Dancing on the Head of a Pin

by Kiernan Kelly

  But in Malak’s opinion, that didn’t warrant giving up a piece of his immortal soul and dooming himself to wander the earthly plane for the rest of time. Malak wanted to go home, and home was Heaven, not the neon-drenched, sin-soaked mortal world. Not even this house, the nicest Malak could remember ever living in, with its intoxicating view of the ocean, could tempt him into staying.

  Malak kept telling himself that, ignoring how false the statement had begun to ring in his ears.

  Cael. He was never far from Malak’s thoughts. Whenever Malak reached the point where he was forced to take himself in hand, it was Cael he pictured in his mind. It frightened Malak, knowing Heaven usually lumped thinking about sin in the same category as having actually committed it. Not fair, in Malak’s humble opinion, but who was he to question?

  Regardless, jacking off periodically was a necessary evil, and picturing Cael’s muscular body in all of its naked glory was the only way Malak seemed to be able to achieve climax. Malak would simply have to endure whatever penance was meted out to him to absolve his sins once he got home.

  He refused to acknowledge the sinking feeling he got in the pit of his stomach each time he thought about spending eternity in Heaven without Cael. The feeling that Malak might find Heaven sadly lacking, the feeling that seemed to be getting stronger as the end of the time limit neared.

  The simple truth was that Malak would miss Cael.

  The blade of the knife clunked furiously against the wooden cutting board as Malak returned his attention to his chopping. Whack. Just thinking about Cael had caused Malak’s cock to reawaken. Whack. It wasn’t fair. Whack. Wasn’t reasonable for Cael to have this effect on Malak. Surely the attraction wasn’t mutual. Cael only cared about securing a piece of Malak’s soul, right? Whack.

  “You really are an innocent,” Cael would say, his voice dripping with disdain. “Let me fuck you, or you fuck me. Whichever. The result will be the same, so it makes no difference to me. You get laid, and I get a soul. Period. End of story.”

  Except Malak had a sneaking suspicion that Cael would never say that to him, because Malak was beginning to believe—or at least he hoped to believe in some dark, secret corner of his heart—that Cael might just possibly feel for him something other than mere avarice. That Malak was more than just a repository for a piece of ethereal filament.

  There was one way that Malak could find out. He could ask Cael, and depending on Cael’s answer, he might just consider giving Cael that which Cael had coveted for so long.

  If Malak were brutally honest with himself, he would admit that the idea of spending eternity earthbound was horrible—except if he were to spend it in Cael’s company. Spend it in his arms, in his bed, making love with him incessantly, here, where the waves kissed the sand, until the End of Days….

  He shook his head vigorously, pushing those altogether far-too-tempting thoughts away. What was he thinking? Maybe he was just hungry. Yes, that must be it.

  Whack. Whack. Whack. The knife slipped in Malak’s hand, slicing his finger. Red droplets oozed from the shallow cut, and Malak shoved his finger into his mouth, cursing softly at the sudden, stinging pain.

  “Mmm… I have something that would love to be in your finger’s shoes right about now,” Cael murmured from the doorway. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

  Frowning, Malak looked over his shoulder, removing his finger long enough to speak. “Don’t even think it, Cael.”

  “Aw, goddamn it, Malak… rabbit food again?”

  “Kindly refrain from breaking commandments in my kitchen, Cael.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? We’re omnivorous, Malak. We’re at the top of the food chain. Would it kill you to broil us a couple of steaks once in a while?”

  Malak choked back a snort and turned around to focus on the salad. Cael was so predictable. Preparing himself for the inevitable, he sucked in a deep breath. Any moment now, he’d feel Cael’s hands slip around his waist, Cael’s soft, warm breath tickling the side of his neck. He’d feel Cael’s hard, muscular body pressing up against him, Cael’s hard cock rubbing along his ass crack. Malak would threaten Cael with his butcher knife, and Cael would retreat—for the time being. It was the same old story, merely a different day.

  Whack. Whack. Whack.

  He waited.

  Whack. Whack. Whack.

  Still nothing.

  That was odd. Unsettling, almost. Looking back over his shoulder, Malak realized he was alone in the kitchen. Cael was no longer there.

  After setting the knife down, Malak wiped his hands on a threadbare, stained kitchen towel, staring at the empty doorway. This was more than strange. Cael? Pass on the opportunity to put his hands on Malak’s body? Something was wrong.

  He tossed the towel into the sink and wandered out into the living room.

  Cael was seated in the overstuffed armchair near the window, staring out at the sea. Leaning an elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin was cupped in the palm of his hand, and the expression on his face was unfathomable.

  Walking over, Malak glanced out at the seascape, noticing the black thunderheads that were gathering on the horizon. A storm was brewing.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked after a few minutes had passed and Cael had failed to acknowledge his presence as he usually did—by trying to cop a feel.

  “Nothing.”

  “Something’s wrong. Talk to me, Cael.”

  “You don’t want to know, Malak. Trust me.”

  “If I didn’t want to know, then I wouldn’t be asking. C’mon, Cael. Tell me. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

  Cael sighed and turned his bright blue eyes up toward Malak. “I had a visitor today, that’s all. No one you know.” He sighed again and returned his gaze to the crashing waves.

  Without thinking, Malak placed a hand on Cael’s shoulder. If his mind weren’t so focused on Cael’s troublesome manner, he would have realized it was the first time he’d ever willingly touched Cael since taking his hand three thousand years ago.

  “What did this visitor do to you? Did he hurt you? Are you in pain, Cael?” Malak couldn’t conceal the concern in his voice. “Who was it? What did he do to you?”

  “Asmodai. One of Lucifer’s generals.”

  “A general of Hell, here on Earth? God help us!”

  “Doubtful. God hasn’t concerned himself with the likes of me since the Big Fall,” Cael replied. Malak could hear bitterness in his voice. “Asmodai came to inform me that I’m to be given to him when I get back to Hell.”

  “Given to him? You don’t mean—”

  “I’m fucked, Malak. Literally. Forever.”

  “Would that be so horrible? I thought that was one of your favorite activities.”

  “You haven’t seen Asmodai. I, for one, am not particularly looking forward to getting my asshole reamed by a cock that has fangs.”

  Malak started to smile but froze, his body beginning to tremble violently as he realized Cael wasn’t being metaphorical.

  Cael grunted. “Exactly.”

  “I’m sorry, Cael,” Malak whispered, feeling the blood drain from his face but not knowing what else to say.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s my problem, not yours. I’m the one who escaped Hell. I’m the one who’s trying to stay out. I made my bed, and I’m going to have to lie in it, snake cocks and all.”

  “Isn’t there any way you can get out of it? Apologize or something? Surely a heartfelt apology for running away would—”

  “Malak, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! He’s not exactly the most reasonable entity ever to draw breath. Besides, I’m not sorry I escaped, and I’m not sorry I saved you. I’m only sorry I didn’t win.”

  Malak fell silent. It was the first time Cael had ever mentioned the possibility that he might lose the contest. This visit from Asmodai must have rattled him badly. “But…. You haven’t lost yet, Cael.”

  Cael smirked up at Malak. “Are you saying there’s a c
hance that you’re going to be caving in soon?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then the chances are good that I’ve been fooling myself all these years. You’re stronger than I’d ever imagined, Malak. If you haven’t given in by now, odds are that you won’t in the short time we have left. I give up.”

  “No!” Malak cried. “You can’t just give up!”

  Cael gave Malak a withering look. “Malak, you aren’t making sense. You tell me that you’re not going to let me touch you, but in the next breath, you tell me not to give up! Make up your mind—you can’t have it both ways.”

  Malak removed his hand from Cael’s shoulder, as if suddenly realizing he was touching the demon. Slowly shaking his head, he backed up a short way, conflicting emotions raging within him. This changed things. Before, he’d assumed that, should Cael fail, he would simply be remanded back to the life he’d previously known, and that Cael would be no worse off than he’d been before saving Malak’s life. Now Malak knew different.

  His guilt suddenly blossomed into an all-consuming shame. In a way, this was all Malak’s fault—every last bit of it, and he knew it. If he hadn’t succumbed to temptation on that bright, sunny day in Sodom, hadn’t taken pleasure in watching other men indulging in sin, he wouldn’t have fallen during his flight over the marketplace. Cael would not have saved him and would have returned to Hell none the worse for the wear.

  As Cael’s gaze returned to the sea, the lightning that flashed over the waves illuminated his face. For the first time in longer than Malak could remember, perhaps for the first time ever, Malak looked at Cael. Really looked at him.

  Cael was a golden fantasy, his handsome features strong and even. Thick, pale lashes and delicately arched brows framed brilliantly blue eyes. When he smiled, his lips parted to show straight white teeth, the tip of his pink tongue peeking between them. His high-boned cheeks dimpled deeply, lending him an endearingly boyish look, and his lips were perfectly formed, his bottom lip ripe and full and lush. Hair the color of corn silk fell in ringlets to brush past broad shoulders, strong enough to support an impressive set of membranous wings. Wings that looked and sounded leathery in their solid form but had felt like lambskin under Malak’s fingers the few times he’d inadvertently touched them.

  More than Cael’s beauty, Malak felt moved by something he’d never felt for anyone before.

  Friendship.

  Never in Heaven had Malak felt as close to anyone as he did to Cael. His relationship with the other angels had always been businesslike, couched in religious terms. They had interacted with one another only as far as Heaven’s bidding would allow. Malak realized that he didn’t really know any of them—not the way he knew Cael.

  No matter how irritating Cael could be, no matter how he tested Malak’s temper, Malak would miss Cael desperately once he was gone.

  Yes, Malak would return to Heaven at the end of the trial, his virtue intact, but could he face an eternity living with the knowledge that he’d condemned Cael, this glowingly beautiful creature, to a Hell worse than any Malak could conceive? The very person who’d ensured Malak’s return to Paradise? Would Malak be deserving of Heaven if he did?

  The answer came to him as if he’d always known it.

  No, he could not.

  No, he would not.

  “Cael,” he said softly, his decision made. “Cael, stand up.”

  “Leave me alone, Malak. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Stand up, Cael,” Malak ordered with more heat in his voice than he would have thought himself capable of generating. Enough so that Cael twisted his head and shot him a questioning look. “Get up. Now.”

  Cael rose slowly, his features cast in confusion. Malak could see the uncertainty swiftly segue to astonishment when Malak took Cael’s face between his hands and kissed Cael soundly.

  Chapter Five

  “WHAT THE Hell?” Cael murmured, his words smothered as Malak continued to press his petal soft lips to Cael’s. Amateurish to be sure, lacking the least bit of finesse, without the tiniest tease of tongue, Malak’s kiss was soft and sweet. And it was making Cael’s cock sit up and beg for more. Worse, it enflamed every cell in Cael’s body, igniting them into a lustful frenzy that was taking every ounce of control Cael possessed to contain. “What the Hell are you doing, Malak?”

  “Kissing you.”

  “I can see that,” Cael said, placing his hands on Malak’s shoulders and pushing him away. “Why?”

  “I thought this was what you wanted—what you’ve been after for three thousand years! Why are you playing hard to get all of a sudden?”

  Malak pressed up against Cael to get within lip range again, but Cael danced away, and they waltzed in odd, stilted steps across the living room floor.

  “Because five minutes ago you said you had no intention of letting me touch you. Now all of a sudden, you’re on me like white on rice. What gives, Malak? What’s changed?”

  “I’ve stopped lying to myself, that’s all. I want this. I want you. You can have a piece of my soul. You can have the whole damn thing! I don’t care anymore,” Malak replied earnestly. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Cael—I have no experience in this! Just take me, already!” He threw his hands up in the air, clearly frustrated. “I’m mucking this up, aren’t I? What am I doing wrong? How do we do this? Do you need me to take off my clothes, or what?”

  “You’re serious? You’re… giving in?” Cael asked, astonishment ringing in his voice.

  “Yes!” Malak cried exasperatedly. “Yes!”

  Falling silent for a moment, Cael could do nothing but stare at Malak in wonder. “You know what this means, Malak,” Cael said softly, stepping closer. “There’s no going back once this is done.”

  Malak looked down for a moment, then lifted dark eyes that glimmered with emotion as he nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

  A slow, sensuous smile tilted Cael’s lips, and he whispered a few words in a language that was not of the earthly plane. Their clothing dissipated into smoke, drifting away into nothingness. His tongue wet his bottom lip as he circled Malak slowly, eyes drifting appreciatively over Malak’s naked flesh.

  Alabaster skin, sleek and flawless and flushed with a slight rosy glow, stretched tightly over six feet four inches of muscle and sinew. Ink-black hair, yards of it, tumbled in a wild cascade over his broad shoulders and halfway down Malak’s strong back. His ass, an inverted heart, plump and untouched, was nearly enough to send Cael spiraling over the edge of sanity.

  But it was Malak’s cock, uncircumcised, heavy and hardened with the same lust that was flashing in Malak’s ebony eyes, that drew Cael’s attention.

  A shiver ran down Cael’s back. This was what he’d been waiting three millennia for—his body was more than ready. His cock had never felt so painfully hard, his body never so tightly wound as it did at that moment as he feasted his eyes on Malak. Then why did it feel as though his feet were suddenly bolted to the floor?

  “Cael?” Malak whispered, reaching out a hand to touch his jaw.

  The touch of Malak’s fingers grazing his cheek was all the impetus Cael needed. Ripping his gaze away from Malak’s groin, Cael silently took Malak’s hand and led him outside, onto the wraparound porch and into the cool night air. Shimmering his wings into solidity, he extended them in a rustle of leather to their full span. He stood before Malak for a moment, chin held high, muscles flexed, his posture bristling with dominance.

  “Your wings,” he whispered hoarsely, impatiently. “Now, Malak.”

  Malak swallowed visibly, then willed his own wings into sight, pristine feathers, blindingly white, so soft that Cael couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke them gently. He smiled at the tiny shudder that ran across Malak’s shoulders at his touch.

  Locking eyes with Malak for one last long, smoldering look, he sprung into the air, soaring up into the night sky.

  Hovering, his wings beating strongly, Cael waited for Malak to catch up. The wait was short lived as Malak bu
rst through the clouds and reached for him.

  Laughing, Cael darted away, beginning a game of midair cat and mouse. Flying in, stealing a kiss, a tempting taste of what would be, he’d soar out of reach in a heartbeat, only to return a moment later. A quick touch, a light stroke, the brushing of skin against skin and he was gone again.

  Malak soon caught on, his enthusiasm bringing a wider grin to Cael’s face as Malak joined him in aerial foreplay, flying close enough to brush soft flight feathers against Cael’s cheek or running fingers over the delicate membrane of Cael’s wings.

  Cael flew low over the beach, the splashing foam of the breaking waves misting his wings with cold seawater as Malak gave chase. Then Cael turned the tables, changing direction with lightning speed, and Malak became the hunted. The beating of their wings was the only sound aside from the crash of the waves, the rumble of thunder, and the occasional lonely cry of a gull.

  Spiraling, diving, streaking across the star-studded sky in vivid contrast to each other, they swooped and swirled in a mating flight of playful touches, teasing tastes, and passionate gazes.

  Cael darted after Malak, one powerful flap of his wings bridging the gap between them. He encircled Malak’s chest with his arm, pulling Malak flush against his body. Trapped against his chest, Malak’s wings were held immobile.

  Cael supported Malak, just as he had three thousand years ago, whispering, “You are mine, Malak. Make no mistake. I claim you, body and soul.”

  Twisting in Cael’s arms, Malak kissed him hungrily. “You are mine, Cael,” he answered, threading his fingers into Cael’s hair. “Make no mistake. I give myself to you, body and soul.”

  Then Cael released Malak and zipped away, with Malak in hot pursuit. Skimming low over the water, over the roof of the house, he circled around back to the beach. For a while they flew in tandem, their arms outstretched, fingers barely touching.

  Finally, although neither had spoken a single word since exchanging their vows, they descended to the second-floor balcony, coming together in a fierce embrace as their feet touched the cool wood.