10/29/2015

Story Orgy Creature Feature: Mum's the Word Part 12 #storyorgy #creaturefeature #mmromance


Good morning friends and readers!
Welcome back to Monday with Story Orgy. Ready to see what happens next?




Mum's the Word

Chapter Twelve
Oct 19: It was all he expected.

The creep factor in the hallway increased a thousand fold after Owen left. And how that had even happened, Izzy couldn’t quite explain. Big blue eyes… Head jerks… then “I’m going to pee”, and voila.
Izzy was left holding the flashlight for a man who wasn’t seeming quite so sexy any more. One who had apparently decided that with Owen away, Izzy was…
Available?
Now why would he think that?
Because you met him at a bar?
Flirted with him in the library?
Made eyes at him and --
“Urg.” He choked on his own thoughts and self-consciously inched away from the professor.
“Did you say something?” Micahn Gregoire looked up from the door he’d been trying to unlock.
“Uh… no. Sorry.”
“Perhaps you could shine the light a little closer. This lock… The key doesn’t seem to match.” Finding the right key for most of the doors hadn’t been any trouble because they were meticulously labeled.
Izzy directed the beam over the professor’s shoulder, annoyed that the action required that he move closer. Standing this close to Owen had stirred his senses, but having caught a chilling expression in the professor’s eyes earlier, the professor’s proximity just made his skin crawl.
“Ah…” Door released as tumblers fell into place audibly. The professor rose, grabbed Izzy’s arm and tugged him into the room, closing the door behind them in one abrupt, shocking movement. The flashlight tumbled from his grip to land somewhere on his left, beam directed uselessly at the wall beside him. “Where’s your friend?”
“He… uh…” Izzy glanced around frantically. The room was dark, his flashlight beam was still aimed low… “Went to the bathroom.”
“Good.” The professor breathed, stooping slightly to whisper directly into Izzy’s ear. “I don’t trust him. That boy is up to something. He’s not like us, Izzy.”
“Uh…” Izzy jerked backward, running immediately into the wall. “He’s--”
“What were you two really doing here, Izzy?” Gregoire crowded closer rudely, in a movement that could have been interpreted as sexy by a viewer, but for Izzy, looking into those thinly slitted dark eyes, there was no mistaking it for anything but what it was. A threat.
“Oh…” He wiggled a little, trying to escape and to come up with some believable excuse for their presence. “We were just passing.”
“Just passing?”
Izzy stopped moving. Surely… the professor’s accent had disappeared. He now spoke crisply in a completely unaccented English. “Just passing.” He placed both hands on the professor’s barrel chest, braced his back on the wall and shoved.
The professor fell back but recovered himself smoothly. “I don’t believe you. You’re a terrible liar, Izzy.”
Stifling the cowardly impulse to pretend he hadn’t noticed that slip in the man’s accent, Izzy gathered his courage and spoke. “You’re a pretty good one though.”
“Ah.” All pretense of amiability and flirtation were stripped away, as though that one word had been a disguise that the man shed. “I had rather hoped you hadn’t noticed that. Too bad.”
Wincing, Izzy wished the door would open up behind him and free him from this position, trapped between the door and a suddenly not so veiled threatening presence. “I can’t believe you’re a fraud.”
Where the hell was Owen? Pissing shouldn’t take this long!
“Fraud?” Gregoire stepped back, giving Izzy just enough room to duck under his arm and dart across the room to a place that might not have been any safer, but at least put some distance between him and the unknown. “That’s not how I’d put it.”
“Well, how would you put it?” Izzy demanded, covertly seeking something to use as a weapon if Gregoire got too close again. Seemed like since this was a museum storage room there should be potential weapons everywhere… knives, axes, pipes, candlesticks, ropes… But here in his own personal hell of a Clue game, there were only black shadows and vague shapes, which from his personal experience most likely contained correspondence or trinkets.
“Oh for the love of Mike. Quit looking for something to clobber me with.” There was the sound of something scraping on something, a little quiet thumping… then the overhead light came on, blinding Izzy with its dim glare.
He blinked rapidly, unwilling to trust Gregoire when he couldn’t see him. Reaching behind him and praying that he’d come up with something useful, he grabbed the first thing he could wrap his hand around. His heart pounded furiously, and it seemed to take forever for his vision to adjust. His ears strained to catch any more signs of movement, any indications that Gregoire was coming closer, moving in for the kill maybe.
“Sorry about the lights.”
Said lights glinted on something metal as Gregoire extended his arm. Izzy didn’t stop to think, just reacted. It might be a gun or a knife, either way… He swung his own weapon over hand, pegging Gregoire in the face with whatever it was.
“Aurgh.” The man staggered, reached for a shelf to upright himself, and instead sent it toppling towards himself. Izzy scrambled backward, eyes finally adjusting to the darkness in time to see the shelf full of what looked to be civil war battlefield relics topple.
fascinated, like watching a game of Mousetrap in slow motion, he watched one cannon ball roll down, chasing a canteen and a leather satchel as the slid toward Gregoire, who had regained his balance, somewhat.
“What the hell?” The man wiped at his forehead, examining a streak of blood on his hand, unaware of the impending attack. He glanced from the blood to Izzy, frowning. “Why did you… What did you throw at me?”
Izzy pointed to the floor, shrugging. He didn’t know what it was. Whatever it had been, it had his undying gratitude, because the professor no longer appeared to have a weapon. He must have dropped the gun or knife when Izzy’s mystery object struck him.
Gregoire’s head followed Izzy’s finger, and the first object from the shelf struck him in the back of the head, followed in rapid succession by the rest, ending with the cannon ball which had gained enough momentum that when it contacted Gregoire’s skull it did so with a loud, resounding crack.
Gregoire crumpled to the ground with a faint moan and lay silent. Izzy relaxed enough to realize he’d been holding his breath.
“That was truly fortuitous.” He glanced up at the ceiling and addressed a deity he’d never been really sure existed, but had been dragged to church enough by his suburban parents to feel too guilty to completely ignore. “Thank you. I…”
“Oh…” The man on the floor stirred and Izzy decided prayers of gratitude could wait.  He had to get out of here and find Owen and then really get the fuck out of here.
He kept as much distance between the fallen professor and himself as he could, but the man was in front of the door, so he had no choice but to step over him. It was midstep, with one foot poised over Gregoire’s knee that he saw what must have been in the man’s hand. A gleam of gold on the floor a few feet away caught his eye.
His heart sank and Izzy returned to his original position, bending down to scoop up the leather and metal. He knew though, that he was in a boatload of trouble even as he squinted to read it.
Gregoire was a cop. Undercover.
And Izzy had assaulted him.




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