Butch shook his head as a wineglass appeared in front of his face. "You know I don't drink red."
"Try it."
"Nah, I need a shower and then something with a little more bite in it." Butch planted his hands into his knees and started to get up.
Vishous stepped in the way. "You need this. Trust me."
Butch let his ass sink back down as he took the glass. He sniffed at the wine. Drank some. "Not bad. Little thick, but not bad. Is this a merlot?"
"Not really."
He tilted his head back and swallowed seriously. The wine was strong, burning its way to his stomach, making him a little light-headed. Which made him wonder when the last time he'd eaten had been.
As he sucked back the last inch, he frowned. Vishous was watching him far too closely.
"V? Something wrong?" He put the glass on a table and cocked an eyebrow.
"No... no, everything's cool. Everything's going to be cool now."
Butch thought about his roommate's troubles of late. "Hey, I meant to ask about your visions. They still gone?"
"Well, I had one about ten minutes ago. So maybe they're back."
"That'd be good. I don't like to see you all freaked out."
"You're all right, cop. You know that?" Vishous smiled and pushed a hand through his hair. As his arm dropped, Butch caught sight of the Brother's wrist. On the inside of it there was a fresh red cut. Like, one that had been made minutes ago.
Butch looked at the wineglass. A horrible suspicion carried his eyes to his roommate's drinking point again.
"Jesus... Christ. V, what... what did you do?" He shot to his feet just as the first spasm overtook his stomach. "Oh, God... Vishous."
He ran for his toilet to throw up, but he didn't make it that far. As soon as he flew into his room V tackled him from behind, taking him down onto the bed. When he started to gag, Vishous flipped him over onto his back and pushed the heel of his hand up against Butch's chin, keeping his mouth shut.
"Don't fight it," V said roughly. "Keep it down. You need to keep it down."
Butch's gut heaved and he choked on the shit that shot up into his throat. Panicked, nauseated, unable to breathe, he shoved against the heavy body that straddled him and managed to knock Vishous off to the side. But before he could get free, V grabbed him from behind and forced his jaw shut again.
"Keep... it... down..." V groaned as they straggled on the bed.
Butch felt a thick leg come around and trap his thighs. The wrestling move worked. He couldn't move. He fought anyway.
The spasms and the nausea intensified until he thought his eyes were going to burst. Then there was an explosion in his gut, and sparks started flowing throughout his body... sparks that lit off a tingling... now a hum. He fell still, the fight going out of him as he absorbed the sensations.
V's hold eased up and he took his hand away, though he kept an arm around Butch's chest. "That's right... Just breathe through it. You're doing fine."
The hum was rising now, turning into something like sex, but not really... No, it definitely wasn't anything erotic, but his body didn't know the difference. He hardened, the erection pushing against his slacks, his body suddenly raging with heat. He arched back, a moan coming out of his mouth.
"That's right," V said into his ear. "Don't fight it. Let it wash through you."
Butch's hips swiveled of their own accord, and he moaned again. He was hot as the center of the sun, his skin hypersensitive, his vision gone... And then the roaring in his gut shifted up to his heart. In a flash all his veins lit up like they had gasoline in them, the whole inside of him becoming a network of fire, growing hotter and hotter. Sweat poured off him as his body gyrated and jerked, and he threw his head back against Vishous's shoulder. Hoarse sounds broke out of his mouth.
"I'm... going... to die."
V's voice was right there with him, seeing him through. "You gotta stay with me, my man. Keep breathing. This isn't going to last long."
Just when Butch thought he couldn't handle any more of the inferno, an eighteen-wheeler orgasm overtook him. As the top of his cock blew off, Vishous held him through the convulsions, speaking in the Old Language. And then it was over. A storm passed.