Page 20 of Bite Me

Mark returned… with a mummy. It was about half his size, but as he started unraveling gauze from what I guessed were its feet, I got it, and arched a brow, impressed. “Props for resourcefulness.”

He grinned, pleased, and we both tore off strips of gauze and swabbed ourselves. It helped. Not as much as if we had a bottle of water, too, but we didn’t and I wasn’t about to attempt a spit bath. Getting skull-fucked less than five minutes ago kinda put that particular fluid in short supply, too.

Eventually, we were more presentable.

“What should we do with…” I gestured at the bloody gauze and Mark shrugged.

“Rewrap the thing and put it back?”

We both burst out laughing. “That’s so fucked.”

But it was also exactly what we did. Waste not, want not.

Just before we exited the maze, I pulled Mark in close, fingers twining with his. “Would you go see my dad with me again, and this time come inside with me?”

His lips parted soundlessly. I’d caught him off guard. The corners of his eyes got soft, and then he nodded. “Ab-so-fucking-lutely. Any time you want.”

I smiled. “Okay. Good.”

We exited the maze and headed back to the party. I slung an arm around Mark. “I have no idea how the fuck we’re going to explain ourselves. Maybe say we got in a fistfight again.” I winked sidelong at him.

“They’d probably believe it.” He grinned. “Thank you, though. However we explain it, or don’t. That was… hot? Fucked up? A lot of things. But also exactly what I needed.”

I chuckled. “Nothing says true love like getting fucked with fake blood at a frat house Halloween party.” But I kissed him then, because I knew exactly how he felt. “Did I—? Was I too rough?”

Mark shook his head. “It was perfect. Was I?”

“No. Same. It was perfect. You think the Sigmas would allow alumni to come back and visit their haunted maze next year?”

“Not if they figure out that mummy is now wrapped in cum rags.”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Seems kind of on brand for y’all, really.”

He swatted me, but his hand lingered, warm and solid against my back. And also probably marking it with the fake blood still staining his fingertips. I didn’t mind. It felt good to wear the mess we’d made.

BITE ME

NATE & ERIC

9

NATE

“Hey!” Eric’s voice drifted up the stairs from down below as the front door opened. I grinned, the sound of his voice putting a pause on my frustration.

“Upstairs,” I called back, leaning close to the mirror for a third attempt at popping the fake vampire cap over one of my canine teeth. “Trying to get this fucking tooth on. I swear to god they make it look so damn easy in the YouTube tutorial.”

I caught the faint sound of Eric’s chuckle before he replied, “If it’s any consolation, I brought Chinese. Figured you won’t really have time to eat before the party since you have to be there so early.” His voice came closer, coinciding with the sound of his footfalls on the stairs. I squinted as I pushed the cap over my canine again. It promptly fell right back off. Goddammit. “I’m pretty fucking hungry too, not gonna lie,” he continued. “Which led to some decisions I’ll probably regret later, like crab rangoons and—” Eric stopped short, and I turned toward the doorway as he exhaled a soft, “Jesus, frat boy.”

Dark green eyes raked me over. Once and then again, even slower. I felt the dawning hunger in the stare even before he met my eyes.

“What were you saying about regrettable decisions?” I was pretty proud of my costume, actually. I hadn’t gone at it half-assed like I’d done every year prior. The pants I’d found at a theater supply shop were fucking perfect. Soft and tight, with leather laces up the front instead of a zipper fly. Jesse had told me they were technically called breeches, but I currently didn’t give a shit what the proper terminology was since they were clearly making a favorable impression on Eric. The ruffled shirt I wore (poet blouse—again per Jesse), was open from the throat in a vee that extended to my waistband, and nobody needed to know about the impromptu set of crunches I’d done right before pulling the thing on. We’d call it a trade secret that was paying off heavily if I went by the way Eric meandered closer, seeming to have forgotten about the Chinese and that he was starving. He came to a stop behind me, crowding me against the counter, the lip of which pressed uncomfortably against my growing bulge. I couldn’t help it that his gaze still fucking affected me this way. I didn’t even find it annoying anymore.

“Right now I’m regretting leaving the house in the first place.” His hands gripped my waist and then skimmed up the sides of my ribcage possessively. He palmed my chest, rucked the poet shirt wider, and dragged his thumb across my left nipple lazily, like he had all the fucking time in the world. But I wasn’t stopping him. My dick got there first, hard against those pants and starting to drool through the fabric. No way he missed it either.

“How long?” he asked.

“Not long enough,” I replied ruefully, knowing exactly what he was asking. I had to be at the Sigma house for pre-party set-up in less than half an hour, and in all the days I’d been with Eric, I thought we’d only accomplished a quickie maybe once. At Mark’s dad’s campaign party, no less.