Date from Hell
By Gareth Vaughn
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2018 Gareth Vaughn
ISBN 9781634867535
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
Date from Hell
By Gareth Vaughn
It was a red and murky night. Crimson fog roiled up from cracked, dusty ground, reducing the visibility through Kev’s window to almost nothing. The occasional flickering light from torches passing closely enough to his rooms seared through the haze, fiery blobs moving through the darkness of Hell. Kev could block out the shouts and screams, faint through the window, but the panes didn’t completely contain the smell. Lately it seemed Hell reeked of butthole more than usual. Kev preferred the stench when it emphasized sulfur.
No matter. He wasn’t going out. Tonight he was staying in and nabbing himself a date to the annual Helloween bash, which he was determined not to show up single to this year. Again. It wasn’t like he was a terrible partner—not compared to some of the creatures here—but he had this little problem with being late to everything. That just would not fly here. It was Hell, after all. Punctuality was one of the requirements.
Probably why he couldn’t get promoted from basic level soul-dealer demon to any of the positions that weren’t commission. At any rate, if no one was going to ask him out and he couldn’t seduce anyone, he’d just summon a date. Easy enough.
He stared at the schematics in his copy of 1001 Simple Summoning Circles for Everyday Evils, bending the spine hard until it cracked. Kev hadn’t used this since he’d gotten it. But this Summon-A-Demon spell was beginner friendly, and he already knew who he was going for. He dipped two fingers in the half-gelled chicken blood he’d picked up at the market and got to work.
Ira should be responsive. He hoped. Ira certainly had been several days ago, when they’d crossed paths during a deal. Normally Kev nourished his resentment and detest for the younger, fresher demons, but that night he’d set it aside at the look in Ira’s eyes, the look of Ira’s body. That demon had positively reveled in the deal he’d just made. And since it should have been Kev’s deal—would have been, had he not shown up late—Kev wanted whatever energy backwash he could get off it.
The thing about soul deals was that they were addictive. Sealing the deal involved collecting a vial of blood, sucking the soul out of the body through the open vein, and lastly depositing it in the vial to store. But that hit from the mortal’s blood…the fear and adrenaline, the delicate vitality of the soul, it just did something to a demon. Kev had had his nights of being so wound, so charged, he’d gone back to Hell and stayed up for days, pacing through hot coals and acid marshes, trying to burn off the unidentifiable urges.
But there were other ways to get rid of those feelings. And when Kev had laid eyes on Ira that night, the demon wandering around with his shirt off and his eyes alight, the blood reddening his lips, Kev had sized him up and made a move. Kev was only demon, after all. And Ira had gotten too hot for his clothes, the sweat glistening over his muscled frame. New demon or no, Kev went to him.
“You stole my deal,” he’d said, hoping the anger would get Ira’s attention. It did.
“Don’t be late,” said Ira, grinning. His eyes ran up and down Kev’s body though he was still clothed.
“Looks like it was too much soul for you to handle,” said Kev, and fixed his gaze pointedly on Ira’s immense bulge. Even Kev was starting to sweat, here on the Earth plane, in the abandoned lot of some empty big-box store.
Ira laughed. He stepped closer, aggressive, posturing. He was at least six inches taller than Kev and he wanted Kev to know it. Ira licked more blood off his lips, blood Kev could practically smell with how close they were. Coppery sweet. Blood that should have been his.
“You missed a spot,” said Kev.
“You’re welcome to it, if you dare.”
Kev’s eyes darted to the line of blood on Ira’s lips, considering. He knew what would happen if he leaned up for that blood, and the slight sneer on Ira’s lips was a taunt, an offer of a different sort of deal than the one he’d just made. One sealed with a kiss, and ending with…
Kev leaned up and kissed the blood off the corner of Ira’s mouth. The taste was heady and metallic over his tongue, and barely had he finished when Ira kissed back, ravenous. The demon was as aggressive as his posturing had been, hand to the back of Kev’s head to keep him there, lips pressed so hard it hurt. Ira’s long demon tongue sought Kev’s throat, his other hand grabbing Kev’s ass. Ira’s hard groin pushed against Kev’s hardening crotch, grinding. Just when Kev thought he’d end up passing out from lack of air Ira pulled back, released him. Kev gasped, mouth full of their mingled saliva and the delicious tingle of mortal blood, and then Ira’s hands were on his shoulders.
Ira forced Kev down to kneel between his knees and released his cock from his pants. Kev almost shied back—Ira was hung like a stallion—but the demon’s hand was on his head again and the demon’s head was on his lips. Before Kev knew it, Ira was fucking his face so hard he could feel tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. If Kev wasn’t a demon himself he might be self-conscious about how hard he was right now, how much he ached with desire even as he choked on the largest mouthful of cock he’d had in years. But demon fucking was always furiously to the point and at least just a little painful.
When Kev started gagging too hard Ira popped his cock out, undid Kev’s pants, and pushed Kev to the crumbling asphalt. Bits of gravel pressed into Kev’s palms and knees as he gasped for breath, Ira moving to kneel behind him. The demon spat on his cock to add more than just Kev’s saliva, then pressed the head up against Kev’s ass. Ira sucked in a breath and thrust.
Kev’s entire body tensed and he howled. Even having sucked on such a cock moments ago, it was something else entirely to have it so far up his ass. He’d fucked a lot of things since he’d gotten to Hell, but Ira’s cock was certainly one of the more challenging items on that long list. Ira grunted above him and thrust, hitting him just right. Kev propped himself on one hand and grabbed for his own shaft, hardening fast again after the initial response to Ira’s size. He was going to come so hard it would hurt.
But Ira grabbed Kev’s hand before he could make contact with his cock and twisted it around to the small of Kev’s back. Destabilized, Kev hit the asphalt hard. Ira’s hand ground his face into the gravel and weeds. He paused only a moment before pounding Kev’s ass.
“God, please,” begged Kev into the pavement. His cock was trapped between his stomach and the rough asphalt, and it didn’t much care at the moment, so desperate to get off as
it was.
“Yeah, pray for me,” said Ira. He ground Kev’s face into the pavement once more before releasing him and grabbing his cheeks, pulling them apart to thrust even deeper.
Kev choked, eyes damp again, and then Ira’s hand was sliding under him. When the demon’s thumb touched the head of Kev’s cock, he nearly lost it, and then Ira’s palm was between Kev’s cock and the asphalt, cushioning, offering enough touch. The next time Ira stuck him right Kev came, hard, grabbing the pavement with his hands, groaning loud and long. Instinctively he pressed his ass back into Ira, sending the demon over the edge. Ira growled and pumped out every last burst of come he had.
“Oh, God,” groaned Kev, numb from the pleasure and pain of it, as Ira pulled out.
“Lord’s name in vain. Nice,” said Ira, and left Kev lying on the pavement.
Now Kev squatted over the circle he was scrawling, half-hard from remembering that night. In the days since he’d occasionally gotten off by pressing his still-raw cheek up against some rough surface until his eyes smarted and handling his cock like it couldn’t break even if he tried. Yes, Ira would be an ideal date to the perverted festivity that was Helloween, and not just because he’d be up for fucking Kev’s brains out repeatedly. He was a catch in Hell, and Kev figured he could use the boost in status.
He had everything he needed. Blood, candles, instruction book in easy enough language even he couldn’t screw it up. And of course, a piece of Ira. Kev finished the intricacies in the lower left of the circle and grabbed the envelope containing one of Ira’s dark hairs, which he’d found on his clothes after he’d peeled himself off the pavement and staggered back to Hell. He grabbed up the bowl to burn it in, bent the cover back on his book again, and recited the incantation.
Smoke rose up from the bowl in serpentine curls, angry and quick. Kev took several steps back, then several more, as the reek of burning hair filled the room and the smoke thickened. He coughed, suddenly aware of another presence in the room, but unable to see him. Kev waved his hand in front of his face for a full minute before giving up and staggering to the window to open the pane.
The sour, biting smoke rushed out as the stench of Hell leaked in, the noise and the negative energy. Kev turned back, trying to think of something to say to Ira and cursing himself for not having thought of it ahead of time. But the man standing in the middle of the circle in his boxers, peering around, wasn’t Ira at all. This man was closer in size to Kev, skin paler than Ira’s, hair dark…also a decently hot pick for a date, but not at all who Kev had been intending to appear.
Kev gaped, really not knowing what to say now.
The man’s dark eyes found Kev, who let the book slip to the floor.
* * * *
Archer knew he wasn’t dreaming, and was fairly sure he wasn’t hallucinating either. One moment he’d been lying in bed, trying to get back to sleep after having woken abruptly, the next he was here, in a cloud stinking of burnt hair. The air that had cleared out the smoke when the room’s other occupant had opened the window was fetid and humid, and clogged Archer’s throat. The temperature was too hot and it hit him hard, like stepping from air conditioning out into a hundred degree day. All he could do was stare.
The man before him stared right back, although he looked horrified. Which was funny, considering Archer was half convinced he was in Hell or someplace similar, based on the atmosphere. Archer sized the man up—the youthfulness of him, smooth white skin, brown hair down to his shoulders, average build—and decided he had to be a demon. He had that feel about him. Archer remembered how the presence of the other demon had felt when he’d made his deal days ago and this man—demon—definitely had it.
As though the demon came to his senses at the same moment Archer did, he took several steps forward, hands out.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. His eyes flicked up and down Archer’s body and he looked embarrassed. “I—I really don’t know how that happened…”
Archer glanced down at his feet, the scorched bowl standing before his bare toes, the blood across the uneven stone. He knew what this was. He’d used a smaller, similar version with his own blood several nights ago. He looked back up at the demon.
“You summoned me,” he said. His voice came out flat.
The demon opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again.
“Not you,” he said. His eyes flicked down to a book on the floor, the spine cruelly bent back on itself. He reached for it. “Not you. I don’t know…You’re a human, that spell’s not supposed to be able to even summon someone with a soul…”
“Then obviously I don’t have a soul,” said Archer. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, annoyed now. This demon was a complete bumbler. Great.
“Oh,” said the demon, his eyes growing wide. “Oh, God.”
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
“I—no…”
“Can I step out of this?” asked Archer, holding back a sigh. He felt awkward standing in the center of the room in his winged-wedges-of-cheese print boxers. When the demon blinked at him, confused, he indicated the circle on the floor.
“Yes. Sorry again, I’ll look up how to get you back.”
“Don’t bother,” said Archer, looking for someplace to sit and eventually settling on the floor, his back to the wall. It was just too warm, forcing him to lean forward a little and not rest his back against the surface. He figured he was right about this being Hell. “Who were you going for? I thought it was the other way around. You demons get summoned.”
The demon smiled a little and set his book aside. He was as minimally clad as Archer, a small amount of black cloth covering his waist, the rest of him obvious and fit. He was kind of cute, Archer thought, not what a person normally thought of when picturing a demon. No redness or horns—the thing giving him away was the feel. Maybe it was soullessness. Archer’s cat had been avoiding him since he’d made his own deal.
“Another demon.” The demon ran a hand through his hair, pulling it back from his face. “This is going to sound weird, but we have a big party coming up down here and I wanted a date—”
“Hold on,” said Archer, not liking where this was going. “Was this supposed to force this demon to be your date? Am I bound to you now?”
“No. This was a simple summoning spell. For a demon. I don’t know why I got you, I—” The demon stopped talking abruptly and glanced at the scorched bowl. “Shit. That must have been your hair, and I got it because…” He trailed off, looked over at Archer. “You were the one who made the deal five days ago. In the overgrown parking lot of the closed business.”
Archer didn’t think he should respond to that. The demon seemed more competent the more he recovered from his blunder, and Archer was beginning to feel more vulnerable than before. He knew what demons were capable of, had seen firsthand what happened when they used their powers, and as much as this one didn’t seem to be the most skilled, Archer couldn’t consider him harmless. Beyond that, he really wanted to forget about the shit that went down in that abandoned store lot. He wasn’t exactly proud of himself for it.
“You must be, nothing else makes sense,” said the demon, filling Archer’s silence. “Not many people can go through with a deal once the demon’s in front of them. You have balls.”
Archer snorted. The demon rubbed his face, stared out the window. As though it just occurred to him where the terrible smells and sounds were originating, he moved forward and shut the window. What was left wasn’t exactly silence, but it wasn’t as loud. When the demon turned back to Archer, he was frowning.
“You’re very calm for hearing all that,” he said. “Most first-time visitors to Hell take it hard.”
“So this is Hell,” said Archer. This room had to be the space the demon lived in. There were a few shelves of books and things and a couple other doors. “You could stand to have someplace for guests to sit.”
“You’re my first.”
“And I’m taking it hard,” said Archer. He gave
up trying to sit and stood again. His ass hurt. “Is this stone somehow harder than other stone?”
“It’s Hell,” said the demon, shrugging. “So that was your soul…”
Archer didn’t like the way the demon was looking him over. His eyes were hungry, like the demon was analyzing Archer in a completely different way. When the demon crossed to him Archer backed up into the wall even though it singed his back. He tilted his head up some, hoping it made him seem more intimidating than he felt.
“And you’re really not scared,” said the demon.
“I’m transgender. I don’t really scare,” said Archer.
“Really? Even standing here, soulless in Hell?” The demon grinned suddenly. “I like you.”
“Good for you,” said Archer. He couldn’t say the same for the demon.
“So the deal was about your body?”
“No, the deal was about my brother.” Archer gritted his teeth. The scars on his chest were visible enough. “Why do you care?”
“I just said I like you,” said the demon, then paused. He looked like he was thinking. “Maybe you’d go as my date instead? If you don’t scare.”
“The hell?” said Archer without thinking, then when the demon smirked, “Back off.”
To his surprise the demon complied and took a few steps back. Archer had been half ready to lash out, but seeing the demon react favorably to his request helped ease him some, even if the entire situation, and the heat, pissed him off.
“You have time to think it over,” said the demon. He picked up the book and flipped through it, leaning against the wall like it wasn’t that hot. “The festivities don’t start for another ten hours or so.”
Archer watched him flip through the book, uncomfortable with what he might be searching for. The cover was full of demonic symbols Archer couldn’t read, but context clues indicated it was a book of spells. If this demon was so unskilled he had to look up a basic summoning spell, Archer wanted someone else sending him home.
“Ten hours?” he asked, wondering how he could get himself out of this and back into bed. He’d rather be tossing and turning than this. “You weren’t getting a date until now?”
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