Page 7 of I Will Always Find You
Blood flowed to all their erogenous zones, greatly heightening the sensations of touch and response for each man. Their cocks were as hard as the stone that formed the cliffs of Devonshire.
A few years had passed since the Romani witch finally found his Aeneas and began to reawaken his love for him. Although his beloved’s heart and immortal soul were now housed within a new body and identity—that of a man named Rufus—it did not take long for the red-headed man to fall in love with the swarthy stranger.
More accurately, he eventually recalled and embraced a sensation of pure love that was always present but just out of reach, waiting for its counterpart to appear and spark its resurgence. This unique situation was not a matter of repressed memory coming forth but rather a liberation of Aeneas’ true heart and soul from enchanted suppression.
It was coming on late evening as the two men, alone upon the seashore, began their lovemaking. The sun commenced its march toward the western horizon, slowly departing from the sky, a vibrant canvas of red, coral, and purple hues reflected upon tranquil waters. The evening wind was timid, warm, and comforting, carrying just a hint of crispness.
With heat radiating off their naked flesh, the young men went in for a deep kiss. Tongues darted playfully between two eager mouths, hungry for intimate connection. For each man, their passion felt familiar, timeless, but at the same time fresh as morning dew, as exciting as a new adventure.
However, for the Romani witch, this physical act of love and desire between them was a more visceral experience; hehad memories to accompany his sensual actions. To him, this intimacy felt salacious and reflective, with a swell of erotic remembrances from past lives, of past encounters, all washing over him.
For nearly an hour, the men engaged in their exuberant lust until, finally, exhausted, they both reached their euphoric crescendo in unison, expelling their seed upon the other’s body with explosive force.
The young lovers laughed with a joyous mirth reserved for those who truly basked in the warmth of pure contentment. Their eyes sparkled with unquestionable adoration, and their souls verily danced together, completely entwined in a passion that reached the depths of their core. Their lovemaking was always more than bodily: it was spiritual.
“We should get back, my love,” Rufus smirked, “before I get my second wind and take you in the sea. And by the far side of the shore. And over—hey!”
Rufus’ playful banter had been interrupted by the Romani witch teasingly slapping his plump behind as punishment for getting his lover all hot and bothered again. Both had promised Gian they would clean the tavern while he was away. Given how difficult it already was for him to separate himself from his beloved, he did not need the added temptation to stay and make passionate love under the stars late into the night.
Gian had left the village earlier that day to go hunting; he told Rufus he would not be home until after nightfall and that the tavern would remain closed until his return.
The Romani witch knew Gian’s story was only a half-truth. The game he hunted was not stag or hare.
It was man.
Not long after meeting the immortal, the Romani witch learned Gian was, in fact, a blood-drinking god of the ancient world. However, he never fed on anyone from the village orthe surrounding area. Gian possessed the amazing ability to fly upon the winds, a talent the Romani witch envied, for he could only levitate; the immortal often soared to far-off places for his sustenance.
The god never wished to endanger the village and the Devonshire people he loved dearly, should he be discovered by men—Romans or Britons—or other immortals, no matter how unlikely an occurrence, and be punished for their association. Even though his friends were ignorant of his true nature, Gian knew all too well that religious fanatics and the bloodthirsty rarely cared about innocence and truth.
No one in the village, not even Rufus, knew Gian’s secret, which the immortal had made the Romani witch promise never to reveal.
“Yes, my love, I know,” the Romani witch sighed. “I remember our promise to Gian, though we might wish to clean up a bit before putting our clothes back on.” With a smirk, he acknowledged the sticky residue of their manly lovemaking that now coated both of their naked bodies.
Rufus laughed heartily and went in for another kiss.
As he again eagerly tasted his lover’s lips, a pleasant, tangy brine of salty air upon them, the Romani witch raised his right arm and reached out toward the sea. He quickly contorted his fingers into several arcane patterns and then whispered, “Motus aqua.” [“Movement of water.”] This minor spell, combined with his inherent power to manipulate matter through sheer will, and this included liquids, the Romani witch summoned forth a majestic water spout.
As it surged from the sea, the water formation arched high into the air, glistening in the dimming sunlight as falling droplets shimmered like gems in the sky. As commanded, it came toward the lovers and thoroughly bathed them.
Surprised by the sudden but not entirely unpleasant shower, Rufus began to laugh joyfully. The two men used the extra clean rags they had brought along for their picnic to scrub the other down. They were both glad to have been overprepared.
Once dry, the two lovers dressed and began their short trek back to the village.
“I wish I could work wonders like you,” Rufus groaned, though there was more admiration than jealousy in his tone.
Soon after finding Aeneas’ soul, the Romani witch discovered that his beloved’s magic had not awakened within his new body. Having been on his own from a young age, Rufus was not taught the ways of witchcraft or the Egyptian magic of histruemother’s people.
Early in their courtship, Rufus witnessed the Romani witch perform a miracle through spellcraft and showed no fear or abject horror. He was not troubled by his lover’s powers or mystical nature; he was fascinated by all of it. And so the Romani witch had endeavoured to teach him The Craft. Unfortunately, unlike Aeneas, it was not Rufus’ fortune to have an aptitude for magic.
The Wheel of Destiny’s hold over Aeneas’ soul this time around remained formidable and uncompromising.
“You work wonders in different ways, beloved,” the Romani witch cooed as he laid his head on Rufus’ shoulder and pinched his bottom.
The seductive intimation of his moresensualtalents caused Rufus to laugh aloud. “You bring out the animal in me, you mystical fiend,” he responded with good humour.
As the two lovers strolled hand in hand, the warm glow of the setting sun bathed the path in golden light, casting long shadows behind them. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees, carrying with it the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers.
Each step brought them closer to their quaint village. In the depths of their hearts, they each harboured secret thoughts, marvelling at how perfect their lives felt now that they had found each other, two souls intertwined, lost in the beauty of the moment and the promise of tomorrow.
