by Willa Okati
Stanza Nine
Once upon a time, Nathaniel hadn’t believed in vampires. Oh, he’d heard the legends, sure enough. Tales men told when they’d had one too many cold, long-necked beers or smoked a joint or so past their limit. Men who claimed they’d seen the monsters turned white and shaky when they spoke of them, and those who’d been attacked but lived to tell the tale showed off bite scars that looked as if they’d been chewed on by rabid dogs.
But even mounds of scar tissue hadn’t been enough to convince Nathaniel that such things as vampires existed. It was all legend. Urban myth. In the clear light of day, even those who insisted they’d had their own blood sucked looked embarrassed, and wore high collars to cover their marks. Nathaniel figured that with sobriety came common sense, and the men’s realization that they were apt to spin crazy tales when drunk.
Men did, after all. Talked about the sweet tricks they’d picked up the night before, or in days gone past. The way they went on, every young man with eight inches plus and a tight ass had been drooling over them, falling at their feet, and begging to be ‘made into a man.’ Didn’t seem to matter much if the drinking speaker was balding, old, fat, or smelled of dirt and unwashed sweat. They’d all been sex gods in their day, even if that happened to be the day before.
They stood alone while they talked, though. Alone in the middle of their crowds, believing their lies or not.
Nathaniel had always kept himself apart, laughing deep inside but not letting a smile show around the frosty neck of his beer bottle. That had been, of course, before he stopped going to bars except on the occasional lark. He’d been amused, a time or two, when he stood unobserved and listened to ugly men, given to overindulgence in every good and bad thing under the sun, brag about how they’d had that freak with the creepy eyes. Made him beg good and proper to be taught a lesson — which, of course, they’d done.
It had surely been a challenge not to crack up and give himself away. He’d told the stories in turn to Barrett, who hadn’t had any reservations about laughing. The vampire would chortle himself silly before grabbing Nathaniel and wrestling him around on Nathaniel’s bed.
“Let ’em lie all they care to,” he’d said, brushing wisps of hair from Nathaniel’s face. “We both know the truth. You belong to me, only me, and I to you.”
Then, almost always, they’d made love. Plunged cocks deep inside one another, whoever felt like topping taking the lead. Pinning the other’s arms down. Ravishing bare chests with sharp, biting kisses while thrusting deep and hard. Barrett drew blood; Nathaniel didn’t. They came with the force of suns going supernova, brilliant and bright enough to burn them both to ashes.
Barrett always finished, whether on top or bottom, by folding Nathaniel in his arms and nuzzling into his neck. “I’ll keep you safe,” he’d promised. “Now, and forevermore. I keep watch on what’s mine. Promise on my life, Nathaniel. Promise on my life.”
So what happens when you can’t protect me anymore? Nathaniel thought in despair. His arms had long since cramped into tight knots, bound as they were behind him against the hard, cold bedpost. His legs ached fierce and hot, burning with flares of pain, scraped raw on his hard, cold apartment floor.
He burned with the need to move, but didn’t dare. For one thing, there was Zeke’s gun. Nathaniel had never heard of customizing a trigger to go off with a simple jostling, but there was just enough craziness in the vigilante’s eyes, mixed with sly cunning, that Nathaniel didn’t doubt Zeke could have made the gun to work just so. For another, Zeke’s knots were solid. The harsh rope bit into Nathaniel’s wrists and ankles, far too tight, cutting into his skin. Rough rope, meant for tying cords of wood or hauling freight.
He flashed back to a memory of Barrett playing dominance games, once upon a time. He’d used cords of silk, tied loose enough that Nathaniel could pull free if he’d wanted. Pretended he was going to ravish Nathaniel and claim him as a vampire should — when he could stop grinning long enough to pretend menace.
That had been the monster’s work? And this was the work of a man?
Who, then, was the true beast?
Nathaniel’s stomach twisted. He gagged despite himself, the sound loud and ugly in the silent room. Zeke moved like a flash, disengaging his rifle’s trigger mechanism and whisking the rifle away. Good thing, too. Unable to help himself, Nathaniel doubled over as much as he could and retched, bringing up soured coffee and the last bits of his early dinner.
Zeke regarded him with a disgusted face. “Now, why’d you have to go and do that?” he demanded. “There’s a stinkin’ mess if I ever saw or smelled one. Well, you’ll just have to live with it, so long as you still do live. I’m not gonna clean it up.”
Nathaniel’s guts clenched. He brought up a second wave of sickness, mostly bile. Kept on gagging until all he had left were dry heaves that left him shaking, his cheeks burning hot. He didn’t cry, though. Not one tear, even though most men wept when they were sick like that. Just natural for a body to react thus. Him, however, he wouldn’t give in. Knew Zeke would see it as a sign of something else.
“You done yet?” Zeke eyed Nathaniel, looking bored. “I’ve got no time for lady-like tummies that retch at the least little chill.”
“Damn you,” Nathaniel rasped, glaring. He might die, but he’d go down with dry and angry eyes. Eyes that he used to glare at Zeke, filling his look with all the hatred and revulsion in his heart. “Why not kill me now? You know the Highwayman’s going to come back. Why play these games?”
Zeke tilted his head. “I expect because it amuses me,” he said after a moment. “Now, I’m gonna put this rifle back where it came from, tucked beneath your black heart. I suggest you don’t get sick again. Might be I don’t move fast enough next time.” He laughed. “Now, wouldn’t that be a sight? It’d upset my fun, too, and I might just take a few extra pounds out of your beast lover’s hide before I finish him off to pay your debt.”
He patted Nathaniel’s shoulder. “You just sit tight, now, and keep a watch out that there window. We’ll both hear the Highwayman when he comes, and I want to see you as you see him riding up. There’s hell at this dark window, boy. I want to watch you feel the fires burn.”
Careful hands adjusted Nathaniel’s head just so. Unable to move, he found himself staring down at the road that Barrett would ride. Ride to his death.
God! If he could only warn Barrett in time. If he shouted, though, it might set off the rifle. It might…
Nathaniel swallowed hard. Well.
Could be there was a way to warn Barrett, after all.
Stanza Ten
Any thoughts Nathaniel might have had about escaping had now fled his mind entirely. He’d been a fool, entertaining hopes of Barrett somehow knowing what was going on, sneaking in a back way and taking Zeke down before the crazy man could scream. Fangs in the neck, a punch to the head — didn’t matter, so long as he dropped and stayed put long enough for Barrett to take the rifle away, break it into pieces, untie Nathaniel, and take them both to safety.
Yeah, he’d dreamed.
But he knew, deep inside himself, the time for dreams had passed. Nothing but foolish fancies, anyway. Zeke meant to kill both Nathaniel and Barrett, and he’d do it with a song in his twisted-up self-righteous heart. He’d probably kneel in Nathaniel’s blood and Barrett’s ashes like a knight of the Crusades, his face aglow with holy light, and thank God for His mercy in helping to cleanse the earth of two more sinners most foul.
Well. Nathaniel might be damned, and knew by all accounts Barrett would be, too, but he’d not go down to hell without putting up what fight he could.
Idly, ever so careful not to move his torso or be spotted by Zeke’s eagle-sharp, crazy eyes, Nathaniel tested the knots on his wrists. The slightest pull, and he felt his skin scrape open, wetting the ropes with his own red blood. Slickened now, he felt a momentary flicker of hope that he’d be able to pull loose, but no. Too tight.
Besides, even if he did get free, Zeke
would just tie him right back up, or shoot him cold for being bothersome.
No, he had no chance of saving himself.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. Nathaniel might have giggled, if not for fear of moving his jaw and setting off the gun.
Setting it off too early.
Still and all, he couldn’t help a smile. Just a little one. Zeke noticed, though.
“Now, what’s gone and gotten you tickled?” he demanded. “Seems as if you’d be a mite more serious, given the circumstances. Or is it that you’re finally seeing the light? God is a gracious God, despite His mighty wrath. If you’ve taken it into your mind to repent, and He grants you mercy, could be I’d see fit to spare you. Is that it, boy? Have you walked yourself back into the light?”
Nathaniel shut his eyes tight as could be. After a moment, Zeke snorted and spat. “I didn’t figure so,” he said. “Well, we’ll just go on as we’ve started, then. Don’t matter how long we have to wait. I am a patient man, as well as righteous. The Almighty has His own pace to set, and I can hold off till I’m directed to move.” He chuckled. “I expect that’s all you’re thinking about, except for vain hopes of saving your demon lover — not moving at all. Good boy. You’ve got some smarts in that matter, if not in others.”
Nathaniel ignored Zeke’s ramblings. They meant no more than the sound of a bee trapped in a bottle, flying in vain. Beating its wings against the glass walls that surrounded it and kept it from flying free. An angry, impotent buzz, and a stinger with no venom to be afraid of.
There was nothing left to fear. Nathaniel breathed in and out, steady as he possibly could. The rifle’s barrel warmed beneath his heart as he waited and watched, deliberately not thinking about it just yet. He knew what he’d do when the time came.
In the meanwhile, he composed letters inside his head. Notes he wished he could send. A message to the coven that occasionally gave Barrett a hand when he needed magics to help him do good works outside of the law, or protect him from the wrath of other, less kindly vampires, ones disposed to kill even their own kind. They’d given both Barrett and Nathaniel generously of their strength, and he’d been pleased to call the gentle women friends.
He did wish he could say good-bye to them.
More, though, he wished he could give Barrett a proper farewell. He wished he’d taken the vampire one more time before he’d left. Savored his love and lust like one last long, cool drink of water before he fell into this terrible thirst.
How would he have done it? Both of them naked, lying in the mess of sheets, sticky with blood and come. Maybe he’d have licked a path up Barrett’s belly, cleaning him off. That never failed to get his lover worked up again and again.
In his mind’s eye, Nathaniel saw Barrett’s cock rising up full and heavy, aching to be serviced. Nathaniel might not have been able to get hard, himself, but he bet he might have done, once Barrett laid hands on him and worked his sexual sorcery.
He’d have pressed Barrett down on his back, holding him flat with two palms on the cool, unbreathing chest, and straddled him as if he were a horse. Stretched and ready from the previous lovemaking, he’d have sunk slowly down on Barrett’s prick, piercing himself, splitting open wide to let the vampire’s length and width breach his hole until he’d gotten all the way inside.
He’d have raised himself up and down, riding Barrett like a horse, and himself the cowboy, hands moving in a frantic dance over cool skin. Feeling Barrett grab his arms and help to raise and lower him until they both grew clumsy with lust and lost control as the climax rose up and rushed over them in a burst of light, heat, fire and flame.
Oh, yes. If he’d known it to be the last time, he’d have made it one to remember.
Nathaniel’s eyes fluttered open. How long had he been tied up there? Couldn’t see a clock from where he’d been placed, and there was no telling how long Barrett had been gone. So, no way to guess when he’d be coming back. The hours, if they had been hours, had crawled by like years.
He almost wished for the sight and sound of Barrett coming back, so he could finish it. End the waiting. Cut himself free of Zeke’s sickeningly holy amusement, his mutters and his chuckles.
But he’d have his chance in due time. The rifle was snug against his chest, and Nathaniel knew what he had to do. It’d be the last thing he figured Zeke would expect.
And that, he believed, was why it would work…
Stanza Eleven
At one point, surprising himself, Nathaniel fell asleep, somehow managing not to let his body sag and set off the trigger. More of a light doze than a sound rest, but yet he dreamed. Visions of Barrett filled his mind, with him just aware enough to know they weren’t real, but to savor them for the last drops of pleasure that they were.
In his dream, he and Barrett had escaped Zeke, just as Nathaniel had fantasized. Brought him down with a solid, meaty crunch of bone and blood. Killed him. Neither of them regretted it a single bit. They lay together on a bed — not Nathaniel’s bed but a bigger one, with plenty of room to move about, though they’d huddled close together, lying on their sides, face to face.
Nathaniel could tell Barrett knew what he was thinking. Barrett grinned, and flicked Nathaniel’s nose with the tip of his finger. “Now, you’re wondering again. Does being glad to see that Zeke dead make you a monster? Less of a man?”
Nathaniel nodded. “Not that it bothers me,” he said frankly. “I’ve never been happier than I was when I saw him die.”
“Good. Glad to hear that. Man like Zeke deserves to have his flame doused well and proper. Burning with the holy flames of a man gone mad from too much wrong reading of the Bible. It can sour a heart, and make it see darkness where there is none. Set him jumping at shadows he imagines in every corner. Maybe, as he chose, it’ll turn him to hunting down what he fears and killing it before it does what he dreads and kills him.”
Nathaniel chuckled. “He died anyway.”
“That he did. A nice, terrible death.” Barrett stretched. “And no, I’m not sorry either, not one whit, though despite what I might be, I’m no killer. Just a thief, if a damn good one, who has to live on blood instead of salt and bread. I’d never harm anyone who didn’t ask for nor deserve it. You know that, right?”
Nathaniel ran his hand down Barrett’s arm, savoring the feel of cool skin and tough muscle. “Of course I do,” he said softly. “It’s just… I’d never wanted to see a man die before. Not really. Not wanted one to suffer so before he went, either.”
“Yet it gladdened your heart to see him pass in fiery pain.”
Nathaniel nodded.
“And you think maybe you’re more monster than man, now.”
Nathaniel nodded.
“Balls and bullshit, lover. He had you tied up like a lamb set for slaughter, and you can bet he didn’t feel one drop of regret. Sometimes, whether man or vampire, you come down to the choice of kill or be killed.” Barrett leaned over to brush a light kiss on Nathaniel’s lips. “You made the right decision. Besides, look where it’s got us. Here, together, and safe, not to mention rich. No one’s ever going to bother us again. We’ll live out our days and fuck away our nights together.”
“Mmm.” Nathaniel’s mouth curved into a smile. “I like the sound of that.”
“Do you, now?”
“Oh, yes. Fills my mind with all sorts of naughty, ‘sinful’ pictures.” He nudged Barrett playfully. “Like, for example, me on my back, my legs draped over your shoulders. You above me, cock hard as stone, poised and ready for that first good, hard thrust.”
“Pretty words,” Barrett murmured. He reached down between them and took Nathaniel’s cock, half-hard, into one hand and began to jack it. Gentle, but with clear intention. “Go on, then. I like this kind of story-telling.”
Nathaniel’s smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Or maybe me on my stomach, ass raised bare and high, propped up by pillows I can’t help pushing into while you lower your mouth to me and use that tongue of yours for mor
e than talking.”
“Now that is properly perverted. Go on.”
“My favorite, though…” Nathaniel said thoughtfully. “My favorite is just like this, when we lie side by side. It’s not the easiest fuck to accomplish, but we can see each other’s faces. Kiss wherever we want to put our lips, and touch each other’s cocks at will. I love it when we come close enough together that the seeds mix and mingle in a puddle between us, on us, in us.”
His cock throbbed with a sweet ache. Pressing hard against him, Barrett’s own erection begged for some attention. “Now, talking in such a manner,” Barrett murmured, “is that a threat, or a promise?”
Nathaniel’s eyes sparkled. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m going to fuck you now, until you can’t see a thing but white light and stars. Fuck you till you’re screaming out my name, and me calling yours to the heavens. I think I’m going to nail you harder than ever before, ride you like a stallion, and drink the tears and sweat off your skin until you’re all but weeping.” Barrett pressed in close. “Now, how’s that sound?”
