The Curio

The Curio A Torquere Press Single Shot by Willa Okati

I'm watching you. You don't see me, but here I am, or what remains of me. I have had an eternity to repent of my sins, or so it would seem. Many's the long night I have regretted my betrayal of Dominic, who sinned in no way but loving me, not wisely, but too well. For this, I received my punishment, as so many men have before me, and here I lie trapped. But I feel something stirring in the air. Someone calls to me from beyond my prison, and I sense that soon I may once again be… Free.

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The letter he'd received earlier, sent by special courier to his office, crinkled in Brett's pocket as he stood on the curb outside the law firm where he worked, trying to hail a taxi. He bounced slightly up and down in sneakers so new they were still stiff, and pristine white except for a couple of smudges here and there. He'd gotten the smudges in the pursuit of duties like shopping in a dirt lot for a Christmas tree and squelching his way through the Farmer's Market in search of mistletoe. After the fight he and Jarrod had, he'd thought buying mistletoe to kiss under on Christmas was a fool's errand. Now, he wasn't so sure. He had some hope again. All because of the letter. He wanted to take the piece of paper out and read it again, but that'd take his focus off finding a ride. Of all the days not to drive in to work… "Come on! Hey, taxi -- taxi!" Brett half wondered if it would work to whistle for one like a dog, the way he'd seen people do in movies. But who could hear a whistle over the rushing roar of traffic barreling past him? "Come on, somebody, please. Would you stop already?" One yellow car drew close to the curb. Brett made a beeline for the cab, waving his arms. "Hey, you! Are you free?" The driver rolled down his window. "Say what now?" Brett fought down his frustration -- unseasonable and inappropriate, all things considered. "Are you open to take a fare?" he asked more politely. "I don't have the sign on top of my cab for the sake of my health," the driver grumped. "Yeah, get in. Where you wanna go?" Yes! Brett got into the rear of the cab, the soft-worn fabric of his jeans skidding along the slick vinyl of the seats. "I'm heading for the First Central Bank downtown. Do you know the place?" "Yeah, I been there a few times. It ain't that far, though. You coulda walked in half an hour. Although in this weather, you'd be pretty damn crazy to try." The cabbie chuckled. "With this service we get paid by the minute, not the mile, you know. And with this kinda traffic it could take an hour just to go a few blocks." "That's fine. Do whatever you have to do. I've just got to get to where I'm headed." "What's your rush? Got a hot date waiting at a Christmas party?" Brett grinned. "Something like that." If Jarrod had forgiven him… "If you ask me, holiday reunions are for the birds." The cabbie snorted. "People get all mushy over a day on the calendar. You ask me, it ain't worth the hurry like you're headed

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to a fire. But hey, your dime. Or your buck. Let's go." He shifted gears and angled his way into traffic. You deserve to be treated with more gentility. I can sense this much already. Have no fear. Should I indeed break free, I will be very… kind… to you, indeed. Once the cab was on its way, Brett shifted in his seat, feeling the letter in his pocket. His skin had warmed the paper until it felt almost alive, like a lover's hand. "You're right," he offered in a last effort to be friendly. Brett didn't like being on bad terms with anyone. "Thanks for stopping. It's way too cold out there to walk." "I ain't doin' it for free. But what the hell, right? 'Tis the season and all that shit." The driver kicked on the heat. "Buckle your seatbelt back there, will you? I don't wanna get pulled over." Damn! He'd forgotten. "Absolutely." Brett grasped the belt and slid the buckle into its clasp. He put one hand over his pocket, keeping the letter safe, and sat back to watch the scenery move past. The cabbie fell silent save for the occasional curse and blat of his horn as someone went too slowly or too quickly, and Brett could savor the memory of the words on the page he carried close to his body. He could still see the writing as if he were reading it right there, right then: Brett, Long time no talk, huh? Three whole days. You know, I've been thinking about some things, and maybe it doesn't have to be over between us. Not like I said when I walked out. Brett chuckled, remembering how his first reaction had been huh? He'd been completely surprised, figuring that Jarrod would still be in a huff. To get a note from a man he would have sworn was out of his life for good was a Christmas miracle and no mistake. Just three days earlier, Jarrod had stomped out of Brett's apartment while yelling that the two of them could never work. Brett closed his eyes in remembrance. God… Jarrod. Jarrod, with his disheveled mop of strawberry blond hair and blue, blue eyes, with the strong, solid body that felt so good wrapped around a man when they were making out, making love, or just lying in bed together. The man who Brett would have sworn was "the one". He opened his eyes and sighed. So he was a hopeless romantic, but he couldn't help praying this was for real. Getting back together and not spending Christmas alone was the only gift he wanted.

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I don't want to spend the holidays alone. We had so many plans, remember? The tree, how we were gonna shop and cook a real dinner, maybe even light a fire in your hearth and make love by the light of the flames. I miss thinking about what we'd had in mind, and looking forward to the fun. I miss you. It was easy to remember the words on the pages as he'd scanned the lines, even if they'd been jaggedly scrawled in black ink -- Jarrod had always had handwriting like a serial killer. Brett had been too amazed at what he'd found written down to forget a single word. Not to mention that most of the letter had turned him on. He'd gotten hard enough for it to be noticeable, forcing him to hide behind his desk until his erection went down. But then again, that was Jarrod's way, wasn't it? The man had always had the power to raise Brett's cock with one dirty word whispered in his ear, and the letter had been rife with ammunition designed to get him hard as a rock. Jarrod's sense of humor, no doubt. They disagreed from time to time on what was naughty and what was nice, but Brett thought he had a good handle on the man this time around. No one could write these things and not be sincere. It's more than just missing you, Brett, even though I do. Your easygoing nature, just accepting me for who I am, how you like to sing when you cook, and the way you always smell like those oranges with cloves stuck in them. I want to touch you again. Run my hands through that thick brown mane of yours. I can't stop thinking about you, Brett. Mostly, I'm thinking about you taking me to bed again. I love your cock -- God, it's so amazing -- with its big veins that just beg to be licked, and the way your foreskin draws back when you're excited. Fuck, that's hot. You're hot. I can almost taste you in my mouth right now. You know how much I love to suck your cock, and sometimes I'd swear your flavor is still on my tongue. I want the tang to be there. Brett, I do want to taste you one more time. At least one more time. I think there's a chance for us to be together again. Riding in the cab, recalling Jarrod's letter word for word, Brett's heart started beating rapidly in his chest. He wasn't used to old flames coming by to rekindle a spark, and this was a bolt out of the clear blue sky. What had prompted this change from the angry, redfaced man who'd yelled at him to a contrite lover begging to be let back in, he couldn't have said.

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But God, was he ever grateful. Brett ran a finger under the collar of his loose blue sweater, fashionably ragged at the sleeves, neck, and hem. He still couldn't get over the rolling waves of happiness at hearing from Jarrod. And he couldn't quite help getting harder with every word that came back to his mind's eye, just as if he were reading them then and there. His lips parted slightly as he remembered another section: I want to be on my knees in front of you, Brett. Need to feel you hot and salty on my tongue, so heavy and thick that you fill my mouth. Just imagine it. I can't take all of you in, so I'll have to use my hands, but you like that, don't you? I remember how you loved it when I rolled your balls in my palm, just rough enough to make you groan. God, I can't stop thinking about the sounds you make when we're fucking. You're like an animal, baby. And then when you're about to blow, the way you pull me off because you want inside this ass so bad you can taste it. Sometimes you do, flipping me over onto my stomach and using that tongue of yours for something else besides reading depositions. I'm getting stiff just writing this, thinking about your mouth on my ass. No one's better at rimming. The way you'd stiffen your tongue and poke it inside, just like a little cock, driving me out of my mind… and oh, God, when you'd push inside. You were always so careful you wouldn't hurt me, but you know I'm shameless when it comes to cock, whether I'm taking it up the ass or chowing down. I miss your cock. Miss you more. I need you, Brett. Say you'll forgive me for getting into a nasty temper? I'll know if you forgive me or not if you show up tonight. Come to the office party at Data Entry Express at seven p.m. I'll be waiting for you where you can find me, easy. I'll be carrying a red handkerchief in my pocket, the one you gave me last Valentine's. I didn't appreciate the gesture then, but I do now. I'm gonna use this tonight to show you how much I care. If you can, send me back a note to let me know if you'll be there. If you can't show, I'll come to you. But I hope you do show at the party. Even though I know you have to keep long hours, please don't make me wait. I ache for you, Brett. I want you to show up, take me home, and shove me up against a wall. Kiss me blind and stupid. Then, when we're back in the place we once shared -- where I still belong -- I burn to have you screw my brains out.

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You up to it, lover? Let's make this work. You and me, together again. What do you say? Brett closed his eyes to the stream of traffic flowing past his window, ignoring the fact that it was at a near-standstill, remembering Jarrod. God, he was so in love with the man. The kind of love he'd hoped would last forever. Sure, they'd had their problems. For example, Jarrod hated the long hours Brett kept, since he liked going to parties and enjoyed a good meal out instead of a sandwich snatched before falling into bed. But they'd usually fallen in the bed together, so Brett hadn't thought it was that big a deal… Such things are never an issue until viewed in hindsight. You must have a pure heart, not to have learned this lesson thus far. I find I crave contact with you, who have remained innocent enough to trust. You must simply accept that I act for your own good, though if truth must be told I am not certain how this will work. I feel sure, though, that you are the one who will break my chains… Brett frowned, remembering other things Jarrod had brought up in their "final" argument. The man was a strict vegetarian. No meat products allowed in the house. Brett had gone along with Jarrod, figuring he'd be healthier, even though there had been times he would have killed for a hamburger. But hey, they'd compromised enough to have eggs and dairy allowed on the shopping list. Brett had still enjoyed his morning omelets with warm, melted cheese, even if they were filled with peppers and onions and tomatoes instead of ham chunks or crispy strips of bacon. Everything that had come up was small potatoes in the end. After all, didn't every couple have issues to work out? And what they'd fought about was just trivia in the long run. To find that Jarrod was upset enough to break up with him had been a huge shock, especially the way he'd left, just bolting off into the night in his battered old sports car that he treated like a baby. Brett could still hear those tires screech. Brett didn't like the thought of going to a Data Entry party. He'd been to a couple of get togethers of theirs, and he'd felt like a guppy in a piranha tank. Definitely a tough crowd. Really tight-knit when it came to keeping intruders out. He'd thought Jarrod understood where he was coming from. Sympathized, even. But if it meant getting Jarrod back, hell, he'd plunge in to the party, come hell or high water.

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Ah, so you still burn for the one who has betrayed you. It was much the same with me and my Dominic, whose yearning for me set about this disastrous chain of events. I swear that if I do have the chance, I will prove myself a worthier love. All you have to do is realize the truth, and find me… Looking up, Brett realized that the cab had almost crawled to a stop. He checked his watch and groaned. The party had already started, and Jarrod might be wondering where he was. "What's the hold up?" he asked, amiable enough even though he'd forgotten that the better part of valor with cab drivers was to keep your mouth shut and let them drive. "Is there an accident blocking the road? We're nearly there." The cabbie turned around to give Brett a dark look. "I'm doin' the best I can," he said as the meter ticked over another dollar. "You see all this around us? Logjam. Everyone out to do their last-minute shopping. Buying all those toys for the good girls and boys. Bah." He looked like he was going to spit. "I got two of my own, and they're not getting the latest craze, I'll tell you that much." "Merry Christmas," Brett said dryly, settling back in the vinyl seat. He was trying to be patient, but couldn't stop his foot from tapping the floor in impatience. He had to see Jarrod again and hold him, to know for sure that everything was going to be all right. "And Happy fuckin' Holidays to you, too." The driver turned back around to hammer on his horn. "Come on, move!" The traffic crawled forward a bare few inches. Brett stifled a groan. God, he just hoped he got there before Jarrod gave up on him. So now I know what time of year this is. I find it ironic that I may be given my second chance during the season of good tidings to all people. Brett, do you think I may I still count as a person in the eyes of the good and gentle? Has my long imprisonment been enough to atone for my sins? We will see… Finally, they pulled up to the curb of the bank building that held Jarrod's company on the second floor. Brett searched his wallet and pulled out two twenties, a little more than his fare but all he had on him. "It's not much," he apologized, "but keep the change." "Wow, a whole two bucks, just for me. How can I ever thank you?" The cabbie regarded Brett's forty dollars with a look of disdain. "You got nothin' else for my time and trouble?"

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Insolent swine. I know not how or why I have been permitted to observe you, Brett, but I know you well enough by now to burn with a most righteous indignation on your behalf. Come to me soon. In my arms, you will be treated as the prince you are… Brett lifted his shoulders helplessly as he reached for the door handle. "I don't carry much cash." He tended to rely on plastic for most things. The two twenties were all he'd had in his wallet, and it had been a close thing getting to Jarrod's workplace under budget. Jarrod had always laughed at him for being a "big-shot lawyer" and not carrying around a bulging wallet, but in Brett's opinion that was just asking to be robbed. He'd rather be safe and save up to keep his money for spending on the good things in life. Things he and Jarrod could have shared, when he had the time. Like this time of the year. A pile of Christmas gifts, each one labeled "Jarrod", lay underneath the tree Brett had decorated himself. He hadn't been sure what to do with them, but he could give them to their proper recipient now. And it hadn't mattered when Jarrod had made fun of him. He'd always finished up his little jabs by twining himself around Brett, sweet as sugar, and telling him it didn't matter. Jarrod could be a prince when the right mood was on him. Yes, but my Brett, when it was not? Brett stepped out of the taxi. "Merry Christmas," he said again, this time meaning the words. He got no answer as the cab pulled away with a screech. Watching it go, Brett shook his head in wonder. Some people just had absolutely no holiday spirit. They never do, Brett. It is one of the things I have learned. There is no cause too small for celebration, and when there are festivities, one should observe them with all the energy they possess. When I am with you, I will show you. Come to me soon… Still, no point in standing there lost to his thoughts when there was a party to get to. Brett brushed his hands down the blue sweater, one he'd kept stashed at his office along with the jeans he wore. Jarrod had loved that particular sweater on him. He'd been lucky that it was among his few changes of clothes that he kept as emergency backups -- in case of coffee stains or worse. Things could happen, even in a quiet law firm. All dressed up, or rather dressed down, his dark brown hair riffled up in an attempt at sexy bed-hair, he'd gotten a few whistles from interns and secretaries as he rushed his

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way out, and a few gibes about who might be rating the special treatment. Still, who cared? If it made Jarrod happy, he'd wear a barrel around his bare ass and a traffic cone on his head. Brett steadied himself, still wanting to bounce on his sneakers. Time to get inside. To Jarrod. Eager, Brett loped up the few stairs to the building and pulled open one of the glass doors. It came open with a hiss of hermetically sealed air, a blast of heat hitting him in the face. The feeling was welcome after the bitter chill of downtown in winter, especially as he'd forgotten coat and gloves. He headed for the elevator and pressed the "up" button. The stairs might have been quicker for getting to the second floor, where he remembered there being an employee lounge. Brett wasn't sure, but he guessed the Data Entry staff would be holding their celebrations there. As he waited, a hand descended on his shoulder, cold despite the heat, searing through the sweater to his skin. "Brett, isn't it? How are you? It's been too long." Brett's skin prickled as he recognized the voice and the grabby fingers. "Nate," he said without turning around. "I'm okay. How about yourself?" Ah. I begin to see how things will unfold now. If I still had my pistols, I would challenge this cur to a duel for insulting you. I sense, though, that you have spirit enough to battle with his small and insignificant kind. You will simply have to learn to trust in my good right arm, once you know me… "Me, I'm great." Nate came around to Brett's side, insinuating himself closer than a limpet. Brett ground his teeth together. Nate had never been Brett's biggest fan, and when he got cozy, a wise man looked to both his balls and his wallet. Sneaky little bastard, always out to cause trouble. Brett didn't trust Nate any further than he could throw the man's skinny, flat ass. "Long time no see," Nate went on in jovial tones. "From what I hear, you and Jarrod broke up, right? Too bad. I know how deep into him you were. He's a catch. Better scoop him back up before he moves along." "There something you wanted, Nate?" Brett asked levelly, refusing to look the man in the eyes. That'd be giving him too much ammunition. Nate loved it when people hated him. Gave him more fuel for the nasty fires he liked to set a match to. "Me? Nah, nothing at all." The elevator dinged, signaling the arrival of their ride. Nate hefted a bag of ice in his free hand. "We were running low, so I went to get some extra. You mind if I ride up with you?"

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"Don’t mind a bit," Brett lied. "Good deal. Hey, I get to push the buttons." Nate dodged in front of Brett's hand to press "2". Brett bit back a sigh of impatience. He never had understood why Jarrod was content to stay put in a dead-end job without the slightest desire to make something more out of himself. He had the brains to go back to the school he'd dropped out of, get a degree, and become something like a paralegal. Brett knew of half a dozen firms who would have hired someone who knew how to work hard. The ride up was short, ending almost as soon as it had begun. When the doors slid open, the sounds of a wild party spilled in, with blasting rock carols, and three or four dozen voices chattering raucously and laughing way too loud. Man, sounds like someone spiked the punch way early on in the evening. Nate didn't move away from Brett's side. "So, I heard from Jarrod that he was going to try and get back together with you. That's what brings the high-and-mighty lawyer down here to associate with us peons, right?" He laughed, a nasty sound. "Not afraid you'll get infected, are you?" I fairly itch to smite this gnat down with a swat of my hand. But patience… patience… I am not yet free. Once I am, there will be some issues resolved and debts of honor paid back. I know of various ways to coax an apology from the most reluctant. Fear not, Brett. You'll find me soon, ready and willing for you. "Nate, I have nothing to say to you," Brett said flatly. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go find someone." "Suit yourself, man, I've got no problems. But if you want to find Jarrod, check the kitchen at the far end of the lounge. Last I saw, he was headed in there to make something hot to drink." Nate snickered for no reason Brett could figure. "Thanks," Brett managed, still trying to preserve his holiday cheer and glow from the letter. He shook off Nate's hand and started hunting for Jarrod. Brett found the kitchen at the far end of the lounge, as he'd been told, and sighed in relief at having made it through the crowd. He hadn't spotted Jarrod anywhere else, so it stood to reason he'd still be in there. Odd, though -- the door was shut tight.

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Stranger still, the red handkerchief that Brett recognized was tied to the doorknob, hanging there like a "keep out" flag. Ah, but I remember now how it was that I betrayed Dominic. God willing, Brett, you will never know what a torment I once was. I flaunted my indiscretions in his face, destroyed his reputation -- and worse still, broke his heart… For all this and more, I was put into my prison for as many years as need be until I repented of my sins. I have long since regretted what I did, and I believe that you are my way out of jail. You will be my second chance. I am sure of this now. He reached for the handle, somewhat hesitant. "Jarrod?" he called, knocking a couple of times. No answer. Pushing the door open, gratified that it was unlocked, he stood for a second in utter darkness before reaching out to try and find a light switch. "Jarrod? Jarrod, you in here?" Wet, sucking sounds greeted him. Could have been most any noise, he tried to tell himself, but any man with even a little bit of experience could recognize the sounds he was hearing. "Jarrod…" he managed in dismay as he found the light. "Please tell me you're not..." As a bright fluorescent came on overhead, Brett's eyes landed on Jarrod… who was kneeling on the floor, his mouth wide open to take in the massive, fat cock of the burly man leaning on a counter in front of him. The sucking noises continued without a break, Jarrod not even opening his eyes. Brett stood utterly still. The burly man turned to him and grinned, his facial expression strained with the effort not to come from the efforts of Jarrod's talented mouth. "Merry Christmas. You like your gift?" "You bastard," Brett finally found his voice to say. "Jarrod. What kind of game are you playing? I thought… you said…" Jarrod pulled off the strange man's cock with a wet pop. He licked his lips, as if he'd just been licking the best lollipop ever. "I should have known you'd actually show. I had something else planned, but this is even better." He looked at Brett through half-lidded eyes. "This is Tommy, my co-worker. He and I get along just fine. Better than you and I ever did." "So I see." Brett's mouth felt dry. "Why'd you send me the letter, Jarrod? I think I deserve an answer. Leaving me wasn't enough -- you had to humiliate me, too?" "It's the season for giving." Jarrod snickered. "Did you actually think we'd get back together, Brett? I could never be happy with a man like you. You want all the romance

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and the cozy-couple shit that I never was able to stand. Tommy understands how I like to play." He leered. "Dangerous." For a long moment, Brett didn't trust himself to say a word. When he found speech again, his heart was busy shattering into little pieces and his voice cracked a little. "This is too much, Jarrod. You can only push a man so far." "Can't I? I don't know. Maybe I can nudge you just a little further. You fell for this all on your own. What made you think I was on the level? Your native stupidity, or that candyflowers heart you've got?" Jarrod gave a dirty laugh, and turned his attention back to Tommy's glistening cock. "I have things to do, and you don't. Go home, Brett." Jarrod slid his mouth back over Tommy's prick, the wet length slipping in and out as he sucked the man off like a pro. Brett watched for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, feeling himself go as numb and cold at the core as the winter wind that blew on outside. Slowly, he backed away. Flipping the light switch off, he turned around and began to make his way out of the party. I should never have come. God, I've been a fool. He remembered now about the nasty streak running through Jarrod. Funny how as time passed, a guy tended to forget about the day-to-day problems and just remembered the good things, like the sex. Mind-blowing sex. Earth-shattering sex. And love… or so he'd thought. He managed to hold his head high as he walked out of the party and made his way to the elevators. Let Jarrod do what he wanted. Brett figured he would be just fine by himself, the way he'd planned. He shook his head, lying to himself about the hurt he felt deep inside. The hell with his ex-lover. Hell. He didn't mind a Christmas alone. He was tough, and he could take all the evening had dished out for him. Right? Right. Now, now you see how love can be so very blind. You are ready for me, Brett, prepared to take the cuffs off my wrists and break the shell that binds me. Come to me now. I call to you, and you cannot resist the siren song, can you? Come to me… come to me… come… ***

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Brett felt numb as he walked through the big mall close to the heart of downtown. His sneakers dragged along the floor, probably polished to a shine that morning and scuffed down all day by eager shoppers. He'd originally headed in to see if he could find an ATM to get cash for a cab ride home, but once he'd got his money, he didn't quite seem able to leave. He leaned against the machine, drinking a cup of coffee he'd bought from a national chain's kiosk, shaking his head at the modern age. Whoever would have thought that you'd get a strange look ordering a plain black coffee? They seemed to expect you to demand half-caf soy milk with whipped cream and sprinkles. As he sipped his coffee, he realized that he was just distracting himself from thinking about the events of the evening. He kicked himself, literally as well as mentally, bruising his shin and thinking, I should have known. Should at least have suspected something. If Jarrod really wanted to get back together, he'd have been waiting for me back at the condo. As far as I know, he still has his keys… but no, he just wanted to embarrass me. We should never have gotten together in the first place. Brett sighed, lifting one hand to rub at his left eye. Felt dry and scratchy, probably from the heat this mall was running at full blast. And national chain or not, the coffee he was attempting to drink just plain sucked. He'd had enough to warm him up from the inside out, so he tossed the cup into a bin and lifted himself away from the wall. He should go outside and flag down a taxi, or even call for one on a pay phone. But all the same, he still didn't want to leave. Could have been the thought of his empty apartment, redolent with the scent of pine from a Christmas tree decorated in lights no one else would stop to admire. The mistletoe sitting on a counter, already drying out. Could have been he just wanted to savor being in the middle of a crowd, even if he did happen to be alone in the throng of people. Be damned if he'd stand around throwing a pity party for one. He had things to do, and places to be. He drove himself on, always, one of the reasons he'd made junior partner at his age, and he could push a little further to have a merry Christmas. Even if he felt more like saying bah, humbug. Brett set off walking through the crowd of shoppers, both the harried and the desperate, those with smiles and those with scowls, the latter mostly female and carrying big sacks of toys or small bags with designer or jewelry logos on them. The mall began to feel more open and welcoming as he walked past shop after shop, peering inside windows at the red-and-green displays and politely avoiding samples of

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cookies or punch. He'd no appetite, so it was better to let others have his share. He'd grabbed a sandwich at his own office, and he felt like waiting until the morning to start cooking and nibbling at his own huge Christmas dinner. Brett was almost in a good mood by the time he neared the far end of the mall, his thoughts of Jarrod and what he'd done mostly pushed to the back of his mind. He had no doubt there'd be bad dreams for several nights to come, but just then he'd managed to re direct his focus. Casually looking from store to store, he saw bath and beauty products, ornaments, calendars, and… hmm, a new shop, or one he'd never noticed before. The windows were polished to a high gleam, but the inside looked like the kind of store he'd dreamed about ever since reading Charles Dickens. The walls were crowded with old books, and countertops displayed various things that sparkled and glittered. The sign above the door read "Curios". Brett chuckled to himself. He loved a good antique fair, had a blast at flea markets, and adored yard sales. This place looked like a combination of all three, and best of all, it had few customers. He could go inside and look at his leisure. Maybe even find a Christmas present for himself -- which, it occurred to him, he hadn't gotten, having pretty much expected gifts from his lover. Yeah. He deserved something special this year. Yes! Yes. I knew you would seek me out. I put my mark on you the very moment my eyes were opened to see your face, if from a distance, and you come as if I am a homing beacon. Just a little closer, and you will find me… I am waiting for you, Brett. Come and let me love you. Heading into the store, Brett pushed his hands into his pockets and inhaled the air. The mall might do their best with holiday fragrances, but it still smelled of old book leather and mustiness inside the curio shop. Walking inside was like stepping back in time. Granted, they wouldn't have cottoned to his sort back in the day, but he could still appreciate their goods and gear. There didn't seem to be anyone behind the register, so Brett took his time, scanning the bookshelves for anything to catch his eye, then turning to the glass-fronted display cases. Some of what he saw in there was just plain junk, from plastic bangle bracelets to corroded copper fittings strung together in an art deco necklace. But once you got past the trash… oh, yes, there was treasure.

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Down at the end, a display looked to be half-arranged. Brett spied an old wind-up pocket watch, an antique shaving kit, and a worn volume of poems by an author he'd never heard of. Someone's private things, no doubt part of an estate sale. It'd be a fine display when it was done. There was one more thing, though, half-hidden by the poems. Some kind of round glass paperweight. Here I am. Do you see me now? Brett squinted his eyes at the thing, trying to figure out if there was a lock of hair or some kind of trinket hidden inside the glass. He liked paperweights and had even collected them at one point. They littered his house, holding down the mounds of paper he forever seemed to be gathering. A lawyer's work? Never done. Brett gazed at the paperweight, wishing he could hold the thing up to the light and get a better look. There was definitely something inside, but with the way it'd been half-buried he couldn't tell what. It drew him, though, in some deep and mysterious way. He felt charged with the need to lay hands on the smooth glass. To take the thing home with him. Yes… yes… the urge to purchase this curio is strong enough to taste. You must have it. Have me. "Help you with something?" a bored-looking teenager asked, emerging from a curtainedoff area in the back. He was covered in pimples and had a hickey on his neck, an interesting combination. "Anything you like? We've got a sale goin' on right now. Some kind of Christmas crap deal. Half-off whatever's in this case." He tapped the counter some distance away from where Brett stood. "Thank you, but no. I'm interested in this selection here." Brett pointed to indicate what he meant. The teenager loped over with the casual stride of the truly bored, and glanced down. He shook his head. "Uh-uh. None of that's ready for sale yet. My uncle Earl said not to let anything from that cabinet go until he gave the all-clear." Damn. "Is your uncle working tonight?" "Nah. Why do you think I'm here? He's doin' some kind of Christmas dinner with his family. I drew the short straw to get out of the family booze-fest." The teenager shrugged and leaned on the counter. "It's all just a bunch of shit in there. Old stuff, no real value."

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The kid's sales technique definitely needed some work. Brett shook his head and pointed again. "The paperweight," he said, using small words. "I want to buy this. How much?" "Already told you, man, can't let any of that go yet. Earl would have my balls for lunch." Brett let out an exasperated breath and stared down at the curio paperweight. It gleamed in the soft yellow light of the store. Decades old, slightly yellowed, and tempting as all hell. No matter what "Earl" had to say about things, he needed this paperweight. Had to have it. Yes… yes… you are nearly there… He felt in his pocket for his wallet, and pulled out a gold credit card. Waving it under the teenager's nose, making sure he got a good look at the logo, he said, "Double what your asking price is." The kid hesitated, clearly torn between the idea of making a good sale and the wrath of his uncle. No doubt he'd been left with orders to fill a quota of his own as well as other instructions. "I don't know, man…" he said doubtfully. "Earl was real particular about that case." "Yeah, but look how the paperweight is almost buried. You can rearrange the book, and he'll never know it was gone." "It's part of some old collection. He'll know." "Triple the asking price, and I'll throw in a --" Brett felt in his wallet and pulled out a fifty, telling himself he could draw out more for a taxi if he needed to. "How about a little extra for your trouble? Just to help you out at this time of year." Brett saw the teenager's throat work. Fifty dollars might not have been a huge chunk of money, but it went a long way for a kid working on minimum wage. "Earl would kill me, I swear," he said slowly. "He'll never know." Brett wafted the fifty in the air. "I want this paperweight." Why he'd developed such a burning need for the thing, he couldn't have said. But it had to be his. No doubts, no questions. The teenager wavered for another minute, then gave in with a groan and a slump of his shoulders. "Triple in the register and the fifty for me. Okay. I'll deal with Earl. He's gotta respect cash in the till, right?" "Absolutely." Brett resisted the urge to pound the counter in victory. He might have been shafted by Jarrod, but at least he'd won this little encounter.

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The teenager took Brett's paperweight out of the case, carefully rearranging the book of poems over a pair of ancient spectacles, and carried it to the register. "This thing's gonna cost you seventy-five dollars," he warned. "Doesn't make a difference. Just ring me up." Brett was bouncing on his sneakers again. The curio was all but his. After a few chings and a rattle as the drawer slid open, the kid ran Brett's card through the machine. There was a brief pause for confirmation of his credit, and then all that was left to do was sign the receipt and take possession of his goods. I can breathe easily again. I feel a weight has been lifted from my shoulders! When you lay your hands upon me, the time of our coming together will begin. The spell that holds me here as a magical punishment will break. Believe me when I say that I regret any pain that this may cause you. But truly, my Brett, worthy of love, you shall find the short-term distress highly beneficial in the long run. You will be mine, and you will be happy. This I swear. Brett passed over the fifty, which the teenager stuffed hastily in his back pocket. "All yours, man," he said, offering the paperweight. "You want a bag or something?" "Yeah, that'd be nice," Brett said absently, already examining his find. Why it was so expensive, he didn't know. It was of a common enough type, even if it did have some silver filigree around the base, and it'd gone yellow with the passing years. But at least now he could see down in the bottom of it… …and what he saw was the most gorgeous face that he'd ever laid his eyes on. Hello, my new love. Brett stared, riveted by the picture of the young man captured in a photograph probably taken a hundred years ago or more. He had dark hair, probably raven-black, worn long enough to brush his shoulders. Looked a little like a young Oscar Wilde, with all of the insouciance and charm of the Irish playwright. The picture was a little murky underneath the glass, but Brett could almost see a sparkle in the man's eyes. This would have been a man who loved life. Someone who got up to greet each day as if it were a celebration. The kind of person who, if he'd been bent Brett's way, would have loved to wake their lover up with a blow job underneath the comforter and then demand a good hard ride as a reward. He'd savor each crumb of life as a precious gift, a glittering jewel, and milk every drop of pleasure out of it that he could.

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I must say you are quite the delicious man, yourself. I have seen your heart, and now I know that the exterior matches the interior. I would have taken you on in any case, but it is pleasant to see you have a fair shell over your gentle heart… Forgive me, Brett, for what I must do now. "God, I wish I'd known him," Brett said to himself, unable to take his eyes away. "I wonder what his name was…" A swimming sensation passed behind his eyes. He staggered a little, grabbing the counter to keep his balance. Ah, ah, ah. You know who I am. Think hard. A name popped into Brett's mind. "Hunter!" he exclaimed, startling the kid into backing away with his plastic bag. "His name's Hunter." "If you say so, man," the teenager mumbled. "You okay there? Looked like you'd seen a ghost." "Just a little dizzy." Brett pressed a hand to his forehead, willing the room to stop spinning. "I probably didn't have enough for dinner," he explained. And hadn't he forgotten lunch? Yeah, he had. "I'll be fine. Are we done here?" "Your bag." The teenager thrust it at him, clearly thinking Brett was a complete head case. "Thanks for shopping with us, please come back again," he reeled off. "I got another customer. Enjoy your… thing, there." "Oh, I will," Brett said, unable to take his eyes off the picture of the man. "I definitely will." Yes… yes, you will. Brett. My Brett, now. He walked out of the curio shop with the paperweight a solid lump in his pocket instead of dangling in a bag on his wrist, feeling the glass warm to his body temperature and nestle in as if it were a lucky piece. He got to the parking lot and was hailing a taxi before he even remembered that he'd intended to go back to the ATM. All he cared about was getting his curio home. And lucky for him, the taxi service that pulled up took cards for a fare over a certain dollar amount. Brett kept his hand on his pocket all the way home, riding silently in the dark. His taxi driver didn't seem inclined to chatter, and Brett was satisfied with the silence. He and Hunter were getting along just fine together. He didn't think he could remember ever getting a Christmas present he liked so much, even if he'd bought it for himself.

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And now we begin. I can feel your dizziness and confusion, but have patience. I will do you no lasting harm, that I swear. When the taxi deposited Brett at his condominium complex, Brett moved as if on autopilot. Keys were in his hand as he climbed the set of stairs to his unit, the security system was disabled to let him in, and he turned the knob, all without thinking of anything besides the curio in his pocket. Once inside, he re-set the system and tossed his keys and wallet on a side table. He drywashed his face with the hand he wasn't using to cup the curio in his pocket, feeling suddenly as tired as if he'd been running races all day instead of signing legal documents and preparing case notes… going to a party… working his way through a mall… It didn't occur to him to question his weariness. Walking past the Christmas tree without bothering to turn the lights on, he caught a whiff of pine and closed his eyes in pleasure. Made the place smell homey and good, just as if he had someone waiting for him. A wave of the vertigo he'd felt in the curio shop washed over Brett a second time, leaving him rocking in his sneakers. You are tired, yes? So very tired. You should lie down and close your eyes. It is difficult enough to have one's reality altered when they are awake. Better that you fall asleep, at least for a time. After over a hundred years trapped in my gilded cage, I should know. Trust me, my Brett, I bear you no ill will. I hurt you only to save you. Bed, Brett decided. Make it an early night. You can get up early tomorrow. It'll be a good holiday after all. Try and forget about Jarrod. He doesn't know what he's missing out on. Stumbling down a short hallway, Brett detoured into his bedroom without stopping to take a whiz or brush his teeth. His bed looked more inviting than a sauna full of hot bubbles with a champagne banquet laid alongside it. Strange, considering he'd be sleeping alone, but he ached to fall into its embrace and let the rolling waves of weariness pull him into slumber. He barely remembered to take the small curio out of his jeans pocket and place it on the nightstand next to him, not wanting the glass to crack if he rolled over with his weight in the wrong place, or to wake up to a hard lump under his hip. His fingers tingled as if with static electricity when they parted from the glass, which gleamed at him in the faint glow of the streetlights through his bedroom window.

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Another wave of dizziness passed over Brett as he lay down on his bed, not even bothering to get beneath the covers. Sleep… sleep sounded so damn good… Good. Being close to you, I can feel the bars of my cage melting under my touch, as

if they were ice beneath the rays of a summer sun.

I am…

Yes…

I am free.

And now I am with you, Brett.

Welcome me into your life. Although everything is changed now, you will find it

much more to your liking, and justice has been served.

Such a trusting heart. I will find it easy to love you. In fact, I already do.

Thank you for setting me free… and now, I'll start putting you at ease. Fear not, for

I come bringing tidings of great joy…

As Brett turned on his back, a warm hand reached down to grasp his own, a solid body nestling close to him. "Good night," a smooth, deep voice murmured in his ear. Brett felt the tickle of long hair against his skin, and didn't quite manage to conceal his grin. He'd have liked to play, but he was so tired and so dizzy, like he'd gotten into some seriously spiked holiday punch. "Go to sleep," Brett said through the cloudiness of his spinning consciousness. Things were all weird, like the world was turning around and around way too fast on its axis. He had the oddest feeling that if he grabbed onto the bed to hold himself still, he'd end up flung off into space. "Spoil my fun." The hand squeezed Brett's fingers. "It's still so early." "Yeah, but I'm --" Brett yawned -- "I'm beat. Jus' a little nap, 'kay?" He heard a sigh. "You're not even undressed." "Take care of that later." Brett gave a jaw-cracking yawn and rolled toward the center of the bed. "Night, lover," he said, washing through vertigo into a doze. "Hunter…" Hunter nuzzled in beneath his chin. "I might as well sleep, too. Night, Brett. Pleasant dreams."

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Brett barely had time to register a soft chuckle before he was out cold, without a single care to his name. Dead to the world, he slept on without any questions… *** "Brett. Are you in there? Time to wake up. We have a lot to do, and not much time. Come on, I know you can open your eyes if you just give it a try." "Mmmph?" Brett heard a low laugh. "See, I knew I could get you up." Hunter slid his hand beneath the blue sweater and finger-walked his hand up Brett's chest, skin on skin. "But then again, neither one of us ever has a problem getting it up when we're in bed." Brett felt a sharp nip at his earlobe. "Or out of bed. But you know me. I'm easy anywhere when it comes to you." A car drove past, its high beams illuminating the bedroom for a brief moment. Brett opened his eyes, squinting against the unexpected light. What the…? Who was…? He turned his head, puzzled but strangely unafraid, to look at the man lying in bed with him. Hunter, his mind supplied. Lover. Friend. Of course, it's Hunter. Who else would be in my bed? Brett blinked through a wave of dizziness, puzzled at his strange thoughts but appreciating the view. Hunter was a gorgeous sight and no mistake. Brett marveled again at how lucky he'd got when he met Hunter. Where had they met, again? Brett couldn't remember. Sleep fogginess, he told himself. God, I was so wiped out when I hit the sack. No wonder I'm a little confused. "I can almost hear you thinking," Hunter teased. "Anything naughty or nice on your mind? 'Tis the season, you know." "Just thoughts about you." Brett lifted their hands, still joined, to his lips for a kiss. Hunter made a rumbling noise in his throat not unlike a purr and undulated closer to Brett's body, draping himself over Brett like an oversized kitten. Brett lay back and enjoyed. Nothing like a warm, loving body in your bed. No one else on earth like Hunter, either. The man was a match for him and then some. And delicious? The man was and always had been downright edible. He looked especially good just then, propped up on one elbow. His resemblance to a young Oscar Wilde was stronger than ever before, but he was Oscar after a thorough night of debauchery. Thoroughly fucked and ready for round two, three, or four. Brett made a mumbling noise in response and savored the unique smell of his man, pressed so close that he could smell Hunter's favored honeysuckle shampoo and the herbal soap he preferred. Hunter's long dark hair was tousled from resting on the pillow,

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begging for someone to run his fingers through it. Brett obliged, lifting his free hand to touch the soft strands, letting them run through his fingers like water. Yes… yes… how easily you take to me. There will be some residual oddness in your mind as your memories shape to include me, but this is necessary and will pass soon enough. Patience, and perhaps a little fun while we wait to be certain that I will not be caged again -- although I have an idea as to who that curio will trap next. Its proximity to evildoers draws them as would a magnet. But none of this will matter to you, will it? Not when I'm through with you. "Now, that's more like it," Hunter murmured, tracing a circle around one of Brett's nipples. "I didn't want you to sleep the entire Eve away." His deep brown eyes snapped mischievously. "You had other plans for me?" "Don't I always? You know I do." Hunter leaned over to press his lips against the angle of Brett's jaw, flickering his tongue out for a taste. Brett wriggled and laughed at his lover's antics. Hunter did love to play, no two ways about it. If he wasn't working on some kind of game, he just wasn't satisfied. Luckily for Brett, he liked the way Hunter's mind worked. Turning on one side, Brett drank in the sight of his lover. Disheveled and a little rough around the edges from his own sleep, Hunter was still the best-looking man he'd ever seen. Even better now, half naked, wearing only a pair of soft-washed cotton sleep pants and nothing else. "Like what you see?" Hunter grinned, flexing for Brett's benefit. The muscles on his chest and stomach rippled, fluid yet hard enough to slice tomatoes on. "You know I do, you narcissist." Gazing at his lover, Brett had an oddly strong moment of déjà vu. He could have sworn he'd seen Hunter's face somewhere recently. Someplace he hadn't expected to see those cut-glass features. Weird. Do not think about where you have seen my face before. I will brook no flaws in my plan now that I have accomplished so much. Turn your mind to an alternate path… yes, you see, it is easy…

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Maybe an old magazine left in the waiting room of his law office? Hunter had done some modeling in his younger years and he still popped up in the occasional ad done from stock photography. Yeah. That had to be it. Where else would he have… but ah, it didn't matter. "You have no idea how glad I am you're here," Brett said sleepily, moving closer. "I had the strangest dream." "Yeah?" Hunter leaned forward to brush a strand of hair out of Brett's eyes. "What went on inside that head of yours while you were asleep? Was I naked and dancing around a pole?" Brett laughed despite himself and the fading images. "Nah. More like a nightmare, actually. I dreamed I'd been going out with someone else -- no worries, babe, he didn't half measure up to you -- and he dumped me in front of a group of people out to see me humiliated." Ah, perhaps we will laugh sometime at how life imitates art on occasion. "Sounds like a pretty rough dream." Hunter draped himself over Brett's chest, bumping his head up under Brett's chin. "Was this the kind that feels so real you could swear it was really happening?" "Even more so. That wasn't the end, though. I went to a mall and kicked around for a while, thinking about buying the fixings for a Christmas dinner, even though I knew I'd eat alone." "I think it's your stomach talking, there. You know we've got a perfectly good bird all ready to be put in the oven come morning." "Maybe." Brett circled his arm around Hunter's back. "I remember feeling so lonely, though. Downright miserable, but determined I wasn't gonna let being dumped ruin my holiday." "Hmm." Hunter put on his best Sigmund Freud voice. "It appears to me that you are suffering delusions of inadequacy. I suggest you tell me about your father. Did he smoke cigars when you were a child?" Brett cracked up. You adjust so well. Yes, my sweet one. We are nearly at the point of completion. "There, that's what I like to see." Hunter lifted up a little. "Give me a kiss. You forgot to when you came home, being too busy passing out in your clothes. By my reckoning, you owe me one."

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"Glad to pay up, then." As their mouths touched, Brett tasted the flavors of salty flesh and spicy cinnamon. Hunter lifted up, angling their heads so that he had the dominant position with Brett pushed down in the pillows, but Brett found he didn't mind a bit. Not when there were such sweet, hot lips pressing tight against his own. Hunter drew back, his cheeks flushed. "There. Now we're even. It's your turn to one-up me." "Mmm." Brett stretched and turned his head to the side, yawning. He caught sight of the electric clock with its bright red numbers reading off a late hour. "I've had a long day. Maybe I'm getting too old to keep up with an insatiable guy like you." He paused. "Damn, it's cold." He wriggled underneath the covers with a sigh. "That's better." "Never too old." Hunter reached over Brett and turned the clock around. "There. Don't pay attention to the time, lover. Keep your mind on me, and we'll be just fine." You are such a sweet temptation, but I must focus right now. We stand on the brink, you and I. "Oh, now…" "Now, nothing. It's our first Christmas together, lover. I want to spend the night having fun, not dozing away like a couple of old fogies." Hunter put a hand on Brett's chin and turned his face around to meet him eye to eye. "We're young and hung. Let's have us an Eve to remember." "Is that what you have in mind, then?" Brett grinned. "Go ahead and tell me what's going through that head of yours. If I know you, you're up to no good." "I resent the implications, Counselor. I'm always up to some good. Right now, a very definite good." Hunter kissed Brett again, a brief brush of mouth against mouth. "You can just lie back and enjoy if you want. I'll take care of you." He began to wiggle down beneath the covers. "Dr. Hunter's Wake-Up Cure," his voice floated up, muffled by the comforter. "Guaranteed to get the most dedicated sleepyhead bright-eyed and bushytailed. Though what I'd do if you sprouted a bushy tail, I don't know." Brett chortled, then drew in a sharp breath as he felt slightly cool hands brush his stomach right over the fastening of his jeans. "Does this magical formula have properties I'm already familiar with?" "No such thing as familiarity," he heard Hunter say. "It's always new and different every time. Special. Now you lie back and enjoy. This is part of my Christmas present to you." Clever fingers began to work at his button-fly fastenings, pulling them open one at a time. "Oh, now, you had to wear shorts underneath?"

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"I have no idea what possessed me to protect my genitals from getting caught in my jeans," Brett said dryly. "Oh --" "Mmm-hmm." Hunter had cupped Brett's wakening erection and begun to knead it lightly, rolling his hand over the shaft as it began to lengthen and harden. "I still have a few lessons to get across. Underwear might be a necessary evil, but I like you commando." "Sir, yes, sir." "Smartass." Hunter popped Brett's hip. "That'll have to do for a spank, since I'm busy at the moment." "Busy with what?" Brett teased. "You'll see. Or rather, you'll feel. Just hold on to your horses, babe. I'm going to give you the ride of your life." Hunter paused. "You could help me out, though, by raising your hips so I can get all this extra material out of the way." Brett grinned, doing as he'd been instructed and sighing with pleasure as the jeans and tight-fitting jockey shorts slid down his legs. God, it felt so good to have his cock free, the cool air drifting in under the comforter making his skin tingle. "If you thought that felt good, just you wait." Hunter paused. "Lift your hands and grab the headboard. Hold on tight. You ready? Better be, because here I come." Brett felt a brief tickle as Hunter settled into position at his hips, then moaned out loud when soft, talented lips wrapped themselves around his cock. The intense suction increased as Hunter's mouth slid down the length of his shaft, taking more and still more in until Brett felt himself bump the back of a very talented throat. God, but it has been so long. Had we the willpower, I could suck this delectable cock all the night long. But first, I must put the final seal on that which binds me to this Earth and your new reality… Hunter swallowed around the head of his cock, and Brett nearly arched off the bed. God, his lover knew how to suck! The man chuckled, which produced the most fantastic buzzing sensations and sent a pulse of excitement running through Brett's body from head to toe. Ignoring Hunter's orders to the contrary, he let go of the bedposts and reached down to weave his hands through that silky head of hair. "Oh, yeah," he breathed. "Suck me off. You know the way I like it best."

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Hunter made a "humph" noise and withdrew, swirling his tongue around Brett's cock as if it was a Popsicle. He stopped after a series of flicks to the head. Brett could all but see his expression, put-out and annoyed, but far too turned on to stop and scold. With a sigh, he descended again, applying suction and pressure as he worked his way down. "Oh, yeah," Brett said roughly as Hunter's way-too-talented mouth worked him like a thousand-dollar whore's. This wasn't any delicate blow job, designed to last for hours oh, no, this was rough and ready, with one goal clear in Hunter's mind: to bring Brett off as fast and hard as possible. Thing was, now that he'd woken up properly, Brett had other ideas in mind. He gently pulled at Hunter's head, persuading him up and off, no matter how much he hated to lose the talented mouth that could drive him insane without half trying. "What do you want, Brett?" Hunter whispered, his breath hot against Brett's thigh. "You're not interested in a big finish this way?" Brett felt a thrill run through him. He didn't have to play games or use tricks to get what he wanted out of Hunter. The man was as eager for whatever might come as Brett was, and Brett knew it. He lay still for a moment, savoring a particular set of mental images, then gave Hunter's shoulder a push. "On your back," he ordered. "Where's the lube?" Hunter gave a low chuckle. "I thought you'd never ask. Demand. Whatever. And the lube's where it's always been." He paused. "In the drawer next to your bed. Our bed." Damn. I must be careful. Little slips can sink ships, or so I have heard some say in the past. Long past. Not your past. A wave of the vertigo he'd been feeling all night washed over Brett, leaving him dizzy in its wake. He shook his head, blinking. "Whoa. What the hell?" "Don't tell me the earth moved for you already and I missed out." "Felt like it." Brett raised a hand to his head. "I had the weirdest sense that… no, I can't remember." "Doesn't matter." Hunter began kissing him wherever the man could reach, small touches that felt as hot as a shower of fire. "All you need to know is here and now. The only thing that matters is us being in bed together. Fucking. And you are going to fuck me, aren't you? Drive me right through the mattress. I'll leave my mark on your back, purple bruises where I'm holding on so tight. Go ahead and give me your best shot." Yes. Tie me to this Earth. Brett heard the voice inside his head rather than with his ears, and gave a twitch of startled frustration. "I keep feeling like I'm still dreaming," he complained.

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"Does this feel like a dream?" Hunter pressed up against his leg, cock hard and ready. "We're as real as it gets, you and me. Come take me on. I want that big dick of yours buried so deep inside me that I can taste it in the back of my throat." Hunter began swarming back up the length of Brett's body, pressing close every inch of the way, his hands running over every expanse of smooth flesh he could possibly touch. He pushed the covers out of the way as he went. By the time he'd gotten all the way back up, Brett's lips were parted with lust and his breathing was heavy. "Mmm, yes. Just how I want you." Hunter bent for another kiss, then grabbed Brett and rolled the man with him as he went down on his back. "Get the lube, lover. I need you inside me." Tie me to this Earth. Brett shook his head, trying to dislodge the voice that wouldn't let go of him. He reached out with a shaking hand, fumbling his bedside table open and finding a tube of lubricant inside, just as Hunter had promised. He felt all swimmy again, as if he were shimmying through a daze or daydream. "It'll be all right when you fuck me," Hunter soothed. "Sex cures all ills, or didn't you know that?" Brett blinked several times to force the world back into focus. He ran a hand over his mouth, scraping fingers against the shadow of new growth. "You're right," he agreed, voice husky. "I need to be inside you." "Then I'm all yours, lover." Hunter rubbed Brett's hip encouragingly. "All you have to do is take me." Tie me to this Earth. Brett cursed out the voice in his head and doggedly fixed his focus on Hunter. He uncapped the lube one-handed and drizzled a generous amount on his fingers, suddenly cold and stiff. Dropping the lube, he worked his hands together to make them slippery and warm them up. "Don't have to worry about being careful." Hunter shimmied with impatience. "I'm not. I just… no, it doesn't matter. I want you." Brett slipped his hand around Hunter's cock, grinning when the man let out a gasp, then moved on to tickle his balls and stroke the smooth strip of skin behind them. "Get between my legs," Hunter directed, parting his thighs wide. "You know the way."

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Oh, yeah. Centering himself felt like the most natural thing Brett had ever done, falling to kneel between Hunter's legs with a feeling like he was coming home. Hunter lifted those legs to wrap around Brett's waist, exposing himself shamelessly. "You know how I like it." His heels dug in. "Give it to me rough." Tie me to this Earth. Brett plunged a slippery finger in. "This rough enough for you?" He twisted the digit about, seeking out the small lump deep inside that would -- score. Hunter gasped and writhed on his finger, thrusting his hips up in search of friction and contact. "I love to watch you go crazy on me." Hunter moaned. Brett added another finger, stroking that sweet spot almost ruthlessly. There seemed to be an odd sense of urgency to their coupling, as if he were racing to beat some kind of a clock. "Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?" he asked, only halfjoking. "There's something about the time that's… I'm not sure…" Hunter paused in the middle of his writhing to frown, face serious although his chest heaved up and down. "What are you talking about, Brett? I'm desperate, but you could make me wait all night if you wanted to." His heels dug in. "I really hope you don't play the game that way, though. Want your cock so bad." "Then you'll have it bad." Brett gritted his teeth as he picked up the lube and reapplied more of the slippery liquid to his own cock, running his hand up and down the length. Then, because he wasn't too sure about how open Hunter might be, added more to his fingers and thrust them into the man's eager ass, which clenched down around him. "Oh, God. You weren't kidding." "Need you inside me," Hunter panted. "Hurry. Please hurry." Tie me to this Earth. "Not gonna rush this. Like you said, we've got all night." Brett would have reached down to stroke Hunter's face, save for his sticky fingers. He settled for a kiss instead, a good hard bruising one, nibbling at the man's lower lip with his teeth. "Damned if I think I can wait any longer, though." "Then don't," Hunter urged. "Push that thick cock inside me. You're a big man, Brett, but I can take you on. I'm ready. Fuck me. For the love of God, go ahead and fuck me, please…" "Your wish," Brett said, dipping down for another kiss and feeling Hunter's hands take a good solid hold on him, "is my command." He positioned his cock at the stretched entrance to Hunter's body, and pressed carefully. The ring of muscle was still tight, but once he got past the first barrier he slid in on one smooth stroke, burying himself ballsdeep with a startled gasp.

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Hunter's eyes rolled back in his head with the force of Brett's thrust, but he laughed and tossed his head on the pillow. "Again." Brett obliged, pulling almost all the way out in preparation for another long stroke. He groaned at how good the dragging suction felt, the way Hunter bore down around his cock, and the slippery wetness that he skated on. "Gonna make you crazy," he warned. "You up to this?" Hunter's eyes were wide and dark. "I've been waiting for longer than you know," he murmured. "No more talking now. Fuck me hard and deep." Brett pushed forward roughly, unable to help himself. Dirty talk turned him on more than he might have cared to admit outside of the bedroom, where he came to life in Hunter's arms. For the moment, all that mattered was the slide of his cock into the heated furnace of Hunter's body, and the friction of the man's hard prick against his lower belly. Hunter groaned, thrusting up for more friction. "Save it for me," Brett ordered, fucking harder. Each thrust seemed to take him deeper and deeper into a sort of fog where the world around him melted away, leaving nothing but the dragging pull on his cock and the steely grip Hunter had on him. Tie me to this Earth. All too soon, Brett felt his climax punching its way out of him. He moaned in complaint, wanting this to go on forever, but how could a body last when they were being driven pushed -- to the very limits of what they could handle? Hunter was a live wire beneath him, twisting and writhing, thrusting up for deeper penetration and rubbing his own cock against Brett's belly. Brett felt his orgasm coming on like a train emerging from a tunnel, powerful as hell and sharply lit around the edges. He thrust one last time, deep as he could go. A knot cramped deep in his stomach, his balls drew up tight and hard against his body, and his cock spasmed. Jet after jet of what felt like boiling lava shot from his dick in jerks, so much that it spilled out around the edges of Hunter's hole. He sagged for a moment, half out of breath and feeling that odd vertigo tugging at his senses. Peace… what you feel are merely birth pangs… soon, you will know no further pain. Hunter made a needy noise, and Brett knew he wasn't finished yet. Reaching for his lover's cock, Brett took a firm hold and began to pump it up and down, no niceties or gentleness, just a good hard jacking. Seemed to be what Hunter wanted and needed from

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the way he went crazy under Brett's touch, bucking his hips up for more and still more. His cock, already hard as a column of heated marble, stiffened and twitched, Brett's only warning before his hand was drenched in gouts of sticky come. He waited until Hunter had finished, sinking back into the pillows with something that sounded like a mix of a deeply satisfied growl and a cry of triumph. Then, his fingers aching as if he'd been doing this for days instead of minutes, Brett unwound his hand and brought it up to his lips for a taste. Mmm, sweet. Yes! You have trusted me, given me the gift of yourself, and now I am bound to this new life. I have escaped. I am free. And I will make your life nothing but a joy. This is my punishment, and this is my pleasure. Farewell to my Bastille, and welcome to my new plane of existence. I pity the one who must take my place, but such is the nature of the curio that trapped me. It seeks out who it will to exact justice. But I will think of it no more just now. I will concentrate on you. Brett… my Brett… Hunter gazed at him, heavy-lidded. "Do I taste good to you?" he asked huskily, the deep timbre of his voice enough to make Brett's cock jerk again where it lay nestled inside Hunter's ass. The spirit might have been willing to go another round, but the flesh needed a break. Hearing his own moan of loss echoed by Hunter's, Brett drew out his semi-hard cock and lay down on Hunter's chest, breathing in deep, ragged gulps. His head spun. He didn't even feel this way after a five-mile jog. "It'll be all right," Hunter crooned, stroking Brett's hair. "Everything's okay now. You have me, and I have you. Never the twain shall separate us. Just like we promised, you and I." Brett half-laughed. "This is the season for miracles. You've got me acting like a horny teenager tonight." The vertigo was fading, wisping away like the ghost of the bad dream he'd had. Rolling off, he curled up against Hunter's side, pressing his hand to the man's chest just to feel the rapid tattoo of his heartbeat. There was something he couldn't quite remember… or was it just a fragment of his nightmare? Brett frowned, trying to recall. Hush, now, Brett. Hush.

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"Hey. Stop thinking so hard. You'll ruin the afterglow." Hunter brought his hand down to rest on Brett's neck, fingers scratching lightly. "I can almost hear the wheels turning in your head. Don't think. Don't analyze. Just feel. I'm here for you, and I always will be." "A present," Brett blurted out, surprising himself and feeling Hunter jump. "It's coming back to me now. I bought something today… somewhere. I fell in love with the thing. Now I want you to have it." No, Brett. This will not do. Do not make me touch the cursed thing again. "Brett, no. Our gifts are all under the tree, waiting for the morning. And there's nothing that says 'Happy Holidays' the way a good fuck like we just had does. I don't need anything extra." "Uh-uh," Brett insisted, forcing himself up and away from Hunter's body. "It's on the nightstand, I think. Yeah. I can remember putting the thing there… whatever it was…" "Brett, leave well enough alone." Hunter grabbed his arms and held on tight. "I don't want what you're about to give me." I cannot bear to look upon my prison again. But then again… perhaps… Yes. I do wish to see. Brett's hand had already closed around a cold glass lump, however, and he brought it back down to the bed with a small grunt of pleasure. "I used to collect these," he explained. "Paperweights. Something about this one is telling me it belongs to you. Here." He pushed the object into Hunter's hand and wrapped the man's fingers around it. "It's yours." Hunter shook his head, but indulgently. He relaxed his grip on the paperweight and raised it to eye level, glancing inside. "There's a picture of a man on the bottom," he said, sounding curious. "This is horrible, Brett. He's screaming, like he's in pain. Is this some kind of Halloween thing? Kind of the wrong season, don't you think?" "That wasn't what I bought." Brett took the paperweight back and frowned. He couldn't quite remember from before, but the picture was surely enough to startle anyone. A man dressed in a plain sweater, with a messy mop of strawberry blond hair, his mouth open in what did indeed look like a scream. Just what he deserves. He was never good enough for you, Brett. I am. I'll treat you right. You won't regret what you've done. I'll devote the rest of my life on this earth to making you happy. Brett, my second chance. Forgive me for what I do, but it's all to give you some joy in your life.

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Brett frowned. For a second, the man's face looked familiar. A name floated into his mind: Jarrod. The next second, he was blinking, wondering what had happened. He seemed to have lost some time, because Hunter was taking the paperweight from his hand and placing it back on the bedside table. "It was sweet of you to think of me," he said, twining his arms around Brett's neck, "but I think I'll like what's under the tree even better. I got you the best things I could think of. Everything a man like you deserves." Brett grinned. "And what kind of man am I?" Hunter's face grew serious. "The one I'd been waiting on for years. You came and rescued me when no one else would. You're my lifeline, Brett, and don't you ever forget it." His lover pulled Brett down into a rough hug, then pushed him away with a laugh. "I think I might just take it easy enough on you to let you fall asleep now," he teased. "I won't even make you sleep in the wet spot." "You never do." "Just promise you'll wake me up with a blow job." "Mmm. Sounds about perfect." Brett took in a deep breath. His dizziness was all but gone, and he felt securely tethered to the earth with Hunter pushing them around until they lay face to face. The man kissed him, tender and gentle. "That's to hold you until the morning. We'll get rid of that paperweight, and then we'll start unwrapping the real gifts, cooking, getting ready for our friends to come over, everything." My love. My freedom. My love. My life. "Get rid of the paperweight," Brett agreed sleepily. "Don't know what came over me to buy something like that." "We'll be better off with it out of our home. No worries, lover. I'll take care of everything." "I know," Brett mumbled, feeling himself beginning to drift away again. He felt Hunter kiss his forehead. "No bad dreams, now. Nothing but good." "I'll try." Brett took in a deep breath, then let it out again. He felt like himself again, with nothing else in his head but the warm endorphin burst that came after a good hard fuck. No fuzziness, no dizziness, no vertigo. Just sweet peace, held in the circle of Hunter's arms.

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He fell asleep then, full of eager thought about the morning and what a fine Christmas he would have. But in his dreams a man named Jarrod screamed, and screamed… Enjoy your stay, Jarrod. Perhaps in a hundred or so years, someone will come along to set you free…

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The Curio Copyright © 2006 by Willa Okati All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680 Printed in the United States of America.

Torquere Press: Single Shot electronic edition / December 2006

Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

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