Miracle - Chapter 24: Chapter 24

The first morning that I woke up in the Swan's guest room with a vicious hard-on and a door that wouldn't unlock, it was a highly traumatizing experience.
By the seventh or eighth time, though, I'd developed a routine. I rolled over, grabbed a towel and some lotion from the nightstand, and relieved as much of the pressure as I could. Then I went into the bathroom, got into the shower, and did it again. Usually at that point I was spent enough that I could come back out into the room and perch on the end of the bed for a bit, turn on the television over the dresser, and scroll through the Swan's schedule for the day.
He seemed to like early morning appointments. He had something calendared for six or seven A.M. most days of the week. Five A.M. on Tuesdays. And frequently there were days where he had appointments mid-morning and early afternoon as well. His sessions, as he called them, were most often an hour long, though every now and then there would be a marathon three or four hours, and occasionally a thirty minute lunchtime quickie. He had evening appointments sometimes too, but those weren't hosted here, and he always scheduled them for after dinner. He didn't do overnights.
I wasn't allowed out of my room for at least twenty minutes after his client had left. Often, the Swan would knock on my door as a signal that I needed to jerk off and shower again, so that the chemical rush could subside before we faced each other.
I swear to God, I had never masturbated so much. It wasn't as enjoyable as it might sound, because no matter how often I came, it was never fully satisfying. The Swan's pheromones kept me edgy and unnerved pretty much all day long. I learned to stash food in my room, or else I was bound to be starving by the time my door would finally open.
When I got downstairs, the ability to be in a different room, mixing and chopping and cooking up different dishes, was a welcome distraction. The Swan usually let me take over preparation of dinner, except that sometimes it was so enjoyable he had to retreat to another part of the house so I could finish up.
Over our meal one night, he joked that his business had never been better. "My patrons think I've discovered the fountain of youth, thanks to you," he chuckled. "I haven't had this much stamina since I was seventeen."
Well, at least one of us was happy about it.
For me, it was fast becoming exhausting. Not just in a physical sense, but deeper. Like, down-in-my-soul weariness. The monotony of being cooped up in the same room most of the day... I couldn't go outside, and the majority of the time I couldn't even leave the guest bedroom. Not to mention the strange, bitter loneliness of being constantly horny. Making dinner had become the only thing I looked forward to every day, and even that was quickly becoming almost too stressful to bear.
There were actually mornings when I sat with the door remote in my hand, wondering what would happen if I pressed the button. The Swan was a few rooms away, getting it on with whichever Nephilim he was entertaining—he was sure to be big, fit, and handsome, because the Swan said all Nephilim were unfairly good-looking—so why should I be penned up in here with only my hands for company? The Swan had been sleeping with men since he was my age, so why shouldn't I just... ah, shit. No.
A couple of times I had to go put the remote out of sight in the bathroom.
A couple of times I seriously contemplated trying out that butt plug.
Instead, I tuned the television to the local news. And by local, I mean the exclusive Enoch's Peak station. Their morning broadcast was done talk-show style, led by a dark-haired, clean shaven Nephilim with a square jaw and manly chin cleft. He presided over a round table of three other hosts, a younger Nephilim and two Elioud who wore wedding rings, one of whom was pregnant.
They talked about all kinds of things, from births and birthdays of the community's children to the weather forecast. But it was the news segments I perked up for.
Sometimes they talked about the Elioud school, especially the excitement surrounding the new first year class. I was afraid to blink during the brief clips of footage that accompanied those discussions. They were mostly distant shots of girls in uniform, milling around the campus. So far, I hadn't been able to spot Maddy. But since I had no way of getting in touch with her, catching a glimpse of her on TV was the best I could hope for. I missed her so much it was a physical ache in my chest.
The other report I tuned in for, though, was the hunt for Ezra. It was a popular topic nearly every day. The hosts would put a photo of him up on the screen, but it wasn't the Ezra I knew in his dramatic black hoodie, with fierce dark eyes. This was Ezra in a white lab coat, gazing blankly at the camera like he was posing for an ID. And the commentary wasn't flattering.
"As we've been reporting all week, the search for Ezrael Mekas, the fifty-five year old junior researcher from Elioud Biogenesis, continues. It is believed he's gone into hiding in a human metropolis after breaking Reservation in small towns throughout northern Texas. We've been told this isn't the first time, that he's been regularly defying his Reserved status for years. And now some are saying he has killed a human."
A photo of Tyler, probably his yearbook picture from last year, was added to the screen. He was in his football uniform, blond hair teased into surfer-boy waves, with a charming grin. They put the picture side by side with Ezra's, and Tyler's bright, cheery image made Ezra's deadpan photo seem sinister, even though they looked the same age. I was certain that was intentional.
"That's not all, Cassie, I heard that he may have abducted an adolescent male Eljo."
The pregnant one, Cassie, responded with wide eyes. "A male? Heavens, I thought we'd stopped making those fifty years ago."
"For the most part, that's correct. The hard-working minds at Elioud Biogenesis developed technology in 1967 that allows them to detect embryonic sex before admission to the Bride program. No more glitches."
"Then this abduction has to be a tall tale, right?"
"You would think, but our producers have been able to confirm birth records of a male Eljo born in Amarillo, Texas, as recently as fifteen years ago."
"How can that be?"
"Elioud Biogenesis has declined to comment. But if it's true, the Eljo would be ripening about now, wouldn't he?"
"Oh, no. That's a disaster waiting to happen."
"You think this Nephilim could be sinning because of an Eljo?"
"I don't know. He's unmarried, it's possible."
"This is why Nephilim should be required to marry at fifty, Gabe. Don't you think?"
"Ah, that's a debate we've had many times on this show, isn't it? You already know where I—"
I switched the television off, because I didn't want to hear them get into that again. Apparently, everyone thought that if Ezra was married he wouldn't be getting into trouble over me. Everyone assumed he had kidnapped me for sex, which made me mad. They didn't know him. He wasn't like that.
And being insatiably horny day in and day out wasn't helping.
Ugh. God. I had to get the lotion again.
After close to two weeks living in the Swan's house, I was honestly going a little crazy. My injuries were pretty much healed, I'd clipped the stitches and pulled them out, the burns on my hand had faded into barely visible scars. But I was more miserable now than I had been after Tyler's assault. I was having trouble holding on to rational thought for any period of time. I was angry and edgy constantly, to the point where even my host noticed.
"Connor," he said quite seriously, "I'm concerned. You're not looking well. Haven't you been taking proper care of yourself?"
I gave him an unmistakable fuck you glare. I'd been taking care of myself so much I was chapped and sore. It wasn't helping.
"If you'd like, I could send you some videos—"
"No. Thanks." I pushed away from the table and stormed upstairs to my room, locking the door with a resounding beep. Then I shouted a little into the empty room, because I couldn't contain the frustration. This was stupid. So utterly stupid.
But I wasn't sleeping much anymore. I was lucky to fall asleep for an hour or two before I'd wake up, uncomfortable. I had lucid dreams about fucking random people, sometimes Pete or the Swan or even that annoying Nephilim newscaster with the cleft chin, but I never got to come in any of them. I awoke painfully hard and depressed. I took cold showers, tried meditating, laid in bed listening to Benedictine monks and staring at the ceiling until neon colors swirled in my peripheral vision. Once, I had a particularly disturbing nightmare about wandering the vacant rooms of a warehouse, trying to find some kind of scissors or knife I could use to cut my dick off. Everything I found was too dirty, or not sharp enough.
I woke feeling like I might throw up after that one. If Tyler's nightmares had been anything like this, it was no wonder he'd gone insane.
One night, after I'd finally managed to fall asleep, I felt myself being pulled toward consciousness with yet another swollen, pounding erection. I groaned, rolled over onto my side, and curled into a ball trying to push back the wakefulness. Sleep was the only relief I had, and it was too short-lived. I took a shuddering breath that ended coming out like a sob. It was no use.
"Connor?"
My eyes sprang open.
"Connor, what's wrong?"
I rolled onto my back and he was there. Indefinite, and lost in shadow, but I still felt such an explosion of joy in my stomach that it lifted me off the mattress and into his arms.
I was dreaming. But that was okay, it meant I was still asleep. And if this dream had Ezra, it was the best thing that had happened to me in a very long time. I wrapped my arms around his neck and whimpered uncontrollably.
"What is it?" he asked as I buried my face against his throat. "Are you hurt?"
"Help me," I pleaded. I didn't even care how pathetic I sounded. "Please."
He hugged me tighter, but that wasn't what I needed. I scrabbled for his wrist, behind my back, and tugged until he let me move his arm. I brought it around between us and pushed his hand down so it was pressed over my aching groin.
He tensed and jerked back. "What are you doing?"
"You should have warned me," I whined, trying to hold on to him, bucking my hips so they could stay in contact with his hand. "You didn't tell me living with the Swan would be like this."
"But I—"
"Nothing makes it better, Ezra. Nothing makes it stop! The Swan can do whatever he wants. Hell, he gets paid for it. But I'm trapped in a room all day like this and I can't... I can't fix it. It hurts. I can't sleep. I can't, I'm just so..."
He let out a breath, stopped trying to pull away. Drew me in with his other arm, until my cheek was pressed to his chest and I could hear the comforting thud of his heart. "Shit, I'm sorry."
His big hand was still down between us, over my throbbing genitals. I pushed into his palm.
"Help," I said again in desperation. "This is my dream. I can make you help me, can't I?"
He sucked in a breath against my hair. And then his fingers moved, just a tiny bit. A jolt of heat and hope went through my body. I could have cried with relief.
He squeezed again, tentatively, and I sank my fingernails into the back of his neck and moaned. Yes, this was what I needed. This might actually work. Even if it wasn't real, it was way better than all my frantic, bitter jerking off.
He shifted our positions, lying on the bed alongside me with my head cradled against his shoulder. "It's going to be okay." He was massaging me down there more determinedly, as if he'd made up his mind that it was an important task. I couldn't keep my body from rocking into his touch, or hold back the grateful, helpless noises that kept leaking from my lips like a neglected puppy.
"I've been worried," he said, his mouth brushing my temple as he rolled me in his hand. "You haven't sent me prayers in days. I thought maybe the Swan was forcing you into—"
"He won't touch me," I gasped into Ezra's shoulder. Steady waves of pleasure were scrolling up my spine, and I needed them so badly. I took hold of his upper arm so I could feel his muscles flex. "You told him not to."
"I didn't mean... I just didn't want him taking advantage of you."
"More," I pleaded, only half listening. The demands of my body were overpowering everything else. I ground into him, and to my immense delight he slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of my underwear. His skin was warm and wonderful against mine. And because I was dreaming, the contact didn't burn or chafe, even though in real life I was raw down there. All I felt was bliss as he took hold of me. "God, yes, that's it."
"It's your decision, Connor," Ezra murmured. "I never meant for you to suffer like this. I'm sure the Swan could help, if that's what you want. He's very good at what he does." I turned my head to peer up at him, and even in the dark I thought I could see a flush brightening his cheeks. "Not that I've ever... That's just what I've heard."
I wiggled impatiently, because his hand had gone still. He resumed stroking and I curled back into him. "The Swan says—ah!—that our pheromones, um, affect Nephilim too?"
"A little."
"Can you feel mine?"
"I'm not really here," he reminded me.
Yeah, I supposed that was true. I closed my eyes, letting the sensations wash over my hypersensitized nerves like warm water. "Faster," I begged.
"That's not what you need."
I frowned up at him, only to have the air catch in my lungs at the intensity of his black eyes. His hand kept moving on me, firm and steady.
"You asked me to help. That's what I'm going to do."
of me wanted to complain, but what if that made him quit? What he was doing felt so incredible, I needed it to keep going. I laid my head back down on his shoulder. As long as he'd keep touching me I was happy.
And maybe he'd been right, because while his rhythm was maddeningly slow, it was getting deep into that hungry place inside that no amount of self-stimulation had been able to satisfy. He worked my frustration up to the surface a little at a time, and transformed it into sparklers of pleasure across my skin. It was like being filled up and emptied at the same time. A glorious build of pressure, yearning, and heat that was nearly unbearable in its deliciousness.
I couldn't breathe without moaning. I couldn't think. All I knew was that I needed him, I had always needed him, and no one else could do this for me. Not even the Swan. Ezra was the only one. He was everything.
"Fuck," I gasped as the tension abruptly burst. I came so hard it hurt a little, from the soles of my feet up into my hips, violent and hot like a
volcano erupting into his hand. He loosened his grip and stopped moving as I convulsed in his palm.
I was panting, weak, and finally—finally—lighter. That wasn't even an adequate word for it, because I felt totally weightless and floaty. Like a hundred pounds had just been lifted out of me, and I could take a full breath for the first time in a week. Best dream-orgasm I'd ever had. I was sure I'd wake up to find the bed a mess.
He held me up against him for a few minutes as my ears rang and my heart hammered behind my rib cage. Then he said softly, "Better?"
Oh Jesus, yes. I was a puddle up against his big body. "I wish you were real," I mumbled. "I can't stop wondering where you are. If you're safe, if you're getting enough to eat, if you're cold or sad or lonely or scared. They talk about you on TV all the time. They're so mean. I just want to ask you myself if you're all right."
He sighed, and pulled his hand out of my underwear. It was slippery with all the fluid he'd gotten out of me, and he let his wrist rest on my hip while hugging me into him with the arm that was under my neck. "You shouldn't be worrying about me."
"I can't help it."
"Connor, I..." he eased himself back from me a little. "I need to go. You're going to wake up soon."
That brought some strength back. I grabbed at him almost frantically, climbing halfway on top of him. As if my puny weight could hold down a half-angelic being twice my size. "No, you can't! Why are you always leaving?"
"We can't stay here forever."
"I don't want to wake up. I want to be with you. Just a little longer, please. Please?!" I was draped over his chest, one leg on either side of his waist, and I put my face into his neck and curled my arms around his head possessively. If he wanted to escape he was going to have to throw me off, because I wasn't giving him up. This was my fucking dream. Mine! If I couldn't have him anywhere else, I should at least be able to hold on to him in a place where he was a figment of my imagination.
I felt him take a resigned breath underneath me. He bent one arm to pat my shoulder. "All right," he said. "A little while."
I hugged him in triumph. God, if I never woke up again I'd be perfectly fine with that. His hand moved up and down my back, gently. "Connor, please keep praying, no matter what's going on. You can tell me anything, I won't judge."
"If I do, will I get to dream about you like this again?"
He didn't answer, but his hand drifted up to pet my hair. It felt so nice, I was positively radiating with contentment. I couldn't even bring myself to feel guilty for fantasizing so shamelessly, when I knew damn well that the real Ezra didn't want me any more than I wanted the Swan. It was just a dream, anyway. My first good one in a long time. And even though I had meant to keep holding on to him like this forever, eventually I was too deeply asleep to keep on dreaming.
🧬🧬🧬
"What's with you?" the Swan asked, coming into the kitchen where I was busy sautéing asparagus and mushrooms in a lemon dill sauce, and humming a Lizzo song under my breath. I turned around and he took a step back, eyeing me up and down.
"Merciless Michael and all his cherubim, you're practically glowing. I thought my cock was going to explode earlier this morning, and now I can barely sense you from two feet away. What in God's name did you do? And when are you going to teach me, 'cause whatever it is, I want some."
I rolled my eyes and put on a pair of potholders, opening up the oven. The scent of roasted garlic and golden-browned chicken blasted my face as I slid a glass baking dish out and set it on a trivet by the stove.
"I finally got a good night's sleep," I answered. It was true. Actually, I'd slept so soundly that I hadn't gotten up until after noon.
"Ah, really?" He brought a couple dishes out of the cabinet and set them on the counter. "Let me guess. You had a nice dream, huh? Maybe featuring a certain Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Nephilim? No wonder you're looking so much better."
I paused, feeling a blush creep up my neck. "Why would you say that?" Were my feelings for Ezra that obvious? The Swan had only seen us together for maybe five minutes, how did he know I had the tendency to perv on Ezra in my dreams?
The Swan grinned. "I had a feeling he couldn't stay away for long. Hope this means he's feeling better too."
Huh? That made no sense. "What are you talking about?"
"Eh?" He blinked, and slowly his smile got wider. "Oh. Oh my, I see. Well, never you mind, sweetness. Just the ramblings of a kinky old man, yes? Let's eat."
We carried our plates to the breakfast nook, and the Swan put on some music—jazz. He must have been feeling daring with my pheromones so subdued. He didn't ask anything else about my dream, but his white cat came in to visit us and I learned, for the first time since I'd started living here, that his name was Sir Mouse-alot.
"Are you serious?" I laughed, covering my mouthful of food with a hand. "That's what you call him?"
"I have no choice, do I? Since that's the only thing he'll answer to."
"I didn't think cats answered to anybody."
"Sir Mouse-alot is selective."
"Ah, okay."
"However, he is likely to be amenable if there is chicken involved," the Swan informed me, nodding at my plate.
I peeled a little chunk from the bone and bent over, holding it out. "Here, kitty, kitty."
The Swan snorted, and after glancing up at him I shrugged. "Okay, fine. Sir Mouse-alot, want a snack?"
The cat came strutting over, yellow eyes full of arrogance. He nosed my fingers, then delicately nipped the meat with his teeth and waited for me to let go. I did. He chewed open-mouthed for a few moments, then swallowed and immediately began cleaning his face with a paw.
I was not impressed. The Swan, however, cooed and clapped his hands. "My pretty baby mau-mau, you're so handsome, yes you are. Do you like Connor's cooking? Almost as good as daddy's, isn't it?"
Eh, whatever made the guy happy, I guess. I wasn't much of a cat person.
The sudden strains of Right Said Fred's I'm Too Sexy interrupted whatever groovy piano-saxophone thing was going on in the background. I was about to ask where it was coming from when the Swan produced a cell phone from the inner chest pocket of his blazer. It was in a silver case, crusted with crystals on the back in the shape of a swan.
He winked at me as he put it to his ear, and held a finger to his lips to indicate I should stay quiet. "Daniel, honey! I wasn't expecting to hear from you until tomorrow." Slowly, though, his cheery expression melted into one that was dead sober, and his eyes met mine in a way I didn't like at all. "Oh, dear. No, I hadn't heard, thank you for calling. Yes, I'll put it on right away—how's Ariel? I can only imagine. I'll reach out to him first thing tomorrow, of course. Yes. Yes, you too. Good night, darling."
He lowered the phone and pulled up a different app. A painting on the wall next to us slid up with an electric whir, and tucked itself behind the flat screen television that emerged. The Swan tapped his phone a couple times, and the television turned on and flipped to the Enoch's Peak channel.
"Connor, sweetheart, I'm afraid there's been some bad news."
But he didn't have to explain, because I was riveted by the sight of Ezra filling the screen. His wrists were clamped together in front of him with shiny manacles, and he was being escorted from a black van into a tall brick building. He was in his familiar black hoodie, but the hood was down and there was a thick silver band encircling his head. I didn't get the impression it was intended as a piece of jewelry. It had blue blinking lights embedded on either side of it, and Ezra's eyes were trained vacantly on the ground as the cameras tailed him and his grim-faced wardens up the steps.
The fork clinked from my fingers and I stood up from the table, shaking all over. No! No, no, this couldn't be happening.
"After a two-week search, Nephilim authorities have captured wanted sinner Ezrael Mekas, who is being remanded to the Enoch's Peak confinement facility to await council review. Mekas, who is Reserved, was found sleeping in the basement of an abandoned home in Salt Lake City, after a human citizen called their local 911 to report a squatter in the neighborhood. Nephilim enforcers acted quickly to retrieve him before further exposure occurred."
A man appeared on the screen behind a podium. He was maybe in his seventies, with deep lines in his face and loosely hanging jowls. What was left of his silver hair was cropped tight to his skull, and he stared severely into the camera. "Enoch's Peak extends its thanks to our Nephilim partners in Salt Lake for a seamless and quiet operation," he said. Text on the screen identified him as Absalom Kabelas, First Council Seat. "Our people may rest assured that the situation has been contained. We will be working over the next few weeks to ensure renewed security for our community worldwide."
The cameras returned to Ezra, who was standing on the top step as the double doors of the building swung outward. "The community of Enoch's Peak can breathe a little easier tonight," the reporter's voiceover said. "But for the Mekas family, the hardship is far from over. The council will convene tomorrow, minus its Fourth Seat, to begin the judgment rites. E.P. News will bring you all the updates live from the Community Hall, starting tomorrow."
They started moving Ezra into the building, and I sprang toward the television to lay hands on the screen. "Ezra!"
Ezra! Oh my God, I can see you on TV right now. Are you okay? What are they doing to you? Hold on, all right? Hold on, I...
The doors closed. Ezra hadn't given any indication he'd heard me, not even lifting his head up. I spun around to the Swan, heart in my throat. "What's going to happen to him?"
He'd risen from the table too, and was backing away from me. "I'm sorry, Connor. It's terrible, I know. But you're going to have to go to your room, you're too upset."
"You're fucking right I'm upset! He can't hear me! I was praying, but he didn't—"
"They have him in a halo. It suppresses his angelic abilities."
"Is that the thing on his head?"
"Yes. Every Nephilim sinner is put in one, for the safety of—"
"He's not a fucking danger to anyone!"
"They don't see it that way, honey. To the Nephilim, Ezrael has put their entire way of life at risk." He was still backing up, almost all the way to the kitchen door. "Connor, I'm going upstairs. And you need to do the same. If you don't lock yourself in your room soon..."
My legs weren't going to hold me up anymore. Sections of the Elioud textbook were flashing through my head, page after page from the chapter on the Nephilim legal system. Seven council members. Seven laws of preservation. Seven punishments for those who broke the laws. What the fuck was with their fetish for that particular number?
I collapsed onto the cherrywood floor on my knees, feeling like my soul was turning inside out. "He's all I have, Mr. Swan. He did all of this for me, and they're going to hurt him so bad for it."
"Not tonight," the Swan said firmly from the doorway. "Listen to me, Connor, nothing's going to happen to him tonight. Ezrael's in an awful position, yes, but he has powerful allies, and they'll put up a good defense. You hear? So get up. Go upstairs, and let's wait for what tomorrow brings. We'll talk again in the morning."
I heard him leave, but I couldn't move. Every muscle in my body felt like pudding, quivery and useless. Here I'd spent all morning luxuriating in erotic dreams about my big brave guardian angel, while he'd been hiding alone in a basement and then slapped in that creepy metal halo thing by his own people. This was so wrong. I was a childish, selfish asshole.
And now he couldn't even hear me so that I could yell at him. You should have left me there, you idiot! You should have let Tyler do what he wanted. If I'd known this was going to happen I wouldn't have told you to come, I would have taken the damn watch off. Oh, God, why didn't I take it off?
I didn't want any of this. Why is this happening? How could you let them catch you?
I wish I'd killed Tyler myself. I wish the snake had killed me, then none of this would be happening. If I'd just been... if you would have just let me... God. Shit.
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do, Ezra, how do I help you? You've got to tell me, I don't know!
At some point I figured out how to scrape myself off the floor and shuffled, zombie-like, up the stairs to my room. The door lock beeped before I'd even touched the remote, so the Swan must have been listening for me. Now I felt even worse, because while I was too upset and empty from this morning's release to feel the effects of our pheromones, he had probably been sitting in his room all this time trying to stop himself from returning to have his way with me on the kitchen floor.
I climbed into bed with the help of the nightstand drawer. The fresh sheets I'd put on after this morning's wet dream were no comfort at all. I turned the television to the local channel. They showed the same footage over and over, Ezra being taken out of the van and walked up the steps of a brick building labeled Justice Center.
Since the television had an internet browser, I used it to look up a map of Enoch's Peak. The Swan's house was inside the community's exclusive network, so I got the real view instead of doctored satellite pictures. The Justice Center was one block west of the Community Hall, which was designated the center of town. There was a large park laid out in front of the Hall, and then surrounding buildings that were labeled as a library, a community services center, an enforcement station and a post office. Up in the northwest corner of the town was a massive rectangular area designated Brides of Heaven Preparatory Academy. It was nearly a quarter of the entire town.
I didn't know the Swan's address, so I couldn't figure out where we were in relation to all the rest. Not that it mattered. Even if we were next door to the jail I couldn't get to Ezra. He wouldn't be able to hear me. I had to stay hidden now more than ever. If people found out Ezra had stashed me here under their noses, they'd add that to his list of crimes. The Swan would probably be jailed and punished right along with him.
I pulled the comforter up over my head and rolled into a ball underneath it.
Ezra, I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry.