Americana Fairy Tale (40 page)

You’re not trash
, Corentin had said.
Not to me
.

Taylor arched his back as his end approached. Taylor’s hand slapped over Corentin’s at his hip and held tight. They watched each other as Taylor saw the signs of it happening.

Corentin was forgetting. The day change was happening
now
.

Taylor saw the panic and regret in his eyes. They had wasted so much time that Corentin was leaving him at the most pivotal moment in Taylor’s life as a princess. Taylor tightened his grip on Corentin’s hand. Taylor maintained his bravery and tried to inspire Corentin with the same. Corentin pulled his hand away from Taylor’s hip, and then they laced fingers. They held tight, and they moved together, their climaxes close and Corentin on the verge of vanishing.

For the first time, Taylor saw Corentin’s fear.

It was Taylor who had to be brave from now on.

“Your name is Henri Corentin Devereaux…,” Taylor said in a low groan. “You are strong. You are brave.”

Corentin wordlessly leaned forward and kissed Taylor desperately.

Taylor maintained his bravery as the pleasure rose inside him. Corentin moved with him, quickening the pace. Taylor moaned and arched his back with the rising waves. “Your name is Henri Corentin Devereaux…,” Taylor said again though his breathless gasps. “You are honorable. You are noble.”

Taylor’s thighs shuddered as his climax came near. A breath hitched in his throat. In moments Corentin would leave him, and Taylor offered his prayer. “My name is Taylor Andrew Hatfield,” he said, and his eyelids fluttered. “I will love you no matter where the road leads.”

They kissed once more, and Taylor felt Corentin’s lips tremble against his own.

Taylor whispered his final wish against Corentin’s mouth. “I will bring you home.”

They clung tight to one another, and with four more thrusts, Taylor’s climax came. Taylor crushed Corentin to him as his body ignited down to the bones with deep, throbbing release. His Princesshood tore from him like his soul being ripped from his body. Like a fire of something deep within finally escaping and spreading its wings.

He held on to Corentin, too scared to let him go.

Taylor rode the beating wings of the climax, his body wracked by tremors. And bit by bit, the waves of pleasure ebbed away, and Taylor returned to the here and now. He met Corentin’s gaze and saw a moment of recognition remaining.

Corentin smiled and choked out a pleased laugh. “You are loved,” Corentin said, and the first round of coughs came.

Adrenaline surged through Taylor, and he shot from the bed. He stumbled with the muscle spasms still quaking through his legs. Corentin had joked about it at the Wigwam, but Taylor wasn’t taking any chances this time. He scooped Corentin’s tie off the floor and then leaped back into the bed. Taylor straddled Corentin’s spent, wet lap, then lashed his hands to the bedframe with the tie.

Taylor curled over Corentin, nodding and hunting for approval. “Is okay? Is okay?” he asked as the panic rose in him and his hands trembled. “You’re not supposed to go now. I fixed you. I fixed you! You can’t go. You can’t
go
!” Taylor’s bravery crumbled just as rapidly as he built it.

He searched Corentin’s face, looking to see if Corentin had any recollection of him at this moment in his mind.

“Come find me,” Corentin croaked.

A burst of green sparks showered from Corentin’s body, sending it into convulsions. He thrashed, and Taylor held fast. He wouldn’t let Corentin go away like this. He would keep Corentin safe. As long as it took, as many cycles as it took, Taylor would find him wandering the road.

Corentin’s body snapped straight, rigid as a corpse. He gulped shallow, rapid breaths, and his gaze turned empty and vacant.

“You weren’t supposed to go…,” Taylor whispered as he helplessly watched Corentin disappear.

L
ET
M
E
T
ELL
Y
OU
A
S
TORY

The Grand Hotel, Mackinac Island, Michigan

June 13

T
AYLOR
WASTED
no time. He rummaged through the drawers for stationery or any sort of paper. Corentin had the pens covered, as they lay scattered like pickup sticks at the foot of his bed. Taylor still had trouble standing and walking a straight line after his first intimate experience. His muscles twitched, and his rear throbbed from his first penetration. Like he suspected, there was a good princess thing that made his first sexual experience pleasant. In the back of Taylor’s mind, he worked through the chain of events. He thought it was enjoyable, and he shivered with the memories of how filthy they were and then how it shifted into making love. Taylor straightened and pressed a hand to his sweat-sheened chest.

They made love? The idea seemed so foreign to him, but that’s what they’d done. He pressed his fingers to his lips to hold in a smile. Corentin had made love to
him
. Taylor fought to wipe the grin off his face. He looked at Corentin, who lay on the bed and seemed to be slumbering peacefully, despite being tied to the bedframe. Corentin lay naked and exposed. Taylor’s mouth watered at the sight of Corentin’s dark cock between his legs. He couldn’t wait to taste Corentin’s cum again or have his shaft deep inside him. He would keep his promise to Corentin; he’d moan nicely for him like a proper princess while being savaged by a filthy huntsman. Taylor’s dick jumped at the idea.

He stumbled again over his own feet. Taylor flailed and caught himself on the desk. The sex may have been fantastic, but the aftereffects would take some getting used to. Apparently there was no princess thing that made
that
part likeable. He checked himself in the mirror and gasped that Corentin’s semen was slowly drying against his skin. He grabbed his own shirt off the desk chair and scrubbed his face.

He yanked open another drawer and found a copy of the Gideon’s Bible. Paper. He needed paper and fast. He thought about ripping pages from the Bible but was sure he would damn his soul if he did. Mindful where to put his feet, he inched around Corentin’s open journal and wouldn’t take the chance that touching it would be all right.

Taylor scooped up Corentin’s pants and then shook them out on the floor. He was rewarded with the key tumbling to the carpet. Taylor snatched the key between his fingers and read the number on the tag. He was on another floor entirely, and Taylor arched a brow, curious as to why.

He shuffled to the bathroom for a robe, but when he opened the door, Ringo was there, sitting on the stack of towels.

Taylor choked and thought he’d fall dead on the spot.

Ringo said nothing and only had a hangdog, apologetic expression.

“Um…,” Taylor said. It was the only thing that came to mind.

“Yeaaaaaah…,” Ringo said and averted his gaze.

“The whole time…?” Taylor asked and then clicked his tongue while tilting his chin in the direction of the bed where Corentin slept. He waited to see if Ringo understood.

“The whole time,” Ringo said in a flat tone. His large, dark eyes narrowed.

“I think I’m going to die,” Taylor said in a groan as he slumped to the floor. “This is what dying feels like, right?”

Ringo waved his hands. “Dude, sorry. I mean, you did True Love’s Kiss, and it’s like a homing beacon for pixies and their princesses. Like… I was supposed to be there for… stuff. And then you and Corentin—” He trailed off with a pensive expression and twirled a downward-pointed finger. “—did stuuuuff….”

Taylor gripped his hair. “Oh Storyteller. You’ve been in the bathroom the whole time.” The entire loving act ran through Taylor’s mind from what he figured was Ringo’s perspective. Taylor took a breath. “Oh Storyteller.”

“I wish I had been there…,” Ringo whispered as he rubbed his arm.

“What the
fuck
?” Taylor squeaked. “That is some sick shit.” He pushed to his feet and loomed over Ringo.

Ringo gasped. “Holy crap.
No
! No! Nooooo!” he said as he flailed. “Not that. No. No way. No, dude. What the hell? No.”

Fury burned in Taylor as he towered, naked and angry, over Ringo. “Explain.”

“Your first kiss,” Ringo said, and Taylor saw the sadness in his eyes. Taylor’s fury fizzled into concern. “It’s fairy-tale legalese, you know. I was supposed to be there.”

Taylor shook his head slowly. “Why?”

“Because I can’t be your fairy godfather anymore.” Ringo sighed but kept a sad smile.

“What?” Taylor stumbled back into the sink. “Why? Are you leaving? Where are you going? Why are you leaving me?” Taylor’s thoughts raced in a frantic pace. He needed Ringo. He needed to keep Ringo. Ringo was the only friend and confidant he’d ever had. “Don’t lea—”

“Whoa, stop,” Ringo said and held up his hand. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just not your fairy godfather anymore.”

“I… still don’t get it….” He shook his head again, still not following Ringo’s explanation.

Ringo pointed at Taylor’s face. “You, young man, are going to be hitting the Enchant law books when we get home,” he said, then grunted. He gestured to the bedroom. “It means Corentin is the one who has to protect you now. It means I am no longer bound to you.”

Taylor frowned. “I find that to be the most misogynistic piece of crap.”

Ringo smacked his forehead. “It’s the appearances thing. What’s said on paper isn’t really what’s going on. You guys protect each other. Princesses are so not damsels in distresses. They’re warriors. Badasses. Head bitches in charge.” He smiled, and Taylor smirked at Ringo’s comment. “You, and others like you, like—well—your brother, fight alongside your princes. In fact, it’s the princesses who lead the armies. Corentin? If anything…. His job from here on out is to be your meat shield.”

“So his job is to throw himself on a grenade for me?” Taylor fought the urge to laugh.

Ringo shrugged with one shoulder. “If you want to be romantic about it.”

Taylor raised a finger. “So… back to you…. Where does that leave you…?”

“I don’t have to use my magic to save you anymore,” Ringo said and then cracked his knuckles. “I can use my magic to kick ass for you.” He took flight from the towels to hover before Taylor. “It means not only did
you
unlock your special princess whoop-ass-fu, but
you
unlocked the limitations on my magic.”

Taylor held up his hands. “Wait. Stop there. You got a power boost. But there’s still me. I got nothing.” He shrugged.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Ringo said. He fluttered to Taylor’s right and then pulled the bathrobe off the hook. He held it out. “Even Corentin doesn’t think you’re
Curseless
.”

“Time will tell,” he said, trying to steer away from the topic. As he wrapped himself in the robe, Taylor brightened as the thought occurred to him. “As your first act of unlimited magic, can you pick up Corentin’s journal off the floor over there? I think only Cronespawn like him can touch it.”

Ringo grinned and snapped his fingers. “Done.”

Taylor pulled away from the sink as the sound of soft chimes drifted in from the main room. He stepped out of the bathroom, and Corentin’s journal lay upon a podium shimmering in a holy golden light. Taylor smirked at Ringo. “It isn’t the lost idol, y’know.”

“Eh, theatrics.” Ringo shrugged.

“How about you magic me up some paper?” Taylor asked and then pointed a finger. “Just paper. I don’t care if it has Hello Kitty or Batman or something. Just no holy parchment, okay?”

Ringo snapped his fingers, and a box of stationery fell into Taylor’s hands. Ringo narrowed his eyes with a self-satisfied grin.

“Of course you’d pick My Little Pony,” Taylor snorted at the pink box.

Ringo threw up his hands. “You said you didn’t care.”

Taylor tossed his head in annoyance and stepped out of the bathroom. Ringo fluttered after him into the main room. Taylor laughed when he caught Ringo with his hands over his eyes. He had the sense to preserve Ringo’s poor eyesight and carefully pulled the covers over Corentin’s more risqué parts.

He crossed the floor to the table as Ringo took his place on the windowsill. Taylor considered the monstrous journal upon the podium. He couldn’t touch it. And he wasn’t going to test to see if anything had changed. But he had to do
something
.

He popped open the stationery box and then chose a piece of paper and the pink glitter gel pen. Taylor tapped the pen on the paper, and after a momentary thought, the words came….

The Grand Hotel, Mackinac Island, Michigan

June 13

D
AWN
ARRIVED
,
and Taylor had refused to sleep. He watched over Corentin; he wouldn’t waste one moment until he became conscious again. With a little help from Ringo, they resituated Corentin in the bed. They had made adjustments on how he was tied down. Instead of over his head to the headboard, they had secured his hands more comfortably at his sides.

Corentin’s eyes darted under his lids as he dreamed of something he wouldn’t remember.

Taylor played in his head what it all meant again and again.

This was going to be a regular occurrence in his life now. Every seven days he would lose Corentin, and he’d have seven days to win his love all over again. Taylor was already making plans. On the night of the seventh day, that day he would stay up all night and make sure Corentin’s notes were up to date. That morning would be his to welcome Corentin back into the world and make it as painless a transition as possible. As he sat with his knuckles to his chin, Taylor considered things to try. Maybe make him an extravagant breakfast in bed. Maybe coordinate a welcome home party. Maybe do a silly riff on a birthday party. At least until he got into the swing of it and was sure Corentin would just be disoriented, instead of disoriented and violent.

It would be a challenge. Taylor knew that. But everything about his life had been challenges, adversities, and being counted out. Now he had to rise to the challenge. It wasn’t Corentin who had to protect Taylor from now on. Taylor had to protect Corentin. Taylor had to not only keep Corentin safe but keep their love for each other well fed and well cared for.