Page 88 of Quiet
Briar set Isa hips down gently on the table and moved to block him from sight. He tucked his still-sensitive cock back into his jeans and turned to see Will beaming like he’d just found out Christmas had come early.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a few heads dart behind a fake wall. That was fine by Briar. Now they knew without a doubt exactly who Isa belonged to.
“Scram.”
“Oh, I’m scramming, big boy. But only so I can get you new shirts. Isa made a mess of both of yours.”
Briar looked down to see Isa’s cum dripping down Briar’s shirt. He shrugged and pulled the shirt over his head. He turned around to see Isa glowing a brilliant shade of vermillion. He looked beautifully debauched.
Briar smiled and began wiping the boy down with his shirt. “Are you okay? I got carried away.”
Isa winced as Briar wiped his swollen pink hole, cleaning off the cum dripping out. Briar wanted nothing more than to push it back in, but he doubted Isa would want that. Maybe they could play with the concept in a more private setting.
“It’s okay. I liked it. Feel free to get carried away more often.” Isa’s enormous eyes looked away, and his face went even darker red. “But maybe not where all my friends can see?”
The red was from embarrassment then. He tucked his dirty shirt into his back pocket. “Did I hurt you?”
“Only in the very best way,” Isa said, shyly refusing to meet Briar’s eyes, but there was a tiny smile on his face.
Briar couldn’t help but pull up Isa’s shirt to see if he’d made the bruising worse. He hadn’t. He had, however, added his own set of bruises on each of the boy’s hips. His idea of hurt and Briar’s didn’t line up at all.
An odd mix of pride and guilt warred inside him.
“Stick with pride. You definitely have several things to be proud of, my love.” Isa motioned for his pants, and Briar retrieved them.
My love. It ricocheted through Briar’s mind, leaving pure dopamine in its wake. If Isa called him that every day until Briar died, his life would be perfect.
Briar was never, ever going to be able to get enough of Isa.
Chapter32
Briar
Life was better after Isa moved in. It was almost too easy how he slotted himself so neatly into Briar’s life.
Every morning, Briar would wake up wrapped around Isa’s small body, perfect, safe, and all his. Isa was a heavy sleeper and seemed to require far more sleep than he did, so Briar was always up before him.
Some days, Briar would get out of bed to prepare clothes and food for Isa so that when he woke, Briar could wash, dress, and feed the sleepy, pliant boy easily.
Other days he would take his time teasing Isa’s body awake, arranging him exactly how Briar wanted him so that when he finally woke up, Briar could push into him easily, giving them both what they wanted. Every time he did, Briar was rewarded with a smile reserved for him alone. It was the best part of his day, receiving Isa’s brilliant smile and being told how much he was loved.
The first two weeks with Isa were the best time of Briar’s life. Waking up together, eating together, spending time with friends, shopping, or simply being quietly absorbed in their own projects in the same room.
Unlike before, when Briar would vanish completely into whatever project he was consumed with at the time, with Isa there, Briar was able to leave a small part of himself with his boyfriend. Just enough to remind Briar to move his body enough to not get stiff or notice when his stomach demanded food.
It was novel. It might have been an Isa thing or part of the fairy spell. Whatever the case was, it left Briar feeling freer than ever before. He had more control over his work now. Instead of diving into a project and emerging hours—or days—later, starving and with no idea what day it was, he was able to put thought into his work, take breaks, or pull Isa into his arms and cover him in kisses before going back to his work.
So, when Isa decided to get a job, Briar was understandably put out with him.
“Briar, I can’t mooch off you for the rest of my life.” Isa complained for the tenth time that day. “Besides, it’s only a few modeling gigs. It’s not like I’ll be gone all day every day.”
Briar had even more of a problem with that. Isa washismodel, and he didn’t want to share. Not even a little. But Isa was his own person and had to be allowed to live on his own terms. After having spent his life knowing exactly how it felt being stuffed down and marginalized by the world, Briar could no more tell Isa no than he could stop creating art.
But a small, selfish part of him couldn’t give up without one last try.
“I’ll give you three times what your client will give you.”
“You can’t pay me not to work, Briar. That’s tacky.”
