The Spirit Key

by Parker Williams

  “Here!” I jammed my thumb on the screen, and a site in bright, vibrant colors popped up. “This one.”

  Tim glanced at the screen, then turned his dubious expression toward me. “Seriously? Why?”

  I turned the phone toward him and scrolled down.

  When he saw what I had, his eyes widened comically. “You’re kidding.”

  There were two graphics on the front page of the site. An ornate brass lock and an intricate silver key, bound together by a heart-shaped strip of ribbon.

  Tim didn’t seem convinced. “That’s too much of a coincidence.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, but we have to start somewhere, don’t we?”

  His shoulders slumped. “Where is it?”

  I scrolled again and clicked the About Us on the page. There was little information, but I did find an address, which was, oddly, nearby. Tim was right, this was way too much of a coincidence, but we were floundering and needed answers.

  “Not far from here, believe it or not.”

  He made a sound deep in his throat. “I don’t like this.”

  “Well, you stay here and—”

  He jumped up, grabbed me by the hair, tugging my head back, and glared at me. “Shut up. Where you go, I go.” He kissed me then, and all the annoyance and anger were channeled into it. He was leaving me with no doubt that I meant something to him.

  I had to pull my thoughts back to getting on with this. “Should we go now?”

  “Might as well. Just remember, you stay near me at all times. Wander more than three feet away, and I’ll tie you to the bed, edge you for hours, and then might not let you come.”

  I thought I should be annoyed by his macho bullshit attitude, but I wasn’t. Tim was my lock, and it was his duty to protect me, but the look he gave me was anything but someone who was simply doing a job.

  “Is any of this weird for you?”

  He chuckled and cuffed me on the shoulder. “Every fucking thing is weird about this. But it makes sense in a way, you know? Mom had me study the Romani people—she had me delve into their pasts, the myths and legends that surround them. She would quiz me about what I learned, and when I told her, then scoffed at the implausibility of it, she reminded me that all legends have roots in fact. And, she said, throughout history there were beings of power in every mythos. Someone wise and powerful who led their peoples. Then she told me that things we consider myth now were, once upon a time, commonplace. It didn’t mean they were true, but it didn’t mean they weren’t.”

  Yep. Cryptic.

  Tim grabbed his keys and led me to the door. Before he opened it, he turned to me. “What are the rules?”

  “You’re seriously asking me that?”

  “And you’ll answer it, or we don’t leave the house.”

  God protect me from butch, sexy men. “Don’t walk more than three feet away from you. Don’t get fed after midnight, and whatever else, don’t get wet.”

  He twisted the front of my shirt in his fist and shoved me against the wall. “Don’t get lippy or else.”

  My breaths quickened. “Or else what?”

  “Ever heard of a chastity device? Imagine being locked in one for the next month.”

  Holy hell! What happened to the sweet nerd I knew?

  “I can see the questions in your eyes. Go ahead and ask.”

  “You’ve changed so much.”

  He shrugged one big shoulder. “I haven’t really. When I met you, it was pure instinct that I had to protect you. I didn’t know why, and when I mentioned it to Mom, she asked me if it was a bad thing that I wanted to look out for a friend. Even as a kid, though, I knew what I was feeling wasn’t friendship. When I got older, we talked about it again, and Mom said to be patient. She said if the stars aligned right, one day you’d understand that the two of us were meant to be together.” He leaned in close and sunk his teeth into my shoulder, eliciting a hissed breath from me. “I love the sounds you make, in case you were wondering.”

  “Don’t tease me.” I knew the words would do no good. Tim would do whatever he wanted and expect me to sit there and take it. Which I was totally willing to do, of course.

  He tilted his head, and I could feel his breath, hot against my ear. “The day you went under, if they hadn’t stopped me, I would have gone in after you. I would have died with you, because I couldn’t face a world that didn’t have you in it.”

  My heart sped up. At eight years old, on some level, Tim knew we were supposed to be together, while I only had an inkling as to my feelings.

  “I knew back then that I didn’t want to be around anyone else. My best memories were of you and me, playing in the woods or going swimming or just hanging out.” I chuckled at the memory of us sitting in my room, while Superman dove into the Kryptonian Mangler. “And playing Legos. You always made the best monsters, and you didn’t get upset when I shattered them.”

  “Nope. I put them back together for you to do it again. It made you happy, which made me happy. The look of joy on your face brightened my whole world.”

  I grabbed his head and kissed him hard. Right then, I would’ve damn well done anything he asked, and I was even willing to try out some that he hadn’t asked for. He was still for a moment, but then his lips parted and he let me take control of the kiss. I stabbed my tongue into his mouth and licked everywhere I could reach. He hummed happily, then grabbed my hair and held me in place while our tongues dueled.

  I wanted him. I wanted to do something for him. I dropped to my knees on the hardwood floor and reached for his zipper.

  Tim leaned back against the door. He peered down at me and grinned. “Don’t stop now. You can’t leave me hanging.”

  I tugged down the zip, then reached in and fished out his cock. I moved closer and inhaled deeply. He was musky, hot, and the scent drove me insane. I licked the head, feeling smug when he sighed and dropped a hand on my head.

  “Deeper. Take me all the way.”

  Opening my throat, I took him in as far as I could, and he groaned each time I bottomed out. He stroked a hand over my head, urging me down, and I went with it.

  “I’m going to let you go at your own pace, but you have to take me all the way down to get me off. Nod if you understand.”

  I nodded and hummed my assent, then gripped his hips and yanked him closer.

  “You’re so good at that.” Tim sighed. “Play with my balls.”

  Happily! I slid my hand back into his pants and clutched the furry orbs, rolling them around in my palm. With my free hand, I unzipped my own pants and released my cock so I could stroke it.

  He reached down and grabbed my chin. “Just like that. Deeper again.”

  Even when he said he was going to let me go at my own pace, Tim still needed to direct the action. He pushed in all the way and held there for a few seconds. Before I could choke, he drew out.

  “Fuck, you do that so good.”

  Making him happy touched something down inside me. His mother might have said he was my lock, but the truth of the matter was, Tim was the key to my happiness.

  I pulled back, swirling my tongue around the head, then went back down. His breath quickened, and I knew he was close. I went faster, taking him to the base of his cock.

  “Gonna come. Swallow me.”

  The first shot went straight down my throat, and I pulled back so I could taste him. He was a little sweet, a little bitter, and it was something I wanted to indulge in often. It reminded me of wine, with hints of man and notes of musk, and I knew I could quickly grow addicted to it.

  Tim gripped my hair and drew me back and forth, allowing me to take the remaining drops, which I sucked greedily. My orgasm slammed into me, ropes of jism spewing out onto the floor.

  Finally spent, Tim slumped back, his chest heaving and sweat glistening. “I have to say, I hope you enjoyed that. We are so going to be doing that again. And again.” He bent over and grabbed my arm, then pulled me up. “Let’s take care of you.” He grinned when he noticed my sh
riveled cock hanging out of my pants and the pool of come cooling on the floor. “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch yourself.”

  “You weren’t serious about that, were you?”

  He reached over and grabbed my cock, which tried valiantly to rise again. “This is mine. No one else, including you, gets to touch it without my permission. Is that clear enough for you?”

  “So I can’t even jack myself off?”

  “What part of mine were you not listening to? If I go away for a month on business, you still won’t be able to touch yourself beyond washing and using the bathroom.” He tugged my dick a few times. “If you need release, you come to me and I’ll take care of it.”

  “And what happens when the six years is up?”

  He snickered. “The way you go about things, I don’t think I have to worry about that number not continuing to go up.” Leaning in, he kissed my neck, and goose bumps rose on my skin. “To put it simply, from the moment I saw you on the porch, you were mine. Your pleasure is mine to give, my pleasure is yours to provide. Do you have a problem with that? If so, now is the time to speak up.”

  Fuck. He was serious.

  Tim had always been steering me clear of trouble when I was younger, and he’d never shied away from stepping between me and some kid who had heard the stories of my rebirth and thought it was bullshit.

  I’d been taking care of myself for the last five years. I forged a life, pulled myself up by my bootstraps, and got a job and an apartment. There was only one thing I hadn’t had.

  Tim.

  And now, here we were, him telling me that he basically owned me and wanting to know if I had a problem with it. I couldn’t believe he was serious.

  “No. No problem at all.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Are you forgetting something?”

  It took me a couple heartbeats, and then I scowled at him. “I am not calling you ‘sir.’”

  He crossed his arms and gave me a mock pout. “Aw, come on. I wanna hear you say it.”

  I sighed and gave my best imitation of a put-upon teen, rolling my eyes, jutting out my lip, and pouting spectacularly. “Fine. No, sir, I don’t have a problem with it.”

  He sighed. “I have to admit, I love the way that sounds. Maybe we could—”

  “No.”

  “But what if I—”

  “No.”

  “God, you used to be so much fun.”

  I opened my eyes wide. “Excuse me? I just blew you at the door. How is that not fun?”

  Tim tilted his head up, staring at something on the ceiling. “Okay, fine.”

  I leaned in and kissed him. “And I’ll blow you whenever you want for as long as you want.”

  He wrapped his arms around me, leaned in, and kissed me gently. “Okay, I’m sold.”

  The orgasm had to be messing with my head, because I stepped back, gazed into his eyes, and said the last thing I ever thought I would. “Thank you…. Sir.”

  I guess I didn’t mind it so much. It did seem to make Tim’s day, so that made me happy. I cleaned up my mess, with him standing over me grinning like a loon, and then he took my hand and led me out to the car, opened the door, and helped me into it. He stood and waited as I buckled, then closed the door behind me. He went around to the driver’s side and repeated the process.

  “Okay, where are we going?”

  “Nowhere until you buckle your seat belt.”

  “Bossy.” He clicked the buckle in place, and I gave him the address.

  It didn’t take us long to get to the shop. From the outside it wasn’t much more than a cubbyhole in a really not-so-nice part of town. Judging by the disrepair of the building, I would have sworn it was condemned.

  “Why are we doing this again?”

  To say I was having second thoughts would be an understatement. The window had a long crack in it, covered with silver tape. The door didn’t even have a window, just a sheet of plywood that someone had spray-painted with some pretty honking sexy-ass angels fucking. If I had known angels were that sexy, I might not have been so cheesed about dying.

  Tim was right. This was a really bad idea.

  “Because we need to. At least to see if they have answers. Besides, I know if I don’t get you in here to satisfy your curiosity, you’ll bug me until I go out and buy that ball gag. Now let’s go.”

  I must have hesitated, because before I realized it, Tim was dragging me toward the door.

  “Okay, maybe I was wrong. Maybe this isn’t important.” I pulled back on his hand, but he kept moving forward. “I’ll call you ‘sir’ whenever you want.”

  Bastard didn’t even slow down.

  When we got to the door, I half expected it to creak open and have some old dude standing in a black cape telling us to enter and be not afraid. I wasn’t expecting flashes of color on every wall from tie-dyed scarves, racks full of charms and knickknacks, a rotating display of various scents of incense, and an old man sitting behind the counter picking his nose.

  Okay, he wasn’t really picking his nose, but I figured I’d add that to enhance the creepy factor. He was, in fact, just an ordinary old man, with gray hair, a dark beard that was flecked with gray, and pale green eyes, who smiled at us as we entered.

  “Hello, young men. Welcome to my shop. I’m George Howard, the owner. How can I help you today?”

  Tim nudged me forward. “My boyfriend wants to ask you some questions.”

  He called me his boyfriend? The thrill that sent through me reminded me that he still made me feel like a gawky teenager, instead of a grown man.

  I glanced back at him—I’m sure with love in my eyes. He scowled and nudged me forward. The old guy was sitting there, a smirk on his face.

  “It’s good to see young love.”

  I turned back to Tim, who stood there, arms crossed, staring at me.

  Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea.

  “I saw your website and—”

  “It’s in the process of being updated. Really.”

  “Uh-huh.” Tim didn’t sound convinced at all. “That’s not why we’re here.”

  “It’s about the symbols on the front page.”

  George cocked his head, and for a moment, his eyes went comically wide. He got off his chair and lumbered toward us. He reached out, his hand trembling. Tim was there instantly, grabbing George’s arm and pushing him back. George clutched the counter, keeping himself from falling. He turned back toward us and huffed out a breath.

  “Tim!”

  “Don’t touch him. Don’t get near him. Say whatever you have to say from back there.”

  The overbearing attitude again—only this time, it wasn’t so hot.

  “Tim, leave him alone.”

  George held up a hand. “No, no. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have gotten near you. I remember the tales. The lock won’t ever let anyone touch his key.”

  I spun around and stuck out my tongue at Tim. “See! Told you so.”

  Hey, it was good to be right for a change.

  Chapter Fifteen

  GEORGE WASN’T a bad guy. He opened the door, hung the Closed sign out, and then shut and locked it. He bustled through the room, into the back, and when he returned, he’d brewed up three cups of tea. He sipped his, so I figured it was okay and reached for my cup. Tim pushed his away, then reached over and did the same to mine.

  “We’re not here for tea.”

  “Goddamn, you’re being an ass.”

  “No, he’s being the lock. It’s his job to protect you. You being here must mean that the former ones have died. I’m sorry to hear that. I heard they were good people.” He held up his tea and took another drink. “I promise there’s nothing wrong with the tea. I can make coffee or even give you a glass of water if you want.” He turned his attention to Tim. “If you prefer, you can come in and make it.”

  “Tim, please. Don’t be a dick.”

  Tim deflated and gave George a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t kn
ow what came over me.”

  “Can I have my tea now?”

  “Yes.” Tim slid the cup back toward me, then took his too.

  It was delicious. Normally I wasn’t a tea drinker, but this was sweet like berries and had a subtle taste of vanilla.

  “What can I help you with?”

  “My mother was the former key. She died, and I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to be doing.” Tim nodded in my direction. “He’s got no clue either.”

  George fluttered his hands. “But how can that be? The key should have started his training as soon as the two of you met.”

  My cheeks heated. I felt as though I’d let everyone down. “Yeah, about that…. When I was eight, I died. They brought me back to life, and from then on, things got weird. We found a book that Tim’s mother wrote. She said we had to find our own way.”

  George’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t one of the people?”

  “If you mean Romani, no. Born and raised in Milwaukee. My lineage can be traced as far back as the mid-1800s Wisconsin, and before that, my family were located in Massachusetts. To the best of my knowledge, there isn’t any Romani blood in me.”

  George ran his hand over his gray hair. “This is…. It’s… unprecedented. There’s never been a key who wasn’t one of the people. In all the stories, lock and key abilities are inherited from their family.”

  “So I’ve heard. The former lock? Her husband died and she had no kids.”

  “That would explain why no one trained you. We are very close-knit, and having someone not of the family? They probably feared you.”

  Tim clamped a hand onto my wrist. “Because an eight-year-old is so fucking scary. If that’s how they are, then fuck them all.”

  “Are you family?”

  Tim’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m his family. See, I loved my mother with all my heart. She was an amazing woman who thought of both of us as sons, but she still let herself be told what to do. She and your family left a child to think he was going crazy. They forced him to turn to drugs and run away when things got too bad for him to handle.” He stroked a hand over my back. “I forgive my mom for what she did, because in her own way, she tried to be there for Scott. The rest of you can all go to hell.” He stood, tugging me along behind him.