Page 58 of Short Stack 3

I know I’m no oil painting. My middle is a little soft from my love of biscuits, and I’m as pale as the moon, but somehow, he sees me as beautiful, and I’ve learned to accept that and not argue with him anymore.

He stands over me, silhouetted against the blue sky, the honeysuckle sending shadows over his face.

“Where should I start?” he murmurs.

I groan as he leans forward and licks down the centre of my chest. He circles my belly button with his tongue and then rubs his nose into my happy trail before nestling into the crease of my groin. He inhales and groans, and I arch up.

“Spread your legs,” he orders.

I obey, no thought now of being caught. He leans in and licks at my nipple before suckling and then biting on it. I groan at the sharp pleasure, and then he pulls back. Raising his hands, he scatters the violas over me. The pretty little flowers fall over my pale body in cool little touches, violet and yellow splashes of colour settling on me. Some fall over my balls, and I moan as he cups them, rolling them gently before bending and blowing. The petals tickle my skin, and I moan again.

“Taste one,” Cosmo says, holding out a tiny yellow flower.

I take it on my tongue. “Like lettuce,” I say in surprise.

“A fresh taste, yes?”

I nod and watch as he runs his finger along my skin, watching the flowers shift.

“So pretty,” he says. “They are called heartsease in some places. Did you know that?”

I shake my head, groaning as his fingers trace down my ribs and then run along my cock.

“Oh god,” I groan. “So good.”

“Barnaby?” His eyes are full of heat and love. “I cover you in these becauseyouare my heartsease.”

“And you’re mine,” I whisper.

He smiles. “What a lovely day, my Barnaby.” He winks. “Let us make it even better.”

“Not sure you could improve on this.”

“Really?” His eyes twinkle. “Let me see.”

And then I shout, the sound echoing across the peaceful garden as he takes my cock in his mouth and starts to suck.

A while later, I stir, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He hums contentedly.

“I love you,” I say, and he opens his eyes.

“You are my whole world,” he says solemnly, and we smile at each other.

I shift position again. I’m covered in violas, some sticking to Cosmo’s spunk that is drying on my belly from where he brought himself off.

“I hope these will come off. I don’t know how to explain wearing violas.”

He laughs, and then he rubs his nose, and I hear the sound of bells. When I look down, the violas are gone, although smears of pollen still decorate my skin.

“So, what’s next?” I ask. “More magic?”

He shrugs. “I do not think so. This is magic enough, my Barnaby.”

I smile, loving him so much that my whole body feels warm. He offers me a lopsided grin that says he knows what I’m thinking, and then we sit quietly, hidden in the shadows of the honeysuckle, holding hands on our lazy afternoon.

The Wishing Tree

This was a Christmas story that I wrote for my Facebook readers’ group. I love a bit of magic at Christmas. It’s set a couple of years after the events ofOn a Midnight Clear.

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