Nightfall

by John Inman

  Since the San Diego Police Department had freed him of any culpability concerning the stabbing death of a homeless man, who basically deserved everything he got (even they were smart enough to call the killing a matter of self-defense), Mr. Wong had been looking for a new place to set up shop. When Mr. Shepperton extended his offer, Mr. Wong had accepted with alacrity. He was now happily shouting orders at the workmen in Chinese, which was an exercise in futility if there ever was one, since there wasn’t an almond-shaped eye on the premises other than his own and his son Bobby’s.

  And speaking of Bobby, he was at the moment squatting in a back corner with his new best friend, PJ Shepperton III, the very same rock slinger. They had their heads together, giggling and laughing, digging through an industrial-sized crate of assorted Hostess cupcakes. They had been at it for a while. Snack wrappers sprinkled the floor around them. A blizzard of cake crumbs peppered their clothes and faces, and when they laughed, which was often, their teeth were eerily blacked out with chocolate, which made them laugh even louder.

  Funny how from the brink of destruction, life can pull itself together again, Joe thought, watching the boys with a smile and Mr. Wong with an even wider smile.

  But the radiance of Joe’s best smile was reserved for someone else. And there he was now. Ned Bowden. Overseeing the installation of the grill and deep fryers back in the recesses of what would one day become the deli’s new kitchen.

  Ned’s clothes were a mess since he had been working since dawn. His hair was coated with sawdust, and there was a glow in his cheeks that Joe recognized primarily from those moments when he and Ned were engaged in more lively and more personal interactions.

  Joe patted his heart to stymie a surge of desire that shot through him when Ned looked up to see Joe staring. It pleased him to see the red in Ned’s cheek brighten when he did.

  Ned turned his back on the workman beside him, and without an ounce of hesitation, wove a path through the bustle to walk straight into Joe’s arms.

  Beads of sweat sparkled his brow as he gazed up into Joe’s face. He hooked a thumb at the racket behind him. “It’s getting there.”

  “So I see.” Joe smiled down.

  Ned shot him a coy look. “Are you excited about tomorrow?”

  Joe pantomimed a shrug as if the question meant very little to him, but on the inside he was jumping up and down with glee. At the same time he was beseeching God every five minutes not to let him screw everything up. He had been suffering those conflicting emotions ever since the general manager of the San Diego Zoo offered him the post of head arborist after learning of everything Joe had done during the darkness to care for the beasts in the zoo’s collection when no one else had even considered volunteering to help. To show the zoo’s appreciation even more, much to Joe’s amazement, there had also been a rather sizable monetary gift included. Joe had used that money for a security deposit and first and last month’s rent on a spacious one-bedroom apartment for himself and Ned in a far nicer building than the one they had resided in before. As excited as schoolkids on the first day of summer, they had moved in only a week before.

  Joe was aching for the two of them to be there now.

  “I’m more excited about getting you home and tossing you into bed,” he said. “When can you leave?”

  Ned’s blush deepened, but he didn’t look embarrassed; he looked turned on. His erection, which lay pressed to Joe’s thigh at the moment, might have had something to do with that.

  “I can leave now if you like,” Ned said huskily, his fingers beginning to work at the fabric of Joe’s shirt, exploring the flesh beneath, mining the heat, obviously aching to rip the thing off.

  Without casting a single glance backward, they stepped through the door and out onto the street, where they met another cadre of workmen. They were bustling around two guys in a cherry picker who were pointing and yelling instructions at each other as they lifted Mr. Wong’s new street sign into position over the deli’s front door.

  Joe and Ned hustled out of the way and watched for a minute. Quickly tiring of that, Joe took Ned’s hand and led him up the street.

  An airliner zoomed low over the city rooftops, lining up for a landing at Lindbergh Field. Its shadow sped down the street in front of them like a phantom, swooping over heads and cars, darkening them as it passed. A moment later, the airliner was gone—sound, shadow, and all.

  Ned’s eyes stayed on the sky as they walked.

  “What are you thinking?” Joe asked, scanning the sky himself. “What’s up there that’s grabbed your attention?”

  Ned gave his head a shake and dragged his eyes back to Joe. They only rested there for a second before they were drawn once again to the crystal sky above.

  “There’s no endlessly wheeling birds anymore,” Ned said. “Remember them?”

  “I’ll never forget,” Joe said, fighting back a shudder, trying not to remember the limp, feathered bodies that had once lain scattered along this very street as far as the eye could see. Or how city cleanup crews had come along with bulldozers to scoop them up.

  Still, Ned’s gaze never left the sky. “Mostly it’s the sun,” he said pensively. “That’s what I keep staring at. I can’t seem to get enough of it, Joe. I keep watching it, wondering if it will slip away again.”

  Joe lifted his chin, letting his eyes follow where Ned’s had gone. As the darkness lifted, it had taken weeks for the full sky to reappear completely—something about the junk in the atmosphere receding at its own pace.

  Joe cleared his throat. “Scientists on the news said it is unlikely that what happened will ever happen again.”

  Ned nodded. “I know. But those are the same scientists who never saw it coming the first time it happened.”

  Joe squeezed Ned’s hand as they stood on the street corner, waiting for the light to change so they could cross Broadway and head on up the hill toward home.

  “Still, we can’t live our lives worrying about it.”

  Ned gave his head a tiny shake. “Nope. I don’t suppose we can.”

  He resurrected a smile and aimed it in Joe’s direction. “Do you still dream about it, Joe? I mean the darkness?”

  “No. Do you?”

  Ned offered a hesitant shrug, which Joe knew was the same as saying yes. Ned edged closer to Joe. They were walking again, weaving through the foot traffic of other people just like them, bustling home from work. Or doing their Christmas shopping. Or mindlessly roaming the city streets, enjoying the evening.

  And quite possibly dreading the darkness to come.

  “I dream about the animals,” Ned said, the light in his eyes dimming, his attention turning inward. “I hear the dogs howling like they used to do. The big cats roaring. Sometimes I dream about the young man the lions killed. The burning body falling through the sky in front of the old deli. The poor homeless woman lynched on the footbridge. All the bad stuff. I’m sorry those people didn’t live long enough to see the world straighten itself out again, or see the lights come back on.”

  Joe sighed. Ned’s sadness hurt him. “I don’t like you having dreams like that. You need to find a way to put it all behind you.”

  At that, Ned let a tiny smile twist his mouth. “I already did. When the dreams come, I slip closer to you on the bed, just close enough to brush your skin, or feel your hairy leg on mine. As soon as I do that, the bad dreams go away.”

  Joe felt a blush creep up his neck. “Really?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Without warning, Ned’s eyes opened wide. He pulled Joe to a stop. “Listen!”

  They were standing beneath the drooping branches of a pepper tree that hung across the sidewalk. In its shade, Joe became aware of a whining sound. He gazed around for the source of the sound, then blinked in surprise, when a hummingbird, its iridescent feathers sparkling puce in the sunlight, suddenly hovered motionless in the air directly before his eyes. It appeared to stare at him, as if tempted to sip the nectar from his gaping mouth. Then with a fli
ck of its wings, it shot off into the air and disappeared.

  Joe tried to find it again, but it was lost in the branches overhead. Maybe like them it was on its way home. Eager to settle in for the night, cuddle up to its lover, and put the day’s weary labors aside for a while.

  That brief moment of beauty cheered Joe up. He took Ned’s hand. Together, they continued their slow walk home.

  Like the hummingbird, Ned was humming a little song now too. It was horribly off-key, and Joe loved it that way. When he realized Joe was listening to him, Ned grinned and hummed a little louder.

  The afternoon sun beating down on their heads was a blessing Joe knew he would never take for granted again.

  In that respect, the sun was like the man beside him. Joe would never take Ned for granted either.

  “Merry Christmas,” Joe said.

  “Merry Christmas,” Ned softly answered.

  JOE’S VELVET skin was damp with sweat, just like his own. Ned slid his tongue over Joe’s rib cage and licked a delicious drop of it away. Joe barked a laugh and tried to squirm out from under him.

  “That tickles!”

  Grinning, Ned lifted his head and rested his chin on Joe’s furry chest. He all but purred when Joe cradled the back of his head with his broad, gentle hand. They gazed at each other. Ned could see the contentment in Joe’s hazel eyes, and he wondered if Joe could see the same contentment beaming from his own.

  Without warning, Ned shivered, remembering Joe’s long cock buried inside him. Moving. Probing. Making Ned moan with pleasure. Ned grinned at the brazen hunger still raging inside himself at the memory of Joe fucking him six ways to Sunday not ten minutes earlier.

  He buried his face in Joe’s stomach and closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of Joe’s heated skin, letting it seep through him like a drug. He slid his hands under Joe’s back and held him close while Joe’s fingers moved gently through his hair. Just as Ned knew it would, Joe’s index finger came to rest on Ned’s scar. He did not prod it or stroke it, but simply rested his finger there. Protective. Proprietary.

  “It’ll be dark soon,” Ned sighed, his eyes opening to flit toward the window at the side of the bed.

  “Don’t worry,” Joe said. “It’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “I know. I try not to worry about it. I do.”

  Ned smiled to camouflage his fears. He pressed a kiss to Joe’s belly before lifting his eyes yet again so he could watch Joe’s face in the dimming light of dusk.

  Joe smiled down at him. His fingertip was moving now, sliding the length of Ned’s scar, but gently, back and forth, with infinite care. Joe’s other hand rested on Ned’s pale shoulder. He stroked there too, gliding his fingers smoothly over Ned’s sweat-slick skin, outlining the sharp crease of Ned’s shoulder blade. Joe’s heartbeat thumped quietly beneath Ned. Or was that his own? He couldn’t tell.

  “People are nicer now, Joe. Since everything happened. Have you noticed?”

  Joe nodded. “I think they’re ashamed.”

  “Ashamed of what they did when the lights went out, you mean?”

  “Yes. Ashamed of the animals they became. Let’s hope the shame lasts a while.”

  “Do you think it will?”

  “I don’t know. People are people. Sometimes they don’t seem to learn their lessons very well.”

  A lazy silence settled over them. In the midst of it, interspersed with the quiet thunder of their hearts and the occasional rustle of bedclothes, darkness filled the room around them. It was like ink being poured into a bowl. Slowly erasing light. Muting sound. Stilling the air.

  “Please don’t be afraid,” Joe said again, clearly sensing Ned’s uneasiness with the coming night. “It’s only sunset. In a few hours the dawn will break, pushing the shadows away, illuminating you lying there in my arms looking like you’ve been run over by a truck, your hair sticking out in every direction, a string of drool dribbling off your chin, eye boogers in your eyes, maybe a smear of my come slathered like cream cheese across your nose.”

  Ned laughed and gave Joe a gentle punch in the gut. He buried his smile in Joe’s stomach again. His arms tightened around Joe’s waist. As long as they were connected, Ned felt complete. He wondered if Joe felt that way.

  Joe’s fingertip began moving now. It slid over Ned’s scar as if relishing the texture of it. He lifted his head with a grunt and pressed a kiss into Ned’s hair. Ned closed his eyes and purred like a cat.

  “Ned,” Joe whispered.

  “Hmm?”

  Ned waited a long minute before Joe finally began to speak. Then he lay silent in Joe’s arms, listening, held rapt by the gentle timbre of his lover’s voice. Joe’s words slipped through the growing darkness like the hummingbird that had slipped through the branches of the pepper tree earlier. Fleeting and ethereal but anchored to the world somehow. Blessed by a gentle kindness, Joe’s voice was barely loud enough to hear. Still, his words settled over Ned, blocking everything else out.

  Blocking everything but the love he felt for the man beneath him.

  “As long as you see the sun,” Joe whispered, “you’ll know you’re alive. As long as you hear my breath in the bed beside you at night, you’ll know you’re safe. As long as you feel my fingers on your skin, you’ll know you’re loved. That’s how the world works for us now. That’s how it will always work. As long as we have each other, we’ll be happy. I promise.”

  Ned closed his eyes to capture the words inside his head. He fought to claim his voice from the emotion filling his throat. “Do you need me, Joe? Like I need you?”

  “No,” Joe said. “I need you more.” Joe pulled Ned closer, and his warm lips brushed Ned’s ear. His strong hand slid downward to caress Ned’s hip, fingers lightly prodding. Beneath him, Ned felt Joe stir, his cock lengthening, hardening, slipping across the heat of Ned’s thigh. Ned opened his legs in response, trembling with desire as he hardened too, as his own hunger swelled inside him.

  “Make love to me,” Ned pleaded, his voice weak, his heart hammering. He slid down in the bed, his warm fingers quickly finding what he sought and gently closing around it.

  “It’s a little soon, but I’ll give it my best shot,” Joe breathed, his back arching. He gasped when Joe’s mouth enveloped him down below.

  Moments later, wrapped together, laughing and eager, they explored each other yet again among the gathering shadows. Only then, in that moment, with their bodies melding together, did Ned finally recognize the truth. In Joe’s arms, the coming nightfall didn’t frighten him at all.

  More from John Inman

  It’s not easy breaking into show biz. Especially when you aren’t exactly loaded with talent. But Malcolm Fox won’t let a little thing like that hold him back.

  Actually, it isn’t the show-business part of his life that bothers him as much as the romantic part—or the lack thereof. At twenty-six, Malcolm has never been in love. He lives in San Diego with his roommate, Beth, another struggling actor, and each of them is just as unsuccessful as the other. While Malcolm toddles off to this audition and that, he ponders the lack of excitement in his life. The lack of purpose. The lack of a man.

  Then Beth’s brother moves in.

  Freshly imported from Missouri of all places, Cory Williams is a towering hunk of muscles and innocence, and Malcolm is gobsmacked by the sexiness of his new roomie from the start. When infatuation enters the picture, Malcolm knows he’s really in trouble. After all, Cory is straight!

  At least, that’s the general consensus.

  Ashley James and Tucker Lee have been friends for years. They are city boys but long for life on the open trail. During a three-hundred-mile hike from the Southern California desert to the mountains around Big Bear Lake, they make some pretty amazing discoveries.

  One of those discoveries is love. A love that has been bubbling below the surface for a very long time.

  But love isn’t all they find. They also stumble upon a war—a war being waged by Mother Nature and fought toot
h and claw around an epidemic of microbes and fury.

  With every creature in sight turning against them, can they survive this battle and still hold on to each other? Or will the most horrifying virus known to man lay waste to more than just wildlife this time?

  Will it destroy Ash and Tucker too?

  Wyeth Becker is a quiet man. Staid, serious, calm. A librarian. When he meets preschool teacher Deeze Long, he discovers joy for the first time in his life. With joy comes laughter, excitement, and a new way to look at the world through the eyes of the kindest, most loving man he has ever met.

  When tragedy strikes and Deeze loses his joy, it is Wyeth who helps him find it again. It is Wyeth, the man who never truly understood happiness, who pays that gift back. Giving all he can of himself to the man who changed his life. Restoring in Deeze what he now so desperately needs.

  But the road of their relationship doesn’t end there. The joys and sorrows of life are never-ending. As they set out to weather the highs and lows together, Wyeth and Deeze hang on to the one thing that makes all the tears and laughter worthwhile.

  Love.

  For only through love can life be truly savored at all.

  When it rains, it pours. Not only has Larry Walls been evicted from his apartment, but his hours have also been cut at the department store where he works, leaving him facing homelessness.

  Meanwhile, Bo Lansing, a total stranger to Larry, toils at a dead-end job as a fry cook while attending night classes to become a certified chef. When the school closes its doors without warning, leaving Bo in the lurch for thousands of dollars in tuition, his dream of becoming a chef is shattered and his financial troubles spiral.