Heat - 11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I wake up the next morning for the first time in months without a single nightmare. I don’t know what I dreamed about. Maybe I didn’t dream at all. I get up and pull on my running gear. My mind’s turning a bit over what to say to Asher. I think I might really like him and I have a feeling he feels similarly. On the other hand, I recognize we are both going through things right now that could make being in a relationship harder than it should be. He’s on the run and I lost my entire family a little less than a month ago. I don’t know if it’s healthy to jump into something that’s as… intense as I suspect this may become. Also he’s magic, so that’s weird.

Outside it’s an unusually warm morning for this early in spring so I swap my track pants and hoodie for shorts and a long-sleeve t instead. I stretch to get my blood flowing and then start my run at a lazy pace - I want more time to think before I make it to Asher’s. I can’t deny how drawn to him I am. I don’t think I would have been able to stick around through all of this if I wasn’t. It’s not just physical (though that’s very much there too), something about him makes me want to be near him. It could be that I always know where I stand around Asher. I’m never questioning my place in his world when I feel like I never know where I fit with everyone else. Maybe the best thing to do would be to tell him how I’m feeling but that’s scary. Vulnerability isn’t my strong-suit.

All too soon I’m on his street and he is there, wearing a holey short sleeved t and the same shorts from the day I met him. He catches up easily, greeting me with a smile before we fall into a rare silence, neither of us quite sure where to start.

After we find a comfortable pace he says “I’ve never really done this before.”

“Done what?” There are truly so many things he could be talking about right now.

“Been with a guy. Like, properly. Or anyone to be honest.” Ohhh. That.

“Yeah, um. Me either. At least, I haven’t dated anyone before.” Translation: I’m not a virgin. I’ve been on the apps since long before it was safe (or legal) to be on the apps. I know that’s not really what he means though.

“If I’m honest before I met you I hadn’t ever considered it. I hadn’t considered being with anyone. Hell, before I came here I didn’t even know anyone my own age. You though. You’re different. I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone - ever - except maybe my parents and trusting them was absolutely and unequivocally a mistake. I don’t think it’s a mistake this time. Anyway, I guess all this is to say thank you for sticking by me. If you are willing I would really like to be more than just friends.” During all of this he slows until we are stopped on the sidewalk.

His eyes burn into mine and I can feel how much he means what he is saying. It echoes inside me, rattles the parts of me that are atrophied and starts them twitching again. It hurts. So fucking much. Feels like pins and needles inside my chest. I don’t even notice when the tears start. He says “Oh my god I’m so sorry. I made you cry again.”

At first I can’t even speak, I’m too overwhelmed. I sit down against a tree and put my head between my knees like I’ve run too hard and I’m trying not to throw up. Then I realize. It’s the same tree. There’s a perfectly burned palm print from where Asher’s hand rested against it when we almost kissed. All of a sudden my tears turn to a bout of uncontainable laughter. Asher squats down next to me looking incredibly confused. “Are you ok?”

I don’t even answer, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him to me fast enough that he doesn’t have time to anticipate our lips meeting. The kiss is long, and soft, and the flames are licking at his skin when we separate. “I’m good. I’m really, really good. Yes I want to be your boyfriend.”

A grin splits his flickering face as he says “Thank you. That means so much to me.”

“I can tell. Do we need to find somewhere to hide?” They are rolling across him in waves now and I can tell he is using all of his concentration to keep from bursting.

“No, it’s ok. Just give me a second.” he closes his eyes and breathes, slow and even. After a couple of minutes the flames die down and the heat stops radiating off him. “Next time you’re going to make me that happy give me a little warning first, ok?”

“Ok. Can I hug you now?”

“Yeah, it should be ok.” I stand and wrap my arms around him. He is very warm but I receive no new burns as we stand there, embracing. After a long time we separate a little and he looks at me, touching my face with his hand. “These look pretty bad. Does it hurt?”

As a matter of fact it does, quite a lot. Turns out first degree burns on your face aren’t as fun as they look. “No, it’s not that bad” I lie.

“We had better take care of them before school. Come on, let's head to my place.”

…

Asher’s apartment is small and kind of feels like an indoor retro yard sale. It’s a studio that takes up the entire converted basement of a duplex (triplex) complete with the usual converted basement quirks - namely wood-paneled walls and a decidedly 70s feel to the appliances. He doesn’t have much in the way of furniture and what he does have looks like it was picked up at either the local secondhand shop or on the craigslist “free” section. A brown couch covered in patchy suede, a mattress on the floor pushed against a wall, an ancient 32 inch LCD tv with what appears to be an actual cable box. Plugged into the wall and everything. Wild.

The floor of the room is covered in green, wall to wall carpet that I’m pretty sure predates 9/11 by a good ten years but in the very center of the room a four by four square of it has been cut out revealing the bare concrete foundation. In pale peach colored sidewalk chalk Asher has drawn hundreds of complicated spiraling symbols in concentric circles, leaving a two foot diameter empty space in the middle. He steps up to this circle and explains “This is a source rune. It’s the simplest way to draw, often used by new druids first learning the craft. It will regulate the amount of power coming from me to you, like a limiter.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna get your security deposit back here.”

“My what?” Oh. Yikes.

“Never mind.” I look at the circle apprehensively. “If that thing limits the power, what happens if I get too much?”

“Any number of things. You could set the building on fire. You could explode. You could explode and set the building on fire.”

Jesus. “Gonna be honest, you aren’t making me feel especially confident here. What happens if I don’t explode then?”

“We need it to draw some of my flame out of me and into you. Just holding the power for a few moments should be enough to heal those burns. Burn healing is automatic when you draw from fire.”

“Will it… hurt?”

“Not at all. I’ve obviously never done it myself but from how it’s been explained to me the first time feels really good actually. That’s where the danger lies. It can feel so good you want to keep pulling more and more until you hurt yourself or others. I’ve even seen someone die from pulling too much power out of me too quickly. That’s what this is for -” he points to the rune “it’ll do the drawing for you, keeping things more or less safe.”

I take a deep breath. “Ok. Now or never then, I guess. School starts in..” I check my watch “twenty minutes. Let's do this. Magic time!” I make a few kinda vaguely wizard-ey looking gestures with my hands. Nothing happens.

Asher giggles. “It doesn’t work like that. First, I have to actually be in the circle, and second you have to be right there. That spot marked with an x is due south, the cardinal direction of fire.” I awkwardly step onto the x. Where does one put their arms when performing a magical ritual? Certainly not where I’m putting mine. Anywhere but that.

Asher steps into the circle and pulls his shirt off revealing smooth, white skin. Then he kicks off his running shoes, peels off his socks and starts to pull down his shorts. I make a sort of choking-coughing sound and he stops just short of the important bits. “Oh, sorry! I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just don’t want to ruin my clothes. Should I turn around?”

“No!” Ok, too loud. Lets try that one again. “I mean no, it’s ok. It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.” Better. More reasonable. Less rabid. We’re doing well. “You know, from that time you… exploded.” Oh, you mean yesterday? When he got so sad he almost killed you? Probably not a good idea to bring that up, eh Kenan? Asshole.

“Ok. As long as it’s cool with you. I’m used to it so I forget how other people might take this stuff - it’s pretty hard to effectively clothe a living flame.” he laughs and as he does he pushes off his shorts and kicks them into the pile on the mattress with his other clothes. Commando huh. Bold choice for a jogger. Shocking I didn’t notice before (I did).

Now I feel weird being the only person in the room wearing clothes. Then again, my shorts are at least somewhat hiding where I’m keeping most of my blood right now. “Now what?”

“Just stand there, let me check over this rune one last time and make sure everything’s in order.” Asher looks down at the rune, bending over to re-chalk some smudged lines. Yep. Sure glad for the shorts. Very helpful. Asher stands back up, turning to me and I am proud to say I don’t even glance at his dick (for very long). “Ok, it all looks good to me. Your part’s pretty simple. Just stand there and like… receive. I don’t super know how it works on your end.” Yeah, I’ve heard that one before buddy. Lie back and think of England, huh? “Ok, I’m gonna start. Let me know if anything feels weird.”

He closes his eyes and the flames start to ripple across his bare skin. I watch them gently roll down his chest and arms, flickering off into nothing when they reach his fingertips. I’m momentarily proud of myself for not taking the opportunity to check him out until I give in and slowly trace my eyes down, down, down, until I’ve memorized all of him. It strikes me in this moment how opposite we are, our bodies like inverted mirrors. His skin is milk pale, silk smooth, and lined in silvery-blue veins; mine is medium brown, hirsute, and roped with wiry runner’s muscle. He is tall and thin where I am (slightly below) average height and consistently fill out my shirts. I trace the faint line of straight brown hair trailing from his belly button down with my eyes. It’s hard not to look at what lies at the end of that trail, large (but not intimidatingly so) and oddly friendly looking in it’s softness. The flickering flames have reached it now and they somehow serve to highlight it’s curves and lines, captivating me. I feel suddenly light-headed, overwhelmed by sensation.

Everything intensifies all at once. The world simultaneously sharpens and blurs, highlighting only Asher’s beauty, wreathed in flame, and the thump and pulse of my heart. My cock is throbbing with it’s rhythm, straining against my running shorts. I can feel sweat drip down my back and the coolness of it in contrast to the sudden heat of the room sends shivers up my spine. It feels like my entire consciousness has moved into my skin and my eyes. I hear nothing, perceive nothing but the roaring of flame and every small sensation against my skin. I can feel every thread of my t-shirt, every wave of overpowering heat washing over me, every solitary drop of sweat. Asher is my world, his body calls out to me and I feel a craving deep as hunger or thirst or rage. I want to swallow him, to drink him in, to feel him inside me, on top of me, under me everything all at once. I reach out to him, there is light moving somewhere in my peripheral but it is beneath my notice. All is Asher. All is heat and flame and lust and lust and lust. Now I see the light, rippling across my arms. Now I understand. The flame rolls across my skin as it does his, we are one and the same. Inverted mirrors. Power ripples through my body and I scream as the heat reaches a crescendo, bursting out of me in wave after wave directed toward Asher. He takes it, takes it all back inside of him, and I collapse smoking onto the singed green carpet.