Collars 'N' Cuffs
Page 22
Over their last few sessions, Taharial had become quite the expert at giving head, and Asmodeus couldn’t hold back the occasional moan. Nonetheless, he wanted something different this time, so after a few minutes he yanked Taharial up. The second they were level, he claimed a kiss. He felt Taharial stiffen—this was not a usual part of their routine—but he persisted until Taharial melted against him and gave himself over to the embrace.
Though they’d met seven times now, it was only their second kiss. The first had been hungry and forceful; this was slow and intimate. Taharial’s wings began flapping to a steady beat, wafting the air around them, and Asmodeus had to maintain a tight hold around Taharial’s waist to keep them pressed together.
When the kiss reached a natural end, Asmodeus guided Taharial to the bed. However, instead of forcing him down, Asmodeus lay on his back and encouraged Taharial to straddle him. Taharial’s eyes were black saucers, his expression dazed.
“Open yourself for me, Taharial.”
Asmodeus touched Taharial’s fingers, adding the magical lubricant, and watched with growing excitement as Taharial reached behind and obeyed. That alone was a beautiful sight, but Asmodeus was taken aback a second later when, without any instruction or suggestion, Taharial bent over and resumed his oral attentions.
“I’m ready.”
The whispered words, accompanied by a puff of hot breath against his cock, cut through Asmodeus’ bliss and he snapped open eyes he never realized he’d closed. Taharial climbed off him and held out his arms, wrists together, but Asmodeus shook his head.
“Not like that today. Go back to where you were.”
He could see the struggle behind Taharial’s eyes: a battle of shame and lust. He began to form a spell, ready to bind Taharial if need be, but in the end desire won out and Taharial resumed his former position. He lowered himself onto Asmodeus, inching down at an agonizing pace, and it took all of Asmodeus’ self-control not to grab his hips and pull him the rest of the way. When at last he was fully impaled, they both sighed.
Taharial’s touch burned hotter than Hell-Fire as he ran his fingers over Asmodeus’ chest in a tentative exploration. Nothing they had done so far could beat this, because this time Asmodeus knew every embrace Taharial offered was of his own volition. All means of denial were gone. Taharial wanted this; he wanted Asmodeus. He could no longer hide behind chains and cuffs.
Asmodeus bucked his hips, seeking friction, and Taharial responded with a rock back and forth. This position was new to Taharial, and Asmodeus called up all his reserves of patience as he waited for him to find his way.
It didn’t take long. After a few erratic lifts and drops, Taharial settled into a steady rhythm. His eyes drifted shut and a look of concentration creased his brow. Then he unfurled his wings and gave them a gentle flap. The extra force lifted him higher, and when he dropped back down, he took Asmodeus deeper than ever before.
Asmodeus stared up at Taharial. With wings spread, lips parted, and head thrown back, he was a vision, and for the first time since becoming a demon, Asmodeus had a concept of what it must be like to be in Heaven.
He could feel his climax building, so he reached forward to close a hand around Taharial’s leaking cock. He pumped it in time with Taharial’s movements and, as one, they increased their pace. Moments later, they came together, Asmodeus shooting deep inside Taharial, and Taharial splattering Asmodeus’ chest with sticky white cum.
After a few panted breaths, Taharial tried to climb off, but Asmodeus wrapped his arms around him and coaxed him down.
“Stay. For a little while,” Asmodeus whispered, stroking Taharial’s hair.
Sleep took them, and by the time they woke, the hour was well advanced. When they rose from the bed, a constant stream of kisses and caresses delayed their attempts to clean themselves and dress, but at last they were both attired and walked together to the door.
“Things have changed between us. I can sense it here.” Taharial tapped his chest with a trembling hand. “What happens now?”
Asmodeus brushed a stray curl out of Taharial’s eyes and cupped his cheek. “Come back tonight. Come every night. I want you with me from dusk ’til dawn—always.”
“And the bindings?”
Asmodeus’ heart sank and he lowered his hand. “If you need them.”
“No, I do not need them. Not anymore. But I would like them sometimes. For… fun.”
Heat shot to Asmodeus’ groin and he tugged Taharial into his arms. “It’s a deal.”
Taharial laughed. It was the first time Asmodeus had heard him make such a sound, and it did nothing to quell his raging libido. He pulled Taharial away from the door and backed him into the wall.
“Stop that. You are insatiable, Asmodeus.” Taharial gave another peal of laughter and eased out of the embrace. “I have to go. I will be missed.”
“But you’ll return tonight?”
“Yes.” He planted a brief kiss on Asmodeus’ lips, followed by a lick.
“You are a naughty little angel. You know that, right?”
Taharial sobered. “I do. But at times you are a good demon.”
Before Asmodeus had a chance to process that statement, Taharial was gone.
TAHARIAL CHECKED THE coast was clear, then made his way back through the tunnels to the gates of Hell. So far he’d been fortunate and had encountered neither demon nor damned soul on any of his visits to Asmodeus. Save for the gatekeeper, to whom he told tales of parchments to serve and sermons to preach. However, if he was to go back and forth every night, he would need to think of a better plan to avoid detection. His luck would only hold so long.
He replayed his final moments with Asmodeus. For all the physical bliss their coupling brought him, he had never before felt so strong an emotion as the one he’d experienced waking in his arms. It had transcended lust; it had been the purest sensation he’d ever known. Had it been the same for Asmodeus? Did he, too, sense the change between them? Could Asmodeus feel it as he did? So many questions. But he would have many nights in which to seek the answers.
He offered the gatekeeper a curt nod and waited while the demon cranked open the heavy doors. Once the gap was wide enough, he slipped through. A moment later, both his face and heart fell.
Two angels blocked his path. Not just any angels, either—the archangels Raguel and Raziel. Archangels did not descend to Hell except in the most dire of circumstances. For a second, Taharial let himself hope they weren’t here for him but for some other catastrophe. Then he observed the condemnation in their looks and knew there was no escaping his fate.
“It is true, then, Taharial.” Raguel approached, shaking his head. “When first I heard of this, I refused to believe. The information came from a demon, after all, and they are far from trustworthy. Yet, here you are, as we were told.”
Raziel put a hand on Raguel’s shoulder. “Peace, Raguel, we do not yet know the purpose of our brother’s presence in this place.” He offered Taharial a smile of encouragement. “Tell us what brings you here, Taharial. Is it some mission of which we were unaware?”
The lie hovered on the tip of Taharial’s tongue. A few words would free him. A few small words and he wouldn’t have to give up Asmodeus. But the weight of the proposed sin sat heavy upon him. He had committed so many transgressions already; he wouldn’t have expected one more to cause him such pain. But those other faults had been against himself, against his own soul. If he lied now he would be sinning against his brothers. And that he couldn’t do.
“No, Raziel, I am here on no mission.” He dropped to his knees and hung his head. “I have succumbed to base desire. I throw myself upon Heaven’s mercy.”
“Disgusting!” Raguel surged forward and yanked Taharial up. “Had you bedded a mortal, little brother, I could have forgiven all. But a filthy demon. A damned soul. To let such a creature defile you, I cannot— How many times?”
Taharial winced as Raguel tightened his grip. “Raguel, I—”
“H
ow many times have you betrayed Heaven and all our kind and crept into the demon’s bed? Answer me.”
“S-Seven.”
Raguel snorted and thrust Taharial from him. “The number of the deadly sins. I suppose that is appropriate. This crime is a stain against all the heavenly host and a strong message must be sent to angels and demons alike. I once loved you dearly, Taharial, but now I cannot bear to look upon you. You are unworthy of your position and your wings. I should tear them from you now, feather by feather. We stand next to the gates of Hell, and that is where you belong.” He raised his arm to strike, but Raziel swept in and blocked the way.
“Stay your hand. Taharial has erred, and most grievously, but Heaven’s laws must be followed. Yours is not the power to mete out justice as you see fit. We will take our brother back to Heaven, and there he will be examined.” He turned to Taharial. “Will you come of your own free will, or do we need to bind you?”
“I will come. N-No bindings. Please.”
The thought of anyone other than Asmodeus chaining him was too awful to contemplate. He prayed Raguel wouldn’t insist upon the bonds, because he couldn’t face having to explain to his brothers why he was so desperate not to be restrained. Luckily, Raguel bowed to Raziel’s leadership, and the three made their way back to Heaven in silence.
It was a journey Taharial feared he was making for the last time.
Chapter Four
ASMODEUS PACED WITHIN the confines of his chamber. Hell-Fire crackled in his fingertips, and every few seconds he had to shake his hands to dispel it. Day had given way to night hours ago, yet there was no sign of Taharial. Had his little angel experienced a change of heart? Did he repent his actions? Would Asmodeus never see him again?
He let out a roar and kicked his desk. He put the full force of his power behind it and the heavy oak frame tumbled like cardboard, scattering books and papers across the floor. The Hell-Fire tickled his fingertips once more, and this time he didn’t extinguish it. He gathered the heat in his palm and tossed it at the fallen books. They were ablaze within seconds, and it provided some measure of relief to see them turn to ash. Then he noticed something sticking out between the pages of one of the tomes.
Taharial’s feather.
He leaped into the flames and snatched it from their fiery clutches. He wasn’t quick enough, though, and when he held it up he saw the edges were singed black. Like the wings of the lesser fallen.
In a flash, he realized he was a fool. Taharial hadn’t abandoned him; he wouldn’t. It was far more likely his brothers had discovered what was going on and had prevented Taharial from making their meeting tonight.
Asmodeus put out the remaining fire with a wave of his hand. He needed patience. Once Taharial had submitted to whatever chastisement his kin devised, he would find a way to return. Unless….
He glanced again at the sooty feather. No, angels were not made true fallen for a minor transgression like lust. Plenty of them had succumbed over the years, had repented, and were now back at work as if nothing had happened.
But none of those had lain with a demon.
An icy hand closed around Asmodeus’ heart and squeezed.
He had to find Taharial.
Now.
He grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the chair and pulled it on as he quit the chamber. The garment was too hot to wear in Hell, but it would be cooler where he was going. Several of his fellows greeted him as he stormed through the tunnel system, but he ignored their calls. He would make amends with them later; for now he needed to focus.
The journey topside seemed to take longer than usual, and by the time he reached the mortal realm he was agitated and impatient. Though angels could come and go as they pleased between all three realms, demons were confined to Hell and Earth. There was no way for him to get to Heaven on his own, but he knew where he could find angels down here.
He’d visited the soup kitchen months ago while on the lookout for potential targets. Lust was universal, after all; it was possible to incite it in rich and poor alike. In fact, the destitute were often easy pickings since lust was one of the few pleasures without a monetary cost attached. But upon arrival at this particular venue he’d found the place overrun with lesser fallen, who had wasted no time shooing him away.
Mortals lumped all fallen angels together, but angels and demons knew there were two kinds: the true fallen and the lesser fallen. The former were those whose crimes were so heinous they were stripped of their wings forever and cast into Hell. There they were given the choice to join Lucifer’s ranks. If they refused, they were handed over to the lower demons, at whose hands they suffered eternal torment. True fallen angels were rare; by Asmodeus’ reckoning it had been two centuries since the last was cast at Hell’s door.
The lesser fallen were more common. These were angels who had sinned but were capable of redemption. Their wings were blackened to a degree that suited their crime, and then they were shipped to Earth, where they aided mortals. Every good deed helped scrub their feathers clean, and once all traces of black were gone they could return to Heaven and resume their former posts and ranks.
Asmodeus kicked open the door to the soup kitchen and strode in. The mortals paid him little heed. A few glanced up from their bowls, but saw nothing to interest them and resumed their meals. The angels were another matter. He counted three in the main hall, and more could be working out back. A glance at their wings revealed two were newly fallen and no good to him. However, the third had only a faint tinge of black left on the tips of his feathers, and that was exactly what Asmodeus needed. He plastered his broadest smile on his face, aiming to look as innocent and non-threatening as possible, and approached.
“Good evening. I’d like some soup, please.”
“Desist, spawn of Satan,” the angel hissed beneath his breath. “We do not want your kind here.” His brothers moved in behind him. They kept enough distance to avoid alarming the mortals, but formed a basic battle formation so Asmodeus would feel the weight of their threat.
Asmodeus ignored the backup dancers and concentrated on his original target. “How rude. After I said please and everything. Listen, I require assistance, and you, my pretty little angel, look like you’re one good deed away from cleansing your wings. Surely we can help each other out.”
“I doubt Heaven would count assisting a demon as a good deed.”
“Even if it’s to help one of your own kind?”
A frown creased the angel’s brow. “Why should I believe you? Why would a demon get involved in Heaven’s affairs?”
“Because the angel in question and I have been having an affair.”
It took the angel a while to process this comment. Asmodeus wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t something he’d have believed likely—or even possible—either, until it happened to him. He knew the moment the angel got it, though, because he gasped and took a step back.
“You lie.”
Asmodeus shrugged. “You guys must have some connection with Heaven—a liaison officer or the like. Give the guy a call. I’m sure he’ll corroborate my story.”
“Wait here.”
The angel headed out back. He paused to speak with his companions on the way; no doubt to tell them to keep an eye on Asmodeus. In other circumstances, he might well have been tempted to try and inspire a little lust right under the angels’ noses. But not this time. As much as it pained him to admit it, he needed them on his side.
When the angel returned, his face was ashen. Asmodeus hoped it was from the discovery of the truth behind his assertions, but he had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever news had been gleaned from above.
“Taharial is being examined by the archangels. It is said he will lose his wings.”
Asmodeus understood what the angel meant; however, he didn’t want to believe it. “A lot of black, huh?” It was a long shot, but he had to ask. To be certain.
The angel shuddered and shook his head. “No. Stripped. Forever.”
“You have to help me save him. I need you to get me to Heaven.”
“I cannot, even if I wanted to. I need one more good deed.”
“This will be your good deed, I’m sure of it.”
The angel pulled free of Asmodeus’ grip. “Why do you care? Why would you risk Heaven’s wrath? You may have enjoyed my brother’s body, but surely there are others who will warm your sheets. Besides, if he falls he will reside with you permanently. You can have your fill of him then.”
Why did he care? It was a reasonable question. He’d been so focused on acting, he’d not paused to consider why he felt the need to do so. Sex with Taharial was amazing, and once he fell Asmodeus would have constant access to him, it was true. But so would everyone else. The others would hurt him, break him. They would chain him—and that was Asmodeus’ privilege, and his alone.
Bereft of his wings, Taharial would lose all sense of who and what he was. His spirit would shatter, and Asmodeus didn’t want to lie with an empty shell. It wasn’t Taharial’s body he craved, but his soul. He couldn’t stand by and watch him suffer.
“Because I know he won’t long survive the fall, and I’m not certain I’d want to go on without him. To see him there and yet know he was gone.”
Asmodeus hadn’t realized he’d turned away during his contemplations, but the sound of a collective gasp made him look up. All three angels stared at him, open-mouthed. It was disconcerting, and he shuffled a few steps back.