The Old

Kin

These visions are full of torment, and the meaning of these images is dark to me.

-The Red Book

Seth woke up almost weeping. He lay in bed and realized as the night approached, that finally he was weeping, that tears were in his eyes and his body ached, and he lay on the bed and let himself cry until he was done, until he lay there, soft sobs done. And then he went to bathe. He changed into the usual clothes, dark trousers, white shirt, put on a tie, a light vest, trimmed the thin beard around his face, combed his gently curling hair. He came down into the living room where Owen was sitting, carefully turning over Tarot cards.

“I have to go,” Seth said. “I have to do something.”

Owen nodded to him.

“Are you alright?”

“I will be,” Seth said. “I will be well, or I won’t be anything at all.”

Owen looked at his large old cards again, and then he got up and rounded the table to kiss his nephew on the cheek.

“Do what you must.”

Seth nodded, and headed to the door. As he was leaving, Owen called to him.

“Yes.”

Seth turned around.

“I love you.”

“I needed to hear that,” the young man said. “I love you too.”

He didn’t wish to drive. In this cold early December night he walked down the street and around the corner to the El station. He climbed up the steps to the platform and took the Red Line to the Brown Line and then got off and headed down one street and then the other before he came to the old apartment building with the courtyard and let himself in through the security door. He took the elevator and went up to the fifth floor and then down the hall. He took the key and entered the quiet studio and saw, in the moonlight, Lewis, sleeping there.

“Lewis,” he called.

But Lewis did not answer, and now Seth realized he wouldn’t have wanted Lewis to answer. Locking the door behind him, be began to remove his vest, then undo his tie. Now he slowly unbuttoned his shirt then took it off and next the undershirt smelling of his cologne. He lowered his trousers, then pulled off his socks and lastly, Seth took off his briefs and his sex sprang up out of them, like a diving board, like an bird rising from its nest of soft hair.

“Lewis,” he called again, naked, and then he came to the bed and pulled back the covers to see Lewis naked, as he knew he would be, and climbed into the bed, pressing himself against Lewis, sighing with the relief of feeling Lewis against him, Lewis in his arms. Now Seth was stretching his limbs out, his cock was stretching with joy in being united to Lewis again, kissing him gently on the back of his neck, caressing him.

In his sleep, Lewis responded. Half asleep, Lewis ran hands over Seth’s body while Seth ran hands over him. Now, Lewis made noises of waking and woke up, half asleep, confused, looking at Seth’s round face, his brown fringe beard, his soft lips.

“Seth.”

Seth kissed him again and pressed himself against him,

“Seth.”

But Seth was already there, already kissing him, already warm and pressed against him, already welcome, and so Seth kissed him again, and Lewis’s suddenly aching penis pointed like a compass to his old lover as he drew Seth to him.

This was not a dream. It was like a dream in the way that it passed over the normal stuff of life. Here Seth was in all his warmth and need and love and endless understanding, endless soft touch, sweetness of skin, softness of hair, roughness of beard, desperation to kiss, and Lewis pulled Seth closer to him and buried himself in Seth, wrapped his thighs around the man wrapping his thighs about him. They gave themselves up to every permutation of love in desperate sounds as the night went on. Seth straddled him, riding him, pressing him to the end of their race. Seth’s head went into the air and then down, his nostrils widening and almost snorting with the striving. For the two of them orgasm was like a fever breaking. They collapsed together, holding each other in sleep.

Lewis never thought to send him away. Once, long ago, he had fled the strangeness of life, the strangeness of his family, the morality or lack of morality in things. Now he did not. When Chriscame home, without key, and entered the house, he stood there tall and white, blood around his mouth, teeth glinting in the night, eyes calm, unsurprised, and Seth pushed away the covers and came to him, naked, turned his throat to Chris.

Chris stooped down and Lewis, his spirit still connected to Seth’s, felt the pain of piercing teeth, the tasting of blood that lasted for only a moment.

“It had to be this way,” Seth said. “I ached. I lay in bed almost crying until I was driven here.”

Chris undressed and Lewis saw the two bodies, creamy and white together, one long and tall, one shorter and more compact, and he made room as Chris brought Seth to the bed, as he began to watch the vampire, who so hungrily made love to him, begin making love to Seth, as, inspired by passion, Lewis’s hands touched them both. Chris looked to him, drunken but not uncomprehending, filled with desire, and Seth looked to him with love. Their arms reached forward and brought Lewis in.