by Raythe Reign
Keeping his eyes locked on the other man’s he opened his mouth and sank all the way down on his cock. There were great benefits in not having to breathe. The bartender gasped and arched up, but that wasn’t a problem for Liam. He easily let the slender shaft go down his throat. He closed his lips tightly around the cock and sucked hard.
The bartender’s hands were suddenly scrabbling across the tops of his shoulders before fisting in his long hair. He didn’t mind the burn of the hair pulling. It felt good and helped tamp down his own erection as he sucked and licked and lightly dragged his teeth along the sensitive length. The young man was letting out a high whine. Liam felt his cock plump in his mouth. He fingered the young man’s balls, rolling the furry things. They drew tight against the bartender’s body and the extra tug on his hair told him that the young man was close to the edge.
“I-I’m going to – to cum! You should – should pull off,” the bartender gritted out.
But Liam shook his head even as he swirled his tongue over the head of the hot, hard cock in his mouth. He dove down once more, all the way to the root, just as the bartender came. His hips lifted high off the couch as the first spurt left him.
“LIAM!” he shouted and that had Liam’s cock letting out a trickle of precum in reaction. It was so good to hear his name on the young man’s lips.
But then he was too busy swallowing down the cum the other man was letting loose and he could think of nothing else but the earthy essence he was devouring. Finally, the flow slowed to a stop. The bartender had collapsed fully on the couch. Sweat coated his face and stuck some of those curls against his forehead. His eyelids were closed, but his pink lips were parted as he breathed deeply. Liam slowly drew off, kissing the softening cock’s tip before he moved up the bartender’s body and covered that sweet mouth with his own.
At first the kiss was slow as the other man was still lost in the haze of post-orgasmic bliss. But then his tongue started moving eagerly against Liam’s and he was licking every possible millimeter of Liam’s mouth searching for a last taste of himself. Liam chuckled as the other man sucked on his tongue as if it were a lollipop.
They broke apart and Liam found himself smiling down at that incredibly lovely face, those blue eyes that were no longer haunted, but looked peaceful, and he felt calmness and rightness flow through him as well. Staying here, doing this, had been the right thing. He knew that down to the bottom of his soul.
The bartender reached up and moved Liam’s hair behind his ears then curled a long lock around his fingers as he studied Liam’s face.
“You’re … you’re so like him. I feel that this must be a dream,” the other man said, his voice hoarse with the shout he’d given out. “But I don’t want this to be a dream. I want this to be real.”
Liam felt a sadness flare inside of him. In some ways, he was a dream. But he was real, too. So he held onto that and said, “I’m real. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re not going to disappear?”
“No, I’m not.”
Not yet. Not now. I won’t go until I help you. I’ll deal with The Gash, but I won’t leave you in this place. I’ll get you out of here. Back to doing art or whatever you want. I’ll fix this. And I’ll do the same for my brother.
He knew that was a tall order. Perhaps it wasn’t even something he could do. But he wanted to do it. He wanted to help this man so very much. Make him smile without shadows. Make him view the world without darkness in those blue eyes.
“I believe you.” The bartender suddenly blushed, but didn’t look away. “I – I want to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
“Because you’re right that you can’t keep calling me ‘the bartender’ or ‘Speed’.”
“So you’re going to tell me your real name?” Liam grinned.
“Yeah.” The young man licked his lips. His nervousness apparent in every line of his face. Liam petted him to calm him. Finally, he let out a deep breath and said, “My name is Cameron.”
Cameron.
Liam stared at him without moving, without blinking, without taking that breath he didn’t need. Cameron noticed the sudden unnatural stillness and concern flooded his expression. His hand left Liam’s hair and went to his face.
“Hey, hey, is everything all right?”
It can’t be him. There is no way. Mom would never let him work at a place like Fenrir …
Liam was suddenly jerking upwards and turning towards the disused art supplies. He was breathing now. In hard, heavy gusts. Panicky gusts.
Liam. He picked the name ‘Liam’ to call me tonight. We talked dirty about big and little brothers. It can’t be him. It’s just not possible!
Cameron was sitting up, clearly concerned for him. He grasped Liam’s face and turned it to towards him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? You’re so …”
“Cam,” Liam whispered. His special name for Cameron.
And then it was Cameron’s turn to freeze. He stared into Liam’s eyes and the knowledge was just there. From nothing to everything in half a second. He knew that Liam was Liam.
“Liam?” Cameron breathed his name and meant Liam his brother this time. Not Liam the guy he met at a bar. Liam’s wings suddenly flapped and he saw Cameron’s eyes move towards them. Those eyes went huge. “Wings? She had wings. The lady who came and – and took you up–”
Elda? He saw her?
Liam was off of his brother’s half naked body. He was perched on the edge of the couch. His wings were flapping wildly, disturbing the notebooks and loose papers. Things began to fly around in the wind he was creating. Right now Cameron was doing what no mortal should have been able to do: see him for who and what he really was.
Cameron sees my wings. He knows it's me.
Cameron reached up for him, trying to grab him, and keep him near. But Liam couldn’t stay. He’d just – just violated his little brother. He could still taste Cameron’s cum on his lips and he – Odin help him –wanted more. His erection had not died down in the least. Shame coursed through him as he realized he was perhaps more aroused by their shared blood than before.
“Liam? Liam, it’s you … I know it’s you! LIAM!” Cameron shouted, but his voice suddenly sounded very far away as Liam was flying up and up and up. The roof of the bar became translucent as he opened a door between the mortal and immortal realms and he flew up and up and up.
CHAPTER FOUR: UNFINISHED
Eleven years ago …
A ten-year-old Cameron Blake stood on the cracked sidewalk outside of his middle school. He stared down the street, ears pricked, eyes wide, totally alert for the sound and sight of his older brother Liam who would be coming to pick him up on a totally killer motorcycle, an old BMW Triumph Bobber. It was black and chrome and mean all over.
Liam had started picking him up at school ever since the second boy, Diego Escobar, had been found dead in the desert. To say Diego was dead was an understatement. He’d been killed. Murdered. Mutilated. Eviscerated. Opened up so that his insides were outside and he had no face. These were the things that Cameron had picked up at the Sheriff’s Station. Not from his mother, who was the Sheriff. Oh, no, she kept such things hidden from him.
The thing was that it was easy to be forgotten in the hubbub of an investigation and Cameron had discovered he could almost will himself not to be seen if he wanted. When he was younger he had pretended this ability was magic. Now as a mature boy of ten he pretended there was no such thing as magic. But he overheard everything about the serial killer the press was calling the “Desert Killer”. It wasn’t an imaginative name, but anything more descriptive of what the guy did wouldn’t be able to be printed anyways.
Cameron shifted his weight from his left to right foot. His shorts shifted over the fronts of his thighs and a bead of sweat trickled down his spine under his t-shirt. It was so hot. One of those baked days that leached his tongue of all moisture. He swallowed dryly. He reached down and grabbed the water bottle that was clipped to the
side of his backpack by his feet. His eyes didn’t leave the road even as he unscrew the cap of his water bottle and took a huge swig of the lukewarm liquid.
Normally Liam would be there by now, but Cameron knew that he’d been having some problems with the Bobber. Maybe the cool, but unpredictable motorcycle quit working on Liam midway to pick-up Cameron. He hoped not. His brother would be a sweaty mess if he had to walk the bike all the way to school. Cameron could imagine Liam with his long blond hair hanging loose down to his shoulders, sweat plastering the tight white t-shirt to his muscled chest and dust rising from his faded, ripped jeans. He would look … good. Cameron didn’t quite have the words to describe how his brother appeared or how it made him feel to see him striding towards him.
His friend, Jenny Lynn, had started mentioning how “hot” his brother was. It caused anger to rise up in Cameron and it wasn’t because Jenny Lynn didn’t find him hot — she actually did — but that he didn’t like people noticing his brother that way. It felt like they were trying to take something of Liam away from him. The emotions were confusing and there had been half a dozen times lately when he had been tempted to tell Liam about it and ask him what the feelings meant. But he had always veered off topic at the last minute. Some part of them guessed that they weren’t normal feelings. Not that the Blake family was terribly normal at the best of times, but he dreaded being or feeling anything that Liam might dislike. So he remained silent even as the feelings continued to build in him.
“Hey, if Liam’s not coming do you want to head to my house?” Carmody asked from behind him, nearly causing Cameron to jump.
Annoyed that he was startled and even more annoyed that anyone would suggest that Liam wouldn’t come for him, Cameron ground out, “He’s coming.”
“He’s late.”
More annoyance, raising into aggravation. Liam always was there for him. If he was late he had a really good reason. Kids like Carmody without awesome big brothers wouldn’t understand. “He’s coming.”
Carmody ran a freckled arm over his freckled forehead. A redhead, Carmody was not made for the sun. Neither was Cameron with his milky skin, but where Carmody burned and freckled, the sun seemed to have no effect on Cameron at all. His skin stayed pale as cream. His hair might have gotten more gold over time, but he wouldn’t know as he had never left Holten, New Mexico.
“I thought you went home. Took the bus,” Cameron said, his gaze still focused down the dusty street where Liam was sure to appear any second.
“Naw. Missed it. Nobody’s home anyways so it’s not like I’d be safe from the perv anyways.” Carmody shrugged his thin shoulders.
The “perv” was their name for the Desert Killer. Every kid knew that the perv not only butchered kids, but raped them before he did it. His mother used the word “rape”, but Cameron just translated that into “do sex things with” or “be a freak with” or “eweh”.. Rape sounded so … adult, which was stupid considering wasn’t murder a really adult word? Mutilation?
Barry Stanley had been the last one to die. They’d found his body only two weeks ago. Cameron hadn’t been friends with him, but he knew him as Holten was small and everybody knew everybody.
Barry was dark-haired and eyed. He had played baseball and been obsessed with first person shooter video games. His mom was a kindergarten teacher while his dad was an accountant. They lived in one of the nice areas of Holten. Barry was a typical kid. Nothing about him stood out really. But one day on his way home from baseball practice he’d just disappeared. Vanished. Cameron could still remember Barry’s dad, Mr. Stanley came to the house. He had pounded on their door, screaming for Cameron’s mother even though she had just gotten off of a 48 hour shift looking for his son.
Roused from the briefest of sleeps, she had gone to the door, still in her brown uniform – she had fallen asleep on the couch in it – and listened to him. Cameron had crouched on the stairs, doing that “don’t see me magic trick” that couldn’t be magic. Yet neither Mr. Stanley who was looking right at him or his mother who was incredibly observant noticed him.
Cameron remembered how she had put a hand on Mr. Stanley’s arm even as he had cursed her and everyone in the Sheriff’s Department for being incompetent. His mother did not lose her temper in the face of grief. She could use words like whip cracks when she needed to, but she never lashed out at those in pain no matter what unfair thing they said to her.
“We are doing everything we can, Mr. Stanley,” his mother said, her voice incisive yet gentle.
“But you’re not out there looking for him! You’re home! Resting!” Mr. Stanley flared up at her.
“My mother has been awake for over forty-eight hours!” Liam’s voice rose up like a thundercloud. He had appeared out of the kitchen. He wore the softest sweatpants that clung to his narrow hips and no shirt, which showed off his heavily muscled torso. His eyes immediately went to Cameron. He could never hide from his big brother. Liam gestured for him to leave the stairs and come by his side. Cameron scampered over, and tucked himself against Liam’s powerful side.
“Your mother,” Mr. Stanley began, wound up again.
But Liam cut him off, “Is doing all she can, Mr. Stanley!”
Liam’s blue eyes flashed with lightning. Unlike their mother, Liam’s temper was far closer to the surface.
“Liam,” their mother said quietly and that simple saying of his name silenced her eldest son. But it wasn’t just her children that tone worked on. It had been known to silence career politician in mid-promise. “Mr. Stanley, my people are on it. They are the best out there. The investigation is not stopping just because someone is taking a few hours to sleep..”
“How can you sleep?” Mr. Stanley’s arms had flown up and fallen down. The dark circles under his eyes were evidence that he wasn’t sleeping or eating or anything else but worrying about Barry. “How can anyone sleep when there is a monster out there?”
Mr. Stanley hadn’t waited for her answer, but just turned away and got into his car. Dust rose up under his squealing tires. Their mother had stood there for long moments looking after him. Suddenly, she was turning and going to the kitchen table for where her utility belt lay. She began to buckle it on again, preparing to head back to work despite having only twenty-minutes rest in the last two days.
“Mom!” Liam reached over and covered her hands with his, stopping her from buckling on the belt. His blue eyes were furious and afraid. “You can’t go back out! It’s twenty-four hours on and forty-eight off! You’ve been forty-eight on and no time off!”
“I won’t sleep anyways, Liam. I might as well make myself useful,” she said, her blue eyes meeting his matching ones.
“It’s not safe!” Liam insisted, not letting go of her hand. “You can’t even see straight let alone look for Barry Stanley.”
“Mr. Stanley’s right. His boy is out there! If it were one of you, I wouldn’t rest. How can I do so when it’s his son?”
“Barry is dead.” Liam’s last word landed with a terrible thump. “You’re risking yourself for a corpse.”
“You think Barry’s dead?” Cameron spoke up for the first time. His mother and Liam shared a look. It meant ‘don’t scare the little kid’. He hated that. He might be little in comparison to them, but he wasn’t stupid. “Of course, he’s dead.” Now both of him stared at him, shocked and uncertain what he would say. “All the other ones were. One day. Right? The perv lets them live only one day and it’s already been three for Barry.”
Their mother closed her eyes for a long time. “You’ve been listening to Munoz again, haven’t you?”
“Can I help it if he talks about cases in front of me?” Cameron shrugged. His mother had insisted he stay at the Sheriff’s Station when Liam was working. Deputy Juan Munoz’s desk was right near where he sat so he heard everything. It wasn’t like Juan wanted him to overhear, but there wasn’t much they could do in a three room station with thin walls – excluding the jail walls. And his magical talent helped.
>
“Barry could be dead,” their mother finally said as she opened her eyes. “But he also could be alive. And until I see his body I’m not going to act like he’s other than with us!”
Liam’s jaw clenched. “Mom, just take a few hours to sleep. Just a few. Please.”
“Liam, I –”
“We already lost Dad,” Liam said and stopped. They didn’t speak about Kurt Blake’s death very often. He had been the love of their mother’s life and his death the year before had nearly blasted her to pieces. Taking on his job of caring for the people of Holten was the only thing that had brought her back to life.
Their mother went rigid, but then she sagged. “All right. Two hours of sleep and then I have to get back out there.”
Liam nodded, but he picked up her utility belt and held it as if he were planning to hide it somewhere in the house where she couldn’t find it again so she could never leave. Her gun was in the gun safe though so she could always find that and, really, all she needed was her gun against the perv not mace or handcuffs.
His mother had gone out again after two hours of rest, but Liam had been right that she had been looking for a corpse. Barry’s body was found the next day. It was clear he had been killed just one day after he had gone missing..
“So do you want to hang out?” Carmody asked, breaking Cameron out of his memories.
“You should come with me and Liam,” Cameron said. His mother had made clear during the half dozen press conferences that she gave that no child – especially no boy their age – should be left alone. But here Carmody was without anyone to watch him and only an empty house to go back to.
“Uh, how can I go with you guys? Liam has the bike, right? So you want me to run after the bike like a dog?” Carmody’s red eyebrows crawled up into his hairline.
“You’re small. Liam can have us both ride no problem.”