Masters of Midnight

Harris Finch opened the door to the cell as Ben sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Somehow, despite the horror of the night before, he’d fallen asleep. Now it was daytime, and the shadows of the cell had been replaced by the clear light of a summer morning. Ben got up, stretched, and walked out of the cell, Finch standing aside to let him pass. He followed Ben to the end of the hall and through the station. At the front door, he stopped.

Ben nodded, not saying anything. Then he went to his car, started it, and drove with great relief out of the parking lot. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and the cell in which he’d spent the night. The memory of Blackwood’s kiss still lingered in his memory, the putrid smell threatening to envelop him at any moment.

Had it all really happened? He wanted to believe that it hadn’t, that he’d dreamed up the creature that had visited him in the jail. But he knew that it had been all too real, that he’d come face-to-face with something that shouldn’t be possible, something that had been birthed in the darkest recesses of the world. A vampire. The word still made him cringe, conjuring up images of the goth kids who had roamed his New York neighborhood, their eyes heavily made up, their faces pale as snow. He and Trey had laughed at their earnestness, imagining them sitting in dreary clubs listening to the drone of electronica music while they longed to be more interesting than they really were. Pretenders they were, children playing at dress-up, creating new identities out of fishnet and velvet.

But they had no idea how mistaken they were. The vampire he’d faced the night before had been nothing like them. Blackwood may have spoken with a human voice, but he was anything but human. He had been once, Ben knew, but now he was nothing but a shell, a crumbling cocoon of skin and bone filled with unnameable evil that animated his limbs. He promised life, but he lied.

Was Titus like him? Ben wondered. Beneath his skin, was he nothing but blackness and rot and pain? Or had he really somehow escaped Blackwood’s fate, fighting the decay of his mind and soul? Ben remembered how it had felt in Titus’s arms, how he’d longed to stay in them forever. Had that been a trick of the mind, like Blackwood’s transformation into Trey? Had it been nothing more than his imagination?

He didn’t believe it. Despite his recent doubts about Titus, he wanted to believe that he’d been wrong. It gave him some small hope that everything would turn out all right, that somehow what was happening to him could be stopped.

He needed to go to him, he knew that. It was the only way. But would Titus turn him away? Knowing that Ben had betrayed him, would he now turn his back in turn? There was only one way for him to find out.

He drove quickly through town, not wanting to stop or be seen in case word of his suspected involvement in the killings had gotten out. But the streets were empty, even in the bright light of day. They’re frightened, he thought as he passed by the houses with closed windows and doors. They’re afraid it’s happening again.

Turning onto the dirt road, he sped past Drowned Girl Pond, averting his eyes from its dark gaze. A minute later he pulled into the driveway of Titus’s house. He turned off the engine and sat, looking at the windows. Was Titus watching him from behind them? He resisted the urge to turn the car around, opening the door and stepping out before he could change his mind.

As he approached the house, the door opened and Titus stepped out onto the porch. Ben stopped, waiting for him to say something. Titus watched him, not speaking.

He turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open. Ben followed, entering the coolness of the house as if entering a sanctuary. Already he felt safer, as if Blackwood could not touch him as long as he was in the house with Titus. He shut the door behind him with relief.

They went upstairs to Titus’s bedroom. Titus left Ben there for a moment while he went into the bathroom. He returned with a white metal basin and several towels, all of which he set on the floor.

Standing, he slowly unbuttoned Ben’s shirt, slipping it from his shoulders and dropping it on the floor. Then he undid his belt and the buttons of his pants, sliding them down. Ben stepped out of his shoes and allowed Titus to remove the rest.

When Ben was naked, Titus knelt and placed a cake of soap in the basin of water. He worked it into a lather, releasing the scent of lavender into the air. Then he dipped a cloth into the water and wrung it out.

Without speaking, he stood and began to wash Ben, beginning with his neck and shoulders. His strong fingers worked the soapy water into Ben’s skin, kneading firmly as he moved over Ben’s back. Then he refreshed the cloth and started washing Ben’s chest. The water turned the hair on Ben’s body into wet whorls as Titus scrubbed away the odor of decay, replacing it with the soothing scent of lavender. Ben felt himself relaxing as he was cleaned, the feelings of anxiety turning into ones of peace. He lifted his arms, and Titus washed beneath them. The soap trickled down Ben’s sides, and Titus followed it with his hands, running them over Ben’s body as he chased the water with the cloth.

He continued down, washing Ben’s legs and feet. Then Ben felt the warm cloth pressed into the crack of his ass. Titus’s fingers worked their way in, parting Ben’s cheeks and teasing his hole for a moment before retreating. A moment later, his cock and balls were surrounded by warmth as Titus cupped them in his hand and washed them too.

Ben felt himself becoming hard as Titus washed his dick, the soapy water sliding easily over the length of his rapidly-growing shaft. Then the cloth was gone, replaced by the softness of Titus’s mouth. Ben groaned as Titus took him in. His hands moved to Titus’s head, guiding him.

Titus’s fingers pulled at Ben’s balls as he sucked, his tongue teasing the head of Ben’s cock. Ben thrust against him, sliding deep into Titus’s throat for a moment before pulling out. He fucked Titus’s mouth slowly, savoring the long, warm pull that surrounded him each time he moved in and out.

Ben was close, but before the first small quakes of release could grow stronger and carry him over the edge, Titus stood up. Turning Ben around, he pushed him over the foot of the bed, so that Ben landed on his stomach. Behind him, he heard the sounds of Titus removing his clothes. Then Titus was between his legs, urging him forward.

Ben got on his knees, turning to see Titus climbing onto the bed behind him. Titus’s hands gripped the mounds of his ass, spreading them, and then Ben felt a drizzle of warmth as Titus spit. A single finger plunged into Ben’s hole, working it open. Ben shut his eyes, readying himself for what he knew would come next, and when Titus entered him in one fierce thrust, he let out a small cry of pain that quickly turned to a whimper of joy.

Titus fucked him hard, his thick tool repeatedly pounding Ben’s ass. Ben could feel his own cock slapping against his stomach with each thrust. He reached between his legs, grasping himself and matching the rhythm of Titus’s movements. Each time Titus entered him, Ben pushed down on his balls, driving Titus as deep as possible inside him.

Soon, Titus began to moan, and Ben felt the dick inside him thicken. A moment later his ass was filled with a burst of heat. He closed his eyes as his own climax ripped through him, covering his hand with thick blasts of cum. He continued to jack off as Titus came again, still fucking him. He could feel Titus trembling as his muscles were seized with the force of the explosion. Then Titus fell forward, pushing himself even deeper into Ben as they both collapsed on the bed.

They lay like that for some time, Ben relishing the feeling of Titus’s body pressed against his, Titus’s mouth gently kissing his neck. Then they turned on their sides. Titus slipped an arm around Ben, holding him close. And Ben, suddenly more tired than he’d been in a long time, surrendered to the warmth of the sun coming through the window, the softness of the bed, and the strength of Titus’s embrace.

When he awoke again, it was night and he was alone. He reached for Titus, but the place where he’d been was empty. He noticed, too, that the air was filled with the smell of burning wood. Shadows danced wildly on the walls around him.

He sat up, suddenly very much awake. Looking toward the window, he saw Titus standing there. He was staring out into the yard. His face was illuminated by an ugly glow.

Ben got up and joined him at the window. In the yard, the hives were ablaze. Each one burned like a small pyre, the flames leaping up gleefully as they consumed the wooden boxes. Thick smoke swirled up to the sky, the tendrils from each fire joining together to form a black cloud that blotted out the stars.

And in the midst of the inferno, Blackwood danced. His twisted figure whirled in the haze of ash and fire, celebrating his triumph. Ben and Titus watched him as he performed his fantastic ballet, his body moving to the music of destruction.