The Harlequin - 6. Chapter 6

The evening air bit at Patrick’s skin as he tried to focus on other things, his back and arse pressed against the stone lid that covered a casket in the above ground grave.

Why did he believe Gavin when he told him graveyards were sexy? He had to be out of his mind. Now he lay nude, waiting for Gavin to get off inside him; his cock and balls were freezing and in no mood to function.

Gavin huffed and puffed as he worked to his climax with Patrick’s legs on his shoulders. He grinned down at Patrick believing he was enjoying the moment. Patrick gripped the sides of the stone lid as the friction scratched at his spine and upper back.

Patrick wasn’t one to back down from a dare. He had done some challenging things with lovers during his oversea journeys. He wished it was warmer weather and Gavin was someone else. Then, the thought of the guy from the view of Gavin’s bathroom window came to mind.

‘Man he was cute,’ Patrick thought. The heat to his body returned as his arms and hands responded by releasing the stone lid and rose to Gavin’s shoulders and forearms. He envisioned the peeping tom in place of Gavin, touching his face. His fingers were slipping down his neck, where his mouth ravished his flesh. “Oh god,” he gasped into the chilly night air. “…that’s it, right there…” His skin tingled from the fantasy in his head of his peeping tom as Gavin’s tongue and lips moved down his throat to his awaiting hard nipples, pinching and biting them. His cock and balls responded as Gavin rocked faster. Patrick added encouragement by grasping his arse cheeks and pulling his hips closer causing him to thrust deeper into him.

Patrick swayed his head from side to side as his body shivered with the sensation of envisioning a stranger’s mouth, in place of Gavin’s, on his cock. The wet tongue was snaking his cock as his mouth sucked hard and fast bringing Patrick to the edge. Gavin’s climax erupted into spasms as Patrick shut his eyes tight, as his own seed spilling over his stomach, crotch, and thighs.

Their voices melted together as they shivered from the discharged heat from their bodies. Gavin collapsed on top of Patrick, who lay limp, breathing in and out, waiting for his heart rate to settle back to its normal speed.

The fantasy faded away. The cold air wrapped around Patrick, who began to feel the weight of Gavin on top of him. He was heavy and he wanted him off.

At Gavin’s place after sex, if not tired, Gavin would light a cigarette and get dressed in silence. Patrick would just lay motionless for a moment staring at the ceiling, wanting to shower. Without looking at Patrick, he would tell him to go order them something to eat or give him money for food and drink and go out by himself. Gavin stopped paying for his food, drink and rent. He told Patrick he should foot the bill since he spent the night so much. Patrick didn’t want to push the point that Gavin was blackmailing him, so he forked over the money just to stop the conversation.

“Gavin, get up...you’re crushing me.” He nudged him with his body, but Gavin didn’t budge. “Come on Gavin, get off. I’m covered in cum, I want to get dressed, and I’m freezing,” he snapped. But Gavin still wouldn’t rise. His head faced away from him, so Patrick didn’t see that Gavin still had his eyes opened. Or that his back had a knife sticking out from it.

He wanted him off. So using his right leg and arms, Patrick shoved Gavin with all his might until he was able to slide free of him. He didn’t want to push him off the stone lid and hurt him, then he would have to take care of him. Luckily the lid was wide enough for two. When Patrick sat up, he looked down and saw the reason Gavin wasn’t responding. He jumped off the stone slab and stumbled, nearly falling to the cold ground. His body trembled again, but this time not from the cold but from the shock of seeing Gavin laying so still.

“Gavin,” he said in a shaky voice. “Gavin,” he said louder. He looked for his clothes and managed to find his pants by the stone grave Gavin lay on. Thrusting his shivering legs in, he covered his bare arse that he didn’t bother to cover with any underwear…Gavin’s request before they left his apartment. He closed the button fly and looked for his shoes, not seeing them right away. He found his shirt and jacket flung crudely on a headstone marked, MY LOVING HUSBAND. His body wouldn’t stop shaking as he scanned his surroundings for his boots.

He walked to the other side of the grave slowly, knowing he would see Gavin’s face. He saw his boots were closer to the grave where Gavin’s arm now dangled over. He kept his eyes down as he grabbed his boots and shoved his feet into the expensive leather. He stood staring at Gavin’s cold brown eyes. ‘The wannabe hipster’ everyone called him but Patrick, who found his lifestyle fascinating at first. Sure he could be condescending, and a son-of-a-bitch, but none of that mattered now he’s dead. Or was he?

He never checked for a pulse.

“Maybe he’s still alive,” thought Patrick, who took a step towards him. The force that stood between him and the possibility of touching a dead man's flesh, staggered Patrick’s steps. But he had to know. He owed it…not to Gavin, but to his own peace of mind to be sure. His hand reached for his neck.

“A pulse would be more evident there,” he said, as a cloud of his breath floated in the air. Patrick pressed his fingers close to Gavin’s artery. At first there was nothing as he pressed harder…then Patrick’s own heart skipped a beat when he felt a throb that pulsated several times.

“Oh my god, you’re alive. Okay—okay, you need help. An ambulance.” Patrick said aloud to no one as he reached for his cell, but it wasn’t where he left it inside the breast pocket of his coat. In fact, his wallet was missing as well. “They must have fallen out,” he said to himself. He ran back to where his shirt and coat had been and dug through the fallen leaves for his things. Then he heard it. The familiar ringing of his cell. The ring he set for a specific number—Gavin’s numbers.

He saw his cell glowing under the leaves and reached for it. He stared at the caller’s ID picture in horror. Pikachu, the Pokemon anime character Patrick picked out for Gavin, showed on the display, his yellow, black, and red cheeks smiled back at him playing the theme song from the first season’s show.

Patrick swallowed and pressed the green phone icon and placed the cell to his ear. He couldn’t speak as his breath shot small white clouds from his quivering lips.

“Patrick,” said a voice he didn’t recognize. “Patrick, listen to me.” The voice was a whisper but grainy and distorted.

“Who is this?”

“Don’t you know? I’m the one.”

“The one—the one what?”

“The only one—for you.”

Patrick tried to stay calm as his anger spread. Someone was fucking with him. He started to respond to tell the caller to fuck off. Then he remembered Gavin needed help if it wasn’t too late. Patrick disconnected with the caller and hit the emergency button waiting for a response.

“Emergency response, how can I help you?”

“Thank God—my friend needs help. Someone stabbed him in the back!”

“Is he responsive?”

“No—but I felt a pulse.”

“Are you hurt?’

“No—please, he’s dying.”

“Tell me your location?”

“The graveyard on…” the call dropped and he heard nothing but dead air. “Hello—no—please—hello!” Patrick looked at his cell and saw that he was still connected to the operator, but couldn’t hear her. “Hello, please if you can hear me we’re at the graveyard…” The dead silence of the cell caused Patrick to feel a sense of dread as he heard sudden clicks on the line.

“Why Patrick,” the grainy voice from before said. “Why did you hang up on me?”

Patrick stood and looked around his surroundings and saw no one in the darkness. With the help from the bright moon above, he was able to see and as far as he knew he was alone.

“Listen you sicko, my friend is dying. He has a knife sticking out of his back—he needs help and I need to call…”

“Fuck him Patrick, you only need me.”

“Are you here now?”

“I’m always with you.” Patrick kept searching but saw no movement. He needed to get Gavin to a hospital, so he decided to use charm to get his way. “Listen—I don’t know your name?”

“In due time.”

“Okay—please just for now I need help. My friend is freezing and dying from his wound.”

“He’s not dying.”

“Yes—he is. Please I’m begging you let me call for help.”

“He’s not dying,” the grainy voice snapped.

“He has a fucking knife in his back, and he’s not moving!” Patrick screamed, losing his patience.”

“I know. I put it there.”

Patrick dropped to his knees and lowered his cell to his lap.

“Patrick?” Patrick heard the voice loud and clear as he looked towards to where Gavin lay and saw someone wearing all black, with a harlequin mask standing by him. Patrick watched in horror as the person lifted Gavin’s head and twisted his neck until it snapped. The grinding and popping of bone caused Patrick to drop his cell back into the leaves by his knee. The figure stepped around Gavin’s now lifeless body and approached Patrick.

‘Run,’ he thought, as his legs propelled him away from the killer, kicking up leaves as his feet raced through them. He ran past old and new headstones towards the gate that Gavin had brought him through, not looking back as he heard the figure calling his name.