I can't kick him out. Not when we've both travelled all this way. It wouldn't be right. My image of myself as a welcoming host would come crashing down around my ears, and yes, yes, yes, I admit it: I want to get laid. It'd be so much easier to fuck Adam into submission than go out to some gay bar or vampire-friendly club, small talk, pretence, your place or mine, all that bullshit.
Whereas Adam's a sure thing, much as it pains me to acknowledge that. Doing so means I'm no gentleman.
"More books in here, huh?" Bookcases line the walls, and a few paperbacks sit, with markers in, on the coffee table. "You should get an e- reader. Save space."
"What else would I have in here?"
"Ooh, I dunno. It's a basement flat, right? You could build yourself a sex dungeon. Spanking bench, St. Andrew's cross, a storage cupboard for all your floggers, whips, canes, that sort of thing."
"I don't have any floggers, whips, or---"
"Yes." Adam sighs heavily, an obvious affectation. "More's the pity."
My throat closes up at the thought of him splayed across a spanking bench, begging me to---
"You all right?"
"What?" I shake those thoughts out of my traitorous head, or try to, and bring myself back to the present. "Yeah. Sure."
"Hmm." Adam's lips twitch. He knows what I was thinking, the bastard. "You looked a bit distracted for a moment."
"Really," I deadpan, praying for something to happen to interrupt this damned uncomfortable conversation. Flirtation. Sparring match. Whatever the hell it is.
"Yeah, as if my mentioning a sex dungeon made you think of me---"
I have never been so grateful for my mobile ringing in my entire existence as I am right now.
Given the nature of the conversation I've just been trying to avoid having with Adam, my hands tremble as I fumble in my pockets, but I eventually find the phone.
Alyssa. The time of her call isn't all that unusual; she often calls me through the night if she can't sleep, or her schedule is out of the ordinary for that week, for whatever reason. Work.
Partying.
Just sheer for-the-hell of it communications.
Uncontrollably, my gaze flicks up at Adam before I answer.
"You require privacy?" he teases, but the darkening in his eyes tells me this is a real concern for him. I shake my head no.
Neither of us spoke of other lovers, commitments we may have had elsewhere. He doesn't know for sure I'm perpetually single, and for all I know, he could have let me fuck him just as a bit of fun. For old time's sake. He could have a boyfriend somewhere that I don't know about.
God, I hope that's true.
God, I hope it isn't.
I hit the green answer button. "Hey."
"Hey, you; how's it going? Just thought I'd give you a call and see how things are going."
"You certainly sound much better. And have you been drinking?"
" O f course I've been drinking. It's two o'clock in the morning on a weekend night."
"Should you be? I mean, if you're on antibiotics?"
"Antibiotics?"
Adam stage-whispers.
"You're consorting with diseased people now?"
"Oh, fuck you," I blurt out. "No! Not you, Alys. I was talking to someone else."
"You have company?"
"Uh, kind of. Yes and no." I honestly don't know whether or not to describe Adam as company. But thank God for Alyssa and her exquisite timing. Now I don't have to deal with his confusing flirting and overtly sexual talk. At least for the duration of this phone call. So I decide to drag it out for as long as possible.
"Nathan Stephenson, is there something you want to tell me?"
"No, it's---Will you leave that alone?"
Adam's picked a book off the shelf and flicks through it while I'm on the phone, but I don't want him touching anything while I talk to Alyssa.
Selfish of me, perhaps, to expect him to do absolutely nothing while I chat to a friend and gather my thoughts, but I've earned the right to be.
"Who are you talking to?" Alyssa asks, and my head nearly explodes with the stress of trying to carry on two conversations at once, with two people who don't know each other. At least, I'm half-having a conversation with Alyssa. Adam?
I'm just trying to keep him in line, a task which usually takes one hundred percent of any man's concentration.
"Um, no one."
"You can't get away with lying to me. I know you have someone there, and you can't be pumping him, or you wouldn't have answered the phone."
"Pumping? Good God, Alyssa; how much have you had to drink? And what makes you think it's a him?"
"Because I'm psychic."
"You are not."
"Okay; I just know you too well. Is it a boyfriend? Do you have a boyfriend? I can't believe it; Nathan Stephenson's only gone and got himself a---"
"I do not have a bloody boyfriend!" I look across the room at Adam, who stops his relentless touching, rearranging, inspecting, to raise his eyebrows at me, lips twitching in amusement.
Well, that's pretty much advertised my single state, and if he, too, has no other romantic entanglements, that means we're both free, and he can go right back to smothering me. I'm not even entirely sure that he'd see a lover on my part as any sort of obstacle, regardless. We have slept together, after all. Several times. Better proof of a long-lasting mutual attraction, I could not invent.
"If you're busy, I won't bother coming round, then." Even over the phone, Alyssa's pout is still detectable.
"No, it's not that I don't..." I glance at Adam, who's still giving me the majority of his attention, and lower my voice. "...I mean, I'm occupied."
He'll hear, anyway. He's got hearing like a bat.
Being dead does rather sharpen one's senses. Or maybe it's just a case of, over the years, we become better at reading people. As ex-members of the human race, we can be predators of it, but also observers. We have all the time in the world.
"Just a whistle-stop, I promise. I was going to come round and sober up with a mug of tea, if you had any in your kitchen, but if you have company, I'm curious. I admit it. Well, be round soon. I'm in the taxi."
"Wait, Alyssa---"
She hangs up.
"Bloody humans," I mutter and throw the phone onto my coffee table. Calling her back won't do any fucking good; she'd ignore me and override my wishes anyway. Especially when she's got a drink on her.
"A human calling you at this time of night?"
"She knows I'll be awake."
"Friend of yours, is she?" Adam runs a fingertip along the mantel shelf, and I almost ask him if he'd like to don a pair of white gloves to give my home a proper inspection.
"Yes; I've known her for a couple of years."
"Human, you say? Mortal, then?"
"Yes." I wonder where this is going.
"Hmm." He turns on his heels, shrugging, as if the conversation doesn't mean a thing. "Most of my associates are undead."
"You have many?"
"A few. Not a lot. Mortals? I use them."
Uncontrollably, I shudder. And he notices.
"No, not like that. Good God, man; what do you take me for? Don't answer that. I know you're judging me by my seventy-years-ago standards. When I talk about using mortals, I mean for sex. Consensually so, I hasten to add. Sometimes, I drink from them, of course I do. Don't tell me you don't."
"We have to. It'd be like me telling Alyssa not to breathe oxygen."
"Exactly. And Alyssa? A girl's name? You associate with females now?"
"I'm gay, Adam. Not a misogynist."
"Quite. Is that so you don't get overcome with lust and have to give her a good seeing-to?"
I grimace. "For goodness' sake---she's my friend."
"Oh, I know that. I appreciate it. But you'll admit to me you're gay." Adam reaches round, runs a hand over his backside. "My arse can definitely confirm it. But do you still lie to yourself and pretend you're not? Angst over it? It always amazed me, how you co
uld---"
"Some things never change, do they?"
"Gone too far, have I? Okay, okay, I'll behave. Wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable in your own home. So you admit you're gay and you have female friends. Is she a fag hag?"
"Adam."
"Just asking. I'm not as bad as you like to think. Just a bit cheeky. I mean, did you honestly think I'd use humans against their will? For blood or sex?"
"When I chased after you outside the club. You said---you flat-out told me---that after we, you know..."
"After I thought I'd killed you?"
"Yes. That. You told me that for some time afterwards, you used people, took what you wanted."
"There are ways of taking without forcing the other person into it. You persuade, they agree, you take what you want--- with their permission---then in the morning, or rather, before morning comes?
You leave. It's cold, it's clinical, but it's consensual. Despite what you seem to think, I didn't develop a taste for murder. But let me ask you straight; is that what you think? Do you believe I'd fuck anyone who didn't want it? Do you think I'm so animalistic that I don't care for their enjoyment too? Think back to the hotel room, Nathan. It wasn't that long ago." He's pointing at me with that forefinger again, jabbing at mid-air.
"You can't have forgotten. Did I act like a man who didn't give a fuck about your pleasure?"
Involuntarily, I shudder at the memory and let that be my answer.
"No; I didn't think so either." And his voice is colder than I've ever heard it before.
"I'm a special case, though," I blurt out, finding my voice at last.
His eyes lift in what looks like surprise. Or maybe it's incredulity that I'd push the issue after he's already defended himself several times. "Oh? Meaning?"
"Of course you'd be careful with me. To make up for..."
"Ah. I see. You think I was trying to atone for what I'd done before. Well." Adam shrugs.
"Maybe I was. With words. You know, when I actually said I was sorry? The fucking? That was all physical. I don't use my cock for atonement."
"Technically, it was---"
" Ye s , thank you, Sergeant Stephenson. I know it was yours that got all the action. And to think, you're accusing the bottom of being selfish."
He tuts three times, each tongue-click a quiet reproach. How the hell did this happen? Adam doing me wrong and me feeling bad about it? "Of course," he continues, "that could all be a ruse. Me, selflessly bottoming to prove to you that I'm not a psychopath." He bursts out laughing. "That is some fucked-up reasoning, you know? Why can't you just accept it for what it is? Seventy years have passed, I apologised, you don't believe it, end of story. Right?"
Truthfully? I'm not sure whether or not I do believe he's changed. I'm the exception---the one who drove him to distraction. The one whose possible loss or death meant he had to keep me, somehow. Anyhow. Maybe what he did gave him a taste for it. Maybe not. I don't know enough about his activities since to judge. Which probably also means I don't know enough about his activities since to fuck him in a hotel room, but that didn't stop me doing it.
Yet, here he is. In my home. The place to which I brought him out of some misguided sense of hope. The longing for it to be true, that he had changed, that we could both accept the other's existence and move on, without fighting, or perhaps even fraternising in the future. I'm hoping he can know where I am and still choose not to smother me. A test, and a risky one at that.
"Your silence tells me everything I need to know, Soldier Boy. Thanks a bundle. Anyway!"
This last word artificially bright, an uncomfortable attempt to move the conversation on. "I had people I called on to relieve certain urges. You can't tell me you didn't either."
His use of the past tense isn't lost on me, and I can't help but wonder if he sees his other lovers as in the past because we're going to make a future to ge the r. Oh please, Adam, don't make assumptions. Don't take it as read that we're going to jump straight back into what we were.
"I haven't been celibate, put it that way."
"No." Adam closes his eyes and appears to be denying what I've just confessed. Not wanting to see it. But it's just a blink, nothing more. "I wouldn't expect so." He startles, no doubt because of the car pulling up outside. "A visitor for you," he says, either stating the obvious or voicing his jealousy in a churlish way. He has no reason to be jealous of Alyssa---not sexually. Even if Adam and I weren't in a sexual relationship, Alyssa just isn't my type, by virtue of the fact that her sexual organs are on the inside of her body, and I'm really not a boob man.
So now it's too late to devise a way to get Adam out of the house; not that he would go for it anyway. If he sensed my desperation, he'd play with me and stay. I wonder if there's any way for me to head her off at the pass, or just ignore her.
Maybe I could---
The doorbell rings out, two chimes, and Adam stares at me. "Well? Aren't you going to answer it? Really, I'm surprised you don't hand out keys to your human pets so they can let themselves in."
"Oh, do shut up."
"It'd be much more convenient."
"Are you kidding?" I throw over my shoulder as I head for the door. "She wouldn't know who the hell I've got with me."
"Nathan!" Alyssa's all bright eyes and glowing skin; either she's made a remarkable recovery from her previous illness---ah, the resilience of youth---or the alcohol consumed has given her glassy eyes and a bit too much confidence. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"Ah, the old invite-me-in cliché again."
Adam leans against the living room doorframe, arms folded, and Alyssa stops in her tracks.
"Although, I am informed you're not of the undead."
Alyssa looks him up and down. Fuck. Talk about an awkward situation. "And you are?"
Adam practically bridles. "Really, Nathan. I'm insulted. Have you told her nothing about me?"
"Um...no?" Alyssa looks from me to Adam and back again. "Look, I know I dropped in unannounced, had a night out, few drinks, you know how it is---"
"Oh yes, dear; whenever I go out, I like to quench my thirst as much as possible."
"Shut up Adam. Look. Alyssa, this is Adam. Adam, this is Alyssa. She's my friend, and you will behave. Is that understood?"
"I always do."
"If I'd known you had male, undead company, I'd have...you know..." Alyssa rolls her shoulders in something approximating a shrug. Or maybe she's just trying to shake off the distinctly uncomfortable atmosphere.
"He doesn't just fuck other vampires, you know. Sometimes, he dallies with---" at this, Adam widens his eyes dramatically. Of course; everything has to be dramatic with him "---your sort."
"My sort?"
"You have your uses." He winks, still leaning against the doorframe like he owns the place. He couldn't mark his territory more obviously if he turned into a lion and sprayed every corner.
Alyssa's jaw works, as if she's trying to force out words. Stunned, she looks at me for help.
"Yes, he is always like this."
"Come now, Nathan---not always. We've barely spoken in seventy years. I thought you were dead for most of it."
And Alyssa's still staring. "Sounds like quite a story here."
"Nathan neglected to tell me he was still alive. In a sense."
"You know each other, then?"
"Fr om way back. During the war. Second World, I'm referring to."
"Fuck."
"We often did, yes."
She wrinkles her nose. "Now that, I did not need to know. Not homophobic; just think some things should be kept private."
"Good to know. Glad you clarified that."
"Maybe," I say, deciding it's time to step in, "Alyssa has a sense of decency, which you are sorely lacking."
"I'm hurt." Adam touches a hand to his heart and stands up straight, no longer leaning to one side like a sarcastic italic in physical form. "That wounds me."
"Okay, let me get this straight." Alyssa taps the a
ir in front of her with a downturned palm, one, two, three. Counting. Or trying to figure things out in her head. "Your name's Adam, you're a vampire like Nathan, and you knew each other way back. You're what? Ex-lovers, I assume?"
"More or less. We might have reunited,"
Adam says, and I shoot him a what did you say glance. "Temporarily. Just for fun. You know."
"For old time's sake?" Alyssa asks, receiving a nod and a light laugh in reply. "And you thought he was dead? Why?"
"Oh my; these things get so complicated, don't they?" Adam rubs his palms together before looking down at them spread before him. He either looks like Lady Macbeth--- out, out damned spot---or a man readying himself for prayer.
"Because he tried to kill me," I say, and Adam's head flicks up immediately.
"I did not. " He turns to Alyssa. "I did no such thing."
"You've got a guy who tried to kill you in your house?" Alyssa takes one step backwards, closer to the front door. I can't blame her.
"What Nathan is trying to say is that, yes, it's true. I am the one---well, if you count Will in all this, I'm one of the two---who's responsible for Nathan being here today."
"You're his...is there even a word for it?"
I think of the barman in Vlad's referring to Adam as my sire and try not to shudder.
"You never told me." Alyssa's staring up at me with disbelief, wonderment and confusion fighting for supremacy in her eyes. "You never told me anything about how you came to exist."
"You never asked."
"I didn't think it was right. Private, you know." She shoots a glance at Adam, an almost apologetic one, and he, for once, says nothing. No sarcasm, no jokes. "I figured if he wanted to tell me, he would. Vampire etiquette, you know?"
Adam waits a few seconds before speaking.
"Maybe it's about time you did tell her," he says, addressing me but still looking at Alyssa.
"You won't come out of this very well," I remind him, as if he needs reminding.
And he shrugs. "I know." He turns to re-enter the living room. "To be honest, I'm not sure if I care anymore."
All this time, Alyssa's not sat down. She has plenty times before; whenever she's been here, she's made herself comfortable, not thinking twice about it being the home of a vampire. But as I speak, and Adam speaks, she doesn't rest. Can't relax.
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