They say the blood of a Gospel is a thousand times sweeter than humans. Magnus hid within the dark shadows of the cemetery as he stared at one. The vampire blood in him was screaming, frothing, and burning with the teachings burnt into it for the past millennia. The millennia in which the Gospels and the Vampires have warred again and again with no end result. Both want to control the human domain for themselves, under their rules and without their arch-enemies in sight. The great war had taken the lives of many friends and foes alike. And yet… as she stood on the green grass of the grey cemetery, Magnus felt a sensation in his heart that triumphed over all others. It was Helena; with all her grace, broad angel wings, velvety white drapes, golden blonde hair, and ocean-blue eyes. It would have been easy to mistake her for a statue, as the air stood frozen beside her elegant swirls of motion. Her eyes were searching, like all Gospels search for Vampires. The halo above her head was beaming. Reminding everyone of her strength, reminding them of the great war. Yet, as the blue moon appeared, as its pale light showered her surface, she transformed. The halo vanished, the wings evaporated, the drapes flew no longer, and the Gospel became a human. Yes, Vampires and Gospels have hunted each other for millennia. But Magnus and Helena… had fallen in love.
“Helena,” he called. His fangs turned humanly along with those red eyes. Her beauty was beyond any sensation he could recreate.
“Magnus,” her soothing voice echoed.
It was the day of the blue moon. It was the day the Vampire gods and the Gospel king allowed them to be. It was the day they both became human; when they could love each other without bounds. Magnus ran to his other half, embracing the small of her back in his magnanimous hands, pulling the edge of her breasts into his deep throbbing chest. With not another breath wasted their lips collided. Their decade-long wait has come to an end. Her lips tasted still of the same nectar. Her aroma flourished even in the cold cemetery. She was his again… his alone. Magnus’ hands ran through the vein on her neck. Sliding through her valley, all the way down to her navel. The tremors of their kiss rode goosebumps from his fingertips. The weight of their act drove magic through their human blood.
“Magnus… I have waited for so long,” Helena huffed between kisses. Her eyes were enraged with the devil’s lust. She felt a Gospel no longer. She descended into hell as a human. Her hands took over, pulling the mound of Magnus’ head into her supple, ungentle lips. Her flavour transformed by the second. The kisses transcended by the minute. She delved into his jet-black eyes. They were magnificent. His firm shoulders, tall structure, bearded face, long black hair, and endearing hands felt like no other. Even through all the vampirish nature in his soul, he appeared to Helena as her gentle lover. The coarse lines of his jaw felt like a river as she held it close. Magnus was hers… hers alone. Helena, in all her verity, disrobed him. She saw him naked, true, his voraciousness full and erect in whole. She ran her hands down his structure. Through the plains of his chest, to the veins of his arms, all felt hers and hers alone. They kissed for the millionth time, it was still as fresh as the first. There they stood, naked, human, and in love. Helena and Magnus, the Gospel and her Vampire.
Magnus drove her into the grass. It was cold to the touch, yet thawed under their heat.
“Take me,” she commanded. Her angelic eyes felt an immovable mountain.
Magnus complied. His lips ran through her from north to south. His hands held down the woman he loved. To her neck, her valley, and her heart he gave a glorious kiss. To her erect orbs, he gave something more. Taking their precipice in his lips he enclosed. He absorbed Helena’s soul. Her tepid murmurs turned into moans. Her gentle hands turned into stone. He kissed them again and again, till the pink of her tips became unearthed as a whole. Magnus looked at her mumbling face. She had bitten her lips, wet, nimble, and alone. Her cheeks were pink-red in colour. Her breaths were heavy and high. Yet her eyes said, “More…”
Magnus continued his conquest. Helena closed her eyes. She felt not blinded. She could see the world. She felt his swirling flicks on her crest. She felt his harsh-gentle hand on her other. It was elation. It was beyond sensations. Her breaths were born every instant, as he breathed them into her breasts every second. Soon he descended. Souther to the cause. She breathed heavily. She opened her eyes. There he was, the man she loved the most. His eyes were tenacious, his lips contagious. Yet, in all his harshness she could see… the gentle lover she always saw. “May I continue?” those eyes asked. Helena nodded, barely able to contain.
Magnus descended into her holy valley. It was unblemished. Pure. Unparalleled. His. He took to her at once. His lips collided with her other. He heard magical sounds being born. He saw her nimble body in groan. The tips of her fingers curled in one hand, they held his head in the other, commanding “More!” He continued. Tasting her precious nectar. Stroking the outside, melting the inside. Increasing his fury. Increasing her glaze. Mumbles, grumbles, groans, and heavy moans followed. “Magnus…” he heard in between, each call making taking him under oath. The arch of her back rose from the grass. The soft of her thighs enveloped his face as a whole. The tips of her feet curled with each second. He felt her whole from tip to toe in an instant.
“Magnus!!!” she moaned. Helena could hold no longer. She floated from the ground as a whole. She could feel nothing else. No grass, no soil, no cold winds, no blue moon. All she could feel was him… Only him. As she exploded as a whole, he kept kissing, kept loving, kept giving. Her epic moans fell deaf to her ears, his epic love felt heavy to her gears. Helena fell back, heaving her heavy breaths. She jolted up. Taking her man down to the ground. Nimble as she was, she pinned him down. His hands made no resist. His soul took no prisoners. She looked at his face. His now wet lips. His harsh-gentle eyes. She fell in love all over again. For his smile… was precious again. “I love you…” she whispered. Kissing his lips, kissing his cheeks. She tasted herself. She tasted him. “I love you,” she repeated. He smiled. She fell again.
Magnus saw her hair fall on him. The golden streaks felt like rainbows. They smelt of ivy, she smelt of gold. Her soothing voice confessed again. He could reply a thousand more. It was Helena. She was his home. Helena sat back. With a grace unlike ever before. She was an angel, after all, he should be surprised no more. She slid onto him. There were no longer two, conjoining into one. He saw her face redden to a pulp. He heard her elated breaths once more. She kissed his lips as she rose and fell all over. He felt her burning loins. It engorged him all as a whole. Helena was gentle, Helena was something more. Her supple skin rippled with each descent. The shocks of conjoining transversed through her soul. Magnus’ hands felt her love handles. They slid upwards and down, in rhythm to her motion. Assuring her, loving her, and engulfing her in a destined love story. She rose and fell, she was violent, yet silent. Her lips smiled deviously. Her eyes were crookedly wild. She was beautiful. She was his.
Magnus stared at her with love. She felt as if she would melt again. Oh, how magnificent he was. She held him and fell as a whole. She wanted to be wild like she always wished to be, like how she wasn’t supposed to be, like a woman unhinged. Yet… Yet… before she could, Magnus held her, lifted her up in the air, still connected at their bases, and kissed her. Gently, he put her down and took command. Her lover went inside of her. Her chest rose in a magical arc. “Magnus…” she moaned. “Magnus!” she groaned. He was soft, yet firm. It felt violent, yet loving. She was in a wild fury, yet her soul felt at ease. It was a form of exasperating magic, a form that hadn’t been explored. He burst and thrusted her from all angles, yet she felt no pierce but that of his loving heart. Her lips wettned, both, uncontrollably. Her eyes rolled and curled, like her toes, and her fingers. She grasped him, the grass, all she could hold on to. Her soul felt as if it was being penetrated by a thousand thorns made of honey, as if nothing they every do could hurt her, as if nothing would matter but the simple act of love. “MAGNUS!” She exploded. Her breaths imploded. Her body tore apart. Her soul stayed as one. Their legs collided. Their unrelenting pushes continued. A thousand times over. A thousand times more. Again and again, they joined. Again and again, he took her apart. Yet… even after millennia of suffering, she felt more than she had ever felt. Her cheeks were bright red. Her chest was fully erect. Her navel was covered in sweat. Everything else was things to forget.
Magnus felt his own breath. It was intense. He felt Helena’s breaths, they were in constant suspense. Her pupils were wide open, her lips were wide asmile. Her cheeks were blood-pink. Her veins mapped down her beautiful chest. He was still with her. Conjoined in their spirits. Inside her, he felt safe. She was warm. She was his. Once, twice, and thrice they went. Yet her eyes and his own fell in love, for the first time all over again. He sat up his voluptuous lover. She sat in his lap, still joined with him, still one with him. Her heavy breaths fell upon his. His warm huffs fell upon hers. Their eyes were blue and black. Their souls were of a colour unknown. She stared into him deeply. He stared back with no less. He kissed her sultry lips. It tasted still of honey and nectar. She kissed him back. He hoped she could taste the same. They were gentle. They were in love. She rose and fell. He pushed and came back. Slowly grinding past their own misfortune. Slowly eradicating their helpless fate. The two lovers, eye in eye rose and fell within each other. Warming each other. Feeling each other. It felt like an eternity and longer. Yet every second of his infinity Magnus cherished… for it was no longer. Helena’s blue eyes smiled. It curled. It rose. It fell. He groaned and he fawned, she was his, and he was hers. As they pushed each other for the final tug in the fated blue moon, he whispered to his lover once more, “I love you… In this life and all others. In any form. Any soul. Any fate that the gods throw at us. No matter what… You’re mine, and I am yours.” Helena’s eyes turbuled. His own couldn’t fail but join. With grand passion, she held his head and smiled. Her golden blonde hair was drenched in sweat. His jet-black strands were none the better. Her blue eyes blinked with love. The two of them fell in love over and over. Under the pale blue moon, dressed in a blissful young light, Helena and Magnus wrote the climax to their passionate reunion. Their lips kissed one another. No moans or groans were recreated. Within the confines of their sweet kiss, their love blossomed in their joints for the final time. For the very… final time.
It was only days later they had known. There was an unwelcome guest in their union. A pair of eyes that mattered not which. What they saw was Blasphemy. For no Vampire and Gospel must be joined, ever! It was the rule. It was the norm. It was the just. Vampires and Gospels are meant to kill one another. Vampires and Gospels are meant to destroy each other. They shall bleed, they shall die, they shall be reborn, but never… ever… shall they be together.
It was made clear in the Great Burning of the year after. For the first time in a millennia, the Gospels and Vampires joined hand in hand. For the first time in millennia, they fought no longer. For they had a common foe. Magnus and Helena. On the day of the Great Burning, they were apprehended. Tied. Put together on a stake. Magnus in front of Helena, Helena in front of Magnus.
Even so… even in the face of impending doom, they smiled. Magnus saw his lover, blue-eyed, haloed, smiling, his Gospel. Helena saw her lover, red-eyed, fanged, smiling, her Vampire. The flame was set upon their feet. Their fate was read out loud.
“The Blasphemous Traitors, Magnus Markus VI, and Helena Archbury have hereby denounced the titles of Vampire and Gospel. They broke the cardinal rulebooks of each society. They shall be banished from both. And from this world. Under the oath of the Vampire god and the Gospel King, we sentence you to death.”
They were wrong. They were all wrong. The Vampire god and the Gospel King had already blessed them. With love. On every blue moon. They felt each other. They loved each other. They kissed each other. And now… they die with each other.
Amidst the burning embers, Magnus and Helena whispered one last time, “I love you,” with a smile that lasted no longer.
It was just as history had taught. The only thing that can make hatred join hands and forget their long-standing enmity… is Love. For that love, they were punished, or so the Gospels and Vampires thought. Never for a moment did they wonder, “How could they smile in death… Is love just that blasphemous, my god?”
