Date: Thu, 5 Apr 2012 04:34:58 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bien Clar <bienclar@yahoo.com>
Subject: Council of Elders Chapter 7 (Revised)

DISCLAIMER

The follow story is fictional. Any resemblance between these characters and
persons alive or dead is purely coincidental.

This story will contain scenes of a sexual nature between consenting adult
men. Therefore, if you are under 18 (or whatever age is deemed as "adult" in
your
country), if it is illegal to read this material in your country or if you
are offended by the idea of sex between two consenting adult men, DO NOT READ
ANY FURTHER.

The author cannot be held accountable for the decision you make after reading
this disclaimer and if you didn't read it then you don't deserve to be
reading porn. There, I said it, now bugger off. If none of the above applies
to you then feel free to enjoy and feel free to contact the author with
praise, criticism or just flames at bienclar@yahoo.com.  My decision to
continue the story will be based on the responses I get, if I get any at all.

I was really unhappy with that last chapter and thus have decided to
rewrite bits of it.  I know it?s not exactly as thrilling as a brand
spanking new chapter, but for the moment, it?s all I got.

***

Fenris dreamt. He was wrapped in heavy coats that weighed him down; he was
getting uncomfortably hot in all the clothes and began to shout out for
someone to help get him out of them. A hand reached into his line of sight
and he grabbed at it gratefully. He pulled on the hand but it turned into a
long claw that slashed at him. He tried to pull away, but he couldn't get
enough distance between the claw and his throat.

"Freddie!" a voice crashed into his dream and he woke with a start.

Fenris' eyes snapped open and he sat up, breathing heavily. At first, he
was still half-asleep and he turned from side to side to avoid the claws
that vanished like trails of smoke in the morning air. He stopped his rapid
turns and wiped his brow, swatting at the sweat that clung to his hair.

"Freddie, are you okay? You were moaning and I thought I should wake you
up." Owen had a concerned look on his young face.

"No, it's... I'm fine." He grumbled, scratching at the daily growth of
stubble that would have taken a normal man a week to produce.

"So.... Aliens huh?" Owen had his eyebrows raised and a smirk that worried
the werewolf intensely.

"I'm sorry man. Caesar gets a little weird sometimes, but he's a good guy."
Fenris tried to smile, but he was too exhausted to lift his cheeks enough
to pull it off.

"He's one sick puppy alright." Owen glanced quickly at Fenris but didn't
get any response from the tired werewolf.

"You can say that again," Fenris lay back and Owen giggled, Fenris sat up
and realised a moment later that he wasn't wearing any clothes.

'Fuck!' He thought to himself. 'They must have torn when I transformed.'

"Do you always sleep naked? Things must have gotten a bit hairy last
night." Owen choked down a bubble of laughter, but Fenris still didn't
notice the wording.

"Mmmm, yeah, hairy." Fenris parroted before catching up with the rest of
the boy's sentence.  "Wait? What?"

Owen stood up, placed his hands on his hips and bent down over Fenris. He
made a playful growling noise and then swiped at the werewolf's furred
chest. Fenris considered his next move, goldfishing wildly.

"You could have told me that you occasionally turn into a giant... thing,
but noooooooo. I had to be scared out of my knickers when you come clomping
through the trees at some ungodly hour and come and rest your head on my
lap for the rest of the night."

Caesar popped out of the ground in front of Owen and shouted "BOO!" at the
top of his lungs. The young man jumped back in shock and proceeded to chase
the elderly werewolf around the campfire, apparently unfazed by the old
man's ability to appear from thin air. This momentary delay gave Fenris
time to think of something witty and intelligent to say.

"Uhhhh..." he croaked, blinking stupidly. Owen stopped chasing Caesar and
stood over Fenris.

"Don't worry about it, I wasn't offended or anything. It was quite nice
really; your fur is very soft."  Owen giggled again and sat down next to
the confused werewolf.

"At least this way, we can finally be honest with each other." Fenris
breathed out. "So for starters, you should know that my name isn't
Freddie."

"Old news I'm afraid. I worked that one out when you were drooling on my
legs. You're not called something tacky like, I don't know, Romulus?"

Fenris blushed and turned away quickly, masking his crestfallen
expression. He was proud of his name, even if it was a bit
pretentious. Fenris was a great wolf who had bitten off a god's arm after
tricking him, and the young werewolf was happy to share the name of the
first of his ancestors.

"I take it that Caesar's some sort of ghost then, given his propensity for
walking on air and passing through solid objects."

"Well not exactly, but you get the gist." Caesar was scowling at his secret
being revealed, but he was more cross that he had given the game away even
before Fenris' escapades. "Is that it?  There's nothing else that might
come up later is there?"  The two conspirators glanced at each other. They
agreed silently that Owen did not need to know about his own true nature
just yet. They shook their heads and Owen slumped back in a huff.

"Well, that was more disappointing than the last season of Greek. Are you
sure there aren't any more juicy bits of info?" They shook their heads
again and Caesar's image began to fade.

"Wait, where are you going?" Asked Fenris in alarm.

"Well, now that I don't need to pretend to be 'alive' I'm not going to
bother." Caesar leered at him.  "And I'm sure you two have lots to talk
about."  *** Caesars absence caused an awkward silence between the two
men. His last suggestive words had been enough to make them avoid each
other's eyes for fear of blushing like a schoolgirl.

"So..." Started Fenris in an overly conversational tone.

"You know what? Screw it." Owen lunged forward, landing on Fenris'
still-naked body. He had had more than enough of this sexual tension
bollocks. If he hadn't worked out that Fenris had a thing for him on day
one, then he definitely figured it out when the werewolf had been snuffling
around his crotch like a starved dog the night before.

"What are you- UUNGH!" Fenris cried out as Owen attacked his broad nipples
with a euminidine fury, licking and sucking until they felt sore. "Jesus
Christ! STOP!"

Owen pulled back with a look of abject misery on his face. He was clearly
upset that Fenris had been so underwhelmed by his first attempt.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked, his eyes wide.

"No. No, of course not. You were just a little... enthusiastic." Truth be
told, Fenris felt as though he had been attacked by lemmings. "I didn't
think you'd want to do this so suddenly, I was going to try to be
romantic."

"Fuck that! Come on, it's been days and I'm tired of pretending I'm not
desperately into you."  Owen huffed at the werewolf's sudden reticence and
positioned himself so he could get a hand onto the larger man's hardened
cock.

He began to move his fist up and down the iron length in easy strokes that
sent waves of sensation coursing through Fenris' body. It was so big that
Owen could barely fit his hand around it, but obviously he was doing a good
enough job from the werewolf's perspective. A bead of pre-cum collected at
the very tip of his erection and just as it was about to roll down the
shaft, Owen swooped in and licked it away in one fluid motion.

Fenris groaned again and again as Owen continued to treat his cock like an
ice cream cone, licking at the shaft and head and mopping up the errant
drops of pre-cum that bubbled constantly from the tip. He reached out a paw
and placed it on the younger man's head, directing Owen's head bobbing to
synchronise with the instinctual thrusts of his hips. Fenris could feel
himself losing control, as though he was having an out of body
experience. He could see the hand on Owen's head, but he couldn't believe
that it was his own. He couldn't believe that he was being so freely
sexual, something he had been denying himself for years.

For Owen, this entire incident was a dream come true. He was now
practically choking on the enormous head of a dick he had wanted to suck
for the better part of a week. He licked the veins that ran along the
shaft, supplying it with hot blood that kept it rock hard. He moved his
left hand from its place on Fenris' back, to cupping his pendulous
balls. His hand seemed to swim in the burlap mass of the werewolf's sack,
and he tickled the rolling tide. This touching elicited another moan from
Fenris who tried to contain himself but was unable to prevent the inhuman
growl from escaping his clenched teeth.

Owen could feel the balls begin to lift up, a telltale sign of an impending
explosion. He pulled back and sucked exclusively on the head so that, when
Fenris howled and released his load, Owen was able to catch every drop. He
was forced to swallow between each volley, but at last he pulled away with
a glassy-eyed expression as he licked the final vestiges of cum from his
lips.

Fenris was pushed back onto the grass as Owen climbed onto him and began to
kiss him ferociously, invading his mouth with a remarkably prehensile
tongue. The werewolf could taste his own release in Owen's mouth and the
thought that the young man would be carrying his cum in his belly for the
rest of the day made him groan again as another spurt blasted from his
oversensitive cock.

He was still exhausted from the night before, and he rolled over so that
Owen was on top of him.  The Daemon's weight pressed down on him
comfortably and he wished that they could stay that way forever. As Fenris
drifted back to sleep he could feel the boy shifting into a position that
would allow them to stay entwined.

***

Fenris woke up a few hours later, his arms wrapped around the boy whose
sleeping innocence belied his foul mouth and devilish tongue. He could no
longer deny it, to himself or to anyone else.  He was head-over-heels in
lust. It wasn't the fiery kind that burnt out in a fortnight; it was the
constant thrumming of his heartbeat that promised a deeper kind of
relationship.

Owen was still fully clothed, still with some semblance of dignity. The
werewolf stared at his lover's face as they lay side by side on the
grass. He tried to map every feature of the face, noting the flaws and
imperfections that made the boy seem so much more human, so much more
real. The nose was a fraction too large, the eyes the tiniest bit too close
together, the ears sticking out that little bit too much and lips that were
a millimetre too thin. But none of that made the slightest bit of
difference as far as Fenris saw things.

"You should take a photo. It'll last longer." Owen opened his eyes and
grinned warmly at his admirer. "You're going to make me blush if you keep
staring."

"I don't care." Fenris smiled back, his expression calm and happy.

"Well I do care. I swear to God, if you two don't stop making goo-goo eyes
at each other this instant I'll-"

"And good morning to you too Caesar." Owen rolled his eyes and sat up, the
moment over.

"I'd be much better if I didn't have to put up with this lovey-dovey crap."
Caesar grumbled under his breath. But it was clear from his face that he
didn't have too much of a problem with the whole thing.

Fenris stood and stretched his arms and legs, earning a highly appreciative
glance from Owen. He was just about to open his mouth to give a witty
retort when a thud from behind him caught his attention. He turned just in
time to see the sharp talons that grazed the air in front of his surprised
face.

***

The Black Widow had bided her time, but it was a commodity she was running
low on. She had to release Brother Abaddon before the Gate closed for
another millennium. If she waited too long then the Gate would slam closed
and she would trapped in this reality for another thousand years.  She had
caught his scent on the wind and had followed it to a clearing in the
woods. She had maintained enough distance to evade detection by whatever
magical field was obscuring Abaddon's thoughts from her. She had found him,
but something was very wrong; she couldn't detect any trace of the Daemon
other than his scent. Even that was so faint as to be unrecognisable to a
less powerful tracker than the Widow was.

She could see two distinct shapes on the ground beneath her flapping
wings. They appeared to be lover's deep in an embrace, but there was
something odd about one of them. He seemed to be radiating massive amounts
of power like a loose pipe that couldn't contain all the water it was
carrying. The magic was literally spilling out of him in quantities that
should have been lethal to the human next to him. Then the truth dawned on
the Widow. The smaller of the two was Brother Abaddon's human shell, as yet
unchained from its mortal bonds.

She made a decision and dove down upon the pair as they were just rising
from sleep. She needed to time it perfectly, or else the dog-man would
sense her approach. She sped downward and at the very last minute curved
her wings so that she landed with a thump on the ground. She congratulated
herself on an excellent landing, especially since she was
half-blind. Rather than announce her arrival more obviously, she reached
out one clawed hand and swatted at the dog- man.

***

It was his lightning reflexes that saved Fenris from a sticky end in that
moment. He ducked backwards and the claw missed him by a hair's breadth.
He swivelled on the spot as another sliced through the air toward him. He
turned fully and looked into Owen's eyes, begging him to run away with
silent pleas. A claw raked his back in that instant, but the cut was
shallow enough that the slashknitted itself closed in moments.

Owen seemed to get the message and he bolted for the tree line just as
Fenris called a bolt of lightning from the cloudless sky to strike at the
creature attacking him. Impossibly, the jagged fork missed. It splintered
the earth where it struck, but the she-beast was unharmed.

He took a closer look at the monster as they circled each other. She had
one blood red eye. It looked just like the eyes of the Daemon that Owen
been host to. The other socket looked as though the eye had been gouged out
of it violently.

Fire blossomed from his hands as he threw flame after flame at the monster,
but she dodged each one with effortless grace. He changed tactic and sent
waves of cascading ice that flowed from the pores in his skin. The air
cooled significantly and if it hadn't been for his thick body hair, he
would have begun to shiver. Crystals formed in the air as be breathed
heavily from the expenditure of the magic. But the effect was exactly what
he had hoped it would be. The monster had dropped from the air as her wings
had become too heavy with frost. Her main advantage in the fight now gone,
he advanced on her slowly.

"Fenris! LOOK OUT!" He heard Owen shout from the distance. He reacted just
in time to stop short of the spider-web of shadows that lay on the path to
the creature. They were camouflaged perfectly with the forest surroundings
and he would never have noticed them if Owen hadn't pointed them out. He
picked up a pebble and threw it into the shadows. It melted.

"What should we do now boy?" Caesar asked from next to him.

"I thought I told you to keep Owen safe?" He turned and barked at the old
werewolf, rage in his eyes. The blazing blood lust that was coursing
through him was enough to send Caesar scurrying back to Owen's side. Fenris
turned back to the creature and grinned, malice marring his handsome face.

He looked into the patch of darkness that the creature was crouched
in. There was something wrong with the way that she was standing, as though
she were unbalanced somehow. Fenris' tactical mind worked furiously and he
made a decision to change his method of attack. If he couldn't get to her,
she was going to have to come to him. He raised his hands and made a motion
as though he were dragging a rope. The Widow squealed as he was pulled
inexorably toward him.

*** 'What magic is this?' She thought to herself as she scrabbled on the
ground to find something, anything that she could hold on to.

The boy seemed to be desperate to keep her away from Brother Abaddon at all
costs. That didn't make any sense, surely he would have killed the Daemon
the moment he showed weakness? And why was Abaddon pretending to be a human
still?

She flicked between her layers of sight trying to spot something that could
inform her. Damn that wretched hag, she couldn't see on any of the planes
that had been chopped off during their battle.  Finally, searching on the
seventh plane of existence, she spotted it. A shining red cord was wrapped
around Brother Abaddon's neck; it was plugged directly into the werewolf's
arm like an IV drip. If she could slash it whilst viewing the seventh
plane, the connection should be nullified and Brother Abaddon would be
freed.

Instead of slowing herself down, she suddenly launched forward. This
surprised the werewolf so much that he let go of the air and she was
instantly free from his magical grip. She soared over him in one leap and
landed on the sodden earth next to the small human that Brother Abaddon
inhabited. She could hear the thunderous feet of the werewolf racing
towards them but she was quick enough that he would never get there in
time. Her left arm morphed into a scythe and she brought it down on the
boy's neck.

She heard the howl of rage from behind her and cackled as she was batted
aside with such force that it broke nearly every bone in her body.  She
laughed cruelly as she watched the red chord blowing in the wind. She
hadn't actually cut the boy, that might damage Abaddon, but she had torn
the link that bound him to the werewolf.

***

Owen writhed in pain as he lay moaning on the ground. He felt as though his
skin was burning from the inside out.  It was sheer agony, but he could
still see Fenris overhead, could still feel the hot tears that dripped onto
his face from the man holding him.

There was a voice inside his head. It was trying to speak to him, but he
couldn't hear it over the blood rushing to his skull. He tried to listen
more closely and suddenly he was floating in space. It was a white world
that stretched infinitely in every direction. He wasn't alone however.

Standing next to him was an old man. He had a flowing white beard and was
wearing a simple white toga held together by a red broach in the shape of a
rose. He felt familiar, but Owen wasn't sure where they had met before.

"I suppose you're wondering what's going on." The old man asked
kindly. "Well the thing is, you're dead."

"Dead?" Owen wasn't surprised by the statement, it seemed perfectly
reasonable given the agony he had been in moments before. "Is this Heaven
then?"

"Unfortunately not young man. But this place doesn't really have a name as
such." The old man sighed and sat down in the empty space. He motioned for
Owen to do the same.

"So if I'm dead, does that make you God?" The boy asked, tentatively
sitting on the air. He was surprised when it took his weight.

"Well it looks that way doesn't it? But I'm not God as you think of him."
The old man scratched his nose thoughtfully. "I may have created
everything, but I'm certainly not in control. I may give a helping hand
every now and then, but it's nothing more than a placebo really. You people
seem to love the idea that I'll descend from on high and solve your
problems, but the difficulty with free will is that I can't do that."

"Then why are you speaking to me now?" Owen had never been religious, but
he had always believed that there was something more out in the vastness of
the universe.

"Because you, my boy, are special. Born in a world of chaos, raised in a
world of order, you are a creature of two worlds. You are unique. The idea
that a thing as weird and wonderful as you can find love is something that
gives me great joy." God smiled again and clapped Owen on the back like a
proud grandparent.

"Okay, I guess. But why is all of this happening? Werewolves and demons and
magic-"

"Oh my!" God laughed. He seemed to do nothing but laugh and smile, and it
was impossible to reconcile this image with the wrathful God of the
Bible. "You see the thing is: the world is stranger than you can imagine. A
whole supernatural subculture exists right below your nose. Most people
never see it, but some are lucky enough to glimpse it even for a fraction
of a second."

"But where do I fit into this? What did you mean about me being 'born in a
world of chaos'?"

"Well I could tell you, but I think it would be easier to show you." God
clapped his hands together and a wash of colour flooded the landscape.

They were standing over a battlefield. Owen was struck dumb by the sheer
violence of the scene.  The fight was still raging below them with three
clearly defined sides. On one corner of the triangle was a mass of
black-clad people with swords over their backs. To their right was an army
of men and women who looked like Fenris, tall, proud and strong. The final
group was harder to make out clearly. There were far fewer of them, but
their size made up for their lack of numbers.

"The golems of the desert were my first sentient creations on this world. I
will always hold them dear to my heart, for they were the purest of all my
works. They were massacred for trying to keep the peace between the
werewolves and the vampires." It was clear that the war had been raging for
a long time; the number of broken bodies that lay scattered over the land
was a testament to that.

"I'm afraid not, young man. This was the conflict known as the 'Seven Day
War'. It lasted a week, but in that time, millions were slaughtered. An
entire race was wiped off the face of the Earth."  Time flashed forward and
Owen felt slightly disorientated.

"This is the last day of the war." Owen gasped as he saw the greatly
reduced armies. There was only one golem left and despite the odds, he was
fending off every attack that came his way.  "Oberoth was the last and
greatest of his kind, the most magically gifted individual I ever saw until
your friend Fenris was born." Owen watched as the stone man blasted dozens
of his enemies into dust with just a click of his fingers.

"Fenris can do that?" He asked with fear in his quavering voice. The gentle
giant he knew could never be so callous.

"He could, if he wanted to. But the young werewolf is a much softer
individual that the golem ever was. Oberoth grew cynical with age whereas
Fenris' love of life would stop him from acting so cruelly. He is certainly
capable of it however." God chuckled at the cross look in Owen's eyes. "I
know you would never think ill of him, but there is darkness in his heart
as there is in all people. He may torture the Daemon who attacked you as
revenge."

Owen shuddered and looked back to the battle raging below him. He spotted
something that made him tug at the old man's arm.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at a red void that had opened up in the
sky.

"That, young man, is the reason you're currently dead." God blinked and
suddenly they were standing by the void and watching as monsters poured out
of it. He spotted a woman who looked just like the Daemon who had attacked
him moments ago. The creatures descended on the battlefield, it was only
Oberoth's voice that made the werewolves and vampires stop fighting. As
one, they turned to face the mysterious enemy and braced themselves for the
impact.

This next onslaught lasted for hours. The home team had the advantage, but
they still suffered heavy losses. It was clear that while the enemies from
beyond the portal were formidable, they had no concept of teamwork and were
unconcerned with the safety of the other members of their group. Without
warning, the remaining Daemons rose into the air and raced back to the void
as fast as they could. Oberoth sent one final wave of magic after them,
disintegrating dozens of fleeing monsters, and the void slammed shut with a
noise like a thunderclap.

Owen watched in amazed silence as werewolf and vampire alike ceased battle
and wept for the loss of their brethren. They were drawn together by the
misery that had suffered and only afterwards realised that they had been
fighting the wrong enemy all along. It was awful to behold and Owen felt
tears fall from his own eyes as he watched them.

"That was the day that the Triumvirate was formed. One representative from
the vampires and the werewolves as well as Oberoth." The old man was
clearly affected by the bloodshed they had witnessed and Owen couldn't
imagine what the pain of watching your children slaughtering each other
must feel like. "Your friend Caesar was the general of the werewolf
army. He was a fearless leader but he was one who detested war and all of
its follies. The vampire general went into isolation after the war and his
second in command was chosen to be the representative, though Malus was
never the man his predecessor was. Oberoth was the last of his people and
he bore the entire weight of his history upon his shoulders, but he was
never one to shirk responsibility.

"Where is the vampire general now?" Owen asked curiously.

"They say that he went into hiding and swore never to feed from humans
again. He was a good man, though he never saw it himself. He was born
without the human compassion that I tried to instil in all of my
children. But that never stopped him from wanted to feel empathy, to
understand the emotions he had been born lacking." God smiled fondly at the
memory of the impetuous young psychopath who had begged him for the power
to love.

"But you must know where he went. You're God, for god's sake."

"Indeed." God grinned, which wasn't really an answer at all. The scene
suddenly shifted back to a white haze. "Now, you have a decision to make.?

"Huh? I thought you said I was dead"? Owen was perplexed.

"You are dead, but that doesn't have to be the end of things. You could go
back if you wanted to. Of course, there would be a few... changes to your
appearance, but nothing drastic." God was being intentionally unhelpful at
this point and Owen knew it.

"Okay. Send me back." Owen said simply.

"It's gonna hurt. But a little pain never stopped anyone did it?" The old
man started to hum tunelessly and a patch of yellow light opened up behind
Owen. The boy turned and was about to step through when he suddenly thought
of something to ask the old man. He swivelled around with his mouth open
and was about to voice his query when God gave him a hard shove and he
spiralled into the yellow light.

***

Slight change of tone I know. I?m not at all religious, but I figured the
Creator had to come into it at some point.

Drop me a line at bienclar@yahoo.com