Wicked Ways
written by Stash

First of all: This is a story with homosexual and even homoerotic content. If you don't like that, just stop
reading it. The story does contain gay sex, but it's no jerk off story. It's more some dramatic thriller kind
of stuff, so: Read it and judge by yourself! ;-) All characters, places and events in this story are purely fictional.

And now...
HAVE FUN and please do feel free to send me your opinions,
comments, thoughts or even criticism to stash@nexgo.de

Act II - Anything Goes

I was all over him.

His slim, naked body lustfully twitched and twirled underneath mine, and since he was at least able to moan out my name I figured that he probably wasn't THAT drunk anymore. And that was good. After all, I wanted him to feel my touch. I wanted him to feel my tongue slowly move over his hairless breast and sweaty belly right down to the fully erect body part that already shook extatically with only the slightest touch of my chin. And, most of all, I definitely wanted him to be completely aware of what it would be like to have me push into him.

I licked my own lips, passionately absorbing the young, salty taste of his sweat. Yeah, right. This really was the fun part!

"... anyone can make you sweat..." Jordan Knight's "Give It To You" seductively underlined the glistening extasy that covered each and every inch of Mark's body. "... but I will keep you at..."

'And right you are!' I thought once again, the triumphant grin on my face almost widening enough to make me choke from what my mout was now devotedly working on.

"Is there... somethin' wrong?" He suddenly moaned, oviously noticing the slight pause in my head's movement.

'Well, shut it, stupid! If you got a problem, just go down on your fucking self!' my mind annoiedly chose for an answer, and I thanked God for giving me the required diciplin to just say "No, it's just that... your so... fuckin' hot!" instead. And down I went again.

Unfortunately though, he seemed to have taken that a bit too seriously for my taste, ans it couse him to bring both his hands down on my head in an attempt to adjust me to his speed. I mean, hey, as if going down on Kevin Sanders' drunk and wasted goods wasn't more than enough of a sacrifice! "... I'm holding you down to my bed..." Mark let out an extatic cry when I fiercely gripped his wrists and almost brutally slammed his hands on the sheets to both sides of his body, which instantly caused his tight little ass to push up hard enough to bury my nose deep in his pubic hair.

"Enough of that!" I determinedly announced as soon as I had let go.

I slowly let my chest move up his torso, felt the sweat on his skin rubbingly mix with my own, and by the time our faces met I could tell from his heavy breath and almost even painful moans that he was already on the edge. My hands, which had not loosened their hold of his wrists until they had brought them together on the cushion above his head, slowly slid down his arms, still firmly preventing them from breaking out of my control. "... I can't wait to give you some..."

"You want me to fuck you?" I smoothly whispered.

Actually, this was just some kind of rethorical question. After all, I knew perfectly well how much he liked to take it. So there was really no surprise element in him nodding his head yes and at the same time opening up his legt.

"Say it!" My lips almost touched his ear as I pressed his elbows on the bed and positioned myself between his thighs. "Say that you want me to fuck you, Kevin!"

"... I'm convinced you want this..." His eyes immediately sprung wide open, and suddenly, I felt his arms shake with the confused efford to free himself from my hold.

"But..." Even though he tried to concentrate, his voice was hardly mor than a weak, exhausted whisper coming from somewhere between still overwhelming lust and uncertainty. "I'm... MARK!"

"Whatever." I answered with my voice cold as ice and finally pushed into him, hard and reckless enough to make him scream with both lust and the sudden penetration. "... anything goes when I give it to you..."

"Welcome on board!" I whispered. "It's gonna be one hell of a flight!"

I woke up in Mark's arms at about 10am the next morning.

God, if he didn't find a way to to shake off that affectionate attitude of his soon, I'd have to really force myself to not accidentally calling him "Fido"! Why on earth did everything always have to be so goddamn... tight?! I smirked to myself. After all, last night, I had pretty much experienced that not exactly EVERYthing was so tight about him. Still amused, I stuck to this thought as I carelessly pushed his arm off of me and got up from the bed to put my briefs on. He was still fast asleep, and my eyes slowly wandered along the contours of his perfectly built body, which was only scarcely covered by the sheets. He was cute. I mean, like, REALLY cute. Thank God for Kevin Sanders' good taste in boyfriends. Otherwise, the sex part would have been more of a sacrifice than it had already been.

'I am the Marcia fuckin' Brady of the Upper East Side...' Sarah-Michelle Gellar's high-pitched voice sounded through my door from the living room behind it. So then, obviously, Craig was already up watching our both's favourite movie "Cruel Intentions", in which Sarah Michelle and Ryan "liquid dream" Philippe played a couple of step siblings who intiguingly used and manipulated each and everybody just for the fun of it. Maybe that was why I loved it so much. Because the was an undeniable similarity to the scenes I set up.

"Morning." Craig greeted the TV when I came in and closed the door behind me. "Your brother called."

I shrugged. "Does he say 'hi'?"

He didn't even have to turn around - which he didn't, anyway - to show me the bright teasing grin on his already shaved face. "Actually, it sounded more like 'Go to hell!'."

"Oh really?" I opened the refridgerator and got out the small towel I always kept in the freezing department overnight. "Now, there's a surprise. How did he find out, at last?"

"Dunno. He didn't say. But then, mybe he did and I just wasn't listening." He gave Reese Witherspoon a passionate yawn. "Man, he's SO boring!"

And he was right. My little brother, Joey, really WAS boring. Obviously, fourty percent of his 17 year old life merely consisted of sleeping, whereas the other sixty percent were passionately spent on his truly remarkable attempts to move and speak at a speed that would make a drugged turtle look like a racing car next to him. His hair was always strawy and untaimed, his face gave the impression of the theatrical trailer to "Akne Wars", and no matter how hard he tried at stylig, somehow he would always look like he had been raised by wild dogs.

In short terms: He was a loser. Kind of cute, though (after all, he was my brother), but nevertheless a loser!

"After all, Scottie" Craig continued. "Maybe you shouldn't have done that to him. That wasn't nice."

I shrugged and let myself fall next to him on the couch, leaning back and folding the towel to a thin stripe to cover my eyes with. Just a routine procedure after a long night of alcohol, sex or whatever there was to make them swell and cause those ugly black rings underneath them in the morning.

"Maybe." I said. "But it was fun, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, definitely. But NOT nice!"

I leaned back in blindness when I heard Craig moving closer and finally, felt his head lay down on my legs with a low sigh. My hand reached out to touch his hair and the sensation of his right ear 'accidentally' touching the front of my briefs every now and then slowly caused its physical effect.

"Okay then, show me sexy..." Ryan Philippe smirked from out of the movie, which caused Craig to slowly let one of his hands glide down my naked chest. I moaned out silently.

"Now, this might be sexy." he seductively answered Ryan's question shortly before I felt his head leaving my legs again. "But, like you said, dude, I'm not into that 'fag stuff'."

"Yeah... too bad!" I gave a disappointed sigh and pulled the towel off my eyes to give him one of my most kinky smiles.

His mouth opened and closed several times before he was ble to grin himself. "You wish!"

"And what if I do?"

Unforunately, the ringing of the doorbell saved him from finding an answer to this.

"I'll get it." he whisteled, enthusiastically running into the hall and opening the door.

It was quite some sight, though, to watch him being shoved aside before a most furious and obviously bad tempered Kevin Sanders rushed in and finally came to a halt right before me.

"Where is he?" he demanded, the impatience that dripped from his every word almost causing me to giggle which I somehow managed not to show as Craig stopped the movie and - with a more than knowing grin - started the CD player. Only a second later, Gun's "Seems Like I'm Losing You" faded into the background and I turned to face Kevin again.

"Nice to see you, too, Kev!" I smirked. "And, to answer your question, I don't think that Mark wants to see you right now."

"Cut it, Scott! We both know what you do to other people, don't we? So WHERE - IS..." he paused. "...Mark!!!!!"

I couldn't say how long he had already been there. Mark was standing in the door frame, lookin hurt and confused like a child.Tears were forming in ther corners of his eyes, and his voice sounded dead close to breaking as he spoke.

"What are you doing here, Kevin?" he asked.

"I'm... uhm..." Kevin's voice had suddenly turned from madly furious to uncertain and low. "Jerry said he saw you leaving with Scott the other night, and I just... I mean I... dunno, I guess I just wanted to talk to you."

"You wanted to talk to me? I'm sorry, but this isn't exacly about what YOU want anymore."

"But Mark, I..." Kevin started to beg, and I asked myself if the self asured grin on my face was givng away how excited I was about all this.

"No, Kevin!" As far as I could tell, the cold determination in Mark's voice obviously hit Kevin like a fist. "After all, you didn't really care for what I have to say last night, did you? I tried to talk to you, you know. I tried to tell you what REALLY happened, but you just wouldn't listen."

"Look, I'm sorry, I..." Was it possible for a human voice to become even less audible than Kevin Sanders' voice was right now?

"I don't care how sorry you are! I was sorry, too, you know. I was sorry about having been drunk enough to sleep with that boy last week and also about beeing stupid enough to not realize what he had planned to do with me. Do you really think I would have betrayed you if I had been clear enough to think straight? Or that I would have agreed for ANYone to tape it and put it online? Face it, Kevin, I'm the one who was betrayed and abused. Not you. Not anyone else. It was ME!"

Mark became more and more determined as he spoke, and from the coldness of his last words I suddenly wondered what had happened to the little puppy I had taken home with me just a few hours ago. He had been so shy and helpless, but now it seemed like he knew exactly what he was doing. That's weird, you know, because I never thought that he would be strong enough to handle meeting his ex-or-whatever-boiyfriend so soon.

Anyway, as far as my plans were concerned this could only be helpfull. After all, he came pretty close to hurting Kevin himself. So it should be even easier than I thought for me to really break him before the curtain would fall. As they say, with a little help from my friends...

"YOU!" Kevin Sander's words hit me loud enough to tear me out of my thoughts and I realized his eyes burning into me with hate and enlightment. Clever kid, I must say. "You did this to us, didn't you?"

"Me?!" My face turned to impression type 'shocked and surprised" which I thought to be fitting best. "Whatever is going on between the two of you, now don't pull me into this, okay?"

"STOP THAT BULLSHIT, SCOTT!" he yelled, and I had quite some trouble to suppress my ever stronger growing urge to applaude.

"Leave him alone, will ya?" Mark interefered again. "He's got nothing to do with all this. We only just met last night and I hardly even know him yet."

Kevins turned his eyes to his feet, still almost exploding with rage. "Well, I DO know him."

"Why don't you get it, Kevin? I - DON'T - CARE!!!" Mark shouted back, and I stood up from the couch to walk over to him and wrap my arms around him.

"Look, babe." I said calmly. "Maybe the two of you should talk. Will you be okay if Craig and me just went for a coffee somewhere?"

Craig's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief, but he silently went to his room to get dressed.

"Yeah, I guess that would be best." Mark gave me that puppy look again, which gave me the impression that he had exclusively saved it for me only. I turned to my room and came back only two minutes later with my black jeans and a wine red shirt on. Telling from the look on his face, Kevin obviously suppressed a new attack of rage as I quickly kissed his ex-boyfriend's cheek and told him to take care before Craig and me turned to leave the apartment.

"Scott..." Mark called out when I had just opened the door, making me turn to him once again with a sweet and loving 'Dawson's Creek'-smile. "About last night..." he said. "I meant it. I really like you, so don't worry. Okay?"

"Okay, babe." I answered. "I'll be back in no time, promise. I like you, too, you know."

'Dawson's Creek' left my face as soon as I had closed the door behind Craig and me and instantly turned to 'Cruel Intentions'. I imagined Kevin Sanders shouting "I wanna fuck!" and Mark Andrews replying "But I don't!" and obviously overheard Craig talking to me.

"Sebastian..." he called me by the name of Ryan Philippe's character in the movie. "Sebastian, let's try and focus!"

I shook off my evil grin to give him one of my kinky ones again. "Cecile, stop crying. Now, I need you to listen to me very carefully..."

And while we were waiting for the elevator, I filled him in on the next step of my plan.

"So then, you're really into this kid, aren't you, dude?" Craig took the rest of his coffee in one gulp and put down his pot.

"Whatta you mean 'into him'? You don't seriously think that I..."

"Awe, come on Scottie, admit it! You're at least attracted to him." He grinned. "I wouldn't blame you. He's quite cute."

"Sure he is. But that's already about it. You know, getting involved would be so... unprofessional. You should know me better than that!"

The man at the table next to us shook his head and quickly turned to his paper again when I looked back at him, and the waitress who was just pouring him another cup of whatever he drank turned red, covering a slight giggle with her free hand. Geez, was it still THAT funny to hear two guys talk about gay stuff in public? You should think that people in the 2000s wouldn't really care anymore. Oh well... never mind. She gave an artificial laugh to obviously quite a lame joke the man had told her and finally turned around to our table, rolling her eyes as soon as he couldn't possibly see it anymore.

At first sight, she looked quite funny with her long black hair and that old-fashioned black-and-white waitress uniform. She must have been somewhat about our age, maybe in her mid-twenties.

"You're wrong, you know." She smiled at me.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't care if anyone is gay, straight, catholic or whatever. I didn't giggle because of you. That's what you were thinking, wasn't it?"

I was stunned. Stunned and more than just a little surprised.

"Good guess, lady." I finally answered.

"Oh, I wasn't guessing at all." The honest and open expression on her face gave absolutely no reason to believe that she was joking. "You know, sometimes I just... well, like, know things."

"What, you mean like a psycho?" Craig gave her a mean smile.

"The word is 'psychic', stupid." She threw back his sarcasm in a way that really made me laugh. She seemed to be quite nice. And smart, too. Not very much people ever succeeded in making Craig lose words and look like a 12-year-old who's mother just found his very first porn magazine under his bed. Therefore, she definitely deserved some bonus points, although I had to admit that this psychic thing caused me to slightly grin, too. I remember an old friend of my mother who always pretended to be psychic, too, and finally ended up in weekly visits at a psychologist's. She had always claimed to be talking to dead people, and someday, one of those deceased freaks had obviously told her to spill gasoline in every room of her little bungalow and burn it down.

"So... uhm... " I took a quick glance at her name plate. "... Caroline, you're a real psychic, huh?"

She shrugged. "Something like that, yeah. But you can stop trying to pretend. I know that you don't believe me."

"Jesus, she REALLY know things, Scottie!" Craig snickered.

"Jerk!" she shot back.

"Weirdow!" Her eyes burned into his face when he stood up from his chair, announced that he would go for a piss and went to find the toilet.

As soon as he had left, Caroline invited herself to the now empty seat opposite mine.

"You seem like an interesting person, Scott. I'm Caroline." She held out her hand. "Caroline Cummings."

"Scott Morell." I gave her a bright grin as I reached out to shake hands with her.

And then it happened. Whatever that 'it' was, but it happened. As soon as my hand sunk into hers, her grip immediately tightened and she closed her eyes. From the pearly sweat on her forehead I could tell that she was obviously concentrating on something. I tried to pull my hand away again, but her hold was so tight that it almost hurt.

"That's not funny, Caroline." I told her. But she didn't even react to my words.

I repeated her name three more times before her eyes sprung open again and she released my hand in a hurry as if she had received an electric shock from it.

"I'm sorry, Scott... I mean, I... I..." She stumbled like a puberting teen on her first date and her right hand nervously fumbled around at the silver necklace she was wearing. "... I mean, I DIDN'T mean to... uhm... sorry."

This was weird. I mean, like, you know, REALLY weird.

"You saw something, didn't you?" I asked her, unable to hide my excitement.

"No... I mean, yes, but..." She was still all shaken up. "... no, I didn't see anything. Nothing."

Her still shaking hand got a package of cigarettes out of her pocket, and I took Craig's lighter to give her fire. The little shh-sound of the gas was quickly followed by the flame and her eyes widened when she looked at the fire, a deep moaning sound escaping from her lips, followed by a whispered "Oh... my... god!". The chair fell over with a loud noise when she jumped up, hectically pressed her still not lit cigarette into the ash tray and left the table only seconds before Craig returned from the toilet.

"What's HER deal?" he asked me, picking up the chair again with his eyes on her rushing off.

"I don't know. I just took the hand she offered me, and suddenly, she got totally freaked out."

I turned my head to look at her again and caught her eyeing me with the look of someone who has just seen a ghost or even worse. What could she possibly have seen that she was SO afraid of? But then, did she really see anything at all, or was she just playing some kind of sick joke on me?

"So then, Scottie, why don't we leave and see if your loverboy and his ex aleady got each other killed?" Craig obviously tried to change the subject, but I didn't really listen right now. All I had heard was the part about leaving.

"Fine." I answered wearily. "Why don't you have one last smoke while I go over to Caroline and pay the bill?"

"Go ahead."

Caroline had just vanished through the kitchen door with a tablet of empty glasses, so I waited outside for her to come back. I mean, hey, I had always made fun of my mother's friend and stuff, but, on the other hand, a part of me had always believed that there could be forces in this world that mankind just can't understand, leave alone explain. My mom herself had seen the shadow of my uncle at her bedroom wall, the night when he had killed himself in his garage. And I had never had any reason to not believe her, especially as she had always been the paranormally critic in our family.

But then, Caroline was a total stranger. How could I know if she hadn't escaped some nearby clinic only days ago? Maybe she was just the type to fish for other people's attention by putting up a show like that. Who knows? Nevertheless, I was far more than exited and curious about what she was so afraid of. After all, her fear and sudden confusion just looked much too... REAL to be as artificial as the laugh she had given the man at the other table.

My thoughts were aprubtly cut off by the opening of the kitchen door. Caroline saw me and froze, her face carved with fearful lines and wide eyes again.

"That's... three dollars for the... two coffees." she hoarsely said.

I got out a five dollar note and told her to keep the change. As soon as she had put away the money she turned around to flee through the door again, but I carefully grabbed her arm to hold her back.

"Look, I really don't know you, and right now, I can't honestly say if I trust you on that psychic thing. But if you REALLY saw something - and I truly believe you did - then please tell me, Caroline. Please?"

I spoke to her with my begging voice as low as possible, and I could tell by just one look at her face that she felt more than uncomfortable with me touching her arm. But suddenly, the fear in her eyes smoothened to a concerned and almost even caring expression.

"You've done bad things, Scott. Very bad things, really." she said in the tone of a regretfull mother. "But deep inside you, there's a really nice person that really affected me."

I frowned, and the hair in my neck suddenly stood up. Could she really know about the things I did? About my little intrigues, my scenes? If not, then what were the chances for her to land a goal with an assuption like that? A thousand to one? Or even worse?

"Then please tell me what you saw!" I kept on begging.

"I can't." She was fighting herself whether she should tell me or not, I could clearly see that. "Believe me, you don't want to know."

"Yes, I DO want to know it, Caroline!"

"Really Scoot, I'm sorry, but..."

"Caroline... please?" I tried to give her my best imitation of the puppy look Mark always gave me. "What did you see?"

Finally, she told me. And when she did I suddenly understood why she didn't want me to hear it. Her voice was now so low that it was hardly audible anymore, but the very words that she said hit me full force.

"I saw death, Scott." Her lips trembled with every syllable. "And death was embracing you."

... to be continued

So far, so good. This was the second act of my new series "Wicked Ways". Look out for "Act III" soon,
and: Don't hesitate to visit my story site http://kickme.to/stash or just send an email to stash@nexgo.de.

I'll gladly answer every single email unless you tell me not to. ;-)

Greetz, Stash