A Night of Horrors

It was a dark, stormy night, lighting fracturing the sky and thunder reverberating the air. The wind blew hard, making Allan struggle to keep his small hatchback in its lane. Stephen and he had been to a horror festival, a film series of some the best horror flicks ever made, in their opinions. They had sat through all six of them over the last two nights and were now heading back to the university. It was late, nearly two in the morning, but neither had wanted to spend another night in the small town that held the festival. Being college students, their money was tight, so they had decided to drive through the night.

The wind gusted, making Allan run off the road. There was a loud banging to the underside of the car and once back on the road, the car began to steer oddly, pulling to the right.

“I think we’ve got a flat.”

“Shit. We’ll never make it back tonight,” Stephen replied, sitting up. “What’s that up ahead?”

Rain lashed at the windshield blurring the road ahead. But as they neared the light became a sign, then it became legible.

Blakes Motel
Vacancy

“I’m stopping,” said Allan, slowing to turn. He was exhausted from being up late for two nights in a row, and the strain of trying to see through the windshield in the storm.

“But it looks like a dump?”

“Do you see anything else?”

“No, but…”

Allan knew what Stephen was hinting at. He saw it too. The old motel with its canopy along the front and behind it, up on a hill, lights of a residence could be seen through the rain. But he knew they read too much horror, watched too many movies of the same genre, and far too often, did things to scare each other. Last fall, during their freshman year, they had visited every haunted house set up for Halloween. They had gone to a fetish party at a club in Atlanta last spring and now the two of them were returning from two nights of movies.

They were friends brought together last year, having been roommates in the dorm. They had been the weirdos on the floor. The two guys who wore black, and jewelry of skulls and demons. Their walls were covered in old horror flick posters and images of devils. It set them apart from the jocks and the other guys. It made them different, something each had felt in ways big and small. They were not popular with the girls, struggled to talk to them. And the jocks were intimidating.

There were similarities between the two of them. Both came from families where the parents divorced. They had older siblings, both the youngest, and suffered the tormenting each dished out. Allan’s older brother always wrestling him down on the ground or messing with him about his book and movie collection. Stephen had two older sisters who tormented him in different ways. They tried to change him, then would walk in on him in the tub, making snide comments about his little boy body. It was another similarity. They were both small framed, skinny, Allan only five foot five in height. Stephen appeared even skinnier with his six-foot frame, and long arms and legs.

Allan pulled up to the small office that anchored one end of the small single-story motel. All the lights were off except for one security light in the parking lot and a lone bulb burning outside the office.

“I’ll see if I can get someone,” said Allan climbing out and running underneath the canopy.

Stephen watched him walk up to the office door, lean toward it reading some sign, then pressing a doorbell. It seemed to take forever, but a light came on inside the office, then a man came up to the door and let Allan in. A few minutes later, Allan came out, holding up a key, then gesturing down the canopy.

“Fuck it,” Stephen uttered, climbing out of the car and rushing underneath the canopy where he followed Allan down to their room, relieved to see him pass room 1, going on down to room 2 instead.

Light on, they stood at the door looking at the single queen size bed, with its ugly brown blanket. The lamp gave off a dull yellow glow making the room seem dark even with the light on.

“We have to share a bed?”

“Yes. The double rooms are booked.”

“There’s only three cars out there?”

“And there are only ten rooms total.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s get a shower and some sleep. I can fix the flat in the morning,” said Allan, stepping out the door to retrieve his luggage, Stephen right behind him. “Glad I brought extra clothes.”

“Me too.”

Allan came out of the bathroom wearing a t-shirt and boxers. Stephen looked at his friend and realized he had never seen him naked. Not once, in their first year or during the last two weeks of this year’s fall term. He wondered about the body underneath the clothes, and if Allan was as self-conscious about his body as he was about his own.

“The bathroom is all yours,” said Allan, sitting on the bed, flipping on the television.

Stephen went into the small bathroom, with its dull and cracked wall tile, the tub with some staining from years of use. The only light was the small one over the wall-hung sink, making the room as dark and gloomy as the main room. He stripped out of his clothes, avoiding his reflection in the mirror, as he started the shower, then stepped into the tub, pulling the clear shower curtain closed.

Stephen held a hand under the warm water, frowning at its weak spray. Then he stepped under it and felt it relieve the tension he had been feeling. He lathered up his long black hair, then scrubbed his skin, noting his pale whiteness that seemed to glow in the dim light. He was rinsing off when he heard it. A soft tapping sound, then a rumbling sound that seemed to be coming from next door. He pressed his ear to the cool tile and listened.

“Oooohhhhhhhh…oohhh...”

It sounded liked someone in pain. Like they were being hurt, and he jerked back from the wall, staring at it, as if whoever it was could come through it. He started to put his ear against the wall again when there came a banging sound, like someone was trying to get through the wall. He jumped back, shut the water off quickly, and climbed out. He toweled off and grabbed up his clothes, not wanting to be in the bathroom another second.

He stormed out and stood in the room, eyes wide, his heart beating fast.

“What is it?” asked Allan.

“Did you hear it?”

“Hear what?”

“You didn’t hear…someone in the next room?”

“No. Hey, do you want something to drink? There’s a vending machine on the side of the office.”

“Yeah…sure…”

“I’ll be right back.”

Allan left and Stephen was suddenly glad, for he had to get dressed and like Allan, he had never done so in front of him. He tossed his towel over the bathroom door and slipped his long legs into the boxers. Then he pulled on a t-shirt, a black one with the image of a demon on front and he wondered if he should dig another out.

Allan walked down the canopy, staying close to the wall, for the wind blew rain underneath it. The wind whipped down the canopy making his t-shirt and boxers flutter against his body. At the end of the canopy, standing in front of the office, he looked around the corner at the vending machine tucked under the eave. It was obvious some bulbs were burned out in its cabinet for it was only partially lit, casting a dim glow into the rainy night. Holding a few bills for a couple of drinks, he raced to the front of the machine. He worked to get one bill into the slot and watched it get pulled in at a painfully slow rate. Rain hit his back and head and he was soon wet, as he fumbled to get another bill into the machine. He watched it get drawn in and the amount change in the little red readout, which glowed brightly in the darkness around it. He pushed a selection and listened to the machine drop it into the tray. He slipped another bill in the slot and then another, finally able to make another selection. It landed with a thud in the tray and he bent to retrieve both.

A ghostly white hand grabbed his arm and he spun around to face a hooded figure, only a dark hole where the face should be. He screamed, stumbling back against the vending machine as the hand reached out again. The cloaked figure moved toward him, hand reaching out. All Allan could see was the white hand with nails that were black. ‘It’s dead,’ he thought as he struggled to get his footing.

Finally, on his feet, Allan ran toward the canopy but came up short. A figure stood at the edge of it, freakishly tall, with a hand reaching out toward him, fingers moving in a weird way. The face was in dark shadow, the ghoul in dark silhouette.

“Fuck!” Allan exclaimed and stumbled backwards where a hand touched his shoulder. He spun around facing the dark hole in the hood, only the white hands of the being visible. He ran out toward the road then cut back to the motel, finally remembering Stephen was in the room, and there had to be some safety in numbers.

Rushing into the room, gasping for breath, Allan slammed the door shut and locked the knob and the slide latch.

“What? What happened?” Stephen asked, growing more scared.

Allan stared at the door as he took a few steps back. He was visibly shaking. When he pointed at the door, his hand shook.

“There’s a…ghost or ghoul…or demon…I don’t know what…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Outside...they attacked me.”

“They?”

“There is one that doesn’t have a face and another that is eight…no nine feet tall.”

“No,” Stephen replied, not wanting to believe Allan, but he slid up the bed till his back was at the wall with knees pulled up.

Thunder rumbled, growing louder and louder, as the wind whipped around the old motel. The rain fell harder, and Allan sat on the edge of the bed staring at the door.

“You think they’re still out there?” Stephen whispered, afraid to raise his voice.

“I don’t know.”

Lightning crackled and popped, hitting something nearby. The lights flickered and went off, leaving the room dark. Another flash of lighting and the room lit up for a fraction of a second revealing Stephen had moved up behind Allan, the two of them watching the door.

“Go look out,” Stephen whispered.

“You go.”

“No, you. You know what they look like.”

“Fuck,” Allan uttered as he eased off the bed. He moved to the door and listened. He looked out through the peephole, seeing only the darkness of night.

“What do you see?” asked Stephen, who eased off the bed and stood behind him.

“Nothing.”

“Look out the window.”

“But it so dark.”

Stephen turned on the flashlight feature on his cellphone and held it out to Allan.

“But it’ll give us away?”

“Just look…please,” Stephen pleaded.

Holding the phone down, illuminating the wall below the window, Allan eased the curtain back. There was something there, white, up close. He raised the phone until they saw it. A white face with wild unruly hair. It was an elderly woman with large dark eyes and a grin that looked evil. She began to laugh, hysterically, then turn the doorknob.

“Let me in…let me in…” the old woman asked in a low voice that sounded wrong.

“Turn off the light…turn it off,” Stephen yelled, knocking the cellphone out of Allan’s hand, fumbling to pick it up and turn off the light.

They rushed back to the bed, sitting on it near the headboard, hugging each other. They stared into the darkness as they heard the doorknob turning and the jiggling of the door.

“Jesus, she’s going to get in,” Allan uttered, breathless as he hugged Stephen tighter.

They clung to each other, both shaking uncontrollably. The door fell silent, and the only sound was their heavy breathing, which could be heard over the storm outside. After a minute, they relaxed, let go of each other and lay back on the bed, propped up on pillows against the headboard.

“Jesus, what are we going to do?” Allan whispered.

“Wait for morning and get the hell out of here.”

They lay side by side, arms and legs touching, each afraid to lose contact with the other. The room was pitch black, so dark nothing could be seen. So, they lay listening, hearing the wind and rain. No matter how useless their sight, they kept their eyes wide open, afraid to close them.

“I’m never going to fall asleep,” Stephen whispered.

The door was rattled in its frame, hard, then the sound of the doorknob being turned.

“Fuck!” Allan exclaimed as they rolled to face each other, hugging in desperation. The door fell silent, but they clung to each other, afraid to let go. Bodies pressed together, rubbing skinny chests and undulating stomachs together, and cocks growing hard out of fear or need or a desperate arousal neither could explain.

Allan buried his face in Stephen’s neck, felt the smooth skin against his cheek, then against his lips. He did not know why, but he kissed the skin, once, twice, then three times. He ran his hands up and down Stephen’s long back, then daringly, down over the curve of ass.

Stephen responded, the contact preying on his own fears, and the need for someone. He moved against the lean body, pushed his hips against it, feeling his cock grow harder. He felt the kisses on his neck and held his head back giving Allan the space to move on him. He felt the hands squeeze his ass, then one reach between them and touch him. He moaned at the feel of fingers on his cock, even with the layer of clothing separating them.

Then they kissed, lips pressed together and tongues dueling.

Stephen sat up pulling Allan to sit up too. He tugged on the t-shirt pulling it over Allan’s head. Then he removed his own t-shirt and they touched each other. Trailed fingers over bare skin, down sternums, over undulating stomachs and back up till circling nipples now hard. Their hands shook, but now it was another reason, as Stephen grew bold and trailed one hand down Allan’s body again, not stopping till he was toying with the trapped erection. He fingered the front of the boxers until he found the fly and worked two fingers through it, touching the bare cock, the hard shaft with its smooth skin. They both exhaled hard, and Allan moaned at the feel of the fingers raking over the head.

Stephen pushed Allan to his back and moved down to the foot of the bed. He felt up each leg, fingers grazing over the smooth nearly hairless legs until he felt the boxers. He took the waistband and pulled them down, stripping Allan. He tossed the boxers into the darkness and moved down between the legs, until he felt a thigh against his cheek. He moved upward and felt the loose sac against his chin, then the hard cock against his cheek. He moved to them, tongued the sac, feeling the nuts move within it. He tongued the base of Allan’s cock, then dragged it up along the hard shaft till the head was against his lips. He pushed against it, letting it slip between them, taking Allan in his mouth.

Mouth moving up and down, Stephen felt the cock fill it, growing thicker and longer in his mouth. He worked his lips along the shaft, while running hands up along Allan’s sides then over his flat stomach and chest. He felt the smooth skin, the heat of it against his hand. He felt the cock flex in his mouth. Then Allan pushing upward, sinking it into his mouth until he nearly choked. But he took each thrust upward. Every one of them, and didn’t pull off when he felt the cock flex, thicken, then fill his mouth with cum.

Stephen rose to his knees and worked his boxers off, needing to be naked. He felt his cock bob freely in front of him and he took it in hand. The bed rocked, then a hand pushed his away and took him, stroking him to full hardness. He felt the hand tug him forward, pull him to move down on Allan. He felt raised legs against his chest, and the hand on his cock guiding him, pulling him down till he felt the head push against Allan. He knew where he touched him as the hand raked his cock up and down, then held it still, giving it a tug. Stephen knew to push forward, and he felt his cock squeeze through an almost unbearable tightness.

Allan cried out, legs shuddering against Stephen’s chest, as he pushed with his hips. He felt every inch squeeze through the tightness until his hips pressed against the upturned ass. Then he began to fuck, to work his hips slowly, an inch out, then push back in. Over and over, working more and more of his cock through the tightness until it loosened to him. He increased his pace, fucked harder, faster. Hands ran up his sides, then hugged their bodies together as he piston cock inside of Allan. The bed began to rock, to squeak, then bang against the wall. Allan’s cries grew louder, then he began to plead with Stephen, begging him to fuck harder.

Stephen had never felt so aroused. Consumed with his desire, his lust, the only thing he could think of was the pleasure Allan was giving him. He was not aware of the calming weather, the break in the storm, for he only could feel the storm within. The swirl of emotions, his sexuality, this need for someone.

Allan held him by the back of the neck and pulled him down, until their lips were pressed together. They kissed roughly, passionately, as Stephen drove into Allan’s depths over and over. He fucked faster, feeling the heat of his own body, the sense he was burning up. He kissed Allan and thrust into his depths and came.

Stephen pulled out, cock still hard, and he flipped Allan to his stomach and moved over him again. He put his wet cock to the loosened opening and sank back into it.

“Oh…yes…fuck…” Allan cried out, pushing up to take every inch.

On his hands, body hovering over the prone one below, Stephen fucked at a furious pace, hammering cock into Allan’s hole, hips smacking against ass. The sound of it filled the room. Only the bed banging against the wall was louder. He fucked until his only sense was his cock. The feel of it as it piston through the loosened opening. Wet, slick, sliding into Allan’s depths easily. He fucked until his toes curled and his body was wet with sweat. With muscles strained more than ever before, Stephen pushed into Allan all the way and came again.

Collapsed by Allan, Stephen guided him to roll over, ready to suck him off again. He ran his hand down the hot skin of the chest, the undulating stomach until he was rubbing it over wet, slick skin and a flaccid cock.

“I came when you were fucking me,” Allan whispered, then snuggled up next to Stephen.

Their fear was extinguished, exhaustion far too great to think of it, and the two of them drifted off to sleep.

There was banging next door, and outside the beeping of a truck backing up. Stephen stirred first, opening his eyes to see Allan laying next to him on his stomach, completely exposed. At first, he panicked at the memory of what they had done, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking at the sleeping form next to him, with its lean body and narrow round ass. He reached out to touch it, but when Allan stirred, he jerked his hand back.

Needing to piss in the worst way, Stephen didn’t wait on Allan to open his eyes, instead jumping for the bed and going into the bathroom, where the banging from next door was worse. After pissing, he washed his hands, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The tall skinny body and he wondered how Allan would look at him now. Would it be with disgust and shame, or would it be like his own mixed emotions, when he had looked at Allan, naked on the bed?

He stepped into the shower to wash the grimy feel from his skin. Head held down, under the spray, he heard the door open, then Allan pissing in the toilet.

“We still don’t have power,” said Allan.

Stephen noted the normal tone of voice and looked over at the naked body standing next to the tub. The flaccid cock held out, the lean torso and the messed up black hair. Then he saw the eyes looking his way, smiling, mischievous.

“Can I get in with you?”

“Sure.”

“Was last night real?”

“I don’t know, but let’s get cleaned up, dressed and checked out,” Stephen replied as he handed the soap to Allan. He expected Allan to bathe himself, but the soapy hands came to his body, rubbed slickly up his chest, around his neck and across the shoulders.

“Turn around and I’ll do your back, then you can do mine.”

Dressed in jeans and t-shirts, they eased to the door where Stephen hesitated.

“Go on, open it. Can’t you hear all that commotion outside. It’s got to be safe,” said Allan.

Stephen eased the door open and saw a plumber’s truck parked in front of the room next door. Looking further around the jamb, he saw a utility truck at the pole in front replacing the transformer. As they stepped out, the plumber came out of the next-door room.

“Hey, did you guys hear the plumbing next door? They said it was making a horrible racket. Not surprised with what I found,” the plumber asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Allan replied as they felt their faces flush with the heat of embarrassment.

There was movement down a few rooms and a girl came out, followed by a boy. She was average height, but the boy was tall, about six foot eight, and both were dressed in black, with their faces painted white with black makeup.

“I wonder if they were at the film festival,” said Stephen as Allan watched them use sign language to communicate with each other, and he turned away, unable to face his demons from the night before.

They tossed their duffel bags into Allan’s car, then went to the office to check out. A woman was behind the counter, hair slightly messed up and looking frazzled. When they stepped up, she turned to them with a worried expression.

“I really hope last night wasn’t too crazy for you. First we had the plumbing next door acting up, then lightning taking out our transformer, and…” she hesitated, then with a lowered voice, “an elderly woman didn’t mess with you last night, did she?”

“An elderly woman?” asked Stephen, sensing where the conversation was heading.

“Yes. She’s John’s mother and has a bit of dementia. The storm last night made it worse, and we found her down here trying to get into the rooms.”

“Why would she do that?” asked Allan.

“She used to help us clean them. It gave her something to do, you know, some purpose, but we had to stop her when the dementia set in. Sometimes she thinks she is still to clean rooms.”

“I see,” Allan replied.

“She didn’t try to get in your room?”

“No,” Stephen exclaimed, unwilling to discuss it further.

Allan changed the flat, putting the space saver on the car, and they headed down the road. There was a small town about five miles away with a service station and shop where they could get the flat fixed and back on the car. They motored along, windows down letting the cool morning air swirl around the interior.

Stephen held a hand out into the wind, angling it up and down feeling the changes in pressure. When the music was being changed, he glanced over and looked at Allan. He wondered if they were to go back to the way they were before. Just friends. But he wondered if he could do it, for he thought of their sex. The intimacy of it, and the physical aspects too. He felt his cock stir as he thought of last night. Even their simple shower this morning was enough to arouse him. Allan watched the road ahead, appearing to be driving with his full focus, but Stephen saw him glance over, smile, then adjust his cock.

The service station was busy, a Ford wagon up on a rack being serviced, and in the next bay a Chevy truck, with the hood up, the engine refusing to start. Allan pulled up to the far garage bay and parked. One of the mechanics came out, wiping hands on a greasy blue rag.

“I was going to ask what you needed, but I see you’re running one of those damn space savers,” said the mechanic.

“The tire has a nail in it. Can you patch it?” asked Allan.

“If it is a clean hole and not in the side wall.”

“It appears to be clean and it is in the tread,” said Allan going to the back of the car, raising the hatch, then lifting the tire out. He rolled it up to the mechanic who stooped to it.

“Yep, looks clean. You just need to let me finish Mrs. Gibson’s wagon and I’ll get it fixed for you.”

“Thanks,” Allan replied.

“You can wait inside.”

Stephen had wandered off, standing at the far side of the building, and Allan motioned for him to follow him inside. They sat in worn chairs, with fabric soiled from years of use. On the beat-up coffee table lay hunting and car magazines, some over a year old. For a few minutes they sat silent, just looking around the room, then through the glass door into the shop. But Allan started it. A simple bump of knee against knee. He did it once, twice, then three times and they smiled at each other.

“About last night…” Stephen whispered, unsure what to say.

“Do you have a problem with it?” asked Allan, suddenly turning serious.

“No, but…do you?”

Allan smiled again, shaking his head.

“Have you ever…before?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

“But I’ve thought about it. A lot…in the last year.”

Stephen realized what Allan was saying and he blushed, turning his head away. It was the first time someone had talked about him like this.

The bump of knees again.

“Come on,” Stephen exclaimed, sounded exasperated. He led Allan to the side of the service station, down to the narrow door labeled ‘Men’, pulling him inside the small room. It was clean but showed its years of use with faded and flaking paint, cracked tile floor and a mirror over the wall-hung sink that was deteriorating around its perimeter. Graffiti covered the walls, mostly around the toilet, but the two of them took no notice of any of it.

Stephen pushed Allan against the door and went to his knees. He frantically worked open Allan’s jeans pulling everything down to mid-thigh. Then he took Allan in hand, manipulating him, making his cock grow erect. Leaning over, he slipped it in his mouth and soon it filled it. He worked lips along its length, toyed with the head with his tongue and fondled the sac with his fingers, making Allan try to spread his legs as he fell back against the door.

Stephen sucked until the cock flexed in his mouth then filled it with cum. He sat back on his heels, licking his lips, with his desire sated. He looked up at Allan who ran a hand through his hair, pulled his head back while leaning down to kiss him.

When Allan stood up, he didn’t pull up his jeans, instead he turned to face the door and pushed his ass out toward Stephen. Stephen stood, undid his jeans, taking out his growing erection. He stroked it, then rubbed it over the narrow round ass. Allan reached back and spread his cheeks and Stephen rubbed his cock up and down the space between them. He rubbed his cock over the tight rosebud opening till it was wet with his precum, then he pushed through its tightness. He eased into Allan, working every inch of his cock into him. He pushed forward until his hips were pressed against Allan’s ass. He kissed the back of Allan’s neck, held the narrow waist, and began to fuck.

Stephen fucked with a furious pace. He held tight to Allan and hammered cock into his depths. Allan moaned and uttered in a strained voice for him to fuck harder. And he did.

Within minutes, Stephen was pressed to Allan’s back, shuddering with release. When he pulled out, cock dripping, he leaned back against sink and watched Allan turn toward him. Allan moved to him and kissed him. It was gentle, unlike those during their sex, and he knew things would be different between them.

Back on campus, they fell into their role of freaks for the dorm floor. The two guys who wore all black and went to those goth parties and watched the worst horror movies, howling with laughter. The guys on the floor had been friendly enough, although at times it seemed force, but now there was something else going on. The guys seemed wary of them, almost afraid. It wasn’t the black clothing, or the music they played or the movies they watched. It was how their door stayed closed much of the time, with sounds coming from their room that were far more unnerving to some of the guys than the horror movies or music.