Winter Oranges

  “Will you call Natalie?”

  “To ask for more parts?”

  “Yes. And to accept the offer you already have on the table?”

  “You really want to do Summer Camp Nightmare 4? Are you seriously that anxious for me to revive that pathetic role?”

  Dylan didn’t laugh. He set his fork aside and leaned back in his seat to pin Jason with a withering stare. “You won’t come away with me now. Fine. But I want a guarantee that you’ll get away from that damn house eventually. The movie gives me that.” He shrugged, as if trying to convince himself it was nothing. “Besides, it’ll be fun. I like when we get to work together. You know we’ll have a good time.”

  “Can I at least read the script first?”

  “Why bother? You know what happens. Horny coeds. Lots of running and screaming. People die horrible deaths. The usual shtick.”

  “Do I die?”

  “No. You, my friend, emerge as the hero, wounded but not beaten.” He held up his fork triumphantly. “Ready to do it all again in Summer Camp Nightmare 5.”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  Dylan laughed and stabbed a piece of steak. “I’ll deal with chapter five later. Right now, I’m worried about part four.” He pointed the loaded utensil at Jason. “Say you’ll do it, or I’ll tell every reporter in Hollywood where you live.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Dylan grinned. “Try me.” He stuck the steak in his mouth and chewed happily, obviously sure he’d won, and Jason couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Promise you won’t try to set me up with any women this time. I don’t care how horny you think they are.”

  “I promise.”

  “Okay,” he relented, wondering if he’d make a liar of himself later. “I’ll take the part.”

  “Excellent,” Dylan said, tossing his napkin onto his plate. “Then it seems my work here is done.”

  They finished their breakfast, and then it was time for a stilted good-bye in the parking lot. Snow fell listlessly around them, not sticking to anything, but determined to try. The gray sky hung low, a stark contrast to Jason’s current mood. He’d never been so happy to see Dylan leave.

  “Promise me one more time,” Dylan said, leaning back against the bumper of his rental car.

  It was hard to say exactly which promise Dylan wanted him to repeat, so Jason recited them all. “I’ll get out of the house. I’ll call Natalie. I’ll take the part. I won’t lose my grip on reality again.”

  Dylan winced, but didn’t smile. “I’ll call tonight when I get home. And probably tomorrow too. And probably the day after that.”

  “You don’t need to. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m doing it anyway.”

  “All right. I appreciate it.”

  “You can call me anytime, and I’ll be here as fast as I can.”

  “I know. But like I said before: I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” Dylan took a pill bottle out of his pocket and pressed it into Jason’s hand. “They’ll help you sleep. Use them if you need to, but not too much.”

  Jason didn’t want them, but he didn’t want to argue either. He stuck them in his pocket. “Thanks.”

  Dylan held his hand out, and when Jason shook it, Dylan pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek. “Anytime, JayWalk. Take care.”

  He climbed into his car, glancing back once. He was questioning his decision, Jason knew. Wondering if he was doing the right thing. But in the end, he threw Jason one quick wave and drove away.

  Somewhere in Jason’s imagination, a director yelled, “Cut! That’s a wrap. Good job, everyone!”

  And Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

  Jason was eager to see Ben when he got home. He went straight to the attic and pulled the globe from behind the boxes, but Ben was nowhere in sight. He spent two hours fretting, wishing for what felt like the hundredth time that he had a way to contact Ben, before the answer came to him. All he needed to do was take a nap.

  It made sense. He was tired anyway from getting limited sleep several nights running. Between that and the sleeping pills Dylan had given him, he’d have no trouble drifting off. He swapped his jeans for a pair of pajama pants, washed down two sleeping pills with a giant glass of orange juice, and climbed into bed with the globe clutched tight in his hands.

  The one time he’d made it inside, he’d been holding the globe, but he’d also been concentrating on Ben. He wondered which part was most important. He tried to concentrate on the image of Ben’s face, but as the sleeping pills took effect, it became harder. His mind kept drifting to other things.

  To Thanksgiving, and lying under the stars.

  To Dylan, and Summer Camp Nightmare 4.

  To Hollywood.

  To goldfish.

  Goldfish?

  He tried to chase that thought, but failed, falling instead down a deep, dark well.

  And suddenly he was in the cabin, standing in front of the heatless fire. Ben jumped up from his seat on the couch, his blue eyes bright with excitement.

  “You’re here.” He flew at Jason, throwing his arms around his neck. Jason caught him, burying his nose in Ben’s thick hair as he held him tight.

  “I got tired of waiting.”

  Ben pulled away enough to meet Jason’s eyes, their noses almost touching. “I can’t believe it worked again. I worried—” He froze, his eyes going wide. “What is that?”

  “What is what?”

  “Hold still.” Ben grabbed him, one hand on each side of his head. His grip was surprisingly strong. Jason thought for a moment Ben was going to kiss him, but no. Instead, Ben leaned closer and . . .

  Sniffed him?

  “Oh my God,” Ben breathed in wonder. “It’s orange, isn’t it?” His laugh was sudden and almost heartbreaking, full of both loss and newfound joy. Full of wonder and surprise. “I’d forgotten about oranges! We had one in our Christmas stocking every year. My sister and I would sit there in front of the fireplace and eat them, and I remember the heat of the flames on my face and the way the peel felt in my hand and the way she laughed and the juice running all over and I’d be sticky and my hands would smell like that for ages. Oh my God, I remember!”

  He pulled Jason into a kiss, hungrily seeking out the flavor of orange juice. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it wasn’t exactly erotic either. Still, Jason happily obliged him, letting Ben chase the sweetness on his tongue until there was nothing left to share and Ben pulled away, his eyes bright. “Oh, Jason! You have no idea what it’s like to forget something like that. To suddenly realize that it’s still buried somewhere in your brain. I smelled it, and it was like . . . like . . .” He laughed and hugged Jason again, standing on his toes to put his arms around Jason’s neck. “I can’t even describe it except that it was wonderful! It was like Christmas all over again. Thank you, Jason. Thank you for bringing me oranges.”

  Jason shook his head in wonder, stroking Ben’s back. “You’re welcome, I guess. I wish I could say I’d done it on purpose.” He certainly would have if he’d known how Ben would react. “I always got an orange in my stocking too, but I thought it was kind of lame, to be honest. I would rather have had chocolate.”

  “That’s because you’re spoiled. You’re used to being able to get fresh fruit anytime you want it.”

  That was a good point, but it brought up another question. “Weren’t oranges hard to come by in the middle of winter in the 1850s?”

  Ben laughed, stepping back to gape at Jason in astonished delight. “Of course not! You do know they’re harvested in winter, right? From November to March?”

  “Really?”

  “Why do you think they’re always in Christmas stockings? And in wassail? And why do you think people stud them with cloves at Christmastime and—”

  “Okay, I get it. I’m a dork. I didn’t realize winter oranges were a common thing.”

  “Oh yes,” Ben said with mock solemnity. “We had plenty of winter oranges in Tennessee. Summer oranges,
though? Those were rare.”

  Jason felt he’d never understand how Ben managed to keep his good humor after everything that had happened to him. “You’re incredible,” he said, pulling Ben close and kissing him. “God, I missed you. I was hoping you’d be waiting for me when I got back this morning.”

  Ben’s smile faded. “I spent half of yesterday pacing and fretting. I thought I was losing my mind. Your plan made sense at first, but the longer I had to think about it, the more it seemed like a terrible idea. I was sure it was going to backfire. I started imagining the most awful things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you deciding Dylan was right and leaving me in the attic forever.”

  “You thought he’d convince me you were all in my head?”

  Ben nodded hesitantly. “It’s the most logical explanation. I can see that.”

  Jason held him tighter and kissed him on the forehead. “Never.”

  “So, it’s over? It worked?”

  “Like a charm.”

  “And what about Dylan? Is he . . .”

  “Gone? Yes. He left a couple of hours ago.”

  Ben spent a moment digesting that, and finally, he smiled, slowly and tentatively. “I feel like I should say I’m sorry your friend left, but I’m not.”

  “Neither am I. Not this time.”

  Ben’s smile grew. “So, what happens now?”

  “Now? I finally make good on a few promises.”

  He wanted to do it right this time though, not go rushing forward like the first time, both of them climaxing before they even took off their clothes. He slowly undressed Ben as they kissed. He laid Ben down on the narrow bed and sat up to study him, wanting to finally see Ben in his entirety. His skin was so white, Jason could see the veins spiderwebbing across Ben’s chest. The hair at his groin was thick and black, his uncut erection lying heavily against his soft stomach. His arms and chest were thin, but it was more a matter of youth than of weakness, and his legs were more muscular than Jason expected. Yes, asthma had kept him from many things, and given his body type, he’d never be big or bulky. Jason could see why he’d felt weak compared to the presumably strapping young men working plantations in the nineteenth century. But Ben was tough, his body thin and wiry, the result of a life without modern conveniences, where going to town might mean walking five miles, and fetching water or milk or eggs required more manual labor than Jason did in an average week. After so many years in the globe, he should have been atrophied, but he’d clearly been suspended in time, his body not aging or changing at all from day to day, week to week, year to year.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Ben squirmed and shook his head. “I’m self-conscious is what I am.” He grabbed for the blanket, trying to cover himself, and Jason pulled it away.

  “Oh, no you don’t. I never get to see you when we’re on my side of the globe. There’s no way I’m letting you hide now that I’m here.”

  Ben laughed, his shy smile turning flirtatious. “I’m not the one who still has his clothes on.”

  “Good point.”

  There was something momentous, once Jason had shed his clothes too, about finally being skin to skin. Jason sank into Ben’s willing arms, dove into his kiss, relished the feel of Ben’s body beneath him, thin but solid, warm and excitingly pliant. He loved the way Ben sighed, accepting Jason’s weight, parting his legs so Jason could angle between his thighs. He wanted nothing more than to spread Ben open. To push slowly inside of him while they kissed, to gaze into his eyes as they made love, but he suspected Ben had never bottomed. He’d probably never topped. Based on their conversation after the incident on the patio, Ben had hardly done anything at all, and so Jason slowed down, admonishing himself to be patient. There’d be time for all that later. For now, he wanted only to explore how each new sensation made Ben whimper and sigh.

  He kissed Ben’s lips, then his cheek, then nipped at his ear before moving to his neck. Here Ben melted, moaning blissfully as Jason nibbled and kissed, leaving a faint purple trail of marks down Ben’s chest, stopping to tease each small, firm nipple until it was swollen and red. From there, he moved lower still to Ben’s stomach while Ben squirmed, panting impatiently, anticipating Jason’s purpose. And finally Jason reached Ben’s groin.

  He stopped there, his head spinning. He breathed deep, taking in the rich, musky smell of Ben’s sex. It was intoxicating. Strong and ripe, but sexy as hell, so arousing that Jason moaned, pushing his cock against the mattress, clenching his jaw, concentrating with all his might on not coming then and there. He feared he’d wake when he climaxed as he had the first time, and he didn’t want that to happen yet. At the very least, he wanted first to fulfill this one simple promise he’d made the week before as they lay together under the vast night sky.

  “What’s wrong?” Ben asked breathlessly, laying his hand gently on Jason’s head.

  “Nothing in the world, except that you’re entirely too perfect.”

  Ben laughed. “You tell the sweetest lies.”

  “It’s not a lie.” Jason kissed the soft crease where Ben’s thigh met his pelvis, and Ben’s laugh fell away, fading into a low, gratifying moan. “You’re gorgeous.” He punctuated his words with slow, soft kisses, following the edge of Ben’s patch of hair toward his navel. “Sweet and beautiful and sexy as hell, and I’m the one who gets to show you everything. I get to be your first, in every single way. I feel like I’ve been granted the most amazing gift in the world. Every new thing you feel. Every bit of amazement. Every time you laugh. I can’t believe I get to be part of it all.” He stopped, surprised at the sudden lump in his throat. Awed by the strength of his emotions. Amazed and humbled at how unworthy he felt.

  “Jason?”

  Jason shook his head, trying to sum it all up. Determined to make Ben see how earth-shattering it all felt. “I don’t deserve this.”

  “What do you mean?” Ben asked, confusion mixed with worry in the tautness of his voice. “What are you saying? That you don’t want me?”

  “Oh God, no.” How could that have been what Ben heard? “Not even close.”

  “Then what?”

  He saw the confusion in Ben’s gorgeous blue eyes. “I’m saying I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be good enough to deserve this one moment here with you.”

  “Oh, Jason, no—”

  But Jason knew it was true. He felt it all the way to his core, like some universal truth, the way he imagined some people must understand God. This was faith. And devotion. And yes, worship, too. And all he had to do—the only tithe he needed to pay, the only prayer he’d ever have to offer—was to give as much joy as he could. And so he leaned close, kissing Ben’s stomach again, holding him tight, caressing him until his unease fell away, until his confusion at Jason’s sudden confession gave way to pleasure and he was more desperate than before, panting and whimpering. Ben cried out as Jason slowly drew back his foreskin. He tensed as Jason teased his tongue over Ben’s tip. And then Jason parted his lips. He let Ben in, and Ben cried out, thrusting deep, his fingers tightening painfully on the back of Jason’s head.

  “Oh my God!”

  Ben fell back onto the bed, tense and panting, and Jason teased the tip of Ben’s cock with his tongue, circling his head, before sinking again down Ben’s length.

  Ben cried out again. This time he held Jason there, not letting him pull away, thrusting with his hips, driving deeper, and Jason let him. He let his muscles go lax, letting Ben take control.

  “Oh God!”

  Ben thrust again, faster now, and then again and again, deeper and harder, running on instinct, driven by lust and need and sheer amazement, his grip shockingly tight on the back of Jason’s head. Jason knew Ben wouldn’t last long. His own orgasm was imminent as well. He debated using his hand, letting himself climax along with Ben, but he didn’t want to wake up too soon. He didn’t want to leave before seeing Ben’s response when this was over, so he wrapped his hand around the base of his
cock, gripping his balls to keep them from rising, steeling himself to hang on no matter how much Ben’s pleasure turned him on.

  Ben cried out, and thrust one more time, his back arching, his rhythm breaking. “Ahhh!”

  Jason swallowed on instinct, ready for the salty gush in his throat, but none came. Ben tensed again, and then again, crying out hoarsely as his orgasm peaked and receded. He fell back against the mattress, breathing hard.

  “Oh God, Jason,” he breathed, his grip on Jason’s head turning into a caress. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “That was . . . That was . . . “ Ben’s hands fluttered, flying about, grasping for words and finding none. He laughed, letting them fall to his side. “No day will ever beat this one. Between that and the oranges and you, I could die right now and be happy.”

  “I hate it when you say things like that. Maybe you’d be happy, but I’d be heartbroken.”

  Ben touched Jason’s arm and shoulder, gently drawing him up so they were face-to-face. He kissed Jason sweetly and peered imploringly into his eyes, his fingers soft on Jason’s cheek. “Those things you said earlier? You’re wrong. I don’t know why you think you don’t deserve happiness, but you do, more than anybody I’ve ever known. And I’ve known a lot of people in a hundred and seventy years.”

  Jason wanted to argue—he intended to argue—but Ben silenced him by pulling him into a kiss. He slid his fingertip up Jason’s erection, and Jason shivered. “I want to do it for you,” Ben whispered.

  Jason moaned, tempted to let Ben do anything and everything it might occur to him to do. But no. The night was still young.

  “Wait,” Jason said, stilling Ben’s hand. He gently pinned Ben’s wrist to the mattress, although he couldn’t resist kissing him as he did. “I don’t want to wake up yet. I want to stay here with you as long as I can.”

  Ben’s smile was tentative and surprised. “Really?”

  Jason shook his head. “I don’t know how you can still be amazed by the fact that I’m crazy about you.”

  Jason knew all of Ben’s smiles, but the one Ben gave him now was the one he liked best, big and happy and bright as heaven.