a shy smile spread across his face. “You know what happens when you lend clothing to a fae, don’t you?”

“No, what? ”

“You become a slave to their desires.” He stared at me, stone cold sober, then broke into a wide grin. “I’m kidding, Hiero. Goddess above, you should have seen your face.”

I took advantage of the light mood to pull him closer to me. “I wouldn’t mind being a slave to your desires.” I brushed my nose against his ear. “You going to come by the bar later to see me?”

“I thought I was banned,” he said with a petulant little pout.

“Ban officially lifted.”

“Would you want me to come by?” he asked and rubbed his cheek against my shoulder, a sweet, soft gesture.

“Yes, I would. I’m going to make a drink that tastes like you, to keep my cravings at bay until I can have you again.”

There, at least I’d made it known that I wanted to do this, whatever it was, again.

“Am I really so addictive?” he asked.

“Yes, baby boy. I’m afraid that you are.”

He stared up at me as if trying to determine if I was being sincere, then said soberly, “Thank you for last night, Hiero. I had a lot of fun too. It was just what I needed.” His smile was a little bit sad as he withdrew from my arms.

“Me too, Skylar. I really enjoyed your company.”

Lord have mercy, that was an understatement.

He gave me one last, searching look before heading for the door. It wasn’t exactly the send-off I’d hoped for, and for a long while after, I picked apart our entire morning, wondering where it was that I’d gone wrong.

“So, did you bed him?” Enid asked me a few hours later as we were restocking the bar in preparation for the night ahead. It was impossible to keep my love life to myself, especially since most of my lovers traveled from the bar to my upstairs apartment and back again. Even if that weren’t the case, this town was small and gossip spread like wildfire.

“I might have,” I said, trying to maintain some semblance of privacy.

“Mmm hmm, and?”

She wasn’t asking for all the sordid details. Enid tended to concern herself more with matters of the heart.

“And it was… good.” Good didn’t begin to cover it. Exceptional, extraordinary, transformative even, as if the fates had finally aligned to deliver me this one very special boy. Our chemistry was undeniable, but it was his openness and vulnerability that compelled me to want more than just a casual fling. He awakened the protector and nurturer within me.

“He say how long he’d be in town?” Enid asked.

“I get the sense he hasn’t decided. Seems like he may be running from something or someone. ”

“Goddess, Hiero, you sure know how to pick 'em. He’s probably some fae fugitive of the law, about to bring a heap of trouble to our quiet little town.”

Our town was small, but it definitely wasn’t quiet. And even if that were true, it wouldn’t be the first time we’d had to deal with some law enforcement type from one of the many realms trying to extradite a fugitive. We rarely made it easy for them, and sometimes we made it downright impossible.

“Maybe that’s what it was,” I said, still pondering the particulars of our conversation. “But this morning, it seemed like he was in pain.”

“Physical pain?” she said and made a lewd gesture.

“Emotional pain,” I corrected.

“Getting over a broken heart?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Listen, Hiero, he’s an attractive bloke, but you can’t force a relationship with someone who doesn’t want one. That fancy footloose fae is probably just looking for someone to get his rocks off with, so don’t go getting invested until you know what he’s all about.”

Too late, I thought ruefully.

“He’s special,” I said.

“Maybe so, but you’ve got too good a heart for some playboy to go messing with it. I don’t care how easy he is on the eyes.”

Skylar certainly made it easy. “He said he’d stop by the bar tonight.”

He’d called me his Daddy .

Enid nodded, still with a motherly look of concern on her face. “Well, let’s see if he shows, and then maybe you can get him sorted.”

It was good advice, and I looked forward to doing just that. Sorting him out and making him mine. For the rest of the night, my gaze passed over the entrance to the bar again and again, waiting for the handsome fae to make good on his promise, but the hours slowly slipped by and Skylar never showed.

Days passed and I’d not seen hair nor hide of Skylar Larkspur. I was tempted to ask around town to find out if anyone else had seen him around, maybe even check in on The Owner at The Magic Shop down the street, but that felt too much like showing my belly.

My irritation slowly morphed into concern. And then I thought about the sad look in his eyes when we’d parted ways and started to worry that whatever trouble he’d been trying to escape may have caught up with him. After three long days of pining, I finally swallowed my pride and asked my cousin Frito where he was staying .

“The Purple Pegasus,” Frito said as if he’d been expecting me to ask. “Room 205.”

I nodded and left him to supervise the bar while I walked a few blocks over to the motel. I scanned the pool and courtyard surrounding it but didn’t see him there.

Perhaps he was out picking flowers.

Rustling up my courage, I climbed the stairs to room 205 and gave the door a hearty knock. It took another moment for a muffled voice to respond, “I’ll bring you your coin later.”

Did he say coin ? Did Skylar owe someone money, some bad actor intent on exacting retribution? Was that why he’d been pick-pocketing at my bar? I knocked again. A few minutes later, the door swung open, and there stood a heartbreaking version of my sweet, soulful boy. His hair was rumpled as if he’d been lying down and it was now sticking up every which way, and he still wore the clothes I’d lent him days ago. It appeared as if he’d not showered since the morning he’d stayed over. Not only that, he’d also been crying. A lot.

“It’s you,” he said, sounding hopeful. Then his face fell as if tears were imminent.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” I laid a hand on his shoulder. He nodded, then shook his head, the dam broke, and he started to bawl. “Skylar, can I come in?”

He stepped aside so that I might enter. The place looked almost as wrecked as him with dirty clothes strewn about and old fruit pits and food wrappers scattered everywhere. Several empty bottles of Mind Eraser littered his dresser, and there was an overall mood of loneliness and despair.

“Baby,” I said, tugging him gently into my arms. “When’s the last time you left your room?”

“I don’t know,” he said, glancing around helplessly. “What day is it?”

Clearly, this poor boy was going through it. I sat on the bed and pulled him onto my lap, stroking along his back and taking care not to disturb his wings. I let him cry on my shoulder for a good long while and waited until he had somewhat recovered.

“I’m not normally like this,” he said, dabbing at his eyes with the hem of his (my) t-shirt.

“You’re hurting, huh?” I asked. He nodded, lower lip quivering and ducked his head again as if embarrassed. “How about you take a quick shower and then we’ll take a little walk?”

“Outside?” he asked, squinting at the closed curtains.

“A short walk, just to get some fresh air.”

“Okay.” He nodded and I helped him stand, steering him in the direction of the bathroom.

“I’m not usually this messy,” he said, glancing at the various makeup and hair products that covered the bathroom vanity.

“It’s okay if you are. I don’t mind a little mess.”

His wet, sparkling eyes glanced back at me, and he gave a watery smile. “I’m a whole lot of mess, Hiero.”

I nodded because I believed it. “But I’d bet you’re worth it. ”

He sighed pitifully and turned back toward the shower. I closed the door behind him to give him some privacy and went about cleaning up the room, bagging the trash to be dealt with later and gathering up his clothes in a pile to be laundered. Some of his things looked quite… delicate, and I couldn’t resist simply brushing the silky fabric with my fingertips. But other than clothes and toiletries, there wasn’t much of Skylar in the room–no photographs or personal items at all, which made me wonder if the contents of the room were all that he had.

I found something that looked relatively clean and laid it out for him on the bed, then took the bag of trash outside to the dumpster nearby.

By the time I’d returned, Skylar was just coming out of the bathroom with his damp hair wrapped in a towel, wearing the same robe he'd worn when he left my apartment.

“I haven’t done laundry,” he said with a frown.

“This looked clean enough.” I motioned to the bed where I’d laid out his clothing. “I can borrow some things that fit you better while you get your clothes laundered.”

“Oh. Oh dear,” he said and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“Cry if you need to. It’s never benefitted me holding it in.”

“You cry?” he asked as if stunned by my admission.

“Everyone cries, don’t they? I prefer to do it in the shower. Already wet. ”

He nodded, took a moment to compose himself, then went back to the bathroom with his clean set of clothing. A few minutes later he emerged, looking a bit more refreshed.

“Thank you for cleaning my room. I don’t usually…” he drifted off with another long, miserable sigh.

“It’s fine, baby. I’m happy to do it. Now how about that walk?”