"Ah!" The boy gasped, bouncing gently within the lap of the man. Head tilted back, hands swallowed within the mess of silver strands that ran down his back. His chuckle softly cradling him as nails gently slid along the youngens chest. "What a good boy you are..." He croaked, placing a lengthy nail upon the boys tip. He pulled his finger back, messy strand of lubricant protruding onto his digits. The boy closed his eyes, moaning softly as he remembered just how he had gotten into this situation.
He had stood outside a church with his younger brother. Had been asked something by his sibling, something about what was happening within this church. He hadn't a clue either and told his brother so. He had heard and eerie chortle arise beside him, turning to find this man in a strange cloak-like cloth. It's fabric timeworn with a hat to fit, a hat with a weird sort of... tail. Majority of his face hidden by shorter strands of metallic white that wisped over eyes. "You know what's happening inside?" He had whispered, large grin arising upon his face. Neither of the two boys answered, only stared to him as he said, "It is the final ceremony. It is death. A funeral, if you may." The younger of boys eyes welted up with tears. "You mean somebody died? How sad!" The man chuckled, "Ahhh, but we all must come to an end, mmmm?" His head rose from the younger brother onto the eldest. "See?" He put one hand atop the youngens shoulder, pointing a crooked finger to the older. "Derrick doesn't seem to mind in the least." Both boys eyes widened.
"Sir..." Began Derrick cautiously, "Exactly how do you know my name?" The man began to giggle, violently swaying his hips like a child. "I'll tell you, but first... TELL ME A JOKE!!" The boys looked at each other, completely and utterly startled. "A-a joke, sir?" The man nodded madly, then stopped and began to walk. "Well, not a joke per say, Just as long as you give me a good laugh..." Derrick stood for a moment. God, he wanted to know how this man knew his name. Nobody had ever called him Derrick besides his brother and parents. And his parents had died so long ago, he could barely remember their faces, he could only remember their voices chiming his name. In the orphanage he was always as addressed as 'boy' or 'you there'. And he had to live in that orphanage until he was 16, so he had another two years to go. He gulped, "Alright, I'll take up your offer..."
Which is precisely how Derrick found himself sitting in this strange morgue. Coffins sat and lay upon floors and walls as if they were furniture. He nervously tweadled his fingers, hoping nobody was occupying this... "furniture". The man stepped across the floor, taking a seat on one of the elevated coffins and crossing his legs. "Go ahead..." He grinned, "I have all the time in the world." The boy nodded, rummaging his mind for some sort of entertainment. "Well..." He smiled, ruffling a hand through his shaggy brown mop. "What do ducks say when they buy a drink? Put it on my bill!" There was a long pause, the man simply sat grinning, not a sound coming from him. Derrick sighed, "No?" The man shook his head. "Alright," Thought Derrick, "Let me think of another."
Three hours of jokes and humorous stories later, a peep had still not been uttered from the pale lips that sat upon the odd mans face. Derrick was getting quite frustrated, he wanted to know just how this man knew him. "You know..." The man finally said, "There is another way that I could tell you..." He stood walking to the youngen, running a finger over his cheek, grabbing his chin and lifting his view. Derrick looked at him, much to his surprise, this man was quite attractive, he hadn't noticed that before. Milky white skin of an angel that was only tarnished from the long rough scar that ran across his face. As if the most beauteous painting in the world had had crimson paint splattered across it, such a shame. The long strands of gray that hung fore his eyes gave him mystery, and wide grin a sense of comfort, even if he was rather strange. The boy blushed as the finger upon his chin scratched gently against his skin. He shuddered, feeling arousal grow within him.
"What would the other way be?" Whispered the boy, chestnut eyes shutting as the man's mouth wisp past his ear. "Sex." There it was. Plain and simple, it fit him, he wouldn't cover up with romance, simply say it how it was. The boy's lips quivered for a moment as the man's finger continued to gently rub his throat. "Alright..." He sighed, grabbing onto the man's odd cloak. The man tilted him back unto the coffin upon which he sat. "Are you ready, Derrick?"
Which is how he got to where he was now, which was sitting naked in another man's lap. The man had taken off only a fraction of his clothes, and the meshed feeling of cloth and skin gave Derrick a sense of stimulation. He had to admit that, while it had hurt at first, it felt wonderful now. Feeling his other's shaft quickly rub within his hole. Watching his grinning mouth turn to one that gaped, bottom lip bouncing in time with the motion as the man's thrusts deepened, stirring himself and occasionally knocking upon the boy's prostate. The wonderful stir as the man's body shook as he released himself within the lad. The tingling of being filled that sent him over the edge and made him cum over his other's clothes.
"Ah, sorry..." Whispered Derrick, deep blush trickling unto his skin. The man smiled, "It's fine, I'll always have a remembrance of you this way." Derrick then remembered why he had done such a thing in the first place. "So sir, how do you know my name?" He asked, tilting his head to the side as he anticipated the answer. The man shrugged, "I dunno." The boy ruffled his brows, "What do you mean you don't know?" The man laughed, "I guessed, dear boy. But if you like, you can become my pet, or I can become yours, and each and every day I will call the name Derrick." The anger rushed out of Derrick's body, it sounded nice. A place to live, eat, sleep, and someone else to love. "And my brother?" The man nodded, "Him, too. More people for a tea party." He giggled to himself as he swayed side to side. Derrick laughed, "Alright...And what is your name then?" The man dipped into a deep bow, "I am the Undertaker..."
Deep within the walls rests a book, a book in which the name 'Derrick' has been scribbled, with only the date of birth written, no mention of when this Derrick would die. And many, many years ago had a much younger Undertaker seen this, and noted that this boy would not have a death. And on this particular day had he decided to make the boy his.