Two for the Early Dew

Ricardo Montez couldn’t see through the overcast night and swirling dry snow, even after Liz stepped upwind, hands raised, and deflected the gale over their heads. Nevertheless, Ricky knew that over thataway was shelter. It was implied by the lay of the landscape, that there was a hollow protected from the prevailing winds between two rocky hills.

He pointed with his full arm—only big gestures could be seen in the faint ringlight. “That way—there’s an animal track.” Used by something similar to mountain goats. He set aside for later the idea of hunting them. First priority was shelter.

It was freezing, even colder than he’d feared.

He tapped John’s shoulder and then gestured to Dana. The big guy waved agreement—he’d help and protect her. Which left pathfinding and watching Liz to Ricky.

This was a challenge—shielding them from the wind left Liz little attention for walking over rocky ground in the dark. She stubbed her left toes twice plus almost twisted her right ankle. By the time he’d guided her to the track, Ricky was wondering whether it would have been less work to just carry her piggyback.

Once on the track, their progress was swifter.

When they were almost at the shelter, suddenly the air twisted around them—that was the only way he could describe it. Ricky worked his jaw to pop his ears.

“What the—?” said John.

“I found a way to make a wind bubble,” Liz said smugly. “It should warm up for us in a bit. Also, easier to hold.”

“Clever,” said Dana. “Thanks, girlfriend.”

That word again—another thing to set aside for later.

“Huh,” said John.

A few paces on, a stone wall loomed out of the darkness. A ruined hut, its roof missing and stone walls half-broken. Ricky quickly scouted—an abandoned village. Nine buildings still had walls enough to shelter them, the best one being what had once been a small stable or livestock barn. Its doorway was wide and uncovered, but the roof had only two small gaps.

They huddled together within the embrace of a round corner of unmortared stones, sharing as much warmth and spread-out jackets as they could. The remains of straw or hay piled up by touch in the dark was less cold to sit on than the ground. Ricky herded the girls between himself and John.

“How long till dawn?” Ricky asked Liz. Her weathering included intuitively knowing where the sun was.

“Six hours,” she mumbled. “God, I’m exhausted. Fighting that wind...” Within moments she was asleep, propped against John.

“I have first watch,” Ricky said.

“Gotcha,” John said, acknowledging their usual order—John would be next.

Dana snuggled under Ricky’s arm, mumbled something, and fell asleep. Despite the cold and late hour, what settled into his heart was amazement. It was the first time since they had fallen through the gate into this world that Dana had come so close to him. She’d accepted his and John’s protection, working together for their survival against the Kolchoi who hunted them—and twice she’d accepted the consolation of an embrace from him. But she’d always been guarded—reserved, that was the word. Yet now she was huddled under his protective wing, if you could call his arm that. Suddenly, openly trusting.

He shifted his arm slightly, so Liz wasn’t squeezing it so tightly against the cold stone wall. That this meant he also covered Liz’s shoulders was a bonus he didn’t mind.

But he was on watch—he needed to focus outward. He extended his tracking-sense beyond the abandoned village. Nothing. Which left him nothing to do but listen to the wind, and think about what had just happened to them. About what Dana had done with the portal.

The sex had been incredible, and not only because Liz and John were both more experienced than his one previous partner. Dana’s magic had wrapped him up and pulled him along. He’d been willing enough at the time, but a pull was a pull. Prime evidence: coming three times in less than half an hour. Sure, he was a horny teenager, but not that horny.

And he didn’t like being pulled. Or pushed. His family had been through too much, getting from his old country through Mexico to here—or rather to America, not this otherworld. Only the strong and determined survive being refugees.

Her body was warm against his side.

It wasn’t all Dana’s magic, though. There was something else, a connection between them almost as palpable as her body. She’d channeled their power, sure, but the power had come from them. They had, all four, brought it out themselves by wanting to have sex. By having sex. Sex with Liz, one of the hottest girls in school—with tall, husky John—with the quiet yet determined Dana.

He’d gotten to know the steady bounce of Dana’s braid against her back, just in front of him as they hiked and ran. She’d kept up with the others without complaint. And honestly, her naked body, once revealed, had been amazing to see and touch—well-toned. Strong. Even her small breasts with small, pink nipples were attractive.

How much was magic, how much himself?

He chased the tail of his argument over and over till the wind had died down to fitful gusts carrying no snowflakes. Without moving his arm, Ricky tapped John’s shoulder. When that didn’t wake him, Ricky flicked a finger against his neck.

“Aw, come on,” John mumbled. Ricky frowned, but he continued, “I was having a wunnerfu’ dream about screwing everyone in sight.”

Ricky played along. “That was real, mi amigo,” he said softly. “You can tell by how your ass is freezing off.”

John snorted softly. He carefully stretched a few stiff joints without jostling Liz, then whispered, “I have the watch.”

Ricky relaxed his back, preparing to sleep.

Out of the darkness, though, John’s quiet voice said, “I never pegged you for bi.”

He was chewing over the same problem, then, or another end of it. Ricky answered honestly, “I hadn’t admitted it. Thing is, though I haven’t been to Mass for ten years, Church training is strong.” Mama had stopped the family from attending because, she said, the priests had done nothing to stop the violence that eventually drove them from their village.

After a moment, John said, “Fair enough. As long as you weren’t—we didn’t force you into it.”

“No, it’s old,” Ricky said. Those feelings, that is. The summer with Carlos, two years ago, proved that in hindsight—for all he hadn’t understood it at the time.

“Good.”

That single word held a world of implications—about, especially, the two of them. Implications Ricky wanted to explore. Just, not now.

“No, good night,” he joked, closing his eyes against the dark. He was tired enough, despite all there was to think about, he immediately fell asleep.

Ricky woke not to the feeling of being shaken awake by John, but of a warm face nuzzling his jaw. What the—? He turned his head, and Dana’s mouth met his. She tipped her head and opened her lips, and he found her soft tongue was even warmer. It was by far the sweetest way of waking up he’d ever met. Sweet enough, he kissed back.

Behind her, Liz chuckled. “Do I get one of those?” she teased. But who was she teasing?

Dana broke off the kiss and turned around to face Liz. “Of course,” she said, and cupped Liz’s face with her hands and gave the other girl a tender kiss.

He watched in the dim light from the open doorway. Despite it being only a few hours since being drained, despite his cold butt and stiff back, Ricky’s cock stirred. It wasn’t just seeing two girls kissing—it was seeing these two, two friends he’d survived nearly two weeks with in a hostile world. Two friends he’d had sex with. It was amazingly beautiful. And hot. Damn hot.

John cleared his throat. He was out from under the layers of spare clothing, setting up a small fire in the center of their stall using straw and small sticks. As a Scout working towards Eagle, he’d claimed the position of designated firemaker from the start.

“Of course,” Dana repeated, freeing her arms from the pile to tug John’s elbow towards her. “All my boyfriends and girlfriend get good morning kisses.” And there, right next to Ricky, right there between him and Liz, Dana kissed John as well—just as sweetly and thoroughly.

She let go of John, who settled back on his heels. He licked his lips, looking a little dazed.

Ricky caught his attention with a nod to the fire. John came back to this world, nodded back to Ricky, and went back to work.

“About that,” Liz said to Dana. Not about the fire, Ricky realized—that ‘boyfriends and girlfriend’ thing.

Dana blew out through compressed lips, her breath misty in the cold air, then smiled wryly. This expressiveness struck him—was this the same quiet Dana who had been, until now, the most thoughtful and controlled of the four? Ricky had assumed it was just shyness, or maybe fear of the larger boys, but it felt now like she’d been holding herself back. Bottling up her attraction to the others.

Not that he’d know anything about that.

“Look,” Dana said, “I get how it might take you guys time to get used to it, but we’re linked now. I know this. It’s not just portal magic. I can see how we’re all connected.” Dana drew lines in the air between them with her finger, chest to chest to chest to chest.

“But—” Liz began, then broke off. “I—” She shook her head.

“Did you have a boyfriend?” John asked Liz softly, then bent down to blow gently on the wisp of smoke. “Before we left, I mean.”

“Well, no,” Liz said.

There was something left unstated, there. “A girlfriend?” Ricky asked.

Liz looked at him shrewdly. “If you’re asking whether I’m bi, yes, I’ve had girlfriends. At Girl Scout camp.”

John snorted, then added another twig to the tiny flame.

“Wait,” Liz said to him. “Boy Scout camp?”

John flashed a quick grin. “A few.”

Boyfriends, he meant. Or at least hook-ups with boys. Somehow, that didn’t surprise Ricky.

“So were any of us, um, attached before we came here?” Dana asked, face worried.

Ricky shook his head, as did Dana and Liz. John cleared his throat.

“I had an understanding with—with a girl. An ‘if we’re still available at the end of summer’ kind of thing.” He bent to blow softly on the flame, bringing it higher.

“I’m sorry,” Dana said softly. She sounded it, too.

Ricky slipped his arm down Liz’s back to hug Dana against his side.

“Actually,” John said, then looked at the three of them, “I’m not regretting this.” His gaze met Ricky’s.

Ricky felt something ease within him, a tension he hadn’t known was there. In the three years he’d known John, as classmates and friends, there’d been no hint of attraction—or none that Ricky had recognized. Or admitted to, on his side. He liked John. A lot, if he was truthful. And yesterday, he had liked how John’s cock felt—and how John’s hand felt on his. He wondered, briefly, what it would taste like.

“That’s all very well,” Liz said, “but what happens when we get back to Earth?”

Left unsaid: whether they ever would.

“What we want to happen,” Dana said simply.

“Dana,” Liz said, shifting a little away from her, “we don’t know the first thing about—about these magic powers. What or why or how.” She pulled her hands out to wave them around. “Will we still have them?”

Good questions.

But Dana just shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“How can you—” Liz started to say, but Ricky held up a hand to stop her.

“Why not?” he asked Dana.

She shrugged, shifting under his arm. “We don’t feel what we feel because of the magic. The magic is powered by those feelings. I’m in love with you, here and now, and I will still love you all when we get home.”

Love was—wow. That was a big jump. One that left Ricky breathless. And all of them wordless. Liz stared at Dana. John focused on his task. Ricky looked between the three.

The fire flickered, too small to warm the stable. John held out his hand to Ricky. “Canteen.”

Ricky released Dana’s warm body, needing both hands to get the metal canteen from his pack. It was less than a third filled with water. The four shared it, then John filled it with snow from the drifts just outside the open doorway. He propped it over the fire to melt more drinking water.

Liz dug her mess kit from John’s pack, filled the enamelware bowl with more snow, and John set that by the fire as well. Dana, meanwhile, parcelled out rations from Ricky’s pack. It included the last of the meat from the marmot-like critter Liz had shot, two days ago, as well as a couple granola bars. They had only three more of the latter left, plus a half a baggie of gorp. Time to hunt those mountain-goat-things. In fact—

Ricky’s tracking sense twitched, a tingle at the base of his skull. There were a couple of them on the hillside above the village. “Time to go hunting,” he said softly, easing himself up with his flint-headed spear.

The other three nodded, silent. He left their shelter, wrapping himself in the snowy landscape and silence.

An hour later, strips of ‘goat’ meat were grilling on improvised skewers propped over the fire. Or rather, more meat—they’d already devoured the first round. They had all worked together. After thirteen days in this world, running for their lives, they knew their roles for camp. Dana gathered wood from huts of the village, Ricky butchered the carcase, Liz dressed the meat, and John cooked it. All ate it, in equal shares regardless of body size—John insisted on that.

Now Liz was scraping the skin with their last flake of flint, hoping to preserve it until they had a chance to cure it later. Dana was packaging the remaining meat for later in ziplock baggies. John kept the fire small and warm and as smokeless as possible, which required constant attention. Fidgeting to a purpose was less annoying than general fidgets, at any rate.

Ricky carefully cut the liver away from the rest of the entrails, and plopped it into the small pot of his own mess-kit. He paused, and looked at his friends. His unexpected lovers.