Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Kiss. ❯ Chapter 3
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Mad Maxx Coyote 
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Fantasy / Romance / Supernatural | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 03.10.2010 | Pages: 10 | Words: 10.5K | Visits: 439 | Status: Work In Progress
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Fantasy / Romance / Supernatural | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 03.10.2010 | Pages: 10 | Words: 10.5K | Visits: 439 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: I own this, all of it. Each and everyone of these boys are mine. The writing is mine, the world is mine. All mine! XD
Connor groaned and rubbed at his head, which was pounding, and laying on the cold, hard cement under yet another truck certainly was not helping matters.
He had been stuck under a massive bitch storm for the last two days. Between his Father’s pissed off bullshit, Beth’s constant nagging, and of course the two older brother’s bullying, he wasn’t sure how much he could take before he and drove his rig right through the house.
About the only grace he had left was that Ross’s paperwork was down and scent, and that it was still a secret. Looked like some school up in Oregon was extremely interested, academic scholarship was pretty much assured for Ross at this point. All they were waiting for was some kind of confirmation letter, and of course…more paperwork. Connor had rented a lockbox at the post office for all of this, no sense in having it sent to the house.
Ross was going…come hell or high water. If he had to drive the kid himself…he was going.
Though that did leave him with the question of what the hell was HE going to do? Connor hadn’t really had much of a plan, but he knew he couldn’t stay. Even if he wanted to it really wouldn’t be an option. Once Ross disappeared, which was probably what was going to happen, Connor was pretty sure he was going to have to smuggle his little brother out. But after that the shit was really going to hit the fan.
It wouldn’t take long before someone figured out what had happened and who had made it happen. Even if they didn’t’…hell Ross was likely to call just to “Let everyone know he was okay.”
Connor was going to try like hell to convince the tender hearted little runt to wait as long as possible to do something like that. His hope was that Ross would already be firmly entrenched by the time everyone found out where he was. Because sure as shit as soon as the old man got an address he would be on his way, with his two favorite dickheads in two, to drag Ross back. Which unless he was already planted deep, Connor was almost certainly Ross would allow.
Kid was smart as a whip…but way too submissive.
Course that was the way the old man had raised them all to be, especially to himself. The only one who it hadn’t stuck to was Connor himself, maybe because he had spent more time with his Mother.
All that he knew was that he wasn’t the type to bend over….course it didn’t’ matter really, once everything went down he would either have already left, or be thrown out.
“So…a plan.” Connor thought as he fiddled with the busted brake line. Minutes ticked away and nothing came to mind.
He had his life’s savings yes, but it wouldn’t last. He didn’t own a vehicle, the rig was technically in the old man’s name, and going back to school didn’t seem like a possibility.
He could always go with Ross, get some grinders job some place to keep things afloat. But then Ross would feel guilty and then who knew what he might pull.
No…Connor had to get something solid before hooking back up with his little brother. The problem was that he didn’t know what he wanted to do anymore. He didn’t have any dreams other then getting the hell out.
Plan…he needed a plan…but what?
He was pretty sure he could get a job just about anyplace, after all there wasn’t much he couldn’t do when it came to repair work and machines. He had wanted to be a blacksmith when he was a kid, working with and forging metal had been the coolest thing in the world to him. But then he found out that….really wasn’t much of a job anymore.
Securing the new line to the rest that wasn’t busted, Connor hauled himself out from under the truck. Now he had to bleed them…and hope his fix didn’t rupture under pressure…which would send him back to the start.
God he hated this.
Leaning back against the door of the truck Connor wiped his hands clean and pulled out his wallet. Opening it he pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it.
Micah’s note….Connor looked down at the number. It had been a few days since then and Connor hadn’t given it much thought. Hell the man had probably moved on and didn’t even remember some roughneck that he had met in a bar.
But then again…it was about the only option he had available at the moment. Who knew what the supposedly rich, pretty boy wanted though. Asking Connor to dance had just been bizarre, and who knew if he even was who and what he said he was.
Taping his fingers on the hood of the truck Connor stared down at the note…and pondered.
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< br> Connor rubbed at his temples as he watched the sun dip below the horizon from his porch perch. The house was empty save for himself, Beth and Ross, which would have been nice if not for Beth deciding that she had to pick up the slack for the others not being around to drive him up the wall.
“Connor! Put on a coat before you catch cold!” The object of his irritation shriek from the living room.
‘Will you shut up!?” Connor snapped back. It was sixty-eight for fucks sake!
“Ah dun want ta listen ta you whine about how yer sick, so jus’ git in here and put it on!” Beth fired away. Connor just rolled his eyes and stretched out on the steps.
“Ya know Beth…you may find this hard ta believe, and apparently ya keep fergittin’ it…but you ain’t mah mother!!” Connor snarled. “Now shut yer fuckin’ pie hole and watch yer damn drama shit!”
Connor could feel his blood pressure surging, and it made his neck ache. Same spot that had been sore for a day or so a while back. Weird, but nothing to be concerned about.
He practically sighed in relief when Beth said nothing, probably because he had just cursed at her. He would pay for that later, she’d sic the old man on him for sure…ugh…
Connor groaned as a pair of headlights swung into the driveway…speak of the devil. Connor scooted himself over on the steps as his Father and Russell excited the car, otherwise they would probably just step on him.
Thankfully neither one said a word to him on the way up….but of course his luck just couldn’t last for more then a few brief moments.
“Git ta bed.” The old man ordered.
Connor ground his teeth together, but didn’t turn his head.
“What for?” He asked.
The gall of the order totally irked him. Not only was it Friday and he always the weekend off, but he was a long time away from being a child.
“Yew got an early mornin' ahead of ya. Dun want ta hear ya whining about bein’ tired.” The old man answered.
Connor pinched between his eyes, willing his blood pressure to lower, and his headache to go away.
“Ah’m afraid yer mistaken. Tomorrow is Saturday.” Connor replied, trying to be as diplomatic as he could. “And Ah always have the weekends off.”
Ross did most, if not all of the scheduling, and he had always given himself and Connor the weekends off. Bless the boy…he liked to do things with his brothers, and he and Connor were the closest.
“Not anymore. Yer doin’ the sound field.” The old man stated.
The south field…oh hell no. That was probably the world job there was. The machinery was old and prone to breaking. It was real near the pond, which meant mosquitoes out the ass. Farthest from the house, which meant nothing cold to drink, and shade was almost impossible to come by.
It was just a brutal grind, which was the reason they all traded off…and most importantly…
“Ah did it last week.” Connor said. “It’s Russell’s turn.”
“Ah dun care, yer doin’ it.” The old man spat.
Unable to hold it back Connor growled.
“The hell Ah am.”
Thwack!
Connor’s head rocked forward as his Father’s hand cracked across the back of his skull. It hurt of course, but more then that it infuriated him.
“Dun yew talk back ta me boy.” The old man snarled.
His hands quivering with rage Connor fought to suppress the urge for violence. He just knew that if he laid a hand on the old man that he would be in a cell before the night was out.
“Ah. Ain’t. Doin’. It.” Connor forced out. “And don’t you-”
Crack!
A second slap bounced off of Connor’s head, and this time he couldn’t stop himself. He came up like a shot, and had turned to face his Father’ before his feet were even under him.
Positively seething Connor pulled himself up to his full height, looming over his Father as he glared daggers at his antagonist. The old man met his stare head on though, and while normally Connor admired a man with guts, this time it didn’t win any points with him.
“Ah don’t knew what yer problem is…and Ah don’t care.” Connor growled slowly. “All Ah do know is that Ah don’t work on Saturday and it’s this runt’s turn on the south field.” He jerked his thumb towards Russell, but never took his eyes off of his Father. “And even more importantly….if you strike me one. More. Time. You had better be real ready for what’s commin’ yer way.”
The old man’s jaw locked, and his wrinkled face turned into a snarl to match Connor’s.
“Are yew threatenin’ me boy?”
Connor balled his fists, cracking his knuckles loudly before shaking them loose.
“Jus’ tellin' you like it is ya old bastard.”
The old man’s eyes flashed fire at the slur, and his hand sprung up, aiming right for Connor’s ear. That was his favorite, a slap across the ear. Hurt like hell it did, but Connor saw it coming.
In a split second his own hand came up, and he caught the offending arm around the wrist. The old man didn’t’ like that, and Connor caught a hint of a wince when he tightened his fingers. His Father pulled back, trying to free himself. But Connor was a long ways away from the twelve year old boy how had tired this last, and the arm went nowhere.
“Git yer hands offa yer Pa.” Russell growled from beside Connor.
Figured the punk would act all offended once the tables were turned. Connor would have rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t about to give the old man an opening. So he just ignored his brother.
But apparently those few seconds of noncompliance was all it took. Solid weight slammed into Connor’s side and heaved him off of his feet.
It didn’t take him long to figure out that it was Russell as the two of them plummeted off of the porch. Connor twisted before they landed and managed to get in a much better position then having Russell land on top of him.
Grabbing a hold of Russell’s head Connor shoved it into the gravel driveway and pushed up with his legs, wrenching himself out of the older man’s grasp. He could have punted Russell’s head in right then and there, but he chose to stand and take a step back instead.
He’d cut Russell a little slack. If he was just defending his elderly Father then Connor supposed he couldn’t totally blame him for that.
But Russell came up swinging, shattering Connor’s goodwill. Leaning back slightly Connor let Russell’s fist blow by his face…wide open.
Whipping his first forward Connor sunk it right into Russell’s big belly, earning a sharp grunt from his elder sibling. He took dark pleasure from the sound, and from Russell dropping to the ground like a rock.
He could have ended it all with a swift knee to the jaw while the man fell, but again he didn’t. Yet another mercy that wouldn’t be appreciated.
But Connor didn’t have time to really well on the subject as Junior suddenly appeared out of now where, rushing right at him. Connor raised his hands up, more then prepared to drill his fist right into his first born brother’s scrunched up face.
It never came however as Ross darted out of the house like a bullet and wedged himself between them.
“Alright both of you! Stop!!” Ross shouted.
Connor was tempted to point out that he had never started, but he was too busy keeping one eye on Russell. The last thing he needed was to get leg dived and mud stomped by the two retards.
Junior tried to shove Ross out of the way, but surprisingly the younger man didn’t budge. Beth came out of the house and took the old man’s arm, still trying to play the Mother/protective wife role.
Connor snorted…what a crock…he was just so sick of all of this.
Then the yelling began, most of it directed at him and Ross, but by that point Connor didn’t even care. Waving them all off he turned and started down the driveway, pausing only to snag his long coat from the cab of his truck. It had been a gift from his Mother, and he’d be damned if he was going to leave it behind for someone to fuck up.
Maybe a walk would do him some good. His blood was boiling at this point, especially when he heard Junior shouting at Ross for being a -big know it all, good for nothing, godless school boy-
Hardly creative, but what could you expect from someone who couldn’t even do simple math?
Before too long Connor heard footsteps running up behind him, he half expected for round two to start up, but a glance revealed it was only Ross. He was silent as his baby brother came up beside him as they reached the end of the driveway, he wasn’t sure what to say, especially since he wasn’t sure where he was going and if Ross wanted to follow or not.
But in the dying daylight just before true night Connor caught sight of Ross’s tear soaked face, and felt he HAD to say something. Ross sniffled as Connor threw his arm across his shoulders and squeezed him tight.
“Fuck.” Ross spat just as Connor opened his mouth. “Stupid ass…gawd damn it….FUCK.”
Connor nodded sagely.
“Yea…know the feelin’”
Ross half scoffed, half laughed, and shook his head. It was very rare to hear Ross actually swear, which gave Connor an idea of just how upset he was.
“Ah’m sorry.” Connor whispered. Which felt completely inadequate…but he was.
“Not yer fault.” Ross said, his voice slipping back.
Connor was at a complete loss as to what to say. Comforting really wasn’t his strong suit, and this wasn’t an easy topic at all. So when Ross started down the road, Connor followed.
He watched as Ross kicked at the rocks on the side of the road, and then sighed.
“The one in Oregon accepted me.” Ross informed quietly.
“Well…that’s good.” Connor stated. “When should you leave?”
“Three weeks or so…I suppose.”
“And yet…you don’t seem happy ‘bout it.” Connor pointed out. But Ross just shrugged.
“Oh I am…its just….I guess I was hoping for something a little closer to home.” Ross declared.
Connor resisted the urge to scream, Ross certainly did not need any attitude from him, but the closer he was, the easier it would be to get to him.
“Why? They’d jus’ drag ya back.” Connor pointed out.
“They really wouldn’t’…wouldn’t they?” Ross whispered softly, more to himself then to Connor. “They really wouldn’t be happy for me?”
Connor sighed…harsh truths and all.
“No…no they wouldn’t.” He answered.
“Why? I don’t understand that…” Ross admitted.
Connor pondered that, about how he should answer, and what all he should say. He wasn’t completely without any kind of loyalty, and he didn’t exactly enjoy running down his family. Things hadn’t always been so horrible like this, strict yes, but not like all of this.
“Because….they think they know better Ah guess. They….Ah can’t say they love this life, but they seem to think this is the only good, honest thing in the there is.” Connor supplied. “…And Dad doesn’t want to pay anyone to do what you do.”
Now that was a fact. The old man paid Ross pennies to do at a job that at least two people should be doing.
“They act like I’m betraying them.” Ross stated dejectedly. “Beth actually said that.”
Ross’s voice cracked slightly and Connor shook his head in disgust. He would have to have a little chat with big sister later….that was if he thought it would do any good. More then likely it would just lead to a pointless shouting match.
‘Yea well….who are they to talk?” Connor grunted. “They just want ta use ya Ross…and as far as they’re concerned what you want is irrelevant….it just isn’t ta be done. Not to mention the old man seriously seems to believe that you’ll be sucked right inta hell as soon as you walk in the door. He hates the world Ah think….its not the way he wants it and that pisses him off. He can’t control it, or change it…but us…that he can…or at least he thinks he can. We’re his kids and he believes we should be what HE tells us…like he owns us or something.”
That was the best he could explain it anyhow. Ross didn’t say a word though, and Connor worried that he may have botched the whole thing, so he kept quiet himself as the two continued down the dark country road. He never had been good at heart-to-heart stuff, he never knew how his words might affect someone else.
Which was why he always strove to simply tell it like it was. Still…he didn’t like Ross being so quiet and downtrodden. He opened his mouth to try again, but suddenly headlights appeared behind them.
Both of them turned around and Connor growled under his breath as the car slowed to pull alongside them. The old man and his goons no doubt….come to intrude, come to try and drag them back.
Connor balled his fists, gearing up for another confrontation. But much to his surprise his eyes fell upon the concerned face of Ross’s best friend Grant Carnine.
“The hell are you two doing out here?” Grant called out, siding his head out his drivers side window.
Connor was tempted to follow up with a wiseass comment, but why piss off one of Ross’s good friends?
“Getting away from everyone else.” Ross supplied.
Grant made a face, which made Connor think that perhaps he knew at least a little about the situation.
“Well you know your welcome at my house man.” Grant said.
Ross nodded, though only Connor could really see it.
“Its where we were headed.” Ross stated.
It was? Well that was news to Connor for sure. Without another word Grant popped open his passenger door, and in three steps Ross was snug inside. Connor just stood there however.
He got along well enough with Grant but….Grant winced, almost as if reading Connor’s mind, and an apologetic look spread across his face.
“I’ll talk to Mom Connor.” Grant offered. But Connor just shook his head, and Ross gave him an urgent look.
Mrs. Carnine hated Connor bitterly. Had ever since her daughter Julia’s funeral. Connor hadn’t been involved in her death, but her Mother blamed him all the same.
He had known Julia in school, and unbeknownst to him she had had a huge crush on him. Then a few days before the senior prom, in a move of boldness around here, she had asked him out. Unfortunately Connor had only recently healed up from a broken ankle, and thus wasn’t up to anything like that.
He had turned her down politely, but when she had persisted Connor had blown her off harshly. He still felt guilty for it, but he had been in a great deal of pain that day, and thus was in a very foul mood. His still tender ankle had been kicked not five minutes before that by some asshole in steel toed boots. He had barely been able to stand, let alone walk or dance.
Heartbroken and angry she had apparently decided to punish him by going out with the person he hated most. Fred Grano, who Connor had suspected was the one to kick him in the first place.
Of course Grano wasn’t about to turn down a hot number like Julia, so a few days later he had shown up in her driveway in his old, souped up Cadillac. Fred was already a little drunk and flying high on cocaine apparently, but seemingly Julia didn’t notice. Perhaps because of the argument she had just been in with her parents over going with a sleaze like Grano, or maybe she had just ignored it because of that.
Either way it didn’t really matter, because only twenty minutes later Fred had cranked that old caddy up to ninety-five before slamming headlong into a semi-truck while trying to pass a row of five cars.
Both had died instantly, and her Mother had never forgiven Connor.
“If she had been with you.” Mrs. Carnine had screamed. “She’d still be alive!”
Connor couldn’t exactly argue, he certainly wouldn’t have done what Grano had. But he still didn’t’ see how it was his fault. But to Mrs. Carnine he had broken her daughter’s heart, which made her make a poor choice, which lead to her death.
But although she hated Connor, for some reason she adored Ross. Which was fine with him, Ross had even less to do with it then he did.
“Naw…that’s alright.” Connor said.
Ross started to open his door, but Connor leaned into it, keeping it shut.
“Don’tchu worry ‘bout me Ross.” Connor declared. “Ah’ll be jus’ fine.”
“I’m not leaving you out here alone, and I damn sure don’t want you going back to the house.” Ross growled.
Not home any longer Connor noticed. That made him wonder…had this been the last straw for dear ol’ Ross?
“Well bless yer heart.” Connor replied. “But you worry too much.”
“You saying you’ve got somewhere to go?” Ross asked.
Well no…he didn’t’ have any….wait a minute. Connor stuck his hand into his pocket and felt Micah’s letter.
“Actually…Ah do.” Connor answered. “Jus’ gotta make a call.”
Ross raised an eyebrow, which annoyed Connor because he couldn’t do that no matter how much he tried, and wore s skeptical look on his face.
“Really? Well how are you going to do that?” Ross asked.
Connor pointed down the road.
‘The old gas station is jus’ down the way…they got a payphone. Not much of a walk either.” Connor replied.
“I can give you a ride Connor.” Grant said, sounding a little offended that Connor didn’t ask.
“Well yea….I know that.” Connor stated.
“Which means he is getting in.” Ross informed as he jerked his thumb towards the back seat.
“Ross…” Connor started.
“I’m not just leaving you to get eating by a werewolf or something.” Ross declared firmly. “So get in.”
“Man…don’tchu know…Ah’m always loaded for werewolf. Sliver all over, wolfs bane and all that junk. As a matter of fact Ah have werewolf for breakfast at least three times a week.” Connor insisted harmfully, but he did get into the car as Ross had instructed.
“Oh do you now?” Ross chuckled as Grant took the car out of park.
“Oh yea…two over hard eggs, side of home fries. Grill that were up nice….had it this morning actually.”
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Part of Micah as amused by his own behavior. He was hurrying…he was actually rushing to get himself presentable, or in this case to make sure he was absolutely comfortable and stunning.
He hadn’t been in a rush for anything in…well….longer then he could recall at the moment. About the only other time he remembered feeling this urgent there had been an obscene amount of fire involved.
And just why was he in such a tizzy?
Because he had received a call, a call from dear, sweet Connor.
He honestly hadn’t expected to ever hear from the farm boy again, not after the first few days had past. He had been very….disappointed, uncharacteristically so. He had assumed that he had frightened the boy off.
A pity really…but one could not control everything.
However shortly after he had awoken fro the night his phone rang, and upon answering it his ears had been willed with the wondrous sound of the voice that he had been longing to hear.
The depth of the desire had been unknown to him until that precise moment. He had been rather surprised by his own reaction, and the sudden sense of opportunity that had struck him as Connor explained the situation. It had not been expected at all.
It was a chance to feed of course, but that had not been the feeling, for he was not even feeling the hunger, having drunk his fill the night before.
No…this was a different feeling altogether, one he wasn’t quite familiar with.
With a shrug Micah pushed it away. It was time to focus, not wander about in thought.
Mustn’t keep the young Connor waiting after all.
Finishing up his preparations Micah stopped in front of the mirror in his room. Gazing into it he grinned, deliberately baring his fangs.
“Well aren’t we the excited little predator.” He said to his reflection. His fangs, wet and sparkling white seemed almost obscene to him, as if they were standing in for a more…base bodily object.
He found it humorous, and chuckled to himself, enjoying the sound and sight. Then he was out the door and into the night.
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Connor stuffed his hands into the pockets of his duster, feeling equal parts foolish and anxious. Here he was, standing in front of an old rundown gas station, keeping an eye for a car that he wouldn’t recognize anyway, waiting for someone he didn’t even know.
He felt stupid…and the feeling only got worse every time someone pulled into the station or he saw a pair of headlights and his stomach would knot.
Connor scoffed, shaking his head. What the hell was he doing?
Granted he had only been waiting for about twenty minutes, but still…this was stupid. Did he actually expect Micah to show up? And even if he did was he actually going to trust the man not to be a serial killer?
Connor could take care of himself sure, but he wasn’t stupid. People who could take care of themselves where killed everyday. But he didn’t really have any other options though, not unless he wanted to walk another five miles to the nearest hotel, all he could do was go back to the house….which was no option at all. But-
Vroom!
Connor practically jumped as the low roar of a powerful engine pulled in behind him. HE turned around and couldn’t believe what he saw in front of him.
An obviously customized Lamborghini Diablo.
Connor blinked and then blinked again as he started at the canary yellow body paint with jet black stripes. The nicest car he had ever seen around town was a Kia Rio for gods sake.
Before he could start drooling however the passenger door opened.
“Good evening my friend.’ Micah purred.
“Uh…” Connor fumbled.
He hadn’t even really expected the man to show up, let alone make such an appearance. Again the man was perfectly primped and presented. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his clothing. But Connor couldn’t believe what he was wearing though…the pants looked normal enough, pressed slacks or something. But the shirt….
Micah was actually wearing one of those old fashioned…fop shirts. The ones with the poofy lace around the wrists and neck. Connor had no idea what it was actually called. It was blood red, but even the deep color couldn’t distract him from what it was. He didn’t even know that they still made stuff like that, outside of movie costumes or whatever.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or be weirded out, because as goofy as it struck him Micah actually wore it incredibly well. Connor knew more then a few girls, hell…every girl he knew would be drooling at the sight before him.
Micah patted passengers seat, drawing Connor out of his fashion contemplation.
“Come….your feet will grow roots at this rate.” Micah mused.
Again with that proper accent…why couldn’t he place it? It was getting on his nerves actually, he hated wondering about things, but asking just seemed rude.
Feeling oddly nervous, and irritated because of it, Connor slid himself into the seat and closed the door behind him. The seat was ridiculously padded and comfortable…and heated at that.
Micah popped the car into gear and it rumbled low like a tiger as they pulled out of the station. Tiger…that was the second time that it had popped into his head around the man…odd…why was that? Micah certainly didn’t look all that threatening in the drivers seat.
Shaking his head Connor decided to focus on something else….like the car.
“Stick shift eh?” Connor mused. “Ya struck me as an auto boy.”
“I enjoy the active…control.” Micah replied smoothly. There was something behind his voice that Connor didn’t catch, a hidden joke perhaps.
“So…what kind of engine ya got in this thing?” Connor asked, it wasn’t like he could place it from the sound. But he was actually curious.
“A rather large one.” Micah answered. To which Connor rolled his eyes.
“You mean you don’t know?”
Micah chuckled.
“Dear Connor, I could not even tell you what kind of car this is. I purchased it from a friend, and only because I was fond of its look and his work.” Micah responded.
“Well then….Ah guess you weren’t lyin’ when you said ya had money.” Connor muttered, not meaning to be heard. But Micah chuckled again.
“Yes well…I am certainly you did not call upon me to discuss my financial situation, or my mode of transportation. You sounded upset my friend, is all well?”
“No…” Connor admitted softly. “Ah can’t believe you’re wearin’ that shirt.”
He didn’t really want to talk about it. Well…he did, but he was feeling really silly about call Micah, a man he didn’t eve know, to vent about his problems. Micah wrinkled his nose.
“And just what is wrong with my attire?” He asked.
“Ya look like ya jus’ stepped outta the French quarter or somethin'" Connor answered. Micah made an amused face and adjusted the poof around his neck with one hand.
“Well perhaps I am French.”
Connor paused, kicking himself mentally.
“Are you?”
“Non.” Micah reported with a smile. “I simply enjoy this dress. Are you implying that it reflects poorly upon me?”
Connor blinked, trying to process that. Was he asking if the shirt looked bad on him, or if wearing the shirt made him look bad?
“….No.” Connor answered hesitantly, deciding to play it safe. “Jus’….well who dresses like that?”
“I do apparently.” Micah stated, his voice warm and soft.
“Point taken.” Connor muttered and then fell silent.
He could feel Micah watching him out of the corner of his eye, and it made him squirm slightly.
“Did you have a destination in mind?” Micah asked.
“No…” Connor admitted, suddenly feeling very pathetic and lost.
“Well now I know something must be wrong.” Micah stated. “What happened to the talkative, warm Connor that I met? Why so distant and morose?”
“Well Ah’m not drunk this time…” Connor grunted.
“Ah.” Micah murmured. “Well I am afraid that I do not possess seven hundred dollars worth of specially mixed drinks for you this time.”
Connor choked, his eyes bulging out slightly.
“S-Seven h-hundred dollars!?!” He sputtered, his voice so think it almost embarrassed him. “Ah did not drink tha’ much! Ah’d be dead!”
Micah laughed, and that rich, throaty sound rolled through Connor again, spilling along his skin like liquid silk.
“You consumed ten, they cost seventy American dollars apiece…so….” Micah informed.
“Holy shit…” Connor muttered, unsure of how to feel. Embarrassed that he had cost someone so much, gluttonous for actually drinking it…not to mention that was more then he made in a week.
Micah reached over and gave his thigh above the knee a reassuring squeeze that was anything but. At least that was what Connor thought he was trying to do.
“Do not fret my friend. I was glad to do it. I just hop that you enjoyed yourself.”
Connor really wasn’t sure if he did or not. It had been nice to unload on someone in drunken mouthy-ness. But then came that dance, which was still very confused about and then….Connor blushed as he realized that he had unloaded twice…once verbally and once biologically.
Then he had passed out.
A hard night to judge all around.
It still didn’t make any sense though…Micah hadn’t touched him there at all. At least that he could remember…and he was pretty sure he would remember if he had gotten a hand job on a dance floor…with people watching. He remembered feeling Micah’s hot breath on his neck….but that wouldn’t do jack. His neck wasn’t that damn sensitive…no one’s was.
“Jus’ a drop in the bucket eh?” Connor asked.
Micah actually put forth a sheepish grin.
“It was not my intention to flaunt.”
Part of Connor was annoyed, a typical reaction. What else could he thought about someone who could drop more then his paycheck and not even notice? But he pushed it away…although it did bring up another thought.
“What am I doing here?” Connor thought.
He didn’t have an answer for that. Why had he called Micah in the first place? Because he didn’t have anyone else to call? Why was he trusting some stranger? Why was he counting on someone he had only spent a few drunken hours with?
Micah sighed suddenly, nearly startling Connor. It was a little creepy how quiet the other man could be.
“It pains me to see you so downtrodden. Something is obviously wrong, this I can tell.”
“Can you now?” Connor challenged without any real bite, much to his chagrin.
“I can.”
“That’s cause yer some kind of predator…” Connor put forth off handedly. But out of the corner of his eye he could swear he saw Micah actually flinch.
“Now why-ever would you say that?” Micah asked.
“Well…yer…well yer a business man right? Gotta stab that back befo’ it gits you.” Connor answered.
Micah looked amused, so perhaps Connor imagined the flinch.
“I very rarely have to resort to such means.” Micah informed.
“Oh so yer the first squeaky clean rich guy?” Connor asked.
“I am as fair and honest as the situation and world allow.” Micah responded.
“Fair enough.”
“Not to repeat myself, or be harsh, but is there somewhere you would like to go to talk? I have gone in this circle something like five times now.” Micah said.
Connor focused on the sights out of his window, and sure enough…Micah was driving them around in a large circle.
“Um…” Connor muttered, drawing a complete black. He had nothing in mind, and he really had only called to make Ross happy. He supposed he could stay at some motel…yeah…that’s what he was going to have to do. He simply couldn’t go back to the house tonight.
“Well…I was informed of a nice, private spot overlooking a canyon.” Micah put forth. “It was told if I had company it would be a nice spot to go.”
Something clicked in Connor’s brain as he listened….and he started to laugh his ass off. Micah looked at him curiously, but Connor just couldn’t stop it. He slumped forward against the dashboard and covered his face with both hands.
“Fuck point?!” Connor struggled to push out. “You wanna take me to Fuck point?!”
Micah pursed his lips and looked slightly indignant.
“That is very…vulgar name….rather odd. I was assured it was quite scenic.”
With tears leaking out of his eyes, and his stomach starting to cramp something terrible Connor fought to stop.
“Why shore fancy boy, drive on up there.” He forced out between guffaws.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Micah wrinkled his nose in absolute disgust as he surveyed the sights before him.
An old….practically mummified mattress sat on the ground, surrounded by literally dozens of used condoms of varying ages. They were strewn about everywhere, there was a pair of absolutely filthy jeans balled up near the foot of the mattress…and the smell. Good God the smell of the area was enough to make Micah want to heave.
It was murder on his heightened senses.
Dirt and filth and sweat and semen and aged, sun fermented female fluids, and grim and semen and vomit, and fecal remnants and SEMEN.
Micah turned his head to look at Connor, who was leaning against his car with a large grin on his face.
And he was still laughing.
“This…this is not the picture that his words painted for me.” Micah protested.
“Aww…but look at these sights! Where else would you see something like this?” Connor giggled. “And Ah told ya…”
No…actually he had not told Micah anything.
“This is horrible.” Micah groaned. “Disgusting…how could….please tell me you have not…come here.”
“What? Never done the deed outside?” Connor chuckled. “And no…mah old man owns a hundred and forty acres of farmland…Ah don’t need ta come here. Gross anyway.”
Micah plugged his nose as another blast of stench made its way up it. Ugh…if he was capable of involuntary vomiting anymore then he would probably be sick any moment.
“I have made love outdoors yes…but under the shade of a large three, or in a field of flowers. Not…in…some….cesspool like this.” Micah declared.
“Well at least Ah know yer not tryin’ ta get in mah pants.” Connor mused.
“If I was attempting to bed you it would certainly be more romantic then this!” Micah protested, a bit offended. “A real bed, lighting, roses, candles, music…n-not this!”
Connor looked a bit taken aback by Micah’s sudden declaration.
“Ooookay…went a little far there.” Connor grumbled.
Micah shook his head as he began to move back towards the drivers side door.
“Come. We leave.” Micah stated firmly.
“Aww…ya don’t wanna watch the sun rise? That’s ’bout the only scene here.” Connor said.
For the second time Connor gave Micah a start. First when he declared Micah a predator, which he was yes, but he hadn’t expected Connor to say anything to that effect. For one brief, sickening moment he had feared that Connor knew of his true nature. Knew and was actually a modern day hunter.
Not danger of course, they were not a challenge hundreds of years ago, and technology had only raised their threat a miniscule amount. Not a threat, but he found himself hating the idea of having to kill Connor.
Micah shook it off, not sure why he was being so concerned.
“The sun has only recently set and this is not place for conversation.” Micah replied.
“Well…where do you have in mind?” Connor asked.
Micah was tempted to offer up his hotel room, but withheld it. Connor was already tense, slightly combative. It was almost as if he was trying to push Micah. The vampire supposed it made sense, Connor and he had only just met and Connor was unaware of the very intimate, to Micah anyway, connection that they had established.
“Well forgive me for being frank…but I know you are upset, and I know that you called upon me for a reason. Now I do not mean to push, but you look like you need to talk…and this is not the place.” Micah said gently.
Connor kicked at the ground, looking uncertain and distraught.
“Ah didn’t have anybody else ta call. But…Ah don’t even know you.” Connor whispered.
Ah ha…so that was it. Well then….
“So you feel foolish, calling upon a stranger for aid.” Micah probed. Connor nodded in spite of himself fit seemed. “Well…you will not get to know and understand me if we do not spent a little time together, if we do not converse.”
Connor chuckled as he shook his head, and then gave Micah a sideways smile that made his ancient heart flutter.
“Aren’t we determined?” Connor mused.
Micah started to speak, he didn’t’ want to come across as forceful, but Connor jerked his head towards the car and spoke.
“C’mon….Ah know of a place.”
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Micah laced his fingers behind his head as he stared up at the stars. Normally he wouldn’t lay down on the hood of his vehicle like he was as it wasn’t exactly comfortable. But he was hoping that it would make him seem more casual to the man beside him and thus put Connor at ease.
He wasn’t entirely sure it was working, but the young man had seated himself on the edge near Micah. He really didn’t want to push, but it was so tempting…just a little nudge in the right direction. But he withheld it and hoped that Connor would open up on his own.
“You said ya might have a job for me?” Connor suddenly asked.
“More then might my friend.” Micah responded. “Simply inform me of what you would like to do and we will go from there.”
Connor fell silent again, and Micah found himself counting the boy’s heartbeats. It was such an enchanting sound…..
“Ah don’t know what Ah wanna do.” Connor whispered softly. “Ah jus’….Ah dunno…”
“Well…would you like to use the skills you already possess? Or build new ones?” Micah put forth, though he wasn’t entirely sure that he had been supposed to hear Connor’s declaration.
“Skills Ah have…” Connor scoffed. “Ah can drive a truck an’ turn wrenches.”
Micah thought on it, and he could think of dozens of things the boy could do, but that didn’t mean that Connor would want to do them. Personally he thought with a little touch up work he could easily put the younger man into art.
But he wanted to free the young man, not trap him once again. So he kept silent.
“Gotta have a plan…” Connor whispered. “A house, steady job…car….ugh…gawd damn it….or Ah’ll jus’….argh….”
The hopelessness in Connor’s voice bothered Micah, and he knew what could make that sound. If they were closer Micah would tell the boy that he could count on him for aid. But it seemed like it would be too much too fast if he were to a say it now, and only have the opposite effect.
Connor scooted back, seeking support for a back that was obviously starting to ache.
“What has happened my friend?” Micah asked. “Your voice tastes of despair and heartache. What has put these things into you?”
Connor took a deep breath and shuddered slightly. Micah didn’t push…but now he could hear…little snippets fluttered through his mind. Too scattered and chaotic for him to truly understand, but enough for him to get a slight picture.
And his Mother…Connor missed his Mother terribly. She always knew what to say and what to do…as all Mothers did.
“It was your family wasn’t it?” Micah asked tentatively, not wanting to tip his hand.
Connor nodded slowly and began to speak. As he spoke Micah’s heart went out to him as he told his tale. It was all too familiar to Micah, the tyrannical Father, bullying brothers, and the hopelessness of being trapped, surrounded by those who didn’t care for you.
He knew all too well what it was like to be view like that, not as a person, but as a tool to be used and discarded. He knew what it was like to dream of something more and yet the chains were simply too tight.
It brought tears to his eyes, which he did his best to hide so as not to gain Connor’s attention. Much had changed in men since his day…and not for the better in his opinion.
Connor had turned as he spoke, slowly getting closer to facing Micah…and the vampire completely forgot himself once Connor’s helpless eyes met his own.
With one simple movement he was in Connor’s lap, and embraced the younger man gently. Connor stiffened in Micah’s embrace as the vampire whispered soothingly to him.
“Ah don’t know what yer sayin’…or why yer sittin’ on me.” Connor squeaked. Micah blinked, realizing that he had lapsed out of English.
“I am simply offering comfort.” Micah stated.
“But yer a man…” Connor whispered, sounding a little dizzy. That struck Micah as odd, but it was overpowered by annoyance and exasperation. He released Connor, and leaned back to look into his eyes.
“So? What of it?” He asked, and then sighed heavily in disgust. “What happened to this world? I remember when men could show affection, show an honest love for one another and no one said a word against it.”
“Yea but-”
“-No buts!” Micah interrupted, pointing his finger at Connor’s nose. “Men could love one another, could declare it publicly. It was not sexual, we could be companions, and build true friendships. We could express ourselves with more then belches and punches to the arm.”
It never ceased to infuriate Micah, how far the world had fallen. How beauty and honesty between men had been cast away.
“What happened to us?” Micah wondered aloud. “How were we subverted as we have been? Our beauty and virtue discarded for ugliness and vulgarity.”
“Um…” Connor grunted.
“None of you know what it means to be a true man.” Micah declared, touching Connor’s face gently. “In this time, in this place…what does it even mean? To be loud and coarse, to hide your feelings from those truly close to you, to kill as many innocent creatures as you can regardless of whether you need the meat, to drink a lot of beer and bang as many bitches and hoes as you can. It is a joke….”
Micah was getting even more worked up with each word, his vaunted control forgotten as he lowered himself to using the terms and language of the here and now.
“You can not all be blamed of course….you were taught this, you know no better.” Micah lamented. “But not only has what we are been degraded, we have been denied any true relationship, any true friendship amongst each other. You dare not talk to one another…noooo….certainly can not have that. Dare not do any more then brush up against each other for fear that you will instantly grow a vagina or some such nonsense. For instance….when you meet an old friend after a period of years apart you grunt at one another and maybe, maybe a slap on the back.”
Micah felt something nudging at him and he pushed it away, which very easy to do oddly enough. Connor seemed to swoon against him, and shook his head dizzily.
“Do you know how to greet a true friend after years apart?” Micah asked before he took Connor by the head and laid a brief, gentle kiss upon his lips. “Hello my friend!” He hugged Connor firmly. “It is so wondrous to see you again!”
He hadn’t lingered, with his lips at least, but he was suddenly all too aware of Connor, and couldn’t seem to pull back completely.
Connor was so warm between his thighs, and Micah could hear the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat as clear as a bell. What was more his own heartbeat shifted to match Connor’s perfectly.
But the scent….oh the sweet, delectable scent of Connor’s blood was so much more pronounced then it had been…then it should be.
He could smell it here, like a hot, thick candy, waiting just under the skin.
Micah’s lips parted slowly, his fangs wet and glistening with saliva. All he could hear was Connor’s heartbeat now, thundering in his ears with each passing second.
Hypnotic….
Enticing….
Thump- Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump
Connor’s flesh felt almost burning hot against his lips. Was it really that hot? Or was he somehow cold?
“Micah?” Connor whispered dreamily.
Had his name ever sounded so good before?
Micah shivered…and sank his fangs into Connor’s neck.
The boy under him cried out and his fingers dug into Micah’s back. The vampire groaned low in his throat as Connor’s vein opened to him, and cooed in delight as the first drop touched his tongue.
His stomach was full, his own veins and heart filled. This was not food, no…Connor was no meal. This was a delicacy, something he could sample with child-like delight…or adult passion.
And it was so good.
Had it ever been so sweet and rich? Not even his first could match this.
Connor panted and gasped and squirmed lightly under Micah, and he smiled inside when he felt Connor release heavily. He knew good and well what the effects of his kiss were, and was pleased that Connor could enjoy it.
It was so easy to sift through Connor’s mind now, and there was so much there, so much that only strengthened his resolve to save the boy, to help him.
Help…yes…he wanted to help.
“And this is helping?” His conscience rang out.
Micah’s eyes popped open in shock. What was he going?!
Micah withdrew his fangs, and pressed his tongue to the wound, keeping it sealed as the special properties of his saliva worked on knitting the two small wounds close.
It didn’t take very long and soon Micah pulled away. He winced slightly when he saw the bruise on Connor’s neck.
Why had he done that?
Connor remained passive and pliable, his gorgeous eyes glazed over, completely under the thrall of Micah’s kiss. The vampire cursed in nearly every language he knew before he was able to get his apparently addled brain working again.
This wasn’t like before, Connor was not intoxicated…so Micah would not be able to impress upon him that he had simply passed out this time. Though he had passed out last time.
Micah chewed on his knuckle, feeling like a fledgling all over again. This was more then simply tipping his hand, he had basically thrown his cards directly in Connor’s face. Granted the younger man’s mind was wide open to him now, but it still wouldn’t be easy to plan some kind of cover story within it.
It was always best to stick with things that were simple and logical. No matter what the power of the manipulator, the human mind would always struggle to make sense of what had happened, to remember the events. Entrancing eyes were often recalled as glowing lights and so on.
It was best to try and make it believe something that could happen, something that the victim felt made sense, regardless of how odd it was. But it would not be easy to make it so Connor did not believe that Micah had done something, and as much as it pained him he was going to have to force the lie upon the boy.
It only took a light push to slip past the veil of Connor’s mid and Micah began to gently sift around, looking for something, anything that he could use. Connor was tired, exhausted really.
That poked at Micah, the level the boy’s physical fatigue. He hadn’t been sleeping well, or all that much when he was able to sleep. His siblings seemed to delight in shocking him awake, and once awake his Father was shoving him under the grindstone.
Still….perhaps that would work.
Carefully leading Connor into the passengers seat Micah closed the door behind him. Turning, Micah jumped right over the front of his car and quickly entered it. Starting up the engine and popping it into gear he sped back to the road.
The sooner this was done the better.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Micah rolled his head around under the hot water from the showerhead. Connor was secure in his bed, and was sleeping peacefully. Hopefully waking up in Micah’s hotel room would not be too much of a shock. But it would be better then him realizing Micah’s true nature.
Or would it?
Because…as embarrassed as he was to think about it, yet again Micah had brought Connor one stop closer to joining him.
He couldn’t believe it, just could not believe what he had done without even thinking about doing it. What had happened to his control and mastery of his gifts? He hadn’t had a slip up in thousands of years….so why was it that everything when right out the window the moment he touched his white ranger?
Wait…his?
Micah shook his head fiercely. This was not good…he was becoming far too attached far too quickly. But why? He tried to pinpoint the exact moment where he had lost control…but he couldn’t.
Everything had seemed so…natural…so right. It had been when physical contact had been made, he was sure of that, but even before that he had started to be affect by the boy.
That was what it was really, almost as if Connor could push Micah’s mind as he could his. The first time it had been when he had tasted Connor’s blood, this time it had started before that.
Connor’s blood spoke to Micah, called to him. It was so…wonderful…yet bizarre. He had never felt it before, not once in all his years of life.
Connor could survive the change, he could thrive under it. Micah was more then certain of that now. But it was wrong, he could not force it upon the boy. He didn’t even know if it would be something that Connor would warn.
Even if he could be one of them, that didn’t mean he would accept it. Micah had not been asked, or even told what was coming. He did not want to do the same thing to another, not if he had the choice.
But did he?
Twice now he had pushed things forward without a thought, and now the pull for Connor would be even stronger. It was only natural to finish what had been started, and the idea of having a childe….a companion after so long….
No…he had to create some distance, and get a tighter rein upon himself. But what had caused everything in the first place?
Was it simply a happy chance? That a simple feeding could somehow turn into all of this? He had never heard of it before, an uncontrollable urge being forged just because a potential was found.
He didn’t think it was vampiric instinct either. Blood and self-preservation had been the only two new additions to his self Micah had received when his sire had taken him.
At least…the only two he had felt and understood.
Micah didn’t like that thought…didn’t like that after all this time, after dozens of centuries that there could STILL be secrets hiding within his blood.
Or was it just him somehow?
Was he truly longing for a companion to this degree? Was the need to have someone to share life with so great that he was unconsciously reaching out?
As the hot water of the shower cascaded down his body Micah didn’t have an answer. But he knew he had to be careful. He had to be sure.
Micah closed his eyes and shivered. Even with his veins full he could still feel Connor’s blood apart from the rest.
He had to be sure….even if he did not really have a choice.
Connor groaned and rubbed at his head, which was pounding, and laying on the cold, hard cement under yet another truck certainly was not helping matters.
He had been stuck under a massive bitch storm for the last two days. Between his Father’s pissed off bullshit, Beth’s constant nagging, and of course the two older brother’s bullying, he wasn’t sure how much he could take before he and drove his rig right through the house.
About the only grace he had left was that Ross’s paperwork was down and scent, and that it was still a secret. Looked like some school up in Oregon was extremely interested, academic scholarship was pretty much assured for Ross at this point. All they were waiting for was some kind of confirmation letter, and of course…more paperwork. Connor had rented a lockbox at the post office for all of this, no sense in having it sent to the house.
Ross was going…come hell or high water. If he had to drive the kid himself…he was going.
Though that did leave him with the question of what the hell was HE going to do? Connor hadn’t really had much of a plan, but he knew he couldn’t stay. Even if he wanted to it really wouldn’t be an option. Once Ross disappeared, which was probably what was going to happen, Connor was pretty sure he was going to have to smuggle his little brother out. But after that the shit was really going to hit the fan.
It wouldn’t take long before someone figured out what had happened and who had made it happen. Even if they didn’t’…hell Ross was likely to call just to “Let everyone know he was okay.”
Connor was going to try like hell to convince the tender hearted little runt to wait as long as possible to do something like that. His hope was that Ross would already be firmly entrenched by the time everyone found out where he was. Because sure as shit as soon as the old man got an address he would be on his way, with his two favorite dickheads in two, to drag Ross back. Which unless he was already planted deep, Connor was almost certainly Ross would allow.
Kid was smart as a whip…but way too submissive.
Course that was the way the old man had raised them all to be, especially to himself. The only one who it hadn’t stuck to was Connor himself, maybe because he had spent more time with his Mother.
All that he knew was that he wasn’t the type to bend over….course it didn’t’ matter really, once everything went down he would either have already left, or be thrown out.
“So…a plan.” Connor thought as he fiddled with the busted brake line. Minutes ticked away and nothing came to mind.
He had his life’s savings yes, but it wouldn’t last. He didn’t own a vehicle, the rig was technically in the old man’s name, and going back to school didn’t seem like a possibility.
He could always go with Ross, get some grinders job some place to keep things afloat. But then Ross would feel guilty and then who knew what he might pull.
No…Connor had to get something solid before hooking back up with his little brother. The problem was that he didn’t know what he wanted to do anymore. He didn’t have any dreams other then getting the hell out.
Plan…he needed a plan…but what?
He was pretty sure he could get a job just about anyplace, after all there wasn’t much he couldn’t do when it came to repair work and machines. He had wanted to be a blacksmith when he was a kid, working with and forging metal had been the coolest thing in the world to him. But then he found out that….really wasn’t much of a job anymore.
Securing the new line to the rest that wasn’t busted, Connor hauled himself out from under the truck. Now he had to bleed them…and hope his fix didn’t rupture under pressure…which would send him back to the start.
God he hated this.
Leaning back against the door of the truck Connor wiped his hands clean and pulled out his wallet. Opening it he pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it.
Micah’s note….Connor looked down at the number. It had been a few days since then and Connor hadn’t given it much thought. Hell the man had probably moved on and didn’t even remember some roughneck that he had met in a bar.
But then again…it was about the only option he had available at the moment. Who knew what the supposedly rich, pretty boy wanted though. Asking Connor to dance had just been bizarre, and who knew if he even was who and what he said he was.
Taping his fingers on the hood of the truck Connor stared down at the note…and pondered.
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< br> Connor rubbed at his temples as he watched the sun dip below the horizon from his porch perch. The house was empty save for himself, Beth and Ross, which would have been nice if not for Beth deciding that she had to pick up the slack for the others not being around to drive him up the wall.
“Connor! Put on a coat before you catch cold!” The object of his irritation shriek from the living room.
‘Will you shut up!?” Connor snapped back. It was sixty-eight for fucks sake!
“Ah dun want ta listen ta you whine about how yer sick, so jus’ git in here and put it on!” Beth fired away. Connor just rolled his eyes and stretched out on the steps.
“Ya know Beth…you may find this hard ta believe, and apparently ya keep fergittin’ it…but you ain’t mah mother!!” Connor snarled. “Now shut yer fuckin’ pie hole and watch yer damn drama shit!”
Connor could feel his blood pressure surging, and it made his neck ache. Same spot that had been sore for a day or so a while back. Weird, but nothing to be concerned about.
He practically sighed in relief when Beth said nothing, probably because he had just cursed at her. He would pay for that later, she’d sic the old man on him for sure…ugh…
Connor groaned as a pair of headlights swung into the driveway…speak of the devil. Connor scooted himself over on the steps as his Father and Russell excited the car, otherwise they would probably just step on him.
Thankfully neither one said a word to him on the way up….but of course his luck just couldn’t last for more then a few brief moments.
“Git ta bed.” The old man ordered.
Connor ground his teeth together, but didn’t turn his head.
“What for?” He asked.
The gall of the order totally irked him. Not only was it Friday and he always the weekend off, but he was a long time away from being a child.
“Yew got an early mornin' ahead of ya. Dun want ta hear ya whining about bein’ tired.” The old man answered.
Connor pinched between his eyes, willing his blood pressure to lower, and his headache to go away.
“Ah’m afraid yer mistaken. Tomorrow is Saturday.” Connor replied, trying to be as diplomatic as he could. “And Ah always have the weekends off.”
Ross did most, if not all of the scheduling, and he had always given himself and Connor the weekends off. Bless the boy…he liked to do things with his brothers, and he and Connor were the closest.
“Not anymore. Yer doin’ the sound field.” The old man stated.
The south field…oh hell no. That was probably the world job there was. The machinery was old and prone to breaking. It was real near the pond, which meant mosquitoes out the ass. Farthest from the house, which meant nothing cold to drink, and shade was almost impossible to come by.
It was just a brutal grind, which was the reason they all traded off…and most importantly…
“Ah did it last week.” Connor said. “It’s Russell’s turn.”
“Ah dun care, yer doin’ it.” The old man spat.
Unable to hold it back Connor growled.
“The hell Ah am.”
Thwack!
Connor’s head rocked forward as his Father’s hand cracked across the back of his skull. It hurt of course, but more then that it infuriated him.
“Dun yew talk back ta me boy.” The old man snarled.
His hands quivering with rage Connor fought to suppress the urge for violence. He just knew that if he laid a hand on the old man that he would be in a cell before the night was out.
“Ah. Ain’t. Doin’. It.” Connor forced out. “And don’t you-”
Crack!
A second slap bounced off of Connor’s head, and this time he couldn’t stop himself. He came up like a shot, and had turned to face his Father’ before his feet were even under him.
Positively seething Connor pulled himself up to his full height, looming over his Father as he glared daggers at his antagonist. The old man met his stare head on though, and while normally Connor admired a man with guts, this time it didn’t win any points with him.
“Ah don’t knew what yer problem is…and Ah don’t care.” Connor growled slowly. “All Ah do know is that Ah don’t work on Saturday and it’s this runt’s turn on the south field.” He jerked his thumb towards Russell, but never took his eyes off of his Father. “And even more importantly….if you strike me one. More. Time. You had better be real ready for what’s commin’ yer way.”
The old man’s jaw locked, and his wrinkled face turned into a snarl to match Connor’s.
“Are yew threatenin’ me boy?”
Connor balled his fists, cracking his knuckles loudly before shaking them loose.
“Jus’ tellin' you like it is ya old bastard.”
The old man’s eyes flashed fire at the slur, and his hand sprung up, aiming right for Connor’s ear. That was his favorite, a slap across the ear. Hurt like hell it did, but Connor saw it coming.
In a split second his own hand came up, and he caught the offending arm around the wrist. The old man didn’t’ like that, and Connor caught a hint of a wince when he tightened his fingers. His Father pulled back, trying to free himself. But Connor was a long ways away from the twelve year old boy how had tired this last, and the arm went nowhere.
“Git yer hands offa yer Pa.” Russell growled from beside Connor.
Figured the punk would act all offended once the tables were turned. Connor would have rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t about to give the old man an opening. So he just ignored his brother.
But apparently those few seconds of noncompliance was all it took. Solid weight slammed into Connor’s side and heaved him off of his feet.
It didn’t take him long to figure out that it was Russell as the two of them plummeted off of the porch. Connor twisted before they landed and managed to get in a much better position then having Russell land on top of him.
Grabbing a hold of Russell’s head Connor shoved it into the gravel driveway and pushed up with his legs, wrenching himself out of the older man’s grasp. He could have punted Russell’s head in right then and there, but he chose to stand and take a step back instead.
He’d cut Russell a little slack. If he was just defending his elderly Father then Connor supposed he couldn’t totally blame him for that.
But Russell came up swinging, shattering Connor’s goodwill. Leaning back slightly Connor let Russell’s fist blow by his face…wide open.
Whipping his first forward Connor sunk it right into Russell’s big belly, earning a sharp grunt from his elder sibling. He took dark pleasure from the sound, and from Russell dropping to the ground like a rock.
He could have ended it all with a swift knee to the jaw while the man fell, but again he didn’t. Yet another mercy that wouldn’t be appreciated.
But Connor didn’t have time to really well on the subject as Junior suddenly appeared out of now where, rushing right at him. Connor raised his hands up, more then prepared to drill his fist right into his first born brother’s scrunched up face.
It never came however as Ross darted out of the house like a bullet and wedged himself between them.
“Alright both of you! Stop!!” Ross shouted.
Connor was tempted to point out that he had never started, but he was too busy keeping one eye on Russell. The last thing he needed was to get leg dived and mud stomped by the two retards.
Junior tried to shove Ross out of the way, but surprisingly the younger man didn’t budge. Beth came out of the house and took the old man’s arm, still trying to play the Mother/protective wife role.
Connor snorted…what a crock…he was just so sick of all of this.
Then the yelling began, most of it directed at him and Ross, but by that point Connor didn’t even care. Waving them all off he turned and started down the driveway, pausing only to snag his long coat from the cab of his truck. It had been a gift from his Mother, and he’d be damned if he was going to leave it behind for someone to fuck up.
Maybe a walk would do him some good. His blood was boiling at this point, especially when he heard Junior shouting at Ross for being a -big know it all, good for nothing, godless school boy-
Hardly creative, but what could you expect from someone who couldn’t even do simple math?
Before too long Connor heard footsteps running up behind him, he half expected for round two to start up, but a glance revealed it was only Ross. He was silent as his baby brother came up beside him as they reached the end of the driveway, he wasn’t sure what to say, especially since he wasn’t sure where he was going and if Ross wanted to follow or not.
But in the dying daylight just before true night Connor caught sight of Ross’s tear soaked face, and felt he HAD to say something. Ross sniffled as Connor threw his arm across his shoulders and squeezed him tight.
“Fuck.” Ross spat just as Connor opened his mouth. “Stupid ass…gawd damn it….FUCK.”
Connor nodded sagely.
“Yea…know the feelin’”
Ross half scoffed, half laughed, and shook his head. It was very rare to hear Ross actually swear, which gave Connor an idea of just how upset he was.
“Ah’m sorry.” Connor whispered. Which felt completely inadequate…but he was.
“Not yer fault.” Ross said, his voice slipping back.
Connor was at a complete loss as to what to say. Comforting really wasn’t his strong suit, and this wasn’t an easy topic at all. So when Ross started down the road, Connor followed.
He watched as Ross kicked at the rocks on the side of the road, and then sighed.
“The one in Oregon accepted me.” Ross informed quietly.
“Well…that’s good.” Connor stated. “When should you leave?”
“Three weeks or so…I suppose.”
“And yet…you don’t seem happy ‘bout it.” Connor pointed out. But Ross just shrugged.
“Oh I am…its just….I guess I was hoping for something a little closer to home.” Ross declared.
Connor resisted the urge to scream, Ross certainly did not need any attitude from him, but the closer he was, the easier it would be to get to him.
“Why? They’d jus’ drag ya back.” Connor pointed out.
“They really wouldn’t’…wouldn’t they?” Ross whispered softly, more to himself then to Connor. “They really wouldn’t be happy for me?”
Connor sighed…harsh truths and all.
“No…no they wouldn’t.” He answered.
“Why? I don’t understand that…” Ross admitted.
Connor pondered that, about how he should answer, and what all he should say. He wasn’t completely without any kind of loyalty, and he didn’t exactly enjoy running down his family. Things hadn’t always been so horrible like this, strict yes, but not like all of this.
“Because….they think they know better Ah guess. They….Ah can’t say they love this life, but they seem to think this is the only good, honest thing in the there is.” Connor supplied. “…And Dad doesn’t want to pay anyone to do what you do.”
Now that was a fact. The old man paid Ross pennies to do at a job that at least two people should be doing.
“They act like I’m betraying them.” Ross stated dejectedly. “Beth actually said that.”
Ross’s voice cracked slightly and Connor shook his head in disgust. He would have to have a little chat with big sister later….that was if he thought it would do any good. More then likely it would just lead to a pointless shouting match.
‘Yea well….who are they to talk?” Connor grunted. “They just want ta use ya Ross…and as far as they’re concerned what you want is irrelevant….it just isn’t ta be done. Not to mention the old man seriously seems to believe that you’ll be sucked right inta hell as soon as you walk in the door. He hates the world Ah think….its not the way he wants it and that pisses him off. He can’t control it, or change it…but us…that he can…or at least he thinks he can. We’re his kids and he believes we should be what HE tells us…like he owns us or something.”
That was the best he could explain it anyhow. Ross didn’t say a word though, and Connor worried that he may have botched the whole thing, so he kept quiet himself as the two continued down the dark country road. He never had been good at heart-to-heart stuff, he never knew how his words might affect someone else.
Which was why he always strove to simply tell it like it was. Still…he didn’t like Ross being so quiet and downtrodden. He opened his mouth to try again, but suddenly headlights appeared behind them.
Both of them turned around and Connor growled under his breath as the car slowed to pull alongside them. The old man and his goons no doubt….come to intrude, come to try and drag them back.
Connor balled his fists, gearing up for another confrontation. But much to his surprise his eyes fell upon the concerned face of Ross’s best friend Grant Carnine.
“The hell are you two doing out here?” Grant called out, siding his head out his drivers side window.
Connor was tempted to follow up with a wiseass comment, but why piss off one of Ross’s good friends?
“Getting away from everyone else.” Ross supplied.
Grant made a face, which made Connor think that perhaps he knew at least a little about the situation.
“Well you know your welcome at my house man.” Grant said.
Ross nodded, though only Connor could really see it.
“Its where we were headed.” Ross stated.
It was? Well that was news to Connor for sure. Without another word Grant popped open his passenger door, and in three steps Ross was snug inside. Connor just stood there however.
He got along well enough with Grant but….Grant winced, almost as if reading Connor’s mind, and an apologetic look spread across his face.
“I’ll talk to Mom Connor.” Grant offered. But Connor just shook his head, and Ross gave him an urgent look.
Mrs. Carnine hated Connor bitterly. Had ever since her daughter Julia’s funeral. Connor hadn’t been involved in her death, but her Mother blamed him all the same.
He had known Julia in school, and unbeknownst to him she had had a huge crush on him. Then a few days before the senior prom, in a move of boldness around here, she had asked him out. Unfortunately Connor had only recently healed up from a broken ankle, and thus wasn’t up to anything like that.
He had turned her down politely, but when she had persisted Connor had blown her off harshly. He still felt guilty for it, but he had been in a great deal of pain that day, and thus was in a very foul mood. His still tender ankle had been kicked not five minutes before that by some asshole in steel toed boots. He had barely been able to stand, let alone walk or dance.
Heartbroken and angry she had apparently decided to punish him by going out with the person he hated most. Fred Grano, who Connor had suspected was the one to kick him in the first place.
Of course Grano wasn’t about to turn down a hot number like Julia, so a few days later he had shown up in her driveway in his old, souped up Cadillac. Fred was already a little drunk and flying high on cocaine apparently, but seemingly Julia didn’t notice. Perhaps because of the argument she had just been in with her parents over going with a sleaze like Grano, or maybe she had just ignored it because of that.
Either way it didn’t really matter, because only twenty minutes later Fred had cranked that old caddy up to ninety-five before slamming headlong into a semi-truck while trying to pass a row of five cars.
Both had died instantly, and her Mother had never forgiven Connor.
“If she had been with you.” Mrs. Carnine had screamed. “She’d still be alive!”
Connor couldn’t exactly argue, he certainly wouldn’t have done what Grano had. But he still didn’t’ see how it was his fault. But to Mrs. Carnine he had broken her daughter’s heart, which made her make a poor choice, which lead to her death.
But although she hated Connor, for some reason she adored Ross. Which was fine with him, Ross had even less to do with it then he did.
“Naw…that’s alright.” Connor said.
Ross started to open his door, but Connor leaned into it, keeping it shut.
“Don’tchu worry ‘bout me Ross.” Connor declared. “Ah’ll be jus’ fine.”
“I’m not leaving you out here alone, and I damn sure don’t want you going back to the house.” Ross growled.
Not home any longer Connor noticed. That made him wonder…had this been the last straw for dear ol’ Ross?
“Well bless yer heart.” Connor replied. “But you worry too much.”
“You saying you’ve got somewhere to go?” Ross asked.
Well no…he didn’t’ have any….wait a minute. Connor stuck his hand into his pocket and felt Micah’s letter.
“Actually…Ah do.” Connor answered. “Jus’ gotta make a call.”
Ross raised an eyebrow, which annoyed Connor because he couldn’t do that no matter how much he tried, and wore s skeptical look on his face.
“Really? Well how are you going to do that?” Ross asked.
Connor pointed down the road.
‘The old gas station is jus’ down the way…they got a payphone. Not much of a walk either.” Connor replied.
“I can give you a ride Connor.” Grant said, sounding a little offended that Connor didn’t ask.
“Well yea….I know that.” Connor stated.
“Which means he is getting in.” Ross informed as he jerked his thumb towards the back seat.
“Ross…” Connor started.
“I’m not just leaving you to get eating by a werewolf or something.” Ross declared firmly. “So get in.”
“Man…don’tchu know…Ah’m always loaded for werewolf. Sliver all over, wolfs bane and all that junk. As a matter of fact Ah have werewolf for breakfast at least three times a week.” Connor insisted harmfully, but he did get into the car as Ross had instructed.
“Oh do you now?” Ross chuckled as Grant took the car out of park.
“Oh yea…two over hard eggs, side of home fries. Grill that were up nice….had it this morning actually.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX X
Part of Micah as amused by his own behavior. He was hurrying…he was actually rushing to get himself presentable, or in this case to make sure he was absolutely comfortable and stunning.
He hadn’t been in a rush for anything in…well….longer then he could recall at the moment. About the only other time he remembered feeling this urgent there had been an obscene amount of fire involved.
And just why was he in such a tizzy?
Because he had received a call, a call from dear, sweet Connor.
He honestly hadn’t expected to ever hear from the farm boy again, not after the first few days had past. He had been very….disappointed, uncharacteristically so. He had assumed that he had frightened the boy off.
A pity really…but one could not control everything.
However shortly after he had awoken fro the night his phone rang, and upon answering it his ears had been willed with the wondrous sound of the voice that he had been longing to hear.
The depth of the desire had been unknown to him until that precise moment. He had been rather surprised by his own reaction, and the sudden sense of opportunity that had struck him as Connor explained the situation. It had not been expected at all.
It was a chance to feed of course, but that had not been the feeling, for he was not even feeling the hunger, having drunk his fill the night before.
No…this was a different feeling altogether, one he wasn’t quite familiar with.
With a shrug Micah pushed it away. It was time to focus, not wander about in thought.
Mustn’t keep the young Connor waiting after all.
Finishing up his preparations Micah stopped in front of the mirror in his room. Gazing into it he grinned, deliberately baring his fangs.
“Well aren’t we the excited little predator.” He said to his reflection. His fangs, wet and sparkling white seemed almost obscene to him, as if they were standing in for a more…base bodily object.
He found it humorous, and chuckled to himself, enjoying the sound and sight. Then he was out the door and into the night.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Connor stuffed his hands into the pockets of his duster, feeling equal parts foolish and anxious. Here he was, standing in front of an old rundown gas station, keeping an eye for a car that he wouldn’t recognize anyway, waiting for someone he didn’t even know.
He felt stupid…and the feeling only got worse every time someone pulled into the station or he saw a pair of headlights and his stomach would knot.
Connor scoffed, shaking his head. What the hell was he doing?
Granted he had only been waiting for about twenty minutes, but still…this was stupid. Did he actually expect Micah to show up? And even if he did was he actually going to trust the man not to be a serial killer?
Connor could take care of himself sure, but he wasn’t stupid. People who could take care of themselves where killed everyday. But he didn’t really have any other options though, not unless he wanted to walk another five miles to the nearest hotel, all he could do was go back to the house….which was no option at all. But-
Vroom!
Connor practically jumped as the low roar of a powerful engine pulled in behind him. HE turned around and couldn’t believe what he saw in front of him.
An obviously customized Lamborghini Diablo.
Connor blinked and then blinked again as he started at the canary yellow body paint with jet black stripes. The nicest car he had ever seen around town was a Kia Rio for gods sake.
Before he could start drooling however the passenger door opened.
“Good evening my friend.’ Micah purred.
“Uh…” Connor fumbled.
He hadn’t even really expected the man to show up, let alone make such an appearance. Again the man was perfectly primped and presented. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his clothing. But Connor couldn’t believe what he was wearing though…the pants looked normal enough, pressed slacks or something. But the shirt….
Micah was actually wearing one of those old fashioned…fop shirts. The ones with the poofy lace around the wrists and neck. Connor had no idea what it was actually called. It was blood red, but even the deep color couldn’t distract him from what it was. He didn’t even know that they still made stuff like that, outside of movie costumes or whatever.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or be weirded out, because as goofy as it struck him Micah actually wore it incredibly well. Connor knew more then a few girls, hell…every girl he knew would be drooling at the sight before him.
Micah patted passengers seat, drawing Connor out of his fashion contemplation.
“Come….your feet will grow roots at this rate.” Micah mused.
Again with that proper accent…why couldn’t he place it? It was getting on his nerves actually, he hated wondering about things, but asking just seemed rude.
Feeling oddly nervous, and irritated because of it, Connor slid himself into the seat and closed the door behind him. The seat was ridiculously padded and comfortable…and heated at that.
Micah popped the car into gear and it rumbled low like a tiger as they pulled out of the station. Tiger…that was the second time that it had popped into his head around the man…odd…why was that? Micah certainly didn’t look all that threatening in the drivers seat.
Shaking his head Connor decided to focus on something else….like the car.
“Stick shift eh?” Connor mused. “Ya struck me as an auto boy.”
“I enjoy the active…control.” Micah replied smoothly. There was something behind his voice that Connor didn’t catch, a hidden joke perhaps.
“So…what kind of engine ya got in this thing?” Connor asked, it wasn’t like he could place it from the sound. But he was actually curious.
“A rather large one.” Micah answered. To which Connor rolled his eyes.
“You mean you don’t know?”
Micah chuckled.
“Dear Connor, I could not even tell you what kind of car this is. I purchased it from a friend, and only because I was fond of its look and his work.” Micah responded.
“Well then….Ah guess you weren’t lyin’ when you said ya had money.” Connor muttered, not meaning to be heard. But Micah chuckled again.
“Yes well…I am certainly you did not call upon me to discuss my financial situation, or my mode of transportation. You sounded upset my friend, is all well?”
“No…” Connor admitted softly. “Ah can’t believe you’re wearin’ that shirt.”
He didn’t really want to talk about it. Well…he did, but he was feeling really silly about call Micah, a man he didn’t eve know, to vent about his problems. Micah wrinkled his nose.
“And just what is wrong with my attire?” He asked.
“Ya look like ya jus’ stepped outta the French quarter or somethin'" Connor answered. Micah made an amused face and adjusted the poof around his neck with one hand.
“Well perhaps I am French.”
Connor paused, kicking himself mentally.
“Are you?”
“Non.” Micah reported with a smile. “I simply enjoy this dress. Are you implying that it reflects poorly upon me?”
Connor blinked, trying to process that. Was he asking if the shirt looked bad on him, or if wearing the shirt made him look bad?
“….No.” Connor answered hesitantly, deciding to play it safe. “Jus’….well who dresses like that?”
“I do apparently.” Micah stated, his voice warm and soft.
“Point taken.” Connor muttered and then fell silent.
He could feel Micah watching him out of the corner of his eye, and it made him squirm slightly.
“Did you have a destination in mind?” Micah asked.
“No…” Connor admitted, suddenly feeling very pathetic and lost.
“Well now I know something must be wrong.” Micah stated. “What happened to the talkative, warm Connor that I met? Why so distant and morose?”
“Well Ah’m not drunk this time…” Connor grunted.
“Ah.” Micah murmured. “Well I am afraid that I do not possess seven hundred dollars worth of specially mixed drinks for you this time.”
Connor choked, his eyes bulging out slightly.
“S-Seven h-hundred dollars!?!” He sputtered, his voice so think it almost embarrassed him. “Ah did not drink tha’ much! Ah’d be dead!”
Micah laughed, and that rich, throaty sound rolled through Connor again, spilling along his skin like liquid silk.
“You consumed ten, they cost seventy American dollars apiece…so….” Micah informed.
“Holy shit…” Connor muttered, unsure of how to feel. Embarrassed that he had cost someone so much, gluttonous for actually drinking it…not to mention that was more then he made in a week.
Micah reached over and gave his thigh above the knee a reassuring squeeze that was anything but. At least that was what Connor thought he was trying to do.
“Do not fret my friend. I was glad to do it. I just hop that you enjoyed yourself.”
Connor really wasn’t sure if he did or not. It had been nice to unload on someone in drunken mouthy-ness. But then came that dance, which was still very confused about and then….Connor blushed as he realized that he had unloaded twice…once verbally and once biologically.
Then he had passed out.
A hard night to judge all around.
It still didn’t make any sense though…Micah hadn’t touched him there at all. At least that he could remember…and he was pretty sure he would remember if he had gotten a hand job on a dance floor…with people watching. He remembered feeling Micah’s hot breath on his neck….but that wouldn’t do jack. His neck wasn’t that damn sensitive…no one’s was.
“Jus’ a drop in the bucket eh?” Connor asked.
Micah actually put forth a sheepish grin.
“It was not my intention to flaunt.”
Part of Connor was annoyed, a typical reaction. What else could he thought about someone who could drop more then his paycheck and not even notice? But he pushed it away…although it did bring up another thought.
“What am I doing here?” Connor thought.
He didn’t have an answer for that. Why had he called Micah in the first place? Because he didn’t have anyone else to call? Why was he trusting some stranger? Why was he counting on someone he had only spent a few drunken hours with?
Micah sighed suddenly, nearly startling Connor. It was a little creepy how quiet the other man could be.
“It pains me to see you so downtrodden. Something is obviously wrong, this I can tell.”
“Can you now?” Connor challenged without any real bite, much to his chagrin.
“I can.”
“That’s cause yer some kind of predator…” Connor put forth off handedly. But out of the corner of his eye he could swear he saw Micah actually flinch.
“Now why-ever would you say that?” Micah asked.
“Well…yer…well yer a business man right? Gotta stab that back befo’ it gits you.” Connor answered.
Micah looked amused, so perhaps Connor imagined the flinch.
“I very rarely have to resort to such means.” Micah informed.
“Oh so yer the first squeaky clean rich guy?” Connor asked.
“I am as fair and honest as the situation and world allow.” Micah responded.
“Fair enough.”
“Not to repeat myself, or be harsh, but is there somewhere you would like to go to talk? I have gone in this circle something like five times now.” Micah said.
Connor focused on the sights out of his window, and sure enough…Micah was driving them around in a large circle.
“Um…” Connor muttered, drawing a complete black. He had nothing in mind, and he really had only called to make Ross happy. He supposed he could stay at some motel…yeah…that’s what he was going to have to do. He simply couldn’t go back to the house tonight.
“Well…I was informed of a nice, private spot overlooking a canyon.” Micah put forth. “It was told if I had company it would be a nice spot to go.”
Something clicked in Connor’s brain as he listened….and he started to laugh his ass off. Micah looked at him curiously, but Connor just couldn’t stop it. He slumped forward against the dashboard and covered his face with both hands.
“Fuck point?!” Connor struggled to push out. “You wanna take me to Fuck point?!”
Micah pursed his lips and looked slightly indignant.
“That is very…vulgar name….rather odd. I was assured it was quite scenic.”
With tears leaking out of his eyes, and his stomach starting to cramp something terrible Connor fought to stop.
“Why shore fancy boy, drive on up there.” He forced out between guffaws.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Micah wrinkled his nose in absolute disgust as he surveyed the sights before him.
An old….practically mummified mattress sat on the ground, surrounded by literally dozens of used condoms of varying ages. They were strewn about everywhere, there was a pair of absolutely filthy jeans balled up near the foot of the mattress…and the smell. Good God the smell of the area was enough to make Micah want to heave.
It was murder on his heightened senses.
Dirt and filth and sweat and semen and aged, sun fermented female fluids, and grim and semen and vomit, and fecal remnants and SEMEN.
Micah turned his head to look at Connor, who was leaning against his car with a large grin on his face.
And he was still laughing.
“This…this is not the picture that his words painted for me.” Micah protested.
“Aww…but look at these sights! Where else would you see something like this?” Connor giggled. “And Ah told ya…”
No…actually he had not told Micah anything.
“This is horrible.” Micah groaned. “Disgusting…how could….please tell me you have not…come here.”
“What? Never done the deed outside?” Connor chuckled. “And no…mah old man owns a hundred and forty acres of farmland…Ah don’t need ta come here. Gross anyway.”
Micah plugged his nose as another blast of stench made its way up it. Ugh…if he was capable of involuntary vomiting anymore then he would probably be sick any moment.
“I have made love outdoors yes…but under the shade of a large three, or in a field of flowers. Not…in…some….cesspool like this.” Micah declared.
“Well at least Ah know yer not tryin’ ta get in mah pants.” Connor mused.
“If I was attempting to bed you it would certainly be more romantic then this!” Micah protested, a bit offended. “A real bed, lighting, roses, candles, music…n-not this!”
Connor looked a bit taken aback by Micah’s sudden declaration.
“Ooookay…went a little far there.” Connor grumbled.
Micah shook his head as he began to move back towards the drivers side door.
“Come. We leave.” Micah stated firmly.
“Aww…ya don’t wanna watch the sun rise? That’s ’bout the only scene here.” Connor said.
For the second time Connor gave Micah a start. First when he declared Micah a predator, which he was yes, but he hadn’t expected Connor to say anything to that effect. For one brief, sickening moment he had feared that Connor knew of his true nature. Knew and was actually a modern day hunter.
Not danger of course, they were not a challenge hundreds of years ago, and technology had only raised their threat a miniscule amount. Not a threat, but he found himself hating the idea of having to kill Connor.
Micah shook it off, not sure why he was being so concerned.
“The sun has only recently set and this is not place for conversation.” Micah replied.
“Well…where do you have in mind?” Connor asked.
Micah was tempted to offer up his hotel room, but withheld it. Connor was already tense, slightly combative. It was almost as if he was trying to push Micah. The vampire supposed it made sense, Connor and he had only just met and Connor was unaware of the very intimate, to Micah anyway, connection that they had established.
“Well forgive me for being frank…but I know you are upset, and I know that you called upon me for a reason. Now I do not mean to push, but you look like you need to talk…and this is not the place.” Micah said gently.
Connor kicked at the ground, looking uncertain and distraught.
“Ah didn’t have anybody else ta call. But…Ah don’t even know you.” Connor whispered.
Ah ha…so that was it. Well then….
“So you feel foolish, calling upon a stranger for aid.” Micah probed. Connor nodded in spite of himself fit seemed. “Well…you will not get to know and understand me if we do not spent a little time together, if we do not converse.”
Connor chuckled as he shook his head, and then gave Micah a sideways smile that made his ancient heart flutter.
“Aren’t we determined?” Connor mused.
Micah started to speak, he didn’t’ want to come across as forceful, but Connor jerked his head towards the car and spoke.
“C’mon….Ah know of a place.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Micah laced his fingers behind his head as he stared up at the stars. Normally he wouldn’t lay down on the hood of his vehicle like he was as it wasn’t exactly comfortable. But he was hoping that it would make him seem more casual to the man beside him and thus put Connor at ease.
He wasn’t entirely sure it was working, but the young man had seated himself on the edge near Micah. He really didn’t want to push, but it was so tempting…just a little nudge in the right direction. But he withheld it and hoped that Connor would open up on his own.
“You said ya might have a job for me?” Connor suddenly asked.
“More then might my friend.” Micah responded. “Simply inform me of what you would like to do and we will go from there.”
Connor fell silent again, and Micah found himself counting the boy’s heartbeats. It was such an enchanting sound…..
“Ah don’t know what Ah wanna do.” Connor whispered softly. “Ah jus’….Ah dunno…”
“Well…would you like to use the skills you already possess? Or build new ones?” Micah put forth, though he wasn’t entirely sure that he had been supposed to hear Connor’s declaration.
“Skills Ah have…” Connor scoffed. “Ah can drive a truck an’ turn wrenches.”
Micah thought on it, and he could think of dozens of things the boy could do, but that didn’t mean that Connor would want to do them. Personally he thought with a little touch up work he could easily put the younger man into art.
But he wanted to free the young man, not trap him once again. So he kept silent.
“Gotta have a plan…” Connor whispered. “A house, steady job…car….ugh…gawd damn it….or Ah’ll jus’….argh….”
The hopelessness in Connor’s voice bothered Micah, and he knew what could make that sound. If they were closer Micah would tell the boy that he could count on him for aid. But it seemed like it would be too much too fast if he were to a say it now, and only have the opposite effect.
Connor scooted back, seeking support for a back that was obviously starting to ache.
“What has happened my friend?” Micah asked. “Your voice tastes of despair and heartache. What has put these things into you?”
Connor took a deep breath and shuddered slightly. Micah didn’t push…but now he could hear…little snippets fluttered through his mind. Too scattered and chaotic for him to truly understand, but enough for him to get a slight picture.
And his Mother…Connor missed his Mother terribly. She always knew what to say and what to do…as all Mothers did.
“It was your family wasn’t it?” Micah asked tentatively, not wanting to tip his hand.
Connor nodded slowly and began to speak. As he spoke Micah’s heart went out to him as he told his tale. It was all too familiar to Micah, the tyrannical Father, bullying brothers, and the hopelessness of being trapped, surrounded by those who didn’t care for you.
He knew all too well what it was like to be view like that, not as a person, but as a tool to be used and discarded. He knew what it was like to dream of something more and yet the chains were simply too tight.
It brought tears to his eyes, which he did his best to hide so as not to gain Connor’s attention. Much had changed in men since his day…and not for the better in his opinion.
Connor had turned as he spoke, slowly getting closer to facing Micah…and the vampire completely forgot himself once Connor’s helpless eyes met his own.
With one simple movement he was in Connor’s lap, and embraced the younger man gently. Connor stiffened in Micah’s embrace as the vampire whispered soothingly to him.
“Ah don’t know what yer sayin’…or why yer sittin’ on me.” Connor squeaked. Micah blinked, realizing that he had lapsed out of English.
“I am simply offering comfort.” Micah stated.
“But yer a man…” Connor whispered, sounding a little dizzy. That struck Micah as odd, but it was overpowered by annoyance and exasperation. He released Connor, and leaned back to look into his eyes.
“So? What of it?” He asked, and then sighed heavily in disgust. “What happened to this world? I remember when men could show affection, show an honest love for one another and no one said a word against it.”
“Yea but-”
“-No buts!” Micah interrupted, pointing his finger at Connor’s nose. “Men could love one another, could declare it publicly. It was not sexual, we could be companions, and build true friendships. We could express ourselves with more then belches and punches to the arm.”
It never ceased to infuriate Micah, how far the world had fallen. How beauty and honesty between men had been cast away.
“What happened to us?” Micah wondered aloud. “How were we subverted as we have been? Our beauty and virtue discarded for ugliness and vulgarity.”
“Um…” Connor grunted.
“None of you know what it means to be a true man.” Micah declared, touching Connor’s face gently. “In this time, in this place…what does it even mean? To be loud and coarse, to hide your feelings from those truly close to you, to kill as many innocent creatures as you can regardless of whether you need the meat, to drink a lot of beer and bang as many bitches and hoes as you can. It is a joke….”
Micah was getting even more worked up with each word, his vaunted control forgotten as he lowered himself to using the terms and language of the here and now.
“You can not all be blamed of course….you were taught this, you know no better.” Micah lamented. “But not only has what we are been degraded, we have been denied any true relationship, any true friendship amongst each other. You dare not talk to one another…noooo….certainly can not have that. Dare not do any more then brush up against each other for fear that you will instantly grow a vagina or some such nonsense. For instance….when you meet an old friend after a period of years apart you grunt at one another and maybe, maybe a slap on the back.”
Micah felt something nudging at him and he pushed it away, which very easy to do oddly enough. Connor seemed to swoon against him, and shook his head dizzily.
“Do you know how to greet a true friend after years apart?” Micah asked before he took Connor by the head and laid a brief, gentle kiss upon his lips. “Hello my friend!” He hugged Connor firmly. “It is so wondrous to see you again!”
He hadn’t lingered, with his lips at least, but he was suddenly all too aware of Connor, and couldn’t seem to pull back completely.
Connor was so warm between his thighs, and Micah could hear the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat as clear as a bell. What was more his own heartbeat shifted to match Connor’s perfectly.
But the scent….oh the sweet, delectable scent of Connor’s blood was so much more pronounced then it had been…then it should be.
He could smell it here, like a hot, thick candy, waiting just under the skin.
Micah’s lips parted slowly, his fangs wet and glistening with saliva. All he could hear was Connor’s heartbeat now, thundering in his ears with each passing second.
Hypnotic….
Enticing….
Thump- Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump
Connor’s flesh felt almost burning hot against his lips. Was it really that hot? Or was he somehow cold?
“Micah?” Connor whispered dreamily.
Had his name ever sounded so good before?
Micah shivered…and sank his fangs into Connor’s neck.
The boy under him cried out and his fingers dug into Micah’s back. The vampire groaned low in his throat as Connor’s vein opened to him, and cooed in delight as the first drop touched his tongue.
His stomach was full, his own veins and heart filled. This was not food, no…Connor was no meal. This was a delicacy, something he could sample with child-like delight…or adult passion.
And it was so good.
Had it ever been so sweet and rich? Not even his first could match this.
Connor panted and gasped and squirmed lightly under Micah, and he smiled inside when he felt Connor release heavily. He knew good and well what the effects of his kiss were, and was pleased that Connor could enjoy it.
It was so easy to sift through Connor’s mind now, and there was so much there, so much that only strengthened his resolve to save the boy, to help him.
Help…yes…he wanted to help.
“And this is helping?” His conscience rang out.
Micah’s eyes popped open in shock. What was he going?!
Micah withdrew his fangs, and pressed his tongue to the wound, keeping it sealed as the special properties of his saliva worked on knitting the two small wounds close.
It didn’t take very long and soon Micah pulled away. He winced slightly when he saw the bruise on Connor’s neck.
Why had he done that?
Connor remained passive and pliable, his gorgeous eyes glazed over, completely under the thrall of Micah’s kiss. The vampire cursed in nearly every language he knew before he was able to get his apparently addled brain working again.
This wasn’t like before, Connor was not intoxicated…so Micah would not be able to impress upon him that he had simply passed out this time. Though he had passed out last time.
Micah chewed on his knuckle, feeling like a fledgling all over again. This was more then simply tipping his hand, he had basically thrown his cards directly in Connor’s face. Granted the younger man’s mind was wide open to him now, but it still wouldn’t be easy to plan some kind of cover story within it.
It was always best to stick with things that were simple and logical. No matter what the power of the manipulator, the human mind would always struggle to make sense of what had happened, to remember the events. Entrancing eyes were often recalled as glowing lights and so on.
It was best to try and make it believe something that could happen, something that the victim felt made sense, regardless of how odd it was. But it would not be easy to make it so Connor did not believe that Micah had done something, and as much as it pained him he was going to have to force the lie upon the boy.
It only took a light push to slip past the veil of Connor’s mid and Micah began to gently sift around, looking for something, anything that he could use. Connor was tired, exhausted really.
That poked at Micah, the level the boy’s physical fatigue. He hadn’t been sleeping well, or all that much when he was able to sleep. His siblings seemed to delight in shocking him awake, and once awake his Father was shoving him under the grindstone.
Still….perhaps that would work.
Carefully leading Connor into the passengers seat Micah closed the door behind him. Turning, Micah jumped right over the front of his car and quickly entered it. Starting up the engine and popping it into gear he sped back to the road.
The sooner this was done the better.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Micah rolled his head around under the hot water from the showerhead. Connor was secure in his bed, and was sleeping peacefully. Hopefully waking up in Micah’s hotel room would not be too much of a shock. But it would be better then him realizing Micah’s true nature.
Or would it?
Because…as embarrassed as he was to think about it, yet again Micah had brought Connor one stop closer to joining him.
He couldn’t believe it, just could not believe what he had done without even thinking about doing it. What had happened to his control and mastery of his gifts? He hadn’t had a slip up in thousands of years….so why was it that everything when right out the window the moment he touched his white ranger?
Wait…his?
Micah shook his head fiercely. This was not good…he was becoming far too attached far too quickly. But why? He tried to pinpoint the exact moment where he had lost control…but he couldn’t.
Everything had seemed so…natural…so right. It had been when physical contact had been made, he was sure of that, but even before that he had started to be affect by the boy.
That was what it was really, almost as if Connor could push Micah’s mind as he could his. The first time it had been when he had tasted Connor’s blood, this time it had started before that.
Connor’s blood spoke to Micah, called to him. It was so…wonderful…yet bizarre. He had never felt it before, not once in all his years of life.
Connor could survive the change, he could thrive under it. Micah was more then certain of that now. But it was wrong, he could not force it upon the boy. He didn’t even know if it would be something that Connor would warn.
Even if he could be one of them, that didn’t mean he would accept it. Micah had not been asked, or even told what was coming. He did not want to do the same thing to another, not if he had the choice.
But did he?
Twice now he had pushed things forward without a thought, and now the pull for Connor would be even stronger. It was only natural to finish what had been started, and the idea of having a childe….a companion after so long….
No…he had to create some distance, and get a tighter rein upon himself. But what had caused everything in the first place?
Was it simply a happy chance? That a simple feeding could somehow turn into all of this? He had never heard of it before, an uncontrollable urge being forged just because a potential was found.
He didn’t think it was vampiric instinct either. Blood and self-preservation had been the only two new additions to his self Micah had received when his sire had taken him.
At least…the only two he had felt and understood.
Micah didn’t like that thought…didn’t like that after all this time, after dozens of centuries that there could STILL be secrets hiding within his blood.
Or was it just him somehow?
Was he truly longing for a companion to this degree? Was the need to have someone to share life with so great that he was unconsciously reaching out?
As the hot water of the shower cascaded down his body Micah didn’t have an answer. But he knew he had to be careful. He had to be sure.
Micah closed his eyes and shivered. Even with his veins full he could still feel Connor’s blood apart from the rest.
He had to be sure….even if he did not really have a choice.
To be continued.