Meridian

by Gabbo De la Parra

  “What is that silly grin? You look nauseatingly foolish,” Bunny observed like a spoiled brat.

  “Really? Is that the way to talk to the man who’s takin’ you to your freedom?” Tiger did air quotes.

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like you’re doing me a favor. I’m paying.”

  “Maybe in your line of work the customer is always right, but in mine, if I don’t like the customer, I can kick his ass out of my way.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Behave like the nice little thing you are, Bunny, and we won’t have a problem.”

  Bunny arched an eyebrow, and his blue eyes sparkled, almost in defiance, but he seemed to think better than to open his mouth to retort. Apparently, he decided on a more subtle approach. “Well, sweet husband of mine, tell me something I don’t know about you.” He put forward a winning smile and grabbed Tiger’s hand, probably because the waitress had come back to refill their drinks.

  “Newlyweds? You two are the cutest thing. I’m pretty sure you had the most romantic first meeting.”

  “How did you know?” Bunny beamed at the woman, excited. Fucking companions knew how to fake it. “But Hubby here tells it better than me. If you have a minute I’m sure he’d indulge you.”

  “Darlin’, I’m a sucker for a good story. The customers can wait.” She waved her hand.

  “Come on, love, tell the nice lady how we met.”

  He’s so payin’ for this later.

  “Hmm, I know you’re a busy woman, so I’ll give you the short version.” Tiger smiled. He knew how to fake it too.

  “Huh-uh, darlin’, don’t spare me any details.” She wagged her finger at Tiger.

  Bunny’s smugness deserved a smack. Tiger settled for a rough pat on the cheek. “Honey Bunny…”

  “Oh my god.” The waitress put her meaty hand over her mouth and squealed. “He calls cutie ‘bunny!’”

  The only way to satisfy this nosy woman was to tell his own fantasy first encounter. He would have to change the big, burly man of his dreams for little Bunny, but how else was he going to get rid of this woman?

  “Well, it had rained and there were puddles on the streets. My sweet Bunny was standing in a corner.” Yeah, I said you were in a corner, he told Bunny with an arched eyebrow. “And I wasn’t payin’ attention and splashed him as I passed by on my bike. He ended up wet from head to toe and, of course, cursed me out, his little fist waving in the air, callin’ me every name in the book.”

  “How adorable.” The waitress clapped her hands, eating Tiger’s every word.

  “I turned around,” Tiger continued, “ready to confront him, but he looked so angrily beautiful, I couldn’t do anything else than offer to take him to his place to change clothes. I didn’t mind his wet outfit as he held on tight, his lithe body pressed against mine. When we arrived at his place, I told him I’d wait to take him out for an apology lunch. His wonderful blue eyes flashed, ready to refuse me, but I took his hand and kissed it and said, ‘pretty please.’ Bunny narrowed his eyes but accepted. He made me wait, lady. I tell you. He left me there on the street for two hours.”

  She turned to Bunny and tsked.

  “I was pissed,” Bunny said, shrugging.

  “But it was all worth it. He came down lookin’ like an angel, all dressed in white, a vision from heaven. I took him to a restaurant by the sea where the afternoon ocean was pale in comparison to his eyes.”

  “How romantic,” she sighed

  Bunny’s puzzled face should have been funny, but it wasn’t. There was something odd in the way he was staring at Tiger, just shy of gaping in disbelief.

  “When did you realize you loved him?” she asked Bunny, her long pink nails close to her mouth, about to be bitten.

  “Shh, let me tell her that, Bunny, ’cause I know the exact moment you fell for me.” Tiger pressed his finger over Bunny’s surprisingly soft lips.

  Bunny’s eyes widened like satellite dishes.

  “Lady, it was the first night we made love after months of furtive kisses and hesitant touches. When I was inside him, I looked into his eyes and told him that he was the most beautiful man in the world, with hair like a moonless night, skin like the rosy dawn, and eyes so blue I didn’t need sky or ocean anymore in my life to be happy.”

  “Oh…” The big waitress fainted.

  It wasn’t a pretty sight, that much woman sprawled and unconscious between tables.

  After a collective gasp, the other six or seven customers moved to see what was happening. A man even bigger than the waitress, with a filthy apron and a scowl the size of Texas, came wielding a giant cleaver that seemed like a kid’s toy in his hand. “What’s going on?”

  “She was just talking to us one second, and the next she was on the floor.” Bunny gave the cleaver-wielding cook his most angelic smile. Tiger was sure he had gotten out of more than one tight spot using those fucking dimples.

  The hardened features softened, and the cook shrugged almost apologetically; his gaze moved from Bunny to Tiger and back to Bunny. “Well, I guess you were telling her your love story. She’s very excitable.”

  “We were, and right before she passed out she said our food was on the house.”

  The imp batted his lashes!

  “Of course she did. That sounds just like her.” The cook grabbed the fallen waitress by her chubby arms and pulled, then stopped, letting her go. “Let me get her out of the way, and I’ll bring you some dessert.” He picked up her clipboard and checked something. “You’re type AB, just like me.” He had the stupidest, most wistful, smitten look on his face when he smiled at Bunny.

  “What a lovely coincidence,” said Bunny, with the smile and the dimples and the lashes in full force.

  Motherfuckin’ pretty Bunny.

  ****

  CHAPTER THREE

  “You see? I’m not defenseless,” K said as they walked out of the diner.

  “Pretty is not gonna get you out of a fight.”

  “The trick is to know when to fight and when to charm.”

  Tiger arched an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t have some fae in you? ’Em ears are awfully pointy for bein’ just human.”

  K touched the tips of his ears and hissed, “Idiot.” He took a deep breath. “If I had fae in me, the vampires would not touch my blood.”

  The sun was getting lower by the second. The mountains slowly melded with the sky.

  “True.” Tiger put his hand over his brow like a visor. “I think we should find that Motel 69 the cook told us about and call it a day.”

  “Afraid of riding at night?”

  “You should know better than to say shit like that.” Tiger narrowed his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Hubby.”

  Tiger gave him a once over, the semi-scowl still in place. “Let’s get out of here.” He walked several paces toward the bike. He stopped and turned, offering his big hand to K. “Love?”

  K was taken aback for a second, then remembered they were supposedly married and in love. He took the proffered hand. It was warm and calloused. Tiger pulled him in, and they ended up chest to chest, well, as much as their height difference permitted. Strong paws gripped K’s waist, and Tiger lowered his face toward him. K’s first instinct was to try to push Tiger away, but he relaxed; they were playing a part. Nevertheless, as Tiger’s mouth moved closer, something inside K very much wanted to learn the texture of those thin, dark lips.

  The kiss landed on K’s forehead, and the hands moved upward, arms encircling him. The whole action seemed almost brotherly.

  Shit. What was I thinking?

  Now Tiger was towing him toward the bike, and K nearly tripped.

  “Careful, my Bunny.” The three words felt like a caress.

  They rode the four miles east (as the cook had instructed them) and found the structural nightmare that was a roadside Motel 69. Next to the svelte, tall buildings of Vampire Los Angeles, the squat, random design was anything but appealing.

 
; After securing the bike in the parking lot, putting it in TON2 mode (so no one could move it), they entered the reception area.

  “Ah, the honeymooners,” said the several-hundred-years-old-looking man behind the bulletproof glass desk booth. He was skinny and pale, and dressed like an unkempt teenager in a filthy hoodie boasting a million rock band insignias. In the old days, before vampire rule in this area, he would have been called an anemic.

  Tiger and K looked at each other, puzzled.

  Creepo waved a hand. “Oh, I’m not psychic. Caleb, the cook from the diner, vided to let me know you were heading this way. You’re paying with gold or credits?” He licked his lips and leered first at Tiger and then at K. “You two make a really fetching couple.” Creepo said the word fetching like a dog humping somebody’s leg.

  “We’ll pay with credits.” K drew out his credit chip but wasn’t keen on putting it in the creep’s hand.

  “I’ll take care of that, Bunny.” Tiger took the chip and, with his eyebrow hiked up and a menacing face, gave it to Creepo.

  An ugly grimace emerged from the sunken face after the man read the credit info and personal details to make the charge. “Thank you, Mr. Lapin.”

  Tiger pointed at K with his thumb. “He is Mister Lapin. I’m Tiger Jansen.” He unzipped his leather jacket and showed the tiger face tattooed prominently on his pectoral over his nipple, immediately visible because he wasn’t wearing anything else underneath the jacket. The six pack was a nice sight too.

  Shocked, Creepo and K swallowed hard in unison.

  “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Jansen.” The night clerk made that strangled, humping dog noise again.

  “I’m sure it is.” Tiger yanked the chip from the gnarly fingers. “Room number?”

  “Room 69. Honeymoon Suite.”

  “Of course. Thank you.” A firm grip of Tiger’s hand over K’s upper arm accompanied the thanking. He hauled K out of the reception, hissing, “Fuckin’ ugly-ass zombie.”

  “There’s no such thing as zombies,” K chuckled as they walked, looking at room numbers.

  “If there were, that thing would be one,” Tiger growled.

  “But instead of brains, he’d be eating cocks and butts…”

  Tiger’s grip on his arm loosened, and he laughed, truly laughed. It was a very nice sound, the first time K had heard it, too.

  “You’re funny, little Bunny.”

  K shrugged, smiling.

  They found the Honeymoon Suite and used the credit chip to open the door. It was pretty decent and clean. K had been expecting something that looked like the clerk.

  Tiger plopped on the huge bed and patted the spot beside him. “The bed’s good, come.”

  Throwing his backpack near the bed, K launched himself into it and landed beside Tiger. “Really comfy.”

  “You know we gonna have to make at least some lovemakin’ noises.” Tiger waggled his eyebrows. “That zombie’s surely gonna be listenin’ through them damn walls.”

  Very strict regulations prohibited anything beyond thermal recognition within hotel rooms and the likes. And it was a heat signature that could only be read by enforcement agencies in case of anomalies like murder or kidnapping. K still looked around the room for cameras. “Yeah, I guess we’re going to have to simulate something.” He stretched his body and activated the holo-remote for the wall screen facing the bed. It moved from the electronic headboard to K’s palm. “Let’s watch a movie first, and then I can simulate-fuck you.”

  “Excuse me?” Tiger arched his almost invisible eyebrow. “When people see us, they see me fucking you, not the other way around.”

  “Pfft, and you were supposed to be the man to go against all conventions, a rebel, an edgy badass.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That if we were in a real relationship, I’d be the one doing the fucking.”

  “Alright, let’s settle for taking turns. Is that good enough for you in this fake relationship?”

  “It’s certainly a start.”

  “So I’ll be the one doing the fake riding tonight?”

  “Movie first, baby.”

  Tiger rolled his eyes, and K stifled a chuckle.

  This was definitely going to be a lot of fun.

  ****

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DAY TWO

  Tiger woke up with a start.

  He didn’t know how he felt about the lovemaking simulation the previous night, especially since Bunny got hard under him. The little bunny had a very nice, thick piece that fitted perfectly between Tiger’s ass cheeks. Thankfully for him, they had decided to keep their underwear on. An even better thing had been the fact that Tiger was wearing underwear at all.

  What wasn’t propitious was his own cock revisiting last night’s hardness. It didn’t seem like a case of morning wood but one of unattended need. Tiger closed his eyes and sighed. That brought the image of Bunny under him, his long, slender arms covered in tribal tattoos that were sexy as fuck. He was a lot younger than Tiger and with a slim body, but he was all man, and as much as Tiger preferred burly, hairy men, there was something about Bunny that was disturbingly appealing.

  “Good morning.”

  Bunny’s husky morning voice made Tiger’s cock perk. Tiger opened his eyes and turned his head. Bunny was looking at the ceiling and breathing softly. Tiger felt the urgent need to comb that disheveled moonless hair.

  Sweet Fanaqua, I didn’t just think that cheesy shit.

  “Good morning to you,” Tiger said, hoisting his body up and turning around to face Bunny more appropriately. “Did you rest?”

  “I feel rested.”

  More husky voice.

  More cock throbbing.

  Tiger needed to find a distraction before Bunny noticed his stiffy and became offended. Well, there was no real reason for a companion to be offended by a hard cock, but… since Tiger wasn’t a customer it could be construed as crossing the line, right? Their marriage was a pretense after all.

  “You want some breakfast?” Yeah, Tiger just needed to get out of the room to save face.

  Bunny moved his eyes from the ceiling toward him and scrunched his nose. “Not yet.”

  Oh fuck.

  Those sexy tattooed arms came out from under the covers and pushed Bunny up. He sat, resting his back on the headboard. His nipples were pointy pebbles.

  Alright wrong place, up— look at his face.

  “Did you rest? You look a little flushed.” Bunny blinked and smiled, and he seemed fully awake after that.

  Tiger moved to a sitting position too and answered, looking at anything but Bunny. “I’m good.”

  “I’m glad. Can we stay in bed for a bit and have a nice chat?”

  “With morning breath?”

  Really, Tiger, morning breath?

  Bunny chuckled, and the rough murmur went straight to Tiger’s balls, caressing and rolling them like young, nimble fingers. Bunny took a glass of water from the nightstand on his side. “Here, swish and swallow.” He offered the glass to Tiger.

  That is just wrong.

  “Not the kind of thing I should be swallowing,” Tiger said before his tongue connected with his brain.

  “I’m pretty sure you have swallowed worse things than breath water.”

  “Damn right you are.” Tiger swished and swallowed. He noticed Bunny looking at his throat with a funny expression on his face. It wasn’t exactly a grin.

  Tiger needed something that would take them both away from their bodies and into a more focused area. “So… why do you wanna escape the West Area again? ’Cause I’ve been in all the Areas, and Vampire region is by far the best. You don’t see homeless people. Nobody is poor if they wanna work. All have good health benefits. I mean, it’s the American Dream come true.”

  “I have my reasons.” Bunny’s face darkened.

  Yes!

  “Obviously. I’m just intrigued. As a companion you make good money…”

  “Can we talk about so
mething else?”

  “Sure. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Yellow.”

  “Like yolk?”

  Bunny sighed. “No, moron, like the sun.”

  “Damn, you really hate vamps.”

  Stretching his body toward the floor, Bunny brought up his backpack; he rummaged through it and drew out a folded sheet of paper. The only people who used paper were preschool kids. He gave it to Tiger.

  “What is this?”

  “Would you just open it?”

  Tiger unfolded it. It was a child’s drawing. Three stick people, what Tiger assumed was a mother, a father, and a son, but the most relevant thing in the composition was an enormous yellow sun in the background, occupying almost half the page.

  “I loved the sun long before I had to live most of my life in the night.” Bunny’s expression was hard and serious. Tiger really preferred the fake, lovey-dovey husband.

  “Okay… Let’s talk about music then.”

  “Woodkid’s ‘Run Boy Run.’”

  That smile was definitely better.

  “Sweet Fanaqua, that old crap!” Tiger chuckled amused. He’d thought the kid would like things from this century.

  “What? I could go way more retro with something from Madonna’s First Life, like ‘She’s Not Me’!”

  “Is that sarcasm I hear in your Bunny voice? ’Cause everything Madonna is a classic.”

  “You understand that the whole concept of classic involves the singer or composer being long dead? That old bat found herself a vampire to turn her, and she still sings!”

  “That’s why that period is called First Life!”

  “I thought we were going to talk about music, not argue about it…”

  “You’re right, Bunny. I like Woodkid’s ‘Iron’ a lot.”

  And in those songs’ old videos, people were escaping from something too, just like Bunny.

  “So… Tiger can’t be your real name.”

  “My name’s Themistocles Jansen.”

  Bunny snorted. “That is not a badass name.”

  “The original Themistocles was a badass Greek general.”