The Last Trumpet Sounds

Morael knelt before his lover on the smooth, cold marble floor, his wings folded close to his back, andwas was naked. Rain spattered on the stained glass murals in the ceiling, casting silver ribboned tears upon the faces of the saints so enshrined there. Ardarel stared down at him, his blond hair askance and his eyes as blue and as cold and as full of mockery as ever they were. He, too was naked, his two massive feathered wings extended to catch the smallest draughts within the secluded space of the grand cathederal, taking pleasure in the very sensation of being, his legs slightly parted and his member half-erect. Indolently, he stretched, the powerful muscles of his torso rippling under his skin, and Morael watched him do this with ravenous dark eyes.
\"There is not enough beauty in this world, Ardarel, nor glory nor splendour, for I could not find a match for you upon its surface or in its skies.\" his voice was a hoarse and devoted whisper as he kissed the other angel in that most intimate of places and placed his head to rest against Ardarel\'s stomach.
Ardarel leant down and kissed his hair, and his hands, and the tips of his wings, saying as he did. \"I flew last morrow to the depths of the darkest ocean, where the fish are not merely earthly silver, but shine with weird incandescence, that they may find their way in the darkness, and there I could find nothing worthy of your possesion, only this one thing.\" Still Ardarel\'s eyes taunted him with their frozen blue. Morael turned his face away.
\"And what is that?\" he asked.
In reply, Ardarel simply opened the palm of his hand. Inside lay a translucent sphere, a pink white pearl as large as a man\'s heart, its dim radiance apparent even in the soft rays of illumination that descended from the stained glass in the ceiling, myriad coloured.
Morael\'s only reply was that of his fevered, wet tongue upon Ardarel\'s erection, slowly circling the end before taking its entirety within his mouth. Ardarel gave a sigh of pleasure, pushing himself in further. Morael bit down gently by means of chastisement for this, but Ardarel was by no means chastised, and Morael felt him hard in his mouth, daring him to continue. Still moving his tongue, he used his teeth sporadically, inciting gasps from his partner, who became still harder at this, and he felt Ardarel tremble as he caressed the sensitive tips of Morael\'s wings beneath the white feathers. All it took was for him to draw breath through his mouth and Ardarel came, Morael almost choking on his load as it spilled into houthouth. Ardarel withdrew, knees trembling, and took Morael\'s chin, lifting it up as he pushed his face close.
\"Swallow.\" he commanded. Morael swallowed, and Ardarel kissed his lips, his tongue probing, tasting. He pushed Morael backwards, and he yielded, wings spread white against the cold black marble of the floor. Ardarel straddled his legs, his hands clutching his chest as he came down to return the favour, and the angel thrust into his mouth, urging him faster, but Ardarel moved slowly, using his superior muscle to overpower the other\'s frustration. Morael arched against the ground, his face contorted from the act, but perversely, Ardarel refused him gratification, and removed his mouth, leaving only his slim fingered hand playing idly at the base of the shaft, and instead turned his attention to penetration. Morael cried out as he was violated, tears running in delicate ribbons down his alabaster cheeks, more beautiful than anything on this wretched world. Ardarel mocked him with his eyes and thrust harder; Morael cried and arched, but did not protest, whispering his name at the point of climax, and Ardarel was pleased. He began to pleasure Morael once more, and the angel was helpless to stop him, coming several times more before Ardarel deigned to stop, and then collapsing wearily onto the floor, holding his lover to him. Rain spattered on the stained glass murals in the ceiling, casting silver ribboned tears upon the faces of the saints so enshrined there. Up on the roof of the cathederal, the pale angel Sahaqiel stood a disinterested guard and preened his feathers in the rain.

Tia blinked, the beginnings of wakefullness emerging fuzzily into her mind. The floor seemed to be moving, and she remembered the flood, the cries of her family as they were swept away by the currents. A momentary sadness, followed by confusion. She sat up, and reached to her throat.
\"What is it sweetheart? You\'re up already?\" A tall redhaired woman with fine-boned features perched on the end of the bed, lacing up her dress.
\"My necklace! It\'s gone!\" she looked questioningly at the woman, who shook her head.
\"Sorry, sweetheart. All you came aboard with was the clothes you\'re wearing now. You must have lost it in the water.\" She was not lying. Tia could tell. Though the loss of her necklace was saddening, a more immeadiate curiosity overcame her.
\"Who are you?\"
\"I\'m .\" .\" said Dana. \"This is my and my husband Jerome\'s cabin.\"
\"Jerome? is he the captain?\"
\"Goodness, no.\" Dana smiled. \"Rann is the captain, and his nephew Charn is the second, with his little brother as the cabin boy. Then there\'s my son, Nade, the artist Yarl, and his patron, Earl Fendrake. The only other woman besides you and myself is Laura, and she has a little son too. His name is James.\"
Tia nodded, trying to remember the names, and half wondering whether the man that Dana had been with was her husband. \"Where are we headed?\"
\"To the highlands, or at least we\'re supposed to be. It was Yarl\'s plan, but Rann\'s never navigated a ship over land before.\" Somewhere, a bell rang, and Dana looked up. \"Meal.\" she said, by way of explanation. \"You wait here, and I\'ll get you some food.\" still smiling, the graceful woman made her exit, leaving Tia\'s mind in turmoil. Was it really the end of the world? Far off, there was a rumbling of thunder. There was a knock at the door. Thinking that Dana was back already, Tia rose to her feet, stumbling on the swaying plathatthat were the floor of the cabin, and made her way to the door. She opened it.
\"Hallo?\"
The auburn haired youth who stood there seemed surprised. \"Is my mother in there?\".

Nade stared at the girl. She was slight, shorter and probably younger than him, with a pale complexion and dark brown eyes whose lashes made them seem too big for her face. And she was beautiful. He swallowed. Hard.
\"Are you Dana\'s son?\"
\"That\'s right.\" he offered her his hand, and falteringly she took it. This was no mere scullery-maid, hands calloussed with work. Her skin was perfect, soft, white. He smiled at her and she returned it. \"My name\'s Nade.\"
\"I\'m Tia.\" Yes, she was beautiful. He was glad for his self control.
\"Can I come in?\" he gestured to the still storming sky, and the rain that still fell from it.
\"But Dana\'s not here!\"
\"It wasn\'t important. Quite honestly, I\'d rather talk to you.\"
\"Oh.\" she shrugged, and gave him a doubtful look. \"I guess so.\"
Still stumbling, Tia went inside, and Nade shut the door after them. The cabin was cramped, and having nowhere else to sit down, Tia perched on the bed. If it had not been for her inexperience, she would have done so gracefully. Nade sat beside her after taking off his waterproof.
\"Nasty weather, huh.\"
She laughed. It was almost musical. Nade raised an eyebrow.
\"My entire family was swept away by it, Nade. Do I not have a rito lto laugh whecanncannot even cry?\" She rolled her dark, liquid eyes at her own macarbre humour. Nade found himself smiling also.
\"I think I know how you feel. My little brother, Haden.\" he looked away, his countenance brooding, and said no more.
\"I would not have laughed at you.\"
He nodded. \"I think I know that. What family do you come from that is capable of producing a beauty such as yourself?\"
Tia frowned. \"My father was a clergyman. We lived in a church. I-\"
She was stopped in midsentence by Nade\'s lips on hers. Pushing him away, she gave a cry of confusion. \"Why? Is that all you wanted?\"
Nade stepped back in a state of equal shock; no woman had ever refused him before. He muttered something between a swearword and an apology before running clumsily for the door. Tia was left feeling confused and alone.