Primal Need: A Sexy Male/Male Shifter Anthology

by Parker Foye

  Damn it. Benjamin no longer had the ability to tell how far, tall or wide something was. Spatial orientation had been severed with his sight. The doctors said he’d find ways to get a feel for distance and perspective, but it would take time. In the meantime, he was a burden. If not on Rez, on the hospital staff or a hired caretaker. The loss of independence rankled so bad that he wanted to shove his head under the spray in case he began to bawl.

  Rez seemed to know. He moved Benjamin’s hand to his shoulder, and crouched to pick up Benjamin’s foot and lift it safely past the lip of the tub.

  He paused to support Benjamin as he stepped into the shower with the other leg, still leaning upon him. It was a mistake. Benjamin’s brain followed the sensation of someone kneeling before him and his body, no...his cock decided to be hopeful, which was strange because his libido had been in a coma since his accident.

  Benjamin imagined Rez down there, trying to help, being all noble, and he couldn’t stop his erection. What the fuck? Rez was straight, and he sure as fuck was too.

  Then there was the kelpie thing, which Benjamin didn’t understand. His skin went from cold to the fiery hot of embarrassment that had to be visible. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Benjamin was going to offend Rez and lose his last connection. One he thought he’d lost already, but it hurt like fuck the first time, and he didn’t want to try a second time.

  “Benjamin, look at me,” Rez said from down at knee-level.

  “I can’t! For fuck’s sake, I can’t, and it’s humiliating. All of it.” Benjamin stood, unbalanced in the shower, naked and cold.

  Rez wrapped his arms around Benjamin. It was a hug of such reassurance and strength that for a moment Benjamin just enjoyed the companionship and help.

  In a dance-like move, Rez pivoted with Benjamin so they were both standing in the shower. The warm water and his body heat were doing strange things to Benjamin’s brain. Their friendship had always been on a somewhat different level than he’d had with his other buddies, but they understood each other and had a strong connection. It hadn’t ever been sexual, so Benjamin’s arousal worried him.

  If Rez was insulted enough, he might hurt Benjamin. That was a paralyzing thought. If Rez started in on Benjamin—hit him—he would be completely defenseless.

  Hadn’t he been trying to kill himself, though? Why would his best friend pull him from the water to hurt him?

  Rez was one of the most open-minded men Benjamin knew. One of the most noble. One of the most generous.

  Benjamin’s engine kept running, but his fucked-up brain couldn’t pilot him. The only destination he could drive himself to was insanity.

  That was sad enough that Benjamin almost laughed. The kind of inappropriate laughter at funerals or betrayals when the brain and body couldn’t agree on the right reaction. Ah, shit. He was crying.

  Chapter Three

  Benjamin was crying. God.

  Rez was at a loss because his best friend usually had two modes: laughing and good-natured, or grim and fierce in battle. In an attempt to reassure Benjamin, Rez squeezed him again, but the contact seemed to upset him further.

  “It’s okay.”

  Benjamin sobbed, his body completely aroused. Pain and embarrassment radiated from him as he struggled. He shook his head.

  “Don’t worry about it. I see you, and you’re the strongest man I know. You’re not alone now, and you don’t need to feel ashamed.”

  All that was pure truth. Benjamin was beautiful. Kelpies’ concept of sexuality was often fluid, so if Benjamin had been receptive, Rez would have been interested.

  Even blinded and recovering from serious physical and emotional trauma, Benjamin was six and a half feet of modern warrior, with a giving spirit and an untarnished heart. In days past, the kelpie band would have welcomed him.

  Those days were gone, though. With only five kelpie stallions remaining, the species would die out without more foals. Rez’s responsibility was to his kin. Kelpies would not pass from the world into legend as had so many other creatures of “folklore.” So few kelpies stood against the threat of extinction.

  The old traditions of bonding for life and monogamy, instead of buoying them, were killing Rez’s community as each generation foaled fewer and fewer new kelpies. Rez should have taken a mate already, but had not found a kelpie mare who he wanted to be with permanently.

  Even traditional matings were risky because many of the younger females were not fertile, so once the bonding occurred, the union was as barren as a same-sex mating.

  Yet, Rez didn’t want the survival of the species on his mind. He wished he were free to mate for love.

  Love. What a stupid, ridiculous human concept. But kelpies were human and horse. Both with competing concerns and herd mentality.

  Benjamin still wept, but it wasn’t the quiet kind of crying. He hadn’t gotten to this point lightly, and he was sobbing like his life had ended. In some ways, Rez guessed it had.

  Water healed many things, whether humans understood this or not. Rez maneuvered Benjamin under the warm shower spray, supporting his friend as he broke down.

  Benjamin’s knees were on the verge of buckling, and he was about a hand taller than Rez. Using a little water magic, Rez increased the pressure and temperature of the shower.

  In the steam and steady downpour, Benjamin clung to him, and after a while, he pulled Rez tighter, hiding his face in the curve of the kelpie’s neck.

  Oh, Benjamin.

  Rez stroked his hair, his neck, the upper curve of his back. His friend had lost everything, and it was Rez’s fault. With the sacrifice mark upon him, though Benjamin couldn’t see it, Rez might still lose him.

  The rules of magic and the kelpie protection lore were ancient and powerful, but there weren’t any true shamans to guide them anymore. Maybe a magic-mare could have told Rez what would happen if they ignored the sacrifice mark. Maybe not. Nobody avoided death once marked by a kelpie.

  The dreamlike trance of the shower spray faded. Benjamin straightened up and released Rez. He scrubbed his face under the water and averted his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” Rez gave Benjamin a bit of space. “For having emotions about all the shit that’s happened to you? For grieving the life you used to know? For saving me and most of the others in your unit? You should get a medal. Don’t apologize.”

  “I didn’t save everyone. A couple are still in the hospital, like I was. One may never walk again. The other has a traumatic brain injury and is learning everything again. I failed. I couldn’t even go visit them in their hospital rooms. During my recovery I was so angry and guilty. They must blame me, you know?

  “And I am sorry about all that. And more. I, um. I’m sorry I got hard. I don’t know what happened. I’m not like that, you know? And I know you’re not.”

  Rez stepped out of the shower as Benjamin rallied his strength. “It’s totally fine. A natural reaction. I’m not a prude, and I’m not worried about it. And you know what? Nobody would have made it back alive without you. Benjamin, you absolutely are a hero.”

  * * *

  Rez stepped away. No wonder. Benjamin was sure his hard-on freaked his buddy out. Freaked him out, and that was just one of the embarrassing fucking things that had happened lately.

  Please, don’t let him desert me. Benjamin had no idea how to live with his blindness, no place to go, and he didn’t want to be thrown out because he couldn’t control his body.

  And why, why the hell did being near Rez arouse him? He wasn’t going to think about that. Too much other shit was going on.

  “I’m still here,” Rez said through the steam.

  He pressed a wet, slippery plastic bottle into Benjamin’s hand.

  “Until I can get some shampoo and conditioner that are in different-shaped bottles so you can
tell them apart yourself, here’s the shampoo.”

  “I don’t need both shampoo and conditioner. You always were a GQ motherfucker.” Benjamin’s hair was short and never needed much upkeep.

  “Alright, manly man. Today use both. Get the hospital stink off. Later I’ll get you just one bottle for your hair, and one shaped differently for body wash.”

  “Thanks.” For several things, Benjamin thought. The implication that he’d take more than one shower here meant he had a near-term future at least, and their friendship was intact. It also indicated that Rez thought about how being blind affected everyday rituals. “It’s one of those things you don’t consider until you can’t see. Different bottles would be awesome.”

  “You look the same,” Rez said out of the darkness. “In case you wondered. You look good, especially considering the damage you took. I couldn’t tell you were blind at first until I noticed that your eyes don’t follow movement or people.”

  What kind of statement was that? His eyes didn’t track? Another thing to worry about. “Really? Do you think I need some dark glasses? Does that freak people out? Does it freak you out?”

  “No, it’s fine. Don’t cover up your eyes. They’re striking. I’ve always thought they were sea-glass green, and beautiful. Even if you can’t see—which sucks, don’t get me wrong—they still give some hints to what you’re thinking.”

  Benjamin didn’t even know what he thought half the time. The brain injury was part of it, but it was like his brain had a horrible case of food poisoning. Thoughts churned and cramped and turned into nightmares and hallucinations. The shrinks called that part PTSD. Inspired by watching his best friend and several of his men die. That image was the last thing his eyes ever registered. Fuck.

  Tears welled again, and he wanted the water to disguise it, but Rez never missed much.

  “Do you want help washing? It might be comforting just to let yourself be taken care of.”

  Part of Benjamin screamed, No, I am a motherfucking island. He used to be able to care for himself. After dozens of sponge baths during his rehabilitation, though, the thought of someone’s hands on him—for comfort and not for sex, but not impersonal—sounded damn good. He couldn’t find a way to say it, though, so he just nodded.

  There was a snick of the shampoo cap, a squishy clap of hands, and Rez’s fingers massaged the shampoo into Benjamin’s hair. Short fingernails scratched at his scalp—a little pressure and a little pain, and it felt amazing. His fingers were strong and sure, and Benjamin leaned back into the water, into his friend’s touch, and let all the sensation flood over him.

  The contact was so different from the nurses and the physical therapists. Damn. It felt like heaven. Rez wasn’t doing anything particularly intimate. Just washing his hair and massaging his scalp—something Benjamin had been indifferent to in the past if he’d gotten his hair cut at a fancier place. The military didn’t do “scalp massages,” unless that was slang for a punch to the head or crawling under barbed wire.

  Suds ran down his neck, his cheeks. Benjamin kept his eyes shut, but not tightly. He tried to imagine what Rez looked like as he scrubbed Benjamin’s hair and took some of the suds and rubbed his neck.

  If they’d been cars, Rez was a completely different model. Benjamin was tall, and the military had honed his lean frame. He might be an American muscle car, but Rez was a fucking Hummer. Not quite as tall as Benjamin, but Rez was heavily muscled. Not like a bodybuilder, but like a dock worker or a blacksmith. Someone blue-collar who worked hard at a physically taxing job every single day. His fingers were long, but his hands were as big as the rest of him.

  He had serious calluses on his fingertips and his palms. They provided friction against Benjamin’s skin that revved him up a little, which was another surprise because he’d always liked women with soft hands. “Rez, that feels so good.” Benjamin groaned. “Sorry. I haven’t been around anybody who’s given a shit in so long, and I hope you’re not weirded out, but I think I needed this.”

  “No worries,” Rez said. His voice was deep and rumbling, and his fingers were deft and healing.

  He guided Benjamin under the spray again and helped rinse all the shampoo out. Then he opened a bottle of something that smelled like cloves and spices. It reminded Benjamin of Rez’s smell when they’d go out to bars after long days on duty.

  “Body wash.” Rez pressed a washcloth into Benjamin’s hands. “Will you be okay if I give you some privacy?”

  A little flicker of disappointment, unexpected. “I think I can do the rest. I’ll holler if I forget where my ass is or something.” Benjamin tried a smile. There were about thirty ways that didn’t sound like what he’d meant.

  Benjamin wasn’t flirting with his best friend. He was not so desperate for company and affection and love that he was going to hit on Rez.

  Rez had saved his life. Several times. He was a real hero. Like the real fucking deal. Gave his life to save the men and women in his unit. How could Rez think Benjamin was a hero? He couldn’t even fathom.

  * * *

  After a few minutes, Benjamin called out from the bathroom. Rez opened the door to see Benjamin fumbling with the knobs to turn the water off. He cranked the cold-water tap all the way off and yelped, jumped backward and almost fell. Added to the shopping list: some of those sticky plastic flowers or a bath mat to put in the shower, so Benjamin never slipped again. Rez had no idea how many showers he’d be taking here, but no sense in taking unnecessary risks.

  Rez pulled two towels from the cabinets. They weren’t fancy, but they actually worked instead of just spreading the water all over.

  “Here.” Rez draped one towel over his friend’s head, and Benjamin dried his hair. Once his hair wasn’t dripping, Rez swapped the wet towel for a dry one.

  Benjamin rubbed his body down with the efficiency of a lifetime of habit. Plus military discipline. He didn’t need to see. Surely it must be a relief that at least a few things were the same?

  “Did you scald yourself?”

  “Nah.” Benjamin sagged in place, exhausted, and hadn’t attempted to cover up once he’d dried himself.

  His hospital scrubs were wet and salty and crumpled on the mudroom floor. Rez couldn’t imagine Benjamin would want to wear them.

  Rez cleared his throat. “Benjamin...can I get you some sweats and a T-shirt or something?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Clothes?”

  “I just need a blanket.”

  Great. So Benjamin slept in the nude. That wasn’t what Rez wanted. Rez had limited willpower, and Benjamin could, in his sleepy, content, vulnerable state, be convinced to do something that would shame him later.

  Rez growled.

  Benjamin inclined his head, listening. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Rez guided him through the living room to the small bedroom. The bed was queen-sized, with some hideous sheets and a bed-in-a-bag flowery comforter. There were way too many pillows. One of the mares had enjoyed decorating this space, no doubt.

  Rez led him to the bed and pulled the covers back. A chest at the foot of the bed contained extra blankets, and Rez tossed a couple to Benjamin. “Are you good?”

  “Mmm.” Benjamin settled onto the bed and stripped away the towel covering his hips.

  Time to leave. “Okay. Let me know if you need something. I’ll be in the living room.”

  Benjamin rolled onto his side, pulled the comforter up to his chin and seemed to fall into sleep almost instantly.

  Once in the living room, Rez turned the television on and scanned the three hundred channels. Not a fucking thing worth watching.

  Well, Benjamin would be worth watching, but Rez didn’t want to creep him out. The guy had just tried to commit suicide. Messing with Benjamin’s idea of his sexuality wouldn’t help his mental state. Damn it. Let him rest, let hi
m heal.

  Benjamin never used to hit Rez’s radar. Almost never.

  But Benjamin’s strength combined with his need to be cared for in this vulnerable time—that strengthened the appeal. That Rez could care for someone with such strength, such heart. That Benjamin might need him, and over time his fierce warrior spirit would enable him to heal and tackle life without vision. To forge a new path where his hands, his other senses, would be integral to his life and purpose. That was a journey Rez wanted to help with, a journey that would lead Benjamin past the loss and frustration. Maybe even to happiness. Could it be possible?

  Rez wanted to talk to Benjamin instead of watching hours of mindless television, but each time he checked on his friend he was sleeping hard. The exhausted, nearly comatose rest of someone still healing from terrible injury. Benjamin might call to him, might need something, so Rez stayed, confined in the condo, when the ocean called to him.

  He pillaged the pantry and found bags of chips and cookies. It wasn’t nutritious, but it would fill an empty stomach until he could get proper food for the two of them.

  He entered the bedroom soundlessly and left some of the food on the nightstand for Benjamin, who had rolled onto his stomach. Rez figured Benjamin’s hunger would wake him soon since it was dark out and well past dinnertime.

  The knock on the door startled Rez. Nobody knew about this place except the kelpies. Rez’s scent should keep the others away. So who the hell was out there?

  Chapter Four

  Kjell, another kelpie stallion, stood outside the door with a six-pack of beer and two of his companions, who happened to be miniature horses. Technically, Kjell was second-in-command, but he was a maverick and stayed away from kelpie politics and interaction 99 percent of the time.

  Rez had seen him on the island earlier, and his magic had helped initiate the sacrifice spell. It was not a good sign that Kjell had come looking for him. Rez stepped outside onto the porch.

  Kjell peeled a cold beer from the plastic noose and handed it to Rez. He looked into the living room like he could see through the walls. “Why is the sacrifice here? I can smell his mark. He was a willing offering. He was suicidal and walked into the water with intent. Why have you not brought him to the grotto?”