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Disclaimer!
Do not read this if it is illegal for you to do so! It is not for readers under age 18. It is not for people who will be offended by Angels having sex. If you are religious and could be offended by this fantasy-fiction with no effort made to adhere to any sort of dogma-don't read it. If you are offended by anything contained in this story-especially Adriel's nasty tail-don't email me. I will not bother with you. ~Evago
evagoxrush@gmail.com
It is not because angels are holier than men or devils that makes them angels, but because they do not expect holiness from one another, but from God alone. ~William Blake
It is better to reenter hell and become an Angel than to remain in heaven and become a demon. ~Victor Hugo
Together we are god. Together we have the capacity to step beyond this earth into the divine, and there the universe and all it's diversity is open to us. But that is another story.
You are thinking the good guys and the bad guys. Nope. Good and Evil are the choices a soul makes, often before a particular mortal incarnation. Take a soul so far down into darkness and yes, many are for all intents and purposes unrecognizably, unredeemable evil. Therein lies the death of a being. Collapsing in upon itself, it consumes until it ceases to be anything other than a matter stream returned into the cycle, blank and uncorrupted. A soul is a soul.
You see his creation is perfect.
I am vain enough to wonder if I know him better than you? And humble enough to be shamed by my envy of you. You are lucky, you get to erase the pain of one life to the next until you find your way to heaven or circle through the decades in one life to the next. Our souls bear the marks of centuries of our struggle.
And for a fallen angel, those marks can be horrific. But today I am just like you, sitting in a café watching the world go by, forgetting my troubles in a perfect latte.
I watch him from my seat at the sidewalk café, my latte steaming in the simple white cup in front of me. Ah coffee, Paris and a warm spring day, the vice of choice for me today. He admires that obscene human creation, Notre Dam, in absolute youthful abandon. The rarest of the rare, a young angel. So beautiful your eyes cannot behold him, so naïve he does not see me. Is it any wonder there are more of me, and less of him every day? Once, my wings were as white and gold, my skin as tawny perfect and my eyes as blue as the oxygen rich summer sky. As quickly as he appeared, he is gone. None too soon, someone watching out for him lest an ancient lecher like me get too close.
It was vain of me to assume such. And a lie anyway, I couldn't touch such a darling unless it was his will for me to do so. Long past has been the day when the gates of heaven were open to me. My halo isn't tarnished; it was crushed in the dust of my bloody conquests.
Us and Them. Mankind and Angels. The only two. I am what happens when an angel falls. It was my envy of you, man that brought me to this place. My folly. Oh how I hated you. Lusted after your vice. Indulged in your sin. And emptied myself of light in my shame.
The froth on my coffee is so pure white; I ran my finger through it. "Is this seat taken?"
I stiffened. Looking up, the afternoon light cast his face in shadow, "Sure, I was just leaving." I started to rise but he made a sound. A disappointed sound, and I sat back down and found his blue eyes with mine. He is young, very young.
"I over heard you speaking to the garcon' and realized you spoke French with an American accent, I've been here for six days, and I was just really needing some..." He blinked at me, I guess my stare was disconcerting. But his ramble was a little odd for me too. Damn, how adorable he was. He was lonely, not afraid exactly, but he was homesick.
"Adriel," I held out my hand, my form was handsome in a rugged sort of way. My skin Mediterranean dark, my features Grecian and well formed, the slight beard I have is fashionably light, cut neatly along my jaw and my upper lip. I am wearing worn black jeans and Italian shoes, a simple dark jacket and gray shirt. Behind my dark sunglasses are dark eyes, so dark the pupil is hard to discern in bright light like this.
"Dan." He replied and took my hand in his. His fingers were cool, and his skin tender soft. Instantly I felt the warmth of him, his innocence. He held my hand firmly, for a longer than natural time and I was struck then, by the simple caress of his fingers against mine. Gentle affection. Divine attention. I jerked back and up, rising angrily to my feet. Fuck! The angel. He flinched, startled. His fear was a tangible thing; I suddenly tasted it on my tongue. "I am sorry, did I do something wrong? I've never seen, I mean... is there a protocol? Something I am missing?" He blinked at me, his soft sable hair fell into his eyes for a second and he pushed it back unhappily. His voice, still boyish, soft, it was alluring. He was small for an angel, not a man grown then? Maybe five and a half feet tall, he was slender.
The scent that teased me was him, like cinnamon and honey, tea. I could easily find a more beautiful man, and had done to them and angels more perverse and profound things that can be remembered. But, I had forgotten more about them in this moment that I knew. In him was the memory that he did not expect anything of me. He did not judge me. I found myself speechless at his courage. He swallowed and looked down at my latte, his finger came out like mine earlier and touched the disappearing froth and brought it to his lips. A curious expression flickered across his features. Finally, his shoulders sagged and he turned and walked away. I tasted his tears on the wind.
I fled, abandoning my mortal form and stepping into darkness to return to my home. I didn't want to think about him. About the sheer pleasure it had been to just be in his presence. I didn't want to wonder how the others would have let him draw so close to an ancient such as myself.
The building was old, it's foundations dated back four hundred years. My flat was the entire bottom floor and the two story subterranean section with its connections to the macabre catacombs. I strolled angrily through the foyer and caught my reflection in the mirror. The reddened skin leaning towards black, the sharply feathered black wings, the curling rams horns and the thick tail that lashed from my lower back snaking vulgarly as if it had a life of its own. What had possessed such a beauty to even trust his voice with one such as me?
With a foul curse the mirror shattered, its pieces stinging my skin and my blood dripped as I walked into my bedroom and collapsed on the massive bed. I don't need sleep, but often I wallow in it. My two hundred and forty pound frame hit the soft hedonism of my custom feather bed silently, my nakedness immune to the sensual slick caress of the fine cotton sheets.
I dreamt, something I rarely do. He was following me down a narrow street. Sunlight sometimes snuck between buildings and other times shadows fell of such blackness I felt them cling as I passed through them. That sound was his voice, calling my name, begging me. Sobbing, and I stepped across a small square into a gated cemetery. He caught up with me as I slammed the gate shut. Leaving him outside, I latched the lock. Tears streamed down his face, behind him shadows danced and sunlight gleamed and I felt the cold of the graves behind me. The drowning hum of darkness so icy, I felt it to my toes.
I woke on his scream. I wasn't locking him out to keep him from me, I was locking me in to keep me from him. The last image I have is him reaching for me through the bars, and the ache in my fingers for his touch. Sandre. I reached out for him and cried out a name.
I am not sure how long I slept, but the dreams disappeared and in their place there was exhaustion. I know the word, but until this night I had never felt it. I ached, every bone in my body felt heavy, my skin felt tight and I was thirsty. I woke as if from a drugged stupor, I groaned. Hung over? Cool fingers cupped my heavy palm and a simple glass of water, its scent clean was pressed into mine, to my dry mouth. I drank; the cool liquid was so perfect I groaned at the sensation. My eyes stung, they felt filled with sandpaper, I fell back on the bed, a cool cloth was pressed to my forehead. My body hadn't felt this battered feeling since the war of Babel. If I could shift, out of the demon form, maybe my back wouldn't ache so goddamn much. "Fuck!" I cursed as I tried to roll on my side.
"Try not to fight so hard, Adriel," His soft voice brushed over me, and despite the ache my eyes snapped open. Sandre.
"What the hell!" I snarled and I caught his wrist in a painful, if weak for me grip. "How did you get here?" He bent at the knees, the pain apparent on his features, as the bones in his arm seemed to bend to the point of snapping.
"Ah!" He cried out, "You...you called me." Tears sprang from his eyes and soaked his soft cheeks in rivulets and horrified I watched as they dripped from his cheeks and dripped onto my bare chest. Like acid they burned the color from my skin, as if scaring me with their tracks, leaving white trails behind before the heat of my skin absorbed them. His beautiful eyes were filled with pain but he just looked at me with that foolish love. That love we all knew for one another. His other hand touched mine where I was hurting him and despite his shivering he caressed my wrist and I relaxed my hold, his touch was so... soothing.
"What is this? Some fucking path to salvation! I don't want it!" I roared.
"You are doing this to yourself, Adriel." He answered gently, and he climbed on the bed beside me, gently easing me on my side and the savage ache in my spine from lying on my prodigious tail lessoned. "Is that better? Well, uh, that is a huge thing isn't it?" He blurted with a soft laugh, "Why a tail? Do you all have tails like that? I mean, it really is quite...um," He broke off when I glared at him over my shoulder. "Nasty." He finished defiantly. He didn't see it coming, and I felt a savage rush of pleasure when I snaked it around his ankle and jerked, tumbling him, wings and all from the bed to the hard stone floor. "Not funny." He muttered from the floor.
I laughed. It hurt to do, my chest ached as if something heavy had been sitting on it, but the laughter burst forth. Like a muscle that needed stretching it relieved some ache in my chest. He appeared on the other side of my massive bed, and smiled weakly at me, "Still thirsty?" He asked softly. I noticed his attire then. He was a gay boys wet dream. A & F t-shirt snugly fit over his sleekly muscled chest. His khaki's were too lose, hung low on his perfect hips exposing a faint band of tawny gold flesh, and cut below the knees, his perfectly shaped calves were curved and covered with downy brown hair. His feet were bare on my cold floor and he shivered, as I looked him over. "I like these clothes, so not a word from you, bad guy." He snapped angrily. I blinked. I realized he was out of my reach, tail and all. I can't use power against him without his will.
"Yes, I am thirsty." I said politely. I can touch him all I want. I am only stronger because I am older. By about a billion years it feels like. My god, you want innocence and tenderness, try a baby angel. He was succulent. I drew up my left knee, concealing my raging hard on from him. Because fuck, yeah, exactly, fuck, that is what I wanted. Rhetorically speaking. In the back of my mind and the front of my body, I wanted to bend this little swan over the edge of the bed and fuck him so hard he shed feathers. He was perfect.
He came back with a glass of water, "What, no bourbon?" It didn't occur to me that thirst isn't usually a problem for angels, or demon angels either. But, I was thirsty. And hungry. Not to mention fiercely horny. He passed the glass to me and I caught his hand again, this time drinking with one, and manacling with the other, half on my knees he eyed my tail with a mixture of fascination and horror. Oh darling, what I can do with this magical appendage I thought. "So," I tossed the glass the shattering making him gasp fearfully, "I called, you came. Now what?" I tugged sharply and he fell onto the bed, a tangle of wings and limbs and soft skin. I pinned him with my broad chest and stared down into his face. He blushed, and I watched fascinated as the pink colored his cheeks and his soft mouth opened on a gasp, even his neck and ears warmed with color and I shuddered, unaware of my actions next. I leaned in, and what should have been a carnal kiss, tongue diving for his tonsils, was soft, tender as I brushed his cheek, still damp and slid down to his jaw and his ear, nibbling, caressing, and tasting him. God he was sweet! The sound I made was not a growl it was a broken hum, as I tasted him, licking his throat, tugging on the soft simple fabric of his t-shirt, and nipping the delicate skin of his collar.
He clutched my shoulders, the sound that erupted from him was a hum and a gasp, he alternated between pushing against me and clutching me until I tucked his hip into my raging groin that he stiffened in shock. "No!" He whispered. "No, I said no." The words were breathless, and I was half tempted to pretend he didn't mean them. But, he was an angel, and no meant no. I lifted my head and stared down at him.
He was perfect, and drawing something like pleasure out of me. No, that word didn't do it justice. Something like...feeling. I felt alive. I frowned, he was saying no and I was hurt. A memory, of before. Of me before. My long blond hair, my blue eyes, my towering height and friendly smile. I touched his face gently. "I called you..." I said possessively, "Why no?"
"Just because I came does not mean I am willing to add to... your illusion." He twisted, turned away, his perfect taut ass dragging painfully against my favorite sword, the nine inch monster between my legs, as he untangled himself from me tail and all. I closed my eyes and relaxed into the bed, the sudden rush of aches returning to my body. Everything hurt. But, he didn't leave the bed entirely. He sat lotus style, beside me, his land on my arm. His fingers traced the rigid curve of my hard shoulder for a moment before he drew entirely away and stood.
A few hours later the scent of coffee drew me from my...sleep? I growled, rumbling to my feet. I felt only a little steadier. The trip to the kitchen upstairs seemed interminable. He was pacing from the laptop to the coffee maker, and finally it stopped and he bent at the waist and listened carefully.
"It's done." I said and I swear he jumped three feet. I grinned. He turned around and I was sucker punched again by his beauty. I swayed in the stone doorway, my palm slapped the rough hewn rock to steady myself as I drank him in. Inhaling his scent, imbibing of his glory. The down of his snow gold wings swept up from his shoulders in perfect folds, the longest flight feathers brushing the backs of his calves. They were an illusion, oh how well I knew it. Visible only to our kind and just as invisible should he wish it. There was about him an unconsciousness, such innocence that he didn't know how to use his appearance to tease or torment. He just was.
He carefully poured the coffee into a French cup, handle less and broad and walked to the table and set it down. "It is for you." He locked his shimmering gaze on mine, and I was ashamed by my nakedness, but hellfire, it is my home. So, stubborn as the day I was made, I strode past him, my dick nearly bumping him and sat.
When his fingers touched my cheek it was my turn to flinch. His cool touch stung me, "You don't get it both ways, hummingbird." I caught his hand in a cruel grip and shoved it away. Perhaps I should have watched him more carefully, because his sigh came from across the room.
He stood in the stairwell to the foyer, a shadow across him, his eyes hidden from me. "Forgive me," He whispered and turned away and took the stairs. I could hear the rain from here, I leapt after him but the door to the street was closing and his form was a shadow in driving rain by the time I summoned clothing. My entire weight crashed onto my knees as if the weight of his loss were borne on my shoulders. He left me. Forgive him for what? Trying to care? I drank the poorly made coffee and eyed what he had been using the computer for. He had looked up the model of my coffee machine and followed the directions. My heart clenched.
I found that painfully touching. The most interesting thing to wander into my indefinitely miserable existence, and I chased him off with my own pride. Good going Adriel.
"You can come back anytime!" I yelled. But, I didn't say his name. I knew it in my dreams, but awake it eluded me. I wandered around the rooms I had cluttered with a few lifetimes of junk. I moved around the world as centuries passed. This was my fourth life in Paris. I had a few years left of it, then I would move on, perhaps to South Africa, or Australia. Los Angeles.
. I was sitting in that same café, as I did from time to time, as if in a dream longing to see just his light. I prayed, literally that he would stay away from me. If there was an ounce of goodness in me, I had long since allowed, it had been that which had driven him from me before I tainted him, sullied him, corrupted him. This time the rain had me indoors, and seating was limited. Tourists flocked to this dingy café, it's only grace being the sliver of a view of the cathedral. Finally, and older gentleman sat down at my table and eyed me uncomfortably. His collar gave him away.
"Que pasa, padre?" I enquired mockingly.
He tilted his head at me, "What makes you think I am Spanish, enfant?" He mocked right back. Then I saw him, the young man he once was and I mused at gods nasty little sense of humor. Monico Ruiz, Father Martin. Some forty years ago, outside the Vatican, a place as garish and obscene as myself, I met a young priest. And fucked the living daylights out of him. Man to man, just sex. It was fun, it was sinful for him, and a detour from my usual diet. He'd been convinced his confessions could absolve all, and I left him pleasured but relatively untainted. Ah, his dark hair and bare chest had been all I needed.
I merely nodded, I had changed little in the intervening years, perhaps the style of my hair and the cut of my jacket. My beard was new, but again, it was light and didn't conceal the curve of my jaw. He ordered a simple coffee and turned his gaze away. Closing my eyes I absorbed him, the years had been unkind. He was suffering from painful swollen joints, and couldn't seem to get warm. All men are born dieing but he wasn't far from it. It saddened me, he was perhaps sixty. But it was the darkness on his soul that I grieved. Imagine, me, on the very edge of blackness, feeling sorrow for a lost shepherd.
He had fallen in love once. And that sin had drug him into darkness. That sin. What a joke men were. How they had failed so utterly to grasp the one thing so freely offered that could never be wrong was beyond me. "It is a lonely place." I said.
The dark brown eyes danced back to mine, and I transposed his image with that of his youthful self and smiled and him beguilingly. "Do I know you?" He asked shaking his head.
"Impossible." I shrugged. "What empties your heart so utterly, padre?" The rain intensified or I think he may have left.
"Really, como esta? Who?" He tilted his head at me.
"Did you love him? The one you have come to see?" I asked, as the picture became clearer. "Because he loved you. Would you have him remember you as fallen? Under the burden of an imaginary sin? You men are fools, forgetting the law of life. Love. Love one another, all else is illusion." Well, wasn't that brilliant? But it made me angry to see him come to this. Fornicate with a demon and find salvation. Fall in love and condemn yourself to a life of regret. Idiot.
"Holy Mother!" He muttered a prayer and blanched, and I wasn't sure he would survive the shock. "Antonio?" He whispered. Ah, that was it, the name I had used.
"Impossible." I repeated with just a hint of question. Was I being cruel? Probably, "Engage me padre, in a discussion about redemption if you would be so kind." I nodded at his coffee and he drank deeply. "I've grown a bit...disillusioned with my own faith. How can he love us when we are so absolutely willing to indulge every vice to explore every nook and cranny of hedonistic sensation without any sense whatsoever of decorum or boundaries?"
"What?" He blinked at me. He quoted some scripture nonsense at me and I rolled my eyes.
"Come on now, Monico! Believe? As if I," I snorted rather like a bull in a china shop, it was an impressive sound that turned heads, "have any problem with believing. Ah...but you, that is your problem isn't it? You can't quite believe. All around you, the miracles of his mystery. A life where in your heart burned the conflagration of love you could not deny and you are suffering because you aren't sure?" I laughed. I couldn't help it his doubt was comical. "He gave you one law, padre. Love. Love one another, and how could you screw it up so badly?"
"It is you." He breathed, "What? Explain to me."
"Explain what, padre? That you condemn yourself to misery and damnation because of love, and not because you fornicated, quite enthusiastically, with a fallen angel? I am not worried about you though," I stood, cupping his loose chin in my hot hand, "Because the next time around you'll do the same damn thing." I ran my thumb over his lower lip, "Or you could walk over there, and light a candle and ask for forgiveness for castigating your precious life away on self hate. Imagine for a moment, what it is like to live out all of your lifetimes, one long stretch. No do overs for us." I walked out. He wasn't very good on conversation then either. What a shame.
There he was again, standing in the rain watching the gargoyles pour water forth from their mouths outside the cathedral. Water drenched his university style hoodie and his converse sneakers were wet. He was shivering. When I drew closer he looked over at me, his green eyes unseeing at first. Wait, green. What the...the features were the same, the tilt of his head. The slender body. Even the smell, the honey and tea. But this was a human boy. "I am afraid to go in." He smiled, and wow, what a warm youthful mortal smile. He was alive and full of mischief. There are two choices available to an angel who wants to be on earth, fall or be born human. "Parle vou anglais?" He asked suddenly.
"Yes, I speak English. Why are you afraid?" I finally answered, my voice hoarse.
"It is so amazing, the dedication it took to build." Oh the innocence. The cathedral was the product of centuries of vanity. But, I admit, in this one, it had the power to move a stone cold heart closer to god.
"You are soaking wet, kid." I pointed out. My mind was whirling; he had stepped across time to visit me, to ensure I would be here when his youthful self arrived in Paris. He'd had help.
"My hotel is only a few blocks away, I got turned around staring at the cathedral, I see the bridge I walked across now. I'll be fine. I come from Seattle, where the rain is certainly colder in May." He was right, rain or no it was at least sixty-five degrees out, the humidity would be murder in the Metro.
"Have you seen any of the cemeteries?" I wondered aloud, if he enjoyed the gargoyles. What the hell am I doing?
"No, why would I?" He stared at me perplexed.
"Why don't you go change, I'll show you." I smiled and he blinked at me nervously. Oh shit, he doesn't know me. "Adriel Moor." I bowed slightly and held out a hand.
"Daniel," he offered his hand, but not his last name. "I am not sure I..."
"First time traveling alone?" I teased, "Come on, the rain is letting up, we'll be outside all the time. I'll walk you back to your hotel and you change while I wait below." He agreed and the walk to his hotel was further than I imagined. "Have you discovered the metro?"
"Um, I was a little afraid of the subway." He allowed softly and the tenderness of his voice shivered along my nerve endings.
"Paris is not New York, Daniel." I merely said and finally we reached his hotel. It was tiny, and I am sure his room was little more than a closet.
He hurried; his hair was in the process of being finger combed when he exploded back down the stairway with characteristic American enthusiasm. I wanted to grab him and stick my tongue in his mouth, taste him in this form. Maybe they were trying to save me, but I was still trying to corrupt him, because all I really wanted to do was fuck the boy senseless. He blushed at me when I stared at him. Oh god.
"Lets go get you a metro pass, and take a ride." I finally managed, "You are lucky there is a station practically across the street." As we descended the steps, "How long are you planning to be in Paris?" I asked.
"Six days with my French language class.." We approached the window and I pulled him to the photo booth when he would have gotten in line.
"Get your photo first, get a week long pass." I smiled and pushed him inside while I fed the machine euros. The feel of him under my hand, for just that moment was intoxicating. I made a point of touching him more as we walked, talked and boarded the metro. He sat beside me, his entire body against mine on the crowded train and I spoke softly to him about the metro, explaining as I reviewed the simple paper map how it worked.
The light in his eyes was pleasure, excitement, he felt liberated. If Daniel knew he was gay he didn't show it. He was surprised and awkward by every casual touch. But, the soft flush on his cheeks told me he didn't fully object. Angel's are just sexual, we don't have a preference hardwired in as much as humans do.
He took hundreds of digital photos of the cemetery, his fascination with the way the French treated their dead was monumental. As we walked out of the massive city of the dead, he grabbed my arm and squeezed, "Thank you very much," he beamed and I pulled him into a warm hug. He was irresistible to me. I guess someone intended for it to be so. He had been as an Angel and he was as a boy. At first he stiffened, and then his arm went around my waist, "Europeans are so physical." He laughed.
"Actually," I said as I stepped back and smiled at him, "I am gay. But, lets go get some food." I pointed down the street, "Pretty decent café that."
He stood still a moment, an uneasy frown on his sexy mouth, "Adriel. I am not...I don't...did I give you..."
"Relax, Daniel. I know you aren't. I have had as much fun as you have. You don't have to have sex with every girl you consider a friend do you?" I reasoned as I urged him down the street.
He visibly relaxed, "Of course not."
"There you go then."
By the time our simple meal of wine, cheese and bread was over, he was completely relaxed with me. He promised me a few hours after class the next day to go to the Musee du Moyan Age. I could easily have him under me tonight if I were so inclined. But, I had six days, and I wanted to leave him with a good memory, not a dirty one. How very generous of me, don't you think?
If I awaken his Angel self, he falls. If I don't, then I get to watch him grow old and die. Ad Nauseum. I actually feel conflicted. I want the angel back. I can have sex with humans, but I can truly mate with one of my own kind. I mean hard fast, full on energetic sex. More than physical. But, I am not inclined to hurt him.
The tour of the museum is lovely. His pleasure is a physical presence around us. His laughter makes me ache in places I had forgotten existed. I order wine in the café the next afternoon, and he eyes me as I pour him a glass. "Paris, the drinking age is not a concern. Please, it isn't the best but all French wine is good." He sips it carefully, "Maybe an acquired taste?" I enquire softly.
"It is smoother than I expected, I think I like it. Like you!" He teased, his smile moist with the red wine. I wanted to lick the tiny drop from his lips. Something in my gaze alerted him because he tilted his head. "You know, I had this weird..." He shook his head.
"What is it, Daniel?"
"It is a de ja vu. You are a complete stranger as of two days ago and yet..." He trailed off and drank more deeply of the ruby wine.
"Ah, all souls are known to one another sometime." I explained, "Perhaps we met in another life? Seriously, what is familiar?"
He blushed and I got hard in an instant, well, well, a carnal thought then. "It is the way you look at me." He shrugged.
"Ah, then it is not me that is familiar, it is lecherous old men that are." I smirked and drank my own wine. With my fingers I bunched Jambon de Pay on a crust of bread and popped it in my mouth and nodded at him to follow suit.
"You are hardly old." He laughed back, sniffing the meat he said, "I am vegetarian." So, with that bombshell, he merely took bread and cheese, "I eat dairy, but no meat. I just can't...drove my parents crazy when I was a child. Anyway, you are what? Thirty?"
"Mmm," I shrugged, add a few zeros there baby, "Old compared to you infant. Does it bother you, the way I watch you. I am not sure I can help it."
The way his tongue darted out, nervously wetting his lips, riveted me, "No, um, just... you know. I like you. I have had a great time. But...am I leading you on or something?"
"Are you? I haven't gotten the impression you are teasing me if that is what you think. Not at all, I don't expect any...Just enjoy yourself. I like you too." Like, what a paltry word. He was so honest, so open. I was drowning in him. We spent the next half hour people watching and enjoying the simple meal. As we walked down the Seine, looking at the trinkets for sale to tourists, his pleasure had me aching. He would grab my arm and show me something horridly cheap and useless, but his amusement at my horror, and his touch erased any concerns I had. He bought some post cards, and afternoon trailed into evening.
"Do you want to see a movie?" I found myself asking.
We were walking across the fabulous Pont Nuef bridge, and he was just absorbing the view when he glanced back at me, "My legs feel like jelly," He observed with a laugh, "I should go collapse. How far is the nearest Metro?"
"My flat is nearby," good god what am I doing, "Come, have a drink with me, you can put your feet up." My smile must have been reassuring, because he nodded at me. It began to mist as we slipped between the buildings and trotted down the stairs to my doorway. I held the door for him and he stood for a moment looking back towards the street as if a memory...
"I..." he looked at me uneasily.
"You know I would never hurt you Daniel." I said gently, and I took his hand. His cool fingers squeezed mine and I pulled him into the house. He didn't let go, he looked down at where our fingers were entwined and stared in surprise. "Come." Oh would that I meant another thing with that word.
He followed me into the library. His gasp was audible. "This is your home..."
I slid my arm behind his back and pulled him to the settee. He sat at my urging and I rose away, sliding my jacket from my shoulders, "Give me your coat. It is okay to slip off your shoes and put your feet up." He didn't resist when I knelt in front of him and slipped off his Nikes. He watched me sleepily with trust in his eyes. It was his instinct to trust me. Oh Daniel. Little angel. How close you were to me once. Like a brother. Like a twin of my soul. I did miss you. How could I have forgotten how much joy it was to be around you?
His eyes shuttered and he slipped away into a doze. His soft lower lip was damp, and I wanted more than anything to taste it. Not used to denying myself I stood painfully and walked away. I didn't resist long, I was back in minutes, sitting beside him and sliding my arm around his back. He muttered something but relaxed against me and I closed my eyes, just feeling his warmth. He was solid, firmly muscled, but slender still. He smelled like young man, and honey. I wanted to lick his neck, suck on his skin. I wanted to pull that damned cotton shirt open and flick his nipples with my fingers. I found myself opening the shirt against my own judgment. If he woke he would be frightened, angry maybe. But, I couldn't seem to stop myself. Daniel, you had to know the proclivities of my desires before you came to me this way? You had to know I would want you.
There were dark circles under his eyes. He was exhausted, and it was a tiredness born from the soul. Gently I tugged his shirt free of the waistband and he slept on, sighing softly when my hand warmed on his bare stomach. I caressed the soft trail of hair below his navel, thumbing it and exhaling against his throat. Oh, I could cum just touching him. I was riven with need. I moved, and he didn't awaken as I rose with him in my arms, untouched by his weight. It was nothing to an angel. Deep down he trusted me. I whispered softly, and he slept hard. In my room I stripped his clothing from him, groaning at the sight of him. My god, how will I keep my composure? But, my hands knew better than to linger. I covered his body, concealing the silken frame from my hungry eyes. But the image of his long legs, tawny gold skin dusted with fine dark hair, parted and the shadow between them was burned on my retinas. I longed to cup his knees and lift them up and apart, and kneel there thrusting into his exposed body.
This wasn't desire it was lust. It was a ferocious lust that seemed to sting me from the inside out. My rigid cock was painfully hard and dripping wet. I wanted to strip and press into him. But fuck, I'd kill him. If I was to be his lover, there was a long distance between him saying yes and fucking him. His lover. I turned and strode from the room. It was late evening when I returned to hear him thrashing in his sleep. I had gone to fuck Sam, another fallen like myself. A wholly dissatisfying romp that left him amused and me hostile and frustrated. He was curious, too fucking curious and I left lest I give away the cause of my disarray.
But, Dani was restless in his youthful sleep. His teenage mind was battling human demons in his sleep and he was panting and thrashing in fear and pain. There is nothing mysterious about how love works. Nor anything blinder. His pain was mine and I still didn't understand it. I sat beside him on the bed, catching his arms I pinned him, and said his name. "Daniel."
He stiffened and relaxed a little, then his eyes drowsily opened, the green a shimmer of feeling, and youth. "Adriel?" He shifted restlessly under the sheet, his eyes widening as he realized he was naked, "Oh."
"You were having a nightmare. Are you alright?" I managed softly, slowly loosening my hold. His skin was warm, and the bones of his wrist as fragile or more so from the last time I'd had his incarnation in my bed. His fingers wiggled and yet the light in his eyes told me he wasn't objecting to me holding him. I moved, slowly, sliding my palm down the underside of his arm, and pulled him up. He sat, and was in my arms, against me, breathing into my throat. He shuddered and clung, and this embrace wasn't sexual on his part.
"Yes, I am alright." He said huskily. "I just..." He gasped when I opened my hand on his back and shifted and managed to put his naked body on my lap. He isn't a child, and at seventeen he weighs at least a hundred and fifty pounds but that is ninety pounds lighter than I am. "I have always had nightmares." He decided to accept my embrace, and I could feel him struggling with the intimacy we seemed to share, and his next words told me why, "This time, you were there. But...it is like you have always been there in the dreams and this time I finally saw you. I was afraid for you." I couldn't help it, I rubbed my face against his neck. He relaxed, his hands circled my neck, "I'm not gay," he said with surprise.
"Relax, you don't have to be gay to enjoy my touch. I am touching you... your body doesn't care..." He closed his eyes as I stroked him, circling his shoulders with my fingers, tracing down his arms, across his ribs and down his thighs where they straddled me. "Its just for you...not for me." I whispered and he seemed to go limp and I pushed back, looming over him as he sprawled before me on the bed. I pushed his arm up and my fingertips traced his pectoral muscle to his ribs and under his arms, tugging softly on the damp hair. He moaned, his lips parting.
He surrendered to me. My triumph was bittersweet. I knew that the pleasure for me would be wholly in giving to him. And, it would spoil me forever. He arched under the heat of my hands as I stroked down his side and spread his legs with my knuckles. He groaned as I caught his left nipple with my mouth, sucking and licking I nursed him and he thrashed. The taut bow of his stomach quivered as I drug my fingertips down to his throbbing erection. The cry that broke from his mouth as I circled his cock head with my palm was hoarse and shocked. The bed rocked as he thrust into my hand and I pressed over him, fully clothed I took his mouth with mine. Gently, pinning him with my weight I tongued his lips as I jacked his hard rod with firm solid strokes. The edge was near, the newness, the rawness, the heat of my touch and he came, hard and wet in my hand and across his stomach. I didn't hesitate; I knelt over him and licked him clean.
I left him panting on the bed, and he had his eyes closed and his fists locked. I walked out of the room and went to the kitchen. I washed my face, and poured a glass of wine. It was a few minutes later when he appeared and looked around the big room. "Uh, I should..." He tilted his head at me, a questioning look in his eyes. "Why did you stop?" He asked softly, almost haltingly.
"You are not gay. And not ready for me... and too damn young. And gone in a few days." I shrugged, "Many reasons. I had a wonderful time with you. Let me take you back to the metro." I helped him into his coat, and he leaned against me, his eyes wide and uncertain, but his body reaching out for me. I wanted to keep him, and knew in that heartsick way he wasn't mine to keep. I did something selfless, I sent him away from me. I loved him. I have always loved him.
I watched him glance over his shoulder just before he disappeared down the Metro stairs, his green eyes seemed to shimmer in the dim streetlight. Wet with tears they were blue as a summer sky. I turned away, the coldness in my heart painful. Was it right? Where am I? Alone in an empty world.
Weeks turned into months, and months to a year. This time I woke drenched in sweat, the dream was his voice calling me. Begging me. Angrily I rose from the settee and switched on the television. My head was pounding. A commercial came on for a travel agency advertising a vacation to California.
I was on the plane dozing when I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I jerked awake and the man next to me chuckled softly. I turned my head and through the haze his features came into view. Fuck. I sat straight up. Gabriel.
"Where are you off to Adriel?" He snapped his newspaper shut and looked at me with his ice blue eyes, his dark hair neatly trimmed and his Armani suit so perfect as to look unreal.
"Florida." I growled right back. I do not get along with my older brother and it had been generations since he had wasted a single second on my worthless existence.
"Worthless? That is your perception not mine, baby angel." He taunted. Fuck, yeah, he can hear me think.
"I am..." I wanted to deny his term. I am hardly a baby. But, I suppose to him, I am. A foolish one too. "Why did you let him do this?" I finally managed in a hoarse pain filled voice; "Daniel is alone in the world. Human, and ..."
Gabriel's eyes were cold but his hand was warm, he touched my cheek, "He has you, darling boy. And how can you let him be alone? He came for you. Love is the message, the passage and the shield." His fingers brushed over my eyes and I instantly fell asleep. When I woke the man beside me looked like Gabriel but was not.
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