Jordan Castillo Price Morpheus 02 Vertigo

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

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First published in 2008, 2008

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Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

CONTENTS

Channeling Morpheus 2: Vertigo
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Epilogue
Jordan Castillo Price

* * * *

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Channeling Morpheus 2: Vertigo

Jordan Castillo Price
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2008 Jordan Castillo Price
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Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

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Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Channeling Morpheus 2: Vertigo

Jordan Castillo Price

Long, dark hair. Dewy, kohl-rimmed eyes. Ripe young lips

just made for kissing ... Guys like that are a dime a dozen.

Wild Bill likes a little edge on his playmates, and Michael's

got the whole package going on—plus a loaded gun in his
leather jacket, and an unquenchable obsession with vampires.

Michael's back, and he's got a few new tricks up his sleeve.

Hopefully the latest addition to his arsenal doesn't include a
wooden stake with Wild Bill's name on it. But anything can
happen in the dark...

[Back to Table of Contents]

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Chapter 1

I flicked the tip of the match with my thumbnail, watched

a couple of sparks drop toward the ground and fizzle out
before they hit, and took a breath tinged with sulfur. There
was a pause where maybe the flame would catch, maybe not,
as if Fate needed a second to think about whether she'd give
permission for a single lick of flame to come to life. And then
the match head flared, bluish white, then bright yellow, and
then flame.

Lighting a smoke's not usually a Walt Whitman moment for

me. But I'd been on edge all night, searching for meaning in
every little thing. Kinda made me wonder if the whole world
might only be as significant as some hormone in the
bloodstream of the last kid I tapped, or a stupid song I half-
heard on someone else's Walkman three blocks away ... some
small trigger that brought back a memory or two.

I finished the smoke and lit another one off the dying

carcass of the first. Five, six bucks a pack nowadays—not that
it matters to me. I see something I want, I tell the store clerk
to hand it over, and it's mine. Cigarettes, clothes, booze, or
whatever else my heart desires. Wild Bill's baby blues are an
infinite line of credit. I got a kick out of that for a dozen years
or so. But then the fun wore thin.

Or maybe I was developing a conscience.
Nah.
I blew out a stream of smoke, indigo in the moonlight, and

stared down at the clearing. I was in a park that was a

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

vamp's wet dream, all cliffs and caves and gnarled, black
trees. I don't usually go for group things, at least as far as my
social life is concerned, but this handful of vamps didn't seem
too bad for a bunch of bloodsuckers. One of 'em was freshly
turned, and she had "mad Internet skilz." Since I had no idea
what that's supposed to mean, I had to take her word for it.
She'd picked up such a big following that she had enough
entrees to share, and that's all that mattered to me. I don't
feel like an A-hole when the hamburger's willing.

They'd built a bonfire, and I picked out the individual

smells of at least four different types of flaming wood, and
burning sugar, too. I got a kick out of the thought that
someone had made a pilgrimage to have their vamp-cherry
popped, and remembered to bring along a bag of
marshmallows.

They milled around in the clearing, fifteen kids so far, most

of them in black with hits of red, silver and purple. I smelled
hair dye from where I sat—a hundred yards away—and
perfume, clove cigarettes, Ivory soap, nail polish remover and
angst. I wondered who was angsting. Pretty much all of 'em,
you'd think. But some are bleaker than others.

One of the other vamps would probably grab up the most

tragic ones first. Fine by me. The thought of latching on to a
human and finding out I can't let go scares the crap out of
me.

A vamp darted out from the treeline and snagged a couple

of chicks. It looked like Wild Kingdom from my vantage point,
except the vamps were even smoother than a pack of lions. I
cocked my head and listened. The buffet wouldn't talk quite

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

so loud if they knew how sharp our hearing was, but even the
dullest of vamps wasn't stupid enough to show the cards
we've got up our sleeves by letting on that we can hear 'em
from half a mile away.

The flock was dying to know which vamp had chosen,

because it was dark, and the vamp had moved fast, and a lot
of the bloodsuckers could easily stunt-double for one another
in a pinch. Despite the fact that we all looked young, white,
skinny and goth, each of us had our little fan clubs. I was
toward the bottom of the list, and I worked hard to keep it
that way. I went for the humans who were jonesing
specifically for one of the other vamps, and I took them in
twos and threes to make sure no one thought they were
anything special.

Even though I was so careful, sometimes I got attached to

humans.

* * * *

I spotted him at the fringe of the group. He was the size of

a little green army man, but I recognized the way he stood.
Hell, I fucking smelled him. I'd smelled him coming since
dusk. And I'd smoked three packs of cigarettes trying not to
smell him, all the while telling myself that I didn't know why I
was so antsy.

I've always been a shitty liar.
I'd dumped him three states back and he'd found me

anyway. Probably served me right for using the same name
for so long, what with the Internet where anyone can write
about you for the whole world to see. I'd have to switch to a

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

variation the next time I moved. Will. William. What the hell—
even Willy. Why not? The bastard who sucked out my
humanity hadn't managed to get my sense of humor.

At the edge of the clearing, a dark blur flickered. A vamp

swooped in, and then there were twelve.

She'd veered away from Michael, grabbed an emo kid who

smelled like citron vodka instead. But it was close. Close
enough that I found myself crouching at the end of a tree
branch, poised to spring as if I could fly down there.

For the record, no. I can't fly. And if I jumped that cliff, I'd

end up with a couple of broken legs to show for my trouble.
Third story window? No problem. But several hundred feet
down a rocky gorge? Not my idea of fun.

I moved in quick, and found myself sucking air less than a

dozen feet away from him. I smelled all of them, of course,
but Michael's scent was the one that hit me like a two-by-
four. I was moving at blur-speed; I could tell because all the
faces around me—pale, moonlit, on the verge of surprise—
were smeared like a wet oil painting that'd met the wrong end
of a drunken stagger. Not that I'd done that in more years
than I can count—either paint, or fall into a fresh canvas after
one too many shots of Jack—but it's one of those mental
images that's slow to fade.

One guy in the crowd didn't smell like the rest. Vamp smell

is earthy and cold, different from human smell. I didn't know
this one. He was a small vamp, with delicate hands and milky
skin, hair slicked back like Bela Lugosi. He'd been gunning for
Michael, same as me. But I was way more motivated.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

I'd only meant to put myself between the two of them, tell

Bela to hunt elsewhere. In a nice way, of course. But it came
out like more of a hiss.

Talk about a conversation killer. Everyone stopped

breathing, and the sound of crickets faded in to fill the
awkward silence like we were in a bad sitcom.

"What's your problem?" Bela muttered, low enough so that

only the tidbits on either side of him could hear. And me.

Great. I'd had an in to the most civilized pack of vamps in

the Midwest, and I went and acted like a dog whose chew-toy
was being nabbed. I'd be out on my ass if I didn't pull myself
together. I plastered a smile on my face and stood down. "Old
friend of mine," I said.

I even added a wink.
I don't think Bela bought my Mister Nice Guy act, but a

pair of chicks beside him tittered, and the scent of humans
sighing in relief gave me a headrush.

I snagged Michael by the shoulder of his leather jacket.

Humans all around us watched, eyes glittering with mortal
hunger, mortal need—silently pleading for me to take them,
too. I tugged, and Michael's hip brushed mine. My jaw
clenched. Those canapés had no idea what need felt like.

"You snooze, you lose," I told Bela in my best just-kidding

voice. "I got here first."

Because I'd been tearing down the hillside fast as a

runaway train. Maybe I had been telling myself for the past
two months to stop thinking about Michael. But I damn well
wasn't about to stand by while someone else had him. Bela
looked from me to Michael and back again, shot me a nasty

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

look, then went to see if anyone else looked equally as
tasty—and way less problematic. I'd probably cemented my
reputation as a total head case, but I'd gotten my way.
Adrenaline was pounding through me and it was a strain to
act like I wasn't ready to bust right out of my skin.

I turned toward Michael and patted him on the cheek hard

enough that it must've stung. Jesus, those eyes on him—a
year's worth of eyeliner all worked into the skin around them
like the oil under a mechanic's fingernails. His long, black-
dyed hair falling around his face. And that look, that fucking
big-eyed look that turns my knees to jelly. I wanted to slap
him even harder. But people would talk. And there I was,
trying to pretend I wasn't ready to bust out of my skin.
"That's swell of you to look me up," I said. One more slap—
just a small one. Couldn't resist. "Let's go catch up on old
times. Whaddaya say?"

Pick me, pick me, pick me, the humans all pleaded with

their eyes, because I always took two, maybe three, and
yeah, I usually fucked them too. Of course I knew they all
carved vampire-notches on their belts and swapped stories
later, but so what? I made them no promises and told them
no lies. Even so, I felt their energy shift as they saw me slip
away into the dark of the woods with only one. They could tell
how badly I wanted Michael, and they probably wouldn't have
mourned him too long if he'd "accidentally" fallen into a
nearby gorge.

I balled my fist in Michael's jacket and felt his foot lift off

the ground, but he went through the motions of walking, as if
I weren't dragging him down a trail he couldn't see, as if both

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

of his feet were on terra firma. He had a messenger bag slung
over one shoulder, too small for stakes, but big enough to jab
me in the hip as we walked. I could have asked him what he
had up his sleeve this time. I could have asked him lots of
stuff. A dozen things came to mind, in fact, because how dare
that little shit come all the way to Minnesota and find me—
after I'd made it clear that I walked alone?

I usually led my playmates deeper into the woods, but I

ducked into the next clearing and threw him against a moss-
covered picnic table. I needed to talk some sense into him,
get him to find a new line of work. He didn't move to get up,
just pushed his elbows underneath him and stared defiantly in
my general direction.

I tried to read him, but there was too much going on in his

head. Anger, elation ... and that "pick me" kind of lust? Lots
of that, too. I tried to stare him down, but it was a losing
proposition since it was too dark for him to really see much of
me. And the sight of him draped over that picnic table made
my teeth ache. "How'd you find me?" I asked him.

He squinted, tried to pick out my face from the darkness.

"One of the women here described you in a chat room. I
figured it was worth a shot."

Right. The name Wild Bill definitely needed to go into

retirement. At least for a couple of years. Or decades. "Go
home, Mikey. The vamps here aren't hurting anyone. You
don't have to go Rambo on 'em."

He tossed his long hair. My teeth craved him so bad, I

could feel the need reach up through their roots and tickle my

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

cheekbones and the hollows of my eye sockets. "That's not
why I'm here. I wanted to see you."

"Then I guess you should've brought your flashlight." I

pulled out my smokes to have something to look at other
than Michael, but I saw that my hands were shaking and
threw the cigarette on the ground without lighting it.

"Without him." Michael didn't say his name. He didn't have

to. We'd killed someone together, Michael and me. He
couldn't have meant anyone else. "I wanted to see you
alone."

I spread my arms and turned in a circle. "Yeah, well. Here

I am. Disappointing, or what?"

Michael slid off the picnic table, leading with his hips. I

stared—figured I might as well, since it was too dark for him
to see where I was looking—and relived the feel of him
arching against me while he came so hard his face was
twisted into a grimace of pain. Fuck. The mere thought of it
gave me wood.

"If I ask you something, will you give me the truth?"
"Sure," I lied.
"If Gray hadn't been there that night, would you have

come home with me anyway?"

Coulda, woulda, shoulda ... I had no use for hypotheticals.

"What do you want me to say?"

I felt him flush. I swallowed down a mouthful of saliva that

probably could've been put to a lot better use. "Never mind,"
he said. "I mean ... nothing."

He was vamp-heroin and he wanted to know if he tasted

good. Unbelievable. "Look, you're great eye candy and all, but

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

I can tell you'd be way too high-maintenance for someone
like me. Besides, you've got that pointy hobby of yours. And
I've got my special diet—humanitarianism."

Michael's brow furrowed. Dead serious look. Which was

hilarious on him, in a so-cute-I-could-eat-him-up kinda way.
'Cause he's a ripe old twenty-one. His Indiana State ID said
so. "I don't have any stakes with me," he said.

The stakes were the last thing I was worried about. I could

see a stake coming. "So now you've seen the error of your
ways, and you've decided you'd rather have the vamps stick
it to you, and not the other way around."

"Could we talk like two normal people? For five minutes."
I've never considered myself normal. I wasn't sure that we

were both people, either. After all, only one of us was human.

Michael eased forward a few steps. I backed up just as

many. "I don't have a vampire fetish, not like those other
guys back there."

Uh-huh.
"It's you. I can't stop thinking about you." His voice had

gone quiet, like he could hardly stand to come right out and
say it—and of course it wrenched at my black, shriveled-up
heart twice as much. I watched his eyes as he strained to
look me up and down in the near dark.

It would be cleaner to turn around and leave, but Bela and

all his vampy clones would clamp onto Michael's throat before
I'd even made it to the highway. I backed up a few more feet
and tried to calculate what it would take to get Michael to the
ranger's station. I could tell the ranger that Michael was
trying to sell drugs and get him locked up, out of harm's way

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

for a night or two while I tried to figure out where my next
stomping grounds would be. Chances were he had some sort
of pharmaceuticals on him. It could work.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Chapter 2

I sniffed the air and tried to get a bead on the ranger's

station. The scent of the vamp food and marshmallows
drowned it out, but I was betting that any of the official trails
must lead back to the park entrance eventually. "C'mon," I
said, to let Michael know that I was sidling back toward the
beaten path. "I'm not real big on nature."

Michael groped his way forward, arms out in front of him,

as if I didn't know any better and I'd let him latch onto me.
Fat chance. That kid was putting off pheromones that could
reel me in harder than a tractor beam.

"We'll get a room," I said. "I know how much you dig

hotels."

He walked through a spider web as he followed my voice. I

tracked the movement of his hand as he brushed away the
floaty strands from his hair and eyelashes.

"This way," I said, and the sound of his footsteps changed

as we stepped from packed-down turf grass to gravel. We
followed the trail, and moonlight broke through the tree
canopy, magical and dazzling to my vamp eyes, bright
enough for even a human like him to glimpse a little
something.

He was even prettier than I remembered ... and damn it

all to hell, I'd been remembering every single night since I'd
met him in that nameless, fog-filled club in Detroit. His face
changed as he picked me out from the background, gray,

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

cobalt and indigo against black. His eyes widened, his lips
parted, and his expression took on the lines of pure need.

Pick me. Pick me.
"Where's your car?" I asked him.
He shook his head. "Don't have one. Hitched."
"Do you even know how to drive?"
I felt him flush, all that sweet, sweet blood rushing to

engorge the tiny veins and capillaries in his cheeks, forehead
and neck. "Mary did all the driving."

Whatever that meant.
All the better for me, though. If he didn't have a car to

retrieve, he'd have no reason to come back to the park—not if
I let him know that he wouldn't find me here, not after
tonight.

See, all those other vamps? They might be cool enough to

trade skull rings with. But it didn't mean I'd leave a full
syringe of vamp-heroin next to their coffins and expect them
to play nice.

I caught a whiff of bug spray on the wind and stepped up

the pace. I led, and he followed, and pretty soon we saw the
greenish glow of the tiny station peeking through the trees.
Just around the bend and it would be bye-bye Mikey, one
phone call and surrender your belt at the front desk. I jogged
up the trail a few yards, and turned.

Michael wasn't there. He'd stopped, back by the last picnic

table we'd passed. He stood there. Alone. In the dark.

I put my hands on my hips and tapped my foot. "What're

you waiting for?" I called out to him. "Hot showers, clean
sheets. The whole nine yards."

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

"You're not taking me to any motel." He didn't even raise

his voice. He said it as if I was right there beside him, with
the full knowledge that I'd hear him from where I stood. He
was so much smarter than all the other tasty little morsels.

I considered dragging him the rest of the way. That would

make for a big, spectacular finale. But, no, the idea turned
me off. Forcing people physically wasn't my style.

I shrugged, then realized he probably couldn't see me well

enough to register my carefully crafted nonchalance. "Have it
your way, China White. I'm going. You wanna stay out here
and be mosquito food, that's your call." And with that, I
hitched my thumbs into the front pockets of my jeans, turned
on my heel, and walked away.

About two steps away.
The smell of his blood was like a sledgehammer to the

back of my skull. I spun back around, fangs bared,
adrenaline—or whatever the vamp equivalent of it might be—
surging from the tips of my hair down to my toes. I'd thought
the mosquitoes had indeed gotten to him—great, big
mosquitoes with Bela Lugosi hair and cheap silvertone
jewelry. And I was ready to demonstrate, once and for all,
that when I said I had dibs on someone, I meant it.

Except all my posturing was wasted on my audience.

Michael was alone.

I smelled the heady, crimson scent of blood from where I

stood. I heard the sound of blood spatter on leaves. Michael
was bleeding. He stood with his feet planted, razor blade
glinting in one hand, and a wide red gash across the palm of
the other, dripping his life force onto the ground.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

I wasn't gonna go there. Meant to dig my heels in and stay

right where I was. Talk some sense into him. Make sure he
realized that I wasn't going to play cat and mouse with him,
not tonight. Not ever. But then I was staring into his eyes
without even realizing that I'd covered the distance between
us, and the scent of his blood welled around us, heady and
rich. My mouth watered. My teeth ached. My whole body
yearned for him.

I told myself it wouldn't be so bad to engage in a little

cleanup. All that perfectly good nourishment going to waste.
Plat. Plat. Plat. I grabbed him by the fingertips. He didn't
resist me, holding his arm limp even though the rest of him
was on high alert. I'd been worrying about vamping his mind,
and he'd reeled me in.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Chapter 3

"What's this supposed to be?" I asked him.
"I'm showing you that I'm serious."
Serious about what? I couldn't even remember. I wanted

him so bad I could hardly think straight. I paused with his
palm right under my chin and breathed in his scent. Oh, man.
So good. They always taste better when I'm into 'em. And
Michael ... he was probably the first one I'd ever rumpled the
bedsheets with and not had myself a little sip.

I clamped his palm over my face, and I drank. I caught

him around the back when his knees buckled. I won't say it's
always that good when we suck on humans, but it usually is
when I do it. I think it's a personality thing. The mysterious
vamps generate confusion. The hostile vamps inspire fear.
I've always been a lover, not a fighter, and my playmates
creamed themselves when I ate them.

"Oh my God."
He clutched my jacket with his free hand, climbed up the

front of it in his struggle to stay upright. His crotch bumped
my hip, and he pressed his forehead against my neck. His
deep, shaky breaths played over the side of my throat. He
was trembling.

I would've coaxed him along, offered him a few dirty words

to feed his vamp fantasies, only my mouth was too busy
drinking. He'd started to clot in that moment I'd been fooling
myself about being able to walk away. As if I had any choice
in the matter once I'd caught the scent of his blood.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

I sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed, and felt

my cock start to throb in time with the beating of his heart.
Michael groaned and rocked against me. Our bodies
remembered each other's rhythms, and they were speaking
to one another, even through all the layers of denim and
leather we wore.

I could throw him down right there and fuck him, within

spitting distance of that damn ranger's station. It'd serve him
right, teasing me like that with his scrumptious blood. I felt
his mouth on my neck, his lips, his tongue.

I've got a "no kissing" rule. Helps humans keep their heads

on straight. Of course, I'd broken that rule with Michael
before we'd even hopped into bed together, and now he was
grandfathered in.

I supposed if we were going to be kissing and all, we might

as well do it off the beaten path.

I hitched Michael up higher against me and felt his feet lift

off the ground. He wrapped his legs around me and tangled
them through mine. It made for some difficult walking, but it
felt so good it didn't matter. We weren't going far anyway. I
shuffled off the path, through a gap in the trees, and pitched
us forward on a bed of dead leaves. He landed on his back,
with me straddling his hips.

The breath was knocked out of him. It gave me a chance

to strip out of my jacket and T-shirt. I took a moment to wipe
the blood off my face as I pulled my shirt over my head—not
that he could've seen it or anything, but I would have known
it was there.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

"Take more," he said, waving the cut on his palm right

under my nose.

I could. It hadn't bled out more than a shotglass. But I was

wrestling with the ambivalence that came with being out of
control, being led around by my eyeteeth.

"Please," he said. "It felt so good."
Aw, crap. He sounded as young and fragile as he looked.

Not that it fooled me. I'd gotten a whiff of gun oil when his
leather jacket rode up, and I'd bet my left nut that the water
in his bag was all drugged. He flexed his fingers and the
sweet metal smell of his blood dragged my mouth toward his
sticky palm.

"That's a lousy place to cut yourself." I yanked his hand

toward my face harder than I really needed to. "Stop me if
you've heard this one before. A guy walks into the doctor's
office with a gigantic cut across his hand. He says, 'Will I be
able to play the piano?' Doc says, 'Sure, but this cut will take
weeks to heal'."

Michael reached up and touched my face. "That's funny,"

he said. His voice was dreamy. He sounded as high as I felt.
"I could never play before."

His fingertips caressed my jaw, my cheekbone, and his

palm cupped that oozing gash right up against my lips,
funneled the candy-licious fragrance of his blood straight up
my nose. Before I knew it I was going down on his hand. I
teased at the soft vees between his fingers. I explored the
two horizontal creases in his palm where the blood had gelled
into a thick paste. I ran my tongue ever so gently over the
clotting wound, and reveled in the shocks of combined

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

pleasure and pain that caused Michael's hips to twitch up and
shove the bulging fly of his jeans into my crotch.

Michael reached up and grabbed me by the nipple with his

other hand. He pinched it, and twisted so hard my balls
squirmed. I gasped into his palm, which drew an answering
hiss out of him. I was really annoyed that we'd be good
together. And not just run-of-the-mill good. I could see the
two of us sharing a hive mind and finishing each other's
sentences. We'd be the kind of good that makes everyone
else in the room hate you while they secretly hope you'll bring
them home with you for a little variety.

I grabbed his bloody hand in both of mine, and pressed my

lips against the throbbing vein that lay over the sinews on the
tender inside of his wrist. I had to check my force before I
cracked his arm open like a Pixy Stix—and fuck me if I didn't
get off on the challenge of playing with him without breaking
him.

My lips felt thin-skinned and acutely sensitive. His wrist

was so hot against them that it almost hurt to keep my
mouth pressed against his human flesh. I slid my tongue
against the vein and felt the flutter of life coursing through
him. I sucked at his skin's sweetness and lost myself in the
hammering of his heart.

"I want you inside me," he said.
I stopped sucking on his wrist. Some traditional fucking

would probably be a good idea, since I was about to propose
to his vein. I let go of his arm, walked back on my knees and
eased myself off his crotch. The first belt loop I grabbed tore
off his jeans. Oops. I managed to tug his fly down without

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

ripping out the zipper, though I think I heard more thread
snapping when I yanked the jeans down his thighs.

He was ramrod stiff, in the way that twenty-one-year-olds

get when they think of something even remotely hot, or a
breeze hits 'em the right way. I spread my fingers out on
both of his thighs and ran my hands up his body, my thumbs
skimming his pubes. His hips bucked up. His scent changed,
salty-sweet now. He was already far enough gone that a drop
of pre-come welled on his piss slit.

The tangy aftertaste of his blood was still in my mouth,

and I ducked down to catch that drop on my tongue. I teased
his cockhead and he bit back a gasp that sounded more like a
sob—and fuck, I wanted to make him come, and come, and
come so hard that he cried and screamed and begged me to
stop. His taste flooded me, dizzyingly good, and I felt the
susurration of his blood coursing through the fat blue vein on
the underside of his cock.

I rolled the slippery bit of moisture over the roof of my

mouth. It was gone too soon, before I'd even had the chance
to savor it. There had to be more where that came from.
There was probably a whole array of incredible scents and
sounds I could wring out of him, depending on where I
touched him, where I licked him, and where I fucked him.
Dumb idea. I wasn't shopping for an extended lease, and
there were only so many hours in the night. We'd have
ourselves a thorough good time, but then we'd go our
separate ways. We'll always have Paris. Isn't that what they
say?

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

I opened wider and engulfed his cock. I didn't worry about

clipping him with my fangs. They're only sharp at the tips,
and far enough apart that the only contact he'd really feel
would be along the sides of his shaft. He made a broken
sound when I swallowed him all the way down. I bet he could
feel my fangs straddling his cock. I bet he got off on the
sensation, too.

He squirmed under me and tried to kick his legs free from

his jeans, but he wouldn't have much luck without taking off
his boots first. His struggles turned me on. Probably some
byproduct of the vamp-testosterone surge I'd gotten when I
scared Bela away. I grabbed Michael by the hips and held him
down. Yup, definitely getting my rocks off by subduing him.
His breath caught, and I felt that sweet-salt Cracker Jack
taste at the back of my throat as I forced my mouth all the
way down. I guess he got off on being prey, too.

I planted my elbow into his gut to pin him while I grasped

the base of his cock. I felt his pulse beat within the circle of
my thumb and forefinger. He thrashed like maybe I was
hurting him, but the twitch in his cock hinted that a little pain
wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

I snuck my other hand between his legs and rooted around

behind his balls. I felt the pucker of his ass quiver as my
fingertip brushed against it. So I did it again just to make him
batter his cockhead against the back of my throat.

"You're gonna make me come," he said. Like that was a

bad thing. "Not yet."

I couldn't help myself. I've always been the type of person

who does the exact opposite of what I'm told. I eased my

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

finger into that sweet, hot, tight hole and sucked his
cockhead, while I jacked off the very root of his cock hard
enough to make his balls jiggle.

His back arched up even though the movement nearly

busted his ribs on my elbow, and a strangled scream forced
its way out of him. Another pulse joined the rhythm of his
blood, a quick series of uncontrollable contractions as he shot,
and shot, and his come filled my throat, oozed back into my
mouth, coated my tongue and my fangs and the insides of my
cheeks, seeped into every moist nook and cranny and filled
me up with his taste, his scent.

I was still sucking when he grabbed me by the hair and

pulled. I let him drag my face off his cock. It would recover
soon enough; he was twenty-one.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Chapter 4

I ran my tongue over the fronts of my teeth and enjoyed

the glide of his jizz. I was tempted to swallow, but I figured
that it wasn't worth the probability that I'd hock the semen
back up at a really unflattering moment. I planted my elbow
on the ground beside him and turned to spit. "No offense," I
said. "I'd totally swallow if I could. It's a vamp thing."

"But you drank that margarita."
And lucky for me he'd been too far gone to notice when

the tequila repeated. I shrugged, which he couldn't really see,
and lowered my mouth to his body again. I sucked on his
nuts, first one, then the other, and ran my tongue over his
taint.

"Where'd your piercing go?"
Damned if I knew. The only piercings I'd been able to keep

for more than a week or two were the ones in my ears that I
already had when I'd been turned. Maybe I'd swallowed the
barbell, or maybe it ended up in a quivering orifice
somewhere. I was guessing that the second answer would
spoil the moment, so I shrugged into his thighs and set out to
prove that I didn't need a stinking barbell to drive him crazy
with my mouth.

I still had my finger up his ass. I rocked it into him as he

craned his neck to try and get a look at me in the dim
moonlight. I don't think he really saw me, or if he could, it
was probably pretty vague and shadowy. The shape of my
hair, the general impression of where my eyes and mouth

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

were. I sank my finger in deeper and listened to his breath
shudder, and wished we did have more light. I wanted to
watch him watching me while I fucked him.

I pushed my finger in all the way. So fucking tight he

might even be a virgin. The mere idea made me ache to drive
myself into his hot, tight hole and pound him until I exploded.

I almost asked him if it was uncharted territory. To be

honest, I didn't care if it was or not. I just wanted him to play
along and tell me it was. But then I realized how fucked up
that would be. You don't go and pop someone's cherry and
then ride off into the sunrise. Even if we were only swapping
fantasies, it bordered on soulmate territory.

I needed to keep it dirty. I jammed a second finger in and

heard him whimper. "You were begging me to fuck you a
minute ago," I said. "You change your mind?"

He shook his head back and forth. Dried leaves tangled in

his hair. I lost myself for a long moment, staring at that wide-
eyed, innocent face of his, long hair spread out like a goth-
boy halo. Maybe it was better that he couldn't quite read the
expression on my face.

I pulled my fingers out of his ass because I didn't trust

myself to put the raincoat on one-handed. My new vamp
friends—the ones who probably wouldn't speak to me now,
since I'd hissed at Bela—were all positive that saliva-to-blood
contact didn't make baby vampires. If it did, the streets
would be crawling with us. But semen contact? They had a
sneaking suspicion that vampire reproduction wasn't so
different from the good old human birds and bees. In a
twisted kind of way.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Older vamps who couldn't wrap their heads around safe

sex tended to solve the problem by staying celibate, or killing
whatever they fucked. Seemed to me that both of those
solutions were enough to drive someone crazy.

I slipped out of my jeans and boots and fished a condom

out of my leather jacket. "Got a preference? How about
ribbed? For your pleasure."

Michael scowled like he was trying to get a read on me,

see if I was serious.

"Okay," I said. I tore the wrapper open with my teeth and

nearly nicked the rubber with my fangs. Calm down, I told
myself. Be careful. "Ribbed it is."

I gave myself a couple of quick strokes and then rolled the

condom on. The latex felt slimy and it stunk of mouth-
numbing spermicide. Michael had gotten his jeans shoved
down around his ankles. The idea that he was tangled,
hobbled, practically helpless, tripped some more of my vamp
instincts. I felt sick for noticing. I'm guessing my pupils blew
open, because there he was, thrashing in the twigs and
leaves, and I could pick out every detail down to the insect
life moving in the grass around him and the tiny whiskers
he'd missed on his jaw the last time he'd shaved. My mouth
watered and I swallowed, and hoped that my spit had diluted
the dregs of semen enough to keep it down.

I grabbed him by the hip and flipped him onto his side. I

wouldn't be able to stare him in the face if I was pressed into
his back, but I could mold myself against him, curve for
curve. My eyeteeth throbbed. I could drink from him, too.
Fuck. That was worse than kissing.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

His leather jacket felt cool on my chest when I clasped him

to me, and his bare ass was hot against my thighs. He groped
back and tried to grab me, but I knocked his hand out of the
way and shoved my knee between his legs to spread him.

"Don't you have any, uh ... lube?"
The undertone of fear in his voice sent my vamp-hormones

into third gear. Now I could not only see the cricket trying to
sneak by without getting squashed, but I could count the
individual bristles on its back legs. Michael's pulse was
hammering in a vein on his temple, and I followed the shape
of it down to his cheek, where it branched, and branched
again, until his whole circulatory system was like a magical,
glowing web.

"Bill?"
"It's on the rubber." I shifted my hips and my cock nestled

right up to his ass, as if our bodies had been made to snap
together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. I pushed and the
tip pressed in. Shallow. Not all the way, not yet. Michael
threw his head back, and I buried my face in his long hair and
breathed. He scrabbled at the dead leaves, looking for
something to clutch, but I just lay there, still, and breathing.
Eventually his heart stopped hammering.

"My God," he whispered.
"You feel so good," I murmured into his hair, my lips

pressing against his skull. Maybe he heard it, or felt it, or
maybe not. I didn't care. I floated in the dreamlike moment
where we hovered with me almost in. I ran my hand over his
leg, spread him even wider. The insides of his thighs were so
creamy I could lose myself in them for hours. I circled with

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

my fingertips, building stroke upon stroke. Higher. And
higher. Until I felt the tickle of wiry hair against my knuckles,
and I gave his balls a gentle stroke with my thumb.

Michael's breath went shaky.
I placed my hand over his cock. Gently. Hardly touching at

all. He was rock hard again. Figured.

"Do it," he said.
I nuzzled my way down to the back of his neck and

touched my tongue to his skin. "But this is it, Mikey. The
magic moment. One more thrust and it's all downhill from
there."

"What you've already done to me is ten times as intimate."
I assumed he was talking about the time I ate out his

asshole. But maybe not; maybe he meant that I'd tasted his
blood. I pinched the skin at the nape of his neck with my
squared-off incisors and considered how much pressure it
would take to pierce him. I'm not a biter. I've got a butterfly
knife in my jacket that does a much neater job. But my
fucked-up chemistry was insisting it'd feel good, damn good,
to sink into this kid in every possible way. Preferably all at
once.

I twitched my hips and eased my cockhead into him a little

bit more. So fucking tight. Once I was all the way in, it
wouldn't be quite so intense. But where I was right then and
there, oh man, it felt like he was so tight there wasn't any
way I could cram it in, which of course made me even harder.
I grabbed hold of his cock and started stroking, fast and hard,
like we were trying to finish up before we'd get caught.

"Fuck, Bill."

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

I pressed my teeth down harder. I could almost taste the

blood under the surface, but it wouldn't be much. Only
capillaries under there. It wouldn't be anything ripe and juicy
like that gash on his palm.

I let go of his neck and felt him shudder. Sometimes the

pain of a bite is sharper after the pressure's been released. I
pulled back and nudged his ass again without sinking in.
"What are you waiting for?" he said.

"What's the hurry? We've got all—"
He dug his palms into the ground, pushed back, and

impaled himself on my cock. The shock of it was like getting
struck by lightning, and when I blinked away the afterimages,
it was as if the glade we were in was lit by full sunlight on a
clear spring day. The way I remember sunlight looking,
anyway.

His back was arched and his knees were splayed wide,

jeans tangled around his ankles, and he ground that fine ass
into me without mercy. I got a mouthful of his hair and bit
down on it, stretched him back over me even farther, and the
two of us clenched up and rode the white hot high of my cock
sinking all the way into his sweet, tight ass.

Michael gasped. He'd been holding his breath. I spat his

hair out and he curled away from me, found leverage on his
elbow so he could start a rhythm and get the party going. I
lay there, dumbstruck, while he positioned himself and
started flexing his ass against my hips. "There," he said. "Was
that so hard?"

I'd lost hold of him while the earth moved. I slung my arm

around him and pulled him against me tighter. We couldn't

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

fuck quite as hard when he was clasped to my chest, but I
didn't care. I wanted to curl up against him and rock into him
until sunrise. He arched his back and found yet another way
to milk me with his ass. I smiled into his hair and rode the
sensation.

"Does it feel different now?" His voice was breathy.
"Feels awesome. Keep it up."
"Not me. Does it feel different to have sex ... once you're a

vampire?"

"Your pillow talk needs a lot of work." I pulled out and

flipped him face-down, planted myself between his legs and
pulled his ass up to meet my cock. I shoved in harder than I
had to and felt some satisfaction when he grunted. I gave him
the reach-around and stroked him while I fucked him, and the
sound of my balls slapping against his filled the silence.

I could feel his next orgasm building in the way he

tightened up all over. What I saw of him was mostly leather
jacket and tangled hair, but I felt like I'd see that magical
webwork of veins again, the visible man, if I'd been looking at
his face when he shot.

His whole body tensed, and his ass went excruciatingly

tight. I made a fist around his cock and held it there,
squeezing hard so that I could enjoy feeling the surge boiling
up from the bottom of his nuts as much as he did. He gasped
and tore up turf, and the sound of his come hitting the dried
leaves was as captivating to my ears as his blood spatter had
been.

He sank down to his elbows and pressed his face into the

ground while he drank air and tried to catch his breath. An

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

aftershock coursed through him. His ass pulsed around my
cock.

"You can come," he said between breaths, "can't you?"
"'Course I can. I'm just not ready. Yet."
He glanced back over his shoulder and gave me an

eyeliner look through a gap in his hair. "Let me suck you off."

"Maybe you should've thought of that before I put on this

greasy rubber." Spermicide kills tastebuds as sure as it kills
the Little Bills, but hopefully a fresh condom would block the
chemical. It was probably safer if we did everything through a
politically correct skin of latex, anyway. I eased myself out,
grabbed my jacket off the ground, and dug into the zippered
breast pocket that I probably hadn't touched in a year or
more. Michael collapsed into the leaves, still kicking at his
tangled pants and boots, and watched me hunt for more
condoms. I was betting my bare ass contrasted well enough
with the treeline that he could finally pick out a memorable
detail or two. I found an ancient book of matches, a folded up
postcard, and there, beneath it all, a green foil packet. The
expiration date said it still had a few months of life in it.
"How's mint?"

"Fine."
I dropped the old condom on the ground and rolled on the

new one. Refreshing, like a cool mountain stream or a
menthol cigarette.

Not really, but it did smell kind of minty.
"How come you blew me without a condom?"
I glanced up and saw Michael had finally gotten his pants

off and spread them out so he had something to sit on. He

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

didn't take off his T-shirt or jacket. I hoped that was because
there was a nip in the air, and not because he was planning
to put a bullet in my head. I told myself he could've
attempted it while I was going down on him, but he hadn't.

Besides, he was still under the impression that you needed

to stake a vamp to get rid of him. He'd even had holy water
on him, the first time we met. I watched him smooth out his
jeans, and decided he wasn't there to shoot me. Probably.
"You're the one who's gotta worry about catching something."

"You mean ... vampirism? Holy shit. What about Ambrose

Gray?"

"Don't force me to gag you with my socks. I totally will."
"Why didn't you tell him to wear a condom when we..."
"Because any other vamp who wanted to get off on some

mutual food-diddling with a creep like him would never have
asked him to wrap it up. Get it?" I got up in Michael's face,
grabbed him by the hair, yanked his head down, and stuffed
my mint-flavored cock into his mouth. He grabbed my thighs
to keep himself upright, then decided to cop a feel. He ran his
palms over the backs of my legs—up, down, up—and held me
by the ass as I pushed in. "Besides. I was the one who did
most of the blowing."

"Mgh."
I tangled my fingers in his long hair and adjusted the

direction of my thrusts to go nice and deep, and decided I
liked him better when he wasn't asking so many questions
and flinging the V-word left and right.

Michael squeezed my ass and pulled me in for some throat

action. I imagined what it would've felt like skin-to-skin.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Wetter, probably, but I decided I could make do with
watching myself sink into that pretty face of his, feeling the
pressure and the heat, and the sensation of his hair bunched
in my fists, and his fingers exploring my ass crack, brushing
the backs of my balls.

I saw him look up at me through his hair. He was

searching for my eyes, but I think he couldn't see much more
than my silhouette. That face. God damn. I let go of his hair
and pushed him off my dick. His lips were swollen from me
grinding my pubes into them, and his eyelashes were moist,
stuck together to form glistening black points around his big,
smoky eyes.

"Lay back," I said.
I swung around and straddled his face upside-down,

looked down at his cock. Hard again. Twenty-one. I caught it
with my mouth and sucked it in. I dug the new angle. If I
swallowed him down deep, I could bury my nose in his balls
and lose myself in his heady scent.

Michael whimpered when I swallowed around his

cockhead. I petted his thighs and cradled his cock with my
tongue, and wondered how many times I could bring him off
in one night. If I was careful not to chafe him, I could
probably make him come until he had nothing left to shoot,
and he was reduced to thrashing around and making those
hot little noises and begging me for mercy. I sighed to myself
and humped his pretty mouth. No time here and now, not
with potentially-miffed vamps skulking around in the woods.
No time ever. Because here and now would be our big finale.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Michael did some fancy tongue aerobics that triggered the

start of my climb to the point of no return. What a headrush.
I tried not to think about it, how difficult it was to get off now.
Sometimes I even told myself that most other guys my age
had a hard time with their plumbing too, and not 'cos they're
vamps. Look at all the little blue pills on the market
nowadays.

But I'm not so hot at lying to myself. Vamp sex took

forever, and I tended to lose interest before I shot. It was fun
to make the food writhe around in orgasmic bliss before I dug
in—it seemed to make their blood tastier—but once I'd eaten,
I didn't feel the need to keep on stroking.

Maybe I'd been giving up too soon.
Michael kneaded my ass hard with both hands and

swallowed me down until my ballsack draped over his nose.
My heartbeat felt erratic, like it had to skitter and stop-start
to give my pulse the momentum it needed to actually allow
me to get my rocks off. And it was tiring, too—in a way that I
don't really get tired anymore, at least not while the sun is
down. Fatigue gathered in my shoulders and thighs as I held
myself in position over him so that I could swallow his cock
and let him blow me deep in his throat at the same time. I
felt my arms start to shake with the effort of holding myself
up, and the tickle of sweat teased my armpits and the hollows
behind my knees.

Michael prodded a finger up my ass and I felt all that

tension in me ratchet up higher. Yeah, baby, I was gonna
come for sure, and now it felt trippy and surreal, like I could
fuck his sweet mouth hard and bring it on home, or I could

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

coast on that wave for a few more minutes and enjoy the ride
a little longer.

Sweet-salt Cracker Jack, he knew he was making me peak,

and he was so pleased with himself that I could taste it on my
tonsils. I worked my tongue for all I was worth, determined to
make him come one more time while he brought me off, for
all that I thought mutual orgasms were the stuff of spliced-
together porno films. It didn't matter. I swallowed him down
and gulped around his cockhead, and my fingers dug into his
thighs so hard I could smell him bruising, and my hips rose
and fell and fucked his beautiful face.

Was I coming?
Fuck. It was more like an out-of-body experience.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Chapter 5

Leaves rustled all around me, and the moon, bright as day,

filled the sky. And then Michael's eyes, as he stared down at
me and ran his fingers over my cheek. "Can you hear me?"

I felt myself smile at him.
"Shit. I was hoping you'd be able to talk. It was kind of

hard to tell with the dogs I tested it on."

I felt him pinch a vein in my forearm, and then heat rolled

down toward my hand and raced up to my shoulder. I felt my
heart slow.

I tried to say something. I'm not sure what. I think my

mouth opened a little.

"They told me you'd be conscious. At the veterinary clinic

right outside Columbus. I don't normally bother with day jobs,
but oh my God, Bill. I learned so much in the couple of weeks
that I worked there. I'm guessing you weigh, what, a hundred
and sixty pounds? One sixty-five, max. Don't worry." He
hiked up the sleeve of his leather jacket and looked at his
watch. "You'll be able to move by dawn. The Ketamine will
wear off first. Then the Rohypnol."

"Www..." That was supposed to be a "when," but my

mouth wasn't cooperating. I rallied and tried again. "Whe..."

He cocked his head and looked at me hard. "You can talk?

Almost? Sweet! That means you really can hear me."

Michael rolled up my T-shirt and put it under my head. His

cheek brushed against mine and he lingered there, skin
against skin. My teeth had never been so close to his throat.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

If I'd been able to move, I might not have been able to resist
tearing in.

"When did I drug you? Well, I was pretty sure I couldn't

get you to drink my water, no matter how nicely I asked." He
sat up and stared down at me while he traced his fingers over
my temple, my eyebrow, the curve of my mouth, to learn my
face in the near-dark. "My first idea was that if I took the
drugs and then got you to drink from me, that I could knock
you out. But obviously, that wouldn't work very well, since I'd
end up with more drugs in my system than you."

Not a bad hypothesis. I'd sucked blood from plenty of

partiers on the verge of alcohol poisoning before I finally
admitted that I had no choice but to give up drinking.

Michael settled himself on my thighs. My cock, in its minty-

fresh wrapper, was still hard on my belly. But not for long. I
could tell I was too woozy to keep it up much longer. Damn.
I'd been so close.

I could feel his balls tickling one of my legs, though, and if

I really focused, I could feel where those silky-smooth inner
thighs of his were brushing mine, and maybe I could stay
hard, if I gave in and let myself enjoy the ride.

Michael stroked me. Oh yeah. I tried to beg him with my

eyes to do more of that, but then I realized he couldn't see
my eyes. Fingers grazed my collarbone and glided over my
chest. He pinched my nipple again, hard, like I like it, and
stroked me off some more.

"Know where it was?" he asked.
I'd pretty much forgotten whatever it was we were talking

about. The feel of his hands on me blotted out everything

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

else. But then he stopped petting, and pointed at his sliced-
and-diced palm. "The heart line. That's the top one. I
powdered up the Rohypnol and stuck it there with some apple
juice."

Well, damn. No wonder he tasted so sweet.
"See that line underneath? That's the head line. That's

where I stopped cutting. I figured the plain of Mars—that's
the gap in between—would stop the drugs from getting into
my system if I held my hand the right way."

Michael looked at his hand. I pleaded with my eyes for him

to keep going and bring me off.

"The cut I made? That was the fate line."
He shifted his hips and his cock settled alongside mine. I

was still hot for him.

"I sliced my fate open for you," he said. It seemed like I

should be able to tell what he meant by the tone of his voice,
but it was singsong and weird, impossible to read. "Wait—that
didn't come out right. I think I got a taste of the Rohypnol
anyway. Hopefully not too much."

He slid down and fit his body over me. His stiff cock

pressed up against mine. His knees and elbows bore some of
his weight, but not all of it, as he tucked his face into the
crook of my neck. I felt his hair. It had spilled over my right
shoulder, was tickling my neck, my cheek. I felt his breath,
hot and moist against my throat. "Wild Bill," he said. It was
so quiet, I hadn't even heard it. But I'd felt his mouth move.

He shifted his head and placed his lips on my throat.
Michael wasn't going to let a little thing like my state of

incapacitation get between us, no, not him. Good boy.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

He slipped his hand between our bodies and started rolling

my nipple between his fingers. They felt sticky. It was the
hand with the mangled fate line. I told myself not to take
what he'd said about me and his fate too seriously. He was
lucky he'd met me. Ambrose Gray would've sucked him dry
and snapped his long, pale neck if I hadn't been there to help
him drug that water.

Michael found my other nipple and played with them both,

pinching one, then the other. He settled his hips against me
more firmly, and stroked my cock with his. Yes. Good.

His lips played over the side of my jaw.
I held my breath.
A hint of wetness. He'd touched his tongue to my cheek.
His lips crept higher. Slowly. Incredibly slowly. More

tongue. Then his mouth again, his hot, hot mouth.

His lips pressed the corner of mine. He kissed me there,

and tasted me some more. I started breathing again, but only
because I was high as a kite and I didn't have the power to
hold my breath any longer. He worked my nipples, and he
swiped his tongue over my lower lip, one long, drawn-out,
languorous swipe.

Our cocks throbbed in tandem. Or maybe that was the

Special K thinking for me.

"It is harder for you, isn't it? The way Gray was talking to

you—sorry—he made it seem like he hardly ever made love
anymore."

Made love? Could Michael possibly be more corny? And, oh

fuck, my nipples were probably blotchy pink from the
constant tweaking and twisting, and stiff as they'd ever been.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Michael fit his mouth against mine and kissed me deep, his
tongue sliding in, finding my tongue, my fangs. My breath
stuttered.

Michael pulled back only enough to speak. "I really do wish

you could still talk. I gave you a low dose, I swear. I had to
make sure you didn't cut out on me 'til we were finished."

Well. I guess I should've been grateful that he wasn't

trying to mess me up.

He let go of my stinging nipples, pushed off from my chest

and sat up. I seemed to be able to control my eyes, more or
less. His black hair hung down and shadowed his face, and his
expression was intense, unreadable. "I can make you come. I
know I can."

It's good to have goals, but this kid was a poster child for

obsessive.

Michael settled himself between my legs and sucked my

cock into his mouth again. He bobbed up and down a few
times, then paused to suck on one of his fingers and get it
nice and wet. I could've watched him do that for hours, suck
on those fine, long fingers of his, but I wasn't the one running
the show anymore.

He pushed that spit-wet finger right up my ass, then

angled for my prostate. "See, if you could talk, you could tell
me what you like," he said. He took my balls in his other hand
and tugged my nutsack. My nuts tightened up like I might
shoot any second. "But I can probably figure it out, if I think
about the way you touch me."

He lifted up my balls and slurped his way over my taint. I

stared up at the stars and felt my pulse thrum through my

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

body so hard that I wondered if my skin would peel off and
leave me lying there more naked than naked—one big, raw,
totally exposed nerve.

He pulled off the stupid green condom, spat into his palm,

and started jacking me off hard. His finger searched around
inside me for the spot that'd really make me twitch. "I think
you're close," he said.

Oh, baby, yeah.
He stopped finger-fucking me and reached into his pocket.

Too bad. He'd really been on to something there. But I heard
the crinkle-tear of yet another rubber, and felt him roll the
slippery, cold latex over my shaft. He'd done it so fast that he
had me covered on a single downstroke, and he swung his leg
over me before I knew what was what. "I want you to come
inside me," he said. It was only a whisper, and my head was
spinning hard, but I'd heard him, I'd totally heard him. He
winced as he bore down on me, and sonofabitch, his hot,
tight ass had me at its mercy again. He tossed his hair over
his shoulder and rode my cock like he had something to
prove. And I imagine that he did.

"C'mon," he said, angling his body better, slamming his

ass over and over into my hipbones. He grabbed my tender
nipples in both hands and rolled them, and I saw stars that
kept on shining even after I shut my eyes. A gigantic surge
started, and now for sure I was at the top of the roller coaster
with nowhere to go but down, down, down.

He let go of my nipples and started slapping his own meat,

and I scented yet another big blowout coming from him any
second. And even though I did think that trying to pace

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

myself so that I came inside him at the same time he shot all
over me was as cheesy and ridiculous as the phrase "make
love," I was tripping, and I was horny, and I thought that if I
were going to do it—to try and cross the finish line at the
same time as the guy I was fucking—it might as well be with
Michael.

I heard a thready moan coming from my own throat, and

the treetops all around me spun. "Yeah," said Michael, riding
me hard and wild. "Fuck, yeah." Everything kept spinning,
even when I'd closed my eyes, and Michael was gonna drag
that load from my balls if he had to ride me all night, so it
might as well be now. I pressed my eyelids shut even tighter,
and I gave myself over to the vertigo, the spinning of the K,
and the lust, and the traumatized kid in leather and eyeliner
that I couldn't seem to get out of my head.

I crested first, I think, as the heady throb of pleasure

turned excruciating, and finally I broke. I shot, and I shot,
and it felt like I'd never stop shooting. Michael's joy juice
spattered my stomach as he came, and I knew what to
expect now, precisely how his ass would pull at my dick while
he peaked, and somehow that feeling made me come even
harder.

I wondered if it was possible to come hard enough that

you'd die from the bliss.

Probably not, if you're a vamp. We're nearly impossible to

snuff out.

The whole world was a gigantic Tilt-a-Whirl, and there I

was in the middle of it. Me. And Michael.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

It seemed to take ages for me to float back down to earth.

Everything was still spinny when I noticed that something was
warm on my face, and bright on the other side of my closed
eyelids. I opened one eye. Michael had a lighter in his hand.
He held the flame between us and stared down into my eyes,
searching hard.

"Your roots are coming in dark. And you're even more

handsome than the way I remembered you," he said. "I know
you think you're ... what do you call it? That you're vamping
me? But you're not. I like you in spite of it. Not because of it."

It was probably for the best that I couldn't roll my eyes

without making the whole world start spinning again.

"Yeah, yeah, you think I'm stupid and young. But here's

the thing. You only felt Ambrose Gray in your head. And he
changed you before you had a chance to meet any other
vampires."

I hate to say it, but Michael was right about drugging me

so he could have his say. I would have been halfway to
Kansas by now if I hadn't been drugged out of my mind.

"Every vampire feels different. Even Damien."
Who?
"He was nothing like Gray. He wouldn't have hurt me."
Oh. Right. My old buddy, Bela.
I wondered exactly how many vamps Michael had actually

known. I'd have to concede that we were different from one
another. I'd noticed that, myself.

"You're nothing like Gray, either. Even when you were

trying to pick me up, you didn't force me with your eyes. I

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

don't think it happens every time you look at someone. It's
something you'd have to do on purpose."

The lighter guttered out. I could see him, but it was so

dark that there was no way he still saw me. He dismounted
carefully, so that he left the rubber full of vamp-spunk in
place, and then curled against my side with his face resting
on my shoulder. It was real sweet, except that he'd drugged
me and ridden me to within an inch of my life, and I was still
so high I was paralyzed and mute. But other than that, I
guess it was pretty romantic.

He wrapped his arm around my chest. My nipples still

stung from his ruthless pinching and twisting. My cock started
to stir at the thought of him working me over with his mouth
and his blood-sticky hands, and God damn, maybe he really
was vamp-heroin.

"I thought I'd have more time to talk to you, explain my

side of things. But when I was looking for you online, I found
this weird pattern of missing persons all around Sioux Falls,
and I can't just ignore it. I think it's another vampire. A bad
one. Y'know ... one who kills people."

A bad vampire. If I hadn't seen his ID and been fucked

silly by him, I would have pegged him as about fourteen. Oh,
and then the way he outsmarted me. And trapped me.
Couldn't forget that, either.

"I can get there by morning if I hitch. And ... that's what I

need to do." I smelled flint and butane, and a tiny yellow
flame appeared in front of my eyes. Beyond that, Michael,
with his long hair and pretty, pretty eyes that were way too

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

shrewd for his own good. He stared at me so intensely that I
wondered if maybe it was possible for him to vamp me.

The flame turned blue, then died out completely. He

pressed his mouth to mine and parted my lips with his
tongue. He opened my mouth to his and slid his tongue along
mine, and I think maybe he was right, that he hadn't given
me a very big hit of K, because my tongue moved against his,
hinting at what I'd like to do with it, if only I weren't coming
down from the spins. He breathed carefully, and shifted
against my thigh. Sonofabitch. He could go again, if he
wanted to. Showoff.

Michael teased the roof of my mouth, then dragged his

tongue over one of my fangs. The taste of his blood exploded
in my mouth, and maybe I could go again, too.

"I think you could find me in South Dakota, if you wanted

to." He kissed me one more time, and that's why I didn't like
to kiss, because kisses led to more kisses, and pretty soon
there you were falling hard for somebody. He tongued my
lower lip, spread a trace of his blood over it, and then he sat
up and sighed.

Leaves crackled all around me as Michael found his clothes

and got dressed, swearing to himself the whole time. I
pictured all the secret places that tickled with blades of dried
grass and insect wings, and then I imagined trailing my
tongue over every last one of them, and following the licks
with trails of soft, wet kisses. I heard being in the K-hole
makes you dream up sappy stuff like that.

"Okay. Just in case the drugs don't wear off, I've got

somewhere safe to stash you."

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

How far in advance had he planned this?
He gathered my clothes into a bundle, then scooped me up

and threw me over his shoulder. His legs were shaky, but he
managed to carry me without dropping me on my head. He
walked for some time, maybe a half-mile in all, before we got
to our destination. I couldn't see it, but man oh man, could I
smell it.

Pit toilets.
He carried me inside and everything went dark as the walls

blocked out the moonlight.

"Right ... about ... here." Michael eased me onto the floor.

He flicked on a battery-powered lantern and tears sprang to
my night-sensitized eyes. "There you go."

We were in a cramped changing room with a bench across

one side and some hooks in the walls. An old sleeping bag
was spread out on the floor. There were windows along one
side, set high in the concrete walls, but Michael had duct-
taped thick black garbage bags over them. It was too early in
the season for swimming, so chances were I could wait out
the day in that crummy little building if I had to.

Not too cozy, but at least he didn't stick me directly in the

toilet.

He crouched beside me and took my hand in his. I couldn't

lift my head to see what he was up to, but as soon as the
charm hit my palm, I knew what it was. He folded my fingers
over Ambrose Gray's peridot necklace, then raised my hand
to his mouth and kissed my knuckles.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

"Sometimes Ketamine causes amnesia. Rohypnol, too. So

if I don't see you in Sioux Falls, I'll figure that's what
happened. That you just ... forgot."

He lowered himself over me and pressed his lips against

mine one more time. And then he left me there, naked and
spinning, in a stinky little concrete park building, in a forest
on the bank of the Mississippi, somewhere in Minnesota.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Epilogue

By my internal clock, it was a little after midnight when

Michael ditched me. I can't say I was thrilled with being left in
a room that shared a wall with a toilet, but at least it was
sunproofed. If I had to be honest, it wasn't much different
than the last time I'd left him, though at least I'd gotten him
back into his clothes before I dropped him off.

The other vamps didn't bother me, and their groupies

didn't, either. I was too close to the park entrance for any of
them to venture near my hidey hole. I thought about
Ambrose Gray for a couple of hours, how much I hated him
for what he did to me and blah, blah, blah, but those old saws
were starting to get repetitious.

When I could close my hand around that necklace, I

mostly thought of Michael, and how, if I really focused, I
could imagine the way his lips felt when they'd brushed over
my knuckles.

I realized I could move again when I batted a daddy

longlegs off my bare chest. I sat up carefully while the room
spun around me, and I held my head until the sensation
subsided.

The peridot charm fell away from my skin. I'd been

pressing it into the side of my face while I waited for the
world to stop twirling. I felt the spot where it had been
lodged. There was an impression of the metalwork beneath
my temple.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

I looked at it in the dimming light of the lantern. It would

probably remind me of Ambrose every time I saw it, but now
it made me think of Michael, too. I turned it around a few
times, and ran my fingers over some lettering stamped in the
back. I squinted at it. Sterling Silver. 1972.

Ambrose always said he'd inherited the necklace from his

grandmother. Grandma, my ass.

I stood up and was just about to pitch it out the door, let

the forest take the damn thing, when another wave of nausea
rolled over me. I sat back down hard and decided it would
probably be in my best interest to crawl inside the sleeping
bag.

I wondered about that amnesia thing Michael had

mentioned. I figured he was giving me an easy way out,
trying to act like he was all noble and everything, right? But
what if it was true? I'd sure drank enough to black out plenty
of times. Not since Ambrose changed me, of course, but I still
remembered what it was like to wonder how I'd gotten home,
and where the warm body in my bed had come from.

A new wave of spins left me up-close and personal with

the mildewy concrete slab, and I decided it would also be in
my best interest to give the drugs some more time to wear
off. The peridot charm dug into my palm as I crawled toward
the sleeping bag. It tangled in the zipper as I sealed myself
in. And before I let myself drift off, I figured out why I was
holding on to it so tight. I stuck my arm out of the bag, and I
made a fist around the charm, and used its edge to carve
seven letters into a blackish green splotch of mold on the
concrete floor.

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

S-U

F-A-L-L-S

[Back to Table of Contents]

Channeling Morpheus: Vertigo

by Jordan Castillo Price

Jordan Castillo Price

Jordan grew up in the steel mill warrens of Buffalo, NY,

spent some formative drinking years in Chicago, and migrated
north to small-town rural Wisconsin once she realized she was
going to kill the next person who bumped into her with a
shopping cart. She did a six-year stint in art school, and
played bass in a punk band that crashed and burned just
before their first CD was pressed. At least she got a cool
boyfriend out of the deal, since she ran off with the drummer.

Jordan has a weekly show on erotica writing tips and

techniques at www.packingheat.net. She suspects some of
her listeners aren't much interested in writing, and just tune
in to hear her say naughty words.

Readers interested in freebies, snippets, and peeks into

the writing process should check out JCP News, a monthly
newsletter where Jordan posts links to free eBooks and
serialized M/M stories. Visit www.jordancastilloprice.com to
sign up.