Here, In This Place: An Origin Tale
T W E N T Y
THE
WEDDING
FEAST…
and the lambs
“Friendship is king, loyalty is essential, and everything changes, so you can’t hold on.”
-Iosif Kazanapolos
Under the domed golden roof painted with the solemn face of Christ Pantocrator, the choir sang, the womens’ voices high and skin tingling, the mens’ deep as the earth.
“Énas Ángelos tis Eirínis, énas pistós Odigós,
énas Fýlakas ton psychón kai ton somáton mas.
As zitísoume apó ton Kýrio.
Synchóresi kai áfesi ton amartión kai ton adikimáton mas.
As zitísoume apó ton Kýrio.”
Through incense, sweet and tart, the lamp light sparkled against the jewel box walls of the chapel where gold and brass lined walls were pressed with enameled ikons. The priest from Biatsu who was one in a long line of priests kept by the House of Ketesz, and who knew how to keep secrets, raised his hands while the choir sang on.
“Óla ta prágmata pou eínai kalá kai ofélima
gia tis psychés mas kai eiríni gia ólo ton kósmo.
As zitísoume apó ton Kýrio!
“Gia na borésoume na oloklirósoume ton ypóloipo
chróno tis zoís mas me eiríni kai metánoia.
As zitísoume apó ton Kýrio!”
Behind him was the glittering ikonostasis, the wall between the congregation and tha altar where priests changed bread and wine into the body and blood of the One whose immense figure was painted on the golden dome, solemn Byzantine eyes gazing down on them. On the ikon wall, in similar Orthodox unwillingness to bow to realisim, wide eyed Mary Theotokos was painted beside John the Baptizer and Saint Joseph. White incense rose, and before the priest was a miracle he could not perform, the dead made alive, the human made something different, David Lawry all in white, tunic and trousers, feeling a little silly, but willing to feel silly as he stood before Tanitha Tzepesh, swathed in white, veiled in white and the choir continued, more a force than a song.
The priest who held two green laurel crowns over their heads chanted in Greek:
“Blessed is everyone that fears the Lord.”
The choir sang:
“Glory to You, O our God, Glory to You.”
The priest cried out: “That walks in His ways.”
And again the choir sang:
“Glory to You, O our God, Glory to You.”
“For you shall eat the labor of your hands.”
“Glory to You, O our God, Glory to You.”
“Blessed are you, and it shall be well with you...”
In time, the white bearded priest placed in David’s hand a tall white candle that reminded him of the four candles that had been around him when he had risen. He walked about Tanitha seven times, unable to take his eyes from her, and then he handed her the candle, and she did the same. The priest placed the dark green laurel crowns on their heads.
“May He, Who by His presence in Cana of Galilee declared marriage to be honorable, Christ our true God, through the intercessions of His all‑pure Mother, of the holy, glorious, and all‑praiseworthy Apostles, of the Holy Desert Fathers, and of all the holy Saints, have mercy on us and save us, as our good and loving Lord. Through the prayers of our holy Fathers, Lord Jesus Christ Our God, Have Mercy on us and save us.”
And the choir sang: “Amen.”
At the great feast, wearing the laurel crown with its red ribbons hanging down his back, David said, “I always thought I’d have a Catholic wedding.”
“That’s the one thing about the last few weeks that surprises you?” his best man, Sunny said.
“It was Catholic enough, I suppose,” David said.
Sunny did not answer.
At the wedding there were people in Visastruta whom David had never seen. He’d heard of Asenath’s children, but now he saw them, and they were all ages and all colors, for they came from all over the world and from many times. The oldest of them had several generations of children and grandchildren and some of these were mortal or mortal wed. Among them was a very black woman, darker than Tanitha with a Caribbean accent David could not place, but also there was a hawknosed, loud American Greek boy, white as David. The other cousins who lived in Visastruta and usually kept to themselves were in dazzling colors, and then there where some who when David asked, “Are they also Drinkers?” Kruinh simply smiled and said, “I know all manner of people.”
Also, to the wedding came Avery Kominsky, and she was wide eyed with wonder.
“You okay, Mom?” Sunny asked, and Avery, looking up and around, said, “I’m… not…. Sure.”
Nehru Alexander and Brad Long were sure however. They had both been scholars in another life, and locked themselves in the castle library, pouring over books, and spent the days before the wedding entranced by every window, every banner and pillar. They had brought suits, but they walked the castle in their normal faded jeans, the flaired kind that fit snug in the right places, and the two of them, one tall and olive skinned, the other brown and shorter, looked so sexy together and reminded Sunny of the sex they’d all had before. Their embraces were long and lingering, and when they looked to him or Kruinh, their hands, their eyes, their nods, promised delights here, as there had been in Ohio, as there would be again.
As for Avery, Miriamne came to her and said who she was and added, “I did not wish you overwhelmed or frightened. Come, let me show you the house, for Alexander is family, which means you are family as well.”
Sunny thought of Jack, his one time best friend and lover, and how he would have liked for him to know about his new life, and Dan, glad to see Brad and Nehru, wondered about Myron and telling him the truth. One day, Dan decided, they all will know.
Done with hosting, Kruinh wound his way to his chambers. Soon it would be day.
Alexander Kominsky nearly flew through the balcony doors of Kruinh’s apartments high in Visastruta. His color was high and his skin hot. His eyes blazed. Kruinh saw the signs of feeding. Had they all gone out? Him, Dan, Laurie, Sunny and the others? They would have had to go to Bucharest to find sustenance. Kruinh did not ask, and Sunny did not offer to tell. In fact, he was quiet when he sat down beside Kruinh, who thought they were both ready for a quiet night after the revelations of the day.
But it was Kruinh who put his hand on Sunny’s thigh, and then Sunny put his hand on Kruinh’s and Kruinh moved closer. In a surge of passion, Kruinh opened up his lover’s trousers, and stroked his cock through his underwear. Sunny made a moan like a cat purr, leaning his beautiful head against Kruinh’s shoulder, opening his mouth a little, blue eyes closing to slits. His mouth reached up for Kruinh’s the same time Kruinh squeezed him, and when Sunny turned and thrust his tongue in Kruinh’s mouth, the flat of Kruinh’s hand held Sunny’s balls, and they were hot and heavy in his hand.
Kruinh went to his knees, pulling down his trousers and briefs, and taking Sunny in his mouth.
“Kruinh,” Sunny moaned, stroking Kruinh’s head.
Soon they were both naked, moving to the bed, then on the bed, twisting together. Sunny pulled Kruinh’s face up. It wasn’t just head he wanted. He wanted eyes and arms and lips and tongues and kindness. He wanted to look up at Kruinh in adoration and pull his face down, kiss him, press their bodies together.
In the end he asked Kruinh to fuck him. They had stopped to relax and hold each other after this. Now Sunny took oil and rubbed it over Kruinh’s swollen cock. Kruinh knew just what to do. He fitted himself tightly inside of Sunny who closed his eyes and moaned with Kruinh’s entry. They moved together, Kruinh moaning in the shock of his pleasure at every thrust. The bed shook and they laughed as they fucked, and then lay side by side, breathing.
Kruinh thrust, his breath whistling between his teeth, and then the two of them lay side by side. Now they kissed hungrily.
Thin as Sunny looked, he was well built with healthy thighs and buttocks that longed to be stroked, caressed massaged. Kruinh had already thrusting his tongue inside of Sunny
“Ohhh, fuck!” Sunny cried, his dick jumping.
So Kruinh kept at it, rubbing his hands up and down Sunny’s back, caressing his shoulders, running his hands through his hair, pulling his face down to kiss him, running his hands back down. Now they were face to face, bodies shuttling together. Sunny drew close to him, fitting his cock between Kruinh’s thighs.
“I’m about to…” he began, his voice shallow.
“It’s okay,” Kruinh said, putting his hand on Sunny’s cheek.
“But I’m about to…”
“Do it.”
With a relieved groan, Sunny came, and Kruinh felt the load, hot and thick between his thighs. He kept pressing his dick between Kruinh’s thighs until everything was wrung out and Sunny came out, the length of his cock red and wet.
Kruinh was in light ecstasy. Many times had he dreamed of sex, and as he approached wakefulness, it came with the regret of knowing the sex was not real. The mouth that was kissing revealed itself to be dry and open to a pillow. The loins that were thrusting thrust into nothing.
But right now, the more he came into wakefulness the more he felt, pumping up and down, thumb massaging the head with the gentle attention of a lover, Sunny’s hand on his cock, making him grow, making the veins rise as they stroked life into him, Sunny’s hand gently squirting fluid onto him, polishing his knob to ecstasy.
He blinked in the darkness, and his eyes knew the face as his penis remembered the feel of the hypnotic hand. Nehru standing over him, his eyes shadowed, naked in the dark, his own penis, a thick black bar standing at attention. Beside him, silent with cock curved like a sausage, stood Brad Long.
Kruinh lay there, milked by Nehru, and Sunny had awakened, turning on his side, blue eyes, almost savage under his dark brows while he looked to Brad Long. Now Sunny lay on his back, his penis arching to the air as he stroked it and, like one entranced, Brad came around the bed to meet him.
With a savage groan, Sunny reached out, took the tall man who so many times had taen him and, firmly placed Brad under him as Brad’s long legs effortlessly rising, draped over Sunny’s back, pulling him in. Mortal and immortal moaned, and their bodies moved in a deep, savage fuck as Nehru quietly mounted Kruinh and began to ride him.
In the night, the bed creaking in quiet witness under them, Sunny and Kruinh rode Brad, rode Nehru, their faces slack. Power was always in their hands, but these boys had taken their power and made them into studs, and they rejoiced to be fuckers, blissed out, eyes half closed, the only pleasure the pleasure of the hard cock, the only necessary journey now the rhythmic ride home to orgasm. Under Sunny, firm, hairy ass lifted, Bradley Long gripped the pillow and opened his mouth, moaning. Before Brad’s mind passed, for some reason, every sorrow he had ever known, mistakes he could not turn from, people long gone, and places abandoned. Tears ran down his face and as he moaned, he mourned, and as Sunny fucked him, he rejoiced. He rejoiced, and his eyes turned to Nehru’s angel face, his perfect caramel body pummeled under Kruinh, and he touched Nehru’s cheek gently and then, feeling Nehru’s soft hand in his, he clasped it. Sunny in him, Kruinh in Nehru, Kruinh’s fucking thrumming through Nehru’s hand into Brad, thrumming in his asshole, all through his body… All together…. All one.