Like a Surge Page 13

  After a bit of thought, and with much trepidation, Ash scrolled through the contacts in his phone, and dialed.

  Grandma Olga picked up after a few rings. “Ash, what a pleasure to hear from you!”

  “You don’t sound surprised,” Ash said with a grin on his face.

  “Not much can surprise me anymore,” she said with a laugh. Her voice, accented and lilting, brimmed with joy. “Some premonitions are the good kind, although I didn’t scry to find out more.” She paused. “So... did he say yes?”

  Ash froze. He had been thinking of asking Cooper for a permanent commitment. They were a natural pair. Their resonance matched, they amplified each other. They, more importantly, loved each other, yet Ash had not popped the question. It was too soon, just half a year after they had met. “I, uh...”

  “Oh, dear. I am sorry. I thought you were going to –”

  “I was thinking about it.” Ash couldn’t help but feel defensive.

  “I am so sorry, Ash. A possible future came to me, that’s all. I didn’t think why else you would be calling, so I came to a natural conclusion.” Olga’s spry voice turned into an old woman’s disappointment. She sighed. “Well, there’s still time. So, what did you need?”

  “Maybe I just wanted to talk to you,” Ash said, trying for a lighter tone.

  She scoffed. “Nobody calls me just to talk to me. People are afraid I’ll change the course of their lives. Come on, Ash. Out with it. How may I help you?”

  Humbled, and somewhat embarrassed at finding that Cooper’s grandmother’s gift isolated her from just about everyone she knew, Ash focused on the reason he called. “I was wondering, is there any way to scan a person for either talent or intent before renting to them?”

  “No.” Her voice was strong, and her answer came without hesitation. “A good person will be good, a bad person will be bad. People can change to an extent, too. And if I look into the future, there will be repercussions.” She paused. “I’ll let you know if something catastrophic comes to me, of course, but there is something I can tell you right away.”

  “What?” Ash leaned forward with eagerness, as though she was in front of him.

  “Don’t have them sign a long lease. Rent month to month.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s easy,” she said, with a smile he could hear across the three hundred miles of digital connection. “Your real estate market is booming. This way, you can raise the rent if you want. You can also make space for a family member, if somebody else decides to join you lot.”

  “Oh?” Now this was curious. “Like who?” He was interested in their talent, mostly, since he didn’t know other members of Cooper’s family by name.

  “Now that would be telling,” she said. “And I can’t do that, as you are well aware.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me?” Ash didn’t bother to hide his frustration.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I can. Cooper will get sick once he starts working from that group office. You can help him by feeding him my chicken soup. I’ll email you my recipe.”

  Stunned, he blinked hard. “You said you wouldn’t look into the future,” he said accusingly.

  “I didn’t,” came the swift, acerbic reply. “You two have been too insular, and he’ll be around other people. It just stands to reason he’ll pick something up. Our kind can fine-tune the body to resist disease, but Cooper isn’t at that level yet. Just make sure to use fresh garlic, not that powdered kind. It won’t work otherwise.”

  PAUL STRETCHED OUT on his new bed and relished in the look of the intricate copper piping of his trellis. He loved the way the realistic grape vines wound their way up the structure and across the larger, open spaces. Metal leaves filled most of the gaps. They had chimed gently as he climbed in, and were silent now. Only the clusters of green and amethyst beads sparkled with the latent life of the day’s waning light, which still infused his bedroom from behind his head.

  His new bed was wonderful – comfortable, beautiful, but most importantly, functional. He could thank Russ for the latter part, reminding himself that he was sleeping inside a Faraday Cage. Thanks to Russ, his vo-tech instructor, he even knew how a Faraday Cage worked.

  Or was supposed to work.

  The structure of wire and pipe around him had originally been designed to shield a person, or an electronic device, from outside electromagnetic interference. In Paul’s case, however, it was the world around him that was being shielded from his own emanations.

  No more blown fuses in the morning.

  No more busted transformer at the intersection.

  Or that was, at least, Russ’s operating theory. In a burst of optimism, Russ had provided him with a landline telephone, which he placed under the reading lamp on the wooden night table. Paul could reach through the metallic foliage and touch it.

  And he was allowed to touch it now, because Paul had introduced a slew of adaptations. The chain-pull of the lamp was made of a rubber ball, the old-fashioned phone was encased in an insulating silicone-rubber sleeve that allowed Paul to handle it, and push the number keys, while speaking and listening through perforations in the thick, clear membrane.

  They had tested it, and Paul wasn’t as cut away from the rest of the world anymore.

  He drifted off, only to wake to a dark room. A glance at his analog alarm clock told him that his two-hour nap banished his headache better than any reishi extract, and the house resonated with silent privacy. For the first time in what felt like forever, Paul was entirely alone.

  The sensation gave him an unpleasantly floaty feeling, and he quickly reached through his screen and turned on his lamp.

  Better.

  As his breathing settled, he picked up the phone, and dialed one of several numbers he had committed to memory.

  Russ answered before the phone could go to voice mail. “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s Paul,” Paul said, feeling suddenly shy. He had never called anyone before. Mark had been the one who handled communications for both of them.

  “Hey there!” Russ’s voice came across as tinny, but even so, Paul could tell that Russ was glad to hear from him. “How’s the bed?”

  “I slept. It’s good.” Paul let his gaze trace the trellis and the vines, let his mind latch onto the twists and turns of their pattern. The mental exercise was soothing. “It’s really nice,” he reflected. “And comfortable, and I can’t thank you enough.” He shifted. The lamp threw light at the bright green grapes from a different angle now. “So pretty, too.”

  “I’m glad,” Russ just about purred. “I’m glad it’s perfect.”

  Should he dare? Paul hesitated, then launched forth before his courage and resolve petered out. This was his place now, after all. His private home. It was safe, too – safe for him, as well as for the outside world. “It’s cold. It needs... something right next to me. Or someone.”

  “Really.” The speculative tone of Russ’s voice had the hair on Paul’s arms stand at attention. Normally, he’d have worried about the wiring, but his reading light had not even flickered. “Maybe you need to invite someone over to warm it up for you.”

  Oh. That’s right, he had to do that. Paul had to do the inviting now, not Mark. And people wouldn’t keep barging in out of sheer concern anymore, not now that things were settled, and he could take his life in a positive direction.

  “I...um...” Inviting a guy to warm his bed turned out to be harder than he expected.

  Russ maintained that tense, expectant silence.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to come over?” His words were careful, coming out one by one as though English was a foreign language.

  “Just for drinks, or dinner? Or... something more?”

  “For everything,” Paul rushed out. “I could order pizza. And Ash gave me a bunch of Thanksgiving leftovers, if you’d prefer something healthy.”

  “Leftovers. And I’ll bring wine, if you don’t mind. I think we need to celebrate your bed.” Russ was s
miling as he said that. Paul could tell from his voice alone.

  “My bed, and my privacy,” Paul said. “And pack a bag. We might as well be efficient.” Because who could argue with efficiency? Paul knew how to talk his way into the heart of an engineer.

  CHAPTER 17

  Russ tossed his overnight bag on the fabric-covered back seat of the old, beige Camry he was driving now that his old Honda had given up the ghost. The car was a loaner from his brother, a hand-me-down from their grandmother who’d had to stop driving.

  As he waited to for the engine to warm up, he inhaled, amazed that he could still smell his grandma’s floral perfume. Obviously, his brother Rick had not driven it or else it would’ve reeked like an ashtray.

  The car’s engine ran with a well-tuned hum despite its venerable age, and the 1990’s era electronics gave off a faint glow only he could see. He was glad Rick had not sold it yet. With an attitude of gratitude, Russ focused on his destination.

  Half an hour of moderate traffic brought him to an alley that was tucked away parallel to the Allegheny River, where Paul now lived in his own little townhouse, right next to his cousin’s end-house on the right and another member of their interesting clan on the left.

  After a brief debate whether or not to be discreet, Russ parked in front of Paul’s house, right next to his motorcycle. He was here to see Paul, dammit, and there was nothing wrong with that.

  Or was there? Suddenly he faltered, uncertain whether their attraction had been just a momentary thing, whether he had read too much into a storm gone awry or into a fire hydrant cap that had lost its way. There was still time to turn back and return to his depressing little apartment on the outskirts of town.

  He was making a fool of himself, a fool who was latching onto a younger guy. A guy with a bioelectric problem – and who was, incidentally, way out of his league.

  Yet the thought of not seeing Paul wrecked him inside, and right then and there he decided to risk his dignity and just do it. He grabbed his bag, slammed the car door, and locked it. Before he could skip across the sidewalk to the green-painted door and knock, the door flew open.

  “Hey,” Paul said. His hair was mussed as though he just got out of bed. A pair of gray sweats was hanging off his hips, and a too-large, white T-shirt was still wrinkled, presumably with sleep. “You made it,” he said in a voice that was just a bit breathy and all kinds of relieved.

  “I didn’t waste a moment,” Russ said. If he had been concerned about the nature of Paul’s invitation for an overnight stay, the way he bit his lip and allowed a shy, flirty smile eased his worries. The slight hesitation in Paul’s expression was entirely negated by his open body language, and the weight of his gaze caressed Russ from top to bottom, and then back up again.

  Damn.

  Russ toed the door shut behind him and let his eyes adjust to the dim, dark-wood foyer. As they stumbled into the living room he picked out Paul’s aura from the ambient glow of the small lamp by the sofa. That electromagnetic field, one which all living things were supposed to have, used to glow around Paul as though he was standing in a spotlight. Not anymore, though. The pink fog was now thin around him, and Paul’s customary nervous expression eased into a languid smile.

  “It worked!” he said as he waved Russ in. “I woke up, and turned on the light, and called you. And when I got out of my bed, I still had to dump a bit of charge, but I could just hold the frame and let it drain into the ground through that lightning rod wire you set up for me!” He gave him a look of wonder. “I’ve been hanging out in bed ever since, just so I don’t have to keep tabs on my charge levels. It’s... wow. It’s incredibly relaxing. I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

  Russ dropped his bag on the ground and stepped closer. “It’s nothing.”

  They stood just a handspan apart. Paul’s heat radiated from his chest, his arms – and his eyes had that come-hither look of a man who wanted to be kissed. “It’s not nothing,” Paul said and leaned in just enough for the air of his breath to stir against Russ’s jaw.

  No moment had ever been this charged with potential.

  This erotic.

  Russ, daring and brave, leaned in.

  Lips touched.

  His leather jacket creaked as Paul twisted into him in search of access.

  Sparks jumped – but small, tingly sparks, like with a normal person on a dry winter’s day.

  “See?” Paul said as a bubble of laugher fought its way out his throat.

  Before Russ could nod, Paul pulled him in, warm fingers cupped around his head, drawing him down and into a long, warm kiss. It started dry, almost shy, but lips parted and tongues darted, and soon the intoxicating flavor of Paul’s wet heat mingled with a minty whiff of the lozenge Russ had taken on his drive in. Mint, and lust, and body heat.

  Russ barely bit back a strained moan. He ran his hands down Paul’s flanks, only then realizing that Paul’s arms were draped around his neck. “You’re magic,” he gasped between kisses.

  Paul pressed against him, letting him know of his need. “My magic is yours to share,” he whispered. “And so are my leftovers. Food, or bed?”

  “Screw food,” Russ growled, pulling Paul’s hips in. Their groins clashed, and the heat of Paul’s enticing, hard length beckoned to him through several layers of fabric.

  Paul relished their seething contact. Then he pushed Russ away. “Upstairs, or we’ll end up down here, and I’ll blow up the grid again!”

  RUSS FELL THROUGH the bedroom door behind him, tripping over his own feet. Paul didn’t laugh. As he grabbed him to help him regain his balance, their contact sizzled. “I want...” he didn’t finish. The familiar itch under his skin intensified, and when his eyes met the concerned gaze Russ flashed his way, he knew his electrical potential was back where it used to be.

  “Paul, you’re glowing.” Russ wasn’t looking at him as much as the area around him. “Are you always this charged?”

  If a blush rose up Paul’s cheeks, it was surely masked by the intense heat of arousal he was feeling right now. “I’m so hard,” he rasped. “And... and charged, I guess.”

  “Undress. Now.” Paul’s words didn’t command as much as beseech just as he himself struggled out of his button-down shirt and jeans.

  Paul shucked his sweats, briefs, and his T-shirt, vaguely aware that Russ was shedding his layers a few feet away from him. He dove toward his bed and edged the wire mesh curtain aside. The bed creaked as he landed on the mattress.

  He was safe now – or rather, the neighborhood was safe from him. Now, for the first time since their river adventure, he breathed in relief, and took his sweet time to savor the sight that was Russ.

  Tall, dark, and handsome. And naked, with his hard dick bobbing in the air and with a wild look in his eyes.

  “Are you okay, Paul?” Russ asked uncertainly.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. But I don’t know if it’s safe for you to be with me. I mean... I’ve never felt like this before. Like I’m gonna explode.”

  “You’ll be fine.” Russ approached the bed he had made with his own hands. “The cage is grounded. I can take your discharge, as we have already seen.” He paused uncertainly. “I know you haven’t been with a guy before, so if you don’t want to, I understand. It’s okay.”

  “I’ve made out with a hot guy in the river once, and he and I have unfinished business,” Paul said with a glower. “So, if you feel comfortable with your scientific creation here, and if you think you’ll be safe, come right in.” He groaned then at the innuendo. “I mean, for just exploring. I’m not up to, like, butt stuff yet.”

  They both laughed.

  “Not everyone likes anal. It’s okay if you don’t. There are so many ways I can get you off without my dick in your ass.”

  Paul grabbed his dick and pushed down. “If you talk like that, this won’t take long.”

  THE STRAIN IN Paul’s face had Russ reconsider the wisdom of getting inside the Faraday Cage with him. But he was so
turned on – and Paul, too – and life was too short not to live dangerously. “I’ll be perfectly fine,” he said, hoping he wasn’t lying. The wire mesh sighed with a metallic whisper as he pushed it aside. When he crawled onto the mattress, he sent a quick prayer of hope that Paul wasn’t strong enough to overcome his grounding capacity. Despite his ability to see electromagnetic fields, and despite his gift of sucking them in without any apparent harm, he had never been exposed to a full, direct hit by a dynamo like the gorgeous specimen of manhood that was trying so hard not to stroke himself only two feet away from him.

  “Russ,” Paul whispered. “Damn, Russ.”

  Their fingers touched – just a little zing. So far so good. The skin of their chests slid smooth and sensuous. Russ hissed in pleasure. “So good.”

  “I know,” Paul echoed, writhing under him. “I want you so much.”

  “How do you want me?”

  “I don’t know.” Paul’s desperate, eager admission tore at Russ’s heart. There was want in it, and lust, but there was also a ton of trust, as though Paul let all his virginal self-consciousness fall away in face of Russ’s competence.

  Russ kissed his neck, his clavicle. “We’ll keep it simple, okay?”

  A needy whimper was his only response.

  He ground his hard length into Paul’s thigh, and hissed when Paul’s fingers found him. And he found Paul – this was happening a lot faster than it was supposed to.

  He was going to take his time, loving up on Paul, kissing and licking all his sensitive places, but his best intentions were cut short by Paul’s deft hand and a simple squeeze.

  He’d wrap his lips around Paul next time, he thought as they stroked each other off, sweaty and panting.

  The room grew brighter and brighter.