Page 15 of The Bairwick Witches
“When did this happen to me?”
Beau and Marshall rolled their collective eyes. “Monkey, stay over there,” Beau warned, “this is Potency Pow! gel, it’s as sensitive as the dick’s it’s going to be slathered on. Keep your frazzled homo energy over there till it’s capped.” Beau shooed him away whenever he paced too close. “Listen, you said it yourself you didn’t want a youngin’, why are you all worked up over this guy?”
“I don’t know. There was something about him. A vibe, an energy I enjoyed. I was entranced.”
“You wereentrancedyesterday by that leaf on our walk; I’d not put too much stock in that.”
“That was a Japanese Maple,” Schuyler effused, “And it was beautiful.” A single tear dropped from his left eye.
“I’m aware—you looked at it for twenty minutesandwrote a haiku. Monkey, I love you, but do you not have any friends you can be spiraling out on over this instead of us? Po-ten-cy gel!” Beau motioned wildly with the ladle. The gel form of their erectile enhancement aide did require a soothing atmosphere to come together if it were to work correctly.
“No,” Schuyler said flatly. “They’ve all migrated into new friend circles, and I’ve got to start over in the friend department, but that’s another story.”
Beau groaned as Schuyler felt flushed. He’d screwed up; there’d been a chance to make a good impression, to let Issac see him as the attractive option he was. And what did he do with it? He wanted to taste the young man’s lips, touch his phenomenal body. Right there in the store, which wouldn’t have been the first time, but no chance of that now. Sky knew he wasn’t goingto come back, not for some middle aged guy who lectured him. “He was there in the store. In the flesh. In kissing distance, and I snapped at him, told him to stop whining. What is wrong with me?”
“Yes, what is? I’m asking the same damn thing myself,” Beau sighed, “and I’m sure it’s not that bad, Monkey. But I need to ask, because it has been awhile since you’ve been home full time, are you always like this when you have a crush on someone? Is this,”—he motioned to the frazzled Schuyler—“how you are?”
Schuyler clutched the collar of his tank top as if it were pearls. “The nerve.”
“Well, the other day you were all, ‘I don’t need no man, I don’t want to learn no Poke-e-mon,’ and now, I’m assuming, you’ve already picked out a place to live?”
Schuyler turned his head away. “Charming two-bedroom loft in Manhattan. He’s a model. I write for Vogue. And?”
Beau, exasperated, turned to Marshall. “Can you please get me that herb I’m thinking of? I need to make sure of something.”
Marshall grunted but stopped stirring the cauldron; he knew exactly where to go on the shelf. Beau grabbed a small empty cauldron, filled it a quarter way with Moon Water, plucked a petal from a yellow-and-red rose, and outstretched his hand where Marshall poured the shaved Orris Root into it.
“What are you doing?” Schuyler asked, stopping from launching into another rant on how he was an idiot.
“Hush!” Beau commanded as the lights dimmed and the Moon Water began to glow faintly. He placed the petal with the root in his right palm, brought the base of his left hand down over it, and ground them together. “Grind three times. Bring to the heart. Show us has someone left their mark.” Beau broughthis hands to his heart, then swished them apart, letting the ingredients fall into the Moon Water.
The reaction was an instant boiling and a bright red illumination emanating from the water, as faint, wispy curls of steam rose from it. If any of them were under any type of romantic illusion or sexual hex, the steam would indicate it by circling the person. The steam rose from the water and dissipated.
“Well, that’s-that, not a love spell. Apparently, you arethis way. Whomst did I raise?” Beau set the small-sized cauldron down, the lights raised, and he resumed pouring with his ladle. “You offered to help him. Leave it at that and stop driving yourself, and us, crazy. If he’s smart, he’ll take you up on the offer. Now, please, for the sake of the family business and this gel, vacate your queer ass up out of here.”
In the sanctity of his dimly lit room, where three soft glowing orbs floated in the air, following him around and providing light where he needed, Schuyler realized Beau was correct. Within the whirlwinds of his mind, the rational took longer to land. He’d showered, still thinking of Issac: the way the handsome face danced across his mind, the way every thought, no matter how off topic, found its way back to him.
Sky held his phone, thinking he could try the apps, but he refused to pay hook-up sites to constantly have his feelings invalidated by faceless profiles. People were crazy, and he left as many of them as he could behind the paywalls. The downside was that his area of available profiles didn’t include the city.
Issac took the ferry, which means he could be at one of the hotels by the port.
Needing something to feed the ache of his desire for Issac fired up within him, rerouting blood. Refusing to allow him to think of anything else. Despite still not wanting to use magic, he leaned into a little AutoErosmancy. Schuyler recited the incantation:Erotoes maxmia. Erotoes Issac. Erotoes maxima. Erotoes Issac.He raised his right hand to his temple as he chanted, allowing the stream of indigo energy to emit from his fingers, gliding over his temple, and sliding under his skin. His left, poised in position, ready for the fantasy to begin.
The spell enhanced a memory, or the image of a specific person, placing them at the center of the mind’s eyes in full, vivid detail. From there, Schuyler could craft a fantasy of a different encounter that would feel as real as true life.
Holistic Harmonies offered services in therapies to aid in sexual healing. The rear of the store contained two tranquil spaces where the healings would be performed. He ushered Issac to one of them instead of letting him leave—ferry be damned—kissing his perfect mouth, hands running over his chest, that light-colored shirt making his green eyes sparkle. Schuyler stared into them, astounded this beautiful creature wanted him, as flawed as he felt he was.
Issac pushed against all six feet of Schuyler, making him feel needed, wanted. He slid an arm around his waist, bringing him closer. Their kissing became more passionate. Their tongues glided over one another, exploring unfamiliar mouths. Every pause for a breath felt like an eternity. A moment later, their clothes were in a combined pile on the floor.
Schuyler pushed the shorter Issac against the wall, sliding his arms under him, cradling his ass, and lifting him off the ground. He threw his legs around Schuyler’s waist as Sky moved them over to the massage table. Issac never broke eye contact,biting at his bottom lip as Schuyler laid him down and kissed him again.
Issac begged for the pressure of their bodies together. Whispering the desire in Sky’s ear, his tongue flicked the edge of it. Schuyler stood back, admiring him as Issac moved his hands over his skin, sending them across his smooth stomach until his fingertips reached the sandy colored pubes and the root of his excitement.
Schuyler gathered saliva in his mouth, keeping his eye contact with Issac. He motioned down, letting the saliva fall from his mouth onto Issac’s penis, which he then used as lube. Issac moaned as he brought his free hand to his lips. Sliding his tongue out onto his middle three fingers, he then sent his hand between his legs, proving himself ready. Issac flipped over onto his stomach, arching his back, presenting. He looked back over his shoulder, his fingers still showing off his readiness.
Schuyler delivered another round of saliva to his own erection and grabbed Issac’s waist, the head of his penis driving forward—HEY? Wondering if everything is okay?
His phone sprang violently to life, bombarded by multiple messages from Cal.
