The doctor looked somber as he entered the office. Tyson Wainwright took one look at the specialist's visage and let out a deep breath."I know, doc ... bad news."
The doctor sat down behind his desk. The man across from him was in his early thirties, well-built, handsome with cognac-brown eyes and chestnut brown hair. Why is it always the young ones? he thought to himself sadly.
"I'm afraid that I have have to concur with the other specialists you've seen, Mr. Wainwright - unless we start some very aggressive treatment right away the chances of survival are nil."
"And with treatment?"
The doctor looked away. "Slim."
Wainwright seemed to take the information in stride. "How long without treatment do you estimate I have?"
"No more than a year. Nine months more likely ... you're not thinking of ..."
Wainwright stood up. "I am. Thank you for your expert opinion, doctor. But I have a lot of things to do in a very short amount of time."
* * *
Tommy Clark paced the spacious living room. He had finished his construction shift at 4pm and hurried home to the apartment he and Tyson shared. It was funny how the two had met - despite his agility on high-beam work, Clark had lost his footing on an icy patch of ground and nearly careened into the path of an oncoming truck. A hand had grabbed the waist of his jeans and jerked him back; both men found themselves tangled together on the ground.
"Are you okay?" the deep tenor asked. Tommy had turned around to look into the worried pale brown eyes and ruggedly handsome face of hedge fund manager Tyson Wainwright. At that point, something just "clicked" between the two men - as if two pieces of a long separated puzzle had finally been put back together.
Clark was in a tight, white t-shirt straining over his slabbed pecs and massive shoulders. A pair of equally snug faded blue jeans rode low on his hips and stretched obscenely over his muscled ass and massive bulge. He ran a hand through his short black hair and tense blue eyes checked the clock again. Suddenly, he heard the lock turn and he pulled off his shirt to show off his shredded physique and tattoos for his partner. He loved having his smooth, inked skin stroked almost as much as Ty loved doing it."Hey ... how's my money mogul? You're late tonight, sweetheart ... Bad day at the of-" his bright white smile faded as he saw the sad look on the face of his partner. "Oh, shit ..."
"Three strikes, Tommy - I'm out." Wainwright walked slowly over to his lover and held him close, savoring the clean smell of shampoo and soap and the hard warmth of his body against him. "I've got about nine months - tops. The tumor is inoperable and I'm not going to waste away with the poisons that pass for treatment. When it's my time, I'm just going to .... stop."
Clark felt a warm wetness splash onto his back and tightened the hold on his partner. Unshed tears filled his blue eyes as he rocked the man in his arms. Tyson sniffled and gave Tommy a kiss on the neck. "I've got something for you."
The brown-haired man broke the embrace and took a large envelope out of his briefcase. He handed it to the construction worker.
"What's this?"
"It's the deed to the condo and a trust fund I set up to pay for it in perpetuity - I want you to have it."
"Ty, I ... I can't ... I don't ... We'll find someone to cure you ... we have to!"
The financier put a finger to the other's lips. "It's yours Tommy. And there is nobody else to find - let's just enjoy what we have while we have it."
Tyson took his lover by the hand and led him into the bedroom.
(A week later)
Clark returned home to the apartment and immediately felt a change in its atmosphere. He walked through the apartment trying to find the source of his feelings and stopped when he entered the bedroom. A letter was propped up on the pillows and a small package was gift-wrapped on the coverlet. He strode to the letter and tore it open:
Tommy,
Sweetheart, there's a number of things I want to do before my time comes. If I can, I'll come back before the end. Here's a little something to remember us by.
I'll love you always,
Ty
Clark opened the package to find a framed picture of the two of them outside the Cafe Du Monde in New Orleans. He sat on the bed and wept.
* * *
MIAMI
The front door opened at LoveHate Tattoos and Darren Brass looked up from behind the counter. The man who entered was about 6 feet tall, with a deep golden tan and a white cowboy hat. A soft graphic t-shirt was pulled tightly over his muscular frame and a pair of snug white cargo shorts highlighted the powerful legs.
"Can I help you?"
The man took off his hat and smiled. His hair was buzzed short and pale brown eyes twinkled. "I hope you can ... you're Darren, right?"
Brass grinned up at the potential client. "That's me. What can I do for you?"
The other man put out his hand. "Tyson Wainwright. I'd like to get a backpiece and a tribal on my abs."
"Not a problem - do you have any sketches?"
Ty pulled out a couple of looseleaf pages and handed them to Brass. The artist traced the designs with his finger and nodded. "Not a problem. These are going to look really great on you."
"Can you get them all done today, Darren?"
Brass looked at the appointment book. "I think so. I don't have another appointment until late. You're gonna be real sore, though. Are you sure?"
Wainwright nodded.
Darren motioned the other man to follow him. "C'mon in back and let's get started."
* * *
Wainright pulled the shirt off and stepped out of the cargoes, dressed only in a snug pair of low-rise gray trunks. Darren motioned him to lay down on a padded table.
"We'll do the tribal first. Your back is going to be tender after the inking and no sense in you being in more pain than necessary."
Ty got up on his elbows. "Darren, can you also put someone's name in script over my heart, too?"
"Not a problem. What do you want there?"
The man on the bench gave him a lopsided grin. "Tommy."
Brass grinned. "Nice ... boyfriend?"
Tyson face grew sad. "The love of my life."
The artist fitted an ink cartridge into the needle machine. "Lay back, Ty ..."
* * *
"I can't believe what I'm seeing ...."
Ty looked at himself in the mirror. The HGF and steroids he had been taking bulked him up, and the long hours at the gym had ripped and shredded that new growth into a heroic mold. The black tribal right below his navel drew attention both up to mesas and plateaus of his six-pack and down to his heavy package. He gently stroked his lover's name that was now a permanent part of him, and then turned around to see the the three-dimensional wings that spread from his shoulders and down the sides of his trim torso. They were connected by a broken heart pierced by an ornate dagger. Darren had made incredible use of metallic inks and Wainwright could see the silvery highlights within the wings themselves; the dagger gleamed with a golden bronze sheen and the jeweled pommel sparkled in the overhead lights.
Brass cocked his head. "What's wrong, Ty? Don't you like it?"
Wainwright gave him a sad smile. "It's beautiful, Darren - it's amazing ... I love it. You did an incredible job. It's just ..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "... I have an inoperable tumor and not a lot of time. I didn't want Tommy to see me as I ... got sick. I want to do things and see things before the end." He stroked his chest. "Like this."
The artist's eyes began to mist up. "Oh, dude ... I'm so sorry..."
The somber mood passed. Ty gave him an unforced smile. "I'm not afraid, Darren. Just get a bit sad sometimes ... what do I need to do to take care of the ink? And how soon can I be going diving off Grand Cayman?"
* * *
GEORGE TOWN - GRAND CAYMAN
The dream again. Ever since he had left Tommy, the financier had had the same recurring dream at least once a week.
He would be standing naked in front of a mirror looking at his reflection. After a moment, a muscled, rubber-clad arm snaked around his left side and began to caress his abs. Up and down the ebon arm moved and soon was joined by its companion that came from behind him on his right side and stroked his pecs and the rift between them. The left hand would travel lower and begin to massage his package.
He could then feel a muscled body hard against him - slightly cool - and he suspected the invisible lover was also encased in rubber. A thick, hot cock and balls pressed against his ass - not quite demanding, but patiently desiring entry - would be the next thing to occur in the dream. All throughout, he could not turn around to look at his unseen partner.
He would then wake, often bolt upright - with the sheets sticky and tangled about him.
This time was no exception. Ty got up out of the bed and padded into the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and smiled at the tattoo over his heart. His back had stopped itching a week ago and according to Darren, that was the sign that it was fully healed. That had been the impetus for him to get waxed and he marveled at how the smooth skin highlighted his now porn-star appearance. Running his hands over his own body now reminded him so much of Tommy. God, how I miss him.
As he was shaving, he stopped. The dream had been slightly different last night. His buzzcut was visible in the mirror's reflection, as were his tattoos. Until now, he had always seen himself as he had been when he left Tommy. And over his shoulder, he could make out a head with a rubber hood pulled low over it and a pair of broad rubbered shoulders.
A chill passed through him and shivered momentarily in the warm air. "I wonder what I'll see the next time..." he thought as he finished shaving.
* * *
KINGSTON, JAMAICA
"I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice, Ms. Pullman. You come highly recommended."
Samantha Pullman was a beautiful young woman with clear brown eyes and cafe au lait skin. She wore a pale lavender cotton dress with a bright floral scarf wrapped loosely around her waist.
“How can I help you, Mr. Wainwright?”
“Well, I’ve been having this recurring dream now for four months. I’m standing in front of a mirror and someone is behind me. I can’t turn around and see who it is, but I’m being held and caressed.”
She looked at him. He felt as if she were staring into his soul. “Are you frightened by this unseen entity?”
Ty blushed. “No. Not really. I’m more aroused than anything else.”
“Before we start, I want you to understand that I don’t believe in candy-coating what is being revealed. I hope you’re comfortable with that?”
The financier swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“I will do three readings … past, present and future. Between those three, we can determine what is going on.”
Sam took out a tarot deck and shuffled it. She then spread the cards out in a line between them. Her hand moved over the cards; she stopped and pulled one from the deck and turned it over.
“King of coins. You are a successful man. Everything you do turns out well.”
She smiled and drew another. “Nine of coins. You are also very wealthy.”
Sam continued. “The Lovers. You are in a special relationship with the love of your life.”
Another. “Eight of coins. He is a craftsman.”
Wainwright was amazed. Sam continued.
“Six of cups. You have shared many special and happy memories.”
“Seven of cups. You have made a difficult choice recently.”
“The Star. But you have faith in yourself and in powers greater than your own.”
She stopped. “Was that enlightening to you?”
Ty sat open-mouthed. “Sam, that was amazing! Everything you said was true! But there’s …”
She held up her hand. “Not yet, Ty. Let us continue.” She picked up the cards and reshuffled the deck. Again she laid out the cards and began her selections.
“The Empress. She represents the physical body.”
The drew another card. “The Devil.” She paused. “You are seriously ill. You are dying?”
Ty nodded. “That's what I was trying to tell you. It’s inoperable.” Sam closed her eyes and he could see a tear run down one of her cheeks. She gathered herself and continued.
“The Seven of Staves. You have faced your fears and overcome them.”
“The Moon. You travel for the sake of traveling. To savor each new experience before the end?”
He nodded.
“The Five of Cups. There is grief and sadness. But do not let your tears stop you from appreciating that which was and that what is.”
And another. “The Ten of Coins. You have made sure that those you love have been provided for.”
She drew the last card. “The Knight of Cups.” A small frown crossed her face. “This card represents invitations, messages of love and proposals of marriage. It also represents wisdom that will come in the form of dreams to help you surmount obstacles and in this case, seems to represent the start of a relationship.”
She muttered to herself. “This is very strange.”
She shuffled and spread the cards out for the final reading.
“Ace of cups. You will be involved in a new relationship.”
Her brows drew together as she drew the next card. “The Two of Cups. You will find a new soulmate …”
She shook her head. “The King of Cups. He will appear to be calm, but has strong and volatile passions.”
“Strength. He is patient, yet he is powerful and unstoppable.” Wainwright could see that Sam was disturbed by the way this final reading was progressing.
“Do you want to stop, Sam? You look upset.”
She shook her head. “No, I need to continue. Both for your sake and for mine.”
She drew another card. “The Ten of Cups. A reminder that love is the greatest power. He has already fallen in love with you. This is the unseen being embracing you in the mirror.”
“Who is it? This doesn’t make sense, Sam. I’ll be dead within four months...”
“I’m not certain ... The Wheel of Fortune. A change or a transition will occur soon...”
She drew the final card. “The World. This represents an end and a new beginning.”
“Sam, who is this person? Can’t you tell?”
Pullman was highly agitated as she gathered the cards again and laid them out in a diamond pattern. She spread the remainder of the deck in the middle.
“Take a card.”
Ty took the top card and turned it over. He gasped.
“Death. Death itself has fallen in love with you, Ty. He is the one who has visited you in your dreams. To prepare you for his arrival.”
* * *
KANOTA CASTLE, RAJASTHAN, INDIA
"I hope you will enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Wainwright."
The general manager of the luxury hotel had met Ty at the front of the castle with a number of his staff in attendance. He brought him to the large suite and opened the doors for him with a wide smile on his face.
"I'm sure I will, Mr. Ditamar. I've heard nothing but wonderful things about the Kanota and I'm looking forward to a little bit of rest and relaxation." After the African safari, he was anticipating the vaunted hospitality that Jaipur was known for and being pampered a bit.
If anything, Gurdik Ditamar smiled even wider. "This is the Maharajah Suite - our very best. I'll let you get settled in. Would you like a snack of tea and biscuits sent up to you?"
The suite literally took up the entire second floor. Ty looked in wonder at the sumptuous appointments and strolled over to look out at the formal gardens spread out below the veranda. He breathed in the sweet perfume of the myriad flowers and his stomach gurgled at the scent of freshly baking bread.
"Thank you, I'd appreciate it. I'm getting a little hungry, anyway." With that, Ditamar spoke in rapid-fire Hindi to the bellhops that had brought in several trunks.
"Please ring the front desk and we would be more than happy to press any of your clothing that needs some attention."
* * *
Ty stripped off his clothing and let the cool water of the shower sluice over him. His mind wandered. It had been a long journey from Kenya to India despite chartering the Learjet. Ever since his meeting with Samantha, the dream had become more and more vivid. He wanted to discount the reading he had had, but his experiences were just too realistic to be a dream. By now, he could make out the strongly built and rubber-covered figure embracing him; he found that he could run his hands across the ebon arms and marveled at the incredible musculature beneath his touch.
The financier turned off the faucets and toweled himself dry. He left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his trim waist to find a table laid out for him with a steaming pot of jasmine tea, various cookies, rolls and muffins. Clotted cream and small jars of jam were in a tiered chrome holder. The crisp white linen of the tablecloth was softened by a large bouquet of colorful flowers in its center.
A tingling sense of unease came over him and he felt that he was not alone in the room. He swallowed hard.
"I ... I know you're here ... I'd like to see you if I can..."
A gentle baritone spoke behind him. "Are you sure, Ty? I don't want to give you a heart attack ..."
Wainwright found himself unable to move. "Yes. If that's not against the rules..."
"It's not." The paralysis vanished. Ty took a deep breath and turned around.
The being was wrapped around one of the pillars of the room. Tall, powerful and sheathed in black rubber, Thanatos made his appearance. Red eyes in a bloody skull looked softly at him and even without lips, Ty could almost see a smile on his face.
"Are you okay?" The being unwrapped himself from the column and approached the dying man. He wore a latex hoodie zipped halfway up, displaying a slabbed, but bloody chest; powerful arms stretched the material to its limit and black gloves sheathed strong hands. Obscenely strong legs were covered in the same dark material and tall black leather boots hugged brutal calves.
"Is it time?" Ty asked in a quiet voice.
Death shook his head. "No, not for a while yet." A black hand stroked Ty's hard chest and a finger gently traced Tommy's name over his heart. It moved lower and loosened the towel around the other's trim waist. The plush cotton fell to the floor, exposing Wainwright's member, turgid and purple with desire.
He gave a soft laugh. "I wish I got this reception more often." He wrapped strong arms around Wainwright and brushed his face against the other man's jawline. He smelled of jasmine. Death's palms slid around to Ty's ass and cupped, pulling him so close that no space separated their torsos and hips. Wainwright wrapped his own arms around the dark being and caressed the hard, powerful shoulders and back.
"You're not what I expected ... I was thinking of something more ..."
"Spectral? Bony?" Thanatos asked. Wainwright nodded.
"That was my predecessor. After 5000 years, he felt it was time to retire. I've been in the position for eleven years now and I definitely have my own ideas about the job. Screw the shroud and sickle ... I worked hard to get these muscles and I always liked skintight rubber."
Ty pulled back and looked into the face of Death. "Huh?"
The dark being's crimson eyes twinkled. "Death is an office and I'm the current officeholder. My name was Tristán Escalante before I took over. There are few mortals that have actually had the courage to face their end as well as you. That's what first caught my attention. Plus, you're one handsome fucking stud. The tats and the big muscles make you even more sexy."
He looked down at Wainwright's swollen member. Again that almost-smile. "Let me take care of that."
Death latched onto one of Ty's nipples and sucked. His head was held tight to Wainwright's hard, broad chest as he worked the pebbled protrusion. The mortal hissed in pleasure as the black-clad being serviced him.
Thanatos walked them backwards as they continued to fondle and kiss. Ty's knees hit the edge of the mattress and his weight shifted to his heels. He couldn't maintain his balance and started to fall backwards, but the other being wrapped an arm around his waist and guided him down slowly. Death's body covered him so perfectly. They inched their way back onto the mattress. Their bodies maintaining constant contact, lips met in fiery, tender kisses, hands groped and caressed naked and rubber-clad skin.
Death cradled Ty between his legs and arched his hips to rub their crotches together, seeking the contact and electric sensations that bolted through his body. Ty latched onto the other's ass and pulled him in begging for the grind of their bodies together. He needed this touch, this closeness. He needed to feel surrounded. He opened his eyes and stared into those above him asking, leading to be filled and stretched until he could finally let go and leave his body behind in the transcendence of pleasure only the supernatural being could give him.
"Time enough for that later, love..." A black-clad hand stroked his forehead and brushed a stray drop of water away.
He slicked up his fingers then pressed against Ty's opening. He groaned long and low as the tight ring gave way, and he entered the heat of the financier's body. His long finger worked deeper into the constricting depths. Death worked his way in until his palm touched the cheeks Wainwright bared by holding his legs back against his chest. The specter quickly added a second and third finger when Ty started gasping and pushing into his hand, silently begging for more. He twisted and separated his digits as the muscles loosened.
Death's fingers stroked deep, penetrating Wainwright as far as possible. He found and pushed against the mortal's prostate, and a primal sound echoed in the space of the hotel room. The rubber-clad muscles in his arms were tight and delineated, and he pulled out slowly only to shove back again pegging the gland that made Ty yell and push into his touch.
Without warning, every muscle in Wainwright's body tensed. A shot of lightning bolted from the top of his head, down his spine, through his ass and pooled in his balls. It felt as if static electricity zapped across his skin and collecting where their bodies joined as Death continued to fist rapidly inside him. Then as if a switch were flipped, the thunderbolt shot through his cock as he came harder than ever before in his life. The orgasm continued so long that the explosions erupting from the slit covered his chest and stomach in wet seed.
"That ... that ... was incredible ..." Ty was laboring to breathe.
Death licked the opalescent liquid pooling in the crevasses of his rock-hard abs. "There's far more we can do together, Ty ... but for now, I have to leave you. I'll be back."
* * *
WOGARNO STATION, AUSTRALIA
The pickup truck pulled up to the barn, leaving a dusty trail that slowly dispersed in the dry air. Owen Bednall, the grazier of the station hopped out of the cab and moved to open the large doors of the building.
"Ty, Dylan - unload the feed and put the rest of the equipment in the back. Got to meet the vet at the airstrip." Bednall strode over to a small Land Rover and pulled away.
Wainwright hefted a sack of feed onto his shoulder and looked at the retreating vehicle. "Mr. Bednall is one busy man."
"That he is, mate ... that he is ..." Dylan Steigrad drawled. "But he's one of the best graziers in this part of Australia. Owen knows how to treat his men and his animals well." Dylan was tall and rangy, with dark hair and blue eyes. He was one of the overseers of the station and Bednall's brother-in-law.
Steigrad grinned and gave Ty's ass a slap. "Come on you handsome bastard, we've got to unload the truck and then take care of that wire fence beyond the black stump. Won't be back before tea at the very least."
* * *
"What I don't understand, Mr. Wainwright is why you came out here. This is a working station, not a holiday resort." Owen Bednall looked hard at Ty across his large battered desk. "And for the amount of money you're offering me, I wonder what's really going on. You're not on the lam, are you?"
Ty shook his head. "I grew up on a ranch in Texas, Mr. Bednall. I spent the first sixteen years of my life doing chores, working with animals and making repairs. I'm not inexperienced. I've been told you've the reputation of being a fair man, and I'll be completely honest with you. I trust that what we discuss will never leave this room?"
Bednall was intrigued. The young man across from him was tall, handsome, well-muscled and eager. He'd make a good worker. He nodded.
"I ... I don't have much longer to live. I've been to the best doctors and all of them have said the same thing. I've been traveling and doing things I always wanted to do. One of those things was to come to Australia and working at your station will bring back a lot of good memories for me. So ... may I please help out here? I'll do anything you want."
Owen looked sadly at the young man - he reminded him so much of his baby brother Hunter who had perished in an automobile accident.
"You're not contagious or anything, are you Mr. Wainwright?"
"Not in the least." A small smile. "Other than dying, I'm in perfect health."
Bednall reached over the desk and put out his hand. "Well then, welcome to Wogarno, Ty."
* * *
Repairing the fence had been backbreaking labor, but Ty mopped his brow in satisfaction as he saw the unbroken stretch of wire running into the horizon. Dylan wrapped an arm around his waist and gave his earlobe a gentle lick.
"Ace work, Ty. Ace. Before we head back, care to have a naughty? There's a field hut about a klick from here." Dylan pulled open Wainwright's sodden plaid workshirt and proceeded to kiss gently down the muscular chest. "I'm no root rat, but I've been wanting you alone since you first came on station."
Ty gently grasped Dylan's face in his hands and brought him up so their eyes met. "There's nothing more I'd like to spend some time with you, Dylan. Let's go."
The field hut was small, but well appointed with its own generator and water supply. The two men proceeded to strip and take a lukewarm shower together, soaping each other up and caressing the hard body of the other. Naked, they entered the small bedroom together. Dylan pulled Ty close to him and covered his lips in a brutal kiss. He pulled back, a small frown creasing his rugged face.
"You look all stuffed, Ty ... lay back and relax a bit."
With a smirk, he grabbed their hats and proceeded to pull his on and pushed Wainwright's onto his head. He then gave the brown-haired man a shove, landing him on the bed. Dylan opened the bed stand drawer, looking for a condom and cursing his lack of success. He pulled out a bottle of lube and headed back to the bathroom.
"Dylan??" The dark haired cowboy turned. Ty gave him a lopsided smile. "Let's do it bareback. I want it rough."
"You sure, Ty?"
Wainwright nodded.
"Bonzer!"
With a wicked grin, Dylan crawled onto him; he leant over and slashed his mouth across Ty's. His head twisted adjusting the fit of their mouths. He forced his tongue between the other man's succulent lips, licked across his teeth and thrust deep into the warm cavern of his mouth.
Pouring a generous amount of the clear fluid into his hand, Steigrad spread it onto his rigid shaft and rubbed it into the dark pucker winking at him. He lined his cock up and pushed deep in one thrust. The tight heat of Ty's channel surrounded him, and Dylan marvelled at the feel of nothing separating their skin. They were both way too far gone to make this a long, slow, drawn out love making session. This was no holds barred, fast and furious, down and dirty raw fucking.
His hips slammed forward, and Wainwright pushed back to meet each and every thrust. Steigrad increased his momentum and bent his knees to change the angle of his entry. Ty's yell indicated that he had hit the right spot. His hand reached around and grasped his partner's cock, jerking it in time with his movements.
That familiar tingle in his spine and tightening of Dylan's balls indicated that his orgasm was quickly approaching. The ripples and contractions of Ty's ass indicated that he was close as well. They moved in synchronicity, crying out each other's names and finally giving over to the waves of pleasure.
* * *
The two men did not arrive back at the station’s main house until well after dinner. Tired from both the hard labor in the field and the acrobatics in the field hut, they did nothing except strip and fall into bed.
About 2am, Ty woke to the overpowering smell of jasmine. Naked save for a pair of low-cut trunks, he left his bunk and headed down the corridor, following the scent. At the end, he saw Thanatos standing with his arms crossed. After multiple encounters with the Incarnation, Wainwright could read the expression on that skeletal face and Death appeared sad and resigned. He held out a black-clad hand to him.
“Official business this time, sweetheart. I’m sorry, but it's time. I know you wanted to see Tommy before I came for you - do you want me to take you to him? It’s bending the rules a bit, but I’d be with you, so it doesn't count."
A tear rolled down Ty’s cheek. He wasn’t afraid, just so amazingly sad. He walked over to the rubber-clad incarnation and took the proffered hand. The two vanished.
* * *
Thanatos and Wainwright appeared on a vast empty plain. The sky was light, but uniformly gray. Neither man cast a shadow.
Ty looked around “Where are we?”
Death looked slightly furtive. “Limbo. We shouldn't be here."
He pointed up. "It’s not used any more, but He hasn’t gotten around to eliminating it yet. For the moment, we exist outside of Time. Look, I need to give you some information.” He pulled out a Blackberry.
Ty looked at the device in amazement. Death grinned. “I’ve been reading the job manual very closely. A lot of things are available, but you just have to ask for them.” He tapped some information into the device and waited for a response.
“You’re scheduled to take the UP escalator in about 973 years. During that time, you’re going to stuck in Purgatory. I’ve been there on errands, and it’s not exactly a vacation spot. But I do have a way of commuting that sentence of yours.”
He stroked a rubbered knuckle down Ty's cheek. “I can’t bear the thought of being separated from you, Ty, but I love you too much to force anything on you. It's well within my power to do so, though. I want you ... no, I need you ... to make the choice freely.”
Ty’s mind was spinning. “Tris, what the hell are you talking about?”
Death continued. “Ty … will you become my apprentice?”
With Wainwright's amazed gaze, Thanatos continued in a rush. “It’s an ancient rule. Death may take an apprentice of his choosing and at the end of apprenticeship, he must assume the Office, or continue on to his final destination. However, if you refuse, I get punished and sent to Hell. Of course, you may get bored with me after a few millennia, but I think we can have a lot of fun in the meantime. What do you say?”
Ty looked at the serious red eyes. That part of his life with Tommy was over and as Samantha had said, there was a new beginning foretold for him and a new soulmate would enter his life. He wrapped his arms around the powerful form and brushed his lips along the skeletal jaw.
“I will. I accept. I agree to become Death’s Apprentice.”
Thanatos returned the embrace and smiled. “Let’s visit Tommy and then we have some celebrating to do!”
* * *
Tommy Clark was watching the news in the large, quiet apartment when a strong flowery scent caught his attention.
What the hell is that? He thought to himself as he got up to investigate the source of the smell. A prickling sense of disquiet filled him as he followed the scent through the hallway and stopped at the closed bedroom door. Fuck, I don’t remember closing that …
He turned the knob and opened the door. His heart leapt into his throat as he saw Tyson standing in front of him with a smile on his face.
“I told you I’d be back before the end, sweetheart - and here I am …”
Tommy noticed how his lover had changed. He sported a deep tan and a tightly shaved buzzcut; he had also plated himself with at least thirty pounds of solid muscle. He looked hungrily at the completely smooth physique and immediately took note of the ink below his navel and his own name tattooed over the heart.
He moved slowly toward Tyson. “I’m not a ghost … yet. I got permission to visit you one last time.” He wrapped his arms around the construction worker and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. Tommy felt the warmth and power of the body in his arms and pulled him into a crushing embrace.
“Jeez, Tommy, you feel so good. Your body's warm and soft and hard. Your cock rubbing against mine is absolute heaven. I can feel your heart slamming against your chest. I love the taste of your skin after a shower. Oh God, how I missed you when I went away. I missed your touch, your kiss, your smile. Come on...." He turned and led to him to the bed.
Tommy gasped as he saw the alar backpiece of his lover and gently traced the wings and the broken heart with a fingertip; Ty shivered under the touch. When they reached the foot of the bed, Ty undressed his former lover, and then stepped out of his trunks. He pushed Clark onto the bed. He grinned at the thick prong standing at attention.
One hand cupped Tommy's smooth balls while the other fisted the large erection. Ty tilted his head and ran his tongue over the globes, slipping them into his mouth one at a time. His tongue glided over the satin-soft skin then he flattened it licking up to the crest where he was greeted with salty-sweet moisture. He opened and sucked the large round head of the construction worker's cock into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the flange and dipped into the weeping slit.
He hollowed his cheeks as his lips rose up the long cock, swiped his tongue over the head and descended to the root one more time. His throat constricted as he swallowed, and he heard Tommy's deep moan above his head. He continued his up-and-down movements, even using his teeth to nip on the tender flesh and exert extra pressure on the base. The orgasm started in the pit of his stomach. Ty watched as his lover squirmed on the bed, both trying to get away and to impale himself deeper at the same time. His toes curled and Tommy bellowed as gushers of spunk hit the back of Wainwright’s throat and he greedily swallowed every drop.
Tyson cradled Tommy between his legs and arched his hips to rub their cocks together, seeking the contact and electric sensations that bolted through his body. He latched onto Clark's ass and pulled him in, demanding for the grind of their bodies together. Wainwright reached over to the bedstand and removed a bottle of lube. He poured a generous amount onto his rigid stalk and thrust himself into the muscled construction worker beneath him.
Tommy's blood boiled as the financier set his body on fire; Ty's thrusts were overwhelming his entire being. Lean, muscled hips drove faster and faster. Whole body lunges speared him to the very depths of his soul. His legs gripped tight and high around Tyson's powerful back as he arched into each stroke of the wonderfully long, thick cock filling him over and over. His hands clenched the sheets on either side of him, holding on to keep them from going over the edge of the mattress. He couldn't even reach for his dick for fear of losing the tenuous hold on their position.
Wainwright's thick cock continued to fill him deep. The burn sent welcoming sparks of sensation across his nerve endings. Tommy pushed up and impaled himself, crying out at the feeling when Ty's cock surged to the hilt and round full balls slapped against his ass. Those globes bounced against him as Tyson thrust hard. Tommy reached back and grabbed the railing of his iron bed frame. Tyson ground himself deep into the man below him and howled as the orgasm raged through him. Exhausted, Wainwright collapsed atop his former lover and the two quickly fell asleep with arms wrapped around each other and Ty’s rigid tool still thrust up Tommy’s chute.
* * *
Tommy woke to the sound of the alarm clock buzzing beside him. He turned over and wanted to continue the amazing dream he had had of Tyson. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat bolt upright in bed.
Next to the picture of himself and Tyson was a new framed photograph. A smiling, buzzcut Wainwright looked over his shoulder as he walked into a sunrise on a beach. He was dressed in only a snug pair of trunks riding low on his hips and the winged backpiece glowed with a light of its own - standing out in bright contrast to his tanned skin.
* * *
“Ty, you bloody budger - where are you?” Dylan called as he entered the dormitory with Owen. Steigrad had missed the American at breakfast but had not thought anything of it. When he didn’t show up for work, he had approached Bednall. Owen had given him a strange look and insisted on coming with him.
Dylan knocked on the door and opened it to see Wainwright in his cot. It was quiet in the room; too quiet. “Ty, get your arse out of -”
Owen laid a hand on Dylan’s arm and Steigrad looked to see a sad expression on the rancher’s face. Bednall moved over to the still figure and gently lifted an arm lying atop the blanket. It fell back lifeless onto the merino wool.
“He’s gone, Dylan. Ty wanted to spend his last days out in the sunshine and fresh air with honest, decent, hardworking gents … who was I to tell a dying man ‘no’? He was a damn fine jackaroo, and we’re all going to miss him.”
Alone in the room, Dylan wrapped his arms around his brother-in-law as sobs wracked his body.
* * *
Well, I was planning on sort of an anti-Valentine Day story, and it seems that I did too good a job. There were several times during the writing of this story that I was getting teary eyed myself.
In fact, there was even one night I woke up crying. I think this is the first time that I’ve actually (sort of) killed off a main character that wasn’t a rotten sonofabitch.
Thanatos - the Rubber Reaper - was intended to be the main character of the story, but I felt I had to get some meat into tale before he actually made an appearance. As it sometimes happens, I’ll start writing one thing and by the time I finish, it’s twisted around a bit to serve its own purposes.
The idea of Death being a position rather than a person is not an original idea. This has been a plot device in a number of stories, most notably Piers Anthony’s “Incarnations of Immortality” series where the various incarnations - Death, Time, Fate, War, Nature, Good and Evil - contemplate their duties as they move from mortal life into an “Office”. The idea of an apprentice was solely mine - I wanted a way for Tristan and Tyson to be together.
The outfit of the reaper was created by using a “Bloody Yorick” mask from Composite Effects, “Red Vampyre” lenses from 9mmSFX and black Mehron Celebre makeup around the eyes.
The rubber accouterments came from a number of sources:
- Hoodie and toe socks (which unfortunately did not appear within the photo) - Blackstyle
- Leggings - Mr. S
- Gloves - Libidex
I should also point out that the Australian slang came from an “unofficial” Ozzie dictionary located at http://www.koalanet.com.au/australian-slang.html
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