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Day 19: Cigarettes
It was ridiculous, the whole idea, and Vincent was absolutely ecstatic about going. He had recently taken over to present his own talk show, after he murdered his colleague. It was such an amazing change, and opened up so many new opportunities. One of those opportunities being attending a broadcast symposium in his own city.
What made this symposium, and the event after, so special was the attendance of the radio stars who had been in the industry for decades. One such radio presenter from New Orleans, who had been on the air for over fifteen years, finally broadcasting across several states during the Olympics and war.
And he was another killer. They had met, during a broadcasting event a few months back, and he had clocked him as a killer so quickly. It had felt so good, finding a kindred spirit. It made him feel seen. He didn’t feel that, when he was with his wife, the girl he had knocked up during high school and had to marry. Not that he minded much, she was hot, and stayed hot after the kids. He needed to have a wife and kids to be taken seriously.
Though Alastor, the amazing man that he was, wasn’t married. He might have kids, Vincent knew people like him had kids with several women. He should have asked him, but he was so enamoured by the man. Not in a homosexual way. He was just inspired by him, to be such a famous name in the radio business, and to have such a dark side, much like Vincent did. Yes, Alastor was attracted, for a southern coloured man, or any man. Vincent would have to be blind not to see the beauty in his face, or the wickedness of his wit and smile. Even his wife admitted the man was attracted, and he knew the bitch liked to eat out other women.
Thankfully, the bitch was out of town for the weekend, taking the kids with her. They were visiting her parents, again. It meant he was able to fuck around without anyone asking him questions. And yes, some of the people he fucked around with were men. Young men, who worked at the studio, or men he met in bars. But it wasn’t gay, he was the one fucking them, not getting fucked. That made it not gay. Unlike his wife, who actually ate women out. Vincent was sometimes invited to be part of that, watching or taking part. He couldn’t be gay if he fucked his wife and the woman she was fucking.
Not that Vincent thought about fucking Alastor. He admired him and would like to emulate him. He had a long lasting career in broadcasting spanning decades, his reach going further than anyone thought possible. And he was able to keep killing, and enjoying killing. It was inspiring, and he hoped to be able to spend some time, just one on one, with him during this trip. He had even had his wife tidy up their spare room, in case Alastor wanted to stay with him that weekend, instead of whatever shitty hotel his station had put him up in.
It took Vincent a lot longer to get ready than he would have normally liked, but he wanted to make sure he looked perfect. There was a lot riding on this symposium, and he wanted to present his best self to Alastor and anyone else. When he arrived, he spotted Alastor instantly, circulating around the room. So many stupid twats were talking to him, and Vincent knew that Alastor thought those idiots weren’t worth listening to. Why would he, the only person who could be an intellectual match for the man, was Vincent.
“Hello, hello, Alastor, good to see you again,” Vincent said, interrupting whatever the moron who had been talking to Alastor was saying.
“Mr Whittman, was it? Yes, yes, good to see you again,” Alastor said, his eyes going up and down, looking Vincent over, before he turned back to the idiot who had been talking, “If you’ll excuse me, please, it seems this, this television man, would like to talk to me.”
It hurt, hearing Alastor refer to him so formally. Vincent thought they had reached some understanding, the last time they met. He hoped that the smile that Alastor shot the fucking bastard who was still monopolising his attention, had only been for him. But it seemed that Alastor gave that smile to everyone. The smile that made him look so good. He looked good regardless, in that deep red suit jacket with the fitted waistcoat and trousers. His curly hair styled and falling perfectly, it made Vincent want to run his hands through it, to see if it was as soft as it looked.
After what felt like hours, but was just a few moments, Alastor led him to the bar, so they could get a drink. They talked as they drank and it was wonderful. They only talked about ‘safe’ topics, one they could discuss in public and not raise any suspicion. Things like broadcasting, the news, the weather, travelling, their states and cities, popular culture, music and movies. Alastor loved talking about music and Vincent loved talking about movies, and they managed to find common ground with some of the more recent musicals that had been released.
As they talked, Vincent couldn’t help but stare at Alastor in awe. He really was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. His lips were so kissable, with the cigarette perched between them. He really wanted to kiss Alastor, but he had no idea how the other man would take that. As far as Vincent knew, Alastor didn’t have romantic entanglements and was a bachelor, though not a confirmed bachelor. It must be nice, not to be tied down to any one person, though he didn’t understand how it hadn’t impacted his career.
“Well, Vincent, it looks like the evening is winding down. Will you be showing me your city?” Alastor asked, in that fucking sexy transatlantic accent of his.
“What? Um, sure, if you want,” Vincent replied, lighting another cigarette, “Or, we could, you know, go back to my place?”
Alastor’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, then he looked Vincent up and down again, as if he was trying to figure something out. He turned his body around, crossing his legs and picking up his drink. It was the picture of temptation, of pure sin. Vincent knew how dangerous this man could be, even though he didn’t know his exact body count, but it didn’t matter. He needed to be alone with him.
“And, what do you propose for entertainment, Vincent? I’m not in the city long, after all, surely, you’d want to show me all the sights?”
“I mean, if you wanted to, I could totally take you around some bars and other places. Or, or we could go back to my house and talk, talk about, you know, stuff,” Vincent stuttered, suddenly feeling very nervous, “Stuff we’re both into. Stuff we can’t talk about here. In front of this crowd. My wife took the kids to her mother’s, so we won’t be disturbed.”
Alastor gave him another appraising look, then gave Vincent that smile. The one he was sure was just for him. They both finished their drinks and Vincent flagged down a cab. They talked the entire ride to his house in the suburbs. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was a step up from his first home. And he knew that Alastor would like to see his garden. He lived in an apartment in the middle of New Orleans, though had his cabin in the swamp, so he would appreciate a well-kept garden.
Once Vincent paid the fare, he hurried Alastor into his home. It was a very nice, white neighbourhood, and he doubted many of his neighbours would like to see a black man visiting in the middle of the night, even if he was vastly superior company. After he closed the door behind them, he gave Alastor a quick tour and poured him a drink, picking up another packet of cigarettes.
“Well, you’ve got me all alone, in your… charming house. I must say, your wife has some… interesting design choices. Or, are these all the rage in the white neighbourhoods? I’m not sure,” Alastor remarked, taking the glass and offered cigarette, “So, what are you going to do with me, dear Vincent?”
Vincent lost all power of speech watching Alastor move across his living room and sit down on his couch. What he really wanted to do was kneel in front of him and suck his dick. He knew that would be incredibly gay, taking another man’s cock into his mouth, like the all those homos did for him. But he didn’t care if it was Alastor’s cock. He must have a great cock, big and long and thick. He had heard black men had big cocks.
“Has a cat got your tongue, Vincent?”
“What? No! No, I’m, well, I’m just thinking, you know. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. And, well, you just, you look, you know… fuck, I promise I’m usually a lot better at stringing thoughts together. Must be the whisky.”
“Just the whisky? And here I thought you were falling victim to my wiles. You know, it’s how I get half my victims to my cabin. A promise of a night alone,” Alastor said lowly, unbuttoning his waistcoat and pulling out his tie.
“Do you, you know, give them what you’ve promised?” Vincent asked, unable to move, his eyes focused on the man undressing on his couch.
“My victims? Surely, you know me better than that, Vincent, to think I’d ever give those men anything they wanted.”
“I want you.”
The words left his mouth before Vincent could stop them, shocking himself but making Alastor smile that wicked smile of his. He then continued to undo his buttons, until his shirt was hanging open, showing off the scars over his chest where victims had fought back. There was even a bullet wound, from an incident in the thirties that had almost killed him. If the bullet hadn’t nicked his shoulder, he would have been standing upright, and would have been killed by a headshot.
“Then come get me, Vincent. I am waiting after all. And I do have to take a train home tomorrow. I don’t like having my time wasted.”
Vincent fell over twice in his haste to remove his clothing. He flung them around haphazardly, not caring what stupid trinket of his wife’s he ruined in the process. He was going to be able to touch Alastor, to fuck Alastor. It was a fucking miracle, and he wanted it to last all night. He was on his knees in front of the other man, not know where to start. He wanted to just lean down and suck on Alastor’s cock. Men didn’t need foreplay, at least he didn’t, he was already so hard, and he could see a bulge in Alastor’s trousers.
Before he could reach out and touch Alastor’s bulge, the man held out his leg and put his foot on Vincent’s shoulder. He told him to take off his shoes, which Vincent gladly did, kissing Alastor’s feet as he did. He then started to kiss up Alastor’s calves, touching the taut and lean muscles and making his partner groan in pleasure.
That sound shot right to Vincent’s cock, making it twitch against his underwear. He could feel a little damp patch, and knew he was already leaking. He tried to lean down again, so he could suck on Alastor’s cock, but he stopped him again, pushing his foot against his chest and making him lean back.
“Stand up,” Alastor commanded, “And take off your clothes, puppy.”
For a brief second, Vincent thought he should bark. Was that the game they were playing? He hadn’t played a game like that before. Had Alastor played that game before? Had other men been fucked by Alastor? Or, was Vincent going to be the first? He had never been fucked by a man, he’d only done the fucking. Was it different, getting fucked by a man? It didn’t matter, he did what he had been told, stripping off all his clothes and standing naked in front of Alastor.
“Marvellous. Now, I want another drink and a cigarette, go fetch,” Alastor commanded, nodding towards the kitchen where the bottle of whisky was.
Not knowing what else to do, Vincent took Alastor’s glass and made his way back to the kitchen. This interaction was not going how he thought it would go, but it was going better than he could have thought. He was naked, and Alastor was interested. If he kept doing what he was being told to do, he might end the night having sex with Alastor, in the bed he had just fucked his wife in.
Vincent poured another two glasses of whisky and put two cigarettes in his mouth to light them. He turned to go back to the living room, and froze on the spot when he saw a completely naked Alastor standing in the door frame. He looked magnificent, lean and toned, scarred and sinewy. His cock was hard and bobbing between his legs. He walked slowly towards Vincent and took one of the cigarettes from his agape mouth, thanking him as he put it between his own lips.
“My, my, Vincent, I’ve rendered you gormless again. How utterly disappointing,” Alastor purred, stroking one long finger up Vincent’s cock, “I was hoping you would be able to keep you wits together long enough to fuck me.”
It took several moments for those words to penetrate Vincents mind, and a few more for him to process the meaning. Alastor wanted him to fuck him, not the other way around. And then, Alastor knelt in front of him, cigarette in hand. It looked so filthy, having Alastor kneeling on the floor, completely naked, in the kitchen his wife and kids had breakfast in that morning. He then leaned up and took Vincent’s cock into his mouth.
It was hotter than hellfire, Vincent was sure. Alastor’s mouth was so fucking sinful, his tongue swirling over his cockhead, making his gasp and moan and beg. He was actually begging. He never begged any of the homos who sucked his cock before. He wanted to grab Alastor’s hair, but was too afraid. If he did, the spell might break and he’d realise he was still sitting at that bar, staring at the man, and fantasying this moment instead of living it.
“Do you expect me to keep kneeling on your kitchen floor, or will you be kind enough to take me to your bedroom?”
“Fuck yes!”
Vincent grabbed Alastor’s hand, pulling him up and almost dragging him down the hall. Thankfully, his bed was made and didn’t have too many of the girly shit his wife liked decorating it. And, there was a fresh jar of lubricant in the bedside table. He had fucked his wife’s girlfriend’s husband a few days before while his wife fucked her girlfriend. They swapped partners regularly, and he had replaced that jar then.
Vincent watched as Alastor strode into his room, taking it all in, then draped himself over his bed. It was sinful, the way his long, lean limbs stretched and curved, inviting Vincent to do such debauched things to the perfect body in front of him. He stumbled a little, rushing to the bed. Almost slamming his own hand in his bedside drawer to get out the jar of lube.
“Fuck, Al, you look so fucking good,” Vincent sighed, his hands running over Alastor’s smooth skin.
“Such sweet, honeyed words, puppy,” Alastor smirked, letting his hand run over Vincent’s body and pulling him close.
They hadn’t kissed yet, Vincent realised. Was this a time for kissing? Or was this going to be just about fucking? He wanted to kiss Alastor. He wanted to feel those lips on his. He never usually wanted to kiss anyone who he was fucking, including his wife. Usually, he just wanted to get to the fucking. There was no reason why he should be acting as giddy and nervous as a virgin about to go to third base for the first time.
“Well? Do you need an invitation, Vincent? I don’t usually have to-”
Vincent didn’t give Alastor a chance to finish whatever he was about to snark. He surged forward, capturing the man’s lips with his own and toppling them both back down to the bed. It was fucking heaven. The way their tongue battled as Vincent stroked up Alastor’s cock, and back down to his cleft. The way Alastor gasped into his mouth, breathless, as he circled his furled rim with his lubed up finger. The way he threw his head back when he pressed a singular finger passed that rim of muscle.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight,” Vincent huffed against Alastor’s lips, “Do you like that, feeling me inside you? I’m gonna fill you up, baby. You’re not going to be able to walk for a week. I’m gonna make you think about me with each step you take. You’ll be desperate to get back here, so I can fuck you again.”
“Promises, promises, and more honeyed w-ah-ah-ha!”
Vincent had started to thrust his singular finger in and out before Alastor could finish. It was a remarkable thing, to render the bastard speechless. He captured his lips again in a desperate kiss, trying to distract himself from the feeling of Alastor’s hole clenching down on his finger and how good it felt. Alastor’s hands were clawing at his shoulders, his legs hitched high, opening himself up more to Vincent. It felt so fucking good.
When Alastor was lax enough with the one finger, Vincent added a second, making the other man gasp and moan like a whore. He was canting his hips in time with Vincent’s thrusting fingers, trying to work them further into him, the greedy bastard. He had no idea Alastor was such a slut, desperate to get to the good part. Vincent was also desperate to get to the good part, but he needed to make sure his cock would fit in that tight ass.
He began to scissor his fingers, opening up Alastor further and making him throw his head back against the many pillows on his bed. Alastor’s hands were no longer clawing Vincent’s shoulders, they were now fisting in the bedspread, trying to ground himself, his hips still canting up to Vincent’s thrusts. He looked like sin, a thin layer of sweat on his body, glistening in the moonlight from the open window. If any of Vincent’s neighbours were to look in, they would get such a sight! Vincent fucking a coloured man on the bed he shared with his wife. It would be the end of his career and marriage.
He didn’t care. This was Alastor and he would give everything up for this man. All Alastor had to do was say the word, and he would quit his job and move across country to the cesspool that was New Orleans. He would abandon his wife and kids, never contacting them again. He would wait tables, deliver the mail, anything, if it meant he could have Alastor like this every night.
Vincent pushed another finger into Alastor’s fluttering asshole, then another, fully opening him up. It was enough. He added a little more lube to his cleft then rubbed it down his own, weeping cock. He snubbed the head against the other man’s entrance, rocking a little and making him groan, teasing him and hoping he would beg too. But Alastor was too proud, he would never beg. He only demanded that he hurry up.
Leaning down, Vincent seized Alastor’s lips again in a searing kiss. He swallowed up every cry and moan as he finally sank himself into his lover, as slowly as he could. He rocked in a little, then pulled out, doing it again and again, going just that bit deeper each time. His other hand gripped Alastor’s cock as his hands clawed at the back of his neck. He was going to be ripped apart, and he would have to explain it to his producers, but he didn’t care. He was sinking into Alastor’s ass, while he stroked his cock and kissed those beautiful lips. This was heaven. It was utter bliss, and he could feel the coil of pleasure deep in his belly tightening.
At last, he was finally sheathed fully in Alastor, his lover barely holding on. His hole was clenching so tightly on Vincent’s cock, that he knew he was going to come soon. He pulled his cock all the way out, then slammed back in, copying the motions with his hand on Alastor’s cock. The sounds that rewarded him were music to his ears. Alastor had such an angelic voice, and it was such a treasure to hear it sounding so filthy.
He thrusted into him again, and again, the feeling of Alastor’s canal pulling him in, tightening around him, was utterly maddening. His mouth was so insistent, kissing him with such fervour that he could barely take breath. With each thrust, Vincent imagined he was stealing the breath from Alastor’s lungs as well. His tempo increased as the glut of pleasure in his belly grew his entire body tingling with the expectation of unbridled pleasure.
“You’re, you’re fucking everything to me!” Vincent moaned into Alastor’s mouth, thrusting so deeply that the bed had started to move.
“Vincent!” Alastor cried, biting down onto Vincent’s lip and drawing blood.
As Vincent cried out, Alastor came. Hot strings spurting over Vincent’s hand, his hole clenching so tightly on his cock. It was what Vincent needed to push him over the edge and dive headlong into the sea of pleasure beneath him. He felt his own orgasm wash over him as he came in Alastor’s ass, calling out his name as he did. There were other words around it, but Vincent couldn’t even comprehend what he was saying. Or rather, he didn’t want to acknowledge it. He just wanted to feel the pleasure wash over him, until he was completely spent.
Vincent collapsed next to Alastor, his cock slipping out of his hole, and succumbed to exhaustion and alcohol. When he woke up next, he was alone, in his bed, covered in spunk and blood, with Alastor nowhere to be seen.