Robert gasped, shock spreading with mind-numbing speed. The old woman's screams and wails filled the street, and traffic screeched to a stop. People gathered around the bus stop and shouted for help. Simon stood immobile in the chaos, oblivious to the cries around him, and their eyes locked. Something in his eyes said it. The sadness. He was responsible somehow. The old woman in the hospital, the newspaper photo, the club... those weren't coincidences.
Had Simon killed those people? A serial killer? The club was an accident, but the hospital, the photo, the old man.... He ran his hand through his hair and stared at Simon. His heart raced and his mouth went dry. Fear twisted in his gut and his throat tightened. His mind reeled. Shock and uncertainty hit him, drowning out thought. Simon studied him, and a chill ran down Robert's spine. Simon turned slowly and walked away. More confused than ever, Robert staggered back to his apartment trying to sort out what he'd seen.
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Chapter Five
The knock echoed through his apartment. Robert jumped and spun to look at the front door.
He'd been on edge since he got home hours ago, expecting Simon to come pounding on his door. He'd considered calling Jerry and telling him about what he'd seen, but it all sounded so weird and creepy. Every time he thought he should call and had rehearsed what he'd say, it just sounded like insane babblings. It wasn't like Simon had threatened him—just the opposite. He felt safe with him.
Robert stared at the hardwood door, wondering if he should answer the knock.
"Robert,” Simon called. “Can we talk?"
He swallowed hard and said nothing.
"Please?"
He pursed his lips together, wishing Simon would just leave.
The sound of shuffling feet drifted from outside into his apartment.
"It's... hard to explain. I was hoping you'd let me."
Maybe he had gotten things wrong. What if it was just a strange set of weird events?
He stared at the blank TV in front of him, debating whether to open the door or not. The quiet of the late evening descended, and he couldn't be sure if Simon had left or not. Getting to his feet, he took a deep breath and stared at the door. The clock over the TV ticked, each second beating through the small apartment. The heavy air sucked the life out of the room, and he moved to the entry hall. He pressed his ear to the door and listened for the sound of Simon outside.
"Tell me to leave and I will,” Simon whispered from the other side.
"Tell me it's not what I think,” Robert said.
"It's not what you think."
He unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open. The chain caught the heavy wood, leaving it to hang open just a few inches.
Simon stood in the hall, his eyes were dark with worry and hints of crow's feet creased his face. Tiny lines of age accented the frown on his supple lips. Robert wouldn't have called him striking, but the more he looked at him, the more Simon stood out. His strong Roman nose, firm chin, and those eyes. Those dark, haunted eyes.
"What are you?” What, not who.
"May I come in?"
Robert hesitated. There had been countless times Simon could have hurt him, but he had saved him instead. The memory of his strong arms wrapped around him as the lights collapsed stirred his blood more than he thought it should. Their night together, Simon's arms, his kiss—God, how he'd loved the taste of him. He ached to hold him again. He hated to admit he wanted to touch him. He at least owed him the chance to explain.
He closed the door, unlocking the chain before letting Simon inside.
"I saw you with the old man. You touched him and he fell in the street. Did he die?” Robert asked.
"Yes."
"You didn't help him. You could have helped him. You could have pulled him out of the way. Like you did for me."
"I shouldn't have done that."
Robert stared at him, a shocked numbness spreading over him and fear beginning to creep under his skin. His chest tightened as he searched Simon's face. He had thought things were—He shook his head. He didn't know what he thought.
"You shouldn't have saved me?” Robert asked.
Simon hesitated. “I didn't say I regretted it."
"What are you?"
Simon took a deep breath and met his gaze. His dark eyes grew intense with power, and a chill ran down Robert's spine. The moment was gone and Simon returned to his usual quiet, sad self.
"You tell me."
Robert backed into the couch. He didn't think he wanted to know. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. A strange panic gripped his chest and he tried to blink Simon into focus. His image blurred and faded. Thoughts and memories tumbled through him and disappeared before he could grasp them. It was getting harder to focus on Simon. Harder to see him, to think about him. Dizziness washed over him, as if he had been living a dream these past few days.
"Don't. Please,” Simon begged. His voice cracked in the dim room. “Robert, the moment you don't want to know, everything will change. Please don't do that. It's been so long...."
Robert grabbed his head, trying to focus. Simon's image began to fade, drifting away like smoke. His chest ached as if he was losing something important. Something real. He moaned with the pain, and panic ate at his chest. Something screamed at him not to let it go, but he couldn't remember what “it” was. The world twisted and spun, his mind reeled. These past days were just some strange dream he'd had while recovering from the shock at the club. That had to be it.
Strong hands reached for him, pulling him close. Gentle lips brushed against his mouth. He closed his eyes. The longing in that kiss. The sweet taste of winter on his tongue, strong hands holding him, the bite of Simon's musk filled his senses. Memories snapped back. He shook his head and a wave of dizziness washed over him. The whole world seemed to snap back into focus as Simon's lips left his.
Robert swallowed the worry creeping into his chest. “What just happened?"
"I didn't want to lose how special you are. Do you know now how long it's been since someone wanted to know me? No one wants to know me. They don't see me, but you did."
"What are you?"
"Can we just not worry about that? You just almost left, forgot me like a dream, willed me away from your sight and memory. You didn't want to know. I am, most likely, what you think I am. I take things and deliver them... elsewhere."
A chill ran down Robert's spine. He couldn't bring himself to say the word. He walked into the kitchen, needing some space. His mind reeling, he wiped his damp palms on his pants and tried to stay calm.
Easier said than done.
His mind turned over everything Simon had told him as he opened the fridge for something to drink that was stronger than milk. Not even a beer to be found.
He cleared his throat and closed the fridge. “Others don't see you?"
"No, they don't want to, so they don't."
Robert thought about the club, how the waitresses had ignored Simon, how he had walked through the crowd like a ghost. How Jerry hadn't noticed him or even really remembered he had existed. So unusual for Jerry. A hero would have had him drooling. In the hospital no one had stopped him as he left the old woman's room. The sound of the machine as it flatlined still rang in his ears. The old arguing couple and the photo of the pile up. How Robert had almost forgotten him?
Robert closed his eyes. Death? Simon didn't look like Death. No dark robes, skull face, or scythe, just the face of the man he had grown to care about.
His mouth went dry, and he forced himself to swallow. “Am I next?"
Robert couldn't bear to look at him. Worried what he'd see in those dark eyes. He stared at the front of the refrigerator.
"Everyone dies, Robert, but no. Not today."
He relaxed a notch, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Soon?"
"I don't know times, I just know when I'm called to a soul, that's all."
"And at the club? Was I supposed to die then?"
"I..
. delayed a series of events that's all. No, you weren't to die there."
Robert's head spun, a heavy weight growing in his chest. It squeezed his lungs making it hard to breathe. “I saw another one. Like you, I think. He was watching you."
"When I interfered, I changed things. I'm supposed to put you back on track."
"And my eventual death,” Robert whispered. His head reeled and fear choked him. How was he supposed to respond to that?
"Like I said, everyone dies."
"Everyone but you."
Simon said nothing and Robert took a deep breath trying to wrap his head around things.
He stared down at the kitchen counter a long moment before gathering up the courage to look across the tiny kitchen at Simon. “I don't want to die, Simon. Please don't let me die."
"Don't ask for things when you don't know the consequences of your request,” Simon said. “Don't ask for that, please. Take it back."
"Why? No!” Fear choked him and his voice cracked. He fought to keep a handle on his emotions, but it was all too much too soon. He gasped for air and looked away, panting around the deep hole that had just opened up in his soul.
He didn't want to die. He didn't want to leave. The very idea that it would all be over soon tore at his guts. He had just gotten what he had dreamed of. A quiet prince with all the trimmings.
"Robert, please."
A heavy silence fell between them.
"Would it have been easier if I had let you forget me? Greedy of me, perhaps, to want such a thing. To keep you as you are. I didn't want to be a half-forgotten dream to you. It's been so very long—"
Robert hesitated, uncertain, trying to squash the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He looked down at the mock marble counter top and ran his hand over the speckled surface. The sound of Simon's footsteps whispered across the tile floor behind him.
"Please, Robert. Take it back."
The heat of Simon's breath on his neck sent a tingle down his spine. Turning to face him, Robert shook his head, emotions tearing him in all directions.
Simon bent down and kissed him. Robert wasn't certain of anything anymore. His chest tightened and confusion made him lightheaded. Passion teased his mouth, and the taste of winter tingled on his tongue, so enticing. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe.
He jerked his mouth away and tried to put some space between them. Simon grabbed his face, jerking him back. Hot lips smothered his mouth. Robert fought the sweet arousal of his demanding touch. So present, so hot.
"Simon—” The protest sounded weak even to his own ears.
Simon kissed him again, pressing him into the fridge. The handle bit into his spine and hands pulled his hips close. The fierce friction of Simon's cock against his made him moan. His confusion gave way to lust. Simon's body so close, the warmth, the taste of his kiss. Robert gasped for air, tearing his lips away.
The pain and sadness in Simon's eyes tore at his soul. A pleading look. For what he wasn't sure. Understanding?
A gentle hand stroked his cheek, and Robert winced and looked away.
"Please, Robert,” Simon whispered.
The emotion in his voice made Robert's heart ache, and soft lips brushed against his neck. His resistance shattered and he turned to meet Simon's kiss. He burned with need so intense it crushed worry and doubt. He felt complete. The memory of Simon's touch, the longing in his voice. Robert pulled Simon closer, fingers tangling in his hair. Tongues battled, the taste of him so different. Addictive. Strange, how the touch of Death could make him feel so alive.
Simon's groin pressed against him, stiff and demanding. Robert's cock ached, throbbing, needing to be free of the clothes confining him. He reached for Simon, annoyed by the shirt and desperate to feel bare skin against him. Cloth twisted through his fingers as he fumbled for the buttons. Impatience took over and buttons popped and shot across the room. Simon's hands were no less hungry helping him strip. He wanted more of that demanding touch. Robert hands searched for skin as hot breath sent a shudder down his spine. He buried his head in Simon's neck, tasting his skin, inhaling his scent. The tingle of salt danced on his tongue and he reached for the top of Simon's pants.
The fridge rocked behind them as Simon's desperate hand pulled his pants loose. Strong fingers wrapped around his cock, freeing Robert from the confines of his pants. A small moan escaped him. Each stroke brought him closer to the edge as he reached for Simon. He jerked Simon's pants open, eager to feel the smooth, stiff cock beneath. Simon's moan rasped against Robert's neck, and he shuddered as teeth nipped at his skin.
He felt the pressure building as little nips teased his nipples. He stroked faster, hoping to bring Simon closer. Wanting him inside, cock buried so deep.
A second later Simon moved, bending him over against the kitchen counter, hip bones grinding into the edge. Something tumbled behind him as Simon's hand returned to his cock, and an oil slick finger slipped into Robert's ass. Then another, the burn, the ache, that wonderful spot. He wanted more.
His hands tried to find a hold on the smooth counter top without success. Simon demanded control, and Robert gave it to him. He wanted Simon to take him, have him, fuck him until he screamed. He stifled a cry of pleasure and pain at the rough handling. The dull pressure of Simon's cock hovered at his entrance. Simon jerked them together, diving deep. Pain and pleasure exploded around him. He cried out, his tight ass stretching, burning—the heat so intense it took his breath away. His balls rose, need for release building, as Simon worked his way deeper, each thrust filling him so that every stroke moved Simon deeper and rubbed against that sweet spot. He wanted more. God, he ached for it.
Simon's hands grabbed his hips, pulling him back into the final thrust and filling him completely.
Robert cried out, lightheaded with pleasure. Simon ground into him, each thrust more frantic and demanding. His grip grew vise-like, fingers digging in with every thrust. Robert felt the pressure building, the hot ache as his balls rose. The need for release so close, he hovered on the edge.
"Oh fuck, Simon,” Robert gasped, begging for that final push.
Simon pulled out slowly. Robert whimpered, afraid he'd stop. A sudden push tipped him over the edge. He shuddered with orgasm as the explosive release hit him. His whole body tingled and legs gave out as he came. Simon's grip on his hips tightened, keeping him from slipping.
Robert felt a primal growl, the quake of Simon deep inside him before he collapsed on top like a warm blanket. The sound of their harsh breathing rang through the still air.
They lay panting across the counter, neither wanting to move. Robert didn't think he could, even if he tried. Weak with pleasure, Simon's arms around him like a vise. He loved the feel of such strength around him. A possessive, demanding strength.
Simon moved first and stroked his cheek. “I didn't hurt—"
"No. I'm fine, more than fine."
The tickle of Simon's stubble brushed the back of Robert's neck as he carefully released him. Robert stood on his own two feet and turned to face him. Simon's eyes were intense pools of liquid brown.
Simon's arms wrapped around him, and Robert held him tight.
"Don't forget me, Robert. Please don't forget me."
"I won't. I promise."
Kisses showered his neck and shoulder, as Simon's arms held him close. He buried his head into Simon's chest and neck, wanting their small moment to last forever.
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Chapter Six
Simon stared down at the bowl of fluffy white and yellow popped corn Robert set in his lap.
Robert laughed. “It's just popcorn."
"I see that. It just looks strange."
"You've never had popcorn?"
Simon stared down at the bowl as Robert plopped down on the couch beside him. “I don't recall ever eating corn."
"You're serious? Do you eat?"
"I suppose I could. I've just never seemed to have the need."
Robert reached into t
he bowl and pulled out a single fluffy piece. “Open up."
Simon hesitated but opened his mouth. Salt and butter and an odd sweet, almost wheat flavor spread over his tongue. The fluffy bit melted, as if deflating against his palate. The strange texture morphed in his mouth even before he could swallow.
Robert's eyes never left his face as he pondered the new taste. “Well? What do you think?"
"I'm not sure. Different. I wasn't sure what to expect."
"How long has it been since you've eaten?"
Simon smiled, his eyes traveling slowly over Robert's body as he remembered the previous night. “I suppose that depends on what you'd consider a meal."
Robert laughed. “You do have a sense of humor after all. I like this side of you."
Robert grabbed the popcorn and shifted to sprawl across Simon's lap so that he was propped against the arm of the couch. Simon ran his hand through Robert's thick black hair and turned back to the TV. Such a normal thing to be doing like sitting on a couch watching TV. Oddly comforting.
Robert's hand reached out and touched a scar on his bare chest that stretched several inched across his chest and down his ribs. “Where did this come from?"
The scar had faded with the years but still dominated his chest. “A sword."
"A sword?” Robert echoed.
The incredulous tone in his voice made Simon smile. “Or it might have been an ax. It's been a very long time. War is bloody business. The blade sliced through my armor. I was left to die on the battlefield."
"You died?"
Simon ran his hand over Robert's cheek. “No. I'm still very much alive. Why? Do I seem dead to you?"
"No, anything but."
He watched a moment as Robert munched on popcorn from the bowl sitting on his chest and reached out to take another piece.
"Careful, it's addicting."
Simon frowned, pulling his hand away from the bowl. “Addiction isn't a good thing, Robert. It can be very dangerous."
Robert laughed. “It's a joke, babe. I just mean that once you get to like it, you'll want more. It's not bad for you really, not like a drug or something. You'll just like it a lot."
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