Many comes up wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand and smirking like a criminal who knows he got away with thecaper of the century. I’ll certainly never sell him out if it means confessing my own sins from this night, so perhaps he’s right.
He turns me around while I’m gasping and breathless. I fall heavily against the wall, my cheek pressed to the wood. I hear a belt jangling behind me, then Many is rubbing a wet hand over me. It can’t be anything but his own saliva given the circumstances, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. I’m in no state to complain when he hugs me against him, his cock pressed to my vaguely sore ass. Sore from what, I can’t quite say, but it’s not an unpleasant sensation, especially coupled with the presence of Many’s thick, hot hardness grinding against me.
He holds me tightly, squeezing me as though the mere press of one body against another is enough for him. Something other than his cock digs into my skin, something small and hard that hits right between my shoulder blades. I realize with a start that it’s a cross. He wasn’t lying. He really did go to Sunday school, and he must be wearing a cross under his clothes. Distantly, I wonder if it will leave a mark, if I’ll wake tomorrow with it imprinted into my skin just as this night will be imprinted onto my soul.
God must have a sense of humor.
“Shit,” Many breathes against me, his head on my shoulder. “Shit, you feel good.”
He grinds his cock against my ass, hard and slow and desperate, every shift of his hips accompanied by a whimper. The house howls around us. The fog wraps us up like a cloak, cool against our overheated skin. Many groans and groans and grinds himself against me until his rambling devolves into simpering nonsense.
I want to give him everything he wants, everything he needs. I want him to feel as amazing as he made me feel. Something urges me to push my hips back. I don’t why I think it’s the right thing to do. Maybe something whispers it to me; maybe it simplyfeels correct in the moment. When Many moans, I know I’ve hit the mark, though, and I do it more, pressing into his slow grinding, giving him friction until we’re both burning. Only that strange, rising mist keeps us cool enough that we don’t combust.
“Gonna come,” Many groans into my shoulder. “Oh God, gonna come so hard.”
An hour ago, that idea would have repulsed me, physically and spiritually. Now, my soul sings and I throw myself at him, urging him on. Many needs no encouragement. He squeezes the breath out of me and snaps his hips harder, one brutal thrust before he’s spluttering and groaning and something is painting my ass in spurts. His hips hitch furtively, a few quick jerks before he finally stops, panting raggedly as his whole body sags with release, with soul-deep satisfaction, with an ecstasy I’d call religious in any other context.
“Christ,” Many says.
Coherence returns in trickles, like water filling a crack. My mind seems to clear, the fog drifting away to leave me horribly lucid, horribly aware of what I’ve done.
Many eases back, but I’m too scared to push myself away from the wall and witness the reality of this night. I hear him shuffling around and then…and then he’s touching me again, but it isn’t like the way he touched me before. He found a rag or a towel or an odd bit of a costume somewhere, probably right there on the floor, and he’s cleaning me off with it, surprisingly careful and gentle. When he finishes, I pull my pants up, facing the wall instead of looking at him. There isn’t as much fog covering the floor as I might have expected, or perhaps we’ve been here so long they turned the machines off. Maybe the fog was never real at all and my mind made it up to provide an excuse for some of the baffling new sensations I gave myself to this night.
“Hey,” Many says softly, “you doing okay?”
I finally face him. Many looks completely normal, completely himself, but I doubt the same could be said for me. Nothing about this night was ever supposed to happen to me. I have no point of reference for this, no touchstone anywhere in my entire existence. This night never should have occurred, and already the memory feels like watching someone else’s dream.
“I don’t know,” I say.
He smiles, but it lacks all that mocking mirth I’m used to. Many steps close and sets one finger under my chin to tilt my head up. I meet his dark eyes, though they’re quieter now with the thunder of lust satiated.
“Do you feel good?” he says.
It’s not the question I anticipated, and I ponder it a moment before nodding.
“Good, I’m glad. I definitely didn’t expect this, but…I’m not exactly upset about it.”
His smile turns more playful, and my stomach flips over itself. I realize I want to see that smile again, that walking away from this would be more unsettling than standing here and facing it.
“I don’t think I’m upset about it either,” I say.
His smile grows. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises tonight? There’s more I could make you…not upset about. If you wanted.”
I swallow a fresh swell of desire. It’s like a leviathan living in my belly. Now that I’ve awoken it, there’s no stuffing down a beast like that. It will make its needs known again, I’m certain, and I…I think I’m looking forward to that.
“It’s okay, you know,” Many says. “It’s okay to want this. I don’t know if you’ve always known this about yourself or what your journey has been like, but you seem to know what you like, and I don’t think it’s going to go away, Denis. You can run and try not think about it, and I’ll never say a word to anyone. I’ll take it to the grave, I swear. Or…” He rubs his finger alongmy lips, sending a shiver down my spine. “Or I could help you embrace it.”
I want to say yes with a ferocity that frightens me. The desire burns hot and bright and sudden, but I catch myself before I can speak too hastily. I can’t simply walk out of this haunted house and start wearing Pride flags and embrace a whole identity I’ve avoided for my whole life. It isn’t that easy to upend everything you think you know about yourself. But…
“Can we start slow?” I say.
“Of course,” Many says. “How about this? Come over and study with me sometime. Or I’ll go to your place and study with you. And if more than studying happens…” He shrugs a shoulder. “No one needs to know. Not right now. Not until you’re ready. We are neighbors, after all, and neighbors help each other out, right? I think I read something about ‘loving thy neighbor’ somewhere before.”
I laugh. What else can I do in a moment as ridiculous as this? But that laughter seems to bounce around, seems to echo and howl. We both scan the haunted house, searching for the source of the noise. It seems to ooze out of the creaking floorboards and leaky roof, otherworldly and eerie. The fact he definitely hears it too makes it far harder to deny this time around.
I grab Many by the hand. “Okay,” I say, “but first, let’s get the heck out of here. I think it mightactuallybe haunted.”
Many chuckles. “If that’s the case, then the spirits are pervs.”