Touching Evil by Rob Knight

her. There are things that help." He got
everything locked away, ignoring the tiny little flashes that told him
Alice had been here to water and some teenagers hade come hoping for
marijuana. "Come downstairs. I'll run you a bath."
    "Yeah?" Those eyes lit up, Artie reaching out to touch him, just barely grazing his shoulder. "That would be great."
    "Your hands are always warm."
    They headed down the stairs, the old wood creaking under their feet.
    "Obviously I'm just a hot guy." There it was—that hint of humor, the ghost of a smile in Artie's voice. Better.
    "Most definitely. Still, I think a long soak and a backrub..." Oh.
He could give Artie a backrub. This whole touching thing was getting
better and better.
    They reached the landing and Artie grabbed him, hauling him around for a kiss. Looked like someone else liked that idea. A lot.
    His eyes felt huge, hands cupping Artie's face. The heat, the flood of want, felt good.
    Solid and hot against him, Artie held him close, lips moving over
his. He could feel how much Artie had wanted to call him when Leah had
to go home early, could feel how bad Artie had felt for the mom of the
little girl who'd gotten hit by a car.
    "Anytime. I'll leave it on. You call." He pushed back into the kisses, trying to rub the aches and hurts away.
    "You're good to me, man. Anything ... well. Anything in the mail?" The question hung there, reluctant, waiting.
    "I didn't go downstairs." He wanted be alive. Awake. Just himself.
    "Alice knows to tell you, though, right? I don't want another phone
call like the last one. You were messed up." It wasn't the cop talking.
It was his newfound lover. It was at once odd and comforting.
    "She does. No more phone calls. Come take a bath with me. I'll touch you."
    "Okay." Following along, hands skating over his clothes, his exposed
skin, Artie came with him, hungry as anything. Just needing so badly
you didn't have to be psychic to see it.
    They went inside his flat, leaving the coffee and heading straight
back for the big bathroom with the garden tub. The oils. The gardenias
in the windows. The fuzzy towels. "Get naked. You like the water hot."
    "I do. And I like the smell of that stuff you use." Shoes, pants, shirt, Artie stripped for him, not a bit self conscious.
    He got the water started, poured the oils in. "Turn on the stereo and I'll put towels on the radiator stand."
    He was almost vibrating, so excited, so thrilled to have this, to do this.
    "Anything you want in particular?" Like Artie would put anything on
but mellow jazz. When the music was floating around them, Artie came
back and looped strong arms around him, lips on his neck.
    He leaned his head forward, unbuttoning his shirt while offering Artie more of his nape, more of his skin.
    "Mmmm. Oh, that's a cure for what ails me. For sure." Those lips
moved, tickling the tiny hairs on the base of his neck, sliding across
to sit under his ear, smooth and damp and warm. The sound he made was a
little desperate, a little needy, a lot wanting, and it was no surprise
that his cock pushed right on out when he popped the button on his fly.
    "Oh. Damn, Greg. You smell good." Artie was hard, too, pressing
against his ass, one hand dropping to cup his cock, fingers pressing
the head. "Feels so soft. Your skin, I mean. The rest is hard."
    "Your hands." He got the rest of his clothes off, leaned back all the way into those arms. "God, Artie."
    "No one has ever even mentioned my hands before, man." If he opened
his eyes and looked down at Artie's hands on him, he couldn't see the
brief flashes of nameless faces that had come in and out of Artie's
life so fast. So fast. No one had ever gotten Artie before.
    "No one looked. Come in the water." His fingers slid over the top of Artie's, tracing each line, each knuckle, every inch.
    "Mmmhmm. As soon as I can move. You're killing me, man." They swayed, Artie's solid body just pushing and pressing.
    "No. Loving you. You like it." He drew their hands down, slid them