Trust in Oneself, Draft 1, CH 25 (Patreon)

Paul looked around the hotel room. It was an upgrade from his last one. From the fact it was three rooms, including a kitchenette, to the view, a sixteenth-floor look over the west side of San Francisco Bay, all the way to the beaches and the ocean, and the room service, of which Adam had made sure to mention included the staff.

It was the kind of place Paul hadn’t even imagined he’d set foot in, let alone stay in.

It also had a definite golden cage vibe to it.

Not that he’d offered any resistance to being put up in this hotel. He was still not entirely certain how he felt about…

How he felt, period.

After Arnold, Paul barely had time to consider what his other cousins might be like in bed when the processions started. Only two didn’t show up, and one of them was vocal in his protest when Paul finally left the room. Adam argued loudly about Paul’s need to be a better driver while Arnold countered that they couldn’t afford the loose lips that came with his gift while Paul was on the field.

Finding out each gift came with a side effect had been just one more thing to add to the emotional noise making it hard to figure stuff at the moment.

He reminded himself that it wasn’t the first time he’d had sex with strangers. His time with Henry had been filled with the golden tiger being passed around, but those had come with memories of those guys being friends. It was only after Donal had brought every memory the bat had given him and his real ones that Paul had had to sit down and prioritize which ones he considered real and which ones were fabrications.

That had been a consequence of Donal bringing them to the surface. They all felt real. If he couldn’t find a way to document if a memory had happened, he needed to decide emotionally.

This was all real. As was the understanding he was going to be having sex with yet more strangers as part of granting them his gift of being light on his feet and quick with his reflexes. His passion for dancing, it had been decided, enhanced once he had been initiated.

How did he feel about it? About all the sex he was going to have? Telling himself it was transactional didn’t help the way Arnold thought it would. It wasn’t like Paul ever stopped and decided that he’d only have sex with guys he knew and was comfortable with. It was just how it had been. He’d tried the bar scene hook-up, and that had left him unsatisfied, so it remained him and his friends, and the start of him saying that anyone who wanted to sleep with him needed to first dance with him.

He stretched on the bed and looked at the ceiling. At least there were no mirrors there. He wouldn’t have been able to take a bed with ceiling mirrors right now. Not even to find the humor in it.

That the bed could fit just about every friend he was sexual with in the city was already almost too much. As if his cousins were saying, get used to it, because from now on, that’s what you’re going to be used for.

No, that was not something he was going to allow. His cousins might use their gifts as a way to gouge the Society, but Paul wouldn’t take part. He wasn’t the kind of man who required others to pay to be given a gift from him. Beyond this mission, he was also not going to perform for his cousin’s benefit. They could sell their gift. They weren’t using him the same way.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, which he ignored. A few seconds later it came again and with a sigh he stood, closing the bathrobe he’d put on after the shower that had felt needed. He’d had one after all the sex, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he had something stuck in his fur.

He looked through the peephole and frowned when there was no one. Maybe they’d realized they had the wrong room. He was halfway to the bed when the knock came again.

“I’m coming,” he snapped. He reached for the handle, only to realize he had a gun in his hand. He looked back to the bed and the bedside table where he’d put it. He’d wanted it within easy reach, but not on the bed itself, no matter how good the idea of keeping it on him, even while in bed, was. That was a gift from Alex, along with the gun. His gift of being good with all firearms came with a belief everything could be fixed with them, too.

He had no recollection of grabbing the gun before getting out of the bed. He opened the door with his left hand, put the gun behind his back, and looked out. Whoever this was had better have a good reason to disturb him.

The Hallway was empty.

He caught motion at one end, and before he turned his head, Thomas was in front of him. With a curse, Paul slammed the door shut on his bed friend. What was he doing here? How did he even know where he was? He was too damned dangerous to be around right now. At least he was on the other side of—

A whistle of appreciation made him turn, gun up, flicking the safety up. The situation kept Thomas from saying whatever he’d been about. Although he didn’t look as disconcerted to have a gun pointed at him as Paul thought he should.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” he demanded. “Didn’t you think there was fucking reason I am keeping my distances from anyone I know?” The idea that he should punctuate his statement with a shot popped up, and the craziest part was how difficult it was to come up with a reason not to. He lowered it. “I could have fucking shot you!”

“When did you become gun-happy?” Thomas asked, way too calm for Paul’s liking.

“After Alex fucking me. Now get yourself back out of here before you turn into a sex maniac I have to fuck.”

“I did not know that happened when one of them fucked you,” Thomas said, reaching through his shirt’s collar to pull a leather medallion out.

“And it’s too late for him,” a high voice said. “He’s already a sex maniac.” Roland poked his head out of the breast pocket.

“Magical protection,” Thomas said. “Made by Denton Brislow himself, so you know it’s better than anything you’re putting out.”

Roland gave a high pitch whistle and with a roll of the eye, Thomas took him out of the pocket and placed him on the edge of the bed.

“Fine, it still doesn’t answer the question of what you’re doing here.”

“I’m checking in on my best friend,” the rat replied. “You telling me ‘I’m fine’ mechanically over the phone didn’t inspire confidence. How are you doing? I mean, really doing?”

“I’m… hanging in there.” He looked at the gun and tried to figure out what to do with it. It had a holster, but that was still in the box the gun had come in. He hadn’t expected to need to put it on until they were on their way. Putting it on the table was too hard, way too hard, and he couldn’t help being aware it was there instead of on his person.

He’d been told that he’d get used to the impulses over time, but he hope that would be sooner than later.

“They gave me what they call the combat package,” Paul said. “And those come with side effects.”

“I don’t remember Madoc waving a gun around,” Roland said, now full size, naked, sitting on the bed. Paul didn’t usually wish someone came up with a way for his friend to shrink clothing, because the rat was spreading his legs invitingly.

“Maybe he’s had time to get used to it.” Paul bit back yelling it. “And can you cover-up?”

“Nope.”

Before Paul could respond, the rat had crossed the space and shoved the golden tiger against the door. The kiss was hot and needy and Paul was too busy fighting against decking his friend, pushing him away, or bending him over to do anything.

When Roland moved away, it was because Thomas was pulling him, slapping another leather medallion against his chest. “Wear your damned protection. We’re not here to fall victims to Paul’s inadvertent influence.”

Paul tied his bathrobe again.

“That was all me,” Roland said.

“No, you know what’s—”

“I still want to bone him,” Roland said, waving the medallion. “Even with this protecting me. Paul’s hot; what else do you expect?”

“Self-restraint would be nice.”

Roland snorted. “Oh, that’s good, coming from you, Mister, can’t wait until we’re both in the privacy of the locker room before putting his hands down my pants.”

Thomas’s ears folded back and Paul chuckled.

“But seriously, I didn’t feel anything coming from him. And I want to bone him, not him boning me.”

Curiosity made Thomas’s ears go back up.

“Don’t,” Paul warned as his best friend removed the medallion.

Thomas dropped it and looked at Paul.

“Okay,” the rat said. “I want sex with you, but no more than usual. Like Roland said, you are hot.”

“So can we fuck now?” Roland asked.

“I’d rather not,” Paul said, more forcefully than he intended. “And I’m fine.”

“You don’t want to have sex with us?” Roland said, “your best friend and his brother, and you claim to be fine?”

“Rol,” Paul said, fighting the exasperation. “I was fucked by five guys who seem to think that the harder they pound my ass, the better it is for me. Five guys I don’t actually know,” he added as the rat opened his mouth. That subdued Roland.

“I thought you said the combat package,” Thomas said. “That’s only three of them, or so Madoc said.”

Paul nodded. “Albert and Aiden didn’t want to be left out, but I’m not singing, so I’m thinking all he did was fuck me. I haven’t been around anything resembling art, so I don’t know about Albert.”

“Will you take an update on the situation then?” Thomas asked.

“Yes.” Paul headed to the kitchenette and open the fridge. Instead of the usual hotel fare, like candy bars, sodas, and bottled water, there was a selection of beers in the door, none of the names he recognized, as well as packages of meats and cheeses.

“The Chamber’s upped their assaults,” Thomas said, taking the bottle Paul handed him. “Going after Society allies Grant left staves with, which has left them pretty damned mad.”

Paul pulled a loaf of bread from the bread box and cut thick slices. “Are they mad at Grant for pulling them into this?” He remembered Arnold’s comment about Grant pulling Denton into his war.

Roland grabbed a slice and piled on meats and cheeses.

“Some are. Most are pissed at the Chamber for being unreasonable and just attacking instead of negotiating. Grant is worried that means they’re closer to the end game Wassa talked about than we thought. After all, if they are about to kill all the gods, why worry about angering a few groups of followers here and there.”

Paul nodded, eating the quickly put-together sandwich and drinking the beer. It wasn’t horrible.

“Tell him about Wuhan,” Roland said before stealing a sip from his brother’s bottles.

“She claimed the staff that was with the Xu.”

“I thought people already part of a faction can’t handle a staff.”

“She’s a Guan,” Roland said. “Not Society. And now she’s a Practitioner with a kick-ass Amazonian staff. She was already an amazon, so it makes sense.”

“You’ll get to meet her. She’s coming with us to El Salvador.”

Paul stared at Thomas. “What are we doing in El Salvador?”

“We’re going to be watching Grant reforge fucking Excalibur,” Roland said, grinning.

Thomas nodded. “He and Wassa have worked out what’s needed.”

“And it’s in El Salvador?”

“That, or Iceland, and we know the Chamber has the dormant volcano there under watch, so they’re going for Lake Ilopango.”

“Okay, I’m lost. What’s the common point between a volcano and a lake? And either to Excalibur?”

“You remember what Wassa said about the Chamber trying the first ceremony in Iceland, and Grant’s thought about how that triggered at least one other volcano and the dark age? Ilopango was that second volcano. It’s a lake now.”

“And you guys are going there so Grant can reforge Excalibur,” Paul said to himself, trying to ascertain the unreality of his life that his best friend was talking about that as if it was a Sunday walk in the part.”

“I was hoping you’d come too. Even without the upgrade you received, you were there when Wassa was freed and when she told us the story. It feels right that you be there when Excalibur is remade.”

Would his cousins even let him say no if he’d wanted to refuse?

He took his phone from the jacket on the back of the chair and pressed the new number Arnold had given him.

“Royal Security,” a man answered. “How may I help you, Mister Heeran?”

“I’m sorry,” Paul said, surprised that Arnold had informed anyone there of who he was. “Who are you?”

“My name is Ernest, I am Royal Security’s administrator. I will be your contact point.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I was told to call this number with any development. I’m going to be going to—”

“Denver,” Thomas hurried to say.

“Give me a second.” Paul muted his phone.

“We’re going to Denver first to work out the details. If you need to come back here before we head to El Salvador, we’re going to want to make this room my landing spot, since I don’t think it’s a good idea to appear at the stadium again.”

Roland snickered as he pressed against Paul’s back.

Paul unmuted the phone. “We’re going to head to Denver.” He thought about it. “It’s going to be about an hour before you can reach me again, and once I have the details on the operation, I’ll call you before returning.”

“Very well, sir. I will ensure that I have a list of personnel available for you to choose from when you are ready. I will also ensure there is a combat uniform ready for you.”

“Err.” Paul looked down at the hand snaking between the robe’s opening. “That’s good,” he added distractedly, before disconnecting.

“I hope that’s okay,” Roland whispered, closing his hand on Paul’s cock. Thomas was getting out of his clothes.

Paul nodded.

Yes, that was okay. It would be good to have sex with friends, after having had it with strangers.