An Ocean of Light

by Kit Fortier

  Even if he wanted to. Even if he tried.

  Eric shook his head. “Never.”

  Eric was enveloped by Ben’s strong arms. He pressed his face into the thick thatch of jet black hair he had come to love so much, resting his cheek over the mighty heart beating in Ben’s chest.

  “Eric Andersson, I love you, too.”

  A bubble burst in Eric’s emotional core. He soundlessly sobbed into Ben’s chest. Ben held him closer as he cried. The wolf, sensing the feeling of being protected, of being cared for, returned beneath the surface of Eric’s consciousness.

  All his life, no one ever said those words to him. Not his parents, who sold his little body out to dozens of evil, heartless men. Not the foster families that supposedly took him in to care for him when all he was worth was an extra stipend check. Not the social workers, kind and understanding as they were, they were too overworked to notice the bruises beneath the clothes or the tremble in his eyes. Not the johns—why would they when he was nothing more than a pair of convenient warm holes? No one said it. Not ever.

  He never expected it.

  Until Ben.

  A finger gently tilted Eric’s face upward until his eyes connected with the crystal-blue that belonged to Ben. After a kiss to the smaller man’s forehead, Ben spoke softly.

  “Let’s take a quick nap, then we’ll get cleaned up for that Eiffel trip, alright?”

  7. Moving Light

  *** Jake

  The big guy paced the length of the room. He couldn’t stop what he knew was happening in the room across the suite, but it sure didn’t help his mood.

  He felt like a man too far away from a baby on a train track with an engine steaming its way towards calamity.

  But was Eric that calamity? Or was it the potential for heartbreak? Of all the greater parts of his incredibly able son’s body that he could protect with walls of earth, metals, and stones and shields of magic-negating silver and salt, he couldn’t put a sphere of invulnerability around his son’s heart, and it killed him that he couldn’t even try. Not without driving Ben off.

  Ben didn’t strike Jake as a young man to do rash things, but he was desperately behind a curve that he could only catch up to with another decade of time beneath both their belts.

  But by then, Ben’s life would be well underway.

  … But Ben’s life was underway now.

  “Baby, come here,” Fox said from the windows. His back was against the glass, and his nude form struck a gorgeous silhouette from the abundance of the light of day.

  Jake flared his nostrils.

  “Please,” Fox asked, holding out his hand.

  Jake closed his eyes and sighed. He ambled up to his man, pressing his naked front against Fox’s.

  “He’s a grown man, big guy.”

  “I know, hon.”

  “When he’s living on campus, do you think you’ll be able to do anything about him when he’s at the dorms? Or out with friends?”

  Jake leaned his head on his husband’s shoulder.

  “Keep telling me, baby. Keep reminding me.”

  Fox kissed Jake’s temple.

  “I think we need a little relaxation therapy,” Fox said.

  “Yeah?”

  “A soak in the bath sounds great, don’t you think?”

  Jake kissed his man on the neck before pulling back to look into Fox’s brilliant green eyes.

  “Let’s do that.”

  Fox took Jake’s hand and lead him into the bathroom. He guided Jake to the edge of the bath, pushing him down with a gentle hand to sit on the edge while he turned on the water. After tipping in a generous amount of bath soap, Fox disappeared.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  “I’ll be right here.” Jake smiled.

  Fox was right. No matter which direction Jake looked, he’d be faced with the fact that his son would have his own life, whether or not Jake agreed. And it wasn’t his place to disagree. At least, it would do him no good, unless he wanted to alienate his Ben again. Perhaps irreparably. What to do, then? How would he show support? Should he do anything?

  It was maddening.

  The red headed former baseball player that was now his closest friend and husband walked back into the bathroom. He toted a bottle of white wine and two glasses.

  “Where did you get those?”

  “They were in the breakfast cart.”

  “I didn’t see them in the cart.”

  “I had them put it underneath the tablecloth,” Fox said with a wink.

  “Are you sure, honeypot? You couldn’t handle your wine before,” Jake grinned back.

  “That was red wine. And I think two bottles. Maybe three. I, uh… don’trememberbutthe point is, this is only one bottle, and that’s it.”

  Jake laughed. “Okay. That’s it.”

  There was plenty of room in this particular tub to sit across the way from each other, facing each other. Fox put out his hand, letting Jake get settled in before he followed after. The water was hot, as Jake liked it. And as Fox had predicted, it was what the big man needed.

  “So, we’re going to need soundproofing and a big ass tub,” Jake said. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back to rest against a rolled up towel on the edge of the bath.

  “Agreed. Are you thinking of a custom build?” He heard a smile in Fox’s voice.

  “Maybe?”

  “Think we could build it ourselves?”

  “I think we’d best leave that to the pros, Foxy.”

  Jake’s anxiety leeched out of him with each moment. Then something gently grazed his sack. Jake looked up at a grinning Fox, who held out a glass of Moscato d’Asti.

  “Thank you, baby.”

  “Anytime, big guy.”

  Jake drank half of the cool, sweet wine. “Ooh. Good call.”

  “I thought so. What do you think we’ll do when we touch down in San Diego?”

  For the past seven years, Jake wandered across, up, and down the western half of the United States. It was his only profession. But he had the sense to keep an eye out for rare opportunities.

  “You remember those silver ingots I used to make powders from?”

  “Yeah…?”

  “I also did that for gold. Well, not make gold powder, but collected enough to make ingots.”

  A pause. “What?”

  “I’ve been carrying seven ingots of gold. Ten pounds each. I sold off a couple pounds in Moorcroft to pay for the room and other things. Not just gold—also found about a couple dozen small nuggets of platinum.”

  “Seventy pounds of gold?” Fox cried.

  “And that’s not including how much I’ve already sold from the years before, but yeah…”

  “But—how?”

  “I didn’t make it, if that’s what you’re asking. That’s alchemy that I never got into. I’m not even sure it’s possible.” Despite all the impossible things he and Fox had done in the past few days, lead into gold was beyond his skill. “It’s the culmination of seven years of hiking. 300 pounds of pure gold is also a nice nest-egg, I think.”

  “No wonder your legs are so…” Fox said, getting lost in a dirty thought, as his foot slid up the inside of Jake’s thighs. He hummed, with a quirky little grin on his face as he slid the ball of his foot over Jake’s skin.

  “You’re silly,” Jake laughed. Fox leered at him and finished his glass, pouring another. He pulled Fox's foot to him and gave him a rub that made his eyes cross.

  “What’s the plan for them?” Fox sighed. His husband was moaning, purring putty under his touch.

  “Split a ten pound ingot into ten one pound ingots, sell them off at different spots. The value might change from seller to seller. But when an actual pound is worth fourteen thousand, I’m not going to complain. And with almost five million in the bank, I shouldn’t even be thinking about complaining, really.”

  Fox spat up a mouthful of wine into a fine misty cloud that dripped into the bathwater.

  “And y
ou’re worried about my money?”

  “Because that’s your dad’s gift to you, babe.”

  Fox put down his glass and moved next to his husband.

  “This is unbelievable,” Fox said, snuggling against Jake.

  “I didn’t know what to expect when I was done with the mission. If Ben let me back into his life, I didn’t know if I had to provide anything for him or set him up with college. I couldn’t live with Taylor and Sarah for the rest of my life. It seemed like a smart thing to do.”

  “All this time, I thought your pack was loaded with silver.”

  “Now you know,” Jake smiled.

  “So, it’s volunteer work, and glasses of red wine at noon, waxing and tanning treatments, and hair appointments then?” Fox snickered.

  “What are you, some kind of desperate housewife?”

  “You know it. My husband keeps me liquored up and dripping in finery, and I give him his slippers and a sloppy handy-jay when he gets home from the office.”

  “You’re a dork.”

  “You love me.”

  “Damn right I do.”

  *** Ben

  Tracing his fingers over Eric’s skin, Ben memorized the contours of his man’s face. The shape of his thick eyebrows. The way his nose was a straight line with a gentle, rounded angle for a tip. There was a hint of a bump at the end—it was so slight that one could only see it up close. His scruffy cheeks and chin. Eric slept, a bit of a fretful look pinched his face.

  Ben leaned in and kissed Eric’s forehead. The tension eased, and the other man looked calmer, relaxed in his sleep. It seemed slightly unfair that the peace Eric found in the warmth of the bed, pressed against Ben’s side had eluded the young man altogether in that moment.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Ben spied his prescription bottle of Trazadone, as well as the journal he had read into when he and his dads first arrived at the Bellagio. Gingerly, he uncapped the bottle and threw back a pill dry, trying to contain the shudder of the dry, chemical taste as the medicine spider-crawled down his throat. He exchanged the bottle for the journal, quietly undoing the thin leather strap that kept the book from flying open.

  Ben’s eyes skittered over the pages as he flipped from fire to water, drawn to the manual-like illustrations. It became more and more apparent that the journal was a codex—an alchemist’s codex. It was a primer, a starting point.

  Piqued by the revelation, Ben went back to the beginning of the journal. To his slight dismay, while the pages were in a fairly neat calligraphy, the German was almost beyond him, with several words and phrases well beyond his vocabulary. Undaunted, he found a high-end translator app that helped him figure out what he was reading.

  Gates. The Gates of Alchemy. It meant nothing to Ben in that moment, but he gathered they held significance. In notes scribbled in English along the edges of the pages, words like calcination, congelation, sublimination, and recapitulation seemed to delineate and separate the massive segments of verse. Between staring at the German writing and the translations on his phone, he closed the book and bound it up, vowing to return to it when his brain wasn’t nearing a much needed reset. After he returned it, Ben took stock of his position in bed, and decided he had enough in him for one more thing.

  As gently as possible, Ben shifted out of the bed and reached for his laptop as he sat in the room’s singular, ample, cozy armchair. He put a pillow between his naked lap and the computer to prevent any possible accidental burn from the device’s heat-sinks. While it was the middle of the day, he had hoped Mr. S was online. And... Bingo.

  Hey there, Mr. S

  Ben, buddy! How are things?

  I love him.

  Mrs. S and I were thinking of getting a dog.

  Did you see what I said, Mr. S?

  Uh, yeah. And WOW, big guy. A dog WOULD be great, wouldn’t it?

  You’re messing with me.

  Kinda sorta. You and your dad really ARE alike.

  We did it twice. Well, three times.

  Whoa. Whoa, slow down, Ben.

  We got tested.

  … I don't mean to be a hypocrite, because I've done some wild shit in the sack before I married Sarah. But it’s not a measure of how much you love a guy to have sex with him bare. You know that, right?

  I know.

  I think it means you trust him though, huh?

  I do.

  With your heart?

  …

  Oh, Ben.

  He said he loves me. He said it first.

  He’d be an idiot not to love a guy like you.

  …

  Have you told your Dad?

  He knows.

  That’s not the same as telling him.

  I’m telling you.

  Aw, buddy, I’d hug you if I could. But he’s your DAD Dad.

  Yeah.

  I’m touched that you’re telling me, big guy. Thank you. But you do know that me and Sarah, your Dad and even Fox, I’m sure, are all willing to listen to you, right?

  Dad thinks he has a say in who I love.

  Did he actually tell you that?

  … No.

  Doesn’t do you any good to assume, Ben. That’s how people drive those they love away.

  Okay.

  Talk to your Dad, Benj. Don’t let him assume the worst of you, and don’t assume the worst of him. If you keep the lines open, it’ll be easier on both of you if something goes wrong.

  You’re right, Mr. S.

  I wish I could hug you, big guy. I know you’re still hurting.

  … It’s not so bad these days.

  I’m sure. Still, if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you, Ben.

  … I miss you.

  We miss you too. Take care of yourself. And I hope Eric takes care of you.

  The dreaded talk was around the corner. Ben could feel it.

  He wasn’t sure what he was afraid of. What if his Dad would reject him or his decisions? What if he tried to insinuate himself into his life as a disciplinarian or whatever? Ben hasn’t had him around in that respect for ten years. He didn’t need that from his dad now.

  But it was important. If they were going to help Eric, it couldn’t be half-assed. They couldn’t just leave him with a fistful of money and kick him out on the streets of Las Vegas—he had to come with them. If necessary, Ben would buy a car, make the commute, whatever he had to do to make sure Eric was okay. Maybe he could live at home with Fox and his Dad, so that Eric could stay with him? If he had to, he’d take up a job—

  No. Talk with Dad first and see what he says. Mr. S had a point. He didn’t want to push his father away, and he wanted to do right by Eric. It was only fair to give his dad the benefit of the doubt.

  Ben quietly closed the laptop, grabbed a bathrobe, and left the room without a sound. Eric was still asleep as Ben closed the door and released the handle soundlessly.

  Padding into the living room, he found it empty. Ben crossed to his dads’ bedroom door and knocked. When no one answered, he opened it up, and found no one there, either.

  He didn’t recall hearing them leave the suite. There were voices and the sound of water lightly splashing coming from the bathroom.

  “Dad?” Ben softly called out.

  “Son? Is something wrong?”

  “No. Are you guys taking a bath?”

  “Uh—yeah. Hang on, we’ll step out.”

  “It’s okay—stay there. I’ll come in.”

  A pause. “Give us a sec, buddy.”

  Ben closed the bedroom door and waited as he heard the water turning on. After a minute or two, his Dad called him in.

  The scene before him was his Dad on one side of the tub, Fox on the other—and a mountain of foamy bubbles between them.

  “Any reason you couldn’t talk to us out there, big guy?” Dad asked.

  “I don’t want Eric to hear.”

  Dad gave his husband a quick look. The two nodded as Ben’s father said, “Okay.” Ben's eyes snapped to the side-by-side sinks. He turned th
e taps on for both of them and faced the men behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but it would be a few moments before the words he wanted to say would find their way out.

  “This concerns the family. You guys are my family, so I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

  Fox gave Ben an encouraging smile. His father looked concerned.

  “What’s on your mind, son?”

  Ben took a breath. He’d just lay it out there like he did with Mr. S.

  “I love him, Dad.”

  The sound of bubbles rustling was all that could be heard.

  “Alright.”

  “Alright? There isn’t anything else?”

  “Ben, you’re a grown man. I’m not going to dictate how you should love, who you should love. I’m glad you’re telling me, but please don’t assume I’m going to yell at you or whatever you got going on in that head of yours. You’re smarter than that.”

  “Sometimes I don’t feel that way.”

  “Hey, Big Ben. Look at me.”

  Ben did.

  “If you love him, then I hope he loves you. Does he?”

  Ben nodded. “He said it first.”

  “Good.”

  “What are we going to do, Dad? Fox? I’m asking both of you, because I don’t want him to be alone, which means he’ll have to come with us, and we’re a family, and—”

  “Ben, buddy,” Fox said, stepping into the conversation for the first time. “We’ll take him with us. He’s got no one and no place to go, right? It’d be horrible to leave him here.”

  “We’ll bring him,” Jake agreed.

  Ben sighed. “Will he—can he live with you? I’ll come home every weekend, or even drive if I have to. I’ll buy a car—”

  “Dude,” Fox grinned. “One thing at a time.”

  “We haven’t even made the move yet,” the elder Hughes man said. “In fact, we have yet to pick out a house. We’ll probably end up in a hotel for a little bit.”