The Gift (20 page)

"Quit it," August scolded. "You're getting me wet."

Now that didn't sound like a bad idea at all, Doren decided. Far better than drinks or food or sleeping. Getting August wet sounded like just the thing to do, as a matter of fact, preferably while August was moaning his name underneath him. He banged the shower off and tweaked his fingers in a come-hither gesture.

"Why do I even bother to argue with you?" August asked him, leaning against the sink with a look on his face that Doren was sure the law would call "intention."

For the first time ever August approached him, pushing away from the sink and walking to where Doren waited. That shouldn't have been as salacious as it was. But the act of coming forward, of bringing one's self to him like that, seemed so perfect in the moment.

Doren stepped out of the shower, dripping wet and not caring a hoot about that fact. He threaded both hands into the hair at the back of August's head and pulled August's face to his own. "I'd really like to fuck you, August."

Sound rushed from August's lips, hidden in August's breath. There was fear in it. Almost as much fear as there was need. He could push—Doren knew that. They were both vulnerable; they both needed something to cling to. If he made it a demand … but it was a stipulation he couldn't make. Doren shook his head and kissed August lightly. "It's okay, we don't have to. I'm just glad you're here."

"Bed?" August asked. "We could …" The pink already on his cheeks darkened while August sought words. "Use our mouths or … something."

August had shed his shirt, the buttons lost, the fabric peppered with stains of what he'd said were most likely not all his and Doren hadn't asked for details. It had been balled up and trashed, along with Doren's t-shirt and spattered jeans. Good things, indeed, Doren decided. Not just for the symbolism but because now August stood in front of him, half naked and gorgeous. He traced the lines in August's chest, the natural indent that separated August's pecs, the rise of chest muscles and the sharp collarbones. "I'd like that."

He toweled his hair and his body as he followed August from the bathroom, but his eyes never left the swell of August's ass as August moved. I could make him want me, Doren thought. If he'd just give me the chance, I could annihilate that fear with pleasure. I could make him beg me to take him all the way.

The look in August's eyes would have to be enough: the heat and the need and the fulfillment that shined through like a light. Doren didn't wait to pull August on to the bed beside him. Both of them fell together, reaching for each other like they could sustain themselves physically through oral intensity. While mutual lips and tongues enticed hard bodies into lengths of steel it was hard to complain about needing more. Still, Doren's fingers wandered, and August caught a breath over Doren's cock when his fingers began to stroke and nudge the place he so desperately wanted to be. August swallowed Doren faster, deeper, and in return Doren's mouth was August's to use as August pleased. He only paused once, and that was merely to wet his fingertips with his tongue.

Thrust matched swallow as August moved against him and Doren used August's own movement to work one of those wetted digits, just a tease, just half an inch and no more, into August's hole. Vibration rolled over Doren's cock as August groaned his approval and sensation compounded in every part of Doren's body. Whether August's channel moved to push him away or let him in, Doren couldn't say, but the sound of August as he wiggled his fingers deeper, as breach gave way to slide, as he fingered tightness that made him want to flip August over right then and there and just force his way into it, did more to stimulate Doren's pleasure pinnacles than the wet suction on his cock.

It was overwhelming, his staying power strained from too much tension for too long, and Doren couldn't wait for August to catch up to him. He grabbed the back of August's head and pulled August closer, gasping as his cock shuddered release into August's throat. Legs and arms, even Doren's belly trembled with exhaustion, but he ignored them to shove August on to his back, lean over top of August's lap and slide and suck with everything he had to give.

"God … D-Doren! Damn!" The expletives came as sharp as the thrusts of August's hips did and Doren didn't hold him back or try to slow him down. The final "My God!" was baptized with the swell of August's cock on his tongue and a rush of warm fluid.

Doren let out the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding in a long sigh and wrapped both arms around August's thighs, resting his head on August's hip, the chaos of the last few days ebbing away with each thump of his slowly decelerating heart.

It was hard to say if Doren was sexier with his eyes closed, or when they were open. He decided the two images couldn't compare against one another and stroked his palm slow and easy down Doren's back.

Doren sat up to kiss him and August returned it; a long, deep, right down to your soul kind of kiss. "Auggie?" Doren mumbled, pulling away to rest his cheeks against August's hair. "Does this mean you forgive me?"

August didn't answer right away and he heard the edge of sadness in Doren's voice when Doren continued. "Can we just pretend that the last two days never happened?"

It was almost to hard to do—exhaustion was setting in with both claws buried—but August pulled himself up and eyed Doren with a narrowed-eyed, suspicious expression. "Tell you what I'm going to," August said slowly. "I'm going to play fairy godfather for you and grant you one wish. If that's what you really, really want, I'll wave my magic wand and the last forty-eight hours will disappear into time and space."

"Perfect," Doren chuckled. "Thank you."

"But Doren," August said, his voice suddenly serious, "you only get one wish. One shot. If you ever hurt me like that again you won't get a second chance."

The grin fell from Doren's face. He ran his fingers under August's chin, pulling August close enough to kiss. He didn't though, just rested their lips together while he spoke. "I promise."

August pushed forward, completing the kiss for them. "Okay then. Poof. The last two days are gone."

Doren's eyes flew open, in exaggerated dismay. "No, wait! That doesn't work for me."

"My God, now what?"

"We're going to have to alternate-universe this memory, Aug." Doren smirked. "I don't want to forget about the dressing room. It's too good of a memory to give up."

August grinned. One couldn't get mad at a statement like that. "No, I don't want to forget about that either." He laid back and pantomimed deep thought. "Okay, so we were at the dressing room. But not because we were going to dinner with them. It was just going to be the two of us."

"Yes," Doren nodded. "That's how I remember it too. Dinner was great; we talked, we laughed …"

"We danced a bit, too. Remember?"

"That's right, we did. We ate; we danced. And then what?"

"Oh," August smiled. "Then we came back here."

"Oh yeah, right! Then what?"

"You don't remember?" August asked, feigning shock.

Doren smiled, kissed him again, and worked it like a champion: a long, soft pull that reached deep down into August's belly. "Thank you, fairy godfather."

August didn't pull away; he merely spoke around the little pecks Doren was laying on his mouth. "You're not supposed to remember the fairy godfather part, dumbass."

"You're wrong about that, Aug." Doren dropped back on the pillow and sighed sleepily. "I'll never forget that part again."

*~*~*

He had no idea when his eyelids had slipped closed, but August knew immediately that he was dreaming. The setting was too perfect, exactly the same as it had been with his last dream about Doren. It was not a dream he wanted to have again.

"Wake up," he whispered aloud. "Just open your eyes and wake up." But still the soft breeze blew through the curtains; still he stood in Doren's dark, empty hotel room, and still something waited out on the balcony. This time the aura was calm, serene and peaceful though; the curtains were just curtains and the breeze was clean and dry. He steeled himself and followed the relentless pulling of whatever waited through the drapery and past the sliding door.

The sky rumbled dark and gray above him. While the scenery remained as it had been, the space was uncannily silent. Dry, dusty air swirled slowly, tossing mummified twigs and anxious tumbleweeds across blackened rocks and cracked earth. He searched for a familiar face, but where Doren should have been there instead stood a woman, her long sleeves blowing in the sour air, her thick dark hair twisting around her face. She stared into the empty pit with a smile.

"Diana?"

Diana lifted her face and put an arm out, beckoning August with a radiant smile. Diana's voice was a whispered prayer. "Look August, isn't it wonderful?"

He didn't step forward. There was no way in hell that he was going to that cliff-side; no way he would get within reaching distance of anything. He knew too well how this played out. "Come away from the side, Diana," August said. "Please—"

"August," she said, ignoring his request, "look. They have retreated. You have beaten them back."

The wind played with her hair as Diana turned her attention to the sky and scanned the flaming horizon. "You have not beaten
them
, but you have beaten them back." There was concern on Diana's face when she looked at August. "They will come again though. They will not stay away for long. You must prepare your army."

He tried to catch Diana's eye, tried to make her understand, but the wind picked up and threw hot, dry sand that stung his face and made his eyes water. "No, Diana. I want to go home. I want this to stop. Can't we just run away?"

When he opened his eyes again Diana was standing directly in front of him, shielding him from the persistent gusts of earth and air. She rested a hand on August's shoulder. "Some scenes must be played out to the finish, August. Sometimes we don't have a choice."

Then she was gone, back on the cliff, back at her vigil over the empty abyss. "Find somewhere safe. Locate your allies. Use their presence to mask your thoughts and hide your minds. Do not be alone. I need you to make this work, August. Doren needs you."

In the distance the hollow echo of a collapsing tree sounded as it fell to the dry ground. "There is so much more at stake then you know."

Diana looked up quickly, her eyes fixed past August, suddenly intent and worried. "Arm yourself. Be strong. The battle is about to begin again." She turned and began to run along the edge of the rock face.

"Wait! Diana, wait." He stumbled forward, intent on running after her, but Diana stopped and turned, putting her palm face-out.

"Wake up, August."

"August, please wake up." August came awake so quickly, gasping such a deep, hard breath, that Doren was sure he'd just about given August a heart attack. He put his fingers to his lips and silenced August before August could speak.

"What's wrong?" August mouthed.

"Someone's coming."

August stopped to listen, cocking his head to the side. "No, I don't hear anything. You were dreaming."

Doren raised his eyebrow and huffed annoyance. Really? Had August learned nothing? Doren held up his hand, bouncing his finger once, twice, again as if counting, and then it came ... the handle of the door rattled. He smirked and gave August a sideways glance. That'd serve him for second-guessing. Then he saw the fear on August's face and wanted to eat his own heart out.

He slipped from the bed, his finger on his lips again, and walked to the door. He breathed out a long rush of air, planted both feet and closed his eyes. The gentle scraping of an entry card against the metal reader screeched like nails against a chalkboard to his sensitive mind. He heard the sound of the tumbler shiver and, as it fell, Doren rested his hands against the door. "Lock."

The mechanism froze, expelled the card, and Doren waited in perfect stillness. Again, the push of the card, the tremor of the lock, and again he told it, "Lock."

The murmured curse on the opposite side of the door sounded like an explosion in his ears as Doren concentrated on the small apparatus that held back Anton's advance. Doren knew it was him—could hear the complicated sound of Anton's breath, the black swirling music of the thoughts in Anton's mind, even the squelch of Anton's blood as it raced through veins.

Not this time, Doren thought. He braced himself against the door, listening harder, trying to filter out the sounds he didn't need and pick out the ones he did. The relaxation that he needed to work everything properly was just not there, not under the conditions they'd been through, and he struggled to keep control on the thin pattern of noise. One more time, "Lock", and a bloom of sweat broke out on Doren's back.

He heard the rustle of blankets, like a field of a thousand birds lifting to the air at once, and the thunderous thump of footsteps moving in his direction. He wanted to tell August to be quiet, not to move, that he was having trouble focusing as it was, but he was afraid the sound of his own voice would make his head explode. Then August touched his back and Doren's mind cleared. It soared. Without effort, Doren zeroed in on the lock and held it as easily as if he was holding the key himself. As if he heard August's prompt spoken, Doren took his hands off the door and turned to face the room. August caught his eye and they held each other's gaze. With both palms on his chest August spoke without speech, "Ready?"

Doren smiled. Yes, he knew when he saw August the very first time. He hadn't known what he knew; only that he knew. They were meant to be. August was the one. "Yes."

He felt the pull, the gathering and the focusing. Like an extension of himself, like a ball on an elastic tether, he felt the reach and strain of the thrust when August let it go. They both heard the surprised gasp, the rush of solidity through air, and the sharp crack of bone against plaster. Neither needed to be told when Anton lifted himself and hobbled away.

They were holding hands when Doren finally opened the door on the empty hallway. Only the telltale crush of the plaster on the opposite side of the wall offered any credence to what had happened.