The Ethereal Spectrum
“The Ethereal Spectrum”
by Mychael Black
Golden sunlight fell upon the glass panels, throwing a rainbow of brilliant colors onto the wooden floor of the workshop. Outside the heat was unbearable. A sweltering haze lingered over the city and drew the citizens into the air conditioning or out into the nearest body of water, be it a swimming pool or a pond. The Mighty Mississippi flowed through the city proper, but no one with any sense of self-preservation would dip so much as a toe into the swift-flowing and potently toxic waters. Inside the workshop, amid the hum of the air conditioner and the layer of dust, a man stood bent over a metal table, seemingly oblivious to the heat surrounding his beloved city. A swath of hair, almost as golden as the sun’s rays, fell into his line of vision. With a sweaty hand he tucked the escaping strand behind his left ear. He had orders to fill and nothing, not even the damnable heat wave, was going to put him behind schedule this time. Last month was bad enough, as the stack of overdue bills on his kitchen table in the nearby house attested to.
He stepped back in order to give his hands a break from the work. He wiped them on a towel that hung from a hook on the table’s edge, taking no notice of the tiny streaks of blood that were left behind. Working with glass had its hazards, but he didn’t care. After ten years of doing stained glass, it seemed as if his fingers–or at least his nerves–had become rather calloused to the pain. He turned off the bright lamp that hung over his workspace on the table and stepped out of the workshop. Only then did the heat truly register. He groaned and hurried into the house across the yard, closing the door behind him to escape the possibility of being broiled alive by the sun.
He opened the refrigerator and grumbled when he saw that he had only one soda left. He grabbed the can and popped it open. His throat was parched and he took a hearty swallow before turning to the door. Once he was back inside the air-conditioned workshop, he set the can down and switched his light back on. The white light flickered across the oddly cut glass on the tabletop, setting a rainbow upon the wooden rafters of the ceiling above. Forest sighed as he pieced together the glass shards. This job was to be his most lucrative and the piece was quickly proving to be his best yet.
The picture that was his inspiration hung from a push pin on the wall behind the table. He glanced up at it to mark the lines of the man’s face. An anonymous buyer had commissioned him to do this piece, contacting him only through a third party. He had been sent the picture that now hung on the wall before him as his only reference to what the buyer wanted.
The figure in the picture was an angel of sorts, but he wasn’t quite like any angel that Forest had ever seen a picture of. He had snow white wings, yes, but he also had a dark gleam in his blue eyes that seemed to hint at other things that no angel would dare to think. Golden hair framed a sweetly angelic face, but something about him suggested something less angelic and perhaps more erotic. And then there were his lips–full, sensuous lips that curved gently into the most wry of grins. Forest couldn’t help but shudder every time he looked at the picture; even in his dreams he saw the man staring back at him.
He cut a piece of golden-yellow glass and fitted it to others of a slightly darker shade. The combination gave the impression of a light shining on the man’s blonde hair and bringing out the lighter shades of it. Forest stepped back and admired the glass figure. The angel–or whatever he was–was done. All that was left to do was to piece together the cobalt background that the buyer had wanted. Yes, Forest thought with triumphant smile, this was the best yet.
He reached up to turn off the light, but stopped when the sun’s retreating rays cast a reflection on the colored glass. Forest looked up to the window to see where the reflection might have come from, but there was no one outside. He looked back down at the glass, but the reflection was gone. He shook his head and switched the light off. He left the workshop and closed the door. He had been working too long; yes, that’s all it was–he just needed a break.
Forest stepped into the shower and a relaxed sigh escaped him as the water rained down over the tense muscles of his back. He had spent the entire day working, and the cool water was a very welcome relief to the heat that still lingered despite the slow setting of the sun. He slid his fingers through his hair and lathered it with a sweet-smelling shampoo. Lavender always had a very relaxing effect, and when used as a shampoo, its effect was tripled. He rinsed his hair and smiled as he thought of the return that this new job offered. For such a small piece, he had been nearly floored when the buyer’s contact told him that the buyer would pay him ten grand for it. He had been given two thousand up front in order to purchase the best materials he could. The remaining eight thousand would be delivered upon receipt of the finished piece.
Forest finished washing and turned off the water. He knew he really should give his hands a break, but the promise of such a lump sum of money upon completion was too much to put off working. He dried as quickly as he could and dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He hurried back out to the workshop in his bare feet and opened the door. As he reached up to switch on the light above the table, Forest’s hand stilled over the lamp.
He watched breathlessly as the reflection he had seen earlier stared back at him from the glass–yet no light fell upon the table itself. The sun’s last rays were sliding beneath the tops of the trees, dropping the workshop into darkness. Forest stumbled back against the far wall as the reflection took on a more tangible form. Golden-yellow glass gave way to golden-yellow hair; cobalt glass gave way to sapphire eyes. But his lips. Dear God, Forest thought he would die if those darkly sensuous lips touched him. As the ethereal form of the man materialized before his eyes, Forest feared that he would do just that.
“Who-who are you?” he whispered hoarsely as the gossamer figure stood before him, fully formed and smiling cryptically.
The man–or spirit–glided over the rough wooden floor to stand not but two inches from Forest’s body. He lifted a graceful hand and Forest shuddered to feel such a weighted touch from something as vaporous as the figure in front of him.
“I am Dominic. Do you fear me?”
Forest swallowed hard, but honestly didn’t know whether he was truly afraid or simply awed. The two emotions seemed to mix within his brain until he no longer knew where one ended and the other began. Dominic’s voice was as ethereal as his body, and the mere sound of it set every nerve in Forest’s body on a delicate edge.
“Should I fear you?” he asked quietly.
Dominic smiled and slid the wispy tendrils that were his fingers around the back of Forest’s neck. With only the gentlest pressure, he brought their faces, and inevitably their mouths, together. When Dominic parted his lips over Forest’s, the creator’s lips followed suit. Forest moaned into Dominic’s mouth softly as their bodies came together as well. Dominic pressed him into the wall and deepened their kiss.
Forest’s breath caught in his throat as the vaporous tongue explored his mouth, tasting him with a delicate touch that felt as if there was nothing there at all. He wanted to move, to draw Dominic closer to him, but when he tried, his hands slid through the man’s body like the air itself. Yet he could feel the hardness, the ridge of Dominic’s cock against his own, like he was made of flesh and blood. His confusion seeped into his kiss in the form of a soft whimper. He felt Dominic smile on his lips.
“I am not here to take pleasure for myself,” Dominic whispered. “I am here to give you pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever known.”
Forest nodded and waited with bated breath as Dominic knelt to the floor in front of him. With no more than a wave of the spirit’s hand, Forest’s jeans fell open. With a gentle tug, they fell to his feet; his underwear followed. He flattened himself against the wall as the sensation of a warm mouth encircled the entire length of his cock. The feeling was indeed like nothing he had ever felt. It was like the softest rain and strongest grip; a gentle sucking motion that threatened to swallow him whole while stroking his length in the warmest velvet. He felt himself grow closer to climax, and he wanted nothing more than to touch the man below him. He reached out to grip Dominic’s head, but was met with an indescribable ache when his hands passed through the shimmering form. He dropped his hands to the side and instead gave himself over to the spirit’s seduction.
He began moving his hips in time with Dominic’s mouth, his entire body awash in a heavenly ache. His stomach tightened and a gasp escaped his lips. His thrusts sped up until he was making love to Dominic’s mouth with long, forceful strokes. When his thighs tightened, Forest gripped one of the support beams of the low-hanging ceiling. With a deep-seated moan, he erupted into Dominic’s mouth, sending wave after wave of warm semen down the spirit’s throat. When he was spent, Dominic stood and pulled him into another kiss. Forest moaned softly as he tasted his own release on the spirit’s tongue.
“I want to feel you inside me,” Forest whispered. “Is that possible?”
Dominic pulled away and turned Forest around to face the wall. Forest rested his forehead against the wood and bit his lower lip as a pair of gentle, insistent hands brushed over his buttocks with feather-light touches. When he felt Dominic spread them apart, exposing his tender opening, Forest squeezed his eyes shut and waited. His heart thundered in his chest as a single, slender finger slid inside him. He moaned softly and backed up onto Dominic’s hand.
“Please,” he whispered.
The finger withdrew and was replaced with something substantially larger. Forest gasped as the head of Dominic’s shaft pressed into him. He gripped the exposed beams of the wall and groaned as Dominic’s cock filled him until he was sure his body would split in two. With a soft but firm grip on his hips, Dominic withdrew from Forest’s body and reentered him with a slow, fluid stroke. Forest backed into him again, meeting him halfway and impaling himself on the vaporous cock buried deep inside his body.
Beneath his arm, Forest caught a glimpse of the two of them in a large piece of glass that stood beside the door. He watched breathlessly as his body was stretched and filled by a shimmering figure of glass and vapor. He felt no pain, and indeed the pleasure was truly exquisite, but Dominic’s reflection was that of glass and smoke as one would see them reflected in a mirror. With a particularly deep thrust, Forest’s attention was drawn quickly back to the glassy cock as it slowly and deliciously filled him. He suddenly wondered if Dominic would climax. And if he did, what would it feel like? With another deep thrust, a throaty groan escaped Forest’s lips and his body shook between Dominic’s form and the wall. He whimpered as wave after blissful wave washed over him, suffusing him with a gentle air of comfort.
When he started to come down from his heavenly high, Dominic gripped him, buried his cock in him with a final thrust, and filled Forest’s body with a warm wash of light. Forest looked into the mirror and his eyes widened as his body began to glow from the inside out. When Dominic pulled out of him, Forest was finally able to find his breath. He turned around expecting a kiss, but Dominic was gone.
Forest looked frantically around for him, but the spirit was nowhere to be seen. Then he looked down at the piece he had been working on. Dominic’s serene, angelic gaze stared back at him, and when Forest smiled, he swore he saw the faintest hint of a wink. He looked back up at the picture on the wall, moved the figure in glass to the side, and began its twin.
(c) 2005 Mychael Black