This is part two of my original short story Kiss of the Fallen. I sincerely hope it meets the expected guidelines set forth by the moderators of Nifty and all it's subsidiaries. As always feel free to post my email address along with the story.
Thank you, A.R. Booth
Disclaimer This is a work of erotic gay fiction, and all characters are merely figments of the author's imagination. Intelligent comments and constructive criticism are gladly accepted and can be sent to LimitlessFury02@aol.com All flames will be ignored.
KISS OF THE FALLEN:
A Tale of Supernatural Gay Erotica
by
A.R. Booth
~PART 2~
Determined to realize the seemingly impossible task I had put before me I let my senses guide me. The pull of sexual purity is very strong. My brethren and I are drawn to sexual intensity and a virgin's energies are erratic and strong...untainted and unspent. They have not yet given themselves over to sexually charged activity, and by so doing giving over a piece of their own soulself to their partner. When mortals couple, they share a very spiritual bond...very much in the same way we Fallen do...however we take it and give nothing back...in the case of mortals they share it with each other. Each unconsciously taking a piece of the other's soulself. So literally and spiritually speaking the old warning holds true...when you have sex with someone, you have sex with everyone else they have been with. Which is why the pull of a virgin is so strong, because their soulselves have not yet been broken and invaded by various other partners. The outcome is a very strong and undefiled purity that their very essence gives off around their aura. It has been a long time since I felt the immense euphoria of a virgin soul.
In this day and age of "free love" and sexual anonymity, it is very difficult to find a virgin soul. However, I began my search in earnest. I am unusually picky this night, remembering my encounter with Euracles-nothing less would satisfy my hunger.
Strolling down the darkened street I realized that I would not find what I searched for among the hobos and bums; the nightwalkers that eke out a miserable living by giving of themselves to strangers.
But wait, what is this?
An urgently strong energy tickled my aura, so strong indeed that it forced me to whirl around in confusion and maddening lust. There he was, a golden purity, standing there against the wall of an abandoned building. His pose and look was that of a street whore-no more. However I could see that there was much more to this magnificent boy. He had the look of a youth in his early twenties. He was dressed in torn blue jeans and a slightly soiled white wifebeater that accentuated his lean frame. His musculature was very well defined--strong well-built arms and small but defined pectorals. A thick bush of darkened blonde hair screamed to escape from the low neck of the wifebeater. His torn jeans rested playfully on his hips, accenting his well toned stomach. His face-turned to the side and hidden in shadow-portrayed a strong profile. His tasseled honey-blonde hair fell into his face, obviously unkempt and in urgent need of a comb and some shampoo. A beautiful aura so strong that my spirit salivated and my hunger begged me for a taste of this succulent man-boy. There was a familiarity about him. There was also something hidden about him. Some kind of mischievous evil lurked within him. I could not place it, but that part of him called out to me. That part of him forced me to sense a familiarity.
Dazed, I slowly walked over to him. He stayed still as I advanced upon him, his pose unchanging-the careful way his hands never strayed from the jean pockets he had placed them. His expression stayed still, almost as if caught in deep thought. His soul energies however were a completely different story. Seen only by my vampiric sight, the golden aura danced around him, only slightly tinted with a reddish hue. The aura, moreso than the boy himself drew me to him. It's hypnotic dance ensnared me with feelings of lust and want. I needed him, and I was going to have him.
I stand beside him now, my hand placed carelessly on the wall beside his cheek, his face still hidden in shadow.
"Wanna party?" I asked him in the usual manner a "john" asks his charge.
The boy looked at me then, and the revelation behind those eyes, those bright cerulean-coloured eyes, almost caused me to faint. I knew those eyes, and the familiarity his aura gave off was at once known to me.
This was Euracles.
But...HOW?!
It was impossible. Startled by this revelation, my mind raced back to that night so long ago. I thought that maybe my own mind had caved and my hunger so great, that I had somehow created this vision in my own madness. My hand reached to his face and he drew back as if in fear. My hand made contact with his cheek, and his eyes peered into mine with sudden ferocity, as if an eon of forgotten memories flooded back to him. I held my hand there, trying to decipher why my vision had been given flesh and blood. His cheek grew hot and flushed under my touch, meaning life.
"It is you...." I gasped, "My Euracles."
"Look mister, I can be whoever you want me to be...but no touch until you flash some cash. Capiche?" The boy looked at me in confusion, although I sensed fear. His voice emanated with stern ferocity, but it wavered. He was terrified. If I didn't know any better I would say that this was his first time.
Daunted, I removed my hand, peering into eyes I had not seen for centuries. This was him, wasn't it? My cluttered mind raced back in time, trying to visualize the face of the boy I had taken, oh so long ago. Slight differences made me regain my composure. There was a scar underneath this boys right eye whereas Euracles had no scars. The dark tuft of chest hair that jutted out of the neck of his wifebeater was another difference-Euracles was smooth. Other than that there was no difference. You could have placed them side by side and you would swear they were twins.
Stepping back a little, I overemphasized my apologies. "Sorry kid, I thought you were someone else...someone I knew a long time ago."
Curiously he looked at me with sympathy and in that moment I noticed a great sadness about him. His eyes were full of sorrow and pain, and even though he was so young, I could tell he had been through much in his short life. His mind opened itself to me and I saw abuse, death, longing, abandon, so many feelings of sorrow and pain washed over me that I quickly closed the connection. No, I reminded myself. I do not feel. I do not care. I cannot care. And yet, my own black heart, after eons upon eons of hatred and built up anger melted as I looked into his innocent eyes-just as it did when I looked into the eyes of Euracles.
I tried to put as much kindness in my words as I could muster. "Hey, kid, you could use a bath. How long has it been since you have eaten?"
His manner suddenly changed-his chest jutted out in defiance and his lips pressed together tightly and through clenched teeth he said, " I don't want any handouts mister." His eyes-oh his beautifully cerulean colored eyes-betrayed his pride. They spoke to me more than words ever could. They said "Take me away from this hell...love me, cherish me, let me be with you..."
I grinned auspiciously, and retorted, "Oh I give no free handouts. Let me bathe you and feed you, then we will discuss payment for my generosity." My eyes gleamed maliciously, as I grasped his hand. His whole body went stiff to my touch...not knowing why he suddenly felt a jump-start in his dick, why he suddenly felt like I was the only thing in the world to him. Only I knew the secret to that...I was pressing on his own needs and desires--amplifying them in his own meeker mortal mind. I didn't force him to believe it, only enhanced the desire. I wanted this one for everlasting. I had lost Euracles once, I would not lose him again.
A long and silent taxi ride later, we arrived at my current residence.
The need for secrecy and anonymity is of the utmost importance in our vampire lifestyle. As it is, I have many residences--none of which I stay in for extended periods of time. Humans, by nature, are a curious species. If I were to stay in one area for too long-say a half century or so-the humans around me would become suspicious of my unchanging attributes and my nocturnal activities. Much like the days of old when our existence was perceived by our prey, I would most likely be hunted down and killed. That was an inconsiderable option. So, suffice it to say, I move around quite frequently. The need for safehouses (dens or covens of my kind) died off with the legend of our existence. We have become fables to be whispered at bedtime; stories portray us in the moving pictures the humans have become so fond of in recent times. All the stories and the moving pictures that portray vampires are actually quite comedic. The stories and movies that depict our existence are looked at as fiction and in a way, actually serve to strengthen our resolve for anonymity.
My current place of residence is located on the eastern borders of the fairly new country called America. I have acquired a stately mansion in the outskirts of Albany, New York. The place is obscure, and hidden by tall trees that cover the large plot of land that came with the purchase of the house. My only neighbors are about an hour drive from the mansion itself. I chose the place because of its geographical location. It is near the ocean and is in all respects hidden from the outside world. As are all of my residences.
As the taxi pulled up to the massive main gate I paid the driver and instructed him to go on. When I leaned over the seat to give him the fare (a sizable amount in the triple digits), I caught his gaze and ultimately clouded his memory of the way to my home. I left enough of his memory in tact so he could go back to where he had come from, but as far as any memory of how to get to my home...he would remember nothing. My mental talents prove very useful in situations like this and I do not feel I am invading privacy when I employ them this way. I am simply keeping what must remain hidden a secret.
Satisfied that I had done my job, he left us at the closed iron gate. When the taxi was far enough away as to where even the brake lights were dim to my own powerful sight, I turned and faced the state-of-the-art electronic alarm system that would allow us entrance to the estate. I punched in the 6 digit passcode and the iron gate promptly opened. The well oiled mechanisms of the gate made no sounds as it silently whirred open, inviting us to join the darkness it protected.
Then I turned to gaze upon my new possession. He was obviously nervous-his hands were shoved deep into his pockets and his eyes darted around him suspiciously. He was unsure what to do next so I came closer to him and gazed into his eyes.
"There is no need to be afraid, my friend," I cooed to him in almost a whisper.
The huskily lustful tone in my voice only proved to frighten him more, but I knew he would come around in time. He did not know what to expect. All he knew was that he was alone, with a man who makes him quiver with erotic feelings of infernal lust and passion, and that he was terrified. On some instinctive level, I feel he must know there is something...different about me. I fear I must be careful of how I treat this young morsel, or I may yet lose him. I do not bring a mortal to my home frivolously. I have plans for this magnificent human, and I am determined wholeheartedly to see them come to fruition.
Slowly, the boy turned around and faced the now open gate. What he saw behind it made his eyes bug out in awe and wonder. A long paved road snaked it's way up to the main manor of a huge mansion. The road itself wound through a maze of intricately detailed and maintained gardens. It reminded me much of the beautiful "Jardin de Versailles" located at the heart of the Palace of Versailles in France (the home of Louis the XIV). The French nobilities were very frivolous in Louis's day. He would hold numerous parties, some of which I attended. His home was a veritable museum of statues and paintings and other collectibles. When it came to personal gratification, Louis the XIV spared no expense. Countless gold and marble trimmings invaded every nook and cranny of that fabulous place. I have somewhat modeled the decor in this particular home to the style of Louis's Palace. I prefer to surround myself with beautiful things. It makes the life I have chosen for myself since the dawn of time seem less of a burden.
Gently I nudged the small of his back to encourage him to step through the gate. Nervously he took a step. His entire body trembled with fear--I could smell it. I reveled in it.
Placing my arm around his shoulders, I placed my lips close to his ear, "Do not be afraid. You will not be harmed, young master..." letting a hint of lust peek through my words I added, "In fact, I think you might enjoy this night very much."
He only vaguely grimaced, hesitantly nodding in response. Slowly, I started towards the mansion. I kept him afoot with me by hooking my arm tightly but gently with his. Soon enough we were walking at a slow, but steady, pace as we followed the snaking pathway up to the front entrance. Along the way we took in the sights, breathed in the fragrant odors put forth by the cornucopia of flora that my personal gardeners keep well in condition.
I do have, in my employ, several men and women who keep up the grounds and the manor itself. They do not know me, nor will they ever. They are simply hired to do an honest days work through several agencies that I pay a considerable amount of money to keep my privacy. I am sure there are many rumors among my staff as to who I am. I even caught one of the gardeners spying on me after working hours. Gently I had coaxed him to join me for a nightcap, once he had mistakenly let his presence known. I had much fun with that one...before I furiously sank my fangs into his neck and drained his puny life-force right out of him. Needless to say, he spied no more. My secrecy and privacy is most important to me, and any who dare threaten it will surely meet a gory demise.
As we took our first steps together up the small marble staircase that led to the entrance, I turned and looked at him again. His eyes shone brightly in the moonlight, his expression still frozen in awe and bewilderment. Some stray locks of hair had found their way to his brow and, almost lovingly, I tucked them safely behind his ear. He looked at me then, and as if that one gesture of kindness broke all his fear, he smiled at me. Oh I would have given anything for that one smile!
In my long years the only thing closest to "love" I had ever dare let enter my conscious mind, was the night I allowed my dear Euracles to live. Usually I would drain a mortal of their essence and leave him or her to die. He was different. I increasingly began to believe that so was the young man that stood by my side, smiling at me.
He gazed into my eyes, and with no mental pressure on my own part, he lifted his hand up and caressed my cheek. His eyes burst with curiosity as he asked, "Why do I feel like I've known you my whole life?"
These being the only true words he spoke to me the entire night, I had no answer for him. In fact, I was sort of dumbfounded as to why he would feel this way. I simply took his hand from my cheek and placed it in my own. I kissed his hand, relishing the feel of his flesh on my lips.
Looking at him I replied, "I do not know the answer...but I feel the same."
He looked up at the moon and sighed. I could sense his emotions-they were torn within himself. Things were happening to him on a different level than the physical one we all share. His mind was a blur of erotic thoughts and feelings, and as I continued to hold his hand he took a step closer to me.
Gazing into my eyes he said, "Julian. My name is Julian. Julian Ivanos."
"You are Greek?" I asked him, in muffled surprise.
He looked at me in slight confusion. Shrugging his shoulders he replied, "Yeah, I guess. Don't know much 'bout my heritage."
I smiled to myself secretly. At last I understood why he seemed so familiar to me. His name 'Julian Ivanos' is almost completely Greek, with some subtle changes. 'Julian' in direct translation from Greek to English means "youthful." 'Ivanos', I surmised, was a lengthened form of "Ivan" or Greek for "glorious gift." As if a veil was suddenly lifted from my sight, it all came to me. In some way this Julian must be somehow connected to Euracles. Although, Euracles was of Roman blood, it is quite feasible that sometime through the years, one of his descendants may have taken a Grecian mate. I concluded to myself that Julian--in all respects--was descended from Euracles. How fortunate (and not to mention incredibly coincidental) that after all this time and in this place, I should be reunited with my lost Euracles...in one form or another. I decided to myself that fate had a hand in this--although I could not figure out for the life of me why.
A new sensation started to coil it's tail around my heart. A sharp tingle that I had never before felt. I could not place what it was, but it seemed that my own black soul was in torment with this newfound...yearning. Yes, that is what it was. Yearning. I yearned for this man. I have never yearned before in my long life--for anything. It was quite new to me.
Smiling at him, I led him by the hand up the steps to the front entrance. He seemed to come along easier now, and his steps were much lighter and quicker than before. I stopped suddenly in front of the large wooden door of the entrance. The surrounding marble that accented the outline of the door was carved with intricate strands of ivy and flowers. Tiny faeries and imps and all things of nature made their presence known in silent coldness within the expertly carved marble art. Julian had barely enough time take in the sight of it all when I unlocked the door and swung it wide open into the darkness of the main foyer.
~to be continued...~