The Vampire and the Man-Eater (4 page)

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Complete disorientation followed. He was sitting behind the wheel of his car in the parking garage at his office. The clock on the dashboard read seven fifteen. The garage was vacant.

"Shit!" He sat up and looked around. He was alone.

Peering down, his soft cock was resting outside his clothing and a creamy puddle was on his briefs. Tucking himself in, blushing in embarrassment though no one was there to be ashamed in front of, Brock fastened his slacks and started his car.

Weaving through traffic, within fifteen minutes he was home, parking his car in the garage under the condominium complex. Using the garage door remote, he closed it behind him. With his head down he marched to the elevators and rose to the top of the tower. Trying to calm his rage, he stuck 32

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his key into his lock, stormed to his bedroom, and threw his jacket on the bed. Standing in the dimness of his room, Brock covered his face and tried to feel sane. It wasn't working.

Forcing himself to keep moving, he slid off his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and before he tossed it on the bed he inspected the collar. Blood. There was blood on the collar of his shirt. Touching his neck, Brock headed to the bathroom, turning on the light. The adhesive strip that Faith had applied was hanging off by an edge and the cut underneath had seeped blood down his throat. Removing the strip, tossing it out, Brock used a handful of toilet paper and water to dab at the dried blood. Wincing at the sting, he once again doused a cotton ball in peroxide and almost screamed from the pain of cleaning the cut.

Throwing the used cotton into the trash, Brock leaned both hands on the sink counter and stared at himself. "What the hell is going on?"

For the first time in his life he felt used. He wasn't fond of the feeling.

"Daniel!" he roared in anger.

Leaving the bathroom, Brock sat on the edge of his bed and buried his head in his hands. "What are you doing to me, Daniel?" Standing, resigned, he announced, "You will not do that to me again!"

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The Vampire and the Man-eater

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Friday night the bar was packed. Eli looked classy. Too classy to be in this dark, decadent club. Brock and he had never touched sexually. Another rule. Brock liked Eli as a friend. Sex ruined friendships. From years of experience, Brock swore to that lesson and took no exception.

"Look, if you find a fuck just tell me so I don't look for you."

"I will. Sorry about that." Brock downed his first of many rum and colas, setting the glass aside.

"What's with this?" Eli touched the scarf Brock had tied around his neck.

"Covering this." Brock lowered it, showing him an adhesive strip.

"The scarf looks worse."

"Yeah?"

"Take it off. No one gives a shit about a band-aid."

Brock unraveled it, tossing it on the floor by the bar.

"Shaving?"

"I have no idea." Brock touched it lightly.

"No idea? Man, you drink too much."

"Probably." Brock caught a handsome man's eye. As the man danced he gestured for Brock to come over. "That's my cue."

"Have fun."

Weaving through the writhing bodies, his weekend sojourn into the dark side of gay sex, Brock met the good looking 34

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brunette and began a sexually provocative dance with him.

Brushing hard cocks as they pivoted around, Brock grinned at him invitingly. It never took long. The man held his hand, making a beeline for the men's room. They passed several couples kissing in the dark hall. The man pushed back the door. Brock followed the brunette into a stall. Several men were already at it, trying to be discreet but not succeeding.

After a quick peck on the lips, the man crouched down, opening Brock's slacks. Imagining a blowjob, Brock was surprised when the man offered his ass. Condoms were everywhere in the room, littering the place like confetti. The man handed Brock one from off the back of the toilet. Once he had it on, Brock was given a miniature packet of lube as well. Tossing the trash on the floor, Brock used his slick fingers to slide inside the man's ass. As he stood behind the brunette who was bent in half, holding onto the bowl, Brock pushed in, closing his eyes from the intensity. The brunette led Brock's hand to his eager cock. Jerking him off, thrusting his hips into him, Brock again felt a third member joining in.

Brock's slacks fell to a pile around his ankles. Looking behind him, seeing someone he did not approve of, Brock shoved him back as the man tried to get his cock into Brock's butt.

His focus again on the act, Brock knew his ass hanging out of the stall was an open invitation. A young stud began caressing him. He met with Brock's standards. Just as the young hunk tried to knock at Brock's back door, Brock adjusted him to pump between his thighs, without penetrating. The young man had to be content with that or Brock would shove him off as well.

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Finally everyone seemed to know their limits. Brock closed his eyes and thrust with more determination into the tight ass in front of him, fisting the guy's cock to get him to come, as the young stud behind him jammed his dick between Brock's legs, most likely yearning for tighter friction.

The chain reaction began with the brunette. His orgasm sent Brock into one, which in turn brought the young, athletic, college student-type to climax instantly. Brock pulled out, backing up into the young man who had come into a condom as well. Brock hiked up his slacks, moving to the sink, disposing the rubber, and washing his hands.

While he dried them an older unfit man began humping his ass. Brock straight-armed him to get away and left the men's room.

Seeing Eli where he had left him at the bar, Brock felt slightly sad for him. Eli just couldn't get the hang of anonymous sex. Perhaps Eli was the smarter one of the two.

Brock usually felt too detached after the act. It was an orgasm, not a relationship.

Leaning over the counter at the bar, Brock was delighted to see the adorable bartender there. Waiting until he noticed him, when he did, he hurried over to Brock. "You never called!" the bartender shouted in the noise.

"Sorry, babe."

The man cupped Brock's face, dragging him over the bar, kissing him stuffing his tongue practically down Brock's throat. When they parted the man said so he could be heard,

"I get a break in five."

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Imagining he'd be recuperated by then, Brock smirked at him. "Rum and cock, please."

The bartender gave Brock a wicked smile, mixing his drink.

Brock flapped another hundred dollar bill at him. The man took it, stuffing it down his pants.

With a wink, Brock turned to face the dance floor.

Eli leaned against his side. "You have a nice fuck? Or suck?"

"Fuck." Brock slurped down his drink. "Soon a suck."

"Oh?"

"Bartender." Brock tilted his head behind him. "You know, you should get a little."

"I can't do that. I have to like the guy."

"I like them."

"No. I mean
like
the guy." Eli shook his head, sipping his screwdriver.

"You won't find that kind of relationship here."

"Why not? Look at all these gay men."

"How long have we been coming here, Eli?"

A look of gloom passed over Eli's face.

"Too long, my friend." Brock put his arm around Eli's shoulder.

Just as Brock finished his drink and set his empty behind him on the bar, the handsome bartender touched him under his jaw, craning his finger.

"See ya," Brock shouted to Eli who watched in awe.

Eyeing that tight spandex covered butt, sans underwear lines, and his broad naked back, Brock heated up. He was dragged into a back room for employees only. That handsome 37

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bartender wrapped his arm around Brock's neck and drew him into a kiss. Loving his technique of swirling his tongue, Brock broke the kiss and said, "You do that so well."

The bartender's alluring eyes connected to Brock's. He opened Brock's slacks and crouched down.

Once again inside a hot orifice, Brock moaned in delirium.

"Oh, you are good..." Brock crooned as the bartender impressed him with his tricks and a good scrotum massage.

As a finger found its way to the edge of Brock's ass he came, thrusting his hips forward, closing his eyes. Dragging the half-naked hunk to his feet, Brock sucked at his mouth, placing one hand behind his head and slipping the other into his spandex pants. Feeling his hundred dollar bill still in it, Brock exposed the man's dick, sucking on his tongue as he pumped his cock. When the man came, Brock paused to see his face. There was nothing as exciting as a good looking man in orgasm.

"Nice ... very nice." Brock slowed his hand down, milking his cock gently. When Brock looked down, he noticed the bill on the floor. Picking it up, he stuffed it back into the man's shiny black pants. "You're worth every cent."

The bartender embraced him tightly. "Let me see you outside of here."

"I don't do relationships very well. I'll only disappoint you."

"Why? What are you afraid of?"

"Everything." Brock laughed, kissed his lips and backed out of his arms. Seeing the disappointment in his face, Brock caressed his rough jaw softly. "I'm still a little boy when it comes to that end of life. I don't know when I'll grow up."

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"Just sex then."

"We can meet here again."

"Here?"

"That's what I get afraid of." Brock smiled sadly.

"Expectations." He kissed the bartender's slack mouth and left the room.

Sated for the night, Brock imagined relaxing, perhaps sipping another drink or two, watching the dancing boys for an hour, and going home. Seeing Eli in a conversation with someone, Brock gave him space in case he found his elusive Mr. Right.

Daniel was staring at him from across the crowded room.

"Uh uh." Brock shook his head.
No way
. Deliberately turning aside from his gaze, Brock imagined another drink and pivoted to face the bar. A different bartender took his order, mixing him one up. When Brock spun back to the dance floor, Daniel was standing directly in front of him.

Jumping back in surprise, Brock's drink dribbled down his fingers. "What do you want?"

Daniel urged Brock's hand to his mouth, licking the spilled alcohol from Brock's skin.

Watching Daniel's tongue lap at his knuckles, Brock's cock grew rock hard, harder than it had been in the earlier two sessions. "Stop." It was soft and lacked any force. Brock hated himself for being weak around Daniel.

When he was good and ready, Daniel ceased his tasting.

"Why do you always leave me? I end up asleep and waking up hours after you're gone. What the hell do you do to me?"

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Brock was about to sip his drink, hesitated and stared into it, wondering if Daniel had already spiked it.

Daniel laughed knowingly. Taking the drink, he took a sip, proving it was palatable.

"Wise ass." Brock retrieved his glass, drinking it. "Answer my questions."

Daniel shrugged innocently.

"And what's with this?" Brock pointed to his neck. "You did this, didn't you? It was bleeding the last time we met in my car. Are you some kind of fetishist?"

"You did not complain when you had your dick out."

A wash of heat sizzled over Brock's body. "So? Big deal.

You're a good lover."

"Lover?" Daniel chuckled. "We have never made love."

"And we won't if you keep spiking my..." Brock looked into his glass. "Whatever you're spiking."

"Spiking?"

"Yes! You must drug me!"

"Never."

"Then why do I go unconscious after I'm with you?"

"I wear you out."

"Bullshit. No one wears me out. Do you have any idea who you are dealing with here?" Brock shook his head at the lunacy.

"A man-eater," Daniel purred seductively.

"Yes! I'm no wuss." Brock finished his drink. After he set it on the bar he caught his cock-sucking-bartender's jealous eye. Well, there was a need to be jealous. Daniel was amazing looking. "He thinks he wears me out," Brock 40

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muttered. "You're lucky you're so fucking gorgeous. I wouldn't even be standing here talking to you otherwise."

"A snob?"

"A connoisseur."

"A rose by any other name."

"Fine. Insult me." Brock threw his hands up in exaggeration.

"I know you want me."

"Don't flatter yourself." Brock crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the go-go boys.

"Oh lord, a tiny cut and a sleepy head and he is insulted."

At the condescending tone, Brock snarled, "Get away from me."

Daniel grabbed Brock by the hair behind his head and brought him to his lips.

At first Brock resisted, infuriated by the aggression and disrespect of his feelings. But the minute his lips contacted Daniel's, he melted.

As the world around him blurred into a carousel of spinning color, vibrating sound and heat, Brock's limbs tingled with pleasure and his cock stood at attention. Daniel sucked at his tongue, his teeth dragged across it. Driven to a deeper kiss, Brock's knees gave out from the swoon. Holding Daniel around his neck to prevent toppling over, Brock didn't really want to kiss him this way. Not in front of the jealous bartender, possibly Eli, and God knew who else. He would rather they find a dark wall to hide against. Most men did.

When Daniel's fingers fondled his cock, Brock found the strength to pull back from his mouth. "Not here."

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The Vampire and the Man-eater