by Todd Young
“You trying to get off?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, and jerked his ass again.
“Turn onto your side.”
Jason did as Angel said. He turned onto his side and clasped one knee against his chest. Angel found Jason’s cock and gripped it hard. He rubbed his palm over the head of it and began to stroke it gently, before he, too, began to work himself toward an orgasm, pumping into Jason’s ass gently as he jacked Jason off. As Angel came he grinned — a head rush. And then, almost spontaneously, he felt Jason squirt a load into his hand. The pair of them seemed to melt, as though they were butter and ice cream, and Jason groaned.
“You came again?” he asked Angel with a breathy voice.
“Yeah.”
They lay without moving, locked together in silence, until Jason said he wanted to turn on his back. Angel pulled out and watched in the wan light as Jason turned over, his hair a mass of chestnut highlights, his eyes wide, and on his neck, the unmistakable mark of fangs. Angel ducked forward and kissed him on the brow. Jason laughed, smirked, and from the gleam in his eye, looked like he was falling in love with Angel, but though he was tempting, something held Angel back. He glanced aside. When he turned to Jason again, he said, “You ready for more?”
Jason nodded, his eyes like saucers. He parted his legs and hooked his ankles over Angel’s back. Face to face, Angel was able to slide a hand between them and reach for Jason’s cock. At the touch of it he came, and then pushed himself toward a fourth orgasm, though it seemed impossible. He lost all sense of self as the bed creaked and butted against the wall, Angel pounding Jason’s ass relentlessly. He came a fourth time, stopped, shook his head, and kept going. Darkness seemed to overwhelm him, and from within it, something red and nebulous grew, swelling from the depths of his mind as though it were a disembodied form of life.
His next orgasm surprised him, and then he was on the verge of another. He licked Jason’s face, sought his lips and kissed him, and then, with the sensation of leaving his body, realized he was coming once more, though he could now no longer tell whether he was the room or himself or Jason — or everything, everywhere, altogether. He collapsed onto Jason, his face buried in the nape of Jason’s neck. They breathed heavily, gasping for air, the skin between them slippery with sweat and cum. A minute, perhaps two or three passed, and then Jason said, “Could you do it again?”
“Again?”
“I want to be sure.”
Angel nodded heavily, in resignation, without lifting his head from Jason’s neck. He took a strand of Jason’s hair into his mouth and sucked on it. But eventually, he let it go and rolled off Jason, sprawling onto his back and feeling as though he’d just swum a marathon.
Jason broke the silence. “You really beat?”
“Pretty much.”
“You don’t have to do it again — I mean, not if you don’t want to.”
“I’ll be alright. Just give me a minute.”
Angel glimpsed Jason nodding, and as he did, he realized Jason was turned toward him, lying on his side and propped on an elbow, watching Angel closely and with perhaps a little too much interest. That didn’t feel right. Angel had enjoyed the sex, but Jason seemed to want something more now. Angel knew what it was like to be the object of someone’s irrational attention. If from no one else, he’d learned that from Umberto.
“Okay,” Angel said, breaking into his memories of the institute. Playfully, he took Jason’s chin between a thumb and forefinger. “Last time.”
“Can you …?” Jason reached for Angel’s hand. He encompassed it with his own and drew it toward his chest.
Silence.
The two of them stared at one another as though time had lost all meaning.
“What?”
“Can you kiss me, when you’re coming, so I know?”
Angel sighed, and Jason quickly said,
“You don’t have to.”
“No. It’s all right. I don’t mind.”
The kiss was long and tender, and when it was over, they lay in silence. They walked into the living room in their underwear. Finn was watching television. He kept his eyes fixed on the screen, but as they sat down he said to Jason, “Big enough for you?”
Jason didn’t reply.
“So-o,” Finn said, drawing the word out with a sudden uplift of tone. “Guess I’m on the couch tonight.”
“You bet you are,” Jason said.
27
Jason woke the following morning pale and ill. As soon as he’d finished breakfast, he rushed to the bathroom and vomited.
“I’ve never seen this happen before,” Finn said.
“What?”
“A guy go through a change like this.”
“You think he’s okay?”
“He’s probably craving blood. But I’d say it’ll stop soon enough.”
Jason went back to bed. Finn and Angel played the PlayStation on the rug, but after fifteen minutes or so, Angel had had enough. He got up and sat on the couch while Finn played Grand Theft Auto on his own. Every now and then, Angel stole a glance at Finn, who was sitting cross-legged in the morning sunshine, the controller in his hand and a halo of blond hair around his head. He had his shirt off, and though you couldn’t say he was ripped, his body had a tightness to it that was stunning. His abs were pale and hairless, and it was impossible for Angel to trace the number of folds Finn’s skin collapsed into when he bent forward. He was wearing the lime green shorts again, which were definitely too small, his package trapped in a pouch of sorts, though it was divided by the seam in the center, which certainly didn’t look comfortable.
At the end of each mission, Finn’d turn and glance at Angel. He’d smile, and Angel would be stunned momentarily by Finn’s impossibly white teeth and mirror-like eyes. As Finn turned back to the game now, Angel took a deep breath and said, “How do you see it all — the darkness and the light?”
“It’s a trick,” Finn said, running over a pedestrian. “When someone first goes over to the dark side, like you, well they’re stuck. Then others, people who want something from them will school them in ways to break through — to see both worlds, superimposed.”
“Yeah. But I could see it all before.”
“That’s because you’d just been infected. You were in transition. Now, denying your nature, you’re stuck with the dark.”
“What’s my nature?”
“To take, use, fuck, suck, get whatever you can for yourself.”
“Is that how you see life?”
“You’ll never know how I see life,” Finn said. He lowered the controller to his lap and turned to Angel. “I’m a shard. I’m not light nor dark. I’m a piece of light that can live in the dark.”
Angel nodded, considering this. Then he said, “And when you hustle, do you go with dark guys?”
“Sometimes. Not usually. Depends on who they are and what they’ve got. Some people are simply fucked up. They’ve taken too many drugs or they have a mental illness. They’re pretty safe.”
“But the others?”
“The fuckers? No. I stay away from them. They don’t see me, mostly. I’ve learned to hide myself. It’s all about perception. Our mental state is determining what we can and can’t see. So I can stay in the dark if I want — like when we came back here after the clinic. I could have seen Jason and spoken to him if I’d chosen to. And then, other times, I can slip into the mundane world altogether. Like I said, it’s a trick. It’s a matter of constructing the world around you.”
Angel nodded, and they tumbled into a long silence.
Which Finn broke by turning, kneeling, and placing his hand on Angel’s thigh. “So you think — now?” Finn said, sliding his hand into Angel’s satin boxers.
“What?”
“Seeing as you did it with Jason, you could do it with me?”
Angel took a deep breath and exhaled. Finn had found his cock, which was ballooning quickly. Angel’d been halfway there simply by looking at Finn. But now, with Fin
n’s hand in his shorts, Angel’s cock found the fly of the boxers and broke into the air. He closed his eyes and had the curious sensation of lifting off the couch with Finn’s hand still on his cock, Finn caressing it gently from base to tip. Then, unexpectedly, Angel’s cock was enveloped by dampness and warmth, and he opened his eyes to find Finn on his knees, with Angel’s cock in his mouth.
Gently, thinking of nothing but what he could see, Angel began to caress Finn’s hair, which seemed impossibly silky and blond. Given the way Finn was nodding on his cock, it’d only be a moment before Angel came, he guessed.
Except Jason interrupted them, calling out from the bedroom.
“My skin’s peeling.”
Finn lifted his head and got to his feet just as Jason appeared in the doorway.
“It’s coming off — like every time I scratch myself.”
“There. You see,” Finn said, walking toward him. “It worked.”
“It worked?” Angel replied. He turned toward them, genuinely surprised, and tucked his cock furtively into his boxers.
“Look at his skin,” Finn said, motioning to Angel to come and see. “You see how pale it is — and less body hair. I’d take a bath if I were you, dude. Soak in there for a long while.”
Jason nodded, looking a little lost.
“There’s something happening with my shoulder blades,” he said. “It’s all itchy, and there seems to be this deep hollow between them.”
“Well — looks like you’re an angel,” Finn said.
“An angel?” Jason appeared stunned.
“An angel in utero. Find someone to love, and all should be roses for you.”
Jason nodded. He walked back into the bedroom to find some clean clothes and then disappeared into the bathroom.
“So?” Finn said.
“What?”
“Now?” He lifted his hand and slapped Angel’s cock in a playful manner. It was still a little hard, and wobbled from side to side beneath his boxers.
“Now?”
“Yeah. Come on, Angel. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
Angel threw his head back and stared at the ceiling, only now understanding that Finn wanted sex and wanted it now. It occurred to him that the ceiling could have done with a new coat of paint, but Finn? Hell, Angel wasn’t going to be able to stop himself. His thoughts were abruptly broken by Finn, who suddenly gripped Angel’s waistband and twisted his hand inside.
“Okay, already,” Angel said, and silently registered the false note in his voice — the note that was saying no when what he really meant was yes.
In the bedroom, Finn awkwardly lifted his foot into the air and took hold of Angel’s boxers with his toes. He twisted his body, dragged the boxers over Angel’s thighs and onto the floor.
Angel stepped toward Finn with a sudden, unexpected yearning. He wrapped his arms around him and gripped the waistband of his shorts. Then he lifted Finn into the air, giving him a wedgie, until Finn’s groin was level with Angel’s eyes.
Finn squirmed and cried out and kicked his legs.
“Dude, I’ve got no underwear on,” he said, as the seam of the shorts slipped sideways, trapping his left nut.
Finn howled and tried to get a grip on Angel’s body with his ankles. After a momentous struggle, he succeeded in getting the waistband balanced in the middle of his junk again. But then, with a few teasing movements, Angel got it to slip once more, so that the seam cut into Finn’s right nut.
Angel gritted his teeth empathetically and lowered Finn slowly to the floor. Finn backed away and sat on the edge of the bed with both hands cupped around his balls.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Finn said, his voice level. Then he glanced at Angel. Tears of pain had formed in his eyes, but he was smiling hesitantly now. “Where’d you learn that?” he said, a strange eagerness in his voice.
“Nowhere.”
“You just made it up?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s bullshit, Angel.”
“Hell, I want to tear them off you.”
“My shorts?”
“Yeah.”
“Go on, then,” Finn said, and flopped facedown on the bed.
Angel climbed onto the mattress and stood over Finn with his feet planted astride his hips. He reached down and gripped the waistband of Finn’s shorts again, and then lifted him and positioned him in the center of the bed.
“How’d you get to be so strong?” Finn said.
“I’ve always been strong,” Angel replied, spreading Finn’s thighs to kneel between them. On his knees, he ducked forward and sniffed Finn’s asshole, which smelled of nothing but soap. He shuffled backwards, settled himself on his chest, and plucked at the seam of Finn’s shorts. Then he tore them open with a sudden, sharp movement, opening a hole perhaps big enough for his finger.
“I’ll fuck you with them on.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Angel frowned momentarily, wondering what the hell he was doing. Last night he’d been with Jason, and there’d been a moment when it had felt as though Jason was growing too close. But now, here Angel was with Finn, slipping closer than he wanted to himself.
The difference?
It was simply Finn — his beauty. It was irresistible. Beyond that Angel didn’t know.
“Do me like a spit roast,” Finn said.
“Like a spit roast?”
“Yeah. Start with me on my stomach, and then turn me a little each time — you know, rotate me.”
Something about the size and shape of Finn’s ass was intoxicating. Angel had enjoyed being with Jason last night — as much, if not more, than he usually enjoyed being with a guy. But Finn was somehow different — made for sex, or so used to it that he’d become an expert. By the time he was on his back, the shorts were nothing but a tattered waistband, and Angel had managed to come five times, pumping his dark jism steadily into Finn’s butt.
“You want to see a trick?” Finn said, once he was lying on his back.
Angel was standing at the end of the bed with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily. “Sure,” he said.
“Here,” Finn said, wriggling as he pulled the tattered waistband onto his chest. Then, in two moves that looked effortless, he lifted his ankles and tucked them behind his head. “Some guys like this,” he said. “But most guys want me to fuck them, if you can believe that. Even old guys. It makes you wonder how the world goes round.”
Angel registered what Finn was saying, and momentarily wondered why anyone wouldn’t want to fuck Finn, particularly with his legs behind his head.
“Can I fuck you like that?” Angel said as the thought occurred to him, and then realized he’d perhaps been a little hasty.
“If you want.”
“It won’t hurt you?”
“I like the pain.”
Angel nodded, spellbound, staring at the way Finn’s ass was spread. Finn had come a couple of times, and his stomach was glistening with jism, while his cock and balls sat defenselessly on the mound of his groin, like a growth on the underside of a boat that might have been pried away with a knife.
In a sort of daze, Angel stepped forward and gripped Finn’s hips. He tugged him to the edge of the bed and then leaned forward so he could plant his cock in Finn’s hole again.
“Put your arms around me,” Finn said.
Angel wrapped his arms around Finn, encompassing his legs, and Finn said,
“No. Not like that. Slip your hands around my waist and force my legs apart.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No. I’ve done it before. Believe me.”
Hesitantly at first, Angel did as Finn suggested, slipping his hands around Finn’s waist and under his legs. When his hands met he tightened his grip and began to force Finn’s legs slowly apart, using his elbows and rutting forward, fucking Finn and driving him across the bed so that Angel had to push himself onto the mattress in pursuit of Finn, who was helpless now. He
was entirely at Angel’s mercy. If Angel had wanted, he could have spread Finn’s legs until something snapped.
Finn groaned, though whether it was pleasure or pain, Angel could no longer tell. He came once, and then pushed himself on to a second orgasm. When he rolled away from Finn he was sweating heavily. Slowly, he became aware of a panting sound, and of something wheezing beside him, and he turned to see Finn, who had his ankles behind his head and his eyes closed. His face was stained with tears and he was wincing.
“I can’t move,” he said, in obvious discomfort.
“Yeah?”
“I’m stuck.”
Angel untucked Finn’s left and then his right ankle from behind his head. Then he figured that was it. Seven times. Surely that was enough for anyone. But no sooner had Finn been disentangled than he reached for Angel again.
“Come on,” Angel said, protesting.
“No. Once more. Just to be sure.”
“I’m not even sure I can move,” Angel said, and his cock was flagging.
Finn reached for Angel’s cock and began to tug halfheartedly on it, though it was clearly retreating. Listlessly, Finn worked the last of the jism out of it and onto the head. Angel felt a jolt of pleasure, like a quavering chord, as Finn’s thumb brushed over his eye, and he supposed he’d have to go again.
But Jason appeared unexpectedly, opening the door to the room and standing silhouetted in the doorway. “I suppose last night meant nothing,” he said, glowering at Angel from under his brows.
“Jason … It wasn’t. I was doing it for—”
“What the fuck? Is that blood?”
“Blood?”
“Your cock.”
Angel glanced at the pearl of semen on the head of his cock, which Finn had now released. “That’s what happens,” Angel said, lifting his eyes to Jason’s once more. “It’ll happen to you too.”
