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Warning: this chapter is very dark and could possibly trigger those that are more sensitive. If this applies to you, skip this chapter. This is a horror story and is meant to be scary and disturbing.
^^^
Manley Paint – Part 7
Lance retrieved the tent bag from the back of his truck. It was sort of heavy, but he was built for it. Bringing it inside, he set it down carefully next to the lounge, trying not to make a sound. His trip back to the manager's office was much faster than before. He had a mission now: one to bring the lovers in the lounge back together.
Peeking through the small window, he waited for Butch and Bobby to finish and have a little bit of down time before he knocked. "Hello?" came Butch's voice, confused. He started scrambling to fasten his clothing.
"Relax," Lance called out. "It's just Lance. You don't have to hide anything. I already saw through the window." The door flew open and Butch looked angry.
"Why are you spying on us?" he demanded.
"I'm not. Just let me explain before you get bent out of shape."
"Fine, but I'd better like what I hear, or I'm throwing you out."
Lance took a breath. "Richie and Petey are fighting, but it's obvious they're still crazy about each other. I left because they tried to pull me into it. I wandered a little, and when I saw the light, I came up here to check it out. When I saw what was going on, I stopped looking, I swear. It gave me an idea, though, on how to help the others fix their problems, but I need your help."
Butch relaxed a fraction. "What could I do?"
"I have a bag of tent supplies with rope. I'd like to tie them together, face to face, and maybe even wrap them in the tarp," Lance said.
"What would that accomplish?"
"It's something my mother used to do with me and my sister when we fought. She had a really big shirt that she would put both of us into. We weren't allowed to take it off until we were getting along. It forced us to do things together. I need your help because we might have to make them do it, and you're strong." Lance nodded over to Bobby. "And you're good with ropes."
Butch let out a manly guffaw. "You have strange ideas, but I like them. Tying those two up would be hot. Alright, let's do it." He took the knife from the desk and put it into Bobby's hand. "You stay here, but hold onto this so you can let yourself out if something happens." He pulled a spare necktie out of one of his desk drawers, and used it to blindfold his boyfriend. Walking around to the midway point of the table, he gave Bobby's ass a couple of jabs with his fingers, in and out, before going along with Lance.
The two of them reached the lounge, and grabbed the bag, not trying to be quiet at all. They walked into the room to find the men on opposite sides staring in different directions in silence. Butch stopped by Richie, who was closer. "Hey Petey, come on over here. We have something for you two."
"Guys, not now, please," Richie told him. Petey was already on his way over.
"Lance told me something that his mom did to help him and his sister patch things up when they were kids. We're going to try it here to get you two back on the same page."
"Anything," Petey said. "I'm in."
Lance unzipped the bag on the coffee table by the couches, pulling out a length of rope. "We're going to tie you two together so you have to look at each other. You'll have to be together. The closeness will help you see how you really feel."
"Tie us up?" Petey asked. "I don't know about that."
"You said anything," Lance told him. "I guarantee he will love you completely and openly once he's in there with you for a while."
"Do it," Petey said.
"Don't I get a say in this," Richie asked.
"No," Butch said, grabbing the weaker man and standing him up. Butch lifted Richie's arms above his head. "Petey, come on over and stand face to face with him, with your arms up. Press against him." Petey quickly obliged. "Lance, tie them chest to chest, under the arms. Give the ropes a loop around each other each time you wrap them behind one of their backs, and make each pass go down more. You're trying to hold them tight against each other all the way down their torsos."
As Lance worked, Butch gave pointers while he held Richie's arms in the air. Richie didn't struggle. Lance knew that the man wanted this, wanted something to push him into Petey's arms despite all the reasons he had not to. Being this close to Petey, he was starting to give in already. The rope was long enough to cinch them down to their waists. The last pass went around Petey's belt to keep it in place, then got the final tie off behind Richie's back.
"Smaller sections of rope now," Butch instructed. "Two of them."
Lance rooted through his bag and found two the right size and brought them over as Butch lowered Richie's arms. He put them around Petey in an embrace, with one arm on the outside of Petey's arm and the other one under it. That way, when Petey's were tied in the same way, their embraced would be interlocked instead of separate from each other. Butch tied Richie's wrists together, going in the opposite directions from each other so there was no space between them, and Lance followed suit with Petey's. Butch came to check Lance's work and gave it a nod. "Not bad," he said.
"Medium ropes for the legs now," he said. "One rope for each pair. Petey, your legs are longer, so put yours on the outside of Richie's."
"Yes sir," he said in an almost purr into Richie's ear. Despite his mood, Richie gave a lustful sigh.
"Start at Richie's inner thigh," Butch said. "Then do the same back and forth looping you did with their bodies. I'll do my side the same way. It'll let them move their legs, but only if they do it together."
We did their legs and then Butch laid them on the floor between the solid block coffee table and the sofa so they couldn't roll around. "Let's just put the tarp over them," Butch said. "Wrapping them in it would be overkill and might suffocate them." He went to pull the tarp out of the bag and a long slim wooden case fell out of the bag.
"Why is that in my camping bag?" Lance asked.
"What is it?"
"Something for my work," Lance said. Something about the way he said it took me out of the moment and disconnected me with past Lance. He was looking at the case with his mind clouded, like seeing it made him dizzy. There was something in there he needed to keep covered up, but what was it? Why?
"Are you ok?" Butch asked him. "You were a million miles away." He handed the tarp to Lance. "Put this over the back of the couch and the coffee table to make a tent over them. Give them some privacy."
Lance did as he said, taking a minute to get everything straight and situated. As he was tucking down the last corner, a violet tint enveloped the room. Lance stood automatically and turned around. Butch had his back to him, but Lance could see that the case was wide open, the contents casting the glow around the room. Lance reached into the tent bag and pulled out the heavy iron center pole. When he brought it down on Butch's head, the man crumpled to the floor like a rag doll, dropping the case and letting the item inside clatter to the floor.
Lance stepped over Butch's body to retrieve it. The item was an ancient dagger, older than recorded time. The hilt was made of bone, the ends of it pounded into wood that had long since petrified. Set in to the center of the hilt, a violet jewel gave off the light that tinted everything. Other than that, there were no other adornments. He'd been told that the bone was carved from a man's femur, though he never would have known that otherwise. The blade coming out of the hilt was wide and covered in barbs that pointed down. The design made it so it would go in smoothly, but do massive damage coming out. It was meant to go in and stay in. The barbs themselves were made of a milky white substance Lance's employers called life metal. It worked as a conduit for the violet energy.
I recoiled inside of past Lance's mind. The man was completely asleep in there, controlled by something in the knife itself. "It wasn't me," future Lance said. "It was never me. All those times, in all those cities, it was always the Soul Athame. I was just the puppet it used to move around with."
Past Lance lifted Butch off the ground and carried him to the dining area of the lounge, lying him on the table. Without ceremony or sensuality, he unbuttoned and removed Butch's clothing, leaving him naked. He moved the man around like he was an object with nothing alive inside whatsoever. Taking the knife, he poised it over the unconscious man's heart. There were slower, more fun ways of going about this, but Butch was strong and had to be dispatched of quickly.
The point of the Soul Athame took on the glow of the jewel when it touched the man's chest. Lance knew it would before it happened. The violet energy was in all gay men. It was in him, and there was an ungodly supply in the knife itself. He slid the dagger into Butch's chest, above the heart, just deep enough for the point to pierce it. Violet light ran up the center of the blade to the jewel as it drank the man's life, soul, and energy.
All it needed was contact with the man's blood to start drinking, but the heart would do the job the fastest. He watched as Butch withered and shriveled into a mummified husk. His business done, he pulled out the Soul Athame, shredding the dried flesh on the way out. At the sink, a large hand towel would cover the glow without making him put it back in the case. He silently thanked the dead man for giving him three gift wrapped gay men to drink in his own time frame. This would be his easiest set of kills yet.
^^^
He crossed the room to the makeshift tent and crawled inside with the two bound men. The Athame was wrapped with his hand inside as he sat on his knees straddling them. He was now a tent pole, pushing up the tarp. The men were kissing. Lance had been correct about the technique. He smiled as he looked down at them. "See, all better," he said with a warm smile.
They turned their heads to look at him. "Yeah," Petey said. "Worked like a charm. Richie can't stop kissing me now. You mind letting us out?"
"That depends," Lance said. "Richie, how do you feel about Petey?"
He was quiet for a moment. "He's my best friend. I care about him very much."
"Nothing has changed," Lance said, letting the emotion drop from his face and showing the blankness beneath. "If you can say yes or no to this next question, I'll let you out. Are you in love with Petey?"
"It's more complicated than that," Richie said.
"No. No it's not," Petey sighed. "You could never bring yourself to say no. You know it's not the truth, and it would kill you inside to tell me that."
"You refuse to say yes as well, even when your freedom depends on it," Lance added. He unwrapped the Athame, lighting up the tent in a brilliant purple glow. "So, will you do it if your life depends on it?"
"You're not going to kill me if I don't answer," Richie said.
Lance put the blade behind Petey's back and slid it under his arm. "Ow!" Petey yelled as one of the barbs pierced his armpit. Lance left it there to slowly drink the man.
"Petey is going to be dead in about twenty minutes," Lance told him. "That blade is going to drink out his soul and leave a shell behind. After that, I'll be using it on you. This isn't leverage to get you to confess, either. It's just what is going to happen. I'm going to leave for a while and then come back to switch the blade to you. I suggest you use your time to let Petey know how you really feel about him. It's going to be the last time you have with him alive."
Lance backed out of the tent and walked over to the table area. He had time to waste while the blade did its work. It was getting what it wanted, so he was allowed to play. He removed his clothing and donned what Butch had been wearing. Butch was more muscular, but shorter, so the waist size almost evened out, but the jeans were short on him. The shirt was too wide and slumped down, which was enough to compensate for the lack of length. Still, under scrutiny, he wouldn't be mistaken from Butch from the neck down at all.
It didn't matter. Bobby was blindfolded. He just needed to feel like Butch. He wished there was a belt, since he was going to have to hold the pants by the waist to keep them in place. He exchanged shoes and socks as well, just in case Bobby could see around the blindfold. He walked out of the lounge and closed the door behind him, not that it mattered. No one was around to stumble inside.
Up at the manager's office, Lance opened the door and entered like he belonged there. "Did you get them sorted out," Bobby asked. Lance didn't reply. He merely crossed to the back of the table and ran his fingers along Bobby's ass.
He leaned down to stick his tongue inside, then immediately recoiled. The flavor was horrendous. He spit onto the floor. "You lubed me up last time," Bobby giggled. "Did you forget? That can't have tasted good." Lance wanted another tie to gag Bobby with, but then again, he wanted to hear Bobby scream out for him. A quick survey showed the tube of KY on the other side of Bobby, almost touching his side. It would be accessible to someone up on the desk. Perfect.
Coming to this city, Lance hadn't had sex since his last batch of kills, and even then, he hadn't finished while the man was still alive. The last time he'd shot his load into another guy was two months ago. At the point he'd reached Sunnyvale, he'd had a serious case of blue balls. By the time this night had come around, he was desperate. Getting blocked at every turn by the issues these men had was frustrating. Now that the knife was eating somewhere else, he had the chance to take the tail he'd been missing.
And what a tail it was! Lying on his front, Bobby's ass surged up from his body like a hillside, but he still had narrow hips. The combination begged to be rammed deep. Lance climbed up on the desk and unbuttoned the entire fly from the top down, pushing the jeans down past his hips. He squirted a little lube on hi hand to grease his dick, then wiped his hand on the back of Bobby's ripped pants. He had to give Butch credit, this was a hot idea.
He positioned his dick at Bobby's hole and pressed. "No fingers this time?" Bobby asked. "You always do fingers to loosen me up."
Lance did is best not to let the scoff he felt become verbal. Why loosen him up. It was better when it was tight. He leaned forward and pressed. The work Butch had already put in was good enough prep work. Lance's dick broke the ring and the head went in. Bobby cried out. With the head in, Lance was lined up correctly. He plowed in to the hilt in one thrust.
"Butch!" he cried. "Damn it, that hurt!" Lance replied bu pulling back and slamming back in. "Fuck!" Bobby yelled. "The hell is wrong with you?" Lance started his plowing in earnest. Bobby screamed for Butch to stop, over and over, but Lance didn't listen. He wasn't Butch.
It was too quick. He'd wanted a slower session, but it had been too long. He shot before he could even think about slowing down. "Why are you doing this to me?" Bobby sobbed. Lance pulled out and got everything put back on properly. "Why won't you talk to me, Butch?"
"Because Butch isn't here anymore," Lance said as he strode out of the room, finally relieved.
^^^
Author's Note: That last part was difficult, and I had to take a break in the middle when the reality of what was happening sunk in. Supernatural horror is fun and sexy. Real life horror is not. This is an act done by a depraved psychopath, and is in no way glorified.