The Magician: Coal to Diamonds

Excerpt:
Bobby and Cam stood naked on the square of bare earth between Coles cabin and the woods. They neither hugged themselves nor huddled together, but waited bravely exposed. Cole was proud of them. Their bodies, fleshy and soft, clashed hard against the emaciated sharpness of the bare branches, stripped berry fronds, and foot-cutting, frozen ground. They looked as out of place as blooming roses would have this time of year, between Thanksgiving and Christmas. They seemed to Cole just as lovely and vulnerable.
Cole finished arranging the things hed brought from the house on a cloth at the bottom of the porch steps and went to join the others. The smaller the area, the less energy it will take to seal and maintain, he told them. Try not to go more than a few feet from the cabin. Go around the cars though. We might need them. Are we ready to start?
Robert nodded and Cam whispered Yes, Cole.
Cole retrieved from the stairs a shot-glass-sized vial of oil. Hed made it over the summer, on the night of the Mead Moon, just before Bobby and Cam came back to him. Infused with bitter nettles, rosehips, lily-of-the-valley and the June sun, it warmed his palm. A tiny shard of opal floated near the bottom, for protection. After letting a few drops trickle on the fingertips of his left hand, Cole knelt in front of Cam. Chilly, jagged rocks bit his bare knees as he touched the knob of bone above Cams big toe. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the creamy skin of Cams perfect, dancers foot.
Bless your feet that tread the sacred path, he said.
He rose to his knees, anointed his fingers again, and touched the seam in the center of Cams scrotum. He ran his hands over the V of muscle that stretched from Cams hipbones to his groin. His fingers left glistening trails. Cam was so perfectly proportioned. Every bend and curve flowed into every other with the grace of a slow river. Coles palms rested a second over the trail of dandelion hair on Cams belly. Then he lifted Cams cock, shrunken by the cold, and let the head balance on his lower lip. Cam inhaled and instinctively touched the back of Coles head. Cole opened his lips a fraction more, so that they encircled Cams cock when he kissed it. He couldnt resist tapping the slit with the tip of his tongue before he broke away. Most of the books hed read suggested saying something about fertility at this point, but it never seemed appropriate, so he just whispered Bless you here. Forms of fecundity existed beyond creating more humans.
Cole stood and took both of Cams hands. He held them in front of his chest and kissed each of his knuckles. Bless the hands that hold the wand.
For several moments Cole looked into Cams forest-pool eyes, beautiful and awe-inspiring in the way that only nature can be. Then he touched Cams lower lip with the oil, took his cheeks in both hands, and kissed him on the mouth. Cams lower lip, trembling from the cold, slipped between Coles lips. Coles tongue swept across it, and then he withdrew his mouth. But he leaned in again, nipping at the coral-colored bow of Cams lips a second, and then a third time. Cams jaw relaxed open, and Cole wanted nothing more than to kiss him deeply, but it would need to wait.
Bless your mouth that speaks the sacred names.
Cole kissed each of Cams eyes. Then he pressed his lips between Cams brows so hard his lip flattened and his teeth pushed against the bone under Cams skin. He wove his fingers into Cams thick hair and said, without moving his mouth from Cams forehead Cam, bless your eyes. Your eyes that see. He wet his pinky with the oil and traced a diamond shape where his lips had been, around and around Cams potent third eye. Open this up, he crooned, rubbing, coaxing. We need your sight. Finally a faint, elliptical glow, the green of new grass, satisfied him.
He blessed and anointed Robert in the same fashion, lingering over his hands instead of his eyes. Bless the hands that wield the staff, Cole said, squeezing Bobbys palms, stroking Bobbys thumbs with his own. Bless them for their strength. Throughout school, Bobby had been their protector. No one could fathom why popular, athletic Bobby Forester, with his strong chin and disarming smile, would befriend Cole Riley, the bookish outcast, or Cameron Webb, the fairy from the Drama and Dance Club. At first Cole thought it was a joke, or a dare. But Bobby stood by them, with the quiet, unwavering power of mountain stone or an ancient tree. An ochre aura now surrounded his arms to the elbow.
Can you do me, please, Bobby? Cole asked, passing his friend the oil. Bobby knelt, and Cole closed his eyes and let his mind begin to slip to the place it needed to be: a few feet beyond the confines of his body, a few feet into the soil, a few into the sky, and a few to the sides, where it would brush against and join with the souls of Bobby and Cam. Bobby kissed his feet, and they felt light, like balloons filled with warm air instead of blood and bone. He could no longer feel the jab of the pebbles against his soles. The tepid buoyancy spread throughout him. He let Bobbys slightly calloused palm brush away the mundane from his calves, stomach, chest and face. Everywhere his hands touched Cole felt changed. His body expanded, floated. Only his cock, half erect despite the temperature, felt corporeal. When Bobbys lips brushed his, it felt like their faces melted together. Coles mouth, his speech, was the throne of his magic. Bobbys lips slipped away, and Cole saw the light of his own power escaping between his teeth, white-hot, blue-tipped, knife-edged and flickering.