Page 8 of Tantalized by the Cursed Statue

That is how Nathaniel finds himself in a dark graveyard at two in the morning on Halloween Night, dousing a gigantic statue with his watery tears.

At some point he realizes he’s shouting just to drown out his own fear.

“Do you like that?” Nathaniel cries out as he splashes him with his water bottle, panicked at his own daring. “Those are my tears! They turned your dick real, so now you’re going to turn into a big freaky man, right?”

In the low glow of his cell phone flashlight, it’s too dark to see if his tears are doing anything.

“I’ll bet you’re really angry at me!” Nathaniel taunts.

“I squeezed my balls really hard to make myself cry, you know. I guess I’m a big stupid brat, because I can’t even admit to myself how much I liked it.

Or that the only thing that would make it hotter would be if you did it to me!

Once you’re alive, you’re going to have to Dom the heck out of me, and you’d better make me really sorry! ”

But the statue only stares down at him with those cold marble eyes. And as much as Nathaniel wants to imagine that his chiseled body is turning warm and beginning to move, as the minutes pass, it gets harder to fool himself.

Those strong arms stay frozen at his sides, and the thick fingers don’t even twitch.

Nathaniel sighs, his shoulders slumping. He has no more tears to give him, his water bottle is empty.

Summoning up the last dregs of his courage, he twines his hands around the statue’s fingers, sniffling a little.

Two days ago, he would have been scared out of his mind at the idea of touching the enormous stone figure.

Now, he’d give anything to have the statue’s fingers grasp him, or have that low, terrifying voice rumble out his name again.

Even though it makes him jump out of his own skin every time.

“I’m sorry if it’s rude to touch you,” Nathaniel whispers. “I mean…I guess I touched your cock because you put it in my backpack. So it’s weird either way. Anyway, I like how you feel.”

Lying his face against the hard slab of the statue’s forearm, he breathes in and out. The crickets chirp, and above them, the leaves rattle in the trees. They are surrounded by the dead on the most unholy night of the year, but he feels weirdly safe.

He hasn’t given up—not yet. He just needs a moment to breathe.

Suddenly, there’s a frenzied scrambling in the bushes down below. Nathaniel lets out a startled cry and darts behind the statue for protection.

In the dim glow of his cell phone flashlight, Old Man Renalds appears. Nathaniel freezes. He’s back? Why on Earth is he walking around in the dark graveyard without a flashlight? Unless he wanted to sneak up on them…

“I thought you were g-gone,” Nathaniel breathes out.

“Guess I’m still around.” OMR’s shadowed face grows extra craggy. “He gave you the cursed objects, didn’t he?”

Nathaniel swallows.

“Are they in your backpack?”

Hugging his backpack tight to his chest, Nathaniel shakes his head.

OMR’s eyes narrow. “How about we make a deal? You give them to me, and I won’t report you for trespassing on my cemetery.”

“He gave them to me,” Nathaniel says, his voice shaking. “N-not you.”

“Are you afraid of me? A big strapping boy like you?” OMR laughs with disdain.

“Look at you, you’re terrified. Up here with him on Halloween night, about to piss yourself.

Nothing but a scared pup who caught a bone and has no idea what to do with it.

How about you just give me what’s in your backpack? ”

“No.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for those things to appear again. Or how much they’re worth.”

There’s a flash of metal as OMR steps forward threateningly.

Nathaniel presses himself flat against the firm marble, his heart pounding in his ears. “I don’t—”

A flash of light arcs through the air as OMR waves the blade of his knife. “All you need to do is drop the backpack.”

“Are you crazy?” Nathaniel gasps.

“They’re mine.” The old man steps forward, his hand moving quickly. There’s a loud clang, his blade sparking as it glances off solid stone.

The statue looks down at his shoulder, then back at the old man. “You picked the wrong weapon, my ex-beloved.” With a rumbling laugh, he plucks the knife from OMR’s hand and crushes it between his palms.

Then, with a light shove, he pushes OMR into a thick patch of bushes.

“Martell!” OMR shouts, scrambling against the brambles. “You’re awake! Fuck…that’s wonderful!”

The statue reaches back to touch Nathaniel, as if to reassure himself that he’s safe. Then he turns to face OMR, the movement slow and heavy.

“You lied and betrayed me,” the statue says. “You trapped me here.”

“I mourned you for decades,” OMR says quickly. “Left flowers in front of your mausoleum every Sunday.”

“You mean your mausoleum.”

“I tried to unfreeze you!”

“You don’t deserve to break my curse,” the statue tells him, his voice low and menacing.

OMR goes still. “What do you think you’re going to do to me?”

“ I can’t do anything worse to you than what you’ve already done to yourself.

Living your life in guilt and spite, wanting what you can never have, greedy and lonely and grasping.

It won’t be long before you’re resting in these very grounds, and no one will come here to mourn you.

” The statue gives him a pitying smile. “We will live on long after you’re dead. ”

OMR’s face twists. “You were always haughty and arrogant, too good for us human boys.”

“No, just one human boy.” He looks at OMR in profound disappointment. “You made me think you’d killed yourself over me, then had me frozen into stone. I don’t owe you anything. I’m going to take my beloved now.”

“Your beloved .” OMR spits. “ I’m your beloved! Everyone in town has guessed the truth, I’ve told them our story for over half a century.”

“ Then they’ll learn how our story really ends.

Because I want everyone to know how proud I am of this boy right here.

He fought through his fear to help me, and he’s beginning to understand some truths about himself.

He deserves everything I can give him. Did you know this boy filled up a container with his tears just because he thought it would help break my curse?

I never thought I would find devotion like that, and I’m ready to return that same devotion to him. ”

OMR scoffs. “You’ve been cursed for so long, you don’t know what devotion looks like.”

“ I think you’ll find those bushes difficult to escape until dawn. ”

Then the statue turns to Nathaniel and picks him up.

Picks him up.

As a 6’2” man, Nathaniel does not get picked up. And now he’s being picked up and held in the statue’s stone-strong arms, and it’s making him so happy that his heart is about to fly up to the moon.

The statue turns and begins walking away, carrying Nathaniel gently, like he’s made out of the most delicate porcelain. Behind them comes the sounds of OMR fighting a losing battle against a bush.

“Did you mean what you said about me,” Nathaniel asks, “or were you just trying to make him feel bad?”

“I meant every word,” the statue says, holding him closer.

Nathaniel shivers and squeezes his eyes closed, waves of joy radiating through him.

He has never been this close to the statue before, it’s like being drawn into the gravitational pull of the sun.

The proximity means his caged cock is getting zorched with all kinds of buzzes and pulses.

There is no possible way for him to keep his dignity, so Nathaniel cries and sniffles and drips precum all over the statue’s smooth, marble body.

“Is it helping?” he whispers. “I could cry harder.”

The statue laughs affectionately, and Nathaniel wriggles as the vibration of his wide chest melds with the pulses around his cock.

“I think I’m getting my snot on you,” Nathaniel tells him.

“I’ve had worse, ” the statue replies.

Nathaniel can’t help but laugh.

The statue gazes down at him. “ I want all of you—your tears, your desire. I want to taste you.”

Leaning down, the statue kisses Nathaniel. And it feels so good, Nathaniel almost melts into a puddle of squirming guts. The statue grips him tight and doesn’t let that happen.

As their mouths meet, the taste of him blooms into something a little more human, and Nathaniel opens and savors the slow, hopeful kiss.