Page 11 of Dead Valentine

Getting closer to the gazebo, I tread lightly along the icy walkway. I hear footsteps crunching behind me and turn my head, noticing Turner trudging towards me. He hasn’t noticed me yet since he’s watching his footsteps along the path. Turning back towards the gazebo, I step in and look around, noticing nobody is in there. My eyes immediately zero in on the placethat Cara died and my cock twitches painfully behind my cup. Turner stands in front of me, too short to block my view, but I realize I should probably focus on him. I look down and find him looking up with flushed cheeks, smiling. I open my mouth to say something, but freeze, I’ve never done this with a man before.

His smile softens. “Hey, don’t worry. I know this is just a curiosity thing for you.”

I look around as if someone, worse, Colson, will pop up and say, ‘gotcha’!

“I know this is a secret. My lips are sealed,” he smirks and looks down at my slacks. “Well, they’re about to be.”

I lift my brow. “Wha-” my words die off as Turner drops to his knees before me and starts unbuckling my belt. I choke on my spit. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He quickly unbuttons and unzips my slacks. Curling his fingers inside my boxer briefs, I shiver at the feel of his frozen fingers. He winces. “Sorry.”

He quickly tugs my boxer briefs and pants down to my ankles and my cup tumbles out. He frowns down at it and back up at me.

“A cup?”

I tilt my head and shrug. “You don’t know pain ‘til you’re working in the university morgue and a cooler door clips your nuts.”

With a pained laugh, he grimaces. “That sounds awful.”

My laugh is cut off with a choked gasp, “Yea-oh whoa,” as he quickly grips my cock and swallows it whole. “Jesus Christ, ambitious much?”

He giggles around my hardening cock and I groan from the vibration. Without thought, one of my hands reaches out and grips his blonde locks. He moans around my cock as if to encourage the hold I have on him. My eyes focus on the spot where Cara hung and my hips thrust, shoving my cock further in his hot mouth. Flashes of the night before play before me, as I remember how she looked before and after she was hung. Bringing my other hand down, I grip his hair tight and thrust in and out of his mouth. I feel a growl rattle in my chest as if some primal need has taken over. Every image makes my cock throb more and a tingle zips through my spine.

Turner grips my hips tight, inviting me to continue my assault on his throat. Sweat drips down my temples and spit flies past my lips as I continue to grunt and growl like a fucking animal.

“That’s it, take it.” The moment I imagine the sound of Cara’s neck snapping and the subtle twitches of her body, I lose it. “Motherfuck!” I shout as I cum down Turner’s throat. My chest heaves with my ragged breaths, puffs of air surrounding every exhale.

Turner pulls back, wiping his swollen lips with the back of his hand. His hair is disheveled from my grip on it, and he laughs as he sits back on his heels. I shake my head, realizing I’m freezing my cock and balls off just standing there pantless. I pull my underwear and pants up as Turner quietly hands over my cup with a neutral expression. Nodding my head in thanks, I shove the cup in my underwear, close my pants and buckle my belt. At a loss for words, I spin and walk quickly out of the gazebo.

Turner giggles behind me and shouts, “Let me know if you’re ever curious again!” My eyes widen and I look around to make sure I’m the only one that heard him.

Realizing how late I’m running, I speed walk to the university morgue for class. Adjusting my garment bag over my arm for the fourth time, I grunt in frustration. Once I reach the door, I grab the handle and tilt my head back, taking a deep breath. Compose yourself, Corbin.

Opening the door, everyone halts their talking and stares at me. Some look bored, others with solemn expressions. I avoid their eyes and walk over to the clothes rack where we hang our garment bags. Turning around, I find them still staring and chuckle.

“Why does everyone look like someone just died?”

A few attempt to hold back laughs, while the women gasp in horror.

“You guys are gonna have to brush up on your morgue humor. It’s meant to be dark, ya know?”

The professor sighs and shakes his head in disappointment. “Mr. Moriarty, I understand everyone grieves in different ways, but are you sure you’re able to participate today?”

My brow furrows in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be able to participate, sir?”

Walking closer to the body tray, he steps aside and I realize what he means. Don’t react, don’t react. Fuck, look at her. I knew she’d look better like this. My cock pulsates against my cup like it’s knocking the door down to be let free.

“Mr. Moriarty, as you see, we're working on Miss Ray. I understand you two were… close.” Shit, I’m supposed to be mourning this bitch. I tug at the v of my scrub top and morph my face into some form of pitiful. I probably look like Colson right now. Gross.

“Yes, sir. I mean, Cara was a friend, yes. A l-lovely woman.” I shake my head and clear my throat, meeting his eyes. “I can do it, sir. I’ve learned in this field, there will come a time that we all have to work with family and close friends that have departed.” I square my shoulders and take a deep breath. “Today will be the day I learn this lesson.”

Professor nods. “Very well, Mr. Moriarty.” He turns towards the other students, “Alright, shall we begin?”

We each line up to grab our gloves, protective eyewear and face masks. Lining up around the table, the professor nods and says, “Mortui vivos docent.” The dead teach the living.

I’m amazed he doesn’t have a banner with that latin phrase hanging in here. It’s almost like a superstition for him, he says it before we work on every cadaver. I wonder if he started it, or perhaps a professor before him.

“Since we’ve already done lessons on preparing a body for autopsy, all of that has been completed already. Today we will be noting our findings on the body. Why is it important to note everything we find?”

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