The Scream-O-Rama

The Scream-o-Rama

By Vic Winter

Blood, guts and bloodcurdling screams had Brian shivering. He was strung tightly enough the slightest noise had him jumping. He wasn’t budging from his seat until the lights came on, though, too scared to move. He did this to himself every year. The Halloween Scream-o-Rama. The old Elgin Theatre ran twelve hours of movies from 2pm to 2am. The line-up was different every year, but it was always non-stop horror movies, from old Bela Lugosi classics to Alfred Hitchcock masterpieces

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to the latest CGI-ed scare fests. The first few movies never bothered Brian that much, but by the time he was about eight hours in he’d be starting to be a little freaked. Four more hours of horror had him shivering in his shoes. It was the best fun twenty bucks could buy. And it meant he totally avoided the annoying stream of kids begging for candy, adolescents pulling pranks, and parties he wasn’t interested in going to. Of course it also meant he had a half hour walk back to his place. Which, after being totally freaked out by the Scream-o-Rama, wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do. He wasn’t the only one waiting for the lights to come up, either. There were at least a dozen others, although tons had managed to vacate the place during the credits of the last movie before they’d turned the house lights on. Bully for them; he was hard core. It didn’t help that the Elgin was an old movie theatre with curtains and ornate carvings and lots of places for shadows to gather and look like, well, things moving out of the corners of his eyes. The lobby was bright, though, and not at all scary aside from the fact that it was practically deserted. The only one still there aside from him was Angie at the concession stand. Brian grabbed a bag of Jujubees from the candy counter for the trip home, giving Angie a smile as she handed him his change. “You okay to get home on your own?” She laughed at him; Angie worked the counter for the Scream-o-Rama every year. And for the four Christmas is Coming Moviethons, the Easter Movie Parade, the Giving Thanks for Turkey Marathon and the Fireworks Festival, all of which Brian attended religiously, so they were friendly. “I’m perfectly fine – you look like you might need an escort, though.” Brian grinned sheepishly. “It’s a lot of hours of scary.” “It is. It’s also a lot of hours selling popcorn and candy to you Scream-o-Rama freaks – and that my friend is almost scarier than the movies.” She gave him a wink and started cashing out. “Go ahead, I’m parked in the lot next door and I have my mace in case I encounter any assholes.” “I’m not sure mace works against creatures of the night.” “Mace works against everyone. I’ll be fine. I don’t scare so easy.” Realizing that it was possible he was stalling and wanting to escort Angie home because he was a little tiny bit scared of walking home alone, Brian gave her a last wave and made himself leave. The lights on the marquee were still on and between them and the street lights, it wasn’t that dark on Milton Street. Brian opened his bag of Jujubees and grabbed a red one, munching away as he wandered up the road; sugar made everything better. All the stores were closed, their window displays no more than shadowy dioramas. Brian tried not to let his imagination run away with

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him, he really did, but it was easy to see things moving in those shadows, lurking there and waiting for some innocent to pass by... He shoved a handful of Jujubees into his mouth, chewing determinedly on the gummy sweets. He crossed the street and turned right onto Johnston Avenue, leaving the shadowy stores behind him. Of course the residential streets were almost worse. The trees cast weird, moving shadows on the road and the wind blew the leaves around like living things. Brian kept munching on the Jujubees, though, the sound of the bag crinkling every time he pushed his hand into it familiar and friendly and not at all like the steps following him. Wait. Steps? Following him? He swallowed hard and forced himself to keep going at the same pace. Sure enough, he could hear footsteps behind him. He should glance back, he knew he should, because it was likely just someone else out... for a two am stroll on Halloween night? Right. But it could be and he was freaking himself out by not looking back and checking. He tried speeding up instead; if it was someone else out for a stroll for some bizarre reason, then his speeding up shouldn’t make a difference. He didn’t walk a lot faster, only a little bit faster. The footsteps matched him, adding the same amount of speed to keep in step with him. Oh, God. Moving even faster, Brian finally glanced back over his shoulder. Nothing. He couldn’t see anyone. He stopped and turned right around. Still nothing, and the footsteps had stopped as well. Rolling his eyes at himself, he turned and kept going. The footsteps started up again, and he told himself firmly that it was his own footsteps he was hearing, a weird echo effect due to the fact that the streets were empty of any other living thing. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it. The streets were empty of any other human being. No, that wasn’t any better. At all. Brian really didn’t want to start running because that would be feeding into his fears. Of course, if he ran, he’d get home faster and at home there were roommates even if they were asleep, and he could turn on all the lights and watch an infomercial or something. Infomercials were scary, too, but they were a whole different kind of scary, a scary that didn’t make his heart pound and his hands shake. He probably would have been okay – he nearly had himself convinced he was just an idiot who’d gotten himself freaked out by the Scream-o-Rama and his imagination was running away with him -- but then a second set of footsteps joined the first. That was all he needed. Brian dropped his bag of Jujubees and ran. ***

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It didn’t take Brian long to get home, not with the hounds of hell at his heels. He really hoped that it wasn’t the hounds of hell – they weren’t even real, were they? But the scariest of the Scream-o-Rama movies were always the ones where the bad guy was a real person. People did some fucked up shit to each other, so maybe he’d have been happier with the hounds of hell being what was chasing him. Because not real things were marginally less scary than fucked up psychotic people. Yeah, he’d admit he was becoming somewhat hysterical. For some reason, running made him feel worse instead of better, too, so by the time he was at the front door to the old house he shared with his roommates, he thought his heart was going to explode out of sheer fright. He could barely breathe from the running; he couldn’t hear anything anymore over the loud, crazy thumping of his heart. His hands were shaking so badly he was having trouble getting his key out. If getting the key out of his pocket had been a trial, getting it into the lock was proving to be far beyond his fear-addled capabilities. He was just about to start pounding on the door to wake his roommates – who cared what time it was, he was terrified here – when something touched his shoulder. Brian screamed. Whatever it was that had touched him latched on, bony fingers curling around his shoulder and forcing him around. Still screaming, he screwed his eyes shut and put up his hands, lashing out blindly. It was stronger than him, though, and probably not hampered by the crushing terror that had Brian in its grip. The thing held him at arms length, hands biting into his shoulders and he couldn’t get away. God, it was strong. “Brian. Shut up before someone calls the cops.” Someone calling the cops sounded pretty damn good to him right at this very moment. So did fainting, actually, which only proved how scared he was. Terrified was more the word, right down to his bones. Wait a minute. It had called him by name. He popped open one eye. And stared up into green eyes and a shock of red hair over a freckled face. Darcy. He nearly did faint, then, out of sheer relief. His mouth snapped closed and he sagged against the door.

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“Jeesh, Bri, I knew I had you, but I didn’t think you were going to go all scary movie on me.” Darcy let him go and unlocked the door, pushing it open. Brian managed to get his feet back under him before he fell over into the foyer, but it was a near thing. “What do you mean, ‘you knew you had me’?” Darcy looked smug as he closed and locked the door. Before he could answer, there was a noise from the stairs. Brian and Darcy both jerked their heads in the direction the noise had come from, finding Paul standing halfway down the staircase, hockey stick raised menacingly. Well, calling it menacing would have been kind and Paul would have been far more fearsome if he played baseball instead of hockey because a bat would have been menacing. “Holy fuck, it’s you two.” “You were expecting Dracula or something?” Darcy was looking more and more amused with each passing second. “And what were you going to do with that hockey stick? Puck him to death?” “Ha ha ha. Lucy woke me, said there was something making noises down here and I had to come check it out.” Paul lowered the hockey stick. “So if it’s just you two being assholes and waking everyone up, I’m going back to bed.” Paul grinned suddenly. “My lady’s awake and I just played the big bad hero. Time to go back to bed and collect my reward.” Paul pumped his hips vulgarly; his covered by leopard print briefs hips. “Eww.” Brian laughed when he and Darcy said it at the same time. “If the room is a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’!” Paul disappeared up the stairs, the words singsonging down to them. “He does that on purpose,” muttered Brian. Paul knew he was gay – all his roommates did – and somehow Paul thought it was hilarious to paint hetero sex scenes in his head. The animal print underwear only served to make it more horrific. Someone should make a scary movie with that. He flashed suddenly on that image in seventy foot surround-sound glory and shuddered. “Yeah, he does.” Darcy grinned suddenly. “You need me to walk you to your room?” “Fuck off.” Brian rolled his eyes. He had to admit, the incident with Paul had managed to help him get his equilibrium back. The terrors had been interrupted. They weren’t entirely gone, but he was feeling more himself. And if he didn’t really want to walk up the stairs and down the dark, shadowy hall to his room on his own, well, he didn’t need to share that. “It’s not like I’m not heading in the same general direction.” Darcy fell into step with him and bumped his shoulders as they headed up the stairs. “Yeah, fine. Whatever.”

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Darcy bumped their shoulders again and Brian felt his old attraction for the guy come back with a vengeance. He’d fallen for Darcy when they’d first moved in here. The guy wasn’t goodlooking, not in any sort of conventional manner, but he had a hundred-watt smile and that shock of red hair was adorable. As were the freckles. Brian kind of wanted to find out if Darcy had them all over, but he’d never had the guts to ask if Darcy was gay or straight and Darcy had never once had anyone over, male or female. Darcy cleared his throat, making Brian jump. They were standing outside his door and he’d been staring. Shit. Heat climbed up his cheeks. “Oh. Here we are already.” Oh, great, add that to his screaming fit out on the front porch and Darcy had to be thinking he was an idiot. “I, uh...” Yeah, he had nothing. Darcy rolled his eyes and leaned in, kissing him suddenly. Brian froze. He stared at Darcy’s eyelids, at the thick red eyelashes that fanned across the top of Darcy’s cheeks. He could smell Darcy: fresh air and decidedly male. When Darcy’s tongue swiped at his lips, Brian opened his mouth, letting Darcy in. A low moan came from somewhere inside him. Their lips parted and Darcy took a step back, watching him and not saying a word. “I... You... We...” Yeah, it would rock if he could finish even one of those sentences. “Kiss,” he finally said. “Uh-huh.” Darcy watched him for another minute and then Darcy raised his hand and slid his thumb across Brian’s lower lip, pushed the hair off the side of Brian’s head and behind his ear. “You’re going to have to give me more to go on, though.” “Huh?” Brian was feeling decidedly gobsmacked. They’d lived together for nearly two years and Darcy had never said anything. Was this another Halloween prank? Or was it a prelude to more kissing, which would be infinitely better. Like totally infinitely. Darcy’s face became guarded. “Are you getting ready to hit me upside the head, storm off into your room and slam the door behind you, or kiss me back?” “The last one, I think.” If he could make himself think, that was, because right now his mind was still working on ‘what?’ “You think? Darcy glanced down and the confidence rushed back into his face along with a smile. “Yeah, I think, too, but I’ll be happy to sway you in that direction.” Then Darcy leaned in and kissed him again. This time Brian kissed Darcy back. It was soft and tender, warm and damp, everything a first kiss, or second kiss as it happened, should be. Brian’s eyes dropped closed as another sound came out of him, this one definitely a

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moan and certainly loud enough for Darcy to hear. Which Darcy must have because Brian could feel Darcy’s smile against his lips. It made him smile, too, and he opened his mouth, pretty sure that would make the invitation clear. It was, Darcy’s tongue slipping between his lips and his teeth, and sliding over his tongue. A bolt of pure sensation shot through Brian as their tongues touched for the first time and he gasped, jerking back a little. “What?” murmured Darcy, not waiting for an answer before kissing him again, tongue delving into his mouth with the same strong sensation. Brian wanted more of that. Wrapping his arms around Darcy’s neck, he slid his own tongue forward, moaning as it touched Darcy’s and something almost like electricity went through him. This was good. This was really good. Brian couldn’t remember a kiss this good. He couldn’t remember anything coming even close. Darcy pushed him up against the door to his room, their kisses getting harder, deeper. Their tongues slid and tangled and explored, and a ball of tension began to form inside him. He needed. He didn’t want this to stop, but at the same time he wanted more. His ass pressed back against the door, Darcy’s hips pushing into him, making it clear that Darcy wanted more, too. A low moan sounded, barely audible, followed by, “Yes! Yes!” in a decidedly female voice. Darcy stopped, meeting his eyes. They both started to laugh. “Their room’s a rockin’,” Brian said, snickering. “Oh, God, shut up, you.” The sounds continued and Darcy nodded at his door. “You’ve got a bigger bed.” Yeah, he did. It was more comfortable, too, being a real bed, whereas Darcy had a convertible futon thing. Brian hated those, though he suspected for what they were planning, he would have put up with it. Still, if comfort was an option, it was what he was choosing. Reaching back, he got hold of the handle and opened the door. He grabbed Darcy’s hand and pulled him into the room. Once the door was closed Paul and Lucy’s noises faded away. He took Darcy over to his bed which was made because he did that every morning. Now he was happy for the habit he’d picked up at an early age. Then the state of the bed didn’t matter anymore, because Darcy was kissing him again. They crab-walked the rest of the way over to the bed, sinking down onto it once they got there. It was awkward sitting like this and twisting to kiss each other, so Brian lay back, bringing Darcy down with him. They wriggled and shifted up so they were lying properly on the bed, and by the time their mouths met again they were laughing.

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The laughter faded, though, as they got back into it, sharing electric kisses and rubbing together. He was hard inside his jeans and he could feel that Darcy was hard, too. It felt good, wanting and being wanted. They kept rubbing together. Darcy’s fingers pushed up under his shirt, making him gasp as the cold fingertips slid over his skin. Darcy stroked and petted, his skin feeling so sensitive under the touches. He finally got it together enough to touch back and Darcy pulled his shirt right off, and then Brian’s. By the moonlight coming in the window, Brian could see that the freckles did cover Darcy’s whole body, though they weren’t so tightly packed on his chest as they were on his shoulders and face. Now they rubbed skin on skin and that felt as good as the kissing. Brian touched one of Darcy’s freckles with his tongue, moaning as Darcy jerked for him. Then Brian grabbed for the button on Darcy’s pants, tugging it open and pulling down the zipper. Soft cotton briefs bulged, the heat right there, tempting him. Freckles seemed suddenly less than a priority. “I want to taste you,” Brian whispered. “Oh, God. Yes.” Darcy pushed at his pants and underwear, getting them below his hips, and then he kicked them off. Brian wiggled down the bed until he could get his mouth around Darcy’s cock. It was swollen and red and there was a single freckle right beside the slit. It was also hot enough it all but burned his tongue. Moaning, he wrapped his lips around it. The flavor was salt and musk. Brian did love the taste of man; there was nothing else like it. Darcy seemed pretty enthusiastic, too, moaning and groaning, whispering stuff like “don’t stop,” and “yes, like that.” Bobbing his head, Brian got a good rhythm going, up and down and up and down, taking a little more in each time. He could feel Darcy’s cock get harder, that last minute increase that meant Darcy would be coming soon. It had him sucking even more enthusiastically. All of a sudden it was happening. Darcy’s cock spurted, filling Brian’s mouth with salty liquid. Brian gagged a little, but managed to get it all down. “Brian. Shit. That was... yeah.” Laughing, Brian pushed his way back up so he could get a kiss. Some guys wouldn’t kiss you after you’d gone down on them; it was his litmus test. The good ones gave you that kiss. Darcy didn’t even hesitate, tongue pushing into his mouth along with a moan. Brian kissed Darcy back happily, his hips pushing, searching for something to rub against. Now that he’d gotten Darcy off, his own need had developed a bit of urgency to it. Darcy broke the kiss off and started undoing his jeans. Humming, Brian let Darcy have at him – he also liked a guy who remembered to reciprocate.

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Once he was free of his clothes, Darcy’s hand circled him. “This good?”

Brian nodded and wrapped his hand over Darcy’s, showing Darcy how he liked it. The truth was

he liked it a lot with Darcy, period, and it didn’t take very long at all before his cry was being

silenced by Darcy’s mouth as his cock throbbed and he came.

They kissed afterward and Brian tugged the covers up over them, feeling all lazy and sleepy.

“You’ll stay, right?” He wanted more than just a simple hand job, but he was tired now. Hell, he

wanted more than a one-night – or half-night would be more accurate – stand with Darcy.

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

That felt good, knowing Darcy felt the same way.

They shifted and Brian found himself spooned by Darcy. It was awesome, having a warm body

at his back. Any residual heebie-jeebies were kept at bay this way. Brian just wished Darcy’d

come on to him sooner; he’d have liked to have had a hand to hold in the theatre and especially

on the way home.

“Hey, so that was really you following me home from the Elgin?”

“Huh?” Darcy sounded mostly asleep.

“You followed me home.”

“Nope. I got home like two seconds after you and decided it was the perfect time to creep up

behind you and get you. I never expected it to work as well as it did.”

“Oh.”

Something rustled outside his window and Brian closed his eyes tight. He was safe now, inside,

with someone. Right? The rustling came again along with something that very much sounded

like a howl. Brian pulled the covers over his head and pushed back into Darcy.

Whatever it was, it could take his new boyfriend first.

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The Scream-o-Rama Copyright © 2008 Vic Winter All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680 Printed in the United States of America. Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / October 2008 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

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