5Disclaimer: This story contains homosexual situations. They are not explicit or graphic, but they do exist. They are not, however, the focus of the story so if you would like to skip them, you may. Not everyone is comfortable with it so this is just me letting you know to be warned. (But the vampires are sexy, so give them a chance. Even if this isn't your thing.)
Part 1- A Prelude of Ale
London, England: 1908Evan bent down to examine the charred body at his feet. It was once a young man, beautiful and strong. His face was hauntingly untouched by any marks. It was only the blackened limbs and crumbling clothes of ash that attested to his death.
Evan Jameson, a police officer for Scotland Yard had been tracking a series of horrific murders; the latest of which was laid out gruesomely in front of him. The only lead he had was that they were committed by a woman wearing naught but the color white. Evan thought to himself why a vicious murderer would dress so conspicuously. He pondered. This woman was clearly mad and wanted her deeds to be well known to inflate her skewed ego. Sadly, Evan turned around and headed into the mist, leaving the body behind him to be taken away and buried.
The shocking sight did not bother him as it would an ordinary person. He knew that, when one got into the world of crime and mental instability, one would experience such things as to cause an ordinary person to quake or even go mad themselves. He had to be strong but distant, seeing the horrors around him as merely symptoms of a much larger disease that needed to be cured.
His shift having ended, Evan decided to head to the pub and unwind. Being Irish, he greatly valued the escape an anonymity of a good tavern. He was not the staggering drunk archetype that many had placed on the Irish, but he refused to give up his love of the drink. He stopped at his home to change.
Entering his chambers, he removed his uniform and, removing his shirt, allowed his skin to breath after its entombment of the Police officer's dress. He glanced over to the large mirror sitting in the corner of his room and looked himself over. He was still young and healthy as the firmness of his muscles showed. He looked much like his father had, with his broad chest, strong shoulders and the slight roundness of his belly, attesting to his love of ale. He considered himself handsome but, unlike most men, did not consider ever marrying a woman. Though he esteemed them greatly, the female sex was never one to catch his attention. Though it would have been heresy to ever tell this to anyone as a man who admired other men was thought to be a mentally diseased individual and was almost always ostracized or even killed for it. He, himself, was a unique aberration among people and, though it gave him a sense of individuality, he knew it also cut him off from society.
He changed and headed out. The sun was just about touching the horizon, but the ubiquitous London mist combined with the dark buildings all but blocked out the sun at this point, filling the dank streets with odd, creeping shadows. Had he been more alert, he would have noticed a brilliant white form, glide across the street behind him, unnoticed by anyone.
The Crone's Cottage, his favorite pub, was ablaze with activity. Everywhere he glanced were poor souls trying to drink away some miserable occurrence or even the possibility of a miserable occurrence. Evan was glad that he had kept his grasp on reality strong enough that he knew how it worked and did not feel the need to escape from it. He ordered a pint and sat down at an oaken table in the corner.
His attention wandered for a while until he spied a most peculiar man who brushed into the tavern. Peculiar was one of the only words that sprung to Evan's mind. Though the man was not strange looking, he had a sense of great knowing about him. His eyes were captivating and soon Evan found himself completely absorbed with the movements of this one man.
He was tall and lean and his face seemed etched, not with age or hatred, but with simply too much knowledge. It gave him a somewhat sad air, but not something that would depress those about him. His eyes were bright blue and his longish blond hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and secured with a length of black silk ribbon. His dress was slightly archaic, but it fit him extremely well so the strangeness of it was soon forgotten.
The curious stranger glanced around the room and saw Evan in the corner staring at him rather pointedly. Smiling, he allowed himself to pointedly stare back. Soon it seemed as if there was no one in the room except for these two men.
The stranger bustled over to Evan's table and, donning an air of politeness, cautiously asked, "Would it bother you if I sit here, sir? I seemed to notice there were no other seats available."
Evan fought to restrain himself. Finally after an instant pause, he replied, "Not at all, sir. Do sit down."
"Thank you." Said the gentleman who spoke with, Evan noticed, a slight accent.
Staring into the man's gorgeous eyes, Evan asked, "You're not from London are you."
Feigning mock shock, the man smiled. "No I am not. My name is Alek Trager. I am originally from Germany."
Evan almost melted. His name was beautiful and he was from Germany, a place similar to England, yet exotically different. Evan was falling and falling hard for this man he had just met.
"Evan Jameson." He said, holding out his hand.
As Alek grasped his hand, he asked, "You're not from London either, are you."
Evan smiled, probably a little too enthusiastically. "No, I am from Ireland originally. I moved here with my parents when I was four years old."
"Ah," Alek said, trying to hold back a grin. "I came to London when I was three. My parents decided to send me to school here to be educated and to learn English."
Evan decided to be a bit forward. "Well you speak it beautifully. Your slight accent adds something unique to it."
Dammit you klutz, that was much too forward, Evan said to himself as he tried not to show his complete obsession with this man. Alek didn't seem too bothered by his statement and continued to smile. Evan thought, for only a moment, that possibly this man felt the same way about him, but that thought was quickly banished for its lunacy. Glancing up, Evan saw a slight glint in Alek's eyes. That sort of look only appeared in one circumstance. Evan decided to take a leap of faith, "Do you want to come back to my place for some tea?"
Alek's smile banished all of Evan's doubts. "I'd like that." He said.
The two left the pub quite inconspicuously and headed down the street to Evan's place. His heart was throbbing in his chest. Adrenaline was surging through his veins as he thought the situation over to himself. He didn't want to come on too strong but he didn't want to seem mousy or dull. This was the first man with which he had ever actively pursued a relationship. In a world where this was considered devilry, the fear of getting caught loomed in his head all too well. Evan never understood it. It was quite odd and rare so therefore people naturally feared it. But it never hurt anyone. He wasn't injuring anyone or actively working in any treasonous acts. Why then was it wrong?
The only argument against it he had ever heard (there had only been one of these such conversations as even the subject seemed to be taboo) was when someone had made a scathing comment about a certain man named Oscar Wilde who had died 8 years earlier. Incidentally, Wilde had been Irish, just like Evan. He also had shared Evan's emotional peculiarity. Though much of his life had been hidden from the public as it contained purely scandalous things, Evan knew that he was a stranger, lost in this hateful world. Should anyone ever find out about him, that hate which was poised to strike at him any time would make his move and leave him as wretched and lonely as that poor young man he had seen earlier.
Evan was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice they had arrived at his house. Alek was standing there, knowing this too but staying silent, lest he accidentally insult this gentleman who had brought a flare of brightness into his life. Alek knew that this man was special, a rare gemstone in a sea of black rocks. He was also rather hesitant as he knew that this relationship could not continue without a full disclosure of the truth. Unfortunately, the truth contained secrets that were never spoken of or never heard of in public. There was a dark fleck of something on Alek's soul and he knew that Evan needed to know of it before they could truly be together. They entered his room.
Alek glanced around, the room was understated and elegant. It wasn't elegant because of what was filling the room, but rather what wasn't in the room. Alek so disliked the now slightly unfashionable custom of filling one's room with ridiculous amounts of furniture to show one's wealth or prestige. This room was simple and handsome, much like its owner. The furniture that was there was dark polished oak and there was only what was needed. Glancing at a large piano sitting in the corner, Alek couldn't help but comment.
"You play the piano, sir?" he asked.
Evan smiled. "Please don't call me sir, I despise the title. To answer you; yes I do play. Music is one of the few pleasures that I never tire of."
"So you tire of pleasures easily. Is that it?" Alek said moving towards Evan.
"It's not that I tire of them, I simply do not know of many things that capture my spirit the way music does."
"Give me your hand." Alek said gently. Evan complied, slowly.
Alek's hands were cool but not chilling. They radiated that pleasant coolness one longs for while lying in bed on a sweltering day. Like the soft caress of the moon as she watches you dream. Alek continued, "You long to travel, to move beyond the confines of your present life. You wish to explore all facets of life and immerse yourself in them with the-." He paused, slowly bringing his eyes to meet Evan's. "-with the man whom you love." Doubt vanished from Alek's face like a wave. His hauntingly beautiful eyes suddenly lit up with joy. He knew, without a doubt that the man before him was the one he had been searching for.
Evan, seeing the play of emotions on Alek's face felt an escape from all the cares in the world. As strange as it was, this man had just described him to a tee. Dismissing Alek's observations as simply the results of a very analytical mind, Evan drew Alek towards him and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
Alek, seeing Evan's face turn crimson, smiled warmly. "Do not be ashamed." He whispered. "I feel the same way about you as you do for me. We were made for each other. We are part of each other. Don't fight your feelings, Evan."
When Alek said his name for the first time, Evan simply let himself go. Forgetting all he had been taught about cultural norms and taboos he embraced Alek again, but this time, there was no hesitation. He knew now who he was.
Without knowing why, he was suddenly without his shirt and Alek was removing his. They pressed their bodies together in a passionate embrace. Alek gently caressed Evan's cheek as their mouths met, sending waves of hot electricity through him.
Sinking slowly into a fiery passion that enveloped him, Evan whispered Alek's name and was lost to the powers of his body. He fell into blinding ecstasy with the man he loved.