Immortality Is the Suck
consider my actions. I stuffed the carton
    back into the case, lifted it, and ran out the door of the equipment shed,
    dodging from shadow to shadow across the park, until I got to the Caddy. I
    popped the trunk, put the crate inside under some rags Peter kept there. My
    brain was focused and clear and all it would tell me was that I had to hide the
    stuff so nobody could find it. So nobody could take it away from me. I was like
    that Gollum character with the ring. “Mine mine mine .”
    I was halfway back to Peter's place before I'd even taken time to think.

    42
    A. M. Riley

    Chapter Six

    Peter lay almost exactly as I had found him.
    I sat on the bed next to him. His back rose and fell slowly, that one freckle
    on his shoulder blade riding the swell like a ship on the sea. The rush of
    adrenaline and rage that had followed drinking the blood had an element of
    lust as well, and I wanted to lick his freckle.
    I had enough presence of mind, though, to know that I was sweaty and
    probably bloody. I'd dribbled a bit from the carton down the front of the
    sweatshirt, and God knew what my face looked like. So I opted for a shower
    instead.
    I sing in the shower.
    I lathered up and launched into “ Der Rosenkavalier ” for a good ten
    minutes, using most of a bar of Peter's deodorant soap, my fingers slithering
    down around my hard cock and then slithering back up as I fantasized about
    just what my cock would be doing in a few minutes to Peter's ass. You get
    older, you learn. Yeah, even me. Sometimes waiting is half the fun.
    I scrubbed a towel over my hair, wrapped another around my hips and
    stepped out into the hallway, clouds of steam issuing with me.
    “Hold it right there.”
    Peter, in boxers, sleep-sticky hair askew all over his head. Bright red face
    and blue eyes staring, holding a Glock trained right at my head.
    I raised my hands and dropped the towel.
    Peter's a rock in a crisis. But, obviously he still thought I was dead.
    Because he screamed and jumped and the gun went off. Happily he thought to

    Immortality is the Suck

    43

    jerk his arm sideways as it did so, so a bit of molding flew through the air
    instead of half my brains.
    “I know you've warned me not to use all the hot water,” I said. “But don't
    you think that's a little extreme?”

    * * * * *
Well, it took a while to peel Peter off the wall where he'd plastered himself,
    babbling like something possessed for all of ten minutes. And then I had to
    make him stop slapping himself in a pathetic attempt to wake up from what he
    thought was a horrible dream. I got him propped up in a chair in the living
    room, and then we had a conversation that went something like this:
    “You're dead.” His eyes went teary. Christ.
    “Touch me,” I said.
    He did. His hand warm on my upper arm. My cock, once more safely
    buried under the towel, raised its head in interest.
    Peter's lower lip sort of trembled. “I saw you die.”
    “Well, here I am, so…”
    “No, you're dead.”
    “I'm sitting right here!”
    “But I saw you. You were dead. They zipped up the body bag.”
    “Obviously, medical science still has a lot to learn.”
    Peter buried his head in his hands. “My head is splitting open.”
    So, I went to make some coffee. When I came back, he took the cup
    without comment and sipped at it. And I took the opportunity to just sit back
    and enjoy looking at him. À la dishabille , as they say.
    Even unshaven, his dark blond hair looking like he'd combed it with a
    blender, Peter was a handsome man. And he was across from me in nothing
    but his boxer shorts. That hard body with its golden fur all over it was more

    44
    A. M. Riley

    and more of a distraction. “Wait a minute.” Peter pointed at me. “Your neck
    had two holes in it as wide as my thumb.”
    “It did?” The disturbing image of Freeway's corpse flashed in my mind's
    eye.
    “Yeah.” Peter leaned over and studied my neck closely. Touching it with
    the pads of his fingers.

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