The Supers

by Sean Michael

  “I know it was. He was talking through you. It was creepy. It sure as hell didn’t sound like you.” Flynn shivered. “You looked like you had brown eyes, honey. Seriously.”

  “Why did it happen, do you think? And why didn’t it happen to you, I wonder.”

  “Well, I have a bit of a theory, only you might not like it.”

  “Then let’s go get that Coke and we’ll talk about it.”

  “Okay. Works for me.” Flynn got out of the bed and pulled on a pair of sweats. When they were both dressed, they headed downstairs.

  Flynn kept one hand on him, and it was comforting, warm, grounding. They were so new that Blaine simply didn’t know what the best thing to do was.

  They got their Cokes and a box of crackers, then went to the living room to sit on the couch together.

  “So. My theory. I think we’re connected to Christian and David. I mean, they died the same day we were born. You were even born in the same hospital. For all I know, so was I. I hate to use the word reincarnation, but….” Flynn shrugged. “And you’ve got a stronger connection to apparitions than I do, so it was easier for Christian to get a hold of you.”

  “I don’t know, but I know that I was scared for you, going up to that room.” Blaine didn’t even want to say the number.

  “Yeah, you were pretty insistent that I not do it.” Flynn tilted his head. “What about now? You think it would be safe to go back. See if Christian’s still there or if we helped him… move on?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t feel that… horror.”

  “I kind of feel like we should go. Make sure they’ve moved on. I think we deserve to know.”

  “Maybe not tonight.”

  Flynn laughed softly and leaned against him. “No, babe. Not tonight. Probably not even tomorrow. Maybe next weekend. Maybe. I feel like we need the closure, you know?”

  “Yes. Right now we need… peace.” Blaine needed to reconnect.

  “Peace?” Flynn smiled at him, the look sweet, almost coy. “I was hoping for something a little more, uh, energetic.”

  “With your head?” He reached out, stroked Flynn’s scalp.

  “We don’t have to swing from the rafters or anything….”

  “You’re awful!” Blaine laughed, though, charmed.

  “Uh-huh. You’re going to do it with me, though, right?” Flynn gave him a hopeful look.

  “Maybe a hand job. Maybe. If it doesn’t hurt you. I’ve hurt you enough.”

  Flynn grabbed him and kissed him. “Stop that. It wasn’t you. And I think Christian was trying to keep me safe, believe it or not.”

  “Do you? I didn’t want to hurt you. I know that. I… I have a connection with you.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” Flynn stroked his belly. “I like how your skin feels.”

  “Do you?” That was comforting, warm and sweet.

  “I do. Especially your belly and the bits below.”

  The touches continued, sweet and gentle, and Blaine’s eyes crossed with the electricity Flynn was building. Flynn leaned in again, pressing their lips together. Warm and soft, it felt as good as the stroking along his abs.

  “We’re supposed to be gentle and good and not….” But he wanted to.

  “Not what?” Flynn asked, cuddling closer.

  “Being sexy.”

  “Who says we’re not supposed to be sexy?” Flynn asked, eyes close, watching him.

  “Probably the doctors. You have a head injury, love.”

  “It doesn’t hurt that much anymore. We can be gentle, eh?”

  “We can. I can. I promise never to hurt you again.”

  “Shh. It wasn’t really you—you haven’t hurt me.” Flynn begged a kiss.

  Still, Blaine had guilt. Flynn would wear the marks of this for the rest of his life.

  “Blaine. Kiss me, man.”

  He loved that Flynn still wanted him to. Loved it. He leaned in, brushed their lips together.

  “That wasn’t a kiss, it was a tease,” Flynn complained, eyes twinkling at him.

  “No? Let me try again.” He offered Flynn another kiss.

  Flynn was smiling as their lips met, and he opened his mouth, inviting Blaine in. He hummed and slipped his tongue in, tasting Flynn carefully. Flynn closed his lips around Blaine’s tongue and sucked. He wrapped his hands around Flynn’s hips and drew him closer. Flynn hummed for him, the sound all pleasure.

  Every little sound made Blaine more confident, made his need that much greater. Flynn kept touching his belly, rubbing and tracing his muscles, which jerked and tightened, clenching. God. He wanted.

  “I can feel how hot you are, and I want to touch you.” Flynn tugged at Blaine’s jeans, pulling open the top button.

  “I want… I want you, honey.”

  “Yes. God, yes.” Flynn got Blaine’s zipper down, pushed his hand into Blaine’s jeans, and wrapped it around his erection.

  He hadn’t thought he was going to be hard, that he was going to need. He did, though, and Flynn worked him, increasing his desire.

  “Love how you feel in my hand,” Flynn murmured.

  “Feels good.” Blaine didn’t have any other words.

  “Really good.” Flynn pinched the tip of his cock, a quick, sharp little squeeze.

  Blaine’s eyes crossed. “Yes!”

  Lord.

  Flynn stroked quickly, moving his hand up and down like he was trying to start a fire.

  “Gonna make me come, Flynn,” Blaine warned.

  “Uh-huh. That’s why I’m doing it.” Flynn met his eyes, leaned in and kissed him again, hand still working.

  “Never met anyone like you. That I just… knew.”

  “I know. Pretty cool, huh?” Flynn rubbed the tip of his cock.

  “Uh. Uh-huh. Very. God. More.” How had he been reduced to this already?

  Flynn squeezed his cock tight, then stroked up and down along his length. “More. You’re so pretty.”

  “When…. After…. I want to suck you.”

  “Okay.” That was it. Just okay.

  Blaine laughed, even if the sound was a little strangled. Flynn swallowed his sounds with another kiss, cupping his balls as well, rolling them.

  He cried out, so very close, and he spread wider, acting like a total slut. Flynn jostled his balls and stroked him harder, the actions undeniable, and Blaine’s belly clenched as he let go, let Flynn have him.

  Flynn moaned when Blaine came. “God, I do love how you smell.”

  He blinked, eyes on the way Flynn stroked him, up and down, nice and gentle now, rubbing his seed into his shaft, making the skin shine.

  “Better, eh?” Flynn asked, finally letting go.

  “Uhn.” That was an answer, right?

  Flynn laughed and carefully tucked him back into his pants, got him done back up with a little pat to his package. “Good one.”

  “Uh-huh.” He got that. He slid down onto the floor, pulling at Flynn’s sweats. “My turn.”

  “Oh goodie.” Flynn raised his ass so Blaine could get Flynn’s sweats off. Once he’d disposed of them, Flynn spread his legs, giving Blaine room between them.

  “Eager.” Blaine liked that. More than that, he liked how Flynn was hard and begging for him, leaking at the tip.

  “You’re going to suck me off—of course I’m eager. A dead man would be eager for that mouth.”

  “Flattery.” He loved it.

  “Just take the compliment,” Flynn told him, laughing softly.

  “I can do that.” He ran his cheek along Flynn’s cock.

  Moaning, Flynn spread his legs wider, and Blaine took advantage, leaning in and rubbing the soft sac with his chin.

  “Is this a blow job or a rub job?” Flynn asked, then started giggling.

  Blaine blew a raspberry at the base of Flynn’s cock, teasing.

  The laughter increased. Flynn closed his legs slightly, cradling Blaine, who snuggled right in, hands sliding up the outside of Flynn’s thighs.

  “Feels good. Wan
t more,” Flynn told him, dropping a hand to Blaine’s head and carding his fingers through Blaine’s hair.

  Blaine dragged his tongue up along Flynn’s shaft, making sure not to miss an inch. Flynn’s moan was louder this time, and his legs spread open again, Flynn bucking slightly to push closer. Blaine let Flynn in, let the tip of his hard cock rub against the roof of Blaine’s mouth.

  A little gasp sounded. “So hot. God, your mouth.”

  He hummed in response. Hell yes.

  Flynn’s legs closed around him again, then spread, then came back to cradle him, the movements restless.

  This was fun. Blaine pulled steadily, humming around Flynn’s prick. Flynn started babbling, calling him baby and telling him how good it was—how good he was. And it was all the truth—it was good. It was really good. Flynn tasted so right between Blaine’s lips.

  He felt really good, doing this, hanging out with Flynn, the heaviness that had been hanging over him gone. This was how he was supposed to feel when he was blowing his lover.

  Blaine licked a little line around the ridge of Flynn’s tip, teasing it, playing. Flynn’s gasp was gratifying, as was the long, drawn-out moan that followed. Blaine smiled around the pretty cock, bobbing his head.

  “So good. So hot and wet. Damn, you’re amazing around my cock. Stunning. So good.” The words kept flowing from Flynn like a babbling brook, and Blaine liked it. A lot.

  Flynn’s voice got higher pitched, the words losing any sort of sense, and that told Blaine it wasn’t going to be long before his mouth was flooded with come. He reached down and rolled Flynn’s balls.

  “Blaine!”

  The cry was heartfelt and sweet, followed by a rush of come into Blaine’s mouth. He sucked and swallowed, sliding his tongue over the throbbing shaft.

  Flynn dribbled a little more into his mouth as he shivered through a couple of aftershocks, and then he went limp, resting back against the couch. “Damn. Was good.”

  Blaine kissed the curve of Flynn’s belly. “Your head okay?”

  “Yeah, it only hurts when I laugh. Just kidding! It’s fine.” Flynn dragged a lazy hand through his hair.

  “I’m so sorry, honey. I swear… it wasn’t me.”

  “You don’t have to keep apologizing, babe. I know it wasn’t you. I know you had Christian’s specter… on you? In you?” Flynn shivered. “If you keep apologizing, I’m going to start to think you really did do something wrong, and I’ll beat you over the head about it.”

  “No more beating.” Blaine wasn’t that way.

  “No, we’ve both been through enough. I just mean stop trying to convince me you did something you need to apologize for, because you didn’t.” Flynn sighed softly, his eyes drifting shut. “I could totally nap now that I’ve had a blow job of joy.”

  “Me too, love. Come on. I’ll clean up later.”

  “We could nap right here on the sofa,” Flynn suggested, looking for all the world like he was already asleep. He patted the cushion next to him.

  “Brilliant, man.” Blaine climbed up and half reclined at an angle to keep his hurt shoulder out of contact with the back of the couch.

  Flynn snuggled right into his good side, and he fit. Perfectly. Like this was exactly where he was supposed to be. It was a little bit like magic.

  Maybe it was all meant to be.

  Chapter Seventeen

  FLYNN couldn’t believe they were back at the hospital. And that it had been his idea. He knew they needed it, though; they needed some closure. Besides, he was pretty sure the danger was gone. They’d uncovered what had really happened and dealt with the murderer. Christian’s and David’s ghosts could rest.

  He just needed to go and see room 204 for himself and be sure.

  Hell, with all the trouble, he’d never even been in here. How was that possible?

  It was amazing how quickly it got dark once they were in the hospital. And Flynn had to work not to get spooked. They headed upstairs and crept along the hallway, all five of them sticking close together.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea, Blaine?” Will whispered, and Blaine shook his head.

  “Flynn needs to do it. Psycho.” The smile Flynn got was warm, though, and Blaine didn’t look worried.

  “Yeah, yeah. We all need it—not just me. This needs to be closed for us. Besides, I bet you we can edit a hell of a show together out of what we’ve got, except we don’t have a way to end it. This gives us one.”

  “I’m going to send it to a producer in Toronto,” Jase said. “He wants to see it. He likes the blog.”

  Flynn looked over at Jase in surprise. “Seriously? That’s so cool! We should have a party when we’re done here.”

  “I’m all over that. We’ll have a wrap party.”

  He smiled at Blaine. “We can host it at the barn.”

  Then he turned his attention back to room 204. The good news about the producer wanting to see their stuff and the party had him feeling far less freaked out by their environs, and he pushed the door open without any trepidation.

  It looked the same—empty and bare and dusty. Old.

  He looked around, half expecting to hear that voice screaming room 204. There was nothing, though. No voice, no cold spots, no specters or unexpected movements.

  It was almost anticlimactic.

  “Should we do some EVPs or something?” Jase asked.

  “Can you guys not see that?” Blaine sounded shocked.

  “What? Tell us what you’re seeing, Blaine.” Flynn looked around wildly, trying to spot what Blaine was witnessing.

  “It’s right there.” Blaine grinned. “I hope we made it better. We tried.”

  “So I take it you’re seeing Christian or David, or both of them?”

  Come on, Blaine. Talk for the camera.

  “It’s just a shape. A fuzz.”

  “But you think it’s someone in particular?” Flynn pushed.

  Blaine shrugged. “Do you want to talk to someone?”

  Flynn gasped as he suddenly felt something. He couldn’t even describe what it was. Passing through cobwebs was the best he could do.

  “Flynn? Flynn! It’s on you.”

  He sidestepped and moved over toward Blaine, trying to get away from it.

  Blaine grabbed his hand and tugged. “What do you want? Flynn’s mine, you know. My lover.”

  “He knows.” Flynn blinked, but the words that had come out of his mouth were true. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did. “I feel gratitude. He’s grateful.” Okay, this was freaking him out.

  “Good. Good. Grateful is way better than vengeful.”

  “I think he wants us to have a long life together.” Okay, it was still freaky as fuck, but at least the spirit didn’t want to harm them. Blaine was right; this was way better than it had been.

  “Well, if you want to say something, I’ve got the recorder right here. You can speak right into it.”

  Flynn snapped his mouth closed. He wasn’t talking for this thing anymore. It was going to have to speak on its own.

  “Just let yourself talk. It’s okay. Christian told us. We know you were murdered, man. He told us.”

  Flynn’s mouth opened without his volition, and a voice came out. A voice that wasn’t his. “You got him. Thank you.” Flynn stood there, his eyes huge. It was like someone had taken him over so he couldn’t get his own words out, just these that didn’t belong to him.

  “You’re welcome. Now. Please. Out of my Flynn, because that’s creepy.”

  “Don’t let it happen to you. You represent us.”

  Flynn suddenly felt like himself again, and he gasped, almost falling. “Oh my God. I never want to go through that again!”

  “Can we fucking go? Now?” Darnell was gray, which was quite a feat, as dark-skinned as he was.

  Flynn put a finger in the air and circled it. “Wrap it up first, because we are not coming back here. Ever. Just say something to wrap us up.” He wanted out of here in the worst way possible and was tr
ying to decide whether running out as soon as Blaine was done would be unmanly.

  “That was probably the scariest thing we’ve experienced in days, and now we need to go back to the office and see what, if anything, we’ve recovered.”

  “Say something witty about the haunting of the hospital. Because I swear to God, I don’t care what wrap-up shot anyone says we need to come back and tape, I’m not doing it. So we’d better have our bases covered.” Flynn was done with this place and its body-jacking specters.

  Blaine grinned with a glint in his eyes, looking tickled. “We’ve experienced all sorts of things here—from possession to spectral lights to voices. Hopefully we’ve helped lay all these ghosts to rest. I guess you could say we were going for a spiritual healing.”

  That actually made Flynn want to laugh, and he bit his lower lip to avoid it. Wouldn’t do to appear glib and joking if they used that for the end of the potential show.

  They all waited a few minutes. Then Will cackled. “A spiritual healing. That’s what we should call it. ‘The Haunting of the Eugene Thurston Memorial Hospital: A Spiritual Healing.’”

  “Works for me,” Darnell said. “Now can we get the fuck out of here and go home? I’ve had enough of hospitals for a lifetime.”

  “Amen to that,” Flynn agreed.

  The others all said something similar, and they headed out together, eager to have the Eugene Thurston Memorial Hospital behind them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  BLAINE waved as Jason pulled up with Flynn in the passenger seat. Flynn was enjoying his part-time job at Jason’s company, running numbers and doing statistics for upper management. Blaine thought it sounded like hell, but money was money, and they didn’t need help at the farm stand from Halloween through the spring.

  Harvest goofiness was in full swing at the farm—a huge corn maze out back while apple cider, pumpkins, and tons of different local candies filled the little store. Soon they’d have to switch to Christmas and even shorter hours, and Blaine’d be in the barns with Dad more often than not, shoring things up and doing maintenance on the tractors.

  It was weird how life went on outside of ghosts.

  They’d taken everything they had (and didn’t have) on the Eugene Thurston Memorial Hospital and turned it into a forty-minute video, using the story of Christian and David as the show’s anchor, and sent it to Jason’s producer friend/acquaintance. Now they were in wait-and-see mode.