Encounters with Evil Pt. 01

"I don't have—"

"Oh, damn! Sorry, honey. I forgot about your phone." Jon rubbed his thigh comfortingly. He was always touchy-feely. "You sure you don't want to come?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Tigger replied. Shopping with Jon was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He didn't feel like socializing, and Jon always talked him into spending money he didn't have. "I need to go into work at five anyway."

"You're working tonight? I'll see if I can talk Leon into coming in for dinner."

Tigger had a part time job waiting tables at the Deluxe Bar and Grill on Broadway. It was a fun little restaurant and usually packed on the weekends. "Sunday night the wait shouldn't be too bad," Tigger said, "especially if you come in after eight."

"Okay, love, I've got to go." Jon gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before jumping to his feet and sailing out the door.

Half an hour later, after having done little more than obsess over how perfect Guy was and how horrible it was that he would never see him again, Tigger finally roused himself to take a shower. I'll feel better when I'm clean, he told himself.

*****

Guy stared intently at the five-story apartment building. More specifically, he stared at a couple of the windows on the second floor in the back of the apartment building. He wished he had X-ray vision so he could see through the walls to what the occupants were doing. His heat vision didn't work from so far away and he was afraid to go closer for fear someone would notice him. That someone being Mel. He didn't want to look like a stalker-loser.

He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. It felt like his insides were crawling with beetles. His skin was uncomfortably tight. He couldn't remember ever feeling like this—consumed with a restlessness that was eating him alive—and it had something to do with Melvin. He could not get the boy out of his head. It was as if he'd become instantly addicted. He had a physical need to be near him that only grew more agonizing with each passing hour.

Damn! I'm really going to do this, aren't I?

He had spent the last day and a half arguing with himself. When he'd left Mel's apartment his mind had been made up: he wouldn't see him again. He knew it was best for both of them if they didn't get involved. But that had been his head's decision. He hadn't accounted for this driving, aching need that was burning him up inside.

He had gone round and round with his thoughts. During the night he'd almost become sick to his stomach with worry over Melvin. It had gotten so bad that he'd finally left his stakeout of the vampire's lair and had gone to watch Melvin's apartment instead. It was crazy. I am crazy.

Try as he might, he could not rid himself of the senseless fear that somehow the demon would find Melvin and finish what he'd started. He'd told himself that that would be impossible. He knew that once a vampire had picked a target they tended to become obsessed with that person and would pursue them relentlessly—irrationally—until they'd had their fill. For the vampire's victim, that meant torture and death. There is no way he can find him, Guy told himself for the thousandth's time. He could not have tailed us on the freeway even if I hadn't thrown the chemical bomb to disorient him. There is just no way he'll be able to find him in a city this size.

That line of thought was logical, but somehow it wasn't comforting. It didn't ease the growing turmoil in his gut. Only physical proximity to Melvin seemed to do that, and now he had a plan to get even closer. His palms itched in anticipation even as his mouth went dry.

When he'd thought about how flimsy the lock on Mel's door was, an idea had taken shape. He'd convinced himself that it would be a tragedy to save Mel from the vampire, only to have some scumbag break into his apartment and accost him. And from what he'd gathered of Jon's lifestyle, he might attract that kind of unwanted attention. He had seen Jon leave a bit earlier. He'd read his T-shirt with his distance vision, and it had confirmed his opinion that Jon was a sexy little vixen who was too flirtatious for his own good.

It's the right thing to do, he told himself. After I fix their door, I'll quit worrying about them. I'll be able to get on with my normal life. Best to get this over with now. He had already told himself that six times. His stomach flip-flopped again and sweat broke out across his brow. This time he roused himself, grabbed his equipment and his purchases from the hardware store, and stepped out of his car.

He was happy to see that the lock on the back door of the apartment building was more secure than the front door lock. It took him almost forty-five seconds to pick it, and if it hadn't been for his enhanced hearing, he wasn't sure that he'd have been able to. However, vampires had supernatural hearing too, and they were undead so long that they had time to learn useful skills, like lock-picking. The lock he'd bought for Mel's apartment door was almost pick-proof. It was the best he could find.

When he got to the second floor, he heard the sound of the shower running in Mel's place. This immediately conjured up an image of Mel, naked and wet, and his cock sprang to life. He gritted his teeth. Stop it! he ordered himself. He'd already masturbated three times to visions of the beautiful boy tied up and writhing beneath him. It was bad enough that he was obsessed with Mel's security, he didn't need to be drooling over his sexy little body as well.

Once at the apartment door, he efficiently picked the lock and set about installing the new deadbolt. He had expected Mel to hear him running his drill and come tearing out the shower, but just before he started drilling his boy started singing in the shower at the top of his lungs. He smiled to himself as he worked, listening to Mel's slightly off-key rendition of "Brick House" in which he was clearly substituting male pronouns for the female ones.

*****

Tigger did feel better once he was standing under the warm spray. He considered jacking himself off, which immediately brought Guy to mind. No! he told himself. I will not torture myself with this. Instead he washed himself thoroughly and started to sing one of his favorite shower songs. He didn't feel like singing, but he usually sang in the shower and thought if he forced himself to do normal things, his world would right itself.

He had gone through two songs and was contemplating which seventies dance tune to sing next when he heard an odd whirring sound coming from the front of the apartment. His blood froze in his veins, and two seconds later when it started flowing again it was no longer plasma but pure adrenalin.

Without turning the shower off, he stepped quietly out of it and wrapped a towel around his waist with shaking hands. It took all his nerve to crack the bathroom door and peer out. The sight that met his eyes caused his racing heart to stutter. In the middle of his front door was a hole with something poking through it.

He felt surprisingly calm as he weighed his options. His panic was locked somewhere deep inside, screaming to get out, but his cool brain held the key. His instincts told him to close and lock the bathroom door, but he knew that the cheap door and lock wouldn't protect him from anyone who was serious enough about getting to him to drill a hole in his front door. His only viable option was to flee to his bedroom and jump out the window into the back parking lot. It was a long drop but wasn't likely to kill him. He could even grab some pants from his room on the way out.

He cracked the bathroom door wider with the intention of making a run for it when the front door swung open and Guy stepped in.

His fear vanished with a poof, replaced by anger. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded as he strode into the front room. "You practically gave me a heart attack!"

Guy smiled at him, a twinkle in his eye. The twinkle burst into flames as the older man's dark eye raked up and down Tigger's dripping, towel-clad body. Guy cleared his throat and swallowed, then said in a husky voice, "I'm installing a deadbolt and a peephole. The lock you have on this apartment wouldn't keep out the most incompetent thief, and you should always see who's knocking before you open the door."

Guy's voice sent a shiver up Tigger's spine. He was so distracted by the gorgeous muscles and bare skin that whatever Guy had just said was lost to him. It was a warm summer day and the big man was wearing a black tank shirt and city-camo cargo shorts that hugged his ass nicely, showing off well-muscled legs covered in thick dark curls. An elaborate tattoo shadowed one of his calves.

Tigger barely managed to tear his gaze away from Guy long enough to notice the shiny new deadbolt gracing their door. Meanwhile his walking wet dream had turned his attention back to his project and was attaching the peephole hardware.

When Tigger saw the pile of sawdust on the floor around Guy's feet, he finally registered what was happening. "What the hell is my landlord going to say?" He tried for indignant in an effort to hide his lust, but was afraid he just sounded bitchy.

Guy finished screwing the peephole in, closed the door, and peered out of it. Turning back to Tigger he said, "Your landlord will have no cause for complaint. This is clearly an upgrade." He dug in the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a handful of keys. "I had some extra sets made." He stepped over to the kitchen island and laid them out. "There's four: one for you, one for Jon, one for the landlord, and one spare."

Why don't you keep the spare? Tigger bit back that offer.

In two paces Guy was standing directly in front of Tigger. His gaze traveled down the young man's bare torso and the pupil in his intense eye widened.

Tigger caught his breath as Guy's scent hit him, redolent with musk. He became aware that his cock was a solid steel pike, tenting the front of his towel obscenely. He was unable to move, held frozen as surely as if he'd been bolted to the floor and coated with epoxy.

"I see the cut is healing nicely." Guy's voice was rough, as if he hadn't used it in a long while. He put a finger on the healed wound at Tigger's collarbone, his touch so light if Tigger hadn't been watching him he might not have felt it. But felt it he did. As Guy's finger trailed down Tigger's bare chest, it left a flaming path in its wake. A shiver of goose bumps raced across his skin.

Tigger's eyes locked on Guy's face. The older man's expression was of exquisite awe. His eye perused Tigger's body as if he'd never seen anything so fine and could not believe it was being revealed to him. When his finger reached the top of the towel that was wrapped around Tigger's waist, he didn't stop. Instead he grasped the edge of the cloth firmly and pulled. The towel came away and he let it drop to the floor.

Guy's lips parted and Tigger heard the rush of air being pulled into his lungs as the big man gazed on Tigger's eight-inch length of straining manhood. Tigger felt as if he were in a dream—a wet dream this time, not a nightmare—but he still couldn't move. Then suddenly his brain kicked in and his muscles came under his control. He whimpered pitifully and pulled his hands in front of his cock to hide his shame.

"No!" Guy said firmly. He took Tigger's hands in his own and pulled his arms above his head, adjusting his grip so that he clasped both of Tigger's wrists together in a secure hold. "Kneel," he commanded.

All of the blood left Tigger's brain and he felt dizzy. He did not question the order, he just dropped obediently to his knees, never taking his eyes off Guy's hungry face. Guy continued to hold his arms above his head with one hand while the other struggled desperately to unfasten his fly.

A hot, hard cock emerged, glistening and glorious, and with it came a waft of the most sensual scent Tigger had ever experienced. He almost orgasmed right then, spontaneously. He felt precum dribbling out of his own needy cock. Oh god! Oh god! Oh god! He's going to let me suck it! The thick organ was only inches from his lips and Tigger parted them in anticipation.

But Guy did not put his cock in Tigger's mouth. Instead he started to jack himself furiously. Tigger's shocked gaze went back up to his face. Guy was starring at him with such intense need that it lit his own fuse. He could feel the incendiary thread burning a long path through his body, and he knew that when it got to its destination there would be an explosion that would demolish him.

Precum drooled from Guy's slit and Tigger savored its sharp, sexy scent. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to have Guy's hard shaft in his mouth. He wanted to swallow all of Guy's essence down.

"Please," he begged, his voice hoarse and heavy with desire, his eyes still locked with Guy's.

Guy threw back his head then and let out a long guttural groan. Warm, sticky semen blasted out of his pulsing cock to splash all over Tigger's face. By some miracle it missed Tigger's eyes, which he couldn't close—he was too intent on watching Guy's ecstasy-etched face as he orgasmed. He felt the cum hit his forehead, then his nose, and he opened his mouth wide and endeavored to catch as much as he could on his tongue. It was hot, salty heaven.

As Guy's orgasm finally came to a dribbling end, he groaned out, "Mine," in a strangled, broken voice.

That did it for Tigger; Guy was claiming him. A huge tremor shook his small frame. He cried out Guy's name as his own cock erupted, spurting great globs of white heat all down Guy's calves and onto the floor.

The next thing Tigger was aware of was that he was sitting back on his heels while Guy wiped his face with a clean wet dishtowel.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Angel. I ... I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry." Guy looked quite upset, maybe even panicked.

Tigger wanted to rouse himself enough to say, "Don't be sorry. It's okay. I loved it," but he was still too discombobulated.

Guy finished with his swipes and dropped the cloth onto the counter next to the keys. He quickly gathered up his drill and the next thing Tigger knew he was at the door.

Guy paused with his hand on the doorknob. His expression was stony as he looked down at Tigger. "You come lock this behind me," he commanded.

Tigger climbed automatically to his feet to do Guy's bidding, his brain swirling with confusion. When he reached the door, Guy was already through it, starting down the hall.

Tigger suddenly realized Guy was walking out of his life again. "Wait!" he cried, his voice desperate. Guy halted, turning to meet his gaze. Something—love? longing?—flickered in his eye so briefly Tigger wondered if he'd imagined it, then it was gone and his expression was bleak.

"What?"

"Can I have your phone number?"

"No." Guy's response was short and crisp. He spun on his heel and disappeared through the door that led to the stairwell.

Tigger felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He wanted to run after Guy, to demand an explanation. Hell, to demand a date! But he was still naked and Guy was already long gone.

He closed the door and turned the new deadbolt before collapsing to the floor with a moan. It was then he realized that the shower was still running and he was sitting in a pile of sawdust.