Chapter Four
“Love is when he gives you a piece of your soul, that you never knew was missing.”
—Torquato Tasso
Although the man himself was most distracting—the most distracting thing Michael had ever encountered across the whole of his existence—he focused now on the pictures in the thick book in his lap.
Such precious moments in time. Perfectly captured by a loving lens.
Whoever took the pictures clearly adored the subjects they were focused on. As all of them contained Ben, Michael could appreciate, if not fully comprehend, the feeling.
He smoothed a finger over Benjamin’s birthdate underneath a picture of him as a newborn in a crib. He did a quick calculation: Ben was a Tiger according to the Chinese Zodiac, and a Taurus, according to Western astrology.
And honestly, even if the dates didn’t match, the spirit of the Tiger suited Ben exactly right. Michael wouldn’t be surprised if the stars decided to realign to make it so.
Based off of memory (and despite his selectiveness, Michael did recall quite a few things, especially the portent of star signs as humans interpreted them), Tigers were emotionally intense when riled. They weren’t easy to rile, despite what some of the interpreters surmised; they were generally calm and aloof.
Solitary.
The fact that Ben was so sociable defied the portrayal. But Michael attributed that more to his innate curiosity than a true desire to be around people. Extroverts didn’t like quiet and alone time. They fed off the energy of others. Whereas, Ben gave energy to others with his mere presence. He uplifted them, like a human sun warming the earth with his life-giving rays.
Michael rather suspected that Ben was just as content with his own company as with others. Their comfortable silences proved it.
Tigers were also courageous and determined. Nothing could sway them from their beliefs or goals. And they were intrinsically warm-hearted, generous and kind. With a subtle, intelligent humor that often took others by surprise.
All of this Michael could see in Ben, making true the millennia-old retellings of the Chinese Zodiac.
But he was also so much more.
According to Western astrology, the Taurus was diligent, patient, devoted, and benevolent. The perfect representation of “still waters run deep.” They were also known to be extremely stubborn when they set their mind on something, and their will was indomitable.
Rather like the Tiger in many ways.
In the male version of both, they would be fiercely protective and deeply affectionate with their mates. And when they loved, it would be forever.
Or so foretold the stargazers.
Michael slid a surreptitious look at Ben from beneath his lashes. He wondered if it was true where this particular man was concerned.
And then, he wondered why he wondered.
After all, it had nothing to do with Michael whether true or not.
“That’s my birth mom, Olivia,” Ben murmured when Michael’s finger roved over a photo of a pale blond woman sitting beside Ben while he drew a picture with crayons.
They looked to be in a hospital room, for the woman was in an uncomfortable metal bed that wasn’t entirely flat, cranked into a position that supported her to sit up. There was a small flat table attached to the bedside, and the little boy Ben sat upon the bed with his legs dangling off the side, using the table to do his art.
Michael couldn’t tell what he drew, but he seemed very engrossed in the project. And the woman, in turn, seemed engrossed in Ben. Her hand was lifted in what looked to be an aborted gesture, not just because the camera caught her in the moment.
Her expression looked conflicted, both sad and hopeful.
Perhaps she’d reached out to smooth Ben’s bouncy curls, like the golden halo around the head of an angel. Perhaps she changed her mind before touching him. Her expression said that she didn’t feel deserving of the touch, even though she obviously longed for it.
Something squeezed in the vicinity of Michael’s chest. He…empathized with the woman in the photo somehow.
This was a startling realization, for Michael didn’t exactly possess a wellspring of empathy for anyone.
“She died of cancer,” Ben related quietly, as if Michael wore questions on his face.
“We were never very close, though I suppose I loved her in my own way. The way a child loves his mother, without really knowing her.”
Michael looked at him then, but Ben wasn’t looking back. He stared down at the photo as if lost in thought.
“I wish there was something I could have done to make her happy. I remember my fa—”
He cleared his throat and said instead, “I remember Gabriel trying every day to make her smile. Nothing worked. She only ever seemed alive toward the end. As if impending death freed her somehow.”
“Perhaps she was a lost soul,” Michael offered.
He knew all about them.
“Hmm,” Ben murmured, seeming to accept the assessment.
Michael flipped the page.
The rest of the album contained mostly happy, candid photos. None of them were staged. There were photos of Ben and Gabriel ice-skating in a crowded rink. Eating triple-scoop ice-cream cones at the park. When he was slightly older, there were pictures of Gabriel reading him stories in bed. There were some of Inanna and Tal too, doing the same.
There were pictures of Ben with other people, some of whom Michael didn’t recognize. Clearly, his circle of friends and acquaintances was vast.
Soon, Michael recognized the landscape of the Yukon Territories.
In one of the photos, Ben was running through the nearby valley with a snow leopard cub pouncing behind him. The colors of the photo were so vibrant, Michael felt like he was being drawn into the scene.
Rich blue skies and glistening rivers, the same brilliant shade as the woven necklace the leopard wore, starkly contrasted with its snowy white fur. The same shade as Tal and Ben’s greenish-blue eyes.
“That’s…ah…a carnival pet one of the travelers…” Ben trailed off in the middle of the lie, as he tried to explain the presence of a snow leopard. The Yukon was certainly not the predator’s natural habitat.
But he simply wasn’t built to lie. It made him visibly uncomfortable.
Michael slid Ben a knowing look, letting their eyes meet.
Wordlessly he conveyed that he knew who the leopard was. After all, he knew about the Beasts and other Immortals.
Ben let out an audible breath, as if relieved.
Such innocence, Michael thought.
If Michael were to lie, no one would ever detect it. Not even himself.
Most especially himself.
None of the pictures betrayed the fact that Ben lived amongst animal spirits, Elementals, Dark Ones, Pure Ones, and dragons. For the most part they were intimate, domestic shots, full of love and carefree laughter.
The type of childhood someone like Ben deserved. The type that any innocent child deserved.
As Michael thought this, his chest squeezed again, making him frown in confusion. It felt too much like regret. He could almost taste its unwelcome bitterness on his tongue.
But Michael couldn’t possibly succumb to such a weakling emotion. Even if he was stuck in a human body, he was still a god.
Wasn’t he?
About half way through the album, the pictures marked Ben’s transition from boyhood to man.
All man.
It wasn’t just the changes in his body, though there was that of course.
His height. The breadth of his shoulders and chest. The strength in his long, muscled legs and arms… He certainly wore T-shirts, Henleys, jeans and cargo pants extremely well. Mountain-man-meets-renegade style. It suited him.
No, his mature masculinity was reflected even more eloquently, more potently, in the fine lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes. From squinting against the sun, perhaps. Or frequent amusement and laughter. They spoke of a life well-lived. Made a person want to know him.
To taste his joy.
And then there was the leanness of his cheeks and the unyielding hardness of his jaw. The strong blade of his collar bone, the mesmerizing dip of his suprasternal notch, and the deep groove that bisected his rock-hard pecs.
At least, they looked rock-hard, covered by a thin layer of smooth, satiny skin, lightly dusted with golden hair.
Michael might have bent over the album for a much closer look to better examine that small patch of skin revealed by the open collar and two undone buttons of Ben’s shirt. He was so close, his eyeballs almost touched the page.
It wasn’t his fault the photographer chose to put this picture in the book. It fairly begged for a thorough ogle.
But more than that, Michael was arrested by the perfect shape of Ben’s mouth. Pure. Carnal. Made for pleasure; promised sin. He was bespelled by the strangely vulnerable knob in Ben’s throat when he arched his head back in one of the shots, blissfully soaking in his untamed surroundings.
And then there were his hands. Graceful, long-fingered, strong-boned hands. Wrapped on the backs of them were beautiful veins that ran along his wrists to his forearms and biceps in a picture of him with his sleeves rolled up. Making dough by the looks of it, while “Mama Bear” bustled in the background, hovering over a stove.
As Ben grew older, his hair darkened in color, and the angelic curls loosened into silky, thick waves. He often wore it half up, half down, haphazardly pulled back from his face, along with a tightly trimmed beard.
The man had no shortage of hair. How “human” of him. Even his eyelashes were thick and long, feathery crescents that framed those brilliant aquamarine eyes.
Michael looked up at those eyes now, suddenly wanting to see the 3D real-life version up close and personal.
Ben looked up at the same moment, meeting his gaze.
And Michael was lost for an indeterminate amount of time. It could have been seconds, minutes or hours. He didn’t know. Didn’t care.
He felt like he could stare into Ben’s eyes forever.
“So strange,” he murmured as if he couldn’t help himself.
“What is?” Ben asked in a quiet rumble, his face unbearably close.
“Surely, I must have encountered more beautiful, more handsome, more gorgeous beings than you before. I’ve been to many places. Seen many things.”
Michael felt his brow furrow at his own confusion.
“But I don’t remember them. You have the perplexing ability to make me stupid.”
Ben huffed a pained sort of laugh, as if he was laughing at himself, not at Michael’s expense.
“You have a…strange effect on me too,” he admitted gruffly, his voice resonating in an even deeper pitch than usual, making Michael shudder with pleasure at the sound of it.
Helplessly, Michael leaned toward Ben, as if magnetized.
Ben was wearing a comfortably fitted Henley this evening, not a button down. Michael wanted to hook a finger into the collar of his shirt and pull it down. As far as it would go. Until the top of Ben’s chest would be revealed, just like the way it was on tantalizing display in the photo.
Not that Ben purposely flaunted his naked skin, Michael was certain. But since he saw it, he wanted to see more.
He wanted to touch the warm, heavenly-smelling man, not the cold, glossy paper. He wondered if Ben’s chest was still dusted with those golden hairs. If the hair had grown thicker or remained just a downy sprinkling in the middle of his body, arrowing toward his jeans.
“Michael…” Ben husked, a desperate edge in his tone, part warning, part longing.
Just his name. No other words.
No rhyme or reason.
One of his hands hovered next to Michael’s shoulder, as if he wanted to capture it—to pull him closer or to shove him away, Michael didn’t know.
Just a peek beneath the Henley. That’s all he wanted.
For now.
What could a little peek harm? It’s not as if he’d fall upon Ben like a slavering beast at the merest hint of golden skin.
His hand inched closer to his prize, and Ben’s hand hovered closer to his shoulder.
But before either one of them could reach the other, the front door suddenly banged open dramatically.
“There you are!” Ere exclaimed with mock surprise.
His narrowed gaze and determined expression showed that he’d been expecting to find them here. Perhaps he even expected what they were doing.
Or almost doing.
Though Michael didn’t know exactly what they would have done if the Black Dragon hadn’t so rudely interrupted them.
And he was clearly here to interrupt.
“Everyone is looking for you, Benjamin,” Ere said.
Ben straightened away from Michael and slowly got up from the couch.
Michael’s eyes naturally followed his movement, locking on the reason for his cautious rise.
A stupendous erection struggled against the confines of Ben’s loosely-fitted jeans. It looked so painful, Michael winced on his behalf.
His own, much smaller erection throbbed insistently in his lap, no less painful. No less thwarted. He kind of wished he’d stay in this form tonight so he could have a proper jerk-off.
It just wasn’t the same being a woman. Things were far more convenient when they hung outside of one’s body, readily accessible.
“Sorry,” Ben said reflexively, running a hand distractedly through his tousled waves.
At first, Michael thought he was apologizing for the rudeness of his jutting cock, and it was on the tip of Michael’s tongue to say—Don’t mind me. Stand a little closer if you wish. I think there’s a spot of wetness through the jeans. I want to see if I can make it wetter if I nuzzle it with my open mouth…
But then he realized that Ben was addressing Ere, not him.
“I must have lost track of time. Give me a couple minutes. I’ll be out shortly.”
Ben strode down the only hallway that led to three closed doors. Michael presumed that one of them was the bathroom. Ben flipped on the light and shut the door behind him.
Ere and Michael remained in the living room, listening to the sound of a faucet turning on.
After a few beats, Ere finally addressed him.
“It’s rude to monopolize his time, you know. Benjamin is the life of every party.”
Michael donned his I-don’t-give-a-fuck face and met the Black Dragon’s glittering blue eyes.
Just like Ben’s eyes.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to be the center of attention all the time,” he suggested.
And then, he knew it to be true. Ben didn’t want to be the center of attention at any time. It was simply his nature to put people at ease when he was with them. And because of his irresistible internal light, people always gravitated towards him.
Even Michael.
Especially Michael.
Ere’s eyes flicked to the open album on the coffee table. He sauntered over and purposely closed the book with a resounding snap. As if he was closing the door to Michael’s tentative foray into Ben’s life.
“Time to go, Romeo,” Ere said silkily, his stare almost frightening in its intensity.
Good thing Michael didn’t know the meaning of fear.
He thought about staying put until Ben came out of the bathroom to eject him from the premises himself. But, then again, Michael’s form was feeling unstable.
He could feel Eve fighting to take shape. It was getting to be that time of night.
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
Ben stared at his face in the bathroom mirror and splashed some more ice-cold water on his overly heated face and neck. His unruly, too-long hair.
He slicked it back away from his face and tied it off with a simple rubber-band. One of these days, he’s going to get a military cut, like Tal. It was just easier. But he was lazy, and Inanna and Ishtar had always liked his hair longer.
He attributed their fondness for the look to his boyhood days, when he’d always sported bouncy, golden curls. Both women called him their “angel.” And when his teachers and classmates learned of his last name, the nickname stuck no matter who he was with.
Ben himself never paid attention to his looks one way or the other. His clothes, his hair, his fitness—they were all utilitarian. He wanted to be comfortable doing whatever he needed his body to do. From teaching crowded classes of undergraduates at various universities around the world to dragon riding and martial arts.
But one day, when he finally found his one, he’d want to satisfy her preferences too. Her opinion would be the only one that truly mattered.
Or his.
Mustn’t assume his someone would necessarily be female, Ben admonished himself. After all, the only person he’d ever felt sexual attraction for was Michael.
He didn’t understand it, but he also couldn’t ignore it.
He stared at his reflection—water still dripping off his jaw and chin, eyes slightly wild and panicked. Pupils still blown.
“Get a hold of yourself,” he muttered.
So, he was attracted to Michael.
It didn’t have to mean anything. He didn’t know the guy. He was actually kind of shocked that he could feel so strongly about someone he barely knew.
Ben had always prized personality, a meeting of minds, and shared values over superficial wrappings. He didn’t think he could find someone attractive without truly knowing them first.
But there was something about Michael…
He couldn’t put his finger on it. Though Michael appeared 100% human, Ben was absolutely certain there was more to him than met the eye. He just didn’t know what.
And, too, he felt like he knew Michael somehow. Knew him on a deeper, visceral level. Clearly, his body was on board with it, while his mind remained skeptical.
Curious. But also suspicious.
He glanced at the small digital clock on the open shelving. One more minute to go before Ere would likely start banging on the door. Knowing Ere, when Ben said “a couple of minutes,” Ere would hold him to exactly two.
His “uncle” was not a patient man.
He looked down at himself and glared at the monstrous erection that simply wouldn’t stand down.
He’d never been this hard before. Despite his lack of experience with others, he took care of his own needs pretty regularly and efficiently. Not that he had anyone to compare to, nor did he feel the need to compare, but he figured he possessed a healthy sex drive for a male in his prime.
But this was something else.
This was…something.
He used the heel of his palm to try to push it down. Like trying to push a stubborn jack back in the box. But clearly, the box or the jack was broken, because his cock wouldn’t budge. If anything, it throbbed harder, demanding more.
More friction. More attention.
Something tight and wet sucking all the built-up fluid out of his balls would be nice. Even if it had to be his own hand.
Ben shoved at his one-track-minded groin again and gritted his teeth at the self-inflicted pain.
He couldn’t go out there like this. He was going to be surrounded by family, friends and neighbors. Maybe he could put on an over-sized coat, even though it was unseasonably warm for fall right now.
He could—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“What’s taking so long, Benjamin Button? You don’t have a stomach bug, do you? Or conked your head on the sink somehow and lying in a puddle of blood on the floor? You know I can’t stand the sight of blood…but I’ll kick in this door if I have to and brave the gruesome sight to save you!”
He yanked open the door before Ere could make good on his threat.
Ere didn’t possess the muscles to act upon it on face value, but he was, after all, the Black Dragon. The most powerful and largest of all of the dragons, despite that his human form was sleek and lean.
Besides, ever since he tapped into his monster half-form, where he looked like Devil Kazuya from Tekken, he had a tendency to whip the bad boy out at the slightest provocation just to show off.
“Ere,” Ben intoned, spearing his sire with a narrow-eyed look, the way parents looked at mischievous misbehaving kids when they were on the verge of losing their patience.
Ere looked him up and down, pausing pointedly on his still aching, though thankfully slightly deflated erection.
“Really, Benjamin? Michael of all people? Forget for a moment that he’s sus as hell, he sure didn’t win the lottery in the looks department. Is this an extreme version of opposites attract?”
“I don’t say this to hurt your feelings,” Ben batted back, “but it’s none of your business, uncle.”
Ere sniffed as Ben moved past him, affecting a wounded look.
“I’m concerned for your virtue, dear boy. That man is not to be trusted. And I only want the very best for you. It’s what you deserve.”
Ben’s ire defused quickly. He wasn’t one to be offended easily; nor did he hold grudges. Despite Ere’s sarcastic ways, he knew that he was loved by his family, perhaps most of all by Ere.
He let the subject drop and looked around for his guest, but Michael was nowhere in sight.
“Oh, he left,” Ere offered helpfully.
“He beat such a hasty retreat, you would have thought he’d turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”
Ben inhaled a deep breath and pushed aside the sudden suffocating sensation of disappointment.
It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t see Michael again. It’s just that he was leaving for the northern stronghold tomorrow, and wouldn’t be back for at least a week. Michael spent more time at Tal’s workshop on the weekends, so they’d miss each other.
The last time they “connected,” they purposely avoided each other for months afterward. Or, at least, Ben did. He’d been embarrassed by his body’s confounding reactions.
He was determined not to be a coward this time. Something urgent inside of him wanted to continue exploring this…thing with the other man immediately. Not wait.
Ben shook his head at his own inexplicable impatience.
He wasn’t some randy teen obsessing over his first real crush. Never been there. Never done that. And now he was too old for that shit.
No matter how desperate his body felt, how curious his mind was, his heart was far from engaged. He needed to take his time getting to know Michael. And if that didn’t happen, for whatever reason, then it wasn’t meant to be.
For all he knew, Michael was only the catalyst for his long overdue sexual awakening. A mere sampler before the real meal.
Ben winced at his own mental analogy.
He was thinking too hard. He should simply follow his instincts. They’d never led him astray before.
After socializing with various guests back at the main house, and after the cookout finally wound down, leaving only Ben and his immediate family, he helped Mama Bear and Tal clean up, while Gabriel and Inanna rearranged the furniture and stored away the benches, tables and chairs.
Ere and Sorin returned to their “nest” atop the tallest mountain. A room was always reserved for them at the main house, but mostly, they preferred the isolation and privacy of their own home.
And a good thing too. The Mated pair was loud when they felt amorous. Which was all the fucking time.
Moreover, they were a fire hazard. Apparently, Sorin burst into flames (being the Phoenix) when the action heated up (pun intended), and Ere only made things more explosive.
Ben lost track of how many beds they’d immolated. Ere always made sure to order a new one, but one of these days, if they weren’t careful, the whole house could catch fire.
Presently, Ben’s parents and Ishtar bid their goodnights, while Ben lingered behind, hoping to catch Tal before he retired to bed.
The blind General seemed to always know these things, for he gestured with a slight nod of his head to the back porch. Ben followed him outside with a couple of beers, handing one to Tal as they took their seats on adjacent rattan sofas.
The comfortable furniture was made to fit males of their proportions—tall, broad and heavy with muscle—but the material was so light, Ben always took his seat gingerly, for fear he would break something. Ishtar would have his head if he did.
Tal took a sip of his beer and squinted at it as if he could read the label.
“It’s a Bell's Oberon, American wheat ale,” Ben explained. “What do you think?”
He and Tal had a thing between them where Ben would source all kinds of beers from around the world, they would have a tasting test, and compare and contrast. They didn’t drink it for the alcohol, because Immortals couldn’t get drunk. Though if Ben let himself go, he could get a nice little buzz by the end of the night.
They did it mostly as an interesting and sometimes tasty way for Tal to learn more about the modern world. Because of his blindness, Tal’s other senses, including his taste and smell, were much more acute.
Once they got through all the beers, maybe they’d graduate to wines and hard liquor. Ben didn’t partake of those very often. He preferred more casual drinks.
“It doesn’t have the banana and clove flavors of the German ale you brought before,” Tal noted. “But I can detect a fruity aroma and a touch of spice.”
Ben nodded, impressed.
“Your taste buds are amazing. If you ever wanted to make a different kind of living, you could always be a professional taster.”
Tal lifted his brows in surprise.
“People receive income for tasting?”
Ben grinned.
“Oh, you’d be surprised what people could get paid to do in this brave new world. If there’s demand, there’s always supply. For better or for worse.”
“Hmm,” Tal murmured, looking thoughtful.
From his expression, Ben didn’t think Tal particularly liked the capitalistic nature of modern society.
He changed the subject.
“I caught up with Goya tonight. He’s planning to send a reconnaissance party of animal spirits along the eastern mountain range. While the mountains themselves provide a natural barrier against invaders, there are also plenty of hidden places where enemies can await in ambush. He doesn’t expect his troop to find anything out of the ordinary; it’s merely a routine check.”
Tal inclined his head in agreement.
“The Tiger King is wise to take precautions. While I cannot see the future any more, I can still feel things. Something will happen soon. I can sense an oppressive energy building in the Universe. We must be prepared for every eventuality.”
Ben was silent for a while, considering his grand-sire.
When he was a boy, he used to ask Tal-Telal many questions. Endless questions. He didn’t know then that some of those questions hurt. For they delved into Tal’s harrowing past.
For most of his existence, the General had been a prisoner, enduring horrific torture across thousands of years. It had taken him and Ishtar a long time to get their relationship to a healthy place, as Tal continued to suffer from the trauma of what had been done to him. But in the grand scheme of things, he’d actually recovered extremely fast. A few years compared to a few millennia.
But Ben knew that he wasn’t completely “well.” There was still a long way to go.
Perhaps he never would be well. Perhaps he fought for his sanity every day and would continue to do so as long as he breathed. It was a testament to Tal’s strength and love for his Mate that he never gave up.
Would never give up.
Ben chose his words carefully when he asked, “What was it like…to have the ability to see into the future? I can only imagine that with such knowledge comes tremendous responsibility.”
Tal sighed and closed his unseeing yet brilliant eyes, turning his beer in his scarred and calloused hands.
“Terrifying,” he rasped.
Then, he added in an even softer voice: “Lonely.”
“You see, no future is set until it becomes the past. Even when it is present, there is still time to change it,” he explained quietly.
“What I saw were possibilities. Fated perhaps. But even Destiny could be altered by the will of determined souls. I often wondered whether I made the right choices. If I could have prevented the devastation.”
Ben wondered whether he meant the wars that happened or his own tragic past. Probably both.
“I did the best I could with the knowledge I had,” Tal said, clenching his jaw against alternatives. “I live with the consequences every day. It is my burden to carry.”
“But not yours alone,” Ben said. “We are each of us responsible for our own choices and actions.”
After another prolonged pause, he asked, “Do you ever wish you still had the Sight? Especially now, as we prepare again for war?”
Tal didn’t hesitate in his answer.
“No, Benjamin. Even when I had the Gift, I could never see the futures of those closest to me. I was always operating on incomplete information. I’ve learned, after all this time, that it is better to be blind. Sometimes, seeing can be deceiving. You must trust your instincts. Think with your mind, but act with your heart.”
Ben nodded and downed the rest of his beer. Tal’s words resonated. He knew them to be true. But it was hard to do when one’s heart and mind were sometimes at odds with one another.
“But this is not why we are lingering on the back porch sipping beers,” Tal surmised.
He focused his glittering gaze upon Ben, “seeing” all too well.
“Is there something else on your mind, Ben? Someone else, perhaps?”