Damned If You Do

by Marie Sexton

  “Wow,” Seth said quietly. “I figured I’d be the one with that problem.”

  “Shit! I’m sorry! That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  Seth laughed, guiding Abaddon’s lips to his. “I don’t mind.”

  But Abbadon had never felt like a bigger ass. Seth was throwing away a lifetime of sinless living for one roll in the hay, and Abaddon had blown it.

  Literally.

  “This was supposed to be for you!”

  “No. It was supposed to be for us. And we have plenty of time.”

  Yes, they did. And now that Abaddon’s urgency had been purged in the most embarrassing way possible, he saw that maybe it was for the best. Seth deserved something more than a rushed, frantic one-off, and if he was going to arrive at Heaven’s gates with only one sin on his ledger, well…

  Might as well make it count.

  Abaddon used Seth’s ruined shirt to clean him off, kissing him as he did. And when that was done, he focused on teasing Seth’s flesh with both fingers and lips and tongue, searching for the places that elicited the best response.

  They weren’t hard to find, because the snakes had found them first. The tiny, round scars in perfect sets of two were like breadcrumbs on the trail. Abaddon followed them down Seth’s body, from the crook of his neck to his smooth, flat belly; and finally, to the tender flesh on the insides of his thighs. Abaddon lapped at those scars, tasting cotton candy and cinnamon, kissing with his lips, nipping with his teeth, and Seth went wild, panting and moaning, biting his lip to stifle his cries lest somebody hear him through the trailer’s thin walls.

  Abaddon moved away from the scars once to trace his tongue up Seth’s erection, but Seth pushed him back to his thighs, back to those scars, whimpering as Abbadon locked his mouth there and used his hand instead, rubbing his thumb gently up Seth’s length. A few featherlight strokes was all it took to trigger Seth’s climax.

  When it was over, Seth pulled Abaddon up so they were face-to-face. He seemed oblivious to the mess between them. Abaddon expected to see wonder, or amazement, or at least a smile. But instead, Seth looked afraid.

  “Tell me you’ll stay,” he whispered. “Tell me this isn’t the end.”

  Whether he meant the end of their sexual encounter or the end of his life or the end of their relationship, Abaddon didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Tell me you love me.”

  They’d only known each other two weeks. Maybe it was foolish, but Abaddon didn’t hesitate. “You know I do.”

  Seth made a sound that was almost a sob, and for a minute, Abaddon just held him, stroking his hair, making soothing sounds until Seth quieted. Even then, he only let him go because the mess between them was becoming difficult to ignore.

  “I didn’t mean to turn into an emotional basket case,” Seth said as they untangled their limbs.

  “I think you’re entitled.”

  They cleaned up again, then settled back in the bed, this time pulling the covers over them. Seth nestled into Abaddon’s arms, rubbing his hand over Abaddon’s chest, trailing his fingers lightly through his chest hair. He followed it down to Abaddon’s navel, then an inch or two past that before stopping, ducking his head against Abaddon’s chest in a way that told Abaddon he was blushing.

  It was kind of adorable, really, how he was still shy about going any lower.

  They dozed for a while, sated and comfortable, but the temptation of skin against skin was too great. At some point, their warmth once again became fire. Soft kisses and gentle caresses became more urgent.

  “Will you do something for me?” Seth asked, breathless. Abaddon could tell by his voice it was something he was unsure of. “If I asked it, would you—”

  “Anything.” Abaddon kissed him, putting the weight of his promise into that simple gesture. “Absolutely anything. Just name it.”

  Seth smiled. And then…

  Seth didn’t actually ask anything. Instead, he pushed Abaddon gently down, under the sheets.

  “Is that all?” Abaddon asked, laughing.

  But Seth was already lost again, gasping, straining toward him. “Please.”

  His intent was clear, and Abaddon gladly obliged him. He teased his tongue around the head of Seth’s cock before swallowing him whole. He tucked his hands underneath Seth’s soft backside, urging him in deeper. Seth didn’t need guidance for long. After only a few thrusts, he was the one moving, holding Abaddon’s head, pushing with his hips, making the most beautiful, erotic sounds Abaddon had ever heard. He was amazed how even now, engaged in one of the most carnal sins in the book, Seth’s perfect, blinding brilliance didn’t wane. It glowed from his eyes. It emanated from his pores and pulsed through his loins. It filled the tiny room, rippling over them, so vivid and real that Abaddon was sure it must be blazing from the windows of the trailer, a beacon for all to see. Even with Seth panting in pleasure, whimpering as he thrust deeper into Abaddon’s throat, that purity wasn’t diminished.

  Abaddon gripped Seth tighter, lost in the moment, blind and dumb and utterly powerless. And when Seth finally came, it was the most delicious thing Abaddon had ever tasted, like orange honey and cinnamon heart candy, and Seth’s bright laughter felt like a cold spring rain, washing him clean, even as Abaddon spent himself against the sheets.

  “Oh, man,” Seth said, breathless. “That was almost worth going to Hell for.”

  Abaddon wanted to laugh. He tried, but the mental image of Seth stuck in Hell rose up harsh and angry in his mind. He imagined again Seth’s brilliance slowly fading away to nothing in a distant cubicle, and his laughter came out a bitter sob.

  Seth deserved better than Hell.

  Seth’s hand moved on his head like a blessing. “‘What mean ye to weep and to break mine heart? For I am ready not to be bound only, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus.’”

  Abaddon laid his forehead against Seth’s soft belly, letting his tears fall on the many scars left by the snakes. Outside, people laughed as they prepared for the revival. Canvas slapped in the wind. “I’ve never hated God as much as I do right now.”

  Seth sat up suddenly, forcing Abaddon to do the same. He reached for Abaddon, brushing his fingers down Abaddon’s cheek. “Don’t. Please. Not on my account, Abaddon. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “You’re the one who should be angry. It amazes me that you can be so calm.”

  “I’m not, though. I’m terrified. I know I shouldn’t be. My faith tells me I’m going to a wondrous place and that there’s nothing to fear, but I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  “That’s normal. It’s…” Abaddon almost choked. “It’s human.” But thinking about Seth’s easy acceptance of what was coming gave Abaddon a new idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? “What if we left?”

  “Left the revival, you mean?”

  “We could take your truck and your trailer and just drive. We could go anywhere. I could take you to the Grand Canyon. I could give you your sight for a minute, at least. I could let you feel the wind rushing up the canyon wall onto your face. Isn’t that what you want?”

  Seth gave him a soft, sad smile. He took Abaddon’s hand, holding it between both of his. “Is it so easy to escape Hell?”

  Abaddon’s heart clenched. Tears filled his eyes, and he covered them with his free hand. “No. You’re my only chance now. If I come back without you…”

  Seth squeezed his fingers. “What? What happens?”

  Abaddon shook his head. He wasn’t going to burden Seth with the truth. The last thing he wanted was for Seth to feel guilty because some worthless devil got sent to a deeper level of Hell. “I’ll be heartbroken. That’s all. I just thought…” What? What in the world had he been thinking, asking Seth to run away with him, as if that would solve everything? “I wouldn’t be able
to go with you, but I could at least give you your sight.” He’d have to pay for it later, and he’d never see Seth again, but wouldn’t it be worth it? “You’d at least have enough time to go there yourself. To see a few of the places on your list.”

  But Seth was already shaking his head. “I can’t run away from this. I tried once, and I went blind. And I know you’ll tell me it was just bad luck and not God sending me a message, but what if you’re wrong? Yes, I could run away, and it might buy me an extra day or an extra week, but at what cost?” He put his fingers against Abaddon’s cheek and leaned close, as if he could look into Abaddon’s eyes. “I have weighed my transgressions, Abaddon. I know where I stand. Now, I must follow Christ’s example and face my death—”

  “You’re not Him!”

  “I know. I would never make such a presumptuous claim. But the message is clear. I must stand strong in the face of adversity, armed with nothing but the promise of God’s love. I could give you half a dozen other examples from the bible—”

  “I don’t want to hear them!”

  Seth laughed, brushing his thumb over Abaddon’s lips. “I know you don’t. I know it makes you crazy when I start spouting bible verses.”

  “Only when it’s to justify something stupid!”

  Seth jerked his hands away, his face falling into the same hurt, uncomprehending look a puppy gave his master after being kicked. Abaddon would have preferred a knife in his chest to seeing that wounded expression on Seth’s face.

  “Please don’t call me stupid. This is all I have. I have my faith in God, and I have you. Please don’t try to take one of them away.”

  Abaddon groaned. He really was the world’s biggest jerk. “I’m sorry.” He took Seth’s hands and leaned over to place his forehead on them. “You’re right. I’m being selfish, and I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. I wish I could accept it as easily as you, but it makes me so angry.”

  “I know.” Seth placed his other hand on the back of Abaddon’s head, ruffling his fingers through his hair. “But you will accept it. I want you to promise me, Abaddon. I want you to promise that when the time comes, you won’t try to stop it. I want you to promise me that you’ll let me face the serpents, and heal the sick, regardless of the cost. I need you to promise that you’ll be there at the very end, but that you won’t interfere in the process.”

  Abaddon’s breath hitched. He couldn’t hold back the tears that filled his eyes. He hated this plan. He hated it with every devilish fiber of his being. He hated it more than he hated God. More than he hated Hell.

  But it wasn’t about him.

  “I promise,” he choked. “Oh God, I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  Abaddon wept.

  Chapter Ten

  Everybody Loves a Bad Boy

  Not much later, somebody knocked on the trailer door. Abaddon prepared to dive into the abyss, but whoever it was didn’t come in. They just yelled through the door, “Time to start, Seth!”

  “I’ll be right there!”

  Seth moved easily about his small bedroom despite his blindness, taking out khaki slacks and a clean, white dress shirt. Socks and shoes came next, then finally, a blue silk scarf, which he wrapped around his neck to cover the many scars. And all the while, Abaddon sat with his head in his hands, hating Thaddeus and Zed and the Rainbow Revivalists and God and Hell in equal measures.

  Seth laid his hand on Abaddon’s bowed head. After finally making love, the brilliant power of Seth’s soul hadn’t changed, but its effect on Abaddon had. Instead of burning hunger, he felt only love and overwhelming grief.

  “I wish I could take this pain from you, the way I can for the sick.”

  “No.” Abaddon shook his head. “I would never ask that of you. I’d rather bear it myself than burden you with it.”

  Seth laughed. “You’re a terrible devil, you know. You miss all kinds of great chances to be evil.”

  Yes, he was a terrible devil. It was the reason he’d missed his quota in the first place. And now, he’d not only failed to secure Seth’s soul, he’d also doomed himself to an eternity without him. But time was short, and Seth needed him to be strong.

  He wiped his eyes and stood. He pulled Seth into his arms. He kissed him, savoring that wonderful sweetness. He pulled back to look into Seth’s eyes.

  “I love you. No matter what happens, I want you to know that.”

  Seth’s brow wrinkled. “I do.” He frowned. “Abaddon, you’re scaring me. I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Once again, Abaddon had to wonder if the soul sense went both ways. “I told you I’d be here until the end, but it may not be possible.”

  “What? But you promised.”

  “I know, but it’s a promise I may have to break.”

  “No! You can’t do that to me. You said—”

  “I’ll try, Seth, but there’s a chance I’ll be gone in a couple of days—”

  “You promised!”

  He pushed at Abaddon, trying to get away, and Abaddon grabbed his arms, shaking him a bit in his urgency to say it all. “I know! And I’ll do everything I can to keep that promise, but once they figure out what I’ve done…” Once his time was up, there’d be no appeal. “If Hell takes me away, I won’t be able to come back no matter how much I’ll want to. But I want you to know that I’ll do everything I can. I want you to believe me when I say that I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you.”

  Seth blinked, his cheeks paler than usual. “But, I need you. If you’re not here…” He shook his head, his focus shifting to some distant spot, far away from Abaddon and the trailer.

  They were interrupted by another knock on the trailer door. “Seth! It’s time to go!”

  “Coming!” Seth called, seeming to return to his place in Abaddon’s arms. He swallowed, squaring his shoulders. “I need to go now.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No.” Abaddon felt a ripple in the energy of Seth’s soul, like a pebble sinking into a still lake. “You don’t have to come.”

  “I promised I’d be there—”

  “At the end.”

  “Yes. If I’m able, at any rate. And if it’s tonight—”

  “No.” Another ripple. A strange undercurrent that seemed out of place. “No, it won’t be tonight.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “But I do.”

  “I should be there—”

  “You’re exhausted.” Seth put his fingers against Abaddon’s cheek and leaned forward to kiss him. Abaddon tasted the familiar sweetness, along with a strange hint of salt that was new. Maybe it was only the result of having had sex out of wedlock. “You should rest. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Then he was out the door, off to the revival. Abaddon debated following, but Seth was right. He was exhausted. He hadn’t slept well in ages.

  He collapsed onto the bed. The sheets were soaked in Seth’s cotton-candy essence, and Abaddon smiled to himself, already halfway to sleep.

  He still had his extension. He’d go back to Hell. He’d talk to Baphomet again. He’d come up with a new plan.

  One that saved Seth.

  Maybe one that saved them both.

  * * * * *

  He woke in confusion. He was still in Seth’s bed. He could have sworn Seth had called his name, but when he looked around, nobody was there.

  He glanced outside. It was just after sunset. The tent was lit up like a circus. The revival would still be going, and yet…

  There was no music.

  His heart tripped into gear.

  And then, it came again.

  Abaddon, come now!

  Not Seth’s voice, but Zed’s. Abaddon didn’t take time to wonder why Zed was calling him or how he’d made his voice echo through the abyss. He bur
st from the trailer, noticing in the first step or two he wasn’t wearing shoes, or a shirt. Easy enough to change that—being a devil had its advantages—and he manifested them as he ran, remembering with sudden clarity the strange ripple in Seth’s soul.

  That salty taste.

  Seth had lied to him. Possibly the first lie he’d ever told, and he’d told it to Abaddon, knowing Abaddon wouldn’t be able to keep his promise. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to stand idly by when the snakes came.

  He burst through the back door of the tent, onto the stage. He’d missed the snakes completely. Seth was in the aisle, his shirt soaked with blood and venom, on his knees in front of a woman in a wheelchair.

  “No!” Abaddon ran for him, but Zed caught him at the bottom of the steps.

  “Not yet!”

  “He didn’t think they’d come tonight.”

  “They wouldn’t have,” Zed said quietly, “if he hadn’t called them.”

  “He can do that?”

  “Apparently, he can. He made me promise I’d get you once they had gone.”

  “But why? Why would he want to—?”