Immortality Is the Suck (34 page)

under the other, and set them both down on the floor.

“You'll have to supply your own ice, since you haven't got a refrigerator

yet…”

“Yet?”

He dug around in the cooler and brought out a neat, labeled bag of blood.

“Something good may have come out of all of this. That doctor of Ozone's

really has come up with a viable artificial blood. According to the medical

people I spoke to. They aren't ready to release it into the general population yet,

but a friend on the inside is willing to supply me with a few bags every week if I

want.” He handed it across to me.

I held the cool, soft plastic in my hand and could smell the goodness of it.

He watched me expectantly. “Aren't you going to try it?”

“Peter, I can't… not in front of you.”

“Oh right, suddenly you're concerned about my sensibilities? Adam, I've

seen you sitting on the can.”

“When I'm that sick, I'm past caring.”

“Or that time you blew chunks all over the inside of my car…”

“That wasn't intentional, for Christ's sake.”

“Peed on my leg.”

“I begged you to stop tickling me!”

“Spit beer at my sister…”

“She dared me…”

“But you can't drink a little harmless artificial blood. Fine. Go off and do

your thing. I'll just hang out here and wait.”

So then I had to sit down right there in front of him and puncture the

bottom of the bag with my special teeth.

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241

I don't know what I expected. It had been a while since I'd tapped straight

from a vein. Fact was, Caballo had done most of the work the night before

because I didn't trust myself that near a human. I expected the crappy stale

artificial blood I'd grown used to. And I was going to be grateful for it. I was

going to smile and say “yum-yum” at Peter no matter how hard that was.

But this stuff was fantastic. It curled up around my brain just like

buttercream frosting, and I didn't even notice anything else until the sound of

someone sucking hard on an empty plastic bag brought me back to myself.

Peter sat across from me with an impressed expression on his face.

“You suck like a Hoover,” he said.

I laughed, realizing belatedly that I probably had blood on my mouth.

“Jesus, that was good.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand, feeling

embarrassed.

“Oh, and I brought you something else.” Peter pulled a cell phone out of

his pocket and slid it across the table. It was one of the new ones. With the

games and the e-mails in it.

“I can't take that.”

“I'm sorry, I insist. If you're going to work for me, I need to be able to get

hold of you.”

“Work for you?”

“I need your help.” And he reached into the box he'd brought down with

the cooler of blood, lifted up a file and set it on the table. “Bring your chair

around and let me show you what I have.”

So I dragged my chair around next to him, leaning on the table, our arms

touching.

He opened the file. “We had a rash of these murders in Long Beach. All

outside clubs. Prelim hasn't found anything to relate them, and the victims

don't
seem
to have anything in common, but I still wonder…”

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A. M. Riley

Peter's got the instincts of a bat. He can feel the cave walls. I took the files

from him, that tiny warm glow growing just a little. Here I was thinking I was

useless and Peter came along and just made it all go away.

“I'll see what I can find out. I might know a guy who can help.”

Peter chuckled. “You always know 'a guy,' Adam. I've never understood

how you find these people.”

“It's the charm,” I said. “Nobody can resist me.”

“God knows I can't.”

His eyes were dark blue. He had that little smile. He smelled so good.

Fuck.

Without even willing it, I leaned into his neck, smelling him. Then I jerked

myself back. I was hard. Throbbing, panting, barely in control. The same

stupid animal that Peter had kicked out of his condo that night.

“Christ, I'm sorry, Peter.”

He looked at me in a kind of surprised wonderment. “Sorry for what?”

“For…” His lips were parted as he watched me struggle for words. “Can I

kiss you?”

“Since when do you have to ask?”

Of course, never. Peter has never, ever denied me what I wanted from him.

“I don't deserve it.”

“You don't
deserve
it? What about
me?
What do
I
deserve?”

Better than what I can give you. Better than a dead man who wasn't that

great even before he was dead
. That feeling of confusion, of needing to get away

came over me. I got up and started moving around the room. I felt like mist,

like smoke. Like I'd blow away. “Something better.”

He watched me with that steady dark gaze. “Stop it, Adam.” I stopped

pacing and stared at him. Fifteen years it had been. Peter watching me, waiting

for me to stop. Waiting for me to…

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243

He got up from his chair, took my hand, and led me to the mattress. Sat

down and brought me with him. “Kiss me.”

Nobody's mouth tastes like Peter's. I pushed him back onto the mattress.

Leaned over him and studied his face. The shadow of his beard coming in, the

way that corner of his lip turns up more than the other. The lashes beneath his

eyes are very short and reddish. He has three and a half freckles on his face.

The half looks like a tiny smile. I know Peter's freckles so well I could name

them, like stars.

A little grin appeared on his mouth. “What are you doing?”

I was generally the aggressive one. Dragging Peter into the bedroom. Or

not even bothering with the bedroom, bending him over a bar stool. Dropping

his pants as he tried to do the dishes and giving him a rim job. Laughing when

he broke a plate.

This time, I felt weirdly maudlin.

I stripped him slowly, until he was down to his blue boxers, the little gold

crucifix glinting in his chest hair. I touched it.

“Shouldn't that burn me?”

“Maybe it only works if you believe in it.” His hand caressed my hip.

“I believe,” I protested.

When Peter's really turned on, his eyes go so dark blue they're almost

black. They were black just then. “Sure you do.”

“Shut up.” I leaned down and covered his mouth with my own. We kissed,

our tongues pressing against each other. He bit at my mouth, teasing, and I bit

back.

His hands slid beneath the elastic of my briefs and I helped him push

them off. Then he rolled, so he lay across me, his cock jabbing at my belly. Wet

trailing behind it.

I grabbed his tight little butt. “Peter?”

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A. M. Riley

“Yeah.” He rocked on his toes, sliding back and forth, a kind of stupid grin

on his face, eyelids half-shut. His cock bumped my balls on every other thrust

or so and all I had to do was arch my back a little and I could feel him catch

against my knob.

Then he got his head down, in my neck, and the frottage was in earnest.

He moaned my name. It sounded almost prayerful.

I knew every square inch of this man, every erotic zone, every bruise. My

fingers moved up his neck into the short hairs there and I knew this neck,

these hairs, better than my own.

“Peter,” I whispered.

“Gonna come,” he said, into his rhythm now. The furze of curling hair and

the wet hard flesh and his heat all rubbing up against me faster now until he

shuddered and came in little frantic jerks against my belly. Then it was slick

there and warm and smelled like spunk and I was gone too.

“Hey,” he said and I felt his lips against my cheek, his hand. “Hey, there,

what's this?”

“Nothing. Dust from the ceiling fell in my eyes.” I rolled out from under

him so I could wipe at the wet on my face with my arm. “God, I missed you,” I

whispered.

His hand on my shoulder. Peter knew better than to say anything, until I'd

regained a little self-control and could sit up, light a cigarette. Casual as hell as

if I hadn't just had a meltdown there. “How'd you know I'd be here?” I asked

him.

“I didn't. I've been all over town looking for you.”

There was something about the way he said that. “What?” I asked him.

He propped himself up on one elbow. “I talked to Alli.”

Okay, I hadn't expected that. He rolled off the mattress and went to his

coat, drawing out a letter-sized envelope and handing it to me. “I spoke to the

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245

ATF field agent in charge and he's agreed to relocate her to Toronto. New ID,

full recommendations to the liaison up there. He says he'll make sure she's set

up.”

You see? Look at him, he's a saint. Then look at me. Not so much a saint.

“Thanks, Peter.”

He shook his head. “She deserves it. Hell of an agent. She asked me to

give you this.” He handed me the envelope.

Now, me? I would have opened it and read it first. But I knew Peter well

enough to know he hadn't.

Alli and I are alike in a lot of ways. Her letter was brief and to the point.

Albert and I just couldn't make it. We had great fun trying, but sex isn't

everything. Not like you and Peter. You asshole. Why didn't you tell me?

I've decided to stick with men who still have a pulse. It's just simpler. You

ever find yourself in Toronto, you might want to cruise around the embassy and

see if a familiar hot brunette is there.

Don't fuck it up, Snake.

-A-

I folded the letter over and over. “You talked about me.”

“It's what we had in common,” said Peter. “Don't worry, we didn't say

anything nice.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“She did tender a little advice,” he said.

“Advice about me?” My mind started spinning, trying to recall anything I

might have said or done around Alli that would put that devious expression on

Peter's face. “You know, I'd never put it in an official report or anything, but

that woman is a psychopath, Peter. Who knows what goes through her head.

Once, she—”

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A. M. Riley

He grabbed my chin and shut me up by means of his tongue in my mouth.

When he released me he said, “You were saying?”

“I don't remember.”

His eyes were soft, sparkling, and two inches from mine. “Let's take all of

our clothes off this time.”

Later, he said, “You know what Alli said? That she'd always thought you

were a cold bastard until she saw the way you looked at
me
.”

God. The artificial blood was an adequate supplier of oxygen and when it

rushed to my face it made my head pound. “Women romanticize everything. I

was probably thinking about something else altogether.”

“Yeah, that's what I told her. 'Don't read too much into that meathead's

facial expressions,' I said.”

He laid his cheek on my chest, rubbing his face against me the way he

would sometimes before falling asleep. I combed his hair over and over with my

fingers.

“Peter?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Um, it's none of my business, but…how's Jonathan?”

He was quiet for a second. “Oh,” he said. “Jonathan.”

I can't tell you how it twisted inside me, but I managed to say, “He's not so

bad.”

“No. He isn't.” Peter pushed himself up and got hold of my chin with those

strong fingers and looked me dead in the eyes. “But he's not you.”

“I thought that was the point,” I protested.

“Adam?” A glare that made bad guys squirm. The effect on me was similar.

“Yeah?” I whispered.

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247

His mouth was warm and determined and knew exactly what it wanted. I

couldn't have resisted him if I'd tried.

But I didn't try.

~ * ~

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A. M. Riley

Glossary

¿
Hermano, que onda
?—Brother, what's happening?

¿
Quién como es éste
?—Who the hell is this?

Snake es muerto
—Snake is dead.

Petiso de mierda
—piece of shit

Usted me hizo mear
—You scared the crap out of me

Pinche
—Asshole

Mi usted hizo palo
—You're making me hard.

No me importa dos cojones
—I don’t give a rat’s ass.

¡El Demonio! La caminata muerta
—Demon! The walking dead.

¿
O es usted un fantasma
?—Or are you a ghost?

Mierda
—Shit

Sí, cuate
—Yes, buddy

Cojale
—Fuck you.

Pero, sí, usted necesita culear
—But yes, you need to get laid

Puta
—Whore

Marcena
—Faggot

Mi dios. Me maldicen al infierno
—My God. I'm damned to Hell

Maldita puta
—Damned whore

Parezco un grifo
—I look like a junkie