by Willa Okati
The world didn’t feel exactly real.
Like falling asleep or waking from a dream…
Sully wet his lips and tried to work his throat to speak. “What… what happened to me?” he croaked.
“You don’t remember?”
“I remember… lots of things. Things I’m not sure I was meant to know. Just not how it started.” Sully looked from Melissa, her multicolored hair tangled over her cheeks, to Jonathan, sleepy-eyed but intense. “Jonathan. You said something to me. Before. What was it?” He rubbed his head. “This is so fucked up.”
“You told me you’d spent the day running away from a story that wanted to be told,” Jonathan reminded him gently. “I told you to let the story happen. You began to draw, and… well, look around you. At the floor, at your drawing table.”
Sully blinked as he focused on what had to be half a dozen sketchbooks’ worth of pages carelessly cast around his feet. They were covered in half-done portraits, symbols and glyphs, and what he could only guess was his handwriting at its worst.
It looked like days and days’ worth of work. Hard work.
“How long was I gone?”
“Last night. Today. It’s just now struck midnight.” Jonathan captured Sully’s hand and began kneading his cramped fingers, making Sully realize just how god-awful-damn-that-hurt they felt. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Can you tell us what happened?”
A million things raced through Sully’s mind at the question. Drawling Cajun accents. The smell of sugary beignets and wickedly strong coffee. Being completely unable to see and then seeing again, but not through his own eyes either time.
Graffiti.
Remy.
Donovan.
Sully reached for the final page on his drawing board. Unlike the others shoved out of the way, this portrait was complete. A beautiful young man with a bandana around his forehead. A strong guy, not handsome but interesting, with messy short hair. A dog sitting between them.
“I think,” he said slowly, “what happened was a happy ending. I think I drew them their ever-after. They wouldn’t have had one without me.”
“Who are ‘they’?” Jonathan queried.
Melissa simply hugged Sully tight, her sweet scent of peaches filling his senses. “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer right away. Whoever these are, if they have a happy ending, that’s all we need to know.”
“Yeah.” Sullivan found himself smiling. “Yeah. I think you’re right.” Turning from one lover to the other, he kissed each pair of lips, the flavors of man and woman combining on his tongue. “Since I found my own, I like happy endings.”
He looked up and sniffed the air. “Is that coffee I smell?”
“He’s back,” Jonathan said, grinning. “Yes. We just brewed a pot. Would you like a cup?”
Sully considered the question. “Actually, could we save the java for a nightcap?”
“If you like. What would you rather have?”
“Both of you. In bed. Now is good,” Sully suggested hopefully.
“He really is back,” Jonathan chortled, right before Sully tackled him to the floor and dragged Melissa along for the ride. They rolled among the fallen pages, hands and mouths everywhere they could reach, limbs twining together, cocks and asses and pussy grinding together.
And above them, resting in peace on the drawing table, Remy and Donovan smiled out at the world.
Maybe not in this world, but somewhere out there, together, they were indeed going to live happily ever after.
Willa Okati
Willa Okati is one hundred percent in love with all things vampire and supernatural. However, she’s an even bigger fan of stories that feature beautiful men exploring their desires for one another. Casually known as the “blue-haired, tattooed wench” among Changeling folks, she lives for the fun of acting just as young as she feels. She’d love for you to visit her website at http://www.willaokati.com, join her reader’s loop for fun and chatter at [email protected], or look for Willa at http://blog.myspace.com/willaokati. Happy reading!