Dryden swallowed hard. He rocked his body into Emmons, unable to find the words.
“I’m not moving,” Emmons said. “Not until you say yes. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you.” Dryden gasped. “In the bedroom with me.”
Emmons smiled against his skin. “I can do that.”
Dryden pressed his lips to Emmons’s again, losing himself in the kiss for a moment. When he pulled back, he held Emmons’s waist in his hands fiercely. “What do you want, Emmons?”
Emmons shrugged. “I already have it.”
Dryden’s fingers lingered on his skin. He knew there was more to Emmons’s response. They may have had one another, but they were also running out of time. This may be one of the last nights they had together, in their proper bodies. Emmons’s last wish, Dryden figured, was to be moved before he had to let go. The weight of smoke was inconsequential now, at least for the night. Emmons had been alone in the woods for years, thinking he was nothing and never seeing anyone. To be touched as a human, and now to make love again, would be nice. It surely sounded nice to Dryden. He cupped Emmons’s face and asked the question again.
“What do you want?”
Emmons kissed him. He opened his mouth and took his tongue inside as his hands traveled down between their bodies. He grabbed their cocks together, still slick from spit and aloe.
“I want you alone in the bed with me too. I want the night to last a long time.”
“No sleep?” Dryden asked.
“Sure. No sleep.”
Dryden could still sense that there was more, lurking under Emmons’s skin. But for the time, he would let it go.
“All right. That is what we will do.”
Emmons pressed another hard kiss against his mouth before they rose up to their feet again. Emmons carried the last aloe leaf with them to the bedroom. It was oddly freeing, Dryden thought, as they walked down to the bedroom naked. As if they were in their own private Eden, time no longer mattering much at all to them. But the two of them had something that Adam and Eve never did: the foresight to know that paradise would not last forever.
Dryden lay down on the bed first. Emmons lay down next to him, then pulled the covers up and over their bodies. The fire inside the room was small; it would warm them up soon enough, but for now they focused on their bodies. Emmons kissed Dryden’s neck as his hands moved between his legs again. Dryden touched Emmons’s cock, grabbing aloe to rub against his thighs and body to help him feel slick. This close to one another, Dryden could see Emmons’s body in a new light. There were scars from before, but also some hair across his chest and around his legs, around his cock, which was heavy in his hand. Dryden soon slipped down between Emmons’s legs to taste him too. Emmons let out loud groans, the kind that made Dryden only work harder. He wanted to taste him, to feel him come inside his mouth. Then with an overwhelming desire from the pit of his stomach, Dryden wanted to be inside Emmons. He had never had the urge before, always had been the one on the bottom. He realized, as his mouth went over Emmons’s cock, that was because he liked feeling protected. When someone’s body was around Dryden, like when they had sex, he felt as if he was solid and safe. But with Emmons’s body so close to his, Dryden now knew he wanted to be the protector. Emmons had already done so much for him, Dryden wanted to make his night easier, one he hadn’t had in such a long time.
Dryden slid a finger down below Emmons’s balls, toward his ass. Emmons hissed, and his cock twitched in Dryden’s mouth. Dryden sucked harder and felt Emmons spasm again. Emmons ran his hands through Dryden’s hair, careful not to tug too tightly against Dryden’s burns.
“Is this fine?” Emmons asked. “Am I hurting you?”
Dryden moved up across the bed and grabbed the aloe. “Put some in your hands. Then you can pull as hard as you want.”
Emmons laughed. Dryden emptied a good spoonful of aloe into Emmons’s palms and then took some for himself. There wasn’t too much left; he knew he had to be judicious. He made eye contact with Emmons as he sunk back down between his legs and placed his mouth on his cock. Emmons closed his eyes to moan and then quickly placed his hands in Dryden’s hair. He tugged, but the roots no longer stung if the aloe was there.
Dryden took his aloe and warmed it in his palm. He placed it against Emmons’s balls and perineum, pushing his fingers forward. Emmons moaned louder, then shifted into Dryden. Dryden slid one finger inside, and Emmons moaned again.
“All right?” Dryden asked.
Emmons lay on the bed, panting. “Yeah. I’m going to….”
“It’s fine. Do it,” Dryden said. “I want to feel you.”
Emmons swallowed visibly before he closed his eyes again. Dryden slipped another finger inside Emmons and felt his cock twitch in his mouth. It was hard, staying balanced while also not thinking too much about his own straining cock, but Dryden knew it was worth it. When he had three fingers inside Emmons, Emmons’s legs spread more. His cock twitched, and Dryden knew he was close. Dryden moved his fingers from side to side, then felt a tug on his hair.
“I’m….” Emmons came in Dryden’s mouth. When Emmons’s hands loosened around Dryden’s hair, he knew he was done and swallowed around him.
“I…. Oh….” Emmons gasped. Dryden removed his fingers to another sudden moan before placing his hands on Emmons’s waist. Emmons spread his legs again, his movements languid. He grinned up at Dryden as he shifted into place, his cock so hard now it almost hurt him as he lined up.
“Good?” Dryden asked. Emmons only leaned forward, placing his hands on Dryden’s back, and pulled him forward. Dryden slid into Emmons with ease and clarity. He tented his arms around Emmons’s body so he could look down at Emmons’s eyes, half-lidded and filled with the haze of his orgasm. Emmons lifted his legs up more to allow Dryden inside, before he reached up and kissed his mouth. Dryden kissed back feverishly. He had never felt so close to anyone before in his life; he almost thought that this was it. This was all he needed to do. As Emmons rocked his hips again, Dryden soon remembered that this was far from over.
“Oh….” Dryden let out a low moan as he thrust back in. Emmons’s body was warm, comforting, but still so small beneath him. He knew neither of them were large men; they were too young to really be at their full potential, Dryden only nineteen and Emmons in his early twenties. But together, inside of him, and with his hips rocking back and forth, Dryden was sure he could protect him. That he could save him from whatever bad creature was out there. For a moment, Dryden truly believed he could solve the riddle and get away.
“Oh,” Emmons moaned. Dryden placed a hand between their bodies, trying to find his cock. Emmons was only half-hard since he had come so recently, but he was growing. Each moan that escaped his mouth was genuine, and it made Dryden want to go faster and harder.
Soon, Dryden couldn’t control his movements as much as he wanted. All thoughts vanished from his mind. He was nothing but his body, and Emmons was a part of that. For a moment they were the same person. Dryden pulled out before he lost the magic of that moment, ending as he came over Emmons’s hard cock and belly. Emmons’s hand moved to both of their dicks, going slowly to milk the last bit from Dryden. When Emmons came for a second time, he let out a small moan before lapsing into silence. Dryden pressed his forehead against Emmons’s shoulder, before Emmons pulled him up into a kiss. Dryden could taste himself on Emmons’s mouth. He kissed him deeper and harder, not realizing until this moment how much he loved the taste.
“I…,” Emmons said, then paused.
“What?” Dryden asked. He placed his elbows on either side of Emmons’s head. He looked down at Emmons, still wanting to protect him. “What do you need? I can do it for you, Emmons. I promise.”
Emmons smiled weakly. His flushed cheeks and red mouth made him look younger than he really was, and sadder too. “I hope so.”
“What?” Dryden asked again.
“When you go….” Emmons paused. “When you beat the riddle—”
“You will.” Emmons touched the side of his face seriously. “When you beat it, promise me one thing?”
“Yes,” Dryden said, whispering in his ear. “Anything.”
“Don’t forget me.”
Dryden’s back arched. Don’t forget Emmons? How can that even be a question? He was about to pull back, half-indignant when he saw the sincerity in Emmons’s striking blue eyes.
“Don’t forget me,” he begged again. “Because I can’t come with you.”
Dryden wanted to say something else, to argue and fight him. But, of course, even if Dryden did get away and he could be free, that still didn’t mean that Emmons could be. He had already solved the riddles once and then not gotten out in time. He was already cursed. There was no second chance for him, and Dryden’s possibility now didn’t improve the odds.
“You can still leave,” Dryden said, though he wasn’t even sure himself. “If I solve the riddle, I get time to leave—that means whatever vortex is around this place will be lifted, right? That’s what caught you before?”
Emmons nodded, his expression thin.
“So on the third day, at dawn, wait by the edge. Touch it every few seconds to see if it’s there. Then if I solve it, run out with me.”
Emmons’s eyes turned skeptical. “How could that work?”
“How could it not? There are rules here, right? That barrier is one of them. But there are rules here that have loopholes. Otto reminds us of that all the time.”
Emmons narrowed his eyes. Dryden could see the gears of his mind working, considering these new elements. Dryden heard his mother’s words in the back of his mind. Don’t get your hopes up for something that could be destroyed. Nature does not like it if you outdo her. Dryden tried to shake it away. There was always going to be time for dreaming and time for hope. They shouldn’t shove that away because reality may not dictate to them the life they wanted. They still deserved, more than anything else, the sanctity of a happy dream.
“We are in bed together right now,” Dryden said, gripping the side of Emmons’s face. “Just you and me. Otto can’t touch us now—he won’t be back until the last day of the riddle. All we have is one another and time. So why can’t we have this thought?”
“But….”
Dryden placed a finger over Emmons’s mouth. “You told me nothing was my fault. Dreaming, then, is not our fault. It is our right.”
“But I don’t want—”
“Shh,” Dryden said, pressing the finger tighter. “Don’t think ahead that far. Don’t bet away your future. I have you here, right now. That is all I care about.”
Emmons reached his arms around Dryden and pulled him down into a hug. Dryden went easily, even though they were still messy in the bed. There would be time to fix that; there would be all night to think and to clean themselves up. If anything, Dryden knew there was always enough time for doubt. But beauty? And hope? There was never enough time for those. So he needed to start dreaming as soon as he could.
“Hey,” Dryden said as he pulled away from the hug. “I have something I want to show you.”
Before Emmons could answer, Dryden was out of bed. He moved around the house still naked, found some towels to clean themselves up with, and then grabbed his pants. He sat on the bed with Emmons, their bodies close.
“This,” Dryden said, holding up the slightly broken sacred heart bracelet he retrieved from his pocket. “This is my favorite item I have ever made. I made it the day my father died.”
Emmons eyes lit up as he scanned the colors, the weaving, and then the heart-shaped stone in the middle. “May I touch this?”
“Of course. I want you to have it.”
Emmons’s eyes were wide. “I can’t…. That’s too nice.”
“Too nice? No. It’s appropriate. It’s yours now.” Dryden went to open the bracelet, only to remember that it had broken that night with Otto. “We will fix it. Tomorrow so you can wear it.”
“Are you forgetting that I’m sometimes a fox?”
“So?” Dryden shrugged. “It can fit on your wrist like this, then as a collar when you’re a fox. Yeah?”
Dryden held the piece over Emmons’s wrist, then up to his neck to demonstrate. Emmons smiled weakly. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” Dryden placed the stone into Emmons’s hand. A chill passed through both of them as their eyes met. Emmons took the piece from him with a heavy, but Dryden believed grateful, sigh.
“Then thank you. I will keep it as long as I can.”
Dryden nodded, then kissed Emmons. “It’s all I can ask.”
With another kiss, they both crawled under the covers. On the edge of the bed, Emmons lay with the stone heart in his palm against his chest, as Dryden’s arms came around his back. Dryden counted the heartbeats between them before he fell asleep and gave in to dreams once again.
Chapter Ten
IN THE morning, Dryden woke first. He slipped out of the bed easily and then wandered into the kitchen. After lighting the stove, he put some water in the teakettle and placed it on the flame. He felt better than he had in days, maybe even weeks, from a time before he had become trapped in the woods. He knew he couldn’t get too attached to this feeling, lest he become completely fooled by it. Sure, he was trapped in the woods until three days were up. And then he only might become a free person again. But even in the heart of darkness, he was sure that someone could find hope.
His mother’s stories certainly taught him one thing: the world did strive for balance. In some small way, there could not be darkness without light. It wasn’t anyone’s fault for who brought what in and who may have caused that darkness or light. There was no control to that balance, Dryden could understand that now. But to wallow in guilt over something no one could control was useless for everyone involved. He had to find the small graces where he could, and he could find many of them with Emmons.
The thought of their plan still niggled in the back of his mind. Could Emmons really escape with him? If he did, would he become human again—or still half fox? And if he came out of the woods as a fox, would he always stay that way? Even if his name was called? Dryden supposed that would be the case. He would have to stay a fox because changes like his shifting could only happen in a place of magic. Not in the everyday world.
The kettle sounded. Dryden hadn’t moved from the counter to set up the tea, his thoughts taking him away. He shifted the kettle on the stove, not bothering to pour it yet until he had the tea set up. As he moved between mugs and tea balls, he saw the steam rise out from the kettle. Just like smoke, he thought. The steam was like the clouds in the sky, part of the water cycle. It disappeared into the air but always came back. It was a cycle, it was balance; his mother and their books had taught him as much.
Dryden paused. He had come to this conclusion before when he had thought of measuring his tears. If he could really do that, if he put all of his tears into a kettle and then watched the steam come up again, did that mean all his sadness could disappear? That he was part of the water cycle too?
No, Dryden remembered. If he boiled salt water—which is what tears really were—there would always be a ring of salt left around the edge. His mother had oversalted water for pasta before, and that was what had been left over.
When the kettle sounded again, Dryden didn’t move toward it. He knew he was onto something in his mind, if he could only pursue it further. There’s always something leftover when something’s destroyed. Even the carcasses that Otto brought back from his trips had the bones and skin. We ate the meat, but then we expelled it. What comes in always comes back out.
Dryden realized he had been looking at this question backward the entire time. The weight of smoke wasn’t what he needed to think about. Smoke was the product of fire. But what’s left over? What was the by-product, like the salt that clung to tears and stained the rim of his mother’s pot?
The kettle sputtered, then b
oiled over on the stove. Water hissed as it touched the flame underneath, and the log that burned under the kettle’s base soon fell away into ash. Smoke rose along with the steam, and Dryden’s mind put all the pieces into place.
Ash. Ash was the by-product of smoke. It was the element that was leftover after something was burned. If he weighed a log before he set it on fire, then weighed the ash after everything was said and done, then what was in between the log and the ash was the weight of smoke. Right? Dryden wondered. That has to be it. There was no other way he could solve the problem.
Dryden forgot about the tea. He grabbed wood from the outside and chopped the block in half like his father had showed him. Once he had enough smaller logs, he brought them inside. He dug out the clay dishes that Dryden had seen Otto cook with. He weighed the dishes on the ornate scale, then each small log, and wrote the numbers down in a big ledger book. Then he started the first fire.
The small log took a while to burn all the way through. As it did, Dryden kept a close watch over the smoke that poured out. Blue and then gray-black, it filled the air above it before it disappeared. Dryden made tea—for real this time—and then he got breakfast ready. By the time he had placed it all on the table, his small log had burned down into nothing but ash. There wasn’t much there, but it was enough to place onto the scale. Dryden moved with careful precision, not daring to breathe as he got close enough to the scale. The smallest speck could prove his theory incorrect. He didn’t know how strict Otto would be with the exact number, but it would be difficult.
As he backed away from the scale, he wrote down the new number of what ash weighed. He subtracted it from what he had before. He had a number—a real number—staring back at him. The weight of smoke. It was so simple when he looked at it in a number. It wasn’t clever or threatening at all. But when he looked at his scales, how they balanced, his heart fluttered.
“Good morning. I smell lots of things… and burning?” Emmons asked. He stepped up behind Dryden, his brows furrowed. “What have you been doing?”
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