This story may end up being part of a larger whole, but for the moment it’s just a spur of the moment idea to get me writing again after a few weeks of struggling with it. Either way, enjoy. -B.
James wrinkled his nose with blanket skepticism which Ryan was quick to shrug off. The two had been friends long enough to know when one or the other was bullshitting. “Dude, you don’t have to believe me, but my uncle swears the shit is true,” Ryan said. “What kind of asshole do I look like —” James pointed to his face, highlighting his deadpan expression. “— that I would believe you can speak to gods? That there even are gods. It’s the twenty-first century, Ryan.”
Ryan gave his shoulders a heavy shrug. The burly jokester seemed off, that much was for certain, but James was wary of walking into a practical joke and making an ass out of himself. Ryan could go a long way to punk someone and James had felt the sting of embarrassment at his friend’s hands many times. Still…
“If you can communicate with higher beings then why don’t you do it? Right now.” James folded his arms across his chest and looked over his glasses.
Ryan looked around the little attic room as if there were suddenly ears to hear his friend’s blasphemy. But there was no one among them, just two old friends in a dusty room. The same dusty room where they’d discovered a stash of Ryan’s adoptive uncle’s playboys. This was different though. Ryan shook his head.
“I’m not supposed to just…look, I shouldn’t have told you any of this. Ok? Let’s just drop it.”
“No, no. I’m curious now. Go ahead. Call up, Cthullu, or whatever.” James knew he was pushing it too far now, but he wanted to turn the joke on the joker. He wanted to make Ryan sweat.
“I shouldn’t —”
“Dude, just do it.”
“Pussy,” James said dismissively.
Ryan scowled and looked over at the attic door as if someone was going to barge in at any moment, but his uncle wasn’t home, wouldn’t be for hours. He had time. It would be quick. He called.
Neither of them felt it at first. It was subtle like deja vu and then suddenly it wasn’t. In their midst was a man who had not been there a moment before. Ryan had called and he had come. It was so very simple.
James jumped back, tripped over a box and fell backward. He tried clinging to one of the beams of the attic, but he narrowly missed it fell on his back. Ryan tried to back away from the newcomer as well, but found his body wasn’t currently taking his orders.
The stranger was illuminated by some internal light that made his skin shimmer as if only partially opaque. His chiseled body was naked, but hard to look upon. His mouth was set in a gentle smirk that didn’t seem warm or inviting whatsoever. Both young men knew to be afraid of this smiling thing standing in their midst without a clear understanding as to why.
I am Elseth, Sower of One Thousand Dreams and Light of the Mind’s Tunnels. You called my kindred and I answer.
“I…” Ryan stammered, “..it was a mistake.”
A mistake? Perhaps, but no accident. I have answered as surely as you have called. You have need of illumination.
“No, please —” Ryan started, but Elseth continued over him.
You have hungers. You would see them sated? It is a simple thing.
“Ryan…” James said cautiously, still lying in the ruin of some box. Ryan looked over and with a look realized that his friend could not hear this other-worldy voice. He was alone.
You want him. This is within my power, just a fraction of what I am capable.
Elseth, the stranger, the perhaps-god, turned an eye on James. An eye so blue that it defied any mundane perception of the color. James, who had been Ryan’s friend since the second grade, whose girlfriend was working late at the local Bar & Grill, started undressing.
“I feel weird, Ryan,” James said, his voice confused. “Is it…are you doing this to me?”
James shed his hoodie and continued on until his t-shirt was up over his head and his pants were shucked off. He stepped out of his briefs and left them on the dusty attic floor.
Ryan’s own breaths filled his hearing. He looked over at Elseth whose wry, cold look was focused on him.
Take him and be sated, summoner.
It didn’t seem so bad, Ryan thought. James was hard, so hard it must be painful. His nipples were dark and taut. His slender body bristling with goosebumps. It wouldn’t be so bad, Ryan told himself again as he approached.
He ran his fingers on the underside of James’s balls and his cock jumped expectantly. Ryan looked up at his friend’s face and it was a mask of lust. That simple touch had loosed something. “Ryan…jerk me off, man. Please…” Ryan heard the words in his ear, words that he had wanted to hear for so many years. He needed no further coaxing. He grabbed his friend’s cock and started working it slowly, gently, lovingly. James just stared. Watched. Ryan kept stroking James’s dick while fumbling with his own belt and trying desperately to free his straining erection. Once it was out, James went to it immediately with his own hand. The touch alone made Ryan cry out. It was nearly too much, a sexual apotheosis. Their arousal was perfectly matched and their strokes were twinned, a moan from one instantly understood by the other. Something organic flowed between them, something simple but ravenous. They approached and held off, both of their hands wet with precum, they were building to something.
When it arrived on them it was messy and loud, their bodies sweating and shaking through a shared orgasm that doubled them both over and forced them to shut their eyes.
In the darkness Ryan saw the cold smile of Elseth and heard his voice:
One day…soon perhaps, we will demand payment for this allowance, summoner. Remember.