Date: Thu, 1 Jul 1999 06:43:37 -0700 (PDT)
From: Willie Hewes <williehewes@yahoo.com>
Subject: Vigil

Hello again. Another story by Willie Hewes; as usual,
don't read when you're too young and (c) 1999 and all.

Now I agree that this story should be followed by a
second chapter, but, um, would you have any idea where
my characters are going? All kind of reactions,
praise, questions and even flames are welcome at
WillieHewes@yahoo.com. Have fun.

Vigil

Eric liked his life. He was in his last year of highschool, would be going to
college next year, and right now, he had all that he wanted. Well, most things,
anyway. He didn't complain. He had intrusive idiot parents, and a hopeless
crush on his best friend, but besides such minor nuisances his life was pretty
close to perfect.

Eric and Andy had had been friends since they were kids. They had gone fishing
with Andy's father, had played endless games of soccer at the little play-
ground behind Eric's house, and hung around watching TV for more time than
either of them wished to remember. During that time Andy had morphed from a
skinny kid with too many freckles to a slender, attractive young man with a
dazzling fan of red ringlets and a ever-smiling eyes behind gold-rimmed
spectacles. Eric loved him so much... Sometimes, when they were together, he
had to use all his will-power not to touch that wild bundle of hair, not to
bend in and kiss the white skin of that neck.

Of course he could never do that. Once, when they were much younger, they had
once jacked off together, in a giggly, childish manner. But when Eric had
reached out to touch Andy's, Andy had gotten mad and called him a homo and all
other nasty stuff, and they didn't make up until the next day. Years later
they had talked about it:
"You're gay, aren't you?"
"Um, yeah..."
"That's ok man. I mean, as long as you leave me alone, 'cause I'm straight,
see? but as long as you don't come on to me or anything, I'm cool with it,
'cuz... I want us to be friends. K?"
They shook hands on it, but Eric felt like crying. He wanted to be friends
with Andy, really. But even more, he wanted to wrap his arms around him, and
slip his tongue into his mouth, and take his pink nipples between his lips.
Well, that just wasn't the way it was.

There were other guys, of course. It wasn't as if Eric was a virgin. He wasn't
too vain or anything, but he knew he looked ok. His hair was long, and almost
black, bound together in a loose ponytail, or even a braid. He liked the way
his lips curled, and his eyes were large enough to charm any unsuspecting
teacher or officer of the law, let alone a willing gay man at a bar. It
probably wouldn't hurt him to lose a few pounds, but he was by no means too
fat. Every now and then he would go out, telling his parents he slept at
Andy's, ending up in the room or apartment of some empty-headed, but
experienced guy. It felt a bit stupid sometimes, the meaningless sex. But it
also felt sometimes like having a little adventure, almost in your own back
yard. It was just something to kill the bore. He never believed he would fall
in love with anyone else, not before he could forget about Andy, and he had
never expected that one of his little adventures would completely change his
life.

Eric had seen Scissorhands a couple of times before. His name wasn't really
Scissorhands, of course, but they had never spoken, and Eric had no idea what
his real name was. He didn't look too much like Edward Scissorhands, but the
colour of skin and his haircut were pretty close. Scissorhands seemed to live
in the dark corners of the bar where Eric hung out, hardly ever talking to
anyone, staring at Eric over his exotic drinks, but never long enough to give
Eric the courage to step up to him. He wore make-up, which was pretty
extravagant in their none-too- big town, black lipstick and carefully applied
eyeliner, with sometimes wild splashes of colour over his eyes or across his
cheekbones.

Eric couldn't remember when he had started looking out for this strange
creature.

Even though they never talked, or even locked eyes for more than a moment,
Eric began to feel like they were some kind of friends, like they lived the
same lives. He always felt good when he spotted the ravenwing-coat somewhere,
when he felt those bright green eyes slide around the room from a quiet corner.
Once he didn't spot him until he was leaving, at the heels of a much older,
but not unattractive blond. Scissorhands was standing near the exit, so near
that Eric could have touched him if he had reached out. They looked each other
in the eye for a split second, and then Scissorhands looked down, laughing
into his cocktail, and shook his head. Eric was already going out the door,
and he couldn't turn back. He had thought about it for a long time, why would
Scissorhands laugh at him? Perhaps it was only his imagination, did
Scissorhands not even know who he was, and was he laughing about something
someone had said into his ear.

It worried him for awhile, but he tried to forget about it. The next couple of
times he was out looking for someone to pick him up he didn't see him, and he
was beginning to fear Scissorhands had left town.

Then, one night, without warning, he popped up again. Eric was standing at the
bar of the only real gay club in town, and suddenly there he was, closer than
he had ever been, all but pressed against him in the crowd. It seemed he had
appeared out of thin air. He stared at him, unable to speak, noticed that
Scissorhands didn't even say "hi", he just stared back. Scissorhands had
outdone himself, he wore blood-red lipstick tonight, and had done some shady
thing that made his features look even more sharply defined than usual. His
large eyes were rimmed with black, and from his eyelids washed two soft wings
of red and purple over his white skin. Then Eric felt a hand pressed against
the back of his neck, and suddenly they were kissing. The painted lips felt
vaguely sticky to his, but Scissorhands tasted fresh, like chewing gum. His
mind wandered confused to the rule he had one day thought up, that you should
at least say "hi" to pick someone up. Preferably not much more, but "hi" was
the absolute minimum, or so he had believed.

Scissorhands let him go and turned to the bartender, who had watched them with
an amused smile.
"Two chocolate-milk, please."
Eric stared at him with open mouth. How could he know he felt like chocolate-
milk? How did he know he ever drank that anyway? He ordered it very rarely,
and if he did he always raised a couple of eyebrows. It wasn't exactly the
coolest drink in town. Eric couldn't help it. Sometimes, he just felt like
having chocolate milk. He was genetically impaired, he assumed. His mother ate
chocolate all day long, and drank chocolate-milk the way other people drink
whiskey. The red-painted mouth smiled at him.
"I'm Vigil."
Vigil. What kind of a name was THAT?
"Hi. I'm Eric."
They shook hands, a ridiculous formality when you've just french-kissed each
other. Vigil's hand felt long and thin. His nails were pointy, and impossibly
long, although they did look like they were real. The black nailpolish was
beginning to wear off. The bartender brought their drinks, and Vigil lifted
his as in a toast.
"You and I boy, are going to have a lot of fun."
Man, was he right.

I don't like it when people slip through my fingers, but I hate it if they
manage to do that twice. Once I decide a boy is mine, he is, until I let him
go. But this one seemed to have a strange talent for avoiding me. It was a
slut, that much was clear from the beginning, by the way he leaned against the
bar, the way he looked at me. Hopeful eyes. Hungry eyes. He broke our
eyecontact, and I suppose that's what caught me off-guard. That was not how it
was supposed to be. I ALWAYS broke the first eye- contact. It was a sign of
control, of self confidence. When he left later that night with somebody else,
I was biting into my own wrist in frustration. How dare he!

I went home alone that night, though not before I had had a little encounter
with someone else in an alley. I was so horny it almost hurt, and I was also
mad as hell. He was mine, dammit, how could I let him escape like that! Grown
cautious, I watched him for a couple of weeks, studied him, learned more about
him then he knew about himself, perhaps. He had a brain, obviously, but did
not use it when he was out. He hung out mostly in the same place but did not
seem to really know many other people there. He went out to get laid, and it
seemed he was pretty good at that. He had a couple of regular "suger-daddies",
but only went to them if there was nobody else to pick him up.

Once I thought he was walking towards me, but he was following another man,
and I quickly realised they were just going to the exit, and I happened to be
in the direction. For a moment he was so close I could have grabbed him for a
kiss, but he was with some brainless bodybuilder and it didn't seem like a
good idea. He looked at me like he was going to say something, but I didn't
want him to, so I looked away and snickered at him.

That night I had a little date of my own, and he kept me busy for quite a
while. It was a steerless, drugged-up teen in dire need of some guidance, and
I was happy to give it to him. Subjecting him to me was hardly to be called a
challenge, but I enjoyed it anyway, savouring him like a kind of appetizer for
the little slut that had escaped me in the town. I was surprised to see what
an appetite my new toy had for childen's sweets, especially chocolate. I loved
to feed him till he got sick, and to let him lick the sour substance from my
fingers. His face was capable of such lovely expressions...

But they all have to go sooner or later, and when he did, I decided it was
time for the main dish.

It seemed he had been waiting for me. When I ordered him a drink, he looked so
ridiculously grateful I had trouble not laughing. I didn't feel like much like
chatting, but there was no need to. He was all too happy to go with me.

Vigil... Vigil. Eric silently repeated the name as they were driving to
Vigil's place. It was outside the town, a five-minute walk from one of the
tiny villages that surrounded the place. Vigil didn't talk much, simply asked
some questions about his study and his family. Eric felt vaguely worried, like
something was wrong. Why had Vigil decided he could come with him now? And did
he even want to go with him? Well, too late for that now, he was already with
him. He felt too much turned on to think much anyway, being so close to the
boy he had admired from a distance for so long kept his dick in a constant
state of semi-stiffness, but not unpleasantly. Vigil drove his car quietly
over the dark lanes, through a sleeping village or two. Eric studied his
face from the side, his sharp nose, the eyeshadow that took on an eerie
colour in the dashboard-light. He was dressed in black, tight denim, and Eric
could see him breathing slowly. He wondered if Vigil had a boner too. It was
too dark to see. Just when he started wondering if Vigil even still knew he
was there, he heard him mumble: "Home sweet home..." and the car rolled into
a gravel driveway.

When he got out of the car, Vigil surprised him again by coming up to embrace
him, and they kissed shortly. Still holding him, Vigil asked:
"How do you like it?" Eric tried to answer but Vigil stopped him.
"Wait, wait a moment. Look. Let it affect you for a moment, listen, smell,
feel the spirit of the place..." Eric stood and looked. Vigil's house was big
and old. He wondered again how old Vigil was, and if this place belonged to
his parents. There was not much to look at from the outside, it was a square,
whitewashed building, but the windows were higher and larger than those of
modern houses, and the front door looked like it was antique or something. On
the opposite side of the road was some kind of large field, a moor, thought
Eric, mostly because he just liked the word. He wondered if this could really
be called a moor. A flock of birds rushed over the house, their cries chilled
Eric to the bone. Again he doubted whether he really wanted to be here.

"Locus Terribilis" Vigil hissed into his ear. What the hell did that mean?
What were they still doing out here anyway?
"Er... sorry, my French is a bit rusty, what did you say?"
Vigil laughed. Then, still holding him: "I like you boy. Give me your hand."
He got hold of Eric's wrist and led it to the inner pocket of his coat. Eric
braced himself, not knowing what to expect. He feared it was something
unpleasant, writhing bugs, used condoms, cut-off fingers. He had no idea why
he was thinking these things, but when he felt inside he could not help
letting out a sigh of relief. They were little things, but dry, and smooth.
Marbles? He took out a little hand and realised they were m&ms. He looked up
]at Vigil, who's face was now painted with the perverted grin of a maniac.
"Khandiiii..." he said, and at first Eric didn't understand him.
"Will you be my khandy, boy?" Eric nodded, and started putting the colourful
pills into the sticky letterbox of Vigil's lips. Vigil laughed again, and
said with his mouth full of chocolate: "Come in."

They went inside and Vigil hung their coats away. The house was actually even
older than Eric had guessed. And it wasn't very well-kept either. Vigil didn't
care much for fresh paint, and watched with a vague pleasure how the building
slowly disintegrated. He went upstairs, gesturing Eric to follow. There had
been a carpet on the steps, but it was completely worn down. The their steps
on the stairs sounded uneven, and hollow. They passed the damaged doorpost,
and went into one of the bedrooms. It wasn't the largest one, but it was used
most, and as a result of that less dusty and empty than the others. It was on
the streetside, and had a pleasant view over the nestling grounds. Another
flock of wild geese flew over as the boys fell onto the bed for a round of
groping and kissing, a little exploration of their bodies before they got to
work.

Eric could taste chocolate in Vigil's mouth. The house and the way Vigil acted
had unnerved him, but now that feeling was fading fast, and was replaced by a
pounding horniness. To have him here on top of him, the boy he had spied on
for so long, his long nails scratching down his arms, his sharp bones sticking
though the layers of clothing... It was almost too much to bear. Vigil started
taking his shirt off, and admired his new candy-friend. He was perfect. The
soft lines of his face, the round but strong body, writhing under him like a
bed of snakes. He was hungry for him. The feeling burned in his stomach,
spinning out long tendrils into the rest of his body. Yes, he had a lust for
candy.

Hastily, they wrestled out of their clothes, until they were wearing little
more than their socks. Eric pulled himself up to kiss again, but Vigil pushed
him back unto the mattress none too gently. He threw himself at Eric's crotch,
Eric's long dick sliding onto his throat, his hands cupping the round,
slightly hairy ass. He sucked hard, so hard it hurt. Eric moaned and pulled
at Vigil's tangled hair to make him stop. But at the same time he was thrusting
his hips to the rhythm of Vigil's sucking. It hurt, but it hurt so good he
never wanted him to stop. Vigil let go for a moment to lick at his balls, and
Eric saw that his dickhead was swollen to a deep purple plum. He gasped. This
was no gently lover. It wasn't like the hesitating domination Graig had
sometimes shown. Vigil simply did what he wanted. Without discussion. Do you
want to be my Candy, Eric thought. He was a bit shocked to hear himself sigh:
"yessss."

Vigil had moved back to his dick. But he was really gentle now, annoyingly so.
His lips barely touched the shaft, his tongue snaking around the head. His
fingers slowly played with the soft balls, stroking the loose skin, teasing
the microscopic cells from their warm, winding tubes. Eric was breathing
audibly now, and Vigil went back to sucking the tip, then swallowed the entire
length to the back of his throat. He wouldn't last much longer, Vigil felt the
muscles tense, the spastic hands tangled in his hair, the back arched in a
perfect gesture of subjection. The sweet juice spilled over his tongue,
vaguely tasting of chocolate. Vigil swallowed it all, sucking and sucking
until Eric pushed him away.

When I had swallowed every precious drop he could offer me, my own boner was
screaming for attention, dripping faintly pink precome onto the sheets. Candy
looked at me with his eyes half-closed, and then managed to surprise me again.
He lifted his knees up to his ears until his raw pink asshole stared me in the
eyes.
"Fuck me," he whispered.
I felt my muscles freeze. Never had I had a boy that was so willing, so ready
to be mine. And I wanted to fuck him so bad... It would be so sweet for feel
that soft flesh open up to me, to lose myself in that little pink hole, drift
away on the waves of the fuck. But he wanted to be fucked. This boy was more
talented, more intelligent than others. I shouldn't do what he asked of me, I
shouldn't fuck him yet. Keep 'em waiting, little Vigil, keep 'em waiting.
That was how it was done, slowly, creepingly, make them dependent, it was far
too soon for a fuck. This boy was too precious to lose. And if I weren't
careful, I might even lose this bonbon at daybreak.

So instead I grabbed his ankles, drew them back, and straddled the heaving,
horny body. I started jacking off to the look on that round, soft face, with
quick, short jerks. Candy looked puzzled, but too relaxed to really worry.
His hands fluttered over my thighs, to the soft insides, in the direction of
my hands. It had been long enough, and I know how to make myself come fast,
just as I know how to manipulate boys. Soon generous splashes of come landed
on Candy's chest, and I sank down on his pelvis. I spread out the substance
all over the perfectly formed chest, onto the slight rounding of his belly.
I climbed off, and rubbed the stuff all the way down around his belly button,
wiping my hand in his pubic hair. Candy looked at me, disappointed.
"Don't you want to fuck me?" he asked. I felt my lips spread into a grin.
"Honey, by the time I'm done fucking you, you won't even have the breath left
to thank me."

Promises, promises. Nothing keeps a man tied up better than that. I pulled up
the blankets so they covered his legs and crotch. He sighed, and seemed to
drift into sleep. We weren't done yet, not by far, but I let him rest for now.
It gave me the time to sit back and appreciate the looks of this wonderful
piece of candy. I especially liked his face. Other than the face of the
drug-addict that had lain here before him, his face was round, soft, the skin
floating on secret layers of healthy flesh, warmed by the hot flow of blood.
His chest was slightly muscular, but not so muscular as modern fashion seems
to demand. His heart was open, I could feel it beat under my fingers. It
wasn't tucked away under layers and layers of leathery muscles like that of a
body-builder. No, this heart was at my command, this chest was more bare, more
naked than those. It was also faintly sticky.

I remembered that he had not eaten the candy I had offered him. He had only
fed it to me. How annoying. The little chocolate pills already produced a
faint fizz behind my eyes. I went downstairs to get the large brown bags I
had bought the day before. I poured the psychedelic colour-festival into a
large bowl and brought it back upstairs. Candy was still asleep, and I sat
next to him on the mattress, the bowl deliciously cold in my lap. I began to
fish out the candies one by one, and pressed them to the layer of dry come on
his chest. They didn't stick well, but most remained in place. I made patterns,
lines, strings of different colours from his belly button to the delicate V of
his collarbone. Sleepily, he opened his eyes. "Vigil? Whadduja doing?" He
struggled onto his elbows. "Decorating you, Candy. But you need to lie back,
or they'll all roll off." He looked down at my work, giggling like a little
girl. But he lay back as I'd told him to, so I could go on with what I was
doing.

I started making little circles of red around his nipples, putting all the
other colours into his mouth, and in mine. He chewed on them, braking the
sugar-layer into pieces, swallowing the stuff before the chocolate had time
to melt. "Are you hungry?" I asked him. He nodded. I put another handful of
m&ms into his mouth. I looked down at the birthdaycake I had made of his chest.
Then I smiled my friendliest smile at him. "Me too."

When we were little, our mom sometimes gave us large biscuits spread with
sugar-topping, and we would put sweets and sugar and little chocolate flakes
into the topping until they looked like cakes. Some of them were little faces,
with peppermints for eyes, chocolate flakes for hair and a sugar beard. One
day we held an eating contest. With our hands behind our backs we attacked
the sweet and sticky biscuits with our teeth, until the topping was in our
hair and the sager spread all over the table and the floor. Mom sent us to
our room for that, but biscuit-pie had never tasted so good before.

Eric lay back, his eyes closed, lazily sucking the m&ms from between his
teeth. Vigil took hold of his hands, and pinned them down to the mattress next
to his face. Still he didn't open his eyes. Vigil's touch was firm, but not
alarming. Vigil's bite into his nipple was a complete surprise. Eric gasped
and bucked with pain. Vigil was eating some of the red m&ms and biting hard
into the nipple that they surrounded. Eric screamed and bucked to get out
from under him, but Vigil held him too tight. His mouth ravaged Eric's skin,
scooping up the chocolate and biting hard into every roll of skin he could
find. His left nipple was burning as if Vigil had pressed a cigarette-butt
to it. Eric thought he might be bleeding. He started wrestling harder to get
Vigil off him, but Vigil seemed impossibly strong. Brown goo was spilling
from Vigil's mouth as it traveled downward to his belly button, tearing on
his flesh. He chewed on the m&ms with his mouth open and Eric's skin between
his fore-teeth. Eric cried and whimpered, begging Vigil to stop, but Vigil
seemed deaf to pleas. With a series of bites he was at Eric's other nipple,
scooped up the circle of m&ms and bit down long and hard into the soft pink
tip. Eric cried out with a new wave of pain, bucked and wrestled for his life
while Vigil bit again and again into his nipple, until Eric felt absolutely
sure that he was bleeding.

Then, as suddenly as he had started, Vigil stopped. He sat up, Eric breathing
under him, and sucked in the chocolate-spit that drooled from his lower lip.
Eric's skin was burning all over with pain, he looked down at the chocolate
mess of his right nipple and sobbed. Vigil bent over him again, still holding
his wrists, and began lapping up the chocolate goo that was spread all over
Eric's body. He seemed tender, careful now, gently sucking out his bellybutton,
carefully licking the blood and chocolate from his nipple. Eric bit his teeth
together. Finally Vigil settled down on top of Eric, his muscles relaxing,
his lips softly nibbling the skin on the side of his neck. Eric tried to
move his hands and Vigil didn't stop him. To his own surprise, he slipped his
arms around Vigil's chest and hugged him closer, pressing his damaged skin to
Vigil's. Vigil laughed drunkenly.
"I want you, Candy-boy."

Eric had no answer to that one. This is not just an ungentle lover, he
thought, this guy is a maniac!

For some strange reason, that idea appealed to him.