This work is copywrited and is property of the author. If gay stories offend you or if they are illegal in your area, leave. Any resemblance to any people alive or dead, or any event is purely coincidental. My neediness knows no bounds; I require constructive feedback. Feedback I say!
Chapter 5
He was a moron. More-on. Moh-ah-ron. His grandpa could get about six syllables into that one word and Sebastian deserved every single one of them.
Seb turned off the main road and pointed his vehicle towards the coast. The road was irregular here, littered with potholes and winding its way back and forth with no rhyme or reason that he could see. It had been close to dark during his last jaunt, so he was only now seeing the marshland on each side; sometimes rich with vegetation, sometimes inhospitable. The avian population alone would be enough to warrant a return visit. Perhaps a class fieldtrip?
Yeah, right.
The closer he got to his destination, the less pressure he put on the gas. He was fidgety, tapping his fingers against the wheel, jingling change, checking the mirrors every minute to see if they were following. His eyes said no, but his mind was screaming "yes, you fool!"
He tried not to think about what he was doing, which was a pretty stupid thing to do, but he didn't want to lose his nerve. What would he say to them?
If he told them to stop following him they would know that he knew that they were...something. They would ask questions he wasn't prepared to answer. Maybe torture him for information. The Stud blindfolding him, tying Seb down and making him scream for...
Seb shifted in his seat, his jeans now uncomfortably taught. Maybe not torture.
He needed a game plan. He could play it cool, like this was just a follow-up visit. He still wanted to see the collection. Play it cool, try to put them at ease, find out more about them and then split.
He straightened up in his seat with a look of determination as he put on a bit more speed.
Play it cool. Yeah.
***
The house looked a lot less threatening in the light; the broad shadows and dark corners gone, replaced with mellow aged stone and a soft patina. The cobbles in the drive were a sepia-toned rainbow, the greenery lavish and a bit wild.
There was a statue of a coiled serpent at the front of the drive, huge and weathered, half covered in waxy ivy. He had missed it in the dark. The front door was centered with a large round knocker; a bronze snake's head, fangs bared.
So far so good. No grey guys. No blood. No mayhem. Just the little tickle in his mind. He could deal with a tickle.
Seb wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He had worn them for comfort. He couldn't help the fact that they hugged his ass like a vice and made his cock look - well, even he was impressed. And he definitely didn't have you-know-who in mind when he picked out his tight white tee. Functional. He was functional. His contacts gave him better peripheral vision. The gel kept the hair out of his face.
He checked the
functionality
of his clothing for the tenth time before lifting the heavy ring of metal, letting it fall against the door with a satisfying thunk.
It barely had time to echo before the door swung open. Seb was taken aback by the sudden response, but hid it well. He had known that someone was behind the door but assumed they would leave him to stew like before.
The one thing he couldn't hide was a look of disappointment. He had told himself over and over that he wasn't going there to visit The Stud, but as soon as he saw the man behind the door he knew himself for a liar.
He had it so, so bad.
Not that the man at the door was a trial to look at. He was handsome enough if you went for the tall, olive, muscular, devastatingly attractive type. In a word, boring. The guy was smiling, but it was a tight smile that didn't even come close to his watchful eyes. A predator. One that Seb recognized.
Seb thanked God for that small favor. He could keep track of them individually. It didn't seem like much, but it was something. This was one of the men from campus last week. The mental signature was the same.
Asshole.
"Hi. I'm Sebastian Fell. I came by last week and left a card."
Sebastian pasted on a smile that was just as false as the one worn by Mr. Macho and put out his hand in greeting. He could hear the muffled resonance of psychic conversation as the other man extended his hand as well. Seb expected a show of strength, a crushing alpha-male grip to assert superiority, but was pleasantly surprised when the man was nothing more than firm and abrupt.
"Mr. Fell. Your reputation precedes you. Please, come in."
"Thank you, Mister-?"
"Mychael Tiserova. Just call me Mych."
Seb entered the house as Mych stepped aside and almost gaped in awe. Seb had been in some ostentatious houses for parties, a few dinners. He even had wild monkey sex on a sixty thousand dollar table with the barely legal heir to an American dynasty. Seb thought he had experienced posh, but this was-
"Wow."
Mych laughed. "That was the first thing I said as well."
"It's amazing."
"It's been in the Draco family for generations. They take great pride in it."
"I'll bet."
"I'm sorry about your reception last week. We're usually more hospitable but we were having some security issues." Mych made a motion for Seb to follow him.
"I hope it was nothing too serious."
"You have nothing to worry about now. They've been remedied." If it wasn't for the sharp spike of anger Seb felt, he might have believed it. He just hoped he didn't have to be 'remedied.'
"Sure. I was wondering if I could make an appointment to talk to Mr. Draco."
"I'm taking you to see him now. He's waiting in the library."
"I wasn't expecting to see him so soon, but if you think he wouldn't mind-"
Seb was about to say more when he saw a guard emerge from a shadow to stand near the door. It was the guard that had answered the door last time, just before all of Seb's problems started. Same piggy nose. Same glare.
Mych gave a sharp bark of humorless laughter. "He won't mind. He's a great fan of your work."
Seb followed Mych to a recessed area that fed into a hallway, but he hung back a few feet, ostensibly to look at a fine piece of intricate bas-relief. After making sure Mych wasn't looking, he took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at the guard. Seb laughed as the guard's eyes widened, then turned to play catch up with the hunky jerk-face. Mych was probably getting an earful, but in for a penny and all that.
Childish? Perhaps. Satisfying? Oh yeah.
***
The fall of their footsteps on the marble sounded ominous in the never-ending hallway, or maybe he was just too keyed up. Mych was just ahead of him; silent, at least orally. Mentally, he might as well be singing songs of solidarity.
Just how many of these guys were there anyway? A handful? A dozen? An army? The thought of an army gave him pause. He had loosened up after the cordial, if bogus, reception, but Nameless Dread was returning full force.
Much more of this anticipation shit and he would work himself into a doozie of a panic attack. He had never actually had a panic attack, but there was a first time for everything.
He was surrounded. He had walked into the lion's den. He was the dumbest person on the planet. How could he begin to illustrate the extent of his folly with mere words? They were everywhere.
