by Jan Irving
The light touch of Kain’s caress down his side, pulling him closer into an almost embrace. Hesitating, reading him. His gaze moved back up, caught by the patience in Kain ’s green eyes. Patient as a predator waiting by a watering hole, watching Nick, watching his reflected emotions, his body language.
Waiting for the moment Nick’s body wilted, shifted, awkward, falling like a leaf detaching itself from a tree.
BURNT SIENNA, RAW UMBER.
Music. He thought he ’d almost heard it when they touched at last, fanciful as that was, as they made contact, building a bridge of flesh. How often had he shared things with this man that no one else knew?
Something passionate and unnameable tightened his throat, adding percussion to the beat of his pulse from his racing heart and stiffening sex.
It wasn’t music. It was panting breath, wide eyes; it was suspense, like a wave readying itself to crash on the beach.
Kain rubbed his arm, almost seeming to need to reassure as Nick’s body stuttered closer to his, to the moment when— Kain leaned down and took him.
Nick gasped, “Oh, shit!”
His arms tentatively curled around Kain’s shoulders, drowsy eyes meeting narrowed green ones. Kain took his time, thoroughly kissing him. Slow, gripping him now, Nick’s head falling back, released so he could take a breath, while Kain cupped his face, licking his parted lips.
But then Nick had to return, to demand, as he ’d pushed things by coming to Kain’s bedroom and offering himself in the first place. His lips prodding, joining Kain’s, more broken breath, back again, hand moving higher, into Kain’s silken hair, tugging. Take me. Crazy dance of blood.
LAMP BLACK.
Trembling now, shaking with the force of his arousal as Kain hefted Nick above him, their cocks rubbing together through their clothing. Gripping Kain’s hair, restlessly moving.
Panting. Hurting.
Kain?
Kain gentling him… pulling away when Nick rooted for his mouth, answered with a slow lick that made Nick shudder. “Oh, God, I want…!” Nick groaned.
Kain smiled. “That good?”
“You woke me up,” Nick said, each word emphatic, billboardsized.
The ache eased in intensity but went unanswered. And Nick stared at the candle flame on Kain ’s bedside table, guttering from the chill that haunted Telemachus House like a moving spirit.
YELLOW OCHRE.
Now he leaned his forehead against the canvas, oblivious to the dampened pigment. Show me. Be a mirror. Let me see him. What is he hiding from me? You have always been there, muse, and when I can’t see someone, when I don’t understand why I might feel lost or uneasy, you show me why.
Show me Kain.
FINN looked in on Nick and saw he was lost in his art. More, he looked like he needed to be.
Dinner was hot mushroom soup with peasant bread oozing melted butter and dark, foamy beer.
He sighed. Hed reheat it.
One thing was certain: Kain had met his match, someone as ethereal as himself, as driven.
“Finn?”
He spotted Mark by the entranceway and frowned as he watched him putting on a coat. It looked like one of Nicks. “I need to walk and Nick needs it quiet, so… .” Mark shrugged. “So no metalworking.”
“ Not after his last encounter with the mysterious Mr. Mitchell, apparently. Now he needs oil and canvas far more than my humble presence.” Mark grimaced and raised a brow when Finns expression remained carefully bland. “Oh, come on, they definitely hooked up. But Kain left Nicky wanting. Treacherous bastard.”
“You only say that because you wanted Nick for yourself.” Mark s head dropped back and he sighed. “Im no match for Mr. Darcy, or whoever the fuck haunts this dump.” He looked at Finn. “Care to go walking?”
“Ill just get my coat. I was going to come with you anyway,” Finn said. “Its not safe walking around the estate after dark.”
“Why is that?”
“The gardens are a mess. Fallen statuary, rotten porches. Like the house, it dates back to the Victorian period.”
“Mitchell should clean this place up.” Mark shook his head, lit up with irritation for the master of the house.
Finn smirked. “Kain would only do that if he actually welcomed visitors, but he wouldnt be much of a recluse if he liked people.” “I heard at one time he was the life of any party.”
“Um.”
“But now he prefers to be alone. Strange. Makes you wonder what could change a life so drastically, hmmm?” “ Its best not to get too curious about Kain.”
“Nick being the exception.”
Coat on, Finn put his arm through Mark s.“I really like you,” he said as Mark opened the door.“And its good Im going walking with you. You never know who you might meet on a damp fall evening.”
Moonbeam: I can’t believe I fell asleep in your bed. When I woke up again, I was conveniently back in my own room.
Obsidian: Too much melodrama, poor Nick. But you’re obviously giving that excess of emotion a workout in your art.
Moonbeam: I saw your hand but your face was shadowed. I could only really make out your eyes—which are extremely distinctive, by the way.
Obsidian: I don’t want to talk about my appearance. Moonbeam: Okay, so why the candles?
Obsidian: They don’t hurt my eyes.
Moonbeam: Hmmm. Kain, I can’t believe you didn’t... I couldn’t have stopped you. Obsidian: I stopped me.
Moonbeam: I fell asleep and you kept me safe. Obsidian: Not safe. I can’t—you don’t know.
Moonbeam: I still feel the energy of being with you. It flows out of my body and onto canvas but I can’t find any relief.
Obsidian: Relief, hmmm? Something I know a little about offering you. If I’d hired you tonight, do you know what I’d do with you?
Moonbeam: You said you like to watch. Would you like to watch me?
Obsidian: Yes. Finn would take you down to my dungeon. Moonbeam: You’ve got to be kidding! You have an actual dungeon in this house?
Obsidian: Not a real one. More like a playroom. It’s in the basement. Moonbeam: I imagine it smells earthy and there are vines covering the walls. Oh, a playroom. I’ve heard of those. So you like using toys on someone?
Obsidian: Yes. I have collected some, handled them with you in mind. Some are leather, some are cane…and some are blown glass, threaded with a blue filament which reminds me of your eyes.
Moonbeam: Blown glass? Sounds very…artistic. Obsidian: I am an artist in my own fashion.
Moonbeam: So what would you do with me if I’d been hired as your companion for the night? Obsidian: There would be wine at the table. I’d order you to strip, turn around so I could examine you from where I was sitting, paying particular attention to your high, round ass. I’d order you to open yourself for me and stand there, exposed, for as long as I wanted.
For you, it might seem like forever, your heart pounding, wondering just what I am going to do to you. Hurt you? Spank you? Whatever it is, you know I’ll take you completely, mark you as mine.
Moonbeam: Oh, shit, Obsidian! Where would you be watching me? Describe your dungeon. I want to see it. Obsidian: I have a wing chair. Books. A fireplace. It is set up for my comfort as I examine the merchandise I have purchased. Decide if I want to cane a boy, or tie him up, or have him suck me.
Moonbeam: Master of your own very cozy dungeon. Obsidian: I’d finally allow you to sit down and sip your red wine. Your legs would be spread wide, of course, so I could admire your stiff prick. Your lips would be parted and there would be color in your face. I would take my time and I’d decide what I wanted to do with you.
Moonbeam: Wouldn’t I be nervous? It would be my first time. I would be untouched…I mean, I am untouched. Obsidian: I know you’re a virgin, Nick. I like that, I like that sooner or later, I’ll take your virginity. Feeling nervous is good, natural—it adds to the potent cocktail. I want you to fear your master, kitten, just a little. But something in your win
e would settle you. I’ve used it before, the first night you slept under my roof…
Moonbeam: Shit, I wondered!
Obsidian: Does it make you angry? But alone with me, you can’t smell of...fear.
Moonbeam: I am not afraid of you, even if sometimes I feel like you want me to be. Obsidian: Nick...
Moonbeam: What next?
Obsidian: :deep choose between machine.
breath: If you were really there, I’d the spanking horse and the fucking
Moonbeam: Fucking machine?
Obsidian: Finn custom designed it for me. A man of interesting and eclectic talents, Finn.
Moonbeam: How does it work?
Obsidian: I have to watch you; with you, it’s only safe if I watch. But to see you come, to control it completely. Moonbeam: How would it play out? Obsidian: You wouldn’t be afraid now, but so aroused. I’d get up from the chair and lead you to it. Before you climb on the table, I’d convince you to put on nipple clamps. Have you ever worn them?
Moonbeam: No, never. Do they hurt? Obsidian: A little. I’d suck your nipples till they puckered and then I’d put them on. You’d gasp from the sudden hurt, but I’d stroke your hair and talk you through it. I’d promise you they’d add to the experience and your cock would be hard when I touched it, so I know you’ll let me do what I want. You’d climb on the table and mount the long bench. I’d buckle you in. Your ankles...wrists...your neck, even a band across your lower back.
Moonbeam: I’m so hard now.
Obsidian: Fixed in place and ready for my toy. I’d coat my fingers and invade your ass, rubbing.
Moonbeam: :Squirms: Obsidian: :Smirks: When you were loose enough, I’d place the blown glass dildo inside, warmed so it feels intense as it broaches you.
Moonbeam: And then? Obsidian: I’d return to my chair to watch. I love the expression on your face as it slides in firmly for the first time. I have the remote control in my hand. You can see me holding it and know I totally control your experience.
Moonbeam: What does it feel like inside me? Obsidian: Thick. It’s me, Nick. It’s an extension of me. You’re moaning now as it slides in and out, your erection slick with your excitement but you’re utterly helpless.
Moonbeam: What do you do? Obsidian: After watching you take it, watching the machine fucking you, I get up and unzip myself. I feed you my cock and you want it. Licking my taste, desperate to come. My slutty little glory hole.
Moonbeam: Fuck! Obsidian: When I’m close, I pull out of your hot little mouth and I come over your face. I want to see that. My come on your face.
Moonbeam: Kain!
Obsidian: You want to come?
Moonbeam: Yes!
Obsidian: Good boy. While you lick my cock clean, I reach underneath you and gently remove the nipple clamps, giving them a tug just as I pull them free.
Moonbeam: Uhhhh! Kain!
Obsidian: I can see you through the camera. Lick the come from your fingers. Let me see you. That’s mine, the relief I gave you.
Moonbeam: :meekly: Yes, Kain.
Obsidian: So beautifully slutty. I think I’ll hire you again for another night.
Moonbeam: :Whimpers:
Obsidian: Nick, go to sleep. There’s a blanket on the couch I had Finn leave for you. Moonbeam: Did you...feel so... drug me?
Obsidian: Your cocoa. Sleep, little one.
Moonbeam: I’ll be pissed...s’in morning.
Obsidian: But now you’re smiling. I pleasured you and now it’s time to be safe. Moonbeam: Safe?
Obsidian: From me.
Moonbeam: I don’t want to be kept safe from you!
“IS THIS your friend?”
Shaking, Nick swung away from the steel slab and the white sheetdraped body. He crossed his arms, shoulders hunched.
Oh, no. Not him.
Tears pricked his eyes.
“Mr. Anders?”
“Yes.” He looked at the doctor, avoiding Detective Manners narrowed gaze. “Did I do this somehow?” “ Excuse me?” the detective butted in.
Hoarse, Nick said, “I feel… responsible.”
“Could be you are.” Manners nodded.
Oh fuck, he was going to…. He choked, streaming tears, barreling from the room. Trash can, shaking hands, bent over— Finn was there, his eyes also reddened from crying. He reached over and rubbed Nicks back. “You knew him a long time?” he asked softly.
“Y-yes,” Nick rasped. “Long time.” He squeezed his eyes shut, but a tear escaped, rolling a chilly path down his cheek. The doctor had followed him from the morgue along with the detective. He reached out and cupped Nicks shoulder. “A lot of people feel responsible, but unless you murdered him, youre really not.”
Nick shook his head. This can’t be happening!
Finn passed him a handkerchief hed dampened in the nearby water fountain.
Detective Manners crossed her arms, waiting. “ I wont apologize for my reaction,” Nick whispered, still shaking. He couldnt get warm.“Mark was a close friend for a long time. We worked together on many art projects, which takes a special kind of trust. Oh, shit, Why him?”
Manners looked unmoved. “Was he a boyfriend of yours?” Nick closed his eyes, remembering the single kiss, and then Obsidians veiled threat, but Obsidian would never— “No, we… Id just broken up with someone so we were just friends.”
“Yet he was staying in your employers house. Kind of out of the ordinary.”
“He, uh.” Nick rubbed his smarting eyes. “He needed a safe place to crash for a while.” “ Didnt turn out to be so safe, did it?” she asked silkily. Hoarsely, he said, “No.”
“Is this really necessary, Detective Manners, grilling Nick this way? Mark was a close friend.”
“Then hell want to know what happened to him, wont he? Do you know why he went walking alone on the roads near the house?” Nick shook his head. “I was consumed with my art last night.” He swallowed thickly. “I wanted him gone, all right? I wanted him to leave me alone so I could concentrate because my painting was so damned important!”
Finn rubbed Nicks back. “You didnt mean for anything bad to happen to him, kitten.”
“And what about you, Mr. OConnell? When did you see him last?”
“I made dinner and he didnt show. I assumed he was working on one of his own projects or taking it easy in his room.”
“You didnt see him leave the house?”
Finn blinked. “No. If I had, I would have gone with him; the estate has all kinds of broken statuary and unsafe wooden structures.” Manners looked up from writing on a pad. “So the last time someone saw him alive was at lunchtime, is that right?” “ Yes, at the time he told me he was going to look for a place of his own.” Finn chewed his lip. “Because Nick was obviously with… he is spending time with Mr. Mitchell.”
Manners raised a brow at Nick, obviously mulling. “If there was nothing between you and the victim, why would he leave if you and Mitchell got cozy?”
“I dont know. I didnt speak to Mark, but it wasnt like that. Not from my side, anyway. Though one time….” Nick cut himself off. “One time what?” “ I think what Nick is reluctant to say is that Kain was a little jealous of Mark,” Finn interceded. “Of course, that eased when he understood that Mark and I had spent some time together.”
Manners shook her head. “Nice arrangement, living under Kain Mitchells roof. Apparently you can get everything you need—on hand,” she looked pointedly at Nick, who flushed, “or order in.”
Finn pressed his lips together primly but didnt take her bait. Manners held up a plastic bag which contained drawing paper, from what Nick could make out, the curled edges stained brown. He stared at it, wondering what its significance was, and then he realized it must be the remains of Marks sketch pad.
The brown wasn t ink but Marks dried blood, and under that watery imprint he could still make out the fine sepia lines of a sketch. A familiar figure in the nude.
Nick took a deep breath, rubbing his own upper arms. O
h, Mark. “ He seemed to have some pretty strong feelings about you, Nick. This is just one of the sketches we found near the body, most of which were shredded, either by the victim… or his killer, we figure.”
Nick shook his head. “I didnt know he was doing that, sketching me,” he offered, bewildered. “I do the same thing, work out my feelings in my art. Some I dont choose to share with anyone.”
“Well, maybe someone did know he was sketching you. You had a breakup recently?”
“Yes, but it wasnt…. Miguel wouldnt hurt anyone.” “ He was arrested recently.” She smirked at Nicks surprised look. “Oh, Ive been looking into your life very closely, Mr. Anders. You and anyone else who lives under Kain Mitchells roof.”
“That had nothing to do with hurting someone!”
“And what about Kain Mitchell? Finn already said he was jealous of your relationship with the victim.”
Nick shook his head. “I cant believe hed hurt anyone. Hes not what you think, Detective. I think hes actually a very lonely man.” “ And also a possible killer.” Manners looked at Finn and raised a cool brow. “You be sure to let your boss know Ill be out to see him. Soon.” Then she leaned close to Nick. “Three little blonds dead, who look just like you, and now a close friend of yours who had a thing for you. If youre protecting him, remember, you might be next.”
IT WAS still dark when Ross wheeled into the back alley to his bicycle shop. He shoved back his brown curly hair and wiped the sweat the long ride had given him. But it had felt good, clean. Helped him to forget about Kain and the ache of everything hed lost; his best friend, and his lover, Aaron, both in one night.
He shook off his gloves and dug in his jeans pocket for his keys, thinking he wanted to get organized today, spiff the place up since a certain hot medical doctor would be dropping by, someone very much into mountain bike riding, which Ross admired but personally found too reckless for his more conservative tastes. But he sold a lot of beautifully modified bikes to enthusiasts. Dr. Armand Leyland had suffered an accident only a few days ago but already he wanted to talk to Ross about replacing his wrecked bike with the newest model—specially made for him, of course.