by Aurelia Fray
It's not long before Sanya finds herself begging him to fuck her. "Please," she says, "I want to feel you inside me." It might be a cliché, but it's how she feels, damn it. She has him back, at long last. She wants all of him and she doesn't want to wait.
"Okay," Almos says. "I will. I want to fuck you so bad, you have no idea." He gets to his feet, and Sanya watches him undress and roll on the condom he got from somewhere. Belatedly, she pulls her dress off over her head, and they're naked together, finally, for the first time. He's perfect in her eyes - his well-padded muscles, the fine line of dark body hair that leads from his sternum to his cock, the crinkles next to his eyes, his slightly curved cock. And the way he's looking at her like he's hungry and she's a feast makes her feel perfect, too.
Sanya pushes herself back on the bed and Almos comes close to her again, straddles her hips, and kisses her breathless, his cock nuzzling her belly. "Now," she says. There's a strange, heavy feeling about the moment, like there's a clock running down somewhere, even though there isn't one in the room. "Please, Almos."
"I'm here," he says. He lines up his cock and thrusts into her in one smooth, deep slide. "God, Sanya, you feel so good."
A joyful laugh bubbles up from inside of her, and she wraps her legs around his back, pulling him deeper. "You, too," she says. "I'm so glad you came back to me."
"I couldn't stay away," Almos tells her. He rolls his hips and kisses her neck again. "You're so good to me, oh, Sanya!"
She arches up to meet him, and they crash together like the waves on the coast where they grew up together. It's so sweet and good that tears prick the corners of Sanya's eyes. She never wants to let go of him.
Almos is getting close to coming, she can feel it, from the way his thrusts are getting harder and closer together, rocking her to the core. "Come on," she tells him. "I want to feel you come."
"Okay," Almos says, stroking her hair back from her forehead as he pushes into her again, twice, three times more. "I love you. Take this."
***
Sanya wakes up all at once, in a sweaty tangle of blankets, with the words I love you too burning on her lips. Her alarm is beeping insistently and she reaches out to turn it off.
Everything comes back to her in a sickening rush. Almos is dead. He's been dead for nearly three months. She went to his funeral, for God's sake, and she flew a thousand miles to get there. It was a dream.
Her eyes well up when she realizes it. She doesn't even know what he was going to give her, besides the best sex of her life, that is.
Except there's something in her left hand. Sanya unclenches her fist and lying in her palm is a crushed flower. A carnation, she's pretty sure, with yellow and red striped petals, like a bloom of flame. If she has her flower language right, and she remembers studying it in history class with Almos, years ago, the stripes say I can't be with you. Yellow is disappointment. Red means my heart aches for you.
"Mine, too," Sanya whispers, clasping the flower to her heart. "My heart aches for you, too, Almos."
***
She hopes that she'll have the same dream again that night, or, even better, a continuation of the first one. Almos was always good at cuddling her when it was strictly platonic between them, curling up for naps in the lighting booth of the high school auditorium; she'd like to see what he's like in the afterglow, even if it is only a dream. Unfortunately, she has no such luck that night, or the next, or the night after that.
One day, she's in the diner by her apartment, nursing a coffee and the last few bites of pancakes and feeling sorry for herself, when a young woman dressed all in black comes up to her. "Excuse me," she says. "I think there's something I need to tell you."
"Oh?" Sanya says, raising one eyebrow. She's lived in the city long enough to be suspicious of people who want to offer her things, even if they're just words.
"Every dead friend is a magnet pulling us to the next world," says the woman. "He wants you to live."
It takes supreme willpower for Sanya to keep from spitting her coffee out in shock. "What do you know?" she demands, leaning towards this stranger.
"Not much," the woman replies with a careless shrug. "Sometimes I speak with the dead. Sometimes they just leave me messages, like I'm some kind of a cosmic mailbox. This was one of the latter. I don't know who he is, just that he wants you to live your life, even if he's not living his."
"It's probably not bad advice," Sanya admits. "Thank you, I guess."
"You're welcome," the woman says, and she pats the table in front of Sanya's hand comfortingly. "Good luck."
Sanya sighs and shakes her head, then takes another drink of her coffee. All right, then. That's about as clear a message from beyond as she's ever going to get. She can't live her life hoping to continue a ghostly one-night stand with Almos, and she certainly can't kill herself to try to find him again. All she has to do is live.
DEATH
Aurelia Fray
If bitten, I bite.
If smitten, I smite.
But raven, I recognize your
frightening feathers
as they wrap silkily
about my suffering self
and wipe the slate clean.
Then, into the ether we sweep,
my little death and me.
LOVE
Aurelia Fray
Like an electric current
it thrums through me.
Up to down.
Left to right.
This pulsing incandescence.
Existing
only in my weakened mind,
we speak of light touches and
forever embraces
that end as sudden as the storm began.
LUST
Aurelia Fray
Kohl eyes shrouded
I peer up into blue
“Not yet. Not now. But soon,”
you whisper as you plunge
your forbidden steel deep.
I give you my essence on the hard stone floor.
DEVOTED
Charlotte Ondac
Feeling drunk, unable to hold back the depression any longer, Ioan walked into the motel room where he was staying, wanting nothing more than it to all just go quiet.
Since last year, his entire world began to crumble. Over the year, he was thrown out of university and lost the part-time job that was keeping him afloat. In turn, he lost his flat, resulting in his need to move from motel to motel.
After all, his parents gave up on him a long time ago.
All of this, ever since he died.
Only one thing of His remained, His guitar. The only instrument that survived the crash. As he was driving, the other band members blamed him and threw him out. It was all Ioan’s fault as far as they were concerned. As far as everyone - the band, all family members - was concerned, it was Ioan’s fault.
With frustration flowing through him, his mind boiling at the thought of all the blame that was placed on him, Ioan made his way to the two beds of the motel room, separated by bedside tables. The one furthest from the door was where he slept. On the other, laid out on the sheets as a lover, was the guitar.
Drawing his hands along the matted black finish, Ioan’s mind drifted away. To him, he was no longer in the motel. He was no longer a drunken, depressed fool. No, his mind travelled back to where it all happened.
The fateful night of the last gig.
***
The gig was going well. The pub was overflowing with bodies swaying back and forth. As they moshed in time with the swelling music, their hair became a tangled sea of thrashing blonde, brunette, red and black waves .
Nothing but the voice of the singer could be heard over the roar of the guitars and drums as he sang their popular song, Rhythm of Shadows:
This is where we shall always become one,
In the beginning, where we all have come from
In here we forever wander and stray
What everyone tries for, always to pray.
We are all flesh and bl
ood, body and soul
All come together in a sacred hole
Within my arms, you are always held dear
I promise you, with me nothing to fear .
Inside our union, we create life
All the senses ignited one to five
Devoted and true to each we will lay
Never leave me, forever with me stay
For you love, I shall forever be true
Through the light and dark we’ll see it al through
As we lay, there’s something I want to show
On the wall are the Rhythm of Shadows
Ioan, cranked up the volume of the mic, enough to send the singer’s deep, throbbing voice through the pub. Ioan watched Nathan, transfixed, as the singer held his mouth close to the microphone, perspiration running down his cheeks. Ioan couldn’t help but stare at Nathan’s long, flowing black hair, his black shirt unbuttoned enough to show off his pentagram, and those tight black leather trousers. His arms bulged under the shirt as he held his black serrated guitar, strumming the chords as he sang.
The pub suddenly exploded into cheers as the song came to an end. Ioan didn’t realize the song had ended, his eyes were too fixated on Nathan, who appeared otherworldly the way the light turned him into a living shadow. Remembering where he was, Ioan quickly altered the sound system, allowing Nathan to reach for the mic again. In the background, the sound of guitars and drums still sounded, but did not overpower.
“Thank you my friends!” he shouted at the top of his voice. “On behalf of Nightrunners, I would like to thank you for coming here tonight. Please, let’s hear it for the band! On lead guitar, Kevin Jacks, on bass we have Billy DeSalvo and on drums, Mark Torres!”
All cheered as Nathan ran through the roll call. Kevin held up devil horns over his shining bald-head as his name was called. Billy moshed along with every beat of his bass with one foot on a speaker as Nathan screamed his name. Finally, Mark, with his spiky hair and thick beard, pounded at the drums hard.
Ioan was about to change the sound in time for their finale, when Nathan suddenly spoke again.
“But let us not forget the guy who makes us sound good, our soundman Ioan Owens!”
Ioan did not know how to react. It was the first time Nathan had ever called him out. All eyes fell on him, a short, stocky young man with shoulder length brown hair, a goatee and glasses, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt. He sat there amongst the cheering, lost on where he was.
He was only brought back when he heard a three-five-one drumstick beat. He knew that was the signal. Remembering himself, Ioan readjusted the sound system, just in time for the band to begin their fast, heavy instrumental titled Hunter’s Breath.
When the set came to its thundering end, almost lost amongst the cheering crowd, the band members unhooked themselves from their instruments and entered the sea of fans for drinks and mingling. Ioan got up from his spot and began unhooking all cables, speakers and instruments. As he began packing, he watched everything going on at the bar. Of course, the majority of girls swarmed around Nathan, offering him drinks and themselves. Ioan caught a glimpse of one girl reaching down to squeeze Nathan’s crotch while another guided his hand to her ass.
Ignoring what he saw, he observed the other band members. Mark and Billy were family men, and stuck together even as their partners came to enjoy the music. As for Kevin, he snuck out the back door with a young woman whose clothing left very little to the imagination.
Knowing they were on a tight schedule, Ioan began hoisting the heavy equipment with his thick, stocky arms and took them outside to the band van. The band logo was emblazoned on the side of the black vehicle: a group of shadowy figures walking in front of a glowing moon.
They had another gig coming up in Cardiff the next night, which was almost three hours drive, and it was coming up to midnight already. Ioan and Nathan were students on leave and already planned to go on ahead and prepare everything. The other band members had day jobs and, by the time their work allowed them to leave, they had to go straight into the gig.
Just as Ioan slammed the side door shut, Nathan, Billy and Mark walked out of the bar into the cool crisp air; a blessing after the warm confines of the bar and the swarming bodies of the fans.
“Right,” Nathan began as he removed his smudged eyeliner and black lipstick. “Ioan and I will go on up to Cardiff. We will see you guys and Kevin in time for the opening number. I heard we got some record guys attending, this could be our break. Selwyn from Necron told me these guys come to the bar frequently to look for new talent.”
“‘I just hope nothing goes wrong with you know who,” Billy added in, holding his arm over his wife’s shoulders.
As if in answer, there was a sound of scuffling up the side alley, only for Kevin to come flying out. His pants and underwear were tangling round his ankles and he had a bloodied nose. From within the alley, a hulk of a man walked out. No doubt the boyfriend of the girl Kevin snuck out back with. His bloodied knuckles were clenched, ready to do more damage.
Moving quickly, Ioan moved close to the man, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm.
“Listen mate, he ain’t worth it,” Ioan quickly said, ignoring Kevin’s curses behind him. “There are plenty of witnesses, and I know there are cops down on the High Street. Last thing we need is trouble over someone who can’t keep it in his trousers.”
“Fine,” snarled the giant. “Get him out of here, or I will chop off his cock and ram it up his arse.”
With a grunt, the man turned around, possibly to see to his woman. Best not to get involved, Ioan thought to himself.. All turned round to watch Kevin doing up his pants, throwing insults at Ioan.
“That’s enough!” roared Nathan. “Ioan just saved your arse, although I would have loved to see that guy pummel you down. Everywhere we go, your fucking cock gets us in trouble. Wise up. We got the chance of a record deal tomorrow, fuck it up and you’re gone!”
“Fuck you,” Kevin sneered, holding up his middle finger. “Why the hell you go and mention him in one of our gigs?”
“None of your business, it is mine. Now, give it a rest, or fucking go!”
“Sod the lot of you.”
Kevin ripped the van door open, grabbing his guitar whilst knocking over parts of the drum, and stormed off down the road. Moving quickly, Ioan picked up and reset the drum while all band members looked at each other in silence.
“Now what we gonna do,” sighed Mark. “Where we gonna get a new lead?”
“Leave it to me,” replied Nathan. “I will handle it in Cardiff. Just get to the gig as quick as you can. Come on Ioan, let’s get going.”
***
After leaving the other band members and starting the long drive to Cardiff, all was silent in the van. After the incident with Kevin, neither Ioan nor Nathan knew what to do. Exhausted from the gig, Nathan snoozed whilst Ioan drove.
Only taking his eyes off the road for a few mere seconds, Ioan glanced over to the sleeping Nathan, unable to take his eyes off him. Why did he stand up for me, Ioan thought. Why even mention him during a gig? Over the past five years Nightrunners has been alive, never had Ioan been acknowledged on stage. Not even with the different bassists, guitarists, and drummers they had.
Now they were down a lead guitarist.
Could this have been Ioan’s chance? One time, he and Nathan talked about it, about joining the actual band. Ioan had been with Nathan ever since the beginning, despite all the changes in band members. He created the band logo, helped the songs and even organized all gigs.
More than that, he could finally be closer to Nathan on stage.
Ioan was too lost in his thoughts that he did not notice the van veering across the road. More than that, he did not notice the coach coming the other way.
Nathan was dead upon impact. Fortunately, there was no one on the coach, and the driver suffered broken legs. Ioan came away with broken ribs, but because of the reckless driving, and loss of life, he was given a fin
e and community service. It was clear this was an accident; there was no need of jail time.
However, in his mind and heart, Ioan was already there.
***
Ioan was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard cars passing by outside. He was back where he felt he belonged, alone, caressing a lost guitar.
With gentle hands, Ioan cradled the neck and body and carried it to between the beds. He couldn’t control himself, he needed this. Without thinking, he began plucking the strings, running the fingers of his left hand over the fret board in various chords from A chord, to D, C then back to A.
“Not bad,” a voice suddenly said behind Ioan.
Ioan was not scared. The voice relaxed him, soothed him. He felt at peace. He knew the voice, he heard it often in his dreams.
From behind him, thick arms reached round and readjusted the straps of the guitar, allowing the guitar to hang around Ioan at arm’s length. Reaching down, one arm brushing against Ioan’s hardening crotch, the stranger grabbed both hands and helped Ioan with the picking of the strings and formation of the power chords.
As he was guided, Ioan glanced behind him. Standing there, overlooking Ioan’s shoulder, was Nathan. He looked as he always had, handsome without any scarring. He looked focused, at peace.
Like this, they swam through the set list and a new instrumental they were coming upon. As they played, Ioan was aware of a hardness pressing against his buttocks. His skin shivered with anticipation as he felt Nathan’s hot breath over his shoulder. Ioan could barely keep his own breath.
As he played, his confidence grew and Nathan moved his hands away. His left moved from the fret board to Ioan’s hip, as his right moved from one body to the other, reaching down to grasp Ioan’s hard crotch.
“Nath, what are you …?” Ioan sighed, enjoying the fingers rubbing against him through the denim.
“Shh,” Nathan whispered into his ear. “Just keep playing.”