This is from Clay and Aron’s first meeting, just a hint of things to come…
When Aron reached across the table and laid his long-fingered hand atop Clay’s, a jolt of strange energy flashed through him, akin to an electric shock. His heart sped up and his cock twitched. It wasn’t quite wholly sexual, but certainly a bit of that was there. He wanted to draw back and yet he couldn’t.
“You need to trust, to believe, my friend. You are one of us. You have powers, such as the ability to sense others who have them, do you not? And I’d wager you’ve got others as well. Things you’ve kept hidden and been almost ashamed to acknowledge, no?”
“Grandma and Grandpa said all that stuff came from Satan. I learned to hide it from them and others until it got to be a habit. I grew up in Bible Belt, USA, Aron. Anything unusual was suspect. We may have quit burning witches, but the distrust and fear is still strong.”
Aron pressed his hand and then drew back. “I know. I’ve been coming back to Earth for centuries and I’ve seen these things. I can give you a few days to think on this, but only a few. The danger is too close, growing too fast. We must be ready to act very soon.”
Clay found himself nodding as he fought the feeling of bereavement when Aron broke the touch. Besides the excitement and energy, he had found comfort in their brief connection.
“I know that much, have known it for some time. I have about three dozen special agents now, men and women I trust completely, but the invaders are coming in faster, with more new tricks and weapons. They’re becoming harder to find. It seems they’re learning to blend in with humanity and pretend to be normal. I’m worried. Hell, I’m scared shitless. If you’re willing and able to help and bring others, I can’t turn you away.”
Aron stood. “Well and good. I’ll be back in a few of your days. Go on about your business. I’m not trying to take over this effort or make decisions for you. That’s not my job. Your President and other high officials entrusted it to you. I’m sure they had good reason.”
This stranger was about to leave, at least for now. Clay sensed this even before Aron stood. At this knowledge, a strange emptiness began to grow in him. He needed, wanted…no, that wasn’t right but still, it was there. Clay rose and took a hesitant step around the table, holding out his arms.
Aron took the cue and came to him. They embraced for a few seconds, just long enough for Clay to feel as if he had suddenly come home. In a few short moments, this stranger who claimed he was an ancient Elf felt like kinfolk, a partner, even a lover. That frightened him, but also somehow felt too true to dismiss.
* * *
Aron let himself out as quietly as he had entered and skimmed down the long stairs to the river’s edge. He should have blinked out while he was still in Clay’s home, where no one would see him vanish, but he’d been distracted. The minute they touched, even before, a peculiar heat had flashed through him, an awareness like he seldom experienced. The Wanderer didn’t have time for attachments, not even casual, quick ones.
Despite that knowing, for a few seconds he visualized Clay, naked in his arms, mouths fusing in a searing kiss. Cocks stiff and eager, reaching, seeking, as they fell to the green grass of another world, tangled in each other’s arms. They merged in a blaze of demanding need, lust but more than lust—a mating of spirits and bodies at once. How, why when he’d never known a union like that? Yet the vision seemed almost like a true clairvoyance. It left him aroused, aware, scared and yet eager. That would happen, perhaps not now but soon.
“Be careful,” Miradel had said, “but expect good.” Secrets and acceptance and change…