This is another one of my earlier pieces. It was also my first try at a Halloween themed story.

 

Voice: First Person

Word Count: 1,541

Genre: Homoerotica, horror

Warnings: Adult readers only. You must be 18 or 21 depending upon the laws in your area.

 

This story is fictional. Any relation to persons past, present or future is purely coincidental.

 

“Sojourner”

 

By: Cupnjava

 

 

They say that I’m psychotic. I don’t agree; and yet, I’m beginning to wonder how much I disagree. I wasn’t always trapped here in this little room wearing gray clothing and, occasionally, a white jacket with tasteless buckles. It’s not my fault that I’m here.

 

The blame belongs to my brother. No one will listen to me.

 

Here I sit with my lumpy mattress awaiting hypocritical nightingales to bring candy in assorted colors. They smile sickening smiles and speak in false sweet tones while dispersing poisons. I know their hypocrisy and hide the “candy” in my cheeks until I am left alone to watch the sands of time slip betwixt my fingers. In my solitude, I ponder an egregious miscarriage of justice. 

 

I wasn’t always so gauche as to live such bleak surroundings. There was a time when I was the care-giver. Although not in a medical sense, I cared for my brother. I sought to his needs and lived a respectable life. My brother and I ran an inn from our old familial home. Truthfully, he had very little to do with the operations. He’s what polite society would label “touched”. My brother wasn’t stupid, but he had a unique outlook on life that made him a bit off kilter. 

 

The Victorian house was majestic. History was woven into every corner, crack and crevice. A home to not only my brother and I; but also, to oil lamps turned electric, a coal furnace come heat pump and a cast iron stove transformed to a gas range. The only constant is change. Objects change. People change. Lives change.

 

My story drastically changed five years ago on All Hallow’s Eve -- how terribly typical.

 

This particular night a young man happened by. A strapping gent with striking looks and dressed as a dime store Dracula. Some may recall his blue eyes or his black hair. Some may feel his most impressive feature would have been his broad shoulders or slim waist. I found his eyelashes to be quite impressive. The thick long stands of obsidian fanned out about his eyes making them look wide with wonder.

 

The poor sap was utterly lost and heading for some trite holiday party. After informing him that his destination was at least five hours away, he decided to stay the night. Trying to be a gracious host, I consoled him with a party of my own. I prepared some wine and forbade my brother from bothering the guest. I suppose the sojourner was in the mood for some revelry for he and I enjoyed hours of conversation.

 

Three bottles had expired by the time he surprised me with a kiss. His lips were soft and smooth. When my tongue found his, I could taste the lingering wine between us. A sweet concoction made sweeter by his natural taste. I coaxed him upon this back and his quaint cape spread out beneath him. The fire in the sitting room popped and cracked as we furiously disrobed each other.

 

I straddled his hips and looked down upon him. His ruffled white shirt spread about his chest. The firelight reflected on his skin in orange hues. Red hues flickered in his eyes and sweat glistened upon his brow. His pale skin provided an idyllic canvas for the stereotypical vampire. I implored him to keep the plastic vampiric fangs in his mouth. He granted my wish with a twinkle in his eye. Although his general visage was a feast, it paled in comparison to his eyelashes. The end of each lash sparkled in a fire-tweaked spectrum which danced every time he blinked.

 

It was more than enough to bring my cock to life. The desire was returned as I could feel his hardness pressing against me. I wrapped my hands around his wrists and my tongue roamed his chest. His skin was like silk beneath my tongue and he rose up encouraging my touch. Finding his nipples, I paid each one careful special attention.

 

I could hear his heart beating over his moans. Blood rushed through his body giving him a spark of life and I could smell it. Life has a special vibrant scent to it. It smells like the color green looks. Fresh and clean – was the scent beneath his vile cologne.

 

His hips rocked against mine and I could tell he was trying to rush me. He was anxious to share his heat and I was anxious to partake. As my tongue teased his navel, my fingers found his cock.

 

I’ll never know why he had the appropriate accruements with him. Perhaps his intended destination was a debauched party; nonetheless, I accepted the supplies as a fire roused inside me.

 

I coated my cock with his clear gel and took him into my mouth. There’s something uniquely exquisite about the feel a cock upon one’s tongue. The moment the velveteen head crests the lips and parts the teeth; feeling the ridge of the glans slip onto the hard palate; the sensation of the firm shaft sliding against my tongue; the taste that is life and wholly masculine -- every bit of it is completely glorious, but nothing compared to his vocal serenade.

 

The whispering crackles from the logs mixed with his moans. Vowel-laden pleas lifted my spirit and made my inner fire rage. At this moment I wanted this sojourner. I craved the feel of his life encircling my cock and needed to ensconce myself in his vibrancy. My urges rampaged through me and with my cock properly slicked I found his core.

 

His tightness slipped down my shaft with relative ease. I could feel his body twitch around me as he adjusted to my girth. Heat and life surrounded me as I bucked inside of him. He serenaded me with a myriad of moans and cries. His breath hitched and his voice cracked. The wet velvet of his inner muscles coaxed me to find euphoria. I tried to deny myself such ecstasy for I wanted to remain here feeding off his life.

 

The longer and deeper I touched him, the more of him I wanted to touch. I pushed his knees to his chest and watched as passion flushed up his neck. I kissed him and life arched between our twitching lips. Life emanated from him. Sourcing from his inner sheath, heat resonated inside of me. 

 

The louder he screamed, the louder I wanted him to scream. He rocked beneath me turning his head this way and that spewing incomprehensible sounds. Our moans mingled and our song began a crescendo about our joined bodies. He arched from the floor causing immense pressure around my cock. His essence spilt between our bodies and his inner walls clamped down around me.

 

Pulses and throbs pushed me into a frisson from which I didn’t wish to venture -- an exquisite moment where time stands still and one dies a tiny death as borrowed-life gushes from one’s core. I screamed when my seed coated his insides. Sweat rolled down my back as my stomach quaked. My breath hitched as my thighs quivered. My cock twitched vouchsafing all I had to offer. My eyebrow lifted as I felt my brother approach.

 

What happened next is left only to hindsight deduction. I assume my scream of pleasure was taken by my brother as plea for help. I suspect that my brother’s warped reality saw our illicit tryst as some kind of struggle. The only definitive piece of information was the heat of liquid crimson as it gloved my hands.

 

I fought with my brother in a vicious skirmish. Flesh welled up beneath my short fingernails. Fading life splattered my cheek. The sojourner’s heart took its final beat in the palm of my hand. It was a beautiful muscle rich with a brilliant red. I can still feel the pulses of its beats through my entire arm. First one side would contract and then the other as if it were a well tuned metronome.

 

I kept that beautiful artifact of humanity as well as three of his eyelashes. Exactly three – one for me, one for him, and one for my brother. Pity, they weren’t nearly as impressive as artifacts as they were around his blue eyes. I suppose the existence of the artifacts was why my guilt had been clear to the panel of idiotic denizens who felt it necessary to place me in the asylum.

 

I would like to ask my brother about his motivations. I want to learn his reasoning. Alas, the candy from the accursed nightingales prevents me from hearing him. That’s why I refuse their poisons. They are the murderers! They are erasing him. They dare label me with neuroses whilst being blind to their own crimes.

 

They say I am psychotic. They don’t know my brother. One day, he shall reclaim his voice and my innocence will be fact. Sadly, I expect that this place will make me psychotic by the time that happens. I already feel myself slipping into a smothering darkness. Perhaps my brother will speak or perhaps this place will make me become him. Either way, I shall eventually satiate my curiosity. I have eternity and the doctors here have mortal lives. I shall prevail.

 

Copyright 2005. All rights reserved.