The evening air bit at Patrick’s skin as he tried to focus on other things. His back and ass pressed against the stone lid that covered a casket in the above-ground grave.
Why did he believe Gavin when he told him graveyards were sexy? Was he out of his mind? Now he lay nude, waiting for Gavin to get off inside him; his cock and balls were freezing and in no mood to function.
Gavin huffed and puffed as he worked to his climax with Patrick’s legs on his shoulders. He grinned at Patrick believing he was enjoying the moment. Patrick gripped the sides of the stone lid as the friction scratched at his spine and upper back.
Patrick wasn’t one to back out of a dare. He had done some challenging things with lovers during his oversea journeys. He wished it was warmer weather and Gavin was someone else. Then, the guy he viewed from Gavin’s bathroom window came to mind.
‘Man he was cute,’ Patrick thought. The heat to his body returned while his arms and hands responded by releasing the stone lid and rose to Gavin’s shoulders and forearms. He envisioned the peeping tom in place of Gavin, touching his face. His fingers were slipping along his neck where his mouth ravished his flesh. “Oh god,” he gasped into the chilly night air. “That’s it, right there…” His skin tingled from the fantasy in his head of his peeping tom. Gavin’s tongue and lips moved down his throat to his awaiting hard nipples, pinching and biting them. His cock and balls responded as Gavin rocked faster. Patrick added encouragement by grasping his arse cheeks and pulling his hips closer causing him to thrust deeper into him.
Patrick swayed his head from side to side as his body shivered with a sensation of envisioning another man’s mouth, in place of Gavin’s, on his cock. The wet tongue was snaking his cock as his mouth sucked hard and fast bringing Patrick to the edge. Gavin’s climax erupted into spasms as Patrick shut his eyes tight, as his own seed spilling over his stomach, crotch, and thighs.
Their voices melted together as they shivered from the discharged heat from their bodies. Gavin collapsed on top of Patrick, who lay limp, breathing in and out, waiting for his heart rate to settle back to its normal speed.
The fantasy faded away. The chilly night air wrapped around Patrick while Gavin’s dead weight pressed his back against the stone slab causing discomfort. He was heavy and, Patrick wanted him off.
At Gavin’s place after sex, if not tired, Gavin rolled off of him and light a cigarette while he got dressed in silence. Patrick laid motionless for a moment staring at the ceiling, wanting a shower. Without looking at Patrick, Gavin ordered Patrick to order them something to eat or to give him money for food and drink and go out by himself. Gavin stopped paying for his food, drink, and rent. He told Patrick he should foot the bill since he spent the night so much. Patrick didn’t want to push the point that Gavin was blackmailing him, so he forked over the money just to stop the conversation.
“Gavin, get up—you’re crushing me.” He nudged him with his body, but Gavin didn’t budge. “Come on Gavin, get off. I’m freezing, I’m covered in cum, and I want to get dressed,” he snapped. But Gavin still wouldn’t rise. His head faced away from him, so Patrick didn’t notice that Gavin still had his eyes opened. Or that a knife was sticking in his back.
He wanted him off. The closure was wide enough for two So using his right leg and arms, Patrick shoved Gavin with all his might until he slid free of him. When Patrick sat up, he saw the reason Gavin wasn’t responding. He jumped off the stone slab and stumbled, almost tumbling to the cold ground. His body trembled again, this time from the shock of viewing Gavin laying so still.
“Gavin,” he said in a shaky voice. “Gavin,” he said louder. He looked for his clothes and located his pants by the stone grave Gavin lay on. Thrusting his shivering legs in, he covered his bare ass he didn’t bother to wear any underwear—Gavin’s demand before they left his apartment. With shaking fingers, he closed the button fly of his jeans and looked for the rest of his clothes. He eyed his shirt and jacket draped carelessly on a headstone marked, MY LOVING HUSBAND. Patrick’s body refuse to stop shaking as he scanned his surroundings for his boots.
With care he walked to the other side of the grave, knowing he’d had to glimpse at Gavin’s face. He saw his boots were closer to the grave where Gavin’s arm now dangled over. Patrick averted his eyes grabbing his boots and shoved his feet into the expensive leather. He stood staring at Gavin’s lifeless eyes. ‘The wannabe hipster’ everyone called him but Patrick, who found his lifestyle fascinating at first. Sure, he was condescending, and a son-of-a-bitch but none of that mattered now he’s dead. Or was he?
He never checked for a pulse.
“Maybe he’s still alive,” thought Patrick, who took a step towards him. The force that stood between him and the possibility of touching a dead man’s flesh, staggered Patrick’s steps. But he had to look to be sure for his own peace of mind. His hand reached for his neck.
“A pulse should be clearer there,” he said, as a cloud of his breath floated in the air. Patrick pressed his fingers close to Gavin’s artery. At first, there was nothing as he pressed harder, then Patrick’s own heart skipped a beat when a throb that pulsated several times pressed against his fingers.
“Oh my god, you’re alive. Okay—okay, you need help. An ambulance.” Patrick said aloud to no one as he reached for his cell, but it wasn’t where he left it inside the breast pocket of his coat. In fact, his wallet was missing. “They must have fallen out,” he said to himself. He ran back to where his shirt and coat had been and dug through the fallen leaves for his things. The chime echoed the night air. The familiar ringing of his cell. The melody he set for a specific number—Gavin’s numbers.
He saw his cell glowing under the leaves and reached for it. He stared at the caller ID in horror. Pikachu, the Pokémon anime character Patrick picked out for Gavin, showed on the display. His yellow body, with black ear tips, and red cheeks smiled back at him playing the theme song from the first season’s show.
Patrick swallowed and pressed the green phone icon and placed the cell to his ear. He couldn’t speak as his breath shot small white clouds from his quivering lips.
“Patrick,” said a voice he didn’t recognize. “Patrick, listen.”
“Who is this?”
“Don’t you know? I’m the one.”
“The one—the one what?”
“The only one—for you.”
Patrick tried to stay calm as his anger spread. Someone was fucking with him. He told the caller to fuck off. Patrick disconnected and hit the emergency button waiting for a response.
“Emergency response, how can I help you?”
“Thank God—my friend needs help. Someone stabbed him in the back!”
“Is he responsive?”
“No—but I felt a pulse.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No—please, he’s dying.”
“Tell me your location?”
“The graveyard on…” the call dropped and there was nothing but dead air. “Hello—no—please—hello!” Patrick looked at his cell and saw the connection to the operator, but couldn’t hear her. “Hello, please if you can hear me we’re at the graveyard…” The dead silence of the cell caused Patrick a sense of dread. Then he heard the sudden clicks on the line.
“Why Patrick,” the grainy voice from before said. “Why did you hang up on me?”
Patrick stood and looked around his surroundings, with the help from the bright moon above, he saw no one in the darkness.
“Listen, you sicko, my friend is dying. He has a knife sticking out of his back—I need to call…”
“Fuck him, Patrick, you only need me.”
“Are you here now?”
“I’m always with you.” Patrick kept searching but saw no movement. He needed to get Gavin to a hospital, so he used charm to get his way. “Listen—I don’t know your name?”
“In due time.”
“Okay—please just for now I need help. My friend is freezing and dying from his wound.”
“He’s not dying.”
“Yes—he is. Please, I’m begging you let me call for help.”
“He’s not dying,” the grainy voice snapped.
“He has a fucking knife in his back, and he’s not moving!” Patrick screamed, losing his patience.
“I know. I put it there.” Patrick dropped to his knees and lowered his cell to his lap.
“Patrick?” the voice said loud and clear as he looked towards to where Gavin lay and saw someone wearing all black, with a harlequin mask standing by him. In horror Patrick watched the person lifted Gavin’s head and twisted his neck until it snapped. The grinding and popping of bone caused Patrick to drop his cell back into the leaves by his knee. The figure stepped around Gavin’s now lifeless body and approached Patrick.
‘Run,’ he thought, as his legs propelled him away from the killer, kicking up leaves as his feet raced through them. He ran past old and new headstones towards the gate that Gavin had brought him through, not looking back as the figure called his name.