Page 17 of Tossing the Caber

Finally, a fragile whisper, half-buried against Beacon’s chest, falls from Laurel’s lips. “Don’t be shocked.”

It takes a moment for Beacon to reach back into their conversation far enough to put the pieces into place.Ah. Laurel must be more inexperienced than Beacon would have thought, regardless of his beauty. Nothing in that vein wouldbother Beacon, not in either direction. Whether innocent or experienced, he desires Laurel all the same.

Cupping the smaller elf’s chin, Beacon lifts his head. “You find new ways to surprise me every moment we spend together,” he confesses, “and I would never wish for it to be any different. I couldn’t imagine wantingyouto be different.”

It’s good Laurel kisses him then because with that last statement, Beacon has exhausted the last of his energy for speech. Taking Laurel’s mouth, however…

Beacon has a wealth of energy and desire for that.

Chapter Six

Laurel

Beacon’s passion is much more precise this time, focused and direct. Laurel nearly gets swept away by the force of his betrothed’s desire, stunned by Beacon’s strength as he draws Laurel closer.

Their mouths work with surprising harmony, only a few awkward clicks between their teeth when they try to climb deeper into each other. Laurel has never felt this much passion directed his way before; even during his previous betrothal, his intended had not held Laurel with anywhere near this level of desire, never seemed so overwhelmed by the mere taste of him. Laurel didn’t feel this way about his ex, either.

They’ve known each other for barely a day, and Beacon has already made Laurel feel hot and wanted in a manner he wasn’t aware he needed.

Craved.

Heart pounding, throbbing between his legs, Laurel drags himself away from Beacon long enough to pull the loop of his smock over his head. Or try to. It gets caught in his long hair, tangling. Laurel struggles, embarrassed, until hands cup his bare shoulders, and Beacon shushes him.

With tender care, Beacon rights the mess Laurel made of himself. It’s incredible how Beacon can be gruff and powerful, then switch to handling Laurel sogently.

“I thought you were no good at being soft,” Laurel teases.

Beacon smirks. “I have to be a quick study.”

“Fair enough. Study this, then.” With that, Laurel unties the strap around his back, allowing the smock to fall into his lap and exposing his upper body.

Beacon leans away enough for his hazel eyes to rove down Laurel’s chest, his throat bobbing when he swallows hard. Laurel doesn’t ask if he likes what he sees. He doesn’t get a chance, not with the way Beacon swoops in to latch his mouth onto the crook of Laurel’s shoulder where it meets his neck. He drags his bottom lip up Laurel’s throat, groaning in answer to Laurel’s moan.

It’s been so long since someone desired Laurel in any manner that didn’t feel unsafe or predatory. Beacon’s want is palpable but gentle, not roughing him up in the height of passion. Laurel doesn’t enjoy being manhandled, and he might have been nervous about being given to a gruff, hefty athlete if not for the way Beacon has been so consistently delicate and precise with his handling of Laurel and, by extent, their relationship. It makes it easier for Laurel to rock his hips, to creep closer to Beacon’s body, fingers raking through his mussed red hair. Beacon runs his palms up and down Laurel’s sides, thumbs sampling the dips of his ribcage and circling his nipples until Laurel is panting.

“Beacon,” he gasps, ready to let his future partner take him right here and now.

“I know,” Beacon responds, mumbling into the sharp angle of Laurel’s collar bone. He grabs the smock, removing it from where the folds have bunched to separate them. Then he tosses it aside, disturbing the tarp Laurel threw over his work in progress before answering the door.

“Wait—”

But it’s too late to stop both pieces of fabric from sliding to the floor, exposing the project to Beacon’scurious gaze. And from the expression that crosses his features, he’s not fooled.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Laurel squeaks, even though it’s exactly what it looks like.

“Is that a?—”

“No, it’s not a dildo!” Laurel cringes away from Beacon’s incredulous look. “Not exactly, I mean. And it’s not mine; it’s for a client.” That, at least, is completely true.

“What is it then?” Beacon sounds unsure.

“It’s a girth expander,” Laurel explains, his voice trembling. His tail wraps around one of his ankles, trying to stabilize his nerves. “It’s for a client who isn’t happy with his… size. So, he asked me to engineer him an extension. It’s not hard for me. The prosthesis is removable but will be safe for elongated, uh, periods of use. The spell I designed is quite stable, and each piece is custom. That’s why I…” He gestures to the tool holding the soft material he had just been giving a very realistic painting job.

Judging Beacon’s horrified expression, Laurel elects against explaining the lengths he went to remain professional while the client’s partner tried to help him stay erect long enough for Laurel to finish taking the cast he’d use to create a model of the client’s penis. Which is… clearly visible underneath the prosthesis.

“Beacon,” he tries when the other elf doesn’t respond to anything he’s said. “It’s just business. I help people with whatever body parts they want modified. This isn’t something I would do for myself. You know I wouldn’t. I mean, I suppose you don’t know… but I’ll be happy with whatever you… more than happy! I’m not obsessed with the shape of a partner’s, ah… It’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy a large?—”

“Laurel, stop.”