The Long Kiss of Night Ch. 01

Blood: the sacred and the profane

This story began several years ago, on the darkest night of the year. On this night, in the unholy trenches of the world – which is most of it -- the dead and the devilish prance the human realm. Believe me, I know them well as I now stand on the boundaries of Death and Life. But that is a malaise I will expand on later in this tale.

I'd set out alone, with Moonwyn, down the lonely road that should have taken me home, but ultimately led to my blessed doom/rebirth. Thunder tore the sky asunder. My mare was weak with fatigue and hunger, and the rain was portent of evil and wonder. There, up in the distance, by the end of the path, I saw the torches of the inn where I hoped to lay my head. But upon arrival, the innkeeper warned me in dread: "Fool, 'tis the night of the dead. How can I be sure you are not one of them? You are cursed; I will not sacrifice my soul to relieve yours. Return to the dread abyss where you belong."

Staring in disbelief at the innkeeper as he crossed himself, bolted his gate and cursed me under his dank breath, I tightened my cloak for better protection against the cold biting at my bones. Any other night, a Paladin, even without armour, would have been welcomed. But as I would soon discover, this night would be as unique as the legends surrounding it.

Picking up Moonwyn's reins, I started up the sinuous road leading into the dark forest of Syrok. I knew that I shouldn't cross the forest on such night without at least twenty men by my side to combat any vile creatures, but caution had long surrendered to my desire to be by my beloved. As I reached the edge of the wood, I had to dismount for I would not risk my horse breaking her leg. Recent rains had muddied the trails. Walking Moonwyn through mud and marsh, I felt the eyes of demons and their minions scan my every move. I stopped, listening to the chattering of the night -- the breath of my steed and creatures rustling about with speed through the bushes.

I drew my sword; this night, Death would not have me without a fight. But when, from the darkness, wolves howled my name with unnerving purity -- I bolted on my horse, bravery giving way to self-preservation. The night, however, would not give me up so easily: Among the howls and growls, a woman cried for me to stop. One moment, the path was clear, the next there she appeared as if carried by starlight, forcing Moonwyn to a harrowing halt and blocking our only means of escape.

There she was, standing in all her splendour, dressed in wispery white. Her skin looked so pale against the night and her long black hair floated in mid-air, there was nary the slightest breeze. Without a hint of fear in her eyes she asked: "Please help me kind knight. I feel so cold." It didn't seem strange to me at first, but when she spoke her lips didn't move.

I should have fled that forsaken place, but I was sure that I knew this ghostly lass. I just couldn't remember from where or when. Entranced, I dismounted, and stood ready to face her underworld. I swore oath to aid those in need, so I made my way to her, prepared to face anything despite my ever growing fear. Once by her side, she whispered to my soul: "Do not fear the host of Hell, Gabriel my love; as a child, they were my masters, as a woman, I am their queen. And from death, I seek my dark prince."

Wearily, I stared at her wonder as she pushed the hood of my cloak back -- memories of my youth flooding my inner vision: a playmate from childhood; a drowning I could not stop; a merciless guilt I could never overcome; my first love, lost forever to the unknown. But there she was, looking safe and sound. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Lily," I said, "this can't be. For twenty years, I've dreamt of seeing you again. Tell me that the purity of your heart has cast you from Hell's grasp."

At that moment, she put a clammy hand on my shoulder and a cold kiss to my lips. "I am a queen of hell," she said, "a small price to pay to come back to you and ease our suffering."

"N-No..." I stammered as she pressed her cold body to mine. Her nipples, colder the night air, stirred the heat of my passion as they pierced my layers of clothing. "I've sworn an oath to God and Church..."

"An oath," her tongue froze my lips, "or a fraud? Has God ever asked you to spill blood? Or did a man?" With her words, the white dress fell away. She was naked. What a beauty she become – the kind of beauty to cloud men's minds. Ice chilled blood flooded my member as I let go my sword and she guided my hands to her cold but moist inner folds.

"You're wrong. I've killed, but they were always enemies of the Church." In the wake of our seduction, I felt the shadows rustle in discontent.

"The blood on your hands, Gabriel, is the blood of men such as yourself. And what of the women and children you've murdered?" I felt tears flow from my eyes as Lily dropped to her knees and undid the britches of my pants. Her cold hand on my cock was disturbing, but the hellfire of her mouth warmed me to the point of exasperation. "Before you could question God ordering a slaughter, the words of men surely guided your sword?..." Between licks, she glared at me with glowing green eyes.

"Lily, what kind of monster have you become?"

"Call me what you want Gabriel: Demon, succubus, vampire, reflection... But in the end, I'm as profane a monster as you are, my love."

At that instant, the hellspawn sprang from the shadows and encircled us. I watched as Lily gently floated away from me, a trail of ethereal saliva the only connection between her lips and my sex. Her departure the apparent signal, the beasts and unholies attacked. But this was the night when the dead moved among the living, so we lived by similar rules. At first, my sword drew much blood from my attackers, the light of self-righteousness shielding me from the horde's charge, but nothing could stand for long against an evil so great. My blade cut through the night without respite, bathing me in gore and damnation; but as soon as I killed one, two others replaced it. After only a few moments – which felt like hours to me – I had already suffered many wounds, as claws and teeth sheared and tore the blood from my flesh. I was doomed as my strength and resolve abandoned as me – finally, I found myself losing my faith and questioning my beliefs. Still, as my heart pounded and sweat drenched my brow and blood seeped in to the ground, they would not have me without a fight! But at some point, I lost my footing and fell to my knees, but not without driving my blade into the hideous tentacled creature before me ... but the others, there were too many of them.

The sheer weight of their numbers toppled me over; still, I cried and I fought. By my hand, dead and undead shared the same fate. Soon, though, I would no doubt join them.

My strength drained at last, I waited for the finishing blow that would rip my heart from my chest, but it never came. The hell-beasts had been replaced by Lily's visage very close to mine. As she licked the blood from my face, I could almost smell the once sweet breath that had never truly escaped her lips. She whispered: "Gabriel, you must forgive what is about to happen -- it is necessary."

I was unable to speak as she stood to her full height. She seemed unbelievably tall, but I counted it as an effect of the blood loss. What was certain was the chanting that escaped her motionless lips. The song was appeasing, even when a canticle of demons and monsters joined her. I felt their powerful fingers and hands and tentacles lift me up to offer me to the night. Gently -– a gesture I thought impossible for these things – they peeled away the scraps of tattered clothing that clung to me in a desperate bid of humanity. A strong hand pushed my head up, and I realised that all the oozing claw and bite marks contained arcane patterns of symbols and letters. They'd carved incantations into me during our struggle? But wonder gave way to writhing pleasures as I witnessed their slobbering, dripping tongues press into the wounds in a vain effort to clean them. Some of the wounds were so deep that the demonic appendages grazed bone and triggered spasms that rocked my body despite the weakness. Here and there I would find the strength to grasp a piece of putrid flesh that would pop beneath the pressure, triggering a wave of laughter to spread through the host – I felt a cool, viscous substance erupt from the gashes in the demons like some living ichor, spreading across my body. Numb as I was, I smelled the obscene concoction of their dead and my dying flesh. Forgoing God, Devil, and oath, I wondered how long I'd stay conscious after they tore me limb from limb.

But again, circumstances proceeded differently.

Some of the tongues had moved to my cock. I felt it grow in expectation – but there was no way I had enough blood to sustain this erection, even if I did have the image of Lily floating over me. So near death, I succumbed to the image of her beauty. Her hair was long, jet-black, split down the middle and as mobile as tiny limbs .Her eyes were of deepest jade-like green, sometimes glowing as they reflected the ambient light. Lashes as black as her hair drew lines to her high and prominent cheekbones and perfectly sloped nose. Her mouth was pulled back in a sick smile that could not hide the sensuous thickness of her lips. Her hands were massaging her pert nipples and firm breasts – they were neither small nor large, but simply perfect. She let her hands move to her slender waist and curved hips, lingering at times over the dark triangle of her womb's antechamber. Though so feminine, Lily was still as toned as any man reared on a battlefield.

My mouth filled with blood as I tried to tell her how maddeningly beautiful she would have been if she'd lived long enough for me to love, but the most I could muster was a garbled approximation of her name. Recognising my effort, she put a finger to her lips and lowered herself to me. What an image we must have been – me, lying on a bed of devils and demons while a phantasm from my past floated over me. My ghost-Lily straddled me, her cunt only a few inches from my hardness. Her hair swirled about as she traced each symbol carved in my chest – upon each she paused to enunciate its spoken name. This time, her lips moved and her words echoed through the trees of Syrok. My eyes grew wide as she slid my dying sex into hers. For all the coldness I'd felt at her fist touch, her cunt was as warm as her lips had been earlier. The passions of Hell were embracing me as she rode my cock to a sweet oblivion. Unearthly wetness spread from her pussy as she moaned and sighed. Harder and harder she rode me, forcing a strange smoke to escape my wounds – I wondered if those were my last breaths.

But I soon forgot about the smoke and the demons and the fact I was surely dying for I was fuelled by new found strength. I grabbed Lily's hips, hypnotised by her transparent form bouncing around my member, and I suddenly immobilised her. She gasped as we stayed connected, this devil-woman and the half-dead knight, her slick cunt fitting snugly around my pulsating member. Impossibly, I threw myself off the demon bed and landed on a high tree branch. My flesh felt as light as her transluscent form was. Like one of the demons, I moved from branch to branch with preternatural strength and agility -- all the while, Lily riding my cock, which inexorably sank deeper in to her dark core with each of my lunges. This was fucking unlike I'd ever known before – if I was to die this night, possessed of demonic desire and berated of any Godly longings, so be it.

"Gabriel!!" my demon queen howled as I threw our ecstatic form off tall tree and we fell towards our bed. The hell-spawn had been following our trek though the treetops, awaiting our return. Their viscous tongues stretched out high above their heads to better cushion our fall. Supported thus, I took my time to pull my cock almost out of her before diving back in as deeply as possible – Lily howled as I saw my cock grow longer with each thrust until the tip reached where her heart would have been. Her entire body contracted around my member and I came – not only white passion from the tip, but liquid darkness from the designs in the shaft. The force of my orgasm threw me from her and I went crashing to the ground.

As I fell, I saw Lily watching me as streams of dark ichor sprayed from my wounds while my cock continued to jerk in orgasm. Before I hit the ground and was lost to the abyss, I realised my heart had stopped beating long ago.