Sex. It was all anybody ever talked about. Who they were doing, who they wanted to do, who they'd done. It was as if there was nothing else to discuss, as if the world wasn't about to go to hell in a hand basket, as if there wasn't plenty to keep their minds occupied. Only it wasn't their minds they were worried about. Unfortunately, dick was all they cared about. Sucking it, getting it sucked, fucking with it, getting fucked by it. The gay national anthem was "Lift Every Cock and Ream". In bedrooms, backrooms, bars and cars across America, the only item on the agenda was sex. Some dressed the need up in pretty clothes and called it "dating" or "getting to know the guy" or even "wanting a commitment" but, the truth was, it was all about cock.

He, of course, was a romantic so he liked to think he was after more than a fuck but he could tell you down to the smallest vein what the last cock he'd sucked looked like. Tell you how good it had felt going down his throat and up his ass. And it hadn't even been the best cock he'd ever had but it had been good and, some days, good was all he really wanted. Some days, bad days, he'd even take mediocre.

But tonight he wanted something special, he wanted something that would make him sing. Hadn't found it yet but he didn't doubt that he would. Something was in the air and it wasn't just the smell of cum.

The DJ had put on "Renegade Master" and he found himself on the floor dancing by himself in the middle of a knot of guys who were just moving, not caring who or if they were dancing with anyone, they just wanted to move and the song was fast enough that you worked up a sweat before the first verse was over.

Five minutes later the song segued into Massive Attack and the tempo slowed down and he felt someone press up against his back. Taller. His head fit in the space between the man's shoulder and his jaw yet the guy's crotch rubbed his ass. Perfect. They danced so close hardly an inch of space showed between their bodies. Perfect. A tongue snaked along the edge of his earlobe. Perfect.

You light my ways through the club maze
We would struggle through the dub daze

I see myself in there upon my lover
It's how you go down to the men's room sink
Sad we talk of how madmen think
I see myself in there upon my lover

A hand slipped inside the waistband of his jeans and cupped his cock. Stroked it from base to tip. His nipples immediately stiffened, rubbing against the soft cotton tee-shirt. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Up and down the man's hand moved, exploring each vein, each bump, each indentation. Fingers taking the measure of his cock head, his shaft, his balls. When that wasn't enough, the guy unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, heedless of the bodies around them. Justin didn't care either, he was too far gone, cock throbbing, getting hard. Harder. Harder. His heart beat to the rhythm of the song's drum machine, the pulse in his cock was in sync, and his blood was starting to sing. The man tapped the tip of his dick with his finger, keeping in time with the music and the beating of his heart, and he moaned.

Toy-like people make me boy-like
Toy-like people make me boy-like
They're invisible, when the trip it flips
They get physical, way below my lips

The button on his jeans was undone and they slid down over his hips, exposing his ass. He couldn’t believe he was half-undressed in the middle of a club, hard-on flashing in the strobe lights, ass gleaming. Lips parted, he felt a finger enter his mouth. He sucked it, the man's finger like a cock, thrusting inside. Then it pulled away. Justin gasped as it pressed against his hole. With one hand still wrapped around Justin's dick, the guy fingered him with the other. It was like a electric current ran between his ass and his cock and each time the guy's finger pushed, his cock throbbed until the man's finger was up in him and precum dripped from his dick. He couldn't keep quiet any longer. Good thing the music was so loud, he didn't think anyone could hear him moaning but he didn't think he cared either, he was being wound so tight from front and back.

The man's lips grazed his neck, his tongue sending messages to his cock via his skin. Teeth closed over a vein. He thought he heard him say, "I want you," but he wasn't sure because the guy never stopped licking his neck, never stopped nipping him but he heard the words, heard them clearly, only he wasn't really sure because he wasn't really functioning too well at the moment. All he could think was, I'm going to come, I'm going to come right here. Right in the club, right on the dance floor with some guy's finger up his ass. Something sharp cut into his neck at the same time as the man bumped his prostate from inside. He shouted as his cock grew rock hard and his balls began to spasm. Bright lights exploded behind his eyelids and his voice got tangled up in his throat. Cum splattered the floor in a kaleidoscope of color. All strength left his legs and if it hadn't been for the man's hand around his cock and up his ass, he would have collapsed. The beating of his heart drowned the sound of the music…

A foot nudged him. He opened his eyes and looked up. A guy who looked suspiciously like a bouncer was towering over him. "Go home. We're closed." The guy shook his head. Twinks. None of them could handle their booze or their drugs.

Justin buttoned and zipped up his jeans as he got to his feet. "Sorry," he muttered and then made his way to the door. Now if he could just remember where the fuck he lived.

A few hours of sleep wasn't nearly enough but it was all he was going to get. What in God's name had possessed him to hit the clubs on a Thursday night? Especially when he had a big presentation to make at work the next day. Possibly the biggest of his career so far. He'd been working for over a year at Latham and Associates and he'd yet to catch the eye of any of the partners. Until three weeks ago when the word had come down that Mr. Kinney wanted him to work on a new advertising campaign for a series of upscale, urban condominium communities breaking ground in the fall. With one phone call he'd gone from nameless drone to a drone with potential. So far he hadn't met Mr. Kinney but today would change all that. Today his team would present their idea to the youngest of the partners in the hopes of getting his seal of approval and possibly a big, fat bonus. And he had to go out and party last night.

Who would have ever known that water could feel so good? Ducking his head below the shower, he let the water run over his body until he began to feel halfway human again. Guess he was lucky he was still a twink, if he were older, no way would he recover as quickly from his nights of debauchery. Grinning, he replayed in his head the scene from last night. Probably couldn't show his face at that club any time soon. He'd either be laughed out of the place or swamped with guys wanting to replace his mysterious partner.

Justin rubbed soap over his shoulder and began bopping to music only he could hear. Maybe he'd go back to the club tonight and that guy would be there again. That would be— "Ow!" Shit, his neck hurt like hell. What the fuck had he done to it? He had to check it out now. Stepping out of the shower, he went to the mirror over the sink and angled his head. "What the…?" There were two pinholes in his neck, the edges puffy and red. Like someone had bitten… "That guy." He nodded. He vaguely remembered the man sucking on his neck or doing something. Guess he'd gotten carried away. It'd felt amazing at the time though. Still, he needed to cover that up for his meeting today or everyone in the room would be snickering behind his back. Or worse, openly.

As he put up the boards, he heard Murphy approach and say, "Justin, I want you to meet someone," and he turned and looked up into the eyes of his destiny. "Brian, this is Justin Taylor, one of our best graphic designers. Justin, this is Mr. Kinney, one of the partners in the firm."

Intense. That was the only word to describe him. His eyes seemed to challenge all he met; his lips were faintly curved with scorn? derision? amusement? Whatever it was it didn’t detract from his looks. In fact, it enhanced them. Despite the very real possibility that the man might be a world-class asshole, his confidence was attractive, no, alluring. Justin found himself drawn to him in a way he’d never felt before about any man. Physically he was Justin’s opposite: hazel eyes instead of blue, tanned skin with chestnut hair whereas Justin was blond and very fair. He towered over him by at least six inches. Yet their differences only heightened Justin’s interest. He found himself wanting to know everything about him; his curiosity ran the gamut from the profound to the mundane: what he thought about the president and the war in Iraq, what kind of music he listened to, what he ate for breakfast. All these thoughts raced through his mind in an instant yet he was aware that too much time had passed with him having said nothing in response to Murphy’s introduction. Jerking himself out of his trance, he held out his hand. “Good to meet you, Mr. Kinney.”

”That remains to be seen,” the man replied coolly, grasping his hand in a firm grip and shaking it once.

They parted and Kinney took a seat at the far end of the conference table while Justin remained by the boards, taking his cue from Murphy who had a lot more experience dealing with upper management.

Sitting in his cubicle, he waited for Murphy’s word about the meeting’s outcome. Kinney had said very little during the actual presentation, just jotted a few notes down on his PDA and asked a couple of pointed questions which Murphy had deferred to him. He thought he’d done an okay job but Mr. Kinney hadn’t given any indication that he was pleased. Or displeased. He kept his thoughts to himself. Once the meeting had ended, he’d nodded once and sauntered out of the room saying, “Murph. A word.” Murphy had followed without comment, leaving Justin to take down the boards by himself and to return to his cubicle with butterflies in his stomach.

He’d felt kind of stupid, still felt a little silly, carrying on about a man he barely knew, a man who probably wouldn’t give him a second look if Justin hadn’t been one of his employees. You could tell that Brian Kinney thought very highly of himself from his expensive haircut to his designer suit. He presented a picture of urban sophistication that Justin didn’t think he’d ever achieve. Then again, he didn’t really aspire to. Although he appreciated the look on Brian, he was more of a khakis and oxford kind of guy. Truthfully, he was more of a jeans and tee-shirt person but he had to dress appropriately for work. His mom was always trying to get him to up the style quotient on his wardrobe but he was an artist and he needed to feel comfortable in order to be creative. He couldn’t sketch in Prada, couldn’t create in Kenneth Cole. Besides, his salary couldn’t really support it.


Justin nearly jumped out of his skin. “What the fuck!” Caught his breath. “Murph!”

”Sorry, man. Good news.” He took a seat in Justin’s space. “Brian loved our mock-ups.”


”He was very impressed. His words.”

”So… what does that mean?”

”That maybe we’ll get to work on a lot more high profile campaigns.” He folded his arms in satisfaction. “Brian’s the best. Working with him can only be a good thing.”

Despite being overjoyed, Justin couldn’t help commenting, “He seems kind of… harsh.”

”He’s high maintenance, that’s for sure. And demanding. A total perfectionist. He’ll rip you a new one if you don’t perform but he’s good to his teams. Loyal.”

”So you think we’re in?”

”Like Flynn.”

Still floating on air after Murphy’s news, Justin decided to go out and celebrate. His friend Daphne had a hot date that she couldn’t break so he was going solo. Which he didn’t mind. A lot. Gave him the opportunity to return to the club and dance the night away. Which he definitely needed after today’s high stress meeting, no matter how positive the outcome had been. He hadn’t realized how wound-up he’d been until after he’d begun to relax that afternoon. When he got home he’d showered, changed, and called Daphne, gotten the bad news, and changed into something more appropriate for clubbing.

Waltzing up to the door of Babylon, he grinned. Maybe he’d get lucky and meet Brian here. Not that the man would ever acknowledge him but it’d be nice to see him outside of work: black wifebeater showing off his shoulders and pecs, tight jeans snug around his long legs and compact ass. Justin imagined losing himself in those legs, getting tangled up in them. Shit, he was getting a woody just thinking about it. Time to release some pent-up energy.

After fending off a couple of A-class trolls, he struck silver. Twink like himself, hot, good dancer. They took to the floor and kicked it up a notch when they began to garner the attention of the people around them. One leg slung across the guy’s hip, Justin’s eyelids fluttered as they rubbed up against one another. He could feel a plump dick pressing against his own. Just as he was about to suggest they take it to the backroom, someone came up behind him. He could tell by the look in the trick’s eyes that it was someone amazing. There was no doubt in his mind that he was about to be dropped in favor of better goods when he felt the newcomer's hands slip around his waist from behind and pull him away from his dance partner.

It was him. The guy from last night. He nuzzled Justin’s neck and confirmed his beliefs. Justin started to look around but the man blocked his action. Whispered, “Close your eyes.”

Willing to go along with the game, Justin shut his eyes and waited. His former partner huffed off, pissed at having lost both of them. Justin didn’t care, he had who he wanted or, if not exactly the person he wanted, a good substitution.

Like before, they danced quite close: cock to ass, hand to cock and like before, Justin found himself growing hard very quickly. Before he could suggest it or act on the need himself, his jeans were unzipped and a hand wrapped itself around the shaft of his dick. He let his head roll back against a broad shoulder and reached around to grab the man’s hips to keep himself steady while he was stroked. From base to tip he was massaged, kneaded, and caressed to the point where he could barely keep silent. Small cries escaped his lips. Fighting the urge to come made him shake. Almost more than anything he wanted to drop his load, except that he wanted this to continue more, this exquisite torture. Precum kept him slick and he slipped through the man's fist with ease except when he decided to squeeze his cock head or balls. Although he was already shivering in excitement, Justin wondered if he'd be fingered again. Moaning at the thought, he felt something cool and wet press against the small of his back. Something conical and hard. "Christ," he shuddered as the man rolled the plug down between his buttocks. At the same time, his tongue traveled down Justin's neck. He wanted to tell him no, not here because he didn't know if he could keep from shouting once it went in. He didn't have a choice, his throat wouldn't emit a sound and before he knew it, the tip of the plug parted the folds of his hole and slipped inside the tight ring of muscle. "Ah!" he shouted and his balls tightened. At that moment his neck felt like it was on fire. His slit opened and cum surged from the tip of his cock to spill over the man's fist as he jacked him off. He felt lightheaded, faint, and his legs wobbled a big. Yet despite the force of his orgasm, the plug remained firmly inside him. The man had never released it, even now he applied steady pressure to the base as Justin continued to jerk about. When he'd settled down, he felt the plug ooze out of his hole, inducing a last spasm of pleasure.

Again he came to alone, his mysterious lover having vanished but, at least, this time the bouncer didn't have to wake him. Another clubgoer did, shaking him until he opened his eyes and realized he wasn't home. Thanking the guy, he stumbled off to catch a cab. He didn't trust himself to walk that far.

As the cab driver took his money, he said, "That's some hickey."

Justin touched his neck and flinched. It hurt like hell but there was no blood. Running up the stairs, taking them two at a time, he flew to the bathroom the moment he was inside his apartment and checked it out. The two places from before looked even more enflamed. He sat on the commode in a daze. Sucking someone's blood wasn't exactly the safest thing to do anymore, if it had ever been. He knew that was some people's kink but it had never been his. Now he'd been bitten twice, bitten for Christ's sake. During the most incredible sex he'd ever had. And the guy hadn't even fucked him, had only jerked him off and sucked his neck. Drank his blood. Even now, just thinking about it was getting him hot. Still, that was it. If the guy came back for thirds he'd be disappointed. Besides, Justin had a new object of desire: Brian Kinney and no matter what it took, he intended to make Brian his own. Forever.

Afraid that his resolve wouldn’t hold up if he met his mysterious trick again, he avoided the club like the plague and spent his evenings at home working on drawings of Brian which he did from memory. Luckily, since his team had been assigned to the condo campaign, he saw a lot more of Mr. Kinney. Granted the man rarely spoke to him but, when he did, Justin would walk around on air for days afterwards. In bed, he’d jerk off dreaming about Brian, about Brian fucking him all night long. He’d wake up with cum stains on his neck and belly, on the sheets. He had wet dreams like he hadn’t experienced since he was a teenager. Woke up hard and hungry and needing to take care of it before he could even shower. Twice at work he’d gone into the restroom and beaten off in a stall, the smell of Brian’s light cologne an aphrodisiac he couldn’t resist.

Unfortunately, Brian didn’t seem to be as impressed by him personally as he was professionally. They exchanged very few words with one another but all of their conversations, brief as they were, were confined to work topics. Justin didn’t even know how to begin to approach the subject of being attracted to Brian with Brian. It just wasn’t done. He was a peon and Brian was a partner. Partners and peons didn’t mix. His was a hopeless dream. But he couldn’t let go of it.

One day after work he spotted Brian driving away from the building just as he was getting into a cab, his once in a while splurge whenever he was too tired to take the bus. Feeling slightly foolish, he told the driver to, “Follow that car,” the vehicle in question a classic Corvette, deep green with a white rag top. Sex on wheels. A car to match the man as Brian was sex on legs.

After winding through afternoon traffic all the way across town, both cars came to a stop on Liberty Avenue: Brian’s in front of a place called the Liberty Diner, and the cab a block back. Justin thanked the cab driver with an extra large tip and began making plans. If he just showed up at the diner, Brian might get suspicious. Then again, Justin was gay and the diner was on Liberty Avenue so it wouldn’t be too farfetched if he claimed just to be dropping in for dinner—even though he’d never set foot in the place before. He supposed he could hang around outside waiting for Brian to leave the diner and then just ‘accidentally’ run into him on his way to the club. Still wearing his work clothes. Jeez, that would be totally lame. He could claim to be on his way to a bar to meet friends after work. That would be believable. Only he wasn’t meeting friends. He was stalking his boss.

Wasting nearly a half hour outside, Justin decided to go home. There was no point in staying. Even if he managed to come up with a plausible excuse, there was no guarantee Brian would do more than acknowledge him and move on. And what else did he think would happen? That Brian would look into his eyes and fall madly in love with him? Things like that didn’t happen outside of the movies and fairy tales. Yet it had happened. It had happened to him. He was in love with Brian. And it was killing him.

Either that or the bite on his neck, which had healed with seemingly no residual effects, was slowly doing him in. Which couldn’t be because his symptoms were too ludicrous to recount. He could just imagine going to a physician and telling him that he was having trouble sleeping because he was plagued by erotic dreams that had him hard most of the night, dreams so vivid that he woke up shouting as he came. More than likely the doctor would tell him to get laid and get over it. If only he could.

Disappointed by his lack of conviction and courage, he trudged home.

What he didn’t know was that he was being watched.

And followed.

His secret admirer trailed him to his apartment building and waited until he’d gone inside and up the stairs before coming into the lobby.

Upset by the failure of his earlier plans, Justin fumbled with his keys and dropped them by the front door. He bent over and retrieved them and when he stood up again, someone was behind him. Someone who grabbed him and held him in an iron grip. A yell escaped before he could stop it. He knew who it was. “How did you—“

”I can give you what you need,” he said in a low voice that raised the hairs on the back of Justin’s neck. "What you want."

On the verge of giving in, Justin fought his temporary desires. “Go away.”

”You don’t mean that.”

”I do,” he insisted.

The man’s tongue licked the side of his neck, washing over the scars that were there causing him to shake. “I know you.”

”Please…” He was already losing his battle to stay strong.

”Close your eyes.”

”Let me see you.”

”Trust me.”

”Trust me,” said Justin, returning the man’s words.

”Then I’ll go,” he replied.

Justin betrayed himself. “Don’t,” he said, anxiety in his voice.

”Will you trust me?”

Softly, Justin answered, “I’m in love with someone.”

”Someone you can’t have.”

”Yes.” The exchange had taken on the quality of a dream. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see Jackie Chan come bursting out of the elevator. “He doesn’t know I exist.”

”Maybe he’s waiting.”

”For what?”

”For you to be worthy of his attention.”

That struck a chord with Justin. “How?”

”Let go of your fear.” The man slipped a blindfold over Justin. “Trust me,” he said as Justin fidgeted, suddenly frightened. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.” Taking Justin’s silence as acquiescence, the man guided him into his apartment and back towards his bedroom.

His heart was pounding. He was blindfolded and there was a complete stranger in his apartment. Worse, he was aroused, so aroused he ached. His penis was pressing painfully against the fly of trousers. At that moment he would have given anything to be released.

Having reached his bedroom, the man closed the door even though they were all alone in the apartment. The sound of it rang with a finality that scared Justin. Suddenly he had visions of his sheet-covered body being flashed on the eleven o’clock news.

”Trust me,” the man said again as if he were privy to his thoughts and he began unbuttoning Justin’s shirt.

Justin’s nipples stood out from his chest and were so sensitive that the brush of his shirt against them caused him to groan. All of his senses seemed heightened.

”Trust me,” came the man’s voice as if from afar and, at the same time, from inside his head.

Justin lay his head back on the man’s chest as his khakis were opened and dropped to the floor. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants. His partner cupped his groin and squeezed him causing him to catch his breath suddenly. Precum bubbled up from the head of his cock to spread through the cotton cloth of his briefs. He thought he would asphyxiate, he could hardly breathe. Then the briefs were lifted clear of his erection and they too dropped to the floor. He was free. In a sense. Yet completely captive.

As he was pushed to the bed and flipped over onto his back, the voice came again, “Trust me. No matter what.” Instead of calming him, it only alarmed him more. Then he felt something encircle his wrist. He jerked.


”Trust me, Justin.”

It came to him then that they’d never exchanged names. “How do you—“

”I know everything about you. I know you better than you know yourself.” The voice wrapped itself around him, comforting him. “Trust me.”

He let himself be tied to the bed; his arms were at a comfortable angle but he was confined nonetheless. That fact alone kept his heart beating. And his cock hard. He listened as his unseen partner undressed and then climbed onto the bed, kneeling over him. What was he about to do? Justin was running scenarios in his mind when something rigid touched his erection, drawing a sigh from between his lips. His trick was as hard as he was which would indicate a desire to fuck yet he continued to rub his dick against Justin’s until a puddle of precum pooled on the young man’s belly. Justin couldn’t complain. He’d never imagined how erotic it could be to have another man’s cock stroke yours. It was torture having his hands tied because all he wanted was to reach down and hold both of their dicks together so that he could feel every inch of his partner’s prick. Precum dripped down over his balls as the man rubbed the slick head of his cock over them. “Oh God,” whispered Justin and he opened his legs even wider and was about to throw a leg over the man’s hip to draw him down against his body when the rubbing stopped. The man pulled away.

“No,” Justin protested but his complaints turned to cries of pleasure as the man’s cock was replaced by his mouth. “Yes.” The word rumbled in his belly. "Yes." Unable to see, he could only imagine how he looked, legs spread, back arched, muscles taunt, cock buried in his phantom lover's mouth. As the man's tongue swirled about his shaft, he began to shiver. It felt so… amazing. His dick was so hard, he was afraid to move, afraid that the slightest touch would set him off. Furthermore, he was utterly in the hands of his mystery man. Whatever he wanted to do to him, he could. He had given him that control. The thought turned Justin on even more, his desire to surrender. On the verge of coming, he cried out as he was released.

"Not yet," he was told and then the lower half of his body was raised from the bed. His legs fell open even wider, buttocks parting to expose his hole which had begun to spasm. In an instant he felt a moist warmth and then the man's tongue plunged down inside him.

He shouted and wriggled in the man's grip, his stomach muscles rippling as he was turned inside out. He was losing his mind from the sensations that raged through his body. He could feel his hole pushing out and then drawing back in, wanting to trap his lover's tongue, pull it inside where it could continue to probe and lick and stroke but the man evaded him. "Please…" he begged.

"Do you want me?"

"Yes." There was no one else, nothing else but this.

"Do you want what I can give you?"

"Yes," Justin whispered, his ass and cock having taken control of his body.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he cried and yelped as the man's cock plunged inside his ass. Legs thrown over broad shoulders, he was helpless to resist the assault. As if he wanted to resist. Each thrust felt like heaven, he was in paradise, he had died and this was his reward, to be fucked so completely, so thoroughly that no part of his body felt neglected. As the man's cock hammered his hole, his own cock wept, trapped between their heaving bodies. His balls felt like they were expanding with each penetration. He'd known it would be like this, had known and had begged for it, pleaded to be fucked, to be ravished. The moment he felt warm air on his neck, he knew what was about to happen. Turning his head, he surrendered. Two pointed teeth sank down into his flesh through the holes that were already there. He screamed, the pain was that intense, and if his hands had been free he would have pounded the man's back in agony but he was securely tied to the bed. The pain surpassed any discomfort he had felt the other two times and he wondered what was different, why did it hurt so much? It felt as if his life was rushing from his body in a torrent of blood. Moaning in agony, he struggled feebly. And then the teeth withdrew. Tears seeped from beneath the blindfold he wore. Drained of energy, he could only lie there as the man continued to thrust into him. The man raised up and he thought that maybe he would stop but the thrusting continued. Then he felt something press against his lips. Flesh. Wet. He inhaled the acrid scent of blood and felt a pang in his stomach. Not from nausea, from hunger. Jesus…


The first few drops seeped into his mouth with little help from him. He felt lifeless. Still, the moment the blood touched his tongue, he swallowed, an automatic response. It ran down his throat and he nearly gagged. He was drinking someone's blood. He wanted to throw up but his body wouldn't cooperate. Instead, it seemed as if, on some level, he wanted this. Lips pressing harder to the man's neck, he drank deeply of his lover's blood. As he drank, his cock hardened until he was thrusting against the man's belly even as the man was thrusting into him. He was dizzy, dizzy from the blood: the blood that was coursing through his veins, filling his cock, the blood that was flowing into his mouth, keeping the man's cock hard inside his ass.

They struggled on the bed, blood smearing their faces and necks, running between their chests. The man jabbed Justin hard and he exploded. Throwing his head back, he screamed, cum jetting over his chest to land in the hollow of his throat. He could feel the man's cock solidify inside him and then he began to jut against him, coming as well. Justin slumped against the bed as his lover withdrew. He was utterly spent.

Softly, the man asked, "Do you trust me?"


"Do you want me?"

"Yes," he replied, having accepted his need.

"Do you love me?"

He did. The man had expanded his existence and filled it completely. There was no room for Brian anymore. "Yes."


"Always." Justin swallowed, still tasting blood, having sealed his promise in blood and cum and spit. "Who are you?"

"Someone who loves you," came the reply. Gently, the man released his arms and sat back and waited for Justin to remove his blindfold.

Now that he'd been given permission to look, Justin felt apprehensive about seeing this man who had so completely changed his life. In fact, he was more than a little scared. Although he thought of his lover as a man, it was obvious that he wasn't. What he was, Justin still found difficult to articulate even to himself.

Vampire. Dracula. Nosferatu.

Images of Bella Lugosi and Gary Oldman flashed through his head. He could see the sharp teeth glistening in the night just before they plunged into his flesh. He flinched.

"Look at me."

The man's voice commanded him to move and his body responded. Justin reached up and slowly removed the blindfold. He kept his eyes closed a moment after the blindfold had been taken away and then he opened them. "No." The word hung between them like a gossamer curtain: it hid nothing, it changed nothing. A word could not erase the truth.

Brian looked back at him. Smiled and showed the points of his teeth.

"How?" Out of all the questions racing through his head, this one pushed its way to the forefront.

"How did I become… this? Or did you have some other question in mind?"

Justin was stunned into silence. It was too much to take in at once. He wanted to crawl into a ball and sleep. He didn't even know if Brian's teeth were real, if any of this was real.

"Justin." He looked up. "I didn't lie when I said that I loved you. I have for a long time."

"But we just met two months ago."

"I saw you. At the firm when you first started a year and a half ago."

"You—" He couldn't speak, he was so shocked.

"I watched you from afar, trying to figure out a way to meet you." He smiled. "You were so beautiful." His face darkened. "But I didn't want you to respond to me as Brian Kinney, a partner in the firm. I wanted you to love me for who I am."

"I don't know you. I don't know anything about you." He moved to cover himself and touched the blood and cum on his throat. Immediately he began to tremble.


"You lied to me." He backed away from Brian. "You lied about everything."

"I love you."

"Don't say that!"

Brian reached for him. "Beloved…"

"Go away. Leave me alone." He looked away. "Leave me alone."

Only Brian wouldn't go. "There are things I need to tell you, things you need to know. About the change—"

"Get out!" he yelled. Hearing those words, 'the change,' frightened him. He suddenly wanted to go back to a time before he'd ever met Brian. "I hate you! I hate you," he sobbed and covered his face.

"It was easier to love me as a stranger than someone you already wanted?" Brian pulled his hands from his face. "Look at me!" Justin did. "Do you love me?"


Brian shook him. "Do you?"


"Then the rest we can work out."

Released from Brian's grip, Justin leaned against the headboard for support. "What did you do to me?"

"What did you think I was doing?"

"Are you… are you a…" He couldn’t say it, even though he knew the truth, the word was too much, meant too much, he didn't think he could take it all in.

"A vampire?" Justin nodded. "Is it so hard to believe? Now, after everything we've done?"

Justin explained, "I thought at first it was just a kink." He reached over and touched the place where Brian had torn open his own throat. The edges had sealed leaving behind an angry red scar. He touched his own lips, still stained with blood.

"It's no kink."

"But I've seen you in daylight, I've seen your reflection in mirrors—"

"Fiction," sneered Brian. He grabbed Justin's arm and held it as his teeth elongated before his lover's eyes. "Fact," he said and let go.

Justin ran his finger over the points of Brian's teeth. "What about mine?"

"Soon they'll grow in."

"Can you change into a bat?" Brian gave him a look that could melt stone and he chuckled ruefully. "Guess not."

"Or wolves or anything else." He twisted his lips in a grin. "Fuckin' movies."

Feeling more than a little foolish, Justin hit upon an idea. "You bit me three times! That was in the movies."

"I could have bitten you once or a hundred times," Brian explained. "Until you drank my blood, it wouldn't have mattered. I was just waiting until I thought you were ready, until I thought you could handle it." He used his teeth to tear his wrist. Blood welled up from the wound. "A virus in the bloodstream; a deficiency; a symbiotic organism, who knows why?" Explanations for his existence. None of them fully satisfactory. "All I can be sure of is the hunger."

Justin knew what he meant. Even now he remembered the twinge of hunger that had stabbed him through the middle before Brian's blood satisfied his need. "Will I need to… to drink blood too?" He was inexplicably embarrassed, face red with shame. It was like having to talk about sex with his mother.

"A little will suffice most of the time. So little, they never miss it."

"How often?"

Brian's eyes dimmed. "The hunger never goes away," he intoned. "I feel it burning inside of me always and I resist until it drives me out into the streets. To feed."

The horror of Brian's existence saddened Justin until he realized that it was now his existence as well. He fought the anger that threatened to swell inside him because he did love Brian and he wanted to understand, he needed to understand if he was to ever move beyond this moment. "Why? Why did you do this to me?"

A tear ran down Brian's cheek, dropped off his face staining the comforter pink. "To no longer be alone," he replied and he left the bed and stood staring out of the window with his arms wrapped about his slender body. "I've dreamt of that, for so long. Waited so long. For you." His voice trembled. Half-turning, Brian asked, "Do you hate me?"

His earlier words come back to haunt him, Justin shook his head and went to him. "No." Held him. "Never." He smiled, anticipating the day when his teeth would grow like Brian's. "We can be monsters together."

A man moaned in the shadows of an alley. His body shivered as the two other men worked him over. Fingers up his ass and around his cock, they coiled a tight rope of pleasure around him until the world vanished and there was only the three of them, in this alley, fucking. They licked and kissed his throat as their hands continued to thrust, to stroke. At the moment of his orgasm, he felt a burning sensation in his neck but it was only one sensation amongst many and he was slowly fading away with the last of his spunk…

Brian raised his head, lips red, and waited while his lover drank from the holes he had punctured in the man's neck. When Justin had finished, they shared a kiss, tongues darting into one another's mouth to taste the trick's blood.

They left him in the mouth of the alley, asleep and dreaming of them, and returned home to live a dream of their own.

Challenge Scenario:

I happen to like the vampire request but since you changed it to a werewolf (which was completely hot) I didn't think you'd go for it.

Author's Notes:

Since a second person asked for a vampire story, I thought I'd oblige. Besides, I like vampires.

"Risingson" by Massive Attack from Mezzanine, 1998 Circa Records Ltd.

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