Kissed by Darkness

Chapter 2 Seizing the Day

"Back I say! I, Cyrus, Master of Minds commands you!!!" The loud crashing of wooden sticks that were never intended for such use was the only disruption in the vast church orchards on that warm summer's day, the straw broom ends having been long discarded. The mock authoritive voices of youth seemed to be carried on the warm breeze that ruffled shoulder length locks of gold as the 14 year old Cyrus advanced upon his target, a look of overly dramatic intense concentration displayed upon his face.

"You shall never take me you foul villain you!!!" the other youthful voice called back, a boy around the blonde's same age seeming to loose the upper hand, his short sandy brown hair tousled, more slender hands gripping the long broomstick.

Cyrus frowned, stopping his attack and set the end of his "staff" on the ground, holding the mock weapon in the middle as he leaned on it slightly, looking at his friend. "Why do I always have to be the villain though"¦.?"

"Come on, Cy"¦ Someone's got to be the villain, and anyways you know the villains always have those really strong super powers in the teller's stories," the other boy answered, still holding his weapon at the defensive, eventually rolling his eyes slightly and mock sneering at the blonde. "Alright then you do-gooder!!! You'll never stop my evil plans! Maww haha haha!!!!!!" The lankier boy tried his best to look intimidating, but he really wasn't doing a great job.

Cyrus just sighed slightly, and, still frowning, turned away, leaning his shoulder against one of the thick trees, his blue sapphire gaze cast across the dense growth, looking out as if the life of the very place itself held all the answers to all the questions he'd ever want to know.

"I'm sorry, Cy... Really, you know I didn't mean anything by it," the boy said sincerely, placing his hand upon a broadening shoulder, it already being obvious in his stature that Cyrus was going to have quite a beautiful body, his form already being pleasantly toned beneath the thin white shirt and brown trousers he wore.

"I know, John"¦" Cyrus gave anougher small sigh, but offered his friend a slight smile, his gaze turning back out over the orchid. "It's just that"¦.. Well"¦ I hate being different"¦.. And sometimes I think people really do think I'm evil"¦ That they think it's a curse."

"Hey"¦ You know that's not true. I thought you stopped listening to those jerks who were saying that." John gently massaged the shoulder his hand was still resting on. "You don't have an evil bone in your body. You're going to grow up, and be the perfect monk, every bit as angelic as Father Thomas says you are"¦ And when you die, you'll be a saint." The boy smirked broadly. "I can see it now! Saint Cyrus!"

Both boys soon broke out into laughter, a much more cheery expression on the blonde's face, smooth, sun kissed skin stretched into a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with youthful happiness. The laughter eventually died to small chuckles, and Cyrus grinned at the other boy. "I'm not angelic." His expression turned into a smirk as did the other boy's.

"Oh yes you are," John replied as if he were completely convinced of such. "Look at all this blonde hair"¦" He teasingly brushed his fingers through the soft blonde locks, a grin that was slightly mischievous set in place on his face. "And your blue eyes"¦ You know every single angel in the stained glass windows have blue eyes"¦." John paused for a moment, his fingers still brushing through golden strands, his smile soon turning a bit more serious, tongue sweeping out absently over his lips. It felt like there was some kind of tension growing in the air, and the broad smile Cyrus wore soon faded. "Face it, Cyrus"¦ You're an angel"¦" The boy's voice was a lot softer, and almost wispy, and as if moving in slow motion, Cyrus watched John's face get closer and closer to his own, the other boy's warm breath beginning to caress him, and before he could even think about what was happening, John's lips were on his, moving slowly and almost tentatively at first, a soft tongue slowly slipping into his mouth, sliding gently against his own.

Cyrus knew it was wrong, knew he shouldn't be doing this. He knew, that for him, a future man of the cloth, it was very wrong for him to be kissing the other boy"¦. He couldn't break away though, couldn't gather up the will to step back or push the brunette off him. Instead he found himself embracing the other, his arms almost instinctively wrapping about the other's form, falling slowly into the kiss.

John took that as a sign that Cyrus wanted more, and in an instant the kiss was hungry and lustier. Not so much fierce, but a bit sloppy, and very deep, the other invading and almost pummeling the blonde's mouth. Cyrus found himself backed against the tree, his hips being firmly grinded into, unable to hold back the moan that rose in his throat from the sinful friction. He started to feel guilty as his cock rapidly grew hard, pulsing inside his pants, begging to be released from its confines, something that John must have sensed because his hand was quickly between their crushed together hips, fondling and grasping the hard length that he could feel against his own.

It was then that Cyrus started to panic, and before he knew what was happening brought his hands up to his friend's chest, and pushed the other firmly off of him. Both boys were slightly dazed, chests heaving rapidly, lips pink and just slightly swollen, glistening from the kiss, and for a few moments there, neither said a single word.

~*~

That day had of course ended in a lot of excuses, apologizing, and just all around uncomfortable feelings. It had taken a little while, but eventually Cyrus and John did go back to the way they used to be before that kiss, and now, almost ten years later, it seemed that the incident was completely forgotten between the two friends"¦ Though it wasn't really, and that's what Cyrus was thinking about as he leaned against the heavy framed church window over looking the dense orchard, the sky a deep midnight blue behind the black outline of the trees, a few stars seeming to wink knowingly at the blonde.

It seemed like forever ago that that had happened, and ever since Raven Covrus and his army had swept through the land, Cyrus hadn't really given the incident all that much thought at all"¦. Though on that night it was hard not to relive old feelings and thoughts as the atmosphere was like it hadn't been in what seemed like a very long time.

A small band played, the musicians obviouveryvery much into their work as they smiled, plucking at strings, shaking tambourines, and blowing into flutes. There was much food and drink, people were dancing and conversing, laughing, seeming to have forgotten at least for the moment all their troubles"¦ Of course that was the purpose. This was after all like the last super; they were either celebrating the soon ending of the war, or else going out with a bang. Either way, whatever people thought the outcome was going to be, it seemed that it was all forgotten on that night.

"How'd I know I'd find you over here?" A slightly amused voice disturbed the blonde from his thoughts, appropriately turning to see John, and offering his friend a smile, more of a smirk really. "Shouldn't you be dancing, or gracing us all with your voice? I mean, this is all for you after all." The not so lanky, but slightly more muscular than he once was brunette said with a wide grin, running his fingers idly through his sandy colored, shoulder length hair.

"It is not all for me," Cyrus protested, receiving an arched eyebrow in reply, the blonde soon sighing slightly, and shrugging.

"Oh come on! Look at everyone! There's no way I'm going to let you sit around here and mope while everyone else is having a wonderful time. You're the savior after all! You should be having more fun than anyone else here." John clapped a hand on the side of Cyrus' arm, giving his friend a sincere, encouraging smile. "It's what you were meant to do... Cy." He stressed the "Cy," the nickname having been retired long ago in lieu of either "Brother" or "Brother Cyrus." "Now come on. Let's have some fun," John said enthusiastically, taking a hold of the smiling blonde's arm, and dragging him onto the dance floor, the both of them chuckling lightly.

John and Cyrus interlocked arms, dancing in a kind of do-se-do style, but not quite, the simple brown robes they wore swaying just above their sandaled feet, Cyrus' blonde hair sweeping about the middle of his back as they moved and turned, smiling happily as they danced, laughing in a merry sort of way. It really wasn't odd for the two men to be dancing like that together. They had done so several times throughout their lives, and there were other men of the cloth dancing as well, of course all in celebration of the Lord granting them triumph on the morrow.

The two of them ended up pressed slightly together, one set of hands clasped and held up at shoulder height, the others surrounding each other's waist in traditional dance form, their foot work slightly quick as they moved across the room happily"¦. Though somewhere along the lines of their dancing Cyrus began to notice just how close together they were, how warm the other man's body felt pressed against his own. He didn't stop dancing, but his laughing did die, and his smile became"¦ a bit different, not leaving his face, but falling just slightly into something a bit more serious with thought.

To his horror, the blonde felt himself begin to grow hard, his pulse racing a bit faster, body just slightly flushed, though his coloring wasn't something that would be really noticeable to anyone due to the physical activity. There wasn't really anyway he c hid hide it from John, not without blatantly giving himself away.

Internally, Cyrus breathed a slight sigh of relief as John didn't appear to have noticed, the pair continuing to dance, though after a few moments Cyrus noticed John's grip around him strengthening a bit, pulling him just a tad closer, and if the blonde didn't know better he'd say that the look he was receiving from the other at that exact moment was almost seductive. Cyrus gave a small, nearly inaudible gasp, and had to literally force himself to keep moving across the dance floor with the other monk as he felt John's hard arousal through the material of their robes, his smile completely gone now, though John was smirking slightly.

Cyrus began to slow their steps, and coax John over to the edge of the dance floor, his gaze resting almost imploringly on his friend as they stopped dancing, though he didn't directly say anything, and was hoping that they would both be embarrassed enough to where they'd just pretend it didn't happen. "I'm a bit tired"¦" he offered as a reason to stop, giving a kind of half smile that was forced. "I think I need a drink"¦" he muttered, and was about to walk off, but John grabbed a hold of his arm, not firmly or tightly, but enough to stop the blonde who turned looking at the other questionably.

"C-Brother"¦. Do you think I could have a short word with you"¦.?" John's gaze was a bit pleading. "Please"¦.?"

The blonde just looked at his friend for a few moments, staring into soft brown eyes before giving a small nod, and letting John lead him outside, the cool night air giving his skin a pleasant chill after the dancing. Cyrus made absolutely sure that they did not go in the direction of the orchards, and veered off towards the vineyards, taking a small path, blue eyes set firmly in front of him as they walked, Cyrus moving a bit briskly though didn't really know why he was.

Usually Cyrus walking fast wouldn't bother John as his legs were slightly longer than his friend's anyways, but at the moment he felt like Cyrus was running away, and he didn't like it.

"Hey, slow down!" he exclaimed a bit firmly, but not loudly or rudely as he once again grasped Cyrus' arm, and forced him to stop walking, large fields of grapes on either side of them, the glittering, lighted windows of the monastery off in the distance. "I think we've gone far enough."

Cyrus nodded, turning to the other man, muttering a small, "Sorry," and looking at him a bit questionably. "So"¦. What'd you want to talk about"¦.?"

John bit his lower lip for a moment as if in thought, his gaze resting on the ground before looking at his friend. "Well"¦ I lied in there"¦" Cyrus raised a blonde eyebrow. "When I said that everyone in there was having a wonderful time"¦." John continued. "I wasn't"¦ I can't help feeling like I'm never going to see you again after you ride off tomorrow, and I'm worried that-"

"Hey, Brother, listen, you don't ha-"Cyrus tried to interrupt, but stopped when John raised a hand.

"Let me finish, ok, Cy"¦?" Cyrus looked at the other, a bit shocked to hear the old nickname being used twice in such a short period of time after not having heard it in almost 6 years, but nodded and stayed quiet. "I'm worried"¦.." John trailed off for a moment in thought, turning his gaze away for a few silent moments before looking at his friend again. "I'm worried that I won't be able to say everything I've always wanted to say to you, or do all the things I always thought we'd do together"¦."

Cyrus just returned the other man's gaze, not really understanding what he was getting at. "Okay"¦. Like what"¦?" he finally asked when it didn't appear that John was going to go on, the brunette just staring at him almost as if trying to gather the courage to say whatever it was that was on his mind"¦. But John didn't say anything, and for a moment there Cyrus thought he had somehow gone back in time, because it wasn't another moment before the blonde found his lips taken in a deep, sensual kiss. It wasn't like the kiss they had shared as boys. It wasn't tentative and unsure, and it wasn't awkward.

The blonde went rigid, his body tensing. His lips weren't exactly responding, but they weren't moving away either, the delicate flesh parting just slightly, trembling as he granted John a kind of half access to his mouth. His hands had come up instinctively to the other's chest in a motion that was meant to push him off, and it wasn't a whole lot longer before Cyrus did start to panic, his body growing aroused, cock rock hard as it was pressed slightly against the other monk, a blush creeping into his features.

He started to push John off, the hands resting on his friends chest trying to make the other move, but John's grip on him only tightened, his arms wrapping securely around Cyrus' waist as he deepened the kiss slightly, almost forcing Cyrus' lips to respond, not letting the blonde push or back away. The hands resting on John's chest started to curl into tight fists, gripping the brown material on the robe unawaredly as his mouth started to respond passionately against the other's., both wanting to escape and press closer.

When Cyrus started to respond the way he did, John loosened his hold, his hands starting to move over the slightly shaking form of his friend, touching and caressing him. Cyrus did successfully pull his lips away at that point, John not struggling to hold the blonde this time, reluctantly releasing him, and staring intently, searchingly.

Cyrus returned the gaze almost expressionlessly, not really knowing what to do or say. His breathing was a bit uneven and deep, eyes just a bit darkened, body uncomfortably hard and wanting. He couldn't help feeling like this was all too easy for the other man. That the way he had kissed him had been too perfect, too assertive"¦ just too easy for the other. John should be having just as hard of a time as he was having with all of this"¦. But he didn't appear to be, and it seemed to the blonde that the other's only worry was what Cyrus' reaction was going to be.

"You"¦. You do that too good"¦." Cyrus found himself voicing his thoughts, really them being more of a compliment than they were accusing, but raised both eyebrows as he saw a blush creep into the other man's face, John's gaze turned away as if in shame"¦

That's when Cyrus started to wonder"¦. He couldn't help wondering what the other's actions meant, and he felt like there was something tugging on him, the curiosity of what the other was thinking, the reasons for the blush. It was too much, and Cyrus did something he knew he shouldn't do, and opened a link into the other man's mind.

It was quite simple, and felt like a completely natural thing for Cyrus to do, not having to exert himself in any way to enter the other's thoughts, and John wouldn't even know he was doing such a thing"¦. At least he wouldn't have known if Cyrus' eyes hadn't widened, his entire form going completely tense as he took a step back after seeing what he had in his friend's mind.

"Y-you"¦. And"¦.. "Cyrus was almost at a loss, redness rushing into his face, John's eyes starting to water with tears. "How"¦. How could you?! How could they?!"

John fell to his knees in front of his friend, grasping his calves in a begging gesture. "Cyrus, please! I swear I was thinking of you the entire time! I didn't even want to be a monk"¦! I-I only stayed here because of you"¦.." Cyrus was staring down at the other man as if in disgust, though remained quiet, his form still tense as he resisted the urge to kick the other man off.

"Don't you understand? Everyday I'd have to look at you, talk to you, be near you, and the entire time I wanted nothing but to be close to you"¦ When we were boys"¦ and I kissed you"¦. After that I was scared that I'd lost you forever"¦. But then when things went back to normal"¦. Cy"¦ I know you liked it as much as I did"¦ I trI tried to drop hints"¦ but I was scared"¦. And you might never come back tomorrow"¦. And I know you liked dancing with me and kissing me just now"¦." Tears were now flowing freely down his face as he clutched the bottom of the blonde's robe.

"Please I know you're mad"¦. But don't you understand how hard it was for me"¦? What I went through every night thinking about you"¦..? I was just so"¦. I don't know, but when I went to resign, and told Father Thomas my feelings"¦. I - I couldn't resist him. It was like he was tryio mao make me feel better"¦ And"¦ and it did feel good"¦ But I only wanted you Cyrus"¦ "

Cyrus' face didn't soften, and he pushed the other off him, taking steps back away, John remaining on his knees, a pitiful kind of look on his face. "You've made a mockery out of everything we've"¦ I've ever believed in"¦.. How could you"¦.??? How could they?! How could he?!?!?!"

"Cy"¦. Please"¦." John pleaded, starting to get up and move towards Cyrus who immediately put his hands out, effectively stopping the other.

"No!!! It's Brother Cyrus! You may have taken your vows to God lightly, but I didn't! I - I"¦"¦.. Just stay away from me!" His voice was firm, brow furrowed for so many different reasons as he completely stalked off, leaving behind a man who looked like he had just completely had his heart ripped out, wide streams of tears falling down his eyes as he just let the blonde go, knowing that there was no way Cyrus would ever forgive him.

~*~

The following day was far different from the previous evening. Things had gotten back to the way they had been for more than a year now, except worse"¦ The tension was at an all time high, drifting and hanging heavily in the air like a dense humidity. It was even worse than it should have been. No one had seen Cyrus since he was last dancing with John, and it was rapidly growing closer to the time when the hero was supposed to be riding off into the sunset to save the day.

Cyrus wasn't able to face any of them though. There had of course been no way he could go back to the party the night before, and when the sun began to peek in the eastern horizon, gracing the earth with warm rays, Cyrus still couldn't bring himself to look anyone in the eye, especially the ones who would most want to be around him, blessing him, other men of the cloth"¦ other men who had broken their vows.

It wasn't at all a good time for any of this to happen. Cyrus had lost a lot of sleep over the entire issue, not able to stop the questions running through his mind even in sleep as he tossed and turned, coming out of it with absolutely no answers, and worse for the wear because of it. He had spent most of the day out far in the more forestry regions, focusing himself better, forcing the thoughts of the people who he deemed as being traitors in more than one aspect out of his mind. He would have to focus on those problems and questions later. He had to save his people, and he needed to get out of the slump that the issues had pushed him into.

Cyrus had missed the entire blessing ceremony, and still not a single person had seen or heard from him at all since the previous evening. Further more, no one had seen John, Cyrus' best friend, either which only caused the worry raise to more extreme levels. When it was about time for Cyrus to be leaving the tension had built dramatically, and people were starting to panic, some even packing up and running, though the vast majority realized that that was a pointless endeavor, and were putting their faith in God and in the blonde still.

"God, please grant me the strength and will I need to be victorious. Grant me the peace of mind to carry on in Your Name"¦.." You had to strain to hear the soft prayers as they left the blonde's mouth. He was kneeling before a stature of Saint Michael, the archangel, in the garden prayer atrium outside the monastery. The life sized, marble statue of a grand angle, its wings spread out, the Saint holding a sword in one hand, pointing it down towards the ground, the other hand raised holding a set of scales. He seemed to be blessing Cyrus with his grand presence, life growing all around them as a canopy of vines and budding flowers grew along the trellises that encaged the statue on three sides as well as over head, making a kind of half dome or box.

Blonde hair was pulled back into a neat, tight tail, running down to the middle of his back like a golden stream, his head bowed forward humbly, sapphire eyes resting shut. When he had said his final words, Cyrus rose to his feet slowly, his gaze resting firmly and intently upon the statue before him, gazing at it as if it were the angel himself before he was finally ready to leave"¦ though as he turned he came face to face with the one person he least wanted to see, and stopped dead before ever even starting to walk.

Anyone would have been better at that moment; Raven Covrus, John"¦ anyone but Father Thomas. The man had truly been like a father. He had been Cyrus' mentor, the person the blonde had looked up to and strived to make proud. Someone he had always wanted to be like all his life"¦.. Learning that the man was a traitor to not only his vows to the church, but most importantly to God had struck a serious blow in Cyrus.

"Are you well, My Son"¦.?" The priest asked, his thin form covered by layers of extravagant robes, a look of concern set upon his chiseled face as he gazed at Cyrus through small, round glasses, slightly graying raven hair set into perfect order.

For a few moments there Cyrus was shell shocked, and stunned, stuck in place. He did indeed look sick for those first seconds that he just stood there, the color starting to flush out of his face"¦. Though it wasn't very long before it rapidly began to return, soon bypassing his normal coloring into a deep, angry blush. The elder man didn't move or flinch in the slightest though, and merely looked at Cyrus with a curious expression, obviously confused and concerned by the behavior.

It wasn't something Cyrus did on a normal basis, as it was infact forbidden to him, but Cyrus couldn't resist the urge to get inside the man's mind, to try and discover some kind of reason, some kind of explanation. He needed to be reassured; he needed to find some kind of way to rationalize everything. He was only supposed to use his "gift" in the name of God, not for these kinds of selfish reasons of setting his own mind at ease"¦ but he couldn't help it. Right now, more than ever, Cyrus needed his mind to be comforted and clear, and gave into the temptation, opening a link.

When you don't exactly know what you're looking for, and when the person in question isn't at that current moment focusing on whatever it is you want to know, things are harder, and Cyrus had to practically sift through the other's mind as he stood there almost expressionlessly, looking like he was merely staring at the other man lazily"¦.. Though with a bit of searching, expressionless was the last word anyone would use to describe blonde's face as flashes of horrible abuse and violations of young children played into Cyrus' mind. Whimpers and cries, small voices pleading for the pain to stop, a lower, harsh voice that he barely recognized as the priest's saying awful things rang in Cyrus' ears, tears instantly sliding down his cheeks.

There weren't any words that were truly strong enough to describe what Cyrus was feeling at that moment; despair, repulse, sick, enraged being the closest you could probably get. The blonde was so completely overwhelmed by what he had just experienced that he couldn't even find his voice"¦ He wanted to, was trying, but he was so completely shocked that all he could do in those first seconds was stand there and seethe like a volcano, the pressure building to extravagant levels.

"Brother Cyrus"¦ Everyone has been looking for you"¦. You have mis-" The priest finally started when Cyrus hadn't begun talking, the fear of not knowing what was wrong with their savior apparent, and it was clear to see that the man had probably thought that Cyrus had turned tail, and ran, or maybe was still going to.

Cyrus didn't give Father Thomas a chance to continue though. He still couldn't find any words to say, but his body did spring into action, taking a few steps forward, and back handing the smaller man so hard that he fell to the ground unconscious, the limp form laying there completely helpless.

For the first time in his life Cyrus sincerely wanted to kill something, someone. He wanted to cause pain and suffering to this man who had caused so much of that to inno, he, helpless children. He wanted to rip him limb from limb, wanted to crush his skull in violently. So many different scenes of what he would like to do with this filth played in his mind, but the blonde didn't act on any of those urges, completely fighting with himself, forcing himself to leave.

He walked briskly to the front of the church, completely insane with anger, more than ready to take it out on his opponent, but soon stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that meant his eyes. It seemed that the entire town had showed up, a lot of them probably just to see whether the hero had left them high and dry. As soon as someone spotted the blonde, loud cheers and encouraging applause was heard, seeming to encompass the entire area with hope. Faces, young and old, familiar and not were looking to Cyrus as he approached slowly, his palomino stallion at the head faced out towards the trail, two other men mounted on horses on each side of his steed.

Cyrus took a deep breath, and started to walk more briskly, desperately trying to put everything he was feeling aside for the sake of the people who were relaying on him for their lives, and was soon mounting his horse. He let the completely golden blonde stallion take a few steps forwards before turning around facing the people. You could see the different emotions flashing before their eyes; fear, hope, desperation"¦ It was a lot to handle and have placed on your shoulders, and Cyrus could only hope that he wouldn't let them down"¦. In fact letting them down wasn't even a possibility. He had to be victorious.

"By this time tomorrow we will be rebuilding the cities that have already been destroyed!" Cyrus called out to the people before taking off, breathing a sigh of relief that the words had met loud applause because he wouldn't have been able to say the entire speech he had written if he had even had the will to do so.

Chapter 2 Continued on Next the Page