Legacy of Azrael

The Legacy of Azrael: The Demon's Lover

Disclaimer: This document contains homoerotic material. If that offends you or if you are not permitted to view said material by law, then it would behoove you to leave... You have been warned. All characters are copyrighted by the author. They may be used with permission. Webmasters: If you wish to post this story, let me know. After serious thought and consideration, I'll happily agree to let you post it.

Author's note. Well, I made it. Here we go, this is my first attempt at writing a love story. Now, since I'm an abnormal person, I can't write just any old love story, I've got to have an abnormal (or paranormal in this case) twist to it. The vampires in this story are not bound by traditional vampire rules (i.e., can't look at crucifixes, can't come near garlic, all of that stuff.) They are a mix between the vampires of Anne Rice and Christopher Pike. All you die-hard vamp fans out there will appreciate that. The rules will become evident to you later, and I'll make every effort to make them obvious. Be sure to e-mail me if you like this story or even if you don't. My e-mail is genreofmyown@hotmail.com Thanks

Chapter 1

The pulsating, almost tribal music of the club reverberated in my very bones, shaking me to my core, reminding me of a time when things weren't so complicated. My eyes adjusted instantly to the blaze of laser light and fog that filled the Temple. Hundreds of raving bodies thrashed in a cacophonic dance of debauchery all around me, the smell of lust, sweat, and sex filling the air in a heady, musky scent. I smiled. The whole experience was almost disturbing in the feelings of a historical deja-vu it conjured.

I moved effortlessly through the crowd toward the bar. Maybe it was because they sensed something different about me. Maybe it was because I unconsciously pushed them out of the way. Whatever caused it, I snaked my way to the bar in record time. I sat there momentarily staring at the crowd of people around me. Their bodies, their scents, their minds were like an open book. Not to say I wanted to read it, either.

The woman to my left didn't know it, but she'd contracted AIDS three nights earlier from her boyfriend, who, consequently, was sleeping around with no less than thirty people, men and women. She never had a chance. She would be dead within three years. Two stools down, a young college-aged man was nursing a Heiniken and contemplating suicide. He'd lost his girlfriend in a car accident two months ago and was having problems shifting back into reality.

To my right, the woman in red wasn't really a woman at all, but a father of two beautiful children and a successful marketing executive. His name was Bernard, but tonight, he was Annie Devine. The gentleman sitting next to her had no idea that she was a he, and was hitting on her with surprising intensity. He was in for a rotten surprise. Not only was he straight, but he was a flaming homophobe. I gently nudged his interests away from her, thus saving him a complex, and her a severe beating.

I mentally berated myself at that. I made it a point long ago never to get involved in the temporal lives of humans. The pain or my former association with them is almost too much to bear. Besides, I noted the presence of a good number of my own kind in the Temple. It was a popular hangout for us, but there was an almost unusual number of us here tonight. I was interrupted from my thoughts by the barman.

"Hey, kid," he said, looking me up and down, "you sure you old enough to drink?"

"My friend," I said, allowing a hint of my true age into my voice, "I think the question you are trying to ask is not whether or not I can, in fact, drink, but rather, what I want to drink."

"Uh, yeah, sorry, man," he said, shaken by the time-weariness, the experience in my voice, "you just look so damn young..."

"Thank you," I smiled, "I'll have a neon flare and a bottled water."

He poured my drink into a tall shot glass and handed it to me. It glowed in the darkness of the club.

"Want me to light it?" he asked, shakily.

"No thank you," I said, masking my voice again, sounding very much like the seventeen-year-old kid I very much looked like.

He gave me a strange look and walked away.

I downed the drink in a single gulp. I relished the burning in my mouth, down my throat, and into my stomach. The alcohol would have no effect on me, but still...one could wish. There have been many times I wished that I could drink myself under a table, but that would require a continuous supply of alcohol in massive amounts. I tapped my glass twice on the bar and one of the bartenders replaced it with the bottle of water I ordered earlier.

I turned and faced the dance floor as the music died down. The raving bodies stopped and turned to face the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said a voice over the loudspeakers, "Club Temple is proud to present to you the nastiest spinner in Hotlanta, D.J. Zed."

I watched as a young man in grunge wear headed to the turntables. He was an intriguing character with spiky blonde hair and striking blue eyes. His aura was intoxicating. When his scent reached me, my mouth watered. Of all the humans in the club, he was the only one not broadcasting his thoughts. That drew me to him, aside from my...ancient attachment to him. I could have read him, of course, but I made it a habit not to randomly read people.

It garnered too much familiarity..

I sat there for the three hours that he spun. The M.C. was right, D.J. Zed was sick. He laid down tracks that were almost uncomfortable to listen to, they were so full. The last set he played was a cacophony, but the writhing mass on the dance floor loved it and him. He was beautiful down there. He moved with a restraint that echoed of a suppressed passion I haven't felt in an artist since I watched Mozart in Vienna. He was part of me in ways that I won't even explain right now.

I dipped into the upper layer of his thoughts and reveled. He was passionately embracing his music and the feeling of completeness it gave him. He was happy to be alive. He had a simple joy in him that made me tingle in more places than one. Then, just underneath, there was a sadness and a painful shyness. If for anything other than music, it would kill him to be on the stage in front of so many people.

His presence, however, was strong. So strong that it demanded my attention. Just then, I sensed another presence. This one belonged to another of my kind.

"He's intoxicating, isn't he?" a voice next to me asked.

"Mmm," I nodded, not bothering to turn.

"You staking a claim?" the voice asked, "cause, if not..."

I could hear the man behind me licking his lips. I thought for a moment.

"No," I said, "he's yours."

"No, he's not my type," he said, "I usually go for A-positive or whatever type YOU happen to be."

I turned to view my joking accoster. He was a tall, strongly-built man with dark red hair with impeccable blonde highlights and the intense good looks that most of our kind bear. He smiled at me.

"I don't believe I've seen you here before," he said.

I smiled at him and shrugged. I made it a point not to get too friendly with anyone, immortal or not. The point is, not many of my friends last long. It's a curse, I suppose, from any spirit of justice that's in the world, a curse for my past sins. Anyone I become close to with usually gets tired of life or is violently murdered. That's why I kept my distance from Zed.

"Name's Red," the man said, sticking out his hand.

I noticed the tattoo on his wrist immediately. He was a member of the Brethren, a counsel of vampires that acted as the vampire legislative body in America. It meant one of two things: his sire was very old and important or he was very old and important.

"What?" he asked, taking back his untouched hand and ignoring my rudeness.

I simply smiled again and watched D.J. Zed. The ink of the tattoo of the Brethren wasn't made to be seen just by any old immortal. Only an old one with superior eyesight could even make out the faintest shadow of it. I could see it in all its intricacies. But then, the one reason that I was at Club Temple on that night was because I was celebrating my being around for the last thousand years. No way I was letting him know that, though.

"So you're not a talker?" he asked.

I shrugged and watched him out of the corner of my eye.

"I think the whole `strong, silent type' thing is very..."

I felt his hot breath on my ear.

"...very..."

His tongue on my earlobe.

"...hot."

My hand went straight to his crotch, where I gripped his testicles tightly.

"Leave me alone," I said sweetly.

Red gasped and squeaked his apology. I released him and went back to watching Zed, fascinated by his intense concentration on his music.

"A lot of people would kill to have me," Red said.

There was no malice in his voice, just an almost boyish confusion on why anyone would refuse a pass by him. He knew he was attractive on the inside and out, and he that his natural friendliness was attractive as well. Under normal circumstances, I'd be all over him, but things haven't been normal for me in a long time.

"That's nice," I said, sipping my water, "find one."

He stood there for a moment and I could feel him, or rather, his power trying to poke its way into my mind. I smiled at him and shook my head. He looked even more confused.

"Private," I said, tapping my skull.

Red, to his credit, only laughed.

"I'm sorry," he said again, "I just wanted to know if that beautiful face had a beautiful mind behind it."

I smiled at him, but kept quiet.

"I think it does," he smiled, "Does the beautiful boy have a name, or shall I call him Beauty whenever I see him again."

"I don't think you'll see him again," I said.

"Atlanta's a small town," Red shrugged, a boyish grin playing on his lips, "news gets around, especially of a person of such striking features as yourself. Besides, not many people can so casually keep me out of their heads. You're either talented or old...."

He looked at me appraisingly.

"...or both."

I raised an eyebrow and downed the rest of my water.

"Goodbye, Red," I said, "and don't be put off by me. You're beautiful, but I'm not in the mood for another lover. Not in a long time."

"So you do swing that way," Red grinned.

I laughed.

"Mmm," I nodded, "but don't get your hopes up..."

Red sighed and clutched his heart, feigning bedroom eyes at me. I couldn't help it, I laughed more.

"You're like a little boy," I noted, cupping his cheek, "stay that way. Happiness shall be your friend in the lonely future. Your path will be bright, little one, if you will but keep the little boy behind your eyes at the helm of your heart."

Red looked at me surprisedly. Damn, I'd let myself be disarmed by his friendly and flirtatious nature. Much like someone else used to be able to disarm me.

"Who are you?" Red asked.

"Just an unworthy pilgrim," I said, putting on the leather jacket that I'd thrown on the stool beside me, "in a land of saints."

Red moved quickly, much too quickly. He would give himself away in such a crowded place.

"Really," he said, blocking my way, "who are you? Humor me."

I thought for a moment, then settled on a name that I'd been called by a few centuries ago.

"I was once known as Jacob Gardener," I said, "That name will have to suffice."

"But..."

I laughed at the pleading look on his face.

"You touch me with your childlike heart, Red," I said, "be happy. Some never get a name."

"I'm an Old One, Jacob," he admitted, "I'm over two-hundred years old. You are the only immortal I've ever met who makes me feel...I feel...I don't know... almost subservient to you."

"You are an Old One," I said, masking a smile, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine," Red said, "you couldn't have known. It's just that you seem...I don't know, really wise."

"My sire was the wise one," I said, not really lying, "but he is gone now. He was a good deal older than you."

"So it was your sire who taught you to shield your thoughts?" Red asked.

"My sire taught me many things before he died," I said cryptically.

"What was his name?" Red asked.

"I cannot say," I said.

"I could extract it from your mind," Red said, "I was barely trying before."

"I don't doubt that," I said with a smile, bypassing him and heading for the first floor, where the door was.

"Will I ever see you again, Jacob Gardener?" he called after me.

"That's not likely, Red," I said.

"That's a pity," he whispered, but I could hear him, "you're damned cute."

I turned and smiled at him. He looked at me and I felt a deep-seated desire within me, a desire that has plagued me for the last lonely two-hundred years. I was alone...so alone. I couldn't take it any more, besides, it was my birthday. I nodded at him.

He practically flew down the stairs and stopped in front of me, raw desire blazing in his eyes. He put his arms around my waist and drew me close to him. I felt like a boy all over again, unsure and horny.

"My place or yours?" he asked coyly.

"Doesn't matter," I said.

"Mine okay?" he asked.

"Lead on," I nodded.

Moments later, we were on the top floor of the Omni Hotel in one of the many penthouse suites.

"You live here?" I asked, thinking back to my modest apartment in Buckhead.

"A perk," he shrugged.

"A nice perk," I said with a smile, "like this."

I kissed his nose.

"And this," I said, kissing his left eyelid.

"And this," I said, kissing his right eyelid.

Red laughed and began to tickle me. If ever an adversary wished to simply kill me, all he would have to do is tickle me, then take his pick of deaths for me. I was extremely ticklish before I was changed and my heightened senses make tickling that more intense for me. I collapsed, dragging Red down to the floor with me.

"It's my birthday, you know," I said when he finally let me go and we simply lay there looking at each other.

"Happy birthday, Jacob," he said.

I smiled and kissed his lips. He was genuinely sweet and innocent. There weren't many people out there like that, much less immortals. I slipped into his mind, not deeply, just reading the uppermost layer of thougths. There was lust, naturally, but a desire to please me. There was a slight suspicion of who I was, but a desire to see me again. There was a slight fear of me, but a desire to know me intimately.

"You're reading me, aren't you?" he asked, pulling back, searching my eyes.

"Just how much you really want to do this," I said with a smile.

"Well," he ginned, "just so you know, I really..."

He kissed my lips.

"...want..."

He kissed my neck.

"...to do this."

He unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it and my jacket off at the same time. He traced my abdominal muscles with his finger and teased my nipples with his tongue.

"Red," I whispered, arching myself against him.

I felt so strange. I hadn't had sex in exactly two hundred and twelve years, not with anyone other than myself, anyway.

"It's been awhile, huh?" he mumbled into my chest, resting his head against it.

I nodded.

"You seemed so...untouchable back at the club," he whispered, pulling off his shirt and unbuckling his belt, revealing a strong, muscular frame, "and now you're so unsure of yourself."

"Does that bother you?" I asked.

"No," he said with a smile, clothed only in his boxers and socks, "it flatters me."

He dragged a hand nervously though his spiky hair. His green eyes sparkled with boyish mischievousness.

That was all I could take. I scooped him up bodily and threw him on the bed.

"Wow," he said with a roguish grin, "now we're getting somewhere."

I straddled him and took his face in my hands.

"You're the most adorable little..."

"Little?" he exclaimed, "I'll have you know that I'm a big boy."

"Big boy?" I asked, "well, we'll just have to see then, won't we, Mr. Red?"

I tugged on the waistband of his boxers.

"Not yet," he smiled, "you first."

"What?" I grinned, "why do I have to get naked first."

For all his joking, Red's face was more serious than I'd seen it all night.

"Because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, "I mean, even for a vampire, you're...perfect. You're hair, your eyes, the way you carry yourself. You're perfect."

"I'm far from perfect, beautiful Red," I smiled, but since you flatter me...I'll give you a show.

I got off the bed and unbuttoned my jeans. I wasn't wearing underwear, so I slowly let them slide down my hips until the fell in a blue pool at my ankles. Red sat up in bed, his muscular frame shuddering. His eyes rolled up and down my body, stopping at my middle.

"I was only seventeen when I was turned," I said, "and I was a late bloomer, so I'm probably not all the way..."

Red held up his hand to silence me. He just kept staring.

"Well," I smiled, "can we get on with it, or are you going to gawk all night?"

A tear ran down Red's cheek. I crawled onto the bed and held him against me.

"Why're you crying Red?" I asked, "what's wrong?"

He didn't answer, so I looked into his mind.

So beautiful. Never knew perfection could live...God, so beautiful.

"I'm not that good-looking, you goof," I said, punching him playfully on the arm.

He smiled up at me. I kissed him, pulling him as close to me as I could get him. I wanted to be intimately joined with him in the way that only two men could be. I wanted to taste him, to touch him, to revel in things I hadn't done in centuries.

I let myself lip down to his neck, then to his smooth, muscular chest, then down to his navel, licking the hairs that formed the trail that led into his boxers. I tugged down the waistband and smiled as his large, hard cock slapped against his stomach. A triangle of dark red hair framed the perfectly-shaped dick, and a pair balls the size of what seemed like bulls' completed the beautiful man's body.

I nuzzled his balls as I slipped his boxers down his lightly-haired legs. I let each one of the large, fat testicles loll on my tongue before I licked all the way up Red's gorgeous shaft. When I reached his bell end, I let it slip into my mouth, savoring the taste of Red's maleness. I let it slip, inch by inch deeper into my throat, then, just before I'd take all of it, I'd pull back on it slowly, sucking as hard as I could until I got to his glans, where I would tease his helmet for several minutes before going down again.

It was all coming back to me. Eight hundred years of learning to please my partner was settling back in. I employed several tricks the Divine Prostitutes of Shiva had taught me in India, coupled with other finer arts of fellatio as taught by Duchess Winifred Dalby, a famous English prostitute in Egypt who charged well over a year's wages for an hour alone with her. Red was practically screaming by the time I pulled off of him. I quickly moved over him, settling his cockhead over my pucker.

"Are you sure?" he asked, still woozy from the pleasure I'd given him.

I pushed myself onto his spit and precum-slickened member and sighed as I felt him slip into me inch by inch.

"Ugh," he grunted, trembling as his cock slid against my ass walls.

I buried him inside me, his pubic bush tickling my ass cheeks. I looked deep into his eyes and I began to ride him, slowly at first, then harder as he began to meet my thrusts.

"Oh God, Jacob," he sighed, "how the hell can you feel so good?"

I closed my eyes and let his big cock fill me up. I rode him with reckless abandon, like a mindless whore. I let my pleasure overtake me and I began to curse vilely in ancient Persian, then ancient Greek. I told him just how hard I wanted him to fuck me in Sumerian, wrote it on his chest with my precum in Sanskrit. The sound of our bodies smacking together maddened me, my hard cock slapping against his stomach coupled with the ravaging of my prostate by his huge member was causing waves of pleasure to wash over me.

"Jacob," he moaned, "Oh God, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum...oh fuck!"

I felt his hardness swell within me and I could feel myself coming over the edge, too. I buried my hands in my hair as Red grabbed my dick and began to jerk it.

"Red, oh Red," I moaned, "I'm cumming!"

I shot spurt after hot, sticky spurt onto his chest, onto his face, in his mouth, on his headboard. My cock continued to leak cum even as Red placed both his hands on my hips, ramming into me with a force that made me see stars and curse like a sailor. He cried out my once-name one last time and buried himself deep inside me, his cock swelling until I thought it would split me in two. Then I felt the hot torrent of his cum deep inside me, then trickling out of my ass.

I collapsed onto his sweaty chest. I slipped off of him onto the bed beside him, his cock still inside me and snuggled up to his strong frame. What a birthday present! Not bad for someone who hasn't had sex in two hundred years, if I say so myself. I felt his arms wrap around me and his lips at the nape of my neck. I could feel the sun rising outside and just before I fell into my daily hibernation, I pushed his cock just a little deeper inside me.