The Year of the Rat
by Nico Grey
Chapter 18
When I woke, Jebby was gently tracing the outline of the brand on my backside. He had a horrified expression on his face.
I had no idea what to say. I just wasn't thinking when I went to sleep. But this was a huge complication. And, I realized, that it could become an even bigger complication.
Jesus! Either I could never let him see me naked again, or in three or four days I was going to have some serious explaining to do.
I just couldn't figure out how I was going to thread this needle. We were living together. We were working together. He was bound to see me naked again. Unless I moved out and stopped working with Jebby, in a few days there was no way that he wouldn't see pristine flesh instead of the ugly remnants of that brand. That would have to raise questions in his mind, questions that couldn't be ignored... or answered.
Then it got worse. Jebby started kissing my injury and cleaning it gently with his tongue. As he worked his way around my injured cheek, he noticed something else.
His shock, revulsion, and anger hit me like a tidal wave! I expected some sort of emotional confrontation. Instead, his reaction was followed by a wave of sorrow, empathy, and determination.
There was a lot of damage there. I could feel it. I had seen what it looked like when I viewed Disco's masterpiece.
Jebby assessed the situation. He rolled me tenderly onto my front. Then he bent over me. I could feel his tears falling on my bottom like gentle rain. It was a benediction. Except the healing service was just beginning.
Jebby placed one hand delicately, barely the weight of a prayer, in the center of my back. Then he began to cleanse my injuries.
At first, it was a combination of gentle flicks of his tongue and feather-light kisses. As he progressed more deeply into his healing ritual, and more deeply into my damaged body, his lips and tongue became fervent in their ablutions. At times, it felt like he was consuming my ravaged flesh, absorbing the injured tissue into his own being.
I can't explain the feeling of security and well-being that came over me. It was almost like being snuggled deep in our nest and wrapped in Mike's arms.
I drifted off gradually, never quite asleep, but soaring ethereally along the outer perimeter of my consciousness. I could feel Jebby working intently as he healed my injuries.
It was intimate, but never sexual. Not even when he reached the ravaged skin that contained my battered testicles and absorbed it into his mouth for a tender cleansing.
I assumed it was the depth of the trance that enfolded and protected my senses, but the pain became increasingly remote. It was barely an irritant as Jebby withdrew from his deep cleaning and resumed his tender kisses and bathing of my body, until I could only feel his gentle breathing on my skin.
Finally, he lay on his side next to me, his lips pressed lightly against my right cheek. I could barely feel any remnant of the agonizing pain that had been inflicted on it less than twenty-four hours earlier.
We probably remained like that for hours. I had lost all track of the passage of time. I suspect that Jebby was only measuring the progress that he was making on my injuries.
Jebby was the first of us to move. He pulled his legs under himself and knelt beside me. He leaned over me and planted more kisses on my right cheek, then on the side of my mouth.
I drifted back into contact, first with Jebby, then with the space around us. I hesitated to move. I worried that, gentle as Jebby had been, all of his attention would have punished already-raw nerve endings.
I was surprised — then shocked as I rolled over on my side to face him — when I didn't feel any pain. I had to shake my head to make sure I was awake.
I knew what had happened to me the night before. I had felt every agonizing moment of it. I had seen the evidence as I tried to soothe those injuries, then on Disco's video. But lying next to Jebby, I barely felt any pain. It was little more than discomfort.
He must have seen the question in my eyes. But he had a question of his own.
"What happened, Rad?" the concern in his eyes demanded an answer.
I didn't know how to respond. Anything I said was bound to raise very awkward questions. And the answers to those questions could bring our existence together tumbling down. I wasn't ready for that; either the questions or the risks they would raise.
I felt so peaceful. It was too complicated, too much effort, to explain. I considered just showing him, but I didn't think Jebby would be able to enter my mind... and there were monsters waiting there that he just wasn't prepared to encounter.
It took a lot of effort to think. But he deserved an answer. And I thought that maybe the best answer was honesty.
Not the sort of honesty that you think. Just a very clear explanation of what had happened.
I thought of Disco's video. It explained almost everything very clearly. There were some badly distorted scenes at the very end, some indecipherable noises, but I didn't think there was anything I couldn't explain somewhat reasonably.
So I showed Jebby the video. He watched first with rapt attention, then with growing horror. When he turned to me for explanation, I just rubbed his back gently and redirected him to the video. Explanations could follow the closing credits.
Watching Jebby as he was absorbed by the unfolding scene, I was astonished that I still wasn't feeling much pain. Dylan had suggested that it would be days before I was fully healed. Yet rubbing my tender cheek and the outline of the brand there, then more sensitive parts, resulted in no additional discomfort.
As Jebby continued to exude horror and anger next to me, I surreptitiously checked my balls, then twisted to get a better look at my right cheek. I could just make out the outline of that brand. I knew that it had still been painful and a flaming red horror when I woke a few hours earlier.
My mind started turning. I considered that it might not be so difficult to explain my miraculous recovery to Jebby if he had apparently done most of the work. Maybe he was a healer. Or an empath? I had seen one in a movie or television show many years ago.
That explanation might just help me avoid the very difficult task of selling my amazing recovery to Jebby. But the dishonesty of that path repulsed me. I didn't want our friendship built on an ever-expanding foundation of lies.
Still, I couldn't be sure. Maybe my recovery really was a miracle. A miracle of love.
When Disco's film finally reached its dramatic conclusion, Jebby turned to me. Of course. The explanation.
He recognized Roy. He never knew his name, but that face and voice were unforgettable. I was sure they would visit me in my dreams for years to come.
Again, to my shame I considered fabricating a story. Something about a film that Roy hired me to star in. But Jebby deserved honesty. Besides, we were working in a profession that could be extremely dangerous at times. For his own safety, I couldn't conceal the truth.
So I told him.
Jebby was horrified. Then he was outraged. Then he was horrified again, with perhaps some guilt attached.
"He did that to you because I agreed to let you fuck me?" That word came out of Jebby a lot easier than it had when he had first asked Roy if I could.
"He did that because he was a complete asshole," I assured him. "I stood up to him. If you hadn't changed the terms for him, he would have kept pushing for what he wanted. And he would have held it against me anyway when I refused."
But hopefully not to the point of producing a snuff film.
Jebby was still trying to wrap his head around my explanation, and Roy's perverse nature. Then another thought struck him.
"He'll come back again, won't he?" Tears were starting to form in his eyes. "He'll try to hurt you again!"
That was awkward. I certainly couldn't tell him everything. But Jebby needed to hear that we were safe, at least from Cowboy Roy and Disco.
"The end of the film, Jebby? Where Roy just flew up into the air and disappeared?"
He nodded.
"Some friends of mine showed up and did that." I wasn't sure quite how to continue, so I just cut to the chase. "Roy is never coming back. Not ever."
Jebby's eyes got wide. Then, so did his smile.
"Good! I don't care what the church says, people like him shouldn't be allowed to live! People like him... and people like my pastor... ," his eyes clouded and he looked down into his lap.
Should I tell him?
"People like Iggy, too," Jebby whispered. He was feeling a lot of pain. Mine. His. Marco's. It was a lot for him to bear alone.
I wrapped my arms around him. Eventually, he was calm.
"Who killed him?" Jebby wanted to know.
Dylan? He'd never believe that! So I just told him that I couldn't say. Two men had died. The fewer people that knew any names, the better.
Thinking about what had happened got him going again. He slammed the camera down in our nest.
"He was going to cut off your... ," he couldn't finish. Instead he reached out and cupped them very tenderly.
"And he branded you!" That really angered him. "He wanted your butt to belong to him! Well it doesn't!" That was an outrage, too!
He leaned over and started kissing the faint outline of that brand like he could make it disappear. And gradually it did. His fierce kisses drove the remnants of that savage scar right from my skin.
And darned if they didn't leave behind a brand of their own!
Our emotions eventually evened out. We calmed down. I started to think logically again. And a thought struck me.
"Where's Marco," I wondered.
Jebby looked shocked.
"Oh! I sent him next door when I noticed that," he pointed toward my butt. "I thought it might upset him. You know. Because of what he's been through, and all. But I don't know why he hasn't come back."
Jebby and I got dressed hurriedly. We needn't have bothered. When we crawled through the passage to our spare room, Marco was sitting there reading. He was using one of our solar lanterns for illumination. He did look bored.
Jebby was apologetic. He told Marco that he didn't intend to forget about him.
Marco just shrugged. Then he apologized, too. He had already gone back to our lair and found us occupied.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you two were together like that. Maybe I should find another place to live so I'm not in your way."
Jebby was horrified at the idea!
I hurried to explain that Jebby and I weren't having sex. I had a rough night at work and he was just helping me feel better.
"We don't want you to go anywhere, Marco!" Jebby insisted. "We love having you here with us!"
Jebby glanced at me, demanding confirmation. I wasn't quite as enthusiastic. It presented complications for me. But I didn't want Marco to leave. He needed a place. Jebby cared about him. And he was a good companion for me, too.
I decided to give the two of them some time alone together. Jebby would help salve Marco's insecurities. We didn't have to go out that evening. I was still a bit conflicted about the idea of being somewhere that exposed me to other people — potentially dangerous people. But I did need to visit the god upstairs.
I was prostrated before the cross on the chancel wall, almost completely absorbed in my communion with the god and his universe, when I sensed another presence next to me. It felt safe, so I didn't distract my attention.
I felt that other presence kneel beside me, then prostrate before the cross. A hand reached out cautiously and grasped mine.
Dylan!
I didn't break my connection with the god. But I reached out to Dylan with a tendril of my mind and invited him in. Then I resumed my meditation.
He completed his exploration, then waited patiently for me. Perhaps he was connecting with god and universe, too.
He was smiling tenderly at me when I emerged for my devotions.
"You're okay!" he spoke aloud. "I came to make sure you were alright. But you're doing even better than I hoped!"
Dylan stayed with me for several hours. It was the longest time we had even spent together when we weren't hunting. We were creating a connection that was so meaningful to me.
Besides Father Thomas and Mike, Dylan was really the first person who had ever cared about me. Taryn was interested and helpful in a very benevolent, humanitarian way. But Dylan had seen me hungry and suffering. He had reached out to me and offered sustenance. It was a very personal form of caring.
And slowly, we were building a close, compassionate relationship. It was grounded in more than our mutual love of blood sports. We would have cared about each other, even without our shared interest in the hunt.
Dylan was amazed that I was recovering so quickly. He was even more amazed by the role that Jebby had apparently played in that recovery.
"I wish I had thought of that," he murmured.
We kicked around possible explanations for what had happened. Did I just happen to heal extraordinarily fast? Was it some natural energy that Jebby possessed? Was an outside force involved?
We really had no idea. My healing had happened here in this old church. It was no longer consecrated, but we both felt the presence of the god. I still didn't know much about vampire abilities. Dylan wasn't much longer in darkness than I was. And Jebby was a very special, loving person. Any of the three explanations seemed possible.
It did occur to me to wonder if there wasn't something in Disco's blood that had helped with my healing process. Something magical, perhaps. Dylan laughed. He assured me that the only magical things that might have been in Disco's blood were mushrooms. They weren't anything that promoted healing.
Dylan was a bit hesitant about broaching the next topic of conversation. But he had been thinking about my abilities, especially as they pertained to keeping my secret.
"You open your mind so easily. Can you go into other people's minds just as easily?"
I tried to explain. Of course all vampires find it fairly easy to invade the minds of a human. I had never tried with another vampire. I didn't even like doing it to humans.
Taryn's early warning to me about mind thieves had made me anxious. I didn't want anyone thinking that I was trying to steal something from them.
Dylan nodded like that was a concern he could understand; an ethical decision that he appreciated.
He took a deep breath. He turned to face me. Then he took another breath.
He tried to make eye contact. Then he looked away.
It took several attempts. Finally he met my eyes squarely.
"You can look inside my mind, if you want."
When the realization fully dawned on me, it was breathtaking. Dylan was offering me something even more intimate than what he had shared during those moments in the Grant Park restroom at the end of the winter.
He had shared his body with me — or at least as much of it as he could share without violating his commitment to Dion. Now he was offering to share his mind. Maybe his soul.
I debated declining his offer. It was far too generous. More important, there were too many things that could go wrong. I wasn't a skilled vampire practicing my extra. I was a witch doctor, fumbling to understand a gift whose boundaries I could barely fathom. To do so inside the mind of another was daunting. To do so inside the mind of a friend, inside of the mind of someone I loved, was terrifying.
But his expression was so sincere. I knew that this was a very difficult sacrifice for Dylan to make. He had been rejected so many times by life. He had to be terrified at the prospect of having something so personal — himself, really — rejected by someone he viewed as a friend. But he was still making that offer.
I probably over-thought the matter. I should have simply accepted his offer. But I wanted him to feel safe. And I wanted to make sure that I didn't accidentally intrude on something so deeply personal, maybe a confidence that others had shared with him, that he would ever regret this decision.
Still, my concern seemed to ease his discomfort. It assured him that I wanted to protect him. When the moment arrived, he was completely ready.
When his mind opened to me, the experience was transcendental. Yeah. That's a great word for it.
While I explored Dylan's mind, once more I opened my mind for him. As I voyaged through the pathways and passages of his mind, I could feel him exploring my mind again. Eventually we met. Then we explored each other's minds together.
It went far beyond anything I could have imagined. That's all I can really say here. Words fail me. It was a journey — an adventure, a boyhood adventure full of seeking and sharing, of simplicity and trust — that, the longer it went on, the more I wanted it to last forever. I'm surprised that we weren't still huddled together in the middle of the chancel floor when the sun rose.
Eventually, our minds gradually separated and we returned to our discrete selves. I missed our communion immediately. The shy but radiant smile on Dylan's face suggested that he felt the same way.
While we basked in the afterglow of that intense adventure, he did have some practical questions. He asked if I had any ability to affect other people's minds. Could I remove memories from their minds?
That was a good question. I had never tried.
He was so generous. He gave me the opportunity. And we discovered together that I could. Then we recoiled at the implications of such a powerful gift. I wasn't even sure that I wanted it.
Dylan's question had a purpose. He was worried about my dilemma. He could feel how important it was to me to have Mike and Jebby stay with me. He wondered if it might be easier for me if I could remove from their minds any information that might point toward my identity.
That was an exciting prospect. But it also made me feel very uncomfortable. I believed that our memories were part of what made us who we are. Stealing knowledge from someone was bad enough. How terrible would it be to steal their memories?
But it was an idea with practical implications. And it could give me — and Mike and Jebby — something that was really important to all of us. I just needed to figure out how to work through the ethics of the matter.
Dylan also wondered if I could leave memories with other people. Maybe even false memories.
He confessed that he had figured out how to leave some of his actual memories with me, that first time he had visited my mind. That explained those kernels of his memories that I had found. It was his first real attempt to share himself with me.
If I didn't know how to do it, he was willing to show me what he had done. Of course, Taryn and I had already experimented with this process. We just hadn't even considered the possibility of leaving behind false memories.
In his usual cautious way, Dylan was interested in exploring the possibilities. Manipulating memories seemed like a dark art. But it could have useful purposes. It just had to be done ethically.
"You have a good heart, Rad," he reminded me. Then he grinned.
We could sense the sun beginning its journey toward the horizon. I was reminded that I still hadn't seen Mike... and that I had missed seeing him the previous night. The time I had spent with Dylan had been so meaningful, so amazing. I couldn't regret it. But I did wish that there was more time in a day — or more of me to go around. That almost touched off another conversation, but there simply wasn't time. It did leave a seed behind.
With sunrise less than an hour away, Dylan had to leave. I could hardly bear to see him go. We hugged at the entrance of the church. After exchanging gentle kisses, he was gone.
I wouldn't see Dylan again for four weeks. But during that time, it felt like we were never really apart.
I was abjectly sorry. I only had a few minutes for Mike. I offered my apologies. We came together for a few minutes. Again, it was hard for me to let go. Then I had to be gone. I wondered if Mike was starting to feel like Cinderella's Prince Charming. He must have noticed that I never tarried beyond false dawn.
Jebby and Marco were both waiting for me in our lair. They had expanded the nest to make room for three. It was a conspiracy.
I really was almost fully healed. But they worked diligently together to make my butt feel even better. Jebby made sure that they didn't forget my balls either.
I was dead asleep before they were done. When I awoke, there was not a single sign that I had ever been injured.
I had no interest at all in returning to Grant Park when I woke. I knew that sooner or later I would have to return to work. I also knew that Roy would never again be a problem for me.
But there were other problems out there. Iggy, the hip-hop-mafia pimp was one of them. I wasn't afraid of Iggy or his ilk. I just didn't feel like having to expend my energy on their nonsense. There were more important things in life.
I took Jebby and Marco down to the Navy Pier. Jebby had discovered that Marco turned thirteen years old recently, at the end of winter. He hadn't said anything, but I understood that he really wanted to be able to do something special for Marco.
I preferred to be careful with money, only spending it on things that were necessary for body and soul. Experience had taught me to be that way. But we did have money. And I had the ability to earn more. I decided to splurge a little.
I stopped at a food cart and encouraged Jebby and Marco to order what they wanted. Marco eyed me quizzically when I didn't order something for myself, but Jebby hustled him along. It distracted him.
When we arrive at the Pier, I was happy to see the Wave Swinger was operating. It would give Jebby and Marco something interesting to do while I sought out Taryn and Dylan.
Unfortunately, my friends were nowhere to be found that night. So I sat and enjoyed the sights of Jebby and Marco thrilling to that ride. It was strange. Not too long ago, I'd have enjoyed riding the Wave Swinger with them. But after the past six months, there were just too many things in life that seemed more important to me. It left me with kind of an empty feeling.
Still, it felt really good to watch the other two having fun and enjoying life. My mind was in a strange place, both expansive and melancholy. Those moods really don't go together. But there were a lot of things in my experience that didn't go together, at least by any normal standards. It was still my life.
We spent several hours down on the Pier. It was only after the amusements had closed for the night and crowds had started to thin, that we headed for home.
It was becoming customary for me to end my evening in the church chancel. Jebby and Marco joined me when we were together. I'm pretty sure they spent time there on their own if I wasn't available. We said our prayers and communed with the god.
On our way down the stairs, Marco remarked that he's love to visit St. Peter's again soon. Jebby'e eyes brightened, too. I made a note to set aside a Sunday night soon for us to see Father Maxwell again.
At the foot of the stairs, I thought I saw movement and something dark disappear around a corner. I was distracted by my companions before I could reach out with my senses and search for the disturbance. I was afraid that I knew what it was.
The distraction? Marco and Jebby were ready for bed. They knew that I would still be going out on my own business. They didn't think they had the energy left to wait up for my return. And they wanted to continue their treatment of my injuries. They were sure that we shouldn't miss a day.
I should have shooed them off to bed. My injuries were already completely healed, in barely two days, due at least in some part to their ministrations. But they had healing in their blood. They needed the practice. And you know, it really was fun.
Later that night, I visited Mike. My last two visits had been very brief. I wanted this one to last a long time.
I wasn't sure whether Mike would be awake yet. The time was a little earlier than my usual arrival time. And I had barely seen him the past two days. I wasn't sure that he would be motivated to get himself up early to see me. But I could still stand vigil and watch over him while he slept.
He was already awake when I arrived. I was having trouble sensing his mood. As always, he was happy to see me. But there was some reserve there that I couldn't quite put my finger on. He had something on his mind.
That uncertainty put me on edge. I was feeling guilty that I hadn't really seen him in two days. We had started a routine of lengthy visits, sharing our past, the ideas, and the goals that were important to us. Sharing ourselves with intense physical closeness. Then I had pretty much blown him off two days running.
I had reasons. Good reasons. But Mike wouldn't know that. And I really wasn't sure I could explain. How do you explain an adventure like Cowboy Roy and Disco? It was something I preferred to forget. I had little stomach for explaining it.
Worse, how could I possibly explain escaping from that peril? Mike sure wasn't likely to believe that Batman had saved me. But the truth would seem even more improbable to him.
The longer we regarded each other, the more I began to recognize that Mike wasn't just hurt. He wasn't angry. He was insecure. He felt uncertain of some things that he had once accepted as guarantees.
"When can you come back? I really miss you, Rad!"
That was the issue. Instead of coming back, the last couple of days I had stayed away. That had hurt him. It hurt me to know that I had hurt him.
Our love was complicated. It had been built on a foundation of Mike taking care of me. Lately, I had been caring for him. He was trying to figure out where he stood in my life.
I considered showing him how much I cared in the same way that Jebby and Marco had just shown me. But that felt a little too crass, or maybe immature, for the relationship that we had. Mike and I were slowly building a mature relationship. The sort of commitment he needed from me was deeper than just physical gratification.
"Those two kids I saw you with?"
Oh, shit! That had been Mike slipping away as we came down the stairs.
"One of them was Marco, wasn't it?"
I nodded.
"You guys are living at the other end of the church, aren't you?"
What could I say? I kept making like a bobble-head doll.
"Why can't we all live together?"
Why, indeed? It's what I wanted more than anything. 'But you see, Mike, I'm undead.' That hardly seemed like the way to make him feel more secure about our relationship.
"Rad?"
I couldn't bear to hear the hurt in his voice. But how much more hurt would I inflict on him with the truth?
Emotion began to bubble slowly toward the surface. I started to cry.
That was something that Mike could understand. I was his Rat — well, Rad now — and I needed his comfort. He came over and sat next to me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder.
"What is it, Rad? What could possibly be so complicated? I love you. I'm pretty sure that you love me. I don't mind sharing our place with your friends." The next part stressed him a little more. "I don't mind sharing you with your friends. I just want to have you back in my life again."
It seemed to surprise him when I started crying harder. He looked around for something to comfort me. What struck him triggered an old memory in him. It triggered an impossible memory in me.
He jumped up and scurried to our pantry, two plastic shopping bags stashed under an ancient wooden table that had been abandoned along with the building. He came back, a minute later, with a bowl in his hands.
I started crying harder.
"See, Rad? Lucky Charms! They're your favorite!
Not anymore, I tried to explain to him. But I couldn't. They were still my favorite. I just didn't eat them anymore. There was no point to it.
That confused him. I loved them. They had always been a special treat when we lived together.
But I didn't eat them anymore. They had no nutritional value for me.
He shook his head. I wasn't making any sense. What did I eat now? He'd go out and get some for me. Right now!
Mike hadn't changed. He would never change. His first and last thought was always about looking out for me.
My tears took control of my eyes. My eyes and my tongue.
"I don't eat, Mike. I drink. I drink blood. Human blood."
It's a very specialized diet.
Mike watched me warily. He was in shock, trying to figure out if I was joking or if I had completely lost my mind.
If only I had. Then Mike could take care of me. I knew that he would.
I tried to explain. Vampires. The undead. Children of the night.
He kept shaking his head in disbelief. I was becoming frustrated.
I held my hand out to him. And as crazy as I seemed to him, he came to me. Trustingly.
I knew that I couldn't open my mind to a human. Not even to Mike. But I was pretty sure, after the brief time that Dylan and I had experimented together, that I could put my thoughts into his mind. So I did.
I pressed my forehead against his. I ended up sharing the whole story with him.
Me — young, trusting, thoughtless — out for a night of fun on the Navy Pier while he was away working. Meeting a beautiful young stranger. Beguiled by his words and the attention he paid me. Following him everywhere he invited me to go.
Then ending the night naked, atop a steel suspension bridge somewhere on the north side of town, with his penis buried deep in my butt and his teeth buried even deeper in my neck. Waking up a month later, in a morgue.
When I had finished sharing those images, Mike looked at me disbelievingly. I'm sure he was in shock.
"That really happened, Rad?"
That really happened. And I really sent those images into your head.
And that sold the deal to him. Vampires didn't really seem possible to him. But neither did showing him a home movie like that, without projector or video monitor, right inside his head.
"You don't eat Lucky Charms anymore?" That was his first consideration. The idea seemed to confuse him; to hurt him. It left an emptiness in his eyes. Maybe it was like a father watching his son go off to college for the first time.
I could only shrug dejectedly. I wished that I still did.
He continued to look at me in disbelief. Like he just couldn't wrap his mind around the idea.
"And you only eat... drink blood? Human blood?"
That really hurt. It underscored the fact that he and I weren't even the same species any more. But I nodded in affirmation.
"Is that what you need from me?" He tilted his head away from me, baring his neck.
I was horrified!
"No, Mike! That's not what I need from you! That's not what I want from you. I just want to keep loving you. I want us to live together again. I just can't figure out how to make it work!"
"So are Marco and your other friend... are they, um, vampires, too?"
I only had a few hours before daylight. I did the best I could to explain my situation to him, along with all the complications that I was trying to balance in my twelve-year-old mind.
It was Mike who came up with the idea. I had put images in his head. He wondered if I could just put everything I needed to tell him into his head.
It wasn't an ideal solution. I wanted the pleasure of talking to Mike, the dialogue, watching his expressions and his body language change as we discussed our problems. It was a form of human connection to which I was still accustomed. But time was the issue.
I shared what I thought was most important with him. I explained Jebby and Marco. I explained the risks and rewards of being a vampire. I explained why we really couldn't make ourselves known to humans — and he took that fairly well. I tried to make him understand that I could never live in sunlight again. I tried to make him understand that it might be dangerous to live around me if I forgot and wasn't careful to avoid hunger.
Most of all, I tried to make sure that Mike would always understand that I loved him. I now had a few people in my life that really mattered to me. But he was, and always would be, the most important person in my life.
I meant it. Absolutely. But I may have had an ulterior motive for telling him that. There was something that I wanted from him. It was something that I needed from him.
Mike and I had begun to explore a physical relationship in recent weeks. I hadn't been pushing him to hurry it along. I was content with simple physical contact and gestures of affection: hugs, gentle touches, and kisses. Especially kisses.
But after sharing those images of me with Trevor atop that steel bridge, I was feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. I was feeling unclean. Dirty.
I really wanted to feel clean again. I wanted to be clean again.
It was something that I wished I had been able to save for Mike. It just isn't how my life had worked out.
Mike insisted that we share, once he got over the initial shock of hearing my offer. He wanted me to feel good, too.
I explained to Mike that what I proposed would make me feel very good. It would help cleanse me, body and soul. I would enjoy the physical sensations. And most of all, it would make me feel very good because it allowed me to show him how important he was to me.
I went home to my lair ninety minutes later. I felt clean. And I felt hopeful. Mike and I would find a way to make our lives work. Together.
As I thought about it in the following weeks, I had three conscious reasons for finally making physical love to Mike: the obvious sensual pleasure; to purify my body and spirit of the taint of pollution or corruption that I still felt from Trevor claiming my body and my humanity; and most critically, to show Mike, in the only way I had at my disposal, just how much he meant to me.
But as I considered what we had done together, I realized that I had gained something even more valuable from that experience. In claiming me the way he had — especially with the consideration he had shown for my feelings and his care for my pleasure — Mike reassured me that he still loved me every bit as much as he had before I became a monster.
From that night forward, Mike and I began to make love. We didn't always have sex. In fact, we really didn't have sex very often. But in sharing myself fully with him, and with his reaffirmation of his love for me and his trust in me, we became that much more tightly bound to each other.
Mike insisted that such a deep sexual commitment become a two-way street. I refused. It's hard to explain, but I was actually a little bit afraid of having such control over his body. I was afraid of the monster inside me. I really didn't feel comfortable enough to trust him yet. Especially with Mike. And I really didn't need Mike's body that way.
Perhaps it wasn't a symmetrical sharing, but we shared equally. There were many other ways that he made me feel very good. So I didn't mind letting him claim my body. I wanted him to. In return, I got to claim all the love he gave me.
While Mike and I were temperate in our sexual appetites, sleeping with Jebby and Marco every night, I could rarely escape from their enthusiasm for it. It almost became a nightly ritual. Even after all signs of my torture had long disappeared, they healed my body many times over. There wasn't a single inch of me that their regular attention neglected.
Jebby and Marco loved me. But the sex I shared with them was just the play of puppies. Sex with Mike became my proof of his commitment to me.
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