"It's such a perfect day, you made me forget myself, I thought I was someone else, someone good. You're going to reap just what you sow. . . " --Lou Reed

Anya met him in the park, on a night when the moon seemed to glow with some elemental fire, as if the rage of the angels had caused the wrath of heavens to bring about a pit of flames once more. It had been so long. . . so long since he last saw him. . . he pulled his hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear with one graceful movement, searching the trees for any signs of life. His eyes were bright as a cat's in the night, a shining molten gold; aware, always aware. Finally, he got tired of this waiting game. "You summoned me. So where the fuck are you?"

"Tut tut tut my pretty little Anya. . . such evil, disgusting words coming from the mouths of angels these days. . . whatever shall Our Maker do?" Anya turned his head sharply, ears pricked, trying to follow the noise to its source.

Finally, he came out of the dark shadows which seemed to suit him so well. He looked exactly the same as he did those many, many years ago. . . some aesthetic changes had been made, but he was still the same beautiful creature that tempted an angel to lose its wings.

Anya 's breath caught in his throat, the intense longing, filling him once again. He looked down to the grass for a few seconds, as if trying to remove his gaze from the dazzle of the sun. . . but again, his eyes were drawn back like a man watching the miracle of an eclipse. "You're just as beautiful as you ever were, Lucien. But you cut your hair." His eyes went to the almost bald head, covered only in the softest fuzz of black. The cut somehow only emphasized the intensely feral androgynous beauty of Lucien's face, his large green eyes, the white skin and the red lips that had once kissed every inch of Anya's body.

Lucien walked further into the light and ran a hand over his sheared hair. "You don't like it, Anya? And I did so hope to please you. . . I even wore those foppish clothes that you always adored and I always hated." He brushed nonexistent particles of dust from his black velvet coat, fixed his long lace cuffs, and did a graceful twirl for Anya, showing off his black breeches and knee high boots. "Don't I look like I'm ready to meet some pretty eligible young miss on the marriage market as I stroll through the streets of Bath?"

"You know that you're always beautiful, Lucien, no matter what you wear." Anya's mouth was dry with desire, but he resisted his urge to run his fingers through the downy black fuzz, to smell the spicy scent of Lucien's skin. He sat down on the park bench, instead. "Why did you call me here, Lucien? You and I, we are enemies now, are we not? What do we have to say to each other?" He looked down, and Lucien admired the beauty of his profile, the sweet line of his neck.

"Why did you come, Anya? You did not have to answer my summons, and surely you knew it was a danger to do so. How did you know that I wasn't lying when I said that I wouldn't kill you?"

"Because you gave me this. . . " Anya took out the delicate crystal from his pocket, a beautiful little angel, and held it out on the palm of his hand. "I knew. So why did you call me?"

"Don't you know what day it is today, Anya? It's the day that I loved my first angel. . . "

"And the day that I lost my wings. . . "

"Psht. Well, if you insist on being so morose about it. . . " He moved to sit beside Anya on the bench, sides almost touching, only millimeters apart. "Has life been so awful for you now, Anya?"

"Well, I guess besides the constant death threats from you, life hasn't been all that bad."

"Yeah, well, sorry about that, but, you know. You're the only one who knows how to kill me, and that's bad for business. It's nothing personal."

"I know." Anya fingered the delicate angel in his hands. "It's lovely, Lucien. Thank you for the present. "

"You're welcome." Lucien watched Anya stare at the ground for long moments, then looked down himself, staring at Anya's dirty sneakers. "I see that you did not bother to dress for me, as I did for you, mon ange. . . "

"Don't call me that, Lucien. I'm no longer that creature." Anya kept all his attention focused on the little crystal in his hand.

"I can see that. . . " Lucien let his eyes wander over Anya, over the trench coat that hid his body from view, over the graceful hands, over the silky sheathe of dark red hair that shimmered in the light, obscuring Anya's face from view. "It's strange. . . but I find this new Anya much more intruiging than the old angel Dumas. You are just as beautiful as you ever were, Anya. I truly mean that." Lucien reached out and pulled the hair from Anya's face, feasting on the delicate beauty, the long dark lashes, until Anya jerked away.

"Don't! Don't Lucien, it's not like that between us anymore. Everything's changed. I've changed. The world's changed."

"Oh, really? So you don't desire me anymore?" Lucien grabbed hold of Anya's wrist and pulled him down on the park bench, pinning him beneath, undoing the belt that held the trench coat closed, revealing a slender body encased in a pair of old jeans and a white tee-shirt. Anya struggled to push him off, but Lucien was too strong for him. After a while, he just stopped trying.

"Get off me Lucien. This isn't funny."

"No. . . you're right, it isn't." Lucien nuzzled Anya's neck, inhaling the scent that was unique to Anya, a blend of honey and frankincense, sweet and spicy at once. "They always told me that an angel's blood is poison to a vampire. . . but yours tasted like ambrosia to me." He extended his fangs a tiny bit and pricked Anya's skin, hard enough to draw a bead of blood that he licked off, sending him into paroxysms of joy. "It still tastes exactly the same. . . just as rich and intoxicating."

Anya shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the images running through his head. . . memories, painful to him, of times of happiness, of being held in Lucien's arms, of flying through the beauty of the clouds, the ecstasy of Lucien's magic mouth. . . and then the pain of losing his wings, the agony and the suffering of being held down as they took a knife and cut his wings off. His wings. . . he felt the loss as keenly as the day it happened. His eyes closed, tears threatened to fall, but he held them back.

Lucien felt the shudders of Anya's body and held him close, his hand running down Anya's side and splaying itself on Anya's stomach, feeling the heat of Anya's skin through the thin white cotton. "Anya. . . not a day goes by when I don't dream of making love to you. . . "

"Don't say that to me, Lucien. You don't love me. . . please, let me go." Anya's eyes remained closed, but a tear escapes from the corner of his eye and falls down his cheek. Lucien sensed the sudden charge of melancholy air in Anya and pulled up, to lick off the tear and gently stroke Anya's hair.

"How could you even say that, Mon Ange? You and I. . . we are inexplicably linked. We are two halves of one person. . . the good and the bad. That was the way it was, and that is the way it always will be, if you are an angel or no. You will always be my angel. Don't you understand that?" He gathered Anya gently into his arms, holding him tight, as if afraid that if he let go, Anya would run away and leave him forever. "Anya, please. . . tomorrow. . . we will fight, as we always fight. But tonight. . . tonight we can love each other, just as we used to, if only for a few hours. Please. . . "

Anya gasped, and finally gave into the tempation to run his hands against the downy black fuzz that had tempted him from the beginning of the evening. The secluded glade lent them plenty of privacy, and if the trees did not hide their actions, the late hour would almost certainly guarantee the lack of strollers through the park. Lucien pushed the trench coat from Anya's shoulders and spread it onto the ground, pushing Anya down gently and lying on top of him, his mouth on Anya's, avidly searching for Anya's tongue like a starved man. He pushed up Anya's tee-shirt, letting his palms run against the tender smooth skin, grazing against Anya's nipples, loving the sounds of pleasure that Anya made deep in his throat. He made to run his hand over Anya's back, and pull him onto his lap, but Anya struggled and pushed Lucien away, trying to keep Lucien from touching his back. "Don't. Don't touch me there, Lucien." He panted, and held his hand to his chest, trying to calm the beating of his heart.

"Why?" Lucien reached out to run his hands over Anya's back again, but Anya twisted around once more. Lucien used his strength to turn Anya around and pin him to the ground, so that Anya was on his stomach. Anya pressed his cheek against the hard ground and closed his eyes as he felt the cool air hitting the bare skin of his back. . . hearing Lucien's gasp float through the night air.

Lucien stared at the monstrous scars that covered Anya's back, two large twisted masses of mutant tissue, the remnants of his angel's beautiful wings. He traced the scars with both hands, feeling Anya jerk and shiver. "Those Angels did this to you? Why do they call themselves good, if they can do such a horrible thing to a beautiful creature? They are monsters. . . " He leaned down to kiss the thin papery flesh. . . it felt strange against his lips, but it tasted like Anya, his Anya. . . he could feel the blood under the thin surface, and shuddered, his hard on growing larger in his pants. He pulled Anya up to sit in his lap, pulling off the tee-shirt and running his hands up and down Anya's back, rubbing the scars. "You're so beautiful. . . you're even more beautiful now, my flawed angel, you look to me to be more fragile. . . like this crystal. " He took the crystal from Anya's hand and held it up to the light. "It's so beautiful because you know how easily it could break. "

Anya stared into Lucien's eyes and pressed his face into Lucien's neck, loving the familiar feel of his once lover's body against his - a feeling that centuries past had not let him forget. He cupped the back of Lucien's neck and kissed him gently, their lips barely pressed together, his tongue gently running over Lucien's bottom lip. This was something he still remembered drove Lucien wild. . . and it worked. Lucien put him on the ground and undid the fly of Anya's jeans, pulling them off, leaving Anya's sneakers on, his little angel in sneakers. He placed the crystal angel on the grass beside them and lowered his mouth to Anya's stomach, laving the skin he had never managed to forget. . .

. . . until he reached Anya's sex, resting beautifully in a nest of auburn curls, and he kissed it, taking the tip into his mouth, watching Anya arch his back, pressing his mouth against the back of his hand.

Though angels were morphic creatures, and could be either sex, Anya had been a man for as long as Lucien had known him, and he preferred it that way. He left Anya's sex for a moment to kiss and nip at the delicate flesh at the inside of Anya's thighs, extending his fangs again, sinking them in ever so slightly, drawing a tiny amount of Anya's magical blood. He lapped at the tiny wounds and rose a little again to take Anya's cock back into his mouth. He had missed the wonderful sight of Anya writhing underneath him, begging for more of his touch. He hadn't realized until now, how much it made him crazy. He sucked Anya's cock hard, grabbing Anya's legs, placing them around his neck, loving the feel of being surrounded by all that sweet smelling flesh. He stopped just before he felt Anya's climax coming on, drawing away from Anya, who cried out and thrust his hips in the air. "Lucien! Don't leave me this way. . . "

Anya kept his eyes tightly closed, not wanting to know if Lucien had left him, lying there, remembering the memories of passionate nights long past, to cry as he hadn't done in a long time. He felt a tear roll down his cheek and he let it fall as it may. He thought that he had forgotten how to cry. . .

Suddenly, he felt the press of Lucien's body on his once more, Lucien licking the tear from his face, kissing his eyes and his mouth, washing away the loneliness, if only for these brief moments that they were together. "Don't cry, Mon Ange, you are so sweet. . . so beautiful. . . " Lucien smoothed back his lover's hair. " Don't be sad. . . not here, not now. . . I will not leave you. . . "

Their naked bodies gleamed slightly in the dark, pressed tightly together, as if scared to be apart. Lucien placed Anya's legs on his shoulders and leaned down to kiss Anya's tender anus, then positioned himself against the small opening, leaning down to place a kiss at the center of Anya's chest. He pushed himself slowly into the tight channel, closed his eyes, not wanting to see. . . wanting to savor the moment, to forget all the external factors that kept him and Anya apart, only he and Anya and their love now, joined, in body and in soul, nothing else in the world existed. He eased himself slowly in until he could go no further. He leaned down and nuzzled Anya's neck as he began to thrust, Anya's arms wrapping around Lucien's neck, holding him tight. Lucien bit into the tender tasty flesh of Anya's neck and felt the blue/red ichor flowing into his mouth, down his throat. . . like some heady, intoxicating blood-wine. Anya's blood was like nothing of this earth. . . it was an elixir, making him drunk, making him do foolish things, calling to him day and night, so that he dreamt of Anya, always. He loved Anya so much, it made his heart hurt.

Anya felt himself being penetrated twice. . . and he gasped. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the pleasurable intrusion. . .it was only with Lucien that sex had any meaning, he had never ever loved anyone as much as Lucien, not even Mishra. It hurt to think that he would have to kill the only one he loved. . . he blocked out those thoughts, giving himself to the moment. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, remembering times past, happier times, joining in the ancient rhythm that united lovers always throughout time.

Finally, Lucien retracted his fangs from Anya's neck, and replaced the lost blood by emptying his seed deep into Anya. Anya felt the release inside him, like a secret inner caress, and he came, his cock pressed against Lucien's belly. Lucien collapsed onto Anya, pressing down, rubbing his face against Anya's chest, leaning up to devour Anya's mouth, wanting more and more, not wanting to end the interlude, the escape from the real world. They lay there for long moments, rubbing against each other, not wanting to let go.

Finally, Lucien got up, and picked up his things. "It's time for me to go. The sun is almost rising, and I must be back before anyone misses me." Anya sat up on his coat, and put his face in his hands.

Lucien pulled on his breeches and knelt down. "What's wrong? Tell me." He gently pulled Anya's hands away from his face.

"I hate this. . . I hate having to fight you all the time, Lucien, I hate having to hurt you. I don't want to kill you, why can't you just stop?"

"Because I have a purpose, Anya, as do you. And both of us are too stubborn and strong willed to ever change sides. So we will always be enemies." Except for this one special day. He leaned forward to give Anya a soft kiss. "But you know, that I will always love you." He finished dressing and stared off into the darkness of the trees. "I often wonder, what will happen if I ever succeed in killing you. You are my purpose, my will to live. If you die, will I die too? We are one, I could not imagine life without you. Perhaps, when you are dead, then I will kill myself. Then we could finally be together, without anything keeping us apart. Silly, that I want to kill you because you know how to kill me, and yet when you're dead, I would want to die." Lucien kicked a rock on the ground. "Even if I did live, I think that I would be dead inside, just a shell, until I finally do succumb to the ennui that will be my death." He turned around to find Anya dressed and standing, watching him. Anya held the crystal angel in his hand, like a precious jewel, not wanting to let it go.

Lucien gave Anya one more small smile and said, "I will miss you, Anya, for the next hundred years. I love you. Never forget that." With those words, he steeled himself, giving Anya a cold look and a sneer, and with the blink of an eye, had melded once more into the darkness.

Anya was left alone, staring down at the beautiful crystal angel. His mouth was turned down, and he was afraid he was going to cry once again. He stayed that way for long moments, until he threw the crystal angel into the shadows. He walked away before he could see where it landed. The crystal angel shattered, as it hit the ground.

Back to Original Fiction

Onyx © Amaranth
Presented by The HotHouse Archive