I resisted the urge to tug at the tubes going into my body while I listened to the doctor talk. “Dead for thirty-seven minutes.” “Had to use a defibrillator.” His voice droned on and all I wanted to do was to eat him—sink my teeth into his flesh and tear out a big chunk of meat, chewing it while warm blood trickled down my chin. The smell of him made my mouth water.
“By this time tomorrow, you’ll be able to go home.” He patted my knee.
A smile stretched my lips—tomorrow. I’d have me some doctor then.
I woke to the sound of rustling paper. With a soft murmur, I turned, hoping he would think I was still asleep. The sun caressed his bare skin, enhancing the slopes and valleys. I could watch him read forever if he’d only let me. A day in bed, what more could a guy wish for? He would never allow it, though. With a frown, he turned another page. I quickly closed my eyes, if he saw me he would insist on us getting up.
“I know you’re looking at me.”
My fake snore wasn’t as believable as I had hoped.
“If we sneak out through the bushes, there’s a possibility they won’t see us until we’ve reached the car.”
I looked behind me. “Are you crazy? Those are thorn bushes.”
“Well, we can’t go out there.” He pointed at the rock where our clothes were drying after our swim. They would kill us. If they were merciful it would be quick, if they were bored… How long would I survive torture?
“We crawl through there. You get into the car. Start it—”
“I don’t have the key.”
If looks could kill I wouldn’t have to worry about the flesh-eaters.
Adam was cleaning. He’d had enough, the clutter had to go. He threw Chris’ wellies out on the lawn, frowning at the sand on the floor. He shook the doormat, grumbling as cat hairs flew around in the air.
Chris’ nasty cat.
As Adam was about the close the door the glowering creature came sneaking towards the door. Adam threw it out—it wasn’t allowed to be outside. He scrubbed the floor, grousing over his filthy boyfriend and his repulsive cat when the door opened and Chris stepped inside—dirty footprints multiplying on the floor.
The night was chillier than he’d expected—it was every year. The moon shone bright, almost as bright as the need burned in him. He cracked his knuckles as he waited.
The smell came first, it always did. He breathed in. The thick odour of putrid rot made his cock stiffen.
“Back for more, I see.” The raspy voice was as he remembered it. He knew a laugh would follow, but it didn’t stop him from unbuttoning his trousers. One day a year was all he got. The smell of death lasted longer—it would cling to him for days.