Gifts - 1. Chapter 1

GIFTS

By Tucker McCallahan

This is a copyrighted work of fiction. All rights reserved.

*

How much blood is in the human body?

Somewhere in the foggy recesses of my mind I knew the answer to that question. As I pictured the rapidly spreading pool of dark red, frantically trying to dislodge my head from the maniac’s headlock and succeeding at nothing but ripping out my earrings, I couldn’t remember.

I’m going to die out here, I thought, eyes on the sky as my boots scraped against the pavement. He licked my neck and laughed at me.

Like a little bitch, I started to cry.

I stopped fighting and I let him bite me.

Fuck.

****

I’ve never been much of a fighter. I was a bookish kid raised by bookish parents, both teachers. Doomed from the start, I was smart, too. I was the kid all the adults loved and knew by name, and all the kids despised. Thankfully, I wasn’t the scrawniest kid in my class or I wouldn’t have survived the ass-kickings in grade school.

My dad, in a bid to “help” me in middle school, introduced me to the wonderful world of role-playing games. I’m still not sure if I should thank him for that or just send him my therapy bills for the rest of my life. With his blessing and a pile of old hardback books, I started playing Dungeons & Dragons with a group of guys in the fifth grade. Six of us got together regularly, and Tony was our Dungeon Master.

When Junior High rolled around, the gaming group changed. I guess it was inevitable; we were changing, too. Taylor moved away, so we lost him as a player (he was never very good anyway), and Jim quit to play football. Jason discovered girls in a serious way that left no room whatsoever for games or for friends, which left me, Tony, and Josh. Dungeons & Dragons was not as much fun with such a small group, but Tony – Anthony since he turned thirteen – discovered White Wolf’s World of Darkness and Vampire: the Masquerade. The addiction was instantaneous.

To the dismay of my parents, I was quickly swept up in the angst-ridden Goth scene. I admit it; I was an angry, nasty 14 year-old boy with a bad attitude, or at least I wanted to be. Finding something to be upset about all the time was a lot of work, but we managed it. We listened to bad music, ate too much junk food, drank way too much Mountain Dew, and spent roughly half of our lives pretending to be vampires.

It was awesome.

I had no interest in girls. None. Or women, for that matter. When sex came up, my opinion on the subject was usually so outrageously misogynistic that I was spared actually having to formulate coherent responses. When we were out at the mall it became a kind of quest: how many chicks will slap Chris in the face tonight? But it wasn’t that I hated girls. I didn’t. The problem was so completely different that it was laughable, and I didn’t know what to do about it.

The problem was that I loved Anthony, and couldn’t bear the idea of losing him to anything so mundane as a pair of tits.

By the time high school started, I was completely desperate. Anthony had become the paragon of all things beautiful. I mean, I knew I looked good when we dressed up and went out to concerts. I wasn’t a toad, I had decent skin and I’d grown my dark brown hair out past my shoulders. I could stand to look in a mirror nude and not flinch, and I wasn’t completely embarrassed in the locker room. But Anthony…

Anthony was six feet three inches of slender, androgynous grace, his arms and legs slim, sculpted perfection. His skin was alabaster white like a china doll and he had these incredible dark brown eyes that looked black when he was really serious. He dyed his hair midnight black and streaked it purple – eggplant, he said – and it was long and thick and caressed his neck and shoulders. Sometimes when we hung out, I’d look at him and get this pain straight through my chest like I’d been speared… or shot through the heart with one of cupid’s stupid arrows.

The year we turned eighteen, I was nearly out of my mind over my feelings for him. We practically lived together we spent so much time with each other. When he wasn’t at my house, I was at his. We gamed every Friday and Saturday night and then again on Sunday afternoons. We started experimenting with live-action role playing even though Josh didn’t like it because Anthony had aspirations toward being an actor. Right after Halloween on a Friday night, it finally happened.

Josh ditched us, and so it was Tony and I gaming. When it was just the two of us, he let me call him Tony. I asked if we could LARP since Josh wasn’t coming, and he said that would be cool, that he had a few scenes we could do. I was running a vampire I really liked, a character called Drayzen who was getting pretty powerful. Tony had a character he ran, a master vampire called DiPiro who was far more powerful than mine.

When we first started the game it was just regular live-action role-play, but then DiPiro invited Drayzen back to his lair, and they took a “snack” with them. Tony played this out with me by busting open a secret bottle of booze I didn’t know he had, and we drank real alcohol as we acted out the scene. DiPiro had an agenda. He wanted favors from Drayzen; I knew that. I knew he wanted me to work for him, and I waited for the pitch, anxious to see what Tony’s character would offer mine.

He kept getting closer and closer to me, touching me, rubbing me. I got hotter and hotter, and more and more confused, and anxious, and incredibly turned on. Was this just the game, or did Tony feel the same way about me that I felt about him? God I’d wanted him for so long! DiPiro kept blatantly coming on to Drayzen, outright seducing him. I looked into Tony’s eyes, trying to get a clue, buy a vowel, gauge how serious he was, and all I saw was that his incredible brown eyes looked black. His pupils were huge, his cheeks slightly flushed and I decided if this was how I was going to get Tony, then so be it. I let it happen. Finally, he grabbed me by the hair and mashed our mouths together, kissing me so hard that he cut my lip on my teeth. I jerked back instinctually and he stopped.

“Suck my dick.” His voice was soft and husky.

I stared at him, my mouth open, my lip bloody. He swooped in and licked the blood off my lip.

“So sweet,” he said. “So innocent. Suck my dick.”

So I did. I went down on him like I was starving for it, like I’d die if I didn’t devour him. His cock was every bit as perfect as the rest of him, though of course, I already knew that. I’d seen it before. But up close and in my mouth, it was heaven. His shaft was long and slender with one thick vein that ran the length of the underside and pulsed like crazy as I ran my tongue over it. He was cut, and the head of his cock felt like smooth velvet on my lips. He was so clean I could smell the Ivory soap he used, and he shaved his groin totally smooth, which made me throb in my black cargo pants something fierce.

I’m sure it wasn’t the best blowjob ever done, but I gave it my all. He gasped and moaned, thrusting through my lips. I didn’t care. I savored every second of his hands caressing my face, and if he held my head too tightly or pulled my hair, I forgave him because it was Tony. I loved him. I wanted to please him. He came in my mouth without warning me when he was close. I gagged, but swallowed his cum, my whole body on fire. I was hard as iron and desperately in need of attention. I wanted his mouth on my cock so badly I would’ve done just about anything for him to so much as kiss it, but when I stood up, my pants unzipped, hard dick in my hand, Tony just stared at me. He already tucked himself away and zipped up.

“Well?” I asked.

“Well what?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

The terror struck then, the very first realization of just how much pain Tony Delano was capable of causing me. My heart stopped. I blinked, just once. If Tony didn’t touch me I thought I would probably die on the spot, or at the very least go mad.

He must have seen the terrible desperation on my face because he reached out and grabbed me, gave me a few cursory strokes and ordered me to sit down. He finished telling me the scene between Drayzen and DiPiro, slowly jerking me off, building me up and then backing off until I squirmed and begged him to let me come. When he finally did, when his hand finally flew up and down my shaft and my orgasm exploded free I was so far in love with him that I knew there was no going back. I was hopelessly, helplessly addicted to Tony Delano.

The next few years were torture. He was cruel and vicious, and he did his best to hurt me every chance he got. I knew it, and even knowing it, I let him do it. I wasn’t sure when I turned into such a masochist.

When Tony decided to be a sadist, my subconscious said, its tone whimsical.

For two years I was his dirty secret, his down low boyfriend. I was such an idiot. Two years spent being his best friend and buddy in public, and sucking his dick every time we were alone, every time we got behind a door that closed. He never touched me in public. Hell, he barely touched me in private. He never went down on me. He very rarely kissed me. Everything we did happened in the context of the game. Chris and Tony didn’t have sex. Drayzen and DiPiro did, every single time.

I finally got to the point where I couldn’t take it anymore.

Apparently, he reached that place, too. Elizabeth was introduced at a Saturday game that Josh actually deigned to attend. I despised her on sight, but it was easier to play the game with another regular player. She knew all the rules and had her own books. But I didn’t like the way she looked at Tony, and I didn’t like the way he looked at her. I made fun of her the way I did all females. Tony laughed; DiPiro admonished me not to underestimate another Kindred.

Two weeks later, Drayzen was diablerized.

For those non-gamers who have no idea what that means, let me provide enlightenment. Tony let the other players kill my character. Not only did he allow my character to be killed, he let it happen in a way that guaranteed that my character could never be brought back. He, Elizabeth and Josh drained my character dry, drank his blood, took his essence into their bodies and stole his immortality, his power and gifts away. Diablerie, the cannibalizing of a vampire for its power, was considered the highest taboo crime in the context of the game, but Tony’s character planned, executed and encouraged the others to do it to Drayzen.

The character I created and played for nearly five years.

The character DiPiro “married” one night when we were 19, after having mind-blowing sex with me and coming down my throat… twice.

He and Elizabeth began openly dating the following Monday morning.

It was more than I could bear. I contemplated suicide.

My parents threatened to have me committed.

I told my mother everything. That helped some, and my parents, ever the liberals, were supportive. I think I could’ve turned cartwheels across our driveway singing “Over the Rainbow” and my parents would’ve been supportive if I just came out of my room and stopped crying over Tony Delano. It was so completely out of character for me – the crying, I mean, not the moping, scowling, and angst. They got used to all that years earlier.

I got through the holidays, but the idea of being alone for my twenty-first birthday made me physically ill. I shared my last four birthdays with Tony. Hell, I hadn’t even woken up at my own house on my birthday in two years.

Mom insisted I’d feel better if I just got out and occupied my time. The week before my twenty-first birthday there was a gaming convention, and White Wolf was sponsoring a LARP event including a Vampire Ball. Tony and I attended several gaming conventions, and they were okay. Since we couldn’t drink or fuck while we LARPed at one of them, we preferred our own games, but maybe now that I wasn’t fucking my storyteller things would be different. I sent Josh an email to see if maybe he wanted to go, but he never responded. Somehow I wasn’t surprised.

In the end, I decided to skip the convention, but attend the ball. I loved dressing up, and I accumulated several pieces of costuming that I looked good in. The more I thought about it, the better I liked the idea. Just because Tony said Drayzen was dead didn’t mean that I couldn’t still play him. Why couldn’t I dress up and go to the ball? I even dared to hope that I might meet a cute boy there, someone who would appreciate the skills I perfected with Tony. Technically, I was a virgin, and I could think of nothing I wanted more for my twenty-first birthday than to lose my virginity to a really hot guy who might treat me a sight better than Tony “I love my closet” Delano.

I spent three hours getting ready when that Saturday rolled around. My mother laughed and rolled her eyes. My father wisely made himself scarce. I don’t think my gayness was much of a revelation to him, but I also don’t think rampant examples of it made him very happy. When I was finally ready to go my mother insisted on taking pictures. Secretly I was glad she did. I looked fine. I had such high hopes that night as I walked out of my parents’ house.

“Welcome Attendees to the Blood Gifts Ball!” the banner said. I smiled and shook my head. Corny, but what did I expect? We were all here pretending to be vampires. I floated in having already drawn the persona of my now-defunct character over myself. Chris was gone and Drayzen arrived.

I faltered ten yards through the door. Tony and his hippo-Goth girlfriend, Elizabeth, stood arm in arm just inside the doors, leaning up against the wall like it would fall down if she didn’t hold it up with her substantial girth. My proverbial fangs came out to join the pair I’d cemented on to my eye teeth with Polident. I sauntered directly up to them so that Tony would have no choice but to acknowledge me.

“Tony,” I said.

He stared through me as though I wasn’t there, so I repeated his name several times, at increasing volumes. Finally, the hippo-Goth huffed a breath that nearly blew the hanging organza back from the ceiling and grabbed her right wrist with her left hand. It was a truly bizarre gesture, and not one I was familiar with (as a young adult of the male persuasion I had an impressive knowledge of obscene finger and hand gestures, and this was not one I knew). As Elizabeth did it, though, Tony sighed and copied her, like some pathetic… boyfriend.

“You’re ruining everything,” Elizabeth said, her voice a hateful hiss. “This is a character event. Everything here is done in character. Of which you have none.”

“Tony…” I said. I ignored the female and focused on my ex-best friend.

“Anthony,” he said, nastily, his left hand glommed on to his wrist in that stupid quasi-referee pose. “God, Chris, you’d think you could remember my name after eight years.”

My hands went to my hips as I shook my hair back. Drayzen was in full bitch mode and I was letting him shine. They wanted character? I could give them character. Fucking Tony Delano thought he was an actor? He could watch my Oscar performance right fucking now.

“You don’t seem to remember all those blowjobs I gave you; why should I remember your name?” I asked, sneering. I hadn’t meant to shout it, hadn’t meant to even bring it up in front of his girlfriend, but he made me so angry, and he looked so beautiful.

“You’re defective,” he said, laughing. “Something happens in a game and you think it means something, you think it’s real. Our characters had oral sex. That’s our characters, Chris, not us. It’s a game, not a relationship. Get over yourself.” He shook his head. “Like I’m some kind of fag or something…”

I was so angry I was shaking. I knew my face was flushed red and my lips a bloodless white. I instantly regretted every single damn time I took him into my mouth, every time I brought him to climax, and I loathed myself for allowing him to manipulate me through the game. I was just about to open my mouth and embarrass us both when a tall, beautiful couple dressed to the nines in period clothing strolled up to the three of us. Tony and Elizabeth stiffened and bowed, but I just stood there, staring blankly. Sure, they looked good, but I didn’t bow to anybody. Give me a break.

The girl, a willowy beauty with hair that might have been naturally red mimicked that referee gesture of grasping her right wrist with her left hand.

“This is a character event. Personal conversations aren’t permitted, and arguments are only allowed in character. Is there some kind of problem here? DiPiro? Francesca?”

Those were their character names. Elizabeth looked like somebody kicked her puppy. Her bottom lip actually poked out and quivered in her outrage. She thrust a furious finger at me, difficult for her to do while still holding her chubby wrist with one hand. Her boobs got in the way.

“Lady Guinevere, this… player is here with a defunct character.”

The couple turned to me. “Is this true?” the boy asked me. One of his perfectly plucked eyebrows raised in a delicate arch. Damn, I wished I could do that.

“What the hell are you people talking about?” I sniped angrily. “I just came to a stupid vampire ball. I play the game. So what?”

“This is an official, sanctioned event,” Lady Guinevere said frostily. “You must be here as your character. Do you have a character?”

I said yes at the same time that both Tony and Elizabeth said no.

The beautiful couple looked at each other, then at Tony, who sighed.

“This,” he said, with a sheepish look, “was Drayzen, my lord.”

And at that, Lady Guinevere’s better half began chuckling. He looked me up and down and gave me a very knowing smile as did the girl by his side, though she had the decency to wipe the look from her face when I started to seethe. He did not.

“So you’re DiPiro’s cock whore…You look pretty good for a dead man,” the boy said.

I went white. I know I did. My head whipped around to Tony and I stared at him in shock. He shrugged.

“The storyline gets forwarded to the local region for events like this. They all know DiPiro was using Drayzen as a whore for information and when it stopped being lucrative, he had him… eliminated.”

Lady Guinevere turned to me, her face very serious. “You simply cannot be here as a defunct character. You can either choose one of the pre-fabricated level-one characters from the roster and play one of those, or I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.” As an afterthought, she added, “No refunds.”

“I played Drayzen for five years,” I growled, my voice raw. “He was master level, an elder.”

“And you let him be destroyed? It must have been love…” the boy said, winking at Tony. He offered Lady Guinevere his arm and after receiving yet another bow from Tony and his hippo, they regally strolled off.

Tony turned to me. “Just… go, Chris. You don’t belong here.”

For a moment, I saw tenderness, actual compassion in his eyes, and it knifed through me, the pain so hot and terrible that I couldn’t stand there, couldn’t pretend. I fled through the ballroom, garishly decorated with bloody snowflakes, my eyes filled with tears.

The Men’s Room was a lavish affair with two rooms: one an actual bathroom with urinals, stalls, and sinks and the other a sitting room where, surprise, surprise, there were guys in costume carrying on the game. I dashed in, saw them milling about in the sitting room, one wearing a cape and gesturing grandly as he spoke, and made a beeline for the stalls.

Jesus, was there no real estate in the entire convention center that they hadn’t taken over? I yanked toilet paper free and dabbed at my eyes, desperately trying not to smear the makeup I so carefully and painstakingly applied. I felt utterly humiliated. What was I doing here? Who was I kidding? I didn’t even like Vampire. I just liked Tony. I didn’t want to stand around and pretend to be a vampire. I mean, I liked dressing in the Goth clothes, and I sure as hell liked the look of the other Goth boys, but the game? I had only played the game to be with Tony, and it was utterly apparent from the brief moment when he met my eyes and allowed me that single instant of honesty that he would never admit that what we felt for each other was something he wanted. He would continue to play other games, pretend to be what he wasn’t, and I couldn’t do that.

I got my tears under control and took a piss, then emerged from the stall to check my reflection in the mirror as I washed my hands. I still looked really good. Commotion from the sitting room drew my gaze, and I glanced over. To my utter astonishment, I now saw a large group of guys gathered around a pile of black velvet and lace on one of the chairs. I dried my hands and strolled over trying to look nonchalant.

I saw the naked tits first. White as paper, small, and firm, with very pronounced brown nipples, the girl – I had to look three times to verify that yes, it was a girl – was riding the guy under her with a fervor that bordered on manic. Her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back, her jammy black lips just slightly parted. She had a tiny diamond stud in the side of her nose that caught the light and winked every time she bounced on his dick. Those tits of hers jiggled with her movements and looked like little white fried eggs. I grimaced.

“Doesn’t do it for you?” a low, deep voice said from right behind me. I jerked and stifled a yelp. A couple of the guys laughed. I tried to salvage the moment.

“No. She looks half dead.”

“Just the way I like them,” another guy said, his voice sounding evil. More general laughter sounded as the girl and guy continued to fuck.

“How do you like them, lovely?” the stranger asked, again putting his mouth right by my ear.

I turned my attention to him and froze. In a convention full of remarkable people, he was something special. Far more ethereal that Tony could ever hope to be, this boy had the white-blond hair of a true towhead, the kind of blond hair that is impossible to get out of a bottle. His eyebrows and eyelashes were the same fantastic, delicious white, and his eyes were a cold, icy blue that reminded me of the hoarfrost that gathered on the windowpanes each and every winter morning. His lips were deeply red as though he’d been sucking on a cherry lollipop, and he was wearing custom-made dental quality vampire fangs – some of the best I’d ever seen.

He was exquisite.

I stared at him, struck dumb, unable to come up with anything to say. All I knew was that he was gorgeous, and I liked them like him, but I wasn’t nearly bold enough to say that, not standing here in the Men’s surrounded by all these guys watching this girl bounce like a champion bull rider on some poor guy’s dick.

“Little slow tonight?” he asked, his tone mocking. He looked me up and down and with a shrug dismissed me, moving through the crowd of boys to disappear in a swirl of leather, velvet and lace. I wanted to scream, to throw myself after him, beg him not to go, to think up something brilliant to say, but I had nothing. My mind was blank.

I wanted to get out of this hellhole.

I needed to go home.

Fighting tears again, I quietly slunk around the crowd of boys and left the Men’s. I didn’t even raise my head as I quickly walked the length of the ballroom. I was done with Vampire, done with the game, and done with Tony Delano. I just wanted to go home, get out of this stupid costume, and wash all the makeup off my face so that I could go back to crying over him properly.

I was nearly to the door when something snagged the edge of my jacket and yanked me back. I stopped, not wanting to rip the coat, because it was a cool coat. Turning, I saw a guy about my height, maybe a few inches taller, though he was built big, like a jock. I was instantly wary of him because he looked like the kind of guy who was always ready to start shit with me for being too pretty for my own good.

Instead of the scowl or curse I was expecting, however, he grinned impishly at me.

“Nice coat,” he said. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m here by mistake.” I turned and again started heading for the doors, but to my surprise, he started walking with me.

“Me too,” he said.

“You don’t play Vampire?” I asked.

“Uh… no,” he said, and then burst out laughing like I just said the funniest thing he ever heard. I couldn’t help it; his laugh was infectious, and I laughed with him. We were attracting a huge amount of attention, most of it negative in the form of dirty looks.

“We better go outside,” I said. “They have no sense of humor about people being out of character.”

He dutifully followed me outside, and once there pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering me one. I refused. When I did, he put them back in his jacket without lighting one.

“So…” he said, turning toward me, “what’s a pretty boy like you doing hanging out with losers like these?”

I goggled at him. I couldn’t help it. The words just came out.

“Um, use bad lines much?”

He laughed again, that same, wonderful infectious laugh, and again, I ended up joining him.

“Damn,” he said, smiling at me. “And that was one of my better ones.”

“Dude,” I said, laughing again, “you’re in trouble!”

He stretched a hand out toward me. “I’m Caine.”

“Of course you are!” I said, really laughing now, reaching out to shake his hand. In the Vampire game, the mythology holds that all vampires are the children of Caine, the first son of Adam from the Garden of Eden.

Now we choked we laughed so hard, and he held on to my hand after shaking it. “No seriously, man,” he said, his grip warm and firm, “my name is Caine.”

I shook his hand a second time, little tingles running up and down my arm from the pleasure of his touch. “I’m Christopher. Chris.”

I tried to pull my hand away, but he wouldn’t let go. Instead he tugged me toward him, gently at first but then harder. We weren’t laughing anymore, but he was still smiling at me.

“Take a walk with me?” he asked, tugging again on my hand.

My heart was suddenly in my throat, pounding like mad. God he was cute! So muscular, like a small tank, his neck strained the Chinese collar of the dress shirt he wore. His black pants clung to legs that looked as thick and perfect as the rest of him, and that ass… I couldn’t swallow but my mouth was full of spit, so I nodded dumbly, nearly choking when he laced his fingers through mine and tugged me forward again.

We walked about a block down the sidewalk to an alleyway, and my heart started pounding even harder as Caine turned into the alleyway, tugging me in by our laced fingers and smiling that killer smile at me. I don’t think I’d ever been as hard as I was knowing what was going to happen in that alley. I was going to do whatever he wanted. If he wanted me to suck his dick, I was going to do it. If he wanted to bend me over a trash dumpster and fuck me, I was going to let him. I pretty much decided to submit to whatever this beautiful, desirable man wanted to do to me.

Which is why when he started kissing me, I kissed back, enthusiastically. I also let him get my shirt and everything around my throat all opened up. But when he grabbed me by the head, restraining my arms and slamming me back into the wall, I kind of knew something was wrong.

That’s when I saw that his eyes went to red flames, and those fangs of his weren’t dental quality. They were real teeth! All the freaking out in the world wasn’t enough to free myself from his grasp. He was stronger than anything or anyone I’d ever been up against. I fought and struggled like a madman, kicking and striking out, but he just laughed at me.

“You shouldn’t go wandering in back alleys with boys you don’t know, Chris,” he said, his voice rough and raw.

I couldn’t form words. My mind was blank. I was so completely terrified I could only focus on one thing: getting free of him. Helpless grunts and whimpers escaped my mouth as I fought him, but hitting him was like throwing punches into Michelangelo’s “David” and accomplished nothing but hurting my fists. Not like I was any kind of champion fighter, anyway. Despite years of gaming and watching every martial arts film known to man, my fighting experience was limited to knowing how much damage each type of weapon caused. I was next to worthless in an actual fight, as I discovered when Caine tired of playing with his food.

He ruthlessly pinned me to his chest as easily as if he was pinning a butterfly to a corkboard, and then I felt the rough sandpaper sensation of his tongue scraping over my exposed neck. He licked directly over the spot where my frantic pulse thumped, and I screamed, thrashing in his arms. He laughed again, the sound filled with happiness and so incongruent to what I felt that I stopped fighting him so desperately.

“Look, couldn’t we do this another way?” I asked, struggling to speak.

His arm tightened across my throat, cutting off both my air and my ability to speak. He pinned my head to his chest in a headlock and I felt his hot breath on my ear. It smelled like raw, rancid hamburger as it washed across my face, a ripe, bloody, very meaty smell. I didn’t want to think about what he might have been doing or what could have been in his mouth for his breath to have such an offensive, rank scent.

“Less talking,” he said. “More feeding.”

He painfully yanked my head sideways, one big hand splayed partially over my face. The cold night air hit the damp spots on my neck and I shivered violently. I dimly wondered if I would survive this encounter or if real vampires killed their victims after they fed. His teeth rived over the flesh of my throat, directly over my thundering pulse.

How much blood is in the human body?

Somewhere in the foggy recesses of my mind I knew the answer to that question. As I pictured the rapidly spreading pool of dark red, frantically trying to dislodge my head from the maniac’s headlock and succeeding at nothing but ripping out my earrings, I couldn’t remember.

I’m going to die out here, I thought, eyes on the sky as my boots scraped against the pavement. He licked my neck and laughed at me.

Like a little bitch, I started to cry.

I stopped fighting and I let him bite me.

Fuck.

I’d like to report that a vampire bite feels awesome, like in the movies. I’d like to say that I swooned, that I shuddered, that I came in my pants.

I didn’t do any of that shit.

It hurt worse than anything I’d ever felt – worse even than Tony Delano breaking my heart and humiliating me in front of the Vampire: Masquerade assholes. All I did after gurgling a bit was pass out cold, so, apparently, I missed all the really good, exciting stuff. I’ll come back to that.

I didn’t expect to wake up. Or rather, I didn’t expect to wake up human. I sure as fuck didn’t expect to wake up in a strange house, in a strange bed, mostly naked, with a big fucking bandage on my neck and my right wrist in a wrap.

Glancing around the room, I saw nothing that I could identify. Strangely formal, non-personal, and very old-fashioned, the room I was in looked very much like a hotel room. My wrist ached, my head pounded, I was starving, and fuck, I had to take a monster piss. I moved gingerly toward the edge of the bed, swung my legs out, and stood up.

The room spun carnival-style. I mean, it whizzed around me like I jumped on a tilt-a-whirl, and for a good ten seconds I was totally convinced I was going to hurl. Cool arms slid around me, a firm body pressed up against my side, and I leaned against him, inhaling his fantastic, comforting scent.

“Oh god…” I moaned, dizzy and nauseous.

“Take it easy,” he said, his musical voice low and sweet. My ass hit the sheets again and he sat down with me. “Deep breaths, Chris. You need the bathroom?”

“Mmm,” I groaned, holding my head.

“Wait until the dizziness passes then I’ll help you. You nearly died tonight. Don’t try to do so much.”

As I breathed slowly and the room stopped spinning, his words, his voice finally penetrated my addled brains. I blinked several times, opened my eyes, and turned toward the sound warily.

Oh Mary Mother of God, I thought. It was him, the exquisite ice angel from the Men’s Room at the Vampire Ball. No longer dressed in his period clothing costume he was even more beautiful, though that didn’t seem at all fair. He wore a pair of loose, silky pajama pants and a thin T-shirt that stretched over a buff, cut chest. His white-blond hair was damp, like he was freshly showered, and from the fantastic scent cloaking him and wrapping its fingers around me, I figured that was the case. The icy blue eyes that seemed so cold earlier tonight in the Men’s Room now looked ethereal and filled with honest concern… for me. I couldn’t stop the chill from dancing down my body, and shuddered.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice rusty. “Really…” I cleared my throat. “I really need the bathroom, though.”

Yeah, what started out as a pee hard-on was now a major erection. I’d be lucky to squeeze two drops of piss out of this thing. Fuck, it throbbed every time I looked at him.

“Let me help you.”

He moved to pull the sheet off me and I panicked. Not that I screamed straight or butch by any stretch of the imagination, but if he got this sheet off me, there’d be no doubt what I intended to do in his bathroom. If he was a smart guy – and he looked like a pretty fucking smart guy – then he’d know he was cause of my condition, too. I was not ready for that. I’d just lived through one ass-kicking; I needed at least twenty-four hours before I took another.

I clutched the sheet like a virginal maiden, my eyes peeled wide. “Ahh… no! That’s okay! Um… not that I’m not grateful, because… well, like you said, nearly dead and all that, but… Who the hell are you?”

His smile made my heart flutter and my dick wet in addition to hard. Only years of practice being Tony’s secret bitch kept the groan in my throat. This guy was fucking gorgeous, pure and simple.

“I’m Aran,” he said, his perfect mouth still curved in a gentle smile. He reached out, and like it was nothing, pushed a thick lock of my dark hair behind my ear. My jaw dropped open and he laughed softly.

“You’re very pretty, Chris,” he said. He leaned in and brushed those deep cherry lips against my cheek. This time I couldn’t hold the moan back. Sure, I sucked face with Tony a thousand times, but that one innocent peck on the cheek from Aran sent bolts of fiery lust straight to my throbbing dick.

“How do you know who I am?” I mumbled.

He stood up and pointed to the nightstand where my wallet and the contents of my pockets all lay innocuously. Like I thought, smart guy. He held out his hand.

“Come on. Let me help you to the bathroom. Then we’ll talk about last night.”

“Last night?”

It came out as a squeak, and I lunged across the bed groping frantically for my phone.

“My parents are going to shit kittens!”

As soon as the words came out of my mouth I wanted to curl up and die. I mean, really. Could I have said anything more unattractive and puerile? Way to let the hot guy know you still live at home, asshole, my inner voice snidely said, mentally chain-whipping me.

Aran didn’t laugh, though. His body covered mine and his arms slid around me as he easily pulled me back before I got the phone in my hot little hands. Inwardly, I groaned; outwardly, a fresh stream of arousal seeped from my dick at the feel of him against me and the strength of him.

“Relax,” he said softly. His mouth was right by my ear and I shivered then slumped in his arms. He wanted me relaxed? No problem. “I called them last night when I brought you back here.” Now he did chuckle. “I have a feeling you’ll have some explaining to do, particularly with your mother. She sounded like an intriguing woman.”

“Mmm, Mom’s great,” I murmured, just happy to sit there and let him hold me. Goddamn but it felt right to have his arms around me. Tony didn’t ever hold me like this. That thought made tears prick my eyes, and I realized that I didn’t know Aran at all, had no idea how I got here or what the hell happened last night. I stiffened and he sighed, his arms dropping away from me.

He stood again. “Come on. I have a bath all ready for you. If we wait much longer it’ll be too cold to be any good.”

He drew me a bath? Oh yeah, any doubts I had about Aran’s sexuality or his orientation disappeared. Hot Boy was as gay as I was, no doubt about it. That made me feel a little more comfortable about my present condition, and I decided not to be bothered about it. I whipped the sheet off and reached up for Aran’s hand, letting him haul me up. The tent in my shorts was painfully obvious as was their damp condition.

Aran didn’t say a word. He slipped his arm around my waist and walked me out of the bedroom and then down a long hallway, my head pounding along with my cock. We weren’t in an apartment as I first thought, but a house, an old house. I looked around with real interest, but like the bedroom I was in, the house didn’t have any of Aran’s personality in it. Oh, there were pictures in frames, knickknacks on the shelves, artwork on the walls, but they were all bread-and-butter generic. Kind of like what a realtor would put in a house to convince potential homebuyers that this home could be theirs, the decorations were all garden variety.

Aran might stay here, but he didn’t live here, and that intrigued me.

The bathtub was a big, sprawling claw-foot affair, filled with steamy water that smelled deliciously like Aran. I inhaled deeply, sighing, and Aran chuckled.

“Lavender salts,” he said, releasing me and leaning against the doorframe as I staggered into the bathroom. I stripped my shorts off and heard a low sound behind me that brought a blush to my cheeks. I went to the toilet.

“You mind?” I asked.

The grin on his face was filthy and put a solid knot in my groin. Christ, my fucking balls ached.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” he said, and the gleam in his fantastic eyes was enough to make me moan.

Though it took far too long to manage it, I finally pissed, the relief overwhelming. The soak in the lavender salts was divine, and I probably would’ve fallen asleep in the tub but for the smell of food coming through the partially open door. The towels were comfortably worn and the bathrobe he left me smelled like him. God, by the time I got dried off I was hard all over again, despite beating off in the tub to mental images of Aran fucking me senseless.

I went to the bedroom I’d been in intending to put my clothes back on, but they weren’t there, so I ended up following my nose to the kitchen wearing Aran’s bathrobe. He put a plate of eggs and toast on the table as I came in, that filthy smile still plastered on his beautiful face.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Yeah, I feel like a human being again,” I said. Aran winced and I frowned, not getting that. “So what the hell happened to me last night?”

“Juice or coffee?” he asked.

Was he kidding? “Coffee.”

He poured me a cup and set the mug on the table in front of me along with a dish of little creamers and sugar packets that looked like it’d been lifted right out of Eat n’ Park. Aran had neither plate nor mug in front of him.

“You’re not eating?” I asked. He shook his head, then rested his chin on his hand and very openly stared at me. I shrugged, self-conscious, and dug in, too hungry not to eat because it smelled awesome and tasted even better.

After swallowing several bites and washing them down with coffee that had to be Starbucks take-home blend, I put my fork down and stared back at him.

“You gonna talk while I eat, or just stare at me?”

“I could happily stare at you all day, but I’ll talk if you prefer.”

I couldn’t help it; I blushed again. Like a bastard, though, I snatched up my fork and made a go-ahead motion with it before stabbing another pile of the light, fluffy scrambled eggs.

“Should we talk about the weather? Should we talk about the government?” He grinned at me as he said it, one of his long, slender fingers on the tabletop, slowly tracing something I couldn’t decipher.

See, if I could do the cool, “raise one eyebrow thing” this is when I’d do it. Instead, I scowled at him, tearing a piece of toast off with my teeth like I was an attack dog. “Are you quoting bad REM songs at me?”

He laughed and the fabulous sound of his mirth shot through me like morphine, numbing me out and getting me high all at the same time. “Hey baby, you knew it was a bad REM song.”

He called me “baby.” Oh Jesus. Oh God. Yeah, I was done for, a total goner. The bad REM song in question, Pop Song 89, now played in my head, Michael Stipe’s nasal whine grating along my frayed nerves.

Hello, I saw you, I know you, I knew you

I think I can remember your name, name.

Hello, I’m sorry, I lost myself

I think I thought you were someone else.

Should we talk about the weather? (hi, hi, hi)

Should we talk about the government? (hi, hi, hi, hi)

I forced my eyes away from his amazing pure blond hair, from the hoarfrost of his eyes and the sexy angle of his jaw. I shoved more toast in my face, nearly missing my mouth because my hands shook. He sighed.

“What do you remember about last night, Chris?”

I swallowed hard, the toast sticking on the way down. “Uh, I went to a really lame Vampire Ball, had a bad moment with an ex and his girlfriend,” the word was sour on my tongue and I paused to sneak a glance at Aran as I took another gulp of coffee. He stared right at me and I quickly looked back down at my plate. “When things got loud between me and Tony, I left.”

My right wrist, the one that was wrapped in an Ace bandage before my bath, ached and I put my fork down to reach over and rub it. That’s when I looked up and saw Aran staring at my neck. My left hand flew from my right wrist up to the twin puncture wounds there. I about shit kittens myself when I took the gauze off in the bathroom and saw those little beauties. At least they were clean and looked like they got proper medical attention, which reminded me…

“Uh… thanks, man. For taking care of me and everything.”

“It was my pleasure,” Aran said quietly, “and don’t thank me yet.”

I looked up at him again. “Why not?”

“You remember anything else about last night?” he asked, those icy eyes getting suddenly colder.

I shoved the plate away hoping anger would hide my fear. I don’t know how convincing I was, but Aran didn’t say anything about my shaking hands. “Of course I do! I remember being a dumbass and agreeing to go into that alleyway with a guy I didn’t know! I’m sure you think I’m some kind of fucking slut who sucks off guys all the time and that I got what I deserved but-”

Aran was suddenly right on top of me, his body pressed against mine as he held me, his mouth to my ear. “Shh, Chris. Calm down. I know you’re not a slut, and you didn’t do anything to deserve what happened to you. Relax.”

Instead of calming me, though, his unexpected move frightened me. How the hell did he move so fast? I shoved away from him and sprang up. “Too fucking right! He fucking bit me, man! I probably need a goddamned rabies shot!”

“Chris… please calm down. I dealt with Caine.”

I stared at Aran. “What the fuck does that mean? You dealt with him?” My head spun again and I realized, belatedly, that the bathrobe hung open. Great.

“Are you going to accept that he was a lunatic who believed he was a vampire?”

I remembered Caine’s unbelievable, unbreakable strength, the red fire of his eyes, the scent of raw blood and old meat on his breath. Most of all, I recalled the unrelenting agony when he sank those teeth into my neck, the pain so sharp I couldn’t stay conscious. Slowly, I drew the robe closed and retied it.

“No. He was no nutjob. He was a fucking vampire. A real vampire.”

The absurdity of my own statement rose up and slapped me like a badly thrown morning paper. I started laughing. I laughed so hard I had to sit down and wrap my arms around my guts to keep from puking up all the food I just ate. Tears ran down my cheeks as I gasped for air, firmly in the grips of hysteria.

I opened my eyes, still helplessly rolling with laughter, to find Aran on his knees in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my thighs. His face was so serious it set me off all over again.

Until he opened his mouth, wide, to show me the dainty fangs nestled alongside his teeth.

My laughter turned to screams, and I would’ve shot up and away from him, except that his light grip turned to iron, trapping me in the chair. I screamed and screamed, thinking of nothing except getting away, getting far away. Aran’s face was sad as he slowly moved closer to me.

“Chris, please… Stop screaming. Chris… If I wanted to hurt you I could’ve done it a thousand times since I found you last night. Chris… I’m not a vampire, Chris. I’m not, and I won’t hurt you.”

Eventually, I ran out of both energy and air. I sat in the chair hyperventilating, staring at the beautiful thing that looked like a hot guy but was something else. He let go of me and leaned back.

“Are you ready to listen?” Aran asked softly. God, he was gorgeous. I nodded.

“How about I get you some clothes to put on?” I frowned. He closed his eyes, his delicately arched white eyebrows coming together for the briefest of seconds before he focused on me again. “Baby, that robe is a serious hazard to your virginity.”

Damn my excellent circulatory system! I blushed again, yanking the robe tight around me. I considered arguing about my sexual status, but what was the point? I already let slip that I still lived at home with the parentals and with the way I was blushing like some character out of Emily Bronte or Edith Wharton, any argument that I made would just be lame. Besides, technically I was a virgin, especially if I used Bill Clinton’s definition of sex.

Aran stood up and strode down the hall. He turned back toward me. “Well come on. Let’s get you into some clothes before I’m forced to get you out what few you’re wearing.”

I groaned audibly, but shoved up out of the chair and followed him to a different bedroom. We were pretty close in height. He was maybe an inch taller than me. Our builds were different, though. I’m a thin guy, and I admit it, I’m not anywhere close to being ripped. Tony used to joke about my girlish figure, though I was far from soft. Aran was thick through the chest, his shoulders and upper arms mouth-watering, but narrow through the waist.

He pulled two pretty anonymous long-sleeved T-shirts out of a drawer along with white socks, then grabbed a pair of jeans. He turned and eyed me. “I’m a 32/36,” he said. I snickered. “What?” he asked.

“I could wear them… J-style,” I said. He rolled his eyes.

“Somehow the idea of you jailin’ in my jeans doesn’t do it for me. You want a pair of sweats or track pants?”

Anything your ass has been in is just fine with me, hot boy. That’s what I wanted to say. What came out, of course, was different. “Whatever, man. S’long as they’re clean.”

Aran looked offended. He tossed a balled up pair of black Nike track pants at me. Without thinking, I opened the robe and stepped into them, pulling them up and tugging the strings. Aran groaned.

“You trying to kill me, or what?”

I shot him a dirty grin and saw that he had a pair of boxers in his hand. I shrugged. “Give you something to think about that isn’t the weather or the government,” I said lightly.

In retaliation, I think, he started stripping out of his pajamas in front of me. I very nearly scurried out of the room. Instead, I clutched the long-sleeved T to my chest, my eyes glued to his fine ass – and it was the single finest ass I ever had the pleasure of staring at. His legs were endless, covered in baby fine white hair that sparkled. When he pulled the Diesel jeans on they cupped his ass so perfectly I could’ve wept. His chest was as gorgeous as I knew it would be, wide, muscular, and covered in the same downy, sparkling white hair.

“You thinking about the weather, Chris?” Aran asked, turning to me, his eyes dancing.

I scowled and yanked the shirt on, then stalked out of his bedroom and away from the goddamned bed. I could hear him chuckling as he followed me. We went into the living room and sat down on a tan couch that was so characterless it almost disappeared inside the room. I tucked one leg up underneath me as I studied Aran. He looked human. He smiled at me.

“I’m not a vampire,” he said.

“What are you?” I asked.

“I’m an incubus.”

My years of gaming kicked in, my brain processing his statement and my eyes widened. “You’re a demon?”

He laughed. “Not exactly. The myths about my kind aren’t exactly accurate.”

“So you don’t have to have sex to survive?”

“No, that part is true.” His face was open and earnest, and I suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. I shook my head.

“Wait. Start with what happened last night, with the vampire.”

“Vampires are evil. They’re soulless monsters. They feed on blood or psychic energy because they have no soul to sustain their physical bodies on this plane. I knew Caine was at the Ball; I saw him earlier when he came in, lurking by the doors.” Aran reached for my hand and I let him take it. “I was almost too late. By the time I got outside to that alley, he’d already bitten you.”

“Will I… turn?” Oh God, I thought, please don’t let me turn vampire.

Aran shook his head. “That’s a myth. Humans can’t ‘turn’ vampire. You have to consciously choose to give up your soul. It’s a very selfish, evil act, and I can’t imagine you ever doing something like that. Most people who do it are motivated by the desire for revenge, power, retribution, and the souls they gave up were black with hatred anyway. Your soul is pure.”

“So you, what? Killed Caine?”

Aran nodded, his face so deadly serious that my spine tingled. “Then I brought you here to tend you.”

“But you didn’t… feed from me?” I asked, the blush creeping up from the neckline of my shirt.

Aran shook his head, a small, intimate smile on his strong, handsome face. “Incubi are very different from vampires. We still have a part of our soul, which is why we need to have sex while we feed, for the intimacy. The close feelings of love and belonging that are generated during intimate acts keep us alive and healthy. It’s not enough for us to just fuck, Chris. An incubus makes love.”

“How long have you been an incubus?” I asked.

He looked past me, out the window. “Not very long. A few decades.”

We sat together quietly for a while, sharing the silence. Then I couldn’t take it anymore; I had to know. “Why did you help me, Aran?”

His icy blue eyes met mine, searing me with their intense gaze and pinning me to the couch.

“I used to be like you, Chris. I loved a friend very much, and I did something very foolish when that love wasn’t returned in kind. I gave up part of my soul instead of moving on, because I believed I didn’t want to live without him.” He smiled wryly and shook his head, his lovely white hair rustling softly against the fabric of the sofa. “I was so wrong to believe that his love – which was so small and insignificant in the grand scheme of the world – was so important. By the time I realized the truth of everything, though, it was too late. I was an incubus and part of my soul was gone forever, sacrificed for a man who never, ever loved me.”

Aran’s eyes bored into me, and I thought my heart would stop beating.

“I couldn’t let the same thing happen to you, just like I couldn’t let that vampire kill you. Not when you’re still so fresh and new, and you see the world with such innocent eyes.”

Part of me wanted to laugh at the idea of any of me being called fresh or innocent, but another part of me melted at his words. I stroked my thumb over the back of his hand.

“Do incubi ever, uh, feed from virgins?” I asked, my voice very low in the quiet of the house.

Aran’s entire body jolted as though he was struck by lightning. His nostrils flared and his eyes closed before he slowly licked his lips and nodded. “A human’s virginity is the greatest gift an incubus can be given.”

I scooted closer to him. “Why?” I asked, interested.

He smiled lazily, bringing my hand up to his lips and trailing his mouth over the surface of my fingers. “Your virginity holds a piece of your soul, your essential innocence. When an incubus consumes it, they gain that small portion of soul and add it to their own, making them more human, less monster.”

The spell seemed to break and he leaned back from me, dropping my hand. “Of course, the person has to know what’s happen and it all has to be done consensually, so it’s very, very rare these days. There just aren’t that many virgins who are adults of consenting age who would even believe in the incubus, much less agree to lose their virginity to one.”

I would, I thought, but I didn’t say it. I continued to stare at him. He reached out and touched the wounds on my neck.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get there in time to prevent him from marking you,” Aran said.

I shrugged. “Scars are sexy.”

Aran laughed. “You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Good,” I said.

“Let me see if your clothes are dry, then I’ll take you home.”

Part of me deflated, so disappointed. Not even the incubus wanted me. Was I that disgusting? I must be. Tony must have been right. I stamped into the room where I slept and gathered up my things, shoving them into the pockets of the track pants. They were too big and loose on my slim hips. Aran probably had somebody; I was just dreaming thinking he’d want anything from a loser like me, somebody he had to rescue out of a fucking alleyway for God’s sake.

By the time he reappeared with my costume from last night in a plastic bag, I had a vicious scowl on my face, my mouth turned down and my eyes black from frustration, anger, and resentment. I stood up immediately and headed for the front door.

“Let’s go,” I said.

He quietly followed me, saying nothing.

The drive into town was twenty minutes of my life I won’t ever get back. I stayed on my phone the entire time. I sent text messages to every single person I could think of, including Tony. They were all versions on the same thing. Vampire sucked, they sucked, I was done with everybody, they could all blow me, yadda yadda flim flam.

Aran pulled his Honda into my parents’ driveway and I grabbed the plastic bag with my other clothes.

“Thanks for not letting me die,” I said nastily, reaching for the door. He flicked the automatic locks.

I did a slow burn, my rage and embarrassment making tears prick my eyes. I just wanted to go inside and start the tear-fest all over again. Nothing had changed. Nothing. Meeting Aran did nothing but give me masturbation fantasies I could never fulfill, and I really just wanted to forget the last 24 hours. At least when I turned 21 I’d be legal to drink, and I could get polluted and stay that way for a month.

“What?” I barked, looking at him.

“I’d like to see you again,” he said softly.

“No!” I said. I ripped the locking mechanism up and popped the door open, climbing out.

And then I froze.

So beautiful. So goddamned fucking gorgeous. Every inch of him perfect. Chris… what the hell are you doing, man??

I sat back down in the Honda and closed the door, avoiding his eyes. “When?” I asked.

“Your birthday is this week, isn’t it?”

God, his voice made me want to weep, and that he knew when my birthday was meant he checked me out completely when he looked at my ID. I nodded, and felt warm fingers grip my left hand. I sighed and opened my clenched fist, letting him twine our fingers together.

“Let me take you out for your birthday, Chris.”

I looked at him. He was smiling his killer smile, and God, I wanted a taste. I was across the console, one hand on the steering wheel, my torso twisted around him and his eyes were huge, the pupils dilated to solid black pools.

“I just want a taste,” I whispered.

“Just a taste,” he whispered back, nodding.

His lips were soft and warm, so, so sweet as I traced them with my tongue. Then he thrust into my mouth, his tongue strong and dominant, and I sucked on it hungrily, needing so much more than that taste I claimed I wanted. Fuck taste tests. I wanted the whole goddamned menu.

When I was ready to pull my dick out of the loose track pants and fist myself to orgasm while he kissed me, he stopped and pulled back, resting his forehead against mine.

“Just a taste,” he whispered, his voice ragged.

“Want more,” I growled.

“Ah ah ah,” he chided, smiling. “You’ll ruin your birthday surprise. Go on now. Your parents are worried about you.”

Aw fuck. He was probably right. I leaned in and snuck one last, deep kiss before extricating myself from the car and going inside. I had puncture wounds on my neck, bruises on my face, a badly sprained wrist, came home in clothes that were obviously not mine, and clearly had the look of a guy who’d been making out (the tented track pants were a dead giveaway).

I also had a smile a mile wide.

My parents didn’t say a word.

Four days later, Aran called to let me know he’d be picking me up at six the night before my birthday, if that was all right with me. As I’d done nothing for the past four days but think about him, that was fine with me and I agreed.

This was a new experience for me – going on a date with a guy. I mean, I was gay. I knew I was gay, but for most of my adolescence and young adulthood, I’d been so in love with Tony Delano that the idea of dating other men never occurred to me. So, I’d never done it. And Tony and I, well, all we ever did was hang out in his basement, drinking and fucking. Our version of fucking, anyway, which consisted of me giving him expert blowjobs while he did his best not to touch me in any way, then, if I got him off good enough, and groveled and begged to his satisfaction, he might consent to a handjob.

As I pawed through my clothing, desperately trying to figure out what to fucking wear, I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been for so many years. I wasted some of the best years of my life in Tony Delano’s goddamned basement. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got, especially now that he was fucking that hippo-Goth girlfriend of his. Well I’d make up for every minute of lost time tonight.

I chose the black skinny jeans I hadn’t worn in forever, because Tony said they made me look like a girl. Well fuck every little thing Tony said, I thought. Somehow, I just knew Aran wouldn’t mistake me for a girl, ever. I paired them with my Thundercats T-shirt and hoodie – another set of clothing Tony hated. I checked the mirror and thought, not bad, Christopher, not bad at all. Kind of Hot Topic, but that’s not a terrible thing for luring an incubus. I was debating between the red Chuck Taylor All Stars and my knee high Doc Martens when Mom called down to tell me the Honda was in the driveway.

I was breathless and smiling when I dropped into the passenger seat of Aran’s car, the phone I’d gone back inside for clutched in my hand.

“Hey baby,” he said, grinning at me. “You look hot.”

I rolled my eyes, but inside I glowed. He looked amazing, of course. Faded jeans, an Abercrombie button-down that emphasized how well built he was, and that killer smile just did me in, every single time he looked at me.

“So… where are we going?” I asked. Please say home to bed, I thought.

“You said you were into gaming. I figured I’d let you pick. There’s a murder mystery dinner tonight that I’ve got seats at if you’re feeling the need for some Scooby Doo-style intrigue, or if you need something a little more hands on, there’s a laser tag tourney at the forum.”

I goggled at him. Holy shit! He took this date shit seriously! I played laser tag before and it was fun. I was passable at it, but a murder mystery for my birthday sounded pretty cool. He concurred, so murder and mayhem it was.

The dinner was awesome, seven courses, all with alcohol, and the professional actors who put on the murder mystery were really amazing. The story was a 1920s gangster theme, complete with speakeasy lingo, dance halls, and tommy guns. What really impressed me, though, was Aran. He made sure everyone at the table knew it was my twenty-first birthday, and that we weren’t buddies out celebrating. No, everybody at the dinner knew I was his date, and that he was proud to be there with me. God, it made me feel incredible.

When the finale and dessert rolled around and I turned out to be the murderer, I hammed it up. After all, I spent years doing live-action role-play and by that point, I was pretty tipsy. Okay, I was happily drunk, holding Aran’s hand and kissing him in between bites of chocolate mousse. Then I turned out to be the murderer, so, yeah, I played the part. I grabbed the prop knife and the dance hall girl and threatened to make a bold exit if my demands weren’t met.

A diner two places down on my left, a pretty nice lady who was there with her husband, leaned over to him and stage whispered, “Ooh, let’s hear the demands. If he starts talking about being bent over the table by the blond stud, we’re coming back next week!”

That did me in and I started laughing. I let the dancing girl go and surrendered to the authorities, who handcuffed me. I got an immediate erection and my eyes shot to Aran, who smirked at me. The lady who made the first comment leaned over again and I heard her suggest to Aran that handcuffs might make a nice birthday present for me. Aran laughed, agreeing as he signed our check, and it occurred to me that the woman might be as drunk as I was as her husband wished me a happy birthday and shook Aran’s hand.

Aran deposited me into his car, me singing random lines to bad gangster songs. He just laughed, kissed me, and got in to drive. By the time we got to his house I sobered up quite a bit and needed to pee so badly I was practically dancing. I dashed inside as soon as he unlocked the door and relieved myself as he turned lights on.

When I came out, he was sitting on the sofa, a supremely uncomfortable look on his gorgeous face. I frowned and nearly ran to him, dropping down beside him and putting my arms around him.

“Aran? What’s wrong?”

“Chris… Oh God, baby…”

He cupped my face with his big, warm hands, pulling me down and kissing me hard. I groaned into his mouth. This was what I wanted, what I needed. My dick throbbed in my tight jeans and I wiggled around, trying to relieve the pressure and rub against Aran at the same time. Finally, I couldn’t stand it and I reached down between us, my hand going directly to his fly.

Sweet God in heaven, I thought, palming his dick through his jeans. He felt perfect. That is, until his hand grabbed mine and stopped me. It was my left wrist, my uninjured wrist, so it didn’t hurt, but I made a disappointed sound and pulled back from him.

“Why did you stop me?” I asked, breathless.

“Chris… I want you,” he said, panting. His eyes looked bluer than I’d ever seen them, so sexy above those luscious cherry lips.

“Good,” I said, “I want you, too. Glad we’re on the same page. Lose your pants.”

He made a very frustrated sound. “No! You don’t understand.” Suddenly I was alone on the couch and he was up, pacing the living room. He spun around and pinned me with unwavering eyes full of an extreme emotion so keen and profound it took my breath away.

“Chris… if I take your virginity, I’ll be taking a part of your soul. Do you understand that?”

I sat there, trapped by the formidable power of his gaze and really thought about it. No bullshit this time. I spoke from my heart.

“Aran, I believe that no matter who I give my virginity to, I’ll be sharing a piece of my soul with that person. With you, it just happens to be true literally as well as figuratively.” I steadily met his gaze, refusing to look away. “You’re not taking anything from me, Aran.”

I got up and went to him, sliding my hands under his shirt and around his waist so that I could feel his bare skin. I needed to feel his skin under my hands. Leaning in, I slowly teased his lips with the tip of my tongue.

“Let me give you this, Aran. Let me give you what nobody else seems to want from me, and what I want to share with somebody so very badly. Please… don’t deny me.”

I pushed my hips against his, grinding our dicks together. He was as hard as I was, and when I pushed us together he twisted and writhed against me, needing the contact just as much. Moaning softly his big hands went to my ass as he took my mouth in a soft, claiming kiss, his entire body relaxing against me, and I knew that I won, that he was going to be my first.

“How could I possibly say no to such an offer?” Aran murmured. “God Chris, how could I ever deny you anything?”

I kissed him again, my hand possessively cupped around the hot, hard length of his dick. He made a noise that sounded almost pained and I pulled him close.

“What’s the matter?”

“Hungry,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “So hungry for you. Gonna eat you alive, Chris.”

Tingles raced across my skin and I flashed hot, then cold, and then back to hot as I moaned under his mouth, which was sucking on my neck. He awkwardly marched me backward down the hall to his bedroom, pulling clothes off as we went. Our shirts ended up in on the sofa, shoes at the mouth of the hall, jeans somewhere along the way. When he saw that I was again sans underwear, he laughed and smacked my naked ass.

“You dirty boy,” he said. “Didn’t your momma ever tell you that nice boys wear underwear?”

I walked to him slowly, my dick at full mast, bobbing in front of me as I moved. I’m not huge, just nicely sized for my height and weight, and circumcised, though my parents have never given me a satisfactory answer for why they chose to have me cut three days after birth. We’re not that religious. But since I’m such a thin, wiry guy, my dick looks bigger than it actually is when I get really turned on.

I was really turned on.

I stepped up close to Aran, took hold of his boxers with both hands, and drew them straight down to the floor, going to my knees. He stepped out of them and I balled them up, pitching them over my shoulder. Truthfully, I wasn’t paying any attention to the damn shorts. I was completely focused on his dick, which I was staring at eye to eye, so to speak. He wasn’t gigantic, thank God, because I think that would’ve scared me, but he was definitely big enough to make me throb all over as I stared at the veins pulsing across the surface of it. Circumcised and bullet-shaped, the head of his cock was small and delicate, but the shaft got wider and thicker closer to his body.

In a trance, I leaned forward and lightly kissed the very tip. Aran sucked in a breath. His hands caressed my face, and again, I leaned in and kissed his dick. I wanted to suck him, and reached up to hold his hips, but he took my hands.

“Stand up, Chris. Let me take you to bed.”

The magic words, finally! I let him pull me up, and then we crawled into his bed. Aran immediately lay down, and pulled me on top on his buff body. He made love to my mouth, slow, drugging kisses as his magic hands kneaded my ass, gripping and pinching my cheeks, spreading them apart so that I could feel the cool bedroom air on my exposed hole.

I wiggled on top of him, rubbing rhythmically against him as I thrust the slick length of my dick against his. Fuck, it felt good! Then he rolled, depositing me beside him and tenderly caressing me.

“If I do anything that you don’t like or if you want to stop, all you have to do is say so, Chris.”

“I know,” I said, my fingers in his white-blond hair. I licked along his jaw, back to his ear, then down to his neck, thrilling in the way his body shuddered. “But I don’t want to stop, Aran. I want you to make me yours.”

“Lay on your belly, baby, and I’ll start loving you,” he said, wicked promise glittering in his eyes as he dropped little kisses on my face.

“I like the sound of that,” I said, hurrying to obey. He got lubricant and condoms out, gently running his fingertips over my bare buttocks and down the expanse of my back. Chillbumps erupted all over my back from the frustratingly light touch Aran used, and I moaned, twisting under his talented and terribly experienced hands.

“Either pull your knees up under you, or get up on your hands and knees, Chris, whatever’s more comfortable for you.” Aran pressed his lips to my tailbone and rubbed his nose in the divot at the very top of the cleft of my ass. “I’m going to love every inch of your ass, especially your tight, sexy little hole,” he murmured, and his breath was so close to that very private spot that I jumped involuntarily. He chuckled.

I moved onto my hands and knees, then dropped onto my elbows and put my forehead down on the bed. Without even a hint or breath of warning, Aran’s hands spread me wide and his hot, wet tongue lashed me, dragging a startled, groaning yelp from me.

“Oh fuck!” I groaned, pushing my face into the mattress, hoping it would deaden the noise.

“So new, so perfect,” Aran said, and his voice held reverence, like he was in church or talking to God. He kissed each butt cheek then licked the length of my crack. I almost bit a hole through my tongue trying not to squeal. “Chris… Chris, Chris, Chris,” he moaned, “God… I’m falling in love with you already, just from the taste of your body.” He hugged me from behind, pressing his face against the small of my back, and I was sure I felt tears, like he was crying. “Heaven help me,” he whispered. Then he rose up off me and plunged his tongue inside of me.

Never in my life had I felt anything like his tongue sliding inside me. I had to take deep breaths every time he plunged his hard, curled tongue into me, the incredible wet heat of it driving me insane. The zinging wonder that vibrated all the way to my soul as Aran ate me out brought tears to my eyes.

I didn’t think I was a vocal lover; I figured I was a “get in, get off, get out” kind of guy, but as Aran tongued, licked, and lapped at my ass, I babbled. All kinds of crazy shit came out of my mouth. Nothing ever felt so good, though, or so right. Neither one of us touched my dick, yet I was working up to an orgasm. The idea that I might come without touching myself was bizarre and exciting to me.

“Aran…” I panted, my voice strained. “I’m close…”

I thought he would stop, maybe move on to something else, or change positions. Instead, he slid a well-lubed finger deep inside me and kept tonguing me. I wailed.

“Aran! Uh-uh, oh God… Ar-Aran! Please! I’m gonna come!”

He slid a second lubed finger up inside me, and then his two fingers touched something that made my entire body short circuit. As if touching it wasn’t enough, he pressed and rubbed and it was all over. I came like my dick was a fire hose and the bed was burning.

Not missing a beat, Aran slid a strong arm around my waist, pulling me up against his body as his fingers continued to scissor and move within me.

“Fuck! Oh my fucking God!”

I was shaking, trembling and dizzy, my mind still blurry from the incredibly strong orgasm as I relaxed against Aran behind me. He chewed on my neck, licking, nibbling, kissing and devouring my neck, shoulders, and back, and I arched under his mouth. His talented fingers never stopped pumping, and I moved my hips to meet his hand, trying to get him as deep as he was before, back to that fantastic spot that made me see stars and explode like a geyser.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. “My precious boy, my Christopher. Was that good?”

I groaned, reaching back for his face and bringing his mouth forward to kiss.

“You’re amazing,” I said. I almost didn’t recognize my voice; it sounded breathy and sexy. “It was so good.”

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“I feel like the luckiest guy in the world right now,” I said.

“You do?” His voice was so low I almost didn’t hear him, but he sounded choked up.

I kissed him, and gave him my answer with the press of my lips, the feel of my hands. His fingers slid free of my body and I groaned, immediately feeling their loss. I heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper, though, and knew what that meant. Anticipation tightened my stomach, and I inhaled, stealing his breath.

“Are you ready, Chris?” Aran asked, pressing a line of soft kisses down my spine.

“I want to see you,” I said, starting to turn.

“You will,” he said. “Trust me, baby. You’re really tight. Let me take you this way first, then I’ll turn you over. It’ll be better for you, less pain.”

I liked that idea; I wasn’t big on pain. “I trust you, Aran. Whatever you say. I just need you to make love to me. Feed from me. Do it all, now!”

Aran kissed me again, then gently pushed me down toward the bed. My skin still tingled from that last orgasm, and I was ready to have another one. Aran slid two fingers inside me experimentally.

“God, you’re so wet,” he said. “So slick and ready. You make me so hungry, Chris.”

I moaned as his fingers left me empty and wanting, but then heard the crinkle and tear of the condom and knew Aran was sheathing himself. I felt the press of him against me and moaned.

“Push out, baby,” Aran said, his hands stroking my hips. “Take me in.”

I expected it to hurt, expected pain, some terribly agony. Instead, I just felt the pressure of the small head slip inside me as he stopped. The twinge was more than bearable.

“Now, instead of me pushing in, you push back,” Aran said, huskily. “Go as slow as you need, my love.”

My mind spun. He has hot and hard, and every inch I took stretched me wonderfully. I arched my back, pulling my head up, and wished like hell there was a mirror so that I could see what we looked like. Aran groaned every time I pushed back, every time I took another inch or two, and before I knew it, my ass rubbed up against his groin. His arms went around me tightly and he ground into me, flexing his cock inside of me, which I definitely felt. God it was good!

“So tight,” he whispered. “God Chris, you feel better than anyone else has ever felt.”

I slumped forward, pulling off his cock, and we both moaned at the loss. It felt like I was losing an integral part of my being without him inside of me. Like, so long as we were joined, I was whole, and now that we weren’t joined, I was incomplete. But I knew what I wanted. I rolled over onto my back.

“Oh my God!” I gasped.

“I look a little different when I’m ready to feed,” he murmured.

“You’re an angel,” I gasped.

Blue flames filled his eyes, and his white-blond hair surrounded his head like a glowing halo. His skin sparkled, glittering with inner light and beauty, and his fantastically luscious cherry red lips plumped over glistening alabaster fangs. My dick, which began stirring back to life, sprang to full attention at the sight of Aran’s transformation.

I lay on my back and let my legs fall open in offering. He gave me a gentle smile and reached out to stroke a hand down my face. He continued the caress down my hairless chest, over my taut abs, pausing to lovingly squeeze my dick before sweeping his fingers all the way down my left leg. I squirmed a little, smiling up at him, then watched as he picked up the bottle of lube and squeezed some in his hand, stroking himself to make sure the condom was slick enough.

I wasn’t exactly sure how this was going to work, so when he grabbed a pillow, I just stared at him. He laughed.

“Raise up, baby. Let me put the pillow under your back. It’ll help.”

Both feet on the mattress, I rose up, and then felt awkward as all hell until he grabbed my ankles and lifted. Quite suddenly I was nearly upside down, my heels on his shoulders, and I was damn grateful for that stupid pillow. His sticky fingers probed my ass and I grunted. This was not sexy. My erection flagged.

Then he pushed into me, I met his thrust, and it was like a Swiss timepiece turning on for the first time. Every single piece and part fit together just exactly right and worked like it was supposed to, doing exactly the right thing. Magic.

He thrust with long, sure strokes, the slick, wet sound of the lube so arousing. Our bodies came together solidly, my hard dick rubbing between our bellies. Every thrust ended with him sliding over that wicked spot that made me cry out and see shooting stars behind my eyes until finally I screamed his name as he stroked my dick in time to his thrusts.

“Tell me you love me, Chris,” he panted. Sweat slicked his body, his eyes glowing in the dark of the room. “Tell me I’ve earned a piece of your soul.”

“I do love you, Aran! Oh fuck I love you so much! Take it, take me, take whatever you want! I fucking - uugghhh!! Love… you…”

My orgasm interrupted my attempt at being poetic with him, but since he sank those perfect fangs of his into the unmarked side of my neck, I figured we were good. And this time, oh man, the bliss of Aran’s bite was like another orgasm. I don’t know if I actually came again. I don’t think I had any sperm left, but the shooting stars just kept streaking across the sky and tears poured down my face from the perfection of it all.

When my brain finally came back online I lay in his arms as he kissed my face tenderly.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

I wrapped my arms around him. I didn’t ever want to let him go. The connection I felt to him was frightening it was so strong, so intense and powerful.

“Thank you,” I said.

He threw the condom away and I wiped the cum off my chest, then we jumped right back into bed. We fell asleep, naked and slightly sticky.

When I woke up the morning of my twenty-first birthday, I had every intention of talking to Aran about “us.” Unfortunately, he was sacked out, sleeping belly down on the bed, his face buried in a pillow so that all I could see of him was the back of his white-blond head. I hauled myself out of his bed, surprised to discover I was more hungover than I was sore from the sex, and took a nice long shower.

By the time I wrapped up in his bathrobe, I had a whole speech prepared about how things were going to go. I didn’t care that he was an incubus and that he needed to have sex to feed. I could deal with that. I would even go out and help him find food – I loved him that much. I loved him, he loved me; we needed to find a way to make this thing work. End of story.

“Baby?” he called from the bedroom. “Could you come in here?”

I walked back into the bedroom to see him sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked… different. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first. Then he looked up at me and my breath froze in my lungs.

His eyes were a beautiful solid blue.

“Aran?” I asked tentatively.

I reached a hand out to him and he took it, pulling me to him. That’s when I saw the scar on his chin. Now, I stared at this guy for hours and I knew he didn’t have any facial scars. Yet there it was, plain as the nose on my face… which, speaking of noses… his had a tiny little crooked place in it.

I realized that I was seeing imperfections. Human imperfections, but imperfections nonetheless, only Aran hadn’t had any before today. Had he?

“What do you see?” he asked.

I told him, running though the list, all the way down to the tiny scar on his chin. He trembled, breathing fast and hard. I held his hands.

“Aran… what is it?”

“When I was four, I jumped off a set of stairs trying to fly. I got five stitches in my chin,” he whispered. “I haven’t been able to see that scar since the day I became an incubus.”

“So why can I see it now?” I asked.

Aran looked at me, tears in his eyes. “Because I’m not an incubus anymore, Chris. Your virginity… the piece of your soul… you saved me. You gave me back my humanity.”

I was on him so fast I knocked him over. Our teeth banged together, I bit my tongue, he made an ouch sound, and I totally didn’t care. I kissed the shit out of him, and then we were both laughing. He had his hands under the bathrobe, which fell open, and fondled me.

“You’re mine, Aran,” I said, seriously. “All mine. Get it?”

“I get it,” he said. “My pushy little bottom.”

I laughed maniacally as I grabbed the bottle of lube. “Oh hot boy, you’re in trouble.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, blue eyes sparkling.

I shrugged the robe onto the floor and pushed his legs apart.

“Cause now we’ll have to find out what kind of a top I am.”

As I bent and began making love to my boyfriend, that stupid REM song slammed into my head. I couldn’t help it, and grinned with my mouth full.

Hello, my friend, are you visible today?

You know I never knew that it could be so strange, strange

Hello, I’m sorry, I lost myself

I think I thought you were someone else...

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"The weather," I mumbled, and got to work.

He laughed, and the sound of it filled my heart to overflowing.

 

The End