Siren's Song

by Kaye Draper

  Grey groaned and hissed, feeling like his balls were on fire. “Fuck. Yes. Yes!”

  He almost died when Luca asked, in a stuttering, hushed voice, if it was okay to come inside him.

  After that, it all got kind of foggy. All Grey could remember was he did a lot of really embarrassing begging, and Luca did a lot of uncharacteristic swearing. At Luca’s urging, Grey wrapped one hand around his own cock and jacked himself off in time to Luca’s increasingly erratic and desperate thrusts. They both exploded at nearly the same time, collapsing in a breathless, sweaty, sticky heap on the bathroom floor.

  Grey’s ass throbbed. But he couldn’t find it in himself to give a flying fuck.

  Finally, Luca climbed to his feet and dragged Grey up, then led him to the big shower area. Grey plunked down on a bench, his legs gone weak, while Luca fiddled with the water.

  “Come here,” Luca said, opening his arms once he had the water temperature adjusted. Grey wobbled over and Luca held him while they stood under the spray of the oversized rain head. The water was cooler here than in the bath, and it felt wonderful standing within Luca’s arms as the water washed over them, just breathing.

  “That was…thank you,” Grey said, like a complete idiot.

  Luca huffed a soft laugh. “Oh, yeah. Any time.” His chest shook with his amusement. “I’m really glad I did some research before this.”

  Grey chuckled along with him, imagining poor Luca googling anal sex and watching gay porn. But it wasn’t like Grey could say he hadn’t done the same damned thing. It sucked, feeling stuck between teenager and adult. Like…they would have figured all of this out a long time ago, probably, if they were both gay guys growing up. But here they were, a pair of adults, having to figure shit out like they were teenage virgins.

  The humor wanted to tip over into melancholy, and Grey did his best to hold out against it. They were managing, no matter how much better it would be if Grey was still a girl.

  Grey folded himself into Luca, trying not to think of their differences. But it never ceased to amaze him that love could be so tender between two men. Somehow, he’d always thought men were less emotional, that they didn’t feel the way women did. He was shocked to realize how sexist he’d been as a woman. He felt things every bit as strongly in this body as he had as a girl. And he knew it was the same for Luca. When you got right down to it…the body didn’t seem to matter at all.

  Luca’s big hands stroked slowly over Grey’s back. “I love it when you let me hold you like this,” he whispered.

  Grey tried not to stiffen up. Luca was right. Grey rarely ever acted so…soft…. He rarely ever “played the girl.” Because, well…shit, he really was a sexist asshole, wasn’t he? Like it was somehow wrong for a guy—even a “normal” guy—to be soft or feminine or any other way he damned well felt like behaving. God, Grey. He felt his world view shift. And for once, he was actually thankful it had. Because that shit wasn’t right.

  Luca felt Grey tense up and loosened his hold, probably thinking Grey was shutting down. He ruffled Grey’s wildly curling hair and turned to reach for the shampoo that sat in a recessed shelf on the side of the shower.

  Grey sighed, mad at himself for ruining the moment. “Here, turn around.” He grabbed a fresh bar of some sort of handmade soap and lathered Luca’s back, digging deep into the smoothly muscled expanse of perfect skin.

  After their bath, they spent the rest of the day lounging around the seaside mansion like a couple of newlyweds. They even had a picnic on the beach, though the air was freezing and there was barely a hint of sunshine. They were packing up when Grey glanced out at the ocean and stilled.

  A huge head was emerging from the waves.

  Luca saw his reaction and glanced that way as well, but he seemed unfazed. “Oh. The old man’s back.” He went back to packing up the leftover food.

  Grey watched as Pontus emerged from the sea. A man’s head rose from the waves, covered in flowing, wavy strands of black hair and a long, curling black beard that resembled floating seaweed. His body was three times the size of a normal human, and bulging with muscle, like the ancient Greek sculptures. His torso ended in a fin, which elongated and split, forming into legs as he strode out onto the sand.

  He stood there for a moment, buck naked, taking deep breaths…probably trying to get used to breathing air again. He saw Luca and Grey and gave them a hearty wave. Grey stuck his hands into his jeans pockets and pretended to be studying a really interesting seashell that had washed up on the beach. Nothing weirder than seeing your boyfriend’s dad naked and in God form, waving around a dick that made The Cosmic Joke seem like a toothpick. Well, except maybe the fin part. That had definitely been weirder.

  “Hello, son. Siren,” Pontus greeted them.

  Grey glanced at him, relieved to find that the god had resumed his usual form, a short, stocky middle-aged man in jeans, a white t-shirt, and a red flannel. “Hey,” Luca said, slapping him on the shoulder as if the man wasn’t a god. “How was your swim?”

  Pontus frowned. “Would have been a damned sight nicer if it wasn’t so frigid.” He turned his glare on Grey. “That bitch is freezing us out. If we don’t stop these changes soon, I’m afraid they will be permanent.” His eyes turned sad. "The sea life in the area is dying. I’m doing what I can to slow it, but it won't be long before the weaker of our kind start to perish as well."

  Grey shifted his feet, uncomfortable. Permanent winter. And…permanent life trapped here on the island, in a man’s body. It was much warmer here on Pontus’ little corner of the island than anywhere else. Back in town the temperatures hovered around freezing, and light snow flurries were common, even though spring should be creeping across the island at any moment. Here, it was just uncomfortable. But outside Pontus’s sanctuary, the cold would be deadly to anyone who had to live in it.

  “Sorry,” Grey mumbled.

  “It’s not your fault, Grey,” Luca sighed. Then, to the ancient sea god, “Lay off him, pops. It’s not like you’re doing much yourself, other than doling out quests and griping.”

  Pontus grumbled a bit, but he didn’t really seem to blame Grey for his mother’s actions. “Apologies. I wish I could intervene myself. If you aren’t successful, I very well may, oath be-damned. But I’d rather not have to give up my body and have to spend the next few centuries gathering the scattered pieces of myself.”

  Grey winced. Apparently, a god breaking an oath to other gods was kind of a big deal.

  Pontus sighed. “Are you enjoying the house?”

  Grey was horrified by the hot rush of blood that filled his cheeks at the sudden memory of just how much they’d enjoyed the house. “It’s beautiful,” he managed, his voice cracking like a hormonal teenager.

  Pontus roared with laughter. “You’re in trouble, son,” he said, slapping Luca on the back with enough force to make him stumble as they all turned back toward the house. “He’s definitely got siren blood, that’s for certain.”

  Grey stared at his feet, mortified. He had to change the subject. “So…if you can keep it warm here, and you can survive the cold out there,” he gestured to the ocean behind them. “Can't you keep the island from falling into permanent winter, even if you don’t completely break the curse?"

  Pontus scowled. “No lad. That’s beyond my power.” His shoulders dropped. “My powers weakened with each new generation of gods. My time has all but passed. And there’s the non-interference oath. Besides,” he shrugged, “this is siren business. Who better to undertake the quest than someone with siren blood?”

  Grey wasn’t sure if he bought that stuff about being too weak. And the whole archaic hero’s quest thing was bullshit. But Pontus’ penetrating gaze told him exactly who he thought should be fixing things, and Grey wasn’t about to argue with a god. Again. More. Whatever.

  When they got back to the house, Grey was left alone with Pontus, primordial sea god, while his son used the bathroom. Grey paced aimlessly around the enormous, shiny kitchen. H
e felt out of place. He missed the yellowed lace curtains and faded linoleum of his dad’s house. Hell, even the loud confines of the townhouse filled with the sounds of drums and guitar and Matheus and Ethan’s constant bickering was starting to sound good.

  Grey picked up a lemon from a massive stoneware bowl with Greek etchings on the side. The figures carved there were harvesting grapes. The fruit felt heavy in Grey’s hand. Everything in this house was oversized. It was like a metaphor for Grey’s life. Everything was too big, too heavy, too much.

  “Glad you boys are enjoying yourselves.” Pontus’ voice was casual as he went to rummage in the fridge.

  Grey turned the fruit in his hands. “Uh…yeah. It’s been nice to be able to take a breather. Thank you.”

  Pontus emerged from the fridge with a pile of sandwich stuff. “It’s good that he found you. That boy’s been alone for too long.”

  Grey’s fingers curled around the fruit and he knew he was blushing. Luca’s father was so blunt—and so absolutely amazing. He certainly wasn’t reacting like Grey’s dad had when he found out Grey and Luca were dating. “You don’t care that I’m a guy?

  Pontus laughed and Grey looked up to find the God studying him.

  “What does that matter? Your human body is just a shell, boy. Besides, that child’s had his share of hardships. It’s good to see him happy.”

  Luca padded into the room, startling Grey and clearly overhearing that last bit. “No hardships,” he said, smiling at his father in a way that seemed to be at least half warning. He ruffled Grey’s hair in passing. As he reached for a glass from the cupboard, he grinned over his shoulder at Pontus. “Besides, Greek gods are all inbred anyway—what’s a little homosexuality in the mix.”

  Grey dropped the lemon. It rolled across the floor and came to rest at Pontus’s feet. The god scooped it up with a chuckle. “When your mother is the ocean and your father the sky, you can’t really measure relationships the same way humans do.” He gave Grey a shrug and a wink. “Keep that in mind, kid, if you ever start falling prey to all the silly human doubts.”

  Grey just shook his head. But something in Pontus’s deep blue eyes said he knew exactly how turbulent it could get inside Grey’s head sometimes. Which…was kind of nice. At least he knew he wouldn’t have to explain himself to the god when he did something stupid. Which he would. This was Grey they were talking about.

  Chapter 63

  Grey had barely returned home from his little holiday and back to the normal world, but it seemed the supernatural crap had followed him. He was lying in bed, at his dad’s trailer—where he’d agreed to stay for a couple days while Rick was out on business on the other side of the island. It was supposed to be cold enough this weekend to burst pipes and destroy shit, so Grey had been voluntold to stay here and run the water every few hours. Of course, it had nothing to do with his dad missing him around the house. Grey wasn’t stupid. He’d seen how Rick had to work really hard to pretend he wasn’t happy to spend the previous evening together while he packed.

  Grey was supposed to be sleeping, but he found himself trying to figure out what he was supposed to do about the curse that threatened to hold Etna Island as it’s frozen prisoner. Hunting down a stupid gemstone just seemed…anti-climactic. And dumb. And it should be way easier than it was. He wanted to pull his hair out.

  A drop of wetness hit his forehead and he startled upright. Was the roof leaking? But…it wasn’t raining, it was too cold for that. And it was probably too cold for the snow on the roof to be melting, given how fucking frigid it was out there. He switched on the bedroom light to find a watery message darkening the ceiling tiles.

  Prisoner. Marina.

  He stared up at the message, then glanced around his room. Could a water sprite or some other watery being enter so easily? Was it still here, even now? That was a freaking creepy thought.

  He considered calling Luca, but it felt cowardly…needy. He knew, without a doubt that message was about his mother, and Grey had the sudden desire to talk to the witch in person.

  Chapter 64

  Grey crept around a couple of parked cars, being as quiet as he could. The chill night breeze carried the scent of the ocean, calling to something wild inside him. He strained to see through the darkness, lit here and there by the faint glow that spilled from a couple of boat windows. He couldn’t sense anything strange—not that he had any idea what he was doing when it came to supernatural perception.

  Grey hurried toward the dock, fear pulling his shoulders tight. He shouldn’t have come alone. But if he got caught, the last thing he wanted was Luca or anyone else caught up in this with him.

  Water lapped against the pilings of the dock. At any other time, Grey would have found the sound soothing. But tonight it made him jumpy, and the occasional grating noise of ice being pushed against the pilings was just a reminder of how fucked they all were. It was supposed to be spring right now. And he was about to go up against the monster who had frozen an entire damned island.

  Grey shivered, but not from the cold. He had no idea what was lurking out there in the water, watching. He scanned the boats along this section of dock. The marina was pretty empty. Most people stored their boats in dry dock over the winter and hadn’t bothered to put them in the water yet, since it was so unseasonably cold. Nothing here pinged his questionable supernatural-o-meter, so he kept walking. Only two of the boats were actually in the water. The first one was a small coastguard vessel that was completely dark. At the next boat, he paused. It was a big, showy number that would have sleeping quarters down below. He strained to read the flowery lettering on the side. Siren Song.

  Grey rolled his eyes. It couldn’t really be that obvious, could it? But something in his gut told him that this was it. This boat was just as dark as the coastguard one. He reached out for the ladder that hung over the side of the Siren Song, but the gentle sway of the waves carried it just out of reach. “Damn it.”

  Grey sighed and backed away, giving himself room to get some momentum. It was a good thing he tolerated the cold better than most, because he was probably about to go for a nice, brisk swim. He shivered at the thought. It was freezing, and the water was pitch black, it’s denizens—both magical and mundane—hidden from sight. His feet pounded across the wooden dock and he took a running leap at the side of the boat. He hit with a thud that knocked the wind out of him and scrabbled to grab hold of the ladder and haul himself up. Once he was standing on the deck, he tried to calm his breathing and paused to listen. Either no one had heard him, or no one was on board to hear him.

  But no. Something was here. It was calling to him, tugging at his gut, riling up that possessive part of him that wanted to murder his siren parent.

  Grey slipped to the cabin door and down the steps that led to the living quarters below. It was a beauty of a boat, with sleek wood paneling and plush carpet. But he expected nothing less from the self-absorbed creature who owned it. The stairs ended in an open area that was half kitchenette, half living room. Grey headed across the room to the one closed door. He tried the door as silently as he could. Locked. When he let go of the handle, it rattled.

  “Mistress?”

  Grey froze at the sound of the sleepy male voice. It took a second for him to place why it sounded so familiar.

  “Mistress, is that you?” Steffen’s voice was groggy but filled with joy. Like a dog ready to greet his owner.

  Grey rolled his eyes, reared back, and kicked the door off its hinges.

  Steffen was a shadowy shape in the rumpled bed. He reached toward the bedside table to turn on the lamp there. Grey dove onto the bed and held the bigger guy's arm back from the lamp. “Don’t!”

  Steffen didn’t struggle the way Grey had expected. Instead, he stopped immediately and sat there calmly awaiting instruction. Grey waved a hand in front of Steffen's face, but he didn’t react. “Steffen?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m marvelous.” His voi
ce became moony. “Mistress loves me. I’m her favorite.”

  Grey groaned. Did it really get this awful? Steffen was apparently utterly stupid under the influence of siren magic. “How about we go for a nice walk,” Grey said in his best cajole-the-crazy-person voice. He tugged the other man’s arm, but Steffen refused to move.

  Steffen shook his head in the darkness. “I can’t leave. How will she find me?”

  Grey put his face in his hands and tried to control his frustration. He couldn’t just drag Steffen out of here—the guy was too big. The rocking of the boat increased under his feet, and Grey got a bad feeling. The ocean was getting restless, and he didn’t want to wait around here and see what it carried back on the waves.

  Well, now or never. Grey started humming a strain from a Lucifer song. A seagull cried outside, shrieking like a freaking lunatic and making Grey’s shoulders tense, but he kept humming. Steffen turned toward him, and Grey thought the guy looked confused, though it was hard to tell in the darkness. “Come on.” Grey tugged Steffen’s arm, and finally, he moved.

  Steffen stood up and followed Grey to the door in his underwear—a ridiculous banana hammock that clung precariously to the lean, golden flesh below his hip bones and put all the goods on display. It really wasn’t fair that an asshole like Steffen got to look like some high-end exotic dancer. He should be as trollish as his personality. Grey paused to look around. “Do you have pants somewhere? If anyone sees us, you’re going to get charged with public indecency.” He shook his head. Not to mention the imminent threat of frostbite. While normally he would like to see the asshole freeze his dick off, it just didn’t have the same appeal while he was too out of his mind with magic to notice.

  Steffen shrugged, still out of it, long blond hair rippling down his broad chest and back. Grey rummaged around the nearest closet, finding nothing but filmy dresses. There was a drawer built in below the closet and he opened it to reveal a small stack of men’s clothing. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and tossed them to Steffen. He couldn’t find anything warmer, in the men’s section, so he rooted around in the closet, finding an oversized pink women’s cardigan that would probably fit over Steffen’s broad back and long arms. “Hurry up!”