Cafe Noctem

by Willa Okati

  The box hissed at Grey once more…then fell silent.

  Nicholas relaxed again, almost too far, but Grey was there to catch and hold him up. He slid his arms around Nicholas, one hand resting on the small of his back, and one on his ass, gently kneading the mound. “It’ll be all right,” he crooned. “I’m not angry, Nicholas, in case you were worried.”

  Nicholas hadn’t thought of it, and the idea brought him up short in alarm. “You’re—you’re not?”

  “No.” Grey sighed, smiling a little sadly. “I wish you had trusted me, though, when I told you that you were the only one for me.”

  Nicholas put his own arms around Grey. “That was my fault. I was stupid and jealous of a ghost. If you’ve forgiven me, then I’m glad, and thank you.” He raised up the few inches he needed to kiss Grey on the lips, finding them warm and sweet. “Lover.”

  “What do you say we make that more of a reality and less of a statement?” Grey asked. His hand worked Nicholas’ ass harder, pulling him in tight. If his erection had gone down at all when disposing of the mask, he’d come right back up again. The feel of all that desire pressing at his lower belly brought a gasp to Nicholas’ lips, and an answering swell of heat to his groin.

  They kissed again, bringing their tongues into play, gliding them along one another in a slow, smooth tease. Nicholas twined his around Grey’s, tugging slightly, and grinning when Grey loosed a small groan.

  “Your suggestion,” he said, lowering his eyelids to half-mast, “sounds like the best thing I’ve ever heard.” He nudged Grey with his own growing cock. “Less talk, less clothes as well?”

  “What, you don’t want to tell me a story this time?” Grey teased, but his fingers were already busy with the buttons on Nicholas’ shirt.

  “I think we’ve had enough stories for one night.” Nicholas helped raise Grey’s arms so he could pull the black turtleneck off him. He paused for a bit to lavish the bared, hairless bronze chest with kisses, stopping briefly over Grey’s left nipple to bite, then blow cool air over the flat brown circle, which rose and hardened into a nub. “A little less talk, and a little more action.”

  “Your pants, then,” Grey replied, tugging at their fastening. “Damn the man who invented button-flies, anyway.”

  Nicholas began to laugh, and together they managed to free him of his dark jeans. Grey’s charcoal pants, a much nicer sort of garment, came next, and then their boxers, both black, Grey’s satin and Nicholas’ fitted cotton.

  As Nicholas bent over to kick them off his feet, he stopped, for Grey had darted around behind him. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do,” he breathed. Nicholas felt the light wetness of a tongue tracing along the curve of his buttock. “What do you say, lover? You up for it?”

  “Oh, God. Yes. God, yes,” Nicholas whispered, hardly able to believe his good fortune. Grey almost never did this and Nicholas loved it. “Please, Grey. Do me.”

  “I plan on making you scream,” Grey warned. “Grab your ankles and hold on tight.”

  Nicholas felt his ass cheeks being spread apart. He got a firm grasp and squeezed his eyes shut as his world exploded with pleasure when Grey’s tongue began to rim in circles around his hole, quick and hot and fit to drive him insane. He moaned like a wanton, spreading his legs wider to give Grey better access, and heard a low, throaty chuckle in response. “Harder,” he begged. “More.”

  “Shameless,” Grey whispered against Nicholas’s entrance, the buzz of the words sending a shock wave of tingles along Nicholas’ spine. He cried out, gripping his ankles so tightly his knuckles turned white. “But then again, I love you shameless.”

  He applied his tongue again, this time stabbing into the small hole, fingers pressing in and out. Nicholas sobbed and rolled his hips, moving as Grey directed him, lips parting wide to pant every time Grey spoke a word against his sensitive entrance.

  Unable to help himself, Nicholas let go of one ankle and reached for his cock, full and heavy, hard enough to press up against his stomach. There was a small sticky spot decorating him already where he’d leaked a bit of pre-come from Grey’s attempts to drive him out of his mind.

  “What if I used a toy on you right now?” Grey whispered. “One of the buzzy ones. Would that drive you crazy, lover? Would that make you go out of your mind?”

  “You,” Nicholas gasped. “You’re…enough. Make me…crazy. For you.”

  “Do you want me to do this until you come?” Grey lapped again in an easy, lazy circle. “I could, you know. Just keep licking…and licking…and licking…”

  “God! No.” Nicholas ached with emptiness where he most needed to be filled. “Fuck me. Will you?”

  “Then leave that gorgeous cock alone, because I want to play with you some more.” Grey brushed Nicholas’ foot. “Let go of your ankle, now, and come to the bed.”

  “Don’t think I can make it there.”

  “You want me to carry you?”

  “No.” Reckless, Nicholas turned around and brought Grey down with him to the floor, the soft woven rugs cushioning their fall. Grey gave a loud oof sound all the same, and then tackled Nicholas, rolling them over and over until he was on bottom and Nicholas on top.

  They gazed at each other for a long moment, both sets of eyes hot and both cocks throbbing, leaking thin streams of clear fluid on their lower stomachs. Nicholas dipped his finger into the small puddle on Grey’s skin and brought it to his mouth, sucking the digit in. “Delicious,” he murmured with a low hiss, fellating his own finger as if it were the next best thing to cock.

  Grey growled, soft and low. Nicholas looked at him, challenging his lover to call the shots. “Make me yours,” he moaned, stretching out and down to pinch Grey’s nipples. “I want it this way.”

  Another growl, this one hungry. “The lube should be just to your left,” Grey instructed, gesturing vaguely in the direction of their bed stand. “I left it lying on top last time.” He stroked Nicholas’ flanks. “Now you’re the one on top, aren’t you?”

  Nicholas sighed with pleasure as he fumbled in the large container with their toys and supplies. “I’ll get myself ready for you.” He clicked open the lid and squeezed a vast dollop of gel onto his palm. Dipping his fingers in, he gave Grey a wicked look. “What would you say to a ride?”

  Grey gripped tighter. “If you’re the cowboy, then I say, saddle up.”

  “Bet I last longer than eight seconds,” Nicholas murmured. “Let go of me so I can do this right. I’ll give you a show to remember in your dreams.” As Grey released him, Nicholas reached between his legs with the slick lube and began to run his fingers over his hole, already wet from Grey’s mouth, and to stretch himself open. Below him, Grey watched with parted lips, his breath coming in quick, rough jerks.

  Nicholas moaned in pure bliss as his own fingers penetrated his hole, scissoring himself wide enough to burn. When he had three inside he hesitated, then added the fourth, just to see if he could take that much. He could, and the feeling was beyond anything he could describe.

  “Your thumb, too,” Grey rasped hoarsely. “Fuck, Nicholas, I can see you and it’s…oh, hell, it’s so hot…”

  Nicholas had never done this, but he would have done anything for Grey. Tucking his thumb in next to his fingers, he drove the whole of his hand up his ass. He paused for a moment to breathe in and out, riding through the searing pain that lasted only for a moment, before the absolute fullness turned to pure pleasure. Then, making sure Grey could see, he began to fuck himself on his entire hand, sliding it in and out, lube dripping down his fingers onto Grey’s thighs, and even more semen bubbling from the slit of his own cock.

  Grey seemed to be struggling for air. “You look—the way you look right now,” he managed roughly. “Never been anything hotter.”

  Nicholas opened his eyes a slit. “Want me?”

  “Oh, damn, yes.”

  “Need me?”

  “Yes, and yes again.”

  “Then take me.” Nicholas withdre
w his hand and grabbed Grey’s cock. He poised himself over the tip and then sank down, taking him all the way, then squeezing hard as he could with his internal muscles. Grey yelled and bucked so hard, almost like a wild bronco himself, Nicholas nearly lost his balance.

  He steadied himself by grasping Grey’s hands, which came up readily to hold his own when he figured out what Nicholas wanted. Using them for leverage, Nicholas slowly raised and lowered himself, breathing deeply with each stroke, applying as much pressure as he could.

  “Me now,” he uttered hoarsely. “Now me.”

  “Yes. You.” Grey reached for Nicholas’ cock and began to jack him off, good, rough, nasty strokes, just the way Nicholas liked it. Grey used his fist as if it were a machine; he started at top speed and he didn’t slow down.

  “Ah, God! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Nicholas wailed as Grey worked him hard. “Can’t last…need you too much…”

  “Come on then, lover.” Grey’s voice was strained. “I am too…I can’t…” He arched again, swearing at the top of his lungs, and Nicholas felt his insides being covered with thick sprays of jism, pulse after pulse while Grey humped and bucked beneath him. Nicholas rode him like a wave, letting out a small scream as Grey’s fist tightened a little too hard and his own orgasm hit him with the force of a fist to the chest. His come spurted out in thick, ropy ribbons, decorating Grey’s chest as if in war paint.

  The two held still for a moment, panting harshly, joined by one hand. As he began to be able to see again, Nicholas gave Grey’s fingers a weak squeeze, and felt it being answered in kind. He slid off Grey and lay down by his side, throwing one arm over the man’s wide chest, raising and lowering like a bellows.

  “Take that, Sint Holo,” Grey gasped, dragging Nicholas closer to him. He held on tight, saying without words all that needed to be said: you are mine. I love you. I want you. I need you. You, and only you. No more ghosts. The future is ours.

  Nicholas kissed Grey’s sweat-slicked chest and gave the yawn of a wholly satisfied man. He had been a fool to ever doubt, and now he knew for sure. He could wish the whole night had never taken place, but somehow he felt that the benevolent spirits out there, those who fought against Sint Holo, had seen this through to a better conclusion than the Snake Man would have liked.

  Drowsy, he began to run his fingers over Grey’s skin, and started to murmur, “Once upon a time, in the land where the spirits live, there were two men who were both Berdache, preferring the company of their own sex. They shared a single lodge together and made medicine for the rest of their tribe. They were wise men, after having learned life’s lessons the hard way, and so generous with their magic that everyone came to them for help, from the tall to the small, the adult to the child, and they left with their hands full of good things for the People…”

  “My storyteller,” Grey said sleepily but affectionately, giving Nicholas a squeeze. “Go on. Keep on until we’re both asleep.”

  Nicholas nuzzled against his lover. “There was nothing that could part this pair of Berdache, not even the will of angry gods, for those that meant only good for the People were looking after them, and cherished their love as a holy thing…”

  And somewhere, in the wherever he was, Jimmy smiled and laid himself back down to rest. He knew he could sleep in peace now, with his friends taken care of.

  They would all live happily ever after.

  Epilogue

  In the great and grassy plains where the spirits of the People still lived, Sint Holo sat by the hole in the ground he lived in, his arms folded around his knees, and sulked. His was a look so fearsome no one with any sense would dare come near him.

  Let it never be said, though, that Deer had any sense. That, he left to creatures such as Owl and Bobcat. Picking his way through the green fields of grass, he came to Sint Holo’s side and had the cheek to nudge him with one antler.

  “Leave off!” Sint Holo shouted. “Annoying creature. Go find some fresh young weeds to eat, or a spirited doe, and leave me to my thoughts.”

  “Thoughts?” asked Deer, who knew of everything that had transpired and was not a little pleased at the Snake Man’s failure at causing mischief. “It looked to me as if you were in a positive fit of rage.” He prodded Sint Holo again. “Now why could that be, I wonder?”

  Sint Holo hissed at Deer, who did have the native cunning to step back a few feet, but then shook his head in a display of pride. “I knew your trickery would fail,” he boasted. “I have been watching. Your attempt to bring a dead man back and divide two living lovers has failed now, as it failed so many hundreds of years ago, with the People.”

  “I said for you to leave me alone,” Sint Holo muttered, lowering his head onto his arms. “Why are you here? To rub a failure in my face? Go and lord it over Owl and Bobcat too, then, as they were the ones who helped give my mask its magic.”

  “Is someone planning to gloat over a thing I did?” Owl asked, fluttering down to stand on his great scaly claws between Deer and the Snake Man. “Are you planning to make a sport out of me? Me, the spirit of wisdom?”

  “Wisdom, ha!” Sint Holo barked. “At least in the mortal world, the People still fear my little brothers and sisters, and even if most do not remember my name, they know of you as a foolish creature with glasses who sits on a tree limb and counts how many licks it takes to get to the center of a confection on a stick.” He kicked the dirt in front of him. “Go away and leave me alone.”

  Owl did, highly indignant over the words the Snake Man had spoken to him. He did, however, pause in mid-air. “When they bury the basket, and it rots through, and the mask returns to you, use it wisely this time, Sint Holo!” he shouted. “We gave you our magic thinking this was to be for the good of the People. You have caused us nothing but trouble for being foolish enough to trust you. Let the mask rest, and go on about your business!”

  Then, he flew away.

  “Business?” Sint Holo hissed. “What business? I have no business except to sit here all day, and to take care of my brood across the world. That hardly occupies a being who should have his fingers busy with every tangle of string that can be knotted together.”

  “Snake Man, you are not plotting more trouble, are you?” Deer lowered his head, as if he would charge. “I was enough of a simpleton to trust you once. Your fangs may be deadly but I have strength enough to crush one of these ‘cars’ the People ride in, and I can take you on in a fight. I—why are you smiling?” Deer eyed the Snake Man uncertainly. “What is it you find so funny?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Sint Holo said innocently. “Nothing at all, Deer. You’re right. What do I care about a mask? It was a game I played long ago, and a small failure now means no more to me than a child breaking a toy he has as a baby. Run along, Deer, and let me go back into my hole. I have a powerful urge to sleep.”

  Deer moved away, casting doubtful looks behind him, but he went—and that was the important thing. Sint Holo was as good as his word for once, slithering back into his den in the ground and coiling up in a circle to sleep. He grinned to himself, though, as he drifted off into dreams.

  The mask would soon be his again. And as long as people believed in him, there would soon be someone else to discover the power that came of belief in Sint Holo…

  Hissssssss.

  About the Author

  Willa Okati has a hundred and one different stories to tell, and she's getting there one book at a time. Permanently glued to her computer chair or parked in front of a laptop, she can be found pounding the keys from before dawn until after dusk. She's delighted to have found a home at Samhain where she can write her Appalachian-with-a-twist paranormal stories. Coffee is her best friend and her lifesaver; cats are her muses; her bookshelves are groaning under the weight of a tremendous collection.

  She'd love to hear from readers, and can be contacted at willaokati@gmail.com. Drop her a line anytime or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Willa. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/willa_okati
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  Look for these titles by Willa Okati

  Now Available:

  A Year and a Day

  Unspoken

  The Letter

  Coming Soon:

  Sex and Sexuality

  White knights don’t always come in human form.

  With Love

  © 2007 J.L. Langley

  Available January 16, 2007 from Samhain Publishing

  Part of the Hearts from the Ashes collection

  All Devlin wants to do is find a good new home for his business and his pack. He’s not looking for any complications, but he finds something he never expected—a mate. A mate with a whole lot of energy who attracts trouble like a magnet.

  Laine Campbell never means to get himself into hot water, but everything has a way of getting tangled up between his feet. He needs more than just a mate—he needs a savior.

  When Dev turns up at a pack get-together, Laine finds both. The two werewolves have an instant attraction, but the pack Alpha is determined to keep Laine for himself. Dev soon learns the only way to protect his mate is to fight, not just for the top spot—but for his life.

  Just one small problem. His accident-prone mate is determined to help him…

  Enjoy the following excerpt for With Love:

  Laine opened the men’s room door, bumping a man on his way out. “Excuse me.”

  The man kept walking.

  Laine shrugged and went to the urinal. He did his business and zipped back up. He turned to go to the sink and ran smack dab into someone.

  “Hello, Laine.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit and damn. Laine peered up into Victor’s eyes and glared. “Get out of my way, asshole.”

  Victor cupped Laine’s chin and made a tsking sound. “Now, Lainey, is that any way to speak to your Alpha?”