Hello again. Another story by Willie Hewes; as usual, don't read when you're too young and (c) 1999 and all.
Now I agree that this story should be followed by a second chapter, but, um, would you have any idea where my characters are going? All kind of reactions, praise, questions and even flames are welcome at WillieHewes@yahoo.com. Have fun.
Vigil
Eric liked his life. He was in his last year of highschool, would be going to college next year, and right now, he had all that he wanted. Well, most things, anyway. He didn't complain. He had intrusive idiot parents, and a hopeless crush on his best friend, but besides such minor nuisances his life was pretty close to perfect.
Eric and Andy had had been friends since they were kids. They had gone fishing with Andy's father, had played endless games of soccer at the little play- ground behind Eric's house, and hung around watching TV for more time than either of them wished to remember. During that time Andy had morphed from a skinny kid with too many freckles to a slender, attractive young man with a dazzling fan of red ringlets and a ever-smiling eyes behind gold-rimmed spectacles. Eric loved him so much... Sometimes, when they were together, he had to use all his will-power not to touch that wild bundle of hair, not to bend in and kiss the white skin of that neck.
Of course he could never do that. Once, when they were much younger, they had once jacked off together, in a giggly, childish manner. But when Eric had reached out to touch Andy's, Andy had gotten mad and called him a homo and all other nasty stuff, and they didn't make up until the next day. Years later they had talked about it: "You're gay, aren't you?" "Um, yeah..." "That's ok man. I mean, as long as you leave me alone, 'cause I'm straight, see? but as long as you don't come on to me or anything, I'm cool with it, 'cuz... I want us to be friends. K?" They shook hands on it, but Eric felt like crying. He wanted to be friends with Andy, really. But even more, he wanted to wrap his arms around him, and slip his tongue into his mouth, and take his pink nipples between his lips. Well, that just wasn't the way it was.
There were other guys, of course. It wasn't as if Eric was a virgin. He wasn't too vain or anything, but he knew he looked ok. His hair was long, and almost black, bound together in a loose ponytail, or even a braid. He liked the way his lips curled, and his eyes were large enough to charm any unsuspecting teacher or officer of the law, let alone a willing gay man at a bar. It probably wouldn't hurt him to lose a few pounds, but he was by no means too fat. Every now and then he would go out, telling his parents he slept at Andy's, ending up in the room or apartment of some empty-headed, but experienced guy. It felt a bit stupid sometimes, the meaningless sex. But it also felt sometimes like having a little adventure, almost in your own back yard. It was just something to kill the bore. He never believed he would fall in love with anyone else, not before he could forget about Andy, and he had never expected that one of his little adventures would completely change his life.
Eric had seen Scissorhands a couple of times before. His name wasn't really Scissorhands, of course, but they had never spoken, and Eric had no idea what his real name was. He didn't look too much like Edward Scissorhands, but the colour of skin and his haircut were pretty close. Scissorhands seemed to live in the dark corners of the bar where Eric hung out, hardly ever talking to anyone, staring at Eric over his exotic drinks, but never long enough to give Eric the courage to step up to him. He wore make-up, which was pretty extravagant in their none-too- big town, black lipstick and carefully applied eyeliner, with sometimes wild splashes of colour over his eyes or across his cheekbones.
Eric couldn't remember when he had started looking out for this strange creature.
Even though they never talked, or even locked eyes for more than a moment, Eric began to feel like they were some kind of friends, like they lived the same lives. He always felt good when he spotted the ravenwing-coat somewhere, when he felt those bright green eyes slide around the room from a quiet corner. Once he didn't spot him until he was leaving, at the heels of a much older, but not unattractive blond. Scissorhands was standing near the exit, so near that Eric could have touched him if he had reached out. They looked each other in the eye for a split second, and then Scissorhands looked down, laughing into his cocktail, and shook his head. Eric was already going out the door, and he couldn't turn back. He had thought about it for a long time, why would Scissorhands laugh at him? Perhaps it was only his imagination, did Scissorhands not even know who he was, and was he laughing about something someone had said into his ear.
It worried him for awhile, but he tried to forget about it. The next couple of times he was out looking for someone to pick him up he didn't see him, and he was beginning to fear Scissorhands had left town.
Then, one night, without warning, he popped up again. Eric was standing at the bar of the only real gay club in town, and suddenly there he was, closer than he had ever been, all but pressed against him in the crowd. It seemed he had appeared out of thin air. He stared at him, unable to speak, noticed that Scissorhands didn't even say "hi", he just stared back. Scissorhands had outdone himself, he wore blood-red lipstick tonight, and had done some shady thing that made his features look even more sharply defined than usual. His large eyes were rimmed with black, and from his eyelids washed two soft wings of red and purple over his white skin. Then Eric felt a hand pressed against the back of his neck, and suddenly they were kissing. The painted lips felt vaguely sticky to his, but Scissorhands tasted fresh, like chewing gum. His mind wandered confused to the rule he had one day thought up, that you should at least say "hi" to pick someone up. Preferably not much more, but "hi" was the absolute minimum, or so he had believed.
Scissorhands let him go and turned to the bartender, who had watched them with an amused smile. "Two chocolate-milk, please." Eric stared at him with open mouth. How could he know he felt like chocolate- milk? How did he know he ever drank that anyway? He ordered it very rarely, and if he did he always raised a couple of eyebrows. It wasn't exactly the coolest drink in town. Eric couldn't help it. Sometimes, he just felt like having chocolate milk. He was genetically impaired, he assumed. His mother ate chocolate all day long, and drank chocolate-milk the way other people drink whiskey. The red-painted mouth smiled at him. "I'm Vigil." Vigil. What kind of a name was THAT? "Hi. I'm Eric." They shook hands, a ridiculous formality when you've just french-kissed each other. Vigil's hand felt long and thin. His nails were pointy, and impossibly long, although they did look like they were real. The black nailpolish was beginning to wear off. The bartender brought their drinks, and Vigil lifted his as in a toast. "You and I boy, are going to have a lot of fun." Man, was he right.
I don't like it when people slip through my fingers, but I hate it if they manage to do that twice. Once I decide a boy is mine, he is, until I let him go. But this one seemed to have a strange talent for avoiding me. It was a slut, that much was clear from the beginning, by the way he leaned against the bar, the way he looked at me. Hopeful eyes. Hungry eyes. He broke our eyecontact, and I suppose that's what caught me off-guard. That was not how it was supposed to be. I ALWAYS broke the first eye- contact. It was a sign of control, of self confidence. When he left later that night with somebody else, I was biting into my own wrist in frustration. How dare he!
I went home alone that night, though not before I had had a little encounter with someone else in an alley. I was so horny it almost hurt, and I was also mad as hell. He was mine, dammit, how could I let him escape like that! Grown cautious, I watched him for a couple of weeks, studied him, learned more about him then he knew about himself, perhaps. He had a brain, obviously, but did not use it when he was out. He hung out mostly in the same place but did not seem to really know many other people there. He went out to get laid, and it seemed he was pretty good at that. He had a couple of regular "suger-daddies", but only went to them if there was nobody else to pick him up.
Once I thought he was walking towards me, but he was following another man, and I quickly realised they were just going to the exit, and I happened to be in the direction. For a moment he was so close I could have grabbed him for a kiss, but he was with some brainless bodybuilder and it didn't seem like a good idea. He looked at me like he was going to say something, but I didn't want him to, so I looked away and snickered at him.
That night I had a little date of my own, and he kept me busy for quite a while. It was a steerless, drugged-up teen in dire need of some guidance, and I was happy to give it to him. Subjecting him to me was hardly to be called a challenge, but I enjoyed it anyway, savouring him like a kind of appetizer for the little slut that had escaped me in the town. I was surprised to see what an appetite my new toy had for childen's sweets, especially chocolate. I loved to feed him till he got sick, and to let him lick the sour substance from my fingers. His face was capable of such lovely expressions...
But they all have to go sooner or later, and when he did, I decided it was time for the main dish.
It seemed he had been waiting for me. When I ordered him a drink, he looked so ridiculously grateful I had trouble not laughing. I didn't feel like much like chatting, but there was no need to. He was all too happy to go with me.
Vigil... Vigil. Eric silently repeated the name as they were driving to Vigil's place. It was outside the town, a five-minute walk from one of the tiny villages that surrounded the place. Vigil didn't talk much, simply asked some questions about his study and his family. Eric felt vaguely worried, like something was wrong. Why had Vigil decided he could come with him now? And did he even want to go with him? Well, too late for that now, he was already with him. He felt too much turned on to think much anyway, being so close to the boy he had admired from a distance for so long kept his dick in a constant state of semi-stiffness, but not unpleasantly. Vigil drove his car quietly over the dark lanes, through a sleeping village or two. Eric studied his face from the side, his sharp nose, the eyeshadow that took on an eerie colour in the dashboard-light. He was dressed in black, tight denim, and Eric could see him breathing slowly. He wondered if Vigil had a boner too. It was too dark to see. Just when he started wondering if Vigil even still knew he was there, he heard him mumble: "Home sweet home..." and the car rolled into a gravel driveway.
When he got out of the car, Vigil surprised him again by coming up to embrace him, and they kissed shortly. Still holding him, Vigil asked: "How do you like it?" Eric tried to answer but Vigil stopped him. "Wait, wait a moment. Look. Let it affect you for a moment, listen, smell, feel the spirit of the place..." Eric stood and looked. Vigil's house was big and old. He wondered again how old Vigil was, and if this place belonged to his parents. There was not much to look at from the outside, it was a square, whitewashed building, but the windows were higher and larger than those of modern houses, and the front door looked like it was antique or something. On the opposite side of the road was some kind of large field, a moor, thought Eric, mostly because he just liked the word. He wondered if this could really be called a moor. A flock of birds rushed over the house, their cries chilled Eric to the bone. Again he doubted whether he really wanted to be here.
"Locus Terribilis" Vigil hissed into his ear. What the hell did that mean? What were they still doing out here anyway? "Er... sorry, my French is a bit rusty, what did you say?" Vigil laughed. Then, still holding him: "I like you boy. Give me your hand." He got hold of Eric's wrist and led it to the inner pocket of his coat. Eric braced himself, not knowing what to expect. He feared it was something unpleasant, writhing bugs, used condoms, cut-off fingers. He had no idea why he was thinking these things, but when he felt inside he could not help letting out a sigh of relief. They were little things, but dry, and smooth. Marbles? He took out a little hand and realised they were m&ms. He looked up ]at Vigil, who's face was now painted with the perverted grin of a maniac. "Khandiiii..." he said, and at first Eric didn't understand him. "Will you be my khandy, boy?" Eric nodded, and started putting the colourful pills into the sticky letterbox of Vigil's lips. Vigil laughed again, and said with his mouth full of chocolate: "Come in."
They went inside and Vigil hung their coats away. The house was actually even older than Eric had guessed. And it wasn't very well-kept either. Vigil didn't care much for fresh paint, and watched with a vague pleasure how the building slowly disintegrated. He went upstairs, gesturing Eric to follow. There had been a carpet on the steps, but it was completely worn down. The their steps on the stairs sounded uneven, and hollow. They passed the damaged doorpost, and went into one of the bedrooms. It wasn't the largest one, but it was used most, and as a result of that less dusty and empty than the others. It was on the streetside, and had a pleasant view over the nestling grounds. Another flock of wild geese flew over as the boys fell onto the bed for a round of groping and kissing, a little exploration of their bodies before they got to work.
Eric could taste chocolate in Vigil's mouth. The house and the way Vigil acted had unnerved him, but now that feeling was fading fast, and was replaced by a pounding horniness. To have him here on top of him, the boy he had spied on for so long, his long nails scratching down his arms, his sharp bones sticking though the layers of clothing... It was almost too much to bear. Vigil started taking his shirt off, and admired his new candy-friend. He was perfect. The soft lines of his face, the round but strong body, writhing under him like a bed of snakes. He was hungry for him. The feeling burned in his stomach, spinning out long tendrils into the rest of his body. Yes, he had a lust for candy.
Hastily, they wrestled out of their clothes, until they were wearing little more than their socks. Eric pulled himself up to kiss again, but Vigil pushed him back unto the mattress none too gently. He threw himself at Eric's crotch, Eric's long dick sliding onto his throat, his hands cupping the round, slightly hairy ass. He sucked hard, so hard it hurt. Eric moaned and pulled at Vigil's tangled hair to make him stop. But at the same time he was thrusting his hips to the rhythm of Vigil's sucking. It hurt, but it hurt so good he never wanted him to stop. Vigil let go for a moment to lick at his balls, and Eric saw that his dickhead was swollen to a deep purple plum. He gasped. This was no gently lover. It wasn't like the hesitating domination Graig had sometimes shown. Vigil simply did what he wanted. Without discussion. Do you want to be my Candy, Eric thought. He was a bit shocked to hear himself sigh: "yessss."
Vigil had moved back to his dick. But he was really gentle now, annoyingly so. His lips barely touched the shaft, his tongue snaking around the head. His fingers slowly played with the soft balls, stroking the loose skin, teasing the microscopic cells from their warm, winding tubes. Eric was breathing audibly now, and Vigil went back to sucking the tip, then swallowed the entire length to the back of his throat. He wouldn't last much longer, Vigil felt the muscles tense, the spastic hands tangled in his hair, the back arched in a perfect gesture of subjection. The sweet juice spilled over his tongue, vaguely tasting of chocolate. Vigil swallowed it all, sucking and sucking until Eric pushed him away.
When I had swallowed every precious drop he could offer me, my own boner was screaming for attention, dripping faintly pink precome onto the sheets. Candy looked at me with his eyes half-closed, and then managed to surprise me again. He lifted his knees up to his ears until his raw pink asshole stared me in the eyes. "Fuck me," he whispered. I felt my muscles freeze. Never had I had a boy that was so willing, so ready to be mine. And I wanted to fuck him so bad... It would be so sweet for feel that soft flesh open up to me, to lose myself in that little pink hole, drift away on the waves of the fuck. But he wanted to be fucked. This boy was more talented, more intelligent than others. I shouldn't do what he asked of me, I shouldn't fuck him yet. Keep 'em waiting, little Vigil, keep 'em waiting. That was how it was done, slowly, creepingly, make them dependent, it was far too soon for a fuck. This boy was too precious to lose. And if I weren't careful, I might even lose this bonbon at daybreak.
So instead I grabbed his ankles, drew them back, and straddled the heaving, horny body. I started jacking off to the look on that round, soft face, with quick, short jerks. Candy looked puzzled, but too relaxed to really worry. His hands fluttered over my thighs, to the soft insides, in the direction of my hands. It had been long enough, and I know how to make myself come fast, just as I know how to manipulate boys. Soon generous splashes of come landed on Candy's chest, and I sank down on his pelvis. I spread out the substance all over the perfectly formed chest, onto the slight rounding of his belly. I climbed off, and rubbed the stuff all the way down around his belly button, wiping my hand in his pubic hair. Candy looked at me, disappointed. "Don't you want to fuck me?" he asked. I felt my lips spread into a grin. "Honey, by the time I'm done fucking you, you won't even have the breath left to thank me."
Promises, promises. Nothing keeps a man tied up better than that. I pulled up the blankets so they covered his legs and crotch. He sighed, and seemed to drift into sleep. We weren't done yet, not by far, but I let him rest for now. It gave me the time to sit back and appreciate the looks of this wonderful piece of candy. I especially liked his face. Other than the face of the drug-addict that had lain here before him, his face was round, soft, the skin floating on secret layers of healthy flesh, warmed by the hot flow of blood. His chest was slightly muscular, but not so muscular as modern fashion seems to demand. His heart was open, I could feel it beat under my fingers. It wasn't tucked away under layers and layers of leathery muscles like that of a body-builder. No, this heart was at my command, this chest was more bare, more naked than those. It was also faintly sticky.
I remembered that he had not eaten the candy I had offered him. He had only fed it to me. How annoying. The little chocolate pills already produced a faint fizz behind my eyes. I went downstairs to get the large brown bags I had bought the day before. I poured the psychedelic colour-festival into a large bowl and brought it back upstairs. Candy was still asleep, and I sat next to him on the mattress, the bowl deliciously cold in my lap. I began to fish out the candies one by one, and pressed them to the layer of dry come on his chest. They didn't stick well, but most remained in place. I made patterns, lines, strings of different colours from his belly button to the delicate V of his collarbone. Sleepily, he opened his eyes. "Vigil? Whadduja doing?" He struggled onto his elbows. "Decorating you, Candy. But you need to lie back, or they'll all roll off." He looked down at my work, giggling like a little girl. But he lay back as I'd told him to, so I could go on with what I was doing.
I started making little circles of red around his nipples, putting all the other colours into his mouth, and in mine. He chewed on them, braking the sugar-layer into pieces, swallowing the stuff before the chocolate had time to melt. "Are you hungry?" I asked him. He nodded. I put another handful of m&ms into his mouth. I looked down at the birthdaycake I had made of his chest. Then I smiled my friendliest smile at him. "Me too."
When we were little, our mom sometimes gave us large biscuits spread with sugar-topping, and we would put sweets and sugar and little chocolate flakes into the topping until they looked like cakes. Some of them were little faces, with peppermints for eyes, chocolate flakes for hair and a sugar beard. One day we held an eating contest. With our hands behind our backs we attacked the sweet and sticky biscuits with our teeth, until the topping was in our hair and the sager spread all over the table and the floor. Mom sent us to our room for that, but biscuit-pie had never tasted so good before.
Eric lay back, his eyes closed, lazily sucking the m&ms from between his teeth. Vigil took hold of his hands, and pinned them down to the mattress next to his face. Still he didn't open his eyes. Vigil's touch was firm, but not alarming. Vigil's bite into his nipple was a complete surprise. Eric gasped and bucked with pain. Vigil was eating some of the red m&ms and biting hard into the nipple that they surrounded. Eric screamed and bucked to get out from under him, but Vigil held him too tight. His mouth ravaged Eric's skin, scooping up the chocolate and biting hard into every roll of skin he could find. His left nipple was burning as if Vigil had pressed a cigarette-butt to it. Eric thought he might be bleeding. He started wrestling harder to get Vigil off him, but Vigil seemed impossibly strong. Brown goo was spilling from Vigil's mouth as it traveled downward to his belly button, tearing on his flesh. He chewed on the m&ms with his mouth open and Eric's skin between his fore-teeth. Eric cried and whimpered, begging Vigil to stop, but Vigil seemed deaf to pleas. With a series of bites he was at Eric's other nipple, scooped up the circle of m&ms and bit down long and hard into the soft pink tip. Eric cried out with a new wave of pain, bucked and wrestled for his life while Vigil bit again and again into his nipple, until Eric felt absolutely sure that he was bleeding.
Then, as suddenly as he had started, Vigil stopped. He sat up, Eric breathing under him, and sucked in the chocolate-spit that drooled from his lower lip. Eric's skin was burning all over with pain, he looked down at the chocolate mess of his right nipple and sobbed. Vigil bent over him again, still holding his wrists, and began lapping up the chocolate goo that was spread all over Eric's body. He seemed tender, careful now, gently sucking out his bellybutton, carefully licking the blood and chocolate from his nipple. Eric bit his teeth together. Finally Vigil settled down on top of Eric, his muscles relaxing, his lips softly nibbling the skin on the side of his neck. Eric tried to move his hands and Vigil didn't stop him. To his own surprise, he slipped his arms around Vigil's chest and hugged him closer, pressing his damaged skin to Vigil's. Vigil laughed drunkenly. "I want you, Candy-boy."
Eric had no answer to that one. This is not just an ungentle lover, he thought, this guy is a maniac!
For some strange reason, that idea appealed to him.