Page 24 of Tossing the Caber

“Is it prehensile?” Beacon asks, surprising even himself. He fits his grip around where the thick protrusion melds to Laurel’s lower back, connecting to his spinal column.

Seeming amused more than anything, Laurel replies, “I can use it that way, but I usually don’t.” He reaches for his tail, twisting his fingers around the pointed tip. The innocence of the gesture makes Beacon smile. “I know it seems like someone in creative work would benefit from an extra limb, but it’s more distracting than anything. I prefer to work with my…” He hesitates, glancing at his left hand. “My hands.”

Shooting Beacon a sly look, Laurel adds, “It’s completely possible, though.” To prove his point, Laurel’s tail sneaks forth to snugly encircle Beacon’s ankle. “How about I give you a demonstration?”

Chapter Eight

Laurel

Laurel has never been aggressive like this, not once in his entire life. The few lovers he’s taken—veryfew, especially after his accident—have considered dominance a given, assuming that Laurel’s small stature and delicate nature marked him as inherently submissive. Before Beacon, Laurel had no evidence to the contrary.

Now, though…

The hitch of breath that causes Beacon’s muscular chest to swell pleases Laurel greatly. Catching Beacon off-guard is its own reward, but getting an outward reaction is avictory.

Not to mention the swell of his phenomenal pectorals. Laurel takes a moment to squeeze them, mouth watering at how firm and shapely they are. He risks a kiss under Beacon’s jaw, pushing up onto his toes to reach, then mouths downward so he can deliver an experimental nip to his areola. Beacon jumps again, but he doesn’t disengage. Laurel makes note of that as he takes his mouth again.

Pupils blown, Beacon keeps his gaze riveted on Laurel in anticipation of his next actions. He’s panting, which almost triggers Laurel to soothe him, but he doesn’t think that’s what Beacon needs right now; in fact, bringing attention to the vulnerability might cause him to shut down even further.

He loosens his tail’s grasp on Beacon’s ankle,concentrating on sliding it up his leg until the length can caress his thigh. With a trembling hand, Beacon touches Laurel’s tail. The texture is different from the rest of his skin—buttery smooth, since it was suede he dyed and enchanted to create the appearance of skin after fitting it around the skeleton, hand-crafted from wire and cotton.

It took years of studying all sorts of creative innovations from across Everend before Laurel managed permanent installations, and they’re the accomplishment Laurel is most proud of—especially once he figured out how to simulate sensations.

And itworks. Laurel feels every contour in Beacon’s leg, the way his hard, sculpted muscles weave together, and the ginger hair that covers him nearly everywhere. Laurel wouldn’t have expected to find body hair this attractive—considering he removed all of his own ages ago—but Beacon’s masculine stature is hardly compromised by lacking a cock. Laurel just needs to prove it.

“Turn with me,” Laurel murmurs, cupping Beacon’s jaw. “I have an idea.”

Laurel navigates them into position, amazed at how pliant Beacon has become in whatever trance Laurel has put him in by stripping his tightly wound, nearly debilitating self-control. He faces the tile, slippery and shiny as hot water continues to rain down, guiding Beacon to fit against his back.

Again, Laurel has to fight the urge to soften because Beacon slumps his weight over him, wrapping big arms around him like he’s a lifeline.

One simple fact nearly knocks Laurel over the head: this man is hishusband. They’re married now, meaning this is more than an experimental fuck in a strange box of rain.

This is going to be the beginning ofeverything.

The rest of Laurel’s life.

He yanks Beacon by the hair, twisting so they can meet ina sloppy mess of a kiss. While they all-but-fight the space between them, Laurel notes the flex of Beacon’s hips, as if he wants more contact but can’t make himself ask for it. That open need fits perfectly into Laurel’s plan.

Laurel breaks the kiss, gasping in the steamy air. His head feels light, filled with fluff and honey. Taking care not to startle his partner, Laurel slithers his tail between Beacon’s calves, allowing him to feel each inch it travels until it’s between his upper thighs.

Beacon holds his breath.

Tenderly, full of anxiety and arousal so powerful his stomach hurts with it, Laurel arches his back so his tail can rise to meet the slick heat at Beacon’s apex.

He rubs back and forth in tiny increments, allowing Beacon to adjust. He’s gone stock-still, frozen in a trap of desire and, Laurel suspects, fear of that desire more than anything else.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, stroking the backs of Beacon’s hands, protruding tendons and thick veins. “Let it happen; relax into it.”

Slowly, Beacon begins to cant his hips, natural wetness slicking his way back and forth on Laurel’s tail. Laurel adjusts to give him a better angle, keeping him seated on the girthier part of his tail, the lower half wrapped around his hips, where he can make sure to avoid any appearance of an attempt at penetration. He doesn’t need to be told that would go too far.

As instructed, Beacon gives in to Laurel’s encouragement, burying his face in the saturated locks of Laurel’s raven hair as he rides the base of his tail. Laurel isn’t expecting Beacon to release his embrace with one arm, only to run his callused palm down the front of his body. Beacon continues until he finds Laurel’s ignored erection, which he encloses in his big hand.

Laurel gasps and bucks, driving his cock into Beacon’s gripand increasing the pressure between Beacon’s legs, making them both moan.

“Fuck,” Beacon whispers.

Humming in reply, Laurel grabs the fragrant bar of soap and rubs it against Beacon’s palm until there’s enough lather to ensure a smooth glide when Beacon takes him in hand again. The most effective rhythm almost eludes them—Laurel’s brow furrows as he tries to rock his hips in a way that allows Beacon to stroke him without losing the correct angle for Beacon’s thrusts.