All Souls Pass
Part
Six: Luke
woke slowly. His head felt thick and heavy, sore, like the time he drank too
much tequila but without the hung over feeling. There was a metallic taste to
the back of this mouth which was unpleasantly dry. All of his limbs felt thick
and leaden. He was naked and laying in a bed that wasn’t his own with no
memory of how he’d gotten there. It
all added up to an unhappy picture. It was the twenty first, rent was due on the
twentieth and he’d been seventy five dollars short of his share. Desperate
situations led to stupid acts and to waking up from a drugged stupor, naked, in
a stranger’s bed. He was pretty sure that even drugged out of his head he was
an unwavering bastard about condoms but there was no way to be sure. It would
mean an earlier trip to the clinic, a couple days of long, nervous wait with
hopefully good news at the end. Antibiotics made him violently ill and he
couldn’t afford to be hurling up dinner when he managed to find it. He
opened his eyes slowly and found he wasn’t really naked, he was wrapped up
tightly like a baby, in a blanket and set under the covers of the bed he was
laying on. Odd but who knew what kind of kink this john had, Luke had seen
everything. The bed itself was huge, orgy huge, and looked very expensive. Which
fit with the room around the bed’s style. Heavy, rich, long curtains hung over
industrial windows, the floor was smoothed wood with expensive area rugs, the
furniture was quality and costly. His
body protested but he sat up feeling stiff and awkward. It was pretty obvious
someone had slept in the bed on the other side, the covers were rumpled, but
oddly, the covers between the two sides were untouched. The first order of
business was finding his clothes and he winced as he stood up to look around. Near
a metal spiral staircase he found his backpack, untouched or so it seemed, but
his clothes were missing. Voices drifted up from the space below and Luke moved
to the railing to peek out between the half way pulled curtains. The space below
was large, open, rich. There was a huge flat screen television on one wall with
plush sofas clustered around. Art hung framed and unframed on the walls. The
kitchen was open to the rest of the space but modern with granite or marble
counter tops in a dark stone with burnished metal appliances. Two
men hovered in it. One with black hair and wearing an odd vest baggy pants
outfit. He was shorter than the other, leaner, but his arms that stuck out from
the vest were toned and strong… and pale. The man was frightfully pale, like
he’d never seen the sun or like one of the quarter blood jerk offs playing at
being a vampire. He was perched on the counter top, a coffee mug steaming beside
him but his attention was fixed solidly on the other man. He
was just a touch taller, with hair cut short and dark brown the shade of
walnuts. Dressed simply with casual dark clothes and t-shirt, he was moving
about the kitchen talking softly. Whatever was being said, the words didn’t
make it up to the loft but the tone was harsh, controlled and demanding. It made
the one in black on the counter squirm a little and offer up a protesting
response. As
much as Luke tried to remember, he simply couldn’t recall agreeing to a party
with a couple. Only now, seeing the pair in the kitchen below, he was half sorry
he’d been stoned to oblivion because they were actually attractive. At least,
and this was an assumption that wouldn’t keep him from the clinic trip, the
odds were pretty good that a fancy couple like the one below didn’t have
something. Maybe they’d picked him up to spice up their anniversary or
something, if that was the case he hoped he hadn’t disappointed. Since
the pair below seemed occupied, the one on the counter had caught the arm of the
taller one and pulled him to stand between his legs and was currently kissing
him silly, Luke figured the least they owed him was a hot shower. The bathroom
was as high class as the rest of the apartment but wet towels and lay around. A
pair of flannel boxer shorts was kicked, forgotten, into a corner and the room
reeked of sex. Which
explained why the bed looked untouched. A lot of folks didn’t like to fuck a
whore where they slept. He couldn’t really say he blamed them, if he owned
this nice place he wouldn’t want someone like him in his bed either. It was
odd though, as he pulled a dry towel off of the shelf and got the water running
in the slate lined cubicle, he didn’t feel like he’d been fucked all night,
let alone fucked, while stoned, by a couple. Maybe
they were really kinky? Maybe they’d just wanted him to watch? Or, maybe,
they’d wanted him to top? Not a request he got too often, that was for sure,
but it happened. Or, maybe, it was just oral, he wouldn’t be able to tell
since his mouth tasted like drugs but it was a possibility. Whatever it was, as
the hot water pelted down onto his skin, it hadn’t left him any the worse for
wear. Now, if he could just get his clothes and get out of the place in one
piece, with the rent money, life would be good. The
shower was a total, hedonistic pleasure. The water was insanely hot and it
poured down in a rich, sparkling flow. Luke understood why someone would invest
so much money into a bathroom, it was like a small corner of what heaven had to
be like. It was a shame he had to rush such a luxury but to make up for it he
used the couple’s expensive smelling shampoo and soap. He
sighed when he shut the water off but reminded himself that he had to get home
before the landlord, Mr. Gossman, (Mr. Grossman) tossed his shit out into the
snow. The towel he rubbed quickly over his body was soft and sucked the water
from his skin and hair and he wrapped it around his waist, leaving his hair too
damp to drip dry on his search for clothes. At least he was moving easier,
feeling less drugged, and didn’t feel hurt or sick, that was a plus. Whatever
they’d given him must have been good shit. And
speaking of the wonder couple, they were waiting in the bedroom for him. Luke
didn’t even flinch and moved easily out into the room. “Hey, where’s my
clothes?” “I
washed them.” The one in black chirped up from where he lounged on the bed. The
brown haired on waved slightly at his lover. “They’re drying.” Luke
snorted and hated the idea of the long walk home in the freezing cold wearing
wet clothes. “How very domestic. Give em back.” “No.”
The brunette answered. “They’re still wet.” “Sucks
to be me, look, I just want my money and my clothes and I’m out of here.” The
pair exchanged a look and the one on the bed quirked an eyebrow. “He doesn’t
remember.” “Not
a real surprise with that head wound.” “He
thinks we picked him up.” The darker one laughed and shook his head. “Hey!
Cash, clothes, now!” “Or
what?” The brunette mocked. “Look, kid, we’re no threat. You’d be dead
right now if Mace hadn’t brought you home.” “Couple
of guys were beating the snot out of you, about to sample the merchandise for
free.” “Yeah
cause I feel like I got the shit kicked out of me, pay me and give me my
clothes.” Luke didn’t bother holding onto his towel, not worried about it
dropping or them seeing. “What
are you?” The one on the bed, Mace, asked lightly. “That’s all I want to
know.” “What
the hell is that supposed to me? What am I?” He snapped back. “There’s
no point in being coy, we both know you’re not entirely human.” The unnamed
one added. Luke
felt his face go red. “I’m not human, I’m a fucking whore and that puts me
a good two steps below human.” He pulled the towel off and let it fall angrily
to the floor. “Now, get the fuck out of my way.” Another
look was exchanged and another eyebrow quirked but Luke pushed past them to
where his soggy sneakers were set on a heat vent near his back pack. He was
prepared to leave wearing on the pack and his sneakers if need be even if he
couldn’t afford the loss of the clothes or survive the walk, naked, in the
snow. “He’s
telling the truth.” The blue eyed brunette spoke softly. “Huh.”
Mace said and rolled on the bed to sit up. “Oy, kid, you should at least thank
York, he about killed himself to heal you.” “Fuck
off! Ain’t no one left that can heal worth a damn so don’t pull that shit on
me.” He was trying to see if he’d left the shorts and t-shirt in his bag or
if he’d left them in his room and it wasn’t looking promising. “Actually
there are four decent healers in this city alone, not counting York.” Mace
answered breezily watching the kid’s ass as it bobbed while he dug in his
pack. He raised another eyebrow at York and it earned him rolled eyes. York
wasn’t going to let the boy wander out into the snow naked and he wasn’t
going to respond to Macy’s teasing glances. Instead he pulled open and dug out
a pair of socks. They were heavy, finely made, wool for cold weather. Thick and
ugly but they worked and kept feet warm even when wet and they weren’t cheap
but he could always buy a new pair but doubted the kid could. “Kid,
here.” He waited until the boy turned before tossing the socks directly at his
face. Luke
caught them and turned them over to see what had been thrown at him. “What?” “Socks,
hang on.” York moved to another drawer and dug out a pair of grey sweatpants
and another grey sweatshirt. Both were warm and loose on him, the kid would swim
in them but none of Macy’s things were really practical. “Here.” He tossed
them toward the boy. “Get dressed and come downstairs, we’ll have your
clothes bagged up and we’ll talk about money.” York
caught Macy’s shoulder and half dragged the other man off the bed and pushed
him toward the steps, past where the boy knelt clutching the clothing with a
startled, wary look on his face. He had to half shove Macy down the first steps
but once he got the other moving he kept going until they were back in the
kitchen. He refilled his mug of coffee, adding in sugar and milk, and let Macy
perch on the counter again. “You’re
letting him go?” “He’s
no idea what he is, he can’t tell you. Freak him out and you’ll never find
out but pay him, dress him, let him go and you’ll be able to follow him to
whatever hole he sleeps in. You’ll know his neighborhood and can figure it out
later.” He sipped at the coffee and watched Macy nod. “If
you’re paying him, he should at least blow us.” “I’m
paying him because I can and he’s just a kid for mercy’s sake. For one night
he can have some money in his pocket he didn’t sell his ass to get!” He hiss
whispered back to his lover because the said topic of their conversation was
coming down the steps. The
sweatshirt and pants were far too big and made the boy look even younger but
dressed now, with his shoes on and pack over one shoulder, he looked less
defensive. Made him look far more the underfed kid instead of the independent
contractor he was. York
smacked his lovers hip. “Get on with it, go bag up his clothes. Don’t forget
his coat.” Macy groaned and rolled his eyes but hopped down and wandered to
where their washer and dryer was tucked in a corner of the apartment. “Thanks
for the loaners.” Luke tugged at the baggy clothes. “I’ll figure out how
to get them back to you.” “Don’t
worry about them. What’s your name?” “Lucky,
as in treat me right you might get…” “Lucky,
cute.” York didn’t let his smile touch his eyes. “What’s your real
name?” The
kid smirked. “Warm socks don’t earn that much.” He
shrugged lightly. “Fair enough. What do I owe you?” Lucky
moved to the counter and took up the mug of hot coffee. He’d swallowed half of
the contents before coming up for air. All he needed was seventy five dollars to
make rent but there was food money to consider and the fact they’d drugged
him. “Three hundred.” That
made York laugh. “Really? Even if we had fucked, a skinny scrap of a child
like you isn’t worth that much.” He pushed forward with just the slightest
brush of power, picked up the hint of desperation the boy was hiding behind his
coffee guzzling and was again blinded by a flash of energy so intense it was
violet. “You
drugged me, dude, you and that quarter blood freak boyfriend of yours could have
done anything to me. Fair trade, all the way.” Luke quickly downed the rest of
the coffee before he was yelled at to put it down. When he’d finished the last
swallow and set the empty ceramic down he shook his head and looked pained.
“Two hundred.” York
leaned against the counter a second longer then was needed to make the boy
squirm a little before he pushed away and moved to one of the kitchen drawers.
He pulled it open and inside pens and notepads rattled around but near the back
he found the billfold. They kept it there for easy paying of delivery boys and,
in truth, for once, money wasn’t an issue for them. He
came over and stood near the boy, the empty mug between them and made sure the
boy saw the bills in the billfold. Three fifties hit the counter before York
made a show of ruffling past hundreds and more fifties to pull out four twenties
and two tens. Last time he’d counted the billfold had collected over two
thousand in cash and he saw the hungry way the boy’s eyes followed the money
back to the drawer. “For
services rendered.” York spoke softly, shutting the drawer and the rest of the
cash away. When he turned around the counter was bare, the bills tucked away. He
could have left it there, Macy was a superior tracker, but he thought he’d
give his lover an easy time of it. Luke’s
heart was pounding at the cash, the man held more in his junk drawer than he
earned in forever. Two hundred was more than he expected to get, to be offered
two fifty so casually, so easily, made him feel sick. That much money would keep
him fed for a couple of weeks and if things didn’t go south cause of the snow,
he might make enough to get the hot water turned back on. Two hundred and fifty
dollars that obviously meant next to nothing to the taller, broader man was an
astounding amount to Luke. It wouldn’t change his life but it would keep him
in from the cold for the next couple of days. That was all he could ask for any
more. When
the man, his boyfriend had called him York, turned back around, Luke felt
trapped in those impossibly dark blue eyes. He stepped closer, moving into
Luke’s personal space, trapping him between the advancing man and the cold
counter top. So close, so deliberately, did York move toward him that Luke had a
moment to notice the splattering of small, light freckles across the man’s
nose and cheekbones before he leaned down and lips covered his own. The
kiss was meant to be a distraction only, York was wary of what was hidden inside
the boy and wanted him off balance before coming close to those wild and
unpredictable energies again. He wanted to make it easier for Macy to track the
boy and was going to coat the other human in a layer of his own energies. Like
dipping a bon bon in thick melted chocolate, the layer would stick and linger
for several hours before being shed off. Normally, he used that little trick to
confuse trackers but there hadn’t been a decent tracker to worry about in
years. The
boy was supposed to be a professional but the lips that met his own held not a
scrap of professionalism. York brought his hands up to cup either side of the
boys face and gently teased the tense, tight lips below his own. He didn’t
stop until he felt the boy shudder slightly and some of the tension dissolve
from the body he’d pinned. With the shudder the lips softened, eased, melted
into his own and York took full advantage. He deepened the kiss and the boy
allowed it submissively, moaning softly as his mouth was invaded. Both of the
boys hands rose up and clutched at York’s chest, an erotic mix of protest,
desire and submission, he fisted handfuls of fabric and moaned again. It
was easy to cover the boy in his energy trace, York didn’t need to even really
think about it. Which was useful since he wasn’t sure he could think straight
with the boy clutching at him and moaning softly. He kept the kiss tender,
gentle, soft but couldn’t stop one of his knees from sliding between the
boy’s legs. That earned him a soft whimper and he found himself surprised when
the boy rubbed his crotch against York’s thigh. Things
might have gotten out of hand if lips hadn’t ghosted across York’s neck.
Macy had returned from fetching and bagging up the boy’s clothes and moved in
that utter silence that only a vampire could manage. It was almost too much, to
have the slender, oddly inexperienced seeming, boy melting below his kiss and
that very experienced mouth behind him hitting every single one of his favorite
spots. Macy’s
body molded to his back, not surprisingly, the vampire was hard. It pushed York
forward a little more, rubbing his leg tighter into the boy’s groin. Hands
slid across York’s belly, pulling, tugging, before gliding down to rub against
his groin. That was taking things further then he’d wanted. Macy was too good
at touching him, too good at setting his blood on fire and he moaned into the
boys mouth. Breaking
the kiss was almost physically painful, but York managed it. He could feel
Macy’s hot breath puffing in small gusts against his neck, the slow rub of
Macy’s body against his own. He forced his eyes open and saw the boy’s face
was still tilted up from the kiss, his lips still parted, his eyes still shut. “If
you’re ever desperate for money again, come to La Vierge, ask any of the
bartenders for Macy or York. They’ll get word to us.” York whispered, turned
on enough that his accent was thick. As
he stepped back, away from the scrawny stray that Macy had brought home, he felt
arms wrap around his waist. Macy clung to his back, peering over his shoulder in
an odd mix of possessive tenderness and simple horniness. The boy’s eyes
fluttered open as his breathing hitched. Sweatpants with no underwear did
nothing to disguise desire and York knew what Macy was staring at without having
to see where his lover’s eyes were. “Your
jacket’s on the counter next to you.” Macy purred almost against York’s
skin. Luke
struggled to breath. No one had a right to kiss like that, all gentle and
wonderful, with total focus and desire. It had almost felt like the Frenchman
had meant it and that was what had unraveled all of Luke’s careful control. He
struggled to regain his senses, and seeing the pair clinging to each other about
two steps from one of them tossing the other over the counter and going at
didn’t help any. Then
he remembered that this wasn’t his life. He didn’t belong in the fancy,
classy loft with fancy, classy men. His life was dirtier than that and the harsh
reality was that if he didn’t get home and pay the other half of the rent,
he’d be sleeping in the snow. Not just him, but his two roommates too, they
should have already paid in their share. He scooped up his still damp jean
jacket and shrugged into the cold denim. With the pair watching him, the dark
one with lustful, mocking humor to his eyes and the taller with a serious set to
his face, he grabbed his backpack, the trash bag with his clothes and hurried to
the lift door. Remember.... This story is being updated a day
sooner on the website! www. sapayne.com so check it out and also come by for
random PWP posts in the finished stories that occasionally pop up in the public
areas! And if you can't wait a week to find out what happens, join the site and
read ahead with three chapter updates a week! Thanks for reading everyone!! www.sapayne.
com | 