“Edgar.” Justin was strong enough to rattle the house, but too controlled to ever risk it. Instead, the temperature rose and the air hung heavy with tension. “You said those very words to my face. Trust me, I remember it clearly. You didn’t want a dragon. Now, you are telling me you do.” It wasn’t quite a question, although Justin’s voice softened at last.
“Not… not in that sense.” Edgar nearly stuttered.
“Not inwhatsense, Ras? Please.” The wordpleasefrom Justin, who should not ever beg from Edgar, had Edgar uncurling his legs so he could lean to the side. He took Justin’s hand by the wrist, then released it, shocked at himself.
He looked away and sighed. “What my parents have is rare among dragons, a love between equals. A marriage as the humans would call it.”
“It’s nice.” Justin spoke quietly. “More than nice.” Justin’s parents were far more typical of dragons. They were partners for the sake of their hatchlings, but they sought love elsewhere.
“Yes, it is,” Edgar agreed softly, whispering in both delight and shame. “But… have you ever seen a dragon with a human? They are equals, but there is a different give and take—please let’s talk of something else. A story. You wanted a story.”
“You mean like a dragon’s boy.” Justin realized out loud, and Edgar had been wrong. Justin’s surprise rocked through the room, sending books and comics spilling to the floor. “A dragon’s boy? You want another dragon tokeep you?” he asked with what had to be shock, but then he placed his hand over Edgar’s on the couch and Edgar’s gaze flew from their hands to Justin’s face. Justin’s low, fiery voice was devastating. “Edgar,Iwould keep you.”
Edgar opened his mouth and was hit with a wave of need, longing and lust combining intodesireon his tongue. “I’m not human. I’m not Other. I’m dragon. You are dragon—thedragon, Justin. You should…”
“Edgar.” Justin watched him, too much flickering through his expression for Edgar to catch it all; hunger and satisfaction, impatience and determination. “These moments between us are good, but I could give you so much more. I knew you needed this, the way I need this, but you could have told me. I can give you that. I will—”
Edgar thought his heart might burst out of his chest if Justin said another word. “I don’t have a treasure, Justin, only my stories.”
“Stories you share withme.” Justin’s possessive tone seared him. “That makes them mine.”
Edgar trembled, then jumped when his mug fell from the table and landed on the rug with a dull thud.
He’d never shaken anything before.
“I share them with others, too,” he argued, faintly, but shuddered at the lie. Two more books fell to the floor. He tried to breathe evenly, although he could not look away from Justin’s eyes. “But not… but not the ones I tell to you. Those aren’t for others. They are mine.” And because he loved Justin, they were Justin’s as well.
Justin had known that. All this time, hehadknown the extent of what Edgar had felt for him.
Edgar was a little dizzy. “But when they brought other dragons to meet me, it was never you.”
“I already knew you.” Justin’s gaze made Edgar as weak as a human, so Edgar closed his eyes. It did not stop Justin from speaking the words that must have burned even a dragon of his strength. “And you didn’t want a dragon.”
There were no possible futures in front of Edgar, no stories he could focus on when he could taste Justin’s pain.
“I did,” Edgar admitted, and bent his head. “I did want a dragon—dowant a dragon.” Justin had known that, too. How Edgar must have confused him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, quivering at the strength enveloping him. Justin’s fingers gently urged his chin up, but Edgar kept his eyes closed. “You were so much better at being dragon than me, always bold and strong, and when you were eighteen, and it came time for you to be introduced to other dragons….” Justin had found many playmates. Edgar knew of them even when he locked himself away in his library. “I was only two years younger, but I knew before then that you were mine. You were—but that didn’t mean I was yours, and what I wanted—you did not even want me as a playmate when my time came. But it… it seems you did.”
“Treasure.” The word, more than the rumble of Justin’s voice, made Edgar part his lips. “Shall I tell you a story?” Justin’s hands settled at Edgar’s ribs. Edgar could feel Justin’s thigh pressed against him and nodded eagerly. Justin’s mouth seemed to be directly over his. “Once, there was a dreamy-eyed, emerald dragon storyteller, who lived in a bright, warm lair of books and colored glass. Other dragons came to see him, but they were turned away, because the storyteller told them he didn’t want another dragon. This was a lie. Which was—excuse me, Edgar—very silly. And obvious, when the air around him was like lightning for one of these dragons, when he smiled to see him as he smiled for no one else, when his need for this one could bring that dragon to him over any distance.”
Edgar let out a shaky breath.
Justin’s hold tightened, although he gentled his tone. “This other dragon knew treasure when he saw it. He decided that if he were lucky enough to be chosen by the storyteller, he wouldn’t mind if his emerald beauty stayed in his lair of stories and stained glass, as long as he was happy. As long as this dragon got to keep him happy, and come to see him, and listen to his stories, then he could be content with a fraction of what could be. The dragon tried to tell the storyteller that, but since his storyteller didn’t want another dragon, the only thing the dragon could have, that he was allowed to keep for his own, were tales told in moments like this one. Tales that called to him, distracted him from his studies, made him burn so hot that nothing could cool him.”
He spoke the words against Edgar’s lips.
Edgar felt as if he was panting. “I can’t be wise about you, Justin. I’ve never been able to. There is too much of what I want that I cannot see what will be.”
Justin raised a hand to stroke Edgar’s neck. “Now you know what I want, so you can see the truth. Does the dragon get a happy ending?”
Edgar gasped for the kiss that wouldn’t come. Sparks flew through his vision, what could have been, what should have been, what would be. This dragon was meant to conquer but he had waited all this time for Edgar. “You’re asking me?”
Justin curved a hand to Edgar’s jaw. “A dragon’s boy runs his home,” he declared, in rough, growling satisfaction. “You know that. The fiercest dragon will do whatever his treasure demands of him.”
The thrill of those words sent books cascading loudly to the floor. Somewhere, in the distance, Edgar’s mother was probably over the moon—but wise enough not to interrupt them.
The story was clear. Edgar would be his.
“Kiss me,” Edgar demanded, and fire—Justin—met him, hands and mouth and body. They belonged to Edgar as much as Justin’s heart and Edgar claimed them by gasping for the first touch of Justin’s lips to his throat, and shivering for the slide of flannel as it fell from his chest, and lying back to revel in the fluid strength above him.
