Incubus

Disclaimer: The following story depicts sexual acts between two men. Though unspecified, both participants are intended to be over eighteen. If such material offends you, or you are offended by profanity, please do not continue reading. This story belongs to Timothy Evans and should not be distributed to other sites without expressed consent. Comments and suggestions are welcome and appreciated.

Incubus

Michael sat in his bedroom in his West Hudson street apartment, on his unmade bed in his unkempt room, laptop open, browser logged into his gay dating profile. Naturally, the door being closed, he had his shirt pulled up just above his nipples, his belt undone, pants open, cock erect with that gradual curve toward his stomach. His roommate Kyle wasn't home at the moment, not that he would see what Michael was doing anyway.

He had his browser cued up to some cute kid's profile, a freshman, probably, who wanted "dscrt fun" and "nsa," when a notification popped up. There was a message from hott4u. Michael opened up the guy's profile. 34 years old. Old enough not to open the message. That decided, it didn't really hurt to browse what pics the guy had up.

Short-cropped, mouse-brown hair, blue eyes, and a smile that didn't quite say "creepy stalker." He looked normal, at least. His profile pic showed him in a swimsuit at some stream, completely wet. Michael's cock pulsed, and he stroked it a little. It had been almost a month since he'd gotten any action. A month seemed a long time. The man's profile said uncut, and there was no dick size. Michael smirked. Normally guys posted a dick size so big it seemed it could split his ass open. He was into running and biking and swimming, and apparently also read. Being at college to study English, Michael hoped this meant something more significant than Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol.

Against his earlier advice, Michael clicked open the message. hey cutie ;)

He groaned, but cautioned himself that most people on the internet talked this way. It wasn't a sign that the guy wasn't worth his time. Hey. How are you?

pretty good, u?

Good. Just checkin' out your profile.

o? like it? ;)

Yeah, you don't seem too bad. What books do you read?

probably nothing u like. i just finished pearls of grey a few days ago. u heard of it?

No. I'll look it up sometime.

u like reading? i could read 2 u sometime. ;)

Oh boy, thought Michael. He paused for a minute, then decided he could handle some harmless flirting. I'd like that. Maybe we could do some other things too. ;)

He clicked on hott4u's profile again. HIV-, no tattoos, no piercings – Michael fingered the ring in his ear – nothing to make him seem too intimidating. He took a deep breath and looked out the window. The sun was starting to set, casting the brick and steel buildings in a liquid orange hue. His stomach growled.

Hey, I'm starving. You want to grab a slice of pizza? Michael could feel his heart rate pick up a bit.

sure. where should I meet u?

Why don't we meet outside Veronica's Pizzeria?

cool. be there in fifteen.

The late September air wasn't too chilly yet. West Hudson street seemed to be falling asleep, but as he rounded the corner and walked a few blocks south to Main Street things started to come alive. Cars lined up in front of traffic lights, people crossed streets with only a regard to the conversations going with their companions, and a band played off somewhere down the street, a mix of jazz and rock.

The pizzeria was across the street from the rest of the shops, on the corner of Main and Clinton. Michael caught sight of the guy and put on a smile. The man was recognizable from the pictures online, but there were subtle differences. His hair was a shade darker, and his face wasn't exactly symmetrical, his left eye being slightly smaller than the right. Still, he was cute, and it might not turn out to be an awful night.

The man smiled and held out his hand. "Hey, I'm Jake." He held Michael's eyes for a moment too long, then looked away. Michael's gaze drifted to Jake's shirt, noticing that it was filled quite nicely.

"Should we go inside?"

Michael looked up, and his nerves returned to him. "Yeah, let's."

Jake held the door open for him, and the smell of pizza in the oven filled the air. Inside the lights were low, and the walls were painted a pale yellow, with unfinished wood flooring. For a few moments they stared at the menu in silence, then each ordered on his own. They picked up their food and drinks and sat down at a booth.

The seats were red leather, well-cushioned, and a pair of flat screen TVs played an episode of Friends overhead so that each could see. Michael looked down at his bacon-ranch pizza, then took a bite. He looked up at Jake again, reassessing. He had pink lips, a natural pink that Michael found beautiful. Five o'clock shadow covered his cheeks and chin. Michael was glad he decided to see this guy, but he wished he could find something to talk about.

"So," began Jake, "what do you study?"

"English."

"Oh." From the look on his face, Michael guessed that book he mentioned earlier wasn't exactly literature. "Well, maybe you can recommend a book to me. What are you reading at the moment?"

He took a sip of coke. "Well, luckily I've been keeping up on things, so I'm only reading Virginia Woolf's Jacob's Room at the moment. I really like it, actually. I don't always know what's going on, but my professor says that you're not really supposed to."

"How can you read and not know what's going on? That would drive me crazy."

"I thought it would drive me crazy too, but it's actually not that bad. Her sentences are just so beautiful that you're willing to read whatever she writes." His eyes darted up to the TV as Rachel walked onscreen in a fluffy pink dress, but he redirected his gaze at Jake. "What do you do?"

"Oh, well." He put down his pizza and stared at it a bit. "I mostly just file things and enter data at the bank. It's not really a glamorous job."

Michael faltered a second, then smiled in an attempt to show that he didn't care. "Well, what do you do for fun? Besides troll for cute boys, of course."

"I do like to read about magic. Magic magic, like Wicca. Not tricks. I don't mean I practice it, but it's cool to read about. I write stories sometimes, but they're not much."

That wasn't exactly the answer Michael was expecting, but it wasn't like he needed to stick around if things got weird. Besides, he'd already decided Jake was cute, and he wanted to do more than sit around and eat pizza. He wasn't at the point yet where he could ask a 34-year-old man for that, but he could accept if he was asked.

Jake looked at him for a moment after finishing his pizza. "Should we go?"

He nodded, and since permission had been given, they both shuffled out of the booth and shoved their empty plates in the garbage. The air outside had cooled a bit more, and he zipped his jacket up all the way to the neck. Jake walked beside him, hands shoved in his pockets.

"So, where should we go?" Jake asked.

"Um, well, we could go back to my place. My roommate doesn't normally come back until after midnight, so we should be fine." It took a lot less effort to say that than he'd thought, though it came with the realization that he couldn't take it back.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

They walked in silence back to his apartment, steps crunching on the few newly-fallen leaves on the sidewalk. They walked close together. Michael really wanted to hold hands with him, but maybe that was too much for a first meeting.

Michael showed Jake into his apartment, feeling ashamed at the condition of the place. It wasn't really messy, but nothing in there could be considered finished. The floorboards were an ugly light brown with black scuff-marks from whoever lived there before. The couches and chairs and dining table were all second-hand. The once-white walls were peeling in places, and rolls of dust lurked in the corners. Kyle still wasn't home yet.

"This is a nice place."

Michael wondered how much effort that lie took. As they stood there, he was keenly aware that he was 22-years-old, standing around with a man twelve years older than him. Not only that, due to the site they met on, there was a certain expectation for what they would be doing that night, but neither man would act on it. He wished they didn't have to go through the charade of watching a movie, like every other hookup he could imagine. He wanted to reach out and grab him, but he did nothing.

Jake turned to him. "What would you like to do?"

He froze. He really wanted anything but to watch TV, to show Jake he wasn't a boring, normal kid like the rest of them. But he couldn't bring himself to move, to reach out and make that first touch. An idea came to him, and it sounded stupid as hell, but he managed to blurt it out anyways.

"Why don't we go sit outside?"

He led Jake through the backdoor, where there was a small patio by a patch of grass that overlooked the Eruquo Creek. Over the sound of the water they could hear cars on the bridge, and the streetlights across the creek kept the sky from ever going truly dark. Even though it was chilly, Michael sat down, staring down at the water while Jake sat next to him.

"You ever used online gay dating before?"

Michael looked up at him. "Oh, yeah. Not much success, though. You?"

"A few times," he replied, nodding. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment. "Nothing's ever quite worked out, though. Yet."

The wind rustled in the trees, and they sat there in silence again. Yet the silence had changed. Michael found he could no longer willingly break eye contact with Jake. He had a strange feeling about him, a kind of alertness, as if he were a cat waiting to pounce. It held him rapt. "May I kiss you?" Jake asked.

"Please."

Jake leaned in and kissed him on the lips. It lasted little more than a moment, but it was enough for Michael. As Jake backed away, Michael reached out and placed a hand on the back of his head, pulling them together so they could kiss again.

It would be silly to say that it was a kiss of true love, and that there wasn't anything dirty about it. Even as he tasted Jake's soft lips, Michael was keenly aware of the way his cock pushed at his jeans. He reached his other hand over and started stroking Jake's leg, inching near and nearer to his crotch before pulling away. It was both a tease for Jake and a test of bravery for Michael.

He leaned in closer, and Jake's lips slipped off his own and trailed over his cheek, drifting down over his jaw and clasping his neck. Michael got that sensation that was too familiar by now and yet utterly intoxicating; the sensation that was unbearable almost in the same way that tickling was, and yet incited the most insane waves of lust and desire in him. A moan gurgled out of his throat, one he would have stifled if given the chance. He put his hands on Jake's pecs, feeling the solid muscle underneath his shirt. The sensations pulled him even further from the world around, into the new world that his senses created.

He could no longer hear the sound of the water below, nor the sound of the cars driving by. Only the sound of his breath mingling with Jake's reached his ears. He was aware of every inch of his body that touched Jake, the knee pressed into the thigh, Jake's lips on his bare skin, Jake's pecs underneath his palms. He tasted only Jake's lips, his tongue, the slick exchange of saliva. He could smell Jake's skin, the faint cologne, completely male. Jake's hands moved over his body in a way that made him so intoxicated that he couldn't see, and when he managed to open his eyes everything existed in a sort of hazy blur except Jake's clear, blue eyes.

Jake hoisted Michael up into his lap and pulled his shirt off. The wind chilled him, and he grabbed eagerly at Jake's shirt, tossing it aside so they could press their bodies even closer. Jake ran a hand through his chest hair, then leaned in and licked his nipple. The feeling was indescribable, delightful, unique, and Michael ran his hands through Jake's hair, feeling a confusing mix of adoration and lust well up inside of him. His cock pressed close to Jake's belly, and he began undulating his hips, under the spell of some divine force.

The thought that he would cum floated up in his mind, but it vanished when Jake slipped his hand down Michael's pants, grabbed his butt and pulled them closer together. Michael shuddered with pleasure.

"Oh God–"

There is that "point of no return," when orgasm is inevitable and imminent. Physically, Michael wasn't there, but mentally he was hurtling down a path he knew well. Jake was thrusting his hips too, as if he knew Michael was on the brink of pleasure and wanted to force him over. Michael grabbed Jake's head and held it to his chest, feeling the soft hair brush against his skin.

"Oh!"

His body convulsed in pleasure. As if pushing past some painful barrier, he came in his pants, each ejaculation coupled with a fierce contraction of his entire body. He clung to Jake, digging his fingertips into Jake's sweaty skin. His cries grew softer as his body spent itself, and he allowed himself to sink into Jake's arms.

Jake smiled and kissed him.

When the kiss finally ended, Michael realized with embarrassment that he hadn't returned the favor. He reached down and started to knead Jake's crotch, but Jake brushed his arm away. "No, I'm okay." He bent down and kissed Michael once more on the forehead. Then he got up and put his shirt on. Michael found he couldn't make himself move.

Fully dressed, Jake looked down at him again. "I'll see you again soon." It wasn't a question. He turned and disappeared around the side of the apartment, leaving Michael, in his jeans and sneakers, feeling naked and vulnerable.

That night, Michael's sleep was restless. He was in a dark void, a kind of hazy grey in which the only thing he could see was a figure floating toward him. It was a man, with black, leathery wings. For a moment, he was convinced it was Jake, but his vision was too indistinct. The figure was naked except for a black sheet that draped from one shoulder across his chest, wound around his back, and snaked between his legs, covering his groin. It flew closer, almost close enough for the features to be distinct, before he vanished into the darkness.

The next few days were useless for Michael. Jake consumed his thoughts. The texture of Jake's skin, the sound of his breath, the taste of his lips, all were permanently etched in his mind. When he went to class, the lectures blew past him, and discussions occurred as if he hadn't read anything. He sat in the corner, quiet and unassuming, looking as if he hadn't slept at all when really his mind was active, constantly considering and evaluating and dreaming and forbidding and distracting and obsessive. When he sat down in his apartment to read, the images of the novels and poetry were intermingled with images of the brown stubs of hair on Jake's chin or his large, pink nipples. It might have occurred to him that such an obsession was unnatural if his mind would rest long enough to consider it.

The only other thoughts he spared were for the dream, and those were few. Almost the morning after he had dismissed the figure's resemblance to Jake as the echoes of a singular encounter given further attention by his subconscious. Still, a thread of his being hoped that there was some connection, that some element of the supernatural did exist in the real world.

Although he had checked his profile several times throughout the week, he hadn't received a follow-up message from Jake. This worried him. He waited for Friday, when he could afford another senseless break from his studies.

Friday came warmer than usual, even going above seventy for one last summer-like day before the crushing cold of winter. It also came with a cooler head for Michael, who wasn't sure when he left his British novel class at two whether or not he would message Jake. But the balmy air could have fooled him into thinking it was spring, and as he walked down the sidewalk over the bridge, he decided they would go hiking. Somewhere they could be alone together, but where the risk that others might walk as well would keep them from going farther than Michael wanted.

Firing up the laptop, he found that Jake was online, hopefully sneaking a peak at his profile while the boss wasn't looking. Michael glanced over Jakes pictures, and he really wished that he didn't have to wait until five o'clock to see him again. He sent a quick message inviting Jake to go hiking when he got out of work, then clicked to a torrent site to hunt for porn. Just a few seconds later his computer buzzed with a message. Michael clicked it open.

c u in 10 or 15, then?

Michael looked at it, puzzled. Don't you have work until five?

nah, don't work full shift on fridays. ill pick u up at ur house. c u soon :)

Michael was about to write back when Jake's profile switched offline.

Wow, that was fast, he thought. Then he realized that the blue light sweater he wore to class wasn't exactly what he wanted to have on. He pulled it off and put on a plaid button-down, the object being to leave enough of the collar open to get Jake looking. He went into the bathroom for a quick moment to wet and comb his hair and brush his teeth, then sat in the living room and tried to read a book.

When the knock at the door came, Michael set down his book, forcing himself to slow down and breathe. He didn't want to let Jake know how much of an effect the other night had, and how easily he had fallen under a stranger's spell.

Jake stood just outside the door, under the steps, wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and a pair of blue jeans with white sneakers. Michael locked the door behind them, and they walked up the stairs to the street in an awkward single-file. "Where would you like to go?" Jake asked.

"I was thinking we could do the City Preserve Trail, the one that goes to Whitegorge Falls. It's not far from here."

Jake smiled and looked at him a moment before starting up the street. For a little while the two walked in silence, the orange and yellow leaves of fall piled up by the street for collection. Cars passed by, the afternoon sun shining on their windshields, and the clear September air filled Michael's lungs. The longer they walked, the more he eased into the silence, comfortable just to share the presence of the blue-eyed man.

"So your classes went well today?"

Michael grimaced. "Not really." He kicked a stone into the grass. "I've been having a hard time concentrating this week. I guess it's just being burned out."

"Oh? Did something bad happen?"

"Nope. Got away with everything. Not one teacher called on me or put me on the spot. I don't know if that makes it worse or not."

Jake chuckled. "Well, I hope you get out of your rut, kid. At least you're still someplace where you can stimulate your mind. There's nothing in my job that could be remotely interesting. You're lucky to still be in school."

"Did you go to school?" They turned off the street at the entrance to the hiking trail, which was nestled in between the row of houses. A gravel path led off into the sunlit woods, and soon the path became nothing more than hard-packed dirt.

Jake looked at him for a moment, then looked off into the distance. "It was a very long time ago. I didn't really study that hard; took a few classes without declaring a major and then decided that college work wasn't for me. I don't know if it was the right decision or not." His eyes fixated on the ground.

The urge to hold his hand grabbed Michael again, and, knowing that nobody would really be spying on them in the woods, he reached out. Of a sort of tacit mutual desire, their fingers interlaced, and he felt that warmth spread from his hand up his arm and into his core, sending a shiver of delight down his spine.