Gargoyle Rising

by Meraki P. Lyhne

  “What?” Lucien whispered. “What do you want, mon coeur?”

  “Fuck, I’m so horny.” Nathan closed his eyes and ran his hands down his body to cup his balls and stroke his throbbing hard on. “That idea with the honey... your tongue on me. I love your tongue.”

  A groan escaped Lucien, and Nathan opened his eyes to look at him.

  “And your hands. On me. In me.”

  “That would be a tight fit.”

  Nathan snickered at the mental image of getting fisted. Nope, not on the program. “You know what I mean,” Nathan said, smiling seductively.

  “I do. But maybe you were airing a new fantasy.”

  “Not about that, I wasn’t. Tell me one more.”

  “As you wish.”

  Nathan groaned at the response. “The order is void, but feel free to indulge my dirty mind.”

  “As you wish. I do have one. More like a long fantasy. A vacation for the two of us.”

  Nathan perked up and continued to rinse off slowly. Lucien fondled himself and followed the trail Nathan’s hands set.

  “Or did your brain omit the word boat when I talked about a summer night with honey and my tongue all over you?”

  “I might have dialed that one out. I can’t sail a boat on my own.”

  “No one asked you to. A cruise.”

  “Oh, and I was hoping you’d lick me all over on the sundeck. Or whatever it’s called on a boat.”

  Lucien chuckled. “So somewhere by the sea?”

  “I’m up for that. Midnight swim, lovemaking on the beach, honey and berries as a midnight snack.”

  “Can I touch you soon?” Lucien growled.

  Nathan locked gazes with Lucien, and lust raced through him from the look he met. “Yeah.”

  Lucien got up and closed in on Nathan in two long strides, pulling him in for a demanding kiss. Nathan moaned and clutched him close, feeling he was cold from having sat naked on a chair while Nathan had the warm water. He reached to adjust the showerhead, feeling his lover’s skin warm up under the sprays. He wanted to wash him, too, but the idea quickly dissolved as a hand slid down his back and a finger found his ass.

  Nathan arched against him and lifted a leg to wrap around Lucien’s waist to give him room. He didn’t fear his drunken balance when Lucien held onto him, and he gave himself over to pleasure.

  “Turn around,” Lucien urged in a husky voice.

  Nathan did, hearing him scramble for something in the cabinet under the sink. When he turned his head to see what was going on, Lucien moved in to position himself, and seconds later he felt himself being filled by Lucien’s cock.

  They both let out a long moan, and Nathan shivered from pleasure. Strong arms encircled him again, and he relaxed to the slow building pleasure as Lucien set a pace of long and deep strokes.

  Perfect ending to a night out.

  “Oh, fuck, you turned me on so bad,” Lucien whispered. “Watching you.”

  Nathan could feel that Lucien was holding back, trying to keep himself in check. Nathan didn’t want him to, because his own lust made him crave to feel their passion spiral out of control. He reached back to cup the back of Lucien’s head while turning his head for a kiss.

  “It turned me on, too.”

  Their lips met in a sloppy kiss. Lucien groaned into Nathan’s mouth and sped up his thrusts. He hit that good spot in Nathan, who cried out into Lucien’s mouth. It seemed to set the big man on a mission to make Nathan moan more, because he fucked Nathan with abandon.

  “Oh, God, too good, too good,” Lucien gasped.

  The alcohol held Nathan back, and he whimpered in the hope that Lucien could hold out until the building pleasure could make it through the fog. No such luck. Lucien’s rhythm grew staccato, and he finally went rigid, clutching Nathan’s hips and pumping a few hard times before spending himself inside Nathan.

  “Uh,” Lucien cooed, a shiver racing through his body.

  Nathan panted, unable to bring himself down.

  “Don’t worry, I have a good plan for you.” Lucien turned Nathan and adjusted the showerhead again so that the water once again cascaded down the wall. He then steered Nathan to stand with his back against the wall before he slipped to his knees and took Nathan’s cock into his mouth.

  Nathan bucked into the warmth and groaned. Lucien reached up to fondle Nathan’s balls while he pushed two fingers inside Nathan’s ass. It didn’t take him long to find that good spot again, and with a mouth that skilled taking care of his dick, Nathan found pleasure rising fast and pushing passed the fog and distance he felt from his body because of the alcohol.

  “That’s it, oh, God!” Nathan whimpered. Warmth spread, and on that wave an orgasm followed, leaving Nathan shaking and panting as he convulsed against the tiles, supporting himself on Lucien’s shoulders.

  Lucien kept up the sucking and licking and the pump of his fingers in Nathan’s ass until Nathan jerked from the post-orgasm sensitivity.

  “Oh shit, that was a good plan.”

  Lucien flashed a brilliant smile. “Thought you might like that.” He stood and pulled Nathan into his arms, once again adjusting the shower head for the water to hit them both.

  The orgasm had drained Nathan completely, and he wanted nothing more than to snuggle up to Lucien and enjoy being held and loved. By the satiated look on Lucien’s face, he could use the snuggling, too.

  Chapter Eight

  Life sure had taken a turn for the stranger but also better since the Gargoyle Burkhart had shown up on Meino’s terrace. During the day, Burkhart communicated with Meino telepathically, while Meino had to speak out loud for the Gargoyle to hear him. At first, Meino had been very self-conscious about talking to himself while working in the garage, but he was alone, so he got over it in a matter of days.

  There had been terribly awkward situations, too, and new things to get used to. The first morning after Burkhart had arrived, Burkhart had chatted while Meino used the bathroom in the morning. It was not easy sitting on the toilet and know that a Gargoyle he barely knew could see through walls while Meino sat there. They had since established ground rules for the need of private time in such situations, and Burkhart stayed quiet. But being able to speak with Burkhart during work was great.

  “You know, Burkhart, if going on this trip across Europe with you is to come to pass, then we need to figure out a way to either strengthen the suspension in the car, or I’ll need a heavy-duty camper to tow behind it. And I’d have to build that one so it fits the classic car.” Meino glanced toward the wall hiding the Charger from his sight while wondering how to pull that one off. Maybe he could get one of those silver ones he’d seen used in America, the ones that looked like a tin can on wheels. He didn’t even know what they were called—he only knew he’d never seen any in Europe.

  Or I will fly to you once the sun sets.

  “That could work, too. But I’d hate to have to leave you perching on some rooftop and drive a hundred kilometers without you and not be able to share the trip and view with you.”

  We will come up with something befitting us both, I’m sure.

  “You must know some history when you’re that old. I’d love to hear about it.”

  “About what?”

  Meino spun in shock, dropping his tools and knocking over a lamp on a tripod. “Oh, shit!”

  “I’m so sorry. I thought you were talking to me,” the woman said, staring at him wide-eyed.

  “No, I was...” Burkhart’s deep laugh echoed in Meino’s head, and he could barely hear what the woman said. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said, my car won’t start,” the woman repeated, looking slightly annoyed that he wasn’t paying attention. “It’s in the parking lot at the grocery store down the street. Can you help me?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure. What kind of car is it?”

  “A BMW.”

  “I’ll get some tools. You can ride with me if you’d like.”r />
  “Thank you.”

  Meino left her to get his keys from the office, using the minute alone to talk to Burkhart again. “You could warn me about customers coming when I’m talking to you. That was embarrassing.”

  I’m sorry, I thought you had heard her open the door.

  “Yeah, well, I’ll just go to the grocery store with her.”

  I will watch from here.

  Meino smiled at that, wondering just how far the Gargoyle could see if needed. He returned to the woman and led her to his flatbed tow truck, remembering to lock up and place the sign that he’d be right back.

  “I had just finished shopping and put the groceries into the back. But the car wouldn’t start.”

  “At all? Did it try or did it merely click when you turned the key?”

  “It just clicked.”

  “Okay.” At least then he had an idea what it could be. Fifteen minutes later, he was towing her car back to the garage because it wasn’t something he could fix lying under it in a parking lot.

  “Will it take long?” she asked as she emptied the boot.

  “No. The part can be here tomorrow morning if I order it now. It’ll take about an hour to replace.”

  “Okay. Will you call me when it’s done?” She handed him a business card.

  “Sure thing.” Meino stuffed the card into the front pocket of his overalls.

  “Could you give me a ride? I have frozen goods in my bags.”

  “Oh, uhm... I have a car you can borrow until tomorrow. I’m kind of backed up with...” Meino pointed to the two cars in various states of repair, filling up his garage.

  “Oh.” She sighed disappointedly and collected her bags. “Well, I’ll try and call a friend.” She left, and Meino went to the office to order the starter.

  She has an interest in you.

  “I have an interest in getting a starter for her car,” Meino said, replaying the meeting with the woman. “Why would you say she’s interested in me? She was interested in a free ride home. I swear, some customers think taxi servicing is part of my job description and make it sound like it’s my fault or should be my problem that their car broke down on them.”

  Burkhart chuckled. No, she had a personal interest in you. I see this.

  “Oh. Well, she’s gonna be disappointed then.” Meino finished typing in the order and turned off the computer. He couldn’t do more about the two cars waiting, either, as both were waiting for parts to arrive the next morning, which was why he felt pretty sure he could get the starter by that time, too. He cleaned off his tools, washed his hands, and climbed the stairs. The sun was setting, and he had time for a shower before Burkhart would become animated.

  The thought of the woman being interested sent Meino’s mind to a fantasy he’d entertained for many years while working, about a young, buff guy with an equal interest in cars showing up with a beauty to be fixed. He’d had that fantasy for so many years that he even thought it was about to come true one day when he heard the sound of a big-block roaring past the garage. But no. He hadn’t even made it out onto the street in time to see what kind of car it was, but from the glimpse of the tail, he thought it was a mid-sixties Buick going around a corner. Since then, his fantasy guy had driven a sixty-three Buick Riviera.

  A gay man, twenty-four years old, and all Meino had slept with were women. And it had been at least four years since he’d shared time with anyone in that way. Was he pathetic? He was social only with a being made of stone—one he animated with his own soul. One who could see through walls and hear him and... and that prospect killed the growing erection that the fantasy of the Buick guy had aroused.

  He finished his shower without giving his libido the attention it craved, but being watched through a wall was not doing it for him. Well, he’d have to figure out a way to get some privacy for taking care of little things like that. Just because he was too introvert to seek out company for sex, he still had a need to blow off the pressure once in a while. He wondered whether Burkhart only ignored Meino while using the bathroom or while showering too...

  Nope, no chance he was going to entertain anything like that with a Gargoyle watching.

  Upon finishing his shower, Meino wrapped a towel around his waist and went into the kitchen. The sight of the small apartment almost clean and no longer as cluttered still made him pause sometimes. Not wanting Burkhart to think him a slob, Meino had cleaned the place and made it more presentable. Oddly enough, his garage was always tidier than his living quarters. He guessed it said something about his focus in life.

  Burkhart stood in the kitchen studying the contents of a cabinet.

  “What’s up?” Meino asked.

  “As your soul energy settles in me, so does traces of your humanity. I was wondering about the changes in me. Like...” Burkhart took out a cup to show him. “I am wondering why this cup holds such an appeal to me.”

  Meino smiled. “I found it in the window of a used goods shop a few years back. My mom had one like it, and she always drank her afternoon tea from it after we had lunch.”

  “Then that will explain my liking to the poster on the wall, too.” Burkhart placed the cup back on the shelf.

  “Which one? The Roadrunner?”

  “The green car, yes.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re turning into me. One messy-head here is enough.”

  “No, not turning into you. But I guess the spell took into account that insight into you as a human makes it easier for me to protect you—to accompany you, as is your need for me.”

  “Do you...” Meino searched for the wording while he fished out a frozen dinner from the icebox and showed it in the microwave. “Do you notice these changes in yourself?”

  “Yes. Most, anyway. I understand them by watching the other humans of your time. Your neighbors, what they watch on TV, how they talk to each other and the little humans.”

  Meino snickered. “Children?”

  “Yes. I like it when they laugh. I remember hearing you laugh as a child. When you and your father played in the crypt.”

  Meino remembered, too. Unlike most times when he remembered his mom and dad, he didn’t feel as sad like he usually did. Maybe it was because Burkhart was there with him. Maybe he’d chased away some of all the sadness that had crept into Meino’s heart and settled there like an infection.

  A memory of climbing onto Burkhart’s back and pretending to be flown over a fantasy world his dad had told about came back to him, and he voiced it.

  Burkhart smiled. “I remember the tale, which is why I was a bit surprised to learn of your fear of heights. You played it often. And your dad included the other Gargoyles in the tales. We liked it. We spoke of those tales in the years after you left, your quest to find the twins.”

  “The others can speak, too?” Meino asked, surprised.

  “We can communicate with each other, yes. Upon closing in on other grounds protected by our kind, I can communicate with the watchmen there, as well.”

  “Have you? When you flew here, I mean.”

  “No. I met no other Gargoyles on my trip. But I feel them. The closest are far away. Five hundred kilometers that way.” Burkhart pointed, and Meino’s sense of direction told him he was pointing east and thus toward Neubrandenburg.

  “And the ones second closest?”

  “That way.”

  “Düsseldorf?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Where were you until you were hidden away?”

  “I was protecting a castle outside of Frankfurt. Adolf Hitler’s rise to power was not the only trouble of the time. A hidden war has played out for centuries, and it rarely spills into the history books. I know about it because the man we protected was the one who translated what others tried to keep hidden. We were part of the treasures they kept hidden from the ones breathing foul words.”

  “Breathing foul words?” The microwave dinged, and Meino took his dinner out and placed it o
n a tray along with a cola and utensils.

  “Are you a man who believes in God?” Burkhart asked as he followed Meino to the coffee table. Meino sat on the sofa-bed, while Burkhart took a seat in the still-complaining armchair. Meino expected it to give way one day, sending the heavy Gargoyle on his tail. Literally, because he had a tail.

  “Uhm... well. Not really.”

  “Foul breath is a poor translation. So would fire-breather be, but the word fire doesn’t mean fire and not foul either. It is... the concept of it is one who emits essence of a rotten soul. Breath is soul. The word is breath.”

  “Very... cryptic.” Meino dug into his food, wondering about the wording. Something from his public education stuck, though. “You’re referring to the word of God, let there be life and stuff?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the rotten soul, fire-breathing people?”

  “The ones who think themselves in a position to tell anyone what God wants.”

  “Blasphemers?”

  “Not in so narrow a view, no. I know of humanity’s sacred scriptures. One of which says you are to be killed because you write with your left hand.”

  “Or because I like guys.”

  “That, too. Any human thinking himself worthy of passing judgment on His behalf is a fire-breather, because that human thinks himself equal to God. It is the foulness of their soul, the hatred nesting within that spills from their mouth.”

  “Are you telling me there’s a guy sitting in Heaven and all that?”

  “No, your human scriptures do. And they are written with a pen of fire. Fire still being the bad translation for a concept the humans, writing the scriptures, didn’t know or understand. So it’s all twisted. Like Hellfire.”

  “How?”

  “If God is love and Satan is hate, then how can God’s words encourage killing someone for loving someone?”

  “And now I know why I’m just a mechanic. I love a good fantasy book, but this is beyond me.”

  “It is what I protected, though. I will leave my explanation at that.” Burkhart looked down, and Meino felt bad for cutting him off like that.