Under the Raven's Wings

If you are under 18 years of age, this is not for you.

If you are offended by male/male relationships, then do not read this work.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All characters in this story are at least 18 years of age.

This is a copyrighted work of fiction. All right reserved.

This is just a short little story that stuck me one day. Hope you enjoy.

*

How weary of this world I have become. Century upon century piling up in an endless litany of monotonous time. I cannot remember when I last drank with passion. When did the idea of blood become something that was merely taking of nourishment, and not pleasure?

It is time to meet the sun. Time to end this monotone existence.

And then I saw him.

Long ago I had taken to feeding on the dregs of society, as have most of my kind. Standing on a rooftop in one of the most dangerous areas of the city, I saw an exquisite beauty being savagely beaten. His broken body losing its life essence on the filth strewn ground of a back alley. It called to me, awakening my senses like the first moment I had died and lived again.

I took note of the thoughts of the attackers, listening to the cacophony of anger and pointless rage directed at their victim. They had picked up a random prostitute, planning on killing him from the beginning. The terror and pain of the innocent heightened their enjoyment. One particularly liked the blood that was splattered across his face from his crushed nose. Not content to merely beat him to death, one moved forward to stand on his hands. The sound of bones crushing reached my ears even as another moved to pull off the bloodstained jeans, preparing to ravage the battered man before killing him.

I think not.

Death visited them far to swiftly. My concern for the broken body they intended to degrade even further caused me to settle for merely ripping out their throats. Instead, I would truly love to disembowel them and leave them staked on some distant mountainside for the sun to bake and animals to devour. Still, the spray of blood on the graffited walls helped to assuage my rage a little.

I hear the thoughts of my sparrow as he lies dying from the puncture in his lungs, brought on by a stray broken rib. He thinks, "Why me? What have I done to deserve this?" His breathing is labored, his ruined fingers feebly trying to pull up his ripped jeans.

Do not cry little sparrow, I will make sure you fly again.

Just come under my wings.

I am upon him. My teeth sink in, his blood flows out, on and on, until the last pump of his heart. I cradle him gently, slicing my own wrist to let the blood flow back into him, mingled with my own. His body begins to knit, the cruel wounds fading with each ever strengthening draw of his lips. His heart beats no more, but such things do not matter.

I feed him until he is sated, then I carefully lift him into my arms, carrying him to my lair. The night wind whips around us as he clings to me. As we fly, I strip him of his garments, now fouled from the change. He shows no embarrassment at his nakedness as I toss them into a lake we pass over. Finally, we reach my safe haven, a place no other has ever been aside from me.

He tears at my own clothes, his new strength shocking him as they come apart like paper in his grip. A laugh of delight leaves his throat. We sink into the hot springs that bubble from the ground, the heat of the water would be enough to boil any normal human alive. All the remains of his earthly body are instantly boiled away in the roiling waters.

He crawls into my arms again, the lust of the change taking over as he rubs his hard cock against my own. He is taller than me by a head at least, and the abundant soft fur of his chest rubs across my own smooth one. My white skin stands out against his own golden coloring, as does the difference in our builds. He wraps his muscled thighs around me as my hands clasp his furred ass.

Compared to him in size, I look like a child. My body void of all hair, except a tiny smattering above my cock. My skin had grown even more pale over the centuries, where his would remain the perfect gold that it was now. Even his brown curls were different from my own silky black, and completely straight hair. I once again carry him, taking us out of the water and moving towards the room where I take my sleep. He wraps his arms and legs around me as I walk. This position would be impossible if we were human.

I drop him backwards onto the bed, enjoying his deep cries as I bite at his throat and scratch a nail across his nipples. His contorted face is beautiful as he begs me to enter him. I slice open my palm, using the blood to slick my cock before plunging into his tight ring, already twitching and open for me. His entire body is covered in that glorious brown fur, titillating my skin and inviting me to run my hands everywhere.

I lean over him, tweaking his nipples and feeling his sheath grip me tightly. Taking his weight, I stand up, careful not to disengage us. I grab his ankles, bending them back so that his thick cock is pointed at his face. I pound into the place that I know will give him the greatest pleasure, using my greater strength to hold him where I want.

Soon, my sparrow is cumming all over himself. The sight of his milky fluid on his face causes me to come as well. Spent, I collapse on top of him, his legs locking me in place while his rippling channel continues to try and milk me.

I feel the tug of the sun as it breaks the horizon even deep in the earth. As we fall into out preternatural slumber, I smile, thinking the sun will not be eradicating me now that I have found my mate.

Sleep well my little sparrow, from now on we will hunt the hawks together.