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A Ravenous Romance™ Panamour™ Original Publication

www.ravenousromance.com

Copyright © 2009 by Ryan Field

Ravenous Romance™
100 Cummings Center
Suite 123A
Beverly, MA 01915

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without
written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts
in connection with a review.

ISBN-13: 978-1-60777-219-4

This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely
coincidental.

Chapter One

Brett Samson looked like any other attractive mortal.

His sandy blond hair was short and wavy; his well-defined body, with its slim

waist and large, round chest muscles, caused people to turn and stare when he passed by.

No one could tell he was a warlock unless he snapped his fingers. And he never did that,

because he wanted to live his life the normal, human way—just like everyone else.

Brett also had a goal: to fall in love with a nice guy and live happily ever after.

But he was beginning to wonder if that would ever happen. He’d recently broken

up with a guy named Jackson, the man with whom he thought he’d spend the rest of his

life.

The only living mortal who knew his secret was his cousin, Michelle. She was

also the only relative he had left, besides his maternal grandmother. Michelle and Brett

were a year apart in age, both in their mid-twenties. She was his paternal cousin, but they

looked like brother and sister. She had the same sandy blond hair, the same strong jaw

and the same blue eyes. But she wasn’t a witch. He’d inherited his powers from his

mother’s side of the family.

Michelle still lived at the family home, Willow Farm. It was in McLean, Virginia,

not far from the storied Hickory Hill estate owned by the Kennedy family. It was a

sprawling red brick Colonial with black shuttered windows, six white columns, and six

dormers on the third floor. A semi-circular driveway led to a front portico flanked with

tall Grecian urns containing potted boxwoods trimmed into perfectly round balls. It had

been the Samson family home for almost one hundred and fifty years. Michelle’s father

and Brett’s father had been brothers, and when Michelle’s father died, Brett’s father

inherited the entire estate. After he died, Michelle and Brett became joint owners.

But Brett preferred living in town. He liked the urban feel of his Washington,

D.C., loft, which was actually an expensive row house renovated to resemble a loft. He

also liked being near the nightlife and his work. Michelle preferred Willow Farm and

craved the quiet; she didn’t mind commuting. And she wasn’t alone. Brett’s grandmother,

Eloise, lived at Willow Farm, too. Brett’s mother had run off with a vampire when he

was only six months old and Eloise had helped raise him. She was a flamboyant old

witch who often forgot her spells and incantations, and no one could ever predict her next

move.

Brett and Michelle sat on the rear veranda at Willow Farm on a warm spring

evening in May. The sun was just going down. “I think we should take off for the

summer,” Michelle said, then leaned forward to look her cousin in the eye. “We haven’t

spent the summer at the Cape in more than five years.”

“We go every New Year’s Eve and Fourth of July weekend,” Brett said. He

rocked back and forth in a white chair. His little red poodle, Tag, was sitting on his lap,

watching the squirrels.

To see Brett now, no one would guess he’d almost been beaten to death and

robbed the night before.

He’d made a mistake, a big one. He’d picked up rough trade in a bar, a guy with a

deep smooth voice, bulging biceps, and tattoos all over his body. Brett looked fine now;

warlocks healed fast on the outside. But on the inside, there were still bruises that would

take months to heal.

“I mean, spend the entire summer there,” Michelle pressed. “Business is so slow

in the summer. We won’t be missing anything, and it would be fun.” They owned a

trendy boutique not far from Brett’s loft near Dupont Circle. In Washington, D.C., it was

the place to go for something very expensive, but not run-of-the-mill. “We could cut back

to summer hours and Jasmine and Harlan could split their time.” Jasmine was a full-time

manager and Harlan worked part time as a sales clerk.

Tag, ears cocked and braced for battle, jumped off his lap and raced toward a

squirrel. Brett stared down at his knees and said, “What about Grandmother?”

“We’ll take her with us,” she said. Even though Eloise wasn’t her blood relation,

she was the only grandmother Michelle had ever known.

“I guess I could use a change of scenery,” he conceded. “The incident with Dev

wasn’t isolated.”

“Who’s Dev?”

He sighed. “The guy who beat me up last night,” he said. “His name was Devon,

but he preferred Dev.”

She lowered her eyebrows and stared at him. He hadn’t told her much about what

had happened the previous night. “What do you mean, ‘the incident wasn’t isolated’?”

He took a breath and sighed. “Ever since I broke up with Jackson,” he said, “I’ve

been a little out of control when it comes to men. Last week alone I took on the mailman,

the guy who delivers my Chinese take-out, the cable guy, two trash collectors, and a

customer who came into the boutique to buy a new belt.”

She lifted her hands and held up six fingers. “You had six guys last week? That’s

a lifetime for me.” Michelle was very picky about men.

Brett frowned and shook his head. She wouldn’t understand. Michelle went to the

supermarket and picked up pints of good chocolate ice cream when she was depressed; he

went to bars and picked up good-looking men. “The week before that, it rounded out to

eight,” he said. “I’m not counting the cop who pulled me over for speeding, because that

was just a quickie and I didn’t go looking for him.” He didn’t go into the exact details. If

she’d known he’d pulled down his pants when the cop asked to see his driver’s license,

she would have screamed. And if she knew he’d gotten out of the car, naked from the

waist down, and the cop had fucked him in the back seat of the patrol car, she would have

fallen over.

He didn’t do it just to get out of the ticket. The cop was good-looking and he had

a nice bulge in his pants; he would have done it anyway.

Michelle smiled and said, “We could take the Lincoln to the Cape.” She’d

inherited a l962 white Lincoln Continental convertible from her father. It had suicide

doors, blue leather seats and only thirty thousand original miles on the odometer.

He loved that car, and she knew it. He’d been bugging her for ages to take it on a

road trip. But she’d always refused, telling him she wanted to keep it perfect forever.

“You really mean that?” he asked. The thought of driving across the Fall River Bridge in

Massachusetts in that car, with the top down, made his legs tingle.

“I just had it inspected and checked from top to bottom,” she said. “It’s ready to

roll.”

Chapter Two

They left a week later. It was a warm Sunday afternoon, perfect weather for

driving with the top down. The white Lincoln looked like it had just come off the

showroom floor, and the trunk was so large, there was plenty of room for their luggage.

Tag was neatly packed into a Louis Vuitton pet carrier—it was the safest way for him to

travel—and placed in the back seat, and Eloise wore a chartreuse linen suit, with a long

scarf and high heels that matched. She was all for the trip; she loved the Cape. But she

couldn’t understand why Brett wouldn’t use magic and get them there instantly.

When they pulled out of the driveway at Willow Farm, Eloise covered her bright

red hair with the scarf and said, “All you have to do is snap your fingers and we could be

there. This need to drive up the East Coast in a car that’s more than forty years old is

beyond me.” She had one of those proper Upper East Side accents that almost sounded

British.

Brett was driving. He turned left at the end of the driveway and said,

“Grandmother, you know I don’t practice magic at all. I want to be normal, just like

everyone else.”

She waved her arm and scowled. “I’ll never understand that. You’re one of the

special ones,” she said. “I know that. Your powers are superior to most.” Then she

tightened the scarf and said, “The least you could do is let me snap us there.”

Brett gave Michelle a look, rolled his eyes, and smiled. “Thanks for the offer,

Grandmother, but I’m afraid we’d wind up in Bangkok instead of Cape Cod.”

Eloise just pressed her lips together and sat back. She couldn’t argue. The last two

times she’d tried to travel by magic, she’d really messed things up. The first time she was

headed for lunch at a place called The New York Tea Room in downtown Washington,

but wound up in downtown New York City instead. And the second time, she only

wanted to get from the first floor of the house to her room on the second floor and wound

up on the roof. Both times, Brett had to use his own powers to get her back. After that, he

made her promise she wouldn’t try to travel alone anymore without help.

When they drove through Baltimore, they got stuck in traffic near the tunnel that

turned into a two-hour delay. There weren’t many cars on the road, but it was one of

those weekend construction crews that held everything up for miles. By the time they

were out of the tunnel and traffic started to flow again, the rear tire felt strange; the car

felt lopsided. So Brett pulled off the interstate at the nearest exit and found a garage that

was open on Sunday. He was lucky to find anything open. It was one of those small

Maryland towns with low, flat buildings and narrow roads.

The sign at the edge of town read: Welcome to Martha Falls. Home of Col.

Jeremiah Martha. Brett had never heard of Jeremiah Martha. He must have been a local

celebrity. Maybe there was a waterfall somewhere.

He got out of the car and looked at the tire. It was so low, it was almost flat. When

he looked closer, he saw four large nails sticking out of the side. “This will have to be

changed,” he said. “You both have to get out of the car. Tag can stay inside.”

“Can’t you just snap it and fix everything?” Eloise said. “This is such a bother.”

Michelle smiled and shrugged. “She does have a point. It couldn’t hurt to snap

this one time so we could get on the road again.” They weren’t driving straight through to

the Cape. They were spending the night in Philadelphia so Michelle could visit an old

college friend, and she had dinner plans.

He gave her a look. Brett wasn’t very mechanical, but he did know how to change

a tire. “I’d rather do it myself,” he said. He didn’t think he was being stubborn. He

thought he was being practical and normal.

But when he emptied the trunk and pulled out the spare tire, it was even flatter

than the one with the nails in the side. He looked at Michelle and frowned. “I thought you

said you had the entire car inspected. This spare must be the original.”

She put her hands on her hips and said, “I did. But they don’t inspect spare tires, I

guess. How should I know about a thing like that?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t get mad at her. He should have checked himself

before they left. “You two wait here,” he said. “I’ll go into the station and see if they sell

tires here. I’ll see if I can get some water for Tag, too.”

He’d parked at the end of the lot, near the air machine, next to a long line of old,

weather-beaten cars. So he had to cross the entire length of the parking lot to reach the

main building. It was quiet; not a car passed by. But halfway there he heard a soft whistle

coming from his right. When he turned and looked, he saw an attractive young man

sitting on top of a pile of old truck tires. His hair was pale blond and straight, and he wore

faded Levis and cowboy boots. His legs were spread wide and he was kicking the tires

with his heels.

Brett smiled and asked, “Do you work here?”

The man grabbed a leather suitcase that looked like a large doctor’s bag and

jumped down from the tires. He had long, thin legs that bowed in slight arches. His jeans

were tight; they bunched up around the crotch and the zipper popped forward. “I’m just

passing through,” he said, waving his bag. “Have a flat?” His voice was deep and he

spoke with a true, proper British accent.

Brett squared his shoulders and arched his back a little. One didn’t just stumble

upon a guy this attractive every day. His eyes were almond-shaped and pale green. When

he tucked his thumb into the waistband of his jeans, his T-shirt rose and his abdominal

muscles appeared.

“We picked up a few nails,” Brett said. “We’re on our way to Cape Cod, and now

we’re stranded. I’m Brett Samson, and I’m traveling with my cousin and my

grandmother.” The tone of his voice immediately slipped from annoyed and frustrated to

soft and comforting. It was always best to let them know from the start that he was

submissive.

The man crossed to where Brett was standing and smiled. Then he extended his

right hand and said, “I’m Rhys Phillips. I’m on my way to New York.” His lips were full

and two round dimples formed below his cheekbones. “There’s a guy pumping gas

today,” he said. “C’mon, I’ll walk inside with you so you won’t be alone.”

When they reached the door, Rhys opened it and stepped aside so Brett could

enter first. He was glad he’d worn his faded low-rise jeans that day. The pockets were

low, and they made his ass look round and firm.

The gas station attendant was an older man in his early sixties who wore coveralls

and heavy boots. He was missing two front teeth, but his voice was jolly and he smiled a

lot. He even went outside with them, carrying a bottle of water for Tag, to see the flat tire.

But he said the repair shop was closed on Sundays and he wasn’t authorized to do

anything but pump gas. He said he was certain they could either fix the tire or replace it.

They were lucky in that the owner of the gas station collected vintage cars and usually

kept a huge assortment of tires in stock. But they’d have to wait until Monday morning.

Brett looked at Michelle and shrugged his shoulders. She pressed her lips tight

and reached down to get Tag out of the pet carrier. Good thing Eloise wasn’t there. She’d

gone to the restroom. It was almost six o’clock and they hadn’t eaten anything since

breakfast. He looked at the attendant and asked, “Is there a place to spend the night and a

decent restaurant within walking distance?”

Michelle rolled her eyes while she poured water into a small bowl for the dog.

She put him down on the pavement and let him drink. Tag was good that way; he never

needed a leash and never strolled away from his owners. When he was finished drinking,

he lifted his leg on the flat tire and tapped her leg once with his paw. She picked him up.

Evidently, he wasn’t too thrilled with the rough pavement in the gas station parking lot.

The attendant pointed to a low, flat structure across the road, a gray stucco

building that looked like a public facility. “You’re in luck,” he said. “There’s the

Sideways Motel and they have a nice little diner around the side. All the truckers stop

there. And the gal who manages the night shift is a real sweetie. I’m sure she can set you

up for the night.”

Brett’s face dropped. The dog yelped and buried his face in the crook of

Michelle’s elbow. Brett had been to plenty of sleazy motels with men and he’d been with

plenty of truckers; it didn’t matter to him. But he knew Michelle and Eloise hadn’t. Their

idea of roughing it was staying at a Ramada. “Is there anything else nearby?”

The old guy shrugged. “That’s about it. Martha Falls is a small, simple place. I

know it don’t look like much, but it’s clean and safe.”

Michelle bit her bottom lip. “Can I talk to you for a second, Brett? Privately.”

Then she yanked him to the back of the car and whispered, “I have dinner plans in

Philadelphia. And when Eloise finds out she’s spending the night at the Sideways Motel,

it’s not going to be pretty. So start snapping those fingers and get us the hell out of here.”

He sighed, then looked toward the front of the car where Rhys was standing. He

looked back at Brett and smiled. Brett’s heart skipped a beat and his balls tightened. He

leaned forward and whispered to his cousin, “I can’t just snap my fingers now. I’ve

sworn off magic, and you know that. Besides, that guy talking to the attendant is so nice.

His name is Rhys Phillips and he’s on his way to New York. It wouldn’t look right. What

would he think?”

She started petting Tag’s little red head and pointed her right foot. “You just want

to get into his pants, don’t you?” The dog lifted his head from her elbow and stared at

Brett.

He smiled and tilted his head. “Of course not,” he said. He was the best-looking

man Brett had ever seen and he had that sexy British accent. But he wasn’t getting his

hopes up too high. “I’m sure he’s straight and he’s not interested in me. He’s probably

more interested in you.”

But it was more than just Rhys’s good looks and accent that attracted Brett. There

was something strong and decent about him that made Brett’s knees go weak. He had an

unusual way of interacting with people. When he extended his hand and formally

introduced himself to Michelle, she unclenched her fists and forgot about missing her

dinner plans. She even smiled. And Tag loved him; he sniffed and licked his arm, which

was not typically something Tag did with strangers.

When Eloise returned from the restroom and found out they were spending the

night at the Sideways Motel and eating dinner at a truck stop, she lost her balance and fell

back. She could have hit the pavement, but Rhys reached out, grabbed her elbows, and

caught her in time. She fell into his strong chest and closed her eyes. When she opened

them and saw his handsome face, she smiled and asked, “Will you join us for dinner

tonight?”

He looked at Brett and Michelle. “If it’s okay with you,” he said. “I don’t want to

intrude.”

“Are you staying at the motel, too?” Brett asked. Rhys didn’t seem attached to

any of the cars in the gas station parking lot. He was curious.

Rhys smiled and rubbed his jaw. “No. I’m hitching to New York. I just stopped

here to use the bathroom and rest. I’ll be on my way after dinner.”

“Of course it’s okay with them,” Eloise said, “You’ll have dinner with us, and

you’ll sit next to me. I just hope they have a good bar at this place, because I could use a

drink.” Then she straightened her skirt and started walking toward the motel. Her high

heels clicked against the pavement; she was fast for a woman her age. “Please be careful

with my bags, Brett,” she shouted over her shoulder, “They are very expensive.”

Brett booked three single rooms, side by side. The middle-aged woman at the

desk really was a sweetie, and she loved dogs. She reached to hold Tag and he licked her

entire face. But she was a little peculiar, too. Her skirt was so short you could practically

see her ass, her bleached blond hair was too brassy, and her makeup had been applied

with a butter knife. She smiled a lot and flirted with Rhys. She ran her long red

fingernails up his forearm at one point, but got distracted when a group of young guys in

a pickup truck raced by and honked the horn. She laughed. “Those are my fans,” she said,

tossing her head back. She looked Rhys in the eye and said, “I take good care of all my

boys.” She didn’t flirt with Brett, clearly sensing it was a waste of time.

On the way out, Michelle whispered to Brett, “You have competition.” Rhys and

Eloise were far enough behind so they wouldn’t hear.

“Huh?”

“There are two tramps at the Sideways Motel tonight, and they both want to get

into Rhys’s pants.”

He waved her off. “That’s just ridiculous. I think he’s straight. He’s not interested

in me.” Then he handed Tag over to her and said, “But you might want to keep Tag in

your room tonight. Just in case I’m wrong.”

She smiled; she knew her cousin too well. “Let’s feed Tag and get something to

eat. I’m starved.”

* * * *

During dinner, Brett noticed a few things. Rhys wouldn’t sit down until he sat

down first. He even held the back of Brett’s chair, pretending to be polite. Eloise was too

busy staring at Rhys’s crotch to notice, but Michelle didn’t miss anything. She kept

raising her right eyebrow, sending Brett knowing looks. The small diner wasn’t crowded,

but all the women turned to stare at Rhys. When the chubby young waitress took their

order, she stared at his lips. Rhys winked at Brett.

Rhys knew how to handle himself in a restaurant. The first thing he did when he

sat down was place his flimsy paper napkin on his lap. He held his knife and fork

European style and sat perfectly straight in his seat with his elbows pressed to his sides.

He broke small pieces of bread and buttered them separately; if there had been individual

bread plates there, Brett suspected he would have known that his was to his left. He

ordered a steak and took small, careful bites. When he spoke, he waited until he’d

swallowed his food completely.

He told them he was originally from London, but he’d been living in New Orleans

for ten years. He’d gone to college there and remained after graduation because he liked

the city. He had no living relatives and was free to go wherever he wanted. “My family

left me well off,” he said, “and money has never been a problem for me.”

“Then why are you hitching to New York?” Michelle asked.

He stared at Brett and shrugged his shoulders. “I felt like it.”

“Ah well,” Eloise said. She was starting to slur her words. The diner had a bar and

she’d downed four vodka martinis by the time they were halfway through their entrées.

“You’re an adventurous young man. I like that. I did some hitching in my day, too.” She

looked at Michelle and Brett and said, “I really did, and I had plenty of money. All I had

to do was snap my fingers back then and I had anything I wanted. This was during World

War II. A lot of people hitchhiked back then. It was safer. I remember the night these

three handsome soldiers picked me up. I wasn’t wearing any underwear that night…”

Brett sat up, cleared his throat, and reached for the salt. “Are you planning to

remain in New York?” he asked. He wanted to cut his grandmother off. They were a lot

alike when it came to men, and sometimes she tended to ramble on about her sexual

conquests, making people uncomfortable.

Rhys looked at Eloise and smiled. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I’m going there to see

someone about something. If I like it, I might stay for a while.”

They never did find out exactly how old Rhys was or if he actually had a career.

The information he gave them was honest but vague in certain areas. And Brett still

wasn’t sure if he was gay or straight. He never mentioned a lover or a wife. Brett

assumed he was in his late twenties or early thirties; it was hard to tell with really good-

looking men. Sometimes they were older than they looked. But his age didn’t really

matter to Brett.

It seemed to matter to Michelle. She liked details and facts. She knew Brett had

bad taste in men and she didn’t want Rhys to take advantage of him. She kept an eye out

for guys on the prowl for wealthy, unsuspecting guys like Brett. She kept giving Brett

dirty looks and rolling her eyes. When Rhys got up to use the bathroom, she said, “I

really want to like this guy, but there are so many scammers out there. I’m afraid he’s

only out for a free meal tonight.” She placed her palm on Brett’s arm gently. “Don’t be

too disappointed.”

He stared down at his empty plate and smiled. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not

expecting anything. He’s a nice guy. That’s all.”

Eloise hiccupped and jerked back. Her eyes were heavy and she’d been dozing in

and out. But she pointed to Michelle and said, “Well, if I were in my prime, I’d have his

pants down around his ankles by now.”

After dinner, the waitress brought the check. Rhys stood up and grabbed it from

her hand. “This is on me,” he said. “I’ve really enjoyed myself tonight.” Then he pulled a

platinum American Express card from his back pocket and handed it to her.

Michelle pressed her palm to her chest and sat back, then looked at Brett and

shrugged her shoulders.

* * * *

When they walked Eloise to her motel room, she held Rhys’s arm for support.

The vodka had mellowed her. She didn’t stagger, but a strong arm couldn’t hurt. He

unlocked the door and helped her inside while Brett and Michelle watched. He was still

carrying his doctor’s bag, but he didn’t seem to mind lending a hand. She sat on the edge

of the mattress at the foot of the bed, her back slightly slumped, her left hand pressed to

her chest while she clutched her purse with her right. “I hate to think of you hitching by

the side of the road,” she said. “We’re going through New York. Why don’t you just ride

with us? That old car is huge. There’s plenty of room.” Then she sighed and yawned.

Rhys smiled and rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t want to get in

the way.”

Eloise looked at Michelle and Brett. They were standing in the doorway, listening.

“Tell him to come with us,” she said. “He can stay in Brett’s room tonight.”

Michelle rolled her eyes and Brett’s mouth fell open. He hadn’t expected Rhys to

accept the invitation. He’d pictured him as the wandering type: flitting and flowing

wherever the wind blew, not caring much about whom or what crossed his path.

“We’re stopping off in Philadelphia,” Michelle said. “It might be out of your

way.” Her tone was apprehensive; it seemed she still wasn’t sure about him.

Rhys smiled and looked at Brett; his green eyes were clear and bright. “I’ve never

been to Philadelphia. I’m not on a set schedule, either. And I don’t mind bunking with

Brett. Is that okay with you, buddy?”

When he said buddy, Brett’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to fall on his knees

and suck him off right there in front of everyone. He shrugged and smiled. “It’s okay

with me,” he said. He wanted to say “buddy” too, but thought it might sound too artificial

coming from him.

“Excellent,” Eloise said. “Now if you’ll all excuse me, I’m tired and I want to get

out of these high heels.”

Michelle sighed. Her eyes were drooping and her arms were limp at her side.

“You guys go on,” she said, “I’m going to make sure she’s all settled before I go to my

room.”

When they were outside, Rhys stopped in front of their door and said, “If this is

an imposition, tell me. I didn’t want to get into it back there because your grandmother

seemed so tired. I can just leave now. If you don’t want me to spend the night in your

room, that’s fine.”

For some reason, Brett had trouble speaking to him. When he looked into his eyes,

his stomach flipped upside down; just standing beside him made his palms sweaty. This

was the first time they’d really been alone all night, and words were trapped in his mouth.

If he’d met Rhys in a bar or another cruise spot, he would have been flirting and plotting

ways to get him into bed, but this time he wasn’t sure what to say. So he just smiled and

said, “It’s fine. I’m glad to have the company. Besides, if my grandmother woke and

found you gone in the morning, she’d be devastated.”

Their room was identical to Eloise’s room. Beige walls, brown shag carpet and a

wall of built-in Formica drawers and counter space. The only chair was Danish modern,

with an orange vinyl seat and chipped legs. The television was the old-fashioned kind

with actual knobs and dials and plastic wood. There was one double bed in the middle

with a white chenille spread, flanked by two Danish modern end tables.

Rhys plopped his bag down at the foot of the bed and said, “Which side: left or

right? It doesn’t matter to me, buddy. I usually sleep in the middle anyway.” His voice

sounded deeper inside; the hollow voice of a strong, male athlete with rough manners.

Brett took a breath and stared at the bed. “Ah well, I guess the left is good for

me.”

“And I sleep in the nude,” Rhys said. “I hope you don’t mind.” He laughed and

pretended to punch him in the arm.

Brett almost fell over. He had to grab the Formica counter to keep his balance. “I

don’t mind,” he said. “That’s fine.” He wanted to say more, to be witty and clever like he

normally was with good-looking men. But his tongue was frozen.

Rhys stretched his arms and yawned, then pulled off his cowboy boots and

unzipped his jeans as if they were in a locker room and this was all nothing. Brett turned

to face the wall, but he could see Rhys undressing in a long mirror beside the bed. He

didn’t want to stare; they were just a couple of buddies bunking together for the night.

But he couldn’t help himself. When Rhys pulled off his shirt, his muscular chest had

more hair than Brett had imagined. There was a fine, soft layer of sandy blond fleece that

ran across his pecs and down his flat stomach. Brett could see the ripples and waves

above Rhys’s navel, and he had small brown nipples and a deep indentation in the center

of his chest. And when he pulled off his jeans, the same layer of hair continued down his

long, hard legs. Brett’s eyes bugged when he saw his flaccid penis swing back and forth.

It had to be six inches or more, soft. When he was completely naked, he stretched again

and his penis bounced off the side of his leg.

“Do you mind if I watch a little TV?” Rhys asked. “It helps me get to sleep.”

“That’s fine,” Brett said. He was pretending to go through his overnight bag, but

he was having a hard time focusing on anything. He really liked Rhys, and he didn’t want

to say or do anything that would cause discomfort.

Rhys crossed the room to where he was standing. It was all so casual and easy. He

reached past him and lifted the TV remote from the counter. His arm brushed against

Brett’s. He smelled like rising bread dough: sweet and floury and clean. Then he went

back to the bed, pulled the covers over his naked body and sat back against the headboard.

Brett knew he had to undress, but he was terrified Rhys would see the erection

between his legs. He couldn’t turn from the counter; it was sticking out from the

waistband of his underwear. He hadn’t been in a situation like this since he was fourteen

at summer camp when he had to share a tent with a high school football player. So he

said, “I’ll just turn the lights off now.” At least he was wearing underwear. His cock

wouldn’t stick out like a flag staff.

“That’s cool, buddy,” Rhys said. His left hand was under the cover now and his

eyes were focused on the TV screen. He scratched his balls, flipped through the channels

and stopped when he found the sports network.

So while he watched baseball, Brett clicked off the lights and removed his clothes.

But he didn’t remove his black bikini underwear. He took his pants off last and held them

in front of his body, then he casually sat on the bed. He tossed the pants on the floor and

climbed under the covers. Then he turned on his side and faced the wall. He took a deep

breath and closed his eyes, praying he’d fall asleep fast. He could feel the heat from

Rhys’s body. He could still smell him; it was even stronger now.

Fifteen minutes later, Rhys clicked the TV off and the room went dark. All Brett

could see were shadows from the lights in the parking lot. A long white beam passed

through the Venetian blinds and rested across the bed. Brett still faced the wall,

motionless, but his eyes were wide open. When Rhys sank back and rested his head on

the pillow, the bed rocked with a low squeak. He couldn’t seem to get into a comfortable

position. He adjusted his pillow a few times, and he couldn’t get the covers right. The bed

rocked and Brett remained still.

He finally turned on his side, facing Brett’s back, and found a comfortable

position toward the middle of the bed. His warm breath brushed the back of Brett’s neck,

then he placed his large palm on Brett’s ass.

Brett’s eyebrows went up and he stopped breathing for a second. Was this really

happening?

“Is this okay?” Rhys whispered, running his palm beneath his underwear so he

could feel his soft, naked ass.

Brett exhaled and said, “It would be a lot better if you just pulled my underpants

off all the way.” Then he arched his back and spread his legs so Rhys could press his

middle finger against the opening of his anus.

But Rhys didn’t waste any time with foreplay that night, which made it all the

more romantic for Brett. Rhys kicked the covers off, pulled off his underpants and

climbed on top of him. Brett just lay there on his back, and he instinctively lifted his legs

and spread them wide. He placed his palms on Rhys’s shoulders and pulled him closer.

When he stuck out his tongue, Rhys licked it. When their lips locked and their tongues

started to swirl in fast, desperate circles, Brett closed his eyes and saw long, bright flashes

like jagged strikes of lightning. His tongue was thick and solid and his mouth tasted like

nothing Brett had ever known.

While they kissed, Rhys’s hips bucked into his groin. His full erection rammed

into Brett’s soft skin with rugged, even strokes. Brett had never felt so helpless and so

wonderful at the same time.

“I wanted to throw you down in the middle of the parking lot this afternoon when

I first saw you, buddy,” Rhys whispered, sucking on his neck. His British accent was

exciting and exotic. His breathing was erratic and unbalanced. “Then I wanted to rip off

your clothes and fuck you on the table in the diner. But I wasn’t sure if you’d let me get

into your pants at all tonight.”

Brett couldn’t speak. He wrapped his legs around Rhys’s waist and ran his palms

up and down his muscular back. His body turned to mush and it felt as if he couldn’t

spread his legs wide enough. When the stubble on Rhys’s jaw brushed against his neck,

his body shivered and his hole started to twitch. He wanted that big, thick British cock in

his body. He wanted this strong, aggressive man to fuck his brains out. So he placed his

palm on the back of Rhys’s head and whispered, “Do it now. Fuck me now. You don’t

need an invitation and you don’t need a condom. It’s safe.” His voice was soft and gentle;

he wanted to submit completely.

“I’m safe, too,” Rhys said. “I know this for a fact.”

How he knew this was not discussed. But Brett, being a warlock, couldn’t catch

any human diseases, so it didn’t really matter. “Do it,” he said. “Fuck me.”

“Do you have lube?” Rhys asked.

“You don’t need it,” he said. “Just open me up and fuck me.”

This was one of the few exceptions to Brett’s rule about not using witchcraft. He

snapped his fingers twice, and his hole was magically lubed and ready for action. Rhys

was so busy grabbing his dick and pointing it to the opening, he never even heard his

fingers snap.

All it took was one swift stab and Rhys’s unbelievable beer-bottle cock was deep

in his body. In the beginning, it felt as if he were trying to shove a soda can into Brett’s

tight, pink hole. It hurt for a moment, but the pain subsided when his muscles relaxed. He

wasn’t a virgin, and he’d never tried to fool anyone into thinking he was. He knew how

to take every last inch.

Rhys went deep and continued to kiss him. Most guys didn’t kiss; they just fucked.

He didn’t start bucking his hips right away. “It’s so soft and warm in there,” he said. “I

could stay like this forever.”

Brett lifted his legs higher and whispered. “I wish you could, too. You’re so huge

and hard. I like the hair on your chest and your legs.” He was pinned to the bed. He

squeezed his sphincter muscle and jerked the shaft of Rhys’s cock a few times.

Then Rhys started to buck. He clenched his fists, pressed his lips together and

started slamming his thick, hot cock in and out of Brett’s body. The bed rocked and

squeaked; the headboard hit the back of the wall with loud bangs. Brett held his shoulder

for support with one hand and grabbed his own dick with the other. His eyes were closed,

his mouth was open, and he was moaning.

They fucked so hard and for so long, the sheets pulled from the corners of the

mattress and sank in around them. And they never changed positions. The fucking was

too intense to spoil, and Rhys was too eager to climax. When he finally said, “I’m ready,

buddy,” Brett lifted his legs and pointed his toes.

And with a slam so hard and so dangerous his crown banged the headboard,

Rhys’s cock exploded and filled his hole with gobs of white cream. The headboard hit the

wall so hard, it cracked the plaster board, and the old bed frame split and hit the floor. At

the exact moment Rhys came, Brett jerked his own dick lightly, with the tips of his

fingers, and shot a stream all the way up to his neck.

Beads of perspiration fell from Rhys’s temples and landed on Brett’s lips. He

licked them and swallowed his salty taste. Then he inhaled the yeasty, doughy aroma of

Rhys’s body and sighed.

Rhys dropped down and rested his weight on Brett’s body. He was heavy and

warm and soothing. He didn’t pull out right away like most guys did. He didn’t jump off,

pull up his pants and reach for his car keys. He remained deep inside, rocking back and

forth with an easy rhythm so he could deposit the last of his juice. He wasn’t going

anywhere. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Brett wrapped his hands around the back of his neck and said, “Are you going to

beat me up and rob me now?” He was only half joking. After the incident with that guy

named Dev, he trusted no one.

Rhys blinked. “Of course not, buddy. I’m going to hold you and fall asleep on top

of you. And in the morning, I’m going to fuck you all over again.”

“Then I’m fine,” Brett said. “I’ve never been better.”

Chapter Three

Brett looked into the rearview mirror and saw his grandmother laughing with

Rhys. They’d just entered Center City Philadelphia and were headed to the hotel.

Normally his grandmother gave him directions from the back seat, but this afternoon she

was enjoying Rhys so much, she wasn’t even paying attention to the road. Michelle

stared out the window at the buildings on Broad Street. When Brett had asked how her

night was, she’d frowned and said, “I was up all night. I thought your headboard was

going to come through the wall.” He didn’t reply.

They’d all slept late that morning, and packed the trunk after lunch at the little

diner next to the motel. At dawn, Rhys had put his hand between Brett’s legs and said,

“Can I get some more of that? You’d better roll over on your stomach and spread your

legs.” So Brett rolled over and prepared for morning sex, something he hadn’t done in a

long time. “I hate sex in the morning,” his ex-lover, Jackson, always said whenever Brett

asked for it. But Brett loved to start the day that way.

After lunch, he’d purchased three tires for the car while Michelle and Eloise

waited in the diner: two for the rear wheels and one as a spare. They weren’t brand new.

The owner of the garage called them re-treads and said they were all he had in stock.

Brett looked at Rhys and shrugged. He had no idea what a re-tread was. But the owner

said, “They’re as good as new.”

Before they checked out of the Sideways Motel, Brett had to pay for the broken

wall and the busted bed frame in their room. But it was money well spent.

When they checked in at the hotel in Philadelphia, Brett said, “I don’t mind

bunking with Rhys again. We’re getting to know each other.”

He said this mainly for his grandmother. But Eloise wasn’t a fool; she knew he

was gay and from the look she gave Michelle, she clearly suspected they were having sex.

She even pulled him aside and said, “I really like this guy. He’s not a loser like the others

you’ve brought around. Try not to screw it up this time.”

Later that night, Michelle and his grandmother took the car and went to

Michelle’s friend’s house for dinner. They took Tag with them. Eloise wanted to stay in

the city and walk around, but they agreed it was best if she went with Michelle. The

friend lived outside the city, in Philadelphia’s Main Line neighborhood, and she couldn’t

get into any trouble there. The last time they’d left her alone, in Miami, she’d turned a

mean taxi driver into a bronze statue and it had taken days to remove the spell.

Rhys and Brett were free to explore the city on their own. First they went to a

small café on South Street for dinner. They dressed casually because they wanted to go

bar hopping later. Brett wore cream-colored jeans with a three-inch zipper and Rhys wore

his faded jeans and cowboy boots. The weather was warm and tables were set up out

front. People walking down the street stopped and stared when they saw them together.

Gay men leaned over and murmured things to each other and women smiled and nodded.

Brett did most of the talking. He told him all about his past, from his first bad

experience with an older man to the most recent devastation with Dev, the guy who’d

beat him up. Rhys sat back and listened; he didn’t miss a word. He clenched his fists on

his lap when he heard about Dev, and he shook his head and frowned when he heard

about Jackson. But Brett was honest. “I like sex,” he said, “I’ve been around. But when

I’m with someone in a serious relationship, there’s no one else.”

The only thing he didn’t tell Rhys about was his magical gift. It was too early yet

to mention that.

“I don’t really care about the past or the future,” Rhys said. “I want to focus on

right now.” He reached across the table for his hand. “And I’d like to get to know you

better. There’s something about you that’s different. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Brett smiled and looked down at his dinner plate. He felt the same way. There

was something very unusual about Rhys, too. His entire body exuded an energy he

couldn’t quite pinpoint. And although something in his eyes was both soft and dangerous,

Brett felt completely safe with him.

After dinner, they walked through a neighborhood stippled with gay bars. Brett

knew a little about the city and he knew the gay clubs. When they passed by a smaller bar,

a bouncer outside smiled and waved them down. “Hey guys. There’s a contest tonight.

The best-looking naked couple wins two hundred bucks at midnight.” He looked them up

and down and licked his lips, then he told them admission would be free if they entered

the contest. “It’s just posing; no actual sex involved. It’s a safe, fun contest.”

Brett shrugged his shoulders and said, “It could be fun.” He was trying to act

innocent and unimpressed on the outside, but the exhibitionist inside him was shaking

and trembling with delight. He couldn’t think of anything more fun than getting naked in

front of a bar full of men with Rhys by his side for protection.

Rhys hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’m game. But just as long as it’s clear

that while you’re with me, no one else touches you. When I like someone a lot, I’m very

possessive. I even tend to get jealous. And I’m starting to like you a great deal.”

Brett smiled. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’m with you tonight, and

nothing is going to change that.” Though he’d never been the jealous or possessive type,

he didn’t mind the fact that Rhys was.

They went into the bar and drank vodka martinis for a while. Brett sat on a bar

stool and Rhys stood behind him so that all the guys in the bar would know he belonged

to Rhys. Guys passed by and stared at them both. When one good-looking guy with jet

black hair stepped up to the bar and ordered a drink, he brushed by Brett’s arm on

purpose. If he’d been alone that night, he would have gone home with the guy. But Rhys

put his arms over his shoulders and pulled him back. Then he lowered his eyebrows and

gave the guy a mean look. The guy smiled and put his hands in the air. “It’s cool,” he said.

“No harm.”

Brett just smiled and shrugged. He liked being part of a couple; he wanted them

all to know he was with Rhys.

At midnight, the DJ made an announcement. “The private show in the back room

is about to begin. All contestants, please come back now. Anyone who wants to watch

and help judge, there’s a fifty-dollar cover charge at the door.”

Brett stood and turned to face Rhys. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He saw

how Rhys had reacted when other guys tried to approach him. He didn’t want to ruin

things so soon.

Rhys put his hand on the small of his back and said, “I’m fine. Let’s get naked

and win this thing.”

The back room was small and dark. The walls were painted black and a semi-

circular stage along the back wall was painted black. Long black draperies covered the

main part of the stage; the outside semi-circular perimeter was lined with tiny red light

bulbs. Men holding beer bottles and mixed drinks stood waiting for the show to begin.

Loud disco music with a deep bass pounded the room from hidden speakers.

The same bouncer they’d seen out front came up to them and said, “You guys can

go back with the other couples and get naked. The show’s ready to start. And remember,

this is only walking around naked. No sex. We want to keep our liquor license.”

They headed backstage to a small dressing area. There were no mirrors or

dressing tables, just a long flat bench with piles of half-folded clothing. Brett assumed the

only time they used this stage was for contests like this, or male strip shows. The other

guys were already undressed and ready to go. There were six of them; three other couples

standing there bold and naked. A very effeminate young guy said, “We’re all ready. You

guys had better get undressed fast.” He had limp wrists and long bones. His body looked

skeletal in the soft light. He wasn’t attractive at all. His nose was too large and his chin

was too weak. The only good thing he had going was a long, thick penis. His partner was

older, with a hairy back and a spare tire. He licked his finger, pressed it to Rhys’s chest

and said, “I can’t wait to see what’s under there.”

Brett stepped forward and glared at him. Then he grabbed his wrist hard and said,

“You can look, girl, but you can’t touch.” Brett hardly ever switched pronouns like that.

But this guy had it coming.

The skinny guy sneered and turned away. He sashayed to the other side of the

stage and whispered something to his hairy-backed partner.

Rhys laughed. “I thought I was the jealous type,” he said, “but you’re like a lion

protecting her cub.”

Brett shrugged. He’d even surprised himself. “I don’t usually do things like that.”

“I think it’s rather nice,” Rhys said.

At a quick glance, Brett noticed that none of the other guys was great-looking.

Each had a flaw that couldn’t be overlooked. One guy was painfully knock-kneed, and

there was one with hips so large and wide, he had dimples on his ass. Brett turned to

Rhys and said, “Now I know why that bouncer wanted us to enter this competition so

badly.” He couldn’t even look at one guy in the middle without feeling weird in his

stomach. The guy was about thirty pounds overweight and there was a bright silver cock

ring around his dick and balls. It was a small penis, the size of Brett’s pinkie finger.

When Rhys noticed the guy with the silver cock ring, he lowered his eyebrows

and turned away with a sudden jerk. So fast, in fact, that he almost knocked Brett over.

He even shielded his eyes with his palm for a second.

“What wrong?” Brett asked, holding his strong arm for support.

“Ah well, nothing really,” he said. “It’s just that guy with the silver cock ring is

really creepy looking. I’m going to stay as far away from him as I can.”

Brett frowned and stared down at his shoes. “I’ve never seen a dick so small.”

Rhys smiled. He’d already removed his shoes and socks and he was about to

unzip his pants. “I just hope I don’t have to beat them off with a stick when they see your

hot little ass,” he said.

Brett smiled, but he was starting to worry about what the crowd would do when

they saw Rhys’s gorgeous, naked body. He was the best-looking man in the contest. It

was too late to back out, but he wished he hadn’t suggested doing this.

When the curtain opened, the naked couples stepped out on the stage. Brett and

Rhys were last. They stood to the left and Rhys kept his arm around Brett’s shoulders.

The music was still playing in the background and the guys in the audience all stepped

closer to the stage. The announcer turned out to be the bouncer at the door. “Here we go,

guys,” he shouted. “Get ready to vote for the best-looking, hottest naked couple in

Philadelphia!”

The contest lasted all of a half hour. The voting was done by measuring the level

of applause each couple generated. As the couples were announced by number, they

walked to the end of the semi-circular stage and posed. The ones with the loudest

applause were the winners. Brett and Rhys were the last couple, number four. When they

stepped forward and posed, the room went wild. When they saw Brett’s soft round ass

and the way the small of his back arched with a dramatic scoop, men screamed and

shouted for him to bend over and spread his legs. When you put that sweet ass next to a

strapping, muscular athlete like Rhys, it created the kind of magic that only good-looking

humans could conjure. The guys clapped their hands and begged them to kiss.

Brett put his arms around Rhys’s shoulders and kissed him on the lips. They were

both semi-erect by then, and the guys in the audience wanted to see more.

Rhys whispered into his ear, “I think we won, buddy.” Then he reached down and

squeezed his ass a couple of times.

Brett fell into his chest. He had to, because he was now fully erect and it felt

weird walking around on stage like that. Not bad, just weird. He closed his eyes and lifted

his right leg. When he slowly ran it up and down Rhys’s hairy thigh, he said, “I think so,

too.”

When the show was over, all the guys got dressed and stood on the stage to see

who had won. The skinny effeminate guy gave Brett a dirty look, then slithered up to

Rhys and said, “I think you won. You’re by far the best-looking man in the room.” He

practically curtsied. His back was pressed to Brett’s face, purposely ignoring him. And

when he turned around to join his partner, he sneered, wiggled his limp shoulders, and

double-snapped Brett in the face. His fingers came so close he almost snapped his nose.

Brett’s head went back and his mouth opened wide. Without thinking twice, he

put his right hand behind his back and double-snapped his own fingers. The skinny guy

moved toward his partner. But halfway across the stage, he went up in the air about three

feet and fell flat on his ass. It happened so fast, everyone else thought he’d tripped on his

own flat feet. Even he didn’t seem sure what had happened. Brett just stood there, with

his arms folded across his chest, smiling with one eyebrow raised.

It was a good thing he knew how to practice self-control when it came to his

powers. He could have snapped his fingers and turned the man into a pig.

Rhys laughed. “I’m glad he tripped,” he said. “I was afraid you were going to

strangle him.”

Brett lowered his eyes and smiled, hiding the fact that he was still seething with

jealousy. “He’s not worth the effort,” he said. “I’ve run into his kind before and they

don’t bother me.”

They won the contest and left the bar with two hundred dollars in cash. Brett

wanted Rhys to keep the money, and Rhys wanted him to keep it. So they agreed they’d

hold the money in a safe place, and when Brett reached the Cape, he’d donate it to a good

charity in Provincetown. There was a big swimming event at the end of the summer on

Race Point, and all the proceeds went to charity. Brett knew he’d add a little money to it

and donate an even five hundred.

When they returned to the hotel, it was almost two in the morning. But Brett was

still horny. He couldn’t get the sound of the guys screaming and shouting for more out of

his head. So he crossed to the other side of the room where Rhys was undressing and fell

to his knees. “Just stand there and close your eyes,” he said. “You don’t have to do

anything this time. Sometimes I get the most pleasure by doing all the work and making

you happy and completely satisfied.”

He wanted to be honest and up front about his sexual desires and needs. He liked

being submissive and he needed to please a strong, virile man. He’d been in relationships

before where everything was so polite and guarded in the beginning, and things usually

crashed and burned in the end because they hadn’t been honest from the start. There was

that time he’d dated a cop for six months. The sex wasn’t bad at first, but it turned out

they were both strictly submissive bottoms. And that never works out for long; they

wound up flipping coins to see who’d get fucked. When the cop finally suggested they try

a double-headed dildo, Brett knew it was over. Then there was the ex-priest he’d dated.

He’d hated getting blow jobs. This relationship only lasted a month. Brett needed to suck

dick as much as he needed to drink water. The taste of cock was linked to his basic

survival. He needed a strong, rough man, but not a criminal who’d beat him up.

Rhys ran his palm across the top of his head and said, “Take off your clothes first

so I can look down and see your naked body while you suck me off.” He was still fully

clothed; just his zipper was down.

Brett smiled. He knew Rhys was enjoying this attention. So he remained on the

floor and pulled off his clothes. When he was naked, he kneeled before Rhys and pressed

his face into his crotch. He closed his eyes and inhaled; it was the same doughy smell

from the night before. His dick was fully erect now. Brett could see the bulge pulsing

beneath his jeans. It was so long and so hard, it ran all the way to his right pocket. Brett

stuck out his tongue and licked the denim fabric that covered it. He ran his lips back and

forth, taking deep, extended breaths.

Rhys spread his legs and took a firm stance, then put his hands on his slim hips

and said, “Take it out now and suck it. Suck my dick, buddy.”

The British accent made it sexier; the way he stood there giving orders couldn’t

have been better. He seemed to know, without asking, what Brett wanted and needed.

And he was ready to give it all to him.

So Brett reached inside his jeans with one hand and groped for Rhys’s cock. His

fingertips touched the dangerous shaft with precise care; he pulled it from his pants as if

he were handling the finest crystal object. When it was out and standing erect, Brett ran it

up and down his smooth cheek and kissed the shaft. Rhys tossed his head back and

moaned; his mouth fell open and he stared up at the ceiling.

Then Brett reached into his jeans again. His hand went down and he cupped both

large testicles in his palm. He pulled them out slowly and let them hang outside his pants.

They were large and low-hanging, with traces of soft blond hair. Bigger balls than most

men he knew had. He opened his mouth and sucked them past his lips. When they rested

on his tongue, he started sucking them to the back of his throat.

Rhys’s dick jumped and pulsed. He lowered his voice and said, “Suck my balls,

buddy. Suck them into that hot little mouth of yours.”

His balls tasted a little different. There was a strong, gamey taste he’d never come

across before with other men. Not exactly a wet jock strap, locker-room taste, but close to

it. Brett liked it. He sucked and slurped and swallowed back for the next half hour.

When Rhys’s tangy balls finally slipped out again, he stuck out his tongue and

licked the bottom of his shaft from the base all the way up to the tip. He lapped at it,

rolling his tongue until every inch was wet and shiny. The head was dripping clear pre-

come by then. When he licked the tip and swallowed back, Rhys’s knees started to

wobble a little. He knew he’d never be able to discuss this with Michelle. He’d mention

naughty tidbits about what he’d done with Rhys, but not the actual details. She wouldn’t

understand. This absolute, animalistic passion to taste him and inhale him and devour his

genitals was all part of the romance for Brett.

“I’m edging, buddy,” he said, placing his palms on Brett’s head. “Suck me off

now. I can’t take it anymore.”

Brett liked to hear him beg for more. It meant he was doing his job. So he opened

his mouth, puffed out his lips and slid all nine inches along his tongue. When it hit the

back of his throat, he wrapped his lips around the base and started sucking. His cheeks

went in and his tongue hugged the bottom of the shaft. He placed one palm on his thigh

for support and grabbed his own dick with the other.

“Ah yeah,” Rhys moaned. “Suck that dick, buddy. Your mouth feels like a tight

pussy.”

He sucked with an even rhythm, never breaking it once. His head went back and

forth; the cock slid in and out of his mouth. Rhys started bucking his hips. He was lost in

the moment and the only thing he cared about was blowing his load. He forgot all about

politeness when he said, “I’m going to face-fuck you now, baby. I’m going to fuck that

pretty face of yours.” He didn’t ask permission to shoot his load into Brett’s mouth. He

expected him to take it all with no questions asked.

And Brett kept sucking, praying he’d come inside his mouth. Some guys had to

pull out and finish themselves off. He didn’t want this to happen with Rhys. His head

went back and forth faster and his face started to ache. He wanted to know that it was his

sucking that made him come that night. He was willing to take full responsibility for

Rhys’s orgasm. The only thing he cared about was servicing this strong, handsome man

who evidently had dominant needs begging to be fulfilled.

Rhys grabbed the back of his head and bucked his hips harder. His balls slapped

against Brett’s chin and his cock hammered the back of his throat. Saliva dripped down

his chin; he had to breathe through his nose so he wouldn’t get lightheaded. But Brett

didn’t mind. The harder Rhys fucked his face, the more he wanted it.

He finally said, “I’m ready, baby,” then slammed his dick into Brett’s mouth as

deep as it would go and exploded. He pulled the hair on the back of Brett’s head hard and

jerked his face forward. There was nothing gentle about him now. His determination was

animalistic, and he even grunted a few times like a vicious dog. The head of his cock

expanded and a thick strand of white cream lathered Brett’s throat. Brett could hardly

breathe by then, but he didn’t gag or choke once. And when he swallowed back, he

jerked his own dick at the same time and erupted all over the hotel floor.

Rhys held the sides of his face hard with his large hands. His cock wasn’t

sensitive after climax and he didn’t pull out fast. He wanted to squeeze the last drops into

Brett’s mouth. And Brett continued to suck it dry. He’d been expecting the sweet taste of

come, but with Rhys it was different. It was sweeter than most. He’d sucked a lot of cock

in his day, and he’d heard of come referred to as nectar all the time in cheesy jokes and

campy conversations with friends, but Rhys’s really did taste sweeter than most.

When his cock slid out of Brett’s mouth, Rhys reached down and helped him to

his feet. He kissed him hard on the mouth, swirled his tongue around a few times, then

said, “Are you okay? I hope I wasn’t too rough on you. I get carried away sometimes,

especially when I’m getting the best blow job I’ve ever had.” Then he ran his hand down

his back and rested it on his ass.

He did a lot of that, Brett noticed. He liked grabbing Brett’s ass and claiming it

for himself. “I’m fine, Rhys,” he said. “My goal was to please you completely. I really

mean that. On the outside, I can be tough as nails, but in bed, when we’re together, my

goal is to make you feel wonderful.” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “If that’s

weird, I can’t help it.”

Rhys’s eyebrows went up. “I sometimes tend to be a little selfish, if I’m going to

be honest. Just hit me over the head with a hammer if that happens any time soon. And I

really like to be in charge.”

“You’re fine. Now get naked, get into bed and I’ll get a hot, soapy washcloth

from the bathroom and give you a sponge bath from head to toe.” Brett reached down and

squeezed his shrinking dick. “You’ll sleep like a baby after that.”

When he said “naked sponge bath,” Rhys’s eyebrows went up and he smiled.

“Will you take your time between my legs? My balls are a little tired from all the sex I’ve

had in the past few days.”

“Just open your legs and close your eyes,” Brett said, “And I’ll make them feel

better.”

Chapter Four

They arrived in New York on a rainy Wednesday afternoon. The rain fell in harsh,

loud sheets, with hollow thuds, against the white convertible top. Eloise had insisted on

the Algonquin Hotel and Brett had booked three rooms ahead of time in Philadelphia. He

hoped Rhys would join him, too, even though they hadn’t discussed their future.

“I know it well,” Eloise had said, clutching her ancient Gucci bag. “I’ll stay there

alone if I have to.” She’d been staying there for years and she wouldn’t even consider

anything else. Brett figured it was the least he could do after forcing her to spend the

night at the Sideways Motel in Martha Falls.

He dropped Rhys off on Eighth Avenue, not far from the tunnel near Forty-second

Street. He told Brett he had an appointment with someone. His face turned down and his

eyes narrowed when he spoke. He said it was a very important appointment and he

couldn’t cancel it. He promised Brett he’d meet him back at the hotel at six that evening

and they’d all go out to dinner, his treat.

When Rhys gave him a quick hug and got out of the car, Brett wasn’t sure if he’d

ever see him again. Rhys took his brown leather doctor’s bag, slammed the door shut and

loped down the street until he vanished into the crowd.

Eloise noticed the hapless expression on her grandson’s face. She said, “He’ll be

back. Stop worrying. I’m telling you, he’s a good one—as far as humans go.”

Then Michelle patted his shoulder. “I have a feeling he’ll be back too,” she said.

“I think Eloise is right this time.” And that didn’t happen very often.

Brett cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. He gripped the steering wheel

and said, “I’m not really worried one way or the other.” But he was lying. He’d been

dumped so many times, he didn’t know what to believe anymore.

* * * *

When Rhys knocked on his door at five minutes to six, Tag jumped off the bed,

yelped a few times and raced to the door. Brett picked him up and said, “Shush. They

don’t know you’re here.” He wasn’t sure whether or not the Algonquin allowed pets, and

no one wanted to ask, so they’d covered his little Louis Vuitton bag with one of

Michelle’s sweaters and carried him up without saying a word to anyone. He was a good

dog in this respect; he traveled well. He didn’t bark too much, never peed indoors, and

never caused damage.

When Brett opened the door and saw Rhys’s face again, a large smile returned.

He stood there, rain-soaked from his head to his cowboy boots, smiling back. “Can I

come in?” he asked.

Brett put Tag down on the floor and threw his arms around Rhys. He kissed him

on the mouth right there in the open doorway, then said, “You’d better get out of those

wet clothes. Just come inside and take them all off.”

Brett was only wearing a white T-shirt and black low-rise briefs, the tight ones

that made his sexy ass bubble out more than usual. He’d worn them on purpose, hoping

Rhys would notice.

Rhys came inside and placed his wet bag on the cream-colored carpet. Then he

put his hands on his slim hips and said, “Hot underwear, buddy. I like it.”

Brett walked slowly, arching his back, and said, “I just pulled them out of the

suitcase without thinking twice.”

Tag started sniffing Rhys’s legs and licking his boots. Rhys patted him on the

head a couple of times, then reached out to grab a handful of Brett’s ass. He squeezed

hard and said, “I almost wanted to be late to see how you’d react. I thought about sitting

in the lobby until seven to see if you’d come looking for me.” He was smiling and his

voice was low and soft.

Brett raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “You seem very sure of yourself.”

Rhys pulled him close and bit the side of his neck. “But I didn’t do that,” he said.

“I don’t want to play games with you. I like you too much. Actually, I ran down the hall

to get here before six.”

Brett smiled and put his arms around his shoulders. “I knew you’d come back,” he

said. “I really did.” But there had been a few moments of insecure doubt. It had happened

before. He’d met plenty of guys in bars, let them fuck him all night, and they thanked him

and gave him a fake phone number on the way out the door. These guys always had the

same line, too: “I’ll see you sometime.” They used the word “sometime,” but really

meant “never again.” It reached a point where Brett stopped taking phone numbers and

said, “Here’s mine. If you want to get together again, call me any time.” And most of the

time, he never heard from them again.

Rhys pulled off the wet boots and walked to the bathroom so he could get out of

the drenched clothes. Rain water dripped down his face, and there were blond ringlets

across his forehead. “What time are we all going to dinner?” he shouted.

“Seven,” Brett said, “And it’s only three of us. Michelle is meeting an old

boyfriend on the Upper West Side for dinner.”

“So there’s no time to play,” Rhys said.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him pull his wet jeans off. He

looked like a baseball jock changing before a game. He pulled off his dirty socks and

tossed them on the floor. His large feet were long and wide, with veins and knobby bones.

He stepped out of his jeans and kicked them across the floor, and they landed on top of

his wet boots. He didn’t hang them over the shower door to dry. He was a real man,

nothing dainty or delicate about him. And that made Brett’s heart beat faster. He felt a tug

between his legs and his dick started to swell.

So he pulled off his underwear and T-shirt and said, “There’s always time to

play.” Then he stood up, entered the bathroom and turned the shower faucet on. “We can

take a nice long shower together,” he said. “There’s plenty of time for that.”

Rhys was naked now, and the hair on his chest was matted from the rain and his

dick was semi-erect. He slapped Brett’s ass hard and said, “I like the way you think.”

It was only a quickie. He pushed Brett against the white shower tile, spread his

legs apart, and mounted him. Brett had already snapped his fingers and pre-lubed his hole,

so the large penis slid inside without a problem. The moment he entered, he started

bucking and humping fast. The hot water splashed on their faces and trickled down the

corners of their open mouths. Rhys literally pinned him to the shower wall and didn’t

stop humping until he grunted and climaxed. After he came, Brett jerked his own erection

and sprayed all over the tile. It lasted all of ten minutes, but was one of the smoothest,

most memorable fucks he’d ever had.

When they were drying off and getting ready to go out to dinner, Brett asked,

“How was your appointment this afternoon?” He was curious. This was one thing Rhys

had been vague about, so he figured he’d probe a little.

Rhys shook his head and sighed out loud. “Not very well,” he said. “The man I

was supposed to see went to Provincetown for the summer. He owns an antiques business

in the Village and another one in Provincetown. He’s there for the entire summer.”

Brett stopped moving. “Provincetown, Massachusetts?” Was he joking? Was

Brett playing with his head to get a reaction?

Rhys shrugged and said, “That’s the one.”

“We’re going to Truro, which is the next town over,” he said. “Does this mean

you’re going all the way to the Cape with us?”

Rhys stopped dressing. He was only wearing a white button-down shirt and black

socks. “I was going to mention it later, after dinner, and surprise you. It’s the last thing I

expected.” He put his arms around him and kissed the top of his head. “Look,” he said. “I

told you, no games this time. I was planning on staying here in New York to take care of

this business, and I was going to meet you at the Cape later. This wasn’t my original plan,

but after the last few days, my plans have changed.”

Brett’s knees felt weak. When Rhys touched him, it felt as if the bones in his body

melted away. “So you’re driving up with us tomorrow?”

“If you’ll have me,” he said. “I’ll pay for all the gas and tolls, too.”

“I don’t care about the fucking gas and tolls,” Brett said. “Of course I want you to

come.” Then he threw his arms around his shoulders and stuck his tongue deep inside

Rhys’s mouth. He’d been wondering about the future, but he’d been too anxious to

mention it. He was a warlock, not a mind reader.

* * * *

Eloise insisted on a small restaurant in Little Italy. She didn’t have an exact

destination, but she knew they’d find something wonderful downtown. Eloise knew the

city well; she’d lived there for years with her first husband, an artistic warlock who

stubbornly refused to use his magic to paint…a mistake. When no one bought his work,

he eventually stopped painting and disappeared in the mountains of Brazil.

Tonight, Eloise wore a simple black cocktail dress, black pumps, and a white

blazer. Her gold earrings were long and wide and a large diamond cluster ring hung from

her small hand. The rain had stopped by then and she left her plastic, folded rain bonnet

in her purse. Her bright red hair was teased and curled and sprayed, and she wore long

false eyelashes and dark red lipstick. When the cab dropped them off on Mulberry Street

and she got out, a group of drag queens looked her up and down twice.

They wound up in a place called Nino’s at Mulberry. It was one of those long,

narrow New York restaurants with a bar on the left and tables on the right. The martinis

were large, the waitress flirted and smiled with Rhys, and Eloise was thrilled with her

seafood pasta. She’d taken to eating pasta and breads and other carbohydrates, because

she thought they gave her extra energy and boosted her powers. Brett ordered the same.

Between them, they finished off two pounds of pasta, three loaves of garlic bread and two

desserts each. He was starved after sex in the shower; he had inherited Eloise’s

supernatural metabolism. Some witches and warlocks were lucky that way. They could

eat all they wanted and never gain a pound. Brett had to be careful around Michelle,

because all she had to do was look at a bowl of pasta and she gained five pounds.

Rhys kept things masculine and simple. He ordered a huge, rare steak, a baked

potato and no dessert. He hardly touched the potato and poked and picked at his salad.

“I’m a meat lover,” he said. “I could live on prime rib every night of the week.”

When he said this, Eloise put down her fourth martini and smiled. “A big,

strapping boy like you needs all the red meat he can get.” Then she leaned into Brett and

whispered, “Red meat is good for men. It puts lead in their peckers.”

Brett jerked back, then swallowed a bite of tiramisu and smiled at Rhys. He could

never predict what would come out of his grandmother’s mouth. He hoped Rhys hadn’t

heard what she said.

Rhys smiled, too. Then he said, “I’ve got all the lead in my pecker I need, Eloise,

thank you.”

She laughed so hard she almost choked on her vodka. Eloise loved bawdy talk,

and with his proper British accent, it only made it funnier. She poked Brett in the ribs

with her elbow and whispered, “You lucky little witch-boy.”

By the time dinner was over, it was almost eleven o’clock. It felt like they’d only

been there for fifteen minutes, yet more than three hours had passed. Rhys took the check

and paid for everything with his platinum Amex. When he handed it to the waitress,

Eloise poked Brett in the ribs again, raised her eyebrows and gave him a look.

On the way out, Rhys nodded and smiled at an old woman sitting on a barstool

near the doorway. She sat hunched over, wearing a black dress, a pair of black lace-ups

with three-inch heels, and a black lace veil on her head. Her nose resembled a parrot’s

beak and her face was covered with long, crooked lines. The quintessential widow. She

still had her own teeth, although they were crooked, yellow corn kernels. When her eyes

met Rhys’s, she stared for a moment and gasped. Then she jerked back, pressed her

twisted hand to her chest and started shouting, “Lupo! Dio Mio, Lupo!” While she

screamed, she blessed herself with the sign of the cross and clutched her rosary beads.

Then she lifted one hand up and turned away so she wouldn’t have to see Rhys’s face.

Rhys stepped back and gulped. The owner of the restaurant came from behind the

bar and asked the old woman what was wrong. But she didn’t answer him. She just stared

down at the floor, shook her head and quietly repeated the word “Lupo” over and over.

The owner looked up at Rhys and said, “I’m so sorry. My mother is old and

sometimes does strange things. She means no harm.” He was a younger version of his

mother, without the veil and wrinkles.

Eloise had been watching. She was totally blitzed from the martinis, but not too

far gone to say, “I’m an old woman, too. Older than her. And I don’t go around calling

good looking young men wolf. If you ask me, the old girl needs a stiff drink and a good

manicure.”

Brett wasn’t surprised that Eloise understood the rambling woman. She spoke

several languages.

The owner turned to Eloise and said, “She really doesn’t know what she’s

saying.” Then he pointed his index finger to his temple and swirled it in circles. He

turned back to Rhys and said, “Please accept my apologies. She means no harm.”

The old woman gripped her rosary beads and started to mumble prayers in Latin.

She refused to look up again.

Eloise pulled Brett’s sleeve and whispered, “I can put a permanent zipper on her

mouth if you like.” In spite of the vodka, her breath smelled minty and sweet.

“Just be good. No witchcraft,” he said. He didn’t want to spend the rest of the

night trying to figure out how to remove any spells cast by Eloise, no matter how well

intended they were.

Rhys shook the owner’s hand and smiled. “It’s okay. I understand. I’m not

offended, truly. Don’t give it a second thought.” Then he hooked his arm through

Eloise’s and quickly walked out to the street.

On the way out, Eloise shouted back, “I’d put her in the back, if I were you. She’s

bad for business.”

After that, they dismissed the old woman as a loon and took a taxi back to the

hotel. It had begun to drizzle again, and it was getting late. Rhys took Eloise to her room

and Brett put Tag under his coat so he could sneak through the lobby and walk him on the

street. At the end of the block, he ran into Michelle. She said she was just returning from

dinner with her ex-boyfriend. The taxi had dropped her off a few blocks from the hotel

because she liked walking around in New York and didn’t get to do it often. She told him

she’d had a great night and that it had been fun getting together with her old boyfriend

and a few of his friends. And she laughed when he told her about Eloise wanting to put a

zipper on the old woman’s mouth. But her eyes were heavy and it seemed all she wanted

to do was sleep.

“Can you take Tag back to your room now?” he asked. He knew he and Rhys

were going to have sex again, and for some reason he didn’t want Tag in the room.

They’d been locked in the bathroom earlier that day and Tag hadn’t seen anything. He

didn’t want Tag sitting on the edge of the bed, staring and tipping his head, while he

sucked Rhys’s dick. It just felt creepy.

Michelle bent down and picked the dog up. He licked her lips and snuggled into

her elbow. “Sure,” she said, “I love having him with me. And after tonight, I won’t get a

chance to sleep with him much for a while.”

She didn’t know Rhys was going to the Cape with them. So he said, “Don’t count

on it.” Then he explained everything as they walked back to the hotel.

She took Brett’s jacket and wrapped it loosely around Tag so the doorman

wouldn’t see him. Then she said, “Just be careful. I’m still not sure I trust this guy

completely. I like him. He seems nice enough, but this could be more than just a

coincidence. He could be working us.”

Brett had already considered this. “I am being careful,” he said. “But he hasn’t

done anything to make me not trust him. He paid a fortune for dinner tonight. If I’d been

paying for everything all this time, I’d be wondering about his motives. But he pulls that

platinum card out without thinking twice.”

Then Brett returned to the room, and Rhys pulled something else out and didn’t

think twice. He was already in bed watching the sports channel, and when Brett sat down

on the mattress to remove his shoes, he kicked the covers down halfway and waved his

erection back and forth. He stared down at his penis and said, “This guy has been missing

you.”

Brett smiled, then leaned over and kissed the head. While he ran his face up and

down the shaft he closed his eyes and whispered, “I’ve been missing him, too.” It was so

solid, but with soft, smooth skin.

He thought he’d wind up giving Rhys head, but that’s not what happened. Rhys

told him it was time to show him something he’d learned a while back in the Tuscan hills.

“It’s a nice way to end a romantic Italian dinner,” he said, “So just step out of your

clothes and lie down on your stomach for the Tuscan Sunrise.”

“Tuscan Sunrise?” It sounded like something on the menu in a greasy pizza joint.

He smiled. “Just take off your pants, buddy, and close your eyes.”

While he stripped and then stretched out on the bed, Rhys went to the bar and

filled a cocktail glass with small, round ice cubes. Brett’s eyes were closed, but he heard

the ice clinking in the glass. He spread his legs a little and reached down to adjust his

penis. He had to point it up toward his navel; it was already starting to grow and he

wanted the shaft to rub against the soft, cotton sheets.

The bed rocked when Rhys climbed onto the mattress. Then the entire world

began to rock when he placed his palms on Brett’s ass and started kneading. His large

hands pushed and shoved and his strong fingers squeezed and pinched. He dug into the

trench and spread his cheeks wide, pressing and shoving and pushing his flesh. He went

back and forth, then up and down. The harder he handled him, the more Brett wanted. He

opened his mouth and moaned, then arched his back and spread his legs wider. No one

had ever done anything like this to him. He was so used to pleasing everyone else, it

never occurred to him being pleased could be fun, too. His feet went up about an inch off

the mattress and his toes pointed forward. He lifted his arms and stretched them all the

way up to the headboard. If he hadn’t been on a mattress, he could have been gliding

through the sky.

He didn’t use his flying powers often because of his rules about magic. But this

was the first time he could compare flying with anything connected to being human.

Actually, what Rhys was doing to him was even better than flying.

He heard him lift the glass. Ice cubes clicked a few times and the next thing he

knew Rhys’s handsome face was between his legs. He pressed his lips to Brett’s anus,

pushed one ice cube to his lips and started running it up and down his ass crack. The

sensation made Brett’s nipples go hard. Shivers and chills shot through his body. He

moaned and rocked his head back and forth. His mouth was open so wide, his jaw

quivered.

Then Rhys pressed both of his long index fingers to Brett’s anus and pried it open

a little. For a strong man, he was extremely gentle when he wanted to be. When it started

to pucker, he went down again and inserted an ice cube. He pushed it all the way in with

his tongue, then inserted several more the same way. Brett’s body jerked and rocked. He

had to clench the pillow to keep from moving. Sensations of cold and warm passed

through his muscles. His balls became tight and jumped up into his scrotum. All he could

do was lie there and moan.

Rhys eventually emptied the ice glass; every last cube went into his mouth, then

up Brett’s hole. Rhys seemed to know how to please him by instinct. Brett only wanted to

lie there for hours while Rhys played with his ass. When all the ice was gone and drops

of water trickled out of his hole and down past the soft taint line that led to his balls, Rhys

buried his face in the crack of his ass and started licking and chewing and biting. His

stubble was rough; it sent chills up and down Brett’s back. Rhys went from tender and

gentle to ferocious and demanding. He chewed with his teeth and fucked with his tongue.

The room started to spin in circles, and Brett’s eyes rolled back behind his closed lids.

Then Rhys lifted his head, climbed on top of his back and mounted him. He

shoved the head of his cock all the way in with a quick thrust. Brett didn’t need to snap

his fingers and pre-lube with magic that time. His ass was already open and ready for him.

All he had to do was spread his legs wider and sigh, “Yes, fuck me now.”

“Are you ready to get pounded now, buddy? Because that’s what I’m going to do

to you.”

“Ah, yes,” Brett moaned. “Deeper, please, deeper.”

Rhys situated his hands on either side of his face and started doing push-ups. He

went deep and pulled out again. All the way out, so he could keep plunging into his tight

hole to create the initial sensation of taking a big dick. When he stopped pulling it all the

way out, the serious fucking began. His slim hips bucked fast; the long, thin muscles in

his arms braced for climax. The constant, even friction caused Brett’s hole to go from

ice-cube cold to burning with fire. He could hear the mean slaps against his ass cheeks,

and he could hear the suction sounds from the pounding.

“Don’t stop,” Brett said. “I’m really close. Please don’t stop.” He was about to

experience something that didn’t happen often: a full anal orgasm. Rhys was hitting his

prostate hard, causing an internal climax, and Brett wasn’t even touching his dick to get

there. He’d come that way before with dildos when he’d masturbated, but never while a

man was fucking him.

“Don’t hold back,” Rhys said. “Come for me just like this.”

A moment later, Brett’s body started to tremble. The climax that had been

building so slowly finally erupted into one of the wildest orgasms he’d ever experienced.

It started between his legs, hit the lips of his anus, then rushed through his prostate to his

penis. His balls jumped into his body and his dick blew cream all over the sheets beneath

his stomach. And while the lips of his anus were still snapping and begging for more,

Rhys plunged deep and filled him with such a powerful load, he had a second orgasm.

Not as intense or earth-shattering as the first, but he closed his eyes and smiled anyway. It

wasn’t every day a guy fucked him so well he came twice, and without even touching his

own dick.

Rhys fell on top of him with all his weight. “Are you okay? I hope I didn’t get

too rough.”

Brett lay there, pinned and helpless. “I’m fine,” he said. Rhys always seemed so

worried about being too rough. Brett wanted to reassure him that his ass could take a

good pounding without seeming too vulgar.

“Did you like the Tuscan Sunrise?” Rhys asked. “I’m sorry I’m not big on giving

head. I know a lot of guys don’t understand that. They think it’s selfish. But I am a real

ass pirate, so I try to make up for what I lack that way. And I love to fuck.”

Brett laughed, then squeezed the lips of his anus so Rhys’s dick wouldn’t slide out

too soon. He liked knowing that even though Rhys was stronger and had pinned him to

the mattress, he was still in control in certain areas. He owned that big erection now, and

he wasn’t letting go until the last minute. “You don’t have to apologize or feel guilty

about anything. I’m fine with you just as you are.”

Chapter Five

They all left Manhattan after eating a large breakfast in a crowded restaurant in

the West Village. Michelle directed Brett out of the city, along the busy Henry Hudson

Parkway. She wore a white cotton dress, and her hair was pulled back in a French twist; a

few thin strands fell from the sides and blew back because the top was down. Eloise’s

tight, sprayed hair never moved, but she wore a scarf anyway. She sat up front with Brett.

In the backseat were Rhys and Michelle. Tag, in his little designer dog carrier, sat

between them in front of the rear fold-down arm rest. “Watch the signs for the Merritt

Parkway, Brett,” Michelle said.

“I will.” He’d been driving this route all his life and knew all the short cuts to

Cape Cod by now.

He wasn’t speaking much that morning. He was concentrating on how well

Michelle and Rhys seemed to be getting along in the back seat. While they laughed and

joked about a book they’d both read, he watched the road and hunched forward to change

lanes. Michelle’s face was animated and bright, and her arms, waving around in the

rearview mirror, went up every time Rhys said something clever and funny.

There were times when he felt guilty about his relationship with Michelle. They

were as close as brother and sister, but sometimes he felt as if he’d let her down. She

would have been the perfect fag hag if only he’d been the flamboyant, limp-wrist type

who loved chick flicks and shopping. But his idea of shopping was walking into a store

and buying the first outfit he saw on display so he could get out fast. And his idea of a

good movie was usually an action adventure film starring Bruce Willis. When they saw

Brokeback Mountain together—she dragged him there—she was so excited that a gay

film had finally hit the mainstream she couldn’t stop bouncing and chattering in the ticket

line. He just stood there and smiled, nodding his head and agreeing with everything she

said. After the movie, when she’d raved about how well they’d treated the subject, he

smiled too. But he didn’t agree with her. He saw fundamental flaws with the movie that

only a gay man would notice.

The Merritt Parkway was smooth and simple. But I-95 North was clogged with

traffic when they reached New Haven. The endless road construction caused a massive

backup. In the afternoon sun, you could see waves of heat rippling up from cars. An

impatient idiot in a large SUV kept dodging in and out of lanes. It was stop and go for a

ten-mile stretch, and after that, they could barely do fifty miles per hour. So Brett got off

95 and took a short cut up I-395 North toward Providence.

When he finally passed through Providence and reached the Fall River Bridge in

Massachusetts, he took a deep breath and sighed. Depending on conditions, the Cape was

usually a four- or five-hour drive from New York. After he reached Fall River, the trip

always seemed to go faster. He knew he was close to the bottom of the Cape; he could

actually smell the salty ocean air. Although he’d never actually spent time in Fall River,

he loved it just the same because it meant he was almost home.

Then halfway across the Fall River Bridge, the rear end of the car started to

bounce and wobble. It was the same bouncing that had happened in Maryland when the

tire had gone flat in Martha Falls, but now it was even worse. Eloise had been dozing.

She jumped up and pressed her palm to her throat. Brett slowed down and inched to the

far left lane. Good thing the left lane was closed for construction work—even though

there didn’t seem to be any actual work happening—because the old Lincoln didn’t have

hazard lights. Thankfully, it was safe enough there and they wouldn’t slow down the flow

of traffic.

Brett turned and looked at Rhys. Then he said, “So much for re-treads.”

This time, it was the rear left tire. It had actually fallen to pieces. Strands of black

rubber flared from the hubcap in long, bushy clumps. They’d been riding the rim; no

wonder the car had bumped so violently. When Brett walked around and checked the

other tires, they seemed fine. Rhys stood there with his hands on his hips staring down at

the flat.

Michelle and Eloise were still in the car. “What do we do now?” Eloise asked.

She sounded annoyed, as if it were all Brett’s fault.

“Fix it,” Brett said. “I’ll call Triple A.” He knew how to fix a flat on the side of

the road, but this was on top of a huge, busy bridge. He figured calling a professional

would be safer. Suppose the spare tire rolled out and caused an accident—anything could

happen.

When he reached into the car to get his cell phone, Michelle jerked forward and

whispered, “Can’t you just do something by snapping your fingers? Just this once. I don’t

want to sit here all afternoon waiting for Triple A.”

He blinked. “First, how can I, with Rhys standing there? And second, I wouldn’t

do it even if he wasn’t here. You know how I feel about magic. I’ll handle this the way

millions of other humans handle things.”

“Couldn’t you just snap your fingers and put Rhys to sleep for a few minutes?”

she said. “He’d never know the difference and you could say you just fixed it yourself

while he was napping.”

He gave her a look and flipped his phone open to call Triple A. But before he had

a chance to dial, Rhys stepped up behind him and said, “What are you doing, buddy?”

“I don’t want to take a chance fixing this myself on top of a bridge, so I’m calling

Triple A to come out,” he said.

Rhys took the cell phone from his hand and said, “I’ll do it. Just get everyone out

of the car and step back. Tag can stay inside.” Then he took off his shirt, threw it in the

back seat and said, “I’ll have this done in fifteen minutes.”

Michelle and Eloise stood back while Brett helped him empty the trunk and dig

out the spare tire. But Brett was only familiar with newer cars, and wasn’t sure what to do

with an old-fashioned jack. He lifted something from the trunk shaped like a cross and

turned it around and stared. He had no idea what it was. He’d been looking for the long

heavy rod that removed the lug nuts. So Rhys tapped his shoulder and smiled. “I really

can do this faster if I work alone, buddy. I used to help my grandfather. He collected old

cars.”

Brett raised his arms. “Whatever.” He hated not knowing how to do things like

this. He should have been more prepared; he should have taken the time to check it out.

He knew how to change a tire in his new Mercedes because he’d read the manual and

watched a DVD all about it. But with this car, it was all so foreign. And Rhys seemed so

confident, he figured it was best to step back and shut his mouth.

Rhys worked fast. When he lifted the tire and the muscles in his arms bulged, cars

slowed down to check out the hot-looking guy without the shirt. A group of teenage girls

in a small, silver Japanese sedan blew their horn and waved their arms at him. A nice-

looking guy in a pick up truck slowed down and asked if he needed any help. An older

gay couple in a Cadillac almost came to a full stop to check out his naked torso. When he

strained to tighten the lug nuts and his shoulder muscles popped out, Eloise started

fanning her chest. She didn’t take her eyes off his body the entire time. Michelle and

Brett just kept giving each other looks.

When the tire was on and the hubcap was back in place, he stood up, brushed his

soiled hands on his jeans and said, “Let’s roll.” He’d fixed it in less than fifteen minutes.

For a human, he certainly had a few supernatural talents of his own.

Eloise crossed back to the car and said, “Thank you, Rhys. It’s always nice to

have a man around.”

Michelle shook her head and sighed. “I’ll sit in the back with Eloise now.”

Brett said, “Thanks, Grandmother.” He was being sarcastic. He knew Eloise

wasn’t trying to insult him on purpose; it just came out wrong. “I’ll help Rhys load the

car again.”

Rhys lifted the flat tire and put it in the trunk. Then he tried to wipe his hands off

on an old towel, but the black stains wouldn’t come off. Drops of perspiration dripped

down the sides of his face and his bare chest was gleaming with moisture. He smiled at

Brett and said, “We’d better stop off at a rest stop so I can wash my hands.” He spoke

louder because of a passing truck with a grinding engine, and his voice sounded deep and

throaty.

Brett stared at his large, dirty hands and said, “We can stop somewhere in Fall

River. It’s just too bad I can’t take off my clothes first so you can rub them all over my

body before you wash them.”

Rhys looked him up and down and said, “I’ll bet you’d like that.”

“I’ll bet you’d like it even more,” Brett said. “But it looks like you’re just going to

have to wait until we get to the Cape.”

After that, traffic got lighter and they coasted to the bottom of the Cape in almost

record time. Brett continued to do all the driving; he liked being in control. Both Rhys

and Michelle offered to take turns, but he insisted on driving the entire way. When they

reached the bottom of the Cape, Michelle and Brett argued about whether to take the

Bourne Bridge or the Sagamore Bridge. Brett thought the Bourne was quicker and

Michelle insisted on the Sagamore. He won, even though it was basically the same

distance.

By the time they reached Route 6A in Truro, it was after six o’clock in the

evening. They hadn’t discussed Rhys’s plans, so Brett said, “I’m assuming you’re going

to stay with us.” He’d always hated this awkward part of getting to know someone. The

way you had to hesitate and choose your words with care, the cautious manner with

which you had to approach the simplest subject.

Rhys smiled and said, “If that’s okay with you. If it’s not, I could just go into

Provincetown and book a room. I’m sure there will be plenty of vacancies during the

week this time of year.” He sounded serious, but it was hard to tell sometimes. He could

be teasing Brett to see if he’d get jealous.

Brett didn’t consider himself a jealous lover, but the thought of Rhys walking up

and down Commercial Street in Provincetown made his stomach turn sideways. When

the hungry gay men there took one look at Rhys, they’d be following him around with

their tongues wagging. There was no way Brett was going to hand him over to the wolves

that easily. But he didn’t want Rhys to know he was thinking this, so he smiled and said,

“You’ve had a long day. You should just come back with us, get a good night’s sleep,

and try to find this guy you’re looking for tomorrow.” His voice was calm and casual,

without a hint of concern.

Rhys reached over and tapped his shoulder with his knuckles. Then he grinned

and said, “You’re probably right, buddy.”

When they pulled into the driveway, Tag started to bark. He always knew,

without looking, when they were home. They passed through a tall row of pines and Rhys

stared through the windshield and said, “It’s magnificent. Much larger than I’d

expected.”

“It’s been in the family for three generations,” Michelle said. “I could live here

year round without thinking twice.” She sat back and inhaled the fresh salt air. It was still

warm out. The afternoon sun was strong and red.

Brett smiled. “She says that every time we get here, but she never does it.”

The house was an old Victorian, with faded gray shingles and bright white trim.

There were turrets and gables and large mullioned windows overlooking the sea. A semi-

round conservatory flanked the left side of the house. The roof had been replaced a month

earlier, so the cedar shingles there were still light and fresh. It had a wraparound porch

painted white to match the trim, and a complicated stairway with turns and landings on

the right side that led all the way up to a square widow’s walk. The widow’s walk was

surrounded with more white railing. There wasn’t a great deal of gingerbread, especially

for a house with such strong Victorian style, but that only made it better. This large old

house was simple and tasteful, and exuded an elegant sense of calm and quiet not often

found in a house.

Eloise clutched her purse and smiled. Then she took a deep breath and said, “I’m

so glad we decided to spend the summer here.”

The old house had actually been passed down from Eloise’s side of the family, a

house of witches and warlocks left over from the days of the Salem witch trials. Eloise

was a true Yankee. But she’d turned it over to Brett and Michelle five years earlier

because they were the last ones left. She’d told them, with emphasis, “I want this house

to always remain in the family, and I have a better chance of seeing that happen with

Michelle than with Brett. So I’m putting both your names on the deed.” Brett and

Michelle were fine with this arrangement; they knew they’d always be connected. And

Michelle was thrilled that Eloise truly did consider her to be family.

Michelle opened Tag’s carrier and then the back door. The dog jumped out and

ran for the first tree he could find. “I left plenty of food in the freezer when we were here

on New Year’s Eve,” she said, “So I’m cooking dinner tonight.”

Eloise opened her door and yawned. “I think I’ll nap before dinner. I’m tired.”

Brett looked at Rhys. He smiled and said, “A nap sounds good to me.”

But when Eloise and Michelle went up to their rooms, Brett and Rhys tiptoed up

to the widow’s walk. There were neighbors on both sides, but there was plenty of

shrubbery and the widow’s walk was so high, it was impossible to see anything from

below.

Rhys put his hands on his hips and stared out toward the ocean. He looked back

and forth and said, “Great view.”

Brett stepped up behind him and put his arms around his waist. He leaned into his

body and rested his face on his back. “They say it’s one of the best views on at this end of

the Cape. Most of the houses aren’t this high.” He took a deep breath and inhaled Rhys’s

now-familiar aroma.

Rhys continued to stare. “You must be tired from all that driving. Why don’t you

lie down on one of the lounge chairs up here and take a short nap?”

Brett’s hand went down. He lowered it slowly and unbuckled Rhys’s belt. Then

he unbuttoned his jeans and slid his hand down the balls, squeezing them a few times.

“I’m not tired at all,” he said.

Rhys laughed. “I guess not.”

Brett squeezed his balls with his fingertips and his penis started to grow in the

palm of his hand. “Doesn’t feel like you’re tired either,” he said. He reached down with

his other hand and started to lower Rhys’s pants.

When his pants were down around his knees, a speedboat passed in the distance.

His penis was fully erect now and Brett was slowly jerking it back and forth. “Aren’t you

worried someone in that boat might see us?” Rhys asked. “They’ll think you’re obsessed

with my dick or something.” But he was smiling.

“I am obsessed with your dick,” Brett said. “I can’t get enough of it.” Then he

moved in front of him and got down on his knees.

Rhys spread his legs as wide as his pants would let him. Brett opened his mouth

and sucked both balls past his lips. They tasted salty, and that gamey undertaste was even

stronger now. But that only made it better. When he pressed his tongue against them, he

swallowed back and sighed.

He was going to suck him off right there on the widow’s walk, but Rhys pushed

the top of his head and said, “I like it when you’re naked. Take off your clothes first, then

suck me off, buddy.”

All he had to do was say buddy. Brett stood and removed his shirt first. He pulled

it over his shoulders gently and tossed it on the deck. Then he kicked off his shoes and

socks and slowly lowered his pants while Rhys stood there, watching. He turned

sideways and his pants dropped to his ankles. He placed his palm on Rhys’s chest for

support when he stepped out of them. And when he kicked them across the deck, Rhys

grabbed his ass and said, “That’s more like it. I want to look at that hot little body of

yours while you suck my dick.”

Brett took his dick in his palm. “Whatever you want. Just tell me.”

The right corner of Rhys’s mouth went up and he said, “Get down on your knees

and start licking. Open your lips, stick out your tongue, and lick my entire cock.”

Brett held his strong thighs while he licked. His tongue soaked every last inch of

his cock and balls. He licked both sides of his sweaty groin and even turned his head

sideways and licked the soft spot under his balls. Rhys put his hands back on his hips and

watched, occasionally whispering, “Lick that dick, buddy. Get it all wet with that sweet

little tongue.”

For a man like Brett, this was an erotic dream come true. He had a strong,

dominant man who liked to give orders, and he was sticking around. He’d had plenty of

strong dominant men, but they’d only lasted a night, if that. But Rhys didn’t seem to be

going anywhere.

Rhys grabbed the top of his head and pulled his hair. “Now suck it, buddy. Suck

me off.” Then he lifted his right leg and stepped on Brett’s naked thigh with his cowboy

boot. His pants were still around his ankles and he wasn’t interested in removing them.

Brett’s cock jumped. Rhys’s rough, heavy boot made his entire body vibrate with

erotic energy. He opened his mouth and wrapped his puffy lips around the head of Rhys’s

penis. He sucked the head gently, rolling the tip of his tongue in counterclockwise circles.

Poor Rhys almost lost his balance. He had to press his cowboy boot harder on

Brett’s naked thigh to keep from falling over. “That’s it,” he moaned. “Suck the head,

buddy. Suck the head of my dick.”

He tasted the beginnings of pre-come and swallowed back. This, for Brett, was

one of the best parts of sucking dick. He loved pre-come; he couldn’t get enough. So he

opened his mouth wider and sucked the shaft to the back of his throat. His back arched

and his head starting moving in and out. He sucked hard and fast, knowing this time he

was going to suck him off to the finish and take the entire load.

When Rhys finally removed his cowboy boot from Brett’s thigh, there was a dark,

dirty imprint on his naked flesh. Brett wished he could have kept it there, but Rhys had to

have both feet on the deck now in order to keep his balance. He was getting closer to

climax and he wouldn’t want to fall over. He was reaching the point where nothing else

mattered but coming inside Brett’s mouth, and Brett knew this. Even though Rhys was

the one who thought he was in control, Brett was really the one who was pulling all the

strings. He had this big, strong man exactly where he wanted him and he knew it. His

cock was in his mouth and he was helpless. Brett’s head went back and forth with record

speed. His lips and tongue were jerking Rhys off and he wasn’t about to stop and ruin the

momentum.

Rhys lifted his arms and folded his hands behind his head, then started bucking

his hips. He was face fucking him now, slamming the head of his penis against the back

of his throat. “Fuck, yeah, buddy,” he said. “I’m getting there, buddy. I’m almost there.”

Brett didn’t say anything; he just started sucking faster. His chin was wet and he

could hear his own slurps. Each time the dangerous penis hit the back of his throat, his

own erection jumped.

“I’m almost there, buddy,” Rhys shouted. “I’m really close. Don’t stop.”

Brett started jerking his own dick. He wanted to plan his orgasm so it would

happen at the exact moment he swallowed Rhys’s juice.

Rhys’s legs started to vibrate and his mouth opened wide. “I’m going to blow,

buddy.” Then he clenched his fists, spread his arms wide and ejaculated into Brett’s

hungry mouth. He moaned out loud; his balls went up and his scrotum tightened. It was

one of those huge loads with power. If his dick hadn’t been buried in Brett’s mouth, he

would have shot over the railing of the widow’s walk.

The moment Brett swallowed, he jerked out a load all over Rhys’s right leg. He

continued to suck, eager to drain every last drop of him. And when he was finished

sucking, Rhys’s cock slipped out of his mouth and he licked his own come off Rhys’s leg.

He didn’t like leaving a mess, and he wanted Rhys to watch him do it.

Rhys shook he head and laughed. Then he said, “Damn, buddy, with you around,

I’ll never need to take a shower again. All you have to do is lick me clean.”

Brett shrugged and said, “I’ll lick you from top to bottom any time you want.”

Then he made a mental note to actually do that one morning. He’d plan for it. One

morning when Rhys got up to take a shower, he’d follow him into the bathroom and lick

him spotless.

When Rhys’s pants were up and his belt was buckled, he sat back on a long,

cushioned lounge chair. Brett was on the other side of the deck, still naked, retrieving his

pants. “Don’t get dressed yet, buddy,” Rhys said. “Come here and sit on my lap for a

while. We can take a short nap together like this.”

Brett smiled and dropped his pants on the deck, then crossed back to the lounge

chair and climbed on top of Rhys’s fully clothed body. He went down flat on his stomach,

wrapping his arms around Rhys’s waist and resting his head on his chest. When he was in

a comfortable position, Rhys reached down with both hands and held his ass cheeks. He

started to massage and spread them apart. Brett took a deep breath and snuggled into his

chest. “This feels good,” Rhys said. “If I had my way, you’d be walking around naked all

the time…and you’d never leave the house.”

Brett’s eyes were closed and he was drifting off to sleep. “I might get bored living

like that,” he said.

Rhys ran the side of his hand up and down his ass crack a few times, then said, “I

doubt that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d make sure you were always very satisfied,” he said.

Brett bit his T-shirt. “I bet you would.”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, and didn’t wake up until they heard

Michelle calling their names. Rhys looked at his watch and saw that it was after seven.

She was probably calling them for dinner. He slapped Brett’s ass a few times and said,

“Michelle is calling us. We have to go down.”

He yawned and lifted his right leg to Rhys’ stomach. His strong hands were still

pressed to his ass and he didn’t want to move. He wanted to lie naked in his arms for the

rest of his life. He wanted to feel Rhys’s rough jeans against his naked flesh forever. He

could survive on his sweet, doughy aroma for months.

But Rhys slapped his ass harder and said, “Come on, slut boy, we have to go

down now. It wouldn’t look right. What if Michelle came up here and found you like this,

lying naked on top of me? What would she think?”

“You’re right,” Brett said. But instead of getting up, he reached down and started

squeezing the bulge in Rhys’s jeans. “I can suck you off again really fast,” he said.

There was another loud crack against his ass. Brett jumped up that time. Rhys said,

“Go put your pants on. I’ll see you downstairs.” Then he climbed out from under his

body and stretched his arms in the air.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Brett said. “But we’ll continue this later tonight in

bed.”

Rhys kissed his neck and said, “Damn right, buddy.”

Chapter Six

Brett assumed Rhys would head into Provincetown the next morning to find the

man he’d been looking for in New York. He’d been so determined to find this guy when

they’d first met in Martha Falls. But Rhys didn’t even mention him. Instead, he suggested

they go out and buy bicycles. So they walked all the way to a bike shop on Bradford

Street in Provincetown, where Rhys spent a small fortune on bicycles. He insisted on

paying for them; he even bought one for Michelle and had them deliver it, with a large

pink bow, later that day.

For the rest of the month and a good part of June, they went to the beach, rode

their bikes, and fucked. Rhys couldn’t get enough of his ass, and Brett was always willing

to spread his legs wide. The one time Brett brought up the subject of the man from New

York, Rhys smiled and said, “I’ll find him. I know he’s in Provincetown somewhere. I

just have to look for him. But for now, I’m enjoying being with you. It’s the first time in

a long time I’ve enjoyed anything. I don’t want to ruin things.”

Brett didn’t mention it again. It was the first time he’d taken a vacation in five

years, and the first time he thought he’d found someone real to love. He even started

fantasizing about their future together— and he’d sworn off that sort of thing after

Jackson had dumped him.

Brett didn’t think about his powers or the fact that he was a warlock once during

the entire time he was with Rhys. Life was simple and easy; there was no need for

witchcraft. And for the first time in his life, he truly felt normal, just like everyone else.

* * * *

Then, on June twenty-second, Rhys disappeared. He took off on his bike to buy a

jar of Nutella for Michelle and never came back. She’d been practicing martini recipes

that morning in the kitchen, and she had been wondering if it was possible to make a

chocolate hazelnut martini with Nutella and vodka. But she was all out of Nutella. So

Rhys volunteered to ride his bike to a small gourmet store in the East End of

Provincetown for her. She was determined to get the martini right, and swore if the

Nutella didn’t work, she’d start brewing her own chocolate hazelnut vodka in the

basement.

Brett had noticed Rhys was different that morning. Looking back, he remembered

Rhys had seemed aloof and self-absorbed. When they woke that morning and Brett put

his head under the covers and started licking between his legs, Rhys jumped out of bed

and said, “I’m going to shower. I didn’t sleep well last night.” It had been clear rejection.

Brett just didn’t want to acknowledge it at the time. He pretended nothing was wrong

when Rhys crossed to the bathroom and shut the door in his face. He never closed the

bathroom door. When they were in their room alone, they always walked around naked.

But Rhys had seemed fine in the kitchen with everyone else later that morning.

He sipped black coffee and he said he wasn’t very hungry. He held Tag on his lap and

rubbed his head. But he was ignoring Brett. He wouldn’t even look at him. He joked

around with Michelle, and told Eloise he liked her outfit. She was wearing a flowing

caftan that morning, in five shades of purple, with an empire waist that had a rhinestone

belt. Not unusual for an old witch, but not the sort of thing you saw a human woman her

age wear in the early morning…or ever. When Michelle mentioned that she didn’t have

any Nutella, he was too eager to volunteer to go out for it. He jumped up from the kitchen

table and said, “I’ll go. I could use some space.” Normally, he would have asked Brett to

join him.

But that morning, he just walked out the door without even kissing him goodbye.

When he didn’t return by two o’clock that afternoon, Brett started to pace the

front porch with his hands in his pockets. Tag followed him back and forth across the

wooden planks. The words I could use some space kept repeating in his head. And when

Rhys didn’t return by seven that night, Brett stared down at his dinner plate without

saying a word. All the old feelings of insecurity returned. Rhys had behaved just like

Jackson had behaved the day before he broke up with him.

Brett hadn’t seen it coming with Jackson, but he should have seen it coming with

Rhys. He was getting too old to keep making these mistakes.

At dinner, Michelle looked at Eloise and frowned. Then she said to Brett, “Are

you going to go look for Rhys? Maybe something happened.”

Tag was sitting on the floor watching them; he tilted his head to the side and

yelped a few times when Michelle mentioned Rhys’s name.

Brett looked at Tag and raised his eyebrow, then he sighed out loud and smoothed

out the napkin on his lap. He lifted his head and said, “Let’s face it. He’s gone. I’ve been

through this before with other guys.” He clenched his lips and shook his head. He thought

Rhys had been different; he thought he’d finally found the one man in the world who

wouldn’t screw him over. But he’d been wrong once again.

Michelle took a deep breath, sensing how fragile Brett was right now and not

wanting to upset him further. “Are you sure? Maybe you’re overreacting because all the

others were so awful.”

Brett lifted his napkin and rested it alongside his dinner plate. He hadn’t touched a

morsel of food. “He’s no different than that guy Dev,” he said. “Only this time, when he

was finished with me, he didn’t leave physical bruises.”

Eloise frowned and touched her lips with her index finger, then she said, “I don’t

know. I just don’t know. Rhys seemed so nice.”

Tag yelped again and shook his head as if nodding in agreement.

Brett smiled like a madman. His face became animated and he lifted his palms in

the air. “They all do, Grandmother. That’s the problem.” Then he snapped his fingers

twice and the table was perfectly clean. Both Eloise and Michelle had finished their

dinners and Michelle had been getting ready to clear the table.

Michelle blinked and stared at the gleaming table surface. Tag went down on the

floor and covered his head with his paws. “What’s this?” Michelle asked.

Brett shrugged. “I figured I’d give you a hand with the dishes tonight,” he said.

“Witchcraft. Everything is clean and washed and put away. All you have to do is go

outside and relax on the porch.”

Eloise clapped her hands together, giddy and elated. “Well done,” she said. “Well

done, indeed. I’m so glad to see you using your powers. It makes me so proud.” She

hadn’t smiled that widely in a long time.

But Michelle folded her arms across her chest and said, “I thought you were

against witchcraft and wanted to be normal.”

Brett waved his hand. “Screw that. I’m tired of getting kicked around. I may as

well use the magic I was born with and stop wasting it.” Then he leaned over and kissed

her on the cheek. “I’m going upstairs to change now. Then I’m going out to a few bars in

Provincetown, so don’t wait up for me.”

Before she had a chance to say anything, he snapped his fingers and disappeared

into thin air. Tag jumped up and ran for the staircase to meet him upstairs.

Later that night, Brett snapped his fingers and materialized on the front porch to

sit with Michelle. He hovered over her in thin air, as if sitting on an invisible shelf. She

was sipping a chocolate martini, staring into the overcast sky. Tag was on her lap, on his

back, snoring with his legs in the air. When Brett appeared from nowhere, she jumped

back and pressed her hand to her throat. “You could at least give me some warning,” she

said. “You scared me to death. I’m not used to seeing you appear and disappear like this.”

Tag didn’t budge; he snorted a few times and rolled onto his stomach.

He stared down and lowered his eyebrows, with his elbows on his knees and his

chin in the palm of his hand. “Sorry,” he said. His voice was low and even.

“I thought you were going out,” she said.

“Ah well,” he said. “I just didn’t feel like it. I keep wondering what happened to

him. Something doesn’t make sense.” He kept thinking there had to be an explanation,

and that Rhys would show up the next morning with a jar of Nutella and a good reason

for why he’d left. Brett had been surprised when Jackson had dumped him at first, but

looking back now, he’d seen the signs months before without wanting to acknowledge

them. But he couldn’t come up with a solid reason for Rhys leaving; it just didn’t make

sense.

Michelle looked up at him and smiled. “I know this is going to sound weird, but I

have a feeling he’ll be back. I’m not a witch or a warlock, but I am a woman and I know

he’s in love with you.”

But Rhys didn’t return the next day, and Brett slipped into a deeper depression.

The skies had cleared and it was one of those dry, breezy Cape Cod days that smell like

sea air and damp sand and suntan lotion. He made a few phone calls in the morning and

sent a few business e-mails, then went down to the beach and sat in the warm sun with

Tag by his side. Every so often, the dog would rub against his arm and lick his hand to

offer support. To be dumped like this twice in the same year had left Brett’s ego totally

deflated.

He stared at the ocean with his lips pressed together; tapping the arms of his

beach chair, wondering what he’d done wrong to make Rhys take off like that. It wasn’t

the magic, because Rhys didn’t know he was a warlock. So it had to be something about

him, specifically, that made men run in the opposite direction.

Later that afternoon, when Michelle told him she was learning how to make her

own vodka in the basement, he smiled and pretended to be interested. At dinner, he

picked at his food and excused himself early. “I’m going up to take a nap,” he told them.

“I am going out tonight even if I don’t feel like it.” He wanted to cruise every bar in

Provincetown. He needed something to boost his ego and to make him forget about Rhys.

Michelle shook her head and frowned, then grabbed his arm and said, “Just be

careful. I still have a feeling he’ll be back.”

He laughed. “After pulling something like this,” Brett said, “I’m not sure I want

him back. I’m tired, Michelle.”

The moon was full and bright that night. He knew the road to Provincetown

would be well lit so he decided to walk. He didn’t want to ride the bike Rhys had bought

for him—he didn’t even want to look at it—and he didn’t want to drive because parking

was scarce in Provincetown in the height of the summer season. He could have just

snapped his fingers, but the long walk from Truro to Commercial Street helped pass the

time and clear his head. It was only ten o’clock at night, and he didn’t want to stand

around the empty bars waiting for people to arrive.

When he reached town, he remembered it was “Girls’ Splash” that week.

Everywhere he looked, he saw lesbians. They walked up and down Commercial Street

hand in hand. They smiled and laughed, and they looked happy and content. He shoved

his hands into his pockets and moved between them on the sidewalks. Groups of five or

six stood outside shop windows making small talk. Women from all over the country

planned for this week each year, all kinds of women. Some were soft and delicate, with

painted nails and red lipstick. Some wore baggy plaid shirts and men’s jeans, muscular

women with deep voices and serious expressions who slapped their knees and laughed

out loud.

Brett wove in and out of the crowd with care. He didn’t want to bump into anyone.

When he passed the occupied benches in front of the town library, he walked faster and

stared down at the sidewalk. His head sank into his shoulders and he pushed Rhys’s face

to the back of his mind.

When he reached Masonic Place in the middle of town, he stood in a long line

that led to the entrance of a disco. He breathed and sighed, because now he was

surrounded by gay men again; he needed to be with his own kind. Some of his best

friends were lesbians, but that night he needed to be with other men. The aroma of

charcoal and grilled meat rose from the small restaurant across the tiny, narrow street; a

group of guys on a bench looked him up and down from the corners of their eyes. He was

wearing tight low-rise jeans and a skintight black T-shirt so short, it bared two inches of

his naked waist. He wanted to look like a slut.

When a young guy with jet black hair and black painted fingernails passed him,

he gently brushed against his stomach with his elbow. The guy turned and smiled; Brett

smiled back and looked away fast. The guy was too feminine for his taste and he didn’t

want to make eye contact and lead him on. He needed a strong, dominant man that night,

a guy with rough palms and beer on his breath; the kind of guy who would just stand

there with his hands in his pockets while Brett pulled his zipper down.

But Brett didn’t find anyone like that in the disco. He ordered a martini and stood

at the end of the crowded bar. The loud music made the old wooden floor vibrate, and the

lights were low with a reddish tint. He saw smiling middle-aged couples dancing together.

Young queens with pierced noses skipped by and laughed, waving their wrists. And older

guys with pot bellies who had enough money to pay for what they wanted tried to give

him the eye. One older guy was even bold enough to grab his ass and say, “You should

smile more, cutie. Don’t be so intense.” As soon as he turned his back, Brett snapped his

fingers and disappeared. He popped to the other end of the bar near a dark corner. It was

so crowded and so loud, no one else noticed. But he could see the old guy who had just

grabbed his ass turn around and freeze, rubbing his jaw, wondering where Brett could

have gone so quickly.

A little before one o’clock in the morning, he left the bar and headed toward the

West End to sit in front of Spiritus Pizza. The scent of the bread dough carried two blocks

away; it reminded him of Rhys. He held his breath and pushed Rhys’s image out of his

mind again. He knew Spiritus wouldn’t be crowded yet. There were benches and steps

for sitting, and rails and storefronts for leaning. The bars in Provincetown closed at one

because of a town ordinance, and this was the place to sit and cruise if you hadn’t hooked

up at the bars. He walked up a flight of steps and crossed to the counter. Then he ordered

a diet soda and went back outside to find a good seat so he could watch the parade of men

pass by when the bars closed.

But he didn’t meet anyone there either. There were three good-looking guys with

dark hair leaning against a storefront across the street that looked interesting. They all

had stocky, muscular bodies and large hands; they could have passed for brothers. One

was tall, one had five o’clock shadow and the other had a huge diamond stud in his ear.

They fake-punched each other and jumped up and down on the balls of their feet like

baseball players waiting for their turn at bat. They wore loose, baggy jeans and T-shirts

that hugged their huge chests.

Brett was certain they were all alpha males. They could have been frat brothers,

but it was hard to tell. But they all seemed to know each other so well, he figured it

would be a waste of time trying to pick any of them up. Groups of friends, from his past

experiences in bars, tended to be too shy to make any serious moves. He thought he saw

the tall one give him a look, but decided it was his imagination.

He sat for an hour and watched the same couples he’d seen at the bar come and

go. The only other groups of single men he saw were either too young or too feminine.

And there were more women than usual because of “Girls’ Splash.” They were the only

ones actually eating pizza; the guys just stood there in their tight shirts, sipping sodas.

Brett finally stood up and tossed his soda cup into a trash can, then he turned right and

headed further down the West End to a place he hadn’t seen in a very long time. This was

the last resort for hooking up. It was known as the “dick dock,” a hidden section almost

every gay man in town had visited at least once, but would never admit to. If you

couldn’t get a man there, something was seriously wrong with you.

The West End was quiet because there weren’t as many tourists and shops. There

were a few small galleries and antique shops, but it was mostly residential. Rows of

painted clapboards and gray shingled Capes lined both sides of narrow Commercial

Street. The homes were all different, but similar in style and design. Their pointed

dormers glistened in the bright moonlight, and their bright flower gardens filled the warm

summer night with perfume. He heard footsteps and turned back fast to see who was

following him. There were the three good-looking young guys walking behind him,

smiling and poking each other in the ribs. His heart started to race and he sucked in his

bottom lip. He started to walk faster, and they kept up with his pace.

When he reached a side alley that led down toward the bay, not far from the coast

guard station, he turned left and crossed downhill to the end of the path. The three guys

turned, too. The flowery aroma faded into the smell of men and salt water and damp

wood. And when he reached the dock area, he could hear faint mumbles, soft moans and

slurps coming from under the dock. There were a few piles of clothing in the sand, and

several bikes had been chained to a long wooden dock post. When he turned and faced

the guys who had been following him, the taller one in the middle stepped forward and

put his arm around his waist. He said, “We were hanging out in town and saw you leave

the pizza place alone.” His breath smelled like beer and his words were a little slurred.

His accent was definitely New York. “We figured you were heading down here.”

Brett leaned into his side and ran his fingertips down his chest muscles. “Where

are you from?” He didn’t want to play games. He wanted all three of them. And he knew

they wanted him, too.

“Brooklyn,” he said. “When we booked this trip, me and my buddies didn’t know

there would be so many women in town this week.” His hand went down and rested on

Brett’s ass. Clearly, he wanted to see how far he could go.

The guy with stubble and the guy with the diamond in his ear remained at a safe

distance, waiting to see what Brett’s reaction would be to the tall one. Brett didn’t back

away, not from three hot guys with strong Brooklyn accents who had followed him all the

way down to the dick dock. He lowered his eyes in an innocent way and squeezed the

guy’s bicep. “I’m glad you and your buddies booked the trip this week,” he said. Then he

held the guy’s hand and pulled him down under the dock.

His buddies followed, and they all crawled beneath the dock to find an empty

section of sand where they could get settled. The dick dock was busy that night. There

were guys kissing and sucking and fucking. (It always made Brett smile to think that such

a wonderful place actually existed on this earth.) Groups of men were involved in circle

jerks. There were even a few older queens watching younger guys play with each other.

When they finally found a large enough section to spread out, Brett sat back and the guys

started removing his clothes. The tall guy pulled off his shoes, the diamond earring guy

unzipped his pants and the one with the rough stubble pulled off his black shirt. Six

massive, muscular hands pressed against his soft, smooth flesh and stripped him naked.

He didn’t protest once; he closed his eyes and tried hard to stop thinking about Rhys. He

just lifted his arms in the air and arched his back. His penis was fully erect and pulsing

with blood.

When he was completely naked, he didn’t wait for them to give any orders. He

knew what they wanted, so he stretched out on the wet sand face down. The other guys

didn’t remove their clothes. They just pulled down their zippers and yanked their dicks

out. The tall one, who was the most aggressive, climbed onto his naked back and

mounted him. He covered his cock with a condom and pressed his erection between

Brett’s ass cheeks. Brett didn’t have to worry about condoms and STDs, but decided not

to mention this out loud. Besides, he thought it was both socially responsible and sexy

that this guy actually carried condoms. So he quietly snapped his fingers, pre-lubed his

anus, and spread his legs a little wider so the tall guy could just slip it inside.

It wasn’t the longest penis he’d ever had, but it was thick enough to make him

moan out loud. “Ah yes,” he whispered. “Deeper.”

His buddies watched him penetrate and plunge, and when they saw how much

Brett liked it, they kneeled down in the sand in front of his face and pressed their

erections to his face. He opened his mouth and sucked the guy with the earring first. His

dick was slightly curved and tasted salty. It hit the roof of his mouth, then slammed the

back of his throat. Brett closed his eyes and starting sucking, reaching for the dick to his

left that belonged to the guy with the stubble.

While the tall one hammered his ass into the sand, Brett took turns sucking off the

other two. The one with the stubble didn’t have a distinct taste or smell. His thick bone

just tasted like dick, without frills, which was fine with Brett. They were both pre-comers,

so he knew they were enjoying their blow jobs.

But it didn’t take long: the dick dock wasn’t about lasting love and hours of

romantic foreplay. You went there to get off and go home to bed: it was the Twitter feed

of sex and you couldn’t ask for anything better on a lonely night. When the tall one blew

his load, he pulled out fast so the one with the earring could enter Brett. His dick wasn’t

as thick, but the slight curve hit a few spots that made Brett groan a few times. He used a

condom, too, and he pounded with deep, erratic slams that made Brett’s entire body

vibrate. By the time he shot his load, Brett’s jaw was quivering and his tongue was

hanging from his mouth.

When the guy with the stubble took his turn on Brett’s ass, Brett got up on all

fours so they could do it doggy style. He wanted to come with this one; he wanted to

reach down between his own legs and jerk off while he got fucked. He spread his legs

wide and arched his back. The guy with the stubble went deep and started pounding his

ass so hard, it seemed the slaps echoed across the bay. He was glad the guy with the

stubble went last; he was the best. He knew how to fuck in a way that brought Brett’s

entire body to the brink of climax. He held Brett’s hips hard and guided his hole without

holding back. And when he was close to blowing his load, he squeezed his hips so hard,

Brett knew there would be bruises the next morning.

They both climaxed within seconds of each other. The guy with the stubble

grunted a few times, then plowed his ass with one deep, aggressive plunge. He filled the

condom and sighed. Then Brett jerked his load all over the sand beneath his body. It was

such a strong climax that he rolled his hips in circles and moaned out loud. When the guy

pulled out, he slapped Brett’s ass a few times, leaned over and whispered, “Thanks, man,

this was hot.”

Brett got up, put his arms around his shoulders, and the guy helped him turn

around. Then the guy leaned into his neck and said, “I think we have an audience.”

Brett hadn’t been paying attention, but a large group of men had been watching

the guys take turns on him. “Could you guys stick around until I get dressed and walk me

out to the street?” The guys who had been watching the gang bang were creepy looking,

and Brett pretended he didn’t want to be left alone. He could have just snapped his

fingers and disappeared, but he liked the attention the three guys were so eager to give

him.

“No problem,” the guy with the stubble said. His voice went deep and he squared

his shoulders. He was more than willing to offer protection.

When he was dressed, the tall one held his hand and guided him out from under

the dock. They crawled on their knees to the alley, passing more men who had arrived

since the bars closed. The one with the earring and the one with the stubble got out first

and turned back so they could physically lift Brett up to his feet. When they were all

standing in the alley, they even helped brush the sand off his body. The tall one rubbed

his legs, the one with the earring took care of his shoulders, and the one with stubble did

his ass. He squeezed it and patted it a few extra times to be sure it was perfectly clean.

They walked him back to Commercial Street to make sure he was okay and that

no creeps would follow him. It was after three in the morning by then, and the tall one

still had his hand on Brett’s ass. Brett hugged them, kissed them all goodbye, and thanked

them for sticking around. When he turned right to head back home, he overheard them

joking around in the middle of the street. “Fuck, man,” the tall one said. “He was one

fucking power bottom. I fucking nailed him into the sand and he only wanted more.”

Brett smiled and thought about Rhys. If he’d seen how those guys from Brooklyn

had taken turns on his ass, he would have been awfully surprised. But he didn’t smile for

long. He was still alone, Rhys was gone, and it was getting chilly. He folded his arms

across his chest and sighed, then snapped his fingers and disappeared into the moonlit

night. He wasn’t about to walk all the way back to Truro at that hour.

Chapter Seven

He was upstairs in his bathroom when he heard Michelle call his name the next

morning. He’d just stepped out of the shower and was staring at his hips in the mirror.

The guy with the stubble had left several dark bruises on his flesh, black and blue

fingerprints that were telltale signs he’d been fucked hard the night before. He wasn’t

upset about them, and he was glad witches and warlocks bruised just like humans did.

The bruises wouldn’t last as long as human bruises, but he liked having a souvenir. He

felt vindicated after being dumped so brutally by Rhys.

Michelle’s voice was high and went up with a lilt, so he crossed to the hall and

shouted downstairs, “I just got out of the shower. Is everything okay?”

“Just get dressed and get down here,” she yelled. “You’ve got to see this.”

He pulled a T-shirt over his head and jumped into a pair of white shorts, then he

dropped the towel on the floor and jogged downstairs in his bare feet. Michelle was

pacing the entrance hall, and Tag was following her back and forth. When he reached the

bottom of the stairs, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him to the back porch.

When she opened the back door and stepped outside, Eloise was sitting in a chair

that backed up against the railing. She was staring at a long lounge chair at the other end

of the porch. When Brett turned to face the lounge, he blinked twice and his mouth fell

open. He looked at Michelle and tilted his head sideways, then looked back at the lounge

chair and crossed to the other side of the porch to get a closer look. Tag followed him. He

took slow, cautious steps, and his little feet hesitated when he reached the end of the chair.

Rhys was sprawled out on the chair, flat on his back, stark naked. He was sound

asleep, snoring loudly and practically unconscious. Brett looked back at Michelle and

said, “Take Grandmother into the house and make her some tea.” Eloise was staring at

Rhys’s naked body with her index finger pressed to her lips and a smile on her face.

“Then get me a cover and bring it back.”

“I knew he’d return,” Eloise said on her way inside. She looked around Brett

because he was blocking her view of Rhys. “I knew it.”

Brett ignored her. He removed his T-shirt and covered Rhys’s private parts. His

extra-large penis, when soft, looked like a condom filled with water. Brett couldn’t just

let it hang out in the open like that for the world to see. But when he leaned forward and

inhaled, he smelled something peculiar. It wasn’t human. It reminded him of a horse on a

hot, humid day. It wasn’t too powerful or offensive, but he couldn’t help noticing it.

Michelle returned with a white blanket, then she went back to the kitchen to give

them privacy. When he leaned over to place the cover on Rhys’s nude body, Rhys opened

his eyes and said, “Where am I?” His voice was deep and hoarse. He bolted forward and

stared back and forth. He looked down at his own body and said, “What happened to my

clothes?”

Brett pressed his lips together and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He

didn’t seem hurt or sick—just tired. “You’re here, you’re with me. I’m going to take you

upstairs to bed now. It’s all good, Rhys.” His first emotion wasn’t anger. It was concern.

Poor Rhys looked so helpless and lost, lying there on a chair and lost to the world. “We’ll

talk later. Right now I want you upstairs so I can put you in bed. Unless you want a

doctor.” Maybe he’d been in some kind of accident, or he could have been mugged.

Rhys reached for his hand and squeezed it. “No. I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor. I

just need to rest for a while.”

Rhys slept most of the day, and Tag slept outside in the hall as if standing guard.

He even slept through the entire conversation Brett and Michelle had with their mailman

about the murder in town. The mailman told them he’d heard that one of Provincetown’s

most notorious citizens had been brutally beaten and killed. He said the body looked as if

it had been mauled by a wild animal, and there was no sign of human foul play. They’d

have to do a thorough autopsy in Hyannis to see what really happened, but they were

thinking it could have been a rare case of a violent, rabid raccoon.

The mailman wasn’t too upset about the murder; he didn’t frown once while he

told the story. And he said the town wasn’t going to go into deep mourning because

victim had a long-standing history of fraud, tax evasion and general misconduct. He’d

gone to prison for three years for robbing the local Catholic Church, he’d swindled senior

citizens, and he was a mean alcoholic who’d steal anything to get his next drink. There

were several restraining orders against him involving former landlords and associates. He

had been arrested several times for beating his wife. The last time he beat her, they’d

rushed her to the hospital in Hyannis, where she nearly died.

When the mailman left, Michelle said to Brett, “I’m glad you didn’t run into any

rabid raccoons last night. And I’m glad Rhys is back so you won’t go wandering off in

the middle of the night anymore.”

Brett raised an eyebrow and said, “We’ll see. After the way he disappeared the

other day, then showed up on the back porch like he did, he has a few things to explain.”

But when he went to bed that night and Rhys put his arms around him, Brett sank

back into his strong chest and fell asleep. Rhys had slept all day. He’d missed lunch and

dinner and hadn’t even bothered to shower. The faint aroma of horse was still there, but it

wasn’t as strong now and it didn’t stop Brett from closing his eyes and drifting into the

most comfortable sleep he’d had since Rhys disappeared.

When they woke the next morning, Rhys said, “I’m sorry for leaving like I did. I

promise I’ll explain everything. Just give me time.” His arms were still around Brett and

he was gently rubbing his nipples.

Brett didn’t say anything. His eyebrows were pointed down and he was

processing everything that had happened in the last few days. He hadn’t been a saint,

either. He’d already decided he wasn’t going to say anything about the three guys from

Brooklyn and the dick dock. Then he smiled and said, “I can wait. Just promise me one

thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You won’t just disappear like that again,” he said. “We didn’t know what to

think.” He said “we” because he didn’t want Rhys to know how personally devastated

he’d been. He still had his pride.

Rhys kissed the back of his neck and said, “I promise. I won’t do that again. I

panicked about something that I can’t talk about right now, but then realized how stupid I

was.” He squeezed his chest and said, “I can be a real dumb bloke sometimes.”

Brett smiled and reached down to hold Rhys’s penis. He didn’t use British terms

like “bloke” often, and Brett thought it was sexy. But Rhys jerked back and jumped out

of bed.

“What’s wrong?” Brett asked. He stared at Rhys’s erection and said, “From the

way that thing looks, you’re ready to bust a nut.”

“I want to take a shower first,” he said. “I smell like a barn.”

Brett shrugged and pulled the covers back, then rolled over on his stomach and

spread his legs a little. “I don’t mind,” he said. “It’s not offensive.” Actually, he thought

there was something unusually sexy about the way he smelled.

Rhys noticed the bruises on his hips. He reached down and ran his fingertips

across the fading black-and-blue marks. “What happened here?” he asked.

“I banged into something,” he said. “It’s no big thing.” He wasn’t sure he’d ever

tell him about the guys from Brooklyn. Rhys had left him alone, without an explanation,

and it wasn’t fair to make him feel guilty. But more than that, he didn’t want to hurt him

with information that wasn’t important.

The only real secret he was keeping was that he was a warlock, and he knew he’d

explain that at the right time.

“C’mon back to bed,” he said, arching his back and spreading his legs wider. He

snapped his fingers under the pillow and pre-lubed his hole. He knew Rhys wouldn’t be

able to resist; Brett wanted him just the way he was.

“I feel so dirty,” he said. “Are you sure about this?” Despite his hesitation, his

erection was pulsing and stared at Brett’s ass.

“We’ll make it a quick one,” he said, “then we’ll take a shower together.”

Rhys grabbed his erection and climbed back into bed. When he mounted Brett and

slid his penis inside, he tossed his head back and said, “Ah well, it’s good to be home

again.”

* * * *

After their shower, they went down to the kitchen. Tag was so happy to see Rhys

again he jumped in circles until Rhys bent down to pet him. Eloise was reading The

Provincetown Banner and Michelle was staring at her laptop. Poor Eloise was frowning

because the latest issue didn’t mention anything about the murder in town. She’d have to

wait a whole week. It was a weekly paper and the murder had taken place the day after

the weekly’s deadline. Michelle was online with a credit card by her side, purchasing

everything she needed to make her own homemade vodka. She sat hunched over, leaning

on her elbows, staring at the screen. When Michelle was determined to do something, she

tended to become obsessed. This summer, it was making chocolate hazelnut vodka. Last

year she’d been obsessed with skydiving. It was always something different.

Rhys went to the counter on the other side of the room to pour two cups of coffee

and Brett sat down between Eloise and Michelle. It was a large square kitchen, with

white marble counters, updated stainless steel appliances and white cabinets. The

refrigerator had a clear glass door. The floor was black and white tile. And there was a

large oval table in the middle of the room. All the small appliances were red, even the

toaster. When Brett and Michelle had decided to renovate the old kitchen five years

earlier, they were adamant about having a kitchen that looked and felt like a kitchen. It

was separate from the formal dining room and the rest of the house. When the contractor

suggested creating an “open concept” by knocking down the dining room wall, they both

made faces and shook their heads no.

Eloise looked back and forth, then she poked Brett in the shoulder and whispered,

“Would it be okay if I snapped my fingers for The Boston Globe to see if there’s anything

there about the murder? I’m dying to know more.” She pressed her fingertips to his wrist

and added, “I’ll only conjure up the newspaper. Nothing else.”

He took a deep breath and looked at Rhys. He was still pouring the coffee and

talking to Tag at the same time. Then he placed both hands under the table and snapped

his fingers. The latest edition of The Boston Globe appeared on his lap. He handed it to

Eloise and said, “Here. Don’t say I did this. And don’t practice any magic unless you tell

me about it.” He could have picked up the paper at the store later, but he knew she was

determined to get it, and if he let Eloise practice magic alone, they might wind up with

the entire printing press of The Boston Globe on the front lawn. She really couldn’t be

trusted. His concern was for her own good.

When she saw the paper, she raised her hands and clapped. “Oh, thank you.

You’re such a dear boy.”

Michelle looked up from the computer and gave him a look. He shrugged his

shoulders and smiled. “It’s easier this way,” he said. “And safer.”

Rhys was carrying two cups of black coffee to the table. “What’s easier and

safer?” he asked.

Eloise winked at Brett, then said, “We were just talking about that computer thing.

It’s so much easier and safer for Michelle to order things there than to drive all the way to

Boston.” She still knew how to tell a good lie, even though she knew nothing about the

computer.

After breakfast, Rhys and Brett decided to take the bikes into Provincetown. Since

Rhys’s bike was gone, he had to borrow Michelle’s. Brett filled a backpack with a few

cans of soda and a couple of towels and attached it to the back of his bike. He didn’t like

to eat on the beach, but knew they’d need something to drink. It was a warm August day

and they wanted to spend some time at the Provincetown dunes on the West End. They’d

already spent time on the beach in Truro and at Herring Cove Beach in Provincetown, but

still hadn’t trekked all the way out to the dunes, where most of the gay men in town went.

But when they reached the West End, Rhys slowed down in front of an old white

house. The first floor was a retail antiques shop, and the second floor looked residential.

One could never be sure with some of these places; sometimes the shops had two floors.

It was the last shop in the commercial district, surrounded mostly by private homes. Rhys

said, “I’d like to go inside and see if the man I was looking for in New York is there. I’ve

been putting it off for too long.” He jumped off his bike and rested it against a row of tall

hedges. “You wait here. I shouldn’t be long.” He was wearing long black shorts and a

white T-shirt. Two middle-aged men coming out of the shop looked him up and down

and he didn’t even know it.

“Take your time,” Brett said. Evidently, Rhys didn’t want him to know why he

was looking for this man. So he got off his bike and stood on the sidewalk out front. He

was wearing a tight red shirt and beige shorts. He was attracting his own stares, and he

knew it.

The dusty front window of the shop was filled with antiques. A massive Imari fish

bowl rested on a marble topped Bombay chest. Two tall Satsuma vases braced the right

corner of the window. Two French side chairs, dripping in gilt, flanked the chest. Their

light blue upholstery was the color of the cloudless sky that morning. But the quiet store

didn’t have a name. A black-and-white sign, with chipped edges, read: Antiques – Open.

It hung across the front door on a flimsy hook, chic and unassuming.

While he waited, he watched the endless stream of gay men walk down

Commercial Street. It was a daily ritual in summertime that the straight tourists rarely

noticed. The boys were all heading toward the dunes, on foot or by bike. Everyone

walked in the same direction as if they were in a parade. There were men of all age—

even some who looked to be in their seventies—eager to brave the lengthy, brutal walk

out to the legendary Provincetown dunes. Anything could happen there: you could

experience the best blow job you’d ever had, you could meet the love of your life. They

carried rolled-up towels, ice coolers, and backpacks filled with beach supplies. Some

lugged canvas beach chairs and umbrellas; others carried nothing. An old queen, with

thick black eyeglass frames and a cane, carried a small container of oxygen over his

shoulder. He looked Brett up and down and licked his bottom lip. Brett smiled when he

passed by; he was cute. He could barely walk, but he wasn’t going to miss a day of

watching naked men with floppy dicks play in the sand.

Twenty minutes later, Rhys left the shop and jogged down the stairs with his

elbows bounding. He was smiling and his face was animated. Brett stepped forward and

asked, “Did you find the man you were looking for?”

He gave him a hug on the sidewalk and slapped his ass twice. You could do that

in Provincetown; no one cared. “Yes. He’s not sure if he can help me or not, but he’s

willing to try.”

“And this is a good thing?” It was hard to know how to react, because Brett didn’t

know what he was talking about.

Rhys hugged him tighter. “Yes. It’s a very good thing,” he said. Then he stepped

back and rubbed his jaw a few times. “I’ll eventually tell you why I’ve been looking for

him for so long,” he said. “But right now I only want to hit the dunes and enjoy the day.”

A few minutes later, they locked their bikes to a public bike rack on the side of

the road. It was already jammed with other bikes. Men passed by them and crossed

through an uphill path that led to the unmarked entrance of the dunes. It was a shortcut.

It was possible to walk from Herring Cove Beach, but most guys cut across from the path.

When the backpack was over Rhys’s shoulders, he reached down and held Brett’s hand.

Then he pulled him to the path and they headed out to the dunes behind three young guys

who kept turning back to stare at them.

Brett and Rhys both wore athletic shoes. The sand was deep and soft and

awkward. They had to watch for broken shells and stones. When they stepped down, their

feet tended to slip and slide and they had to concentrate on their footing. Brett hated

walking in deep sand, and that’s why he didn’t go to the dunes very often. He wished he

could have snapped his fingers and gotten there without walking, but Rhys didn’t seem to

mind at all. His long legs picked through sand and stones effortlessly, and he held Brett’s

hand the entire time without missing a step. Brett had to practically jog to keep up with

him. He didn’t want to complain, but his legs felt like they were tied to cinderblocks and

he thought he looked like a donkey stuck in mud.

When they finally reached the dunes, Rhys suggested they climb to the top and

search for a private area. Brett wanted to stop and rest anyway, because his feet were

killing him. There was a long, flat beach on the other side of the dunes, but Rhys didn’t

want to sit with everyone else. So they continued walking toward the lighthouse at the

end, passing small private areas that resembled pods where other men had settled. The

sun was hot, but there was a breeze coming off the water. The sage green grasses blew

toward town, and they were careful not to step on the precious plants.

It wasn’t actually a nude beach. It was federal preserve land and park rangers in

Jeeps tooled by every now and then. But because it was so far out and so secluded, it was

usually safe to strip down to nothing. They passed men in skimpy thongs with huge,

bulging dicks. There was a group of college-aged guys playing volleyball wearing

nothing but tight white underwear. Their dicks bounced up and down, and Brett almost

tripped on a stone. And he couldn’t miss the good-looking naked guy flying a kite. He

was looking up at the sky and he had a huge erection. He stood in one spot, oblivious to

everything, while other guys passed by and stared at his dick. Even Brett slowed down to

stare, but Rhys yanked his hand and pulled him forward.

A few feet away from the guy with the kite, an attractive naked couple lay in the

sand. They both had erections. One was eating a foo-long hot dog for lunch and the other

was stroking his foot-long dick. Brett’s eyes grew wide and his heart started to beat faster.

He wanted to have sex in the dunes with Rhys before the end of the day.

They finally found a small sandy section, a pod about five feet around. It was

surrounded by grasses for the most part, but there was an opening that led down to the

beach with a nice view of the ocean. They settled there and baked in the hot sun for about

two hours before Brett said, “I think I’m going to take off my shorts now. I don’t want a

tan line.” He wasn’t sure how Rhys would react to him being nude, but the exhibitionist

in him hated to waste an opportunity to get naked outdoors.

Rhys turned on his stomach and shrugged. So Brett stood up and pulled down his

pants. Five good-looking guys in their underwear walking through the dunes stopped to

watch him strip. They pretended they were looking at the ocean but they were really

looking at his ass. He folded his shorts slowly and tossed them on top of the towel, then

got down on his knees, spread his legs and rested on his stomach. He wiggled his ass a

few times to get settled in the sand. He pretended he didn’t know the guys were staring at

him. When he saw they weren’t going to leave, he tapped Rhys on the shoulder and said,

“You should put some sunscreen on my ass. I don’t want it to burn.”

Rhys lifted his head and smiled. “You just want me to play with your ass in public.

You want those guys over there to watch.”

Brett smiled and said, “Please.” He should have known better. He couldn’t trick

him. Rhys didn’t miss anything. “Just rub lotion all over my body. And take your shorts

off, too, in case you want to fuck me.”

“I guess it can’t hurt,” he said. “Everyone else seems to be doing something

around here. But if we do this, and I do wind up fucking you in front of these guys, no

one joins us. It’s just you and me. Your ass belongs to me.”

“I don’t want anyone else but you,” Brett said. And he meant it. But he did want

to get fucked on the beach. His penis was ready to explode and his heart was about to

jump out of his chest.

So Rhys stood up and took off his shorts. The five guys moved closer, still

pretending to stare at the ocean. They didn’t seem yet sure that it was okay to watch.

Some couples would have asked them to leave. When Rhys started to squeeze lotion all

over his naked ass, Brett forgot all about the other guys and opened his legs wider so

Rhys could spread lotion on his hole. He didn’t care where he was or who was watching

them, as long as Rhys was the man on his back.

When Rhys squirted lotion into his ass crack and slipped his index finger inside,

he asked, “How’s that?”

Brett closed his eyes and moaned. “Deeper…use two fingers.”

He inserted another finger, then started pulling his fingers in and out slowly. The

number of guys watching had increased. A circle jerk had formed and they were all

gawking while Rhys finger-fucked Brett. When he inserted a third finger, Brett’s legs

bent at the knee and his feet went up in the air. He moaned a couple of times and said,

“Fuck me.”

“Turn over,” Rhys said. “Get on your back and put your legs in the air, buddy.”

Brett followed his orders and Rhys got between his legs and pressed the tip of his

erection to his hole. Brett was ready to receive, and it went in fast. When Rhys plunged

deeper and leaned forward, Brett wrapped his legs around his waist and kissed him. Then

he shoved his cock all the way up his hole and stuck his tongue all the way into his mouth.

He swirled it in circles and swallowed his saliva. Brett squeezed his biceps hard and

sucked his thick, warm tongue. When Brett was inside him and they were kissing,

nothing else mattered. The other guys had formed a protective circle around them. They

jerked their dicks and watched while Rhys nailed him to the sand.

His hips bucked and his dick went deep. When Brett clamped down with his

sphincter muscle, Rhys clenched his fists and fucked harder. Then he did something he’d

never done to him before. He lifted Brett’s ass off the sand and started pulling it back and

forth. His strength was amazing, and his large hands lifted him with little effort. He

stopped bucking his hips and started jerking his dick off with Brett’s ass. Instead of

pounding into Brett’s ass, he pounded Brett’s ass onto his dick. Brett’s arms went back

over his head and his mouth opened. His entire body slid back and forth against the soft,

tangled towel, like a blow-up doll.

The other guys watched with bulging eyes. One even pressed his palm to his

throat and gasped when he saw how hard Rhys was poking Brett’s ass. Another guy came

too soon, but decided to stay and see how it ended.

Then Rhys put him back down on the sand and started the serious fucking. He

hammered and pounded his ass into the sand again. His legs were all the way back and

his knees were against his shoulders. Rhys bent him in half and split him wide open, then

he slapped his ass hard and said, “I’m close, buddy.”

Brett was close, too. He was edging near the verge of an anal orgasm and he knew

he wouldn’t have to touch his dick to come. “Come for me,” he said. “Give it to me.”

Rhys started to grunt, and Brett moaned. And a second later, they came together.

Rhys filled him with seed, and Brett splashed come all over his stomach without even

touching his dick. And that wasn’t the end, because just as Rhys was about to wipe his

sweaty forehead with his arm and pull out, Brett said, “Keep fucking. I’m gonna come

again.” So he gave Brett four or five rough, solid bangs, and Brett climaxed a second

time. He only shot a small stream, and it wasn’t as intense an orgasm as the first one. But

he hadn’t had a double orgasm in a while.

When Rhys pulled out, the crowd broke up and the other guys walked away in

different directions. It was all very civilized and everyone knew when it was time to leave.

There were unspoken, instinctive rules about these things. All gay men know how to

follow these rules.

Rhys went back to his towel and put on his shorts. Brett stretched out naked on

his stomach and closed his eyes. His body was limp with post-orgasmic vibration, and his

ass felt empty. “I hate when you have to pull out. It feels like there’s something missing.”

Rhys smiled. “I hate to pull out, buddy. But you can’t walk around with my penis

in your ass twenty-four hours a day.”

Brett sighed. “And that’s a shame.”

Chapter Eight

Brett noticed Michelle had a new pattern. After breakfast she’d walk down the

front path with Tag and she’d wait for the mail. It didn’t seem like a big thing at first. He

knew she was waiting for supplies for her vodka-making adventure, but she always

seemed so apologetic when she left the house, almost guilty. “I think I’ll check the

mailbox,” she’d say. “I’ll take Tag out with me.” But she was too eager. Her voice

became high and fluttery, as if she was trying to hide something. And she’d started doing

her hair and wearing makeup before breakfast, a look that seemed out of place on an

early summer morning in casual Truro. Even Eloise noticed something different about

her. She started poking Brett in the side and giving him knowing lookswhen Michelle

was loading the dishwasher.

So one Thursday morning in the middle of August, Brett and Rhys decided to

follow her to the mailbox at the end of the driveway. They grabbed their bikes and left

her plenty of distance. And when they knew it was safe, they sneaked up behind her at

the end of the driveway. She was leaning against the mailbox post, staring down the road

with glazed eyes and a huge smile on her face. They couldn’t see that she was smiling at

the mailman. He was still filling the mailbox that belonged to the house next door.

“Hey,” Brett shouted. “Do you want to join us? We’re taking a long bike ride this

morning. All the way over to the airport in Provincetown.” Rhys had purchased a new

bike for himself by then, without ever mentioning what had happened to the first one.

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She jumped and pressed her hand to her chest. “You nearly scared me to death,”

she said. “You should give a person some warning before you sneak up like that.” Then

she stepped back from the mailbox post and straightened her shoulders.

Brett turned and saw the mailman. He was talking to someone next door, and

waving down the road in Michelle’s direction at the same time. “Someone’s waving at

you,” Brett said, smiling. “And now I know why you’ve been coming down here every

morning for the past couple of weeks.”

Rhys smiled and looked down at his shoes.

“He’s nice guy,” she said. “We’ve bonded, is all.”

“Does he want to get into your pants?” Brett asked. He was teasing. He knew she

hated crude talk even more than she hated discussing her love life out loud.

Rhys covered his smile with the back of his hand and looked up at the sky.

“Knock it off,” she said. “And don’t embarrass me.” She clenched her fists and

raised a brow.

But then she smiled again; her body relaxed and she put her hands on her hips. It

was a quick, forced transition, because the mailman and someone from next door were

heading toward them and she didn’t want him to see her looking mad. She smiled and

said, “Good morning. How are you on this beautiful day?”

Her voice had a singsong quality Brett hadn’t heard her use in years. Not since

high school, when she was dating the captain of the football team. And she was smiling

so widely, he could see all her teeth. He looked at Rhys and rolled his eyes, then put his

hand in his pockets and stepped back to get out of her way. But he really wanted to stick

his finger down his throat and gag out loud.

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Rhys whispered, “Be good and stop teasing. Leave her alone.”

The mailman’s smile was just as big as hers. He looked her up and down fast,

without thinking about it. “You’re looking great this morning,” he said. “Is that a new

outfit?” He stared directly into her eyes, and didn’t notice anyone else standing next to

her. He even forgot about the woman standing behind him. The woman’s arms were

folded across her chest and she was waiting for him to introduce her to everyone. “I have

a large package for you in the truck,” he said to Michelle. “I’ll deliver it to the door later

this morning, personally.”

Tag looked the strange woman up and down, then tilted his head and growled

softly. His body started to shake and he rubbed up against Michelle’s ankle.

“Ah well,” Michelle said, “take your time, Ed. I’m in no rush. It’s not important.”

She reached down and picked the dog up. He normally didn’t growl at strangers, but

something about this woman had set him off. He even snarled a few times.

Brett almost fell over. But it wasn’t because of Tag’s growls. Michelle was on a

first-name basis with the mailman? And she’d just told Brett the night before how

desperate she was to get this one last package so she could start making her own

chocolate hazelnut vodka. Now the package wasn’t important? It occurred to him that

while Rhys had been fucking his brains out all summer, Michelle had been cruising the

mail route in Truro wearing lipstick and earrings.

The woman behind the mailman stepped forward and said, “I’m Lavinia

LaFontaine. I’m renting the house next door for the next few months. If I like it, I might

even buy it.” She lifted the small brown box in her hand and said, “Ed just delivered my

favorite tea. I get a new box every two weeks.”

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Brett stared at the label on the box. It wasn’t a rare brand of tea, just one of those

mass-produced, slightly pretentious brands from a club that sends regular shipments.

There was something about Lavinia that he didn’t like. She seemed to be trying to be

friendly, but her voice was loud and obnoxious and she came off as too aggressive. And

her image wasn’t as glamorous as her name. She had short salt-and-pepper hair, a large

mouth filled with yellow horse teeth, and a figure that looked like a potato balanced on

two thin skewers. She was wearing a gray sweatsuit that morning, with those ugly black

rubber shoes everyone was wearing to the beach.

Tag started to growl louder, and when Lavinia smiled and reached out to pat his

head, he snapped at her hand. She pulled back fast and Tag buried his head in the crook

of Michelle’s elbow, where it was safe.

Michelle looked at Brett and shrugged. Then she said to Lavinia, “I’m not sure

what’s gotten into him. He’s never like this. He’s usually very friendly.”

Lavinia smiled. “Don’t worry. He’s just having an off day.”

Ed continued to stare at Michelle, completely ignoring the other woman. So Brett

smiled and introduced himself to Lavinia. But when he turned to introduce Rhys, he

noticed Rhys was already halfway back to the house. And he was walking fast. Brett

shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “We’re going for a long bike ride this morning and I

guess he forgot something.”

Lavinia smiled and tapped her palm against her chest. “Don’t worry,” she said,

“We’ll meet again. I’ll be here for a long time.” Then she laughed and said, “He won’t

get away from me that easily.” She was only joking around, but with her unusual voice, it

sounded sinister.

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When Brett introduced her to Michelle, he had to force himself to keep smiling.

He also had to take Tag from Michelle’s arms so he wouldn’t bite. He thought again that

there was something about this woman that he didn’t like, that made him feel awkward.

He had a bizarre pull in his stomach and he cleared his throat. Something about her eyes

made him want to look away. They were deep green and slightly almond-shaped. And he

couldn’t pick up any definite vibrations at all. As a warlock, he usually felt something

from humans—either warm or cold frequencies. He didn’t know the mailman, but he felt

good, warm energy coming from his entire being. But with Lavinia he felt nothing, and

that had never happened before. It was as if she were nothing more than an empty box on

the side of the road.

* * * *

After that, Brett and Rhys rode their bikes all the way to the Provincetown airport

and back. That night, they took the Lincoln into town and had a very late dinner in a

small, elegant restaurant on Bradford Street. It was one of those classic Provincetown

restaurants, with a fenced-in courtyard that had old brick pavers; a statuesque, rusted

fountain surrounded by pink and white summer annuals; and little lights strung along a

tall wooden fence. They could smell the roasting meat mixed with garlic and herbs, the

lights were low, and the tables had small candles burning softly. Rhys held the door for

him, ordered his dinner, and paid the bill. He even drove the car. Brett was learning that

whenever Rhys had total control, he always smiled.

On the way out of the restaurant, Brett asked the waiter if it was safe to leave the

car in their parking lot for an hour or so. He wanted to walk to the Pilgrim Monument and

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he knew they’d never find a parking space down on Commercial Street. It was already

after eleven, and the waiter said it would be fine.

A steady stream of cars passed up and down Bradford as they headed to High

Pole Hill Road. It was darker than usual because the sky was overcast, but most of them

slowed down to take a closer look at Brett and Rhys. Brett was wearing tight jeans with a

tight white shirt and square-toed black shoes. His skin was now bronze and soft from the

sun. When he walked down the street, guys couldn’t help staring. Rhys’s hand remained

on the small of his back while they walked, as if he wanted everyone to know Brett’s ass

belonged to him.

Brett didn’t mind.

When they reached the Pilgrim Monument, Brett decided to thank him for dinner.

The museum was closed for the day and no one was around, so they crossed to a dark,

secluded area and stared up to the top of the enormous, granite structure. While Rhys was

looking up at the monument, talking in low, serious tones about how difficult it must

have been for the early Pilgrim settlers, Brett got down on his knees and unzipped his

pants. He didn’t care about the early settlers; they’d tortured his ancestors back then

without even knowing the facts. All he cared about was getting inside Rhys’s pants and

sucking his dick near the monument.

Rhys’s full erection, sticking out of his pants, gave new meaning to High Pole

Hill Road. His nine-inch pole was not only high, but it was as hard and thick, too. Rhys

didn’t protest when Brett held the shaft in the palm of his hand and licked the head a few

times. He just put his hands on his hips and continued to stare at the monument. He even

closed his eyes and smiled.

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At first, Brett sucked just the tip. His puffy, wet lips were gentle, and he sucked

with patience and care. When he rolled the tip of his tongue in slow, calculated circles to

make sure he hit all the sensitive spots, Rhys’s right leg jerked back and forth a few times.

Soft suction sounds penetrated the dark night; a startled bird rustled through the bushes

and flew toward the monument. And while Rhys stared up, Brett’s eyes focused on

Rhys’s erection. It was an even, glazed stare: he’d always been one of those gay men who

thoroughly worshipped the penis he was sucking. This, too, was another fundamental

difference he had with Michelle when it came to men. The one time he’d mentioned this

to her during one their talks about men she’d tilted her head and scrunched her lips,

staring at him as if he’d just kicked a puppy.

He stuck his tongue out all the way and pressed the tip to the base of Rhys’s shaft.

The head of his cock rested on his forehead and he started licking from the bottom of the

shaft. It tasted salty and felt warm, and he licked with such slow speed it almost looked

like his head wasn’t moving at all. He ran his tongue back and forth the thick, protruding

vein. His hands were pressed to Rhys’s hard thighs; he only wanted to use his mouth to

get him off.

Rhys cupped the sides of his head with both hands while he licked. When Brett

looked up with long lashes and innocent, loving eyes and caught Rhys glancing down at

him, Rhys’s head jerked and he took a quick, shallow breath. It was almost a hiccup.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “There’s nothing more beautiful in this world than

looking down and seeing my dick in your soft, sexy mouth.”

Brett looked down again; he stared at the shaft and licked his lips. Then he pulled

out his own erection and held it in his right hand. When he opened his mouth all the way

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and slid Rhys to the back of his throat, he started jerking his own dick slowly. The

ground was rough and his knees started to hurt. But when he began sucking with a

repetitive rhythm, he forgot about the discomfort. It disappeared. There was no pain as

long as Rhys’s dick was in his mouth and he was sucking him off. He closed his eyes and

took even breaths through his nostrils. Each time the head hit the back of his throat, he

saw bright little flecks of light pass by.

He sucked and slurped. He wanted to taste and enjoy every last blessed inch of

that dick. The faster his head bobbed, the closer Rhys approached his climax. He started

to moan and grunt, and his eyes squinted and his lips clenched. When he spread his legs

and leaned back, Brett knew he was getting there. He sucked faster, pressing his tongue

against the bottom of the shaft the entire time.

When Rhys finally reached the point of climax, he lifted his arms all the way up,

clenched his fists hard and shook them in the air. He came with such force, Brett felt his

dick swell and explode. The sweet, white cream hit the back of his throat and he

swallowed it all. On the first gulp, he jerked his own dick and came between Rhys’s feet.

Then he kept it in his mouth and continued to suck. He wanted every drop there was;

nothing went to waste that night. He even reached up and squeezed Rhys’s big round

balls a few times—he milked them as if there were actually a way to keep it coming in an

endless stream.

He sucked Rhys off until his dick was soft again, then kissed it and gently put it

back into his pants. He pulled up the zipper and patted his crotch twice. “That was nice,”

he said. “I think that’s most come you’ve had since we’ve met.”

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Rhys laughed and reached down to help him to his feet. “I didn’t know you were

measuring my come.”

Brett shrugged and said, “It’s my new hobby.” Then he leaned into his side and

inhaled his aroma again. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go home, get naked, and you can fall

asleep on top of me.”

“I’ve wanted to ask about that,” Rhys said. “I’m not a small man. Aren’t you

uncomfortable with me on top of you all night?” When he slept, it was deep and

unconscious. And he tended to drift to the middle of the bed and pin Brett to the sheets

with his dead weight.

Brett said, “I’m not uncomfortable at all.” He wasn’t. When Rhys was on his back

sleeping soundly, and his strong, muscular legs were wrapped around Brett’s soft smooth

legs, Brett slept better than he’d slept in years. “The hard part is when you wake up and

get off my back. I hate that feeling.”

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Chapter Nine

In early September, there was another full moon. Eloise always called it “the Corn

Moon,” because it was the traditional Indian corn harvest moon. They’d decided to

remain on the Cape until late September. The weather was still warm and sunny, Brett

and Michelle had the shop covered in Washington, and Rhys was waiting for his friend

from the antiques shop to return from Boston. Rhys was still evasive and tight-lipped

about the guy who owned the antiques shop, but he told Brett the old guy was working on

something for him that was extremely important, and that he had to do research in Boston

before he could finish what he was doing. Brett didn’t ask any questions. He smiled and

nodded, knowing in his heart that Rhys would eventually tell him everything.

But then Rhys disappeared again. It happened the day of the full moon. He went

out for a walk after dinner and didn’t come back. Brett was even more devastated this

time, because he’d grown to trust him so much. He went up to the widow’s walk with

Tag and sat in a lounge chair all night. But he hardly slept at all. The moon was so full

and bright, he kept nodding on and off, always waking to the realization that Rhys was

gone again and he wasn’t sure he’d ever return. He finally fell into a deep

unconsciousness sometime around five in the morning.

Two hours later, Tag started barking and jumping around in circles. The poor dog

was hysterical, and for no apparent reason. He knew how to go downstairs alone and go

to the bathroom, so it wasn’t that. There was a little doggy door in the kitchen he used

often and his water bowl was always filled. Brett rubbed his eyes and sat up. Tag was

trying to tell him something. The last time he’d behaved like that was when Eloise had

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tried to use magic to walk through the kitchen wall and wound up trapped in the

refrigerator instead. So he stood up and stretched, then followed Tag down the stairs to

see what he wanted.

The dog was fast. He kept stopping on each landing to wait for Brett to catch up.

When they reached the main porch, he waited for a second, then ran around to the back

porch. Brett followed, trying to adjust his eyes to the rising sun. But when he rounded the

bend that led to the back porch, his eyes opened wide and he stopped short. Tag was

sitting at the foot of a lounge chair staring up at Rhys’s naked body. Tag panted and Brett

could see his little heart beating next to his ribs. Brett crossed to the chair and said,

“Good boy, Tag.” Then he looked down at Rhys and frowned.

Rhys was sound asleep, and the same peculiar odor was coming from his body.

Brett was still mad that he’d disappeared without warning again, but at least this time he

came back the next day, and that said something. Rhys always returned to him, which

was more than Brett could say about any of the other men he’d been with. So Brett

snapped his fingers fast a couple of times, and a second later, they were all upstairs in

Brett’s bedroom. He knew Rhys wasn’t aware of anything at that moment; he’d never

know how he got there and he’d be too confused to ask. Eloise and Michelle were still

sleeping and he figured it would just be easier to use magic to get him upstairs.

Rhys slept through the entire day again, with Tag standing guard outside his door.

When he came downstairs at eight, freshly showered and wearing a crisp white polo shirt,

he stepped into the dining room and said, “I’m sorry about last night. I have an

explanation.”

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He was talking to the entire family, not just Brett. They were all there, Brett,

Michelle and Eloise. They had just finished dinner and Brett was about to clear the table

the mortal way. Rhys sat down and said, “I’m going to tell you all what it is right now.”

“Maybe you’d rather talk to Brett alone,” Michelle said. “Eloise and I can go into

the kitchen for a while.”

Eloise jerked her head and pressed her lips together. “Sit still, dear. He said he

wants to tell us all something.” Then she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the

table to listen. She wasn’t about to miss this for anything.

Rhys laughed, but then he became serious again. “I have to warn you all, this is

somewhat peculiar. It involves something that’s supernatural. You might even think I’ve

gone ’round the bend after you hear it. But you all feel like family to me, and I want to be

honest.”

They gave each other looks. When Eloise heard the word “supernatural,” she

opened her mouth to speak, but Brett raised his finger and said, “Let’s just listen first.”

He didn’t want her giving away any family secrets until he heard what Rhys had to say.

Then he turned to Rhys and said, “I promise we won’t think you’ve gone ’round the

bend.” He folded his arms across his chest and sat back. He liked to imitate his accent

and his British expressions when he was annoyed with him.

Rhys took a deep breath and stared down at an empty dinner plate, then looked up

and said, “There’s a curse on my family. Many years ago, in Europe, my great-great-

grandfather crossed a witch, and he wasn’t prepared for the consequences.”

“A witch?” Eloise shouted. “Did he say a witch?” She was smiling and rubbing

her palms together.

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Brett gave her a look and said, “Just let him speak.” He hadn’t expected anything

like this, and he wanted to hear where Rhys was going with the story.

“Yes,” Rhys said, “a witch. The witch was in love with him and she was livid

when he dumped her. To make a long story short, she cursed him and all of his male

descendents for eternity to live out their lives as werewolves on the night of each full

moon. I’m the last one left, and I’ve spent my life trying to have the curse removed so I

can be normal again. The antiques dealer in town is an alchemist, and he’s been trying to

help me remove the curse. He’s in Boston right now trying to get all the ingredients he

needs to create an elixir that will cure me.”

Brett looked at Michelle and raised his eyebrows. He remembered the old woman

in the restaurant in Little Italy shouting, “lupo, lupo.” Then he thought about the peculiar

aroma that came from Rhys’s body each time he showed up after a full moon. Suddenly

everything was starting to make sense.

Eloise was still smiling, sitting on the edge of her seat waiting to hear more.

Brett nodded. “Well, I don’t know what to say.”

Rhys took a deep breath and slapped his knees. “So, now that you all think I’m a

stark raving loon who is lying through his werewolf fangs, I’ll pack my things and leave

at once.”

But when he stood from the table, Brett grabbed his arm and said, “Sit down and

stop being so dramatic. We can deal with this.” He didn’t know much about werewolves

because he’d always been so sheltered from anything supernatural, but he was willing to

learn.

Rhys sat down slowly and raised both eyebrows. “So you believe me?”

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“Yes, we believe you,” Brett said. Then he looked at Rhys and frowned. “Is there

a connection between last month’s murder in town and you being a werewolf?” He had to

ask. He’d heard werewolves could be killers. “And will we hear about another murder

now?”

Rhys sat up straight, surprised they actually believed his story. “No. I’m not

connected with any murders anywhere. That was just a coincidence and probably was a

rabid raccoon. I’ve never been dangerous. Just grotesque.”

Eloise looked at him and started to ramble. “Well, I knew there was something

about you,” she said. “I’ve known it from the beginning. I think I may have even known

your grandfather. I’ve known a couple of werewolves in my day. Nice fellows, they were,

and not at all what you’d expect.” Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pinched. “You

have to understand that a curse is almost impossible to remove. Only the witch who casts

the curse, in most cases, can remove it. I have heard of some cases, but not many.”

Rhys blinked twice and stared at her as if she’d gone ’round the bend. Then

Michelle reached out and touched his hand. “You’ve come to the right place, sweetie,”

she said. “Eloise probably did know your grandfather.” Then she looked at Brett and said,

“Tell him.”

Brett smiled for a moment, then he lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers

twice. The messy table instantly became a clean polished surface and all the dirty dishes

were gone. In the kitchen, they could hear the dishwasher switch on and water began to

fill the tub. And to further prove his point, he snapped his fingers again and a second later,

they were all sitting outside on the back porch. But he forgot about Tag. The poor thing

had to run through the house and slip through the doggy door on his own.

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Rhys sat next to him on a wooden glider and stared, moving his head around as if

he wasn’t sure how he’d arrived there. His mouth was open and he gripped the wooden

arm of the seat. “Am I dreaming?” he asked. “How did we get out here?”

Brett smiled. “I’m a warlock and my grandmother is a witch. Michelle is the only

normal one here. She’s my cousin from my father’s side, so she didn’t get any powers.”

Michelle smiled and shrugged. “I’m the plain one in the family,” she said.

Rhys looked at Brett and said, “I never would have guessed.”

“I have a rule about not practicing witchcraft,” Brett said, “I want to live a normal,

human life. I never practice magic at all unless it’s absolutely necessary, and then only

for something positive and necessary.” He didn’t mention how he pre-lubed his hole

when they fucked, because he considered that necessary.

“There’s one big thing I didn’t mention,” Rhys said. “The woman next door, the

one who introduced herself as Lavinia LaFontaine, is the witch who cursed my family.

She knows I’m trying to have the curse removed and she follows me everywhere to make

sure it can’t be removed. I didn’t think she’d find me this time, but she did.”

“There’s a dark witch living next door?” Eloise said. “Why didn’t anyone tell me

there was a dark witch living next door? This is something I should know.” She slammed

the arms of her chair and gave Brett a mean look.

“Because we didn’t know,” Brett said. Then he turned to Michelle and said, “But

there was something about her I couldn’t figure out. I couldn’t get any human vibrations

from her. Just a blank.”

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“Ah well,” Eloise said, “You can’t get vibrations from dark witches and dark

warlocks, dear, only from good witches, warlocks, and humans.” Her powers weren’t

dependable anymore, but she still knew all the complicated rules.

Michelle stood and said, “Well, now that we know why Rhys has been

disappearing like this, I’m going down to check my vodka. It’s coming along well, and I

think I’ve hit just the right ingredients for the perfect chocolate hazelnut flavor.”

“I think I’ll get some vodka and go up to my room so you boys can talk more,”

Eloise said. “My, this certainly has been an exciting summer after all. We found a

werewolf and a mean, vicious witch at the same time. What more could you ask for?”

Rhys laughed and said, “All we need is a vampire to finish things off.”

“I could always call on a few friends and see what they can do,” Eloise said. She

was serious, too. “I still have a lot of good connections in the universe. I even dated a

vampire many years ago in New York. I’ve lost touch, but I could probably find him if I

tried hard enough. He had such a large penis, I nearly…”

“No, thank you, Grandmother,” Brett said, cutting her off. “We have enough to

deal with right now trying to get this awful werewolf curse removed.”

When Eloise went upstairs, and Michelle went down to the basement to check her

vodka, Brett and Rhys took a walk down to the beach. The weather was still nice for

September, and the sand felt warm under their bare feet. Rhys put his hand down Brett’s

pants and said, “Do you want to go for a late swim?”

The waves were slow and even that night. Brett inched his toes into the water and

shivered. “It’s a little cold. But I could take off my clothes right now and we could play

in the sand. It’s not too cold for that. And there’s no one around.”

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Rhys put his arms around him and kissed him on the lips. When he stuck his

tongue in his mouth, he held him tight. Then he pulled his head back and said, “C’mon.

Let’s go swimming. Trust me on this. You’ll never feel the cold.”

Brett trusted him completely now. So he started to remove his clothes and placed

them in a pile on the sand. He lifted his head and watched Rhys undress. He was

awkward and so clumsy, he almost fell over when he removed his pants. He didn’t fold

his clothes into a neat pile; rather, he tossed them into the sand without even looking to

see where they landed. The shirt landed three feet away from the pants, and the shoes

went almost four feet away. When he pulled off his underpants, he threw them at Brett

and they landed on his face. Brett pressed them to his nose and inhaled the familiar aroma

he’d come to love, then rested them on top of his own neat little pile and said, “It’s a

good thing I don’t mind your underwear, because I have a feeling I’m going to be picking

up after you for a long time.”

He shrugged. “I’m not very neat,” he said, “but there are other things I do very

well.”

Then he put his arm around Brett’s waist and pulled him into the water. Brett

clenched his fists and braced his body for the initial sensation of cold. But it didn’t

happen. “The water was freezing a minute ago, and now it’s like warm bathwater,” Brett

said.

“As long as I hold on to you, you’ll remain warm,” Rhys said. “And I’m not

going to let go.”

But they didn’t go too deep. Rhys walked him out until the water was just above

his chest and started kissing him. Brett jumped up and wrapped his legs around his waist.

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He held on to his wide shoulders for suppor. Rhys reached down and cupped his ass with

his palms to balance him and keep him secure. Then he bit his neck and licked his ears.

Brett’s head went back as he dangled from Rhys’s strong, hard body. Rhys’s large hands

pressed hard against his ass as wavy clouds of steam rose up all around them. And when

he stuck his tongue into Brett’s mouth again, he pushed him higher and his dick rubbed

against Rhys’s flat abdomen.

There was something different about the way Rhys kissed now. It was stronger

and more intense. He held him up in the water with little effort, and his hands felt even

stronger then before. “This is outrageous,” Brett whispered into his ear. “You’re doing

something you haven’t done before, but I’m not sure what it is.”

“I’m not holding back anymore,” Rhys said. “I’ve been holding back all summer

so I wouldn’t frighten you with my strength. But now that you know my story, I’m going

to show you a little more of what I can really do.”

Brett bit his shoulder and threw his head back. “Fuck me, Rhys. Fuck me here in

the water.”

“Hold onto my neck tight,” Rhys said, “Don’t worry, you can’t hurt me. I’m

going to let go of your ass and stretch out my arms. When I do that, you throw your legs

over my forearms and let them dangle. And when they are dangling, I’ll lower you onto

my dick. Just spread your legs as wide as they can go and let them dangle over my arms.

I’ll do the rest.”

When he stretched his arms out, Brett lifted each leg separately and rested them

over Rhys’s forearms. His arms became sturdy steel poles that didn’t move. Brett even

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applied pressure and tried to lower his legs on purpose to see what would happen, but

Rhy’s arms remained in place. He could have balanced a pallet of bricks on those arms.

“That’s it,” Rhys said. “Now spread your legs a little wider and I’ll lower your

body.” His upper body went forward, slowly lowering him toward his penis.

Brett snapped his fingers first to pre-lube his anus, then spread his legs as wide as

they would go. They dangled from his arms, and his toes curled back. Warm salt water

splashed against his ass while Rhys lowered his arms and guided his body toward his

erection. Brett felt the head of his cock press against the opening, and a second later Rhys

lowered him all the way down, bucked his hips forward and rammed it all the way up his

hole. It plunged into his body so hard, Brett lost his breath. His hands were clasped

behind Rhys’s wide neck. He threw his head back and his mouth fell open while he tried

to focus on his breathing.

When Rhys straightened up a little and started hammering, salt water splashed his

face and dripped from the corners of his mouth. Brett wasn’t moving a muscle; Rhys did

all the fucking. He poked him so hard this time his head started to roll around in circles.

A fog horn sounded in the distance and seagulls flew over their heads. This was the first

time he’d ever been fucked in this position, with his legs dangling over someone’s arms

and his hands around someone’s neck. It was like getting fucked and being suspended in

midair at the same time.

Then he started to hammer faster, and Brett felt the beginning of another internal

orgasm. In this position, with his huge dick pounding him so hard, he wasn’t surprised.

He started to whine and moan; he couldn’t help it. “I’m getting really close,” he said.

“Don’t stop. Keep fucking as hard as you can.”

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He fucked him so hard the slams against Brett’s ass made his arms vibrate. Each

time Rhys plunged deep and banged into him, he grunted and bit his bottom lip.

The orgasm began at the lips of his anus. But it didn’t travel through his body like

it normally did. This orgasm was supernatural—it lingered there for a few minutes, and

he felt trapped in the middle of his own climax. Then, while Rhys kept fucking hard, the

same orgasm began to travel through his body. It wasn’t a double or triple—this was one

long, infinite eruption that slowly filled him with erotic vibrations. He felt it now in his

pointed toes, his fingertips trembled, and even his eyelids felt the sensation.

Five minutes later, the orgasm finally reached its peak and he blew a powerful

load over his head and into the dark sea. Rhys ejaculated at the same time. He filled

Brett’s hole with another huge load of come and grunted a few times.

When it was over, Brett shook his head and blinked. Rhys’s dick was still in his

hole and his legs were still dangling over his forearms. “That was the longest climax I’ve

ever had,” he said. “What the fuck was that?”

“It’s a little perk of being a werewolf,” he said. “Like I told you, buddy, I’ve been

holding back so I wouldn’t scare you. And you’d better enjoy it for the time being,

because when the alchemist comes back from Boston and figures out how to remove the

curse, it’s just going to be me again, and the climaxes will probably go back to normal.”

Brett kissed him on the lips and smiled. “I’ve been happy all summer, and very

satisfied.”

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Chapter Ten

A few days after the exquisite corn moon, the elusive antiques dealer returned to

Provincetown and phoned Rhys. It was early afternoon on a hot, breezy day. He and Brett

were up on the widow’s walk sunbathing in the nude when he called. Brett had just

sucked him off and his lips were still puffy.

Rhys put the phone on speaker so Brett could listen. They had no secrets now.

The old guy said he’d been working with another alchemist in Boston, and they’d come

up with an elixir he thought might work. But Rhys had to get to his shop immediately,

because he was afraid if they waited too long ,the elixir would lose its potency.

When they hung up, Brett looked at Rhys and smiled. “If you’re okay with me

using witchcraft, I can get us there a lot faster than by taking the bikes or the car. Besides,

we’ll never find parking down there at this time of day.” He could still taste Rhys’s sweet

come when he swallowed. He licked his lips again to be sure nothing would go to waste.

Rhys shrugged his shoulders and reached for his hand. “I don’t have a problem

with you using witchcraft. I couldn’t care less. Just get me there fast,” he said. “As fast as

possible. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to have the curse removed, and this elixir

might not work, but I can’t stop trying.”

Brett took his hand and snapped his fingers. A moment later, they were both fully

dressed and standing in front of the antiques shop on Commercial Street. An older man

walking a thin greyhound saw them appear out of nowhere. He blinked, rubbed his eyes,

and started running down the street. Brett looked at Rhys and shrugged. “Sometimes it

can’t be helped. The old guy will be okay.”

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When they walked up the steps and entered the shop, an older man with long

white hair turned and looked twice. He ran his hand across his jaw and lowered his

eyebrows.

“Hello, Malcolm,” Rhys said.

“How did you get here so fast?” Malcolm asked. He looked Brett up and down for

a second, then he moved toward them and touched Brett’s arm with his wrinkled

fingertips. “You’re a warlock,” he said, “I haven’t seen one in years, but I can feel the

magic.”

Brett stepped back and raised an eyebrow. “We’re not here to discuss me,” he said.

“We’re here for the elixir so we can remove Rhys’s curse.” He never admitted being a

warlock out loud to anyone, and he wasn’t going to start now. But he couldn’t deny it,

either.

The old man laughed and waved his right arm. “Don’t worry. I can tell you’re not

one of the dark ones. And I certainly won’t tell anyone.” Then he looked at Rhys and

held out his hand. “Did you bring the rest of the money? I want cash, no checks.”

Rhys smacked his forehead with his palm. “Shit,” he said. “I forgot the money.”

“How much is it?” Brett asked.

“Twenty-five thousand,” Malcolm said. “That’s the balance of what he owes me.”

Brett frowned. It sounded like highway robbery. But he snapped his fingers

anyway and a neatly wrapped pile of bills appeared on top of an antique chair. “There’s

the balance. Twenty-five thousand,” Brett said. “Let’s get to work now.”

Rhys lifted his arms to protest, but Brett grabbed his wrist and said, “You can pay

me back later. I know you have the money.” Then he looked at Malcolm and said, “This

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had better not be a hoax, and something had better happen, or you’ll wind up taking that

money to the bank with a beak and a set of wings.”

Malcolm squared his shoulders and gave Brett a mean look, then led them to a

back room. It was dark and damp and smelled like a combination of stale coffee grounds

and tobacco. Shelves were filled with dusty bottles that contained herbs and remedies.

There were no windows; just three light bulbs hanging from the ceiling attached to thin

chains. Brett tried to read the names on the bottle labels, but he’d never heard of most of

the herbs. There was a long wooden work bench that ran down the center of the room.

The old man stood at the head and told them both to sit on a couple of wooden stools.

Then Malcolm pulled a small brown bottle from his back pocket. He lit a cigarette

and rested it on the edge of a filled ashtray. “Now,” he said, “you must take this, all of it,

and wait. There may be a few side effects, but it won’t harm you in any serious way.”

“What kind of side effects?” Brett asked. He’d waited a moment, but when Rhys

didn’t ask, he did. Rhys seemed so excited, he didn’t even care about side effects. He was

leaning forward, eager and ready to swallow the contents of the small bottle.

Malcolm rubbed his jaw and took a long drag from the cigarette. “He’ll probably

take on a few characteristics of his werewolf state of being. His beard will grow, his hair

will grow and his senses will become more heightened. But nothing dangerous, and he

won’t be any harm to anyone. It will be just small things. And he might not have any side

effects.” He took another drag and inhaled deeply. “But I’d keep him hidden tonight to be

safe.”

“How will he know if the elixir works?” Brett asked.

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“The next morning, he’ll know,” Macolm assured them. “If the curse isn’t gone

by morning, the elixir didn’t work. And if you want proof, you can always hold

something silver up to his face. If the silver doesn’t bother him, the curse is removed. If

he can’t stand the sight of it, the elixir didn’t work.”

Rhys touched Brett’s arm and said, “I don’t want to ask any more questions. I

know you mean well, but I just want to drink this and get it over with.”

Brett pressed his lips together and nodded yes. Then he took a deep breath and sat

back with his arms folded across his chest. He wished he’d brought Eloise with them. She

knew so much more than he did when it came to the supernatural. And for the first time

in his life, he was sorry that he hadn’t been more involved with things of this nature. He

had the magic, but he didn’t really know much about it at all.

Rhys took the small bottle, unscrewed the top and drank the contents. Then he

shook his head and made a face. His body jerked and trembled a few times.

Brett jumped from the stool and ran to his side. “What’s wrong?”

Rhys waved his arm a couple of times and said, “Nothing yet. I’m fine. But it

tastes worse than Michelle’s homemade vodka.” Michelle had finally prepared a batch of

chocolate hazelnut vodka, and she’d made them all taste it.

“It can’t be that bad,” Brett said. He thought her vodka tasted like a tin can. Rhys

was polite and said it wasn’t bad, but later he told Brett it reminded him of unscented

cologne. Eloise smiled and sipped, but when Michelle turned her back, Eloise said it

smelled like dog pee and tasted like ammonia.

“Let me know what happens,” Malcolm said. “I’ll be here for another week, then

I’m heading back to New York.”

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“We will,” Brett said, “You can count on it.” He reached for Rhys’s hand with his

right hand, and then he snapped his fingers twice with his left. A moment later, they were

back in Truro, sitting on lounge chairs on the widow’s walk.

At dinner that night, they told Eloise and Michelle about the elixir they’d gotten

from an alchemist. Michelle listened with interest, but Eloise kept frowning and sighing

out loud. She reminded them that there was a remote chance the curse could be lifted, but

in most cases, these things almost never work. “The only real way to remove a curse

that’s been cast by a dark witch is to kill the dark witch,” she said. “And that’s not easy—

it’s almost impossible.”

Michelle asked, “Couldn’t one of you just remove the curse? I would think that

between a witch and a warlock, something could be done.”

Eloise looked at Brett and they both scowled. “We could never remove a curse or

spell from another witch or warlock,” Brett said. “Once a spell has been cast, only the

witch who cast the spell can remove it.”

“Ah, well,” Michelle said, “then how do you kill a dark witch?”

“With kindness,” Eloise said. She lifted her eyebrows and smiled.

Brett frowned. “Talk about a bad joke and a bad cliché,” he said. “Grandmother,

you can do better than that.” He laughed and poked Michelle in the arm.

But Eloise opened her steel blue eyes wide and slammed her fork against her plate.

“I’m not joking. And if you paid more attention to your own history, you’d know that.”

She lowered her voice and took a deep breath. “The only real way to kill a dark witch is

with something good and pure and kind, and that’s not easy to find. Then the witch will

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actually disintegrate before your eyes. At least that’s what I’ve been told, though I’ve

never actually witnessed it myself.”

Brett looked at Rhys and shrugged. “Maybe we can think of some way to kill her

if the elixir doesn’t work. After all, she is right next door.”

Rhys smiled and stared down at his plate. “Let’s just hope it does work.”

The side effects began right after dinner. They were up in their bedroom and Rhys

was watching a baseball game on the sports channel when Brett noticed that Rhys’s hair

seemed longer. A few minutes later, his fingernails grew an inch longer, too. Brett didn’t

say anything at first, but when he looked at him again fifteen minutes later, his face was

covered with a soft layer of dark blond fleece and his eyebrows were elongated and

bushy. So he tapped him on the arm and said, “I think you’re experiencing a few side

effects.”

Rhys jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom. When he looked into the mirror

and saw that almost half his body was covered with a fine layer of blond hair, he groaned

and slapped his head hard. “Why don’t you just call the circus and charge admission to

the freak show?” he said. “At least I’ll be good for something.” Then he lowered his

voice and said, “I’m so sorry. You deserve better than this. I look disgusting.”

But strangely enough, Brett wasn’t horrified and he didn’t think any less of Rhys

as a man or a lover. He didn’t look that much different except for more hair and longer

nails, and clearly, this wasn’t his full werewolf form, just a side effect. So while Rhys

was in the bathroom worrying, Brett was in the bedroom planning his next sexual

adventure. The scent of horse was back, and even that didn’t repulse him. And in order to

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prove that he wasn’t upset, he started to remove his clothes. “Why don’t you come back

to bed and give me a massage?” he said. “My lower back is bothering me.”

When Rhys came out of the bathroom, Brett was lying on his stomach across the

bed, stark naked with his legs spread wide. “Are you serious? I look like that caveman

who sells car insurance on TV.”

Rhys was exaggerating. He didn’t look that bad. He did look a bit strange, but

Brett was so in love with him that looks were only secondary. In Brett’s eyes, he was still

the same handsome, muscular man as always. “I’m very serious,” Brett said, “Now reach

into the top drawer of the table next to the bed and get my favorite massage toy. You can

start with that.” He spread his legs a little wider and added, “And take off your clothes,

too.”

First Rhys stripped, and then he opened the top drawer of the nightstand. Brett

knew the only thing in the drawer was a ten-inch-long dildo, as thick as the end of a

baseball bat. The realistic kind, with natural flesh tones, huge hanging balls and a lifelike

texture. He heard him pull it out and close the drawer, then Rhys climbed onto the bed

and said, “This thing is huge. You can’t be serious. I couldn’t even put it in my mouth.”

Brett snapped his fingers and magically pre-lubed his hole. He closed his eyes and

said, “You don’t have to put it in your mouth. All you have to do is put it between my

legs and up my ass.”

Rhys slapped his ass a couple of times with the fake cock, then parted Brett’s legs,

spread his ass cheeks and pressed the tip to his hole. He hesitated at first, but when he

saw how easily the head slipped inside, he started working it all the way in. Brett’s ass

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sucked it up slowly, and it wasn’t long before the entire fake cock was all the way up his

ass and the silicone balls were pressing against his bottom.

“Fuck me now,” Brett said, “Pull it in and out. Go as deep as you can and pull it

all the way out again.”

When Brett looked back for a second, he saw Rhys’s hairy face staring down at

his ass. His eyes were wide and his mouth was half open. He seemed shocked that Brett

could take the whole thing without writhing in pain. He took a shallow breath and said,

“Here it comes, buddy.”

When he started fucking him with the dildo, he smiled. Brett closed his eyes and

rested the side of his face on the mattress. Rhys pulled it in and out of his hole so fast, the

bed started to rock. And when he went deep, he slapped Brett’s ass hard each time. Brett

moaned and begged for more. “Fuck me,” he said. “Open my ass and get it ready for your

big, thick cock, man.”

“This is really hot, buddy,” he said. “I like watching your ass get fucked with

something this big.” His voice went up at the end of sentences, as if doing something like

this hadn’t occurred to him.

“Ahhhh,” Brett said, bending his legs back at the knees. “Keep going deep. It

feels so fucking good.”

“I’ll fuck you deep,” he said, slamming the dildo hard. “I’ll fuck that ass until you

can’t walk, buddy.”

He fucked him with the dido a little longer, then Brett said, “Pull it out so I can

turn over and let you fuck me.” He wanted real cock now. He wanted to wrap his smooth

legs around his hairy body and take every last inch of him.

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Rhys stopped moving, the dildo still halfway up Brett’s ass. “Are you sure about

this? I look grotesque.”

“You look as wonderful as you always look,” Brett said. “Big dildos are fun, but I

prefer your dick any day. Now pull it out, turn me over and fuck my brains out like the

hot stud that you are.” He wanted to get fucked, but more than that, he wanted to boost

Rhys’s ego as much as possible.

When he was on his back, Rhys kneeled between his legs and smacked the crack

of his ass with his erection. Brett arched his back and wrapped his legs around his hairy

back. He rubbed the fleece on his back and shoulders. It wasn’t bushy or wild—just a

light layer, and Brett could still see his suntanned flesh showing through. He knew Rhys

was horny and he knew he wanted to get inside. So he opened his legs wider and said,

“Go deep, stud. Make me scream.”

The only part of Rhys’s body that wasn’t covered with hair was his cock. It as

normal as ever and it slipped into his hole with one smooth, even thrust. He went deep

and pinned Brett to the bed, then he closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Brett grabbed his wide shoulders and pulled him closer. “Kiss me,” he said. “Kiss

me and fuck me at the same time.” Brett liked this part the most. He’d had his share of

men, but when Rhys kissed him and fucked him at the same time, his body went weak

with outrageous feelings of love and ecstasy that he couldn’t describe out loud.

Rhys hesitated for a moment, but then he pressed his lips to Brett’s open mouth

and stuck out his tongue. Brett sucked his tongue and moaned inside his mouth. He was

glad the hair on his face was still just as rough and sturdy as his normal five o’clock

shadow. When Rhys started to slam and kiss at the same time, Brett wrapped his arms

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around his shoulders and folded his hands at the back of his neck. He rested them there

with a light touch, and his body went completely limp so that Rhys could take complete

control and fuck him any way he wanted.

He didn’t just buck and slam that night. He practically rode his ass off the bed.

Rhys fucked so hard, he had to keep pulling Brett back onto the mattress so he wouldn’t

fall off the bed. At one point, Brett had to let go of his shoulders and clutch the sheets in

his hands. He tried to keep his legs wrapped around Rhys’s back, but they kept coming

apart from the pounding he was taking. He finally gave up and let them dangle in the air.

After enough hammering to leave him dazed, Brett started to feel the beginning of

another long, timeless climax. It started at the lips of his anus, just like it had the night

they’d fucked in the water. He reached down to grab his own cock this time—he wanted

to feel the sensation while he jerked his dick. And once again, he became consumed in

the middle of a long, unyielding orgasm. It traveled slowly through his body and ended at

the tip of his cock. He finally moaned, “I’m going to come soon.” His voice shook and

his teeth chattered. He was already in the middle of the climax.

“Go, buddy,” Rhys said, still slamming hard. “I’m close, too. I’m going to

fucking breed you tonight.”

Brett came first, all over his own chest. When Rhys finally dropped his load, he

grunted so loud Brett was worried Michelle would hear him. And he didn’t pull out right

away. After he came, he sat back on his haunches and pulled Brett’s ass up on his lap so

that his cock could remain inside.

The come on Brett’s chest turned clear and started to drip back toward his

shoulders. Rhys was staring at him and smiling. His dick was still pulsing inside his hole.

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So he ran the side of his hand across his chest and scooped up the mess he’d made. Then

he stuck out his tongue, licked his hand, and swallowed his own come.

Rhys blinked and said, “Now, that was hot, buddy.”

They remained locked this way until Rhys’s dick went soft and slid out of Brett’s

hole. When Brett turned to get up, Rhys grabbed his hips and said, “Stay in bed.”

Brett smiled and stood up next to the bed. “I have to freshen up a little,” he said.

“Do it later,” Rhys said. “Come back to bed.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Brett said, crossing the room. He hated to go into

details about these things, but because Rhys was strictly a dominant top, there were

things he didn’t understand about being a bottom. “I have to clean up,” he said, “because

your come is now dripping down the backs of my legs.”

Rhys sat back and smiled like a proud stud. “Ah well, don’t take too long.”

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Chapter Eleven

The next morning, Rhys’s body returned to normal. The side effects disappeared

and he only had a thick layer of morning stubble on his face. When Brett crawled out

from under his warm body, his eyes were shut and he was breathing with a soft, husky

snore. Brett was dying to know if the elixir had worked, but he didn’t want to wake him.

So he slipped into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and went downstairs for coffee.

Eloise was in the kitchen with Tag. She was sitting at the table, tossing him small

pieces of toast. When Brett entered the room, her hands went down to her lap and she hid

all signs of evidence that she’d been feeding him from the table. Tag looked up with a

guilty expression, then went down on the floor and covered his head with his paws. He

took a deep breath, filled his lungs, and exhaled with a few soft grunts.

Brett put his hands on his hips and shook his head. He frowned at Eloise and then

pointed to Tag and said, “You know you’re not supposed to eat people food.” Tag was

almost seven years old, and he didn’t want him to become obese.

Tag covered his eyes with his paws and grunted again. For a small toy poodle,

he’d never been picky about food. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t eat.

“Where’s Michelle?” Brett asked. The coffeepot was empty and there were no

dishes in the sink. “She never sleeps this late.”

“I don’t know,” she said, sipping a cup of tea, “But she’s not upstairs either.

When I walked past her room, the door was open and the bed wasn’t made.”

Brett rubbed his jaw and looked around the room. Michelle was a clean freak

about certain things, and leaving an unmade bed was one of them. At first he thought

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she’d gone down to wait for the mailman, but then he noticed a note on the counter next

to the kitchen sink.

So he crossed to the counter and lifted the note. It wasn’t signed. At first he

thought it was from Michelle, but when he read, it his jaw dropped. I know all about what

you’re both up to. I know everything Rhys Phillips does! And you’d better hope your

ridiculous elixir doesn’t work, because I have your sweet little Michelle now, and I can

always place a werewolf curse on her if his curse is removed. So don’t screw around with

me if you know what’s good for you.

Lavinia. The handwriting was cracked and scratchy, with a peculiar, dramatic

slant to the left, and she’d written it on the back of an old billing envelope from her

beloved tea company. Brett crushed the note and tossed it into the sink. Then he tightened

his fists and said, “She’s going to be very sorry for screwing around with me.”

“Is everything all right, dear?” Eloise asked. She slipped Tag another piece of

toast when she thought Brett was looking.

Tag stopped chewing when Brett looked at him and frowned. But he didn’t say

anything about the toast or the note. He didn’t want to get Eloise involved in this. She

wasn’t strong enough. He didn’t want Rhys to know about it yet either. So he said, “I

think I’ll go out for a morning walk on the beach and wait to have coffee with Rhys and

Michelle. If Rhys comes down, tell him I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

When he stepped out the back door his fists were clenched. He didn’t know how

to deal with a dark witch like Lavinia, but he knew he had to do something to help

Michelle. So he snapped his fingers twice and landed on the front walk of the house next

door. He tried to snap himself inside the house, but Lavinia had planned ahead for this.

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She must have known he was a warlock, so she built an invisible wall all the way around

her house, one that he couldn’t penetrate. She couldn’t harm him in any way because he

was on guard, but she could keep him away from Michelle.

He clenched his fists again, and his teeth were pressed so tight his gums started to

hurt. Then he shook his fists in the air and the sky over her house turned dark and cloudy.

The trees and shrubs and plants all began to blow east from a strong wind. The homes

around them were empty now and they were far enough from town so no one else would

notice the strange, isolated weather. The next wind he created was so strong, the

lampposts came down, and the loud, ferocious roars he conjoured sounded like three

hurricanes at once. Then he made the ground that surrounded her house tremble like an

earthquake. Potted plants fell from the porch and cracked, and the front steps crumbled

into a thousand pieces.

He wasn’t fucking around. He wanted Michelle, and he wanted her back now.

Then he heard a high-pitched laugh above his head. Lavinia was flying around in

circles. She wore a long, black gown with a hooded cape. “You can’t hurt me,” she said.

“Your powers are no good here.”

He knew she was right. Witches and warlocks had no power over each other, at

least not directly, unless they’re caught off guard. But he was a strong warlock, in spite of

the fact that he didn’t use his powers often. And he knew that even though he couldn’t do

anything to her, he could make her life a living hell.

So he looked up and clenched his fists again. “Don’t underestimate me, Lavinia.

My powers are strong. Let her go, and I’ll leave quietly. If you don’t, I’ll never give you

a moment’s peace. I’ll think of ways to torture you that you never could have imagined.”

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He would, too. He wasn’t a dark warlock, but if anything happened to Michelle, he’d

spend eternity hunting Lavinia down and making her pay.

She laughed at him, then lowered her voice and said, “You tried to remove my

curse. No one does that to me without paying a price.” She seemed to be enjoying the

drama. The harder the wind blew, the more she laughed.

He snapped his fingers again and a massive tree uprooted from the earth and flew

in her direction. The trunk hit her, piercing right through the middle of her body and

splitting her in half. Her halved head shook, but a moment later she was back together.

Her eyes were wide and she had a stunned expression on her face.

“And that is just a small sample of what I’ll do to you,” Brett said. “I’m stronger

and younger. I’ll mop the universe with the back of your head if I have to.”

But she only looked down and laughed at him again.

“Brett,” Rhys shouted from beyond the property line, where it was still and calm.

“We read the note in the kitchen. I have something important to tell you.”

Brett turned and saw that Rhys and Eloise were walking toward him. Tag was

behind them, looking up, barking and growling at Lavinia. He snarled and showed his

teeth. “Stay back,” Brett said. “This could get dangerous.”

It was perfectly quiet where they were standing, but the wind and thunder was

still going strong a few feet away at Lavinia’s. “This is ridiculous,” Eloise shouted, then

she pushed Rhys in the chest and said, “Step back, dear. He doesn’t know what he’s

doing.”

When he went back, Tag yelped and jumped into his arms.

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“Grandmother, go back to the house,” Brett said. “There’s nothing you can do

here. And take Tag and Rhys with you.”

Lavinia continued to laugh and cackle. “Yes, go back, old woman. You’re feeble

and powerless.”

“Ah well,” Eloise said. “That was uncalled for, but what can you expect from her

kind?” Then she shook her head and frowned. She took a deep breath and said to Brett,

“You’re going about this all wrong. This isn’t how you deal with a dark witch. This is

how you do it.” She closed her eyes and bent her knees, then stooped halfway down and

stretched out her arms. Her hands opened wide, palms up, and she said a few incoherent

words. Then she started to rise slowly with her outstretched arms stady and her hands

unmoving. And as she rose, the skies opened up and the sun came out again. The wind

stopped, the thunder disappeared, and the ground became perfectly still.

The next thing Brett heard was moaning and screeching coming from above.

When he looked up, he saw millions of pink and purple flower petals falling from the sky.

They covered the house and the lawn, and when they landed on Lavinia, her image jerked

and jumped in every direction. “Make it stop,” the dark witch begged. “Make it stop.”

Eloise smiled and rubbed her hands together. “Now,” she said, “this is how you

handle her kind. You catch them by surprise, like I just did, and render them powerless

with something good and pure and kind.”

“Make it stop,” Lavinia screamed from above. Her body was writhing in pain.

“I want my granddaughter,” Eloise said. “Let her go.”

Rhys stepped forward and Tag jumped out of his arms. He shouted, “Brett, listen

to me. It didn’t work. The elixir didn’t remove the curse. I’m still a werewolf.”

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Brett’s face, covered with pink and purple flower petals, fell. “How do you

know?”

“I picked up a piece of silver and almost burned my hand,” he said. “And if it

hasn’t worked by now, it’s not going to work.” He looked up at Lavinia and shook his fist.

“Let her go now. Your curse is still intact.”

Lavinia pointed to Eloise. “I’ll set her free when she makes the flowers

disappear.” Then her tongue fell from her mouth and her head started to spin in fast

circles.

Eloise lowered her hands and the flower petals stopped falling. When she snapped

her fingers twice, everything went back to normal. Well, almost normal. The lampposts

were back in place, but they were upside down. The broken pots on the porch looked

untouched, but the roots were sticking out instead of the flowers. And the large tree was

back on the ground, but it was on the other side of the house this time. She even

attempted to fix the front steps, but she attached them to the porch sideways. When she

looked at what she’d done, she placed her hand over her mouth and said, “Oh, dear. Brett,

you may have to rearrange a few things. I’m a bit rusty.”

Brett snapped his fingers and put everything back to normal. Then he smiled and

said, “You were wonderful, grandmother.”

Eloise smiled and waved her hands. “Oh, it was nothing. Actually, I wanted red

rose petals, but the pink and purple were fine.”

Lavinia slowly disappeared into thin air so she could recuperate. Her bitter laugh

faded into the distance.

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When she was gone, Michelle pushed through the screen door. She rubbed her

eyes and looked at Brett. “What am I doing over here?” she asked. “The last thing I

remember is being in bed. Everything feels so distorted.”

Brett gave Eloise a look and said, “Grandmother saved the day.”

“It was nothing, dear,” Eloise insisted.

“What are you talking about?” Michelle asked.

He reached for her hand. “We’ll tell you all about it. Let’s get out of here and go

home.”

“We don’t have time to waste today,” Michelle said, “Tonight’s the costume party

and I still have to get my costume together.”

* * * *

Every year, an old friend of Brett’s held a Septemberfest party, a costume party

with a theme. And this year, the theme was medieval. The host was the owner

Provincetown’s best bed-and-breakfast, and he closed the place down just for the private

party every year. Only locals went, with a few scattered strangers as their dates. Michelle

asked Ed the mailman to be her date, and they went as medieval servants. Brett and Rhys

had more unusual, makeshift costumes. Rhys wore period tights, a short Roman kilt and

tan suede boots, and Brett wore a green field kilt with his legs exposed, and no underwear.

His ankle-high boots were black leather, with four-inch Cuban heels, and he decided not

to wear the traditional knee socks. Their costumes weren’t totally authentic, and they

could have put more thought into them, but with all they’d been dealing with, there

hadn’t been much time to prepare. Besides, Brett thought their costumes were sexier this

way. He liked walking around in kinky boots, a short kilt, and no underwear.

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Michelle and Ed couldn’t take their eyes off each other all night. They danced,

talked and kissed when they thought no one was looking. But Rhys was still disappointed

about the elixir. He told Brett about how hard he’d worked to find the alchemist, how

long he’d waited for that elixir in the hopes he could be normal. The money didn’t bother

him. He’d already written Brett a check. He tried to smile and forget about it, but he kept

staring down at the floor when Brett wasn’t paying attention to him.

“We’ll go back and see the old guy in the antique shop tomorrow,” Brett said,

“Maybe there’s still something he can suggest. But right now, let’s dance.” Then he took

Rhys’s hand and led him to the end of a makeshift dance floor not far from the bed-and-

breakfast’s swimming pool. It was a clear, quiet night and there was a hint of a cool

breeze passing through town. Brett could almost smell the seasons changing in

Provincetown.

The minute they started dancing, Brett pressed into Rhys’s body and said, “This is

awkward. You’re giving me an erection. I’ll pitch a tent in this kilt and never be able to

leave the dance floor.” He sighed. “I knew I should have worn underwear.”

Rhys smiled for the first time that night and reached down to pat his ass. “Then

I’ll pick you up and carry you home, buddy,” he said. His hand went lower and he started

to squeeze.

Brett sighed and leaned into his chest. “You’re not helping things. The more you

grab my ass, the bigger my dick gets.” He took a deep breath and fanned his face. “I’m

ready to go down on my knees right now.”

Rhys looked back and forth, then turned Brett so his back was facing a tall

wooden privacy fence. When he was certain that no one was watching, he reached down

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and put his hand all the way up Brett’s kilt. He clutched his bare ass hard and said, “I

want to fuck you so bad right now.”

Brett continued to dance, rolling his ass in slow, easy circles. “There’s a back

alley between this place and the house next door,” he said. “We can go there. It’s

private.” He knew about this back alley because he’d been there before. When he was

twenty years old, just out of college, a group of high school guys from Boston took him

back there and gang-banged him. They were all old enough to fuck and vote, but still too

young to get into the bars. So they made their own fun, and Brett was only too happy to

help. He was single then, and free to do whatever he pleased.

Rhys bit his neck and pulled him up against his side. They moved slowly to the

back gate. No one saw them leave; the guests were all having too much fun to notice.

When they were outside the fence, they rounded a corner and stepped into the narrow

alley. They looked down and stepped around rocks and dead branches. It was only about

five feet wide and the black high-heeled boots made his ankles wobble. Both of Rhys’s

hands were up his kilt now, and the green plaid fabric was all the way up to his waist.

They could hear the music coming from the party. The DJ started to play the old

l950s stripper song from the movie Gypsy. The gay men in Provincetown loved that song,

and one shouted in the distance, “Sing out, Louise.” Brett smiled and pushed Rhys

against a tree trunk, then backed up against the fence and started stripping for him. He

spread his legs and bucked his hips, slowly removing the green plaid vest. When he

pulled off his shirt, he twirled it around in circles and tossed it in Rhys hands. Rhys

smiled and stared at his legs, then licked his lips and tugged his dick. Brett turned to the

fence so that his back was facing Rhys, then he bent over and slowly lifted the kilt up

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above his waist. When his bare ass was exposed, he rocked his hips in slow, slutty circles

to the beat of the stripper music.

Rhys pulled his tights down to his knees and grabbed his erection, and Brett

unzipped the kilt and let it fall to the ground. When he stepped out of it and kicked it to

the side, he was completely naked except for the black ankle-high boots. Then he spread

his arms and legs wide and pressed his palms to the fence. A second later, Rhys grabbed

his small waist and Brett arched his back. When he snapped his fingers to pre-lube his

hole, Rhys ran the head of his cock down the crack of his ass and sighed.

“You’re going to like this, buddy,” Rhys said, as he inserted the head. “You’re

going to like the way I nail you to this fucking fence.”

With one thrust, he was inside and Brett was moaning softly. “Fuck me. Open me

up,” he said. He liked getting fucked in this position. He leaned on the fence with his left

hand and grabbed his cock with his right.

Rhys’s knees bent a little and his hips started to buck. The tights were down

around his knees and the front of the Roman kilt was tucked into his belt. He held Brett’s

hips and guided his dick into his ass with dangerous slams that made Brett’s body

tremble. The DJ was playing another song now, a fast disco beat with heavy bass that

bellowed into the late summer night. The people on the other side of the fence laughed

and talked while Brett stood there, slightly bent, with his back arched, and took it all.

Rhys fucked and poked his ass a long time, at least a half hour. It had to be that

long, because the DJ finally took a short break and the music stopped. Brett edged on the

brink of climax the entire time, which was more proof that Rhys was still a werewolf

with superhuman abilities. He stroked his own dick with care so he wouldn’t come until

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Rhys was ready. Pre-come dripped from his cock while the slow, familiar orgasmic

sensation started to expand between his legs. It started at the lips of his anus like it

usually did, then traveled to the rest of his body. His prostate was ready to erupt at any

moment; the head of his dick was swollen and shiny. He even felt the orgasm in his

nipples.

When Rhys started to grunt, Brett knew he was close. He didn’t say anything this

time—he didn’t want anyone from the party to hear them fucking in the alley. So he

jerked his dick faster and prepared for Rhys’s explosion.

A minute later, they both came together. It was another extended climax that

seemed as if it would never end. Brett’s prostate kept thumping and his dick kept

squirting small streams of come. He begged, “Don’t pull out yet.”

So Rhys continued to plug his hole slowly for the next ten minutes. When he

finally did pull out, Brett took a deep breath and said, “I love you.”

This was the first time he’d said the words aloud, and he wasn’t sure how Rhys

would react.

Rhys packed his cock back into his tights and lowered the Roman kilt. He didn’t

speak at first, but then he put his arms around Brett’s naked body and turned him around.

He kissed him on the mouth, poking his tongue inside as far as it would reach, and then

he said, “I love you, too, buddy.” He ran his hands up and down his back a few times and

kissed him again. “I felt something the first time I saw you walking across that gas station

parking lot in Martha Falls. I just wish I could be normal for you.”

Brett leaned into his chest and closed his eyes. For the first time in his life, he felt safe

and protected. It was also the first time he felt he could truly trust someone who was there

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to listen. None of the other men he’d been with had ever actually listened to him. Beads

of sweat dripped from his temples, and Rhys’s come leaked down the back of his legs.

“We’ll keep trying to remove the curse,” he said, “but we’ll do it for you, because you

want it removed. As far as I’m concerned, I love you just the way you are right now.”

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Chapter Twelve

The next morning, they went back to the alchemist Malcolm. When they told him

the elixir hadn’t worked, he let out an exaggerated sigh. He said there was one more

alternative that might work to remove the curse. He rubbed his jaw a few times and said,

“But it could be dangerous and it’s not simple.”

“How much will it cost?” Brett asked. He only half believed the alchemist had the

ability to help. But he didn’t want to admit this to Rhys, but he didn’t want Rhys

spending another fifty thousand dollars either. They hadn’t discussed finances in depth,

and he knew Rhys didn’t have to worry about money, but he hated to see anyone

swindled.

Malcolm looked at him and frowned. Then he lifted his hands in the air and

smiled. “Nothing,” he said. “It’s included in the original price. But that’s because you

will both have to do a good deal of the work. My part in this is only advice and

knowledge, and I’ve been compensated quite well for that already.”

Brett’s eyebrows went up and he tilted his head. Maybe the old guy wasn’t a

crook after all.

“What do we have to do?” Rhys asked. He leaned forward, eager to do anything

to be rid of the curse.

“Kill the dark witch,” he said. “It’s the only way. And you must find something

good and pure and kind in order to succeed. It must be extremely strong and convincing.

You can’t fake this. You can render her helpless for a while with all kinds of good, kind

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things from snowflakes to puppies. But in order to destroy her, it must be something with

a substance so strong, she can’t resist it.”

Brett looked into the old man’s eyes. The words good and pure and kind kept

repeating in his head. “My grandmother said the same thing.”

When he mentioned his grandmother, Malcolm gave him a look. “Is she a witch?”

he asked.

“Yes.”

“How do we do this?” Rhys asked. He didn’t want to discuss Eloise, or anything

else. His voice was deep and urgent. His question sounded like an order.

The alchemist raised his arms and shrugged. Then he shook his head and said,

“That’s up to you. It has to come from you or it won’t work.”

Brett and Rhys thanked him, then went home to spend the afternoon

brainstorming about good, pure, and kind things. They both paced back and forth on the

widow’s walk, wringing their hands and shaking their fists, coming up empty. To ease

their frustrations, Rhys fucked him over the railing that surrounded the widow’s walk

until they were both ready to explode. Then Brett made him stop. And that wasn’t easy to

do when Rhys was ready to come—he didn’t see or hear anything when he was about to

blow a load. But Brett touched his hand and said, “I want to suck you off now.”

So he pulled out and Brett got down on his knees and started sucking his dick. He

knew it wouldn’t take long; he’d been on the edge for a while. Rhys grabbed the back of

his head, bucked his hips a few times and squirted the inside of his mouth. And while he

was swallowing Rhys, he came all over the wooden floor.

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His dick was still in Brett’s mouth when Brett’s eyes opened wide. Rhys was

depositing the last drops, with his eyes closed, holding the back of Brett’s head and

forcing his face between his strong legs. Brett started to slap his thighs; he choked and

gagged on his dick a few times, then jerked his head back.

Rhys let go and his semi-erect dick bounced out of Brett’s mouth. He said,

“What’s wrong? Are you choking?”

Come dripped from the left corner of his mouth. He was still choking and gagging,

but it wasn’t because of Rhys’s big dick. It was because he had an idea that was so

spectacular, he couldn’t catch his breath. So he put his hand on his chest and concentrated

on his breathing. He was so excited, tears ran from the corners of his eyes. When the

choking stopped, he said, “What could be more good and pure and kind than our love for

each other? We’ve had the answer all along and we’ve been ignoring it.”

Rhys stepped back and tucked his dick into his shorts. “I don’t understand.”

Brett smiled and said, “Let’s go take a shower first. Then we’ll go back to

Provincetown and see the old man again. I’ll explain on the way.”

* * * *

They were both surprised to see Eloise leaving the alchemist’s shop. She was

wearing a teal blue suit with matching pumps and purse. Her red hair was done extra high

and she wore her favorite gold earrings. Malcolm, the alchemist, was standing behind her

and it looked like his hand was on her ass. Then the old man gave her a peck on the cheek.

She giggled and laughed. Her arms jerked around and her wrists went limp. She had no

idea anyone was watching.

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Brett gave Rhys a confused look and said, “Grandmother, what are you doing

here?” He’d thought she was up in her room napping like she usually did before dinner.

He looked to her side; the old man’s hand was on her ass.

Eloise stopped smiling and pressed her hand to her throat. She blinked and

stammered a few times, trying to come up with an answer. Then she squared her

shoulders and lifted her head higher. “I’ve been visiting an old friend.” She patted the old

man on the wrist and smiled. She looked at him and said, “Malcolm and I are old

acquaintances from my days in New York.”

Malcolm winked. “When you mentioned your grandmother earlier today and said

she was a witch, I started wondering who she was. So I did a little checking, thanks to Ed

the mailman, and the rest is history.” He lifted his hand from her ass and placed it on her

shoulder. “I had a feeling it was Eloise.”

Brett blinked. He ignored the old man. “Do you need help getting home,

Grandmother?”

She frowned and lowered her eyebrows. “No, thank you,” she said. “Thanks to

Malcolm and our little visit today, I feel like a new witch. I’m perfectly capable of getting

home on my own.” She kissed the old man on the lips and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then she smiled and tilted her head in Brett’s direction, lifted her arms fast, and

disappeared into thin air.

Brett looked at Rhys and said, “I hope she got home okay and didn’t wind up on

top of the Pilgrim Monument in town.”

Malcolm escorted them to the rear of the shop. He seemed to be walking lighter

that afternoon. It was the first time Brett had actually seen him smile. When they were in

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the back room, Brett noticed a bunched-up pair of teal panties with lace trim on the floor.

He rolled his eyes and looked away. There were some things in life he didn’t want to

know.

“What can I do for you?” Malcolm said, still smiling. He was talking to them, but

staring at the ceiling.

“I think we have the answer,” Rhys said. “I think we found something good and

pure and kind.”

“But it’s a little unusual,” Brett said. “And some people might think it’s the last

thing you’d consider good and pure and kind. They might even think it’s a little

peculiar.”

When Brett said the words “unusual and peculiar,” the old man’s right eyebrow

went up. But when they explained what they wanted him to do, he agreed without asking

questions. He told them it wouldn’t take very long to come up with something, and he

told them to come back the next day to get the finished product. He said the best way was

to produce a fine powder instead of an elixir, and he promised it would be ready in the

morning.

So while they waited for morning, they went out to dinner again that night. They

took the Lincoln and parked in the East End of town, then walked to a quiet little

restaurant on the West End. Brett wore tight black slacks and a white shirt, and Rhys

wore beige low-rise jeans and a black polo shirt. It was already mid-September and the

crowds of tourists had thinned out to scattered clusters of men and women walking up

and down the sidewalks of Commercial Street. Restaurants didn’t have lines and the

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sidewalks weren’t crowded. It was Brett’s favorite time of year there, and holding Rhys’s

hand while they walked made it even better.

After dinner, Brett said, “Let’s check out the dick dock.” He naturally assumed

Rhys knew about the dick dock. He’d never met a gay man in Provincetown who didn’t.

“Seriously?”

He laughed. “It could be fun.”

Rhys shrugged. “Ah well.”

Brett smiled and said, “I don’t want to cruise other guys. But it might be fun to

fool around under the dock in the sand.” He stopped talking because an older gay couple

walked past them. They looked Brett and Rhys up and down, then looked at each other

with raised eyebrows. When they were far enough away, Brett added, “Besides, it’s not

going to be crowded there anyway. We’ll have the entire place to ourselves this time of

year.”

But when they reached the alley that led down to the dick dock, they saw a group

of young guys hanging around the sidewalk. Brett figured they were probably horny

college students from either Boston or Providence. It wasn’t unusual too see them lurking

in the streets that time of year. When he and Rhys walked by them and headed to the

dock, they held hands and looked straight ahead. But the guys must have been watching

them, because when they bent down to crawl under the dock, Brett saw the young guys

follow them from the corner of his eye.

When they were under the dock, they crawled through the sand to a private

section and Brett pushed Rhys down on his back. “Just lie there and close your eyes,” he

said. “I’m going to do all the work this time.” The dick dock was empty that night, but he

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heard the murmurs of the young guys not far behind. Evidently, they were crawling

around under the dock to see where Rhys and Brett were. Rhys didn’t say anything about

the young guys, but Brett knew he was aware of them. They couldn’t miss their deep,

young voices or their naughty, secretive laughs.

Rhys slapped his ass and said, “I like this. I like to lie back and get serviced this

way.” Then he rested his back against a large, smooth rock and folded his hands behind

his head.

When Rhys closed his eyes, Brett removed all his clothes and placed them in a

small pile. He knew the young guys were watching now. He saw them in the shadows,

and one of them pressed his index finger to his lips and said, “Shush!” Then he whispered,

“They might stop if they know we’re watching.”

Brett smiled. He had no intention of stopping. He wanted to get into his lover’s

pants that night and nothing was going to ruin it. So he arched his back and leaned

forward, then pulled Rhys’s zipper down and unbuttoned his pants. His erection was

already sticking out of the waistband of his underwear. Brett pulled the elastic down and

wrapped his fingers around the shaft. It pulsed and jumped in his palm, and Rhys spread

his legs wider so Brett could go between them and start sucking.

The young guys were now to Brett’s right, and a dead silence came over them

while they watched. But they didn’t know he knew they were watching. So he continued

to pretend they weren’t there as he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. He licked

Rhys’s dick, starting at the base and slowly working his way up to the head. He lapped

with his mouth hanging open and his tongue flat, lingering and soaking the entire shaft

with his saliva. He braced his palms on his thighs for support. His own ass was pointed

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up and his back was arched. Then he slid his tongue down again toward the base and

sucked Rhys’s balls into his mouth. He sucked them both at the same time. When he did

this, Rhys’s eyes squinted and his head went back and forth. He moaned out loud, and

Brett sucked on them until the sides of his face ached.

When Rhys’s balls finally slid from his mouth, he turned to his right and stared at

the guys for a second. Now he wanted them to know that he knew they were watching.

There were four of them, all kneeling in the sand with their zippers down and their hands

around their cocks. They stopped jerking off when he looked in their direction. But when

he smiled and bent down to suck Rhys’s entire erection into his mouth, they all moved in

a little closer and started jerking their dicks again.

It turned into a circle jerk, with Rhys and Brett as the main attraction. The guys

now knew they weren’t intruding on a private moment, and they weren’t shy about

watching anymore. Brett sucked his dick without stopping. His head bobbed up and down.

He went fast sometimes, then he’d slow down and worship it in his mouth for long

stretches. Rhys kept his eyes shut the entire time, occasionally moaning and begging for

more with low whispers.

When Brett knew Rhys was edging, he stopped sucking him off and snapped his

fingers in the sand to lube his anus. Then he climbed onto Rhys’s body and straddled his

hips. He looked to the right again; the guys were now moving behind him. He grabbed

Rhys’s erection, pressed the head to his opening, and sat back very slowly. He wanted the

guys to see how it slid in. He wanted them to watch the way his tight hole parted for

Rhys’s huge cock. Then he sat all the way down and arched his back, and the erection

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disappeared into his body. He lifted his arms and pressed his fingertips to the wooden

boards to the dock above his head and started to ride.

He knew that Rhys’s favorite position was when Brett was face down with his

legs spread wide. Most top guys liked it that way. But this was his favorite position: he

was bottoming from the top. He liked riding cock, especially Rhys’s big one. He liked the

way it filled his body when he went all the way down and his ass slapped against Rhys’s

pelvis. When he went all the way up, and it slid partially out again, his eyelids fluttered

each time it brushed against his prostate.

But the thing that really made his balls jump up into his scrotum was when he

spread his legs wide, leaned forward and stuck his tongue into Rhys’s mouth. He

wrapped his arms around Rhys’s shoulders and their tongues locked together. He moved

his hips up and down in slow circles while Rhys’s dick poked his hole. Whenever he

kissed this man, he knew he was in love. The world stopped and nothing else mattered.

A few minutes later, he sat up again and he started riding faster. Rhys

instinctively bucked his hips from the bottom. They developed a rhythm: each time Brett

slammed into this pelvis, Rhys bucked forward and plugged his hole. And as the rhythm

increased, Brett started to feel the climax building. His toes curled and he pressed hard on

the wooden boards above his head with his left hand. With his right, he started jerking his

own dick. When he looked back, he saw the other guys jerking off as fast as he was. But

he was the only one with a big dick filling his hole—the only one lucky enough to be

riding Rhys’s magnificent cock.

It turned into another five-minute magical orgasm. The other guys all came within

a few seconds of each other, and they just sat there stunned, with their mouths open,

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watching Brett drown in what appeared to be an endless, erotic climax. Then Rhys filled

him with seed, and he shot his all over Rhys’s left shoulder. When it finally ended, he

leaned forward and licked his shoulder clean. Rhys was still inside, and the guys were

still watching. One of them almost fell over when he saw Brett licking and swallowing

his own come.

After that, the other guys pulled up their zippers and crawled out of the dock.

Brett kissed Rhys on the lips and said, “I could snap my fingers and we could be home in

bed in a second and the car could be in the garage. But I feel like walking.”

Rhys laughed and kissed him again. “Just put your pants on first.”

Instead of fumbling around in the sand, Brett snapped his fingers to get dressed.

His heart didn’t sink with guilt anymore when he used witchcraft for little things, and he

didn’t feel that strong need to impress Rhys by not using magic. That was because Rhys

didn’t give him dirty looks and scold him. Instead, he smiled and said, “I wish I could do

things like that, buddy.”

Brett shrugged and said, “All I really ever wanted was to be normal.”

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Chapter Thirteen

Early the next morning they went back to the antiques shop. Rhys knocked hard

on the front door, covered his eyes to peek through the cloudy, wavered glass, and

narrowed his focus to the back of the shop. Brett could see more standing back. The old

man plodded toward the front door; he probably hadn’t expected them to arrive before

nine. He looked unkempt, Brett thought. His gray hair was sticking out six inches at the

sides, his eyeglasses were hanging crooked from the end of his nose, and his gray shirt

still hadn’t been tucked into his black slacks.

“Come in,” Malcolm said, stepping back. His shoes were untied. He turned and

moved to the back room, scratching his head and smoothing back his wild hair. It was

colder inside the shop than it was outside on the street. Rhys and Brett followed him all

the way back. He opened the door and crossed to the work table.

“Here it is,” the old man said, lifting a small, brown vial. “All you have to do now

is figure out a way to get this into her body.” Then he covered his mouth and yawned.

Normally, this would have been the hard part. But thanks to Brett’s excellent

memory, he’d already figured this angle out. “I have an idea,” he said. “I have to use

witchcraft, but she’ll never know.” Then he lifted the vial and shook it up and down. The

powdery substance inside the vial was a combination of his and Rhys’s love for each

other: something good and pure and kind in a solid form.

The day before, the old man had left them alone for a few minutes and they’d

masturbated into a container. Then he took samples of their hair. When they were gone,

he combined these physical samples of their intense love and mixed them with a few of

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his own magical herbs into one concoction. Then he heated it, dried it into a powder and

secured it into the small brown vial.

“You have to be very careful,” Malcolm said. “These old dark witches can sense

trickery in ways no one could ever imagine.”

“I think I have a good plan,” Brett said. “Now, you two stand back and give me

some room to work. This is going to take an incantation, and I don’t do incantations often

so I need to concentrate.”

When Rhys and Malcolm stepped back, Brett closed his eyes and concentrated for

a moment. Then he lifted his arms and said:

“From love to Rhys, from more love to me,

take this powder and mix it with tea.

The box be familiar, for tea with her toast,

this special order will arrive from the post.

Then when she drinks it, the curse will be gone,

but it has to be perfect and cleverly done.

Then make the skies open, let the torture fly high,

and let the dark one eventually die.”

He lifted his right arm and swirled his hand around the top of the vial. There was

a large puff of pink smoke, and the vial instantly transformed into a small brown box. He

stared down at the box and shrugged. “Sorry about the awful, cheesy incantation. I’m not

much of a poet.”

Rhys and Malcolm stepped forward. Malcolm looked at the box and frowned.

They didn’t care about his incantation. The vial was now an ordinary box of specialty tea,

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with proper addresses and postage, and a yellow label that read: “Free Special Order

Inside.” The old man rubbed his jaw and asked, “And you’re sure she’ll drink this?”

Brett shrugged. “I’m almost sure,” he said. Then he snapped his fingers twice and

the box disappeared.

“Where did it go?” Malcolm asked.

“It’s now in the back of Ed-the-mailman’s mail truck,” he said, “and he’s going to

deliver it to her mailbox in about a half hour. She belongs to a tea-of-the-month club and

loves these things. I’ve seen Ed deliver them. And these coffee and tea companies are

always sending out free samples to customers. I used to belong to a coffee company and I

got them all the time.”

Malcolm shook his head and said, “It’s really not a bad idea at all.”

Rhys sighed. “I just hope she’s excited enough about the free sample to drink it

this morning. We may have to wait until she’s ready to open it. And that could take

weeks…forever.”

Brett smiled. “Sometimes you think so much like a straight man, it boggles my

mind, Rhys,” he said. “There is no woman, dark witch or not, who can resist opening a

free sample that comes in the mail. Trust me on this. She’ll open that box before the day

is over, never suspecting a thing.”

They thanked the old man and went back to Truro to wait. When they pulled into

the driveway, Michelle was outside talking to Ed. She was wearing tight white shorts, a

yellow tube top and white high heels. Her face was made up and her nails were freshly

manicured with French tips. Brett slowed the car down and gave Rhys a knowing look,

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then stopped and said, “Good morning, Ed. Did we get a lot of mail today? I’m expecting

a small package.”

Michelle would have no idea what they were doing. It was a perfectly natural

question to ask.

Ed smiled and said, “No packages for you today. The only package I had this

morning was a small one from the tea company for your next-door neighbor.” Small-

town mail carriers never miss anything.

“Ah well,” Brett said, “Maybe tomorrow, then. We’re going up for some sun. I

don’t think we’re going to get many warm days like this after today, so we’re talking full

advantage of it while it lasts.”

They waited all morning on the widow’s walk, and nothing happened. They didn’t

even have sex. At eleven o’clock, Brett offered him a blow job to take the edge off, but

Rhys smiled and said, “Later, buddy.” Rhys kept looking down at Lavinia’s house and

staring. “How will we know when she drinks it? How can we be sure?” he asked

sometime around noon.

“We’ll know,” Brett said. “Just be patient.”

After dinner, they went out to the back porch with Eloise and Michelle. Tag was

sitting on the steps watching the back lawn in case any squirrels decided to pass by that

night. (He was always on the front lines, ready for battle.) It was getting dark earlier now,

and a cool breeze came in from the ocean. When Eloise asked Michelle to go inside and

get her a shawl, Rhys jumped up and said he’d get it. He’d been sitting there on the edge

of his seat, tapping his right knee up and down, staring at the house next door.

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When he went inside, Eloise said, “He’s sure excited about something this

evening. That boy looks like he’s ready to jump from his own skin.”

“And he hardly touched his dinner,” Michelle said.

A moment later, he returned with a long, silver shawl. And while he was helping

arrange it around her shoulders, they heard a loud crash next door. Eloise jumped and

held on to Rhys’s wrist. Brett looked at Rhys and smiled. Then there was a louder crash,

followed by the sound of soft rumbling in the distance. It was coming from the house

next door and they all turned to see what it was. When they looked past the tall pines and

down through the ravine, they saw puffs of white smoke coming from the back windows.

“Something is going on over there,” Eloise said.

Rhys frowned, and Brett said, “I think Lavinia finally drank it.”

“What? What did she drink?” Michelle asked.

Then the skies opened up and bolts of lightning flashed above them. The thunder

was so loud, it rocked the back porch, and Tag jumped up into Brett’s arms and started

shaking.

“Something to finally put an end to the werewolf curse and her dark, evil magic,”

Brett said. He didn’t go into detail about the powder or the tea. But he did look at Eloise.

“And it’s something good and pure and kind, and Malcolm helped.”

Eloise smiled and tapped her bosom. “Ah well,” she said, “It sounds like it’s

working, too. Malcolm certainly is a talented fellow, if I do say so myself.” When she

mentioned Malcolm’s name, her eyes wandered for a moment.

But then a long trail of smoke rose to the sky. It came from the house next door

and swirled above their heads. They all heard distant moans and screams coming from

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the center of the smoke swirl. A woman’s wrecked voice screamed, “They won. They

finally won!”

Tag buried his head in Brett’s elbow and continued to shake. The screaming

lasted for a few more minutes, and then the smoke disappeared over the ocean. A

moment later, everything went calm again. The sky cleared, the stars came out, the

thunder stopped, and all they could hear were the soft sounds of frogs waiting for summer

to end. Tag lifted his small head from Brett’s elbow and looked back and forth. Then he

yelped twice, ran over to Rhys, and started licking his pant leg.

Brett leaned forward and pulled a small silver amulet from his back pocket. He’d

hidden it there on purpose so he could test Rhys the moment he knew she was gone. He

lifted it up. Michelle and Eloise stepped back. He wanted to be sure the witch wasn’t

tricking them into thinking she was gone. So he moved toward Rhys and said, “Here, take

this and hold it.”

Rhys had been running from silver all his life. He reached out slowly, hesitated a

few times, then grabbed the amulet. Then he smiled and tossed it up and down in his

palm. “It’s been removed,” he said. “She’s dead and the curse is gone.”

Brett and Michelle hugged him. Eloise smiled and said, “I must admit. I’m proud.

Dealing with a dark witch of her kind is almost impossible even for the most powerful

warlocks. And you did it.” She hugged Brett and Rhys, then said, “But I’m curious about

one thing.”

“What’s that, Grandmother?” Brett asked.

“What on Earth did you ever use that was so good and pure and kind to get rid of

her? The flowers I used were only temporary, and only because she thought I was feeble

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and I caught her off guard. But you must have come up with something powerfully

spectacular. What was it?”

Brett looked at Rhys and smiled. “It had to do with our love,” he said, “and a few

of Malcolm’s magic herbs.” He would never go into detail with her or Michelle, and he’d

never tell her what the main ingredient was, but he wasn’t totally lying either.

They toasted Rhys with a new batch of Michelle’s chocolate hazelnut vodka on

the rocks. After more than a few bad batches she’d brewed that summer, Brett had to

admit this one was pretty good. It had that mild kick you get from plain vodka, but had

the undertaste of sweet, creamy Nutella. Eloise liked it so much she had four, and they

had to help her upstairs, where Michelle put her to bed.

When he knew Eloise was safe and Tag was with Michelle, Brett stepped into the

upstairs hall with Rhys and said, “We should go out for a little drive now. Maybe we can

park somewhere in town near the beach.” They’d each had one drink two hours earlier,

and were still very sober.

“A drive?”

Sometimes he could be so dense, it amazed Brett. “We can park somewhere, I can

take off all my clothes, and I can sit on your lap for a while.” He was curious now. Rhys

was no longer a werewolf. He wondered if the sex would be different.

So they drove the old Lincoln to a long parking lot on the edge of Provincetown,

where campers and RVs often stopped for the weekend. It was a long strip of parking

with the dunes behind them and the ocean in front. The tide was high that night. The

waves rolled up and gently sprayed the rocks below the parking lot. There were only a

few cars there. All were spread out, and all had fogged windows. Brett parked in the

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middle, far enough away from the other cars, and removed his clothes. The top was down

and Rhys stared at him with wide eyes and a huge grin. When he was naked, Brett said,

“I don’t know about you, but I’m climbing into the back seat.”

“I thought you were going to sit on my lap naked,” Rhys said. “I was looking

forward to that.”

“In the back seat,” Brett said. He turned and lifted his right leg, then climbed over

the seat. When he was in the back seat, he got up in the middle of the seat, on his knees,

and spread his legs. He looked back at Rhys, who was still up front, leaning forward on

his elbow. Brett arched his back and said, “Just pull down your zipper and come back

here.” Then he snapped his fingers and pre-lubed his hole.

Rhys sucked in his bottom lip and jumped over the seat. He didn’t waste time

either. He pulled down his zipper, yanked out his erection, and shoved it right up Brett’s

ass. “How’s that, buddy?” he asked, slowly bucking his hips.

Brett closed his eyes and tossed his head back into Rhys’s shoulder. “Fuck me

hard,” he said. The ocean crashed against the rocks below them, and a fine mist of cool

salt water sprayed his naked back.

“Hold on to the seat,” Rhys said. “I’m going to hammer you into the trunk.”

Then he started slamming into his ass with deep, solid plunges. He fucked only

with his hips this time, pressing his chest to Brett’s back, leaning forward and covering

Brett’s hands with his. His dick went in and out. He only moved his hips, fucking in true

stud horse style. The fabric of his pants rubbed the back of Brett’s legs, and his heavy

cowboy boots pressed against Brett’s bare feet.

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Brett tightened the lips of his hole each time he went deep. He grabbed Rhys’s

cock and applied pressure each time Rhys tried to pull out again. And the more pressure

he applied, the harder Rhys pounded. He kept whispering, “Tight fucking hole, buddy.

Fuck, I love getting my dick wet in that tight, fucking hole.”

Now that Rhys wasn’t a werewolf, Brett noticed subtle changes. But it was

nothing too obvious. Rhys still smelled the same, his huge cock still filled every inch of

his hole, and he could still hold him down with brute strength. He retained the dominant

strength Brett had always craved. But this time, unlike how it had been with all the other

men he’d known, it was strength rooted in deep love. Rhys didn’t just pound him and

fuck him as if he were just another hole. He pounded and fucked as if he owned his hole.

When he got carried away and slapped his ass hard, he always went back and rubbed it

gently afterwards. If he really banged hard, enough to make his head jerk up and down—

it happened a lot—he slowed down to kiss the back of his neck. His movements were

rugged, but his intentions were tender and filled with love.

His endurance hadn’t changed either. He fucked Brett over the back seat for a

long time that night, never stopping once. If anything, it was more intense now that he

wasn’t a werewolf. The burden was gone and he wasn’t holding back. It almost felt as if

he’d let something physical go, something he could hold in his hand and toss far into the

sea. Brett could feel his own climax building with each thrust. He had to concentrate hard

so he wouldn’t come too soon.

Finally, Rhys grunted a few times and said, “I’m close, buddy.”

“Me too,” Brett said. He voiced went high; it sounded like a whimper. He was out

of breath and nearly choked on his own words.

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So Rhys slid his hands under Brett’s arms and squeezed his round chest muscles

as tight as he could. Brett reached down and started jerking his cock faster while his cock

rubbed up and down against his prostate. He knew there would be bruises on the back of

his legs the next morning, but he didn’t care. He wanted as much as Rhys could give.

“Here it comes, buddy,” Rhys said, squeezing his chest harder. “Open those

fucking legs and take it all.”

They both came together. It wasn’t the same five-minute supernatural climax

Brett had come to know when Rhys was a werewolf. But it was just as intense and he felt

it pass through his entire body. He fell back into Rhys’s strong chest and lifted his head.

Then, while Rhys was still inside and still squeezing his chest muscles, he opened his

mouth, stuck out his tongue and kissed him on the mouth. It was a sloppy kiss; Brett

couldn’t get enough of his taste. His tongue was still filled with post-orgasmic vibrations

and he didn’t want to stop kissing until the sensations disappeared. But more than that,

this time his prostate continued to jump and jerk, sending small drops of white cream to

the tip of his dick.

When Rhys finally pulled out, he rested his hand on the small of Brett’s back and

asked, “Are you disappointed? Was it different now that I’m only a mortal?”

Brett turned and put his arms around his wide shoulders, then rested his cheek

against his chest and said, “It was even better this time. You didn’t hold anything back.”

The only real difference he noticed was that the gamey smell was completely gone.

Rhys slipped his hands between his legs and said, “Let me put my dick back into

my pants and zip up, then you can sit on my lap for a while and we can talk about the

dirty things I just did to you.”

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Chapter Fourteen

When Brett and Rhys left Truro in late September, Michelle didn’t go with them.

She said she’d decided to stay for at least another month, if not longer. Her plans were

indefinite. Michelle was now officially dating Ed, and she was planning to open a second

boutique in Provincetown the following summer. Brett thought the new boutique was an

excellent idea: the Provincetown crowd was perfect for their merchandise. Michelle could

travel between Virginia and Cape Cod easily, and she could pursue her new relationship

with Ed at the same time.

Brett had a feeling this was serious with Ed. He hadn’t seen her smile and laugh

so much in years.

Eloise decided to remain on the Cape, too, especially when Malcolm decided he

wasn’t going back to New York as he’d planned. They weren’t as serious as Michelle and

Ed; it was more about rekindling an old relationship, and taking life one day at a time.

But Eloise started walking with a spring in her step and she whistled in the morning

without even realizing it. A few nights a week, Malcolm picked her up for dinner and she

spent the night in the apartment over his antiques shop.

So Brett and Rhys flew back to Washington with Tag. They took Cape Air to

Boston, then a commercial flight to DC. Brett could have used witchcraft for more

convenient travel. But he still wanted to be normal, and he still only used magic for

extreme circumstances when there was no other choice. Rhys was fine with this. He

didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

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They moved into Brett’s loft together and started working on a business plan to

expand the boutique in Washington. Rhys was interested in becoming a partner. He was

good with the books and the financial aspects of the business, and he wasn’t afraid to

invest his own money. Brett was good with sales, marketing and merchandising. They

were exact opposites in many ways, but when they combined their talents, they created a

smooth, well-organized team.

They did everything the normal way, without magic, until one night in early

December. They’d gone out for a late dinner on a Friday, then out for a few drinks at one

of the nightclubs on Dupont Circle. When they entered the nightclub, Brett went to the

restroom and Rhys went to find a couple of seats at the bar. The club wasn’t busy because

it was still early, and he could see fairly well through the small crowd.

A few minutes later, Brett left the restroom and headed to the bar. But when he

saw who was standing behind Rhys’s bar stool, he stopped short and held his breath for a

second. It was Dev, the guy who’d beaten him to a bloody pulp in May. He was certain it

was him. He still had that thick, dark five o’clock shadow, those same baggy jeans falling

below his slim hips, and the same sultry look in his eyes. He was staring at the back of

Rhys’s neck now, moving closer to start a conversation. There was a cigarette dangling

from the side of his mouth and his hands were in his pockets.

Brett’s first thought was to turn Dev into another barstool. He wasn’t jealous and

he wasn’t worried that Rhys would be interested in him; Dev wasn’t Rhys’s type. But

turning the sociopath into a barstool, or anything, would have been fun. Then he

reconsidered. It was too simple, and he wanted him to learn a lesson he’d never forget. If

Brett had been mortal, he could have been killed that night in May. He’d spent many

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nights wondering about all the other innocent young men Dev might have tortured and

robbed. Crimes against gay men often went unreported in the newspapers, as many

closeted gay men were reluctant to seek help. Many gay men in Washington worked for

the government, and they didn’t want the publicity.

So Brett asked the guy in the coat room for a pen and a piece of paper. Then he

wrote a short note to Rhys, explaining everything. He tipped the coat room guy twenty

dollars to deliver the note to Rhys, then stepped back and leaned into a dark corner.

When Rhys read the note, he looked across the room, saw Brett, and nodded. Dev was

still standing behind his bar stool, inching closer by the minute.

The plan was to let Dev seduce Rhys the same way he’d seduced Brett, then lure

him back to the loft and give him a lesson he’d never forget. It didn’t take long.

Rhys turned and started to flirt with him. He smiled and laughed, pretending to be

an innocent submissive, horny for a hot young stud with tattoos. He bought a martini for

himself, then another beer for Dev. By the time the drinks were finished, Rhys and Dev

were heading toward the exit of the nightclub. When they passed Brett in the shadows,

Dev’s large hand was on the small of Rhys’s back, just above his ass, guiding him out.

Rhys winked at him and continued walking. Brett clenched his fists and followed them

out to the street. He knew Rhys wasn’t enjoying this. Rhys was used to being the one in

control.

They walked back to the loft with Brett not far behind. Dev didn’t even notice he

was there; he was too busy working on getting into Rhys’s pants. When they reached the

front steps, he didn’t even notice it was Brett’s loft. He just put his hand on Rhys’s ass,

squeezed it a few times, and followed him up the steps.

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When they were inside, Brett snapped his fingers and disappeared from the

sidewalk. A moment later, he materialized upstairs in the office. He could see and hear

everything from up there. Tag was barking and growling. Rhys picked him up and said,

“He’s usually so friendly. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

Dev smiled and said, “Don’t worry, man. I’m not afraid of dogs.” Then he

unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled his huge, ten-inch dick out. He grabbed

it and leaned back, then started to wave it back and forth in Rhys’s direction. “You like

that, baby?” he said. “You want me to fuck that sweet ass with this?”

Rhys lowered his eyes and smiled. Then he said, “Yeah, man. Let me put the dog

upstairs first. And then you can fuck my brains out.” It sounded a little too fake, but Dev

believed him.

Brett leaned over to see more. Dev’s cock was even bigger than he’d remembered.

It hung from his pants and dangled between his legs. Rhys was doing an excellent job

pretending to be a consummate submissive bottom, because the last thing he was

interested in was getting fucked by anyone, especially not a guy like Dev.

When Rhys brought Tag upstairs, he looked at Brett and shrugged. “What now?”

His eyes were wide and his hands were on his hips. “Because I’m not going to let him, or

anyone else, fuck me.”

“Follow me,” Brett said. “I’m going to make sure he never screws anyone over

again.” He didn’t say anything out loud, but he thought it was funny the way Rhys was so

adamant about not getting fucked.

Brett went downstairs first and Rhys followed. Dev was already naked and spread

out on his back on the leather sofa. When he heard footsteps, he grabbed his cock and

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pointed it to the staircase. But when he saw Brett coming down instead of Rhys, he

stopped waving his dick and sat up. His eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped. “Hey,” he

shouted. “What the fuck?”

Brett smiled. “So you do remember me. You don’t remember my house or my

dog, but at least you remember me, you fucking creep.”

Dev reached for his pants and said, “I’m getting the fuck out of here. This is

fucked up.”

“Did you think it was funny to leave me here, bleeding and close to death?” Brett

asked. “How many other guys have you left that way?”

Rhys came down and stood behind him. He placed his palm on Brett’s shoulder

and said, “Is that what you were planning to do to me? Fuck me, then beat me up and rob

me?”

“This shit is fucked up,” Dev said. “I’m getting the fuck out of here before I fuck

you both up.” His voice was deep and stern; he was a tough guy. “I’m not afraid of you

pussies. I’ll fuck you both up. You want to play?”

Then he made fists and tried to move forward, but Brett snapped his fingers and

an invisible force pushed him back on the sofa. Then, just for pure fun, Brett snapped his

fingers again and Dev’s clothes flew through the air and landed on the back of a chair.

Dev’s eyes grew large and he clutched the sofa cushion. When he tried to get up again,

Brett snapped his fingers and lifted the sofa off the ground. He lifted it high, almost to the

loft’s tall ceiling. Dev’s naked legs dangled in the air, his head went back and forth, and

he clutched the sofa cushion tighter.

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“Let me go,” Dev begged. “I’m sorry for what I did. I’ll never do it again. I’ll do

anything you want. Just let me go. I can’t stand heights.” His deep, mean voice rose

higher. He almost sounded like a little boy.

Brett smiled, then lowered the sofa. “We’re not going to harm you,” he said. “We

should beat you like you beat me, and toss you out into the street. But we’re not going to

do that.”

“Just let me go, man,” Dev said. “I’m sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry.”

He was a liar. Brett knew he wasn’t sorry. He was simply terrified. If Brett let him

go without doing anything more, he would have gone out eventually and hurt someone

else. So he snapped his fingers again and pointed to Dev’s huge cock. Then he said, “I’m

not going to hurt you. I’m just going to change you a little.”

Dev looked at him for a moment, then spread his legs wider and looked down

toward his crotch. When he saw what was between his legs now, he reached down and

started screaming. His huge, thick cock had been replaced with a tiny little penis. It was

only an inch-long soft. It looked like an acorn had been glued to his large balls. “Where’s

my dick? What the fuck is this?”

“Now get dressed and get out of here,” Brett said. “Before I change my mind and

really hurt you.” Then he pointed and said, “Remember me the next time you decide to

beat someone up and rob them after sex, because I’m always going to be out there and

I’m always going to be watching you.”

Dev dressed so fast he ran out the door in his bare feet, with his shoes and shirt in

his arms and his zipper down. When he was gone, Rhys put his arms around Brett and

said, “That was brutal. I’ve never seen a dick that small in my life.”

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Brett leaned into his chest and sighed. “I wanted to teach him a lesson he

wouldn’t forget,” he said.

“Well, I think you did,” Rhys said, slipping his hand down the back of Brett’s

pants. “Whenever he whips his little dick out to take a piss, he’ll always remember this

night.” He laughed and shook his head, rubbing Brett’s ass with his palm. “He may even

have to sit down to pee from now on with that little dick.”

“It’s not forever,” Brett said. “I only wanted to scare the shit out of him and get

even. His dick will start to grow back to its original size in a couple of hours, and he’ll

think this was all a bad dream. But he’ll still remember this bad dream for the rest of his

life. I doubt he’ll ever bother anyone else again.”

Tag barked. He probably thought they’d forgotten him, and he had to go out for a

walk. “I’ll bring him down and take him out the back door,” Brett said. “And you can

take off your pants and get into bed and wait for me. I won’t be long.”

Rhys pulled him tighter and kissed him on the mouth. “Did I tell you today how

much I love you?”

“Twice so far, and I told you about three times, I think.”

“Then I’ll tell you once more, and we’ll be even,” Rhys said. “I love you.” His

hands were still down his pants. He pressed his middle finger to Brett’s hole and started

to insert it.

But Brett backed away and said, “Let me take care of Tag first. And when I come

back I’ll show you how much I love you.”

Brett snapped his fingers and opened the loft gate with witchcraft. Tag came

running down the stairs and headed for the back door. When Brett opened the back door

170

and stepped outside, a flock of squawking geese passed over the house, through a sky that

was clear and lit with millions of twinkling stars.

He took a deep breath and inhaled the crisp December air and it brought back

images from his lonely past. He remembered all the men he’d dated seriously, and some

of the men he’d slept with before Rhys came along. He thought about his ex-lover,

Jackson, and the casual expression on his face when he told him their relationship was

over; the smile he’d forced, his arms spread wide as if to prove it wasn’t the end of the

world and everything would be fine.

Then Brett smiled, because Jackson had been right. It hadn’t been the end of the

world for him. There was a strong, decent man now waiting in his bed, and Brett knew

he’d be there for a long time.

THE END

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