by Ally Blue
Mark suggested Jorge’s hand once he got bored with the various sex toys. Jorge readily agreed, which surprised Mark not at all. Jorge had been dying to fist fuck him for ages, but Mark had always been too chicken before.
There were definite advantages to being dead.
“You like that, baby?” Jorge twisted his greased arm deeper into Mark’s guts. “You like my arm up your ass?”
“Shit, yeah,” Mark panted, watching in fascination as the mangled lump of intestines jiggled inside the ragged hole in his belly. “Feels good.”
“Tell me what it feels like.”
Mark stared into Jorge’s eyes. “Feels... I don’t know. Oughta feel tight, I know, but it doesn’t. It just... I can just feel you, right? Inside me. All the way.”
Mark trailed off, at a loss for words. He didn’t have the vocabulary to describe the quiet waves of pleasure that rolled through him when Jorge’s fist moved inside him. It was a faint shade of what he figured he’d be feeling if he were still alive. But he liked it that way. It was soothing, almost, and it brought him a measure of comfort to know that even after death, he could still have Jorge in him. He didn’t know what he’d do if they found they’d lost that intimacy forever. He needed that closeness, that connection that went so far beyond words.
“I know,” Jorge whispered. He slipped two fingers of his other hand in beside his arm, unerringly finding the sweet spot. Mark gasped, and Jorge smiled. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. Come on.”
Mark arched his back and let out a harsh, croaking cry. It seemed strange to come without any physical evidence, but there was no mistaking that feeling. His brain was having one fierce orgasm, even if his body didn’t know it. If he’d been alive, he figured, his semen would’ve hit the ceiling.
Jorge carefully pulled his arm out, helped Mark to his feet, and kissed him. Mark clung to his lover, still reeling from the aftershocks of a completely mental release. He laid his head on Jorge’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He didn’t even mind the way the torn bits of skin hanging from Jorge’s throat tickled his cheek.
“That,” he said when he got his voice back, “was fucking awesome.”
“Sure was.”
“Want me to do you now?”
“Maybe later. Right now, it’s enough that I got to make you come.”
Mark smiled against Jorge’s neck. It always tickled him how Jorge could get off just on watching him come.
Outside the shop window, a live person ran shrieking down the sidewalk, pursued by a crowd of the dead. Mark recognized his old teacher, still plugging away in spite of having no teeth. The sight caused his happy glow to fade a little.
“Hey, Jorge?”
“Hm?”
“What’s gonna happen to us, you think?”
Jorge was silent for a moment. Mark waited, much more patiently than he would have in life. “I don’t know,” Jorge answered finally.
Another long stretch of silence. They held each other, cold fingers stroking cold skin.
“Jorge?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared.”
Jorge’s arms tightened around Mark’s waist. “Me too, baby. Me too.”
*****
The sky outside had begun to lighten by the time they stirred again. A strange drowsiness crept over Mark’s mind. He felt sluggish and heavy, and nothing much seemed to matter anymore.
“I feel weird, Jorge.”
“So do I.”
“You think we’re gonna die for real now?”
“I figure so, yeah.”
“I don’t mind anymore. I don’t like being like this.”
“Me neither. I’m ready to go.” Jorge stroked the tangled hair out of Mark’s eyes, smiling sadly. “You and me, we were good, huh?”
“The best.” Mark cupped Jorge’s beloved face between his hands. “I love you, Jorge. Always did, you know.”
“I know. I love you too.”
They kissed, clumsily but with as much love as ever. Mark could barely feel Jorge’s lips against his.
Jorge pulled back, a strange expression in his dull eyes. “Promise me something?”
“Anything, baby.”
“Promise me that if we make it to the next life, we’ll still be together.”
“I promise.” Mark managed a smile in spite of the stiffness of his face. “Let’s go to the park, huh? We can watch the sun come up.”
“Yeah. Our last sunrise.” Jorge took Mark’s hand and squeezed it. “Come on.”
They shuffled out the door hand in hand and crossed the street to the tiny, run-down public park in which they’d spent so many blissful nights, and watched so many sunrises together. They found their favorite bench, heaved a pile of body parts off of it, and sat down, facing east.
As the darkness gave way to an eerily silent dawn, Mark and Jorge cuddled together to watch the day break for the last time.
"Happy Trails"
first appeared in the summer 2006 issue of Forbidden Fruit. WARNING for a bit of BDSM :D
*****
“Gimme another dog.”
“Get your own.”
“C’mon, Rick.”
I glared over at Pete, sitting buck-ass naked on a blanket by the campfire. Long legs stretched out, black cowboy hat pulled low, dark curls all sweaty against his neck. Pretty mouth just smiling. Lazing around while I cooked, as usual. Thinking that just ‘cause he’d spread for me any damn time, that meant I had to wait on him.
Problem was, he appeared to be right.
“Fine.” I stuck the last of the hot dogs on a straightened-out coat hanger and held it over the fire. He grinned.
Bastard.
He gave me big sloe eyes when I handed him his dog. “Thanks, babe.”
“You can thank me in a minute.” I stood over him and watched as he wolfed down his fourth dog. Every time we go camping, he eats enough for a damn army. Where the fuck he puts it all, I don’t know.
I waited ‘til he finished. When he’d swallowed the last bite, I pulled the end of the hanger out of the coals and pressed the tip to his nipple.
“Fuck!” He arched, shaking, brown eyes hot and wanting. “Rick...”
“I know.”
I held the red-hot metal to his other nipple. He collapsed onto his back, moaning, those lean thighs spread wide. I unzipped and started stroking myself. He mirrored me, big hands pulling his thick cock.
“Yours, Rick.” Those dark eyes burned.
“Mine.” I whacked the inside of his thigh with the hot wire. He hissed, cock twitching. “Turn over.”
He rolled onto his belly, got his knees under him, and stuck that pretty as fuck ass in the air. The base of the big red butt plug I’d made him wear lay snug between those firm cheeks. Made me feel hot all over.
Pete looked over his shoulder at me. “Do it.”
“Yeah.”
It took a few minutes, seeing as how all I had was a coat hanger. Pete screamed and clawed the ground and came before I was done, but I didn’t mind. By the time I’d finished branding his ass with my name, my dick was about to bust. I reached down and yanked the plug out. The sight of that stretched hole nearly made me lose it. My cock slid right in, and I fucked him ‘til we both saw stars.
Later, I sat and watched Pete sleeping, flat on his belly, hole plugged up again, anti-biotic ointment coating the fresh brand. That hot piece of man belonged to me, from that stupid hat he always wore to his bare feet. The raw burns spelling “Rick” across his ass told it to the world.
Mine.
I pulled him close and fell asleep under the wide, starry sky, with my own private cowboy in my arms.
The next night, I let him brand me.
In Dreams
originally appeared in the Winter 2006 issue of Forbidden Fruit. WARNING for some disturbing memories. You'll see...
*****
Joel hadn’t dreamed in longer than he could remember. Nights had been blessedly blank ever since he’d arrived on the island,
his sleep deep and restful. So the first dream took him completely by surprise.
He stood in an empty room with blank gray walls. He felt like he was waiting for something, but he didn’t know what. He went to the window and looked out. A man stood on the grass outside, looking up at him. The man seemed sad, though Joel couldn’t figure out why.
Joel lay in bed for a long time after he woke, staring up at the ceiling fan revolving over his bed. The sorrowful face of the man in his dream lingered in his mind, though he couldn’t remember exactly what the man looked like.
“Just a dream,” Joel said to himself, because no one else was there. He shoved the white cotton sheet off and slid out of bed.
The sun was just rising over the green mountains on the horizon when Joel walked out onto the beach. The turquoise waves sparkled in the morning light, and the sand felt cool under his feet. He stretched, relishing the warmth of the tropical sun on his bare skin. He’d stopped wearing clothes as soon as he realized he was alone on the island. Now, he could barely remember a time when he hadn’t been naked.
Joel walked out into the clear water, dove under a rolling blue swell, and swam until the palm trees looked like toys and his hut was swallowed by distance. He flipped over to float on his back and scanned the length of the beach around the bay, more out of habit than anything else. He hadn’t seen another soul since the morning he’d woken up alone in the cozy little hut on the beach.
After his swim, Joel stretched out on the fine white sand and watched puffs of cloud drift across the deep blue sky. No airplane contrails marred the peaceful perfection of that sky. Sometimes, Joel wondered what exactly had happened to the world. Whether everyone else had disappeared, or he himself had been whisked away to this solitary paradise. But mostly it didn’t matter. He had everything he needed here, and he didn’t miss other people.
The day passed the way the days usually did for Joel. Quietly. He wandered the jungle paths behind his hut, listening to the soothing music of birds and insects. When he got hungry, he picked fruit from the trees and ate it as he walked. When the heat became oppressive, he dove into the cool water of the river, in the wide place just past the waterfall.
Nothing much ever happened here. Joel liked that just fine.
He returned to the hut as the sun began to sink behind the mountains. He sat in the big rocking chair on the front porch, sipping a glass of chardonnay and watching the sky shade from brilliant red and orange through pink and lavender to deep midnight blue. The stars appeared one by one as the sky darkened to black.
Joel sat for a while longer, contemplating the rippled reflection of the moon on the water. He felt vaguely uneasy, as he usually did after nightfall. Not because of any sense of danger; in all the time he’d been on the island, he’d never seen anything more threatening than a wasp. The darkness simply gave him a feeling he couldn’t find words for. Like staring at a locked door, aware that he knew what was on the other side, but unable to remember.
He stood, picked up his empty wine glass, and went back inside. The light of the lamp beside the window pushed back the creeping night and suffused the little room in a soft golden glow. He lay down on the bed and drifted to sleep with the light still on.
*****
The room was darker this time, the walls dingy. Only a faint light filtered in past the heavy curtains that now covered the windows. He pushed the thick drapes aside. The sky outside hung gray and menacing over a bleak landscape. The yard was empty. Joel turned, and there, standing beside the closed door of the room, was the man he’d seen before.
“Who are you?” Joel asked. His voice sounded muffled and oddly distorted.
The man took a step toward him, one graceful hand reaching out, and Joel’s pulse sped up. The man’s smooth olive skin, black hair, and full lips made Joel feel things he thought he’d forgotten long ago. But it was the man’s eyes that glued Joel’s feet to the floor. Eyes as black and bottomless as the ocean at night. Eyes that bled a palpable sorrow.
Joel reached out and took the man’s hand in his before he realized what he was doing. The second their hands touched, Joel was overcome by a strange sense of mingled dread and want. He let go, stumbling backward. Whether he was trying to escape from his fear or his need, he couldn’t say.
He sank down to the floor, the blood pounding in his ears. As the world went gray around him, he thought he heard the man call his name.
Joel woke with a start, breathing hard. The sheet clung to his damp skin. The face of his dream man lingered behind his eyes, lovely and sensual, a compelling mix of softness and strength. He could still feel the weight of those black eyes, the warmth of the long, slender fingers curled around his.
It took him a minute to realize what the strange sensation in his groin was. He lay back and ran his fingers tentatively up and down his erection, shivering at the light touch. He’d nearly forgotten what it felt like.
It took less than a minute to get himself off. One hand around his shaft, the other wandering downward to circle his opening, stroking and pulling, a firm thumb against the slit at the tip of his cock, and Joel came, ropes of wet heat splattering his belly. He shut his eyes.
...dusky skin warm and slick beneath him, long legs and strong arms around him, soft lips and harsh breath against his ear, clutching heat around his cock. “Joel, yes, harder...”
Joel sat straight up in bed, eyes flying open. The shocking suddenness of the vision frightened him. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, wide eyes roaming the room. Everything seemed perfectly normal. No grimy gray walls, no strange men with beautiful sad eyes. Only himself, semen drying on his stomach while the morning light poured in through the windows.
He sat there for many long minutes before his shaking subsided.
*****
Though the sun shone as brightly as ever, the day seemed dark to Joel. As if some giant hand had thrown a cloak of shadow across the sky. Sunset found him still curled up in the big rocking chair, staring out at the wide sandy beach and emerald green jungle. Watching, and thinking.
He knew he hadn’t always been on the island. He knew there had been a life before, a whole world. But he couldn’t remember it. Whenever he tried, panic rose like bile in his throat, thick and choking. So he’d stopped trying ages ago. After all, he reasoned, he was here, with no idea how or why he’d gotten here, and no way of leaving, even if he’d wanted to. And why would he want to? This place was a dream come true. Quiet, peaceful, beautiful. Balm to soothe a troubled spirit.
He’d never wondered before at the ease with which this unknown island had become his home. Had never questioned how everything he ever wanted or needed, from food and water to fine wines to electricity, existed here in an abundance that never seemed to diminish. It had all seemed part of a phenomenon beyond his understanding, beyond his ability to control. A thing to enjoy without question.
The dream changed all that, though Joel wasn’t sure why. All he knew was that something about it had jarred that locked door in his mind, shaken it in its frame. Another dream could burst it wide open, and flood his perfect little world with deadly knowledge. He knew it with a certainty he’d never felt before.
“Won’t sleep,” he whispered to himself. “Don’t need to.”
Joel went back inside, made himself a sandwich, and curled up on the sofa to watch a movie on the plasma screen TV that hadn’t been there an hour ago. He ignored the thought of the dream man’s liquid eyes, that soft skin that he ached to touch. If he gave in to his desires, everything would change. And he knew, somehow, that it wouldn’t be for the better.
*****
Joel hadn’t stayed up all night even once since his arrival on the island, preferring the blank safety of sleep to the living dark. But sleep had become his enemy. Sleep, and the unwelcome dreams it now brought.
He resented it. Resented that these strange, disturbing visions had invaded his haven and forced him to face the long nights with eyes wide open. Why, he wondered, did
his own mind betray him so? And why did his subconscious insist on inventing the most beautiful man he’d ever seen to tempt him into the unwanted dreams?
You know, a quiet little voice inside him whispered.
“No,” he said, stubborn, thrusting his chin out.
But deep inside, he knew the voice was right.
He managed to stay awake for three nights and three days before exhaustion caught up to him. On the fourth night, he sat ramrod straight in a wooden chair at the kitchen table as darkness fell, TV blaring loud and cheerful in the corner. He fell asleep after an hour, head resting on his folded arms.