Of Heaven and Hell Read online

  I saw the hope flicker across his face as a single tear ran down his cheek. I leaned forward and traced the salty streak with my tongue, before brushing my lips across his mouth. Ozzie’s lips moved against mine in a shy, tentative way, as if he was too anxious to kiss me back.

  I held myself steady and whispered against his lips. “Do you hear me? I own you.”

  Under my hands, I felt a level of tension fade in Ozzie’s neck. However, a sickly sheen glossed his skin, and his shoulders still shook. As comfortable as he was becoming, the fear wasn’t erased. I didn’t like seeing him this way. His disquiet was a product of someone else’s hand, and the idea chaffed me raw. We needed a chance to start again.

  I led him to the bathroom, his first steps sudden and clumsy as if his feet were anchored to the floor. Once inside, I slid my fingers under the collar of his jacket and down his shoulders and arms, shedding the garment to the tile floor. His gaze followed my hands as I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. He shivered as my palms skimmed his thighs, causing the denim to pool at his ankles.

  We were matched in height and size, but where my physique was lean and tight, Ozzie’s muscles sported a subtle padding, softening the hard slabs, suiting him perfectly. He looked every bit the biker. Long hair and sideburns with a tight goatee, the rest of his body was hairless, a showcase for the tattoos decorating his arms, flanks, and legs. The rings in his nipples drew my fascination, as usual, and made me wish for matching jewelry to adorn his sleeping cock. I filed the idea away for the future.

  As the shower began to warm the small room, Ozzie fixated on me as I undressed. More than once, he began to raise his hands, only to drop them. Was he trying to bring himself to reach out for me?

  I led him under the spray and closed the curtain. Stroking his body, I shifted him at my leisure, helping the water rinse the salt from his skin. Ozzie’s eyes drifted closed as I leaned his head back, soaking his hair. Making no sound other than soft purrs, he let me shampoo his hair before I worked my way to his chest with a bar of soap. Streaks of lather spilled between the swells of muscle, giving me a path to follow as I worked my way down.

  Kneeling, I bathed his legs, pleased to find his swollen member rising to greet me. I ran the soap up the back of his thigh and between his buttocks, watching him grow harder and harder.

  “When was the last time anyone touched you properly?” I let my slippery fingertips trace his tender opening, threatening to dip inside.

  Ozzie’s voice was coarse with shame and need. “You’re the only one who ever did.”

  I shouldn’t have found that so gratifying.

  Switching the soap to my other hand, I started cleaning his cock, leaving my fingers at his rectum. Ozzie’s hand found my shoulder, steadying himself as he shifted his legs apart. I wasn’t about to ignore the silent request.

  I sank two fingers inside, relishing the sudden clamp on my knuckles. Ozzie keened when I set down the soap and wrapped my hand around his dick. I slid my fist to the tip, the suds allowing a frictionless glide. A quick twist around the fat head, and then I stroked down to the base.

  Ozzie’s thighs quaked as I sped up my efforts. I hooked my fingers to rub the sensitive knot inside him as I worked his shaft at a feverish pace. He was so close, I could feel him crumbling. His breathing peaked, and his body tensed, ready to seize.

  And I stopped.

  The look of shock and disbelief I received as I picked up the soap and began cleaning myself was priceless. Still scared to voice himself, Ozzie had no words of protest. When he reached for his throbbing organ, I snatched his wrist short of its destination.

  “No. You don’t have permission for that yet.”

  I bathed myself and rinsed carefully, making sure to emphasize my arousal. Seeing the torturous state I’d left Ozzie in was peaking my need for him. I doubt I’d ever wanted him more. I dried us both, careful not to rub him too briskly; his trigger was fragile and we weren’t finished. Now that he was fresh and clean, I wanted to dirty him.

  We barely made it to the bedroom before I pushed him to his knees. The sight of him made me inhale sharply. Prostrated before me, his hair wet and disheveled, I felt like a god being worshipped by a willing slave. My rigid tool ached, waiting for what was coming next. Ozzie wet his lips, slowly raising his hands to my groin.

  “Not with your hands,” I snarled.

  His palms heated my hips as he leaned forward, placing a tentative kiss on the swollen head. The kiss became more confident, his tongue dipping into the edge of my foreskin as more of my flesh disappeared into his mouth. It was sweet and delicious, and made me shiver, but it wasn’t enough.

  Threading my fingers into his hair, I pushed farther beyond his lips, making it clear he was taking it all. The vicious heat of his mouth was spectacular. I moved slowly, giving him a chance to adjust to my length as I breached his throat. He choked and gagged, sending quakes of pleasure into me. I held him in place, he needed to be trained, but I was proud to find him not trying to escape. When I released him, he caught his breath, reached his firm hands around my buttocks, and took me to the root. His nose crushed in my pubic hair, his chin butting against my balls, and the swallowing sensation nearly made me howl. On his third dive, his lidded eyes fixated on his prize as drool shined his lips. There was no grip in his hair to urge him forward; he didn’t require it.

  I forced myself to pull away, in spite of his whining protest. My dick was wet and glossy from his ministrations. He tried to chase me, and I had to hold him back. Ozzie may have lacked experience, but his fervor risked spilling me over. I had other plans.

  Bringing him to his feet, I spun him around, and bent him over the dresser. I couldn’t help but admire the swell of his buttocks, and knelt down, feeling a perfect balance of yielding muscle beneath my palms. Separating the mounds, I drove my tongue into his tender ring, drawing a muffled groan. He was still trying to restrain himself.

  Once he was wet enough, I placed a fierce bite to his left cheek, and Ozzie gasped, his thighs quivering. Satisfied at the sight of my darkening teeth marks, I stood up and pushed half of my slippery cock into him. Ozzie’s back arched as he yelped, his hands scrabbling at the wooden surface. The spasms of his channel erratically squeezing my organ, better than his throat, nearly undid me. It had to hurt; I’m not a small man. When he flattened his palms, and with a strained cry, forced himself back, taking the rest of me, I smiled.

  Skin flushed and a fresh sheen of perspiration across his back, Ozzie gathered himself. Reaching around his hip, I found his solid cock leaking profusely. That was all the proof I needed.

  I pulled nearly all the way out before I slammed back into him, the force drawing more deviant noises from him. He took everything I had to give as I lost myself. Gripping his hips, I tried to thrust deeper. I wanted him to feel all of it, and go beyond his expectations. This was the closest to heaven a damned man could find, and I wanted to take him with me.

  Our skin slapped together, the sweat between us making it louder than it should have been. Ozzie’s ass strangled me in the sweetest way, shredding my self-control. The orgasm left me screaming as I buried myself, planting my seed, making my claim. I came so hard, my body refused to give up the erection.

  Dragging Ozzie to the bed, I shoved him on his back. He crab-walked to the center as I stalked around the perimeter, focused on the strained cock between his legs. I imagined ropes and manacles added to the four corners, spreading him helplessly. An excellent idea that brought a fresh surge to my cock, but it could wait. I was still hard and willing, and I wasn’t about to waste our first proper time together.

  Without direction, Ozzie drew his knees to his chest as I crawled between his legs. I could picture the sight, my muscles tight, flexing as I stalked my prey, my turgid cock glossy with saliva and semen. Ozzie looked so debauched, his hole on display, reddened, puffy, and wet with my fluids. The tender ring flexed, beckoning me, and I sank my dick in to the hilt. A fresh bleed of pre-come escaped Ozzie
as he shook with the re-entry.

  Leaning over him, I captured his heady gaze. “There is no shame in this house. I give you permission to be the man you need to be.”

  Ozzie clasped the back of my neck with both hands and ravaged me with his kiss. His tongue forged ahead into my mouth, and he licked and bit at my lips. The desperate move pulled me forward, shifting me inside him, causing him to moan into my mouth. Every breath was a gasp, and I could feel his pulse through the squeeze on my cock. The taste of his unrestrained want left me dizzy.

  “I want you to come,” I gasped as Ozzie chased my mouth. “No touching yourself. I want to feel you come on my cock.”

  I braced my arms over him as he spurred my ass with his heels. Lifting his hips, he bore down on me, somehow burying me deeper than before. His eyes went wide as he writhed against me, forcing me to fuck him harder. Seeing him accept his rapture, and revel in it, spiked the heat in the room. I snapped my hips on each thrust, making sure he jolted each time I bottomed out. Impossibly, his dick swelled more, the purpling flesh looked near its limit, the ropey veins standing out in granite-like relief. Tears pricked the edges of his eyes as he whined, struggling to find the finish. The glorious sound made me pound him harder.

  Ozzie thrashed, floating near the edge of the abyss, achingly close, but not quite there. With wicked inspiration, I reached out, twisted the rings in his nipples, and pushed him over. Strung so tight, he cried out with the force of a cello, and erupted.

  Endless arcs of pearlescent fire left scalding trails over both our stomachs and chests as Ozzie convulsed beneath me. The shot that painted his cheek impressed me. Agony and ecstasy etched across his face—he had never looked more alluring. He lost control of his body, clamping down on my thrusting cock, dragging me off the cliff with him. I emptied myself, flooding him with everything I had, and collapsed on top of him. Every muscle in my body ached with the force of my release.

  I licked the cooling trail off his cheek before fusing our mouths together. Our arms tightened as we canted our hips against each other to keep my softening member inside him as long as possible. Breaking the kiss, I searched his lidded eyes, finding the first light of acceptance in their depths.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  It was the only words we needed before falling asleep, joined together by the physical evidence of our lust.

  HOURS LATER, I stood sentinel over Ozzie, to confirm the steady rise and fall of his breathing hadn’t ceased in the night. I’d slept alone for so long, finding a man in my bed, even one I wanted there, would take some getting used to. Although, I was already missing the heat of his skin against mine.

  The sight of him nestled into my covers was gratifying and right. It took a strength I didn’t know I had not to take him again, fill him inside and out with my seed. My thirst bordered on gluttonous. But I could wait and let him slumber. If I hadn’t been involved in our joining earlier, the beatific expression on his face wouldn’t feel so ironic. He looked tranquil and content, a first for me to see. Now that I had him, I wouldn’t let him go.

  This large, fearsome man was mine to protect. He was mine to soil. He was... mine.

  I watched him for several more minutes, afraid to abandon him, before I found the nerve to take care of my own needs. The bathroom door hardly made a sound as I closed myself in. Sighing in relief, I relieved myself as I picked at the Rorschach painting, dried and flaking across my torso. We probably should have cleaned up before burrowing into the covers, but the lax judgment could be amended in the morning. The shower had already proved large enough to hold us both.

  Ozzie and I had much to discuss. Our carnal needs aside, there were explanations to be made, and my history to tell. I would need to show him things, prove my story, and hope our bond compelled him to stay.

  Water from the sink pooled in my hands before I rinsed my face. It was a small baptism before making another attempt to sleep next to him. I was determined to learn how. I was patting my face with the towel when I felt the static charge on the back of my neck, the heralding sign of an angelic presence inside my walls.

  It was unthinkable; my home was my sanctum. Wards constructed over the course of decades were proof against any arcane invasion. Nothing outside of this world could get past them.

  Unless, somehow, I let it inside.

  Fear whispered his name, a faint gossamer sound on my lips. “Ozzie.” Panic clutched my heart. Not now. Not so soon. Please.

  I burst from the bedroom to find Ozzie gone, the bed sheets kicked back in a reckless pile. Pulse pounding in my ears, I threw open the nightstand and drew out the ritual dagger inside, a relic I hadn’t destroyed in my so-called good work.

  The same presence from Ozzie’s apartment permeated the air as I charged into the living room. Ozzie stood with his back to me, as I reached out with my senses, trying to focus on the threat. Slowly, he craned a glance over his shoulder, his eyes shimmering white with no visible pupils.

  The despair seizing my heart roared its rage. Profane words of hell spilled from my lips, their echo chilling the room. Ozzie, or whatever he was, spun to face me, his fear obvious. He jumped toward me, too slow to stop the blade from slashing my palm, completing the ritual.

  Runes all over my body went white hot, and a wind of ash and brimstone spun the air. The scent of blood and sex filled my nostrils. A ripple of power burst out of me, shoving the furniture to the edges of the room with a crash, exposing every sigil and rune carved into the floor. Ozzie managed to stay upright, resisting the force.

  Few of the people I had helped over the years had the nerve to ask about the reality of my power, but when they did, this is how I explained it: the greater the dark magic, the more the putrid swirls of horror and damnation filled you, razoring your soul while twisting the agony into mind-bending pleasure. Every cell in your body peaked, aroused just short of orgasm, never reaching the crest. I was a mad god of caged lust. Channeling the soul of a demon, it lifted me off the ground on its ethereal barbed cock. I ached for piercing fangs to rend my flesh and make me come. Insanely dangerous, this was the strongest weapon in my arsenal.

  I prayed the wards of my home could contain this as I reached out, pouring a surge of heat into Ozzie, driving him to his knees. The arcane fire left his flesh unblemished but seared him nonetheless. His pained screams, overlaid with righteous timbre, held none of the arousal of the past. Damned voices taunted me, feeding my wrath with methods of pain, promising to assuage me. Ozzie’s bright white eyes were huge, as he realized he was helpless.

  “Reveal yourself!”

  Light exploded from his back, revealing a pair of wings that vanished as quickly as they appeared. Outrage flooded me as my spell wrapped around his throat, heaving him off the floor.

  There was little of my sanity available to speak. “Cocksucking seraphim! How long have you been squatting in my mate?” Saying it out loud made it true, but couldn’t keep the tears from spilling down my cheeks. “How long?” I screamed.

  Ozzie’s hair whipped around his face as he struggled to respond. Layers of unnatural sound lent a beauty to his voice I would have admired had I not been so outraged. “I do not know!”

  To an immortal spirit, human concepts of time probably didn’t translate. He might not recognize last month from last decade. The knowledge did nothing to calm me.

  “Why Ozzie?”

  “I chose a man whose perversions you couldn’t resist.”

  My anger flared, and the ceiling cracked. This bastard had used my preferences against me. He’d used Ozzie against me. The control of my fury teetered along a thin line, my wrath sought to unbalance me. Unleashing it upon him was tempting, but there were things I needed to know.

  I summoned every ounce of command into my voice. “Your true name. Now.”

  “Armaros.”

  “You bonded with Ozzie to hide your presence from me, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  I snarled at his confession, and I heard t
he sound of glass breaking over the roar of the storm. It wasn’t like Sammael using the homeless man as a mouthpiece. There was no reversing this. Ozzie was now a permanent host to Armaros.

  “Does Ozzie know you’re here?”

  Armaros screamed when I lashed him with a barb of smoke and embers. “Not yet, but he is becoming aware. Our souls will gradually be one.”

  “I am no longer hunted by the heavens. Why are you here?”

  “I was foolish enough to believe I could succeed where higher-ranking powers had failed. I envied their connection to the host. Now my link to heaven is gone. I have fallen.”

  Lucifer fell too. My sympathy was non-existent.

  “Do you really think I’ll allow you to fuck me, and then kill me in my sleep?”

  His all-white eyes flew open, pleading. “I cannot. I no longer have a mission. Nothing can be gained from it. It cannot restore my rank, and I cannot be forgiven.”

  The taunting voices whispered in my ear. How the angel lies. How I should behead him and use the parts for greater works and higher torments and plateaus.

  “Your survival means everything to us!”

  Angels can’t outright lie. They hide inside metaphor and evade your questions, but truth is their nature. It’s a fundamental reality of their existence. The Tome of Cardinal Sins spoke of how even the fallen were bound to this holy covenant, since the fall of Lucifer, to prevent the rise of another prime adversary.

  I shunted the hellish whispers into the background, reminding myself of the mercurial ethics the damned hold on lies. A series of chants fell from my lips, ending the invocation. The power bled out of me, and the storm dissipated. I drifted to the floor, while Armaros dropped in a heap.

  I took a sudden step forward, and then stopped, reminding myself this wasn’t Ozzie. I studied him as he dragged himself to his knees. It looked like Ozzie kneeling before me, but his scent was sharp and crisp, lacking the musk I preferred. My anger cooled without the mouths of hell to fuel it, but it didn’t extinguish. The lack of malicious speech in my ears let me process his story.