by A. F. Henley
With a shove that was harder than necessary, Matthew pushed the pan off the heat and spun to face Gavin. He held out the spatula, though whether to use it as a pointer or a weapon, Matthew couldn't really say. "Stay out of my head." He kept his voice even and quiet even though his blood was boiling. And whether that was shame or fury, he couldn't say either. "I'm not kidding. You're not welcome there. Don't violate my privacy."
Gavin opened his mouth as if to speak and Matthew waved the spatula between them, shutting Gavin down. "No. I'm not done. Whatever you are now, you are still a doctor. You know what privacy and personal space is all about. You know what flipping confidentiality is all about. What the human body does to the human mind with respect to sexual urges is by no means a sudden bit of knowledge to you. If I want to think about... things... that I might want to do with an attractive, available man, then that is my business. Show a little respect."
A light shrug lifted Gavin's shoulders. He raised both hands, palms out. "I didn't realize I was being disrespectful. I forget sometimes." He lowered his voice. "What I said wasn't meant to be a slight, but an offer. If you are seriously considering it, then by all means, let me know. It wouldn't be ridiculous if we were sharing a bed, after all. We are supposed to be playing the part of husbands."
"I wasn't thinking about sharing a bed," Matthew said with an eye roll. "I was thinking about sharing an orgasm. Big difference. Husband."
"Okay." Gavin opened the fridge and tossed the bag onto the top shelf.
"Okay," Matthew agreed.
Gavin swung his arm toward the kitchen door. "No, I mean, okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes, okay." Gavin paused. Matthew frowned. From somewhere outside a bird added its own two cents by way of a loud caw.
When nothing else was said, however, Gavin once again gestured to the door. "Let's do it."
Another power play. He's the cool dude and I'm the naïve, blushing school boy. He thinks—no, he expects me to say no.
Matthew dropped the spatula in the sink, doing his best to elude perfect, casual disregard. "You got it. Should we eat first?"
"Hell, no."
Gavin's voice was a deep croon that Matthew felt just about everywhere. There was that danged fascination again...
"I've been looking forward to this possibility since I first saw you working at the Center, Doctor." He winked at Matthew when Matthew peered back. "I know I said it wasn't just your good looks that got you here, but it was definitely part of it." A hopeful look lit on his face. "Are you a virgin?"
"Uh, no," Matthew said. "Shouldn't you know that?"
"It's hard to differentiate fantasy from fact." Gavin tapped his forehead. "And you've definitely got that virginal vibe going on. But I do like how your mind fantasizes." He walked out of the kitchen, pausing only once to look over his shoulder. "Let's go see if you're as good at oral as you think you are."
The sudden realization that they were actually going to go through with this crawled over Matthew with a burn that was both anticipatory and alarming. He followed Gavin, staring at the back of Gavin's head. He thought as hard as he could manage, directing that thought into Gavin's head with the bore of his gaze: Doctor, you have no idea just how good I am. And I don't have fangs.
Gavin turned back to offer him a grin, then all but skipped up the stairs to the upper level.
It was a nice grin. Not cocky in the least. And it brought one to Matthew's face as well. He didn't even try to mask it.
*~*~*
It began as awkwardly as sex with someone new always did: fumbling away clothing while trying to look nonchalant, that weird feeling of vulnerability as Gavin assessed his nakedness, the uncertainty of where to touch, how to touch, and if they should kiss or just go at it.
Gavin moved surprisingly slow, though. There were light touches that mapped Matthew's face before there were any touches for the rest of Matthew's body. Nor did Gavin attempt to cajole or yank Matthew into one position or the next when Gavin got tired of standing beside the bed. Gavin merely lay back on the mattress and waited for Matthew to decide where he wanted to be. By then, with his body singing with sensitivity from the wandering tease of Gavin's touches, he figured that on top and straddling Gavin's hips would be perfect. At least on top he could push their bodies together, or move things along a little quicker, or... whatever. It wasn't a control issue—it just seemed that things were moving way too slowly. Painfully slowly. Excruciatingly slowly. Now that he was here, with the decision made and the fire kindled, he wanted to get on with it: feel it and taste it and experience this strange man for a while.
There was no insistence from Gavin that they kiss; there wasn't even a suggestion of it. Instead, Gavin waited for Matthew to lean into one. That was when Matthew knew he was done for—if he hadn't already been sure of it when he started sliding over the hardness that jutted from Gavin's groin. The kiss told him unquestionably that he'd slipped into a realm that he might not be able to back out of. Because he liked the way Gavin's teeth felt underneath Gavin's lips. He liked it a lot. There was something primal and terrifying and enticing about the power those four fangs held, the kind of mind-fritzing power that seemed to go hand-in-hand with sex. To make it better. To make it hotter.
Then Gavin parted his lips and Matthew's tongue slid between them, and Matthew wasn't just feeling Gavin's teeth between a layer of skin but touching them and tasting them. The insanity of being that close, that intimate, to tools that could be turned against him in less than a second woke feelings in Matthew's psyche that he didn't even know had been lying dormant. The groan he sighed into Gavin's mouth seemed to run through Gavin's entire body, clenching muscles, pricking hair, and hardening the part of Gavin that already stirred against Matthew's stomach. It was a reaction that Matthew liked very much indeed.
He began to wonder what it would feel like if Gavin's teeth sunk into his skin. There were stories... more movie misinformation and fictional fantasy no doubt, but a little voice in the very back of Matthew's head suggested that it might feel... good? Intense? Salacious. Wrong, but oh so very right. Scary, but oh so very alluring. Matthew would never let Gavin do it; he'd never have the nerve. He didn't trust Gavin like that. He didn't even know Gavin. The thought was still there, though. Sweet mercy, it definitely was.
It was at that point that his teeth started to wander over Gavin's skin and grab at it, as if he was acting out his own desire. Nips at first—Gavin's lip, jaw, cheek—and when Gavin's breath caught in Gavin's throat, the gentle snatch of Matthew's teeth became rougher, sharper bites down Gavin's neck. Matthew could feel the thrum of Gavin's tainted blood like a heartbeat on his lips, he could taste the sweetness that he had noted on Gavin's breath.
While Matthew tasted and tried the limits of Gavin's skin, Gavin played the part of magician with his hands. He stroked and he squeezed Matthew's penis with one hand, and he trailed Matthew's back, neck, head, and thighs with the other. No stranger had ever worked Matthew up to such dizzying heights, as though Gavin knew what parts of Matthew's body could draw the most sensation through Matthew's blood. But then, Gavin was no ordinary stranger and if Gavin was dipping into Matthew's mind to see what reaction those sliding hands were causing, Matthew figured he'd forgive Gavin that particular transgression. This time, anyway. Oh, yeah... this time it was definitely worth it.
I want you inside me.
Matthew didn't bother to say it. He sincerely doubted he had to. That proved that to be the truth when Gavin reached for the nightstand beside the bed. The room was dark but Matthew knew the sound of a bottle lid snapping open—a plastic kiss from a lid into the air—and he spread his legs wider, pressing their torsos together, sandwiching their hardness between their bellies, to give Gavin the access needed to touch him, wet him, open him.
"I don't need a condom," Gavin whispered. "But I'll use one if you want me to."
Matthew wasn't even aware he was as mind blown as he was until he tried to reply. "Condom? Don't? What?"
&nbs
p; Gavin grinned—white teeth, long, long white teeth into darkness—and Matthew fell on Gavin's lips again.
"No disease," Gavin said around Matthew's kisses. "So you couldn't make me sick if you tried. And I can't transfer anything back to you. But whatever you want, Matthew. Just tell me."
Bare skin. No consequences... Matthew's hips lunged forward and back, forward and back in time to the thrust of Gavin's fingers; a shudder went up his spine, and need spiked into ache. He squeezed Gavin's fingers as they penetrated him; he bit his own lip. He tried to make sentences out of the fragments of thoughts that danced through his head in monosyllabic words: now, oh, please, good, this, want, just, yes. "Everything."
Thankfully, he didn't have to come up with anything more. The words were read, heard, whatever it was Gavin did with them, and Gavin put them together and came to a conclusion that Matthew found quite satisfactory. Gavin's slick, hard, perfectly thick penis began to slide carefully and slowly into Matthew's anus. He opened his mouth, turned his gaze to the ceiling, arched his lower back, scrambled for a hold on Gavin's shoulders, and growled a sound that even he couldn't identify as being either praise or concern. Big. Thick. So much...
"Okay?" Gavin asked.
Nope. Not even close. I can't... I can't do it... Then out of nowhere, the other side of Matthew's mind shoved those thoughts aside. And if you even think of stopping, I'll kill you.
Gavin didn't stop. He did, however, barely move. Just tiny, easy pushes and draws that hardly seemed to penetrate Matthew at all. Instead, Gavin cupped the back of Matthew's neck with one hand, pulled himself to Matthew's ear, and whispered, "You do it. As much as you want or as little as you want. We've got all night."
Whether it took Matthew ten minutes or an hour to take Gavin in, Matthew didn't care to know or even dwell on. Every one of those seconds were sweetened by light whispers that Matthew felt more than heard. They were shivered over as Gavin dragged palms and fingertips over the center of Matthew's body. Keeping him hard. Keeping him interested. Keeping him hungry.
It wasn't just the stimulation of his penis that kept Matthew going, though. If later, through force (as that would be the only way Matthew would ever admit it), Matthew had to put his hand on a Bible and swear to truth in open court, he'd have no choice to say that the overtly sexual touch had played a definitively secondary role in his arousal. It was Gavin's other hand—the hand that still cupped the back of Matthew's neck, the hand whose thumb had slipped around his neck and constantly stroked his jugular, and the pressure of Gavin's pulse beating through Gavin's thumb in time to the rhythm of Matthew's blood—that turned Matthew on the most.
That was what finally coerced Matthew into moving faster, and as his breathing accelerated and his pulse grew with it, as Gavin's breath became as chaotic as his own, the combination of intrigue and eroticism grew. He held it in check for as long as he could, savoring the expression on Gavin's face until his testicles ached and the rest of him was hard enough to cut diamonds. Then he was over the edge and trembling, gasping, sucking breath in the hope it would stabilize him while everything south of his chest contracted and spewed fluid over Gavin's chest. A harder thrust threatened to split Matthew in two, then another one, and before Matthew could shout, he felt Gavin's release burst free inside him.
Matthew slumped forward, and for once, Gavin's cool skin didn't feel odd. It was refreshing. He lay his own soaked, heated cheek on Gavin's chest and closed his eyes. The last thing he saw was the red numbers on the digital clock beside the bed. They'd been in bed for almost three hours. And how that was even possible, Matthew wouldn't have been able to figure out with a calculator, a flowchart, and an assistant.
*~*~*
He opened his eyes to darkness when Gavin slipped out from underneath him an unknowable time later. He even managed to raise one hand and grumble a phrase he hoped came out as, "I'm getting up," when Gavin draped the sheet on top of him. He intended to—get up that was—and if he couldn't manage to wake himself up completely, at least he'd go back to his own bed. Yes, that was definitely his intention. In two minutes. Five at the most. He just wanted to rest his eyes and try to get his head back together. That was all. Then he'd give Gavin the bed back. He would...
In two minutes...
Five at the most...
The mattress dipped beside him and Matthew opened his eyes with a sharp intake of breath. The clock was no longer in his line of sight as he faced the middle of the bed, and he was sprawled out on the mattress like he'd done a belly flop into it. He was pretty sure he'd never lain on a more comfortable surface in his entire life.
He blinked, focused his eyes, and was unable to return the smile that Gavin was giving him. His muscles felt like perfectly gooey, pleasantly watery, completely unusable jellyfishes.
"Sun's coming up," Gavin said. "I should probably sleep."
Matthew forced his mouth to work. "Oh." Then he concentrated on making the rest of him cooperate enough to move out of the way. "Sorry. I fell asleep. What time is it?"
Gavin climbed onto the bed. "Not quite six. You don't have to get up, though. Stay if you want to, but I made coffee if you don't. I cleaned up the mess you left in the kitchen as well, though I admit to polishing off most of your meat. As for the coffee, don't hate me if it's undrinkable. I haven't made coffee in a decade or so. Never really did like the stuff and I find it completely vile now."
"Sacrilege," Matthew teased. "Sorry about stealing your bed. You should have just kicked me out."
"When you looked so damned hot lying there?" Gavin stifled a yawn. "Never."
Matthew shook his head, denying the words even though he couldn't kill the smile they inspired. He dropped both feet on the floor, stretched, and when he figured his legs would work he stood. Good sex was better than a gym workout any day.
"Do you think I should go over to the O'Connells'?" Matthew asked, turning to watch Gavin settle on top of the sheets, completely naked, the fine dark hair on Gavin's legs and arms like a beautiful pelt and the muscles of Gavin's form twitching and rolling as Gavin sought out the most comfortable position. Short, dark hair rumpled in an attractive mess, long fingers resting on the white pillowcase, midnight black eyelashes settling on pale skin...
Matthew shook his head and looked away. "I thought it might seem neighborly or whatever. Reiterate the invitation for them to come over. It wouldn't take much more than a look to see if Lyle's boyfriend is a vampire I'd imagine. A glass of wine or two and we could get talking, see what's going on, right?"
Gavin answered without opening his eyes. "Be patient, Matthew. One thing I've learned is that if you sit back and stare into the darkness long enough you won't have to go looking for the monsters. They'll come looking for you."
If that comment had been meant to ease his concerns, Matthew thought, it had failed epically. Suddenly all the shadows inside their darkened house had taken on an ominous presence that every inch of Matthew's skin reacted to as he walked out of the bedroom and through the hallway. He was no longer a doctor with a sharp eye for fact and truth, but a child of six who'd spent too many hours watching horror movies before bedtime.
He'd lifted the blind to erase some of the tomb-like qualities of the house when he stepped into the bathroom, and by the time he got out of the shower the horizon was blazing with creeping sunlight. Overnight one of the maple trees in the yard (he could only see the tip-tops from his current vantage point) had started to turn and the leaves had a hint of gold that the dawn intensified to brilliance. Without bothering to dry off first, Matthew flipped the lock on the window and lifted it open. A cool breeze rushed in to battle with the steam left by the shower, a shiver crawled up Matthew's spine, and his flesh pricked into bumps. The breeze was the only thing in the yard that seemed to move, however. Perhaps the birds and the squirrels were sleeping late. He had to imagine that there was a nasty winter to get ready for and had, in fact, seen the squirrels scrounging and rushing about like little maniacs during the last week. He figured t
hey deserved the rest. They'd no doubt start the process again soon enough. Squirrels were like that; be prepared and all that stuff. They were the Boy Scouts of the animal kingdom.
He tugged a towel off the rack and scrubbed at his hair, taking a long hard look at the sky while he did it. Wasn't there some kind of thought about bad weather when the birds got quiet? It looked calm enough, no storm clouds, no funky colors, but he was no meteorologist.
There were other things to worry about than the weather, though. Like that coffee Gavin had promised. He wrapped a towel around his hips, tucked the corner in to secure it, and left the bathroom softly whistling. He stopped suddenly, snapped his fingers, and spun on his axis. With a sheepish grin, he shut the window and pulled the blind back into place. He had to start remembering these things.
It was bright in the kitchen once he'd drawn the heavy drapery away from the sliding door, and at ground level, now dressed and staring into the back yard, all premonitions towards approaching autumn had been annihilated. Early morning sunlight streamed through the glass and laid rectangles of bright light on the tile floor and the table. At ground level it was still summer.
The coffee Gavin had made was so strong that Matthew considered dumping it and starting over, but he didn't. It's wasn't like he was equating the making of coffee as a labor of love or any fool thing—it was nice, though. Kind of thoughtful in an 'I didn't really do much but I did do this' way. It was cute to think of Gavin getting ready to crash out but wanting to... well, did Matthew dare to think that Gavin wanted to leave something behind that would make Matthew think of Gavin while he slept? Nothing too overt or dramatic, no roses in a vase or hand sketched image of Gavin's interpretation of Matthew sprawled on the bed. Just coffee... because Matthew did drink coffee and Gavin had known that, so Gavin had made it knowing full well that he wouldn't touch a drop of it himself, and not just a single cup but an entire pot so it would last for a while, and—
