The Gift

by A. F. Henley

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

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

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

  August

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "My God, now what?"

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

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

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

  "We danced a bit, too. Remember?"

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

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

  "Oh yeah, right! Then what?"

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

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

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

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

  *~*~*

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

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

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

  "Diana?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Wake up, August."

  Doren

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

  "What's wrong?" August mouthed.

  "Someone's coming."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "We need to find somewhere safe," August said. "Somewhere they can't feel us."

  Doren sighed and slumped against the doorframe. "Like where? The moon?"

  "No, smartass," August chuckled. "Someplace where there are people. And commotion. Where they can't see us as easily as if we were alone."

  Doren frowned and tilted his head. "How do you know?"

  "A message from a friend."

  "And did this friend also tell you where you might find this magical place?"

  "No. But I have an idea." August stalked back into the room and began throwing items into a suitcase. "Grab some stuff, Doren. We're going to crash a party."

  August

  It was the first thing that came to mind: the way the drummer had jumped to "protect" Doren from him at the party. Still, as protective as the man may be, it was two in the morning.

  "You sure about this, August?" Doren said, his eyes doubtful, as they stood in front of the door to the hotel room.

  He wasn't. So he didn't answer. He did, however, try knocking again. Harder. "I don't think—" he was just starting to say when the door was opened by a grumpy, tousled-hair, half-naked young man.

  "Well, helloooo there," Doren drawled and August flashed him a don't-you-dare look.

  The drummer's annoyance faded quickly when he saw who had dragged him from whatever had been taking place. "Holy shit!" His grin was almost wide as his eyes. "Holy shit, holy shit. Guys!" His voice pitched unattractively and he turned back to the room beyond. "Guys, get up. Look who's here!"

  August pushed his way past the star struck drummer, dragging Doren behind. "Hey … you."

  "You?" the drummer said. "That's the best I get is you?"

  "Sorry," August shrugged. "Call me evil but I can't remember your name. Doren, you know …" He trailed the comment, waiting for Doren to fill in the blank but Doren merely grinned at the beer in the musician's hand.

  "Gee, thanks!" Doren reached out and plucked the bottle out of the drummer's hand with glee. "Don't mind if I do."

  "The name's Curtis," he said, grabbing his beer back from Doren. "And get your own. In the cooler beside the bed."

  Doren flopped on to the bed, making himself at home, and rummaged beside it for the promised beverage. "Curtis? Really? No Sticks? No Bones? What's wrong with you? What happened to the cool rock star nickname?" He looked at August in faked annoyance. "What's wrong with these kids nowadays?"

  August gave Curtis an apologetic look. "Sorry. Defense mechanism as far as I can figure it. He tends to act like a self-important jerk when he's unsure of himself."

  "Ah," Curtis nodded. "Yes, I remember. A jacket, a bus ..."

  "Exactly."

  Another voice joined the conversation. "I remember that." The new member of the group was walking back through the sliding door, tucking a tight t-shirt into equally tight jeans. He stopped to drag long, thick brown hair into a messy ponytail. "I wanted to punch his lights out."

  Doren looked up, wounded. "Ouch, that's just harsh."

  "This is Geoff," Curtis explained, "the lead guitarist. And don't worry; he's just as self-important and ignorant as Doren. They'll probably get along fabulously."

  "Or punch each other's lights out?" August offered.

  "Potentially," Curtis agreed. "Dawson's in the other room and Cooper is outside, uh … smoking."

  Like theirs, the two rooms were joined by a doorway that was, at the moment, wide open. Both spaces appeared to be a never-ending strew of clothing and take-out packaging.

  "You can't smoke in here?" August asked, looking around at the ashtrays that were jammed to overflowing with cigarette butts.

  The sliding door opened yet again and in walked a thin blond with a rakish smile, the odor of sweet smoke following him into the room. "Not that kind of smoke, sir," Cooper laughed, reaching over Doren with a sideways smile to get a beer.

  Doren grinned at the cute blond and popped open his beer synchronically with Cooper's.

  Curtis swatted Doren's feet off the bed and sat down beside him. "So, we haven't seen you since the party. What brings the great and mighty God of Rock down to mix with the commoners at this time of night? You hiding from that chick you ran off with you last time? Or some crazed fans?"

  "Hmm," Doren answered thoughtfully. "A little of both, I guess."

  August gave him a look of warning. "Listen, this is going to sound like a huge imposition and I know it's probably a little odd, but would you mind if we hung out here tonight?"

  Curtis shrugged, glancing eye to eye with each of the other band members. "I don't care as long as the guys don't. Space is tight but we'll make do. After all, it's not every day you get to hang out with one of rock's finest."

  Geoff laughed into his beer and Doren held up both hands. "What? It's true, isn't it?"

  A tall, dark-skinned man walked out of the adjoining room and August had to assume he was the missing Dawson. "Not in my lifetime, little man. You're good, but you're no Hendrix."

  "You ain't no Jagger," Geoff agreed.

  Cooper lifted his eyes and thought for a minute. "Oh, the pressure," he said dramatically, pressing both hands to his temples. "Umm, okay, Doren, you are no Ozzy."

  Curtis nodded. "Well then. It looks like I'm being forced to recant my statement. And being the suckhole that I am, I feel the need to run with the crowd. Therefore, I take it back. You're no Steven Tyler either."

  All four sets of eyes turned to August and he laughed nervously. "Uh, I actually think he's pretty good."

  "Pretty good?" Doren said incredulously, staring down each one of them in turn. "I'm the best there is! Where's the employee loyalty here? And really," he turned on Geoff, "Jagger? At le
ast I'm young."

  "Inexperienced," Geoff countered.

  Doren sat up. "Talented."

  "Lucky."

  Doren got on his knees, lifting his beer. "I'm marketable!"

  "Commercial."

  Gasping, Doren jumped up on the bed and grabbed his crotch. "I'm fucking sexy!"

  All four men spoke at the same time, "Poser."

  "Hey!" Doren said, spinning towards August for support and catching his foot in the sheets. He tried for several seconds to catch his balance, failed, and tumbled to the floor between the two beds. The room fell silent until Doren groaned and whined; "Now I'm just broken."

  Curtis reached down and helped Doren struggle back to his feet. "You're young, remember? You bounce."

  "Dude!" Cooper said suddenly, pulling the bottle away from his mouth mid-sip as if he'd found inspiration within its foaming contents. "We should play something!"

  Doren grimaced. "No way, I'm not in the mood to sing."

  "Thank God," Curtis teased. "Anyway, Coop, it's late. Just leave the radio on. The last thing we need is someone beating on the door because we're making too much noise again. Besides," he grinned and winked at August, "Doren's too good to play with us." He paused, cocked his head. "Oh wait! Isn't that what we were hired for in the first place?"

  August smiled back. Good. The guys were fun. They'd keep things light and easy. "My personal opinion," August said, "is that if Cooper wants to play something he should go right ahead. I'd love to hear you guys play. If Doren wants to sit there and be a party-pooper then leave him to it. We don't need him to have fun, do we?"

  He wasn't going to, he wasn't really sure if the guys would be comfortable with the situation or not, but he was tired and he was worn and he really wanted to be close enough to Doren to feel Doren's breath and body. A safety net of sorts. So August walked over and sat down on the bed beside him and when Doren reached for August and pulled August back against him, August didn't balk. They sat together, August's back pressed against Doren's belly, Doren's legs tucked up beside him and nobody said a damn thing about it.