Lucas POV
My heart raced with anticipation as I awaited Ethan's return. Today was the day our friend Liam would be sending out the coveted invitations to his exclusive Halloween bash. The Halloween party of all parties. It’s the most sought-after event in Phoenix’s gay community. It comes with the promise of extravagance in the form of costumes that push the boundaries of creativity, elaborate decorations, and an immersive atmosphere. Prizes for the costumes that best fit the theme of the party, which no one knows until the invites go out. Which doesn’t give them a lot of time to plan. And it is always cryptic as fuck.
Liam is… enigmatic for lack of a better term. He’s the vision of allure with his long blond hair, lean physique, and a look that perfectly balances sexy with sophistication. And, of course, it would be a crime not to mention his flawless derrière. I may be mostly bottom, but even I can recognize a perfect ass. Round and tight, the kind of ass that makes every pair of jeans look custom-tailored. With just enough curve to draw the eye and hold it. Yes, I am jealous. I love my ass, but I have to work for it. Hours in the gym to keep it perfect.
I would be willing to bet that he has a personal trainer whose primary goal in his workout routine is to have a perfect ass. He captures everyone’s attention. He’s the mystery man everyone desires. It doesn’t matter if he isn’t your normal type. He’s Liam. So he is your type. It’s like a primal law of the universe. You either desired to be him or be with him.
Last year was the first year we were invited, largely thanks to the merger between Phoenix Industries and Keystone Services. Ethan worked for Phoenix, Liam for Keystone, and now they work together. That’s how they met, and through Ethan, I met Liam.
It had been a surprise to be invited since the merger was still fresh, and we’d only just barely started getting to know each other. But who am I to question it?
The theme that year was “Fantasy Market.” Everyone was given two aluminum cards, like the trading card games people play. Each one was laser etched with a made-up artifact or weapon. You could keep the ones you were given, or you could trade them with others. The goal was to end up with two artifacts that, for some strange reason, were meant to be together. There was prize money for that, too, and somehow he made everyone want to participate.
Later, I learned the theme had a purpose that only made sense in hindsight. Ethan wasn’t the only gay employee from Phoenix Industries who had been invited, and plenty of people from Keystone were there too. The game was designed to force interaction, to push people to mingle and make trades, to get to know each other. A social manipulation acted out on a grand scale. I wish I had figured that out on my own, but it was Liam who explained it to Ethan months later, and Ethan who explained it to me. Looking back, I see it clearly. I should have seen it then too. The night was still a blast.
You didn’t have to follow the theme; his only real rule, costume-wise, was that you put in an effort. He makes it pretty clear. If you throw on a fun t-shirt and call yourself a gamer. You aren’t getting in. And don’t go to the local spirit store to buy the first thing you see on the racks. It might get you in, but you might not get an invite the following year.
His definition of effort didn't translate to financial extravagance either. He was keenly aware that not everyone possessed the financial means to splurge on elaborate outfits. Instead, what he sought was creativity and effort. It wasn't about spending a fortune; it was about embracing your ingenuity.
He’s perfectly fine with someone showing up in nothing but a Speedo and full body paint, as long as the effort is there. Last year’s winners were a lesbian couple who went all in on the “Fantasy Market” theme, transforming themselves into nymphs. They wore nothing but a swimsuit that barely covered anything, painted head-to-toe in shimmering green and gold, draped in gaudy jewelry, they claimed to be hawking at the market. It didn’t cost much, but it was clever, eye-catching, and unforgettable. That’s what Liam wanted, commitment to the idea.
Age mattered too. No one under eighteen was allowed through the door, not with the kind of costumes people dreamed up and the risqué behavior that tended to surface as the night wore on. It should give you a pretty clear picture of the shenanigans that occasionally happen.
I waited on the couch, my thoughts swirling with a mix of excitement and curiosity. What surprises did Liam have in store for us this time? TJ, one of Liam’s core circle of friends, would no doubt be involved in the planning. The two are thick as thieves. Noah, and Talon round out the Quartet. If something is going on with one of them, they are all involved in one way or another.
I received a text message this morning from another mutual friend Cael, who also happens to work with them. “Invites are going out. I just got mine.” They all work together. Ethan works in Human Resources, and Cael is a cost accountant.
Needless to say, the text message has kept me on edge all day long. I tried asking Cael about the theme, but he wouldn’t tell. The ass was getting a kick out of making me wait for it. I had to stop myself multiple times from bothering Ethan. I wasn’t going to be the guy who kept asking “Are we there yet?”
I was hoping Ethan would send me a message when he got his invite, but I knew that hope would be in vain. Ethan would also get a kick out of making me wait. He’s like that. The moment he knows you want something. He will make a game of keeping it from you, just to make you want it even more.
I couldn’t help but wonder what craziness he would unleash this year. What mysterious theme would he dream up? And most importantly, what was the hidden purpose behind it?
The front door creaked open, and my heart leaped into my throat. Ethan was home. "I'm home.” He called out as soon as he was in the door. “Did you miss me?"
I wrapped my arms around him, unable to contain my excitement. "You have no idea! I've been counting down the minutes." The minutes until you got home with the damn invites, I said to myself. I wanted to scream, I love you, now where are they?
Ethan chuckled and planted a soft kiss on my lips. "You're too cute, you know that?"
“I try.”
As we separated, I couldn't help but glance at his laptop bag. His hands were empty. The devil knew what I wanted and was intentionally drawing out the suspense. Liam either hands them out personally or sends them via messenger. And we didn’t get any messengers to the house today. Not that I expected one. They work together. Why would he hire a messenger to deliver something to someone who was on the next floor down? The anticipation was killing me, and my big devil knew it.
"So, did anything interesting happen today?”
Ethan's brow furrowed as he looked at me, his expression teasing. "Hmm, not really. Just the usual stuff. Why do you ask?"
I wanted to scream, but instead, in my best parental tone, said, “Ethan.”
Ethan's grin widened, and he raised an eyebrow. "You're being awfully mysterious today, Lucas. What's going on?"
My heart raced, and I finally gave in, letting him win this little game of his. “Did we get the invite?"
He laughed heartily, his eyes sparkling with delight. “You're too much! Acting like it's a matter of life and death. Is it really so important?”
I gave him the “I’m not buying it” look. I knew full well Ethan was looking forward to this event just as much as I was.
"Sorry to disappoint you, my love, but we didn't get an invite this year."
He tried his hardest. I love him. But he couldn’t even get to the “we didn’t” without giving away the deception on his face. “FUCK.” He breathed out and then slipped his hand into his laptop bag. My heart was practically doing cartwheels in my chest as he pulled out a beautifully decorated envelope. The Halloween-themed design was an intricate work of art, and I held my breath as he handed it to me.
With trembling hands, I carefully opened the envelope, revealing a gorgeously designed invitation. It was adorned with dark, elegant patterns, complete with a wax seal, the letters LC embedded in the wax. Liam Cunning.
I couldn't contain my excitement any longer. "You tease! “ I leaned in and kissed him.
“It gets better.” He replied and pulled out two more envelopes. “Two guest passes. So we have some decisions to make.”
“Underworld Uprising.” That was the theme. We pulled out the boxes of costumes from previous years. Wondering if we had anything that might serve as a starting point. We wouldn’t be re-suing one. There’s no creativity in that. Our goal was clear: could we blend elements from our past costumes to craft something fresh and innovative, or would we need to conjure a completely new concept? Our living room resembled the aftermath of a tornado within minutes.
As we sifted through the costume fragments, Ethan kept repeating, "Underworld Uprising," He examined each piece as if it held a clue. "Spirits or ghosts rising from the dead, in an uprising to take over the living?"
I pondered his suggestion for a moment before responding, “That’s too predictable. What if we interpret 'Underworld’ to mean vampires and werewolves? Creatures of the night coming to life?"
“He does like that movie,” Ethan responded. Ethan's eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he considered the possibility. "Or," he mused, "it could be the underworld of Greek mythology, Hades’ realm of darkness and mystery."
“And, he’s obsessed with Greek mythology,” I replied, then followed it up with a laugh. “You both have that in common.”
“As if you aren’t also.” He replied, never taking his eyes off the costumes. “It’s typical Liam. He picks a theme to help give an overall direction, but that theme is so open to interpretation that it’s virtually meaningless. “
“Underworld could mean the criminal underworld too.” I offered.
“Ok. Let’s focus on the idea we like. Hades, and the undead. Greek soldiers coming back to life. That’s too obvious. Too one-dimensional for Liam. Traditional vampire and werewolf, again, to one-dimensional. How can we combine them?“ That’s my Ethan. Always taking the analytical approach.
As he spoke, an image started to form in my mind. “Vampire Ghost.”
“Excuse me?” He replied.
"Vampire Ghost," I declared as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. "Take your traditional vampire. And kill it." He opened his mouth, likely about to point out that vampires were already dead. "I know," I continued, cutting him off. "They are already dead. Depending on the mythology you follow. Anyways. Kill them again. Then bring them back as a ghost. Whites and Grays. Wispy, torn fabrics. A cowl."
The concept of a "Vampire Ghost" costume was beginning to take shape in our minds, a striking blend of the eternal allure of a vampire with the ethereal qualities of a ghost. It was a truly unique idea, one that promised to make a memorable entrance at Liam's Halloween party.
“White slacks,” I continued. “White body paint, everywhere. Except for some grays and black around the face. You’ll have on a tight white shirt and vest that are torn open, practically hanging off you, and a wound making it look like you were stabbed in the heart.”
“And I’ll be dressed the same way, with different wounds.” I paused for a moment to think. “A slit throat, like they bled me dry.”
Ethan jumped in, seeing my vision. “More than that. Wrist too. And a big gash across your chest. No shirt. And both our slacks are slashed to pieces, showing we went out fighting. And since we’re ghosts, we don’t need to worry about making it all bloody. We just need to show the wound and cover it with white paint.”
“I hate to say it, but we need the stuff that doesn’t come off easily. It’s going to be a bitch to clean up at the end of the night, but the last thing we want is to look like shit halfway through the night because it’s messed up.”
“Good catch!” he replied.
“You handle the makeup and wounds. I’ll handle the costumes.” We were definitely going to turn some heads. I wanted our physiques to be part of the costume, not hidden by it.
Ethan, at 31 years old, has some great definition and is the epitome of rugged charm. He has short-cropped, jet-black hair that accentuates his chiseled jawline and always seems to have a 5 o’clock shadow. He stands 5-10 with an athletic build, as a result of regular gym sessions, which he loves to show off by wearing tight-fitting shirts. His eyes are his lethal weapon, deep brown in color and have the effect of drawing you in. It fits the aura of quiet confidence he carries.
As for me, at 29, I am the more outgoing of the two of us. You kind of have to be in my line of work. Photography. My hair is a shade lighter than Ethan's, a warm chestnut that frames my face in loose waves. Hazel eyes, that I’m told, scream mischief. I work out quite a bit as well, but I just want a lean build and take a lot of pride in my abs, and my ass of course. I have no intention of bulking up like he does. Honestly, I think we make quite the pair. I am, however, a hair shorter than him at 5-9, and completely smooth.
I adjusted the water temperature to my liking and stepped into the flowing stream. To my surprise, Ethan stepped in behind me, something he usually reserved for when he’s feeling frisky. Otherwise, he’s the quick in-and-out type. Only staying long enough to get a proper wash in. I, on the other hand, prefer to linger and relax, to enjoy the experience.
I smiled, feeling his body pressed up against mine. I felt his chest as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him while reaching for the soap.
He proceeded to lather up my body. Another indicator of his frisky mood. He loves it when we are both completely lathered up, our bodies just gliding against each other. I have to admit, I do too. Especially when it’s your cock grinding against their slippery body.
I leaned back and moaned as he kissed the side of my neck. I enjoyed feeling the way his scruff would brush against my skin combined with the feeling of one hand all over my chest, paying particular attention to my nipples every time they were in the general vicinity. While his other hand made its way downward. I was hard in no time, loving the sensation of his hand sliding up and down my cock. Then sliding down even further and rolled my balls around in his hand. My shaft rubbed against his arm.
He was already growing hard himself. I could feel his cock starting to poke at my ass. If it wasn’t for the lack of lubrication, I would have reached back and guided his giant cock into my hole. Ethan is just over nine inches long with considerable girth that still takes me time to get used to. I love the way it feels inside me. It hurts, yes, but I still love it.
Ethan is well aware of his size and is always overly cautious about it. Too cautious if I am being honest. Sometimes I just want him to stop asking if I am ok, and take me. To be selfish for once, and just use me for his pleasure. He guided his cock between my legs and started to pump.
I gathered up a decent amount of soap in my hand, and reached behind me, wrapping my hand around his cock. He understood what I wanted. He slipped his hands down to my ass and started to tease me. Slipping just the tip of his finger in me, then pulling it out. Making me want it more and more. Then he would do it again, adding a second finger. Pushing deeper and deeper as he continued to fuck my hand. I moaned with pleasure while arching my back to give him better access, leaning forward and bracing myself against the shower wall.
“Someone wants it.” He growled in my ear.
“So fucking bad,” I replied.
He started to push deeper and deeper, adding a third finger. I couldn’t help but moan and wish it was his cock instead.
“You ok?”
“YES,” I moaned, and demanded, “Keep going.”
He was literally fucking my ass with his fingers as he kept fucking my fist. I was legitimately concerned he might cum from this, and I would miss out on getting his cock in me again. Yes, it’s happened multiple times.
I turned my head to look at him. “FUCK ME”
“You sure?” He asked, never once slowing down his assault on my hole.
“YES”
He pushed in a fourth finger, likely to gauge my reaction. I did everything I could to hide any sense of pain or discomfort from being stretched by him. I didn’t want to give him any reason to hold back. “YES,” I moaned. Making sure he knew I liked it and wanted more.
He pulled back, encouraged by my actions. I turned to face the wall and bit my bottom lip, bracing myself for his entry. He pushed in, inch by inch. I wanted to reach back and grab his hips and pull him into me faster, but I resisted. The last time I did, he took it as me asking him to slow down or wait. I wouldn’t make that mistake. I wanted him inside me. Yes, it would hurt. But I wanted it. The only way I would get used to it would be through practice. Something he was reluctant to let me do. Instead, I pushed back against him.
He felt what I was doing and grabbed my hips. Holding me in place and controlling his descent into my ass. I moaned again, making sure he knew I liked it, that I wanted more. I felt his forehead on the back of my neck as he started to saw in and out of my ass. His movement was slow, yet deliberate. He was stretching me open, and I loved it. It wasn’t the passionate, aggressive fuck I wanted, but I wasn’t complaining. That will come in time. I know with every fiber of my being, I’ll get it one day.
Ethen kept sawing his cock in and out of my hole. Long, slow, and deliberate strokes that hit every spot while making sure I was comfortable the entire time. His hands wrapped around my body, and he pushed me even harder against the wall, kissing my neck the entire time. His pace was quacking just a bit. I moaned my approval. Without any warning, he pushed in harder than before and kept it there. I could feel his body tense as he came. I unfortunately let out a bit of a whimper with the force of his push. I loved it. And I cursed myself for letting it out. Ethan would undoubtedly think he hurt me.
He spun me around and dropped to his knees, taking my cock in his mouth and sucking me to completion, and he returned to fingering my ass as he did it. He was far more aggressive with his fingers than he was with his cock. He found my prostate and brought me off rather quickly. Ethan swallowed every drop before coming up and kissing me, slipping his tongue into my mouth.
His forehead pressed firmly to mine. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m good, I swear. You didn’t hurt me.”
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