Pathos - A Duskwood Fanfiction

Chapter 9 - sexual content warning

For the third night in a row, Alan was sitting silently in a dark car, parked just far enough away from the Duskwood motel that he would not be easily spotted but still be close enough to have a full view of the complex.

It sat on the side of the singular highway that granted the sole access and exit to the small town, the dark red neon glow of its signage acting as an eerie beacon to the infrequent travellers passing through during the night.

But visitors to Duskwood were exceedingly rare, and so the highway was desolate and hushed at this time of night - the only movement or sounds coming from the occasional whispering of dead autumn leaves as the biting October wind sent them skittering and swirling across the asphalt.

Alan was sitting in the driver's seat of the car that was purring quietly as its engine idled, headlights off and parking brake engaged, but it wasn't a police cruiser. There was someone seated next to him in the passenger seat, but it wasn't another cop.

Alan wasn't surveilling the motel in any official capacity; his shift had ended long ago and he was here now off-duty, watching the motel as it slept silent and undisturbed under the dark red neon glow that bathed it.

"You got a thing for highways, huh," came the voice of the man sitting next to him, but Alan did not reply. His gaze was locked onto the motel, and he remained stoic as his passenger's question floated unanswered between the two of them.

Alan lifted a hand to the car keys dangling from the ignition, turning them until the hum of the engine clicked off. The car's cabin fell completely quiet after a moment, the only sounds being the occasional taps and pings of the engine as it slowly settled itself into rest.

Room #6.

Alan had a clear and unobstructed view of the room that sat dead centre in the row of available lodgings, and he scanned its facade slowly, his gaze gliding languidly over each discernable feature.

The room's windows were pitch black rectangles that seemed to hungrily swallow the motel sign's lambent light, devouring each deep red photon like a black hole. The curtains that cloaked them were tightly closed, and it looked, for all intents and purposes, unoccupied. No 'Do Not Disturb' sign hung from the doorknob, and the Muskoka chairs that Mrs. Walter usually had Gray place next to the doors of the occupied rooms when they had visitors were absent.

But Alan knew that room was far from unoccupied, and he had come out here for three consecutive nights now, in an unmarked car, to stare at Jake's door.

As he kept his gaze fixated on the motel, a sudden sound of fabric moving filled the silent cab, and the car swayed and rocked slightly as his passenger shifted his weight, leaning in towards Alan. But it was only when Alan felt the warm moisture of lips pressing a kiss to his neck that the police chief reacted, leaning away sharply from the kiss and lifting his shoulder as an impromptu barrier should the other man make another attempt.

The man was silent for a moment, and then Alan heard a sigh as the other man leaned back slightly, righting himself.

"There are better places to get your dick sucked, man," his passenger said with a hint of annoyance.

"Like that motel you love staring at, for example."

But Alan's gaze remained steadfast on the window and he stayed silent as the man sighed again.

After a prolonged moment of nothing, Alan's eyes drifted closed as a hand stole down to his crotch, lightly squeezed his already erect penis, and began to draw down the police chief's fly. Alan's eyes reopened as the hand seemed to struggle with the button holding his pants closed, and so he reached for it himself, keeping his eyes trained on room #6 all the while.