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R----Keith and Carson make a connection.  Of sorts.

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Part IV---Reaching

I reached for him, brushing back the heavy, still slightly damp curtain of midnight hair.  It was wavy from the rain, touched with highlights of smoky crimson rather than blue.  His eyes slid closed as I cupped his face lightly in my hand, and I smiled as I watched him shiver.  I was shivering too, but it wasn’t all desire.  A flame was sparking through the loose tinder of my soul, wild and beautiful in the middle of all the garbage I’d collected in my life.  I had no idea which parts of me it would warm, and which it would burn to ash.  And at that moment I didn’t care.

We sat there on my worn flowered carpet; him kneeling between my spread legs now, still kissing close.  I drew my legs up, pinned his body gently with my knees.  Felt his hand spider down my thigh, pause maddeningly before reaching the part of me that most ached for his touch.

I coulda smacked him for that.  Rotten tease.

“Wizard,” he breathed. And despite my frustration, the thing curling inside me like incense smoke arched in pride at that naming.  Well, all right then; magic it would be. Magic was great, groovy, beautiful.  I’d use it, too, and shamelessly.  He’d be mine, body and soul, forever----

My lips moved.  A Word flowed forth, like smoke and honey; he leaned forward and stopped it with his mouth, swallowing the madness that gripped me in the same quietly passionate kiss.

He’d always been a quick study.  And he was getting too damn good, at this kissing thing.

“You don’t need magic for something that you accomplished years ago,” he said quietly, pulling back and opening his fire-blue eyes.  “And you need to learn control of it first.  I have brought some things that will help.”

I blinked at him.  This time, no doubt of it.  He’d read my fucking thoughts.  Aside from the fact that after winding me the hell up he was neatly side-stepping the issue of sex again!

He tilted his head slightly and smiled, a gesture that caught my breath with memory.  “I love you in a rage, Sensei,” he teased softly.  “Or should I say you’re beautiful when you’re angry?”

I knew I was really glaring now.  Couldn’t help it.  “I’m a near-sighted, middle-aged scruff with a big mustache and I’m smart enough to know it.  Don’t be trying to shine this boy on with the ‘beautiful’ crap.  Okay?  Or the ‘I wanna fuck’ crap, either.  You seem to have a hella lotta control for a horny guy!”

His smile faded.  “It’s part of turning to Warrior, the control,” he said quietly, eyes intent on my face.  “And you should be glad of it.  The first sight of you, after all these years, nearly drove me mad with lust.”

“Oh, yeah?”  I thought of myself as he’d probably first seen me, falling outta Lori’s truck into the driving rain, hitting a puddle and nearly landing on my ass.  Soaked and cussing and wrestling with my bike.  “Well, I don’t blame you, I bet I looked sexy as sin.”  The mad was fading; his serious, bookish way of talking was beginning to amuse me, as it always had.

“Sexier,” he assured me gravely, and with a heroic effort I kept my face straight.  “And I was very afraid, despite all my prayers to Tyr, that you wouldn’t want me.”

“Wouldn’t want----you idiot!  Wait a minute, prayers to----?”

“And as for ‘middle-aged’,” he interrupted coolly, “You forget I know exactly how old you are.  You’ll be thirty-three in March.  The grave is far from your reach, unless I pitch you into one for such foolishness.  But I’d much rather do other things to you.  Or let you do them to me.”

The way he said that----with a sinful smile that made me feel like I’d bitten into a piece of semi-sweet chocolate---was more then enough to wind me up again.  I forgot I’d wanted to ask about Tyr and the praying business, and how the hell he seemed to be reading my thoughts.  The magic inside me, lowered to a simmer as we bickered, suddenly boiled up madly as he let his hand finally glide down between my legs and gently fondle me.

Jesus!  I’d known it would feel good when he finally got around to touching my poor, panting dick.  But I hadn’t realized every fucking blood cell in my body would immediately be at his fingertips.  I’m not kidding, I nearly passed out.  The rush was that intense.  And funny thing, he seemed to experience it too; anyway he gasped and swayed forward.  We nearly cracked heads.

And then----ah, shit!  What rotten timing, as always!

I felt the presence on the other side of the door even before the knocking began again, more tentative noise this time.  George was a loudmouth, rude as hell to my face but always gentlemanly about intruding on my privacy.  Well, usually.  At least his rap was discreet, as opposed to the previous barrage.  But like I said---lousy timing.

The power inside me rose like a snarling dragon, but the mundane me was quicker.  I smacked it down ruthlessly; frustrated or not, I wasn’t gonna fry the best landlord I’d ever had.

“McIntyre?  You in there, you okay?  Yer lady friend sez she left her car keys inside; poor bitch is soakin’ wet here.  If you don’t open up, I’m gonna have to use my key, ‘cause aside from her problem yer worryin’ me again here.”

“Goddammit!”  I fell forward into Carson’s arms. Curbing the rush of power that just ached to lash free and knock this intruder on his butt had taken everything outta me, desire and magic and even common sense.  “I’m not trying to kill myself again, George, you asshole!  I’m over that!  Gimmee a minute willya!  Uh!”  I grunted in pain as Carson’s arms tightened on me spasmodically.

“Kill yourself?” He barely whispered it, but judging by the pincer grip on my arms he was surprised, and far from pleasantly.  “Damn you, Keith!  You had so little faith in me?  You tried to leave me?”

Well.  I’d known he wouldn’t be happy, but this seemed a pretty dramatic reaction.  Especially for a suicide attempt that turned out like mine did.  But there was no time to explain if I didn’t want George to stroll on in and jump to conclusions.  Conclusions that I hoped would eventually be correct if we stopped getting interrupted!

“Talk about it later!” I squawked, trying to shake free.  “It wasn’t anything---I was just depressed----always depressed on your birthday, Carse---“  Oh, Christ.  My big, flapping mouth.

He let me go abruptly, and I scrambled to my feet as George began to fumble with the lock.  “You tried to kill yourself on my birthday?”

“Well it didn’t work, did it?  Talk about it later!”

“We will indeed,” he remarked, coldly and flatly.

Jesus!  Why was he tripping about this incident so much?  More importantly, why had I opened my big mouth anyway?  I threw my arms up in disgust, hustled to the door and yanked it open.  George already had his key in the slot, and my abrupt move damn near broke the thing off.  “Christ, mate, scare me to death, all I hear is crazed mutterin’ and then you opens the door like a fuckin’ popgun!”

“I wasn’t muttering crazily, I was talkin’ to somebody!” I growled, looming over George to stare wrathfully at Lori, huddled in the small leaky foyer that connected the two apartments.  One glance at her made me feel like a big turd; she wasn’t quite as wet as George had grandly proclaimed, but she looked small, apologetic and totally miserable.  Lori was one of those people who talk big with friends but really hate confrontations and making a public scene.  The girl probably woulda rather drowned than to have my landlord poke his nose in and help her.

Suddenly George peered over my shoulder; well, actually, he leaned around my body to stare, he was too short to peer over anybody’s shoulder unless they happened to be one of the Seven Dwarves.  “Well, hel-loooo!” he said in a soupy voice.  And despite my still-present annoyance with all these dumb interruptions, I had to grin.  George’s “hel-lo” as he spotted my guest sounded pretty much the same as Lori’s first response,

I glanced back casually at Carse, then swallowed.  Being close to him, touching him and being touched, had been so intense it had kinda overridden the force of his appearance.  I almost wanted to coo “hello!” myself.

He was studying all three of us with cool disgust.  Still sitting on the carpet, but he’d leaned back, arms behind him and hands flat on the floor now supporting his weight, levied legs drawn up a bit but not nearly enough to hide his crotch.  It was a slightly arrogant sprawl that I remembered from his teenager years.  It also would have worked well for a sassy hooker coming on to a customer from a red satin bed, I thought kinda sourly.  I mean, his bare chest was strained just enough to show every defined muscle.  The tight levis and the spread-leg position hid virtually nothing; nudity woulda been less erotic.  And then there were those hot, contemptuous blue eyes in his chiseled face, the long hair just messy enough to make you wonder how it got that way.  I blushed as I felt Lori’s glance touch me and then slide nervously away.  I would bet my next paycheck she was wondering that exact thing.

I threw a look at George and had to grin again.  “Hey, George!  Earth to George, yoo-hoo!  Man, if you leave a pile of slobber on this carpet you are definitely the man paying the clean-up bill, not me.  Ewww.”

“No problem,” he responded automatically; I don’t think he heard a word I said. “Yer gonna interduce me, right, chum?”

He was deliberately making his English accent thicker; probably some fool in a bar had told him how sexy it was.  I grinned and did the honors.  “George, this is Carson, my best friend in the whole wide world.  Carson, George—he’s my landlord, so play nice, okay?  You’ve met Lori, who is gonna tell me where she left her keys, right?”

“I really don’t know,” she began, and I laughed and held up one hand.

“Trust me---I do.”  I’d find ‘em on the bathroom counter, probably right next to the thousand-dollar engagement ring she’d shucked to wash her hands.  Women!

Carson got up in one liquid, effortless move that I think had all three of us gaping shamelessly.  “Hey, Carse!” I squalled as he brushed wordlessly past me and my smitten landlord.  “Where you goin’?”  Seriously, from his grim expression I was sure I’d managed somehow to offend him right out the door and all the way back East.

He paused and looked back coldly.  “I didn’t come all this way for a hour’s entertainment,” he growled.  “I have luggage.”

George sniggered at that, and I blushed all the way to my toes it felt like.  “Luggage?” I echoed, like a bewildered parrot.

“In the car.’

“You drive?”  Well, it had been five years, dammit!  And he’d been terrified of the thought of getting behind a wheel at sixteen, an age when most kids are fighting for the chance.

Even Lori laughed at me, dammit.  And Carson couldn’t keep his mean look; it altered dramatically in fact, to a sort of exasperated fondness that made me wince and gloat at the same time.

“I have three cars,” he informed me kindly before disappearing.  “But THIS one is a rental.  And yes---I also have credit cards.  And a bank account.”

Well---I just bet he did at that.  And probably a monthly allowance that would kick the shit out of my and Lori’s annual salaries combined, the bastard.  Because suddenly I couldn’t see him as having let any of his remaining relatives snooker him out of a dime of that money his rich father owed him.

My boy had grown up, all right.  Just maybe, more than I ever had.

In the short time Carson was gone I accomplished the minor task of retrieving Lori’s keys (the keys, as well as TWO expensive rings, were right where I’d figured).  It wasn’t so hard to get her sent on her way; she was pretty embarrassed all in all.  But she did hesitantly stop me in the hall and say quietly, “Keith---are you sure about this?  Not the, uh, guy and guy thing!  You know I’m not bigoted about that, though I never thought you----!  Well, I feel pretty dumb, I guess.  But he, it’s just that your friend looks----“

“Too sexy for me?” I grinned.  “I agree on that one, but fuck all if I’ll let that stop me!”

“No---well, sort of---I mean, he looked---dangerous.  I know that sounds stupid----“

I considered.  Lounging on my floor like he owned the place, studying all three of us with a faint sneer in his expression.  And then his eyes brushed mine and something else was there, as hard and hot as his first welcoming embrace had been.  “No, actually, you’re right.  But---damned if I’ll let that stop me, either.  I’m gonna have this, one way or another.”  I said it so quietly, I think maybe I was talking to myself.

She eyed me strangely, then abruptly stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek lightly.  “Be careful.  Please.”

I squired her out my door, then tended to the more difficult task of sweeping George the hell on his way.

Yup, he was still planted firmly on his stubby little legs, right in my hallway and looking all dreamy.  But despite his melty expression he had no trouble coming rudely to the point.  “One damn fine piece of ass, McIntyre.  I thought you was straight!”

I grabbed his shoulders, swiveled him around, and gave him a gentle push toward his own apartment.  “Who said I wasn’t?  Goodbye, George.  Nice of you to visit.”

“What!  You’ve got somethin’ that delicious on your plate and not gonna even lick the frosting?  I don’t believe ya, lousy fricking liar that ya are.  That boy looked rumpled, and yer arse was red in the face as I’ve ever seen.  I know when two lads’ve been kissing it up as well, damn if I don’t.  Who the hell is he?  You can’t have found that in any worthless bar in these parts!”

I shoved a little harder, and stubborn as he was, George staggered out of my doorway and into the hall.  “You’re the one who cruises bars---hopefully that’s in the past tense, or I’ll tell Steve on you.”

“I been good as gold, goddamn you for a cold-hearted bastard!  You leave poor Stephen be, he’s troubles enough pickin’ up me mess now that I’m home all the damn time. And I’m deservin’ some gossip at least, chum.  C’mon, who is he?  And you can swear ‘straight’ till your nose grows the length of the block, but if you try to prove it with that lad given the way he looks at you, you’re an idjit.  Probably a soon-to-be-raped idjit!”

“Nice seeing you again, George, come back anytime.  Just don’t expect to be let in.  And if you try using that passkey again, you’ll be eating it.”  The outside door swung open, and Carson was there with enough luggage to stun a camel, duffel bags, suitcases, even a backpack.  I hurried to assist, tossing a last remark to George as he opened his beak yet again.  “And I’ll be feeding you that key from the wrong end, chum.”

George paused, then took a good look at my expression.  But I think the glance he stole of Carson was what really turned the trick.  He about-faced and marched into his flat like a good little soldier, the first time in our three-year acquaintance he made no effort to get the last word in edgewise.

Then I was helping Carson drag all his crap into my place, silently noting that among the various baggage was something that looked like a laptop case.  He verified that without comment by abandoning everything else in the middle of the room to open and fire it up on top of the mess of ungraded papers on my antique desk.  Semi-antique.  Okay, flea-market.  Well, it was big and had lots of drawers anyway; worked for me.

I hadn’t been able to meet his eyes, but I glanced his way curiously as the computer screen swirled into life.  I felt a smile tug my lips as a Bach organ prelude roared from the speakers, cutting into an Iron Maiden guitar solo.  The screen popped up in the middle of all this racket, not with a Windows intro, but with a life-like animation of Barney the Dinosaur.  The insult to reptiles got out only two lines of his “I love you” song, though,  before being beheaded by a viking-looking dude coming from nowhere.  I never saw so much animated blood in my life.

“Carson, my gawd.  You’ve grown good taste in music and a sense of humor.”  My tone of voice made the smart remark half an apology for other things.

His voice, though quiet and almost neutral, was enough to bring me to his side at once, with a need to hug him senseless.  Or maybe it was his words.  “Not really.  But I loaded this for you.  Everything you need, and things I thought you’d---like.  It took awhile.  It’s a very---complicated----piece of equipment.  Only partly technology; the rest is magic.  And only you can use it.”  He smiled faintly; I guess my expression pleased him greatly.
“Thanking me is foolish.  The doing kept me from insanity, I think.”

I flushed and concentrated on oohing and ahhing at my new goody.  “Magic you say?”  I studied the laptop from all directions.  The case and keyboard were a shimmering black, but with almost a silver-purple sheen.  Never seen that before, when I was drooling over the unreachable toys at the local computer outlet.  The Viking on the screen—who resembled Yosemite Sam more than anything--- was now noisily guzzling a mug of ale to celebrate the death of Barney.  I jumped as the animated bastard suddenly made eye contact with me, grinned like an alligator, and flung a handful of sparkles onto the screen before vanishing.  The sparkles changed into half a dozen icons.  I bent closer and studied one.  “’Might and Magic VI: Training Level 3’.  Computer games?  Peachy.”  I eyed Carson doubtfully.

“And training exercises.  I began as Wizard, remember?”  He answered my question before I’d really formed it.  “And although I was meant to be Warrior---I did not forget how such things work.  Or how they---feel.” His face looked a bit wistful, and now I did hug him.  He hugged back.  I was surprised at how natural it felt.

“You have a lot of, uh, other luggage,” I remarked casually.  Not even fooling myself let alone him.

“As long as you want me here,” he replied quietly.

Well. This would save on the twenty-questions routine.  Although his answer scared me, just a little.  He was so unexpectedly----what was the word I wanted?  Sexy, intense, beautiful, scary.  All true, and yet it was the last stunning fact that made me nervous as hell.

He was so unexpectedly committed.

He saw my eyes drift to the laptop, and smiled faintly.  “The password will enter itself when you touch the keys.  I will shower and change, I think.  Play a little; I’ll take you to dinner later if you like.  I find I do not wish to rush this, Sensei.”

The look he gave me as I settled behind the computer was smoking and intense, belying his words.  Or maybe confirming them?  “So if I, say, ambushed you in that shower you’d scream like a virgin and toss me out because you don’t wanna rush?”

My tease fell flat, because he focused on the wrong thing.  His eyes darkened and shifted.  “I am no virgin, Keith.  As you know.”

Oh, shit.  “Carson, you know I wasn’t even saying----“  Goddamn his father!  And damn his father’s son too; I coulda done without that recollection.  My good mood and my desire seemed to die in the same cold breath of wind.

His eyes pinned me.  “Then as now, fool.  I want new memories.  I want them from you.”

I swallowed.  I studied the blinking icons, not reading them really.  “I know.  I chickened out on you, back then.  I’m---sorry.   I just---couldn’t.  After I knew what he did to you, I just couldn’t.”

“And now?”  His voice was softer, and I managed to look him in the eye.  Oh, bloody hell.  Shouldn’t have.  I wasn’t gonna cry, I never cried in my life goddammit.

All those therapists were now rattling around in my brain, telling me why this was so not a good idea.  Warning me against him.  Better safe than sorry, they wailed.  Better safe than sorry!

They might have won, if I hadn’t looked at him again.  His tense shoulders, hard eyes, soft mouth.

All of them quacked like the ducks they were as I slapped them free and out the window along with everything I’d learned about accepting reality rather than clinging to fantasy.

They’d learned the wrong things.  Tried to teach me the same, poor well-meaning bastards.  The trick was to stop clinging to reality long enough to accept magic.

I relaxed---for the first time in years, I think.  And the bad-ass grin I could feel myself directing his way for once wasn’t forced at all.

“Your dad wasn’t your dad, he was a freaking demon.  I’m not him, or it.  I’m too fuckin’ young, for one thing.  And if he’s all you had then you’re still a damn virgin in my book.  And it will be my honor to pop your cherry, goth-boy.  Once I figure out how this fine machine works, of course.  Priorities are priorities after all.  Go take your shower, you smell like a wet cat. I’ll be along in a few, maybe.”

He studied me gravely, through his lashes.  Then he smiled, and the heat in that smile damn near toasted me.  “Sensei,” he acknowledged quietly.  He snagged a small suitcase and disappeared down the hall without another word.  I only held myself back from galloping toward the bathroom right behind him by clinging to the laptop, “Might and Magic VI”, sounded like a cool game, might as well try it, eh what!!??

I touched the keypad hesitantly.  A password screen appeared, filled itself in curly Gothic script.

User Name: wizard
Password: eternellement bien-aime

I managed to pull up enough high-school French to decipher this before it twinkled away into a screen that solemnly proclaimed “License to Fly” above a shimmering menu of options.  “Shit.  Your ass is mine, romance-boy.”

The sappy smile I knew was plastered to my face didn’t matter.  He was in the shower by now and would never see it.  The threat, well, I’d make good on that in time.

You betcha.

TBC