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Every Friday the 13th, I like to offer a 'new' free read to my fans. This one is M/M paranormal.
Free to read here. Do not copy or paste anywhere else.
The Clock Struck Thirteen
Copyright 2014 Thianna D
The clock on the mantle struck thirteen.
The five people in the room tensed as that first bong peeled through the air.
It was coming. It was coming.
Of the five, two were couples and one was a single man. While the couples knew what happened when the clock struck thirteen, Dreven Marx was in for a huge shock.
“Can you turn that down?” Dreven yelled, covering his ears. The other four just laughed, though it wasn’t a kind laugh at all. In fact, as Dreven looked at them, he jerked back in his seat.
They were different.
Karmus’ skin had turned a deathly shade of gray and his eyes were red?
Deandra grew fangs and the two deadly looking instruments were still growing.
Kafus’ hair was growing at an alarming rate and his jaw now protruded from his skull. Not to mention the huge canine teeth now glittering in the candlelight.
But as if the other three weren’t bad enough, it was Zeffa that was the worst of the lot. Horns now stuck out from her skull and flowers sprung from her skin.
Scrambling to his feet, Dreven backed away. “Stay away from me!” he hollered. His former friends gave him a strange look.
The fire in the fireplace went out with a pop!
Each flickering candle snuffed out, leaving no smoke trail behind.
Struggling toward where he thought the door was in the darkness, Dreven screamed as a hand landed on his shoulder.
“It’s too late,” a deep masculine voice whispered in his ear. “Far too late.”
Thirteen. Dreven stood there in fear knowing it was officially thirteen o’clock. He never should have come. No, he should have stayed home with his aging mother and demented father. ‘Twould have been better than to come to his ruin.
Long, thin fingers combed through his hair, tugging lightly on the ends. “I have needed a new toy for ages,” the voice murmured. “The old ones get so tiresome. Come, my lovely.”
Dreven wanted to explain that this was a mistake, that he shouldn’t be here, and that he would really prefer to leave, thank you very much, but none of the words made it past his lips as long fingers grasped his shoulders and pushed him forward.
The room they were in was not very large and yet wherever they were going was much further than he expected. Five steps. Ten. Fifteen? Thirty? Where were they going and why hadn’t they run into a wall yet? Fifty? “Up the stairs,” the voice said and Dreven would have stumbled if the strong fingers hadn’t held him upright when his foot hit the stair.
Up the stairs? But there were no stairs in this place, were there? As far as he knew, it was a one-story building. Coming here was supposed to be a joke. A lark, really. The five of them had made the pact to spend the night in the abandoned house on the eve of Friday the Thirteenth. He just wished he could remember why. It had seemed brave at the time what with all the spooky rumors. Now he knew it to be folly. Would he even leave this place alive?
There were thirty-two steps before the individual guided him down a long hallway. As they walked along, Dreven so wished he could see. On the other hand, maybe he didn’t. The individual behind him didn’t sound…human. And his fingers were much too long and bony to be so. If this person was anything like what his friends had turned into, it might be best he couldn’t see. Would it hurt too much when he was killed?
“In here,” the voice said, pushing him forward. How could this person even see where they were going? It was pitch black. “You won’t be needing these.” With a rip, his shirt was gone. He barely had the chance to cry out before his pants and underwear were in pieces.
“What do you want?” Dreven cried out, unsure of even where the person was. He couldn’t hear or see them.
The word was simple, but before he could ask in what sense, strong arms turned him around and a pair of lips touched his own. Dreven had kissed before, but it never felt like this. Strong hands that no longer felt bony held his shoulders as this man teased and nipped at his lips. He didn’t want to give in to the tingle of desire sliding up his spine, but it was difficult to think as Dreven gasped and a cool, moist tongue slipped between his lips and entered his mouth.
Moaning, he reached out and grasped the other man’s waist. For being a ghoul of some sort, he was built. Sliding his hands up the man’s sides, Dreven felt hard muscle. There didn’t seem to be a hint of fat anywhere on him.
When lips were pulled from his, Dreven leaned forward, but didn’t find his objective. “Who are you?” he asked, realizing he was touching nothing suddenly.
A low chuckle from behind him had him swing around. Still unable to see, he felt the cool breath wash across his face. “You may call me Master.”
“What are you?” The words were out before he could even think.
The cool breath came close, drifting across his mouth and cheek before tickling his ear. “You don’t need to know that.”
“I can’t fuck a ghoul,” Dreven said in short pants, desire for this creature filling him up even as he tried to remind himself that this could not be happening.
Another low chuckle. “Really? If I was a ghoul, which I am not, you wouldn’t allow me to fuck you?” A strong hand grasped his cock making Dreven gasp. “This tells me differently.” The hand squeezed tightly making him cry out. “You came to my home, invaded my space, and stayed until the strike of Thirteen. You will pay the price for your bravado. On your knees, boy.”
It never occurred to Dreven to disobey as he dropped to his knees. “You displease me with your whining. Open your mouth.” There was a momentary fear and Dreven wondered if he should explain he’d only sucked on one other guy. But the intense desire to hear something good from the man in front of him made him forget everything else and he opened his mouth wide, expecting a smooth cock to slide over his tongue. Instead, a rubber ball shoved between his teeth and a tether tied behind his head.
“Hey!” he yelled, though it came out muffled. A gag of some sort. Though it held his mouth open.
“Better. I do want to hear your cries as I fuck you into the floor. On all fours.”
The power in the last three words had Dreven dropping down to his hands before he could think. Something told him this was wrong and that he shouldn’t be obeying so readily, but all thought was expunged as something cool and slick pressed against his back entrance. His eyes widened as it pressed past his sphincter muscle and slid inside. It was a tiny cock. Disappointment filled him. So, the spector was the width of an itty-bitty syringe. That was disappointing. As hips bounced against his, the man behind him chuckled.
“Thinking you’ve got off scot free? I think not. I’m bigger than you think.”
And then his cock expanded. Shrieking at the sudden invasion, Dreven tried to pull away only to find he couldn’t move. “Yes,” the voice spoke, as he pulled out and rammed back in, his cock so huge now that Dreven was afraid he would never close up again. “This is my true size, pet. Enjoying the burn?” Strong, bony hands grasped his hips and the man…no, his Master pummeled him, fucking him hard and fast.
It hurt like hell, but it was a pain that was so filled with pleasure at the same time that Dreven let out a long wail. His cock ached and he wanted completion, but unable to move, he couldn’t even grab his own dick to finish the job. Instead he had to wait as his Master took him. Grunts filled the air as the man behind him thrust hard and fast, shoving his long, thick cock up Dreven’s ass harder with each lunge.
It was already good. But then Master changed directions and his cock shoved right up against Dreven’s pleasure spot. Wailing at the top of his lungs, Dreven wanted to push back against him, do anything for that pleasure again. And Master hit it again. And again. The fourth time his shaft rubbed over his prostate, Dreven screamed and came, his body twitching and writhing even as he fell to the ground, Master still pummeling his ass for all it was worth.
His body didn’t feel like his own as he lay on the floor. Dreven had no idea how long he had lain there as Master took him, but it was the best time of his life. Finally a man who knew how to fuck. And when Master came? "Oh," Dreven moaned. He could feel each thrum as cool liquid filled him.
As his pants and gasps filled the air, Devon realized he couldn’t feel or hear Master. “Master?” he tried to say, only to realize the gag wasn’t in his mouth. “Master?” he called out louder.
“Dreven, wake up!”
Startled, Dreven’s eyes flashed open and he stared into the amused eyes of his four friends. “Wow, that was some dream,” Zeffa said, amused. He looked between their faces. They all looked human and as a strange light came from the right, he turned and realized it was daytime.
“What happened?” he asked, trying to remember what had happened after his Master fucked him. It was blurry.
“Well,” Karmus said with a grunt. “You fell asleep right after we got here. But you’ve been dreaming all fucking night long. Moans and groans.”
“Cries and shouts,” Deandra added with a salacious grin.
“Not to mention cries of ‘Master, don’t stop!’” Kafus said with a laugh. “Man, I’d love to know what you were dreaming about.”
Staring at them all in confusion, Dreven looked toward the clock on the mantel. There were only twelve spots on it. Not thirteen. Looking down, he was shocked to find he was dressed in the clothes he came in. Shaking his head, he slowly stood up. “Can we leave now?”
“Sure thing,” Zeffa agreed. “This was not the scary night I expected. It was boring.”
“Yeah, next time, we’ll find a real haunted house,” Kafus said, swinging an arm around her shoulder. “Maybe the old Compton place.”
“Ooh,” Deandra said as the five of them left the room and headed toward the door. “That sounds fun.”
Dreven was the last one to the door as his brain had a hard time keeping up. Had last night happened? It didn’t sound like it. Just his strange imagination. And thirteen o’clock? Snorting, he grabbed his jacket and reached for the door.
“Stop.” The cool voice sent a million little zaps to his skin and Dreven froze. “Do not leave this house.”
It was him. Master. And yet, Dreven’s friends acted like nothing had happened. Standing up straight, Dreven realized he must have had too much to drink the night before. If he turned around, he would find nobody there. Then he could turn back, walk out the door, and never return.
Whipping around, several things happened at once.
The door slammed behind him.
A tall man with dark black hair and red eyes smiled at him, beckoning him forward.
A clock struck thirteen.
Labels: Friday the 13th, gay, mm, paranormal