Hey Guys (and Gals?),

This is my first foray into writing this type of story, so I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing.  This is, of course, entirely fiction -- the child of my brain and fantasies alone.  This story will contain graphic depictions of gay sex.  If you have not yet reached the age where such tales are legal for you to read, please hit the `back' button on your internet browser, and surf your little butt somewhere more appropriate.  If you're under age, and continue reading anyway, I don't want to know about it.

If you are of age, and find yourself enjoying the story, I hope you'll take a minute to send an e-mail to westley02@yahoo.com to let me know.  Even if there's something you don't like, let me know that too, assuming you can do it politely.  Any suggestions to improve my writing or the story will be taken under consideration.  Flames will be promptly deposited in the trash; otherwise I will attempt to respond to all correspondence.

Special thanks to "M" for taking the time to look over this and make sure there are no glaring mistakes, or major points of confusion.  His encouragement and suggestions to improve the readability of this chapter have been greatly appreciated.



Chapter 1

There he was again.  My eyes were immediately drawn to him as soon as I stepped around the partition into the club.  Just like last night, and the night before that, he was out there moving around the dance floor like he didn't have a care in the world.  God, was he beautiful.

I walked over and sat on a stool with my back to the bar so I could continue to watch the bronze god I had become infatuated with over the last few days.  How was he able to affect me like that?  His eyes were closed, and his body seemed to flow around the others who surrounded him.  He moved from partner to partner, hardly even noticing them.  They were irrelevant.  

The music was his master.  A sound system, even one as sophisticated as the one in this club, couldn't possibly deliver the full message.  So he became its ambassador to deliver visually what the driving beat and melodic tones couldn't reveal aurally.  And he delivered it with grace and, oh, did I like the message I was receiving!  Maybe tonight I'd finally get up the nerve to approach him.

"What'll ya have, Bud?"  The bartender's shout shocked me out of my trance, and I turned to look at him.  He was cute enough, but he didn't hold a candle to my newfound deity.  My first thought was to point to the dance floor and tell him I'd have one of those.  Instead, I said, "Whatever you have on tap -- something light and Canadian."  He brought my beer back a few seconds later, I paid him, including a generous tip, and turned my attention back to the dance floor as I took a sip.

Mmm, mmm, mmm.  I could see sweat glistening on his skin.  His close-cut, brown hair was drenched, and his torso was coated in a sheen of perspiration that caught the multi-colored lights that flashed over the dancing crowd.  I wanted to lick every last bead from his skin.  I was mesmerized by the shifting lines of his six-pack abs, and those quarter-sized aureoles -- just a couple shades darker than his tanned skin -- already had me opening my mouth to take them between my teeth.

How did he do that to me?  He didn't even know I existed, and yet he had me completely in his thrall.  My brain kept telling me there was no way a relationship could work between us.  As soon as he found out I was a Spike, it would be over before it even got going.  Stupid brain.

What's a Spike, you ask?  I'm surprised you haven't heard of us.  Granted, there aren't many of us, and most of us tend to stay away from you normal humans.  But the way most normals seem fear us, I figured you'd have, at least, been told tales of us to keep you in line when you were a kid.  Anyway, a Spike is someone who is born with special abilities.  

These abilities will usually manifest when the child is fairly young, sometimes as early as age 6 or 7, always by the time he has passed through puberty.  A Spike may have the ability to read minds, or see the future, or to run faster than the naked eye can follow.  I, for example, am a telekinetic; I am able to manipulate things with my mind.  Not just things, I can affect people too, but that's a little more difficult for me.  

I don't really know why people fear us.  I guess it's just that most people fear what they don't understand.  They see that we can do things that they cannot, and they're afraid of what we might do with our abilities.  Of course, there have been a few Spikes who have taken advantage of normals, and that certainly hasn't helped us at all.

I knew that if this newfound object of my affection, out there on the dance floor, knew I was a Spike, he would run before I ever got near him.  I didn't have a chance.  I should really just go.

Fuck it.  I had to have him.

I downed the last half of my beer and set the glass on the bar behind me as I stood.  I took a second to peel off my t-shirt and tuck it in the back of my jeans before stepping out onto the floor.  I began to allow my own body to move with the music as I weaved through the crowd.  A couple of guys tried to get me to join them, but I just smiled at them and kept moving.  I needed to reach my destination before my brain won the argument it was having with my heart -- or maybe it was with something lower.

By the time I reached him, he had his back to me.  I took a minute to appreciate the view.  Broad shoulders tapered to a wonderfully thin waist.  His ass was two perfect globes that filled out his khaki shorts magnificently.  My hands started inching towards those incredible buns before I realized what I was doing and quickly drew them back.

I slid up behind him and did my best to match his movements, though he was so much smoother than I could ever hope to be.  I leaned close, just allowing my chest to brush his back lightly, and whispered in his ear, "Is this spot taken?"

"Not necessarily," he said, starting to turn his head to look at me.  He still continued to flow gracefully with the music, not missing a beat.  I leaned left, to stay out of his line of sight.

I didn't want him to see me yet.  If he didn't see me, I felt I still had a chance to run without worrying what would happen if he saw me out somewhere later.  "Don't turn around.  Please.  Just keep dancing," I said.  "Just know, I've been admiring you from a distance for a few days now.  You're beautiful."

Even from the back, I could see the blush that took over his face all the way to his neck.  It was so cute, and made me want him that much more.  He leaned back into me and seemed to enjoy rubbing his back against my bare chest.  I wrapped my arms around him, one at his waist, the other brushing against his stomach to feel the taut abs I'd been admiring earlier.

I heard him moan softly -- or more accurately felt it through my chest, since the music swallowed the sound before it could reach my ears.  My right hand moved up to his chest and rubbed his left pec, eliciting another moan, and causing the nipple to harden.  I love a guy with sensitive nips.

He pushed his ass back into my groin and began to grind against me.  Now, it was my turn to groan and wrap my arms more tightly around him.  I'm sure he felt my appreciation through the seat of his khakis.  He folded his arms across his body to run them down my arms, stopping at my wrists to grab hold of them.  He continued to hold my left hand at his waist, but brought the right up to his lips and began to kiss the palm.

I gasped as his tongue snaked out to lick from the palm of my hand to the tip my forefinger, which he then sucked into his mouth.  Oh. My. God.  He had no problems taking the whole finger inside, and as he pulled it back out, he grabbed the first knuckle between his teeth and held it for just a second before sliding it the rest of the way out.  He trailed my wet finger down his smooth chin, across his Adam's apple, between his pecs to stop at his navel.  I circled my finger around his belly button, and then dipped it inside.  

As I leaned down to kiss the top of his ear, I could see just a bit of the smile that played across his face.  We continued to dance, and he never once tried to look around to see who was behind him.  I guess he liked a bit of mystery.  I certainly wasn't complaining, though my brain was still yelling at me to stop before it was too late.  I was already too far gone, though.  Hell, I was in love with this man before I'd ever stepped into the bar tonight.  Now that he seemed open to exploring something with me, there was no way I was backing away now.

He leaned his head back against my chest, and I could see his eyes were closed.  He turned his head just enough to kiss the side of my neck.  "Mmm.  You smell incredible," he said.  "I need a break, though.  Let's go sit."

My damn brain almost succeeded in inciting panic.  Sitting meant talking.  Talking meant questions.  Questions I didn't want to answer.  How long could that go before I said something to give myself away?  I cared enough about him already that I knew I couldn't bring myself to lie to him.  I wasn't ready for him to learn too much, but like I said, I couldn't back away now.  "Sure."

Hearing my acknowledgement, he grabbed my left hand from around his waist, and turned round to face me.  He took half a second to look me up and down before placing his hand on the side of my face to pull me into the most incredible kiss I'd ever experienced.  Before I had fully recovered from his assault on my lips, he grabbed my hand again and pulled me through the mass of guys on the dance floor and led me to one of the empty booths along the wall opposite the bar.

By the time we had sat, I had regained my wits enough to comment.  "Damn, Stud.  That was some kiss!"  I had to practically yell to be heard over the music.

The way he grinned, you would have thought I'd just told him he'd won an all expenses paid trip to the Bahamas.  "So, you've been watching me for a while, huh?  I wish you'd approached me sooner."

That grin was infectious, and I couldn't help but mirror it as I replied, "Yeah.  I saw you here a couple of days ago and couldn't take my eyes off of you.  I came back last night just to see if you'd be here again.  It just took me until tonight to get up the nerve to approach you.  It's a wonder you never caught me staring."

"I get pretty oblivious when I'm out there.  I love to dance, and I don't pay any attention at all to who's around me."

"I kinda noticed that," I laughed.  "So, do you have a name, or do I just keep calling you `Stud?'"

"The name's Chad," he grinned, "but I rather like Stud.  What about you?"

"I'm rather partial to studs myself," I said, still grinning.  I paused for a few seconds and tried to suppress that damn grin before extending my hand across the table.  "By the way, I'm Simon."  He took my hand in a firm grip and pulled me out of my chair and across the table.

"Well, Simon."  Kiss.  "How about..."  Kiss. "... we get out of here..." Kiss.  "... and find someplace a little quieter..." Kiss.  "... so we can really talk?"  Kiss.  His tongue raked across my closed lips asking to be invited in, and I quickly obliged, sucking his tongue into my mouth and allowing him to explore all he wanted.  "... or something?"  he finished as he pulled away and allowed me to sink back into my seat.

Damn, but he was good at keeping me off balance.  Here I thought I was the one chasing him, and now here he was calling all the shots.  How the hell did he do that?  At this point, I didn't really care who was controlling the game, as long as I got to play.  The way I saw it, as long as we were together, it really didn't matter:  I was winning.  So, I gave in.  "Lead on, Stud."

No sooner were the words out of my mouth, but he was out of his seat dragging me through the crowd again.  He didn't even take the time to put on his shirt, nor allow me to do so with mine.  The temperature outside had dropped slightly, and the burst of cool spring air that hit me as we left the club felt good against my damp skin.  I could feel my nipples contracting, which caused other parts of me to begin once more to expand.  I glanced sideways at Chad as he led me up the sidewalk. I could tell he was experiencing much the same.

He slowed a little as we walked along, and put his arm around my waist.  He felt incredible against my bare side, and I was quick to wrap my arm around his shoulders.  I had no idea where he was taking me, but at that moment, I would have followed him anywhere.

We turned a corner, and I noticed a couple of guys sitting on the steps of a brownstone.  They were wearing well worn jeans and sleeveless flannel shirts, open about half-way down.  Their bulging arms and wide shoulders seemed to indicate they'd grown up on a farm and were used to putting in lots of hours of physical activity.  I didn't like the way they were staring at us, and tightened my grip around Chad's shoulders, hoping there wouldn't be any trouble, but already beginning to calm my mind to be ready for the worst.

"Aw.  Look at the little love birds, Ray," one of them said as we walked past.  His voice was a deep baritone, dripping with sarcasm.  I rolled my eyes and we kept walking.  Why couldn't bigoted assholes like them just stay away from civilized folk?  The least they could do was keep their opinions to themselves.  Maybe refusing to rise to his bait would cause them to let us go on about our business.

"I think they're ignorin' you, Steve," said the other man.

"Yeah, and you know how I hate to be ignored," answered Steve.  "Y'all had best stop, if you know what's good for you.  If I have to send Ray, here, to chase you down, it ain't gonna be pretty."

So much for leaving us alone.  I squeezed Chad's shoulder stopped walking.  He glanced over at me, and I gave him a reassuring smile and a wink.  "Let me handle this," I said.  Chad raised an eyebrow to question what I had in mind, as we turned to face our challengers.  "Relax.  We'll be all right."

"Much better," said the one who had been addressed as Steve.  Both guys were standing now, and I estimated them both to be right around 6 feet tall.  Ray had picked up a baseball bat that I hadn't noticed before, and had it resting against his left shoulder.  Steve, a couple steps above him, had his hands on his hips, and I could see the handle of a revolver sticking out above the waistband of his jeans.  Chad's arm stiffened around my waist, and I knew he had noticed the gun as well.

I squeezed his shoulder again in an attempt to reassure him that I'd get us through this.  "Can we help you gentlemen?" I asked.

"Damn straight, you're gonna help us, faggot!"  I could see from the flush moving up Steve's face that my calmly asked question had pissed him off.  That made us even though, because I really hated that f-word.  Steve continued, "We're runnin' a bit short on cash tonight, and you boys look like you oughta be able to help us out quite nicely.  Ray, go fetch met their wallets."

Ray lowered the bat from his shoulder, and began smacking it against the palm of his left hand as he descended the last couple of stairs and started toward us.

"Ray, you might want to reconsider taking your friend's orders," I said.  "I assure you, you're headed for trouble if you take one more step towards us."  

Fair warning, and he ignored it.  Ray laughed, and slowly continued toward us, still brandishing the bat.  "Just how you think you're gonna cause me any trouble, gay boy?"

I turned to Chad and shrugged my shoulders.  "I tried to warn him."  Both of Chad's eyebrows went up this time, and I could tell from his expression he thought I'd lost my mind.  I smiled at him reassuringly once more before turning my attention back to Ray who was now only about ten feet away from us.

I concentrated, and pointed at Ray's bat, and raised my hand.  Ray suddenly gripped the bat in both hands and swung it up with all his might, hitting himself in the head.  A trickle of blood began streaming down his forehead as he slumped to the ground.  I'd caught him by surprise, but that feat still involved manipulating a live body, and it took a bit out of me.

"What the fuck?"  Both Steve and Chad were staring at Ray's inert form with their mouths hanging open in disbelief.  Steve fumbled a bit taking the gun out of his jeans, but soon had it trained directly at my head.  "How did you--- What the fuck did you do?" Steve asked.

"I'd put that gun away if I were you.  Those things are dangerous, you know."  I knew I could disarm him any time I wanted, but that wasn't going to be enough to teach him a lesson.  I focused on his finger, though, to be sure I had all the warning I needed when he decided to fire the weapon.

"Fuck you, faggot!"  That word again!  He really wanted to piss me off, didn't he?  I saw his finger begin to twitch on the trigger, so I began condensing the air molecules about a foot from my head into a shield, angled just right, before his shot rang out.  In slow motion, I saw him move his arm to aim the revolver at Chad and squeeze the trigger again.  I wasted no time forming another shield of dense air in front of Chad.  

Before Steve even knew what hit him, the bullets had seemingly ricocheted off thin air before they could reach us, and he was falling to the steps clutching his knees.  Blood was seeping around his fingers from the bullet wounds he had sustained.  I released my hold on the shields, and there was a slight hiss as the air returned to normal.

I turned to face Chad, and took him in my arms in a tight embrace, but he wouldn't let me hold him.  He fought against my embrace, and whispered, "You're a Spike."  I could have forced him to stay in my arms, but I couldn't bring myself to hold him against his will.  His eyes were wide with fear, as he thrust himself away from me and started backing away.

That's chapter 1. Please drop me a note (westley02@yahoo.com) and let me know what you thought!