C3 Shade of Night

Brett Lockhard

Through the window Ethan looked past the full branches of the giant oak. Beyond it the azure sky was expansive and hopeful. He lingered here, his mind quiet, relishing the tranquility of the cottage he had rented with his partner Jack, who slept beside him. These were halcyon minutes, his eyes soft in the early day, the sunlight gentle as it splashed into the bedroom. All of it belied the first of the season’s leaves beginning to yellow outside, a harbinger of what was to come.

Waking up slowly next to him, Jack dragged his hand through the hair of Ethan’s broad chest, and the touch of it sent his cock surging within seconds. He felt the ridges of Ethan’s indomitable abs and looked up to admire the creases that had just started forming around his deep set green eyes. He reached for Ethan’s monster-thick cock—a thing of so much rank fantasy over the years, a thing that now proved useful on mornings like these, mornings that accommodated the passion that still tore through him after all this time together.

With not a word yet spoken, Jack kissed a path through the soft fur of Ethan’s stomach and finally, gratefully, stopped to inhale the warm musk of the man’s pubes. His tongue made a familiar pass around the head of Ethan’s nine-inch cock. He licked carefully at first, wetting the entire tip and an inch of the shaft, pulling back to tease him, then approaching again, this time sucking but still only at the head. Ethan watched intently, excited by the way his pre-cum stretched from Jack’s lips when he pulled away. He waited for the predictable surge that told Jack it was time to take it all. Ethan’s cock head swelled, unfathomable though it might seem to grow even bigger, and Jack dove hungrily on it. Ethan liked to watch as the inches disappeared. Reaching the back of the throat, he waited for Jack’s steadying inhale through the nose, then thrust his hips forward for a single final plunge into the gorge.

Jack froze for a second, seizing around the gargantuan member choking him. He allowed the tip to recede from his throat, then impaled himself again and again with it. He made gurgling sounds, deftly sneaking in air between deep swallows of the outsized pole. Skilled though he was, Jack was lightheaded already. Ethan let his head drop backward, reveling in the sounds of slobbering, then lifted it again to make contact with Jack’s intense, adoring eyes. He reached forward and grabbed a thatch of his partner’s black hair. At thirty-six, Jack still boasted a mess of youth at his crown—as much a sign of virility as his unyielding square jaw and the black stubble that shadowed his face.

Jack pulled back, gliding his slick upper lip over the throbbing head. As he crested the tip, Ethan’s cock slapped against his rock-hard abs with a thud. Using his hand for the first time, Jack grabbed the shaft and went intently to work on bringing Ethan to orgasm.

“You want my cum?” Ethan asked. “Or should I save it for your ass?”

“Give it to me now,” Jack said, his first words to Ethan today. “I can’t wait for it.”

With that, Ethan gripped the edge of the mattress, which was now exposed where the sheet had slid off. He snarled, possessed by something close to pain, an anguished climb to orgasm. Jack lifted his eyes to watch while he waited eagerly for the flood. With a gasp, Ethan released in four distinct shots. Allowing his mouth to fill before swallowing, Jack closed his eyes and enjoyed the taste on his tongue. Despite his own cock still hard and twitching, Jack felt relief himself when the wad of cream coated his throat as he finally took it all down.

Ethan’s heavy cock rested on Jack’s tongue. With a final squeeze, Jack milked the remains and licked the cock clean before collapsing on Ethan’s furry chest.

“You want it now?” Ethan asked.

“I want to stay here for a minute,” Jack replied. With his head resting on Ethan’s chest, Jack heard the slow, sure beat of his heart.

Ethan ran his hand through Jack’s hair and felt the sharp dark stubble that Jack wore with effortless masculine appeal. There could be nothing more to ask than this—to be naked in the sunlight with a drained cock and the person he loved at his chest. Ethan looked outside and noticed, even late into the fall, the colors still seemed so saturated, so full of life. And still, Ethan could not help thinking about what lie ahead—the sky a heavy November gray, the last of the lingering leaves quivering on its branch, then floating off in a cold wind.

Jack traced a finger along Ethan’s obliques, muscles he was astonished to find still, now that they were men for whom age thirty-five was a memory. At the hipbone, Jack swept two fingers across the waistline, then descended to where the hair of Ethan’s lower abs tangled with the pubes in which Jack wanted again to bury his face. But he wanted something now even more. When he reached for Ethan’s cock, he found all nine inches ready for him. He leaned forward to feel Ethan’s warm breath on his lips. He asked with only his eyes, and Ethan nodded encouragingly to go ahead. So little needed to be said between them.

As Jack adjusted the head of Ethan’s cock at the rim of his ass, he was grateful for a partner like this, someone with such unyielding sexual interest in him. Losing inch after inch into the warm maw, Ethan was mesmerized by the sight of the man above him. From the rugged lines of his jaw to the cut ledges of his chest covered with fur, in silhouette he could have been twenty-seven years old. On display here was the power of his manhood but none of the physical decay Ethan might have expected, years ago, thinking about the approach of middle age. Now fully inside, Ethan felt the sweet contact of Jack’s firm ass against his hips. As he began to thrust, Jack’s ass welcomed him fully. Now in a steady, mindless wave, Jack let sound the grunts and satisfied pleas of a man who was now complete. And Ethan, in the midst of easily bestowing such pleasure, had one overriding thought: It won’t be like this forever.

Soon there would be the decline. There would be no predicting when it started exactly. But once set in motion, things would not reverse. He imagined the future—not a bad one, a wager could be made on that. But even as Ethan’s thrusts intensified, a quiet sadness grew within him. Nothing in this world would be forever, and realizing it was desperation.

Above Ethan, Jack locked his canon arms to brace against the torrent of the gigantic cock. He moaned pleadingly as the fucking grew more intense, and Ethan clutched at his partner’s biceps, squeezing around the bulging veins that spoke of all those early morning river rows, that pulsed with the vitality and the ecstasy of a man in his prime.

Ethan kept time with Jack’s gasps, imparting the euphoria of this seminal fuck, all the while registering the creeping feeling of fear. The tears were near the surface as Ethan sat up and reached his substantial arms around the man he could not possibly love more. He held him tight as he threw him on his back, never pulling his cock out of the grateful ass.

As the sounds of Ethan’s pounding reached crescendo, Jack let loose a protracted moan of uncontrolled yearning. It was an orgasm that came from deep within, as though every cell in his body joined in creating the surge of power that erupted through his cut eight-incher.

Ethan felt the hot spill against his lower abs and slowed his pace until he was completely still, pressing his firm body, now wet with sweat, against Jack’s. Together their scent was a stinging brine, a smell that told of the basest acts, a smell they alone could appreciate. Ethan nestled his face in Jack’s neck and kissed him warmly, noticing the strong post-fuck pulse of the jugular against his tongue. The two incredible bodies now one, Ethan did not move. With his large cock still throbbing in Jack’s ass, Ethan simply held him tightly, their faces now pressed together, his breath suspended as if stopping time. Overcome now, Ethan felt the first tear escape. With his big arms around Jack’s chest, he squeezed tighter, feeling this might be the closest two people had ever been. He radiated from the core as he fired three enormous wads into Jack’s hole.

There was silence then. The two men lay together, lost in the prolactin flood, knowing no need except to remain like this with each other. “Does it get any better?” Jack asked. “Or should we just be done now, knowing we’ve had it all?”

Jack was joking, of course—but Ethan recognized some truth in the question. This life would have nothing more for them than this moment, than right now being in each other’s arms. And really how was it possible to go on knowing that the rest of life would be only fractional pleasures doled out like soup at a shelter? Ethan merely stroked Jack’s hair, unable to entertain these questions. “I love you,” he said, lifting his head to kiss Jack’s parted lips.

Eventually the day began—with a trip to the little market in town where they would pick up some food for the next few days. They were not really Hamptons people; they didn’t have a house or a beach club out here—not for lack of means, but for lack of desire. The pretense, the parties, it just wasn’t their scene. But if something required their presence, they were game for a few days at a time. They rented the same cottage on a gravel path in Bridgehampton and felt comfortable returning to it when needed. At the very least, the time away reminded them how good their sex was.

The reason for this particular weekend was to support a not-so-close friend’s new film. To raise money for production, there would be a fundraiser hosted by a rich man everything about whom they knew only through rumors, some of which were rather dark. The invitation announced: Sunset Cocktails and Screening. Dinner to Follow.

Jack finished the knot of his tie in the bathroom mirror while Ethan, already fully dressed in a sports coat, jeans, and wingtip boots, sat patiently in the living room. Looking over the rim of his martini glass, Ethan noticed the sun was already low in the sky. A navy-purple cast was falling like a curtain on the closing day.

When he finished dressing, Jack poured himself a drink, joined Ethan on the couch, and looked out into the end of the day. In the quiet, he couldn’t help thinking of them as two men growing old in their rocking chairs, the quiet of the house as much a companion to them as they were to each other.

They were among the first to arrive. Entering the stone Gothic manse, they found themselves alone in the marble foyer, unable to locate the sounds of the host or any guests.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” the host, Anton, said, suddenly standing between the couple and the door. Jack shuddered when the silence broke. He turned to take in the imposing vision of this six-foot-three man with predatory obsidian eyes and hair that framed his face in dark waves. He was a dramatic vision of striking features and brute strength, not to mention something unknown and intoxicating. The silk pocket square and oxford shoes were all polish, but the black hair that crept along substantial wrists, exposed only when the cuffs slid on his arms, was pure animal.

“I’m delighted to have you,” Anton said. His gaze was mesmerizing.

Ethan extended his hand. “It’s so good of you to have us.” As their hands met, Ethan was aware of succumbing to whatever magic this man offered. Anton’s grip was strong, his skin surprisingly cold to the touch. After too many seconds shaking hands, Ethan managed finally to pull his away. He turned to Jack: “Let’s get a drink, shall we?”

Jack merely nodded. Ethan reached for his waist as they walked toward the game room, where antlers adorned broad-paneled walls and model servers made turns around the room with a waltz’s grace. One of them bowed slightly as he offered flutes of pink champagne. As they sipped, Ethan peered through the windows. He noticed the final wisps of color disappearing on the horizon and then, finally, the deep blue shade of night pulled down like surrender.

In New York, Ethan and Jack were accustomed to pretty crowds, to rooms boasting an excessive style quotient. But as guests poured into the game room and spilled onto the balcony, it became clear this party was like nothing they had seen before. It was a parade of men, all in their early to mid-thirties, each more beautiful than the one before. The room became a phantasmagoria of sharp-lined jaws and piercing eyes, of broad chests and perfect skin, of flutes filled with and drained of varying pinks. As the men circled each other, it was a dance of hunter and prey. The night took on a palpable smoothness, which Jack attributed to the bubbles. For Ethan there was something more, and he was determined to discover it.

With his bourbon-liqueur voice poured into Ethan’s ear, Anton put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and said, “Join me in the theater, won’t you?” As they turned to follow, Ethan’s hand brushed Anton’s. Perhaps just an accident, the body contact sprang Ethan’s cock to life, tensing against the fabric of his briefs.

Ethan and Jack followed Anton to the back row of the theater, a room inside the house that could have passed for a legitimate box office cinema. Sitting between them, Ethan felt the unmistakable slick of pre-cum at the tip of his semi-hard cock. He put his hand on Jack’s baseball-bat forearm, an attempt to convince himself it was his partner who had turned him on. Jack turned to kiss Ethan, smiled knowingly, then whispered, “My ass is still humming from that epic fuck this morning.”

When Ethan returned to face forward, Anton leaned into his other ear: “I’m usually here watching, you know, art house films. It’s nice to have visitors who want to see actual art being made.”

The opening credits gave way to a grainy title screen, and “Canyon Shadows” floated across the celluloid. Produced on a $50,000 budget, the film was “a quiet masterpiece that teased light out of the most desperate corners of our world.” That’s what the Village Voice said about it anyway, when it debuted in Toronto.

“Do you like it so far?” Anton asked midway through.

“I think it’s wonderful,” Ethan said, now speaking directly to Anton’s mouth, their faces mere inches from each other, instead of into his ear.

Anton took the tacit invitation to squeeze Ethan’s upper thigh. Ethan uncrossed his legs and let their knees touch. Starting softly, Anton ran his finger deftly along the inside of Ethan’s thigh. It was only because he was a doctor that Ethan recognized the path traced as his femoral artery.

Ethan’s heart pounded in his chest. His cock ached as it pressed against the stiff zipper of his jeans. As if reading his mind, Anton let his fingers wander and, arriving at the impressive member, traced the length of it until he reached the tip and then, fully the gentleman, returned his hand to his lap.

“I love this ending,” Anton said to Ethan. The screen closed in on a man about to be found by his wife after a near-fatal car accident. He is bleeding on the side of the road. After embracing his listless body and kissing his face, the woman looks up and screams into the empty night, her face covered in blood. Next to Ethan, Anton lit up with an enormous smile. The final shot transitioned from the black night sky to the brightest white light, exposing the faces of the audience—a hundred expressions of revelry. A standing ovation, and Jack leaned over to Ethan and said, “Are you seeing …”

Interrupting him, Ethan said, “Uh-huh, yeah.” In his pants, Ethan’s cock leaked pre-cum uncontrollably now. “I have to go to the bathroom, Jack. You’re OK, right? I’ll meet you back in the game room? One more drink and then we hit the road?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That was remarkable,” Ethan said to Anton. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I had a bit too much champagne.”

At the end of a long corridor, Ethan found a bathroom that promised the three minutes of privacy he needed to get this done. It took all his willpower to stop and lock the door. Ripping his pants down with one hand, he used the other to begin stroking his enormous cock. The head was already wet with pre-cum, and his balls were boiling, ready to set free an unthinkable load. While yanking wildly, Ethan landed with a thud on the toilet seat and wrestled his pants to his ankles. Within seconds he found himself close to the brink. He breathed hard and bit his lip. Sitting up to grab toilet paper, he noticed the sudden appearance of a shadow through the door.

Ethan tended to doubt himself in situations like this; he was a doctor, after all—not the kind prone to beliefs in the supernatural. More than the uncanny appearance of this shadow, however, there was the immediate electric presence that charged the small room. It was unyielding desire. It was a lifetime’s worth of adrenaline revealed in a single wave of clarity, of unfathomable energy.

With his eye on the shadow, Ethan could not stifle the urgent moan of this satisfaction. It was a growl, almost, a beast’s cry that started in the back of the throat. And then, of course, there were the heavy wads slung from his cock, one of which missed the toilet paper and landed squarely on his chin. Out of breath now, Ethan collected himself, taking more toilet paper to wipe his face, tucking in his shirt, zipping up. The orgasm yielded little in the way of relief. If anything, Ethan feared, it left him somehow wanting more. He watched the shadow intently as he reached for the doorknob. When he finally swung it open, Ethan confronted an empty hallway.

His senses now heightened, Ethan instinctively turned right, chasing the idea of Anton. The voices of the crowd faded behind him as he approached the master bedroom at the end of the hall. He thought he had seen someone move in the doorway as he entered, but found no one inside. Beginning to feel unwell now, he stepped outside to collect himself. He walked onto the terrace and kept going. Almost at the water, he rested his forearm on a tree and noticed, at the other end of the house, the golden light of the game room now filled with guests. He must be there, too, Ethan thought, wondering what he was hoping to get from finding Anton in the first place.

Shaking off the defeat, Ethan turned to head back inside. And there was Anton, as though waiting for him the whole time. “Did you get lost?” he asked, moving toward him.

“I needed some air,” Ethan said, standing still.

“Tell me, what are you looking for?”

“You.” Ethan said without hesitation. He had never been so sure of any word.

His hand suddenly on Ethan’s neck, Anton leaned in as if to offer the most sensuous kiss. Ethan’s mouth opened gently, his lips barely grazing Anton’s. And then, without warning, Anton flipped Ethan around and had him pinned against the tree. In one precise movement, Anton unzipped Ethan and yanked his pants to the ankles, all while keeping his arms held firm against the tree.

Anton held one hand against Ethan’s broad back while spreading apart the firm cheeks of his ass. He started gently, using the tip of his expert tongue to wet only the perimeter of Ethan’s rim. The hole puckered anxiously as Anton built excitement by spiraling slowly toward his prize. He paused for a few silent seconds before plunging his tongue fully into the now-eager hole. Ethan made his first noise, a groan of concession that signaled to Anton he was ready for whatever was in store—not that Anton needed permission.

His body pressed against Ethan’s, Anton was a force not to be questioned. Ethan bowed his head against the tree as Anton licked a path from his earlobe along the cords of his neck. Anton stopped at the shoulder and bit, careful not to break the skin—obvious that he was holding himself back.

Ethan breathed heavily, succumbing to the power of the creature behind him. He felt his feet kicked apart and then, within seconds, Anton skewered him with his incomparable cock. The night sky turned silver as Ethan’s vision blurred. It had been years since Ethan had been fucked, and he could not remember a dick this size in real life—somehow bigger than his own, which had been called too big by more than a few partners. The force of the thing tearing into him took his breath away. With the entire tool now buried in Ethan, Anton paused in an act of mercy, waiting patiently in the bated silence for his ass to relax.

It took only seconds for Ethan’s insides to soften, allowing even more of Anton into him. Feeling the last of his length vanish in Ethan’s hole, Anton rested his hairy forearm across his back and held his shoulder firmly.

The fury ensued. The strength of Anton’s pounding was impossible to describe. All Ethan knew was that he wanted more of it. “Harder,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Anton said, having never, in all his years, heard this request.

“Fuck. Me.” He got a quick breath in. “Harder.”

What followed was an impossible brutality that sent shocks through Ethan’s body. It was clear now that he was no longer supporting himself against the tree. It was Anton who was holding him there. His moans lost all self-consciousness; there was no awareness of the party nearby. There was only the power of this thing inside him, the experience of Anton’s primitive virility taking hold. He bellowed with a mixture of pure pleasure and the most exciting pain.

Anton threw Ethan to the ground and took a moment to appreciate the look of vitality in this man who wanted it all—with all the darkness that entailed. He directed the head of his cock against Ethan’s aching hole. Ethan smiled, and Anton kissed him this time as he entered. Slowly at first, the cock slid in more easily this time. Ethan was thankful to be filled again by his powerful tool and now, unexpectedly, by his mouth at his nipple. Anton’s teeth closed around the soft flesh, and Ethan soared, an electric current ripping through his torso and into his balls, which were already aching in anticipation.

“How is it for you?” Ethan asked, understanding fully what he was about to find out.

“What part?”

“What is it like?”

“It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced, Ethan. It’s unyielding strength. Colors so vivid you want to cry. The end of everything you fear. But it’s not for the faint of heart. Some find it lonely.”

“Uh-huh,” Ethan’s head was grinding into the dirt and the grass, unable to control himself. “But not for everyone?”

“No. Not for everyone.”

Ethan let out a roar of pleasure as Anton ripped through him again. His rock-hard cock expelled a pool of pre-cum on his stomach. Anton scooped some up, stretched it between his fingers, then put them deep in Ethan’s mouth, feeding him and choking him at once.

“I want to feed you, too,” Ethan said. Anton didn’t say anything, just held him with his eyes. They were bound by a mutual understanding. “But Jack’s still inside.”

“I know,” Anton said. “I know.”

“Now,” Ethan said.

Anton continued to pound Ethan’s ass while taking his solid cock in his hand. With a confident grip, he timed the jerking of Ethan’s cock with each slam against his ass. Ethan closed his eyes as if taken to another plane. A pleading moan filled the night as he came. And just as the first geyser erupted from his cock, Anton leaned forward, his fangs exposed now, and tore open the side of his neck.

In this moment, Ethan felt himself rise from his body. Around him the colors of night faded to gray and then, as though in a dream, what he saw was a flood of unfathomable radiance. The blood feast was an elegy to every pleasure, both of this world and another. And now that it was over, after Ethan’s screams had subsided, there was quiet once again, broken only by the distant din of the party.

Anton took the appropriate measures, dressed himself and wiped his mouth as he stood up. He turned toward the house and saw a figure moving toward him in the shadows. They approached each other carefully. In the moonlight Jack’s face became clear, but Anton managed to remain in the shadows.

“Anton, is that you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m looking for Ethan. Have you seen him?”

“Come with me. I’ll take you to him.”