Date: Tue, 31 Aug 1999 15:05:39 EDT
From: MGouda3464@aol.com
Subject: The Gift

THE GIFT

Kasimir was a stranger to the city yet in some almost instinctive way he knew
it well.  Although the streets were unfamiliar, the scents were recognisable
and somewhere amongst them would be that which sought him out, needed him -
as he needed it.

The lights from the flashing neon advertisements lit up the dark blocks of
buildings with intermittent washes of red and yellow and white. A brief
spatter of sooty raindrops fell from the clouds scudding across the sky. Late
night passers-by stepped aside to avoid the dark caverns of doorways which
were at that hour already home to the homeless poor.

Kasimir sniffed the air identifying the individual smells - take-away hot
dogs, onions and chicken tikka masala. Petrol and exhaust fumes from the cars
and taxis temporarily halted at the red traffic lights. Air that had been
breathed in and out, used air, tired air. But it was London air and for June
it was quite mild. Then one individual smell caught him and he stiffened in
anticipation. So many times over the centuries, so familiar, yet always
arousing as if it was the first time. Coming closer...

He saw the young man by the light of the street lamps coming towards him.
Kasimir stared, taking in the thin, pale face, the brown eyes under the
curved eyebrows, eyes which showed so much sadness. The young man looked and,
seeing that intense, personal stare, nodded, assuming that he knew him, that
he was an acquaintance whom he must acknowledge. They passed in the night
without an exchange of words.

In that one intense look, Kasimir learned all there was to know about the
young man. Alone and lonely, eaten up by an unsatisfied craving, vulnerable
and insecure. An obvious victim, though for a moment Kasimir, who recognised
how he himself needed the young man as much as he was needed, wondered which
of the two was really the victim, which the predator.

Kasimir turned to look after him. He had recognised only too easily the
yearning in the young man's eyes, a yearning which could only be satisfied
with one thing. Now he watched the young man's back as he walked away, his
body slim and elegant, his buttocks moving easily, athletically with the
cloth of his jeans, his shoulders, broad, his waist, narrow. Then he followed
him, keeping to the darkness, avoiding the bright lights of the city which
hurt his eyes, keeping as far as possible to the shadows that lay like dark
pools between the orange, sodium street lights.

The young man reached the doorway of his house, felt in his pockets for the
key, inserted it, turned it and pushed open the door. As he did so a figure
emerged from the darkness at his side and he started at the sudden
appearance. But Kasimir smiled gently, his teeth showing white from the
shadows.

"Hello, my friend," said Kasimir, and his voice was husky and beguiling, and
so gentle so that it dispelled the alarm brought on by his unexpected
emergence from the shadows. "I think we know each other though I have
forgotten your name."

The young man looked uncertain, anxious that he might be snubbing an
associate, a colleague, perhaps someone he had met at work, someone of
influence.

"Kasimir," said the stranger, "Surely you remember. My name is Kasimir.  Not
an easy name to forget, is it?"

The young man nodded doubtfully, blushing slightly as if he had made a social
solecism. "Of course," he said, "and I am Nicholas. My friends call me Nick,"
he added inconsequentially. "Tell me, where was it that we met? Was it . . ."

The stranger interrupted before he could complete the question. "Ah yes.
Nick! I remember now," he said, "but cannot we go in? The night is cool," and
as he spoke a chill wind seemed to spring up out of nowhere almost as if the
stranger had conjured it, so that Nick shivered, his thin cotton shirt
suddenly unsuitable for the unseasonable weather.

"Yes, yes," he said opening the door. "Please come in. Perhaps you'd like a
glass of  wine to keep out the cold."

He led the way into his apartment. Soft lights lit up the room. There were
rugs on the polished wood floor, brightly patterned Navajo designs. A large
sofa was against one wall and a bookcase against another. The books showed
Nick's interest in things supernatural. In front of the window hung a Chinese
wind chime and the breeze from the opened window blew across the tuned wooden
blocks, knocking them against each other, producing a musical if slightly
discordant chime.

Quickly Nick pulled the window shut - though did he but know it, it was
already too late to keep the terrors of the night at bay.

In one corner of the room was an incense burner and the fragrant smell of
joss hung in the air. Set in the wooden door of the closet was a full-length
mirror, the reflection making the room look larger than it actually was.
Several pictures of cloaked beings, dark against an only slightly less sombre
background, hung on the walls.

"I'll get the wine," said Nick. "I'll open a bottle." He turned to a cupboard
and produced a bottle, two glasses and an opener.

The stranger who called himself Kasimir inspected the pictures, observing the
cloaked figures, their pale handsome faces, their yearning, questing eyes. He
noticed the books in the bookcase. "You are intrigued by vampires," he said,
as if he had suddenly discovered the young man's special interest. But it was
more of a statement than a question.

The cork popped.

"It is a particular enthusiasm of mine," said Nick. "You could call it almost
an obsession." He paused briefly then asked, as if he were slightly
embarrassed, "Do you think such creatures really exist? I mean - outside the
imagination." His eyes were bright with a strange unsatisfied desire.

"I am sure of it."

"I wish - oh how I wish I could meet one." He brought the glasses and bottle
over to a small wooden table, the top inlaid with a marquetry design,
gestured to the stranger to sit down on the sofa and poured a measure of
golden wine into one of the glasses. The smells of dried fruit and balmy
Mediterranean sunshine filled the air. He picked up the other glass and
started to pour.

"Why?" demanded the stranger loudly, almost as if the question was forced out
of him, and his sudden query made Nick jump so that the wine was spilled over
his other hand, the one holding the glass. Nick muttered a curse under his
breath and turned to look for a cloth to wipe himself but before he could
move away, Kasimir had seized the hand, raised it to his lips and was lapping
at the spilled wine from his skin. Startled at the strange action, Nick tried
to draw his hand away. What did this man think he was doing? But the warmth
of the tongue on his flesh was strangely comforting and he let his hand lie
there, a passive victim, until the wine was gone.

"Why would you want to meet a vampire?" asked the stranger, as if nothing had
happened - and perhaps nothing significant had, though Nick was not sure. He
handed Kasimir a full glass, and sipped his own. The wine was sweet on his
tongue, full-bodied and rich. though Nick thought he could detect underneath
the sweetness the slightest taste of corruption!

"I would like to know their secret," he said, "the secret of immortality."

"You see it as a blessing?"

"But of course," said Nick turning his eyes to meet those of the stranger.
"What else could it be? Who wants to die, to lose everything that is
pleasurable? To sacrifice the knowledge you have gained over the years? To
become nothing?"

The stranger's eyes were black, bottomless, to gaze into them was to lose
yourself for all eternity. "What if you were desperate to free yourself of
pain or suffering? What if you wanted to die and couldn't?"

Nick shrugged. "It would be worth it."

"Yet the vampire has to kill so that he can live. Do you not think that he
must feel guilt for such crimes?"

"We all kill so that we can live," Nick said. "We kill the beasts in the
field so that we can eat meat. We destroy the plants so that we can have
vegetables and fruits. The grapes from which this wine was made - "  He
tasted another drop of the rich yellow liquid and let it remain for a while
on his tongue before swallowing " - they were pulled from the vine, not
allowed to seed and germinate in the way they were intended."

"But you do not kill your own kind so that you may live. All countries have
laws against murder."

"Laws!" Nick's tone was dismissive. "We kill our own kind every day of our
lives. We murder, we steal the land so that others starve, we divert the
water so that others thirst. We compete and trample on our rivals so that we
can come to the top and prosper, while they fall down and rot in the gutter."

"So you think you could stand the guilt?" asked the stranger and beckoned
with his hand for Nick to sit beside him on the sofa.

"I should not even feel it," said Nick, his eyes shining with an inner
certainty which was almost a madness.

"Can you really be so sure?" The stranger put his hand on Nick's thigh but
the young man scarcely felt it, so involved was he in his obsessive
enthusiasm.

Nick persisted. "God must have put them on the earth for a purpose."

"It is said that they come from the darkness, from the primeval Chaos which
existed there - even before God?" His hand traveled gently up towards Nick's
fork over the soft material of his trousers and now Nick did notice but
scarcely cared. In fact the touch was exciting, arousing and, though he had
never been touched by a man that way before, he did not find it in the
slightest way perverse.

"I do not care," he cried wildly. "I would join them, if I could. I would
become one."

The hand, that foreign hand, that hand with its pale almost bloodless skin,
its delicate narrow fingers, grasped his ballsack, felt the softness of his
cock, quickly becoming hard. Then Kasimir unfastened the belt around the
young man's waist, opened the button at the top, drew down the zip exposing
the white underwear and a bulge that already was larger than it had been
moments before.

"Would you allow one into you?" asked the stranger, taking hold of the cock
through its soft cotton covering. "Would you consent to his lusts to achieve
immortality?"

But the young man was too far gone even to answer and arched his body upwards
towards the stranger's mouth as it fastened itself on his covered member,
teasing it softly through the cloth, and the wetness of his tongue soaking
the material so that it became translucent.

Nick cried out, a wild cry that had no words. The touch of the man's body
pressed against his was inexpressibly exciting, the movements, the caresses
but Nick had the feeling that it was a polished performance honed from much
practice. Nevertheless his body could do nothing but respond. Proficient
fingers undid the buttons on his shirt, gently stroking and embracing his
chest, gradually going lower, removing his clothes seductively, the shirt,
shoes, socks, stripping the  jeans, the white briefs until Nick lay
completely naked and exposed.

His fair skin was almost luminous against the red material of the sofa cover.
His legs were slightly apart, his body open and vulnerable, his head laid
back exposing his neck - everything available.

Kasimir stripped and lay on top of him. Nick could feel the man's smooth skin
touching his, erotic and sensual. They were chest to chest, groin to groin,
and he lay under the weight of him. A hard cock, on top of his equally
aroused penis, pressed its need into his stomach and Nick felt an equal
answering urgency.

Kasimir slid slowly down his body, kissing, tasting, rubbing, stroking -
lingering for a time under his chin where the soft suppleness of his throat
offered itself, and then going - perhaps a little reluctantly - further down,
lower, pausing to take care of Nick's nipples, his belly button, the trace of
blond hair which led downwards before spreading into his bush of pubic hair,
from which the cock sprouted. His tongue tasted  under his ball-sack, along
the trail which led to his hole. Slowly Nick spread his legs apart but was
unable to stop the momentary, involuntary twitch of resistance as the tongue
touched the sensitive place. Kasimir looked up and saw the look of
apprehension on Nick's face.

"Do you want me to? You have to give me your consent.. I cannot take you
against your will."

Nick had a momentary doubt, for a second wasn't sure that this was what he
wanted but almost as if they had a separate life of their own, his legs
opened and he surrendered himself. Kasimir put his hands under Nick's
buttocks and lifting them a little, dived into the sweet, musky darkness. At
the first touch of his tongue, Nick tensed again, but suddenly was overcome
by a tantalising delight such as he had never felt before. He lay there on
the sofa and enjoyed the feeling that Kasimir's warm tongue produced, gliding
over his hole, now with fast, brief cat licks, then slowing down,
butterfly-light, each touch something different, each contact provoking a
different sensation. Nick felt himself fast approaching a climax.

Kasimir's mouth was now nuzzling at the base of his prick and Nick felt a
moistened finger gliding into his hole. It slid in without any pain or
resistance. He could feel it inside him, probing and investigating, finding
the very centre of his sexual being which made him groan and desire that he
be invaded even further. Slowly and languorously, Kasimir washed the length
of the penis with his tongue and licked away the oozing excitement from the
top.

"You want me to continue, don't you?' Kasimir murmured, the sounds felt
through the closeness of their mouths rather than heard. "You want me to go
all the way?"

"Don't stop. Don't stop."

Kasimir inserted two fingers into his hole, stretching the muscle and watched
the face of the young man underneath him. He gently enlarged the opening,
caressing his balls in the palm of his other hand.

Nick knew what he wanted. "Come into me," he murmured. "Come into me."

But as he felt his legs lifted and sensed the urgent head of Kasimir's penis
pushing strongly against his opening, he tensed again.

Kasimir leaned over his body so that his breath whispered into his ear.
"Relax your muscles. Just relax. Relax." Nick stared into the cavernous
hollows of Kasimir's dark, almost black eyes which gave away nothing - except
his lust. The words and the tone were hypnotic. Nick felt a growing pressure
at the entrance to his arse and then suddenly the cock was past the sphincter
muscle and inside him. There was a mounting fullness, a slow penetration. His
body swallowed the intruder. At last Kasimir stopped. He was inside Nick as
far as he could go.

Nick gasped. "Who are you, Kasimir? What are you doing to me?"

"I am what you have always desired." He bent over to kiss him on the neck,
and at the same time he began to move his hips slowly in and out. Long,
smooth strokes which pushed both men up on an erotic crescendo. They lost
almost all feeling of time, of place, of sound, of vision, of the external
world. The only thing Nick could feel was how the muscles of his own arse
clamped around the invading cock holding it as every stroke was made and the
tiny rasps of Kasimir's teeth on his neck. He heard, as if from a far
distance, the loud gasping breaths of two voices and knew one of them had to
be his own. The tempo boosted, the cock sliding freely in and out, increasing
the pace, the sensation, building the stimulation until the point of no
return.

At that very point the stranger bit and his sharp teeth sank into the tender
flesh of the neck while at the same time Kasimir's shaft pushed to its full
extent, deep into the compliant hole. Any pain that Nick felt as the
needle-sharp teeth pierced his skin was subsumed into the ecstasy as with a
cry Kasimir exploded and Nick felt the spurts inside him.

At the same time, he himself came, his cock pulsating, the semen shooting
high over his own chest and stomach and while Nick's blood drained, he was
filled by the stranger's juices. Sweat and blood and semen mixed and Kasimir
bestowed his gift.

Afterwards Kasimir buried his face in the hollow of Nick's shoulder, panting.
Both lay and listened to each other's heartbeats gradually slowing and
becoming regular. At last Kasimir lifted his body and let his cock slip out.
Nick gasped at the sudden feeling of emptiness. He raised his head, their
lips met and he tasted his own blood. Suddenly he realised that blood was
something which he would now need for his very existence. Frightened, he
pulled Kasimir to him, held him close, stroked his chest, defined with the
tips of his fingers the contours of Kasimir's body.

"Is that it?" he asked.  "Is that your gift?" and heard the soft answer,
whispered against his ear.

"You have immortality, Nicholas."

The other's voice was full of a desperate sadness. "Now you must feel the
guilt as I do."

There was a pause and then came the final, terrifying words - "For ever and
ever."


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