Page 4 of Caroled
“They….” What was the word? Inspired? “When I decided to quit the Bureau, Donne gave me some tips on going solo. But also…. They’re a couple, those two. I mean, they never said so directly, but I didn’t need to be a detective to figure it out. And I’m sure the Chief knows. Nothing gets past him. But he never seemed to care, and I suppose that gave me hope that someday….” He took another swallow of tea instead of finishing the sentence.
But Tenrael finished it for him. “Someday you would have a lover as well.”
“Yeah.”
Tenrael leaned in closer and shut his eyes. “I never dreamed of a lover. Well, I never dreamed at all. Demons do not. We do not love either. We fuck, but there is no affection there, no care for the other. Humans believe Hell is made of hate, but it is not. It is made of indifference.”
Charles nodded in complete understanding, even though he knew that Tenrael couldn’t see him.
Then Tenrael rose to his feet very suddenly and pushed Charles’s chair away from the table. Facing him, Tenrael straddled his lap and sat down. He tilted his head, resting his horns against Charles’s forehead. They were as hot as his skin, and he liked when Charles stroked them, but now Charles set his hands on Tenrael’s hips. “You’re not indifferent toward me,” he said.
“I am not. I do not know if any other demon has managed to find love, but I have. And finding it was worth everything that came before.”
“They tortured you,” Charles said through gritted teeth. “For decades.”
“Worth everything.” Then Tenrael laughed and began to recite:
The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne,
Th’assay so hard, so sharp the conquerynge,
The dredful joye, alwey that slit so yerne,
Al this mene I by love, that my felynge
Astonyeth with this wonderful werkynge
So sore iwis, that whan I on him thinke,
Nat wot I wel wher that I flete or synke.
Charles tried to shake his head but couldn’t with Tenrael’s pressed against him. “I only understood a few of those words.”
“It is Chaucer. He found love so wondrous that he suspected it might be a dream. A good one, not one of mine. I find it wondrous as well. Sometimes I fear I will wake up and discover myself still in the horror of that cage. Perhaps Iamin that cage and in my desperation and despair I have learned to dream after all. If so, I am very glad I am dreaming of you.”
“I’m real.” Charles dug his fingers hard into Tenrael’s flesh as proof of his existence. Tenrael’s cock, which had been soft and warm against Charles’s lower belly, began to lengthen, its hardness snug between them. But Charles needed to say something more. “That part at the beginning, I think I caught that. Life is short. And it is—mine anyway.” Because as far as he could tell, he aged the same as any normal human. Demons, on the other hand, lived forever if nobody destroyed them.
“Which is why I wish to be near you every minute, if I may.”
“I’ll getold, Ten. Bald. Wrinkled. And you’ll remain beautiful.”
Tenrael laughed again. “I am beautiful only in your eyes. And you will always be beautiful in mine.”
Charles sighed. There was nothing he could do about his own mortality, and it was foolish to waste whatever time he had mooning over it. He twisted his head slightly so he could capture Tenrael’s lower lip between his teeth. He gave it a sharp nip and then licked it. So sweet.
“I don’t think I’m ready yet to face the day,” he announced. “Let’s go back to bed.”
Tenrael’s eyes flared, and he leaned down to whisper in Charles’s ear. “Yes, Master.”
Preparations for their trip could wait.
* * *
Tenrael wouldn’t sit still, and that was distracting. Charles had opted to drive up Highway 1 rather than use the more inland 101 or 99. This way was slower but more scenic, with the Pacific usually in view to their left, often far below, and trees towering overhead. He’d thought they might as well make a sort of vacation out of the journey, and Tenrael—who rarely traveled by car and mostly flew at night—had been enjoying the scenery.
Charles, however, had to keep a close eye on the road, and that was difficult with Tenrael squirming beside him.
“Is it the movement that’s bothering you?” Charles asked. “Or the clothes?” Tenrael wore gray trousers and a pale-blue collared shirt. He'd owned the trousers for some time, but Charles had bought him several shirts the day before, along with some socks and a pair of shoes that Tenrael still hadn’t put on.
