_{Intimacy: a close, familiar, and usually affectionate or loving personal relationship with another person or group
Whether physical, sexual or emotional, true intimacy is something that requires trust and love. In the past, Seth could never afford to feel this way. But maybe, just maybe, he's finally found someone who he can share all of himself with. When a person from his past reemerges in his present life, Seth finds himself falling head first into a whirlwind romance.
But can his fragile heart and state of being really handle what his lover has to offer?
(LOLZ, epically angsty summary for a non epically angsty story! ^_^)}


Intimacy: Prologue

Not for the first time today, eighteen year old stud-muffin Gabriel Lynch turns to his best friend and says, "Dude. You, like, so need ta get laid." He throws in a pointed glare this time, hoping it'll reinforce just how much he means business. No shit, this is probably the most heart wrenchingly disturbing news he's been given all year. Seth Reynolds, his biffle, has yet to get laid, has yet to have sex; ever. He's a grade A, wholly and completely, one-hundred percent untouched virgin. To Gabriel, this is an unforgivable sin and needs to be resolved ASAP. It's a shock to the system that such a travesty has managed to occur right under his nose without his awareness.

Perched next to him on the Lynch household's comfortable leather couch, Seth hardly deigns to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation, simply replying, "Dude. I, like, so need to get a boyfriend, first." He rolls his large ochre eyes skyward and scoffs inwardly at the ridiculousness of their current discussion. In all honesty, Seth totally gets what Gabriel is trying to say. Really, he does. It's unusual nowadays for someone his age, though only seventeen, to still be carrying their V-Card. But, as far of he's concerned, it isn't a damn big deal. Not even worth discussing. Definitely not worth the critical, somewhat concerned look Gabe keeps throwing him, shrewd amethyst eyes glowing with a hint of disapproval.

They've been having this same conversation for well over an hour, ever since Seth mistakenly let it slip that he is still not only a virgin male –probably the ONLY virgin male left in their entire high school– but also that he has never been on a date, never had a boyfriend, never had a first kiss, and –God help him– never experienced an orgasm.

Not that he hasn't tired to do the whole solo thing before. It just, well, never felt right. Always awkward and weird and just wrong, wrong, wrong. In no way has it ever been satisfying or relaxing. Not in the least. And as for dating, that just isn't Seth's strong point. Dating consists of too many unknown variables. Too many risks and complications. Too many loopholes for things to fall through. Dating means love and pain and sorrow and happiness and heartbreak and makeups and way too much uncertainty for Seth to handle. There's no control in relationships, and for someone like him, control means everything.

Life is hard enough as it is without that kind of head trip. He'll keep it the way it is, thank you very much.

Of course, Gabriel knows this as well. He knows just about every aspect of Seth's life, just like Seth knows almost every aspect of his. The two are close in a way that most people could never hope to understand, let alone experience. Even so, having heart-to-heart talks about their "feelings" isn't exactly something both young men like to do. Gabriel prefers to not share personal information if he can help it, and Seth may be gayer than a Prada handbag full of rainbows but he's never been the open-book, share-my-feelings-with-the-world type. Regardless, it doesn't change what both are intensely aware about each other. It's a truth neither will admit except in the darkest recesses of their own hearts.

Lonely. They are both so. Freaking. Lonely.

And that, in truth, is the real reason for Gabriel's disapproval. Neither he nor Seth may have said it outright, but it's something they can both sense about the other. It's part of what drove them to befriend one another more than an entire decade ago. Loneliness was the catalyst that began their steady friendship. Loneliness drove them to spend just about each and every waking moment together. And loneliness is what kept their relationship intact throughout years of hectic trials and stressful events that would've driven lesser individuals apart.

For better or worse, Gabriel has been able to stave of his own creeping lonesomeness through various distractions –typically a healthy supply of booze, bud, and women– but Seth? He doesn't have much of anything. He has Gabriel. He has Gabriel's family, the Lynches who love him to death as if he was one of their own.

It's not enough.

They both know it.

They just don't' want to say it. To say it aloud would be to admit the sad, sorry truth. Without the Lynches, Seth is nothing and no one. It hurts too much to say, to think, and so they both simultaneously bury the thought before it has a chance to fully surface.

Instead, they keep the conversation vulgar and crass. They can do vulgar and crass. They can't do concern or sadness.

Knowing that now isn't the time for either of those, Gabriel shrugs off his previous moody thoughts and waves a hand carelessly. "Nah, man. Boyfriend ain't necessary. I'm pretty sure a dick attached to anybody – hell, a strap-on– will do." He grins his Cheshire Cat grin, wide and amicable and oh so devious.

Seth glowers darkly, brushing a wayward lock of dyed green hair out of his pale face. He looks midly irritated but otherwise unaffected by anything Gabe has to say. "Unlike you, I'm not a slut. Nameless sex isn't in my foreseeable future."

"Don't hate just 'cause I'm gettin' some."

"Yeah, from every questionable piece of ass on campus."

Gabe rolls his eyes but can't help grinning wider in response. "And proud of it, too."

Unbidden, a smile blooms across Seth's face effectively banishing the last vestiges of depression from his sweet, adorable features. His demeanor is immediately brighter than before, sending a warm, gooey feeling of happiness through to the very core of Gabriel's heart. The moment is all cute and fluffy and utterly gay, but it makes Gabe feel good inside and that's all that matters. He wishes he could see Seth like this more often. This is the way Seth should look. Carefree and happy. Not with that stupid morose and rather bland expression he usually walks around with in the outside world.

Fuck that.

Seth is one of the most important people in Gabe's life. He means just as much as, if not more than, his family. Gabriel has always believed that Seth should have the best of everything in the world. He deserves the best. He deserves romance and chocolate and compliments and sweet love, even if he says otherwise. There have been times when Gabe has wished it could've been himself. That he could be the one to fill the dark chasm he knows has been growing inside Seth's heart, but he's not naïve enough to believe he ever could be The One.

It's not something most people who meet them understand, but though they're close, they could never work that way. Gabe wouldn't ever be able to give Seth the love, affection, and security he craves. And as much as they love each other, it's completely, without a doubt platonic. In fact, they've both professed on more than one occasion that they'd rather have sex with their own siblings than ever, ever, ever –Sweet Lord, never let it happen– get it on together.

But there is someone out there for Seth.

Gabriel is sure of this.

And someway, somehow, Gabe plans to find it for him.

There's no way in hell he'll be letting Seth graduate high school with his V-Card intact.



Several hours later, after a few reruns of Deadliest Catch and a round of Call of Duty: Black Ops, which Seth sucks at epically, the younger man is in the process of packing up his belongings. Its well into the night and the Lynch household is packed with all its current inhabitants; Gabriel, eight of his siblings, and their two parents, Renee and Hannibal Lynch. Hannibal joined the duo on the couch, happily amused with Seth's rather inept usage of the XBOX controllers. There's something about watching cute, little Seth cursing up a storm while his avatar onscreen is continuously shot, blown-up, stabbed, and re-spawned that just cracks the older, black haired male up.

Hannibal has always thought the kid was adorable, ever since the moment he showed up on their doorstep with Gabriel, both boys eagerly babbling about how they were "gonna be tha bes'est best fweinds anywon eveh seen."

True to their words, the boys have been doing exactly that.

As soon as Seth finishes packing his belongings, Hannibal offers to give him a ride home and Gabriel joins them, as usual. Fifteen minutes later, they're pulling up to a small two-story house in the less fortunate part of the city. Hannibal parks his 2012 ZR1 in the parking lot behind a 2004 F150. He's just about to bid Seth adieu when Gabriel suddenly smacks himself in the forehead, drawing both his and Seth's attention.

"Oh shit, yo," Gabe groans, turning in his passenger seat to view Seth properly. Long strands of his red hair fly all over the place in his haste, smacking Hannibal across the face. He glowers at his son who grins sheepishly, muttering, "Sorry, pops."

Snickering, Seth answers, "What? Forgot something?" His eyes dart to lit windows of his house. He can just make out the vague, shadowy form of someone –most likely his father or older brother– pacing back and forth across the room. A hint of anxiety tickles at the edges of his awareness.

He's late.

Always quick to sense his distress, Gabriel quickly responds, "Yeah, I did, actually. So, guess who's comin' back ta Florida?"

In the driver's seat, Hannibal grins to himself, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel.

Drawing an immediate blank, Seth shrugs. He can't think of who it could possibly be. Someone important, obviously, to have warranted both Lynches' excitement. "I dunno. Who?"

"Oh, come on. I'll give you a hint. His name starts with A and ends with dickhead."

Hannibal starts snickering madly like the crazy ole coot Seth always pegged him for.

He giggles also, completely bemused but interested. "Lulz, who?"

"Azrael, dummy. He's moving back here next week."

The Things I Do To Win You Back…

Like Dress in Drag.

Part 1

"Yo, Seth? Mind turning that frown of yours upside down? Your negative aura is totally throwing off my Feung shui," Gabriel Lynch gripes, expression tinged with a look of annoyance. With a deft, slender fingered hand, he brushes back some of his thick crimson red hair that has fallen into his line of sight, obscuring the view of his friend. The strands are chaotic and tangled as always yet he still manages to make the action seem effortlessly flirtatious. It probably doesn't help that his lips are titled in an everlasting smirk and he radiates nearly staggering levels of 'Lady Killer' vibes.

"Your Feung shui can suck my giant dick," Seth retorts sullenly.

His voice sultry and a few octaves higher than normal, Gabriel hisses, "Oooh, yes." He pulls a faux coy pose and nibbles at his bottom lip, batting his black lashes sweetly. "Sexy pillow talk, baby? You know how much I like it." His bright amethyst eyes dance with mirth.

Seth Reynolds, his bestest of best friend since kindergarten, groans and rubs a hand down his pale face tiredly. His expression furious though amused, he mutters, "Why do I hang out with you again?"

"'Cause you love me."

"Why do I love you again?"

"'Cause I'm your BFFL and you'd be nowhere without me," Gabriel answers easily, lips pulling into a knowing smile. "Face it, man. Without me, you'd be just another loser emo kid sitting in the corner whining about how unfair the world is while slitting your wrists to Evanesce soundtracks."

Against his will, Seth snickers at the mental image. There's no denying that Gabriel is most likely right on all accounts. "Thanks," he replies. Then as an afterthought he adds, "I guess."

Gabriel nods lightly and takes a quick glance around at their surroundings. The duo is seated at one of many picnic tables located in the largest food court of the Broward Mall. It's a fairly busy Friday afternoon meaning lots of young, scantily clad high school girls strutting around arm in arm as they gossip about one thing or another. A few off them catch Gabriel's gaze and he shoots them a playful wink. In unison they blush and look away, tittering to themselves.

Gabriel gives himself a proverbial pat on the back. Hell yeah, bitches and hoes. You know you want some of this.

Not to toot his own horn or anything. It's not his fault he's so damn sexy.

Refocusing, Gabriel returns his attention to his surly companion. Seth is slouched over the table, arms folded across the plastic surface and head resting atop them. His shoulder length rainbow colored hair is pulled into a loose ponytail while his bangs are uncharacteristically brushed away from his face. Seth's pretty brown eyes are darkened by heavy, black bags that stand in stark contrast against his pale complexion. His small, lanky body is clothed in an oversized, old, moth-eaten Disturbed t-shirt and worn-out navy blue basketball shorts with a pair of weather-beaten tennis shoes to finish off the look Gabriel deems 'Epic Bum'.

"You look like shit," Gabriel comments blandly, taking a quick sip of his Icee Coke from Burger King. The drink is mostly melted by now but it's still sweet and cool enough to send a shiver of pleasure down his spine.

Yum-my. No matter how old I get, this shit is just as delicious.

Well, it's not like nineteen is exactly old by anyone's perspective… except maybe a four year old. In that case, he's ancient.

Seth grumbles something under his breath before growling, "Way to boost my already low self-esteem, jerk."

"Always happy to help."

The two sit for awhile in silence, Gabriel impatiently waiting for Seth to say something while Seth continues to look bereft and down on his luck. It's been like this all month and, frankly speaking, it's starting to irritate the hell out of Gabriel.

And what irritates Gabriel typically gets the shit kicked out of it.

Figuratively, of course.

Shocking as it is to most people, Gabriel Lynch is a pacifist through and through.

But in this situation, Gabriel thinks as he notices Seth heaving a huge, weary sigh for the ten millionth time this past month, I'm willing to make an exception if beating Seth's ass means I don't have to hear another one of his emo sighs.

Ever.

Stoically he takes another sip of his drink before letting loose a sigh of his own, deciding to bring up the dreaded 'Forbidden Topic' despite knowing how Seth will react.

Fuck it. It's not like he can get into an even worse mood.

"So," he begins, drawing the word out far more than necessary. He takes a moment to brush his long hair over his shoulder and off his neck. Though they're inside with the air-conditioner going full blast, Gabriel's hair is like a humidity deathtrap from hell. It probably doesn't help that he's dressed in a thick, purple DC hoody, unzipped slightly to showoff hints of his bare, dark mocha colored pectoral muscles. Wrapped tightly around his long legs are a flattering pair of black skinny jeans and his feet are clad in a stylish pair of DC hightop sneakers. "So, when are you and my bro gonna get back together and start fucking again?"

Before Gabriel even finishes the question, Seth's face is already pinched in irritation. He glares at Gabriel heatedly though with how tired he seems, he only manages to look like a surly kitten. "Dude, I told you I don't want to talk about that shit anymore. And for the record, the answer is never." He childishly turns away from Gabriel, pink lips in a pout.

Gabriel has half a mind to smack Seth upside the head as if it'll somehow straighten him out.

Lord in Heaven, if you're listening to me right now, please give the patience to not bash my best friend's face in and then drive home before smacking my stupid older brother around as well. Please? I'd appreciate it big time, man.

Oh, and could you also make them stop being retarded fuckheads and have them go back to being an obnoxiously lovey-dovey couple? As sickening as it is, I prefer it to having them not talk to each other and walking around like soulless zombies.

Unfortunately, soulless zombies are exactly how anyone would describe Seth and Gabriel's older brother Azrael in the last few weeks. Both of them have been living in a state of semi-consciousness while trudging through life like they've got the weight of the world on their shoulders. They've been equally moody, unhappy, and – in Gabriel's opinion – unbearably annoying to be around. And of course they were both far too stubborn and brainless to reconcile whatever issues they were having at the moment.

Well, in truth, Azrael was finally starting to come to his senses. More than once, Gabriel had caught him in the act of dialing Seth's phone number only to chicken out at the last moment and hang up. There were even a few times when Azrael managed to grow some cojones long enough to allow the phone to ring, but in each case the calls went to voicemail.

Not once has Seth returned one of the calls and Gabriel can tell it's really starting to trouble his brother. Azrael has been incredibly distant which is highly unusual considering the fact that he's by far the most outgoing, engaging individual in Gabriel's world. Lately, life has been incredibly strained in the Lynch household with each of the inhabitants tip-toeing around the upset male in fear of saying something that might set him off. Other than the quarreling couple, no one knows for sure what event triggered their sudden break up, but Gabriel would bet his right kidney the catalyst was Azrael's rather infamous temper and occasionally overbearing possessiveness.

Honestly, in the end Z's possessiveness was bound to get on Seth's nerves but Gabriel is surprised at just how explosive their falling out was and that it actually resulted in them breaking up. Especially for so long. The two used to be glued at the hips and now they're avoiding each other for all they're worth.

Although Gabriel is so beginning to think all the avoidance is solely on Seth's part. There is no denying that Gabriel loves Seth like his own flesh and blood, but he'd be the first to point out that his best friend has a nasty habit of holding grudges for far too long. Too often, Seth will allow his anger at someone to grow and fester until it grows out of control.

But this is where Gabriel and his penchant for meddling – AKA helping – comes in handy.

Time to come up with a plan.

For a few quiet minutes, Gabriel racks his brain for some way to reunite the two lovers that isn't likely to result in him getting his ass kicked. Good intentions aside, neither Azrael not Seth take kindly to being set up. He knows whatever he comes up with had better be elaborate and entertaining enough to keep either his brother or friend from coming after him with pitchforks.

"Hey," he begins suddenly, startling Seth out of his pity party. "Hypothetically speaking, if Z apologized to you in person," at this Seth groans again but Gabriel continues adamantly, "would you take him back?"

Rolling his eyes, Seth is quick to counter, saying, "When does Azrael ever apologize for being a douche?"

"Huh… You've got a valid point there," Gabriel mutters, nose wrinkling in distaste.

Azrael has only ever apologized for his behavior a small handful of times. Whether right or wrong, he's a firm believer in sticking with whatever he says. Chances are, if he tells you he hates your guts and hopes you rot in a disease laden pit filled with maggots, leeches, and other creepy crawly shit… he probably means it. Actually, now that Gabriel thinks about it, the only person he has ever seen his idiot older brother apologize to for upsetting is their mother but that didn't even happened more than on a couple occasions and it was usually because their father threatened to cut his dick off if he didn't.

Before Gabriel can ask any more questions, Seth continues on his train of thought, "And who the hell says I even want him back anyway? I'm doing perfectly fine without him."

Gabriel snorts rudely, just barely managing to hold back his sudden urge to fall into a fit of giggles.

Frowning harshly, Seth growls, "I can take of myself. I did it before I met him; I can do it now without him." His brown eyes gain an angry light as he sits up and folds his arms across his slender chest. Gabriel supposes the action is meant to create a tough, independent air but it only makes him think Seth looks like an adorable little boy. "I don't need him or anyone else babying me," Seth finishes angrily.

Gabriel cocks a dark brow in a look of skepticism. "Bullshit. Like hell you don't. Half the time you can't even remember to eat during the day without someone reminding you."

Seth's cheeks instantly color bright red, realizing that Gabriel is right. It's not exactly something to joke about, but Seth has a horrible habit of becoming so busy during the day that he neglects to eat or drink properly which inevitably results in him crashing in the evening. While they were dating, Azrael – mother-hen that he is – made it his job to ensure that Seth was always properly taken care of. It seems without Azrael's constant fussing and worry, Seth is being to revert back to his old, neglectful ways.

Gabriel would love to gloat and savor his small triumph, but he has more important things on his mind. However; as soon as this entire fiasco is behind them and Azrael and Seth are back together, he has every intention of celebrating his awesomeness. "Oh, and don't pretend you dislike the way Azrael takes care of you. Its part of the reason you two work so well together. You're lazy as fuck and all he wants to do is anything and everything that makes you happy."

As if he has nothing better left to counter with, Seth mutters weakly, "Azrael's an asshole."

Aww, Gabriel's mind quips, you actually think that makes for a valid argument? How sweet.

Unable to help but smile at his friend's rather immature behavior, Gabriel calmly says, "Dude, we've know each other since we were six." Technically, he was six and Seth was five but whatever; a little inaccuracy isn't a big deal. "Don't tell me you didn't figure out my bro is an asshole years ago."

Seth pouts and replies, "He's aggressive."

Yeah, and you aren't?

If he wasn't worried about pushing the wrong buttons, Gabriel would gladly call Seth out on it. He may not be outwardly aggressive in the way Azrael is but he definitely has the potential to be just as hostile and formidable when he wants. And when it comes to passive aggressiveness and revenge, Seth is king.

Gabriel drinks the last of his Icee Coke before setting the empty container down on the mostly clean picnic table. Save for an empty box of Number 12 Chicken Tenders and accompanying large fries the two friends shared, it's completely bare. Gabriel turns his amethyst eyes to Seth, staring him down with his penetrating gaze. "Now you're just fishing for excuses, man."

"Shut up," Seth grunts, emphasizing his annoyance by kicking Gabriel in the shin under the table.

Gabriel refuses to let up. "Did he ever hit you?"

Startled, Seth's eyes widen and cries, "What?! No!"

"Did you ever feel like he was going to?"

"No."

Gabriel grins. "So what the fuck is the problem again?"

Peeved, Seth glowers at Gabriel heatedly. "The problem is you need to learn how to mind your own damn business."

"As if. The problem is you need to learn how to let go of a fucking grudge. You may think that you're somehow punishing Z or getting back at him for being a dick, but all you're doing is fucking up yourself and him over this shit." Noticing the way Seth's face falls with each word, Gabriel pauses a moment to look him over. Seth is no longer looking into his eyes. His head is cast to the side and though he tries to seem unaffected, Gabriel knows he's hit the nail on the head. He feels a small pang of regret at pushing the issue like he's been, but he also knows it's for the best. Seth is pretty pigheaded; it'll do him some good to have someone pound a bit of sense into that thick skull of his. "I know you, Seth. You want him back but you're too proud to tell him."

Seth, silent and aloof, doesn't confirm or deny the accusation.

But it's okay that he doesn't because as they sit there in the ensuing silence, a plan so ingenious and dastardly begins to formulate in Gabriel's clever mind. A plan so cunning and innovative it's bound to down in history forevermore.

I am. A motherfucking. Genius.

Now, all that's left to do is put his plan into action and Gabriel knows just how to do it. Catching Seth's attention, he asks, "Yo, you're going to Matty's fag queen show later tonight, right?"

Seth rolls his eyes skyward and points a finger at his multicolored hair. "I wouldn't have made a gay pride parade out of my hair if I wasn't planning on it," he replies bluntly.

"Ha! Truth," Gabriel concedes. Abruptly, he pushes back his seat and stands from the table, towering over Seth at his full height of 5'11. Seth turns his head up, shooting him an inquisitive look. Grinning, Gabriel quickly says, "Stay here. I'll be back in five," before heading out into the crowd of shoppers.

Gabriel walks until he's a decent distance from his companion before whipping out a black cellular phone from his back pocket. He swiftly flips the device open and dials the number of his half-brother Matthew Ashton Lynch, also known as Matty or Mal. Though Matthew is still a very young eighteen year old, he has made himself into a successful entrepreneur, creating his own clothing line geared towards eccentrically dressed drag queens. Matthew himself is a transsexual woman – meaning he defines himself as female – but for convenience sake most people refer to him with male identifiers.

By the second ring, Matthew is on the other line and Gabriel is giving him a quick layout of his brilliant scheme to reunite Azrael and Seth. "So, what do you say, babe? Think you can open up a spot in the line-up? This is gonna be EPIC."

Futuristic Lover

You're so hypnotizing
Could you be the devil? Could you be an angel?
Your touch magnetizing
Feels like I am floating, leaves my body glowing

The first day of the alien invasion was pure and utter chaos. They came without warning and without notice. Like silent assailants in the night, they slipped discreetly past the nations' defenses until countless exotically shaped spacecrafts touched down in each and every major city across the globe.

They left no room for escape.

Within a mere moment, the indigenous human population was beset by sudden panic and uncertainty of the unknown. World leaders joined together as one for the first time in years. Plans for a preemptive strike were drawn. Theories of why the alien's came were explored. Peaceful alternatives to war were discussed. The nations' military powers were mobilized and ready for war. They spread themselves as evenly as they could amongst the crafts, ready to do battle with the extraterrestrial intruders from planets unknown.

Throughout all this, the world waited on baited breathes.

The aliens, who had yet to show themselves, sat patiently without a word.

By the second day of the invasion, a preemptive strike had been unanimously decided upon, whether by logical or fear-based reasoning is fairly questionable. With almost simultaneous precision, soldiers fired upon the UFOs with delight. Submachine weapons were fired first, their deafening clamor echoing throughout the cities and causing the inhabitants to cringe. After the submachines were heavy artillery weapons. Once those were used up, the military switched to precision, remote-detonated explosives.

Not one managed to put even a scratch on the surface of the spaceships.

And what odd spaceships they were. Nothing that had ever been dreamed up in a comic book, science-fiction movie, or novel. Peculiarly shaped, they closely resemble massive impressions of the devilfish, or manta ray, which reside in the Earth's ocean. The hull, pearl colored with a polished gleam, spans roughly five hundred by four hundred feet with a height of two-fifty. Wing-like appendages rest at its sides while a short tail-like rudder emerges from the back. Though the ships do not leave their posts and no extraterrestrial chose to emerge, many reports of the ship itself moving quickly spread across the country.

A ripple of a wing here; a twitch of the tail there.

Any effort made by the military to get closer than fifty feet to crafts were met with resistance. It was as if there was an intangible barrier surrounding the ships that kept outsiders from drawing near.

On the third day… on the third day the aliens revealed themselves to the world and the world was immediately taken aback by their otherworldly beauty.

Standing stoically in a circular formation around their spacecrafts, a hundred or so of the creatures appeared out of the blue. News and military helicopters flying overhead captured the same phenomenon at each and every UFO sites. Tall and slender humanoid forms, lean and long-limbed gods and goddesses that epitomize perfection. Though each alien's skin, eye, and hair color differs from the other, in the way each human differs from their brethren, they all have a few common traits of their race. Large, almond shaped luminescent eyes and Elvin ears. Firm, flawless skin. Their hair is long and thick with odd stark white tendrils that move about with a will of their own. Their lips are a deep aquatic blue while the sclera is an infinite dark black. Their nails, long and more like talons, glimmer with an iridescent brightness in the harsh sunlight. And marking their erogenous faces are gorgeous spotted designs that run from their temples, dance along their prominent cheekbones, and end at the line of their jaw.

They are dressed in skintight, one-piece suits that cover them from neck to feet. The suits are predominately white though a good few of aliens wear a dark royal blue.

Lacking any official classification, they were aptly dubbed 'Beautés' by news and magazine reporters.

They say be afraid
You're not like the others, futuristic lover
Different DNA
They don't understand you

Several more days pass with the Beautés maintaining their silent vigil. They stare fearlessly into the eyes of the gathered military men, either ignorant or indifferent of the numerous weapons aimed directly at them. Mayors, governors, and others of political powers have tried on many occasions to make contact with the aliens but to no avail. They ask questions of Who, What, and Why but never receive an answer in reply.

As the days have go on, the fear and anger that once smothered the nations' people has given way to curiosity. Slowly at first, but with increasing numbers, regular citizens have been edging their way towards the UFO sites, in hopes of seeing the celestial being's with their very own eyes.

Standing in an open field and situated in one of the many growing crowds, seventeen year old Seth Reynolds leans up on the tips of his toes in an effort to see over the taller men blocking his view of the alien spacecraft. Though average height, he has a slight, lanky build more of a little boy than a young man. His untidy shoulder-length hair is dyed dark green with the tips dipped in inky black. His eyes, large and brown, are framed by long dark lashes. Creamy pale skin, a gift of his Asian ancestry, pouty pink hued lips, and a button nose give him what many deem a 'cute' appearance.

He is dressed for the relatively cool Floridian weather; clothed in jean shorts, a light gray sweater with a black undershirt, and worn out track shoes.

Surrounding Seth are many different people all jostling and jibing against one another for the best place to stand. Though their elbows are repeatedly shoved carelessly into his side, he refuses to vacate his position no matter the cost. To him, a few moments of discomfort are well-worth the awe of seeing real, living, breathing extraterrestrials from space.

For as long as Seth can remember, aliens and other supernatural beings had always been a fascination for him. The chance of actually seeing, or even meeting, one of the creatures he had grown up believing to exist is a fortune he is unwilling to give up.

Unlike a great deal of the population, when the Beautés first arrived all those many days ago Seth had felt ecstatic. It was something new and exciting, something unimaginable and incredible. But he can't say he was surprised to see the existence of aliens verified. Deep in his heart, Seth could always sense that the universe held more sentient life that what is found on Earth.

Lingering further away from him, Seth's family holds a more reserved, intolerant view towards the alien species. Just beneath the noise of his neighbors, Seth can make out his father's snide comments and his mother's nervous titter.

Jerr Reynolds, self-proclaimed redneck and reluctant father of four, growls and grumbles under his breath. "God damn abominations. We should just nuke the whole lot of them."

Overhearing this, it takes all of Seth's willpower to keep from rolling his eyes skyward especially when he hears his mother's timid little affirmatives. He can just imagine the site of her standing next to her husband and habitually wringing her hands from nervousness. Sure enough, when he takes a glance back in their direction his mother, Nami Reynolds, is in that exact pose. Flanked on either side of her and Jerr are Seth's two older siblings, Jared and Sarah, looking characteristically bored. Chris, his younger brother, clings to Jared's leg as big fat tears run down his chubby cheeks and he begs for them to take him home.

Seth doesn't understand how they could not be excited.

This is history in the making. The first time in written history that mankind and alienkind have interacted on such a large scale basis.

While his family may want to go and hideaway in their home, Seth wants to be out in the open at the UFO site and remaining in the crowd. He wants to be closer to the aliens, in their midst and holding conversations. He wants to know what they are like. Where they are from. What they eat and what they do. What they love and hate and cherish.

He wants to be up there.

A small opening in the crowd brightens Seth's mood. It's a tight fit but he's just about small enough to fit through.

But as Seth steps forward a sudden piercing scream rings throughout the group.

The crowd immediately panics.

People begin to scream and run in all directions.

The aliens have begun to move.

You're from a whole other world
A different dimension
You open my eyes
And I'm ready to go, lead me into the light

Like unstoppable forces of nature with no equal, the aliens march in synch with one another. The military men are quick to react, at first firing warning shots at the advancing army of supernaturals and demanding them to stop.  When that doesn't manage to deter them, the soldiers begin firing straight at the Beautés using years of honed skill to take out the aliens as quickly as possible.

It quickly becomes apparent that all their training was for naught.

Just as with the ship, an impenetrable barrier surrounds each individual space invader, protecting them from the hail of bullets. In a daring attempt, soldiers hurl a cascade of hand-grenades into the mix in hopes that it'll blow their enemies away. The bombs go off, one raucous boom after another. The earth quakes with the force of the bombs' explosive power. Humans, soldiers and civilians alike, tense in morbid expectation.

For a moment things seem calm and the people breathe a sigh of relief.

That is, until the dust clears and reveals the site of the aliens, calm and collected as always, advancing once again.

Panicked cries of "Fall back! Fall back!" and "Get these people out of here!" spur everyone back into action.

Farther away from the commotion, Seth can't make out exactly what is going on but he knows something terrible has definitely happened. There are smoke clouds everywhere. People are still yelling. Guns are being fired.

It's complete mayhem.

Spinning on his heel, Seth turns to where his family used to be but they are nowhere in sight. Frantic, he tries jumping up and down to see over the heads of passersby. He looks in each direction but can't seem to locate his parents. With the crowd surging around him, Seth is knocked back and forth, tossed and thrown about as people try to escape the field. Some of them step on his toes; others end up hitting him in the face. A few of them slam into him so hard it causes him to double over in pain dry heaving.

Just as he's swallowed up by the throng stampeding humans, Seth hears Jerr's roaring voice alongside Nami's terrified crying. "See! See! What did I tell you all? What did I tell you?"

Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me
Infect me with your love and
Fill me with your poison

The aliens are harvesting humans by sense of smell. They march into the squirming masses, bypassing some and picking off others. They walk with their noses held high as they delicately scent the air for whatever it is their looking for. The flowing tendrils within their hair reach out and slither against the bodies around them. Though people try to escape they're inevitable caught within the steel embrace of the invaders.

No escape.

The Beautés gather their captured prey into their arms before turning back to their ship where they deposit the goods and head back out for more. They do this like clockwork. Quick and efficient movements that insure a good deal of humans are harvested and brought back to the ship where they disappear from sight.

The extraterrestrials have finally reached the point where Seth can easily make out what they're doing. Mesmerized, he can't help but stare in wonder as a dainty female Beautée with light pink spots lifts a grown six foot man into the air and settles him over her shoulder. With fluid grace, she treks back in the direction of the spaceship, completely ignoring the man as he hollers and beats against her back with his large fists.

The sight sends a thrill of both fear and excitement down Seth's spine. He is both captivated and repulsed.

Take me, ta-ta-take me
Wanna be a victim
Ready for abduction

Seth is truly frightened. He doesn't understand why all of this is happening or what changed. He doesn't know what the aliens want from the people they've captured. He can't figure out why they take some but not all. There are no noticeable similarities between the people taken. Male and female. Young and old. Black, white, Hispanic, and Asian. Height and weight don't seem to play a factor.

Some are simply chosen, and some aren't.

Some are deemed worthy while others are brushed to the side.

It nearly sickens Seth when he realizes he'd rather be one of the chosen. He would rather be one of the worthy few who board the ship. He'd rather be on the alien spacecraft than stand on the sidelines and watch as it flew away. As scary as the situation is, he wants to go. He wants to join them and be a part of all that chaos. He wants to see it all for himself, up close and personal.

Boy, you're an alien
Your touch so foreign
It's supernatural
Extraterrestrial

Seth battles his way through the crowd, pushing and shoving back against anyone in his way. Hopelessly lost, he flits back and forth from one direction to the next seeking out any familiar features in the sea of faces. There are too many people encircling him to make out much of anything. And the more time Seth spends alone, the more distressed he becomes. His molten brown eyes grow wet with unshed tears of frustration as he continues his frenzied search.

In vain, he cries out for his mother and siblings, pleading for them to respond, but his voice is easily consumed by the terrified shouts for help all around him.

"Mom!" he tries again stubbornly. "Jared; Sarah! Where are you?"

The other people, equally lost and confused as him, echo their own pleas for help.

It's only been five minutes since he lost sight of his family but it already feels like an eternity in hell.

Backpedalling, Seth turns around just in time to see the crowd open up for a mere moment. His mother is kneeling in the muck and dirt, unconcerned that her favorite white skirt is ruined, as she sobs into her arms. Jared stands loyally at her side with a tearful Chris held in his arms. Sarah has her arms wrapped around Nami as she tries to soothe their mother.

In the distance, Jerr is running away, leaving his family behind.

You're so supersonic
Wanna feel your powers, stun me with your lasers
Your kiss is cosmic
Every move is magic

The human citizens begin to fight back against the extraterrestrial forces. Many of them wield various firearms of their own. They shoot alongside their allies but lacking the finesse of the trained military combatants, they prove to be more of a hindrance than a source of aid. Held in shaky uncoordinated hands, the guns are fired wildly; most of the bullets don't even land near the Beautés. Innocent men, women, and children are caught in the blaze of fire and are brought to their death within an instant.

People without guns grab hold of any objects they can find lying around. Broken branches, glass bottles, wooden boards and more. They attack the aliens fiercely, swinging their makeshift clubs like Neanderthal cavemen.

To their further dismay, the weapons shatter on impact leaving no damage.

Others quickly realize that using just their fists against the Beautés is an awful decision as well. No matter how hard they punch, kick, bite, and scratch the invaders remain unfazed and unharmed. More often than not, people who attack the aliens with bare fists end up with broken bones and dislocated fingers.

Though supple and delicate looking, the aliens' skin is like hardened, reinforced steel. The spacesuit that seemed rubber-like at first is just as impenetrable as the rest of them.

You're from a whole other world
A different dimension
You open my eyes
And I'm ready to go, lead me into the light

The view of his family only lasts for a mere moment before Seth is once again swept away by the crowd. Bemused and with no sense of direction, he unknowingly heads towards the alien spaceship and advancing army. By now, the Beautés have closed in on his location. They round up humans against their will, tossing them over shoulders or gathering them under their arms. Their strange inverted eyes callously take in the sight of the humans' continuous resistance. With their rigid facial features and blue lips set into identical frowns, the string-like wisps of dancing hair are the only animated aspect of their bodies.

A young woman bleeding from a head wound barrels pass Seth at full speed, nearly throwing him off balance. Seth just barely manages to right himself in time to keep himself from going down. If he hadn't, it's likely the mob of crazed humans and aloof aliens would have trampled him to death.

He shudders at the close call and breathes a sigh of relief but his elation swiftly dies out.

Looming a meager five feet away is a blue-spotted male Beauté whose sky blue eyes are locked on Seth. Like all the other aliens, his irises are luminescent and set in a dark sclera. Abundant walnut colored hair falls effortlessly down his lithe back. Unlike most, he's one of the very few dressed in a dark blue suit.

The alien's head tips to the side as he regards Seth curiously. He delicately sniffs the air in Seth's direction and his eyes light up.

Seth freezes.

The Beauté smiles.

Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me
Infect me with your love and
Fill me with your poison

Gradually Seth edges his way in the opposite direction, careful to keep his balance with each step. His worried brown eyes stay focused on the Beauté as if he fears what will happen should he looks away. While Seth can't say he's adverse to the idea of entering the alien spacecraft – it's far too exciting for him to be against it – he also can't say he feels comfortable with an alien giving him such an interested look. He has absolutely no inkling of what could possibly put such a fascinated appearance on the extraterrestrial's normally mild features.

Seth doesn't believe there is anything exceptional about him. He isn't especially smart or attractive. He isn't well toned or athletic. He is pale and skinny and uncoordinated. He lacks any notable skills or useful talents. Other than his strangely dyed hair there isn't any trait of his that sticks out. Nothing flashy enough to garner attention.

He turns to run away but there is no point. Before he even has a chance to take off, a powerful set of clawed hands grasp his arms from behind. Startled, Seth vehemently tugs against the hands holding him prisoner. "Let me go!"

To his surprise, the blue eyed alien does just that. Without warning, Seth is released. The sudden freedom causes him to pitch forward and slam into the ground, smashing his knees and the palms of his hands into the hard, packed soil. Grunting, Seth ignores the painful ache in his body. All he cares about is getting away from his attacker.

Before he has a chance to escape the extraterrestrial is at his side. A strong hand wraps around his arm and graceful lifts him to his feet. Unsure of what the alien wants, Seth gazes mutely as the creature begins rambling in a foreign tongue. The alien angles himself toward the sleek spacecraft as he continues talking, free hand gesturing towards the ship wildly.

Anxious and frustrated, Seth shakes his head violently, sweat-drenched green and black strands flying into his eyes. "I don't understand," he mumbles, attempting to pull his arm away again. "I don't know what you want."

While pointing in the direction of the ship, the peculiar Beauté tugs at his arm and says the first and only word Seth can understand. "Please." He looks up at Seth, his crystalline eyes imploring before he angles himself towards the ship again, rumbling something in his language. "Fremre set ur vae. Please."

Brow raised, Seth follows his line of sight.

There, right at the base of the hovering spacecraft, another alien materializes from thin air. He's taller and broader than the others as well as the only one donning a black suit.

It's strange…

Though Seth can't even make out the newcomer's features, his heart begins to race all the same.

Take me, ta-ta-take me
Wanna be a victim
Ready for abduction

The alien at Seth's side perks up as the other takes off in their direction, long legs aiding his swift pace. Remaining armed forces who have yet to die, be harvested, or flee engage him in combat. They fire with whatever loaded weapons they carry, roaring with pent up fury and itching to take it out on any foe in sight. As usual the bullets cease before tearing through their intended target and litter the ground worthlessly. A solider at his wits end charges the oncoming alien, fists flying as he curses the celestial being to hell.

Without breaking his stride, the Beauté carelessly bats the human aside as if swatting an irritating fly out of his way. With a startled cry, the soldier flies high into the air before crashing to the ground in a pile of twitching limbs.

The other human soldiers, enraged at the treatment of their comrade, senselessly rush the Beauté. However; after only a few steps they are brought to their knees, each of them clutching their heads as they scream in anguish.

The Beauté casually steps over the fallen warriors and continues on his way.

Seth watches the entire confrontation, slack-jawed and his eyes wide in awe. A tremor of fear and anticipation wracks his body as he gasps, "Holy shit."

The pretty blue eyed alien attached to his arm rolls his eyes and mutters, "Fremre set khafk volo, da vek."

It only takes a few short moments for the strange extraterrestrial to reach them.

His gaze is wholly set on Seth.

Boy, you're an alien
Your touch so foreign
It's supernatural
Extraterrestrial

Seth quickly comes to the conclusion that the black garbed alien is easily the most otherworldly, ethereal creature he's ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Long, white hair with a silver sheen flows gracefully down to the small of his back in thick locks. He's easily a full head taller than Seth with broad shoulders and toned, sinewy muscles heightened by the tight fabric of his clothing. His softly tanned skin compliments the attractive onyx colored alien markings that decoratively run along his temples, down to his jawbone, and rests along the nape of his neck where they disappear beneath the collar of his suit. Just as with the other Beautés, within his hair are pure white tendrils that shift and move on their own, his lips are a dark blue, and his talon-like nails appear wickedly lethal.

But what Seth finds most captivating about the new arrival are his exquisite eyes bordered by dark lashes. The irises are a striking bold yellow surrounded by a thin layer of burnt crimson. They shine with a fierce, animalistic light that is both mocking and smug.

Seth doesn't have the chance to say anything before the alien's eyes roam impassively over his body and he begins to circle Seth predatorily while sniffing the air around him.

Seth's entire body flushes with heat and he feels his face redden under the other's scrutiny. He knows it's ridiculous how quickly his body reacts to the other. He can't help the way his heart jumps in his chest, his eyes fall to half-mast, or his pulse begins to race. He can't help that he blushes and fidgets nervously every time he catches a hint of the Beauté's confident smirk.

He can't stop himself and he doesn't care. Right now, none of that matters to him at all.

The nameless alien comes to a rest at last, his head cocked to the side with a thoughtful though satisfied look on his face.

So focused on the other, Seth doesn't notice the departure of the blue eyed alien. He doesn't notice the battling that still goes on around him. He doesn't think about his family. He doesn't try to figure out why this is all happening. He is just living in the moment, here and now.

In a trance-like state, he reaches out and brushes the tips of his fingers across the handsome alien's cheekbones. His gaze locked on eerie yellow eyes, he whispers, "Who are you?"

This is transcendental
On another level
Boy, you're my lucky star

The alien tips his head back and laughs.

Reflexively, Seth draws back in surprise at the sudden outburst. He isn't quite sure why the alien is laughing or whether he is being laughed at, but he doesn't appreciate it at all. Seth is just about snap at the other when the Beauté opens his mouth displaying a light blue tongue and speaks.

"I do not think you could say my name in your language," he says, voice low and rumbling, words slightly accented by his native alien language. The words come across musical and lilting, and very pleasant to the ears. Though his English is well pronounced, his S's come out in a soft hiss.

It's a rather endearing trait that puts a small smile on Seth's lips before the alien's words sink in. Taken aback, Seth shifts his weight from one leg to another as he itches him arm agitatedly. It has been a nervous habit of his for as long as he can remember. Worrying his lip between his teeth, Seth eventually replies, "Then what should I call you?"

The alien is quick to answer. "Give me a name," he replies easily. "Call me anything you like."

Seth frowns and shoots the Beauté a disbelieving stare. He wonders for a moment if this is a joke or a test of sorts. If he says a name the alien likes, does that mean he will be taken to the ship? If he guesses wrong, then will he be turned away and left behind?

He isn't positive which option would be best but he is sure of one thing and that is what to name his new infatuation. "Azrael," Seth declares strongly. 'Azrael' is a name for both an angel and a god of Death. A fitting title, one that Seth has always thought highly of.

The Beauté – Azrael – tilts his head in a respectful bow as he agrees, "Azrael, it is." Then, he takes Seth's hands into one of his and pulls him closer until their bodies touch intimately. Seth' slight frame fits perfectly alongside his larger build as if they are two puzzle pieces brought together at last. Azrael gently inclines Seth's head upwards until their eyes meet. "And what should I call you, sheifa?"

It takes Seth a while to answer. Being this close to the god-like alien nearly makes him dizzy with arousal. Everything about Azrael is stimulating to his senses. His looks. His voice. The way his body feels pressed against Seth's. He even finds Azrael's scent, a musky masculine aroma, arousing.

Seth finally responds with a mumbled, "My name is Seth." He pauses, face scrunching up in a look of uncertainty, "Um, nice to meet you?" As soon as the words leave his mouth, he immediately regrets them. Seth cringes, berating himself and wishing he could take them back as if he fears he may have ruined whatever impression Azrael has on him. He hurries to cover his blunder and asks, "Why are you here?"

A good question, indeed. One the whole world has wanted answered for such a long time now.

However, Seth doesn't mean it in that context. In fact, it never occurs to him to ask why Azrael and his fellow alien's came to Earth. He only wants to know why Azrael left the safety of his ship and came to him.

Knowing exactly what Seth is thinking Azrael grins widely, his cheeks dimpling cutely. "My brother. He told me he found something interesting. He told me that I would like it very much."

"Brother?"

"He was here with you. He held you while I walked over."

The pretty Beauté with the blue spots, Seth realizes. But his mind isn't on that anymore. Not with the thought of 'something Azrael likes' swirling through his head. Peeking up through the chaotic strands of hair obscuring his vision, Seth whispers, "Do you? Like what you see, I mean." He hopes so because he most definitely likes what he sees. Azrael smirks and leans in causing Seth to shiver delightfully. Already in anticipation of something more he stands on the tips of his toes, arching his body into Azrael in the process.

Azrael's yellow eyes burn with an intense passion. "Very, very much," he says, punctuating each word emphatically. Slow as molasses, he dips his head downwards, his alien tongue peeking out to stroke seductively along the line of Seth's jaw, sampling the salty flesh. Other than a mousey squeak of surprise from the human, he meets no resistance. Azrael releases a soft sigh that tickles Seth's cheek before roaming his way back down Seth's boyish face in search of his full lips.

He presses the softest of kisses against them.

It's such a simple kiss.

Yet it blows Seth's mind away and leaves him weak in the knees.

I wanna walk on your wave length
And be there when you vibrate
For you I'll risk it all, all

Seth doesn't think he has ever been this giddy over such a little thing in so long. Certainly not since he was a young boy with no cares or worries, just enjoying life and living it to the fullest. Not before Jerr lost his job and became an abusive husband and father. Before Jared and Sarah grew cold and decided to distance themselves from the family. Not since Chris was born putting more strain on the family when they already couldn't afford to feed the members they had.

He knows right now his brown eyes are glazed over and he has the dopiest of grins stretched across his face but he couldn't care less.

He's happy.

Azrael quirks a black eyebrow in an inquiring manor as he inclines his head towards the hovering UFO. "Will you come with me?" he asks.

Seth nods.

There is no hesitation.

There is no doubt.

The answer is instantaneous and certain.

"Yes."

Azrael's gaze bores into Seth's and he searches the human's pale face for any shadow of doubt. Stroking a cool finger across Seth's bottom lip, he confirms, "Are you positive?"

Sighing, Seth takes a serious moment to think it over.

Earth is home. It always has been and always will be. It's where he was born. Where he lost his first tooth. Where he had his first crush. Where he learned how to ride a bike and skateboard. It's where his family is. His mother Nami, subservient and weak-willed but a kind woman at heart. His brothers and sister. Jared with his calm, self-assuredness. Sarah and her indifferent ways. Little Chris who clings to their older brother like a lifeline. And then there is his father Jerr; a cold, selfish man who treats others like dirt but Seth nonetheless loves.

He loves them all but the thought of them doesn't change anything.

They don't need him. Never have. It may hurt them at first but his absence won't be missed for long.

He looks to Azrael, brows set in a stern expression. "I'm ready."

Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me
Infect me with your love and
Fill me with your poison

Seth doesn't believe in love at first site. It is by far one of the most ludicrous notions he has ever heard. The idea that two people who had nothing in common can meet and fall in love absolutely baffles him. The way he sees it, 'true love' is a vision for little girls and their fairytales; not the real world. Yet, the more time he spends in Azrael's presence the more he realizes there is no denying the fact that he can already feel some great and powerful emotions blooming for the white haired alien walking steadily at his side.

Azrael is clasping his hand securely as he leads them back to the spacecraft, speaking in low tones that make Seth's head swoon from desire.

Both are completely oblivious to their surroundings, much too involved in other to pay attention. No more soldiers attack. There are none left with the capability to battle. Even if there were, Seth has a hunch that it wouldn't matter.

With Azrael he is safe and protected.

Take me, ta-ta-take me
Wanna be a victim
Ready for abduction

The alien invaders have completed their harvest. Synchronized as always, they turn back to their spaceship leaving a field of fallen soldiers and rejected humans in their wake.

Seth and Azrael are within their midst. Unlike the others, they move quickly through the crowd, eager to depart Earth and enter space. They bypass the Beautés and reach the hull of the ray-like spaceship. It gleams brightly in the afternoon sun as if it's a beacon, a symbol of freedom and relief.

For Seth, this is the most momentous occasion in his life. It is an unanticipated development in his previously mundane life. He knows as soon as he boards the spacecraft that he will leave Earth.

And he won't be coming back.

Whatever happens after this can't be undone.

Glancing back for second, Seth has one last thought of his family. He wonders if they know where he is or what he is doing. He wonders if they will hate him for it.

He hopes one day they could understand.

The bright lights of the ship envelope him and Azrael.

Within an instant, they are gone.

Boy, you're an alien
Your touch so foreign
It's supernatural
Extraterrestrial

The interior of the spacecraft is amazingly complex in its design. As large as it seemed from the outside, it is easily three times that size within. The walls are an off-white color with strange, thin lines that distinctly reminds Seth of veins and arteries throughout a living creature. The floor is oddly spongy and elastic. It is firm enough that Seth doesn't sink into the floor as he walks through the ship but it does give slightly with each step. And like memory foam in mattresses, it immediately springs back into its original shape. With a closer look at his surroundings, he notices that even the walls of the ship are undulating in a rhythmic motion.

The ship, which he first thought of as a machine, is actually a cybernetic organism.

Seth immediately gets the urge to badger Azrael with questions about the craft; how it was made, how it functions, what it is capable of. He would have done so if they didn't come across a holding pen where hundreds of terrified men and woman are kept. The pen is large enough to comfortably hold its imprisoned inhabitants but it doesn't do anything to ease their fear. Surrounding the cage are a few dozen white suited Beautés acting as sentries.

Angered, Seth rips his hand from Azrael's hold and rounds on the alien. His hands are balled into tight fists at his side as he growls, "If you think for even a moment that I'm going in there, you are sorely mistaken."

Expression appearing slightly affronted, Azrael says calmly, "I would not dream of ever doing such a thing."

Seth's brow creases in thought as he stares up into Azrael's seemingly genuine expression. The alien's head is tipped to the side and his yellow eyes glow with a light of sincerity. Though Seth hardly knows the extraterrestrial or has any familiarity with him, he decides to trust him anyway. He has done so already by willingly coming upon the ship; it couldn't hurt to put his faith in the Beauté. "Alright," he concedes, "I believe you but will you tell me why they're in there? Or why you came to Earth?"

Azrael's brows dip into a dark frown as he replies, "Later. I will tell you later. Promise."

He turns and walks away.

Seth wants to object and demand an answer now but he doesn't. He shoots one more dismal look at the frightened human beings before following Azrael deeper into the ship.

Extraterrestrial

They enter what Seth assumes to be a command center of sorts. Busy, blue clad Beautés are situated all over the place, flitting from one area to another in preparation for liftoff. Azrael directs him to an empty seating zone before disappearing into the throng of space aliens. Feeling like an outsider looking in, Seth spends his time observing how the aliens move about fluidly and speak in soft tones. Nearby Beautés give him passing glances but none question his presence in their headquarters.

He eventually spots Azrael across the room speaking to the only other Beauté in sight dressed in a black space suit. The man is tall and broad shouldered like Azrael with inky black hair. Unlike the other aliens Seth has seen so far, his hair and the feeler-like tendrils within them are short, stopping a few inches above his shoulder blades.  Seth can't quite make out the alien's eye color or the hue of his markings, but he can safely assume that unknown extraterrestrial is just as beautiful as the others. Standing behind the conversing duo is the blue eyed alien from before; Azrael's brother. He catches Seth's probing gaze and waves heartily.

Awkwardly, Seth returns the action.

It only takes a few more moments for Azrael to finish his conversation and come back to Seth, grinning with his features set in a cocky, self-satisfied expression.

Extraterrestrial

Seth relaxes as Azrael perches himself in the seat beside him. He smiles at the look on the alien's face and the way even his feelers are moving more rapidly as if they're affected by his emotions. A few of them reach out to Seth, brushing against his face and causing him to giggle. The appendages are surprisingly cool and incredibly smooth. Seth plays with the strands, marveling at the way the wrap around his finger. He glances up at Azrael and asks, "Can you control them?"

Azrael shakes his head minutely, not enough to dislodge them from Seth's finger. "No. Not very well. They do what they want."

"They're cute."

"We call them tiable."

"Tee-abe-la?"

Azrael snickers. "Close enough." They sit for a moment in silence until Azrael murmurs, "This is your last chance to change your mind. Once we leave, I won't ever bring you back here."

Smiling, Seth nods though he keeps his attention on the tiable clutching him sweetly. "I'm counting on it."

Azrael hums contentedly, his voice lowering a few octaves as he purrs, "I will keep you forever. No one else will have you."

His words bring about a warm feeling in Seth's heart and he grins, replying, "Yeah? Well, I'm kind of counting on that, too."

And then the ship takes off and leaves Earth behind.

Boy, you're an alien
Your touch so foreign
It's supernatural
Extraterrestrial

The End

*Word count: 6,662

So you're gay now?

Mildly surprised, Hannibal Lynch arches a dark brow while his steel grey eyes widen minutely. Slow and deliberate, his eyes blink open and close as he attempts to wrap his mind around his current, unexpected predicament. If anyone had told him earlier he would walk in on the rather unappealing site of his oldest heterosexual son lying half-naked (shirt off, pants unbuttoned and open) on the living room floor while avidly sucking face with an unknown and equally undressed male, he'd have called bullshit.

Yet somehow that is exactly what is happening. And no matter how often Hannibal blinks or rubs at his eyes with the heel of his free hand (the other is preoccupied holding a bowl of Froot Loops cereal), the image of Azrael licking, sucking, and groping every inch of some other guy's body just won't go away. And it's a guy with funky dyed green hair to boot. What the fuck is up with that? Hannibal was pretty sure Azrael had good taste in looks.

But then again, he was also pretty sure Azrael was straight and look how that turned out.

Oh joy, he thinks wistfully. Nothing quite like image of my boy playing tonsil hockey with a puke-haired kid. Fan-fucking-tastic. And to make matters worse, Hannibal has a sneaky suspicion that the image is quickly being burned into his memory where it's bound to reside for a long time.

(But admittedly watching his son get it on with a boy is definitely a few notches above watching his parents have sex at the young and impressionable age of seven. That had been a life changing experience resulting in over twenty years of therapy and serious daddy-issues.)

The boy (or at least Hannibal thinks it's a boy – those shoulders are just too rounded and, though petite, the person's body is too undefined and shapeless to be female) groans low in his throat and murmurs in a soft – but definitely male – voice, "Shit, Z. We shouldn't be doing this here. Someone could see."

Uh, Hannibal's mind quips tersely, someone already has.

Azrael chuckles seductively, making the boy shiver pleasantly and Hannibal shudder in disgust, before whispering, "Let them. It's about time everyone learns you're mine."

The boy's breath hitches and he moans, rolling his slim hips slowly. "Oh baby, yes."

And then the two are back to smooching and moaning and doing gay shit that's just making Hannibal more and more uncomfortable. And not even horny-uncomfortable. Just uncomfortable-uncomfortable. Not that Hannibal has anything against homosexuals of any kind. In fact, he doesn't even particularly care that Azrael seems to be of the rainbow persuasion. He's simply a bit surprised that it's this particular son.  Of all his kids, Hannibal would peg Azrael as the least likely to jump off the tuna boat and head for penile island.

Somehow neither Azrael nor the boy notices Hannibal's presence which severely irks him seeing as he isn't even standing ten feet from their intertwined bodies. Hannibal raised all his kids to be alert and aware of their surroundings and the fact that Azrael is too caught up in his smut fest to pay attention is bothersome.

With a roll of his eyes, Hannibal stalks over to a nearby couch and throws himself onto the cushions with a huff. The way he sees it, if he as to deal with Azrael and his lover's make out session he may as well be comfortable. No reason to be tortured physically as well as mentally.

Honestly, he'd love to break up the boys' fun but at the same time he doesn't want to be a douche, especially to a guy who's never met him before. He supposes he could always leave the room and head somewhere else, but this is his favorite room in the house with his favorite couch and favorite flat screen hi-def TV. Besides, this is his home. Like hell he's going to leave just because his son might start having hardcore sex at any moment with a dude.

…

Hannibal refuses to admit how illogical and ridiculous that entire train of thought is.

Completely ignorant of their audience, the two continue kissing and begin grinding against one another. They tug and pull at the other's hair, bite and lick, and whisper kinky words t that makes Hannibal cringe continuously. At one point the green-haired kid rolls on top of Azrael and to Hannibal's horror, one of his son's large, deeply tanned hands suddenly leaves the other kid's ass and shoots down into the open fly of his jeans. Reflexively, Hannibal gags and darts his eyes away but not quickly enough to stop himself from seeing how the boy's head fly back and as his big brown eyes glaze over in a look of lust.

Holy fuck, my virgin eyes, Hannibal's mind screeches. This is too much gay for one man to take.

Sure, Hannibal may not be a close-minded, conservative jerk or homophobe but that didn't mean that he had to like watching two guys get off. Especially not when one of those guys happened to be his son, the seed of his loins, the fruit of his labor.

Highly grossed out and feeling the need to reassert his heterosexual manliness, Hannibal throws all pretenses of civility to the wind, grabs the TV remote and hits the ON button. Within seconds the screen comes alive with a blessed hum of static before a clear quality image of a bodacious set of female breasts blanket the screen and the overly boisterous announcer's voice declares the show's title.

Hannibal sighs in blessed relief. Ah, MANswers. Always there when I need you. Now show me some more giant tits so I can feel like a man again.

Though he continues to watch the screen, Hannibal can't help but notice from his peripheral vision how Azrael and the boy's bodies have both gone completely still. With his keen hearing, he can just barely make out Azrael's whispered "Oh shit" before his kid abruptly flops back against the floor and bursts into a fit of giggles.

Hannibal watches as the nameless guy's head turns in his direction, eyes wide and his mouth dropped in a look of absolute horror. Within seconds his pale skin – almost as pale as Hannibal's – flushes with a strong hue of red as the kid gasps, "Oh my God." And a moment later in a more panicked voice, "Oh my God!"

'Oh my God', is right.

In a flurry of movement the mortified kid flies off Azrael's lap and begins to rearrange his clothing while search for his missing shirt, simultaneously yelling obscenities and crying "I told you so!" at an amused Azrael.

Quirking a brow, Hannibal turns to his son and rumbles, "So you're gay now?"

Azrael has the decency to stifle his chuckles long enough to reply, "Basically." His gold eyes dance in mirth and his lips are twisted into a smirk. He looks neither ashamed nor surprised to see his father sitting on the couch nonchalantly. By now, he's probably realized that Hannibal must have already seen a good deal of their relationship and there's no point in playing it off.

"Huh," Hannibal grunts, more because he just realizes that he's already seen this episode of MANswers than because of his son's answer. Giving an indifferent shrug, Hannibal takes a bite out of his cereal. It's soggy and the loops kind of tastes like crap but he's too lazy and hungry to get something new.  

By the time Hannibal gets half way through his Foot Loops both his son and his son's lover are redressed, presentable, and waiting for his reaction. His grey eyes coolly rove over the couple, noting how odd they look standing next to each other. Azrael is a young man in his early 20s. Tall – taller than Hannibal even – broad shouldered with long legs and a well-muscled and sturdy frame. His hair is oddly two colors, white with thick black locks here and there while his skin is a natural dark tone – thanks to of his mother and her Hispanic heritage.

The other kid looks incredibly small, skinny, and pale standing next to Azrael. His hair is long thick and shaggy, his brown eyes are incredibly large – or maybe they just seem that way because he's still in shock – and his slender frame seems to have a distinct restlessness. Yet somehow, though Hannibal would never in a million years admit to thinking this, there's something rather endearing and… well, cute about the boy.

Hannibal can't quite place the boy's age but the more he stares at him, the younger he looks.

With an inquisitive glance at Azrael, Hannibal asks, "Is he legal?"

Azrael replies instantly, "Just barely." He grins toothily as the boy groans and his face flares red again.

Amused, Hannibal snickers under his breath. Seeing the blush so obviously at every comment is pretty entertaining. "What's your name, kid?"

As if surprised that Hannibal is talking to him, the boy falls into a 'deer in the headlights' expression before he blurts hurriedly, "Uh, S-Seth. Seth Reynolds." Then, as if it's an afterthought he adds, "Sir."

Hannibal winces at the term. Ugh, I may be old but I'm definitely not that old. Not even 48 and he's still in great shape and health. Sure, every once in awhile his left knee decides to act up. And sure, he finally had to break down and buy reading glasses because he couldn't read shit without them. He'll even grudgingly admit that his reflexes aren't what they used to be. But those definitely aren't reasons to call him something as awful as sir. Eyes narrowing darkly, he growls, "Do I look like a 'sir' to you?"

Incredibly, Seth's eyes manage to widen even more as he rapidly glances back and forth between Azrael and Hannibal. "Um.. uh, no? Yes! I don't know! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend you! This is all Azrael's fault," the boy wails.

Azrael groans and rolls his gold eyes skyward. "Dad, quit scaring the crap out of my sugar cutie."

Sugar cutie?

Apparently having a horrible case of foot in mouth disease, Seth continues his tirade, speaking a mile a minute while flailing his arms around like a madman. "Dude, seriously, we totally didn't mean for this to happen! It's, like, one moment we were just sitting here chilling, right? And then he, " Seth pauses to dramatically point a finger at Azrael who  simply smiles innocently, not that Hannibal is buying it one bit, "decided to shove his hand down my pants! Really, I swear. I did not turn your son gay, so please don't beat me up."

…

Weird ass kid. Cute, but weird.

Hannibal can't say he's ever met anyone quite as strange as his son's new lover but there's a first time for everything. And judging by the way Azrael stands next to Seth with his amused eyes raptly studying each and every erratic motion the boy makes, it's clear that he's head over heels for the kid. Hannibal can see that this isn't a 'phase'. This isn't being 'bi-curious'. It's the real deal and he's okay with that.

Teasingly, Hannibal replies, "Is that so? 'Cause you guys were going at it like there was a race to the finish line."

"Lots of built up sexual tension," Azrael inserts.

His face redder than ever, Seth pouts and mumbles, "This is the first time it ever happened. We didn't mean for you to find out this way."

Hannibal smirks. "Well, maybe next time you shouldn't grope each other in my living room."

The End

The Horror of Our Love

I'm a killer
Cold and wrathful
Silent sleeper
I've been inside your bedroom
I've murdered half the town
Left you love notes on their headstones
I'll fill the graveyards
Until I have you

Lips twist into a vicious sneer as golden eyes gleam eerily in the dark shadows of the alleyway. Disparaging and mocking, they take in the site of a small, petrified young man no older than twenty. Slender build, thick black hair, skin as pale and smooth as a pearl, eyes the color of molten chocolate, and as weak as a pathetic newborn kitten.

Succulent and ripe for the picking with nowhere to run.

Easy prey and an even easier meal.

At the thought, a surge of ravenous excitement rises, spreading warmth throughout Azrael's tall intimidating frame. He advances forward, closing in on the shaking boy, footsteps deadly silent in the quiet of the alley. Though they're no more than thirty feet from a busy intersection, the passage is tucked away in its own isolated realm.

They're own private world where he is the predator.

And the boy is the prey.

With each move Azrael makes the kid takes a step back in answer, slowly imprisoning himself as he grows closer to a dead end. It pleases Azrael and he chuckles softly, tone dark with malice.

"Don't scream," he whispers.

Moonlight walking
I smell your softness
Carnivorous and lusting
To track you down among the pines
I want you stuffed into my mouth
Hold you down and tear you open
Live inside you
Oh, love I'd never hurt you

Azrael pounces, movements so swift and agile the boy has no chance of escape. His arm lunges forth, strong fingers snapping around the kid's lithe neck and slamming him into the wall. The boy cries out as the sound of his back crunching against the brick wall echoes in the alley. He tries to scream again but Azrael is quick to cover his mouth and silence his cries of pain.

In blind panic, the boy begins struggling madly, his arms beating against Azrael's broad chest as he fights to knock the larger man off of him. But Azrael knows it's no use. He's stronger than the boy. Faster. A hell of a lot smarter.

And he's so very, very hungry.

He leans forward until his face hovers mere inches above the other's. Regardless of the lack of light, this close to the kid's pale face Azrael can easily make out the signs of stress etched into his expression. Sweat, dilated pupils, red-rimmed eyes filled with unshed tears, thin eyebrows drawn into a look of horror and uncertainty.

The site is like an aphrodisiac.

Moaning, Azrael's eyes slip shut momentarily as he tips his head back and inhales, taking in the sweet scent of fear emanating from his prey in tantalizing waves. The smell is incredible, heady and delectable. It's almost enough to make Azrael swoon. Even knock him off his feet.

He's never smelled anything quite like it.

Refocusing his attention on the trapped kid Azrael removes his hand from around the boy's throat. With his voice sounding almost sympathetic, he hushes him with soft soothing whispers. The child whines, the desperate sound muffled beneath the weight of Azrael's hand. Smiling, he croons, "Quiet now. If anyone hears, they'll take you away from me."

Any remaining light of hope withers away in brown eyes. They grow cold and dreary. The boy's face and body slacken.

Yet, the exhilarating aroma of fear only grows more pungent in the air.

Azrael tips the boy's head back, baring his neck.

But I'll grind against your bones
Until our marrows mix
I will eat you slowly
Ohhhhh
The horror of our love
Never so much blood pulled through my veins
Ohhhhh
The horror of our love
Never so much blood

It nearly comes as a surprise to Azrael just how much blood begins to blood as his teeth tear into the boy's tender flesh, ripping muscles and tendon alike. Like a faucet suddenly turned on full blast, warm blood bursts forcefully from the base of the kid's neck and fills Azrael's mouth as well as bathes his face in its crimson hue.

What makes the experience all the better is the kid has been screaming and writhing against the wall since the moment his teeth make contact with pale skin.

However; as much as he enjoys the muffled screeches Azrael can't risk the chance of someone actually overhearing. They would break up all the fun if they did. After tearing another chunk of meat from his meal Azrael pulls back to shoot his prey an exasperated glare. "I thought I told you to be quiet."

The boy punches him in the face, the impact bruising his bottom lip.

Now, that was unexpected. Azrael didn't really think he had it in him.

Gold eyes lighting up in sadistic delight he grins, ignoring the minor burn in his bottom lip. "Feisty."

The kid isn't done yet. As soon as Azrael moves the hand covering his mouth, he strikes again, punching and kicking wildly as he screams himself hoarse. The rather feeble hits to Azrael's face and body aren't necessarily precise or brutal but they serve the purpose of throwing him off balance long enough for his prey to escape his hold. Even so, Azrael isn't remotely worried. No, he's become far too exhilarated and entertained by the young man's valiant attempt. Throwing his head back, he cackles madly, his bright eyes literally beginning to grow moist with tears.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Azrael turns to watch as the terrified boy stumbles away on unsteady legs. Blood continues to pump from the gash in the kid's neck, spurting erratically and bathing everything nearby. Wide eyed, he glances back at Azrael for a moment, tears and snot running freely as he sobs; his voice raspy when he cries out, "Fuck! Just leave me alone!"

Amused, Azrael cocks a brow before skipping after the other leisurely.

Never before can he recall having so much fun with his food. In all his other hunts, his prey had an awful tendency to just sit there and scream while he ate them.

What a bore.

This is far more interesting.

The kid bolts for the alley's entrance.

I wake in terror
Blackbirds screaming
Dark cathedrals spilling
Midnight on their alters
I'm your servant
My immortal
Pale and perfect
Such unholy heaving
The statues close their eyes
The room is changing
Break my skin
And drain me

Hot on his heels, Azrael follows and promptly overtakes him. It isn't but a few moments until he's got a handful of the trashing boy's black hair in his grasp. Before the other has a chance to yell for help, Azrael ruthlessly slams his face into a nearby wall, repeatedly bashing the kid's skull against the brick surface while he giggles gleefully.

He's having the time of his life.

As a sharp crack rings throughout the alley, a deep crimson stain blossoms across the wall sending a thrill of pleasure throughout Azrael. Elated, Azrael throws the kid to the ground before straddling his fragile, broken frame. Head tilted to the side, he takes a moment to look over his quarry.

The boy's entire face is nearly unrecognizable. Where blood hasn't yet marked his once unblemished skin, sinister bluish-purple bruises reside. His brown eyes – one of them injured and nearly sealed shut – are unfocused as he gazes up at Azrael, head lolling to the side. His pert nose has been crushed, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe properly. And as his lips part, Azrael can see that a few teeth have been knocked out and his mouth is filling with more delicious blood.

Yearning for a taste, Azrael kisses his soft lips, delves his tongue into the boy's mouth and nearly moans when his taste buds are coated by warm metallic liquid. He flicks his dexterous tongue against the vacant space where the boy's teeth use to be in hopes of even more blood to feast on.

Fighting with what must be the very last ounce of his energy, the kid turns his face away. Weakly, his arms push against Azrael's broad chest and he gasps, "N-no… please…"

Tsking, Azrael grabs a hold of one of the kid's hands before bringing it to his mouth. He smiles softly before biting down on the finger until the bone crunches beneath the force of his teeth. Immediately, his prey's eyes glaze over in pain while his slender body arches reflexively, but he's too weak to yell. Too weak to do anything but lie there in excruciating pain as Azrael impulsively decides to bite into another finger.

Finally, after he's done destroying each and every appendage, Azrael releases the useless hand. It falls to the ground awkwardly, immobile save for reflexive tics.

While the kid heaves in a few wheezy breaths, Azrael runs his tongue across his lips, savoring the remaining traces of salty flesh.

Running his hands over the boy's battered features, Azrael takes the time to look over his handiwork. He's absolutely mesmerized by how perfect and edible the other looks right now. Barely responsive yet still fighting for consciousness. Chest heaving as his heart and lungs overexert themselves in an effort to keep him alive. It's a surprise to Azrael because he's positive that by now anyone else would have given up. Anyone else would have allowed themselves to slip away.

But what comes as the greatest surprise of all is when Azrael's eyes lock with the boy's eyes. They're no longer glazed over in fear, pain, or confusion. Oh no. Barely open, they glare up at him with a look of pure hatred and defiance.

Even the boy's scent has changed; it's become a spicier flavor that Azrael immediately finds tantalizing and more appealing than fear.

It only serves to make him more voracious.

The kid coughs up great heaps of blood before glaring at Azrael darkly, his eyes condemning his attacker to a fate far worse. "Rot in hell."

Ancient language
Speak through fingers
The awful edges
Where you end and I begin
Inside your mouth
I cannot see
There's catastrophe
In everything I'm touching
As I sweat and crush you

Azrael laughs as the boy glowers menacingly. He runs both hands over the other's bloody cheeks bones and just beneath the eyes.

Such pretty brown eyes.

Eyes filled with disgust and resentment.

Azrael briefly entertains the notion of popping them out to eat but he enjoys seeing all that anger, all that rage and loathing directed at him so fiercely. He likes knowing that he's the cause of it. He likes knowing that he put the look of delicious beauty upon the boy's face.

It makes this kill all the better.

Never in his wildest dreams could Azrael have hoped for a more fruitful hunt.

"You were perfect," Azrael murmurs sweetly as his prey's angry eyes finally slip closed.

The boy's heart stutters and then stops.

And I hold your beating chambers
Until they beat no more
You die like angels sing
Ohhhhh
The horror of our love
Never so much blood pulled through my veins
Ohhhhh
The horror of our love
Never so much blood

Azrael dives in immediately, ripping into his kill with gusto. With every succulent bite of flesh and muscle, he shivers pleasurably. He isn't disappointed in the least. The boy taste just as good, if not better than when he was still alive.

He eats through the cords of the neck. Nibbles at the shoulders. Removes the boy's shirt before consuming the flesh across his chest and belly. No part of the carcass is exempt from Azrael's gnawing hunger apart from the eyes.

Beautiful eyes set into a frozen expression of rage that stare forever unseeingly.  

Chuckling again, Azrael leaves the kid's abdominals to lavish a slow lick along the line of the boy's cheekbone. He pecks his lips against the broken nose before heading south to bluish-white lips.

He kisses the dead flesh once more before biting it off.

You're a ghost, love
Nightgown flowing
Your body blue and walking
Along the continental shelf
You are a dream among the sharks
Beautiful and terrifying
Living restless
We dance in dark suspension

It's a long while before Azrael finishes gorging himself on his prey's flesh, savoring each bite like it's the last. Finally, with one more nibble, he pulls back, grinning though his entire face and body is drenched in cool blood and pieces of skin. Sighing blissfully, he sends a silent thank you the young man for such an enjoyable time.

Feeling bloated, he stands and trots over to a nearby trash bin where he keeps a few boxes of hefty bags, towels, and a spare change of clothes.

Azrael is quick to redress and clean himself. Though he's confident he was never seen, Azrael knows the longer he spends in the alley, the greater his chance of being caught grows. As dangerously unhinged and crazed as he may be, he's equally careful and meticulously when it comes to covering his tracks.

Finished, he begins to head out of the alley but a sudden and unprecedented feeling of regret washes over him. A bit perturbed, he glances back at the mutilated form of what's left of the kid.

He doesn't want to leave it behind.

Somehow, it doesn't seem right.

Such a delicious thing deserves a better ending than this.

With a careless shrug Azrael heads back over to the boy's body. He doubles up a couple hefty bags before carefully sliding the mutilated corpse into it. He doesn't know what he plans to do with the body. But there's something about those eyes that call out to him.

They stare at him spitefully as Azrael finally ties the opening of the bag shut.

He will never forget them. They've been burned into his memory.

Such pretty brown eyes.

And you bury me
In the ocean floor beneath you
Where they'll never hear us scream
Ohhhhh
The horror of our love
Never so much blood pulled through my veins
Ohhhhh
The horror of our love
Never so much blood…

The End