The Redemption of River

by Eli Easton

  River rested back on his heels again. He rubbed Brent’s thighs and seemed to consider. “Are you okay to stay on your back? I want to see your eyes.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  River’s eyes burned into his for several seconds, as if pinning this moment in his mind, as if acknowledging it. And him. Acknowledging what Brent was offering.

  Christ, the things River made him feel. He never thought he’d want something like this, to be covered, to be fucked. But he did want it, and being with River somehow freed him to want it, freed him to trust in all forms of pleasure, of exploring his body’s limits and all the ways the two of them could express their care for one another.

  Their love? Yes. Their love.

  River poured more warm oil from the pot and rubbed it on himself, his hand doing a corkscrew motion over his own dick that Brent wouldn’t mind seeing a lot more of—some other time. Then River leaned forward on one arm, his face above Brent’s. As beautiful as his eyes were, Brent couldn’t help but look down his body to watch as River took his dick in his hand and leaned forward. He wished he could see everything, but his genitalia were in the way. He felt it, though, felt the smooth, blunt head against his hole, where he was suddenly aware of how empty he felt, how raw and sensitive.

  River carefully pushed in and Brent gasped.

  His head thudded back to the bed, and he stared into River’s eyes. He felt… everything. River’s penis was much different than his fingers. More rigid. Bigger. There was a little burn and a lot of fullness. It felt… weird? Weird. And kind of amazing, as if his body was doing something he had no idea it could do.

  “Breathe. Relax your muscles,” River whispered, watching Brent’s face intently.

  He inhaled deeply, and Brent mirrored him. They both exhaled, loud tantric breath, and Brent’s body relaxed. River went in another inch, as if Brent’s body was pulling him inside. Again. Again. And then Brent realized he was in as far as he could go.

  River stopped, not moving. He bent down to kiss Brent briefly, though the angle was challenging. He went back up on one elbow and smiled. “How does it feel?”

  How did it feel? Indescribable. He had another man’s penis inside him. Maybe there should have been a sense of shame. But nope. It was River, his beautiful River with his beautiful soul, who made everything feel so natural and right. And Brent wished he could hold him inside forever.

  Brent took a shaky breath. His eyes stung. “Feels good. Really full.”

  River smiled. “I know. Let me know if it starts to sting. I can add more oil. Or stop.”

  “No. No stopping. Please.”

  River circled his hips, rocking gently inside him, and just that much pressure on his prostate, which River had made him feel for the first time in his life, sent waves of heat through his groin. His dick bounced once on his belly. “Right there.”

  “I’ve got you.” River pulled out and thrust in. Brent gripped River’s waist, urging him to do it again.

  River thrust—hard and steady, not teasing. And thank God. Brent tried to focus on the feeling, the friction and pressure and the way it all seemed to tie directly into his balls. And River above him, gazing into his eyes, watching the tightening of River’s pleasure in his face. The way his eyes got that almost pained look. The way his upper lip trembled. And it wasn’t just the physical sensations. It was the idea of it, of surrendering to River, of being taken, that was erotic on a level somewhere under the skin of Brent’s heart.

  So good. Even… familiar?

  Why did this feel so familiar? Had River made love to him like this before? In another life? Brent might have scoffed at that idea normally, but at this moment, he enjoyed the fantasy that River had penetrated him many times before, that their bodies had been joined like this in decades past, maybe always. Yin and yang. Yang and yin. Maybe they’d been different genders at different times. Maybe they were both genders. Or none at all.

  Brent threw back his head, arching his back and giving in to the images of him and River that flooded his mind. He clung to River’s waist, urging him to thrust harder, faster. The pleasure wound and wound and wound, tighter and tighter, a snake winding up his spine.

  “Brent, look at me.”

  Brent forced his eyes open. River’s face was red and tense in a way Brent had never seen before. He was close, breathing hard, thrusting fast. The sexual energy was already flooding Brent’s body, but looking into River’s pleasure caused it to surge. Brent felt it in his heart chakra and exploding from the top of his head. He felt like a damned light bulb.

  River propped himself up on one arm and with the other reached between them, grasped Brent’s dick, and just squeezed.

  Brent gave a strangled cry and came. He couldn’t have held back the orgasm, didn’t want to. It felt like it was coming from his balls, but also from inside him, from his prostate, a strange wavery thrumming that heightened and extended his orgasm so that it felt like water was gushing out of him.

  Somehow he kept his eyes open, fixed on River’s face. And in the midst of the waves of pleasure, he watched River come. His hips slammed home and stayed there, deep as he could get, his lips trembled, his eyes burned. Deep inside Brent, his dick jerked and pumped three, four times.

  They stared at each other for a heartbeat that felt like eternity.

  River collapsed beside Brent, breathing hard. He lay against Brent’s chest, his heart thumping wildly. Brent petted River’s back, which was slick with sweat, as his own body slowly calmed down.

  A heaviness stole over him, and a quiet satisfaction. He smiled. “You decided to ejaculate?”

  River nodded. “I wanted to be with you in that moment.” River’s hand stole up to interlace fingers with Brent’s.

  “I’m glad.” Brent kissed the top of River’s head. Even though he had gotten quite good at internalizing orgasms himself, he felt foolishly proud that River had ejaculated inside him. What a weird buzz of satisfaction that gave him!

  “Your yin energy is so pure,” River said. “You’re amazing. You can be so masculine and driven. But you have this feminine side that is just as strong. It’s beautiful. I love that you can express both sides so freely.”

  Brent gave a dazed laugh. “I never even knew I had that side until you.”

  River was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “You’ve taught me things about myself too.”

  Brent wanted to ask what, but he was a little afraid to hear the answer. He didn’t want to talk about River leaving. So instead he said, “Shall we sleep?”

  “Yeah.”

  They managed to get under the covers. Brent used the towel they’d had on the bed to wipe an obscene amount of ejaculate off his belly and then they entwined their bodies. Chest to chest. Curled around each other like yin and yang.

  Chapter 28

  River

  “Caesar salad, please. Dressing on the side.” Michael handed the waiter his menu.

  “I’ll take the orange tempeh bowl,” said River, handing his over too.

  The waiter left and River stirred his tea. “Not hungry?”

  Michael gave him a knowing look. “Don’t worry. I’m not anorexic, just small. James has been on a cooking jag lately, so I like to go home with a healthy appetite. I think it’s lasagna tonight.”

  “Ah, the things we do for love.” River smiled, but his heart wasn’t in it.

  Michael watched him for a moment, his eyes kind. “So. You’ve got this crazy-exciting year in Rome coming up, but you’re torn about it, huh?”

  “Pretty much.” Wasn’t River just wishing for someone he could talk to a few weeks ago? And here was Michael, offering to lend an ear. He was sweet. “I know it’s for the best long term. And it’s all arranged. But it’s… hard.”

  “Hmm. First things first. How is it all arranged? You can’t change it?” Michael leaned forward and sucked on the straw in his iced tea, his dark eyes curious.

  River shook his head. “I’m staying with an eighty-year-old who was a
client. Yeah, I know, bad idea. But he’s a really interesting guy, and it’s not like that. He just wants to see Rome again and can’t take the trip on his own. He has an Airbnb there, and he already took it off the market. And booked our flights. That’s thousands of dollars right there. Plus, I enrolled in a tantric yoga course in Rome and had to put down a deposit. It’s all set.”

  “It sounds idyllic,” Michael mused. “Let me ask you this—if it weren’t for all of that, would you want to stay? At the party, you and Brent just seemed so… grounded. Really close.”

  River sighed. “I love Brent. But even if I could stay, for how long? I can’t see myself giving up traveling and learning indefinitely. And it would never work between us anyway.”

  “No?”

  River shook his head. “No. For lots of reasons. The one you can probably relate to is that I’m a tantrik healer. Brent’s been very patient about it, but I worry that eventually he’ll resent it, my seeing clients, touching them. I’m just not sure how I can commit to long-term monogamy with anyone.”

  “You’re right. That’s not easy.”

  “How do you make it work? Doing surrogacy and being married. It doesn’t bother James?”

  Michael leaned forward, his expression sympathetic. “All surrogates have to deal with the issue sooner or later. I know of a few surrogates who quit when they met that special someone. Some partners are okay with it. I’m lucky that James is, but we established really specific boundaries.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “I don’t do anal with clients. Ever. And I involve James. I don’t tell him my patients’ names or anything, but I’ll describe in general what the client’s issue is and how we work on it in a session. I know it’s frowned upon. Confidentiality and all that.” Michael played with his straw. “But my relationship with James is the most important thing in my life. And I think it helps him think of it clinically, you know? And knowing what I’m doing exactly puts his mind at ease. Like, he’s not imagining things are worse than they are.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  Michael nodded. “It works for us. And if a client starts pushing past the professional boundaries, we’re done. Honestly, though, the cases Jack involves me in are usually pretty severe. James and I both really want to help them.”

  River thought about James’s book, the way his character, Lamb, began as a sex robot and ended up being so much more, embodying the highest form of love.

  “James seems like a kind man.”

  Michael laughed.

  “What?”

  “Oh, he is. Only he has such an acerbic tongue. He’d find that description of himself hilarious. He’d probably tell you to fuck off.”

  River smiled. He thought he would like to know James better. If there was time.

  “Brent strikes me as a good man too,” Michael said leadingly.

  “He is. He says he understands that I help people. But I generally avoid talking about my surrogacy clients with him. I guess I figure, ‘don’t ask, don’t tell,’ right? I mean, he knows when I see clients, but it’s not like, ‘Hey, honey, how was your day?’ ‘Fine. This guy with premature ejaculation lasted for two minutes this time before coming all over me!’”

  River shook his head and went on. “The thing is, he was married for nineteen years and never cheated on his wife. He’s very loyal. It’s not that he complains about my work, it’s more like I feel he couldn’t possibly approve. And I’m a healer. That’s my path. Eventually, it will come between us.”

  Michael nodded thoughtfully. “I get that you feel you can either follow your calling or have a relationship. I totally felt that way for years. But it doesn’t have to be black or white. Just because Brent and his wife had a certain kind of relationship doesn’t mean it has to be that way with you.”

  River grimaced. “Maybe. I admit, I have a bit of a Rebecca syndrome. You know, thinking the wife was perfect and I can’t measure up.”

  It sounded whiny to admit it, but it was true. Kathy was the perfect business partner, the perky Doris Day wife to Brent McKay. River was… a strange choice by comparison.

  “River, he loves you. I know he does. I saw it at the party. And you and he have your own thing. It doesn’t have to be like the relationship he had before.”

  River thought about that. “You’re right. I shouldn’t worry about what it should be. I should just let it be what it is. But then it keeps coming back to me. Ultimately, I’m just not the settling-down type. I don’t know if I’ll ever stay in one place. So even if Brent could embrace my tantrik self, and we could figure everything else out, it’s…” He sighed. “Kind of moot? Ugh. I’m sorry. You’re sweet to listen to me, but there’s not much that can help. It’s just… hard.”

  Michael leaned forward and rubbed River’s arm. “I’m sorry. It’s tough to have to make a choice between two things you love. And I get the appeal of the traveling life. Personally, I could never hack it. I own too many books, and you’d have to pry them from my cold, dead hands.” He laughed. “But I can see that it would be super-rewarding and exciting. Jack said you studied tantra at an ashram in India? Tell me about that.”

  The conversation moved on from Brent McKay. Which was just as well.

  As a surrogate, Michael was quite interested in tantra, and they discussed it for a long time. River gave him some good books to check out.

  Who knew? Maybe Lamb of Sentimental Cyanide would one day become a tantric master too.

  Chapter 29

  River

  The rest of August went by fast—bullet-train fast. The cafe was set to open on August thirty-first, a Saturday. Brent did a press release and sent out cool-funky invitations that were specially printed with the cafe’s new logo. Harmony Tree Cafe & Kombucha Bar.

  And suddenly, it was real.

  The weeks leading up to the opening were frantic. The furniture arrived from the wholeseller, and Brent spent two days on site with a couple of burly movers, shifting things around until he was satisfied. Security cameras and the iPad-driven order system were installed. The kombucha tap system and coffee station were put in place. The Wi-Fi was hooked up and the final menu given to the woman who did the fancy blackboards. Brent had hired a brew master to recreate River’s kombucha brews in large batches. River was a little sad about that. The kombucha was his baby. But what did he expect? He was leaving. Someone had to fill the hole he was leaving behind.

  Somebody else’s life.

  River and Brent didn’t talk about River leaving anymore. They never talked about it.

  They didn’t have time for five-hour tantric sessions, but they made love every night, and the intimacy was always profound. Staring into Brent’s eyes as they teased each other’s cocks, or joined together in sixty-nine, the energy flowed between them in an endless circle. Sometimes River filled Brent, and a few times Brent filled River, seamlessly moving between push/pull, give and receive.

  Sorrow and elation.

  On the day before the grand opening, Sean dropped off a copy of the Seattle Times at their doorstep in the morning. At the top of the Local section was a story entitled, “Next on Tap for Brent McKay.”

  There was a photo of Brent in front of the retro kombucha taps with their names like “Happiness” and “Soother.” The newspaper had sent out a professional photographer, and Brent looked so handsome. The article discussed his past success with Adrenaline Junkie Coffee and was very complimentary about the new concept and menu. It called Brent “one of Seattle’s best foodie creatives.”

  “What a great piece,” River commented after reading it at the breakfast table. “You should frame it and put it on the wall in the cafe. Our first rave review.” He couldn’t help but feel proud.

  Brent looked pleased, but he shook his head. “It’s fantastic but… Christ. With a feature like this, we’re going to be overrun tomorrow. I need more staff. And I should have Rene double the food order.” He was out of his seat making calls before he’d finished talking.
/>   It was all sort of twisted up. River knew Brent had set the grand opening for August thirty-first in deference to his very early remark that he would be leaving in September. Which made everything rushed. Which, in turn, gave them less time to just be together. They could have moved the date back since River wasn’t leaving now until September twenty-fifth, but the opening involved so many moving parts, and the schedule was set. Besides, River was looking forward to having a few weeks before he left that weren’t consumed by the cafe.

  Saturday dawned like a benediction—clear and sunny and slated to be a perfect seventy-five degrees. River and Brent got to the cafe at 6:00 a.m. to help set up. Rene brought all the food, which went into the cold case, soup pots, and large fridge in the kitchen. The kombucha taps were all working—River tested them all, and the brews tasted just as they should. The coffee bar was stocked with everything they needed. River made a chai for himself and coffee for Brent just to test them out.

  The staff arrived. Justin was working the register today, there were two on food, experienced people from elsewhere in Brent’s empire, and River had requested Maddy help him with drinks. Brent told River he didn’t have to work behind the counter today. He could be more of a meeter and greeter. But River wanted to serve the kombucha, chai, and other drinks himself. Besides, he preferred being busy so he didn’t have to schmooze or stress about how things were going.

  When the doors opened at eight, there were only a few people waiting outside. But by ten o’clock, there was a line down the block. The tables filled up so people stood at the counters along the window. And then even that was too crowded, so people got stuff to go and hung out on the street outside. It was a scene. River just kept making drinks, absorbing compliments, and sending out happy, welcoming vibes with his smile and cheerful attitude.

  There was finally a bit of a lull around two. Justin wandered over to the kombucha taps trying to look casual. River knew what was coming, but he gave Justin a smile. “Hey. How do you like the new place?”