Soaring. Wind.

Ruffling through pure white feathers and hair so blonde it was almost the colour of sunlight on a fresh winter's morning after the first snow.

Snapping back the soft strands from tanned flesh, a colour mortals strove to achieve through a lifetime's work, a colour, that by all rights, he should not have.

Flowing over perfectly smooth, unblemished skin. Over closed eyelids with their gentle swathe of almond lashes, over lightly pink buds now curved in the rare smile of unadulterated joy garnered only from the freedom that flight gave.

Jazreal spread his arms wide and relished the touch of the cool air over his naked torso, feeling, almost as an after thought, the muscles moving gently under his skin, in his arms and chest, his stomach, pumping in his back as the vast feathery wings moved almost languorously, needing little input to keep him in the air.

After all this time, he still marveled at the idea of having muscles at all, of having skin, limbs, hair, internal organs. Internal organs! What a challenge they had been, in the first days! Eating. He had never imagined it could be so, glorious, the tastes, the textures, the smells!

After nearly a millennia of life, of witnessing miracles, he had eaten for the first time and thought he would die. Even now, he savored every morsel, though he didn't really need to eat, and he pitied Kai for having lost this precious gift. Pitied his love, in his own, quiet way, for having to sup on the life blood of mortals for all eternity, rather than the wonderful, innumerable foods of the mortal realm.

He opened his eyes and let them fall on the city below him. The map picked out in tiny lights of yellow, orange, white, red, blue, green, every colour under the sun! He could see every living creature as it moved through its own small world, interacting with every other thing around it, changing the world in subtle, brilliant ways that were never noticed except by others like himself. Despite the horrors he knew were down there, it was a wondrous sight and the very reason he had left his and Malachi's rooms.

Every year, on this night, he would check the street below their window was empty and then leap from it, letting loose the wings he normally kept hidden and ride the breeze until the city was nothing more than a child's drawing below him. Once there, he would roam free and remember.

He would remember his awakening. Remember the first time he had opened eyes capable of seeing only in three dimensions. Remember the first time he had felt, had touched, had smelled and heard.

And he would cry. Even now, the warm tears were tracing their way down his smooth cheeks, leaving cold tracks in their wake that the air chilled more with every beat of his wings, making his skin tingle.

Every year, on this night, and this night alone, he would let himself remember that awful and wonderful day. Remember, clearly, the sneers of his fellow Seraphim, as he was the last to be made corporeal, the last to be granted this gift. The last and the youngest. To them, he had been nothing more than a fledgling and they had not understood, nor even, in their new encompassing, limited, humanoid bodies, wanted to understand the Creators choice in him.

That day, that had meant to be special, and assuredly was, had been ruined by their failure to help him through this sudden transition to a body he could not understand and barely control.

And he would remember, then, his first sight of Malachi.

Kai, the king of the city he had been brought alive in. Kai, the creature of the night that he was supposed to fear, to hate, to kill. Kai, the creature of shadow and darkness that had entranced him from the first moment he had seen him. Kai, his opposite in almost every way.

Kai, the love of his life.

He smiled to himself and stretched, letting the wisps of moisture from the clouds around him smooth over his body, dampening his hair and pajama bottoms. The thin material clung to his legs as his hair slicked back, clinging, in turn, to his back, between the towering, feathery limbs.

With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes once more and let himself drop, silently and carefully, as not to be seen, downward and back to the window. The wind caught at the single, bright, leaf green and cherry red feather he wore in his left ear and flung it back to catch in his hair. He laughed, not really knowing why, the gay, light, musical tones ringing through the sky.

He alighted, gently and silently on the window sill, letting the translucent drape swarm over him as he stepped down and inside. He blinked his pure black, almond shaped eyes and folded his wings tight to his back to keep them from damage on the enclosing space of the room, though it was actually larger than any mortal would have a bedroom.

There was movement to his left and he smiled the smile he reserved for only this person. In the space of a heart beat, Malachi was at his side, a smile of his own that showed, just barely, the sharp fangs of his kind.

"You're wet, Jay."

A statement, gently spoken with a playful smile, betraying the mirth the ancient vampire held deep within. A mischievous glint showed in the golden, cat-like eyes as they regarded him without blinking.

Jazreal nodded and wrapped his arms round his lover's shoulders, not caring that the moisture on his skin would soak the expensive top he wore. He leaned forward and kissed him, tasting mortal blood on his lips. Kai had fed at least, tonight.

With a tiny pang in his heart, he shook the thought off, recognizing it as jealousy. An emotion that had begun to rise recently, an ugly emotion that he did not care for. He knew from where it stemmed.

Kai fed selectively, to his taste. He never killed, something that was almost abhorrent to him, but he drank only a little from two or three a night. Two or three young men a night. He kissed his vampiric partner lovingly, wiping the petty thoughts from his mind. Losing himself in the feel of those lips against his own, relishing in the taste he never tired of.

Eventually Malachi pulled back, cupping his face with both hands, gently stroking one cheek with perfectly manicured nails, "What's wrong, love?"

Jazreal leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and smiled almost sadly, "Nothing, just.. Remembering." He opened his eyes again and saw the understanding in the gold ones across from his own, the almost hidden sorrow on his behalf. He brought his own hands up and caught the pale, pale wrists either side of his neck and gently pried the hands from his face.

Without a word, he drew Malachi to the bed, slowly relinquishing him of the hugging black turtle neck, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. He gently ran his faintly cold fingers down the taught chest of his lover and looked deep into his eyes, wanting to forget the terrible things they had been through, just for one night, wondering briefly, if Malachi knew this.

He slowly pushed Malachi to the mattress and lay atop him, bringing their lips together once more; noticing the taste of mortal blood was now gone and lost himself in the pleasures of the night, gratefully relinquishing his mind to his lovers caresses and gentle ministrations.

Much later, he stood naked at the window, shielded from view by only the translucent drape that swam over his skin in the cool breeze. His arms were folded, unconsciously in a protective gesture and he stared at the stars only his eyes could see above the city, above the pale orange glow of the city lights.

He took a deep breath, held it for a long moment and then looked over to his sleeping partner. Malachi was lying with his face turned toward him, the bed linen thrown lazily over his hips, the pale skin of his legs and torso almost glowing in the muted light from the window, one arm thrown lazily over the pillow above his head, the other hanging limply from the mattress.

He smiled and turned once more to the heavens.

In the East, he could hear the sun rising and see the lightening of the sky. The night of remembrance was over; he could get back to his life now and relish the sensualities of it without worrying.

With one last glance at the sky, he closed the window, drew the heavy curtains and climbed back into bed beside Malachi, carefully laying his head on the vampires chest and closing his eyes.