With Or Without You
Part One
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, it all belongs to people much cooler than me.
It was a hot, hot evening in Los Angeles. The smog was festering, the skies black as the bottom of an un-creamed cup of coffee. The windows were opening, blowing in the smoky breeze and Chas was sitting on the window ledge, awaiting the arrival of his paramour. Tonight was the night, the night that a wedding of souls would occur. He had thought on the relationship he had with one, John Constantine. There had been so much passion, so much love between the two. But tonight, tonight was different. Tonight, Chas was to become a man. He longed so badly to be joined with his sarcastic knight, the prince of his dreams. He thought about it and longed for it, longed like a fat kid longed for an Extra Value Meal from McDonald's.
In he walked, with the grace of a mongoose. He walked in a confident stride, like a horse trotting in the front yard of Buckingham Palace. Chas drooled at the sight of him, a mighty, magnificent creature; one that had must have escaped Homer when he wrote the "Iliad" or at least the writer of some romance novel that graced the bedside of Chas. He had dark, exotic looks, belonging to a samurai of old or at least one of the cooks at Benihana. He took a seat across from him and took his hand into his, feeling the pulse beneath his boy flesh.
"Alas, fair young chuck, I have returned!" he proclaimed before placing a kiss onto his hand.
"I've missed you," Chas said as he nuzzled that slim hand in his own.
"Now, we must retire to the bedchamber, where I can deflower thee. Oh sweet beloved. I long for this moment!" he cried aloud. Apparently, there had been a lot of longing going on in the apartment above the bowling alley.
John swept Chas into his arms, like a groom taking his bride into his arms and escorting him across the threshold. Chas was nervous, nervous like a fundamentalist Christian at a gay pride parade. What was to come this night, him oh adoring bride? He had hoped that he could fulfill every expectation that John had had for him. John hoisted him onto the bed and then ripped his expensive shirt baring his chest.
"My loins are on fire for you!" John cried. "Come my adoring chuck, I must take you now as the passion overwhelms me."
The sex was hot, hot like hell, hot like hot tamales, hot like level three nuclear chili. There was much shouting of their overwhelming passion for one another. Chas' cried aloud that he loved him as he was impaled by John's throbbing manhood. They came together in perfect unison, like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing a Christmas song. He laid there, sweat jelling like Jell-O across his boy frame and he let out an appreciative moan. His samurai covered him in kisses, slowly, like a butterfly floating over the continent of his body.
"I love thee, my love," John said as he fell asleep. But far soothe, something bad, really, really bad happened. The room went dark as night and Chas could have swore that he heard the faint fluttering of wings, or it could have been a Bush song or possibly even "Hollaback Girl." After such a beautiful union, this had to happen; some dark villain had to sweep away with his beloved. He could hear his cries and his calling out for him. Chas was defenseless but he had an idea who it might be.