Night Flyer

by Temple Madison

  And suddenly he felt Gabe plunge into his hole, causing his head to spin, his body to tighten and then loosen as Gabe slid so easily in and out, welcoming, begging, needing every thrust and stroke and motion that he put on him. Deuce could swear the bed was moving as if it were alive. Gabe Wesley was exactly what Deuce needed, exactly what he’d been missing, and he wasn’t ready or willing to give him up again, even if it meant a trip right down into the middle of Hell.

  It was there, right there in that flame-ridden bed that he decided.

  This time he stayed the whole night with Gabe holding him close.

  * * * *

  The next morning Gabe woke with a start as if a javelin had jabbed him in his heart. When he saw Deuce, he suddenly jumped up out of bed as if he were afraid it would catch on fire. While he paced, everything that happened last night came back to him. Every dirty word uttered, every unclean thought he’d had. Satan couldn’t have been happier with him at that moment. While he marched from one end of the bedroom to the other, he looked down at Deuce, waiting for him to wake up. What excuse could he give for his behavior the night before? It was the heat of the moment—the time was right—Earth fell off its axis—the planets were aligned just right, what? The truth was, he was horny as hell, and Deuce was the object of his affections. He’d practically forced him. What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off the man—and he was a friggin’ priest. Why hadn’t he left once the dirty deed had been committed like he did the last time?

  He finally sat down on the side of the bed, still looking at him. When he didn’t wake up right away, he lowered his head, and raked his fingers through his thick hair. While his head was lowered he felt Deuce moving around, and waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, he turned and looked at him, and found him staring back at him. The two of them just sat there staring into the other’s eyes, and although no words were said in audible tones, a million were said in his heart.

  “I’m sorry, Deuce. I take all responsibility for this,” Gabe finally whispered.

  “Hell, Gabe. You know it was as much my fault as yours. But at least it proved to me what I’ve known for a long time. I can’t stay with the church now. It was a mistake from the start, but it was an innocent mistake. I truly thought—”

  “Are you kidding? With a rap sheet like yours, you thought…how in hell could you think God would want someone like you to…” Suddenly Gabe’s words stopped when he realized what he was saying. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” He watched as Deuce jumped up, grabbed his clothes, threw them on, and then turned to him.

  “Don’t worry. You won’t ever have to bother with this gambler-turned-priest again. By the way, be sure to take a shower and wash the dirty smell of Deuce Gannon off you before you go out there and move mountains, stop bullets, and make some poor sucker think you’re God Almighty.” With that, he turned and slammed out the door.

  Gabe grabbed the edge of a dresser, and lowered his head, forcing the tears from his eyes when he squeezed them shut. “God, when will I learn to keep my fuckin’ mouth shut!” he shouted.

  When he finally looked up at his image in the mirror he saw a head full of messy hair, and a face that might be considered good-looking if he didn’t know what was behind it. He’d always been a dreamer, and not one to follow the rules too closely, especially if he thought going the other way would get the job done better, or quicker. His mouth was his biggest problem. He spoke his mind, and it sometimes got him in trouble. Like today. He’d gladly bite off his tongue to take back what he had said to Deuce, but the damage had been done, and now he had to try and figure out how to make it up to him.

  Chapter 5

  A few days later Deuce Gannon found himself the subject of a scathing tabloid headline. Someone had spotted him on the street, and instead of keeping it to themselves, they went straight to Gossip and sold him out for thirty pieces of silver.

  Sacred Heart Priest Enjoying Satan’s Playground.

  Thousands of copies were sold, the feature story being Father Michael and his nightly jaunts into the city without his cleric’s collar. It caused a scandal to break out all over the city when picture after picture was splashed all over the tabloids, the media making sure they were taken in such a way to make him look guilty.

  This hit Deuce hard. He tried to hold on, to carry on as usual, but one day he noticed that the faces of his usual congregation had slowly turned to strangers. Even the atmosphere of the church had changed. It seemed cold, unfeeling, aloof, even frosty, and Deuce knew that his ministry was over. He’d never live this down, and maybe he shouldn’t even try since he was no longer holding services for his parishioners, but for curiosity seekers. Those who wanted to get just one look at the scandalous priest who Gossip said loved sin more than God.

  But the last straw came when a man came in to confession, and began what seemed like a normal confession of his sins, but it quickly turned into something else.

  “Father, forgive me for I have sinned. I…” His words became breathy and seductive. “Father, what do you think of a man who fucks other men? I did that. We…this man and me…we kissed and I…I couldn’t help it, Father. I…I stuck my dick up his ass, and God, it was good.” The man hesitated for a moment, and then continued. “Up until then I thought I liked women, but when we got together…I mean, me and this guy, when we started fucking each other, I never knew it could be so good. You know what it’s like, don’t you, Father? After that I started thinkin’, how about you and me? I mean, I always thought you was a good-lookin’ guy for a priest. Maybe we could…”

  While the man was still talking suddenly the grill bolted open, and the flash of a camera burst in Deuce’s face. “Get out of here!” he yelled. “You don’t want to confess, you came in here to take advantage of the situation. Who are you? Are you looking for another story, or are you just some stupid ass of a sinner trying to find your next bed partner?”

  The man looked at Deuce with a smirk on his face. “Here you sit, all holy and righteous. Who the hell do you think you are? With the sins you’ve got stacked against you, you couldn’t absolve a flea!”

  “Get out!” Deuce yelled.

  “Don’t worry, I’m goin’.” He got up quickly, slammed open the door, and walked out.

  That’s all it took for Deuce to finally bow to the pressure. He immediately went to his room, wrote a letter where he formally relinquished his priestly duties, then took it and slapped it down in front of the Bishop. “I’m gone. I won’t hold another service.”

  “Father Michael…please…I know this looks terrible, but it’s really not as bad as you think. We understand that these things happen, and we’re willing to forgive this.” Standing up, he came out from behind his desk. “Don’t forget. We practically made new rules for you.”

  “It wasn’t for me, it was for Father Joseph.”

  “It was his faith in you that made us decide to put you in as priest of Sacred Heart. Anyone else would have had to go to the seminary for years to be where you are now, but we stretched the rules, and allowed you to study here at the church. You can’t quit, you haven’t even finished your studies yet. It’s preposterous.”

  “You’re wasting your breath, Bishop. My mind’s made up.”

  “Father Michael, you think this is bad?” he asked, indicating to the hurtful tabloid. “This is nothing. There have been priests who have been found in worse situations than this. People make mistakes every day. Even priests. Besides, the public forgets quickly. When another scandal springs up they won’t even remember your name.”

  “It’s not only that, Bishop. The truth is, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, but I’ve been undecided. Now that this has happened, it’s like a sign from God. I mean, it couldn’t be plainer, could it? It’s as if an open door has been placed before me, and I’d be wrong…even a fool not to take advantage of it.”

  The Bishop’s lips thinned in anger. “You
know, if you’re determined to take this route that you won’t have to quit. You’ll be expelled and condemned as a radical and undisciplined priest. Try to live that down.”

  “Ask me if I care,” Deuce said, his smart remark right out of high school.

  “No. I can see that you don’t.” Having no other alternative, the Bishop looked down at the letter, and said, “All right. I’ll get this in the works and let you know something as soon as I can.”

  “Not necessary. As far as I’m concerned it’s a done deal. If I’m so…radical and undisciplined, I’m sure you don’t want me around here anymore, so I’ll go pack my clothes. By the way, don’t forget to get someone else to take over the duties at Sacred Heart.” With that he yanked off his collar, threw it at the Bishop, and slammed the door as he left.

  Feeling as if a great weight had lifted off him, he smiled as he walked away.

  * * * *

  For days afterward Deuce spent his time sitting on park benches, and buying a little food here and there until his money ran out. When he finally turned his pockets inside out and found nothing, he ate his last meal, and went looking for a stone pillow on which to lay his head. That’s when he felt he had no choice but to go right back into the only life he knew. Gambling. He began on a small level at first, hustling games now and then, and winning, but just enough to keep his stomach full, and buy him a bed for the night. One game led to another, and slowly his old habits came back. He began switching those cards around like a magician’s sleight of hand.

  Before he knew it, his money began to grow. No more stone pillows for him. He found an apartment and lived frugally at first, but when word got out, the big boys were seeking him out. That meant thousands in his pocket keeping company with the measly tens, and twenties from his other games.

  It was what Deuce had been waiting for.

  And then one night he’d been invited to a closed game being played in the basement of one of the more sleazy night clubs. He was sitting there shuffling those cards like in the old days when an old crony showed up who recognized Deuce. The minute Deuce saw him, he broke and ran. He managed to get only about halfway down the block when he was caught by the crook’s sidekicks and slammed up against a building.

  “I should have known the hotshot everyone’s been talking about was Deuce Gannon. So where you been, Deuce? I sent Mad Dog after you, but the bastard got himself locked up so tight he’ll never get out.”

  “Let me go, Bruno. I ain’t done nothin’ to you.”

  “Oh, no? You been pickin’ my pocket for years, Deuce. The last time was when you won ten grand off me. I want it back.”

  “I won it fair and square.”

  “I don’t care if you won it with your motha’ holdin’ your hand. I want the fuckin’ money back!”

  “It’s gone, Bruno, and I ain’t got that kind of money now. I’m just now gettin’ back on my feet.”

  “Is that the same feet that’s gonna be buried in a block of cement and standin’ on the bottom of the ocean if I don’t have that money in my hand by tomorrow noon?” He squeezed Deuce’s collar, and roughly pulled him forward. “You can get that money back easy, and you know it. Just get in a game and do them little tricks with them cards you do, and you’ll have ten times the amount you need in no time. See?” Bruno said, as he pushed him back, hard. “I got faith in you, kid.”

  “Well, ain’t that sweet?”

  The words that quietly floated from out of the darkness had an eerie kind of sound, an echo from some point faraway—like Hell. The men looked around when they heard it, but saw nothing. And then, like a magician’s trick, a man dressed in black pants, a gray button-up shirt, and seemed normal-looking in every way, appeared from out of the shadows.

  “Did I hear you threatening this man?”

  *

  Bruno’s eyes widened when he saw what looked like a vision slowly appearing from out of the vapor that floated up around him from the gutters. It made him appear almost dreamlike, otherworldly, immortal. Bruno couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. The whole town was talking about the Night Flyer and how he seemed to just appear where trouble was. He’d heard so much talk he knew this guy must be some kind of superhero, but if this was him, he didn’t seem like so much. Hell, he’d heard ridiculous stories of bullets bouncing off his chest, sparks of electricity coming from his fingers, flying, but he didn’t believe it. People tended to exaggerate when they were scared.

  “Friend, if you’re this superhero I been hearin’ so much about, you’re sure a disappointment.”

  “The name’s Gabe Wesley. Superheroes are in comic books and the movies. I’m just a man on the street.”

  With a smug smile, Bruno then moved closer to Deuce and put an arm around his shoulders. “You think I mean to harm this man? Of course not. We’re old friends.” He turned his head and looked at Deuce threateningly. “Ain’t that right, Deuce?”

  Deuce was silent for a moment as he looked at Gabe.

  “Don’t be afraid, Deuce,” Gabe said softly. “Just speak up.”

  “He…he wants to k-kill me,” Deuce said, his voice breathy and nervous.

  Keeping his eyes on Bruno, Gabe quickly grabbed something on his shoulder and spoke into it. “Backup at Pier Fifty-three. Man threatened by gunmen.” Gabe slid his gaze back to Bruno. “I would advise you and your friends here to give yourselves up. Soon you’ll be surrounded by cops.”

  Bruno snickered as he quickly pulled a gun and pointed it at Deuce. “Call all the backup you want. It’ll do you no good. I’ll give you just five seconds to get out of here, or this man will get it.” All of a sudden he saw Gabe rip his shirt open, and enough wind to fill the Grand Canyon came twisting and blowing. What resulted was the biggest, toughest, and meanest-looking individual Bruno had ever seen. He just had time enough to read the words Night Flyer stretched across his ripped up chest before he felt the gun being wrenched from his hand by something going so fast he didn’t even see it. When he saw it gone, he thought he’d dropped it, and looked around on the ground. “Where the hell…?”

  Gabe held the gun up. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  “How the hell did you get it?”

  “I have my ways.”

  “This ain’t over yet, creep.” Just then Bruno gave a nod, but his men just stood there. When he saw them begin to back away, he yelled, “What the hell is wrong with you? Get him!”

  “Looks like your guys have deserted you.” Gabe vaulted into action quickly, and with punching fists, and flying feet, he hit, kicked, and spun around like a top until he had Bruno’s men wrapped up in a dirty cable he’d found on the ground.

  “Oh, my God, it’s all true.” Bruno moved to grab the gun from off the ground, pointed it at Gabe, and began shooting. Suddenly Gabe did something he’d never done before. He lifted his hands and caught the bullets in his palms, and tossed them on the ground. Gabe then came toward Bruno threateningly and grabbed the gun. “I guess I’m going to have to put this somewhere that you can’t get at it anymore.” With that he turned, threw it into the sky, and they stood watching it while it sailed right up into the stratosphere, and beyond, where it would float around in space forever.

  Right then two police cruisers skidded to a stop at the curb, and without wasting a moment, a couple of the officers hoisted them into the car while another one got the details from Gabe.

  “Good work,” the cop finally said as he left with Bruno and his gang.

  Later that night after Bruno and his boys had been locked up for a few hours, Bruno had become the most popular man in lockup not only with the other inmates, but with the guards as well. His claim to fame was being busted by the Night Flyer, and he milked it for all it was worth.

  “I’m tellin’ you, it’s all true,” he said as they all gathered around him. “He caught the friggin’ bullets in his hands, and he moved like lightning. He even threw my gun out into space where it is now just floatin’ around.�
��

  “Tell us again how he ripped his shirt open.”

  “Yeah,” Bruno said. “That’s what started it. There must be somethin’ about ripping his shirt open that endows him with these powers, because before that he wasn’t any different than you or me. I tell you, guys, it was amazing.” Bruno grabbed his pack of cigarettes, and noticed he had only one left. “Hey, guys, I need cigarettes.” He smoothly pulled a deck of cards from his breast pocket, and said, “Who’ll play me for a carton?”

  * * * *

  Later, after the cop car had skidded away, Gabe walked over to Deuce. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay, but a little red-faced with embarrassment.”

  Gabe chuckled. “No need. We all get in trouble once in a while.”

  “It just seems like you’re saving my butt on a regular basis.”

  “Forget it. We have more important matters to discuss.” With that, he lifted a foot and rested it on a ledge jutting out from the building and leaned slightly forward. “Now what’s this I hear about you and the Devil being on friendly terms?”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Deuce said as he looked down and saw that Gabe had him blocked in with his leg. He was so close he could feel his muscled body, feel his heat, and even smell his spicy cologne, and when he looked at him he saw the same profile he’d come to love. A beautiful, strong square jaw, shadowed with a beard, his Michelangelo lips and nose, and when he thought of his cock, he began sweating. “You wear cologne when you go out on your nightly save-the-world jaunts?”

  “I’m almost off duty. How about coming back to my place and discussing it?”

  Gabe leaned in until his lips were close enough to kiss him, but Deuce resisted, keeping his mouth closed. Instead of being discouraged, Gabe licked Deuce’s lips with his tongue, slowly forcing himself inside. When he felt Deuce’s lips part, he moaned, and almost devoured him. After the kiss, while his lips were still against Deuce’s he whispered, “Oh, God, Deuce, I can’t wait to be inside you again.”