Page 22 of Astaroth
“There’s an air of exclusivity here,” Briar noted.
Aster’s palm rested on his tailbone. “Events like these usuallyareexclusive. Charity is only fashionable when the rich are involved.”
“Who invited you?”
“The owner of a small-time start-up. Tech, I think. One of Lucifer’s business partners. Zuck. . . Zucker-something?”
“He owns Facebook,” Briar deadpanned.
“Sure, him.”
Briar was, for lack of a better word, flabbergasted. He lifted a flute from a passing tray and tilted the glass against his lips. Dry, bubbly citrus coated his tongue. They walked through the first exhibit, scanning medieval suits and weaponry, and wandered into the next room. Aster curled his hand around Briar’s hip, knuckles brushing his backside as they walked. Briar kept close to him. His dress swept across the polished floor. He glimpsed their coupled reflection in the glass encasing a pair of Imari vases. At first, he didn’t recognize himself. Swathed in rose-tones, standing next to Aster, sipping top-shelf champagne.
“What did you mean yesterday when you said ‘this is what I wanted?’” Briar asked.
They took leisurely steps, circling a section of ancient pottery.
Aster’s jaw flexed. “I regret what happened in the library,” he blurted, then sighed through his nose. “Okay,regretisn’t the right word, but I wanted it to be different. I was. . .Wewere fast. And rough,” he added, shooting Briar an apologetic glance.
“I don’t remember complaining,” Briar said. “Or stopping. Perhaps I’d like to be treated with less. . .” He pursed his lips, pausing to appreciate an unsheathed longsword. “Caution. I won’t break, you know.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Will you tell me what you want, then?”
“That’s a complicated question. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy myself, Briar.”
Briar hummed, stepping in front of Aster to give someone else access to a sculpture. Aster’s hand trailed his upper arm, and his hips pressed against Briar’s ass. Briar tipped his chin, watching Aster’s fingers play on his shoulder. “Then what are you saying?”
“That I’d like to treat you tenderly. We’ve talked about this. If I wanted an outlet, I’d hire an escort service.”
“You’d like to fuck me tenderly,” Briar corrected. The woman beside them startled. He moved on, stepping through a doorway into the next exhibit:Esoteric Artwork. “You alreadytreatme tenderly. But when it comes to your bed, I’d like to make something clear.”
Aster arched a brow. His lips fought against a smile. “You have my attention.”
“As you promised during our first meeting, I have been successfully convinced, and now, God have mercy on my soul, I’m fond of you. For reasons beyond me, I trust you, I feel safe with you, and I. . .” He hesitated, pinning his eyes to a painting of the Blessed Mother. “I can’t ignore how you make me feel. That being said, I enjoy how gentle you are. I also enjoy your ferocity.” He traded his flute from one hand to the other. They stepped in front of another painting—Christ being struck with a spear. “I yearn for your tenderness,” Briar admitted, and sipped his champagne. “I also daydream of being fucked like one of your dancefloor conquests.” A nearby couple shot him a troubled look. Flustered whispers erupted.Did he just say that. . . ?How crass.“Both appeal to me.”
Aster laughed in his throat. He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” His body flushed, going hot beneath his kaftan. Aster’s words burrowed between his ribs.I’d like to treat you tenderly. They were sticky. Permanent. Nothing would scrub them away. Briar would feel them on every breath. “I’m still trying to understand you, Great Duke,” he said, casting a careful glance over his shoulder.
Aster’s lips grazed Briar’s cheek, grip suddenly iron-tight on his waist. “The feeling is mutual.”
Champagne dulled Briar’s inhibitions. Not much, but enough to make him chomp on the inside of his cheek, antsy and shivery. They’d explored the open exhibits, snacked on caviar, skewered shrimp and honeyed cheeses, and not once had Briar held an empty glass. When he finished one, he plucked another from a tray. The only time he hadn’t been nursing a fizzy drink, Aster had steered him into an exhibit sparsely decorated with pieces by Carlo Crivelli, backed him into a corner, and kissed him until his knees shook. After that, they’d snaked through the last exhibit. Briar had pressed his thighs tightly together as Aster brushed against him, staring at floor-to-ceiling renaissance paintings, trying desperately to ignore the heat throbbing between his legs.
Briar leaned his head against the seat and listened to tires crunch fresh snow. The quiet pulled taut between them, held like a bowstring ready to snap. During the ride home, Aster had said nothing, Briar had said nothing, but they’d watched each other. Briar’s eyes flicked helplessly to Aster’s strong frame. Anticipating. Wondering. Aster reached across the center console and traced Briar’s knee, hand curled loosely around his thigh, inching higher, drawing patterns on his dress, and finally,slipping between his legs. They were close to the manor. Briar’s breath hitched. He looked ahead, through the windshield, watching the black gate come and go. In the distance, black spires reached above the fog.
Aster touched him briefly, palming the outline of his cock concealed by bunched fabric and lace underwear. Briar’s head spun. He grabbed Aster’s wrist, not to stop him, just to hold him, and steadied his breathing as they circled around the courtyard.
“Why me?” Briar asked, for the second time since he’d arrived at Astaroth’s estate.
Aster put the car in park. “You ignored a direct order from someone who had power over you, because you knew, despite what you’d been told, that it was the right thing to do. You’re clever and you’re courageous, and you weren’t afraid of me when you arrived. You set your own boundaries, regardless of potential consequences. You challenged me.” He met Briar’s eyes. Applied enough pressure beneath Briar’s hips to cause his mouth to slacken, his breath to shorten, his legs to ease open. “I won’t lie. I saw you at the auction and I wanted you. Everyone wanted you. But you’re not a thing to be had. You’re someone to know. Like I said before, you fascinate me. You surprise me. I think about you constantly.”
“You’re disarming,” Briar blurted. He folded his hand over Aster’s knuckles, halting his slow touches. “I saw you as an escape hatch, a way to experience things I’d never given myself access to. I hadn’t prepared for your honesty, nonetheless your sweetness, and I certainly didn’t expect to like you.”
Aster tangled their fingers, then lifted his thumb to Briar’s chin, tapping him there. “You’re an anomaly, Briar Wright.”
He didn’t know how to respond, so he opened the door and said, “I’d like to keep your bed warm, if that’s all right.” A snowy gust snapped at Briar’s cheeks. He glanced at Aster expectantly, and after a tense pause, Aster nodded.
