The Obscurati by Wynn Wagner Page A

had gay blood donors. Good to know.
    Hamlet and I both fed, and we made it to the rendezvous point three hundred meters over the queen’s building. We were the last to arrive, but Pierre didn’t give us any scolding.
    There were a few clouds out tonight. Pierre explained that our job would be about the same, but with clouds and wind. We were to take care of the area below the clouds. He had some others who would be floating above the clouds. He said that all of the invited guests had arrived, so any activity would probably be bad guys. He told us to call, just like before, but he wouldn’t be alone on the response. He reminded us that we were watching, not fighting.
    With that, we were off. Talk about boring. This Obscurati thing doesn’t get me recognition. There isn’t a badge or uniform. Nobody knows I’m in the Obscurati. And all I do is float and watch. It isn’t as glamorous as I expected.
    “Everybody’s job is important,” Pierre said in my brain. He can read my thoughts just like the queen, and he can be in my head without me knowing. That is one scary guy.
     
     
    I WAS hovering in the air over Switzerland, hour after hour. My lover was on the ground in Germany. I started crying because it was so lonely without Oberon. The rule said I couldn’t “talk” to him using mind-words. The watchers were to maintain radio silence. His long hair, his blue eyes, his guy-liner and lipstick, even his Goth sulking… I wanted to be with him. In a hundred years, we had done everything together. In fact, I didn’t know what life might be apart from him because we spent all our time as one.
    Wow, I take Oberon for granted. Shame on me. We got into our groove, and it worked so well that I couldn’t think of life without Oberon.
    Nothing happened all night.
    “Good job,” Pierre said. “That’s it for tonight. See you tomorrow. Same time. Same place.”
    “I miss you,” I told Oberon in my mind.
    “I miss you too,” he thought. “What brought that on?”
    “We are apart, husband, and I miss you.”
     
     
    W ITHIN a minute, Hamlet and I were back in our room and on the bed. This time, he was feeling a little frisky. After a couple of moments of him playing with my dick, it came to attention. I stepped away from his hold because my head was back in Germany. Yeah, Oberon would encourage me to have an active sex life, but I was busy missing my husband. I was busy missing Oberon, scolding myself for taking him for granted. I wasn’t in the mood to mess around, and certainly not with Hamlet.
    Hamlet really isn’t my type. I love him like a brother, and I had enjoyed snuggling with him the day before. That’s about as far as I usually like to go. I did have sex with him once, but it was when he was still human, almost a hundred years ago. He and Oberon had had me pinned to the bed, and Hamlet moved in and sat on my dick.
    It had been a couple of days since I’d had sex, and that was the longest I’d gone in a century. When you have somebody like Oberon as a lover, you have a lot of sex, every day.
    Hamlet was stroking me, which almost gave me the creeps. He was like a brother, and this felt like incest. Should I stop him and continue thinking about how I miss Oberon?
    Sex was what Hamlet wanted, and Oberon would have approved. He might even have punched me for being fidgety. I could almost hear him in my head: “There’s a difference between fucking and making love.” Yadda, yadda.
    “Hamlet wants me to fuck him,” I told Oberon in my head.
    “He what?”
    “He wants me to fuck him.”
    I waited several seconds.
    “Hello?” I said.
    “I’m here,” Oberon said using mind-words. “I had to stop laughing. Let me know how you like it.”
    “I love you.”
    “I love you too. Go fuck our friend.”
    So, yeah, okay. I got Hamlet onto his stomach and spread his legs. It had been forever since I topped anyone. Nobody topped Oberon. I didn’t want to hurt Hamlet.
    Wait. All the pain he had inflicted on