fic: Once Life - Chapters 1-3 (2005)
Once Life, a storyline I've been working on for what seems like ages, but still hasn't gotten very far.... There's some pointless mansex thrown in there somewheres...
note: I threw in some French!
il qui est bel - he who is beautiful (improper French, but I plead creative liscence!)
Once Life
Chapter One: Il qui est bel
There was a crisp autumn breeze blowing in from the lake as I was writing, but that wasn’t what caused the slight shiver down my spine. It felt like a shadow had fallen over my shoulder, and it made me itch to look back, but it would be pointless to do so. Someone was watching me, though I doubt that I was supposed to know.
Now, I’m not at all fond of being watched, because in the past…well, my senses have rarely deceived me. It’s because of the girls, really. I can’t stand them; ever since they started fawning over boys, they’ve been everywhere, always hovering, looking over my shoulder. I’ve just had a few too many bad experiences with girls-name any obnoxious or flirtatious behavior, and I’m sure I’ve been subject to it. Stalking especially has been a problem. A few times it’s gotten so bad that I had to get restraining orders.
It wasn’t so bad at first; you know, tame little ten-year old girls, smooth-chested, cute-as-can-be, and just barely discernable from boys. But in as little two years, puberty hit them. Chests developed, PMS set in, and fashion became a priority. They were really nasty, too. I admit that my dusty gold locks and lean body are attractive, but I would’ve never thought that I was so good-looking to cause the girls to get as…well, aggressive as they have. Small miracles, those restraining orders.
Yes indeed. Being watched wasn’t what made me so nervous so much as it was who was doing the watching. People think I’m eccentric when I say the reason I like guys is because breasts turn me off. I’m sure they’d relate much better if they woke up often enough feeling that prone way when someone is watching you and then found out soon after that the set of eyes came with a set of boobs.
I continued writing in my notebook-turned-journal, trying to ignore the feeling. Not many people notice the subtle statements that authors make in their writing. After all, there are many covert little things that an inattentive reader wouldn’t consciously pick up. Consider, however, that any and every bit of literature comes entirely from the author’s mind. The way an author portrays the people and setting reflects his or her general attitude. For example, dreary buildings inhabited by dirty, criminal people, suggests that the author is a pessimist, cynical, and probably views society as corrupt. An optimist, on the other hand, would describe mostly the good.
I paused and glanced around. Such a nagging feeling, that your privacy is being violated. I sighed and continued writing. Also, the characters themselves; in a well-written piece, the characters are ghosts of different fragments of the author’s mind, be it friends, family, or even the author’s own conflicting emotions. It is arguable that some great authors are good actors. True though it may be, few enough authors do act for me to consider this a minority and simply disregard the fact for my purposes.
I stopped and surveyed the area again. As far as I could tell, there was no one around, but the feeling persisted. It made me want to hide in a bright, windowless room where no one could come near me without my knowledge. I rubbed two fingers against my temple before continuing. Back on my original train of thought (Oh, but the tracks do lead astray!). Finding these hidden ideas in a book has become a favorite pastime of mine. However, I’ve discovered something in my most recent literary meanderings. If I were to share my discovery with any rational person, they would surely laugh at me and tell me to remember the line between fiction and reality. Therefore, I am forced to record my discovery here.
I had put my pencil tip down and was just about to start the next paragraph when a voice startled me. “What are you writing, Alex?” I closed my notebook with a snap.
“Whatever the hell comes across my mind,” I replied, assuming the speaker to be some jerk trying to get off on harassing me. I stood up and turned to face the speaker and had to bite my lip to keep from gasping. He was gorgeous; his black hair was just barely long enough to cover his ears and fall into his eyes, making a wondrous frame for his soft, pale face. The way the light played perfectly on his hair color-it almost looked like it was really a dark red. His eyes reflected the pale blue-green that could sometimes be seen on the lake on a clear summer day.
His clothes, too, left little to be desired-and little to the imagination, at that. His white button-up shirt was common enough, except for the fact that it fitted, hugging close to his body, unlike most guys’ tendency to wear them a little on the large side. His boots were exotic: knee-high with straps going all the way up, accented with silver clips and a good two or three inches of platform sole. But his black leather pants…oh, I wanted so badly to see what lay underneath; they contoured beautifully to his body. The only color he wore was red, yet he splashed it liberally about him, letting it flare on the red trim of his pants and the dark red buttons of his shirt. Garnets twinkled on his ears and a silver ring on his right middle finger. He had such long, slender, graceful fingers.
I sighed inwardly. Never mind that he was gorgeous and had a perfect body; what did he want? He spoke again after a short pause. “I’ve been watching you. You’ve got some interesting habits, Alexander Michael Grant.” Well, at least he was cute, I guess. He knew my full name, though. That was a little scary.
I raised my eyebrows. “So that was you. I’m glad I can finally say that I have male admirers as well as female,” I said sarcastically. I couldn’t let my carnal desires get in the way of my thought processes, now could I? Besides, I wasn’t about to let him have the satisfaction.
He smiled in response. “I suppose you expect me to say ‘Let’s go out,’ as well?” I shook my head. “You wouldn’t.” He stepped forward, closing the distance between use, and whispered, “Tonight, eleven thirty, DuLac Cemetery. Sterling family plot.” He stepped back. “Forget rationality.” He smiled again, spun on his heel, and waltzed away, leaving me admiring his fine derrière until I couldn’t see him. Left alone, I was stunned, puzzled, and electrified.
Oh, I knew the Sterling plot. I knew it very well; it was my favorite haunt, especially late at night. I practically staggered to the nearest tree and leaned against it, staring into space and collecting my thoughts. He frightened me and captivated me, all in the same breath. He knew my full name and my sanctuary: two of my best-kept secrets. Not to mention his parting comment: “Forget rationality.” I’d be damned if he wasn’t referring to what I had been writing.
Whether or not I met him tonight, I would be on the losing end. If I went, I would play into his hands, and whatever scheme he must be planning. I don’t think that he would’ve bothered me if he didn’t have something in store for me. However, if I didn’t meet him, I would leave my curiosity unsatisfied. I may possibly even be missing out on a chance at a lovely boyfriend. If his clothing was any indication, he was dressed to please. Indeed, he had admitted to watching me, and he wanted to meet me.
Well, as the day played on and turned into night my curiosity grew. During my remaining classes, my thoughts strayed to this, in my mind, nearly angelic stranger. By the time eleven fifteen rolled around, my curiosity had won out, and I had made up my mind.
DuLac Cemetery was the largest in the area. Most of the grave yard was well-kept-trimmed green lawns, a few trees, planned landscaping, and polished stones. There were, however, parts that had fallen into disrepair years ago, now long since overgrown and decrepit. The trees weren’t quite as sparse as they were everywhere else, and only several neglected plots survived.
The Sterling family plot lay in one such area. It was difficult to see the rest of the cemetery for the trees, which made it convenient when I wished for seclusion. What made it my favorite place, though, were the classic grave markers. All of them were large; scattered about as they were with cracks, vines, and weeds reclaiming them for nature, it reminded me strongly of some sort of ancient ruin. It was mostly a veritable forest of pillars of various sizes and types, but there were also crucifixes, and my favorite marker: a larger than life sized angel, arms laden with a giant book on which the grave owner’s name was inscribed: Alexander Sterling. He had lived from 1863 to 1937, and I liked to believe that the statue was a monument to his life.
I loved to climb onto the book and recline in it; I could spend hours reading or pondering. Many times I had found myself imagining Alexander’s existence in that little dash that represented his life.
At eleven thirty, I found him sitting in the arms of the great angel. He was illuminated by what little moonlight the trees and clouds allowed, and a battery-powered lantern perched precariously on a crumbling crucifix. The picture it made was rather ethereal. His words were crisp as he said, “I knew you would come.” It was creepy the way he filled the silence, rather than broke it.
“Is that so?”
He let the words settle back into silence before replying. “Yes. You don’t know anything about me; your curiosity got the best of you.”
“Does this mean that you’re going to tell me your name?” I asked dryly.
He momentarily ignored my question; he moved over on the grave marker and gestured that I join him. Reluctantly I acceded, assuming that he would only give me his name if I did. I situated myself so that I was on one half of the book, facing him, and he was on the other, looking back at me. There was barely a foot between us, and I hardly gave a second thought about whether or not Alexander’s angel could hold us both.
“My name,” he said finally, “is not important.” He pressed his fingers to my lips, cutting off my protests. “Besides, it’s so much more fun this way. Remember: forget rationality. Just for tonight.”
I pushed his hand away. “What, are you propositioning me for a one-night stand?” I asked incredulously. Surely he had not been stalking me just for that.
His eyes widened. “No, no. You misunderstand me. I would never do such a thing with you. No, that was never my intention.” It may have been the lighting, but his eyes looked a little troubled as he added, “You’re too deeply entrenched in my mind to just let you have me and leave me.” Whoa! What? Was he saying what I thought he was saying? This whole situation was getting way out of hand.
“What exactly do you mean?” This was hardly how I had imagined this little rendezvous.
He heaved a huge sigh. “I’ve been watching you, Alex,” he started, an odd look still distorting his features. “I’ve watched you long enough to understand some things about you that you yourself don’t know. Enough for me to want us to be friends.” I couldn’t decide how to react, whether to be happy, angry, or even disappointed. So I remained silent and waited for him to continue; he obliged. “My intentions are that we be friends and help each other out.”
I hoped that I was on the same page as him now. “Okay, I think I understand you now: you’ve been stalking me, and now watching from afar isn’t enough, so you want us to be friends,” I stated coldly. “However, you still refuse to tell me your name?”
“That’s a little harsh, but yes. You don’t see it yet, but we’re two prisoners in the same cell; we need to cooperate in order to escape.” Now he was talking in riddles. Lovely.
I closed my eyes and considered it for a while. Amazing how he had already put me back into a lose-lose situation. “Well…I suppose it won’t hurt too much to see where this could lead,” I said finally, half thinking out loud. As an afterthought, I added, “Not that I wouldn’t have liked to have you in bed.” I leaned back and looked him over appreciatively; he was wearing the same outfit that he had been wearing earlier in the day. The garnet studs in his ears were especially appealing, the way they reflected the moonlight; I could almost imagine the way they would slide easily in the lobes with a little coaxing from my mouth…
I was interrupted from my tiny fantasy by his voice. “That would cost you,” he murmured, turning his head away. “However, please push that thought from your head. Sex would only make the situation messier than it already is.” An awkward silence followed that statement. I had meant it as a joke, even if it was true, but he had responded so seriously. I don’t know what I had expected for a reaction, but that certainly wasn’t it, and I was left without anything substantial to say.
The silence seemed to stretch on forever. It really didn’t help that I knew nothing about this guy. Well, I resolved, I had to start somewhere. My voice tore through the silence when I finally spoke. “Well…you could at least tell me a little about yourself. It’s ridiculous enough I don’t know your name; if I don’t even know if we have anything in common, it would be entirely pointless to agree to be your friend.”
He smiled and nodded in response. “Fair enough. These are my ancestors,” he said, motioning to the area around us. “Alexander Sterling is my great, great grandfather. Imagine, Alex. The Sterlings disowned my great grandmother ages ago, and when I was doing a heritage project in high school, I was curious about my ancestors. I was raised in a family that’s been in poverty for the last three or four generations, but we came from a prosperous family in this city. I came here two years ago to trace any other family that Alexander Sterling might have had.”
He paused and I added my own knowledge. “Alexander Sterling was an only child and never known to have any of his own children; his wife died at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve in 1900. He left his entire fortune to his great-niece, from his wife’s sister, who disappeared shortly after his death. In short, Alexander was the last Sterling.” I sighed. “I’m sure that anything you tell me about these guys I already know. I’ve done some pretty extensive research on the Sterling family myself. The church and City Hall have some nice records.”
“Perhaps. The point is, I saw you here. You sparked my curiosity, and I’ve discovered that you’re pretty interesting, believe it or not. I don’t have many options, as far as living situations go. Here, my accommodations have been taken care of, and there’s you.”
“You’re a rather sick person, you know.” I wondered what his “accommodations” may be, but I wasn’t ready to change the topic.
“Indeed, but you accept me nonetheless. You may not trust me, but you accept me. That’s a very appealing virtue.”
“It would be a different story if you were female. I would have found an excuse to stay far, far away.”
“I don’t think you’re quite as intolerant to women as you impress upon others. Your only friend is a girl, even if she is a little lacking in the feminine qualities. Or don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed?”
“Ange isn’t…she’s not like most girls. She doesn’t make me uncomfortable with the typical wandering eyes and sexual tension. She’s a girl, I’m a guy, but there’s no physical attraction. It’s one hundred percent platonic.”
He looked at me through half-lidded eyes. “Hmm…I suppose. Anyways, I have to get back.” I watched as he climbed down.
“Yeah? Back where?”
“I have a job,” he replied blandly. I raised an eyebrow. “Keep the lantern. And here,” he disappeared behind the statue. “See if you can make any sense of this. It’s all Greek to me.” He reappeared with a black book about the size of a small textbook. “I’ll be here at noon tomorrow,” he added, handing me the volume. He looked up at me for another moment before turning and disappearing through the overgrown brush. He was baiting me again, that was certain. Well, we’d see about that.
“What the hell,” I suddenly grumbled into the empty silence. I was completely disoriented. This must be one of my strange nightmarish dreams that wasn’t really a dream. If that even made any sense. I resituated myself on the grave marker until I was comfortably on my stomach with the book in front of me.
On second thought, I uprooted myself and retrieved the lantern he had left behind. I sat back down, this time letting my legs dangle off the edge of the monument. In a child-like gesture, I swung my legs back and forth as I began to examine the book he had given me. It was bound in velvet, I realized with a start, letting my fingers trail over the cover. Nothing-neither writing nor design-interrupted the smooth cover, so I gently opened it.
The first page was yellowed and stiff with age. One line was written-in Greek, as if it were some grand joke. I knew enough to recognize it as Greek, but certainly not enough to translate. I turned to the next page; this one was full of flowing script.
I scanned the page, written in French, as opposed to the Greek on the previous page; five years of diligently studying French, and there was a multitude of words I didn’t know. I carefully turned the pages until I came to what looked to be the end of the passage. There was an unused line, followed by another line written in Greek, and finally a date and signature that I couldn’t quite make out.
I let out a sigh; nothing had really caught my interest. If anything, though, I wanted a translation of the Greek. I closed the book and slid off of Alexander’s grave marker. Now, I would sleep. Tomorrow, I would get Ange to translate the Greek for me, and maybe I’d look up a few of the French words I didn’t know. Then I could meet that lovely black-haired boy here at noon.
French in this chapter:
French used in this update:
mon amour - my love
je t'aime - I love you
je suis désolé - I'm sorry
Once Life
Chapter Two: Pillow Talk
The walk to my dorm was peaceful. The cemetery, as usual, had been deserted, as well as the streets surrounding it. The closer I got to the building that housed my room, the more people I saw, but the general activity was minimal.
I was surprised to find my roommate and friend, Jake, sitting on my bed and talking on the phone when I opened the door. He had planned on clubbing and “bedding a babe.” With Jake, that meant he would be out until at least one thirty, and if you factored in the sex, there’d either be someone here with him, or he would stay the night somewhere else. Something must’ve gone wrong to change his plans.
“Ange says hi,” Jake said after he hung up. “Oh, big black book. What’s it for?” he asked, watching me set it on my desk.
“Good question. It’s in French and Greek.” I stretched upwards. “I don’t feel like translating right now. Get off my bed before I lay on you,” I added, crossing my arms.
“Maybe that’s what I want,” he replied suggestively. He stretched out until he took up the whole bed.
“Oh, is that the way it is?” I climbed on top of him and folded my arms under my chin. “So what happened? Nic or Yuki take your man?”
He snorted. “No. Messrs. Dominic and Miyuki cancelled. Something along the lines of ‘We didn’t see what was right in front of us. Sorry, we need some time alone.’ You know how I hate clubbing by myself. It’s no fun. I would’ve asked you, but you were off somewhere else, as usual, and not answering your cell. So I thought I’d talk to Ange while I waited for you.”
“For me.” I raised my eyebrows.
“If it’s all right.” His hands were already at my sides, sliding under my shirt.
“I don’t mind.” I pressed myself flush against him.
“Oh, mon amour, je t’aime! Please, take me! I’ve waited an eternity,” he said dramatically. He tugged my shirt up.
“Oh-ho-ho! I shall make zis your best night ever!” I responded with a false French accent. I shifted so he could pull my shirt over my head. It lay discarded on the floor as Jake’s fingers danced against my ribs. I giggled, and within seconds we were both laughing into each other’s shoulder.
Jake let out a gasp, and I realized that my thigh had pressed up between his legs during our laughing fit. “Oh, je suis desolé, mon amour.” I resituated myself until I was sitting up, straddling his hips. I popped the buttons on his shirt slowly, rocking against him with every button; we were both hard.
“This is better than clubbing with Nic and Yuki,” Jake said huskily, undoing my pants.
I plopped down to his side and finished the job for him, ridding myself of my boxers in the process. “I know.” I grinned and made quick work of Jake’s jeans. “Not everyone is as good on top as I am.”
He wriggled out of his boxers and rolled until he had me pinned to the bed. “Who said you could be on top?”
“I did. You’re horrible on top.” He gave me a pouty look. “If it bothers you that much, we could just suck each other off.”
He made a face. “I think I’ll pass. Hey!” he exclaimed as I used my legs to lever his apart.
“What?” I asked around the fingers I had stuck into my mouth. “You’re the one who asked me to take you.” I decided that the fingers were good, and they soon found themselves near Jake’s opening. “Who am I to deny you?” He gasped as the first finger entered. I lifted my hips, bringing us electrifyingly closer. “Still want to be on top?”
His heart was racing, I could feel it pounding above me. For a second I contemplated letting him have his way, but the moment passed. When he still hadn’t answered my question, I slid a second finger into his opening and brushed his prostate. “Jake…” He shook his head. “Good.” I removed both fingers, eliciting a little shiver from him, and then rolled us both over until I was comfortably in position.
I caressed him, and slipped on a condom before entering him, and soon all words and thoughts were lost to gasps, moans, and cries of pleasure. It was pure ecstasy, both physical and mental. The ultimate expression of trust between two friends. With a breathy moan I came, followed seconds later by Jake’s climax. We lay panting for a moment before I pulled out.
I propped myself up so I didn’t crush him with my weight, and looked down at him. The short, spiky brown hair had lost all its shape; the dark brown eyes stared up at me as lush pink lips curled into a smile.
“That was nice. You’re one of the best tops I’ve ever done it with.”
I grinned. “Yes, well, what can I say? Heh, what does this make us now? F*ck buddies? Or friends with benefits?”
“Well, we do a lot more than f*ck, so we can’t be **** buddies. And there’s nothing beneficial about being your friend.”
“Nor yours, you @ss-whore!” We both laughed.
“Now get off of me before I make an @ss-whore out of you.” I stuck my tongue out but complied, and pulled a blanket over us both.
“Hey, Jake.” I snuggled up against his side, draping an arm over his waist and tucking my face between his neck and shoulder.
“Hmm?” He laced his fingers between mine.
“Are we lovers?”
The silence that followed was so long that I feared that he had either fallen asleep or he was ignoring the question. Finally, though, he murmured, “If you want us to, we can be lovers.” He turned his head towards mine. “Is that what you want?”
I actually wasn’t sure if I wanted us to be lovers. I mean, the sex was nice, but I didn’t think that Jake and I had enough in common to actually go out. We were friends, and anything beyond that would be too awkward. “Do you? I think it’d be too weird. I’d rather just stay friends.”
“Who f*ck?” We both laughed. “I like the freedom. It’s nice to go clubbing and hit on anything that walks, guy or girl. I love the diversity. But if you wanted to try to be lovers, I’m willing to give it a go.”
“Thanks, man. But girls? Ick. Stalker freaks.” Jake let out a small laugh. “Oh, speaking of stalkers, I have a new one. Get this-he’s a guy.”
“Is he hot?”
“Drop-dead gorgeous. Freaky, though.” I imagined his languid formality. “He admitted stalking me, he wants us to be friends, and he won’t tell me his name. He looked like he’s still in high school, too.”
“Describe him. Maybe I know him.”
“He has lovely hair.” I propped myself up on my elbow. “Black with a reddish tint and about this long,” I moved my hand from Jake’s waist and demonstrated the length on his hair. “…framing a pale face with very girly features. He may be part Asian, judging by the complexion. Blue-green eyes, bright as the summer sky, a body to make anybody hard as a rock, and form-fitting clothes to show it off.” Damn, I was getting hard just thinking about him. “To top it off, a beautiful, sensuous voice that just rolls over you.”
“Damn, he does sound nice. Lust at first sight, eh?” he asked, grasping my new erection. I sighed gleefully as he stroked me. He stopped suddenly, and I put my hand over his to get him to continue. “You know, that boy, he sounds familiar. Yeah, he sounds like a guy I’ve seen downtown quite a bit.” He started stroking me again. “I’ll ask around next time I go out.”
I moved my hips, trying to gain more of that wonderful friction from his hands. “Jake,” I whined, “stop teasing and do something.”
“Hey, I have an idea!” he exclaimed brightly. I whimpered when his hand left me and traveled down the side of my thigh. “I’ll give you a BJ if you let me have a go on top.”
“Fine! Just…stop teasing!” Without another word, he moved the blanket so that he wouldn’t have to be under it while he sucked me off. He started just below my navel, flicking his tongue down my exposed skin. By the time he reached the head of my erection, I wanted it to be over, but at the same time, I wanted it to last.
I saw spots as he put his mouth over me. Jake rarely did this for me, but he seemed to double his skill every time.
I teetered on the edge as he engulfed my whole length, his tongue massaging my pulsing pleasure. My hips bucked unwillingly; everything was either spinning or dark in my vision. I tried to warn Jake that I was close to climax, but all that came out were feeble cries of pleasure, so I tugged at his hair. He sucked hard until I went rigid, bursting into his mouth with a shaking gasp. He swallowed it with a practiced ease, and then let me rest for a minute before he spread me open before him.
Having Jake inside me was literally a pain in the ass, especially since I was rarely on the receiving end like this. He was rough and didn’t do enough to help his partner-me-to be more comfortable. After I had been stretched sufficiently and I had adjusted, though, it wasn’t quite so bad. Even Jake, as bad as he was on top, knew to change his angle so that he brushed the spot that turned me into a quivering vehicle of painful pleasure. I hated to make noise during sex, but hell, everybody screams on the bottom.
I felt him reach climax, sending a fire through my veins that erupted as I, too, came. Jake pulled out and we lay panting and spent. I lay under him, my legs still spread and caressing his sides.
“Alex, look at the mess you made,” Jake mumbled, rolling us so that we were both on our sides.
“You’re the one who was waiting for me in bed,” I grumbled back. I yawned. “We’ll clean up later. Bon nuit.”
“Mmm.” I pulled the blanket back over us, and snuggled into Jake’s body heat as sleep stole over me.
Once Life
Chapter Three: Alex’s Condition
I woke up sometime in the middle of the night, entangled in the sheets with someone. I say someone, because it wasn’t Jake-the hair was too long and too dark. I sighed. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and I doubted that it was going to be the last.
It gets irritating, though. It’s hard to describe what exactly did happen. I could be doing anything-walking, sleeping, reading-and then suddenly, things around me were different. My clothes changed, the people around me changed, the entire setting changed. I was the only constant in these strange transitions. I never knew how long I would stay, though. Usually it lasted only a couple of hours, but I could be stuck in an entirely foreign environment for days and weeks before I somehow ended up back with Jake or someone else.
It was always very problematic. I was someone in these situations. People were my friends and family, and there were rules and things that I had to be aware of. Not knowing my own background had put me into some compromising situations. I dreaded my time-space jumps.
I recorded everything in my journal. I researched scientific explanations on the side. I constantly wondered what I did or what had happened that made these jumps start three years ago.
So it was no surprise that I should wake up in a situation similar to when I fell asleep-entangled with somebody. Warm amongst the sheets and the limbs, completely at ease. I ran my hand through the silky, shoulder-length hair, and then let my hand trace the muscles on the shoulders. He was beautiful and nicely built, but he wasn’t particularly memorable. I sighed and snuggled up against him, determined to sleep and deal with the situation in the morning if it persisted.
note: I threw in some French!
il qui est bel - he who is beautiful (improper French, but I plead creative liscence!)
Once Life
Chapter One: Il qui est bel
There was a crisp autumn breeze blowing in from the lake as I was writing, but that wasn’t what caused the slight shiver down my spine. It felt like a shadow had fallen over my shoulder, and it made me itch to look back, but it would be pointless to do so. Someone was watching me, though I doubt that I was supposed to know.
Now, I’m not at all fond of being watched, because in the past…well, my senses have rarely deceived me. It’s because of the girls, really. I can’t stand them; ever since they started fawning over boys, they’ve been everywhere, always hovering, looking over my shoulder. I’ve just had a few too many bad experiences with girls-name any obnoxious or flirtatious behavior, and I’m sure I’ve been subject to it. Stalking especially has been a problem. A few times it’s gotten so bad that I had to get restraining orders.
It wasn’t so bad at first; you know, tame little ten-year old girls, smooth-chested, cute-as-can-be, and just barely discernable from boys. But in as little two years, puberty hit them. Chests developed, PMS set in, and fashion became a priority. They were really nasty, too. I admit that my dusty gold locks and lean body are attractive, but I would’ve never thought that I was so good-looking to cause the girls to get as…well, aggressive as they have. Small miracles, those restraining orders.
Yes indeed. Being watched wasn’t what made me so nervous so much as it was who was doing the watching. People think I’m eccentric when I say the reason I like guys is because breasts turn me off. I’m sure they’d relate much better if they woke up often enough feeling that prone way when someone is watching you and then found out soon after that the set of eyes came with a set of boobs.
I continued writing in my notebook-turned-journal, trying to ignore the feeling. Not many people notice the subtle statements that authors make in their writing. After all, there are many covert little things that an inattentive reader wouldn’t consciously pick up. Consider, however, that any and every bit of literature comes entirely from the author’s mind. The way an author portrays the people and setting reflects his or her general attitude. For example, dreary buildings inhabited by dirty, criminal people, suggests that the author is a pessimist, cynical, and probably views society as corrupt. An optimist, on the other hand, would describe mostly the good.
I paused and glanced around. Such a nagging feeling, that your privacy is being violated. I sighed and continued writing. Also, the characters themselves; in a well-written piece, the characters are ghosts of different fragments of the author’s mind, be it friends, family, or even the author’s own conflicting emotions. It is arguable that some great authors are good actors. True though it may be, few enough authors do act for me to consider this a minority and simply disregard the fact for my purposes.
I stopped and surveyed the area again. As far as I could tell, there was no one around, but the feeling persisted. It made me want to hide in a bright, windowless room where no one could come near me without my knowledge. I rubbed two fingers against my temple before continuing. Back on my original train of thought (Oh, but the tracks do lead astray!). Finding these hidden ideas in a book has become a favorite pastime of mine. However, I’ve discovered something in my most recent literary meanderings. If I were to share my discovery with any rational person, they would surely laugh at me and tell me to remember the line between fiction and reality. Therefore, I am forced to record my discovery here.
I had put my pencil tip down and was just about to start the next paragraph when a voice startled me. “What are you writing, Alex?” I closed my notebook with a snap.
“Whatever the hell comes across my mind,” I replied, assuming the speaker to be some jerk trying to get off on harassing me. I stood up and turned to face the speaker and had to bite my lip to keep from gasping. He was gorgeous; his black hair was just barely long enough to cover his ears and fall into his eyes, making a wondrous frame for his soft, pale face. The way the light played perfectly on his hair color-it almost looked like it was really a dark red. His eyes reflected the pale blue-green that could sometimes be seen on the lake on a clear summer day.
His clothes, too, left little to be desired-and little to the imagination, at that. His white button-up shirt was common enough, except for the fact that it fitted, hugging close to his body, unlike most guys’ tendency to wear them a little on the large side. His boots were exotic: knee-high with straps going all the way up, accented with silver clips and a good two or three inches of platform sole. But his black leather pants…oh, I wanted so badly to see what lay underneath; they contoured beautifully to his body. The only color he wore was red, yet he splashed it liberally about him, letting it flare on the red trim of his pants and the dark red buttons of his shirt. Garnets twinkled on his ears and a silver ring on his right middle finger. He had such long, slender, graceful fingers.
I sighed inwardly. Never mind that he was gorgeous and had a perfect body; what did he want? He spoke again after a short pause. “I’ve been watching you. You’ve got some interesting habits, Alexander Michael Grant.” Well, at least he was cute, I guess. He knew my full name, though. That was a little scary.
I raised my eyebrows. “So that was you. I’m glad I can finally say that I have male admirers as well as female,” I said sarcastically. I couldn’t let my carnal desires get in the way of my thought processes, now could I? Besides, I wasn’t about to let him have the satisfaction.
He smiled in response. “I suppose you expect me to say ‘Let’s go out,’ as well?” I shook my head. “You wouldn’t.” He stepped forward, closing the distance between use, and whispered, “Tonight, eleven thirty, DuLac Cemetery. Sterling family plot.” He stepped back. “Forget rationality.” He smiled again, spun on his heel, and waltzed away, leaving me admiring his fine derrière until I couldn’t see him. Left alone, I was stunned, puzzled, and electrified.
Oh, I knew the Sterling plot. I knew it very well; it was my favorite haunt, especially late at night. I practically staggered to the nearest tree and leaned against it, staring into space and collecting my thoughts. He frightened me and captivated me, all in the same breath. He knew my full name and my sanctuary: two of my best-kept secrets. Not to mention his parting comment: “Forget rationality.” I’d be damned if he wasn’t referring to what I had been writing.
Whether or not I met him tonight, I would be on the losing end. If I went, I would play into his hands, and whatever scheme he must be planning. I don’t think that he would’ve bothered me if he didn’t have something in store for me. However, if I didn’t meet him, I would leave my curiosity unsatisfied. I may possibly even be missing out on a chance at a lovely boyfriend. If his clothing was any indication, he was dressed to please. Indeed, he had admitted to watching me, and he wanted to meet me.
Well, as the day played on and turned into night my curiosity grew. During my remaining classes, my thoughts strayed to this, in my mind, nearly angelic stranger. By the time eleven fifteen rolled around, my curiosity had won out, and I had made up my mind.
DuLac Cemetery was the largest in the area. Most of the grave yard was well-kept-trimmed green lawns, a few trees, planned landscaping, and polished stones. There were, however, parts that had fallen into disrepair years ago, now long since overgrown and decrepit. The trees weren’t quite as sparse as they were everywhere else, and only several neglected plots survived.
The Sterling family plot lay in one such area. It was difficult to see the rest of the cemetery for the trees, which made it convenient when I wished for seclusion. What made it my favorite place, though, were the classic grave markers. All of them were large; scattered about as they were with cracks, vines, and weeds reclaiming them for nature, it reminded me strongly of some sort of ancient ruin. It was mostly a veritable forest of pillars of various sizes and types, but there were also crucifixes, and my favorite marker: a larger than life sized angel, arms laden with a giant book on which the grave owner’s name was inscribed: Alexander Sterling. He had lived from 1863 to 1937, and I liked to believe that the statue was a monument to his life.
I loved to climb onto the book and recline in it; I could spend hours reading or pondering. Many times I had found myself imagining Alexander’s existence in that little dash that represented his life.
At eleven thirty, I found him sitting in the arms of the great angel. He was illuminated by what little moonlight the trees and clouds allowed, and a battery-powered lantern perched precariously on a crumbling crucifix. The picture it made was rather ethereal. His words were crisp as he said, “I knew you would come.” It was creepy the way he filled the silence, rather than broke it.
“Is that so?”
He let the words settle back into silence before replying. “Yes. You don’t know anything about me; your curiosity got the best of you.”
“Does this mean that you’re going to tell me your name?” I asked dryly.
He momentarily ignored my question; he moved over on the grave marker and gestured that I join him. Reluctantly I acceded, assuming that he would only give me his name if I did. I situated myself so that I was on one half of the book, facing him, and he was on the other, looking back at me. There was barely a foot between us, and I hardly gave a second thought about whether or not Alexander’s angel could hold us both.
“My name,” he said finally, “is not important.” He pressed his fingers to my lips, cutting off my protests. “Besides, it’s so much more fun this way. Remember: forget rationality. Just for tonight.”
I pushed his hand away. “What, are you propositioning me for a one-night stand?” I asked incredulously. Surely he had not been stalking me just for that.
His eyes widened. “No, no. You misunderstand me. I would never do such a thing with you. No, that was never my intention.” It may have been the lighting, but his eyes looked a little troubled as he added, “You’re too deeply entrenched in my mind to just let you have me and leave me.” Whoa! What? Was he saying what I thought he was saying? This whole situation was getting way out of hand.
“What exactly do you mean?” This was hardly how I had imagined this little rendezvous.
He heaved a huge sigh. “I’ve been watching you, Alex,” he started, an odd look still distorting his features. “I’ve watched you long enough to understand some things about you that you yourself don’t know. Enough for me to want us to be friends.” I couldn’t decide how to react, whether to be happy, angry, or even disappointed. So I remained silent and waited for him to continue; he obliged. “My intentions are that we be friends and help each other out.”
I hoped that I was on the same page as him now. “Okay, I think I understand you now: you’ve been stalking me, and now watching from afar isn’t enough, so you want us to be friends,” I stated coldly. “However, you still refuse to tell me your name?”
“That’s a little harsh, but yes. You don’t see it yet, but we’re two prisoners in the same cell; we need to cooperate in order to escape.” Now he was talking in riddles. Lovely.
I closed my eyes and considered it for a while. Amazing how he had already put me back into a lose-lose situation. “Well…I suppose it won’t hurt too much to see where this could lead,” I said finally, half thinking out loud. As an afterthought, I added, “Not that I wouldn’t have liked to have you in bed.” I leaned back and looked him over appreciatively; he was wearing the same outfit that he had been wearing earlier in the day. The garnet studs in his ears were especially appealing, the way they reflected the moonlight; I could almost imagine the way they would slide easily in the lobes with a little coaxing from my mouth…
I was interrupted from my tiny fantasy by his voice. “That would cost you,” he murmured, turning his head away. “However, please push that thought from your head. Sex would only make the situation messier than it already is.” An awkward silence followed that statement. I had meant it as a joke, even if it was true, but he had responded so seriously. I don’t know what I had expected for a reaction, but that certainly wasn’t it, and I was left without anything substantial to say.
The silence seemed to stretch on forever. It really didn’t help that I knew nothing about this guy. Well, I resolved, I had to start somewhere. My voice tore through the silence when I finally spoke. “Well…you could at least tell me a little about yourself. It’s ridiculous enough I don’t know your name; if I don’t even know if we have anything in common, it would be entirely pointless to agree to be your friend.”
He smiled and nodded in response. “Fair enough. These are my ancestors,” he said, motioning to the area around us. “Alexander Sterling is my great, great grandfather. Imagine, Alex. The Sterlings disowned my great grandmother ages ago, and when I was doing a heritage project in high school, I was curious about my ancestors. I was raised in a family that’s been in poverty for the last three or four generations, but we came from a prosperous family in this city. I came here two years ago to trace any other family that Alexander Sterling might have had.”
He paused and I added my own knowledge. “Alexander Sterling was an only child and never known to have any of his own children; his wife died at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve in 1900. He left his entire fortune to his great-niece, from his wife’s sister, who disappeared shortly after his death. In short, Alexander was the last Sterling.” I sighed. “I’m sure that anything you tell me about these guys I already know. I’ve done some pretty extensive research on the Sterling family myself. The church and City Hall have some nice records.”
“Perhaps. The point is, I saw you here. You sparked my curiosity, and I’ve discovered that you’re pretty interesting, believe it or not. I don’t have many options, as far as living situations go. Here, my accommodations have been taken care of, and there’s you.”
“You’re a rather sick person, you know.” I wondered what his “accommodations” may be, but I wasn’t ready to change the topic.
“Indeed, but you accept me nonetheless. You may not trust me, but you accept me. That’s a very appealing virtue.”
“It would be a different story if you were female. I would have found an excuse to stay far, far away.”
“I don’t think you’re quite as intolerant to women as you impress upon others. Your only friend is a girl, even if she is a little lacking in the feminine qualities. Or don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed?”
“Ange isn’t…she’s not like most girls. She doesn’t make me uncomfortable with the typical wandering eyes and sexual tension. She’s a girl, I’m a guy, but there’s no physical attraction. It’s one hundred percent platonic.”
He looked at me through half-lidded eyes. “Hmm…I suppose. Anyways, I have to get back.” I watched as he climbed down.
“Yeah? Back where?”
“I have a job,” he replied blandly. I raised an eyebrow. “Keep the lantern. And here,” he disappeared behind the statue. “See if you can make any sense of this. It’s all Greek to me.” He reappeared with a black book about the size of a small textbook. “I’ll be here at noon tomorrow,” he added, handing me the volume. He looked up at me for another moment before turning and disappearing through the overgrown brush. He was baiting me again, that was certain. Well, we’d see about that.
“What the hell,” I suddenly grumbled into the empty silence. I was completely disoriented. This must be one of my strange nightmarish dreams that wasn’t really a dream. If that even made any sense. I resituated myself on the grave marker until I was comfortably on my stomach with the book in front of me.
On second thought, I uprooted myself and retrieved the lantern he had left behind. I sat back down, this time letting my legs dangle off the edge of the monument. In a child-like gesture, I swung my legs back and forth as I began to examine the book he had given me. It was bound in velvet, I realized with a start, letting my fingers trail over the cover. Nothing-neither writing nor design-interrupted the smooth cover, so I gently opened it.
The first page was yellowed and stiff with age. One line was written-in Greek, as if it were some grand joke. I knew enough to recognize it as Greek, but certainly not enough to translate. I turned to the next page; this one was full of flowing script.
I scanned the page, written in French, as opposed to the Greek on the previous page; five years of diligently studying French, and there was a multitude of words I didn’t know. I carefully turned the pages until I came to what looked to be the end of the passage. There was an unused line, followed by another line written in Greek, and finally a date and signature that I couldn’t quite make out.
I let out a sigh; nothing had really caught my interest. If anything, though, I wanted a translation of the Greek. I closed the book and slid off of Alexander’s grave marker. Now, I would sleep. Tomorrow, I would get Ange to translate the Greek for me, and maybe I’d look up a few of the French words I didn’t know. Then I could meet that lovely black-haired boy here at noon.
French in this chapter:
French used in this update:
mon amour - my love
je t'aime - I love you
je suis désolé - I'm sorry
Once Life
Chapter Two: Pillow Talk
The walk to my dorm was peaceful. The cemetery, as usual, had been deserted, as well as the streets surrounding it. The closer I got to the building that housed my room, the more people I saw, but the general activity was minimal.
I was surprised to find my roommate and friend, Jake, sitting on my bed and talking on the phone when I opened the door. He had planned on clubbing and “bedding a babe.” With Jake, that meant he would be out until at least one thirty, and if you factored in the sex, there’d either be someone here with him, or he would stay the night somewhere else. Something must’ve gone wrong to change his plans.
“Ange says hi,” Jake said after he hung up. “Oh, big black book. What’s it for?” he asked, watching me set it on my desk.
“Good question. It’s in French and Greek.” I stretched upwards. “I don’t feel like translating right now. Get off my bed before I lay on you,” I added, crossing my arms.
“Maybe that’s what I want,” he replied suggestively. He stretched out until he took up the whole bed.
“Oh, is that the way it is?” I climbed on top of him and folded my arms under my chin. “So what happened? Nic or Yuki take your man?”
He snorted. “No. Messrs. Dominic and Miyuki cancelled. Something along the lines of ‘We didn’t see what was right in front of us. Sorry, we need some time alone.’ You know how I hate clubbing by myself. It’s no fun. I would’ve asked you, but you were off somewhere else, as usual, and not answering your cell. So I thought I’d talk to Ange while I waited for you.”
“For me.” I raised my eyebrows.
“If it’s all right.” His hands were already at my sides, sliding under my shirt.
“I don’t mind.” I pressed myself flush against him.
“Oh, mon amour, je t’aime! Please, take me! I’ve waited an eternity,” he said dramatically. He tugged my shirt up.
“Oh-ho-ho! I shall make zis your best night ever!” I responded with a false French accent. I shifted so he could pull my shirt over my head. It lay discarded on the floor as Jake’s fingers danced against my ribs. I giggled, and within seconds we were both laughing into each other’s shoulder.
Jake let out a gasp, and I realized that my thigh had pressed up between his legs during our laughing fit. “Oh, je suis desolé, mon amour.” I resituated myself until I was sitting up, straddling his hips. I popped the buttons on his shirt slowly, rocking against him with every button; we were both hard.
“This is better than clubbing with Nic and Yuki,” Jake said huskily, undoing my pants.
I plopped down to his side and finished the job for him, ridding myself of my boxers in the process. “I know.” I grinned and made quick work of Jake’s jeans. “Not everyone is as good on top as I am.”
He wriggled out of his boxers and rolled until he had me pinned to the bed. “Who said you could be on top?”
“I did. You’re horrible on top.” He gave me a pouty look. “If it bothers you that much, we could just suck each other off.”
He made a face. “I think I’ll pass. Hey!” he exclaimed as I used my legs to lever his apart.
“What?” I asked around the fingers I had stuck into my mouth. “You’re the one who asked me to take you.” I decided that the fingers were good, and they soon found themselves near Jake’s opening. “Who am I to deny you?” He gasped as the first finger entered. I lifted my hips, bringing us electrifyingly closer. “Still want to be on top?”
His heart was racing, I could feel it pounding above me. For a second I contemplated letting him have his way, but the moment passed. When he still hadn’t answered my question, I slid a second finger into his opening and brushed his prostate. “Jake…” He shook his head. “Good.” I removed both fingers, eliciting a little shiver from him, and then rolled us both over until I was comfortably in position.
I caressed him, and slipped on a condom before entering him, and soon all words and thoughts were lost to gasps, moans, and cries of pleasure. It was pure ecstasy, both physical and mental. The ultimate expression of trust between two friends. With a breathy moan I came, followed seconds later by Jake’s climax. We lay panting for a moment before I pulled out.
I propped myself up so I didn’t crush him with my weight, and looked down at him. The short, spiky brown hair had lost all its shape; the dark brown eyes stared up at me as lush pink lips curled into a smile.
“That was nice. You’re one of the best tops I’ve ever done it with.”
I grinned. “Yes, well, what can I say? Heh, what does this make us now? F*ck buddies? Or friends with benefits?”
“Well, we do a lot more than f*ck, so we can’t be **** buddies. And there’s nothing beneficial about being your friend.”
“Nor yours, you @ss-whore!” We both laughed.
“Now get off of me before I make an @ss-whore out of you.” I stuck my tongue out but complied, and pulled a blanket over us both.
“Hey, Jake.” I snuggled up against his side, draping an arm over his waist and tucking my face between his neck and shoulder.
“Hmm?” He laced his fingers between mine.
“Are we lovers?”
The silence that followed was so long that I feared that he had either fallen asleep or he was ignoring the question. Finally, though, he murmured, “If you want us to, we can be lovers.” He turned his head towards mine. “Is that what you want?”
I actually wasn’t sure if I wanted us to be lovers. I mean, the sex was nice, but I didn’t think that Jake and I had enough in common to actually go out. We were friends, and anything beyond that would be too awkward. “Do you? I think it’d be too weird. I’d rather just stay friends.”
“Who f*ck?” We both laughed. “I like the freedom. It’s nice to go clubbing and hit on anything that walks, guy or girl. I love the diversity. But if you wanted to try to be lovers, I’m willing to give it a go.”
“Thanks, man. But girls? Ick. Stalker freaks.” Jake let out a small laugh. “Oh, speaking of stalkers, I have a new one. Get this-he’s a guy.”
“Is he hot?”
“Drop-dead gorgeous. Freaky, though.” I imagined his languid formality. “He admitted stalking me, he wants us to be friends, and he won’t tell me his name. He looked like he’s still in high school, too.”
“Describe him. Maybe I know him.”
“He has lovely hair.” I propped myself up on my elbow. “Black with a reddish tint and about this long,” I moved my hand from Jake’s waist and demonstrated the length on his hair. “…framing a pale face with very girly features. He may be part Asian, judging by the complexion. Blue-green eyes, bright as the summer sky, a body to make anybody hard as a rock, and form-fitting clothes to show it off.” Damn, I was getting hard just thinking about him. “To top it off, a beautiful, sensuous voice that just rolls over you.”
“Damn, he does sound nice. Lust at first sight, eh?” he asked, grasping my new erection. I sighed gleefully as he stroked me. He stopped suddenly, and I put my hand over his to get him to continue. “You know, that boy, he sounds familiar. Yeah, he sounds like a guy I’ve seen downtown quite a bit.” He started stroking me again. “I’ll ask around next time I go out.”
I moved my hips, trying to gain more of that wonderful friction from his hands. “Jake,” I whined, “stop teasing and do something.”
“Hey, I have an idea!” he exclaimed brightly. I whimpered when his hand left me and traveled down the side of my thigh. “I’ll give you a BJ if you let me have a go on top.”
“Fine! Just…stop teasing!” Without another word, he moved the blanket so that he wouldn’t have to be under it while he sucked me off. He started just below my navel, flicking his tongue down my exposed skin. By the time he reached the head of my erection, I wanted it to be over, but at the same time, I wanted it to last.
I saw spots as he put his mouth over me. Jake rarely did this for me, but he seemed to double his skill every time.
I teetered on the edge as he engulfed my whole length, his tongue massaging my pulsing pleasure. My hips bucked unwillingly; everything was either spinning or dark in my vision. I tried to warn Jake that I was close to climax, but all that came out were feeble cries of pleasure, so I tugged at his hair. He sucked hard until I went rigid, bursting into his mouth with a shaking gasp. He swallowed it with a practiced ease, and then let me rest for a minute before he spread me open before him.
Having Jake inside me was literally a pain in the ass, especially since I was rarely on the receiving end like this. He was rough and didn’t do enough to help his partner-me-to be more comfortable. After I had been stretched sufficiently and I had adjusted, though, it wasn’t quite so bad. Even Jake, as bad as he was on top, knew to change his angle so that he brushed the spot that turned me into a quivering vehicle of painful pleasure. I hated to make noise during sex, but hell, everybody screams on the bottom.
I felt him reach climax, sending a fire through my veins that erupted as I, too, came. Jake pulled out and we lay panting and spent. I lay under him, my legs still spread and caressing his sides.
“Alex, look at the mess you made,” Jake mumbled, rolling us so that we were both on our sides.
“You’re the one who was waiting for me in bed,” I grumbled back. I yawned. “We’ll clean up later. Bon nuit.”
“Mmm.” I pulled the blanket back over us, and snuggled into Jake’s body heat as sleep stole over me.
Once Life
Chapter Three: Alex’s Condition
I woke up sometime in the middle of the night, entangled in the sheets with someone. I say someone, because it wasn’t Jake-the hair was too long and too dark. I sighed. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and I doubted that it was going to be the last.
It gets irritating, though. It’s hard to describe what exactly did happen. I could be doing anything-walking, sleeping, reading-and then suddenly, things around me were different. My clothes changed, the people around me changed, the entire setting changed. I was the only constant in these strange transitions. I never knew how long I would stay, though. Usually it lasted only a couple of hours, but I could be stuck in an entirely foreign environment for days and weeks before I somehow ended up back with Jake or someone else.
It was always very problematic. I was someone in these situations. People were my friends and family, and there were rules and things that I had to be aware of. Not knowing my own background had put me into some compromising situations. I dreaded my time-space jumps.
I recorded everything in my journal. I researched scientific explanations on the side. I constantly wondered what I did or what had happened that made these jumps start three years ago.
So it was no surprise that I should wake up in a situation similar to when I fell asleep-entangled with somebody. Warm amongst the sheets and the limbs, completely at ease. I ran my hand through the silky, shoulder-length hair, and then let my hand trace the muscles on the shoulders. He was beautiful and nicely built, but he wasn’t particularly memorable. I sighed and snuggled up against him, determined to sleep and deal with the situation in the morning if it persisted.