“Let me see. Please?”
Ian sighed sadly to himself and stared hard at his reflection above the sink. He called back out through the closed bathroom door, “It does not look good…”
He heard Avery tap on the door sadly. “I promise it does. Besides, don’t you want to see me in mine?”
“Yeah…” Ian said honestly, frowning. Slowly, he turned to the door. And even more slowly, he opened it.
believe it or not, what you are about to read is erotica in its own very special way.
——
“Right, and then this piece here can —”
Gale sat in a slight daze behind Kavi, who was working excitedly over a piece of machinery tangled in wires.
“Yeah, and the professor wants us to arrange it so it can take readings from the —”
Gale lost focus the minute he sat on the stool of the laboratory because he was right behind Kavi, who smelled really nice and…
Gale liked sitting behind him, because it let him look. His eyes were usually so well-trained to the ground that it seemed like staring into the sun to look someone as radiant as Sonny in the eyes. But the back of the head? It wasn’t a problem. A dark lock of hair stuck out from that little half-moon shape on the back of Sonny’s baseball cap. Without really thinking, Gale reached up and stroked it with one finger. He smiled to himself.
He hadn’t noticed Sonny’s abrupt stop in his explanation, so caught up in observing while he could — looking at him while Kavi didn’t know.
Well — that’s…what he thought. Unfortunately for Gale — Kavi knew. He always knew. It started basically from when they first met… Gale was simultaneously hard to read and yet incredibly expressive…when you knew to pay attention. The more time he spent with Gale, the more Kavi figured out the nuances. It didn’t take long for him to feel eyes watching him — big, bright, honey-brown eyes. Gale was more obvious than he realized. Unless Sonny was crazy. Was he?
“Y’know…” Sonny said, reaching up to touch the back of his own neck, hand brushing that same lock of hair Gale had touched, “It’s okay if you want to…” He trailed off. What if he was wrong? What if Gale wasn’t looking at him? Even if he was — pointing it out would…be bad…
Gale tilted his head and leaned forward on his stool. The lab became really quiet — just the hum of a heater and the quiet dripping of one of the sinks in the back. He finally broke the silence — very gently, like always. “Kavi…? Were you done explaining it?”
“Uh, yeah,” Sonny jumped up, off the stool, and faced Gale. He backed away a step and Gale watched his shoes scuff backwards. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s all he wanted us to do.”
Gale looked down at his own hands for a minute, when it went quiet again. He was oblivious to his own circumstance — confused by the awkward pauses but unsure how to address them and positively ignorant about why they were happening. He finally…finally looked up, and Sonny managed to meet his eyes and hold him there in a very rare point of time. Everything stopped for that moment —
Real contact.
Kavi blinked and Gale jumped as he came to his senses and he dropped his head down and was very red, very quickly.
“Gale?”
Gale, with just the slightest hesitation, looked back up.
When Sam the vampire hadn’t had anything to eat in more than two or three days, he’d start smiling. He’d smile to strangers, to the mailman, to the tourists that strolled by his antique beach home. Not just any smile, but this uncomfortable charged grin, and his hands would flex at his sides, and he’d radiate this seductive terrifying power. It’d draw girls in, the dumb ones he’d meet at bars, but in recent months he really liked using it on Ashwin instead.
Ashwin was special.
the following is intended only for no one and you probably shouldn’t read it
Ptichka’s chin fit so perfectly in the crook between Kolya’s forefinger and thumb, so he reached up and held him there for a minute, eyes narrowed. Blood pounded in his ears. Ptichka smiled, Kolya’s pupils dilated, and there was a mad rush of glasses and clothes and shoes hitting the floor.
Author had managed to get him down to his boxers and socks. Just boxers and socks. He licked his fangs, grinning ear-to-ear — too pleased with himself to realize Sanford had been overly docile with his demands so far.
“Take a turn,” He teased, motioning a circle with his pointer finger.
“Fuck you…” Sanford grumbled, arms crossed tightly over himself.
And then, because things were obviously going far too well, Sanford’s cherry red face faded to white in the matter of seconds, and became a pale shade of green.
“Sanny? Love?” Author sat up straight from where he’d been lounged on the bed, fully clothed still and holding Sanford’s thick blue hoodie. “What’s wrong?”
Sanford swayed alarmingly and Author was up in an instant, in time only to break his fall to the floor with his own body. A rush of fear — adrenaline — shot down his spine as he cradled what appeared to be a half-asleep heap of freckles in his own skinny arms.
“Sanford? Sanny! Say something!” He reached around with one arm to feel Sanford’s forehead and cheeks — clammy and alarmingly cold. “Are you alright?”
“Fuckin’…headache… Think I’m gonna puke.”
Startled, Author pulled him up. “Alright, uh, let’s… Uh. What do I do? The bathroom?”
“Put me…in bed…dumbass.”
“You can’t be that sick to be insulting me still,” Author said, heart beating out his chest. “But you look green. And sweaty… Oh gods, you look awful!”
“Fucking…great. Thanks.”
Author shuffled him into his bed, folding the covers back with unsteady hands. He moved back and forth less than a foot from the bed, and ran a hand through his hair until it began to stick up in the front. “Should I get Phoebe? I’m going to go get Phoebe.”
“No you fucking…won’t… I’m not even wearing pants.”
Author’s pacing beside the bed became more frantic. “What did you eat? Why are you sick? Was it some kids at work? Have you felt bad all day? You passed out!”
“Stop whining. Head hurts.” Sanford moaned and rolled over, burying his face in a pillow. “Think I’m gonna puke…”
“Yeah, we went over that! Sanny!” Author dropped to his knees by the bed and remained there only a moment before he was up and pacing again. “Shit, shit, fuck, shit. Okay. Okay, I’ll call a cab and we’ll go to the hospital. No, an ambulance! I’ll call emergency!”
Sanford moaned in protest. “Just get me water ‘nna bucket…”
“Okay. Sure, right. Okay.” Author frantically left the room, ran to the kitchen, and found a bucket beneath the sink. He slapped on the faucet and filled it with tapwater. He ran back, moving so fast that his socks skidded across the floor as he came to a stop next to the bed. “Here!” He thrust the bucket out and water sloshed out and soaked the toes of his socks.
Sanford rolled back over and squinted at the bucket in Author’s hands. “Is that a bucket…full of water?”
There was an awkward pause.
“The fuck are you bringing me a bucket full of water for?”
“You asked me to!”
“I asked for water…” Sanford paused, narrowed his eyes, and added slowly, “And a bucket.”
Author’s face dropped. “I’m getting Phoebe.”
“[REDACTED]! No —”
Too late. Minutes later, a very red Sanford and a very disgruntled Phoebe and a very panicked Author all occupied the bedroom. Phoebe tapped the thermometer as she took it from her “patient.”
“Well, he has a fever now. So…”
“Hospital?” More of Author’s wiry hair stood up, hands constantly moving up through his bangs and then into his pockets to fiddle with his lighter and then to his own scruffy face and back to his hair. He kept replaying that weak green look Sanford had before and his stomach was all knots. “We go to the hospital?”
Phoebe shrugged. “It’s probably a bug. He’ll be fine.”
“He’s also…resting right fucking next to you. So you can talk to him directly…” Sanford grumbled, voice far too quiet and tone not nearly harsh enough. Author’s stomach sank.
“Gods, he’s really sick.”
Phoebe contained her eye-roll and patted Author on the shoulder as she passed. “He’ll be okay. Keep him hydrated and take his temperature in another hour.” She let out a loud sigh as she exited the room, and 14’s quiet, curious voice echoed out from the hallway.
“Is Uncle Sanford okay?”
“Mmhmm. Just a little under the weather.”
Author sat at the edge of the bed, eyes wide, ears pulled down. Sanford stared at him for a moment before he said, “You look worse than I feel…”
“I promise I’ll never ask you to get undressed ever again. Never again.”
Sanford managed a one-syllable laugh. “Fucking great. Thanks. I feel better already. Idiot.”
“Ow. Ow. Finny! Stop it!”
A smile glinted up to Clancy — an unsettling, vengeful god kind-of smile. When he seemed satisfied enough with the red indents lined Clancy’s pale thigh, Phineas sat up straight.
Clancy rubbed at his thigh but kept his eyes trained on Finny. Someone seemed moody. He went into high-detection mode: the my boyfriend seems testy and I don’t know why module.
Finally, wing expanding in an almost too-tense stretch, Finny said, “I’m just massaging your sex muscles. You know, since they haven’t got much use lately.”
Translation: I’m mad you haven’t been putting out. Clancy went a little red. Finny pretended to examine his own nails for imperfections.
“We’re kind of short-handed at the diner right now,” Clancy said, embarrassed at himself already.
Finny shifted off the bed, wearing only the button-up shirt he’d sported all afternoon. His butt peeked out only on every other step as he made his way over to the Playstation. He flipped it on and plopped down on the pillow already seated and well-indented on the floor in front of the television.
Translation: That doesn’t sound like an apology.
He selected his own name “finyas” from the listed names (“klacy” and “owen” being the only other options).
“Finny.”
“What?”
Clancy was suddenly behind him, wearing only the boxers that Finny had left him in. There was apologetic kiss on the temple and a warm, well-muscled hug from behind. Finny remained still — up until his wing cramped between their two bodies. He not too gently hit Clancy on the head with the controller to get him to let go.
“Thigh still hurt?” He asked, making careful effort to not sound concerned. He pretended to consider his gaming options, purposefully clicking through each title saved on their gaming station.
“The bites? No…” Clancy shifted back and forth behind him. “No, they’re okay.”
Finny click, click, clicked just a few more times before dropping the controller on the floor. It clattered against the hardwood and he pushed Clancy down where he lay crouched at the end of their bed.
“Apology accepted,” He mumbled between kisses.
“Ian…”
He looked up from his desk, where he was hunched and leaned in close to the blue glow of his monitor. “Yes?”
“I need to ask a favor.” Avery crouched down next to the chair, so his curly blond head was eye-level with Ian’s lap. Ian, remembering the rather pleasing and graphic events of the night prior, turned red.
“Y-you don’t…”
Avery interrupted by holding up his cellphone. “There’s this guy I work with, a John I see sometimes. He’s smart with tech…stuff…And he keeps stealing photos from my phone.”
All of this took a moment to register with Ian, each syllable trickling down like data into a machine.
“Yes?” He finally whispered out, brow furrowing. A big lump of anger grew in the place where his ribs met.
“Will you make it so he can’t get them anymore?” Avery waved his phone in the air. “Sometimes I just want to take pictures in outfits to see how they look outside of the mirror and they’re not for him.”
Ian gently took the phone, flipped it open, and silently adjusted settings. He pulled a cord from his desk drawer, plugged the phone in, and then turned to his computer. Avery watched from the floor, mouth slightly ajar. Ian, ears pulled back, typed briskly. Each click seemed sharper than the last. No more photos for John. Or anyone, for that matter.
The phone beeped twice before Ian handed it back over. “Okay.” He felt the angry heat that had built up fade away in a rush and now there was something akin to embarrassment left. Did Avery notice? Had he gotten out of hand? He wasn’t jealous, but he was reaching over for his own phone to ask his only friends to help handle this problem to its core…
“Really? That’s it? What’d you do?”
Ian went slowly red again and began to explain what he’d done in detail. “I adjusted your privacy settings to mask your phone’s general presence in wireless networks outside of the one in this place… I have also installed an application for private photo usage that encripts any picture data you create. You have a key you’ll need to use to download your pictures to a computer from now on.”
Avery blinked a few times and Ian’s ears pulled back again, this time in fear.
“W-was that what you wanted…?” Just when he thought he might die, Avery leaned up and kissed him. Ian then thought he might just explode into a million pieces instead.
“Thank,” Avery pecked his cheek, “you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. Not for something so trivial…” His voice grew smaller and smaller until Avery kissed him again.
