Naughty Neighbors

My feet pounded against the rain-slicked stone of the Dark Tower’s roof. I glanced behind me to see the same figure flitting between the shadows cast by the spires in the light of the full moon. I reached the edge of the roof and, nowhere else to go, looked down to the rocks below.

Behind me, a laugh, slow and maniacal, began echoing across the stone. The hairs on the back of my head stood on end when I realized I recognized it.

“I knew you’d find your way here, eventually,” came a female voice practically dripping in ecstasy. I turned to see the dark figure I’d been running from. I thought it had been a creation of the Dark Tower. I’d never have guessed it was her.

Cretian bent forward, letting her face come out of the shadow cast by the spire to my left and into the moonlight. Her vertical, snake-like pupils dilated as she took me in, like a rat stuck in a cage she was about to swallow.

“Your very presence defiles this place, Cretian. I’m surprised you’re here. How did you manage to follow me?”

“Follow you?” Cretian asked, tilting her head to the side. “I led you here.”

“You—”

Before I could finish my sentence, Cretian transformed into Sinda, the elderly seer who’d given me instructions to the Dark Tower.

“Turn left at the Tree of Nothing and follow the River of Five until you enter the Forest of Lights,” she said in the seer’s voice. As she continued, her voice and the seer’s melted until her own voice returned. “There lies the path to the Dark Tower.”

Cretian took another step forward and transformed back into herself, poison green skin and skeletal black wings on full display in the pale moonlight.

“I couldn’t risk your friends following you. Nobody will hear you as you beg for your life. Now hand over the Cristal.”

I clutched the Cristal around my neck, feeling it pulse with the energy of my lover’s soul. The Tower may have made me forget his name, but it can’t make me forget my love for him.

“You’re at the end of the line,” said Cretian.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ll never let you have his soul!”

I glanced back down to the bottom of the tower where waves lapped against the rocks. I’d never be able to jump out far enough to land in the water, but that wasn’t my plan anyway.

“Don’t be foolish, girl,” Cretian said, drawing my attention back to her. She was crouching, ready to pounce, her wings extended behind her. She roared, “Now hand me that Cristal!” and lunged at me.

I jumped and twisted myself in midair, looking straight down at the rocks.

I was sure they were an illusion, but I wasn’t absolutely certain. Still, I had no other option.

I was halfway down the Tower.

What if I’m wrong? I’ll never be able to save my love. I clutched the Cristal in my hand tight enough to feel it break skin as the ground came closer and closer.

I closed my eyes and—

***

A light came on in the house across the street from Eric’s window, drawing his attention away from the book he’d been reading. His eyes ached and were dry. He tapped on the screen of his phone to see the time on his lock screen: 2:30 AM.

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been reading for, but it was a very good book. Still, the house across the street from him had been uninhabited for nearly a year. Mr. Tillson, who owned most the houses on Mason Drive, had tried to sell it for years. Had he finally sold it, or had he broken down and rented it out?

Looking through the window, Eric could see it was a bedroom. A bed was visible from his vantage point as well as a dresser and a stack of boxes. As he watched, a man came into view.

Eric couldn’t see much of the man, mostly because the light came from behind him, the source hidden from Eric’s view. He could tell the mystery man had dark hair and a sharp jawline and was wearing a blue dress shirt and black dress pants. He wasn’t sure why, but Eric couldn’t tear his eyes away from the stranger even as he reached up and started undoing the buttons of his shirt.

He slipped it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor before reaching down and unfastening his belt. In one pull, the belt slipped through the loops of his pants. Something about that was extremely hot to Eric. He glanced around his room, making sure the lighting wasn’t bright enough for the stranger to see him. When Eric looked back at the mystery man, he had already removed his pants and was stretching in just his boxer briefs. He had turned slightly so the light from the lamp was on his body. He wasn’t overly muscled, but he was in great shape, and Eric watched as he stretched, pulling the muscles on his sides taught.

The mystery man lay down on his bed and didn’t move. Eric, knowing how wrong it was, kept watching him for several more minutes. Finally, he’d torn his eyes away and looked down at his book, which had closed, losing the page he was on. He flipped through it, trying to find the spot he’d been at and continue reading.

***

I jumped and twisted myself in midair, looking straight down at the rocks.

I was sure they were an illusion, but I wasn’t absolutely certain. Still, I had no other option.

I was halfway down the Tower.

What if I’m wrong? I’ll never be able to save my love. I clutched the Cristal in my hand tight enough to feel it break skin as the ground came closer and closer.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax, resigning myself to my fate. I reopened my eyes just as I passed through the rocks at the bottom of the Tower. On the other side of the illusion, I was in a room, falling toward the floor. I felt myself slowing as I grew closer, then touched down lightly on the stone. My legs shook. Whether in fear, shock, or relief, I wasn’t sure.

My heart gave a dramatic thump as I heard a rock clatter behind me. When I turned toward the noise, I saw a—

***

The mystery man turned over, catching Eric’s eye and, again, distracting him from his book. He checked the time again: 3:08 AM. Sighing to himself, Eric put his bookmark in the spine of his book and glanced once more at the mystery man before pulling his curtains closed and climbing into bed. He cursed himself as he lay there, wishing he’d gone to bed sooner. He had to be at work at 9:00 AM and would be dreadfully exhausted.

From where he lay on his bed, Eric could still see across to the mystery man lying in bed. Once again, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from him. After several minutes, the man rolled back onto his back and his rock-hard cock poked out of the hole of his boxers, which fell to the base of his erection. Eric gasped, unsure what to do. If someone else saw him and called the police, would he get an Indecent Exposure charge? Would he become a registered sex offender?

Eric got up out of bed and crossed back to his window. Although he told himself he wanted more time to think, he also wanted a closer look. It was hard to tell how big it was from this distance, but it looked to be at least eight inches and it stood firm, pointing straight up at the ceiling.

Eric knew what he had to do.

He threw on a robe and some flip flops and headed across the street. The bedroom was directly to the left of the front door and the mystery man’s meat came into closer view as he approached the front door. Eric took a deep breath and knocked a couple of times, then waited. When nobody came to the door, he rang the doorbell and waited again. Finally, the porch light came on to Eric’s right, piercing his eyes, and the door opened. The mystery man poked his head and one of his shoulders out, keeping the rest of his body completely hidden. Eric could see that he still wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Can I help you?” the mystery man asked in an accent Eric wasn’t sure about. Something with Spanish-speaking influence, he thought.

“Hi.” Eric wanted to kick himself. His words had come out airy, like he was in awe, which he kind of was. The mystery man was taller than Eric was with a sharp jawline, symmetrical features, and messy hair that he thought was adorable. With direct light on his face, Eric thought he looked to be of Latino decent. “I’m sorry to bother you,” Eric continued, making his voice a bit deeper, “but I’m your neighbor across the street. My name is Eric. I—” Eric’s cheeks burned. “—I came over here because I could see you…um…through your window.”

“Oh my fucking god,” the man said, hitting his forehead against the doorjamb. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s not a problem. I just didn’t want one of the less friendly neighbors to see you and call the cops instead. Mrs. Gibson, who lives to the left of me—your left, not my left—is a real bitch.”

“Well, thank you for waking me up and saving my ass and for not calling the cops. I am Diego.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want one of my neighbors to see me at full mast or—” Eric forced himself to stop talking, feeling his face burn again.

“Right,” Diego said, apparently unable to find anything else to say. “Well, I am going back to bed. I’ll hang a blanket to prevent any further showings on my part.”

“That’s good,” Eric replied, thinking the exact opposite of his words, although he didn’t want Diego to get in trouble.

“What do you say to coming over in the morning, say 9:30 and I’ll make us some breakfast? As a thank you for saving my skin.”

“Yeah, sounds like a great idea,” Eric said, knowing he had work, but deciding he’d call out. He had PTO days he hadn’t used, and they’d just expire in a couple of months anyway. “I’ll see you then.”

Eric crossed the street back to his house and locked the door behind him before catching sight of himself in his tall mirror on the door of his closet. His red hair was flat on one side where he’d lay on it, watching Diego sleep. His blue eyes, set above a spattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, practically glowed in the semidarkness of the hall. He groaned when he realized his robe had come open at some point. He was only wearing boxer briefs below them, and you could see his fiery red happy trail leading under his underpants.

Great, so him and Diego were almost even, he thought as he went back up to his room. The promise of breakfast with Diego helped him fall asleep easier than the thought of him going to work in the morning.

***

When Eric’s alarm went off at 8:30 AM, he called out of work and hopped into the shower, wanting to be as fresh as possible for Diego. He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to him. Diego probably wasn’t even gay. As the hot water poured over him, Eric’s mind slipped back to the night before, when Diego had turned over and his hard cock had slipped out of the pocket of his boxers. Eric imagined that Diego had invited him in instead.

“Please,” Diego said, “come on in and follow me to my room.” Once inside, Diego grabbed Eric by the back of the head and kissed him deeply, letting his tongue slide into Eric’s mouth before pulling out and kissing his way down Eric’s body. Eric let his robe fall to the floor as Diego’s tongue swirled around his naval.

“Oh, Diego,” Eric moaned. Diego’s hand slipped under the waistband of Eric’s briefs, grabbing his cock and rubbing for a few moments before he pulled them down. Diego’s mouth was inches from Eric’s tip when—

Eric shot his load all over the wall of his shower, his hand working furiously over the shaft. He groaned as his balls emptied and leaned against the wall. With a quick motion, he redirected the spray of the shower to the wall, washing the thick liquid down the drain before finishing his shower. He hoped that would get Diego out of his system. He didn’t need to pine over some straight guy.

At 9:30 sharp, Eric knocked on Diego’s door and this time he only had to wait a few moments before the door swung open. Diego stood in the doorway wearing nothing but grey sweatpants that did nothing to hide his dick.

“Ah, Eric,” Diego said, “come in.” He took a step back and raised his arm in welcome, directing Eric down the hallway to his left. As he let his arm drop, Diego’s hand brushed the side of his sweatpants, pulling the fabric taught against the form of his cock in his pants, which swung back and forth slightly before settling into its original position and, of course, Eric saw everything.

“Thank you,” Eric said as he stepped past Diego and moved down the hallway. Eric heard the front door close behind him and sensed Diego following him into the kitchen where the table was already set with a large plate of scrambled eggs, several pieces of toast, a mountain of bacon, and sausage links, plus a jug of orange juice and a pot of coffee.

“Sorry,” Diego said chucking. “I wasn’t sure what you like, and I have a habit of over cooking. Especially when I’m embarrassed or trying to make up for something. I guess this is a situation of both.”

“You don’t need to make up for anything,” Eric said, looking back at Diego who, much to Eric’s chagrin, was pulling a T-shirt over his head that was slightly too big for his lean frame.

“Ah, but I do,” Diego said, motioning for Eric to sit down. “You saw my…well, you know,” he shrugged, “and I’m sure you’d have rather not.”

You couldn’t be more wrong about that, Eric thought.

“It’s alright. Like I said: at least it was me and not someone who’d call the cops.”

“Yes, yes, I am grateful. Well, dig in. I was always taught to feed my guests before helping myself.”

I did as suggested, taking a bit of everything and pouring myself a cup of coffee while Diego filled his plate. I took a bite of the eggs and felt my eyes widen.

“These are really good,” I told him through my mouthful as I tried the bacon next. I noticed he hadn’t started eating, but was just staring at me.

I swallowed my food and said, “Everything okay?”

“Ah, yes, of course,” he said. “I just can’t wait to see you put my sausage in your mouth.”

I gawked at him for a moment until I realized he meant the sausages on the table.

“I home make them, here. They’re so plump and firm. Wait until the juices explode into your mouth. You will want to suck them dry.”

Okay, surely, he was doing this on purpose. Was he gay, and this was his way of seducing Eric?

Eric picked up one of the sausage links and bit into it. The taste of bell peppers, smokey pork, and salt covered his mouth as the juice from the sausage ran down his chin. He slurped, trying not to waste the wonderful-tasting liquid as he gulped hungrily.

“It is very good, no?”

“No,” Eric said, then shook his head, “I mean yes. It’s very good.”

“You got some of the juice running down your chin,” Diego said, pulling himself off his chair and leaning over the table. Eric could see straight down Diego’s shirt. His muscles tightened, showing his abs, keeping him from falling onto the table. He ran his finger up Eric’s chin, wiping the juice off and sucking it from his finger. Diego swirled his tongue around the digit, making sure it was completely clean. Or, had Eric imagined it?

“Sorry to get so close,” Diego said. “I was never good with…how you say? Boundaries.”

“That’s—that’s okay,” Eric said, trying to collect himself. He suddenly realized that most of his blood had ran from his head to his…other head.

“I am hoping we can become friends, Eric,” Diego said, and Eric realized how much he loved hearing his name in Diego’s accent.

“Y-yeah, I’d like that too. I don’t have many friends.”

“I have just moved here from Columbia and am hoping to meet people to help my English.”

“You’re from Columbia? Like Gloria from Modern Family.”

“Ah, yes, Sofia Vergara. Gloria was an inspiration for me. Coming to America to follow the American Dream.”

Eric saw an opportunity to sus out Diego’s sexuality.

“You mean you want to marry a rich guy?”

“Not exactly. I don’t need someone to be rich to marry them. Gloria married for love, not for the money. I want that.”

“True. Jay is a lucky guy, getting to marry someone that beautiful.”

“I agree, she is gorgeous, but not really my type. I like someone with a little less,” and he held his hands up at chest level. Does this mean he doesn’t like breasts? Or does he just like small breasts? “And a little more,” he held his hands up on either side of his hips.

Eric felt his heart sink. So, he liked women with wide hips and small breasts.

“You know what I am saying?” Diego asked.

“Yeah, I get it,” Eric said, feeling dejected.

They ate the rest of their breakfast, chatting some more. Eric learned that Diego was raised by his mother in Columbia and came to America with his dual citizenship his American father, who he had never met, had granted him with his birth.

Eric told Diego all about his family back in Columbus, Ohio, and Diego found it amusing that Columbus and Columbia were similar words. Once they’d finished eating, Diego showed Eric around his house and several times throughout the visit, Diego had once again done things that made Eric question his sexuality, although he didn’t press the issue, nor had he come out to Diego, who had brushed his hand through Eric’s hair, calling it a fire; he’d gripped his bicep in appreciation, but then mentioned going to the gym a lot; he’d even put his hand on the small of Eric’s back, but that was just to help him through an area that was being painted.

Eric knew Diego was straight and thought he could be a good friend. He wasn’t going to ruin that by coming onto him.

***

Diego shut the door behind Eric and watched through the peephole as he crossed the street back to his house, feeling frustrated. He’d dropped so many hints to Eric. He’d done everything he could think of except shove his tongue down Eric’s throat.

Ever since he’d seen Eric standing on his porch, robe open, with nothing but a thin pair of boxer briefs between him and that bulge, Diego could think of nothing else but ripping Eric’s clothes off and throwing him onto his bed.

But clearly Eric was straight, and he was starting to think a friendship was blossoming between them. He wasn’t going to ruin that for a hookup.