Bewitched Read online

  “Bewitched”

  An M/M Gay Romance

  Max Hudson

  © 2020

  Max Hudson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is intended for Adults (ages 18+) only. The contents may be offensive to some readers. It may contain graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. May contain scenes of unprotected sex. Please do not read this book if you are offended by content as mentioned above or if you are under the age of 18.

  Please educate yourself on safe sex practices before making potentially life-changing decisions about sex in real life. If you’re not sure where to start, see here: http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com/safe-sex-resources/ (courtesy of Jerry Cole).

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images and are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.

  Edition v1.00 (2020.10.22)

  http://www.maxhudsonauthor.com

  Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: Bob, RB, Blue Savannah, Big Kidd, Naomi W., and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter One

  Ari

  Ari Davies had an office like most psychotherapists, a seemingly wide space packed wall-to-wall with shelves, collectibles, and all sorts of photographs. But he wasn't exactly like other psychotherapists. His interests varied past the realm of normalcy, branching into the thick trees that guarded the darker things in life.

  Three antique charts of the human skeletal system were framed just above his head, nestled between a set of shelves overflowing with volumes upon volumes of modern psychology. Many of the books looked ancient with gold titles that flaked at even the slightest breeze from the vent just above the right shelf. Each title bore a stranger phrase than the last as was typical with most classic Gothic horror literature.

  As Ari folded his slender fingers together, he minded the shelves sitting behind his client, the wood nearly splintering beneath the weight of several old school dissection manuals. The door to his office sat off to the left with a large clouded window taking up most of it, its glossy surface winking the morning sun that trickled through the window on Ari's right.

  He let his eyes sweep to the pane, noting the buildings glittering with morning frost. When his dark eyes trailed back to his client, he offered a small smile, a practiced gesture which he had spent hours working on in the mirror so that his black eyes and high cheekbones didn't make him look like a smirking skeleton rather than a friendly psychotherapist.

  “Do you want to talk about that, Floyd?”

  He rested his hands upon the red oak desk, palms flat against the cool wood. The temperature temporarily brought him back to reality. He blinked a few times as his client squirmed in the cushioned chair in front of the desk.

  “I don't know,” Floyd replied. “My father was...”

  Ari nodded while closing his eyes. He listened closely to Floyd's breathing shift from rapid huffs to long breaths. When he opened his eyes, Floyd was red in the face, hands crumbled up just beneath Floyd's jawline.

  “Take your time. You don't have to answer that right now,” Ari assured. “I understand how hard this must be for you.”

  “He just left me, right? Like he took off in the middle of the night and got slammed by a semi. How is that okay?”

  “Who said that was okay?”

  Floyd shrugged, his exasperated expression worsening. “I don't know.”

  Ari went quiet. His silences were methodical, paced, designed to allow each of his clients to find a natural rhythm while speaking. If he spoke too soon, he might spoil a chance to allow room for growth. And he wasn't particularly keen on trying to force his client in any specific direction. He knew better than that.

  He'll get there, he thought. It just takes time. Everyone has their own pace.

  “I think I just...I think he...” Floyd paused to lick his lips, sniffling as the edges of his eyes reddened. “He was supposed to just go to the store, right? He said he just wanted a couple more beers. I thought it was harmless.”

  Ari nodded slowly. He relaxed his hands into his lap and let his shoulders drop slightly. He quieted his brain as his thumbs danced together beneath the table. The clock ticked above the door, counting away the minutes to the end of the hour.

  Floyd shrugged. “I thought that maybe he wasn't a real alcoholic. People who are alcoholics don't take such long breaks from drinking. My dad was doing well. He was doing great, actually.”

  “It sounds like you were proud of his progress.”

  “I loved what he was doing, but I hated those meetings. They were making him do all that God stuff.”

  “God stuff?”

  Floyd huffed and rolled his eyes, appearing amused. “He kept going on about this higher power thing. He had to keep praying or giving up his life or something. I didn't think it would be literal.”

  Ari nodded thoughtfully.

  “But maybe it wasn't so literal,” Floyd continued. “Maybe I missed something. I feel like I did something wrong.”

  “It sounds like his death had a profound impact on you.”

  “Hell yeah, it did! He left me here with all these house bills and two dogs who literally won't ever shut up. It's just...It's just so bad. He never approved of me being gay, but he wanted me to take care of him. How does that even make sense?”

  Ari hummed. “Do you think he trusted you?”

  “No, why would he do that?”

  “He left you in charge of his affairs. He left his dogs and his house in your care. It sounds like perhaps he thought more highly of you than he originally expressed.”

  Floyd started to speak but squeaked instead. He squeezed shut his red-rimmed eyes, raising his dry hands to rub them raw. When he opened them, they were as glossy and bright as the window dripping with wintry morning frost.

  It's not quite time for that yet, Ari reflected. But autumn has always contained more surprises than any other season.

  “Dr. Davies, do you think I'm crazy?”

  Ari focused quite quickly and sharply on Floyd. His eyes shimmered slightly as if reflecting the thoughts that passed just behind his pupils. Though his thoughts must have traveled far deeper than that. They were just beyond his optic nerves, fiery synapses zapping off one consideration after another.

  He squinted curiously, his brows twitching together so briefly that no one could have possibly seen it. But he knew because he felt it.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you're my shrink.”

  Ari chuckled lightly. “I suppose that's fair.”

  “So
, do you?”

  “I can't say.”

  Floyd laughed. “Because I'm paying you, right?”

  “It's not a judgment for me to make.”

  “I have to call myself crazy, huh?”

  Ari shrugged. “That's entirely up to you, Floyd. Do you think you're crazy?”

  “I don't know. I feel crazy. I keep having these weird dreams about my father coming back, all covered in muck and blood and crap. It's usually when I'm trying to...When I'm...”

  Floyd sighed wearily.

  “I'm embarrassed to say.”

  Ari nodded with empathy. “You don't have to share anything you don't want to share. This is a safe place for whatever you would like to tell me.”

  “And you can't tell anyone, right?”

  “Nope. I won't share anything you tell me with anyone. Not even with God.”

  This comment made Floyd chuckle, the top of his lip curling slightly as he relaxed back into the cushioned seat. The legs of the chair squeaked slightly under his weight as he folded his hands together and thoughtfully pressed his forefinger to his chin. He tapped his chin erratically.

  A lock of curly brown hair fell over his eye. He batted it away with an annoyed expression and then rolled his light brown eyes to the ceiling. As he released a sigh, he closed his eyes, the sigh seeming to deflate him like an accordion.

  “It's when,” he recounted in slow beats, hitting each syllable with caution. “I'm thinking about...my best friend.”

  “What are you usually thinking about?”

  “Kissing him. Things like that.”

  Ari nodded. “Is that why you feel embarrassed?”

  “Yeah, he's...Well, he's such a great guy, you know? I work with him. He's smart as hell and even hotter than hell could ever get. He's been one of my biggest supporters since my father died. He recommended therapy.”

  “He sounds like he cares about you a great deal.”

  Floyd chuckled lightly. “If only he knew I loved him, right?”

  Ari hummed but didn't say anything. His pensive gaze met Floyd's, the same practiced smile erupting on his lips that he had been utilizing for the entire session. If the walls could speak, they would tell his clients the many times that expression surfaced during such encounters.

  Floyd huffed, deflating further. Ari could practically hear the bellows of the imaginary accordion wheeze.

  “Have you thought about telling him?”

  Floyd shook his head. “I can't do that. I drink too much.”

  “Why's that?”

  “That I can't tell him or the drinking?”

  Ari smiled wider, allowing his pearly teeth to make an appearance. “Whichever question you feel comfortable answering.”

  “Well, the drinking is obvious. My dad is six feet under. I have a whole house and two dogs and a damn garage with a bunch of crap. I have all this...stuff and yet I can't even ask my best friend for help.”

  “That makes sense.”

  Floyd shrugged. “And I can't tell him because he won't...I don't know. I don't think he'll reciprocate it. He's been on this celibate binge for a while now. I think he's asexual.”

  “I see.”

  “And I don't want to ask because that would be awkward.”

  “Is that because you work together?”

  Floyd hummed. It might have been in agreement or a thoughtful interlude. Though it was difficult to tell, Ari didn't want to assume it was either one. He raised his hands to his desk, folding them carefully on top of the cool wood. The same sizzling chill returning to the sides of his palms and alerted him, prompting him to shift in his chair.

  “Yeah, well, don't mix business with pleasure, right?” Floyd laughed suddenly, his face cracking from its original warped and sullen expression. He shook his head and whispered, “I just don't know what to do with myself.”

  “What do you usually do when you're upset?”

  “I don't usually get upset.”

  Ari cocked his head curiously to one side. “No?”

  “I've never dealt with death before. This is new. This is...It's powerful.”

  Floyd glanced at his watch, eyes widening at the time. He stood abruptly from his chair and grabbed his jacket from the back, whipping it on.

  “I have to get back to work. Can I come back on Monday?”

  Ari stood and extended his hand. “Of course. I have the same time slot available. Just let Amanda know when you leave.”

  “I'll do that.” Floyd clasped Ari's hand. “Thanks, Dr. Davies. I appreciate your time.”

  “Take care, Floyd.”

  When Floyd left, the room seemed to sigh as if the absence of company was itself a relief. Ari wandered to the window to observe the city in contemplative silence, noting the sun rising between the slits of buildings and casting the downtown area in an orange haze. Cars floated just below his office with the hurried rush of late morning traffic, windshields gleaming like precious stones.

  He let his facial features relax back to their typical expression, the spooky grimace that kept men from approaching him when he went for his nightly drink at the bar just two blocks to the left of his office. The sound of a knock rippled through the silence and prompted him to turn with practice calm.

  A smile broke over his lips. “Marc!”

  “Am I interrupting a brooding session?”

  “Come in, you bastard. Did you bring coffee?”

  Marc raised two paper cups with a wink. “What else would I bring as tribute?”

  “You say that like I'm some kind of local witch.”

  “But it's true, right? You're a witch?”

  Ari cackled, his expression relaxing in the company of his co-worker. He accepted the cup of coffee, sank into his desk chair, and gestured to the seat where his client had previously sat.

  Marc sat down. “Good session?”

  “As good as it could be, sure.”

  “Mine have been frantic today. It's like Halloween makes them wild or something.”

  Ari shrugged. “A change in seasons has an effect on most people. We just don't always notice it.”

  “But we do,” Marc corrected. “Because we see past the surface.”

  “It's a blessing and a curse.”

  Marc hummed thoughtfully as he took a sip of his coffee. He frowned slightly, cringing against the taste.

  “Ugh, the barista didn't add my soy.”

  Ari chuckled lightly. “Oh dear. The heavens are about to burst with the fury of a god gone rogue.”

  “As a Christian, I take offense to that.”

  Marc pointed sternly at Ari but retained a cheerful grin, his eyes sparkling with humor as he shook his head, took another sip of coffee, and huffed.

  “I ought to complain.”

  “Why don't you?”

  Marc smirked. “Don't shrink me.”

  “Isn't that what friends are for?”

  Ari chortled as a ray of light jutted through the window and invaded his vision. He shielded his eyes, rose resolutely from his chair, and yanked the curtains over the pane.

  He sighed. “The sun is going to kill me.”

  “See, I knew you were a witch.”

  “Just don't tell anyone, okay?”

  Marc playfully smirked. “Any good weekend plans?”

  “My sister has thought it wise to set me up on a blind date.”

  “Ugh, people still do those?”

  Ari raised his trim eyebrows in either an expression of shock or annoyance. It could have been both. The strange ways in which he alerted the onlooker of his emotions wasn't entirely clear to himself. Even his own analytical ways couldn't quite unravel the way he engaged his emotions with the world.

  He hummed. “Yes, apparently. My sister has assumed my interest would extend farther than drinks. But she says she has the perfect man lined up for me.”

  “What's his name?”

  “Noah, I think.”

  Marc chuckled. “You don't know his name?”

  “Is the
re a point? There aren't many good men in Omaha. Gay men cast that circle much smaller.”

  “You have a point.”

  “Don't I, always?”

  Marc smirked. “Well, don't let me stop you from having a good time.”

  “It's beneath me to beg, Marc, but please help me shrink my way out of this situation.”

  “Why? You might have a good time! You never know.”

  “And I might end up dead in a ditch.”

  Marc laughed. “Don't act like you wouldn't be smitten at the opportunity to be mentioned on a true crime podcast.”

  Ari arched his right eyebrow. “Oh, I didn't quite think of it so morbidly. That's a wonderful way to see it. Positive, right?”

  Marc shook his head as laughter took over his body, tremors erupting as he attempted to balance his coffee on the edge of the desk.

  “You're killing me, Ari,” he said as his chuckles faded. “Tell me how it goes, eh? You deserve to have a good time.”

  “That's a nice thing to say.”

  “Oops, did it offend you?”

  Ari chuckled and gestured to the door. “I should prepare for the next client. Don't you have heads to untangle, too?”

  “Ah, I suppose so. I'll catch you later.”

  “If we survive the day, sure.”

  Marc swiped his drink from the desk and left. Laughter floated from the hallway into every crevice of Ari's office. As it faded into the distance, he took a breath, cleared his head, and buzzed his secretary.

  “Amanda, send in my next appointment.”

  Chapter Two

  Noah

  The computer beeped back at Noah, his round blue eyes widening to accommodate the series of prompts appearing on the monitor. Each new tab reflected in his glassy eyes as a round of clicks erupted from his mouse. His eyes flitted between tabs with the quickness of a hummingbird searching for a flower to suckle. When he blinked, his pupils briefly compressed and then widened again, a ring of black outlining the sky blue of his irises.

  “Working hard or hardly working over there, Tanner?”

  He blinked away from the screen, focusing on the cloudy outline of a figure striding toward him. He rubbed his eyes.