For Love of the Dead Page 6

  Then again, the impulse might also have arisen from Jake’s desire to see Mark’s face twisted in pain as the larger man penetrated him from behind without benefit of lubrication, making the process as hurtful as possible.

  “Sure you don’t wanna mess around?”

  “You stink,” Jake took satisfaction in pointing out and then, hating himself for actually being tempted for a split second to throw himself atop the other man, he added by way of amends, “You can take the first shower.”

  “Stink?” Mark made a great show of raising one arm to sniff his own armpit, sticking out his tongue and licking up a bit of the dried sweat. “Yum! Funny though, tastes just like normal. No embalming fluid. Just that musky scent of man smell. You know what I mean.” He inhaled deeply and, when Jake tried to leave the room to get some spare linen from the closet downstairs, Mark sprang up and the two men were face to face with Jake’s back pressing against the wall.

  “I know you want me,” Mark crooned. He was confident, smug, disconcertingly accurate. “I could feel it the moment I woke up. You hate everything about me, I know that, but...” He pulled back a bit, leaving Jake still trapped between his arms on either side of his head, blocking his escape. “Look at me!”

  He stepped away, just far enough to allow Jake to slip past him but still uncomfortably close, so close that Jake’s nostrils were still filled with the musky scent of him. Jake fully intended to duck under Mark’s arm and put some distance between them but he suddenly found himself incapable of moving and helpless to avert his glance. No matter how loudly his better sense told him to get away, to abandon this insufferably egoistic prick, his body betrayed him. Yes, Hartner was loathsome but the bastard’s sheer overwhelming physicality was something Jake found impossible to resist, let alone ignore.

  “That’s right, Beefy Boy...” Whatever was going on, Mark knew more about it than Jake did. Worse, he seemed to sense how completely in control he was. “You just stand there like the dumb slab of muscle you are and use those amazing blue eyes of yours.”

  Jake tried to look away, disgusted with himself for so badly wanting not to miss a single movement Mark made. Yet, he was riveted to the sight of Mark’s half-naked body. Even dirty and covered with drying sweat, his physique was a work of art. Jake’s dick stirred in his pants; he could feel it grow heavy and beginning to engorge with blood – even though, for the moment, it had not yet sprung to attention. It throbbed and swelled, not yet stiff but poised on the brink, uncomfortably thick within the constraints of his briefs. Very shortly, it would demand to be set free.

  Mark was quick to smirk at the evidence of the taller man’s self-betrayal and only slightly less quick to take advantage of it.

  Mark began by folding his hands across his chest and resting each palm on the opposite shoulder in a lascivious parody of the instinctive motion of a virgin who, when surprised topless, tries to guard the view of her bare breasts. His head tilted back and the strong column of his neck was exposed, the muscles on either side descending to blend seamlessly with the plates of his upper chest, swelling just below the hollow of his throat.

  Jake’s mind whirled with conflicting emotions. He wanted to grab Mark around his amazing neck in a choke hold, to strangle the life out of him so he was once again dead – the way he belonged. He’d stand behind him and squeeze, feeling him gasp for breath, feeling the sweaty skin of his back twisting against his chest as he pulled tighter, smelling the musky scent of him as he bore down to increase the pressure and pressed his face into the shining blond hair at the back of his head. He wanted to feel Mark’s body fighting, struggling until Jake finally took pity and slackened his grip, turning Mark to face him and enfolding him in his arms, bringing his mouth down to the waiting lips, already half parted as they strove to take in air. Moving his lips across Mark’s throat with gentle –

  No! Jake checked his fantasy abruptly and reminded himself that he emphatically did not want to kiss Mark’s neck. In fact, the only thing preventing him from doing something to Mark’s throat was indecision between whether a karate chop or a razor blade would be more satisfying. But still, he could not summon the inner strength to avert his gaze, and now, his dick was ramrod stiff and weakening his resolve even further.

  Somehow, Mark knew what he’d been thinking; Jake could see it in his face. Mark smiled and pulled his hands from his shoulders, sliding them slowly across his chest, then, with fingers splayed, moved them down his flat-planed stomach, caressing each of the plates with circular motions. His hips thrust forward and his back arched as he continued to massage his own smooth and hairless torso, kneading at the muscle below his navel, teasing himself with palms and fingers.

  His eyes half-lidded, he moved his thumbs to ring each nipple with ever diminishing circles and finally allowed his finger pads to brush lightly across the tips. His mouth opened slightly and he deliberately licked his lips, allowing his tongue to linger just a second too long. Fingers poised on each side of the nipple, he pinched at the ripe raisins – hard. His head lifted sharply and he gasped while his entire body shivered.

  In spite of himself, Jake tried to surge forward. At the last second, his brain kicked into gear and overrode his baser impulses. He kept his back pressed against the wall by sheer force of will while every animal instinct within him urged him to give up and give in to this detestable seduction. His dick strained against his pants, his balls grew heavy and tender, his own nipples tingled, and his fingers twitched with a desire to feel Mark’s perspiration-soaked skin beneath them. Throat inexplicably dry, he swallowed, and when Mark skillfully tugged at the drawstring of the sweatpants and allowed them to drop past his hips and puddle at his ankles, Jake moaned at what was revealed.

  Mark’s hands moved lower on his own body, teasing, tracing the line of his ribs, circling and poking his navel. They moved behind him to rest just above the swell of his buttocks, and with a languorous and sensual movement, Mark stretched as if cracking his back, flexing his chest and pushing his groin forward. He angled himself to give Jake a glimpse of his perfect ass, twitching the twin globes of muscle to show them off, flexing his hole – even though Jake could not see it specifically, he knew that was what Mark was doing. The few strands of caramel-colored hair at the base of his tailbone plastered to his skin with perspiration were unaccountably erotic and Jake longed to dampen them further with his mouth before allowing his tongue to quest lower, burying his face between those marble-smooth orbs of ass, striving to lick what he imagined would be a perfectly formed rosebud, making Mark’s entire being shudder with the sensations Jake caused to run though his body.

  Mark turned and masked the view, and now Jake’s eyes became glued to Mark’s dick. On the prep table, as a matter of mild - albeit morbid - curiosity, Jake had been unable to help noticing the corpse was endowed with above-average attributes. But until he saw the thing in all of its lifelike glory, and even though it was not yet fully erect, he had not realized just how magnificent Mark Hartner’s penis was. Mark grinned when he saw where Jake’s attention had been caught and, cupping his thick, heavy testicles with one hand -- balls almost the size of young clementines – he formed a ring round the shaft with his thumb and index finger and began casually stroking himself up and down its length.

  “You want this,” Mark whispered in a strangely intimate tone for one who so obviously bartered sex like glass beads. It was not a question, nor was it a taunt. It seemed more like Mark was quietly confirming something to himself, something he’d known about for a long time but had until recently forgotten.

  He continued his stroking, now using his palm, then switching and running his fingers around the unwrinkled skin of the glans, then gently tugging the loose folds where the head met the shaft. The organ swelled under his teasing and veined ridges rose in relief and throbbed with the rush of blood surging within them. A single drop of pre-come oozed out the end and though Mark never took his eyes from Jake’s face to look down and see it, he must have felt its moisture.
Using a forefinger to capture the precious fluid, he swept it from where it clung and brought his moist finger to his mouth. With a look of ecstasy, as if tasting the rarest of vintages, he placed the entire finger inside his mouth and closed his lips upon it, sucking. When he’d swallowed, he withdrew the finger, now wet with his saliva, and drew it over his lips, down his chin and neck to the center of his chest, along what would have been a treasure trail on a hairier man.

  A thought seemed to strike him, and a mischievous grin appeared. He crossed his arms again, burying his fingers in his own armpits and clamping down on his hands. Mark sweated profusely for a dead guy, Jake had noticed, but oddly, there was nothing rank to the smell. Along with his other attributes, he seemed to have been gifted with the peculiar trait exclusive to blond men of a certain blessing of genetics whose sweat, while pungent, musky, and heady, is erotic rather than offensive. Mark removed his hands, now damp with perspiration, and after waving them under his nose and inhaling his own scent deeply, moved them back to tease his nipples again.

  Jake could see the moisture transferred from finger to chest. He already knew what it smelled like and, in spite of himself, he felt his tongue grow thick with the desire to taste it. If it mirrored the scent, he imagined it would be like taking a mouthful of ripe melon covered in sweet molasses – no! – honey. Dark, thick honey, sweet but with a tang – buckwheat honey, perhaps.

  Now Mark concentrated on his dick. His right hand moved, slowly at first, then faster and faster along the shaft. With his left, he tugged at his balls, squeezing and moaning dramatically like a porn star, mocking Jake’s arousal. Jake felt his back grow clammy under the T-shirt, where he was virtually stuck to the wall. His armpits dampened and trickles of sweat ran down his ribs and he realized he was panting, his whole body trembling with repressed desire. He sent a silent prayer upwards, thanking nebulous gods that he’d been able to resist temptation so far. Were he a weaker man and not so dead set against intimacy with this uncaring, obnoxious beauty who persisted in making a mockery of the act of love, he would have been unable to stop himself and would have gladly relieved Mark of his masturbation, taking the proud shaft into his own hands, and very likely into his own mouth.

  Mark groaned low in the back of his throat and deep within his chest. Droplets of sweat sprang out on his body anew as the muscles of his torso clenched. His hips bucked, his left hand moved from his balls to cup the end of his dick in his palm, and with an inarticulate shout, he came. What he lacked in distance, he more than made up for in volume. With each pulse, gobs of creamy fluid pumped out, filling his cupped hand. With each pulse, his stomach muscles clenched and released. With each pulse, another gasp came from his throat, harsh and ragged. The come filled his hand and overflowed, thick heavy strands of jism dripping to the dusty floor between the two men.

  At the sight, Jake felt the muscles of his thighs grow stiff. His stomach tightened as if in anticipation of a blow and in spite of himself, he felt a familiar gathering in his balls. His hands fisted as he fought the sensation; even his toes curled under. His chest heaved and he strove mightily to take his eyes from the spectacle before him, to avoid looking at the perfect body and the angelic but evil face before him, a face that might have been rendered by some master sculptor from flesh instead of rare marble. Hating himself for being unable to prevent the inevitable, and ashamed that Mark would see, his dick pulsed once, then again, and on the third beat, he exploded.

  A growl formed in his chest and vented aloud, a sound of mingled anger and satiation. His shoulders left the wall behind him and slammed back. His betraying cock pumped and pumped until the front of his jeans was sodden and sticky and his whole groin felt like it had been doused with warm jelly. Fury filled his eyes at the power this godlike creature had over his baser nature and he captured Mark’s gaze with his own to make sure he knew exactly how deep was his hatred. But Mark refused to be cowed. His expression held a smug satisfaction, an arrogant confirmation of what he had known from the start. And, to Jake’s horror and disgust, it also contained something else – something mischievous and almost vindictive, still tinged with unabated sensuality.

  Mark waited until Jake’s body had ceased its spasms, until no more groans came from his throat, before leaning in so his lips were a scant inch from Jake’s ear.

  “I sure hope, stud, you aren’t the kind of guy who only shoots once. Too bad if you are, because...” He moved his head so Jake could see his face clearly. “I’m just getting started.” He grinned, and it was not a pleasant sight. “Shower time.”

  Mark took his hand and Jake almost cringed at the touch. Already exhausted from the labor and the effort of ejaculating without any actual physical contact, and wiped out emotionally from fighting his body’s sexual reaction to a man who, in even the brief time he’d known him, Jake had come to loathe, he was yet determined to try and offer more than token resistance.

  Wide-eyed with feigned innocence, Mark pretended hurt at even this small rejection.

  “You mean, you won’t take me into the shower?” He pouted, then blinked as if surprised. “But I’m still so weak from my recent ordeal. I might slip and hurt myself. Besides, where’s your hospitality? Aren’t you going to need to show me where the shampoo and the soap are?”

  A leer began to blossom on his face, quickly replaced by a remarkably sincere-looking shy smile.

  “Even if you drop it...the soap, I mean... I promise to behave. You big, strong types just wear me out. I couldn’t possibly...well, you know. Not so soon afterwards.” He looked down at his dick with regret. Though still tumescent, it was slowly deflating.

  Mark tugged his hand once again and like an obedient child, Jake followed in his wake, downstairs and through the hall to the bathroom.

  “Oh! Lookie! Candles. How romantic!”

  Mark released his grip and Jake sagged against the tiled wall while Mark made short work of getting the candles lit and flicking the switch to douse the overhead light. When he turned his attention to his captive once again, he frowned.

  “Don’t slump there like a limp fish. Stand up straight.”

  Involuntarily, Jake responded to the command and drew himself up to his full height, swaying but stable. He had no idea what Mark had in store for him next, but he knew he was plotting something. The force of Mark’s personality and his unadulterated sensuality was such that in spite of his resolve, Jake found himself drawn in as a tiny iron filing against the pull of a huge electromagnet.

  His mind worked as he watched the grace of Mark’s movements when the dead man fiddled with the shower knobs. Even though so far there had been little physical contact, Jake’s entire body felt soiled by the experience, violated, and his soul felt like it had been slimed by something unclean. On the other hand, Jake also found his recent interlude with Mark eminently unsatisfying as, ejaculation notwithstanding, they had not truly had sex. In spite of his unceasing mental reminders to himself that the man was a complete shit, the act felt incomplete. Hating the involuntary desires Mark aroused within him, Jake found himself wanting more.

  Mark hummed tunelessly as he leaned into the stall, careful to avoid the spray until he’d gotten it just right, giving Jake another clear look at the bunching muscles of his shoulders and back, the long sinews of his thighs and the plump orbs of his butt. Jake was furious about the stirring he felt anew in his loins and barely, just barely, managed to repress it with the very satisfying memory of Mark’s body on the prep table with its spectacular physique ripped open and sloppily re-sewn.

  “That won’t do, my hunky friend. That won’t do at all.” Again, Mark seemed to be reading his mind. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, shall we?”

  Jake started and backed away but Mark was quick to soothe him with logic. “You’re going to need someone to wash your back.” There was, remarkably, very little salaciousness to the comment.

  “I don’t think so,” Jake stammered.

  At that instant, all the blood seemed to drain from Mark
’s face. He swayed, reaching out to grab the edge of the sink basin as if to keep himself from slumping to the floor. Jake took a step forward, suddenly alarmed at the man’s sudden and extreme paleness. Before he knew it, he found himself standing next to him, one arm flung over his shoulder to support him and keep Mark from falling.

  Damn his helpful instincts! The feel of Mark’s skin pressed up against his side and along his back where the asshole’s arm rested seemed to inflame all of Jake’s nerves, to set them tingling as if they had just been dialed up to some previously unexplored setting labeled SEX. Worse, the close proximity filled Jake’s nose with pungently erotic wafts of Mark’s body odor. It was feral and wild, strong enough to make Jake dizzy but undercut with a subtle scent that was ineffably and quintessentially male. The mortician’s nostrils flared, eager to catch a stronger whiff. It was intoxicating and arousing and, to Jake’s surprise, though his dick was still flaccid, it seemed to grow suddenly heavier, as if the blood within the shaft was trying to gather itself enough to harden him up for another go-round.

  “Shit!” Even though Mark’s irritation with his weakness seemed real, Jake was suspicious. “You are going to have to help me out here, Big Boy.”

  Saying nothing, Jake maneuvered Mark until he was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. Then an idea struck him. It might be taking advantage of Mark’s weakened condition, but Jake couldn’t resist. In a small way, he might take revenge on the prick for the teasing in the upstairs bedroom.