Elliot?
Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.
This is a dream, right? Elliot blinked a few times, then a look passed over his face that Hemery couldn’t decipher. A moment later, he was bobbing his head, a soft smile on his face.
Yeah, Hem. It’s a dream. But it’s a good one.
Elliot floated closer, reaching out a hand, running it down Hemery’s arm. Which was the first time Hem realized that he, too, was naked. Not cold, which was weird, but naked, and Elliot’s hand on his arm felt like a burst of sunshine on a winter’s day.
He wanted to melt into that touch, to fold himself into Elliot’s warmth, and curl around him. Protect and be protected.
Elliot’s hand lifted from Hem’s arm, and moved it to Hemery’s hip. His very naked hip. I’ve dreamt about this for years, Hem. Being with you.
Me, too. It was a confession, something that Hemery hadn’t told anyone before: not Elliot, not his father, not even the court appointed psychiatrist he was required to see until he was 21.
Then kiss me. Touch me. Tell me it’s okay that I do the same.
Elliot’s dark eyes were within centimeters of Hemery’s own, unguarded in a way that Elliot had rarely allowed himself before his escape. His face was so close to Hemery’s, they should have been sharing breath.
Instead of speaking, Hem pressed forward, his lips connecting with Elliot’s, reaching out with both hands to rest on Elliot’s hips, pulling them together so that their cocks were touching, the first time Hem’d realized that not only was he hard, but Elliot was as well.
With that, whatever restrictions Elliot had placed on himself were gone, and his hands were everywhere, touching and caressing, pulling Hemery against him. They kissed like it was the first time, and like they’d been doing this forever.
Hem. Elliot stopped kissing him, even though he didn’t need his mouth to communicate. Safe. Sane Consensual. I need you to tell me that this is okay. That you want this. Want me.
Hemery’s first thought was that Elliot was being an idiot, couldn’t he tell that Hemery wanted this? And then he thought about Elliot’s mom, and how, if what he’d learned was true, hadn’t had a choice with Elliot’s father. She’d done the best she could under really difficult circumstances, but she’d never truly consented. Elliot had spoken at length about not wanting to become his father and without Hemery’s active consent, he’d never known if he was doing the same thing.
Elliot, I want you. I want your hands on me, your mouth. I want to touch your dick, I want to put it inside me. I want everything you want to give me, and give you the same. I… He stopped for a second, not wanting to play that card just yet, but feeling it push against his chest, he couldn’t keep it in any longer. I love you and I would give you anything you wanted, because if you want it, I want it, too.
Elliot kissed him on the mouth, powerful and possessing, but everything Hemery wanted. When he pulled away, Elliot was glowing. Like, literally glowing, happiness dripping off of him like water. With a wink, El pulled himself down Hemery’s body, settling himself between Hemery’s legs. He ran his hands up Hemery’s thighs once, then pulled himself forward and took Hemery’s cock into his mouth.
Hemery’d never had anyone else touch his dick before, not in a sexual way, and despite knowing intimately what his own hand felt like, this was worlds apart. Elliot’s mouth was fire and he sucked steadily to make it tight. Only a brief scrape of teeth told Hemery that Elliot didn’t have much experience with this either.
It was so intense that Hem couldn’t keep his eyes open. He had to pull into himself a bit to keep from coming instantly, to make sure this would last for at least a little while longer.
This was the greatest dream he’d ever had.
Elliot’s fingers rolled Hemery’s balls tenderly, his tongue running up and down Hemery’s cock, then sucking on the head again, electricity from his mouth running up Hemery’s spine.
Hem reached down to run his fingers through Elliot’s hair, to hold on to him, to make sure he knew Hemery did not want him to stop.
He could feel his orgasm starting to rise, the pressure building in his spine, in his hips, in his cock, that feeling like he was going to explode. It was that familiar sensation. only now increased tenfold simply because it was finally Elliot sucking his cock, their naked bodies touching.
Elliot, I’m-
I know. That’s what I’m aiming for.
I don’t know if you want to-
I do. I do. I do.
And then he was coming, the orgasm bursting through him like an exploding star, his atoms pulling apart and reshaping into something new. His fingers tightened in Elliot’s hair, but then El was pulling away and Hemery, still in the grips of perhaps the greatest orgasm he’d ever had in his life, couldn’t find a way to tell Elliot that he didn’t want him to go away.
Elliot’s hands were on his face, his lips found Hemery’s, and they were kissing. Elliot tasted like what Hemery himself must taste like. It was intoxicating.
Let me- Hemery tried to say but Elliot stopped him with another kiss.
I can’t. I have to… I have to go back. I can’t do this much longer and keep you safe.
What? I don’t understand-
Just know that if I could choose, I would be here, with you. Forever. But I can’t. Not yet. Just know that I love you, too, and I will find a way to make this work for us. For forever.
With a last kiss, Elliot peeled himself away and Hemery finally opened his eyes to see Elliot pulling his seal skin back on. Before it swallowed him completely, before he turned back into the gentle seal, Elliot met Hemery’s eyes and smiled, sad but sweet.
I love you. Hemery thought at him with all the power he could muster, not really knowing how any of this worked.
I know. Elliot replied, trying for his best Han Solo smirk, and Hemery wanted to cry. I will find a way. I promise.
Then he slipped the rest of the way into his coat. Elliot was gone, only the seal remained. It turned away from Hemery and with a powerful kick, disappeared into the murky water.
Hemery still didn’t know how he was breathing, how he could possibly survive under water, but maybe in dreams it didn’t matter. He closed his eyes in a blink and when he opened them again, he was back in his dorm room, his posters and photos staring at him from his own walls.
He sat up in bed when he realized that not only was he was completely naked, his sweatpants and t-shirt nowhere to be found, but he was wet. Not just a little, but soaking, like he’d been swimming and went directly from the water to his bed, all around him the scent of the lake, rich and earthy.
What the fuck?
For the next few years, Hemery would have those dreams, always on the spring equinox, where he’d meet Elliot in the water, dark and deep, cool but not cold, and they’d make out, blow each other or give a gentle but wonderful hand job. A sixty-nine here, hands in new places there, but it never went further than that. It wasn’t exactly a hang-up, per se, but more that if anything more intimate were to happen, the circumstances would need to be different.
Which was weird, for a dream, but Hemery wasn’t going to complain when he was spending even a small amount of time with Elliot, who he missed more and more to the point of it manifesting as physical pain when he thought about it.
On the tenth anniversary of Elliot’s escape, Hemery drove to the beach in his father’s truck, blankets in the back seat, a picnic basket filled with sandwiches and beer, a package of condoms and lube tucked discreetly into the pocket of his jacket.
It wasn’t like he really thought Elliot would show up. All he had were these dreams that felt real, and that left him with some evidence they had been real, and yet there wasn’t any way to prove that they had happened. But Hemery wanted to believe that he’d been meeting with his love in the lake, to share something with him that Hem didn’t want to share with anyone else. And if that were true, then why not go to the lake and see if maybe Elliot was feeling the same way.
&
nbsp; If it was a bust, he planned to drink all the beer himself and sleep it off in the back of the truck, probably crying himself to sleep.
It was March and fucking cold, because it was Michigan, so when Hemery pulled into the parking lot, his was the only vehicle there. The wind was biting, cutting through his hoodie, so he threw his leather jacket over top of it, and pulled his beanie down lower over his face.
His boots sank into the sand, everything damp from spray and an earlier rain. The whole evening was a miserable disaster, weather-wise, but it didn’t matter. Hemery was doing this.
He laid the picnic blanket out over the sand first, because it had a plastic layer that prevented water from seeping through, then spread the flannel blanket over that, another flannel blanket rolled up just in case. He set out the sandwiches and chips, and pulled two beers out, popping the tops off with the opener on his keychain.
Hem took a long pull off the first one, setting the other in the sand to keep from knocking it over. And then he waited.
An hour later, he was through his second beer, his first sandwich, and feeling a bit sick to his stomach with worry and disappointment.
Elliot, He tried, focusing in the same way he would during their dreams. Elliot, don’t keep me waiting here.
Another hour later, and Hemery found himself wiping tears off his face, a little buzzed and a lot depressed. What the hell had he been thinking? He was clearly going crazy. All of it was evidence that he was fucking nuts. Elliot wasn’t coming. Elliot was not a seal, he wasn’t a selkie who could shift forms. He was an abused kid who had escaped on a boat, probably to Canada, and Hemery’s brain had snapped when he’d smashed his bat into Mr. Hardstark’s skull.
He stood up to start packing the picnic up, when he heard the bark of a seal, as though from a distance, and he stopped. Hemery turned back towards the water, scanning the shore, looking for what his heart wanted most in the world.
For a minute, he was sure that it had been a trick of his overactive imagination. Until he saw the seal break the surface of the water, swimming quickly in the light of the moon.
Elliot? He tried, getting nothing in return. Knowing that he wasn’t asleep, he tried actually speaking. “Elliot?”
The seal reached the beach, pulling itself out of the water and onto the sand. Hemery grabbed the last blanket and ran as fast as he could in the deep sand, towards it.
As he approached, the seal twisted and turned in the sand, the waves coming up to caress its flippers. Like in his dreams, a soft glow began to shine from beneath the seal’s coat, and after another minute of contortions, a human arm broke free from the coat, the light leaking out even brighter. As Hemery watched, a catch in his throat, the rest of Elliot appeared, lithe and naked, and everything Hemery had been dreaming about for the past ten years.
“Elliot-“
Hemery held out the blanket, planning to wrap Elliot up to keep him warm, but Elliot brushed it aside to cling to Hemery, his face in Hem’s neck. He was wet, but warm, a striking contrast to everything else on the beach at that moment.
“It’s been so long,” Elliot muttered, his voice creaky and unused, his breath hot and welcome on Hemery’s skin.
“Are you hungry? I have sandwiches.“
“I just want you, Hem. You and only you. Do you get it?” Elliot stood tall, then, and Hemery realized that it had been a long time because they’d finally ended up the same height, neither needing to look up or down to see the other’s intentions.
“I do. Trust me, I really do.”
And then they were kissing, hands and mouths touching everywhere they could, until Hemery pushed Elliot back just a few inches to breathe out at him, “I need to take my pants off or I’m going to castrate myself.”
“You always wear too tight pants. What is up with that?”
“Fashion, jerk. I know it, clearly you don’t.” Hemery didn’t know anything about fashion, his usual wardrobe consisting of a park ranger’s uniform and boots, but what Elliot didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
“I’ve never had pants almost castrate me, so who’s the real jerk here?” Elliot raised a single eyebrow in that way he’d always had, and it made something melt deep inside Hemery, who hadn’t quite believed that any of this was real.
“I’ll show you a jerk,” Hemery said, then immediately had his hand wrapped around Elliot’s cock, a light hold since he hadn’t pulled out any lube, but enough to signal his intentions for the rest of the evening. After a moment, he started moving his hand, pushing up and pulling down Elliot’s foreskin over the head of his cock, creating that friction Hemery knew drove Elliot bananas.
“I thought you needed to take your pants off,” Elliot gasped out, hands gripping Hemery’s shoulders as he struggled to maintain his balance.
“Sure thing, just taking advantage of the fact that you don’t own any pants.”
“I-“ Elliot shuddered and pulled Hemery close to him. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come all over your pants and wouldn’t that be a crime against fashion?”
“I don’t know if I really care that much, honestly,” Hemery replied but slowed his hand, hearing the plea for what it was. Safe. Sane. Consensual. If Elliot wanted his to stop, he would.
“I want to come with you inside me. Can you do that for me?” Elliot whispered into Hem’s ear, his breath hot against Hemery’s skin. “I’ve been dreaming about it for years, been wishing we could be together and you’d fuck me, just like I’ve wanted. Can you do that? Can I have that? Come on your cock?”
“If you don’t stop talking, I think I’m going to cream my own pants, not gonna lie,” Hemery managed as he detangled himself from Elliot. Which was when he caught sight of the shimmery seal coat still laying on the sand, and the creeping tide that was moving closer and closer to it. “I think we need to secure that coat of yours, or this trip is going to take a very different direction.”
“Shit,” and then Elliot was pushing away from him to grab the coat, tripping a bit over his own feet. Hemery wasn’t sure if that was from lack of practice walking for the past ten years, or if his own excitement was getting to him. Either way, he reached out a hand to steady El, and make sure he didn’t take a header into the surf. “Thanks, Hem. Thanks.”
“Anytime, E.”
“I don’t want to ruin the mood, but where can I hide this?” Elliot didn’t say ‘safe’ and he didn’t imply anything about Hemery, but Hem remembered Elliot’s mother and he knew that Elliot feared being trapped. By anyone, Hemery included, which made Hem’s stomach twist very uncomfortably.
“There’s a lockbox in the truck. I’ll give you the key.” Hemery stood still as he could, not wanting to ruin this, the thing he’d dreamt of for so long. Elliot looked at him without saying anything for a minute, then down at his hands, where the coat hung like a discarded prom dress.
“Hem, I don’t… I trust you. Completely. I just… my dad.”
“Your dad won’t be coming.” It was the first time, possibly ever, that Hemery had brought up Mr. Hardstark’s death and been sure it was a good thing.
“How can you be sure?” It was then that Hemery remembered that Elliot didn’t know. He didn’t know Hemery had fought his father, had struck him so hard in the head with his bat that Mr. Hardstark hadn’t lived to understand that his wife and child had successfully escaped to the water. “Hem, what happened? What did you do?”
“I protected you and that’s all I’m going to say about that right now. I didn’t come here to do this, have this conversation. I came here to see you.” To be with you, to be with you, all unsaid.
“He’s dead, isn’t he.” Not a question.
“Yeah.” What else could he say? There wasn’t anything, so he just let his response hang out there while he watched Elliot’s face for a reaction.
“Oh, Hemery. Oh, fuck, Hemery, I never wanted to put you in a position… fuck.” And Elliot was crying. Messy, ugly crying, tears flowing, his breath hitching in his chest.
&nbs
p; “I’m sorry, El. I never wanted to-“ I never wanted to kill anyone. He wanted to say. Except maybe I did want to kill you father, because of all those times, all those times he hit you and kicked you and made you cry. He wasn’t sure he could say those things, or if they would even be received in the manner they were intended, so he just stopped talking and waited.
“I can’t believe you did that for me, that you’d, oh, Hem, how can you ever forgive me?”
Hemery wasn’t sure what to do at this point other than wrap his arms around a still naked Elliot and pull him close. He was confused, mostly because it wasn’t the death of his father that Elliot seemed upset about, or at least not the part where his father was dead, but the part where it was Hemery who had done the deed.
“I did what I had to do, El. I’ll never be sorry about that.” After all his angsting and worry, he found the words to be true as he said them, and felt a peace inside that he hadn’t known in some time, if ever.
“How can you even look at me, I don’t understand…“ Hemery stopped him with a kiss, then pulled back to make sure their eyes were meeting. After a long moment of connection, Hemery leaned in again to kiss El with an even deeper passion.
“If I hadn’t, he’d have killed you. Maybe me, too. And I would never have been able to live with myself if I’d let that happen. I look at you because I love you. It’s all I want to do. Well, maybe not all.” Another kiss, a soft hand down El’s side, to his ass where Hem pulled him in even closer. “I’ve loved you since the fifth grade. I’d do anything for you. Anything. Let me show you how much, let me, let me, let me…”
“Show me, Hem. Show me.”
Hemery kissed Elliot then pulled back and took the seal coat out of his hands, keeping eye contact with Elliot the whole time. He took Elliot’s hand in his and pulled him back towards the picnic setup up the beach, never once breaking their gaze.
At the blanket, Hem let go of Elliot’s hand to open the basket and gently place the coat within it. He pulled the last blanket out from under his arm, and unrolled it so they’d have some covers.
A Paranormal Easter: 14 Paranormal & Fantasy Romance Novellas Page 66
