Death Warmed Over

By Pfantazm

Published on Apr 22, 2003

Gay

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Death Warmed Over

By Pfantazm

Now, I don't know what your belief system is, and I don't *think* this is going to be a problem, but being the good little paranoid, that-would-be- just-my-luck kind of person that I am, I'm going to hedge my bets, so here goes. This story is complete fiction. None of the characters are real. It was taken from a dream that one excited chatter in Nifty's own IRC rooms told me about, fleshed out (no pun intended) into a complete story. This story is not intended to imply anything about the existence of certain personifications of the ultimate reality, or, should they exist, what their abilities, sexual tastes or orientations might be. In short, if you ever wind up in the situation described below, RUN LIKE HELL. Going into a dark alley with someone you don't know, and especially one you can't see all that clearly is dangerous, and I cannot recommend it. Having sex with them without a condom is positively (no pun intended) suicidal. If you're underage, don't read this. The boogeyman will get you. Keep refrigerated. Void where prohibited. If you have a dream you want turned into a story, well, write it yourself. Why not? You know what happened better than I would. This was a special case. If you want to talk to me about anything else, including where my website is, write me at pfantazm@hotmail.com .

Midnight above the convenience store on Davie Street saw Charlie Wyniarsky return home from the local gay bookstore, a rented gay video in his shopping bag. He hung up his coat, sat on the chair by the door and took off his shoes.

As he walked into the living room of his small corner apartment, he unbuttoned his shirt. He paused to turn on his TV and VCR and he threw in the tape. He pressed Play and pull his arms out of his sleeves.

Charlie figured that at the age of 76, the closest he would ever get to a young, nubile body was through his television screen. The old equipment, he thought, might be getting worn out, but it still worked. Living in the gay district of Vancouver kept him surrounded by youth and beauty, and even if the very young ones treated him like an invader, an outsider, he still had some very good friends in the area.

He finished shucking his clothes down to his sleeveless T, boxers and socks as the videotape scrolled through the scare tactics of the FBI. The clothes wound up in an unkempt pile on the carpet. The rest of the place was kept quite tidy. Though Charlie might not have believed it possible that he'd have a guest over, there would be one soon. He settled into his big, leather one-seater and watched the action on the tube.

The figure in black arrived early, behind Charlie in his chair. It was a relatively quiet night. He stood a while and watched.

Charlie had his cock out and was getting it hard. His boxers were tucked below his white-haired balls and they jiggled as Charlie played with his prick.

The figure's attention switched to the images on the screen. He watched as three young men, arranged unnaturally on the floor, licked and sucked at each others' cocks, the focus jumping from one shot to another, a pretty face somehow swallowing a cock and making it look longer than it was simultaneously, then a wide shot of smooth back and ass. The figure recognized one of the men whom he had rescued from a long, wasteful illness. But then, he had many stories to tell like that, if there were anyone to tell them to.

Charlie's cock was completely hard now, and his eyes were glued to the screen. Both he and the figure felt it coming - Charlie felt something slightly amiss, the figure knew the feel of the imminent heart attack from long experience.

The figure concentrated on Charlie now, awaiting his cue as the old man suffered the confusion and pain. The timing was critical, and he knew his job well.

Charlie's body, not damaged much, but enough that it could no longer serve as a vessel for its soul, convulsed, until finally the time was right. At the moment of the end of Charlie's life - not an instant sooner or later - the figure severed the tie between them. The body, now an empty shell, collapsed in the chair, and the now-free soul stood up.

Charlie now had the aspect of a much younger man, as he had been some 60 years before. He noticed the figure for the first time. He tucked the tool of his trade back inside his cloak. Suddenly, Charlie understood what was happening, though he didn't know what to do. The figure gestured with a dark, sleeve-covered hand toward the door of the apartment. Charlie stepped toward it, and found himself at street level outside his building.

The city at this time of night was still busy most nights. There were people coming and going from the club just up the street, and many pubs and restaurants were still doing a brisk trade. Couples, many of them extremely temporary ones, wandered up and down the sidewalk on their way to some adventure.

How Charlie had envied them all! He'd been married for years, and had only discovered his fascination with the male body late in life. He'd had some good fun in his second life, but as time went on, he'd felt more and more like a derelict, an unwanted reminder of every adventurer's future.

Now he saw the world with new possiblities. Literally other worlds of opportunities. He could stay here and see the things he'd only dreamed of trying, or he could flit off to some other existence and do more than watch, do things unimaginable before.

He looked back at the cloaked figure once more, asking with his eyes the question he feared to ask. The figure nodded once, to say, "Go play now."

The spirit of Charlie Wyniarsky, now completely free, floated off up the street until it faded from even the figure's field of vision.

"Hello."

A young man, blond, greeted the figure as he approached him on the street. Taken aback, the cloaked figure watched this newcomer as he passed. He could not remember a time when he had been seen.

The man paused and turned as he felt the attention of the stranger in black follow him. He smiled. His mortal eyes could make out very little of him, really. It was a clear, dark, spring night, with very little moonlight, and the stranger had chosen to dress completely in black, and not in leather either. He noticed that he couldn't see any of him, not his head or his hands, yet still there was some faint familiarity.

[Hello,] the stranger replied, with an odd accent.

The blond approached him. He could feel it: this strange young man who knew he was there was not sick, was in fact healthier than most people, and no accident would befall him anytime soon. This person, Craig Berglund, his name was, would eventually live to be older than Charlie.

"It's a nice night, isn't it. I feel like I know you from somewhere, though in that get-up, I really couldn't guess where." The guy was tall, even more than his own 6 feet nothing, which was really appealing.

The figure in black didn't know what to say. He couldn't think of any time that he'd ever spoken a word until this night. He looked around awkwardly and turned to leave.

"Are you okay?" Craig asked, walking with him. Passers-by gave Craig odd looks, but he didn't notice them. He was drawn completely to this figure, though he didn't know why.

The cloaked figure strode quickly into an alley, unsure what to make of the situation. He stood in shadow behind a dumpster. Perhaps once this man lost sight of him, that would be the end of it. Instead, Craig just smiled and followed.

The hooded figure watched as the blond came straight toward him. Despite his having worked with humans for so long, he really knew little about them. Under most circumstances, he only saw them in tragedy. The boy from the video, for example. He'd only seen that one in the final stages, when he was silently begging for surcease from his pain. He'd been alone when the end had come. The figure had known nothing at all of his life until seeing him at play in the movie. Humans were curious creatures.

"Hi," Craig said leering as he finally caught up to the figure in black.

[Hello again,] said the figure. A nice deep voice too. [This has never happened to me before. I am not sure. . . .]

"That's okay. I don't mind. I got plenty of experience. You'll be in good hands." Craig reached down and undid his jeans, exposing tufts of his pubic hair. He began to pull his jeans down past his hips.

The figure was strangely tempted. He knew that humans played with each others' bodies, and he had wondered what it was like in idle moments. He knew nothing about them, really. Perhaps he should learn.

Craig reached for the cloak, but the figure inside stepped aside. [Hold a moment,] he said.

He had the ability to make him appear however he willed, and most everyone preferred to see him as something gruesome. This would not do.

"Don't be nervous, man. I'll be really gentle." Craig reached again and drew open the cloak. It was fastened at the neck, but the figure's body was now visible. Craig looked him up and down.

His skin was fragile and pale, shimmering grey like moonlight. The figure was deliciously muscular, with well-developed pecs and a full six-pack. His Adam's belt pointed downwards ending in a thick, soft cock, and low- hanging balls. He was hairless everywhere, nothing on his chest or his solid legs, and nothing around his privates. Craig supposed it was warm enough under the cloak, but the man was completely naked, even barefoot.

"Damn, man!" he said smiling. "For someone who isn't so sure about what he's doing, you jump right in there, don't you? Heheh. For future reference, though, it's okay to wear shoes when you're cruising."

"You like it?" the figure said, trying out his vocal chords.

"You're beautiful, dude. Such a lovely body. Not too excited yet, but I can see to that."

Craig ran his hands inside the cloak. It was the first time the figure had ever been touched.

"Dude, you're ice cold! We ought to get you inside and get you warmed up."

"We will not be disturbed here," the figure said, "and I do not believe that I have much time."

"Okay, if this is what's going to get you off. It would be a shame if you caught pneumonia over this, though." Craig came in closer, still dressed, and his pants undone and pressed himself into the figure's muscular body.

The figure used some more of his power to warm himself. He could feel the heat of Craig's body up against his and it felt. . . pleasurable. Tentatively, he brought his arms out and around Craig's back to hold him.

"That's the way, man. Get right into it. Feels like you're starting to heat up."

The figure felt along the contours of Craig's healthy body. Everything was new, and his muscles moved intriguingly under the clothing. He was fascinated. He wanted to know all about this man.

"Why don't you take my shirt off," Craig whispered. "If that cloak is warm enough I could share it with you for a while."

Inside his hood, the figure smiled. It pleased him that this man wanted to share his body with him. Excitement began to build within him, and with his new form, so came new forms of expression. His penis began to harden.

The figure pulled Craig inside his cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders. He took the shirttail in his hands and pulled it upwards. Craig raised his arms, and soon the young man was topless.

"Would it be alright if I saw your face? I mean, are you, like, disfigured or anything?" He laughed at his own joke. "There's anonymous sex, but I do like to see who I'm with."

The figure let go of the man's body and undid the catch at his throat. He felt Craig let him go and pull down his pants. Then he tipped his head back, letting his hood fall back and exposing his face, as hairless and pale as the rest of him.

"Such a handsome face," Craig said. To his eyes, the figure looked to be around as young as he was, mid-twenties, say, but his dark eyes looked so much older. Craig reached up to caress his face. He was smiling shyly.

"I would like to see your body," the figure said.

"Okay, hang on." He crouched down within the cloak, his bare ass poking out into the night air as Craig pulled his ankles out of his jeans. He sneaked a peek out of the alley to the street to check if anyone was watching, then stepped back naked deeper into the alley.

Craig's body was lithe and trim. He wasn't as muscular as the figure had made himself to be, but he'd taken excellent care of himself. He had a tattoo of a dragon on his hip, crawling toward his crotch. His cock was full and standing proud straight out away from his body. A drop of shining fluid was hanging from its tip. "Is it as good as you hoped for?"

The figure stared appreciatively for a moment, drinking in the sight of him. "It's all so new. I've spent so long. . . ." He stopped speaking for fear of what he might say.

"I can understand. It ain't easy being gay for a manly man like you. Are you from the 'burbs?"

"Gay?"

"Yeah, gay, being into other guys. Or maybe you think you're bi or something, I don't know. But I know it can be hard to take the gamble and try it. I just want to make sure you think it was worth it." Craig stepped closer again. "And besides, it's not that new. Mine works just like yours does." He reached into the cloak again and stroked the figure's balls. "Looks like you are happy to see me." Craig opened the robe again, exposing him from neck to feet, and now the figure's bone- white cock was as erect and full as Craig's was.

Craig had touched him before, his chest, stomach and sides, but this new touch was much more thrilling. The figure gasped at the intensity of this new sensation.

"Now don't cum, yet, man. You'll spoil all the fun." He slipped back inside his trick's cloak and molded their bodies together. "I'm going to show you what a man's body is for."

They embraced, and Craig's body flexed against the figure's, rubbing their skin together. Their dicks, trapped between their abdomens collided against each other. The figure felt a new kind of heat spreading through his legs and crotch, and he push back against Craig.

"That's the way, your body knows what to do. Just listen to it." Craig reached up and kissed the mysterious stranger's neck. Surprised, the figure looked deep into Craig's eyes. The blond smiled and kissed him. His tongue pushed in past his lips and sought out its counterpart. Soon the figure got the idea and started kissing back. Craig clutched at the figure's asscheek, pressed against the brick wall behind him, and the figure let out a moan. Craig humped more insistently into his partner's crotch, and more precum eased the friction between them.

The blond broke the kiss, and moaned, "Fuck, you're so sexy, man. So innocent and sweet."

"Your body, I want to. . . to . . ."

"Do what you want, stud. I'm all yours."

The figure went down on one knee, exposing Craig's body once again. He looked Craig up and down, studying him intensely. His cock was there in fron of his face, and the figure scrutinized it.

"Suck it, man, Just take it your mouth, and be careful of your teeth."

Curious, the figure took it into his mouth and tasted it. It was an odd thing tasting.

Craig sighed. "Oooh, that's it, man. Use that tongue on it. Get me really hot." The figure licked him all over the head of his prick. The blond moaned and tried to push his way into his mouth, but the figure backed off. "Just move it in and out, nice and slow. It'll feel like I'm fucking you."

The figure did as he was told. He took the entire length of Craig's tool into his mouth and throat, then slid it back out again. "Ohhh, fuck yeah," he whispered. "Shit, how did you learn to do that so fast? You're a natural. Careful there, or I'm going to shoot in your mouth."

The taste of the man was a stimulant. He could feel the life in this man, and it seemed like it would go on forever. Craig's vitality enticed him. His cold reason was gone. He could feel something coming up in the future, just as sure as he had Charlie's impending death, but in all his centuries, the closest he had ever been to it was at men's hangings. It had been a small component of it, mixed in with fear, and the desperate search for just one last breath, but now it filled all of Craig's being, and it was just as powerful. Craig knew what was coming, and the figure did not.

Life.

Craig's body shook and the figure felt a part of his energy enter his body. The man gripped his shoulder as he emptied himself into the figure's mouth, thrusting again and again as the orgasm took hold of him. The figure heard nothing, saw nothing; all he felt was the force of Craig consuming his body. To the man, it was only a small part of his total essence, but to the figure it was overwhelming in its strength.

Craig's breathing was heavy. "That was great, man. I can't remember the last time I got off so good. Whew, shit. Hey, are you alright?"

The figure had fallen backwards onto his backside and looked stricken.

Craig was wary. He knew that sometimes the new guys could suddenly turn on you, but this guy didn't look like the type. The guy's cock was still as hard as he had ever seen it, and he didn't look angry at all. Just stunned.

"Pretty intense, huh?" Craig said with a nervous laugh.

"I have never experienced anything so powerful in all my days," the figure said.

"I'll take that as a compliment, heheh."

"Is it always like this? So. . ." If there were words in this human tongue to describe how he felt, the figure didn't know them.

"That was about average, I'd say."

"Average?" the figure asked, shocked.

Craig rolled his eyes and smiled. "Okay, better than average. But yeah, it's always that good."

He didn't feel it, the figure realized. Being a creature of that kind of energy, he couldn't sense the power of what they had just done.

Craig was still hard, even after his orgasm. "There's your proof, man. I usually go soft after cumming like that, but I'm still ready for more." He held out his hand to help the figure back to his feet. "I'm so horny, I'll let you fuck me just for giving me such great head."

"To thank me?" the figure asked.

"Yeah, stud! There are guys I know who've been doing this for years who don't get me off that well. I want you to cum like that, since it's your first time."

"How little you know, Craig. What should I do?"

"Where are my jeans? Ah, here, under your foot. Excuse me." He fished around in the pocket and pulled out a small tube. "Use that on your cock and my ass. It'll go much smoother." He turned around and braced himself against the wall of the alley and wiggled his ass.

The figure went down on one knee again. He opened the tube and squeezed some of it out on his hand. He massaged the cool gel into Craig's crack.

"Use your finger, man. Get it right up inside."

The figure tried again, and sought out Craig's entrance with his finger. He used his innate ability to get into any enclosed space to great effect.

"Oh, shit, man, yeah, you've got me opening right up. God, you are such a stud! Where have you been all my life?"

"Not far," the figure replied as he greased Craig's ass. "Never far."

The blond moaned and settled down a bit onto his probing finger. "Mmm, yeah, that's the easiest it's ever gone. I feel like I could take your cock, and you could pound my ass all night. How does that sound?"

The figure didn't answer. He coated his pale cock well with the lube, and approached Craig's body. The feel of the slick substance against his skin sent a thrill through his body. He usually saw humans in such pain and remorse and anger. Tonight, he was learning the secrets of why it was all worth it.

He took Craig into his arms again, pulling him upright away from the wall, cradling him against his perfect form. Craig giggled and caressed the figure's hip. He turned and kissed him over his shoulder. "I think I'm going to enjoy this," Craig said, pulling the cloak around himself.

"I hope you will, Craig."

He felt the slick cock slide up and down his crack, and Craig pushed back, as horny as he could ever remember being. It was in this moment, when all other thought had been shoved aside, that he remembered.

He never gave out his identity.

The blond froze, while the man behind him began to press his cock into his hole. "How--?" was all he could bring himself to say.

"I think you know," replied the figure in his ear.

The figure's thick cock pierced into his body as realization hit him: a pale figure, a cloak as black as night. . . .

Craig's breathing failed him. He felt the searing hot cock inside him all in a rush. His body trembled with tension and with fear. Strangely, there was no pain. Just the fullness and the constrictions in his stomach. The figure's hands caressed his body, and he felt the warm, white skin against his back. He gasped for breath, hyperventilating. "Oh, shit, oh, shit," he mumbled.

"Do not be frightened," the figure said quietly. "There is no need."

"Oh, god, am I going to die?"

"No. I see things as they will most likely be, and with providence you will live many years yet. You will not come to any harm in my embrace."

"But you're--"

"I am but a servant of a higher power. I do not kill. I am a guide, a guardian." The human's body was still tensed. "You have given me a great gift this night, companionship as I have never known it. You showed me some small measure of what it is to be human. It is I who should thank you, not the other way around. Relax. Be calm. I think you will enjoy this." The figure shifted his cock a short distance into Craig's body.

"Oh!" Craig gasped.

Emboldened, the figure drew his cock partway out and slid it gently back in place. Those old, familiar sensations of pleasure flowed out through Craig's body as the figure's member rubbed against his insides.

Together they sought a rhythm, the one seeking to understand, and the other overcoming the original fear that had gripped him. Though Craig knew who he was with, it felt like an ordinary man, if an impressive one. Lust filled him and removed any remaining resistance he had. He swung his hips back, thrusting himself onto that cock. For now, there was nothing outside the cloak. Just that body, just that cock.

Their coupling brought the figure a new sense of connectedness with his partner. Until now he had simply been. He had never known what it had been like to be with another. The ecstasy he felt took him over.

"Let me show you my world," the figure said. He leaned down into Craig's neck and kissed it tenderly, just as Craig had done earlier and the alley was gone. They flew high above the city, the lights of civilization passing beneath them.

Even now, their bodies were bound together in the intimate embracing of their lovemaking. Craig felt the figure's arms around him, holding him in safety, and his hips nestled against his ass, locked even as the figure thrust into him. His hands wandered across his own body, touching himself everywhere as he revelled in the sexual bliss he felt. He'd never felt more alive than this. His excitement built until he didn't think he could stand it anymore.

The figure felt as though his body were on fire. His hard member churned away at Craig's insides, and he felt the soft, supple skin of his body all over it. It was hot and smooth, and it caused a strange stirring within him. This time he knew what that feeling was that was coming. Craig was approaching his climax, but at the same time there was a second one. Just as Craig had fed some of his energy to him, he would soon reciprocate. The anticipation of the awesome power of life coming to him once more drove him onward to his first orgasm.

Craig received the essence of the figure's being. For an instant, he knew perfection. He saw the fabric of the universe, the subtle purity in its design. The galactic and the atomic danced in tune to the music of the crystal spheres. He saw mathematics as art, randomness as pattern, and he knew humanity as a finely fractured whole with the capability to heal itself with time understanding and love. Above all, he knew the love of his friends and family, and even that of the figure behind him, as he had for all who would eventually meet him.

However such concepts are too large for the human mind, and they did not stay long before Craig lapsed into unconsciousness.


Craig awoke in his own bedroom, nude and on top of the blankets. The sun shone through his open window. The brisk morning air chilled him, and Craig scrambled to get under cover.

It was not a dream. He remembered too much of it. They had flown, and--

--and he had seen eternity. He tried to recall as much of that epiphany as he could, but the details were fleeting. And the damn phone was ringing.

He groped at the nightstand for the cordless. "Hello," he said, irritated.

"Where the hell have you been?" It was his sister, Regina.

"I've been asleep, I guess. Why?"

"Gary was in an accident."

Craig sat upright. "What happened?"

"He went out for a midnight smoke on his deck last night and it collapsed under him. He was lying underneath a pile of lumber all night, and no one noticed him until this morning. We're at Royal Columbian."

"Well, is he alright?"

"Some broken bones. He's just lucky he wasn't killed."

A midnight smoke? "Yeah, lucky."

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