Feast of the Flesh

by A. D. Christopher

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Feast of the Flesh

  ISBN 9781419913396

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Feast of the Flesh Copyright © 2007 A.D. Christopher

  Edited by Briana St. James.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication October 2007

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Feast of the Flesh

  A.D. Christopher

  Chapter One

  He’d waited centuries for this night, centuries to find Padraig again. Every year at Samhain he came through the veil and flew, high above the ceremonies and celebrations, searching for the one soul he craved more than any other.

  And tonight he had found him, his love…the one who had betrayed him and left him to die.

  The man didn’t look like Padraig, of course. His hair was not as dark, nor his body as muscle-bound. But souls could not hide, even if they wanted to.

  Caradoc squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force away the images flashing through his mind, but it was no use. The pictures were burned into his spirit and always would be. Years of remembering had made it impossible to see anything but Padraig’s face, his smile as he leaned in for a kiss. Centuries later he could still feel the phantom of his lover’s hand on his shaft, of Padraig’s cock buried deep inside his ass as they both worked furiously toward their climax.

  How many times had they been together like this? How many times had he held Padraig’s cock in his mouth and felt his love explode over his tongue? How many times had Padriag groaned and sighed and sworn eternal love? Only to betray him when the new god came.

  The devastation of losing his love, his human soul-connection, had sent Caradoc spinning away, so far from the world of humans he still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to find his way back.

  But find it he had, and he’d known someday Padraig would as well. And when he did, Caradoc would be waiting.

  “There will be no escape, my love,” Caradoc whispered, a soft curse swept away by the cool wind.

  Forcing a smile to his face, he made his way into the circle. The feast of Samhain—or so it used to be called—had been a village-wide celebration in Caradoc’s time. Women and men would dance naked around the ceremonial flames, while children ran wild through the woods, racing the spirits through the darkness.

  Now it seemed only men were permitted, for this circle, this dance, was solidly male. Cardoc’s cock hardened as strong arms brushed against him, as muscled bodies covered with coarse hair spun and leapt, sometimes crashing together onto the ground, rolling through the dirt with laughter before coming to their feet again. They danced with holiday abandon, the pure, sexual energy strumming through the crowd enough to make Caradoc join in their laughter.

  He fed upon their desire, their lust for life and merriment, growing stronger than he had been in ages. The energy buzzed through his veins, tingling across his skin until he felt drunk with it. It had been so very long since he’d felt this powerful.

  Tonight he would put that power to use. He would find Padraig and make him beg for mercy. Find him, and take back the life force he knew his love’s soul still held.

  Then he would banish him, as Caradoc had been banished, down to the cold Otherworld, to the half-life he had spent centuries trying to reach after being sent even farther away into the nothingness.

  Shivering with anticipation and the pleasure of warm skin pressing against his own, Caradoc forced his way through the crush of bodies until he reached Padraig. Whatever name this man now claimed, Caradoc still knew him, and when he reached out and circled the other man’s biceps with his hand he knew he was right. The touch sizzled, sent a jolt of energy through his system.

  Padraig turned around and grinned. Caradoc’s breath caught. He looked so familiar! The wide blue eyes were the same, the broad, friendly face different but close enough that for a moment Caradoc felt dizzy. For a split second, all plans for revenge were forgotten as he stared at the man’s soft lips. He fought the urge to reach out and run his fingertips along them, to slip fingers into the warmth of Padraig’s mouth and feel the wetness of his tongue.

  Padraig knew what he was thinking. The other man’s eyes widened, just a touch, then darkened with desire. Caradoc knew his body was attractive, even now in modern times. His hair was longer than current fashion dictated, apparently, but there were other men with dark golden skin and dark eyes participating in the dance. Without clothes there was nothing else to indicate he didn’t truly belong.

  “I’m Patrick,” Padraig said.

  Before he could reply, one of the dancers bumped into Caradoc and shoved him forward. His eyes closed as he felt Padraig’s—Patrick’s—body against his and caught the familiar scent of his skin. He still smelled of evergreen and spice, and for a moment Caradoc was transported back in time, to those days when he and his lover would spend hours swimming in the cold mountain lakes before rolling onto the grass and letting the sun warm them. They would make love all afternoon, until the sun set and the moon rose in the starry sky.

  “Patrick,” Caradoc muttered, bringing his hands to rest on the slightly shorter man’s shoulders and pressing even closer. They were both a little sweaty from the dancing and the heat of the flames, making their chests rub slickly against each other. Caradoc heard Patrick’s breath catch and knew the other man felt it too. The connection between a god, no matter how minor, and the soul he’d once drawn power from did not fade. Ideally it would last forever, beyond death, helping reunite the deity and his follower in the afterworld.

  That thought brought him back. He was not here to reconnect, to draw his love back into his circle. He was here to punish, to enact his vengeance. Tonight Patrick would pay for his betrayal with pain, with frustrated desire, and perhaps, even with his life.

  * * * * *

  Patrick couldn’t help himself. As the man—a man whose name he didn’t even know—placed his large hands on Patrick’s chest, he grabbed them and held them still. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this kind of connection with anyone, woman or man.

  And Patrick usually liked women. Sure, he’d “experimented” a few times with men, but woman were his preference. He liked breasts and how they felt soft and full in his hand, he liked soft, wet, hidden places…

  But this man. Patrick’s cock leapt to attention as he looked into the stranger’s deep, dark eyes. He almost felt he knew this man, like something within him recognized him, and he wanted nothing more than to explore the connection between them further. Even Patrick’s pleasure in participating in this ancient ritual, his desire to keep participating, couldn’t dampen his curiosity. He wanted to take this man off into the forest where several other couples had already wandered, to lick and suck and tease. Wanted to feel this man’s mouth against his, wanted to feel his mouth suckling his cock as he spent his seed, and to watch him swallow every last drop.

  And the man knew it. His hands stayed where they were, resting on the muscles of Patrick’s chest. “I am Caradoc,” he said, in a voice so smooth and deep it sent a shudder through Patrick’s body.

  Patrick smiled, trying to hide his confusion. “Are you Irish too? I know it’s not fashionable anymore to talk about heritage, but my family was always very proud of…” he trailed off. What was he babbling about? Why was he talking about his
family origins? What did it matter now, when so many were dead?

  It was just that, for some reason, he wanted to share his past with this man, with Caradoc. It was as if he were an old friend who had returned from a long journey and needed to be apprised of what had occurred in his absence. But, surely, that made no sense at all?

  Luckily, Caradoc just smiled. “Then we have much to discuss, do we not?”

  Patrick nodded, barely realizing he was moving because Caradoc’s hand was sliding lower, his fingertips trailing gently down the muscles of Patrick’s stomach, almost to where Patrick was already swollen and needy.

  “Why do you not come with me into the trees? It’s quieter there. We can…talk.”

  Caradoc’s cock brushed against his. Patrick’s breath sucked in on a hiss. He looked down. He’d never thought naked men could be so…so blatantly sexual, so incredibly arousing. Even in his few experiments he’d never felt like this, never felt his ass pucker and twitch with desire. But Caradoc’s cock seemed to taunt him, bewitch him. He almost groaned at the thought of how it might taste.

  He looked back up and almost fell into the depths of the other man’s eyes. Caradoc grabbed his arm in a painfully tight grip. “Let us go.”

  * * * * *

  The darkness of the woods closed around them. They were so far from the clearing that the sounds of laughter and music had faded, and not even a hint of firelight illuminated their steps. They were walking solely by the light of them moon, that cold light that had always made Patrick feel lost and empty, as if he were being judged by the glowing orb and found lacking.

  Butterflies started dancing in his belly. What was he doing? Leaving the ritual like that, with a man? But when he turned around to try to speak, to tell Caradoc he’d changed his mind, those eyes caught him and held him, rooting him to the spot.

  Even more persuasive was the hand Caradoc closed around Patrick’s cock. He stroked him up and down, just once, but it was enough to convince Patrick that he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “I’ve been waiting for this,” Caradoc murmured. “Waiting a long time.”

  “I don’t—I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” Patrick managed to reply. “I’m sure I would have remembered.”

  “Don’t worry,” Caradoc said. His hand twisted slightly. Patrick bit his lip. “I’ll help you remember.”

  He leaned forward, not releasing his hold on Patrick’s cock, and kissed him. His lips were soft and warm, familiar somehow, and Patrick opened his mouth to the kiss, placing his hands on Caradoc’s hips to pull him closer.

  They were almost the same height, Patrick only the slightest bit shorter. If Caradoc’s hand hadn’t already been wrapped around Patrick’s cock, their two shafts would have been rubbing together, soft skin against soft skin. Heat rose in Patrick’s body at the thought of it. He moaned softly against Caradoc’s mouth, and Caradoc pressed harder against him, the kiss changing from gentle to forceful.

  Patrick’s legs were weak. Caradoc’s tongue swept into his mouth, sending little shocks dancing along every nerve ending in Patrick’s body. The shocks were pleasant at first, more than pleasant. But the longer they kissed the more intense the sensations became, until Patrick felt violated by the electricity, by the wild desire coursing through his body.

  He suddenly wanted to push the other man away, wanted to stop this. Fear rose in his chest and caught in his throat. This was more than he’d expected, more than he’d ever thought he might experience. The desires coursing through his bloodstream were wicked, delightful but also fearsome. Patrick had never dreaded being consumed by passion, but now he did. Mother Earth help him, but even that made his need spiral higher.

  He reached around Caradoc’s body to grasp the firm, hard muscles of the other man’s ass, round and luscious under his palms. An image swam into his mind, a picture of himself guiding his cock between those delicious cheeks, of Caradoc’s hands spreading them farther apart so Patrick could penetrate his puckered entrance. He shuddered and forced his tongue past Caradoc’s, into Caradoc’s mouth, with a desperation that frightened him.

  Caradoc’s hips pressed tighter against Patrick’s. Patrick thought he might fall over from the force and weight of Caradoc’s strong, solid body against his, but Caradoc let go of Patrick’s cock and wrapped his hands around Patrick’s ass, mirroring Patrick’s own grip. Their cocks were slightly slick with pre-cum, and the feel of lubricated flesh against lubricated flesh made Patrick groan.

  A sound that grew even louder when Caradoc’s hands moved further in, sliding down between Patrick’s cheeks.

  Oh please, oh please, oh please…

  Yes! One rough fingertip found Patrick’s entrance and started stroking it, rubbing it. Sparks ignited in Patrick’s head. His gasp was caught by Caradoc’s mouth, still smoothly taking his.

  “Caradoc,” he gasped. “Please…please, I don’t think I can stay standing up.”

  Caradoc pulled away and smiled. “Then by all means, lie down.”

  This was going so well, even better than he’d expected.

  Padraig—Patrick—lay on the ground, his hard cock stretching almost to his navel, his legs spread wide. Waiting. Waiting for Caradoc to put his fingers back where they had been, to take that smooth shaft into his mouth.

  Caradoc would do all of that and more. It had been too long, and he was so ready. Ready to take his own pleasure, ready to let Patrick have some too…before the punishment began.

  Then Patrick would know only torment, like the torment Caradoc had endured for centuries. He had only this night, when the veil between the worlds was at its thinnest, to pay Patrick back for what he’d done, to show him what it felt like to be outside your own body, lost to yourself in a way that made you fear your spirit would never again find a home.

  Only one night, but he would make it count.

  The cold ground numbed his knees as he rested above Patrick on all fours, leaning in for a kiss, then pulling back, always leaving Patrick wanting more. He could see the other man’s frustration in the way Patrick’s hips leapt, the way his head lifted off the ground when Caradoc pulled back, trying to prolong their kiss.

  “Patrick,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

  Patrick’s eyelids fluttered. “I…I don’t know.”

  “Yes you do.” Caradoc ran his hand down the hard muscles of Patrick’s chest. His skin was so smooth, so unlike it had been when they had last met, when Padraig’s chest was marked with scars of dedication.

  A dedication he’d betrayed, an oath he’d broken. Caradoc gritted his teeth and forced himself to smile. It wasn’t time yet to start the punishment. He closed his hand gently around Patrick’s tumescent cock. “Do you want me to stroke you, Patrick? Like this?” He moved his hand.

  “Yes.” The word sounded like it hurt.

  “How about if I use my mouth, or my tongue?” Caradoc leaned down until his mouth hovered just above the swollen head and let his warm breath play across it. “Would you like that?”

  “Yes!” Patrick’s hand strayed from his side to his cock, as if to stroke it, to lift it and force it into Caradoc’s mouth. Caradoc pushed it away. Later he would make Patrick stimulate himself, but not yet.

  “Say it, Patrick. Tell me you want me to suck your cock.”

  “Oh, please, please, just do it—”

  “I won’t do anything unless you ask for it. You need to say the words, Patrick, to admit what you want.” Caradoc had sensed a reluctance in Patrick in this incarnation that hadn’t been there before. It seemed he was convinced he preferred a female in his bed. As if that were possible for one who had once been bound as human servant to the river god of the mighty Caradoc. He would have to be persuaded to come to terms with his desires before this went any further. “You want another man to suck you, don’t you? You want me to do it? So say it.”

  “Caradoc, oh please…”

  “Just say the words,” Caradoc urged, smiling at how easily the other man’s resistance
was fading.

  “Please, suck my cock. I want you to suck it, I want you to make me come, suck my cock please—aaaaah!”

  Caradoc sank his mouth down, as far as it would go, swallowing the hard length into his mouth. It felt so good, even better than it had before. Patrick was bigger than he had been, thicker. His flavor was different, sweeter and more earthy at the same time. For a moment Caradoc forgot what his real purpose was, forgot why he was here, and just savored the moment. He’d dreamed of this for so long.

  At times the memory of physical pleasure had been all that sustained him as he drifted through the ether.

  And now, no matter what ugliness of soul hid inside Patrick’s perfect body, Caradoc’s cock still buzzed and swelled with need, with the fierce pleasure of being solid again and ready for love.

  He reached down to fondle Patrick’s balls, small and round and heavy inside the loose sac. The skin rippled between his fingers. He twisted it, rolled it. Patrick’s hips lifted, forcing his cock deeper into Caradoc’s mouth. Salty-sweet pre-cum tingled his tongue.

  Caradoc stroked his hand along Patrick’s cock, gathering up some of his saliva and using it to lubricate his way down along the soft skin between Patrick’s sac and anus. Patrick yelped and raised his hips higher, so high Caradoc almost didn’t need to bend over anymore. He smiled and very gently bit down with his teeth. Patrick’s yelp turned into a wheezing cry.

  Caradoc’s finger hovered just shy of the little puckered ring he knew would give Patrick so much pleasure, but he paused and lifted his head, letting Patrick’s cock slip completely out of his mouth. Patrick groaned.

  “Say it, Patrick, tell me what you want. I want to know exactly what you like, everything you like.”

  “Touch me,” Patrick begged. “Touch my ass.”

  “Like this?” Caradoc sat up, watching Patrick’s face as it transformed from desperate to blissful while he manipulated Patrick’s ass with his wet fingertip. He slipped his finger inside, just the tip. Patrick’s eyes slid closed. The moonlight shone on his pale hair and skin, making him look almost otherwordly.