Crying for the Moon

by Sarah Madison

  When he answered the door, it was apparent that Tate didn’t have any particular plans for the evening. He was dressed in the same manner that he’d been when Alex had met him before, only this time it was a heavy, gray sweater over jeans, the knees of which were white with wear and starting to fray. At least the hiking boots weren’t muddy this time.

  Tate carried with him a small grocery bag. “Ice cream,” he explained. “I need to stick it in your freezer so it doesn’t melt. Graeter’s. Black raspberry with chocolate chunks. You should try it sometime. The local store started carrying it, which was a very bad thing for me to learn.”

  “No problem. Freezer’s this way,” Alex said. Ice cream. It was odd the things that started to sound good when he spent less time in the coffin. It had been years since he’d had any ice cream, and he bet the pack would have enjoyed some too. Well, he never claimed to be Martha Stewart. The idea of the domestic diva as a vampire amused him, and Alex smiled briefly as he led Tate down the hall.

  “Like what you’ve done with the place,” Tate said admiringly as they made their way toward the kitchen. Alex felt a little burst of pride, knowing all the hard work he’d put into refinishing and repainting, and he chided himself for his stupid reaction.

  “Thanks,” Alex said shortly. “Basement’s this way, through the kitchen.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Tate’s grin was infectious and Alex found himself smiling back. Ice cream safely stowed, Alex reached the basement door first and opened it, heading down the steps into a near-Stygian darkness until he belatedly realized that Tate might need a light. Before he could remember where the switch was located, Tate had followed him down the stairs with a quick, light step.

  Tate halted just at the foot of the stairs, stopping before he ran into Alex. The room had a few small windows at ground level that let in a weak gleam of sunlight, heavily filtered through a layer of dirt and grime. Presumably, Tate was letting his eyes adjust to the gloom, or perhaps he was waiting for Alex to turn on a light. Tate’s body radiated heat in contrast to the damp, cold room, and Alex couldn’t resist. He opened and closed his mouth quickly, releasing an ultrasonic burst of sound that perfectly located and bounced off of Tate’s form just as he was moving toward the far wall. For an instant, Tate’s body was just as clear to Alex as though he’d been dipped in phosphorescent paint.

  Tate paused. Alex could see that he’d cocked his head alertly. “Huh,” Tate said. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Alex found that he was holding his breath. He released it slowly.

  “Nothing.” Alex could hear the frown in Tate’s voice. “Must have been mice. The filtration system’s over here.”

  Tate continued toward the wall, finding a string dangling from a light bulb that Alex didn’t even know was there. He pulled it, turning on the light over the filtering unit. Now that he was looking at it again, Alex remembered being shown the unit during the walk-through of the house. The big, bulky system sat against one wall. A clear plastic container hung off the side and, within, Alex could see a cartridge black with silt. The wattage of the overhead light bulb was low, but Tate seemed to be familiar with the unit and had no problem finding what he needed.

  Tate showed Alex how to turn off the system and switch the flow of water so that it didn’t come through the filter. He took down a plastic, circular wrench hanging from a nail overhead and fit it to the clear container so that the notches on the wrench lined up with the cap.

  “I had to paint an arrow here to remind me which way to turn this,” Tate said with a laugh. “It can be hard to get off, and more than once, I’ve tightened it by mistake.” He grunted a little as he spoke, leaning in and putting some weight behind the handle. “Ugh. It’s on tight this time.”

  “Shall I try?” Alex didn’t want to show him up or Tate would be talking about it in town, but when it came to sheer strength, Alex would win over a human every time.

  “Nah, I’ve got it. You might want to stand back; things are going to get wet here.” Tate paused to peel off his sweater and hand it to Alex. “Here. Take this, would you?” He went back to attempting to turn the wrench.

  Alex raised his eyebrows. Underneath the ratty sweater, Tate was wearing a green muscle shirt. Nothing could have surprised Alex more than the lithe, toned appearance of Tate’s arms and shoulders. “Wow,” he couldn’t help saying. “You must work out.”

  The wrench suddenly shifted and the container loosened, releasing the small amount of water within onto the floor as Tate unscrewed it from the unit.

  “Not really.” Tate shrugged. “I stay pretty busy with work. I do like to rock climb on the weekends though. And hike.” He quickly replaced the cartridge, talking Alex through the procedure as he did so, tightening the container and turning the system back on again to check for leaks. “There you are. Good to go.” He wiped his hands on his jeans and reached for the sweater, taking it back from Alex. “Try that sink over there. You should have water now, though it’s going to sputter a bit from the air in the lines.”

  Alex went over to the sink by the washing machine and turned on the taps. Water gushed out enthusiastically.

  “Wonderful. Thanks.” He looked up to see Tate standing very close to him. In the dim lighting, Tate’s pupils had dilated to the point that only a bare rim of gold was visible. His nipples were peaked on his nicely firm pecs, plainly showing through the cotton shirt. Alex knew it was only because the two of them were in a cold, dark room, but it looked like desire, and something warm pooled in his gut and made him ache to touch Tate.

  Tate smiled at him. “I’ll get the light.”

  He returned to the bare bulb and pulled the string switch again. Alex could hear Tate’s heart beating, almost thunderously, in thick darkness around them, and he licked his lips, shifting his hips restlessly, conscious that he’d become hard and that his jeans were too tight. He was glad for the darkness that hid his sudden desire, but he knew if he didn’t get back upstairs into the light immediately, he’d give in to temptation and jump Tate’s bones. And not in a good way.

  He was silent as they re-entered the kitchen, a little puzzled about his strong reaction to Tate. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt such lust for someone, and certainly never before for someone not of his kind.

  “Thank you,” Alex said again, feeling suddenly awkward. The warm lighting of the kitchen seemed to dim the pulsing heat he felt within. Confused, he didn’t know how to end the conversation. He glanced at his watch. Damn it. Nick’s party would be here soon. “I really appreciate the help. I have friends coming over for dinner and I need to get started on it.”

  “Of course. Let me get out of your way. Unless I can help?” Tate tied the sweater around his waist instead of putting it back on. Alex had a brief moment of wondering if Tate knew just how gorgeous he was and suspected that he did. The bulky clothing had to be some sort of protective coloring; Alex was sure of it.

  “I’m just making spaghetti.” It was the only meal Alex knew how to make. “Boil some pasta. Open a jar of sauce. I think I can handle it.” He shrugged.

  Tate raised an eyebrow as he opened the freezer to retrieve the ice cream. “I hate to rain on your parade, but you’ve got nothing to eat in here.” He set the bag containing the ice cream down on the counter.

  He might not be as heavily muscled as Duncan, but Alex thought he preferred Tate’s build instead. With his unconventional hair and his lean, athletic frame, Alex could picture him on a soccer field, tearing his shirt off over his head and waving it like a flag as he ran, grinning like a fiend when he scored the winning goal. Alex could see him now, sweat running in rivulets down his neck and over his collarbone, inviting Alex to lean over and sink his teeth into Tate’s skin. Alex was aroused and confused by the intensity of the vivid image. He automatically started to shove it aside and felt unreasonably angry that this was his first reaction. This was your choice when you decided to leave the Life. You can’t just feed on whomever you desire now.<
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  Heedless of his risk, Tate opened the fridge next, bending over and making a show of peering inside, the inside light casting a warm glow across his face and neck.

  Damn, but he had a sweet, tight ass as well.

  “Nothing much in here either. How many people do you have coming over?” Tate shut the fridge and straightened, one hand still on the handle.

  “Four.” Alex began to have some misgivings about his planned meal.

  Astonishingly, Tate continued his explorations, opening the cabinet next to the fridge. It was nearly bare, with only a couple of cans of cat food. Tate shut the cabinet again and looked accusingly at Alex.

  “I’m not feeding the stray cats. Well, not all of them. Only EPT.”

  “EPT?” Tate frowned. It wasn’t his fault that he looked sexy even when he did that. “That sounds familiar. Doesn’t that stand for something like Early Pregnancy Test?”

  Alex snorted and shook his head. “Nope. Evil Psycho Tom. That’s what I call him. You know, the one that’s semi-tame? One minute, he’s practically rubbing up against you and the next he’s growling and hissing.”

  Tate looked startled, and then he burst into laughter. “EPT. Perfect. I’ll have to remember that one. Okay.” He indicated the rest of the kitchen with the wave of a hand. “Show me what you’ve got.” Tate leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest, making a beckoning gesture with the fingers of one hand.

  Don’t look at his neck. Don’t look at his neck. “Are you always so nosy?” Alex asked as he crossed over to the cabinets beside Tate and took out the package of pasta and the jar of sauce.

  “I prefer to call it curiosity. That’s it?” Tate was incredulously amused. “You plan to feed five people off of this? Are Nick and Peter among the guests? Because I’m thinking you don’t have nearly enough food here.” He opened one of the drawers and felt around inside, holding up a bar of Godiva dark chocolate with a smirk before replacing it and closing the drawer once more.

  “Damn it.” Alex sighed. “I’ll have to call Nick and ask him to pick up some pizza on his way in.” He hated doing that. He would pay him back, of course, but he got the impression money was tight for Nick.

  Tate opened and closed another cabinet. “What exactly were you planning to serve dinner on? Have you unpacked your plates?”

  Damn. He knew he’d forgotten something earlier. He didn’t even have plates, other than the one he’d been washing and reusing. “I can’t find them,” he lied. Just another indication he’d spent too much time in the Life. He’d practically forgotten how to behave like a human.

  His expression must have given him away again because Tate laughed once more. “Okay. Don’t bite my head off here, but I have an idea.”

  Alex blinked at Tate’s words and tried to focus. “Okay,” he said warily.

  “I just came back from the store. I’ve got plenty of food in the car. Why don’t you let me help you out here with your party? You can always pay me back later.”

  “I don’t know…,”Alex began.

  Tate held up a hand. “Really, it’s no big deal. When will your friends get here? Don’t you want to take a shower first?” He pointed toward the ceiling to indicate the bathroom upstairs.

  Alex looked at his watch again. Damn it, Tate was right. “Yeah, but I’m running out of time.”

  “Well, problem solved. You take a shower while I get dinner started. Then you can take over and I’ll clear out before your friends get here. My pleasure. Now beat it.” Tate made shooing motions toward the door.

  Alex gave in. After all, what could happen?

  WHAT happened was that Alex lost track of time in the shower. It was one of his few indulgences these days: a long, hot shower. The first thing he’d done on moving in was crank the temperature up to near scalding on the hot water heater thermostat. Come to think of it, that might explain the electric bill.

  He’d spent so much time at the local home-improvement store purchasing supplies that he’d started sitting in on several of their Saturday afternoon classes and had come away confident in his ability to change the fixture in the antique tub. Gone was the showerhead that resembled the end of a watering pot; in its place was a sleek new piece that had multiple settings, including a pulsating massager. It attached to a long, snakelike cable that allowed it to disconnect from the overhead stand. Until the recent problem with the filters, the water pressure had been mercifully strong, even at the top of the old house.

  Alex turned on the taps and waited out the spluttering as he took off his dirty clothes again, allowing the room to fill with steam before stepping into the tub. Overhead, the old metal frame supported a new, shiny curtain, the smell of the plastic sharp in his nose as the water began to heat up. Standing under the pulsating spray was a sensual experience that he craved, having chosen to deny himself most of his pleasures these days. You’ve given up the coffin, you’ve give up the feasting; you deserve this. It was hard to deny his thoughts when they sounded so very right.

  He’d seen a lot of marvels develop through the centuries but nothing compared to indoor plumbing. Hot showers topped the list of the best all-time inventions ever, as far as he was concerned.

  He picked up a bottle of body wash, pouring out a generous amount into his hands, and inhaled the fresh, tangy scent of eucalyptus and spearmint as he lathered up his skin. It reminded him of other times, other eras, and he reminisced for a moment of events long gone and lost to him now. It was foolish, he knew. There was nothing there in his past that he really wanted anymore—at least, not anything he could have. Just the nostalgia remained. You should think about getting a hot tub. He smiled at the thought.

  The heated spray began to work its way into muscles he had not known were tight, and he flexed his shoulders into the water, relishing the soreness that came from doing hard, physical work. It would seem that fixing up the house was good for him in more ways than one. He thought suddenly of Tate, in his lean, muscular perfection, there in the half-light of the basement. The image of Tate in bright, emerald-green swim trunks flashed into his head, and Alex’s hands began to slow, languorously sliding across his skin as he soaped his body.

  He could see Tate now, sinking into a foaming hot tub with a look of bliss on his face. Tate, swallowing from a cold bottle of beer, watching Alex as he did so. It would be night; the tub would be outside, the air brisk with the autumn chill. The only light would come from within the tub, and steam would rise into the darkness.

  Alex let the water pound down onto his neck and shoulders; the vapor filled the small room. He could imagine himself in the hot tub as well, easing down in the water across from Tate and smiling at him through the steam. He let his hand slide down his belly as he developed the fantasy. He remembered the way the light from the overhead bulb accentuated Tate’s arms and how he could make out the beat of Tate’s pulse just under his skin. Using the body wash, Alex lathered up his cock until he was slick with soap. Fully erect now, he pushed his foreskin back as his cock jutted out straight in front of him. He braced one hand against the wall and leaned into it, while the other slid sensuously around his shaft.

  Eyes closed, he could see Tate put down the bottle of beer and lean back, arms spread wide along the edge, a feral smile upon his face. That would be his cue to move toward Tate. He would glide deliberately through the water, smiling as he reached his destination. Tate would tip his head back, exposing his neck, eyes closing in anticipation.

  Alex continued to palm his cock, feeling it surge into his hand, and let his head drop forward with the pleasure of it. He moved his hand slowly up and down, rotating his grip with a little twist at the end as he fed the fantasy. When Alex reached Tate, he would slide his hand over the muscles of Tate’s chest, palming a pec and watching with satisfaction as Tate breathed harder at the contact. Alex would mouth that perfect flesh, dragging his tongue slowly over Tate’s skin, and Tate would arch back, moaning slightly. Alex would slide a hand down Tate’s body, into the w
ater, reaching down until his hand closed around Tate’s cock. In his fantasy, they fit together perfectly. There was no fumbling as he lined their cocks up together, working his foreskin over them both and pushing forward until Tate’s cock slid alongside his own. The two cocks together in his hand, wrapped in his foreskin, would feel amazing, and Alex felt the first little tremors of his coming orgasm as he gave fully into the fantasy.

  Alex moved his hand faster now, his hips starting to thrust a little as well. He brought his left hand down to slide his thumb up inside his foreskin and squeezed it along with his cock, trying to capture the feel of his imagination. He worked his cock harder and he began to pant slightly at the action. He could almost taste Tate now, and the desire for blood was so strong that he had to abandon the thumb fantasy and bring his left hand up to his mouth so he could nip at his wrist. He bit down until he could feel the bright pinch of pain and the corresponding throb deep in his cock. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself nuzzling Tate’s chest, taking a pert little nipple into his mouth and teasing it until Tate grabbed Alex by his head and arched back into him with an inarticulate cry. At that moment, Tate’s neck would be exposed, inviting, begging…. Alex would sink his teeth into that warm, pulsing flesh, feel the heat flood into his mouth, taste the salty, coppery tang that could only come from blood….

  The heat all around him, combined with the pulsing water and the power of his imagination, ratcheted up the tension in his body. The muscles of his ass clenched as the wave of his orgasm rolled over him. The intensity of it surprised and pleased him as warm fluid spurted over his hand. He relaxed into the water, feeling it embrace him with sensation until, finally, he could take no more and stepped forward out of the stream.