For Morpheus, time in The Empty World began to fall into a cyclical pattern of recurrences. He experienced the wheel of the year more clearly through remnant Human traditions kept by Vampyres and Halfangels, than he did observing the relative motions of the heavens visible from planet Earth. He had learned what family meals felt like since moving into the Palace Shade, and had experienced a grande celebration of Halloween and its closely placed festivals of Samhain, Dias De Las Muertos, and The Feast of All Saints.

"Are you in town for Thanksgiving?" Shio asked one day.

Morpheus knew these holidays from watching them. In Nede, they had passed some years with hardly a change to be seen but the theme of Movie Night. They did not have work and holiday in the same sense in The Land. It might truly be Christmas or Halloween every day there, and so no days - which they did not technically have - were special. Souls simply were. Forever.

"Yes," Morpheus promised Shio. Yes, for most occasions. But he was not always in town, between.

There had been a series of talks with Mother, with his Father, Sleep, and with Dream, and even a few chats with Zerachiel, and Grandfather Night. Morpheus was troubled that his time spent in The Empty World had not been helpful. He acknowledged some Angelic willingness to serve in his nature. This was not truly discouraged on Earth; there were regions where service to the greater good or to a whole was seen as a just course in life. There were fraternal orders of public service and defense. There were religious orders. To be charitable was beautiful, even in America. But, there, especially, loss of individuality...submission...surrender were seen as flawed.

"Be close to me," Sleep had said, when Morpheus voiced his concerns. He invited Morpheus to share his couch. Morpheus sat then with his father, who put his arm about Morpheus, and leaned against him in the same companionable way Laudanum often did. It was good, and Morpheus felt - strongly - the love that he had always assumed to be between them. "What is it you require?"

"Confirmation? Affirmation?" It was a good question. "Your continued love and blessing."

"Not permission?"

"No." Morpheus knew it was true when he said it. He had traveled without permission before, given himself temporary goals; he had not chosen his own mission, or path in life. He could.

"You have decided." Sleep had known this as true when he said it.

"My most righteous path is there, one part of that is being near Julien, some part is finding others to help. Part of both those things is accepting that I am exceptional and individual and as worthy of being helped as helping."

"It remains in your power to return, always."

"Yes," Morpheus had agreed, "Father, you must- please, tell me if I can serve you further. I still feel there is some clue I have missed. There are yet things I have seen or know to be that have not been perceived to have passed, there. It is sometimes difficult for me to identify what is and may be."

"Morpheus, Son, we are none of us perfect beings. You continue to have my blessing." Sleep kissed his face and Morpheus felt instantly calmed.

Morpheus had gone to Steven during the Thanksgiving festivities. He was in the seldom used first floor living room, which for the occasion had been converted into some manner of football den. Morpheus sat and watched part of a Cowboys game, until the program came to a commercial break.

"You remember the...Prime Directive?" Morpheus asked, using Steven's borrowed Science-Fiction phrase.

"Yeah." He moved his eyes over Morpheus. "Everything OK?"

"Yes, yes. A long time ago, you asked Opium if she could help, but she couldn't. I couldn't, in the past. If you find that you, or your family, or one of us," he gestured toward himself, "needs help, you may let me know. I'll find some way to help."

Steven held out his right hand, and Morpheus shook it in sign of agreement between them. "You've been no small help in the past, Murph, but I will call you."

Morpheus had smiled. "I can teach you the specific summon, but do you think you could get me one of those mobile things?"

"No problem, I'll hook you up." He looked like it would be fun for him.

Ganymede had become Morpheus' next accomplice. "You explain to me how it works," Morpheus told him, "I want pictures, audio and video, right? To go onto this public part of the Internet. And I want them to see my name is Morpheus, but also let them think that my real Human name is Tyron Smith."

"So...Three-quarter-Angel, pretending to be Human, aspiring to be a rock star, pretending to be a Grecian God?"

Morpheus nodded.

"One, we need a bunch of videos of you in public spaces dancing, or performing acoustic cover versions of rock songs. Two, you get on every social network. Three, charge money for your work. Four, profit."

"You wanna help?"

"Absolutely, as long as we're back at the Burrow for Christmas."

Another holiday. Morpheus returned with Ganymede to the palace, after flitting around the world shooting parkour and dance videos near landmarks, and playing Christmas carols and Classic Rock in public parks. It was night, and much of the surrogate family were in the home theatre watching a movie. Shade was out with young, Human friends. Julien was absent.

"Rickman's in this?" Ganymede asked, dropping to a front, center seat beside Steven.

"You never saw Die Hard?" Steven asked.

"Heard of it."

"It's near the beginning, I'll restart." Steven waved his hand. Nothing seemed to happen.

"Just use the remote," Ganymede complained.

"No. This works, just wait." Steven swiped his right hand through the air like some Jedi. "You want to join us, Murph?"

"I've seen it."

Ganymede laughed and affected a stilted manner of speech, "I'm afraid I can't do that for you, Mr. Stark."

Morpheus looked to Joy, who sat on another of the couches with Athen, Spider, and Melalie. "Have you watched Gremlins, yet?"

She smiled up at him; they both remembered typical Christmas in Nede. "Not yet. Spider's already got a request in for Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang."

"Athen's in for The Thin Man."

"If Shade's back we'll all be watching Hogfather," Athen said, "for hours."

"Time, we have," Melalie said.

"Hogfather's brilliant, but if that's allowed, then I vote for Sorcerer's Stone."

"MOVIE SIGN!"

Morpheus went along the hall to Julien's studio. Julien was working at the corner desk; he didn't turn to look, but must have at least sensed a presence, as he greeted Morpheus. "Your back? Tour finished?"

"Yeah. Got you something."

Julien finally turned away from his workstation and looked at Morpheus. He smiled, then laughed. "What are you-? Oh my Gawd!" Morpheus was wearing red, plaid bondage pants, a dark peacoat, and a biker cap. "I used to have one of those!"

"You like it?" Morpheus asked, tipping his hat. "I got mine from this adorable, barely-legal kid from Long Island."

"You did not!"

"He was wearing purple lipstick."

"Shut the fuck up!"

"At The Garden."

Julien lifted his hands to touch his face. "It was the Eighties! Give me my hat!"

Morpheus took one big step forward, then placed his hat atop Julien's head.

Julien did not seem able to stop grinning. "Gawd. I know I look ridiculous. I used to wear this damn thing all the time. At school!" He narrowed his eyes at Morpheus, who took a seat on the edge of Julien's desk. "You are lying to me."

Morpheus smiled smugly. "You think? That's not even the gift." He reached under the back of his coat and pulled the rolled t-shirt from his waistband. "I stopped to get you this."

Julien glared, but he took the shirt and unrolled it. "This," he paused, pale fingers moving over the cloth, "from when Vlad." He lifted the concert tee to his face and inhaled. "It smells like new tee and cheap beer. How did you do it? There was a collector."

"I told you."

Julien shook his head. He removed the hat to look at it. It wasn't, in truth, an authentic biker cap, but a costume hat of cloth and plastic. "You could just make it, like your clothes."

"I didn't. Julien...."

He tossed the cap to the desk; the shirt was bunched in his right hand. "Then why didn't you-?!"

Morpheus had highly suspected this part would come. He was not informed from his own experience, as most people he knew had similar levels of abilities. But, this came in so many stories.

"You could have...." It was better, Morpheus thought, Julien didn't precisely put it into words.

"I know. At least, I know it seems that way. I've thought about it, often. The temptation to think I could save someone - fix things - is so strong."

Julien didn't speak, just looked down at his hands and clenched the shirt.

"This I could do. Occupy a place. Observe. Remove what was already a misplaced object. Purchase a common object for sale, to replace the common thing lost. I could quietly remove a piece of art from a place about to be destroyed. Take expensive shoes from a dead man, when bandits are on the road. Take a tent from shifting desert sands."

"It probably should have been obvious. The way you just wink in and out with that fluttering sound. Angels aren't like us - like I am." He looked up, smiling, though Morpheus was certain it was more than a little forced. Julien set the shirt on his desk.

"I don't think it's meant to be obvious. The working of most things is like that: more to be figured out than explained. But, I don't like hiding things from you, so I decided to make it a little more obvious, even if I don't explain the small details."

"You're allowed to tell me, now?"

"I-" Morpheus hesitated, needing another moment's thought to make his answer truthful. "Yes, but it's more precisely true I only just realized I didn't need someone else's permission to do so."

Julien nodded, gaze drifting toward his computer monitor as he procesed the answer. "I know what you mean. Sometimes, I think it took me longer than it should have, but, when you get beat down so much - even if it's not physical, maybe especially when it's not only physical - you sorta forget you have any power or control over what happens."

Morpheus touched his right index finger to Julien's chin, then waited for his eyes to track. "But it gets better."

Julien laughed lightly. "It does." He sighed.

"You want to come watch movies with the rest of the family?"

Julien shook his head. "I've got work."

"On the holiday?"

He rolled his shoulders, then sitting straight-backed, gestured to the studio about them with digital croquis and racks of sample garments. "Paris Menswear and Couture Fashion Weeks start in January and someone poached a pattern maker from my Paris Office, which, of course, is the one office CCIP cares about. I'm in for this year, but it's just so much drama if I don't maintain employee numbers."

"I can hang out here," Morpheus said, as he took his mobile from his jacket pocket. Steven had said the brushed metal case was a stylish choice, but Ganymede had insisted it needed at least one cute sticker; Morpheus had picked the spiky-haired penguin in headphones. "I want to go watch Gremlins, if they get around to it." He sent a message to Steven telling him to let him know if they decided to watch the movie.

"Why do you do that?"

"Have a gizmo?" Morpheus asked, "You've got one, too."

"How you've been recently. Traveling with Ganymede. Caring if Humans notice you."

"Why do you care about Fashion Week? It's probably the same sort of answer."

Julien didn't answer immediately. He made a slight nod, then took a cigarette case from the inner pocket of his tan blazer. Only after he'd lit the cigarette with a thought, drawn a breath, and exhaled, did Julien speak. "I'll be disappointed if you really have the same reasons."

"I thought fashion was like an art to you," Morpheus said honestly.

Julien laughed softly. "It is. Sometimes. It is also an industry. Like music, maybe? There is an industry behind it."

"Yeah. There is. But I'm not doing it for money. There are easier ways to get money."

"At first, it was as escape," Julien told him. "Something I figured out I knew how to do, helping dress Blade's dolls. A way to alter what I had to look more like what my parents wouldn't buy me. And, realistically or not, I thought, a subject of study and an industry where I had a better chance to be taken seriously."

"Musicians are allowed, even expected, to look strange, so even if it's not the same, it's not that different."

"Those reasons got me as far as school. But that also led me to meet Athen. And that, well, you know." It had led to Psyche revealing herself in an attempt to get Julien to murder Athen, but Julien had turned the knife on himself. Not one of the brighter moments for either soul. "Continuing in school, that was something the others encouraged, to keep our collective cover a while longer. I found a new reason to be as successful as possible in fashion: Vampyre or not, I didn't want to be financially dependent on Athen."

"Really?"

"Really. The fact that you didn't know that worries me, Murph. Seriously."

"Because independence is so valued in American culture?"

Julien laughed. "I'm sorry. Sweetie, I am." He was laughing at Morpheus. "I mean, yes, that's true, but...." He shook his head then took another drag from his cigarette. "The fact that I could be the kept boy of some actual Vampyre was like a horror to me somehow, even though - I know - Joy was very much a kept girl to me. It's not noble, or fair. I just...I wanted to be with someone - with him - but as a boyfriend, or husband, like an equal partner, not something less. And young as he looks, he's ancient and so willful and stubborn. The first time he told me I didn't have to work, I decided I had to not only work, but to be successful. I married him three times, but my money is my money, end of story."

"It does seem a little bit of a double standard."

Julien sighed. "I love Joy, but you and I both know she does dumb things for guys, and it's not in our power to stop that. But you...if you say some kind of independence is your reason, I can respect that, even if it's no longer my main reason." He didn't outright say he'd be disappointed if Morpheus claimed he was willing to be kept by a lover, but Morpheus sensed the thought.

"Not financial independence, but, a kind of independence. It's like when I said I'd realized I could do some things without permission. I chose a path, or, a direction. Using music to make myself noticed and using myself to make music noticed are both part of that path."

"Maybe I'm not seeing the end goal, because caring if your work gets seen or shared doesn't seem like you, Morpheus. I'm aware it's hypocritical coming from me."

"Why is it hypocritical?"

"Because, I could actually let young, mortal designers take over design duty for House of Julien Dangerous, and still be financially independent, instead of making up new, fake identities to allow myself to always be that fortunate, young designer. It's arrogance. I don't want anyone else to control what my name goes on."

"Well, it's pride, at least. Some pride is healthy."

"Pride goes before the fall."

"Pride goes before destruction, and a spirit is lifted before a fall. It is better to be humbled with the meek, than to divide spoils with the proud," Morpheus quoted. "It should be wrong to say my goal, because it is a kind of arrogance, to assume there is this audience, but I want to be noticed just enough to reach the ones who most need to hear what I want to write songs about. If there are people who can find music so meaningful as to tattoo lyrics on their wrist, then it just stands to reason that music and meaningful emotion are things that should continue in the world."

Julien ground the remainder of his cigarette into the glass tray on his desk. He smiled, even in his eyes, though his head was bowed in some attempt to hide this. "I kind of love you and hate you right now."

"I could never hate you. I think you underestimate yourself. People need clothes, you provide stylish clothes. I see how hard you work at it. You should earn money for it. But that means all the people in your offices and stores have jobs, too. It means people can have a little help expressing themselves. You make beautiful things. I won't believe that's as selfish as you make it sound."

"When you make this meaningful, original music...."

"It's not quite finished, but I'm working on it."

Julien nodded, "As soon as it's ready, give me a copy. I'll make them play it in all the Caution stores."

Morpheus knew those were the juniors stores and that they were located in malls and trendy neighborhoods all over the world. "You can do that?"

"Of course. They are my stores. But, you know? I do let my junior designers design for the kids."

"You're not quite as arrogant as you think." Morpheus grinned at Julien.

Julien stood up. He took the biker cap from the desktop and placed it on Morpheus' head. "Tell me, again, what barely-legal me looked like."

Morpheus told Julien exactly what he'd felt looking at his eighteen-year-old self.

It took Morpheus until spring to get his first collection of songs composed, arranged, recorded, and mixed. He had three other guitarists living in the palace with him. Joy mainly played bass, but Mother and Shade were both skilled guitarists who could take the role of playing bass, lead, or rhythm as a song required. Morpheus was OK at keyboard instruments, but Shade and Athen were both better. At Joy's insistence, they contacted Amadeo in New York to record a few piano segments, to be mixed with their recordings in LA. A percussionist proved more difficult to find, and Mother hired a series of session musicians to fill-in while they discussed whether Morpheus intended to create a permanent band.

Morpheus had, honestly, not thought of needing a band to take on a tour. Mother and Joy had played live shows, mainly in the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic cities, back when they had been in Robert's Pill with Elle. Morpheus thought it might be enough, for his goals, to produce the music and make it available digitally, but Ganymede had reminded him, that - to Ganymede's own horror - there was a curious technophobic trend among teens right now, and that though some still relied on personal mobile devices to communicate and share music, they were more passionate in talking about live performances, especially if they songs were more acoustic than electronic. Morpheus should not, in his opinion, forget that Tyron Smith was associated with acoustic performances in parks.

Morpheus began considering a live line-up, and querying organizers of summer music festivals.

But, helping Morpheus in his goals had inspired others in the palace. Ganymede had already become an accomplice in all things video and public relations. Athen had outright asked Morpheus if he could sing with him, which was frustratingly tempting, because Morpheus acknowledged that Athen had a beautiful voice that also happened to be trained by Israfel. Shade and Joy discovered in recording sessions how much they respected each other's style and taste in musical performance.

When Morpheus had his music ready, he sent a copy to Julien, as requested, but by that point, Julien was traveling to one Fashion Week after another: Paris, New York, Milan, London, Paris again, and the Karachi. He attended many series of shows in each city, including his own lines showing in Paris, New York, and Karachi. Morpheus was mildly surprised to received a "Meaningful Music" playlist from Julien in return.

There were about two months when Julien and Morpheus were both home at the palace, but then Athen was too, and missing his husband after playing with Psyche or Billy over weeks previous. Their motley family celebrated various vernal holidays, with some late movable feasts that year, and then Athen's birthday, which coincided with the beginning of May. This meant Morpheus spent a lot of time out of the palace, at the two parks in the Westlake neighborhood, though he did attend both Steven's Star Wars marathon and the ball Athen held in his own honor.

In June, Julien was off in Karachi again, working, and showing Indo-western Menswear. He was in Barcelona after that, to check on his real estate holdings, and show his resort and lingerie lines, to tide customers over until he showed the Spring Collection in the fall.

Neither Morpheus nor Athen were very available to him, as they were, strangely enough, performing together at small stages at a number of summer music festivals. Mother was with them to play extra guitar parts, and they'd settled on Melalie as a drummer, after auditioning her and several others.

It was fun, though Morpheus often worried Melalie and Athen were eating and drinking attendees. And, as much as he rather liked the combination of baby oil and glitter, Morpheus rather found sharing the stage with a sparkly Vampyre was dross.

It was practically Halloween again before they were home together, again, given September meant another round of fashion shows. This year, Amber Jewel was to visit again, however Amadeo had announced he would not. He was studying abroad in Paris for the year.

"I think he's with someone," Julien told some of them, over a card game, when Joy was not present. "Those kids that dress like him are all over the place now. It's enough of a trend that I have designers sending me sketches for frock coats and poet blouses. It's fucking Madonna does Dangerous Liaisons all over again, which, OK, I adored the first time."

"Who?" Athen asked, "What do you mean with?"

"It's not you-know-who," Julien said. He sighed, "If she's there, her telepathy is much better than mine, and she clears out before I can sense her. But, I'm sure there are what does Murph call them? Darkling. It's been over a year, and no hunts. Steven?"

Steven looked first to Athen, but Athen seemed concerned with his own cards, or thoughts. "Minor things. Unfortunate, but minor. Discrimination or violence you'd expect about the fringe of a minority community, but nothing like organized hunts."

"Well, I could tell he was there this time," Julien said. "I am practicing, especially when I have to travel. There are communities of Darkling and these Faeries in Paris."

"Faerie is singular and plural," Morpheus corrected.

"Yes, yes, but I mean the kids. Not real Faerie, like Sidhe or Pix or what have you."

Morpheus smiled. "Pix, like Elves, are each a type of Faerie recognized as and by Sidhe. I know my little friend says it's rubbish when some group appropriates the traditions of another for fashion, but I think them rather flattering."

"Well, they're in LA, too, now," Athen told Julien, "though west coast scenes are always different from east coast."

Julien flashed some kind of "E" gang sign at Athen, who returned with a "W".

The next year progressed much like the last, a series of gigs and holidays, with time between spent in creative pursuits. Trees, hearts, eggs, Athen's May Ball, Summer rock festivals, fireworks, and then they started planning for their Halloween Ball, again.

There were more music gigs than the previous year, and on bigger stages. Over the summer, Ganymede, Spider, and Dolores traveled with them, leaving Absinthe and Laudanum to quietly keep a watch on Joy. Julien allowed Ardor to travel with him, since both were longing for someone to converse with. This frequently left Steven at home with only Joy, Shade, a few pets, and members of staff.

On the road, Morpheus was beginning to have real creative differences with Athen. Both had a similar liking for Rock songs with operatic vocals, like Queen songs, but Athen wanted to feature his vocals, while making the music more Pop and Electronic, and to incorporate dramatic segments. He wanted theatre or Rock Opera. Morpheus enjoyed the theatrical, but he wanted to keep his music guitar heavy Rock and incorporate Jazz or Soul elements, and limit the theatrical aspects to costumes, pyrotechnics, and a few video screens. He did not want skits or acts, just the songs.

A lot of Morpheus' frustration was a result of the others siding with Athen. Ganymede apparently, though secretly at first, thought Lady Gaga genius and began pitching ideas for music videos to Athen, before Athen had even written one original song.

When their group arrived back at the Palace in October, Ardor was there and quietly informed them that Julien and Joy had recently had a loud, public argument about Amadeo and weren't on friendly terms.

"What did he say?" Athen wanted to know.

"That he does not want her to make Amadeo Jewel one of us, ever. He said something about Amadeo having belonged to him first. Joy insists she'll do it, although Shade did get her to promised not to turn him this year. She's said she intends for there to be a ceremony?"

Athen shrugged. "I can talk to her, but Julien's got to know this is just payback for abandoning her with a bottle of blood. He should have just taken her."

"He doesn't like to remove others' choice," Morpheus whispered.

Athen just glared.

Morpheus figured Athen and Julien would be making up, as usual, so he didn't even try to see Julien. Instead he spent a few day unpacking, resting, and catching up with Absinthe, Laudanum, and his flowers.

When Morpheus hadn't seen Julien for a few days, he went looking for him. He wasn't in his studio, and the door to his bedroom suite was unlocked. There were traces of occupation in the sitting area: crystal glasses with thick browning stains in the bottoms, a sketchbook, markers, the audio system playing Depeche Mode at low volume. Morpheus called, but there was no answer; the pair of doors to the bedroom were cracked open. Morpheus pushed them open and walked in.

Julien was there, awake, not answering, not even smiling hello. He sat in his bed, bottle on the nearby nightstand, cigarette hanging from one hand, cylinder of ash precariously balanced. Morpheus walked toward the bed. He turned momentarily to open the curtains on the nearby balcony door. Moonlight poured in, the view of the west meadow, and the distant ocean.

Morpheus looked back to the bed to see Julien lift the bottle to his lips.

"I haven't seen you since I got back."

"You look good," Julien said. The bottle was set back on the small table, and Julien licked his lips.

"Honestly, you look like you haven't dressed or shaved tonight."

Julien tipped his head to one side, then the other, considering. "It's my birthday."

Morpheus thought this was true, though not everyone in the palace celebrated one. Shade celebrated his on Christmas, and Athen around May Day, so there was always some question whether the celebration for for the anniversary of their birth, or another yearly festival. "Where's Athen?"

Julien laughed. He sat against the headboard, with his knees drawn up before him, and his head leaning back to the wall, and he just laughed. Particles of ash snowed down over his jeans. "He went out," Julien said, finally, "but it's OK. HE LEFT ME WITH A BOTTLE OF BLOOD!"

Morpheus winced at the sudden shouting. "It's not just blood in that bottle." Morpheus didn't know what it might be, yet, but he'd had some idea this went on. He'd occassionally heard one of them use the phrase "party games", which seemed to describe how they toyed with certain mortal victims.

"It's my birthday present. Niks says I can give it a name, but all I thought of was Vivid Sadness."

"Sounds like a band name."

"It could be our secret band name," Julien whispered. He reached toward Morpheus and touched his face. "You are so pretty right now. My skin wants to touch you."

"Julien. He sighed, wanting the touch. "You hardly seem in a state to consent to, well, anything."

"Yeah?" He began to blur, moving at preternatural speed, and Morpheus' only immediate response was dull detachment at his own perception of relative motion. He felt fingers press heavily in on his back and thigh, and then Julien seemed the only stationary thing to exist, as the room blurred and bent around them. "I'm not the one who needs to give permission."

Morpheus was pressed up against the glass-paneled door to the balcony. He wondered if it looked that same way when he towed others along through time. Did Morpheus seem to stand still, and space-time warp around them, until they just fell back in at the right spot? His legs were yet wrapped about Julien's hips. "You haven't asked me nicely, yet," he said. Morpheus didn't want to have to go away, again.

Julien's hands rubbed at his thighs, under and over his kilt of many colors. Gradually he released his grasp, so the Morpheus' legs fell with gravity, and he was able to stand on his own feet. Julien crouched, then rubbing the hem of the kilt between his fingers, and then touching a patch to his cheek. "Where'd you get this?"

"Sodom, actually."

"It's all hand stitched. It's hand woven."

"Yes. Mika made it." Mika.

Julien rose, hands moving over the kilt, and under Morpheus' tee. His fingers were cool on Morpheus' skin.

"Please," Morpheus said.

"I could just take you now," Julien said. There was no threat in his voice, even though he put both his hands to Morpheus to turn him towards the glass. "Let the very night see." Julien tugged at Morpheus' shirt, and though it was exostructure, Morpheus raised his arms to let Julien remove it.

"You won't,"

"I could. I take desperate, young, men all the time." Julien's thumbs pressed into the small of his back, either side of Morpheus' spine. His fingertips hugged Morpheus' waist. Morpheus felt soft hair against his back, and then a warm tongue lapped at his skin, just along his right shoulderblade.

Morpheus gasped as his wings spontaneously sprung into being. He felt Julien's lips on his neck, but Morpheus was frustrated enough that he batted Julien in the head with his wing, then walked to the nightstand. Morpheus lifted the bottle, then turned again to Julien.

He rubbed his eyes; it was probably a bit of sleep from Morpheus' wing.

"Maybe it's better if we just sleep," Morpheus said.

Julien rushed to him; a blur and then he was there. "No!" And then more quietly, he whispered, "No. I want to envelope you."

Morpheus could only think of the girl in that comic. Victoria. "Yes."

"It's my birthday. I won't male you away, again." He shook his head. Julien inched forward and licked at Morpheus' lips. "If you make yourself a present, it's not taking. It's...meaningful."

Morpheus lifted the bottle in his left hand, and he drank.

Julien lifted his own hands to his face. "What are you doing?"

Morpheus tasted blood and something in it almost familiar. He gulped, and gulped. He felt his eyes go green, and they widened, as he began to lower the bottle. Vampyre blood. "Gross. Did I just drink Athen's blood?" There was something else in it. Morpheus lifted the bottle and took one more swig. "Holy holiness, where did Niks get hallucinogenic cherries?" Morpheus blinked rapidly until his eyes went back to black.

"My birthday present," Julien said, snatching the bottle, "My Birthday Present." He grinned at Morpheus, took one more drink of the bottle, then reached between them to return it to the table.

"I'm yours." Morpheus let his boots melt into his legs, as he sat back on the edge of the bed, but the kilt remained; it was a belonging.

"Yours. It could be your birthday, too."

Morpheus nodded. "Then...permission to unwrap the package?"

"Oh, Gawd, yes!"

Morpheus had to feel his way, when Julien leaned in to kiss him. There was just space between them for Morpheus's hands to seek the small buttons down Julien's dress shirt.

Julien's hands slid from Morpheus' hips, along his thighs, to his knees. "I missed you," he said between desperate, wet kisses, "missed you...."

"You don't know the half of it," Morpheus said, voice wavering with tremendous release of tension. He pushed Julien's shirt from his shoulders, and then saw Julien reach back and tug at his cuffs. He did some quick thing Morpheus couldn't even properly track, and his shirt ended up folded atop one of the pillows.

Morpheus felt Julien's hands on his knees, as their lips connected, again. He left Julien in his undershirt to work the clasp of his trousers. The pants fell easily down Julien's legs, as his hands were slipping beneath Morpheus' kilt. Morpheus broke their kiss, just so he could press his face to Julien's chest.

Julien had a thing for designer fragrances, and for Morpheus, his scent so strongly evoked memories of scrying at him from New York hotel rooms, of stylish print magazines reeking of perfume samples, and billboards of slender youths in jeans and underwear, that it almost hurt; that perfect, and flawed, unattainable boy was here, in his arms, and still unbearably hot in undershirt and boxer-briefs.

"I want you so," Morpheus whispered. He knew, somewhere, in the part of his mind he was not listening to right now, that this wasn't the safest or sanest way, but he just couldn't make himself strong enough to say, "no," to this. It hadn't just been months between kisses or embraces, it had been near a century of waiting from his point-of-view.

He felt Julien's hand on his sex. The thumb moved, upwards, over the blankness, and it transformed. Morpheus felt the shape come over him, genitalia blooming out from his flesh. It was not the sex he would have chosen, or ever have expected Julien to desire. "What did you-?" Morpheus gasped a breath; Julien's thumb still pressed against him, moving bottom to top, again, over internal and external contours. Morpheus felt tingling; and a charge of electricity.

"Is this real?" Julien asked.

"What?" Morpheus tried to question it again.

"You look so hot right now." Julien touched lips to Morpheus' throat.

"Oh, please, just...don't move." Even though Julien went still, Morpheus could still sense his feelers involuntarily brushing against the cool, Vampiric flesh of Julien's hand. Even without moving, he seeped and stiffened.

Julien slowly withdrew his hand, and moved both around Morpheus to find the ties on his kilt.

"I can change it," Morpheus said, "It's just this part's overwhelming: when it's me, but different. The signals. I have to get used to them."

Julien opened Morpheus' kilt, then stood looking him in the eyes. "I am tripping so hard right now."

"I know." Morpheus was a little behind him, but the edges of things were beginning to go all watercolor.

"Does it feel good?" He pressed the flat of his palm against Morpheus' sex.

The slight pressure on the head of Morpheus small-cock felt sharply pleasurable. Morpheus felt capable of nothing but nodding and spreading his legs.

"Then you don't need to change." Julien lifted his undershirt over his head, and folded it quickly.

"It's not what I want to be, but it's what I am, now."

"Let's go with it," Julien whispered. He combed his fingers through Morpheus' hair. "You know? With Vampyres?"

"Blood-flow management." Morpheus reached for Julien's briefs and maneuvered them down over his hips, exposing his cock. It was pale, pinkish, cut, and presently in a flaccid state. Morpheus was fairly certain Julien knew how to just will it erect, but he didn't know whether the drugs might affect his control. Morpheus made a loose fist about Julien's cock and gave a few gentle tugs, until he felt it twitch.

Just watching it stand made Morpheus' shallow vagina ache.

"You've done this," Julien said.

"Shhh." Morpheus touched a finger to Julien's lips. "You don't ask how I know about Vampyres, I won't ask if you've been looking at Halfangel porn to know about bio-electric feelers."

"I know about wingstems."

He did.

On the bed, Morpheus lay on his side, with Julien spooned against his back. The cocktail of cherries and Vampyre blood started to really tweak his senses, and everything felt all rainbow-taste. Julien's warm mouth on the base of his wings seemed to ripple into Morpheus' soul. He pictured guitar strings inside his body, humming and vibrating, and Julien playing his body with clever fingers.

Julien's fingers were cool inside Morpheus, at first, but warmed to his body temperature. Fingers that remembered how to fold and stitch so quickly, playing his strings until he hummed.

Julien's thumb rolled over Morpheus's small, inter-sexed cock. Played him. Palmed his joystick. Pushed Morpheus' buttons like game controller. It was, every hallucinogen-distorted second, almost more than Morpheus could handle.

At some point, Morpheus knew he asked to switch. He was, wing stretched luxuriantly overhead, writhing, rubbing, riding, to get what he wanted. Julien, under him, or in him, and then in him.

Julien's cock in his ass, Morpheus remembered, but not this. Not with the reach-around that came with feelers like an out-of-the-sea-anemone that reached back. So many tiny fingers to show him how where to go, and build a charge that zapped Morpheus' core with pleasure.

He cried.

Morpheus knew, during some part, he cried, and his own tears seemed strange to him. There had just been too much hidden, pent-up, contained. Emotions bottled like Djinn rolled from him in hallucinatory swirls of colored smoke. There had been so much waiting!

He needed to kiss Julien. Needed, even if not to tell him, to show him how he felt. Even if they only had one half-remembered night. Even if things went bad - and Morpheus knew they would - he needed to show Julien what he desired, while he could.

Julien was beautiful, perfect, and messed up. Morpheus loved him. He loved every drug-addled sweet nothing that spilled from his lips. Loved how he brought Morpheus to climax over, and over, before drinking his blood. He even liked that sense of draw and suction. Morpheus loved the feeling of being needed by Julien.

It was the best birthday.