Best Ever

[horseboykarl]

New Zealand unfolds below me, rumpled and spotted, and I'm thinking of so many things. It was good to see Harry again, but I think I'm still picking latex out of weird places. No wonder John had so much trouble with Gimli's make-up. Having spent a week buried in prosthetics up to my eyeballs, I can sympathize. I had fun playing a deranged person, and I worked out some lingering insanity of my own. After talking to Hugo, who encouraged me to live my life, and not let the possibility of a shift ruin things that I really want to do, I called Harry to say I'd do it. I owe that man my career pretty much, so there's not a lot I won't do for him.

It's also a day to think about the things I really want to do. I remember one of my English teachers, goofy guy, but he claimed that a man has stages when his life is at his peak. I don't remember when the physical and mental powers were supposed to be the best, but he said age thirty-three is when a man reaches his spiritual prime. Something to do with the bible, he said. I have to wonder about that because I never feel very spiritual.

All I can think about is getting back to Eric and wrapping him up in my arms. Not much divine there, just plain old lust. Although . . . sometimes when we get it right, it almost feels that way.

I told Harry about him . . .

"I think I've fallen in love, Harry."

"Bout fucking time, Urban."

I grin at him, and he cuffs me on the shoulder.

"And Éomer? Is that . . . better?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Yeah, we've worked some things out."

I want to ask him about his own situation, but there's a haunted look in his eyes sometimes, so I say nothing, while we sit quietly for a time. Finally, I want to give him something, because I can't bear it any longer.

"He saved the White Tree, there's that."

Harry swallows and whispers, "I know it, and some days . . . so does he."

We had left it at that, and didn't raise the subject again, but I didn't have to ask him why he was camped out in Auckland instead of in Wellington. Wellie's home, his and mine, but sometimes just being here makes things harder.

I pull my thoughts away from what lies behind me and focus on what I have to look forward to. Unlike almost everyone else, Harry didn't push me to tell Eric about the shifting, but I know I've got to do it. I'm running out of excuses for disappearing a full day at a time and besides, I hate lying to him.

The landing gear comes down with a slight thump as we wheel over the bay. This is my favorite part about coming home. As soon as we taxi to the gate, I stand up for my knapsack and exit the plane, winding my way backwards through security checks until I'm outside the terminal.

And he's there . . . waiting for me, green eyes twinkling. And I change my mind . . . this is my favorite part about coming home, I think, as he curls his arms around my neck.

"You've shown your usual good timing, by the time we get home, it'll be dinner time."

"Yeah? What are you feeding me?"

"Thought I'd do some experimenting . . ."

I laugh and he grins back, knowing that I don't mind being the victim of his kitchen experiments.

The sun as faded by the time we pull up to his house, and the kitchen is already full of delicious smells.

"Fuck, what're you making? . . . smells tremendous." Whatever it is, it's working overtime on my nose and my stomach gives an ominous rumble.

Eric smiles and shoves me into the lounge. "Go sit down, I'll bring you some wine in a minute. I've got most things done already, just a bit of assembling, then we'll eat."

He comes back presently with a glass of red.

"What is it?"

"Merlot-cab from Ngatarawa Wines"

We look at each other and then say in unison, "That idiot Bart Johnson!"

I fall back into the couch giggling while he returns to the kitchen. Soon even better smells start to waft from the kitchen and there's the sound of sizzling. I consider offering to help, but he usually chases me out, whether because he likes to cook by himself or fears my culinary skills, I'm not sure.

By the time he calls me to the table a few minutes later, my stomach is seriously talking to me.

"That looks great," I say as I sit down to two beef tenderloins and some sort of shredded potato looking thing. Eric passes the salad bowl filled with field greens and a basket with a warm loaf of French bread, and then some type of mustard sauce for the steaks. It's what I smelled earlier and I ladle it on thickly. His plate only has one steak on it and I ask him about it.

"The recipe only serves two, but the way you eat, I thought I'd better make enough for three."

"What are you implying?" I tease.

He smirks at me. "Nothing, you're just a big healthy boy." He leans back in his chair, sipping his wine and his green eyes have gone intense. "Why don't you let me see some of that? Unbutton your shirt."

I stare at him for a minute, wondering what's gotten in to him, while he waits patiently. I shrug and move my hands to the buttons. Don't know what he's playing at, but it can't hurt to follow along, for now. I look up at him when I'm finished, ready to pick up my fork.

His voice is a low purr. "Take it all the way off."

I do as he asks, acutely aware that other parts of my body are responding to his tone. My nipples tighten in the air and I'm once again reminded of the ring piercing the left one.

"Anything else?" I ask sardonically.

"No, that'll do for now."

"What about you?"

"Not just yet."

He grins and bends to his food, leaving me mentally counting to ten several times over before I taste my own. The meal is as good as it smelled and I quickly forget the uncomfortable state of my pants in favor of this other sensual pleasure he's offered me.

I'm cleaning up the last of my sauce with a piece of bread, when he stands up and takes both our plates.

"Dessert has to cook for forty-five minutes . . . that gives us time for presents."

I wonder if that gives us time for anything else. I pick up the serving dishes and follow him into the kitchen, helping him load the dishwasher, smelling chocolate the entire time. He steers us back to the couch, frowning and shaking his head when I reach for my shirt.

Once we're settled together, he reaches underneath and pulls out a wrapped box, handing it to me. It's light weight, so I wonder if it's a shirt and that's the reason for his insistence on me sitting around half-dressed.

I start to open it, but he stays my hand, looking at me. "I didn't know what to get you that you wouldn't just buy for yourself anyway." He looks uncertain.

Now I'm really curious, but the odds of it being a shirt have gone way down. I finish unwrapping it and lift the lid. Inside is a sheaf of papers. I pick them up and start reading them, not exactly sure what I'm looking at.

"Shares?"

He nods. "Yes. I didn't know what else to get you . . . if it's too much or makes you uncomfortable, you can sign them back over."

"Forty percent ownership of Moby Dickens? No, that's wonderful! You know I love that place almost as much as I love you."

His face goes red at that. "You do?"

I know he's not asking about the bookstore. "Yes . . . with all my heart. I love you, Eric."

I pull him onto my lap and start kissing him hungrily, and we ease down on the couch. After a while, I pick my head up and look down at him. "I hope you don't think I can help you out much with the store, I've got almost no head for business. I'd probably just run it into the ground."

He laughs and twists my nipple ring, sending my hips surging against him. "No, what I had in mind was to have you sit around looking pretty and being available whenever I get horny."

"Ah. Sounds like I've found my true calling."

I'm working on getting his shirt off when the oven dings and he pushes me off. "Not yet, I worked hard on that. Chocolate first, then sex."

"All right, but you have to feed me."

He surprises me by pulling me hard against him, purring again, "With pleasure."

By the time he is through taunting and tantalizing me with the chocolate and his kisses, I feel like I'm going to explode and I practically drag him up the stairs, I'm so eager to bury myself in him. I can't remember the last time I had such a good birthday.