Blood Sacraments (41 page)

“I am yours, Sir. I offer myself freely for your use. I am so glad to be yours, Sir.”

I explode into him, storms crashing in huge tidal waves. Drinking and coming. Releasing myself and drawing him in. His ass clenches around me in spasms as he bursts, his body bucking and shuddering. I continue to feed. When his body calms, I am sated, and I ease myself out of him slowly. I take my time licking his wounds closed, savoring the taste of him. I pull him up into my arms, smiling.

“Now let’s see that cock of yours, boy.”

His eyes go wide, he looks down and he starts trembling again. I lift his chin to meet his eyes, and then trace the scars on his chest lightly with my tongue. I lift my head to stare into his eyes again, and slowly unzip the jock, revealing a large black silicone cock. I pump it hard, stroking it against him, where I know he is enlarged by testosterone.

“Did you think I didn’t know, boy? After all the centuries I’ve lived, did you think I did not learn how to read people?”

I grin into his eyes.

“You are my boy. And I am proud to claim you as mine.”

I gather him to me, holding him tight, and start imagining possibilities.

Tourist season: a banquet of choices. Hiroshi looked forward to the influx of Americans in particular because they reminded him of the United States, where he’d grown up. But mostly he was tired of the same old blood coursing sluggishly through Kyoto’s ample arteries, and welcomed any change.

He exited the train and walked up the hill through quaint old streets lined with restaurants and shops that, not unlike him, waited to take advantage of visitors. And which, like Kyoto overall, seemed too familiar to Hiroshi’s tired eyes. He jumped out of the way of a young cyclist just in time, glared at the boy, then passed under the massive Bengal-orange torii gate that spanned the narrow street, hurrying to reach the mystical Fushimi Inari Shrine of Ten Thousand Gates before the start of sunset. The smell of incense grew stronger as he got closer.

Darting down a side path through a gray neighborhood no tourist ever noticed, he found his secret entrance into the mountain sanctuary. Sullen clouds covered the sky. He smiled; the overcast would also keep the tourists from crowding the trail. He jumped a rickety fence and climbed between two of the ubiquitous large fox statues, the Kitsune guardians seeming to grin at him as if they understood his intentions.

Emerging from the back of an alcove crowded with prayer flags and statuettes, Hiroshi stepped carefully around stacks of miniature orange torii gates and followed a worn cement pathway up the long hill arching to the right, walking quickly but casually. He passed several altars and alcoves, all decked with guardians, flowery tributes, lions, foxes, and stone markers. Multitudes of vertical red and white prayer banners waved him along his path as the wind picked up. He would soon be under the quiet cover of the mountain forest.

His bones ached with anticipation. Tonight would be a good night. It was Tuesday, and the tourist guidebooks recommended this early-evening stroll; it rarely let him down.

The trees became more numerous, his climb more arduous. Two young girls and a businessman carrying a briefcase passed him on the path and he avoided eye contact, walking briskly toward the top and his favorite little side path surrounded by stone guardians.

Descending the uneven carved steps, Hiroshi positioned himself out of the sight-line of those on the main path above. He leaned against a stone wall that flanked the steps near a small ramshackle building, breathing deeply to calm his anxiety.

Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see a small cat perched above him on the flat slab of the wall. She came forward, recognizing him. “Miyu,” he said, recognizing her markings. The brindled cat stretched and came closer. The mountain was populated by feral cats, any of whom were exceptional ice-breakers and conversation-starters. He petted her twice and touched noses with her, then reached into his pocket to pull out the dried fish she was waiting for, and smiled as she ate it gratefully.

Noise on the pathway above shattered his moment with Miyu. He leaned nonchalantly against the stone wall, one knee propped up, striking his best seductive pose. A young couple passed by, holding hands, paying no attention to him. And soon after, a group of young boys. The boys regarded him with snickering and exaggerated eyebrows, as if they understood some joke of which he was a part. He looked to Miyu, who sat patiently on the stone slab, cleaning her face with one paw. He petted her again. “You understand me,” he said, mostly for his own comfort.

“Hello? I’m sorry, do you speak English?”

Caught off guard, Hiroshi jumped, but his eyes landed on exactly what he’d been waiting for: a tall blond man, most likely American. Hiroshi composed himself. “Yes, I speak English. I grew up in San Francisco.”

“Oh, thank God, because my Japanese is a bit rusty.”

Hiroshi looked the man up and down, not caring if he noticed the scrutiny. Straight nose, large eyes, small ears and square jaw, and a generally relaxed demeanor. He wore tight jeans and boots; his shirt had not weathered the humidity very well. Judging by the way the clothes hung, this man was in great shape. Hiroshi felt his hunger stirring. A man in great shape sent all the right signals, like two magnets that attract and repel at the same time.

“Are you trying to find your way out?” he asked.

“Oh, uh…no. I was trying to go all the way to the top, but I seem to be going downhill now. I must have taken the wrong path. I’ve been walking up and down for about an hour, and I’m all turned around.”

Perfect. “Well, why don’t I walk you up to the right path? It’s not too far.”

“Oh, are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“I’m happy to,” Hiroshi said, adding a short and submissive bow. Americans seemed to like that.

“Is that your cat?”

“Oh, no. But I’ve known Miyu since she was a kitten.” Hiroshi flashed him a smile and let his eyes linger. The stranger didn’t look away, just smiled back. Another good sign. “Would you like to pet her?”

“Oh sure, I love cats.” The man trotted down the stone steps to Hiroshi and the heavy slab.

Hiroshi’s luck was holding. All signs seemed to point to gay. An openly gay American meant less challenge. The man stepped timidly forward and reached out to pet Miyu. As he got closer, his eyes met Hiroshi’s, and Hiroshi looked down, feigning shyness. The hiss that came from Miyu startled both of them.

“I guess she doesn’t like me.”

“It’s okay. She’s wild, feral. Sometimes she’s not in a very friendly mood.” He watched Miyu jump into the underbrush, then turned back to the American. “I might be a little wild too, but I’m always friendly.”

The man raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, then grinned slowly. “Thanks for the…warning.”

Hiroshi brushed by the man and walked up the stone steps to the main trail. He glanced at the sky as the sun tried to break through the clouds. “This way.”

Hiroshi’s pulse raced as the man followed him. He avoided eye contact to hide the hunger in his eyes, feigning more shyness. “So where are you from?”

“Everywhere. I love to travel. I’m a bit of a wanderer. But I’m sure you can tell I’m American. I’ve spent a lot of time in San Francisco, actually.”

“Oh, what area?” Hiroshi hoped he would take the bait.

“All over, really. Mission Dolores, Sunset, Nob Hill, Richmond, Noe Valley, The Castro.”

Signal received. “So you’re all alone in Japan? Just wandering around?”

“Yeah, for now.”

Hiroshi smiled to himself. The American noticed.

“You’re smiling?”

“Well, I would never have guessed you didn’t have a boy…or girlfriend or whatever. I mean, you’re quite handsome. How can you meet someone if you’re constantly traveling around?”

“I meet lots of people. I met you, didn’t I?”

Charming as well. Inari was truly the god of prosperity. A yellow tabby cat darted across their path into the bushes, and Hiroshi slowed, then stepped over a fallen limb and glanced back. “Careful.”

The man tripped on the fallen limb anyway, and Hiroshi reached out to steady him.

“Thanks.”

“Do you like Kyoto?”

“So far, yes. I love history and old places. I love college towns—so much youth and energy.”

Trees arched completely over the uphill path now, and the air was alive with chirping forest spirits, like a sound blanket of anticipation. “My name is Hiroshi. You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“Josh.”

“Wow, very American.”

“It’s short for Joshua—family name.”

“Ah, Joshua. I like older names.”

“No one calls me Joshua—it’s too old-fashioned. My mother always called me that, though.”

Hiroshi’s senses buzzed and tingled as he closed on their destination. “Is she no longer alive?”

“No. My family was murdered. I’m an orphan, more or less.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“There are some distant cousins maybe, but no real family left. It was in San Francisco.”

“I walked right into that one. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind talking about them. It helps me remember them. I was very young. I…I have to work to remember sometimes.”

Hiroshi steered the subject back. “So what are you really doing out here in this mountain forest all alone, with dusk approaching?”

“Well, the guidebooks said it’s a great time to visit the shrine and see the ten thousand torii gates—not as many people, more private.”

Bull’s-eye. Hiroshi took a left turn. “The torii gates are impressive, aren’t they? But there are actually more than ten thousand. They are considered taxable donations, so the monks won’t reveal exactly how many there are. But it’s closer to twenty thousand, probably more.”

“Donations. That’s why I see so many smaller ones stacked in rows and piled up in corners of the shrines?”

“Yes.”

“And the black writing going up and down one side of the gates?”

“That identifies who donated it, so their prosperity can be read by all.”

“Ah. So anyone can do that?”

“Sure. A donation is a donation. Mostly businesses, but anyone who wants prosperity.”

“I like that. What about the foxes I keep seeing?”

“The Kitsune are guardians, messengers. Legend says they’re mischievous forest spirits that can possess or bewitch a human by entering your body through your fingernails. Most people think they’re creepy,” Hiroshi said as they passed a rather large, glowering fox sculpture, “but I kinda like them.”

“Doesn’t the park—I mean sanctuary—close soon?”

Hiroshi looked at the fading sunlight filtering through the dense tree cover, then back at Josh. “Yes, but I know my way around. If you’d like to see a beautiful sunset, I know a great place. No one will care.”

“I’d like that.”

An old woman passed them on the path as they entered the orange tunnel of torii gates. She eyed them with great suspicion. Hiroshi nodded respectfully, but she just stared at him.

A cat sprang from between two of the black bases of the torii, crossing their path and startling them both. “They seem to be everywhere,” Josh noted.

“Yes, the monks and noodle shop owners look after them. They can be skittish until they get to know you.”

The torii tunnel spilled into a small clearing with a lake, almost a pond, railed off in brilliant orange to protect onlookers. Tall trees hemmed the clearing, amplifying the sounds of insects and birds around them.

“This is one of the prettiest spots, though there are so many on the mountain.” Hiroshi turned to witness Josh’s reaction to the lake and found him within a foot of his face. “Oh.”

Without warning Josh moved in, strong arms snaking around Hiroshi’s middle, pulling him close. He kissed Hiroshi with surprising hunger and passion, lips exploring and savoring Hiroshi’s. Hiroshi pushed gently away, looking around for the monks or caretakers.

“Maybe you know a more private spot?” Josh asked, reflecting back his hunger.

“Yes,” Hiroshi said, grinning. He led Josh back the way they’d come, taking a sharp right down a shadowy path, then descending a short incline to a small stream. The sound of its water rushed them along through yet another towering torii tunnel, each ten-foot-tall orange and black arch no more than a foot apart. The tunnel of arches swallowed them up, its smooth wooden poles glowing tangerine in the twilight. Wooden beam steps carried them to a forked pathway with the giant orange gates splitting off in two directions. Hiroshi chose the left tunnel, and his breathing rose along with the path.

They came to a gap in the gates where a small, uncluttered forest path cut away from the main trail. He smiled at Josh and ascended the dirt path. At the top he stopped in a nice secluded area and turned—to see no sign of Josh. Confused, he spun around to find Josh grinning mischievously in front of him.

“Enough small talk, I’m not waiting any longer,” Josh said. His large hands pulled Hiroshi in tight to kiss his jawline and neck. Their lips soon found each other and hands began exploring soft flesh. Hiroshi could feel hormones coursing through his body, and he let his lips wander along the man’s cheek and neck. He breathed deeply the welcome scent and felt his lips caress supple skin, overcome with desire.