Chapter Seventeen
The winds calmed, the light show faded, and the cemetery slipped once again into its comfortable stillness.
Schuyler felt both apprehensive and stunned.
The fear of the Elders awaking had not nagged him during the ritual, but now he worried they might have broken the Edict somehow, especially since Devion was there, floating in the air.
Dev’s hands roamed over his body, stretching his arms and legs, working every muscle, bringing movement back to every part of him.
Schuyler marveled that even in the witching world, with all its wondrous knowledge and capabilities, a moment so stunningly surreal could still exist. He wanted to run to Dev, to touch him, to start talking—but Sky remained behind the altar, unable to do anything but stare, standing beside Issac, who was equally silent and in awe.
Devion’s attention focused on his vessel, ensuring he worked out every muscle before he looked out in front of him.
The moment he saw Schuyler, a smile Sky had not seen in twenty years shone back at him.
And with it, a realization: Dev and Issac shared that smile.
It was the one trait of Issac’s Sky could never put his finger on.
He’s right there.
Dev floated toward the altar, his eyes only on Schuyler.
When Issac went to speak, to introduce himself, Dev waved his hand and commanded him to sleep.
Issac dropped to the ground, passing out.
Schuyler was torn, with part of him not wanting to move as Dev drew closer, and part of him wanting to check on Issac.
“He can wait,” Dev said dismissively, his bare feet touching the ground in front of the altar. “Hey, baby.” He reached out and grabbed Schuyler’s hands, moving him around the altar until they were in front of each other.
Dev’s face was youthful perfection. Schuyler wanted to withdraw, to turn back. “I’ve aged, and damn, you’re still twenty.”
“Smudge,” Dev said lovingly, his hands moving all over Schuyler’s body: his face, tugging on his beard, his hair.
Once he started, he never stopped, kissing Schuyler between words, hugging him tightly.
“Age only made you better. Mmm, damn, the beard. Babe, I’ve wanted to touch it since the first time you showed up here with it. ”
“What do you mean? You’ve been here?”
Dev motioned to the headstone. “I would sit there and listen to you. I felt helpless a lot. I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t touch you, or help you when you were sad.
I couldn’t help when you had an issue, or protest when you said you were leaving Bairwick, or running off to marry some low-level witch.
“And you were so upset the other day.” Dev squeezed him tightly. “I wanted to say something so badly, but I couldn’t.”
“I don’t understand. You’ve been right here for twenty years?!”
“Time isn’t really a linear concept when you’re dead.
Feels like no time passed at all, but you also feel every minute.
” Devion stretched out his hand, and the journal floated to him.
“This was always meant to be yours. But typical Adriana, even after my death, she found a way to ruin my life. She never gave this to you, like I’d asked her. ”
“I don’t think your mother ever liked me.”
“Oh, she didn’t. You weren’t a girl; you were never going to win. I don’t think she liked me much either. So why my stupid ass left her instructions to do something, I’ll never know. But I couldn’t give it to you directly at the time.
“Schuyler, I am so sorry. You were supposed to do this spell, like, right after they buried my ass. It’s why I’d blocked myself in here, so no one could find me ’till after you did, and I could explain everything.
“When I realized you didn’t have the journal, it was too late, and I was trapped here. I couldn’t reach out through spirit boards; I couldn’t pop into your dreams and make them dirty. Well, knowing you, dirtier.
“I couldn’t do anything but sit and wait. Even the other spirits here couldn’t sense me. I would never have left you in that silence intentionally. To make you think, even for a second, I didn’t love you, because I did. I do. I always will.
“Speaking of, Dimmtis.” Dev threw his arm to the sky and twisted his hand as if turning the knob of a combination lock. The red-black energy, visible and pulsing under his skin, rushed up to his fingertips, and electricity shot out against the unseen barrier, bringing the walls down.
“There,” he said, kissing Schuyler. “Once this is over, I’ll be able to answer you from now on.”
Over?
“Yeah, sexy bearded guy, this—” Dev motioned to the vessel, his hand lingering around his crotch. “Doesn’t last long. You want to do the explanation stuff now, or after?” he asked with a sly smile.
Schuyler recognized the playful glint in those dark eyes.
It was the same desire he felt, the same thought quietly lurking beneath all his emotional fretting.
“After,” Sky confirmed, lost in the dreaminess of his beau in front of him, remembering nights when he stood on the porch, delaying their goodbyes so he could memorize every inch of that face.
They tumbled to the ground, kissing, but only momentarily before floating up into the air.
Their clothes soon evaporated. Skin to skin, they rose higher.
Dev’s earthy scent, with just the right amount of musk, filled Schuyler’s nostrils.
Sky pulled him closer, taking in more of the scent and refilling his memory banks with the details of his smell, his taste.
Dev held him tenderly, without a drop of urgency in his touch or in the kisses to his neck. There was no rush to move forward. He savored the moment, his hands gliding over Schuyler’s body.
They lay next to each other in mid-air as if lying on a king-size bed.
Schuyler found his memory of Dev’s body remained accurate; the nights he’d spent reminiscing of his hairy swimmers build as he pleasured himself.
Devion enjoyed discovering the newness of Schuyler’s body, verbally broadcasting his delight with the thickness and beard.
He rolled on top of Schuyler and they spun around, kissing and spinning, rising higher into the air.
Devion positioned Schuyler to straddle him just as a broom appeared under Dev.
They flew up beyond the clouds, stopping before the glorious, full, unobstructed moon.
Sky shifted his body, pushing Dev’s large erection between his cheeks.
He paused their kissing to wet his fingertips; then, he reached under him and lubed himself up.
Dev cried out when Schuyler’s hole swallowed the head of his cock.
He rode Dev for a few minutes until the broom swooped them around—and Schuyler found Dev riding him. “Do you remember our first time?” he asked Schuyler, who moaned loudly.
“Yes, of course.”
Dev smiled and waved his hand; the broom dissipated, and they fell softly like leaves returning to the earth, still wrapped around one another, grabbing at each other until they landed on Schuyler’s bed in his teenage bedroom.
Candyman was muted on the television.
Devion moved Schuyler to be in front of him, just like their first night, admiring his ass before sliding back in.
Sky, remembering the moment, felt all those inaugural sensations again, reliving them.
The first time he’d been penetrated, the feeling of a hard dick sliding in him, touching places he was unaware existed.
Eventually, Schuyler broke from the momentum.
They changed positions.
Schuyler rolled Dev down onto his back, slamming him against the ivy-choked side of a large crypt. Dev lifted his left leg up over Schuyler’s arm as Sky fucked him up against the cold stone wall. The night they spent their six-month anniversary in the cemetery was a cherished memory.
Devion pushed Schuyler to the ground, laying him face-down across the graves, and buried his face between Schuyler’s firm cheeks.
Schuyler moaned and clawed at the dirt, digging into the grass that became like the fabric of the backseat of his car—on the side of the road, where they’d pulled over having a fight driving back from a friend’s birthday party.
Schuyler lay on his back, Dev on top of him, kissing his body as the uncirculated air in the car grew thick. Schuyler reached his hand up, wanting to smear it across the fogged window, but instead, Dev found his way to Sky’s armpit.
As Dev pumped into him, perspiration began to trickle down Schuyler’s forehead. He wiped the sweat away, only to feel water returning, spraying his face, followed by the cold sensation of tile against his body.
Dev continued to lick Schuyler’s armpit as the showerhead in the steam-filled shower was on full blast, hosing them down after gym class.
Schuyler broke away, kneeling and taking Dev’s erection into his mouth as hot water poured over him—water that became the soft, black sheets of Dev’s bed in his gothic styled, dimly lit bedroom.
Sky, hidden under the covers, slowly and silently went down on him as Dev’s mother yelled from the doorway about some minor offence, unaware of what was going on. He could smell the Palo Santo incense in the room. The warm water of Dev’s waterbed rolled under them.
The bed opened, and they fell through their shared pool of memories past, inhabiting moments when they found bliss within each other—memories that flowed together, one after another, until Schuyler realized they were somewhere foreign: an empty apartment.
Their apartment.
They found themselves on the bare floor of the one-bedroom, lying on the quilt Dev’s grandmother had left him, surrounded by pizza, wine bottles, and piles of unpacked boxes.
Across the floor, they made love in their place, until they found themselves on their bed, in the bedroom they shared, into the kitchen, where Dev, on his knees, ate Schuyler’s ass as he prepared them dinner.
They were tumbling through a life that would have been, one experienced through countless blissful moments: nights together on the couch, naked, teasing each other while playing video games, cuddling during movie nights, until they were back in bed.
In a new home, years into their marriage, they remained happy, and their sex was still as hot as the first time.
They tumbled through the memories of fights and love, threesomes and orgies, and just them—often just them.
The good times and the losses: the nights of sex had out of obligation, to the nights they both sought solace in others.
The passing of time still found them attracted to each other, finding pleasure despite the aging bodies they inhabited, they still always saw each other as they were, never lamenting the bodies that once had been.
They enjoyed vigorous sex well into their eighties and beyond, and just as they had from the first time, they continued to orgasm together, in unison.
The blades of grass scratched Schuyler’s back as the cool wind whipped across his naked body.
Dev remained on top of him, stroking his face, admiring him.
Both of their bodies trembled from the exertion.
Schuyler admired him, lingering in the sweet post-orgasmic bliss of a life imagined and created.
These were memories which Schuyler realized would remain with him, and he would never again feel the emptiness of those what ifs that had once hounded him.
He’d lived the life he had always wondered about.
“I love you, Smudge,” Dev whispered as he reluctantly rolled off him, their clothes reappearing. “And I owed you that. Hopefully, it helps you move on.”
Schuyler couldn’t form the words to thank him; the weight of the what ifs vanished. Life—still an unfair bitch in all her guises—now felt lighter. “I love you more,” he replied, sealing his devotion with a kiss.
“Yo,” Dev added, after a pause. “I gotta know—who’s the fucking little twink? Kinda young for you, Smudge.”
The two of them rose to their feet, still clinging to each other, not wanting to separate.
“Um, babe, that’s your nephew, Issac. He’s the one who found your journal. Didn’t know a damn thing about magic, I’ve been teaching him.
Schuyler noticed the pensive look crawling across Dev’s face. “Your sister hid the truth from him.”
Dev shook his head. The information presented was enough to break him away from Schuyler. He waved his hand over the altar, dissolving it, and looked at Issac, still asleep on the grass. “Is that what he told you?”
“It is. He’s actually pretty good. He’s impressed me.”
“As if.”
“What? He is though. Is this because we’re seeing each other?”
“No, I’m dead, babe. I can’t be mad about who you’re banging. What I’m saying is he can’t be good at magic—he’s not a witch.”