Gargoyles

The stone masonry began to shift just barely, sending dust and flakes down to the pavement, shimmering in the streetlights that just flicked on. The sky was a deepening violet and the moon stood upon the spires of distant buildings to the East. The awakening was atop an ancient house, built by a mad novelist whose arcane stories brought him the wealth to wrought his most demented dreams into irrational architecture. The gargoyle turned her head to witness the rise of the Pale Mistress. Squatting on a ball, at the pinnacle of a series of steep shingles, the stone demon shook off the vestiges of sleep and gazed with marbled eyes at the stars that sparked into life, the spinning constellations immortal dance. She then turned her attention to the streets below, searching for the human forms that scurried like rats, running forever from the inevitability of their mortality. She gave a raspy laugh, this child of the night, incarnate into stone. No flesh things will witness her absence, her departure from frozen stillness to midnight wanderings. A grin of carved fangs graced her visage as she stretched her back and gripped the stand on which she was mounted, hands clawing the ball between her stone feet. With the departure of the Sun came the return of the absurd, and Twilight was free to roam the city at will.

With a bound that left her long, forked tail trailing the edge of the roof, she cleared the alleyway and landed on the next building. With amazing dexterity and suppleness for heavy stone, she leapt across the tiles and tar of rooftops, throwing herself from arches to chimney tops. Her talons gripped the brickwork, leaving a trail of scratches but in places never to be seen by human eyes. She knew her passage was safe as the mortal folk never looked up but kept their eyes to the ground that she never touched. The long hours of brilliant disclosure, of sitting naked in open view to the few who cared to look up and notice her, were far behind. Now as they prepared for their practiced death, she sped above their beds and onward to her destination.

She could not remember how long she had wandered alone and in secret, the night and the sky, but she recalled painfully the loneliness which drove her to seek others of her ilk. It was not that she needed to seek approval or even the company of others but just to know that she was not alone, not the only one of her kind in all the world. And on one windy night, ranging the cityscape of old town, she found a familiar demon poised atop a derelict church.

Braced against a corner, arms gripping the either walls and hooves implanted into a stand, he faced the South to witness the full passage of the moon. She had given him the name Dusk, for he would not move, let alone speak to her. But at the first glance, she knew that life kindled deep beneath the rocky surface. It was to this corner guardian that she made her nightly expedition, hoping to find the post vacant with scratching in the brickwork, leading to her gargoyle amazed with the wonderment of first life. But with a disheartened sigh, she found the carved figure still attached to the top corner of the old building.

With a leap that would shame a panther, she landed above her would-be companion and swung over the ledge to get a closer look and have a tactile examination. With one arm holding the ledge above her, she traced the carved lines of a body that only a psychotic artist or a divine maniac could create. A thick swelling of muscle, forever tense, knotted arms pinned back to converging walls. A chiseled chest and stomach gave plenty of room for her hands to roam around and scrape. She gave a deep penetrating stare into the stone eyes, searching for a glimmer of vitality. It's absence only increased her desperation. She did not know what drove her to this immobile entity night after night, but as her claws scraped along the hard bulges and wrought stone, Twilight felt a hunger in her that has never been satisfied. Wrapping legs and tail about the statue, her rubbing creating a pile of fine sand, she pressed and cajoled the gargoyle, trying to pull its essence into being. She dropped her arm to latch more firmly as she pushed the center of her legs against the cold stone. Slowly, she worked her way up his body, straddling his waist, his chest and then his shoulders. Holding his pointed ears in each hand, she leaned back and thrust her hips into the face that held a perpetual laugh. Rainwater, that was stored from centuries of downpour, seeped from her granite lips, drenching his face and darkening the stone work. Her hands found the thick, curved horn that crowned his skull and an idea bloomed in her mind that quickly came into action. Reaching up for ledge and lifting up her hips, she settled down with a gravelly groan onto the horn that sprouted from the center of his forehead. The wind worn cement was slick with the lubrication that flowed from her intricate carvings. Deep gyrations sent her into a dizzy melt of passion as she ground the horn into inner reaches that have never been touched before.

So lost in the sensual debauchery, she barely realized the hands that gripped her thighs and pulled them into faster and deeper thrusts down on the head of the stone demon. A deep, fierce growl rumbled beneath her and she opened her eyes in wonderment and excitement. She looked down to see the massive arms shake off their dust to grab her waist and pull her up and off the soaking horn. Slowly, she was lowered and pulled in to come face to face with a devil awaken out of stone by a lust aeons in keeping. Bright red eyes met another as she felt the gargoyle wrapping it's arms around her, pushing her form down onto his crotch, something hot and hard growing between her legs. She felt the prodding of a horn of a different nature. It slid up her leg and found the pulsing swelled curves of her inner body. With grunt and shove, she pushed down upon the bulbed shaft to fill her stone crevice so slippery and sensitive. This intrusion was even longer and thicker than the head horn and gasp of delight slipped from her mouth. Wrapping her arms around his neck, legs about his waist and tail about a leg, she arched her back and welcomed the thrusts that pumped into her vessel.

The pace was so furious, so long in anticipation, driven by demons of stone strength, that the foundation began to crack. Their fixation to the rhythm and sensation was so deep that they did not notice as the ledge began to crumble. Even as they slipped off and plummeted down, they did not stop the wicked strokes that numbed any sense of safety or rationality. They sped toward the ground till a wondrous discovery brought them to new heights. Hidden behind his back, pressed forever into the walls, Dusk splayed open huge, bat like wings. They swooped back toward the stars as they continued their demonic coupling.

Even soaring above the cityscape, with the ground and sky spinning around their heads, and the moon shining down, revealing their impossible existence, they pressed into each other's rocky bodies. Hellish forms, the carved image of evil's beauty, never knowing the corruption of time or the weakness of flesh, mated like tender horrors. Dusk had slipped his arms under and across her back and gripped onto her shoulders. She clawed his hide with her talons, leaving white trails on the broad granite surface of his back. The plunges of his lower spire became both furious and faster with each thrust going deeper, every push up against the tiny knob that budded inside her stone flower. And then silhouetted against a full, yellow moon, a roar echoed through the city as he filled her melting crevice with his demon seed. Each spurt sent shivers through her being and a flash of fire ripped her mind as she came, her thighs trying to hold onto his waist.

They do not know how long they soared like raptors, clinging to each other above the rooftops, but when Dusk held her tight to his body and landed on the steeple, the sky was returning to a deep, dark blue. They kissed for awhile, as long, forked tongues slipped over fangs and jowls of nightmare faces. But before the sun returned to scatter the dreams and shadows, Twilight journeyed back to her century old stand. It was too high for any human to see the smile that graced her lips or see the anticipation in her eye as she waited out the daylight, hungry for the night.