Blood Sacraments

by Todd Gregory

  All right, fine, of course I was a fucking unfaithful whore but dear Bjorn was a fucking drama queen, plus his endless blood ruined my priceless sixteenth-century Turkish carpet. My inconsiderate lover transformed our, excuse me, my, my, my expensive bedroom floor into a gruesome abattoir.

  What a selfish, unthinking bastard. How dare Bjorn act so noble and accusing toward me? Prick. Nasty, accusing prick. How dare he leave me?

  How dare he check out in such marvelous passion!

  My heart captured a bizarre beat. Definitely abnormal. So what. At least it still beat.

  The breeze tickled my sweating flesh. I swore lost souls rode the sea-tainted draft. Pathetic brooding tossed a wet net over my soul. My aching body shifted against my padded throne. Mmm, I missed my wild actor, yeah, imagine, I missed Bjorn enough to try joining him. Unfortunately my deliberate heroin overdose created an unexpected heart attack minutes before I reached my London town house. Splat, down I dropped into the dense Saturday crowd swarming in front of Harrods, my helpless body mere steps away from my waiting limo. At least no one stomped on my face, but the timing defined sucky luck. I mean come on, I shot up in a Harrods bathroom intent on dying during the drive home to Regent’s Park. How sad, planning my own death swerved beyond my skill. What good was I? Withdrawal and a blasted heart, yes, what an ugly combination.

  Damn it, why did seagulls sound so bloody annoying? My lips managed a pathetic hiss. I lifted my left arm and lazily flapped my numb hand against the uncaring sky. Wow, Steady Stewie, the dynamic gesture told them who was the real boss here. I showed the flying shit machines who ruled da island. Big whooping deal. In congratulation for my heroic effort I sipped more wine.

  Once sweet death courted me, I couldn’t erase thinking about my tempestuous Bjorn. We represented damaged love at its finest, ha, two emotional vampires ripping and tearing at each other, but still, deep in my shallow, worthless soul, I loved my wild stage actor. My very own Hamlet. What a stunner, I cheated on my handsome Dane, but Bjorn knew I was a true blue slut. Remember, I cheated on Andy to seduce my Bjorn. Did I swear everlasting fidelity to Bjorn? Not quite. Hmm, did a clichéd till death do us part line prevent the nasty, thick blood gushing from my lover’s sturdy neck? Too late for such regrets. Before that wretched afternoon I never felt so much blood taint my flesh. I literally enjoyed one helluva blood bath. Just call me Bloody Boy Barlow.

  Ah. Fuck. Ouch. The sharp twinge infecting my chest demanded serious medical attention, so logically I ignored the swelling pain and consumed more delicious wine. Okay, fine, firing my nurse and throwing out my arsenal of colorful pills defined impulsive, stupid, and willful, yes, my wonderful triumvirate, but not bright. After all, modern meds offered me an easy exit. Trouble was my twisted mind thought overdosing on prescription meds sounded too easy. Such nonsense equaled kiddie play! Come on, ripping your throat open with a jagged mirror bit, yeah, now that act told the world you possessed stellar cojones. You owned clichéd big brass balls. You were da bleeding to death man. The ruin my carpet man. The destroy my life man.

  Not fair, not fair, not fair. There, I said it three times, third time’s the charm. I conquered the pain swelling inside my chest, right?

  No.

  Ahh. Another sharp pain drifted through my chest. Damn, suddenly the distant sea sounded too loud. I gasped for breath. Shit, I just fucking didn’t care about my damaged heart; instead I urged the faulty organ into a ruinous last act. No worries about that happy event since my concerned Uncle Samuel, the faithful family watchdog, would send a new nurse by, hmm, I predicted no later than later tonight. Overprotective Samuel would helicopter a nurse in from the mainland pronto since, after I fired David yesterday, I spitefully ignored my uncle’s furious calls. Yeah, fine, the old man meant well, but I didn’t want a nurse nagging me on how I conducted myself. I didn’t want advanced meds coated with silly warning labels advising not to operate heavy machinery or drink while ingesting said drug.

  Yeah, imagining me rolling around the island in a bulldozer, blasted out of my fucking skull offered a giggle fit. Classic. Wine dribbled streams down my chest.

  No, now I wanted to die. I wanted to flee life’s ugly pain and stress.

  No one understood the simple concept. Come on, please, life frustrated me. After all, experiencing life required a set of complicated rules no one ever bothered explaining to this poor little rich boy. My parents never possessed the time for me since drinking themselves to death ranked far above caring for their weird, introverted son. Well, their plane crash when I was ten hastened their demise and ended any chance for parental revelation. My tolerant relatives passed me around but no one knew what to do with the freaky bad seed. When my hormones hit, I tried experiencing what I imagined life to be via frequent sexcapades. Ingesting interesting concoctions or dancing strung-out and naked around Picadilly Circus soothed my soul. Imagine, the authorities frowned on my life-affirming stunts. Wicked spoilsports.

  Mmm, this particular bottle of wine tasted more seductive than usual. Ouch, when I set the glass down on the table, my completely numb fingers spasmed hard against the smooth glass. Nothing to feel alarmed about, right?

  No, I didn’t want to enter rehab again. I didn’t want to talk to endless, bland-faced morons with lofty initials messily trailing after their stilted names. Those assholes knew nothing about life, ha, all they understood was control and self-denial. Well fuck it deep into the dirt, I wouldn’t be denied.

  The burning pain in my chest advanced and determinedly launched. Fresh pain blossomed into my right arm. Of course I never felt my previous attack; someone felt too wrecked to understand what happened in his gasping-for-life body.

  Shit. More wine always helped, right? I reached for my glass. My helpless fingers twitched against the cool surface and sent salvation flooding across the wooden table. I glared at the liquid sparkling in the late-afternoon sun. I gasped in abrupt, excruciating agony. Fuck, what happened in my chest, why did it hurt so damned fucking bad, anddd…ahhhh…wait, shouldn’t I feel happy at this event, I wanted this event to happen so much but it hurt like denied love, it ahh, noo, it huurth, ahh, burned, burned, burrrnnnned…

  Searing glints speared into my eyes, blinded me, wiped away the unsympathetic world, the sky, the sun…I…I…

  *

  What the hell?

  I quickly blinked into the final magenta-kissed sunset and wondered what happened to me. Wow. How odd, I felt completely fine. No pain, no depression, no nothing negative, well, okay, whatever, bothered my mind or body. Why did I feel healthy?

  Instead of moving I sat and monitored my body. My mind told me I felt better than I had in, admit it, years. Somehow I sensed before now I never felt this contented. What happened to me? My confused stare traveled over my long torso, yeah, my body looked the same: lean, smooth and pampered. I loved how my sleek flesh hid the festering soul rot merrily eating away at me. This wealthy boy did not accept a collapsed junkie body.

  The sun dipped down until dark golden light filled the world, the glow surging burnished and bold against low purple clouds until it vanished. Dazzling. The sight humbled me. Wine, yes, I poured out a mouthful and sipped. It tasted sublime.

  What? Did I hear singing? The somehow confident sound soared up from the cliff edge and drifted into my hearing. I sat up in my throne and angrily shook my head. All right, I didn’t fancy someone trespassing on my private island. I rose from my chair and almost staggered; whee, I hadn’t moved so fast in ages. My bare feet guided me to the cliff’s edge, then I peered down. Suddenly trespassing didn’t sound so bad, no, not when the trespasser looked like a lusty prototype for a Greek god.

  I stared in total admiration. Although the light waned, my eyes focused without hesitation.

  A tall, black-haired man, his lean hips lovingly encased in a tight, cherry red swimsuit, strolled along the surf’s muttering edge. He cheerfully released a rollicking song into the sultry air. The brash tune sounded like something echoing from Greek
pirate ship. Who was he? Well hell, no one halted me from asking, right? I waved my right arm and called down. “Haaalllo!”

  My muscular songbird halted and peered up at me. He anxiously waved back.

  My next words sounded perfectly logical. “Care to come up for a visit?”

  White teeth, so bright against his tanned flesh, appeared in a dazzling grin, then the man waved again and walked toward the steep flight of narrow stone steps leading toward me. I walked to where the stairs met the cliff’s eroded top and almost fell on my Speedo-clad ass. How did the man ascend the stairs so quickly? My singer’s haste didn’t upset me since now my searching eyes confirmed what I thought, whoa, the man was an utter prize. If I viewed this enticing physical specimen in a London club, I would have walked right up, dropped to my knees, and declared my undying lust for him. My singer defined cliché: tall, dark and handsome in the masculine flesh. Firm, proud pecs jutted toward me below broad shoulders caressed by tousled hair. His piercing dark eyes, fuck, passionate eyes that saw everything and understood the world, tenderly gazed at me.

  A man who understood life stood before me. His intensely knowing eyes told me the truth. This man had experienced something equal to my own sorrow but he somehow had defeated the damage. I instantly wanted to know how.

  My inner slut also wanted his cock rammed deep inside me. No question about the act. I wanted this man. I needed this man.

  We stared at each other until the man inclined his heroic head toward me and offered me a riveting smile. “You must be the new owner.”

  “Yeah, that I am. Stewart Barlow.” As I held out my hand in greeting, I left off my 17th Earl of Portentous Puff and Stuff identity. The high-and-mighty bit always sounded so bloody egotistical. Yeah, fat lot of good the creaky old family title did me, right?

  My hand slid into a firm, callused grip and let it be squeezed in greeting. “Athan Nikephoros at your service.” His divinely rich gaze traveled past my shoulder and examined the villa tucked against the ancient olive grove. “So I finally see the old place. It truly is beautiful.”

  “Why didn’t you see it before now?”

  “Before today I was never invited up here. The previous owners acted reluctant about receiving unexpected guests.” Athan’s intense gaze snapped back to my face and assaulted my eyes. “Thank you for acting so gracious toward me.”

  Ha, obviously the previous owners were blind or, yeah right, not partial to burly, nearly naked, handsome Greek gods roaming on their beach. What a pair of snobs! I never knew the noble pair since I impulsively bought this island a year ago after seeing it online. I paid taxes, paid Korina, paid for maintenance, but, in my typically wasted and grandly callous manner, I never visited my expensive and supposedly haunted new toy until this month. Now I wished I’d traveled here the second I signed the deed.

  My common sense tried nudging me. No. Go away. I knew this man. I knew he wished me no harm.

  I knew.

  Feeling inspired I gestured toward the secretive villa and offered my guest my charming smile. “Athan, would you enjoy a villa tour?”

  “Yes, a tour sounds delightful.” Athan held out his hand to me and smiled in complete acceptance. Fuck me, the buff boy definitely read my mind. I grasped his large hand again and turned toward the villa. The white walls beckoned in supreme beauty. Before we continued, I slowly gazed around the twilight-embraced island and shook my head in bewilderment. Amazing how even under the approaching gloaming everything truly looked brighter and sharper. Amazing how I felt so renewed, so focused. What was wrong with me? Or, confess, what was right with me?

  I hoped within the next few minutes pure, wet rapture told me the truth. My hand squeezed Athan’s, then we walked to the villa and continued up to my large second-floor bedroom. Instead of using the bleak electric lights I quickly lit candles. Without hesitation Athan tossed aside his snug bathing suit and revealed a potent cock. His power needed to explore my flesh. Mmm, when I removed my red Speedo, his eyes filled with sincere appreciation, then Athan extended his muscular arms toward me in a strangely religious gesture. I willingly became his supplicant and folded against his comforting yet surprisingly cool body. For some bizarre reason being cuddled by his arms felt like safety.

  “Stewart, ah, beautiful one, I waited for someone like you for so long, yes, I waited for someone to release me from my exile. You need me and I need you. You need healing.”

  I laughed against flesh, licked, and sucked in salty majesty. My cheek rubbed against smooth chest flesh. “You sound like Korina.”

  “No surprise since Korina raised me from infancy on. I’m her only nephew.” As his words stirred my hair, Athan’s strong fingers urgently pressed into my upper arms. His fingers communicated something I wanted to understand. “My mother died giving me life. Unfortunately I didn’t listen to dear Aunt Korina seriously enough, no, I didn’t understand her ill-perceived quaint lessons on how this island feeds a lost soul. Instead I needed to challenge the world, so I left here at age sixteen and returned when I understood what I needed. The powerful world proved a daunting and ultimately destructive advisory.”

  Yeah, that sad story sounded familiar. His damaged words faded into the warm air. I drew back and gazed up into Athan’s sad features. “But you’re back now, right?”

  A disturbingly haunted smile frightened me. Athan’s low voice captured an emotion so alien to me I wanted to sob. “Yes, Stewart, I am back forever because I didn’t let the island nourish me. Now I possess the chance to correct the problem. I own the chance to nourish and guide you toward ecstasy.”

  Despite the air’s warmth and my soon-to-be lover’s smooth, supple flesh connecting against mine, a despairing chill shot through my body “Athan, stop, you sound so bleak. I won’t have it, no, I won’t endure a handsome man acting sad while standing naked in my bedroom. Come on, Athan, if you’re going to heal me, start now.” I lunged up and pressed my lips against his soft fullness. My fingers slid up and teased his cheekbones.

  As my body flowed against his cool strength, Athan’s fingers tightened against my flesh in near painful intensity. He easily lifted me up and tossed me into the welcoming sheets. In response I angled my hips up toward him and whispered in want, need, yes, overwhelming need. This time I was the one to hold out my arms in complete welcome. “Come heal me, Athan. Nourish me back to health. Use your power in me. Heal me.”

  Haste did not rule my new lover’s soul. Athan stood by the bed and silently gazed over every inch of my body. He knelt on the bed and ran his fingers across my flesh, the tips tracing designs and perhaps soothing words on me. Somehow his touch drove security into my mind. Athan finally slithered his muscular body against my tingling skin then we kissed for long, heady moments, our tongues dancing and darting in perfect union. Each wild kiss somehow made me feel more centered and focused. Amazing. I’d never been kissed so purposefully, so deliberately. So healingly. We bit, nibbled, attacked, but always returned to our lips creating celestial light, the glow somehow healing a million cracks festering in my damaged soul. Athan’s fingers performed fresh inscriptions against my flesh, the tips tapping out messages from his soul.

  I floated in the essence of sexual joy. Wait, fuck, was I crying? Absolutely. Why? Simply because of the supreme joy washing over me in powerful waves. The force reconnected me to something monumental. Someone finally taught me about life. Someone took the time to make me feel without demanding anything from me. Liberating. Incandescent.

  When Athan’s stiff cock, it dampened by sweat and my tears, tenderly entered my eager channel, I screamed in sheer amazement, ahh, I thrashed under him in complete adoration and offered my being to him. More, please, please, please fill my longing emptiness. My inner muscles tried sucking every ounce of juice from his thick cock. Fuck me, how could a man’s primal cock feel so healing, so soothing? Magical. I arched up and adhered to Athan’s muscular goodness. Nourish me? Obviously I needed serious nourishing, hmm, my flesh lapped up what Athan offered me.
I couldn’t gain enough of his healing powers. I didn’t understand any of it, yet a primitive part of me knew everything and accepted.

  When Athan gained his true rhythm, he thrust deeply into me and hit my inner point. A sudden blinding light ripped across my eyes, then an orgasm the size of understanding rippled and shook my astonished flesh. I felt like I might vibrate apart, yeah, fuck, my flesh might whirl into the air like an uncontrollable sexual tornado.

  As he rested against me, Athan smiled down at me, then he swiftly kissed my tear-streaked face. The expression filling his dark, knowing eyes looked jubilant yet somehow sad. “Thank you, Stewart. Be nourished. Your nourishment completes me, heals me, saves me. Thank you. I shall protect you until you are ready to be with me.”

  Ready? What did he mean? My needy soul demanded knowledge yet my lips refused to ask.

  “Stewart, know I will be here for you. Know and accept my power.” His arms held me close. Athan nibbled my neck, then his teeth pierced my flesh. I screamed in acknowledgment. We dissolved into perfect unity, blood to blood, soul to soul, into a endless red eternity.

  I willingly submitted to his need.

  I willingly surrendered.

  I willingly ceased to exist.

  *

  “Stewart, are you all right? Stewart! Please speak to me!” A rush of Greek hammered my hearing until English resumed. “Stewart! Gods, I knew I needed to check on you earlier. I am a fool for letting you drive me away! Stewart, come back to me.”

  Warm, callused hands, wait, what the fuck, they felt much smaller than Athan’s powerful hands, shook my limp shoulders. What? I blinked and stared into Korina’s frantic face hovering above me against the deep purple sky. A lantern shed light over us. My lips opened, failed, then tried again for speech. Why was I still alive? What happened to me? “Korina, what are you doing here? Where’s Athan?”