by Ally Blue
Like I hurt you before. Only so much worse, because I won’t be in control anymore.
As good as it would feel to give himself up completely to the experience of making love with Greg, he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t risk it. If he did and anything happened to Greg, he’d never forgive himself.
Greg framed Adrian’s face between his hands and stared into his eyes. “Don’t be afraid, Adrian. You won’t hurt me.”
Adrian swallowed. “If I’m not in control, I might.”
“You won’t. Your subconscious mind won’t let you.” That look, the one Adrian knew but feared to name, shone in Greg’s eyes. “I trust you.”
I trust you. They weren’t the three words Adrian most wanted to hear, but they reverberated in his soul anyway. Bending forward, he hid the tightness in his throat behind a slow, searching kiss.
He didn’t stop until his flagging arousal recovered and the familiar psychokinetic energy began to spark along his spine. By the time he pulled back, he was fully hard again and Greg had gone back to moaning and seesawing his hips.
“All right,” Adrian whispered, watching Greg’s face. “I won’t hold back. Promise you’ll tell me if you want me to get control again.”
Greg blinked a few times, then nodded. “Promise.”
Bracing himself on his elbows, Adrian shut his eyes and concentrated. He’d never deliberately dropped all the careful controls he’d built over the years. It was harder than he’d thought it would be.
Finally, he pictured his restraint of his power as a giant hand. He imagined the fingers unfolding, the palm opening and his psychokinesis bursting out like a flock of birds.
The effect was instantaneous. The familiar sensation prickled over Adrian’s skin, magnified to a near-painful intensity. He let out a cry. Greg echoed it, his back arching off the bed. His hole clamped down on Adrian’s cock, and it was all Adrian could do to keep himself from coming right then.
“Oh fuck,” Greg gasped, his thighs shaking. “Fuck, ’s good.”
“Y…you like it? Oh, God.” Adrian ducked his head and started pounding into Greg as hard as he could when another wave of energy hit him. He couldn’t help it. He felt dizzy and breathless with the urge to move, to fuck with everything in him. And God it felt good to just let go and do it. “Okay?”
Greg nodded. “’M okay. Close.”
Something blunt scraped across Adrian’s lower belly. After a moment, he realized it was Greg’s hand, trapped between their bodies, moving hard and fast on his cock.
Knowing that Greg not only wasn’t hurt, but got off on the jolt, killed the last of Adrian’s qualms. Burying his face in the curve of Greg’s neck, he drove his cock into Greg’s ass in a punishing rhythm.
His power swirled over and around and through him like a drug, and God, it felt incredible. Through the rush of blood in his ears, Adrian heard books tumble from the shelf near his bed. An electric current buzzed and sparked all over his skin. Invisible fingers pinched, scratched, yanked his hair, toyed with his balls. The smell of male sex rode the air like a powerful perfume, much stronger than it should have been. In the lust-ridden haze of his brain, Adrian wondered if Greg felt it too, and what he thought of it if he did.
As if in answer to Adrian’s half-thought question, Greg moaned, his free hand clutching at Adrian’s back. “Oh. God. Coming, oh, oh fuck!”
His body shook, his ass rippling around Adrian’s cock. Warm, slippery fluid spread between his belly and Greg’s, and the feel of it was one sensation too many. Adrian came with a keening cry, his cock buried deep in Greg’s body and Greg’s scent all around him. He sought Greg’s mouth and claimed a messy but passionate kiss while his release thumped through him.
After a blissful eternity, the floaty feeling began to fade from Adrian’s head as he came down from his orgasmic high. Allowing his softened cock to slip from Greg’s hole, he broke the kiss and rolled sideways, pulling Greg into his arms. He cast a glance around his apartment. Books littered the floor near the bookshelf, all his cabinets stood open and his comforter had somehow ended up on the other side of the room, but there didn’t seem to be any major damage.
Turning back to Greg, Adrian studied him with a critical eye. He looked to be completely unharmed, and Adrian knew that he himself wasn’t hurt. “You okay?”
“Mmmmm.” Greg propped his chin on Adrian’s chest and gazed at him with half-closed eyes and a sated smile. “I am beyond okay. I am fucking drunk with goddamn well-fucked.”
Adrian laughed. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Sure it does. It means you and your awesome mojo fucked me upside down and sideways and I love it.” The smile widened to a goofy grin. “We are so doing that again.”
Looking into Greg’s contented face, Adrian felt the burden he’d carried for the last ten years fall from his shoulders. I let go. I let my psychokinesis have free rein, during sex of all times, and nothing terrible happened. Greg’s okay.
Relief made Adrian bold. Laying a hand on Greg’s cheek, he finally found the courage to say the words he’d held inside for far too long. “I love you, Greg.”
Greg looked startled for a moment, then his face lit up brighter than the winter sunshine pouring through the window. “That’s good, because I’d hate to be in love all by myself.”
He loves me. I was right.
Pure happiness ballooned in Adrian’s chest until he thought he’d burst. Smiling, he tucked a tangled curl behind Greg’s ear. “So. You hungry?” He yawned.
“Not really. But I’m as wiped out as you look.” Stretching forward, Greg pressed a kiss to Adrian’s lips. “Let’s have a nap. We can call for pizza later.”
“Okay.” Adrian’s eyelids drooped. He hauled them back up. “You want me to grab a washcloth so we can clean up a little?”
Greg rolled off of Adrian, grabbed the corner of the sheet and swabbed the semen off both of their bellies. “There. All clean.” He gave Adrian another kiss—longer this time, and with more tongue—then snuggled against his chest with a contented sigh. “Now go to sleep.”
Chuckling, Adrian put his arms around Greg and rested his cheek on Greg’s head.
Drifting in the twilight just below wakefulness, in love for the first time and lying in bed with Greg naked in his arms, Adrian felt a perfect peace wash through him. After all he’d been through in his life, he thought he deserved a little happiness. He sure as hell intended to enjoy it.
Adrian nuzzled Greg’s hair and let sleep carry him away.
Epilogue
The spring semester had been over for a week, but the UNC campus was more crowded than it had been since basketball season ended. School officials had even elected to leave one of the dorms open for any students who wanted to stay for today’s event. A couple hundred—mostly history and anthropology majors—had chosen to remain.
Adrian couldn’t blame them. After all, it wasn’t every day the school held a memorial service for a man who’d been murdered over one hundred years ago. If he hadn’t already been staying in town for the summer to work with Dr. Perez, he would’ve hung around for the service anyway.
He was just glad Greg had agreed to share Adrian’s apartment and had been able to find work in town. As much as he looked forward to the cutting-edge research in which he’d be involved, a summer without Greg would’ve been unbearable.
On this particular May morning, however, Adrian thought his life looked pretty damn spectacular. He drew a deep breath scented with flowers and smiled as he and Greg made their way to the Old Chapel Hill Cemetery.
Lyndon Groome’s memorial service was scheduled to begin shortly. After an exhaustive process to positively identify the skeleton whose name Adrian already knew, the school had decided that since Lyndon had no surviving family, he should be given a place in the old cemetery. The body had been buried in private the previous day, tucked into a green corner of the graveyard and marked with a modest stone. A memorial obelisk was being placed near the center of the cemete
ry today, to tell what was known of Lyndon’s story and honor his memory.
Adrian kept the truth about Lyndon and Cassius mostly to himself. He couldn’t bear the thought of exposing their doomed romance to the scrutiny of thousands of strangers.
He only wished he could have found out what happened to Cassius. After almost a month of filing near-daily police reports under his John Davis pseudonym, the man had vanished from the face of the earth. Adrian had spent two solid weeks of digging, but had failed to turn up any further information about him. Unless the unidentified body the police found in a Chapel Hill alley in early February of nineteen-oh-six was him. Adrian fervently hoped it wasn’t.
“Wow, look at all the people,” Greg said when he and Adrian rounded the side of the theater and the cemetery came into view. “Good thing we have VIP passes.”
Laughing, Adrian squeezed Greg’s hand. “I keep telling you, there are no VIP passes. We just get to stand up front because we found the body, that’s all.”
“You found the body. I just helped you dig.” Greg glanced up and down the road, then trotted across, pulling Adrian with him. “I’m glad they decided to put Lyndon’s memorial next to the gazebo, where it’s shady. I don’t think I could take standing out in the blazing sun in a damn suit.” He shot Adrian a reproachful look. “Speaking of which, I can’t believe you talked me into wearing a suit for this thing. How’d that happen?”
Adrian grinned. “You’ll agree to anything for up to seven minutes after sex.”
One pale eyebrow arched up. “Not anymore.”
“Uh-huh.” Hooking his arm around Greg’s waist, Adrian pulled him close and kissed him. “You look absolutely gorgeous in a suit. Just so you know.”
The stern look melted from Greg’s face. “Thanks. So do you. But then again, you look gorgeous in everything. Or nothing.” He bit Adrian’s chin, eyes sparkling. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”
They weren’t, but Adrian let Greg hustle him along anyway. It was probably a good idea. Every time they got too involved in kissing, or touching, or sometimes even just staring at each other, Adrian’s psychokinesis reacted in ways that couldn’t be ignored. Mr. Mojo rising, as Greg would say, usually right before he tackled Adrian and tore his clothes off.
As much as Adrian loved those episodes, he didn’t think anyone else at the memorial service would appreciate watching.
He and Greg threaded their way through the press of people standing in groups on the pathway and in between the graves. A few minutes later, they reached the steps of the gazebo, where the chancellor and selected others stood.
Chancellor Wild gave them a wide smile. “Mr. Broussard. Mr. Woodhall. I’m so happy you could both make it.” She held out a ring-covered hand to Adrian. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for letting us stand up here with you, ma’am.” Adrian fought not to hunch his shoulders as he shook her hand. He felt horribly self-conscious with everyone watching him like he’d done something special. “Please, ma’am, just call me Adrian.”
“And I’m Greg. Mr. Woodhall’s my dad.” Flashing the smile that never failed to charm everyone around him, Greg took the chancellor’s hand and shook. “Adrian and I are just happy Lyndon Groome is being honored.”
“So am I, Greg.” She retrieved her hand and surveyed the crowd. “Well. I think it’s about time to begin.” With a nod and a smile for Greg and Adrian, she walked up the steps into the gazebo, where a man with a long ponytail and battered Bible stood waiting. She faced the crowd, and the conversation drifted into silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are here today to honor the memory of a young man who died far too soon…”
Later, after the ceremony ended and the crowd dispersed, Adrian and Greg wandered off to the corner where Lyndon was buried and sat with their backs against the spreading oak that shaded the grave. Greg stripped off his shoes and socks so he could dig his bare toes into the cool grass. Adrian wound his arm around Greg, and Greg rested his head on Adrian’s shoulder. Overhead, a bird warbled somewhere among the rustling greenery.
Adrian let out a happy sigh. This was such a lovely, peaceful spot. He thought Lyndon would’ve liked it.
“It was a nice ceremony,” Greg murmured, snuggling closer. He slipped an arm around Adrian’s waist. “I liked that poem the chaplain read.”
“‘Black Marigolds’.”
“Hm?”
“That’s the poem. ‘Black Marigolds’, by E. Powys Mathers. He only read the last verse, though. The whole thing’s a lot longer.”
“Oh.” Greg stirred in Adrian’s embrace. “Well, it was nice. I thought it fit.”
Adrian’s throat constricted. He’d gone to the chaplain in confidence before the ceremony, hoping to give him a sense of Lyndon as a person so he’d have more than dry historical narratives to work with when writing his memorial. It had worked better than Adrian had dared hope.
Closing his eyes, he repeated the words of the poem in his head.
Even now,
I know that I have savored the hot taste of life,
Lifting green cups and gold at the great feast.
And just for a small and a forgotten time
I have had full in my eyes from off my girl
The whitest pouring of eternal light.
It did fit, in spite of the female reference. Even though Lyndon and Cassius had been forced to hide what they felt for one another, they hadn’t let disapproval or even very real danger keep them apart. And in the end, Lyndon had paid the ultimate price.
We’re lucky, Greg and I. Adrian raked his fingers through Greg’s hair, kissed his forehead, cupped his cheek in one hand. I hope we never lose sight of how lucky we are.
A warmth Adrian had felt many times before caressed his mind. Startled, he glanced around. Only a few feet away, in the dappled shade over the new grave, hovered two translucent figures. One was tall and wide-shouldered, with dark hair and sparkling blue eyes. The other had short, sleek blond hair and gray eyes so familiar it made Adrian’s chest ache. The only thing unfamiliar about that face was the lack of blood and the wide, joyful smile.
Lyndon. And Cassius.
Adrian stared, his heart racing. Part of him had longed to see Lyndon again, just once. Just to know for certain that he was happy.
I guess I got my wish.
The push against Adrian’s mind intensified. Instinctively, he allowed his shields to drop. Lyndon’s energy flowed into him, and he let out a tiny gasp.
Greg sat up. “Adrian? You okay?”
Adrian couldn’t answer. He nodded.
Lyndon’s lips moved. Thank you. The words echoed in Adrian’s head. He smiled, his heart full.
Realization dawned in Greg’s eyes. Weaving his fingers through Adrian’s, he glanced toward the spot where Lyndon and Cassius stood. “Adrian? What do you see?”
Adrian pressed a soft kiss to Greg’s lips as Lyndon and Cassius faded into the sunshine. “Just a couple of old friends.”
Author Note
Hello, readers. Ally here, with some quick notes to give credit to a couple of poets whose works I’ve referenced in Love, Like Ghosts. In the scene where Adrian and Greg are walking down Franklin Street, headed for Pita Pit (a real place, by the way, with great pitas) and Adrian is thinking to himself how uncomfortable he is with PDA, the line “I have known the eyes already, known them all” goes through his head. That line is from the poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot, © copyright 1995 The Oxford Companion to American Literature. Many of you might already be familiar with that one thanks to English Lit classes in college. If not, Google it and read it, it is awesome!
In the epilogue, the last stanza of a poem is read at Lyndon’s memorial service. That poem is “Black Marigolds”, by E. Powys Mathers, © copyright renewed 2004 Margaret Gibson and Lucy L. Painter for the estate of E. Powys Mathers. I guess this one’s not quite as famous as old Prufrock, but it’s a beautiful, amazing work. Definitely look it up and read it in its ent
irety.
One other thing I’d like to mention, because I always get questions about it. If you ever read a scene in this book—or any of my books, actually—and think to yourself, “Hm, would the moon really be out that early?” or other such moon-related questions, the answer is “yes”. I refer you to my favorite website on the whole entire internet, the U.S. Naval Oceanography portal’s site for complete sun and moon data for any one day anywhere in the world:
http://aa.usno.navy.mil/data/docs/RS_OneDay.php
Yes, I’m a dork.
About the Author
To learn more about Ally Blue, please visit www.allyblue.com. Send an email to Ally at [email protected] or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Ally! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/loveisblue/.
Look for these titles by Ally Blue
Now Available:
Willow Bend
Love’s Evolution
Eros Rising
Catching a Buzz
Fireflies
Untamed Heart
The Happy Onion
Adder
Dragon’s Kiss
Bay City Paranormal Investigations Series
Oleander House
What Hides Inside
Twilight
Closer
An Inner Darkness
Where the Heart Is
Love, Like Ghosts
Can art imitate death? Oh no, girlfriend. Don’t even go there…
Hemovore
© 2009 Jordan Castillo Price
Ten years ago, the Human Hemovore Virus blazed through the world, and left the few victims who survived unable to eat, allergic to sunlight and craving the taste of blood.
Mark Hansen used to think V-positives were incredibly sexy with their pale, flawless skin and taut, lean bodies. Not anymore. Not since he’s been stuck procuring under-the-counter feline blood for his control-freak boss, Jonathan Varga. Why cat blood? Mark has never dared to ask.