by Cal Matthews
“No,” I ground out, my teeth clenched. “Wait.”
He didn't at first, then slowed and stopped, leaving his hand frozen on me. I thought about snow and inventory at the store and slippery guts in my hand, anything to calm myself down and bring me back from the edge. My thoughts went to Leo, and how pissed he was going to be (hurt too, maybe?) before my mind shied away from that. I was too far gone to stop now.
“Do you have condoms?” he asked, taking his hands away from me to unbutton his jeans. I sat up, hooking my hands in his waistband and tugged. “In the bedroom,” I said, eyeing him with appreciation as each new inch of him was exposed.
He gave me an expectant look, and I got clumsily to my feet, self-consciously tucking myself back into my pants. He laughed a little, obviously not at all embarrassed or shy, and I smiled at my own modesty.
“Be right back,” I said.
“Bring a towel, too,” he said, and lay back with one arm behind his head.
I went into my room and went straight into the bathroom to pee, just as a precautionary measure. It took a while, what with the raging boner I had going on, so I ended up staring at myself in the mirror while I waited. “I am going to have sex with him,” I said aloud, watching my own mouth move. It didn't affect me at all, except to make it harder to pee. Back in my bedroom, I dug into the top drawer of my nightstand, searching out the string of condoms I hoped were still stashed in there.
My fingers closed on a crinkly foil square. When I pulled it out, a great wave of guilt washed over me. Fuck, I was an asshole. Leo trusted me. Yeah, he was always nagging me to go on a date, but I knew damn well he meant humans, regular humans, not recently dead witch humans who may or may not have been involved with a murderer. Christ, my head hurt just thinking about all the variables of this stupid equation.
But, but, the other nasty part of my mind raged - Leo fucking left. Every time. Every couple of months. We fucked when he was in town, and I let myself get all lovey with him, and then he left. I didn't owe him anything.
I shoved it out of my mind, along with everything else I didn't want to think about, and went back to the living room, where Marcus lay on the couch fully naked.
I stopped to stare at him and he gave me a coy smile. “Draw me like one of your French girls,” he said, and I almost doubled over, laughing in giddy relief. I threw the condom at him and he caught it effortlessly, grinning crazily at me. That grin untied the painful knot tugging inside my chest, and I almost pounced on him.
I pushed his legs to the side and sat down, raking my gaze appreciatively up his body. I was envious a little. We had the same build, tall and rangy, but he was tight with muscle, his arms and legs and stomach ripped. He looked like one of those guys who competed in Spartan races; I had more the physique of an underage Russian model, all bones and angles.
Tentatively, I ran my hands up his thighs, stopping just short of his erection. I looked up at him and smiled.
“I've never seen a black cock before,” I said and he laughed a little, making his stomach tense and the cock in question bounce. It was one of the sexiest things I had ever seen, and my fingers twitched on his thighs.
“Just white cocks for you?”
“I live in Heckerson.”
“So mostly big bear rednecks, then?”
“Well, there's really only been a few others,” I admitted, feeling myself blush.
“Really?” he said, sounding sort of disappointed. I frowned at the tone in his voice.
“What?” I asked. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, just . . . how many others?”
“Leo. You knew that. And sometimes I go to Missoula or Butte. I've met a few guys there.”
“You fuck them?”
“No, just, you know, hand jobs mostly. I've never gone home with anyone.”
He touched the side of my face, running his thumb along my beard. “So, really, just you and the vampire? That's it?”
“His name's Leo,” I said and he shrugged. “You may have noticed that this is a pretty small town. Not a lot of options.”
“Yeah, but - “ he sat up, almost slapping his cock right into my hand, and I pleased myself by staying still. We both sort of looked down and watched together as I carefully ran one finger up the underside of his penis, making him shiver.
“But aren't there any other gay people here?” He reached out to cup the back of my neck and drew me down for a kiss.
“Yeah, but I haven't talked to them. They're mostly seasonal kids from the ski hill.”
“Why don't you get to know them? Don't you get lonely? Horny?”
“Yes, fuck yes, but -” I shrugged, unable to articulate. “I'm too scared I guess.”
He let a few heartbeats go by, then kissed me softly again and tugged at me, urging me to lie back on top of him.
“Well,” he said softly. “We'll just have to make this good then. To make up for lost time.”
“Sounds great to me,” I said, and kissed him again.
“So you've only fucked the vampire,” he said musingly, when we broke apart again. “Or does he fuck you? Which way do you like?”
“We - I mean, he - “ I shook my head, wanting to get Leo out of my mind and out of the conversation. “I don’t really want to do that.”
His eyebrows came together again. “No?”
“I'd really like to fuck you,” I said quietly, and his expression wavered. “But not right now,” I added. “Just, I mean – we don’t really know each other and –”
“It’s okay,” he said, and he pressed the condom into my hand. I took it from him, feeling our fingers kiss, and he laid back, his legs wantonly spread, completely relaxed. I wanted to apologize for all of it, for how I looked and my reluctance and for my shitty trailer, and for the weird smell coming off my second-hand couch, and for my poverty. Of course he was feeling relaxed; it wasn't his life on display.
I wasn’t sure what he was wanted to happen. He may have been as relaxed as melted butter, but I felt like I was seventeen again, fumbling and nervous and tongue-tied. He watched me expectantly, lazily running one hand up and down his own chest, and I knelt between his legs, fully clothed from the waist down and gawking at him in sort of a dazed bewilderment. Hot, I'm sure.
For lack of anything else to do, and because the silence was getting awkward, I did the only thing I could think of, which was to just suck his cock into my mouth. In terms of distracting him from my embarrassing immobility, it worked extremely well. He gasped and arched up off the couch, his hands flying down to tangle in my hair. On my own end, however, things could have been better; I had misjudged the size of him and the end of his cock jammed into the back of my throat, making my eyes water and tickling my gag reflex. Time to regroup, as inconspicuously as possible.
“Condom, condom,” he gasped from up above me, and I pulled off of him. A string of spit trailed from my mouth to his cock and I wiped my mouth hastily.
“Use a condom,” he told me breathlessly, fumbling it towards me.
“Oh.” I fumbled with it, my numb fingers unable to gain purchase. Finally, I raised it to my mouth and tore at it with my teeth. I wasn't used to condoms, and he wriggled impatiently as he waited for me to get it on him.
“Sorry.” I managed to roll it down, giving him a squeeze and his hips rolled under my hands.
“Ebron,” he whined and I settled myself back between his legs.
I let my mouth go slack and took a few deep calming breaths, then just laved his cock with my tongue, licking up to the head and taking it all into my mouth. The unpleasant chemical taste of the latex threw me, and I drew back for a second. He didn't seem to notice my burning face and I braved onwards, hopeful of smooth sailing ahead. I steeled myself against the taste, breathing through my nose and focusing on the thin, dark skin of his thighs. Taking him a little deeper into my mouth, I wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and gave a few strokes.
He made wonderful little inarticulate sounds, which was nic
e, and tugged on my hair hard enough to hurt, which was nicer. My knee dug into a spring in the couch cushion and I awkwardly jerked my leg forward, bracing one foot against the floor. I started wondering if I should take my pants off, or keep going.
Christ, I was too fucking nervous. I kept glancing up at him, trying to measure the extent of his pleasure by the frequency of his groans. The length of time between us talking and me having his cock in my mouth felt too short. I felt hopelessly behind, like I had missed some vital part of a conversation.
Well, maybe enthusiasm could make up for my confusion. I let some spit dribble down behind his balls and slicked up my fingers without taking my mouth off his cock. Then I carefully pressed his thighs apart, and slid one finger in between them.
“Good, good,” he panted from above me, and encouraged, I pressed harder, crooking my finger inside him. Marcus let out a long hiss and exhaled a moan, his hands groping at my shoulders.
I lifted my head, meeting his eyes, and his were burning, intense. I wondered how I looked to him. I wondered what I felt.
He nodded, his lips parted and his eyes bright. “Get your clothes off,” he said heavily, and swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
“Oh,” I said, and stood up to tug my pants off gracelessly. There was no real way to do it sexy, and I probably would have died of embarrassment if I had tried, so I just shucked them off as fast as I could and tossed them on the rest of the laundry. My shorts came off next, and I felt about a second's worth of acute humiliation before he just lunged forward and pulled my naked ass on top of him, clamping his mouth to mine.
We kissed wildly for a bit. His hands were all over me, running up and down my back and squeezing my ass and then flying back up to my face to cup my jaw. I tried to reciprocate as best I could, sucking on his neck and thrusting against him slowly.
“Oh, God, Ebron, please, please . . .” he moaned and that just got me all kinds of bothered. His body bucked underneath me, and I slid down between his knees again.
“Okay?” I asked. It seemed impolite to not at least get permission.
“Yes, God, fuck, come on.” He gripped my hair, holding me in place. I took him into my mouth again and sucked. My shoulder wedged too tightly under his thigh and I couldn’t get a good angle, making his cock bulge against the inside of my cheek.
“Sorry,” I said again and drew back to arrange myself better. I could still feel myself blushing, feeling utterly ridiculous for all my clumsy fumbling.
But God, when it worked, it worked, and he gasped when I thrust my finger back inside him. A long shudder went through him and I felt him relax, his asshole loosening and drawing me in. Honestly, it had been a while since I had been on this end of things, and I couldn't remember Leo ever feeling like this. Marcus's insides felt like molten lava, and the way his fingernails scratched into my hair, and how his knees slid up my arms - God, it was all so perfect.
“You feel so good,” I told him. I ran my tongue against the underside of his erection and he groaned. With Leo, I liked dirty talk, even surprised myself sometimes at my own lewdness, but now I couldn’t shake my self-conscious awkwardness. Everyone loves a compliment, though, and the brief, breathless smile he gave me made me want to just fuck him until he screamed.
“You, too, fuck yeah,” he replied, clutching at my back. “God, sorry, not gonna last, sorry, God, babe, suck me.”
I groped for my own hard cock, the pleasure building up inside me. I found to my surprise that I was moaning a little too, my face smashed up between his legs. Too much, I thought frantically, I was being too rough, shoving my finger ruthlessly against his prostate and bobbing on his dick mindless of my teeth, but he wasn't complaining, just gasping and panting beneath me. He whispered things that were hardly more than pleas.
“God, Ebron, yeah, gonna come ...” he gasped and I redoubled my efforts, hollowing my cheeks to suck him harder. He threw his head back and howled, his whole body going rigid. The cock in my mouth pulsed, the come caught in the condom and my rhythm faltered a bit in sort of dumb amazement. It seemed like a shock, that I had made him come.
He recovered quickly, grabbing me behind the neck and pulling me down for a searing kiss. “Come on, baby,” he said against my mouth. “Don't hold back. Come for me.”
My hand had started back up again on its own, jerking with determination. He slid against me, moving so that I could kiss him again, sucking on his lip and bracing my free hand against the arm of the couch. It didn't take long. The pleasure had been building slowly, but it almost surprised me when I came, jerking into my fist with a long, low gasp.
“Sorry,” I said immediately when I could form words again, glancing down between us at the stickiness on my fingers, on his thighs.
He laughed a little, high and giddy. “Why?”
“I was too rough.”
“No, you were perfect. Come here.”
“But - “ he cut me off with a lazy kiss, his body all languid and warm.
“Don't worry about it,” he said when he let me up for air. “I'm fine.”
“Yeah, but . . .” I started again, and he sighed in exasperation.
“Ebron. I'm fine. Will you shut up and cuddle me?” He grabbed my shoulder, pulling me down against his warm belly.
We burrowed together, our bodies wrapped loosely around each other. It was warm enough in the trailer to lie comfortably without a blanket, and for a while it was lovely, basking there in post-coital bliss with Marcus nuzzling my neck and his fine large hands tracing my ribs. But I heard my phone buzzing somewhere in the vicinity of my clothes, and that woke me up to the realization that the light outside was failing fast, and despite being 85% sure than Leo wouldn't really care that I had been with someone else, I really didn't want him to show up while we were still in such a delicate state.
“We got to get cleaned up,” I said, and he stretched a little in that reluctant-to-move way, but sat up and glanced around for his clothes.
I struggled out of the tangle of limbs and grabbed my pants, tugging them on while taking out my phone. Fuck. Fuck. It was already past four thirty. Leo would be home soon and there was no way that he wasn't going to walk in and get blasted in the nose with our sex smells. I looked at Marcus and saw him watching me with a guarded look in his eyes.
“You okay?” he said, smiling a little ruefully. “Regrets already?”
“No,” I said, softening. I leaned over to kiss him on the lips. “No, just . . . Leo will be here soon and I don't want him to walk in on us.”
“Is he going to be mad?” I watched him pinch off the condom, holding it between two fingers.
“I'm . . . not certain.”
He nodded, and gathered his clothes. “Can I use your shower? Little gooey over here.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, relieved. That was good. Maybe he would at least be able to wash off some of the smell.
He gave me another of those careful smiles, and headed down the hall. I waited until I heard the door click before I checked my text messages.
It was Dahlia again. “Possible witch sighting!” it read. “Downtown near your store.”
My mind immediately supplied the image of Corvin and Morgan, watching me from across the street of Hot Shots cafe. I thumbed a quick response, “How many?” and then tossed my phone down to pick up one of the towels and wipe at the semen drying on my hand. I should have gotten into the shower with Marcus, at least to get rid of some of the physical evidence. I looked out the window at the darkening sky. My stomach rolled, tightening painfully. I couldn’t stop myself from drumming against my own knee. The sound of the shower seemed absurdly loud.
I should have a plan, I decided. Something to distract Leo right off the bat. He was all action, and he would want to move, to fight, and get our problems out of the way. The best way I had of doing that was to offer the evidence I had collected during the day - Aubrey's story about the people at the reservoir, Cody finding blood up on Blacktail, and Dahlia's text. And of course,
Marcus's confession, as it were. We'd be heading out to hunt the witches within the hour, I guessed.
I found my shirt and pulled it on, then stood up to grab my socks. I was very aware of my index finger on my left hand. My cock felt tingly, and I thought again that I should shower. Leo would think that I had left the scents on me deliberately.
The clock on my phone read ten to five. I looked back towards the bathroom. Maybe I'd have time. At the very least I could wash my hands. I was just starting back in that direction when I heard boots on the front steps.
I just went deer-in-the-highlights still, frozen standing there with a come rag in one hand and my phone in the other. My eyes darted around the room, noting the discarded condom wrapper lying on the floor near my scattered laundry, right on top of a ragged, old Van Halen tee shirt. The couch looked rumpled, the pillows all shoved against one arm where Marcus had been resting his head. There was no wet spot that I could see, but even with my weak human nose I smelled sex. I dropped the come rag and hastily pulled some of my clean clothes off the laundry pile to cover it.
Keys jangled in the lock and then Leo stood there, entering in his silent, fluid way. He looked at me for a long time after he closed the door behind him, his eyes fixed on me, but his nose delicately flaring. The expression on his face was one of surprise, rather than anger or hurt.
“Leo . . .” I said, and then my voice broke and I was surprised to find that my eyes were swimming with tears.
His eyes narrowed a little, and he took a small breath, but he didn't say anything.
“Leo,” I said again. My voice sounded strange to me, all thick and low. “I'm sorry.”
He scoffed. “Twice in two days, Ebron, I walk in here to smell that fucking witch all over the place.”
“I know, I'm sorry-”
“Don't be sorry,” he interrupted, his eyes still fixed on me. “We're not fucking married, Ebron. You can fuck who you like.”
I nodded, looking up a little so that the tears wouldn't spill down my face. There was a long, uncomfortable silence, where Leo just stood there and several dozen emotions flooded through me, everything from relief to amusement to hurt. I landed on anger, near the end, and stuck on it. Naturally he wouldn't give a shit if I fucked anyone else. He would have had to care about me to mind, and he never had.