a plague of angels Blessed Be The Children
by a.a.johnston
© 9/2000
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice
To Reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heav'n--Milton, Paradise Lost, I.261-263
The press of bodies on the dance floor was chaos in motion. Strobe lights took what grace might have been in the shifting bodies and made them all look like jerky, mechanical, roto-scoped animations of something that might pass for art but most likely would only pass for ridiculous. Even when the strobes paused in their patterning, there wasn't much improvement. Oh, a nice set of moves there, a mating display here, a little exercise in trying to fit in, be hip, be cool, be something.
Ewan MacGregor's opening monologue from Trainspotting played itself out in his mind and he laughed out loud, startling and even intriguing those close to him – close enough to hear. All but one, but then //he// rarely laughed at all. He'd learn to again. Other than that, well, the sulky, moody look was back in fashion and despite the unsmiling visage, there wasn't much else in his companion's look or demeanor that could be complained about.
Now there, the pretty brunette at the bar – she appreciated his laugh even if not his joke and he smiled for her, lowering his eyelashes in that sensitive, slightly shy, devastatingly sexy way that all these outwardly independent but inwardly calculating young women fell off their chairs for. She didn't miss it either, her or her friend: a less pretty, but healthy looking blonde who was doing the retro chic thing down to her glittery high-tops.
"Be charming for the ladies, pet," he said quietly, nudging his companion as the women made all the moves that surrounded sliding off their bar stools and signaling an acquisition of prey called for. Purses caught up and slung over bared shoulders, wipe the beer bottles so they don't drip, then the bar top to show that your momma's brought you up right. Straighten that blouse so it pulls down there, and that skirt so it pulls up there and wait for each other because it's safer to travel in pairs.
Beside him his companion took the word as law and straightened up too, leaned back a little and smiled, obedient as a string puppet and well made puppet at that, so the ladies were noticing. He nudged his companion as males will do, letting the two women look their fill and come to them. The less pretty one was watching him. The brunette's eyes had shifted, seeing something she liked better. Jealousy being such a wasted emotion, he didn't even notice but turned his smile on the blonde, pushing off the wall a bit to greet her.
"Chloe," the brunette had to almost shout, for her own ears and not his, over the music. Her voice had all the subtlety of a car crash at this volume and neither he nor his companion needed the extra push to hear her. "This is Sarah." She indicated her friend, lifting brown eyes to his face and then letting them stray back to his darker companion.
"I'm Jobie. This is –" he picked a name from a conversation a dozen feet away. "You can call him Gabriel," he offered, taking the brunette's hand with a little squeeze. She could hear him, so could Sarah for all that he didn't raise his voice.
"Like the angel, yeah. That's a great name," Chloe had noticed him again but her eyes shifted and Gabriel met them, his eyes dark as hers, only blue if she could tell. Flicker, flicker, her eyes like candle flames or maybe like moths and Gabriel smiled, enough to make Chloe's not so frail heart beat a little faster.
"It's nice to meet you, Sarah," Jobie murmured, a whisper across her ear and she smiled as well, lifting her expression from almost pretty to worth looking at. His hand was out and she took it, not pulling away. "Get you a drink? Dance?" Jobie asked and Sarah nodded to both or either, but since she still had a beer in her other hand, he pulled her toward where the strobes were once more turning living flesh into stop action figures. He could dance to anything and with more grace than the cattle on the floor and keep Sarah with him, even as she sipped her beer and made the wise choice not to try and talk. She liked the music: he could tell from the way her head tilted and her feet matched the rhythm vibrating through the floor.
A glance up and over and he smiled because Gabriel was being his charming self – charming in the way that had drawn Jobie to him at first. Sharing Chloe's beer, catching the strap of her purse as it slid off her shoulder, fingers lingering a bit longer than necessary.
Then Chloe was shifting, moving, dancing for him a little as they talked. And Gabriel moved with her, smiling, almost laughing but not yet – just a curl to his lips and that almost shy look again and Chloe was enchanted, moving her hand to his hip and letting her long fingers dance along the dark curls framing that heartbreakingly boyish face.
Gabriel was so very dependable.
The music was slowing and Jobie fixed his gaze on Sarah, smiling as her movement slowed with the music. "Want to keep dancing or you want another beer?" he asked, leaning close so she could hear him, not that he needed to but she thought so. She smelled of beer and some citrusy cologne that would be better used as an air freshener from where Jobie stood. Hair spray and shampoo and deodorant but underneath it all...there, faint and warm and beguiling and natural. Moving under her skin, through it, rushing faster with every breath, every heartbeat. He breathed it in, smelled it, smiled at her, moistened his lips and held her gaze until she moved.
"Dance." No sound escaped her, but he heard it nonetheless, the pulse beat of the music softer than that of her heart. Not nearly a challenge but then it wasn't unless Jobie wanted it to be and he had wanted this night to be easy. Get Gabriel back into the feel of what passed for the life he still missed but wouldn't for much longer. A little play, a little tease, a little exertion of knowing who was leading who here, just a reminder. Oh, Gabriel liked his brunettes but they usually had fewer curves and of course, any longer, he was fixated on blondes of a different sort.
Now Sarah was warm and if a bit wary yet, still willing to be led or fascinated or just flattered and he could do that, whispering into her ear with just enough nonsense to keep her feeling like this was a good thing and not enough to scare her off. Had to save that part of it.
And holding her close meant he could watch his pet. Such a different approach, letting the sparkling Chloe lead and coax. Mothering type, wouldn't you know and didn't it just make sense since Gabriel never looked at a woman the way Chloe was looking at him. And it was all her, not Gabriel: flirting, coaxing, teasing and he responded like the eager boy he appeared to be whereas here, in the middle of the floor, Sarah was the wilting if hungry flower and Jobie...Jobie was rain to her parched roots.
The music was shifting again and Jobie led the way with courtly arrogance, finding a corner and another beer for her, letting her taste and then stealing a sip, using lips and mouth and tongue to taste the yeasty sweet-sour bile and smiling through it all, inviting her to taste him on the rim of the green glass. Just a little fermented aphrodisiac. Then like a buddy, checking on his shy friend, who had Chloe hanging onto his belt loops so she won't lose him to the jealous looks cast her way.
Jobie laughed again, just for the pleasure of it all, the irony and the sheer fun of it. He brushed up next to Gabriel and could smell the hunger on him, the way he shivered when Jobie's hand casually brushed his ass: accidental, just buddies, friends – and promises that neither woman would ever see or know about.
"Feel like grabbing a bite?" he asked Sarah and Chloe and almost laughed at his own gauche, trite, clichéd humor because it was so B-movie and so very perfect. And the answers were so predictable as to be almost unnecessary. They'd been hunting too, Chloe and her guileless friend, Sarah. Prowling and seeking, looking for a free beer, maybe a dance, a kiss, a little guiltless flattery and flirting, maybe more, sure of themselves with their pepper sprays and key-sirens and traveling together.
Jobie left his arm lightly on Sarah's shoulder, enough to let her pull away if she felt crowded but she seemed to like the way he parted the crowd for her, protecting her from being jostled. And of course, there was Chloe all but blowing her foghorn to get to the door. Spirited and aggressive.
He liked Chloe very much.
The strip was busy and bright after the club, and Chloe knew what and where, heading across the street, ignoring the cars, sure of her own immortality, to the cafe cum fern bar cum stud market and its open tables. Jobie only smiled at Gabriel. Food was a good way to ease their dates, fill them, flatter them. His smile was pure sweetness, but Gabriel knew better.
Plump and sated they'd be, secure, feeling more confident for a little talk, a little more beer drawing it out a bit longer, make Gabriel wait for what was coming. It was all so very fascinating: they were. These sharp, bright, modern women who didn't wait to be called upon but saw what they wanted and went after it. Jobie very much understood that, reveled in it, lavished his attention on the unremarkable Sarah and her too glittery friend, Chloe. Fed her bits of antipasti with cheese and garlic and spicy peppers, tinged by the oil on his fingers until she was all big eyes and flushed lips.
And there was Gabriel looking sexy and overwhelmed, charmingly so, yes, that such a lovely creature as Chloe could be so fascinated by him, so much that he squirmed and responded to her touch, her breath against his skin, but was ever the gentleman. Chloe was having nearly as much fun as Jobie and he watched her as any ornithologist whose eye was caught by a flash of bright plumage and show of flashing eyes would.
Too bad he hadn't caught her alone.
Ah well, half the fun was the unexpected. He paid the check and rose, hearing the increased heartbeats, seeing the flush in Sarah's cheeks and smelling the blood beneath it. She was excited, anticipatory. A preliminary wouldn't hurt and he kissed her, light and friendly, smiling when her mouth opened under his and he caught her arm, put his own around her shoulder, proprietary and gentle and she didn't do anything but shrug his arm into a more comfortable position.
Better and better, he thought, catching a glimpse of another kiss; Chloe ready to eat her new beau alive. This time he led the way, across the street, a short cut, he promised at the alley, going ahead, with Gabriel bringing up the rear. Not a long one – the women could see the parking lot on the other side, the street behind – the rest in shadows and no place to hide anything. Wary, but they went, almost running to keep up with Jobie's long strides, his hand firmly clasped around Sarah's.
Until he stopped and turned and Gabriel stopped and blocked the path. He smiled and Sarah smiled back, right up until she saw his teeth, flashing in the shadows.
Never let them scream, pet.
They didn't. No time, no breath, and then Sarah's true beauty was laid out before him, read in her blood, tasted in the strong pulse of her heart as she fought instinctually to survive but without will to fight him with fists or teeth. Sweeter than he thought, rich with accents of youth and passion, like a new wine. And with about the same amount of value.
Six ninety-nine at your local grocery store.
"Leave enough, pet," he said, his voice still low, letting Sarah slide from his embrace like wet laundry. He wasn't at all surprised when Gabriel snarled and sucked more harshly, painting his lips in his urgency. So stubborn. So slow, and Jobie was there, Chloe handled less gently, but falling just as fast and Gabriel all but shaking in equal parts fear and hunger and nausea.
Oh, he was flushed and hungry yet, but he didn't move, didn't resist when Jobie put a finger to his lips to wipe the blood away, slipping the crimson finger into his mouth while Gabriel watched, dark eyes riveted to the red stuff, to Jobie's mouth. Jobie was half tempted to bring their discarded leftovers round enough to watch. Not that they would remember, but to watch, wide eyed and maybe a little aroused if they had enough blood left to pump wetness between their thighs.
"Over eat and you'll get a tummy ache," he sign-songed to Gabriel, threading his fingers through the dark curls, sniffing the fresh scent of blood and perfume and fear from his skin. He licked Gabriel's lips, tasting Chloe. Tasting himself, seeing his own reflection in the blackened, midnight blue mirrors that were his pet's eyes. One finger trailed along the pale face, along his cheek his jaw and Gabriel didn't flinch when he felt the sharpened nail rake over his throat. "Still hungry, pet?"
"Yes." On a sigh or a moan, it didn't matter, and Jobie smiled, pulled open his shirt and his jeans, the clawed finger held out like he was handling a teacup at a debutante ball until he was free and hard and leaning back against the opposite wall.
"Say it, pet."
"Feed me, Job. Give me more..."
"For what?"
"For anything," Gabriel answered with no enthusiasm, by rote, but it was quick and fast and utterly sincere.
"Then feed," he whispered, for only Gabriel to hear, raking that claw along the length of his cock so that rich, deeply dark, red blood welled up.
Gabriel was there before the first drop fell, mouth already stained with Chloe's blood, now with Sarah's and Job leaned back and laughed as his little kit sucked him, fed on the blood that ran cold and dark. Gabriel gasped as it burned his mouth and throat and set Job's insides afire as well. And then it was Job who was a little desperate, pushing back until Gabriel fell, his head making a solid crack on the concrete but not trying to get away as Job held him and used his mouth like a glory hole because it was, oh it was. Still warm and wet from the blood, still firm and tender and soft, even after the wound healed, even after he started choking because it wasn't like Gabriel was going to choke to //death// now was it?
God, he'd have to feed again after dumping so much of himself down that welcome and familiar throat. He obviously wasn't getting enough to have that much left over – but not so much that Gabriel lost one drop, still swallowing when Job pulled back straddling Gabriel's chest. His cock still hard but empty now save for a few sizzling drops of come that he wiped on Gabriel's full lips before rising and tucking his clothes back in and waiting for his pet to get to his feet.
"Let's see the ladies home, safely, shall we?" Job said softly, once more caressing the pale cheek before kissing Gabriel, tasting all of himself inside the cool mouth. Better than mouthwash.
Purses and licenses and insurance cards found them the nice little upscale Camry parked under a streetlight for added security, and Gabriel took the ladies while Job followed. Chloe's apartment was the choice: she being the boldest of the two and more likely to invite them back for a drink or a fuck. A nice midtown apartment, well lit and double locked and it didn't matter if you had the keys.
"Make them nice and comfy, pet," Job said, searching through the apartment and finding a little more wine but nothing worth coming back for and he wandered back to see the tucking in.
A little kiss, a little wine mixed with a drops of blood that Gabriel watched tremble and glisten on Job's cut finger until it splashed into the wine, almost lurching forward for fear Job might spill a precious drop on the floor and it wasn't so much hunger as //need// that made Gabriel swallow when Job used the same finger to mix the wine and blood and pull if free, healed, unmarked. He cooed softly as he held the glass to Chloe's lips and watched her swallow the mixture down and then she was watching him with that confused look baby lambs have when they are led into that nice dark narrow pen. "We have to go, pet," he said smiling his best smile and teasing Sarah into wakefulness as well. "Can we call you?" Sarah got her communion as well and it brought a little color to her cheeks.
"Sure..." slurred and confused, but a yes, nonetheless, and even a little smile for sweet Gabriel. And Sarah was equally amenable to a kiss before they left.
"I rather liked your Chloe," he said, unlocking the car and sliding in, waiting for Gabriel to do the same. "I think I shall call on her. Get to know her a bit. Would you like that, pet? A playmate...a sister..." he said on a hiss and a twist in his seat.
Unblinking, watching. Anything, Job. Just anything....please.
Job smiled and pulled him almost tenderly against him, smiling as he bit into the blood flushed tendons of Gabriel's throat. Sucking that taste from him until they were both heaving and then he stopped, leaving Gabriel panting and moaning and twitching, jeans too tight and neck still bleeding.
"Hold that thought, pet," he whispered and turned the key, heading back along the drive and the strip. It was a young night yet. Gabriel needed to get out more, meet other people, maybe someone more to his liking with fewer curves, harder muscles and more than empty space between the legs. Maybe even earn a little to pay off the greasy dead and rotting food their little damsels had gorged themselves on.
A different kind of meat market then and he turned fast and hard away from the strip, down a few blocks and over to another kind of clubbing. Black painted windows and low bass beats that tolled across the street like thunder greeted them. Gabriel got out stiffly, looking ruffled and tousled and altogether delectable, even desirable once Job cleaned the blood from his throat and worked him up again, until he was staggering under the load of passion he was feeling. Or hunger. Or pain – all one and the same.
Job was still feeling a little hungry himself, his hand resting possessively on that fine ass, feeling the muscles flex and move under the denim. Nothing quite like Gabriel screaming for more and he would be. He always did.
So well that Job wasn't ready to lose that – all that. Silent as drywall mostly except when he was cut loose, freed of whatever inhibitions his upbringing had scarred him with – nice middle American white boy track and field jock that he was. Used to be. Would always be now.
And he'd never even thanked Job for that.
Job smiled at him and watched the set mouth turn down in dismay and he laughed. Oh, there were ways for Gabriel to show his gratitude yet. Begging he did very prettily most times, but thank yous were a little thin.
Maybe he should have cut him loose already, or used a longer leash but he wasn't ready to have his kit bolt the nest just yet and he might. Gabriel might. He might be the one to do it. He didn't fight fair, exactly. No screaming protests or huge bile spilling scenes from this kitling. No, this one thought too much, hid too well. Fascinated Job because he couldn't read every expression.
No, not yet.
This bar was not so much roto-scope as black light psychedelic and testosterone chasers, but even the bad lighting didn't make them invisible, and Job took full advantage of the check-out-the-newcomers mentality to let them all know there were ripe pickings to be had. He let his hand rove over Gabriel's groin as he walked close behind him.
There and there at a table on the far side, where twin heartbeats raced at lightspeed to keep up with an insufficient blood flow to parts south. It was hot inside for all that neither he nor Gabriel noticed. A flash of a grin at the two contenders at the table and Job had Gabriel on the small, too crowded dance floor.
His pet was still buzzed, but looking a little like a dog had eaten his bowl of macaroni and cheese, and Job gave him a little booster shot in a deep throated kiss, biting his own tongue and letting Gabriel suck greedily until he was glassy eyed and pliant once more. He lost his shirt to the sweat of other bodies, well aware he was being put on display here as well as he had been before, cold skin lending to the peak of nipples and Job's blood sending a flush through his system.
Then the chum was in the water and Job only had to watch the sharks circling, clown fish luring him away from his pet as if he couldn't see what was going on until he stepped back to reclaim him and set the rules and regs for fishing in this particular pond. But this was why six months was too little time to loosen the leash. Never train a rival, his own maker had said, and Gabriel could be that if ever Job let him see it. Drunk, drugged, rushed on Job's blood, he wasn't human looking any more, but not so far removed to be frightening either, only different and exotic and doable from the sweat damped dark curls at his face to the streaks of other men's sweat on that fine, pale chest. Slim as a boy but packed like a man, with a mouth that looked built to suck oversized carnival super-duper cherry-blueberry frozen bombs, and could.
Job had vague memories of being that pretty once upon a long century or six ago. Still was it if you didn't look too hard or too deep. He could see it in his own face on rising. See it in unguarded smiles shot his way that froze in place too quickly when face and features and the look in his eyes didn't quite jive. Even cattle got nervous when the wolves peered in the fence.
Enough to make you hate your little kitling if only it wouldn't have satisfied Gabriel so much to know his regard was returned. Still, Chloe had been fiery and aggressive. Maybe the thrill was wearing off. It faded so quickly now.
But not this thrill. Not this bit of showing when Gabriel was so willing to please for just a little //more//. Job moved in, to slide his hand once more over the rising bit of flesh and watch the eyes around them glitter at the jolt it sent through the slim, hard body. "They want a taste of you, pet," he said, pitched low for that well-trained ear and yet the words rang through the mind of every man who looked at Gabriel and saw the same thing. "No free samples," he whispered and felt the interest drop in some --but not all.
He was not losing his touch, for his two gallants from the table were still watching, one's hand sliding to a wallet without knowing it. Against the music then with Job punching his groin into Gabriel's ass, and watching the ripple effect take over his pet's whole body. Fingers delved under a waistband so tight, they could barely make egress until Job shoved and Gabriel jerked and their two contenders were seeing the roughness as a bonus.
"Winner and still champpeeennnn...hooah!" Job murmured, whisper soft, as the dance floor became crowded by two more and they closer yet until a crispy, crunch fifty found it's way into the tiny gap between denim and skin and Job's fingers. He pulled it free with a smile for the big man and captured another as they followed their new friends from the floor.
To a booth , in the corner, in the back. There was a song to that, wasn't there?
"There's a hole in the bottom of the sea," Job sang softly. "There's a hole in the bottom of the sea. There's a hole, there's a hole, there's a hole in the bottom of the sea."
Mr. Fifty number one thought that was pretty funny as he pulled the curtain and unhitched his belt while Job undid Gabriel's, still singing. Mr. Fifty number two waited so very politely outside the curtain. Casually too, no doubt, sipping his beer and leaning back so he could hear every sound. "There's a cock in the hole in the bottom of the sea." And the zipper made a nice riff. "There's a cock in the hole in the bottom of the sea!" The table was sturdy and strong enough to bear Gabriel's weight and then some. "There's a hole, there's a hole, there's a hole in the bottom of the sea." Job slid behind the table to see Gabriel, perching himself the high side of the booth to make sure he saw it all.
A kiss for Gabriel then, and finger to his mouth to seal the promise. Job's smile never faltering when sharp teeth bit delicately into cold flesh. "If you can save some of that, sweetheart," Job said to Mr. Number One who actually could be two from the size of the dick that was all ready to check out the tightness of that hole, just as soon as he stopped kneading those firm, tense cheeks. "Or maybe your friend. Gooood table. Strong..." Job said sweetly, letting his finger slide in and out of Gabriel's mouth.
Sweating already and Mr. Number One hadn't even started working it yet. "Luuucas," he sang, off key and harsh, barely turning his head as he watched Gabriel rock slightly between the hand on his ass and the finger in his mouth.
"Fast off the mark, man?" Lucas said, pulling the curtain back just a bit and eyes widening.
Job just smiled and hooked his finger against Gabriel's lower jaw to pull it open. "Room enough for two, Lucy-luv," he said, lifting Gabriel's head to kiss him, meeting the mirror in those eyes. Hate was alive and well in Gabriel-ville. He moved back, once more perching high against the booth back and rubbing his own groin. "But if you want to wait for the back entrance..."
Sound didn't travel that fast and Job almost fell over laughing at the fumbling and cursing and sang his song some more, watching Gabriel rock.
"No screaming, pet." That sound didn't travel at all except to where it was meant to and then Job was singing again, getting a nice accompaniment, if off beat and a little wet sounding. He was so proud of his Gabriel, taking it like a man, even when his men had no more sense of rhythm than a two-dicked bull.
"There's some spunk in the cock in the hole in the bottom of the sea! There's some spunk in the cock in the hole in the bottom of the sea! There's a hole, there's a hole, there's a hole in the bottom of the sea." Job didn't even listen to the music outside any longer, shifting to the side to watch Gabriel. Watch the mirrors shut down, the muscles stop trying to find a rhythm that wasn't there. Push me-Pull you'd between two battering rams that opened him wider at one end and held him still at the other.
Couldn't have that. No. No. No. The boy would never learn.
"There's some blood in the spunk in the cock in the mouth at the bottom of the sea! There's some blood in the spunk in the cock in the mouth at the bottom of the sea! There's a hole, there's some blood, there's a hole in the bottom of the sea."
He hardly had to alter his voice at all.
Blue eyes flashed and Lucy was the one that went still, stock still, hard as iron and Mr. Number One didn't even notice.
Not even when Job moved behind him.
Drunk and sated and happy as two little just neutered puppies in anesthesia.
Gabriel shivered when they got outside. His shirt was gone and his skin was cold but he noticed neither, falling into his seat with a satisfied little murmur and Job reached over to stroke his cheek. "I should take you out more often, pet. You need a little more fun. You did have fun, didn't you, pet?"
"It was fun, Job. Lots..." With his speech a little slurred and curled up on the seat, he looked younger. Fragile almost. They grew so fast. One day, they are staggering and crying out to be fed and the next there they are, hunting down the big game with never a miss. Well almost, never. But then Gabriel was a little slow. Sweet, but slow.
And Job was ready for something sweet now. Always give daddy his due. "Right, Gabriel? I take care of you and you..."
"Whatever you want, Job."
Job smiled and drove a little faster.
I have a name. It's mine. He gave it to me.
He'll have to kill me again to take it back.
He might.
~~end~~