Miles and the Magic Flute

by Heidi Cullinan

  He heard an echoing bellow, then felt something hot and wet splash across his body. Dizzy, he looked up in time to see one last arc of cum spray across the silver line to land on Miles’s exposed ass and on his still-quivering belly.

  Then he realized what had happened, and what that meant, and from the look on Harry’s face, he saw that he had seen it too.

  Miles held his breath as Harry, hand shaking, reached out and into the circle.

  It snapped, popped, and pushed him back.

  Miles felt a swift ache of loss. He pushed up onto his elbows, watching Harry, wanting him. He swallowed against a dry throat and said, “Harry—”

  But Harry’s head jerked up, and though Miles saw and heard nothing, Harry’s face became alarmed. “You must go,” he said. “Go back. Take the flute. Use it wisely.”

  Miles sat up. “But I don’t want to leave you, not like this—”

  “You must go.”

  Miles stood, holding the flute. “I’m coming back for you.”

  Harry shook his head. “It won’t be me. It will be the beast. Go, and forget me, Miles. Go and set yourself free.”

  I’m going to set the both of us free, Miles thought, then lifted the flute to his lips and played.

  Harry and the dungeon vanished, and Katie, now fully clothed, reappeared. She was screaming.

  “I WANT THE whole story this time.” Katie poured Miles a shot of vodka into a glass before taking a hit for herself straight from the bottle. “I want to know where you went when you left the circle. I want to know how you got there. I want to know how you got back.” She took another hit, then winced and shook her head. “I do not need to know why you have dried spunk all over you.”

  Miles downed the shot and wrapped the blanket she’d brought him tighter around his body. He was dressed now, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of cold. “I’m not sure where I went, but I’ve sort of been there before. I went there when I first started hallucinating—when I found that website.”

  “Website?” Katie echoed.

  Miles told her about the flute showing up at the pawn shop, about his Google searches, and about the strange way the room flickered in and out of Harry’s dungeon. Katie listened, tapping the side of the bottle with her fingernails.

  “And you clicked on this site that said Terris something or other,” she repeated when he finished, “and you found that by searching for ‘magic flute.’”

  “Yes.” Miles glanced at the flute, which was lying on the table between them. “And Terris is the man who found me in the forest when I wandered in there without meaning to.”

  “Who carried you off in a sleigh that just sort of skipped over the leaves and tree stumps, while a horned beast who wanted to rape you tried to catch up. Who made love to you in a castle, then said some word and you came back, only to end up with the beast while in my circle, where you gave him a little sex show as thanks for giving you absolutely no answers to any questions. Oh, and for some reason there he was articulate and almost gentlemanly. Did I miss anything?”

  Miles thought a moment, but he didn’t even stop to acknowledge how crazy it all sounded. He was numb to almost everything now. “I think you hit the high points.”

  Katie shook her head. “You know, I really did think you were using. I was just going to sweat it out of you, maybe hypnotize you and get me to tell me what you took. If I hadn’t seen you vanish with my own eyes, I still wouldn’t believe you.”

  “But you believe me now?” Miles asked, hating how much he wanted her to. He still didn’t like her, but damn, he needed an ally here. Anywhere. The ache was coming back again, the yearning to return to the Lord of Dreams, or to Terris, or something—he ached, and he knew enough now to know he needed to resist that siren call. He’d hoped the alcohol would distract him, but it was only lowering his inhibitions, making the ache worse.

  He couldn’t seem to stop drinking, though, and he knocked back a second shot when Katie poured him one, then gave herself another hit as well.

  Katie sighed. “I don’t know what I believe anymore, Miles. I do think something weird is going on. I’m holding off on judgment as to whether or not some sex-crazed Lord of Dreams is trying to draft you into his man-harem.”

  “Can’t we look this up, or something?” Miles pressed. “Find out who this is and how to get out of it?”

  Katie snorted. “Look it up where? This isn’t Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No Giles and no Codex. And given what happened to you when you tried a Google search, I’m counting that out, too.”

  Miles glared at her. “So you’re just committing me to death?”

  “If you keep whining? Yes.” She picked up the flute and turned it over a few times in her hands. “This is his enemy, is it? Awfully inanimate.”

  “I was hoping you would maybe recognize it,” Miles admitted. “It’s magic, and you do magick.” Funny. He was starting to hear that extra k.

  Katie lifted her eyebrows. “Miles, magick is ninety percent philosophy. There is no Hogwarts and no gingerbread house.”

  “And no Codex.” Miles took the flute back from her and stared at it. “But what am I supposed to do with it?”

  “You said the monster—”

  “Harry,” Miles corrected sharply.

  Katie rolled her eyes. “Your boyfriend Harry the monster said the flute would take you wherever you wanted to go. I think that’s a good start, don’t you?”

  “But I don’t know where I want to go!” He threw up his hands in frustration. “All I know is that I need somewhere with actual answers. But I don’t know where that is.”

  “You could start there,” Katie suggested. “Just say ‘take me somewhere with actual answers.’ Couldn’t hurt.”

  “I could cut to the chase,” Miles said. “Go right to this Lord guy.”

  Katie frowned. “It does seem odd that this Lord of Dreams selected you but you haven’t met him. You’d think he’d be a bit more invested. Unless Terris is doing his work for him.”

  “I thought that, too, but it’s endearing me to Terris, not this Lord of Dreams.”

  “Maybe he’s bored and wants a threesome,” Katie suggested wryly.

  Miles drummed his fingers on the table. “I swear the key to this is that Terris and Harry freak out when I talk to one of them about the other. I just wish I knew why. If I could get the flute to take me to that answer, I’d be set.”

  Katie passed the flute back to him. “Go back to Patty and Julie’s house and get something to eat. Sleep if you can.”

  Miles stared at her. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? ‘Go to bed’?”

  Katie pursed her lips. “Miles, this isn’t logical. It doesn’t fit anything I know of magick, and I know all about magick.”

  “So—what, I just hang out while you study up?” he shot back. “In the Codex that doesn’t exist?”

  She said nothing, just nudged the flute harder at his arm.

  Miles took it and rose. He crossed the room and put on his coat, frustrated, and slightly panicked too. But as he did up his zipper, his eyes caught something glinting on the table—one of Katie’s silver scoops—and he paused.

  “Silver,” he said out loud. He turned back to Katie. “Everything is silver with this. The sleigh, the decorations at the castle—everything is silver.” He blushed. “And the ring that I stole. I’m sorry for that, again. For losing it.”

  Katie waved his apology away with a weary sigh. “It was maybe worth ten bucks on a good day, because it was only silver-plated. But you’re right, silver is decidedly a theme.” She brushed her hands together in a dismissive fashion. “I’ll study it for you.”

  But Miles’s mind was still whirring. “The flute is silver too. And the flute is the Lord’s enemy. So does that mean he hates music, or a metal?” Miles sighed. “I so suck at this.”

  Katie patted his shoulder. “Go sleep.” She reached into a box on a shelf and handed him a small cloth bag. “And keep this in your pocket. Keep it closed, too, a
nd bring it back for me to refresh on the next full moon. It will keep any bad influences away.”

  Miles wasn’t so sure a bag was going to do anything like that, but he took it anyway, tucking it into the pocket of his jeans. He still didn’t know how he was going to solve this, and he brooded on it all the way back to the trailer park. He had to walk again, but this time he took the long way around, not letting himself get anywhere near the forest. By the time he got to the double-wide, it was almost dark. It was cold too. He’d never fully warmed up from earlier, and now the wind blew through his clothes, making him shake. When he opened the door, the warmth and the smell of Julie’s soup wrapped around him and pulled him quickly inside.

  Both Patty and Julie were there, and they eyed Miles nervously.

  “Katie called,” Patty said carefully. “She said you weren’t using. She swore you weren’t, in fact.”

  Julie’s eyes were wide. “And she said you’re the prince in some fairytale?”

  Patty snorted and rolled her eyes.

  Miles slumped into his chair. “I’m more like the dumb guy who bumbles around.” He helped himself to soup and bread, but he didn’t eat, just poked his spoon into his bowl. Patty studied him for a few moments, then went back to her own meal.

  Julie beamed at Miles. “Well, I think it’s exciting, and it makes perfect sense with your cards. But be careful, Miles. You have a lot of danger ahead of you.”

  Miles thought of the man with ten swords in his back and pushed his bowl away.

  After dinner, he went with Patty back to the pawn shop to help her sort through an estate sale she’d bought some things from. Normally he hated this sort of thing, but tonight he was ready to take any excuse not to deal with his problems. And he was frankly terrified of going to sleep. When he saw what they had to mark and stock, he realized this would be no problem.

  “This is a lot of stuff,” he said when he saw the storeroom.

  Patty nodded and cracked into the first box. “I want to get into some antiques. Figured this is a good way to start.”

  “Really?” Miles raised his eyebrows. “You? Antiques?”

  Patty shrugged, self-conscious. “Always liked them. Made everything look nice without being cold. They look stupid in a trailer, though, so I thought maybe if I sold them it’d be kind of a compromise.”

  Miles tried to imagine Patty in a house full of antiques. It worked oddly well. “You should get an old house,” he said. “And fix it up. It could even be your shop.”

  “No money. Can’t get a loan. No clue how to fix stuff like that. Not to do it right.” She picked up a dirty, broken doll and grimaced before tossing it into the trash can beside her. “It’s just a dream that didn’t work out. Same damn story as everybody else.”

  Patty wanted to run an antique shop. He could see it all the clearer the more he thought of it, this shop that would never be, and it made him sad. And he felt embarrassed, the same as he’d felt with Harry. He’d never thought about Patty having a dream like this. He’d never once considered that she was living anything other than the life she’d chosen, than the life she’d wanted.

  He’d never once considered that maybe part of her was pining after her own Atlanta too.

  Miles looked around at the assorted junk. It wasn’t very antique-like.

  “We could get to some sales some weekend,” he said. “Borrow a truck from somebody. I’d be happy to help you.” He looked up at her. “And—well, if things turn around enough for you to find some house to fix up, I know how to do all that stuff. Some of the plumbing you want to hire out for, but not much. I could do the rest.”

  Patty gave him a sidelong look, then shook her head. “You sure it wasn’t aliens grabbed you, not some dream guy? Reprogrammed your brain to make you stop whining and want to help me?”

  Miles tilted his head to the side and smiled at Patty. “Are you complaining?”

  She smiled back, shook her head, and handed him a box. “Here.”

  They worked for several hours, talking a little, but mostly just working. Patty shed her flannel and worked in her muscle T, and Miles shoved up his sleeves, finally finding warmth at last. When they had the whole place sorted, it was late, and they were tired. But Miles felt good. He still felt the ache for Terris and the Lord of Dreams, but the ache had diminished now, tempered by good, hard work.

  “Thanks,” Patty said, handing him a beer when they were back in the trailer. She toasted him and added, “Hope the Prince of Darkness doesn’t kidnap you overnight.”

  “Lord of Dreams,” Miles murmured, but his stomach ached a little at the thought of going to sleep.

  He drank his beer in front of the TV, but when his head began to nod, he went to his room, turned on all the lights, and began to pace.

  Should he just go to sleep? Would it be okay? Or should he try to go somewhere with the flute? He picked up the instrument several times, but the timing didn’t feel right. He ended up lying on his bed, fully dressed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking furiously. There had to be some way the flute could help. He could feel it. He just had to think of the right answer….

  When he fell asleep, he hardly noticed. One minute he was thinking of how to use the flute, and the next minute he was flying, soaring high above the trailers, above the road, the field, and then, inevitably, above the trees. He saw the clearing below, and he smiled as he came down, feeling the summer wind rush around him, smelling the sweet summer air.

  He saw the silver glint even before the sleigh, and he was running even before he hit the ground.

  Terris, white and gleaming in the moonlight, smiled at him.

  “Hello, darling.” He opened his arms.

  Miles, caught up in the spell, smiled back, embraced him, and bent his head back to receive his lover’s kiss.

  I’M DREAMING, MILES thought, absently, as Terris took his lower lip between his teeth. He groaned. It’s a fucking good dream.

  “Darling,” Terris murmured. He took Miles’s face between his hands and deepened the kiss briefly. “Darling, we cannot linger here. Let me take you somewhere very special.”

  Miles, dream-groggy, only nodded and snuggled in against Terris’s shoulder as Terris took the ribbon-reins and aimed them deeper into the woods. The trees sped by in a blur, but Miles paid them no attention, too busy trying to undo the silver frogging on Terris’s jacket and wriggle his way inside.

  Terris laughed, a wicked, satisfied sound. He kissed Miles’s temple, letting his tongue steal out to lick his skin. “So eager for me? Don’t worry, love. I won’t disappoint you this time.”

  You couldn’t ever disappoint me, Miles wanted to say, but then his fingers found the buttons of Terris’s shirt, and Terris helped him find his skin, and once Miles had his sights on his lover’s dusky nipple, he would have nothing else. Terris hissed, then murmured his encouragement as he buried his fingers in Miles’s hair, keeping him firmly in place.

  “That’s it, Miles,” Terris whispered. He put the reins in the hand at Miles’s head and used the other to further reveal the landscape of his smooth, flat chest. “Taste me. I am yours, lover. All yours.”

  Miles did—he tasted every exposed inch of Terris’s flesh, lapping at his skin as if it were the only meal he had seen in a week. He felt that ravenous for his lover—he felt as if he’d die if he didn’t have him, as if he would give anything at all to taste him, touch him, take him inside. When he was with Terris, the yearning narrowed, but it sharpened too. This. This was what he needed. What he wanted. Terris was all that there was in the world.

  The sleigh stopped at the edge of a glistening pond edged with lush grasses and flowers. Huge willow and birch trees circled the water, bending over it and creating a green and silver canopy over a bed of white petals arranged in a fragrant patch just wide enough to bear the bodies of two men. Miles barely remembered leaving the sleigh: one minute he ran his tongue along a tight cord in Terris’s neck, and the next he pressed him into sea of white, taking in tiny bits of
rose as he continued his way down Terris’s naked shoulder. They were both naked now, and Terris’s hands skimmed over Miles’s bare hips, kneading softly at the flesh of his backside.

  “Make love to me, Miles.” A finger pressed at Miles’s entrance, and Miles groaned and pushed against it, sucking it into the heat of his ass. Terris pushed deep, then flicked his tongue over Miles’s nipple. “Put your cock inside me, darling. Take me any way you like. Claim me. Take me here inside this beautiful dream. Fill me up. Ride me, Miles, to your pleasure—to both our pleasures.”

  “I will,” Miles said, but he groaned as Terris pushed deeper, wanting more. If only there were a way they could fuck each other at the same time.”

  “Oh, if that’s all you want,” Terris purred. He withdrew his finger, and Miles cried out in disappointment, but mere seconds later he gasped and spread his legs as something smooth and slick and cold, fucking cold worked its way inside him. He grunted as it grew wider, but he opened for it, panting and urging Terris incoherently to push it in, to plow him deep. For several minutes, this is just what Terris did, until Miles huffed and thrust back against the phallus, driving himself to the brink. Terris buried it deep, wrapped a silver belt around Miles’s waist, and tied it tight. Then he knelt on the ground before Miles and presented him his perfect, puckered ass.

  “Fuck me, Miles,” Terris gasped. He circled his hips invitingly. “Fuck me while it fucks you.”

  Miles rose up, aimed himself, and drove home. Terris was already well-greased—it was a dream in every way, apparently—and he slid straight in to the hilt. Terris was so hot, so tight, and so perfect that Miles shook, crying out his incoherent bliss before the need possessed him and he began to thrust. He shouted in happy surprise as the phallus Terris had strapped to him began to fuck him too; Miles braced against Terris’s hips and humped like a dog, torn between the joyous sensation of Terris’s ass and the monster in his own. It’s so big, he thought, and without warning had a vision of Harry’s great cock, thrusting in and out of his hand.

  Beneath him, Terris stiffened. “Wait—no!”