Encounters with Evil Pt. 01

He then grabbed a towel off the nearby rack and laid it across Tigger's lap. "To catch the overspill," he explained as he pulled the top of Tigger's bathrobe apart, revealing his chest. Tigger watched Guy's dark eye linger on a nipple and could swear he saw a flare of lust. He was doubly glad for the towel across his hips; in spite of the pain, his cock was swelling under his robe.

Guy donned latex gloves and took the lid off the bottle he held, revealing a squirt top. The big man held the bottle an inch away from his skin at the top of the cut and froze.

After a few Tigger seconds asked, "What is it?"

"I don't want to hurt you, and I know this stuff is going to burn." Guy's voice was husky.

"It already burns," Tigger said. "Please, just do it."

Guy squirted.

Tigger screamed and grabbed Guy's hand, yanking it away from his chest. He had thought the pain was bad before, but when the chemical in Guy's bottle reacted with the acid on his skin the resulting fire was so intense he felt like he was being branded with a hot iron. Pink foam erupted from the top of his chest where the stream of cleanser had hit. Guy mopped at it with the towel. Tigger's shrill scream turned to gasps and moans as the agony started to wane.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" came dribbling out of Tigger's mouth. He'd never in his life experienced such intense pain.

"I'm sorry." Guy stroked Tigger's hair away from his face with gentle fingers. "I know it hurts."

"No kidding!" Tigger panted. "Oh my god! I don't think I can do this." Droplets of sweat had burst out across his forehead and chest.

Guy frowned. "I'd take you to the hospital where they can anesthetize you to clean it out, but they don't have experience with this type of acid. I'm sure they don't have the proper chemicals to counteract it, and I don't think they'd agree to take this unlabeled bottle from me and pour it all over you."

"Maybe you could knock me out with one of those darts?" Tigger suggested.

Guy's expression hardened. "You saw that, huh?"

"Well, yeah. I was right there."

"Getting hit with a dart like that would kill you. I could lower the dosage, but I don't know how much you'd need. It would be too dangerous."

"I guess it takes something really powerful to knock out a vampire," Tigger said, prodding for information. Now that he was in his own home with all the lights on, he felt able to talk about his experience, and in spite of the pain he was in, his head was reeling with questions.

"You were drunk," Guy said dryly. "I think your imagination is getting away from you."

"Bullshit!" The word came exploding out of Tigger's mouth as his temper flared. He knows very well what I saw. He came prepared with weapons and chemicals to deal with the demon, for god's sake. How dare he act like I don't know what I'm talking about. "I know what I saw," Tigger said flatly, daring Guy to disagree again.

Guy glared at him for a long moment. Tigger met that intense stare with one of his own. Finally the big man sighed and said, "Look, it's best if you don't tell anyone. In fact, it's important that you—" He broke off in mid sentence, jerking his head up and cocking it to one side, listening. In a flash he was on his feet, gun drawn. He flipped the bathroom light off as he poked his head around the doorjamb, looking toward the main room, gun at the ready.

Tigger's heart started pounding in his chest. Here we go again. There was a knock on the front door. Guy disappeared and Tigger stood up to peek out of the bathroom. Guy was already at the door. He glanced back at Tigger and motioned him forward.

Tigger approached with some trepidation. When he reached the big man's side, Guy leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I think it's an old lady."

Mrs. McGruder, Tigger guessed. But how the hell does he know that? Tigger looked at Guy sharply. He had taken up a position to the side of the door where he'd be hidden when it was opened. His athletic body was poised for action, his gun was held just so, his expression was intense; he looked every inch the action hero.

Tigger steeled himself to face his next door neighbor, the old busybody. She had probably heard him scream and thought it was her business to investigate. He pulled his robe more tightly about himself, making sure that the soft fabric covered his cut completely—no reason to give Mrs. McGruder any more fodder for her rumor mill. He glanced ruefully at the motorcycle in the middle of his living room before he cracked the door open a few inches and peered out.

Flint-gray eyes scrutinized him from a broad wrinkled face. Mrs. McGruder was a little shorter than his own five four, but she seemed to peer down on him imperiously. She was wearing a fluffy pink robe that did nothing to hide her considerable girth. Her matching slippers had beady little eyes and floppy bunny ears.

"I heard a scream," Mrs. McGruder said in an accusing tone. "I almost called the police, but I know how you homosexual boys are. You're probably just having wild sex. I've heard noises coming from your apartment before."

Tigger choked in surprise and felt heat flushing his face. Mrs. McGruder knows we're gay? It figures. Jon's bedroom butted up against the old lady's apartment and his roommate was not known for his temperance. He would have to warn Jon before he brought home his next lover. Now Guy knew he was gay too. Conservative police-type guys—he didn't know what Guy was, but he had that aura—generally weren't sympathetic to gays. He hoped that Guy would at least not be hostile.

"I ... er ... sorry, I was having a bad dream," he said to Mrs. McGruder.

She looked him up and down with eyes that didn't miss a hair. "I'll bet," she snapped. "I'm trying to sleep, so you keep it down in here or I will call the police!"

Ugh! I had to get the neighbor from hell, didn't I? In spite of the fact that Tigger was quiet, reserved, and polite, Mrs. McGruder never had a kind word for him. Just then the pain in his chest flared brightly. He suppressed a gasp. "Good night Mrs. McGruder," he said firmly, and closed the door in her face. So much for polite.

He turned to Guy to find him glaring at him. "You have guys over here a lot?" he asked, his voice clipped. The gun was back in its holster.

What? That was not what Tigger had expected him to say. "No, I nev—" He stopped in mid-sentence. I don't need to explain myself to some bigot who I just met. "It's none of your business," he said instead, putting as much scorn into his voice as he could.

Guy's glare was immediately replaced by a smirk, and then he was all business again. "Let's get you taken care of. The longer that stuff stays on, the more damage it will do."

Tigger was suddenly aware of how painful his chest had become and he found himself blinking back tears. "Yeah, it really hurts," he admitted.

"I'd like to do it as quickly as possible, but if you fight me, it's going to take a lot longer. Do you think you can control yourself?"

Tigger shuddered, remembering the nightmare of pain. "No," he admitted.

"How about I tie you up? Then I can get it over with without any fuss."

"Tie ... tie...?" Tigger's brain was having a hard time grasping the concept, but his cock was already swelling. He swallowed hard. "Okay, let's do it."

Guy was at his bike in a flash, pulling a neatly tied bundle of rope out of the back compartment.

Who carries rope around with them? "You come prepared, I see," he said.

"I was a boy scout," Guy replied without cracking a smile. He grabbed a ladder back chair from their small dining area and carried it into the bathroom. Tigger followed, his heart beating madly and his half-hard cock bouncing happily under his robe.

By the time Guy was finished tying him up, his cock was rock hard and he was glad he'd covered his lap with the towel again. His pain was almost forgotten in the excitement of having his limbs tied down. Guy was efficient. Both of his ankles were tied securely to the chair legs, "so that you won't tip it over," Guy had explained. His arms were stretched behind him, but not painfully so, and tied to the back of the chair.

"Are you comfortable?" Guy asked. "The rope is not biting into your skin, is it?"

"No ... no I'm good," Tigger replied, shamefully noting how husky his voice sounded. Damn! He's going to figure out how turned on I am. Being tied down was featured prominently in his sexual fantasies. He'd never gotten to play that particular one out—he'd never gotten to play most of them out—but reality was even better than fantasy, in spite of their current situation not being sexual. He could feel the rope binding him, making him helpless, and for some reason that caused heat to flush his body. He could feel his nipples stiffening as his groin began to ache. It was all he could do not to beg, "Please sir, fuck my mouth with your big hard cock."

That thought had Tigger's eyes flitting involuntarily to Guy's crotch. Another bright wave of desire washed over him as he saw the real-life outline of the imagined hard cock behind Guy's tight black jeans. He was standing so close, Tigger could smell his heady musk. His eyes slowly travelled up the tight, muscular body, past the impossibly cut pecs that he remembered feeling under his cheek during the motorcycle ride, up past a stubbled, cleft chin and wide kissable lips, to look into a warm brown eye that was regarding him with a mixture of concern and desire.

I love you. Tigger bit his lip—hard. What the hell? I don't love him. I don't even know him. Tigger did know that at that moment, he would have done anything Guy asked. This man was his wet dream personified. I've got to be mistaken about "the desire in his eyes" part. This man is not gay and he's going to kick my ass if I start lusting all over him. I need to tell him to get on with it.

To Tigger's horror, what came out of his mouth instead was, "I think you'd better gag me too, sir."

Guy smirked. "Oh, you think so?"

Tigger could swear Guy was flirting with him. "I ... uh ... I wouldn't want Mrs. McGruder calling the police." He hated how flustered he sounded, and he could feel heat creeping up his neck.

Without delay, Guy pulled a clean washcloth off the shelf and carefully stuffed it into Tigger's mouth so it was just full, leaving the edges trailing out. "Is that okay?" he asked. "It's not choking you is it?"

Tigger shook his head.

Guy produced a bandana from the pocket of his jacket and tied the washcloth securely in place. He pulled Tigger's robe apart again, revealing his chest, then he eyed Tigger critically for a few moments. Tigger was sure he saw something predatory sparking in Guy's dark eye.

"I need to clean it until it quits foaming. Let me apologize in advance because I know this is going to hurt like hell. I'm not going to give you a safe signal because we need to just get this over with and that would delay things. I'm going to go as fast as I can. Are you ready?"

Tigger tried to swallow around the gag in his throat. Suddenly this wasn't sexy any more, it was damn scary. He thought about shaking his head no, but the flames on his chest were already driving him out of his mind. He caught Guy's sympathetic eye and nodded.

The next five minutes were the worst in Tigger's life. He screamed and screamed, but the gag effectively muffled his cries. His chest bubbled and foamed. He felt like his skin was being peeled off in long slow strips. He had never experienced such pain—not even anything close.

Guy spoke to him in a soothing voice the whole while, telling him how brave he was and how well he was doing. He didn't feel like he was doing well. He didn't have any choice but to sit there and take it. He strained against his bonds, wanting nothing more than to make that horrible pain stop. If he'd been able to talk he would have cussed Guy up one side and down the other, but even without the gag, talking would not have been possible—only screaming.

Finally the foaming subsided and with it the pain. Guy continued to squirt cleanser on his skin and sometimes there would be a flare up, but as the acid was washed away, the burn eased. As soon as his brain was not consumed with the white noise of agony, he became aware of his stomach churning. He felt saliva drool out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin. He tried taking deep breaths to calm himself, but he couldn't control his body's reaction.

His eyes widened as he realized he was going to throw up with the gag still in his mouth. He tossed his head back and forth and made a desperate sound in the back of his throat. Guy continued to talk soothingly to him, not seeming to realize his predicament.

Bile came up the back of his throat and had no where to go. Some of it came out of his nose, the rest clogged his throat choking off his breath. He made a gagging sound before his airway was cut off completely.

Luckily that was enough for Guy to realize what was happening. He had the handkerchief off and the gag out of his mouth in a flat second. Stepping behind him, he picked him up, chair and all, and turn him over so his face was toward the floor. Tigger began coughing and choking and spitting. More bile came out, but his time it had someplace to go—all over the bathroom floor. Blessedly, there wasn't much in his stomach anymore.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry," Guy said. "I should have realized this might happen. I'm sorry." As he spoke, Guy undid the ties binding his hands, still holding him suspended upside down with one arm, as if Tigger weighed nothing. As soon as his hands were free, Tigger reached toward the toilet, and Guy stepped forward so he could open the lid. His stomach was empty though. He spit a few times into the porcelain bowl and that was all.

"You done for now?" Guy asked.

Tigger nodded. His nose burned, his mouth tasted horrible, and tears were streaming out of his eyes. He couldn't seem to stop them.

Guy set the chair back down on the floor and untied Tigger's ankles. Then he wet a washcloth and washed Tigger's face gently. Tigger sat there in a daze. As soon as Guy was finished, he gathered him into his arms, still murmuring apologies.

The horror of his experience with the vampire had frayed Tigger's nerves raw. That followed by an interlude of extreme pain, not to mention the vestiges of alcohol that still coursed through his veins, combined to unravel the last of his self-control. He wrapped his arms around Guy's neck, buried his face in the big man's strong chest, and sobbed as if the world was ending.

Guy stroked his back and whispered apologies and encouragement, into his ear.

Tigger wasn't sure how long he cried, but eventually his tears ran dry. His breathing was still ragged, his breath hitching as he tried to calm himself. Settling down he realized Guy was siting in the chair and he was curled up on his lap. When his mind finally engaged, he was flooded with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he gasped out, pulling his face away from Guy's now damp chest, but not having the courage to look at Guy. Instead he busied himself wiping off his face with the sleeve of his bathrobe. "I haven't cried like that since I was little."

"It's okay," Guy said, his voice husky. "I'm sorry I put you through so much pain. How does your chest feel now?"

"Pretty much like someone sliced it open from neck to naval, but it doesn't burn anymore." Tigger started to climb off Guy's lap but the big man stopped him by grabbing his arm gently. Tigger's eyes flashed to his face curiously. Guy was staring at him. His fingers reached out and brushed over his cheek.

"Did he touch you with the knife on your face?"

"Yes," Tigger answered, realizing that his cheek burned where the blade had touched it. As soon as his brain processed this, he noticed that the base of his neck burned as well, but the underside of his balls were what caused him to draw in a sharp breath.

Guy already had the bottle out, and before Tigger could even steel himself against the pain, was squirting some on his cheek. In spite of himself, Tigger jerked his head back. He could feel the chemical bubbling on his skin, but the burn was not nearly so bad as it had been on his chest.

Guy wiped the area clean with the corner of the towel he used earlier. "Where else?" He demanded.

Tigger indicated his neck, and Guy gave it the same treatment as his cheek.

"Anywhere else?"

Even though Tigger had anticipated that question, he couldn't stop the blush that climbed his cheeks. "I think I'd better wash it myself," he said. He watched Guy's jaw clench and fire flare in his eye.

"Did he cut you?"

"No. He...." As Tigger remembered the experience of being toyed with by the vampire, his heart started racing. A heavy band wrapped painfully around his chest and he couldn't take a breath. His eyes widened in panic.

"Calm down. You're safe now. I won't let anything hurt you." Guy rubbed Tigger's back with tender hands. "Breathe," he ordered.

Tigger closed his eyes and focused on breathing and clearing his mind. He was still sitting in Guy's lap and he felt safe and protected—like nothing could ever touch him if he was with Guy. He's strong but gentle. Just what I've been looking for. Those thoughts had him climbing quickly out of Guy's lap.

"I'm okay now," he asserted to Guy's grunt of protest. "And I can wash myself off."

Guy looked at him for a moment, assessing him. Seeming to be satisfied with Tigger's condition, he handed him the bottle of cleanser. "Do a thorough job of it," he instructed, "then take a shower."

"Let me get something to wear," Tigger said, heading out of the bathroom while Guy squatted and began using the soiled towel to wipe up the mess Tigger had made. When he returned a few minutes later, T-shirt, underwear, and lounge pants in hand, he discovered Guy depositing the towel he'd been using into a large plastic bag.

"I hope you're not overly fond of this towel," he said. "I'm afraid that acid doesn't wash out well. I'll take it with me and dispose of it properly." He pulled Tigger's discarded clothes out of the trashcan and put them in the bag as well followed by the latex gloves he was wearing. "Put your bathrobe in here too, when you take it off, then be sure and wash your hands with some of that cleanser."

"I need a new bathrobe anyway," Tigger said, "but the towel belongs to my roommate. I guess I'll have to confess I ruined it."

"Your roommate ... is he?" Guy broke off, looking embarrassed, but his eye drilled into Tigger as if he could glean the answer to his unasked question by sifting through his thoughts.

"We're just friends," Tigger said, guessing what Guy's question might have been. Why does he care?

Guy's nod was curt but Tigger noticed an almost imperceptible shift in his shoulders that signaled he was satisfied with Tigger's response.

"Use this cream on your injuries once you've dried off. And reapply it every few hours." Guy set an unlabeled plastic jar on the counter and started to leave the bathroom.

Is he leaving? Dismay washed over Tigger. It wasn't that he was scared to be alone, he just didn't want Guy to walk out of his life, never to see him again. "Will you stay?" he asked, his voice sounding a little too shrill. "I ... I mean just until I get out of the shower."

"Of course, if that's what you want."

Tigger nodded, embarrassed by his request. Ugh! I am not falling for a straight guy, am I? No! That is so not happening again. His ex obviously hadn't been completely straight, but Tigger couldn't help feeling that if he'd been a girl, he wouldn't have been tossed so carelessly aside. With the memory of his previous heartbreak fresh in his mind, he closed the door firmly behind Guy. Even though he knew Guy could pick it two seconds, he pressed the lock. Chapter Four