Monsters

by Rob Knight editor

  The water, the walls of the shower and the city drown the sound.

  *** Daniel is here because he loves art and he loves his friend, Damien, and Damien has six canvases in the show. He wanders the gallery collecting impressions. Stops in front of a painting of a guy on a bed with a sandwich next to him.

  "Let me guess. It's called My Hero," says a voice behind him.

  He turns, laughing, and his dreams surface from the mossy ponds of the man's eyes to drown him. He sways, reaches out to steady himself, fingers just inches away from the canvas. The man catches his hand and encircles his waist. They stand like this for some few moments, hazel eyes locked onto blue. Bodies tight against one another. Daniel's stomach flutters and the man's lids drop lazily over his eyes just as his lips part. Neither says anything and then Daniel speaks.

  "Thanks," he says, disengaging himself almost hesitantly. "I'm Daniel."

  "Ian. Are you all right?" Ian asks.

  "Yeah. I think so. I just... felt dizzy for a moment." He is enamored of Ian's voice.

  "Have you eaten?" Daniel thinks. Laughs thinly. "Not since lunch."

  "I know this great Thai place about two blocks from here," Ian suggests.

  Breathing slightly elevated, Daniel peers into Ian's eyes. In them he sees the forest from his dream and he feels just the slightest apprehension. "How do I know I'm safe with you?" he asks, a quiver of a smile about his lips.

  "You're not," replies Ian and he smiles, showing the points of his teeth. During their walk, they find themselves unable to stop looking at one another. Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel sees Ian studying him intently. For his part, he steals glances. At Ian's slender form. His long fingers. His piercing eyes. The auburn glints in his hair. Having felt the power of his grip, Daniel knows the lean form belies the true strength he possesses. And, yet, despite the iron grip, it was like being held by a velvet vice, Ian's touch had been that gentle.

  At the restaurant, Ian is greeted warmly by the maitre d' who seats them at the room's best table, away from prying eyes.

  Sipping his drink while they wait for their appetizers to arrive, Daniel confesses, "I never do this."

  "Drink?"

  "Have dinner with people I've just met."

  "Dangerous proposition," teases Ian.

  "I know," Daniel says, his tone turned serious.

  "What?" He pauses before answering. "Some guy grabbed me in an alley the other day. Really shook me up. I don't know what he wanted, but I kneed him in the crotch and ran like hell. I just hope I don't run into him again."

  "You probably scared the shit out of him, fighting back. Guys like that, they're trolling for victims. People like you, you're too tough for them."

  Daniel smiles. "I don't think any of my friends would consider me to be tough." Daniel laughs.

  "Maybe they don't really know you."

  Daniel stares at Ian over the rim of his drink. "Sometimes," he says softly, "I don't think anyone knows me at all."

  "How much do any of us know about one another? The secrets we keep."

  "Even from ourselves," says Daniel and Ian agrees wordlessly. Dinner passes, filled with pleasant conversation and long, lingering looks. Ian pays the check over Daniel's protests and they walk outside to stand a few feet away from the entrance, lost in their need to remain connected. Daniel shuffles his feet and bites his lip before saying, "That was nice."

  "Wanna do it tomorrow?" "Dinner here?"

  "At my place," Ian adds.

  Daniel grins. "Sounds risky."

  "I promise not to eat you," teases Ian.

  "Wouldn't get any good eating out of me. I'm tough, remember?"

  "Stringy," says Ian, joining in the fun. "Skin like shoe leather."

  Ian shakes his head, then reaches out and touches Daniel's face. "Like silk," he says just above a whisper. Two of Daniel's fingers alight on Ian's hand for a moment, then flutter away with any words he'd been meaning to say.

  Is Daniel the one? Ian sits cross-legged and naked on the floor by an open window, curtains billowing around him. Staring at the moon. The light throws his body into stark relief, each muscle seems carved in stone, a statue by Michelangelo.

  A mate. After all these years, all these... centuries. It frightens him sometimes to think of how long he's lived. Alone. Forming temporary alliances, engaging in short-term liaisons, nothing ever lasting, no one ever tempting him to offer them the gift of eternal life. The curse of obscene longevity. He thinks of the Greek myth, the one where a man was granted eternal life and he lives so long that, in the end, he becomes a grasshopper. There was nothing left of the man. He feels the same way sometimes. What is left of the wolf he once was? What is left of the life he once knew? The hunt is now corrupted, the pack is no more, the forest has disappeared and the moon has lost her mystery.

  He keens, the sound low in his throat, barely traveling out his open window. Keens for his losses and calls to his sire, to his dam, to his littermates, and they come, silvery specters on silent paws, chasing the wind. Closing his eyes, his spirit runs with them.

  ***

  After dinner, they move to the living room to have coffee and snifters of Sambuca with three coffee beans floating in each. "For luck," Ian explains. "Sip it slowly. It's made with anise. Good for digestion."

  "That was the best meal I've had... since last night," Daniel says with a laugh. "You're spoiling me." "And is that a bad thing?"

  "I've just-" he begins, then pauses for a moment. "I've never had anyone..." He smiles. "...woo me before." His cheeks are warm.

  "That's hard to believe." Ian finishes off his drink, then lifts his coffee cup, takes a sip. Gazes at Daniel. "You were meant to be wooed. You're a romantic. I can tell."

  "Maybe," Daniel replies. "But no one's ever cared before." Ian sets down his coffee and leans towards Daniel. "I care." Ian kisses him next to his mouth and then holds his face in warm hands. Kisses him on his lips. Daniel can taste the anise on their breath. As they kiss, he wonders if they'll have sex. He wants to sleep with Ian, wants it badly, but something, some sixth sense, tells him that they're not going to. When they finally part, he touches his lips in disbelief, as if he's never kissed anyone before. And he hasn't, not if he has to compare the kisses in the past to Ian's kisses. There is no comparison.

  "Let me drive you home," Ian suggests and Daniel agrees.

  Outside of Daniel's building, they sit quietly in the car trying to keep from finding ways of prolonging the evening. Finally Daniel asks, "You want to have dinner at my place tomorrow?"

  "I'd like that." Darting like a deer, Daniel pecks Ian on the lips and gets out of the car. Waves from the front door of his building and disappears inside.

  The forest looms above him, tall trees blocking most of the sky, shafts of light pierce the canopy like spears. He moves through the woods using them as beacons, sensing that he is nearing the end of his journey. If only he can escape the forest. His fear is palpable. He feels as if something is watching him. Everything seems threatening, even the trees. The woods pulse with life and he is not confident that the life forms are friendly. In fact, he knows they are not. The woods and all who live here are perilous.

  He quickens his pace as much as he can, careful of tree roots and hidden traps in the tangled overgrowth that carpets the ground. For hours it seems, he travels through the forest, hoping to be free of it soon. Finally it seems as if the trees are thinning. More light filters through their crowns. He peers ahead, thinks he sees a break in the trees, wonders if there is an opening and where it leads. He breaks into a gentle run, still wary of the forest, still not convinced it's harmless. As he runs, he hears a noise behind him. At first he thinks his footsteps are echoing throughout the woods then he acknowledges the truth: something is chasing him. The rhythm of his pursuer's gait changes from his. He springs forward with a sudden burst of speed and the sound of pursuit dies away. Is he safe? He doesn't know, doesn't dare stop, just keeps running, running.

  He skids to a
stop, very nearly falling down in the process. There, up ahead, stands a huge grey wolf. With hazel eyes. He trembles, but somehow convinces his legs to move and he backs away to stand against an oak. The wolf watches him with its large, hazel eyes. Then barks once sharply and turns. Streaks away towards the growing light.

  Terrified, he remains pressed to the oak. But the light, the light beckons him. On shaky legs, he leaves the safety of the tree and follows the wolf's path. Into the light.

  He is free of the forest.

  *** The evening draws to a close much sooner than he wanted. They clean up slowly; Daniel, in particular, unsure of what he should do. Should he ask Ian to stay the night or should he wait to be asked? When Ian reaches for his jacket, Daniel knows that he'll be going. But why, that he doesn't know or understand. And he can't keep silent. "You don't have to go," he says.

  "I think I should," Ian tells him. "Why? I want you," he confesses, cheeks burning. "And I thought you wanted me."

  "I do."

  "Then stay."

  "I can't." Ian moves towards the door, but Daniel blocks his way.

  "Talk to me. Explain to me why you won't."

  "Daniel... It's not that simple." "I'm not stupid."

  Ian pauses, says without turning, "I care about you. A great deal." Daniel nears him, lays a hand upon his shoulder. Ian looks around. "Then what are you afraid of?" Ian's eyes darken. "Myself." And he leaves. ***

  Daniel's scent is everywhere in his home. Ian follows the traces like luminous footprints from room to room, tears streaking his face. Madness was but a hair's breadth away. Would it be enough? To have Daniel for a few years and then abandon him? There are only a few years left to him in this guise, only a few more years he can stave off the inevitable questions about his lingering youth. Could he put his love aside and walk away? And then there's the other choice.

  To offer Daniel the gift of eternal damnation. To truly mate with him. Which would be worse, Ian does not know. To abandon love or to condemn it to life unending. He has seen the results. Mates left behind when death took one, but not both, watching the inevitable happen. The unbearable ache that rends you from within, eating away at your senses until you pray for madness, pray for death. His mother had torn open her veins with her own teeth and watched, uncaring, while her life bled away.

  Wolves mate for life.

  Could he mate with Daniel knowing that one day one of them would die and the other would descend into a despair from which there was no escape? "I care about you. A great deal." Words so inadequate to express how he feels that he blushes to think that he used them. For centuries he's been waiting for his soul mate; Daniel is the one. How could he not be with him? Even if he has to leave him someday, to have had any time with him would be worth the eternal pain that would follow.

  But what of Daniel? When he leaves, then what? Would he turn to another or would he live the rest of his life mourning what might have been? Or would he too seek comfort from a razor or a pill?

  Wolves mate for life.

  *** He emerges from the woods to stand at the edge of a great plain. There, on a hill in the distance, sits a castle. Not a Cinderella castle, but a fortress out of Ivanhoe or Robin Hood. Something built for defense. To keep out invaders. That is his destination. He knows it the moment he sees it. Never mind that there is nothing else on the plain but the castle, even if the plain were littered with castles and fortresses, this one would call to him.

  He begins to walk toward it.

  At the end of almost an hour's journey, he finds himself at the foot of the hill. Or rather, what he had thought was a hill. It is not. The castle is surrounded by a barrier. A barrier of thorns. And entangled in the thorns are bones. Men's bones, some of the skeletons still intact enough to suggest a human form. Others have been rent apart by the growth of the hedge, their bones mingled together, engaged in the most intimate of intercourse.

  By instinct, he gazes up at the castle. There, to one side of the fortress, stands a tower and he knows that it is not empty and he knows that it is for the inhabitant of that tower that these men have perished.

  And why he has come as well. *** Daniel's cell rings and he answers. "Hello?" "Daniel. It's me."

  His lips part and he takes a deep breath. "I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again."

  "I lied to you."

  He can't breathe.

  "I don't care for you." He hopes his heart won't break all at once.

  "I love you."

  Daniel sucks in a breath and closes his eyes in relief.

  "I need to see you."

  "When?"

  "Now."

  He's out of his seat before he realizes he's even moved. "I'll be there as soon as I can." "Hurry." Outside, he hails a cab and gives the man Ian's address. Wishes he'd brought his coffee as his mouth is dry. By the time he reaches the loft's building, he's trembling. Ian loves him. He smiles as he pays the driver. Ian loves him. He takes the stairs two at a time. Ian loves him. The door to the loft is open and Ian is standing there waiting for him. Sweeps him into strong arms and kisses him until they're both breathless.

  "I love you," Ian whispers against his temple.

  "I love you." "I want to explain-"

  Daniel closes the door behind them. "Later." He kisses Ian hard, almost climbing up Ian's body in his desire to be closer. "Later." Ian lifts him and half-drags, half-carries him to the sofa where he is seated on the back and they continue to kiss, mouths opening to allow tongues the freedom to roam. He feels Ian's hands slip under his shirt and he arches his back as Ian's fingers begin to circle his nipples. They harden under the relentless rubbing and pinching and twisting. Daniel moans into Ian's mouth. Tendrils of pleasure creep from his nipples down to his crotch, they entwine about his cock and tug. He has to come out of his jeans.

  Standing, mouth still glued to Ian's, Ian's fingers still working his tits, he opens his pants and lets them drop to the floor. Kicks off his shoes. Pushes down his underwear. His cock springs free. Ian parts from him and pulls his shirt over his head, and eases him back onto the sofa, this time lying him supine upon the wide top. His legs hang over either side. Ian holds him in place with a hand on his shoulder and thigh and kisses him, laving his lips with the hot tongue, sucking Daniel's tongue into his mouth. Daniel moves Ian's hand from his thigh to his groin. He is so hard he's already begun dripping. Clear drops of precome dot his belly. Ian massages his cock from tip to base, working his plump scrotum with the palm of one wide hand. Daniel gasps and tries to speak, muttering between kisses until Ian understands his request.

  Grabbing both of Daniel's legs in his hands, Ian pulls him around. Daniel slides down the back of the sofa, his head resting on a seat cushion, his ass up in the air, Ian's hands around his thighs, keeping him in place. Daniel presses down on his cock, so that it points towards Ian. He closes his eyes just as Ian's lips close around the tip and he shouts, groans while Ian sucks his dick. He grips the cushions below him as Ian takes hold of his cock and licks the shaft, tongue following the large vein that runs along the underside, following it down to his sac where it moves in a circle just at the spot where his balls join his cock. Daniel bucks and fucks the air. How did Ian know?

  He shudders and clenches his buttocks as Ian makes the trip over and over again, his cock throbbing. And then Ian turns to the head and licks around the edge, up the slope to the tip, digs inside the hole until Daniel thinks he's going to pass out. Ian's lips are tight around the shaft and his tongue works ceaselessly as he slides up and down the taunt muscle. Never, never has anyone made Daniel feel so alive, every nerve ending in his body is firing, his entire being is vibrating with desire. It can't get any better than this. But it does.

  His cock slips out of Ian's mouth, wet, hard, and slaps against his belly. But before he can complain, he is crying out, shaken to the core. Ian's tongue is flickering over his asshole the way a butterfly's wings brush over the petals of a flower and he can only shudder and give voice to his pleasure with i
narticulate grunts. Tears stream from his eyes as Ian splits his cheeks to get to the heart of him and delves inside. His hole parts for the probing tongue and he wriggles in Ian's grip as it pushes in and curls upwards. "Yes!" he screams and precome trickles down his abdomen. Ian fucks him with his tongue, in and out, in and out, in and out and Daniel gives up trying to keep it in, he just cries with each foray, helpless to keep silent.

  Tongue continually penetrating Daniel's hole, Ian reaches down and makes a fist around his slippery dick. Fingers wet with precome, Ian jacks him off as he's rimmed, Daniel quaking. Pushing his tongue inside one last time, Ian keeps it there and squeezes Daniel's cockhead at the end of a stroke. Daniel inhales and his muscles tighten and he comes, Ian's hand still around his pulsing cock, coaxing the come from his balls, Ian's tongue still in his ass, as it quivers and tightens.

  When Ian releases him, Daniel slides the rest of the way down onto the sofa and lies there, stunned, senseless.

  *** The bones of the dead taunt him. Their silent jeers follow him as he surveys the hedge for a break in the barrier. If there had ever been one, it has closed over. He has no weapons. He has come woefully unprepared for a rescue. But he cannot give up because he knows that whoever waits in that tower is the answer to all of his questions. If he must, he'll use his hands to rip the barrier to shreds. The thorns are thick, some of them as big as his arm. If only he had a saw, an axe, a sword, something to hack at them. But he has none of these tools.

  As he walks and thinks, it comes to him that he might use the bones of the dead. Gruesome as it seems, they have no need of them. Finding a skeleton that is close to the surface of the hedge and at eye level, he reaches between the thorns to tug at a thighbone which he remembers is the strongest bone in the human body. Working it free of its porous grave, he carries it to a relatively thin spot in the barrier and begins bashing against the thorns. They do not give. He continues to thrash away at them without success. Sweat stings his eyes, but still he swings. There has to be a way, he won't give up, he can't. He has to breach the barrier, has to climb the tower, has to rescue the person who waits at the top.