Story Orgy: Creature Feature Mum's the Word #storyorgy #malexmale #creaturefeature

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Mum's the Word

Chapter Seven
This Was Not About You

“Professor Gregoire?”

The dark haired man lifted his head from a notebook he was studying. “Yes?”

“Can we have a minute?” Izzy gestured to himself and Owen. “We… uh… found something.”

Interest flickered in the dark eyes. “What is it?”

Izzy nudged Owen, who cast him a mutinous glare before dropping the shoebox on the professor’s desk. “This. Letters.”

“I’m afraid that letters aren’t going to be very helpful to me in creating any exhibits.” Thick lips curled in a sneer.

“These letters… We took them home. Read through them. I’m sorry, I know we shouldn’t have.”

“My dear boy, take as many musty letter boxes as you please home to look through. They hold no interest to me.”

“This one is about a collection that a man wanted to donate to the library. A collection of Egyptian artifacts.”

The professor’s thick black brows rose. “Does it say that the items were donated?”

“Not… exactly. This correspondence is inconclusive.” Owen interjected.

“Well, we don’t have time to waste on possibilities. Find me something concrete that I can use.” He didn’t hand back the box though, and Izzy couldn’t help but be a little disappointed by that.

“Yes, professor. We won’t let you down.” Izzy nodded, furiously, tugging on Owen’s arm. “Thank you for not…”

“Shut the door behind you.” The professor dismissed them quickly, returning to his ledgers.

In the hallway, Owen yanked his arm away from Izzy. “What the hell was that? You apologize for me like you’re my mother?”

Izzy stamped out the flame of anger. He knew about Owen’s pride, had stumbled over it often enough in the last few years. “This isn’t about you, Owen. It’s about keeping these jobs so I can quit cutting grass and still pay the rent.”

Owen frowned a little, then nodded abruptly. “I’m sorry. You’re right. But hey… he didn’t fire us. So let’s go see if we can find these things.”

“I thought it was inconclusive?”

“The arrangements were made. He was leaving the items in question to the museum in his will. There is no actual document in that box indicating that he ever really did so.”

“You lied to the professor?”

“Not at all. I just told him the strictest interpretation of the truth.” Owen ducked his head, as though acknowledging the truth of his lie, then muttered. “I just want to find this… We found those letters, he’s not even… trying to find anything.”

“He’s taking a different approach, going through the donation logs. Other stuff.” Izzy defended the professor, though to be honest he too felt the burden of their labor. “Anyway, he kept the letters, so there’s not much we can do.”

Owen glanced left and right down the hall, then grabbed Izzy’s hand and half pulled half dragged him to the stairwell that led to the musty, dusty basement storage rooms they’d been searching through diligently for the past week.

“That’s not strictly true, either.” He held the door open impatiently for Izzy to precede him.

“What did you do?” Izzy demanded, trepidation slowing his footsteps. It had been awful having to go confess their sins to the professor, to face the prospect of disappointing the man and losing their jobs. “So help me, Owen…” Unable to think of a threat or consequence to complete his sentence, his voice trailed away.

Their footsteps echoed eerily in the empty stairwell as they continued to descend, into the dimly lit basement. Ahead of them a single bulb, dusty and dim lit the central hall. Izzy shivered a little, fancying he saw a shadow flicker. Shaking off the hallucination, he picked up his pace a little. At the bottom of the stairs was a switch that would illuminate the hallway… most of it anyway.

“Hmph.” Owen walked so closely behind him that he could feel his friend’s breath on the top of his head. Some of his anger dissolved. Owen was a warm, reassuring presence that tempted Izzy to lean back and seek comfort. How could he be mad at Owen for wanting something he’d kill for himself? He just didn’t have the guts to break the rules, and that would probably hold him back his whole career.

Damned ethics and manners.

What a legacy his parents had left him.

Too bad they couldn’t have left him an adventurous spirit, or a taste for danger.

“I didn’t do anything. Just snapped some pics of some of those letters.”

Owen reached over his shoulder and hit the switch, exhaling loudly. Izzy smiled. He wasn’t the only one who found the basement and its warren of halls and tiny rooms creepy. “Good thinking.” For just second he let himself do it, sway back and rest against Owen’s sturdy frame- not long, just enough to warm himself in the fire of his friend’s spirit… and just enough to feel that unmistakable ridge hidden by Owen’s black athletic pants.

Owen’s breathing hitched, and Izzy knew that spontaneous reaction wasn’t about the creepy hallway, and his insides went all soft and warm as his blood thickened, and arousal threatened.

“Well,” Owen sounded a little breathless. “We finished the first hall last night.” He pointed to a dingy brown plaque on the wall that indicated the hall they’d finished was A 1-12. “Should we tackle B?”

Izzy glanced down the long hall. There were at least six more wings, each containing who knew how many rooms, closets, and cubby holes. “Maybe we should split up.” He offered reluctantly. The last thing he wanted was to be alone down here. The place had serial killer written all over it. As soon as they split up they became targets. He shoved his hand in his pocket and closed it around his phone. Targets without cell service.

“Nah. It’s boring enough as it is, without you I’d go nuts down here.”

Stupid. Stupid to feel so happy about such an awkward, back-handed, not quite compliment. “Okay, so we stick together.”

Owen’s blues flicked over him, his gaze almost a tangible caress, rough and hungry. “Always.”

Izzy blushed… which given how long he and Owen had known each other… been intimate with each other, was kind of … well, he wasn’t embarrassed but that glance made him think longingly of their upcoming lunch break. “Okay. So B wing it is.” He started forward, but Owen caught his shoulder, spinning him around. Heart tripping, Izzy glanced up at his friend, curious. “What?”

“This.” Owen muttered, glowering a little. Then he lowered his head, blocking out the dim overhead light.

Instinctively Izzy’s eyes closed, throwing him into darkness. Owen’s cologne… some cheap Axe or Old Spice variety he bought at Walmart teased his nostrils. He didn't  have time to think before Owen’s mouth settled over his, as hard and stubborn as Owen himself, unyielding, insisting on having this kiss his way, sucking Izzy;s lower lip, biting down, stealing his breath and giving it back.

Izzy clutched at Owen’s shoulder with one hand, grabbed for his ass with the other.

Yeah. Owen had a great ass, firm and muscular…

“Ahem.”

The loud cough startled Izzy, and he jerked away from Owen to lean dazedly against the wall and hope that his erection wasn’t visible through his chinos. “Professor.” He managed to acknowledge the man’s presence but his voice was horribly husky and that one word was the most he could compel his scrambled senses to produce. He flicked a desperate glance at Owen.

“Can we help you?” Owen seemed to recover himself much more quickly, and didn’t even seem to care that his athletic pants clung to the outline of his cock as though they were made of latex.

“That is what you’re being paid to do, isn’t it?” The professor’s thick black brows scrunched down over his nose, becoming an almost solid disapproving line. “Do I have to separate you?”

“No!” Izzy found his voice. His chest was tight and tension made his stomach churn. “It won’t happen again. Sorry, Professor.” Somehow, the professor, whom he’d found quite handsome and attractive in an urbane, sophisticated way, made the threat sound not just punitive but downright dangerous.

“I will be locking the doors at five, as I have an important engagement with the dean. Please make certain that you are out of the building. That is all.”

His footsteps going up the stairs were so loud, Izzy wondered how he’d managed to not hear them coming down. When the professor was out of sight he sagged into the wall, shaking a little.

"This is perfect."

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Hank Edwards

Havan Fellows 

EM WOODS