Daring Passion: A Suspenseful Gay Story

Daring Passion: A Suspenseful Gay Story

A dare among frat boys always spelled trouble. I noticed the concern on Oliver’s pursed lips when we stood rain-drenched on the rear porch. The moonlight accentuated the charm of his oval face, a canvas upon which gods had painted a masterpiece. His eyes, two amber gemstones, held a depth that could swallow one’s soul. The chestnut-brown strands of his hair, cascading gracefully with an undercut, whispered tales of passion and rebellion.

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“Don’t spend the night alone in this haunted house,” Oliver warned. “Taking another dare from the Wolfsjäger ain’t gonna score you an invite to their secret society. They’re just messing with ya.”

“Maybe they are, but how did you know I’d be here?”

“They sent a text blast, daring frat members to scare you off.”

“So, they like to play dirty.”

“Uh-huh! I totally get your vibe and respect your decisions, Mason. But don’t forget someone died here ‘cause their games got out of hand.”

“Wait a minute. You got wet just to warn me?”

“Yeah, I should go before they arrive.”

“You’re that afraid of the Wolfsjäger?”

“Nah, they’re not so great. I could take them.”

“Easy, tough guy.”

His brawny physique filled out his baseball uniform. As rainwater soaked through his red jersey, the outlines of his sculpted chest strained against the fabric. And so did his huge package. He squelched toward the side driveway with a manly air of self-confidence and disappeared into the blackness. 

I stood there, wordless, caught in the grip of a conflicting attraction. He was the hunkiest pitcher on our baseball team, but I couldn’t stand macho men. One of them humiliated me in front of our teammates after our secret hookup. Was Oliver a closeted jerk too? Thoughts blurred, leaving only a hazy glow of desire. My tongue caressed my lower lip like a promise of what could be.

When I sneaked into the frat house, the social room seemed darker than a cemetery at midnight. Ghostly flashes of lightning filtered through the condensation on the windows and painted beastlike shadows on the floor. The furniture, shrouded in bone-white blankets, loomed ahead like malevolent specters. Except for the rumbling of distant thunder, the silence was oppressive as if something sinister waited to happen. 

Plink! Each drop from my soaked uniform echoed like an alert upon the hardwood floor. My cleats squelched with every indiscreet step. I swept an arm across my forehead to wipe off the rainwater and flipped the light switch with a click. As I expected, it wasn’t working. I thought about the resources at my disposal.

“Hmm,” I muttered, “there must be candles in the—”

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A chilling noise shattered any illusion of solitude. It sounded like the ominous slide of a drawer, coming from the neighboring kitchen. The clink of cutlery also echoed off the cabinets. Then, an eerie silence reigned in the room again.

Crap! Someone grabbed a knife.

Quietly, I stepped out of my squelchy cleats and tiptoed away from the kitchen. The wooden flooring felt cold beneath my feet. It brought back unpleasant memories from the Bid Acceptance Night when my so-called brothers left me lying there, dead drunk. Those recollections clawed at my muscles, forcing me to writhe in discomfort. My toes curled, and a cracking sound reverberated around the room.

Dammit! A presence inched closer as his heavy footsteps grew louder. His cologne filled the air with dark woods and amber notes. It reminded me of my ex-lover and evoked a sense of long-buried secrets.

I pressed my elbows into the sides, making my body as small as possible. A bead of cold sweat trickled down my back. Now, the smell of perfume intensified as if he was inches away from my nose. Should I have charged at him? No, he had a knife. He would’ve jabbed it into my chest if I even twitched. I stood statue-still and stopped breathing. No sooner had the clacks ceased than I gasped for breath.

A rustle of clothing cut through the silence before a hooded figure emerged from the shadows. Whoosh! The knife clinked against the wall just a few inches away from my chest. His sweep kick disrupted my balance long enough for him to surge past me like a shadow vanishing into darkness. His thundering footsteps hustled across the room. He left behind a trail of apprehension, but he didn’t go far. His shoes grated against the floor when he screeched to a halt.

“Going somewhere, buddy?” Oliver quipped in the distance.

Never had I been more overjoyed to hear his baritone voice. I heard Oliver grunting and brawling with my attacker. A victorious grin curled my lips like a silent promise of reckoning as I limped to the back door.

Silhouetted against the moonlight stood Oliver’s husky figure. His worried eyes darted between me and the open door. He only had a split second to make a choice that could change everything. To my shock, Oliver rushed to my aid instead of chasing my attacker.

“C’mon,” he said, “I’m getting you outta here.”

“I’m so glad you stuck around.”

“I couldn’t leave you alone in this godforsaken place.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not gonna let them haze you again.”

“No, Oliver. I mean, why do you care about me this much?”

A suspenseful silence buzzed in my ears as he assisted me to the rear porch. Electrically, the brush of his hand on my oblique muscle made me tingle all over. The intensity of his nearness weakened my knees until he released me to close the door.

Oliver’s answer radiated through the fire in his smoldering eyes. Their mystery beckoned to me irresistibly as his gaze searched my trembling lips. He swept me, weightless, into his arms and shattered my uncertainty with the hunger of his kiss. Tantalizingly, his embrace encompassed more than my waist, and a devious smile found its way through our smooch. His dark wood fragrance permeated the air and signaled me that I didn’t pass the Wolfsjäger’s challenge.

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