Healing Dance

by Samantha Cayto

  Val moved his finger over to a print-out of Google Maps that showed a rambling house along the coast. “This, for starters. As I suspected, the vacant coast where the caves are has been built up in the last hundred years. This house in particular is right above where we want to explore. We need to find out who lives there and whether they are currently occupying it.”

  “Do you think they’d notice if you rowed in at night?” Ric asked, somewhat skeptical his alien friends could stay under the radar.

  Malcolm nodded. “Possibly. That’s our worry. My yacht has a good-sized tender onboard that we can use to approach the caves from the sea. But it would be powerfully awkward to explain ourselves if we’re seen.”

  “It could also be that if this cave system is currently being used as a way-station for gunrunning, it’s because the owner of the land is one of Dracul’s men,” Val added. “Or, a human coopted by them. That was Dracul’s MO and there’s no reason to doubt the others would use it now that he’s been eliminated.”

  Ric tapped one finger on the table. “If there’s a guy hanging around Putnam’s Cove that looks like you, as you said, it would be noticed. I can ferret out that kind of information in five minutes. You guys are a gay man’s wet dream.” He blinked at his own boldness. “Sorry, I hope that wasn’t weird or insulting.”

  Emil patted him on the back. “Not to worry, Doctor. If it weren’t for gay men, we’d be very lonely on this planet.”

  Ric had asked many questions of Harry about their way of life, not the least of which had been why they never pursued women. He supposed that even with women gaining in size and strength and the ready availability of birth control, they’d fallen into the habit of forming relationships with only men, not that it mattered now.

  “There’s a club by the beach that’s the perfect place for gossip. I’ll go there as soon as we arrive, if that makes sense.”

  “It does,” Alex agreed.

  “And I’ll wire you up once we’re in range of docking so you’ll be good to go quickly,” Val supplied.

  There was more discussion about the how and the when of their exploring the caves after dark. Ric tuned it out as it had no impact on his job and he had nothing of use to add. Instead, he spent the time worrying about Dafydd and wondering how he might finesse a discussion with Harry about keeping an eye on the boy in his absence. It was silly, in a way. Dafydd and the others had been managing just fine without him on a daily basis. Something about his newfound knowledge concerning the pills had left him feeling it was up to him to solve all Dafydd’s problems.

  His worry must have shown, because the moment the group broke up, Harry approached. “Are you troubled, Ric? Is it Dafydd?”

  Ric snorted. “I guess I’m not good at hiding my feelings.”

  “No, and that’s all to the good. How can I help?” How. Not ‘can I?’ Harry wasn’t one to shy away from a problem and his confidence was inspiring.

  And yet, Ric had made a deal of sorts with Dafydd. He couldn’t go back on it. Perhaps he could use partial truths to get his way.

  “I’m going to be spending the night in Dafydd’s stateroom.” He waited for recriminations. When none came, he blundered on. “It’s to help him with Idris, as well as…you know, keeping him company. He was cooped up for so long that any change in location is bound to be disturbing to him.”

  Harry continued to say nothing. He merely stood staring at Ric almost unblinkingly.

  Ric resisted the urge to squirm. “And it will make me feel better, to be honest.”

  “You love him.” Harry’s quiet statement sent Ric’s heart into tachycardia.

  “U-umm,” was all he could stammer out.

  Harry put a gentle hand on Ric’s arm. “It’s all right. I understand what it’s like to love a brutalized boy. It’s part guilt, part euphoria and a great deal of desperate hope that someday he could rise above his experience and love you back.”

  “Yes,” Ric whispered, relieved to have his feelings laid out so elegantly.

  Harry leaned in, making their quiet discussion even more intimate. “I trust you to do right by the boy, and please rest easy that we will watch over him when you aren’t around.”

  It was on the tip of Ric’s tongue to tell Harry how wrong he was in his diligence. He swallowed it back and said rather, “Thank you.”

  Harry patted his arm and pulled away. “We have a few hours before we arrive. How about we sit outside and enjoy the view?”

  “Doesn’t the sun bother you?”

  “That’s what umbrellas are for. Besides, Lucien is already out there. After all these years together, I still love being with him—and worry too, frankly. That is a feeling that never goes away, I’m afraid.”

  “Something to look forward to,” Ric lamented, although in truth, he hoped he had a chance to do it. If so, it would mean Dafydd had let him into his life.

  * * * *

  No one seemed to mind that Dafydd hung around the pilot house as the men listened in on Ric’s evening out. He’d expected to be shooed away at first sight, but Alex had merely nodded before turning his attention back to the speaker. Dafydd had slunk over to one corner, grateful for the chance to be a party to the monitoring, while also being irritated at himself for even caring.

  Ric had taken over, after all—quietly, insistently and somewhat apologetically. Dafydd should have been furious at the man. Part of him was. The other, however, was just relieved. Someone else was in charge of his life again, and there was a strange kind of liberty that came with it. One pill only had been allotted to him that afternoon, which had pissed him off at the time. But he’d slept well and had woken without the usual heavy head. Idris seemed calmer, as well, as if sensing that Ric’s even-tempered command was to be respected. He was playing in the saloon with his new toy under Mackie’s watchful eye. Dafydd was free to do what he liked, and that had somehow ended with him coming there.

  “Hey, Ric, first visit for the season?”

  “Hi, Danny. You know it. One-Eyed Jacks is always stop number one. Looks like things are off to great start.”

  “Can’t complain, although a lot of the regulars are family men now, bringing their kids. That means no clubbing. Your usual?”

  “Sounds good, thanks.”

  There were sounds of music and multiple voices, raucous laughter, the clinking of glasses. Dafydd could only imagine what the scene looked like, and that was based on what he’d caught on TV or the Internet. The thought of being crushed into a small space with lots of men made his stomach clench. Ric seemed relaxed, though. Just one more way in which they were different.

  He’s not for me even if I were looking for a lover, which I’m not!

  “Here you are, one Cape-Codder.”

  “Hmm, thanks. Just what I need after the trip up. So, what’s the latest?”

  “Nothing in particular. Like I said, lots more families. Lots more building, too.”

  “Houses, you mean? I was kind of thinking of buying up here myself.”

  “Oh, yeah. The doctor gig must be lucrative, huh?”

  Ric chuckled. “Well, I’m no brain surgeon, but I do okay. I figure the prices in town are sky-high. Maybe I can find something farther north, just outside of town.”

  “Those are more affordable. Bigger lots, too, although anything on the coast is going to cost you bank.”

  There was an interlude while the bartender helped other customers, probably. The noise level picked up, and there were long minutes of nothing more than Ric occasionally shouting out a greeting.

  “Another round?”

  “Why not? Say, do you know of any property for sale? Or do you know any owners that are likely to sell out? Some of the older men must be thinking about it, although I expect developers have already swooped in like vultures. I bet they stand out among the usual crowd.”

  “You got that right, except they do their best to fit in. There are lots of GQ types trying to dress down. Some of them are even decent lays.” There was a sha
red chuckle. “I don’t know anything in particular, but I’ll keep my ears open.”

  “Thanks.”

  With his hands jammed into his front pockets, Alex paced away from the group, heading in Dafydd’s direction. He stiffened in reflexive fear. Alex must have detected something of his reaction, because he abruptly changed course and peered out of the window at the harbor instead.

  “That answers one question,” he said to the room at large. “If any of our kind were traipsing about town, surely Ric’s loquacious bartender would have mentioned it.”

  “They’re good at hiding.” Dafydd blurted out the observation then shrank back when everyone in the room turned their gazes on him.

  “How do you mean?” Alex’s question was asked in a very gentle tone and his face showed no aggression.

  Dafydd licked his lips. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn.”

  “No, it’s fine, really.” Alex pulled out his hands and put them behind his back. “Please tell us what you know. Your observations from your time with Dracul could be invaluable to us.”

  Dafydd dropped his gaze and tucked strands of hair behind his ear to gain some time while gathering his courage. He didn’t like being the center of attention. That had always been a bad thing. He had to work at reminding himself that things were different now.

  “Dracul and Petru created protocols long ago of how to go about their nasty business without drawing attention to themselves on a personal level. Once television then the Internet became available, it made it both more important to hide in the shadows and all the easier for them to operate remotely. You saw it already with…”

  His voice caught and he nearly staggered as the vision of Cadoc crumbling into dust overwhelmed him.

  Harry was by his side in a split second, hovering without touching. “It’s all right. Take your time. We understand what you mean. Would you like some water?”

  Dafydd shook his head. “No, I’m fine.” He straightened and swallowed down his misery and shoved away a sudden longing for Ric. He didn’t need the man’s comfort. He could take care of himself…mostly.

  “They use human surrogates. You know this, surely. If…if Bran is here, say, he’s smart enough to have coopted a local boy or two to do his bidding. No one in town would likely have ever seen him. And don’t look for recent activity, either. They started planning decades in advance. If they acquired property for smuggling, it would have happened long ago.”

  Val snapped his fingers, the sound sufficiently loud to startle Dafydd. “Right. That house I pointed out was built shortly after World War II. It’s only ever had one owner.”

  The man that Dafydd thought of as Alex’s version of Petru crossed the room in a blur and started tapping on his laptop. For a few minutes, everyone’s attention was split between him and Ric’s voice coming over the surveillance equipment. Dafydd was simply happy not to be noticed anymore.

  “Yeah, I see it now,” Val called out. “It’s owned by Scotty Moran, who bought it when he was a twenty-year-old veteran from the Midwest, according to what I can find in the public record. He’s a farm boy who never married and whose paper-trail is thin to say the least.”

  “That fits.” Once again, Dafydd’s mouth ran faster than his good judgment. “Someone would have seduced him, set him up for life then threatened him if he showed any signs of wanting out.”

  “He must be in his nineties,” Harry observed.

  Val nodded. “There’s no record of a transfer of ownership, so that indicates he’s alive and nearly ninety-two.”

  “That’s a long time to be loyal,” Emil interjected.

  “They know how to ensure it,” Dafydd replied with his stomach tying into knots at the memory of how brutally a boy could be encouraged to be faithful to the end. Feeling hemmed in, he pushed away from the wall. “If you’ll excuse me, I need some fresh air.” He didn’t wait for permission. He just bolted.

  * * * *

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this, Dafydd?” Brenin kept his voice low, although it was impossible to have any real privacy with so many aliens wandering about with their exceptional hearing.

  “Sure, it’s fine. Ric is sleeping on the floor, so he’s the worse for the bargain. It means I can’t share any of my pills and I’m that sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” When Dafydd had spilled what had happened with Paz, Brenin’s first reaction had been one of relief. His intention of trading Dafydd’s pills with booze had weighed on his mind all day. Now that there was no chance of it, he felt better. It wasn’t his call anymore.

  “It’s the right thing he’s doing. And doesn’t it feel good to have the responsibility taken from you? That’s my sense, anyway.”

  Dafydd frowned. “I don’t want it to, but yes, it does. I’m a grown man, ancient by human standards. I should make my own decisions.”

  Brenin wanted to wrap his friend in a comforting hug. Knowing how that might be received, he refrained. “You’ll get there. Give yourself time.”

  Wise words. I should take my own advice.

  The doctor arrived at that moment and zeroed in on Dafydd like a laser.

  “Did you enjoy your evening out, Dr. Paz?”

  “Yes, although I think I’ve grown out of club-hopping already. I’m happy to be back.” He turned his attention to Dafydd. “Where’s Idris?”

  “Playing with that stupid toy garage you got him, isn’t he? Good luck tearing him away from it for the night.”

  Paz didn’t appear fazed in the least. “Let’s go put that to the test, shall we? Good night, Brenin.”

  “Good night.”

  With his own problems preying on his mind, Brenin put aside any worry for his friend. He went topside to the pilot house. Secure as the yacht was now that they had docked, he knew Malcolm would be running one more check of everything before turning in. He found his man, surprisingly, just standing and staring out at the town.

  “It’s bonnie, isn’t it, laddie?”

  Long past wondering how Malcolm could see out of the back of his head, Brenin went to join him. “It is, yes. Like a box of Easter chocolates, all pastel colors with scrumptious things inside.”

  Malcolm waited for Brenin to initiate physical contact before loosely wrapping his arm around Brenin’s shoulders. “You and the other boys will be wanting to dander about tomorrow, I don’t suppose.”

  “Unless Alex thinks we shouldn’t.”

  “We’ve talked, and with the other lads not familiar for the most part to Dracul’s men and with their laying low if they are in town, we figure it’s fine. Stick to the streets closest to the docks and the beach. And much as it pains me, you should lose the kilt and dress like a typical American.”

  Brenin hated that idea. He’d become very fond of his Scottish form of dress. The mission, if they were even on one, came first, however. “All right.” He pressed his head against Malcolm’s arm. “Are you ready for bed?”

  “Aye. Everything’s secure, and it’s been a long day.”

  “Not too long, though?” It would be easy to fall into a pattern of avoiding sex, and he didn’t want that.

  Malcolm grunted. “Never, laddie. I’m yours for the taking.”

  “Good.”

  They walked hand-in-hand down to their spacious stateroom. Most everyone else had already retired, although Emil and Jase were slow-dancing sweetly in the saloon. Once inside, Brenin pulled away and first undid his kilt then tugged off the T-shirt he’d put on against the chill of the evening. He let both pieces of clothing drop to the floor and stood in a relaxed pose while staring at Malcolm.

  “Show me how much you want me,” he commanded in a soft voice.

  Malcolm’s lips turned up and, in a blur of movement, he too was naked. With only the moonlight shining in from the large portholes, Brenin watched as Malcolm’s cock rose from half-hard to fully erect. His large balls tucked up tightly to his body and his broad chest heaved with rapid breaths.

  “You command my body, l
addie. Never doubt that.”

  “I know. It’s not you that I doubt. It’s myself.”

  “Och, Brenin.”

  “Later. Please, let’s fuck now and talk after. I have, um, things to say.”

  He made up his mind that very moment that he needed to come clean with Malcolm about what he’d contemplated. Seeing Dafydd struggle on his own had led him to understand it was the wrong way. Together, he and Malcolm could tackle anything. They’d brought down Dracul, hadn’t they?

  “Whatever you say.”

  “On the bed, then, face up. I’m going to ride your cock and you’re going to drink my blood.”

  They both shivered at his words. Malcolm did as he’d ordered. That strong male was under his control, and what did that say about who was ultimately powerful?

  While Malcolm pulled back the bedding to get into position, Brenin grabbed the lube from the nightstand. He squirted a dollop and reached around to coat his hole with it. A bit more eased his finger past the ring and into his channel. He didn’t like to over-grease himself. There was some pleasure to be had in the bite of pain that came from Malcolm’s dick stretching him wide.

  His own shaft had risen and he gave it a few tugs as he approached the bed. “This is all the evidence either of us needs of how willing I am to be fucked by you.”

  Malcolm eyed him from where he lay in the middle of the bed. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. All I want is for you to not fear me. Let me love you, Brenin.”

  “I don’t and I will.” He crawled up and over to him. Running his fingers down the ridges of his man’s abs, he added, “However it needs to be done, I want to move closer to you, not farther away.”

  Brenin clasped the head of Malcolm’s cock and rubbed his thumb across the slit. Pre-cum slicked the way. “I like this. It feels good when it’s inside me.” He slung a leg over Malcolm’s hips to straddle him. “It’s only that I need to be the one to decide when and how to put it there.”

  “A-aye.” Malcolm’s breathless reply was accompanied by a twitching of his hips. The man clenched his fingers in the sheet beneath him, testament to how hard he was working to keep himself under control.