Of Heaven and Hell

by Anthology

  (The boss is a big fan of dimmer switches to create the right mood for this kind of thing. He puts a lot of thought into his work.)

  I pick up my drink and take a sip; then I set the glass back down. I reach over and take his glass from him, placing it beside my own.

  I can see the movement in his Adam’s apple as he gulps. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands now the glass is gone, so he grips his jeans, bunching the material in his fists. I place my hands over his, and he uncurls his fingers. I make my way slowly up his arms, as far as I can reach in my current position; then I return to his hands, lifting them and placing one on my shoulder and one on my thigh.

  “You can touch me, Tom. Anywhere and as much as you want. Tonight is your night. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do.”

  He nods, but he doesn’t move and I can see I’m going to need to kick start things or we won’t leave this sofa all night. At least he’s not pulled away. He clearly wants to continue—he’s just shy. I can understand that. I am pretty awe-inspiring.

  I shift my angle a little, and then I slowly lean in, giving him a chance to pull away if he wishes, and press my mouth to his. I keep the kiss gentle at first, allowing him time to get used to the idea and respond. It doesn’t take long before he murmurs and his lips part.

  Making the most of the opportunity, I slip my tongue inside. And, oh, he is heavenly. Or at least he’s what I imagine heavenly to be. I’ve never been to the “other camp” in person, you understand, so this is all conjecture. He is sugar and spice and all things nice.

  I can taste the bourbon on him, mingled with the tomatoey sauce from our lunch, and a slight hint of something spicy. I’m not sure if the spice is from the Bolognese or if it’s natural. Either way it’s as delicious as fresh honey straight from the hive.

  I move a hand behind his neck to stabilize his head as I deepen the kiss. To my utter delight, he responds, moving his tongue against my own, exploring my mouth. I massage his shoulder with my other hand, and he groans, tipping his head back farther.

  The movement makes him flop down in the chair; his head comes to rest against the molded leather back. In a fluid movement, I shift so I’m straddling him. Now this is much better. From here I have access to all sorts of wonderful places, all the places I’ve been longing to explore for hours.

  I run my hands lightly over his chest, feeling his nipples through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. I know if I lower my thighs a little I’ll rub against the erection that is clearly straining against his tight jeans. But not yet. It’s still too soon for that.

  His eyes are shut, and his mouth is open in a beautiful “O”. He’s worthy of a painting, something by Rossetti. Or else Leonardo da Vinci. Those two men knew how to capture true passion in a brush stroke.

  As much as I’m enjoying the moment, the sofa is really not well-designed for this kind of activity. Not unless you’re a contortionist. Time to move this to somewhere more appropriate.

  I climb off him, and he opens his eyes. There’s a flash of fear. Perhaps he worries I’m calling a halt. He needn’t be concerned, this is only a minor rest stop. He should enjoy it while he can. If I have my way, it’s the only one he’ll have between now and dawn.

  He takes my proffered hand, and I pull him up. Keeping our fingers entwined, I lead him across the room and open the bedroom door. The little exhalation of breath as he takes in the room in all its glory makes me smile.

  I usher him to the bed and guide him down onto the cushions, climbing up after him. I almost laugh. He looks so out of place against the vibrant silks in his T-shirt and jeans. Better get them off him as soon as possible, do I hear you say? I absolutely agree.

  I tug at the bottom of his T-shirt, and he gets the message, raising his torso off the bed so I can pull the offending garment over his head. I toss it behind me, not caring where it lands as long as it’s far from the bed. Whilst I’m not always averse to an audience, I don’t really want a bunch of comic book superheroes watching. Oh, don’t worry, you can stay. I wouldn’t send you packing just as things are getting interesting. Not after you’ve come so far on this journey with me already, you sneaky little voyeur, you.

  I turn my attention back to the task at hand and take a moment to admire the perfection laid out before me. He was hiding a damn fine body under that T-shirt. Not a body builder, not even quite as muscular as me, but he’s still nicely toned.

  I run my hands over every inch of exposed skin, and he shudders beneath me. I straddle him again so I can feel the vibrations of his body against my thighs. Every tremble sends a jolt of pleasure straight to my cock. I bend over and run my tongue across one pink nipple, and then the other. They harden under my ministrations, and Tom murmurs my name.

  Not only is it the first time he’s spoken since we left the restaurant, it’s also the first time he’s said my name. I’ve always hated the sound of my name, but somehow on his lips it has a different ring to it. I want to hear him say it again, and again, and again. I want him to whisper it in my ear, and then scream it out so loud people will hear three streets away.

  I pinch his nipples between my thumbs and index fingers, and he arches his back, lifting clear off the bed. Oh, he’s a sight to behold, that’s for sure. I quickly slip an arm behind his back and hold him up to whisper in his ear.

  “Sweet Tom, I can do things to you you’ve never thought of in your wildest dreams. I want you to writhe in pleasure on this bed all night. I can take the lead, but if you want anything, at any time, you must tell me. I’m like the proverbial genie in the bottle. Your wish is my command.”

  “I....”

  “You don’t have to be afraid to say anything here with me. Speak.”

  “I want to touch you too.”

  Ah, an easy request, and one with which I am more than happy to comply.

  I lower him back down into the cushions and undo the buttons on my shirt. I could rip them off and be done with it in a matter of seconds, but I look down and meet his gaze, taking my time. I drag out each button until he’s close to whimpering; then I shrug the green shirt off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

  He reaches for me, and I pull him back up. Our bare chests press together, and we explore each other’s arms and backs with eager hands. I massage my way down from left to right, moving from shoulder to hip, and he mirrors my every move. Even I start to lose focus, unsure where I end and he begins. Then I shift a little, and we both groan as our erections brush against each other.

  I swing my leg back over, maneuvering off him so I have more room to complete the long overdue disrobing of his lower body. I work at his belt buckle, his button, and finally his zip, which I ease down slowly, drawing the moment out as long as I can. He’s already lifting his hips and I ease the jeans down his legs. I yank his trainers off without worrying about the laces, and the socks and jeans follow.

  I bend over and press my face into his groin, taking a moment to savor his musky smell. Then I lick him through his underwear, slathering my tongue over his hardness until the material of his briefs is wet through. He’s practically humping into my face now, though I can tell he’s trying to keep still.

  I draw another whimper from him as I slip my fingers under the elastic. I ease the briefs down over his erection, along his legs, and send them off to the Land of Forgotten Clothes, otherwise known as the floor.

  He’s completely bare to me now, and the sight is making me salivate. He’s bigger than I would’ve expected given his frame, cut, and already oozing pre-cum. Well, waste not want not, I always say.

  I swoop down and lick the head, getting my first delicious taste of him as he bucks beneath me. He’s gripping the cushions so tight I’m pretty sure two at least are going to be mangled beyond repair by the end of the night. Not that I mind, they’ll make a nice souvenir. One for each of us, perhaps.

  I lean in again and lick from base to head, pressing firmly against his hardness with my tongue. As I reach the top, I take him fully into my mout
h, gripping the base with my right hand and putting a little pressure on his hip with my arm so he doesn’t break my nose when he rears up—as I knew he would.

  I start off in a slow rhythm, sucking lightly and giving a gently squeeze and tug with my hand. Gradually I build the tempo, sucking harder, moving faster. Tom is writhing beneath me—just as I promised him he would—and he’s babbling away under his breath. It’s a little incoherent, but I can make out my name in there pretty regularly, and that’s all I need to hear. I add a swirling motion with my tongue that has him thrusting into my face, and I have to steady his hips again with my free hand. Deciding to put him out of his misery, I hum lightly. The extra vibration does the trick and he comes. He shoots his load down my throat and I swallow it all, sucking hard to get every last drop of nectar from him.

  I sit back and look at him. His eyes are closed and his breathing is fast and shallow. His face and neck are flushed a beautiful shade of pink that looks well against his blond curls. I decide he should always look like this. It suits him. Someone should do this for him every morning, every hour if necessary, to keep him looking utterly debauched. Right now you could mistake him for a Greek god.

  My own cock is so damn hard I’m worried I could come just from looking at him, from seeing the results of my work so far. The thought of pushing up into him, impaling that beautiful body, is driving me to distraction. I have to force myself to remember this is Tom’s night. It will only happen if he wants it as well.

  My little godling’s eyes flutter open and he stares up at me. I can’t resist the allure of those lips and crush him into a fierce kiss which he mirrors, plundering my mouth with his honey tongue. We are both panting by the time we break away.

  “Will you...?” He pauses for one heartbeat, two; then he tries again. “I want you... inside me.”

  The words are music to my ears! It takes all my will-power not to come right then and there. I go to undo my trousers, eager to finally be freed from the confines of layers of material, but he sits up and brushes my hands away. He works at the fastenings with his nimble fingers, and soon I’m down to my boxers.

  When he pulls those down, my cock springs free, and by Satan, it feels so devilishly good. It feels even better a moment later when he takes me in hand. He wipes his fingers over the head, using the pre-cum to lubricate as he settles into a steady rhythm.

  I let him explore for a little while, but then I ease him off me. It’s too much in my heightened state. Any more and it will be over before it’s begun, which would be disappointing for both of us.

  I shuffle across the mattress to the bedside table and open the top drawer. I remove the bottle of lubricant and crawl back to Tom. One of the perks of being a demon is that we’re entirely immune to every disease and infection. We can neither catch nor transmit any STDs and can therefore dispense with the prophylactics. Lubrication, though, is always a must.

  I settle between Tom’s legs and slick a finger. I rub back and forth over his entrance a few times before slipping the digit inside. As I press my finger in, Tom groans, and I wait a few beats to give him time to adjust before I start to work in and out.

  I move slowly, adding a second finger, and then a third. I stretch him carefully. My cock is longing to replace my fingers, but I won’t act on that desire until I’m sure he’s ready. I want him to enjoy this. I want him to scream my name in pleasure, not in pain, as I move within him.

  “I’m ready.” His voice is barely a whisper. His eyes stare up at me, wide and black.

  I remove my fingers and smear the lubricant over my cock, coating my length from base to head. Then I position myself, hook his right leg over my arm, and push slowly forward.

  It’s tight. It’s so damned tight. For a moment I fear it’ll be too much for him, but then, with a slight pop, I’m in. I pause and give him a moment. He’d scrunched up his eyes as I breached him, but now his face is relaxing again. He squeezes my arm, and that’s all the confirmation I need.

  I inch forward. It’s a maddening pace, but I maintain it until I’m fully sheathed inside him. Oh, and he feels so good. I’ve slept with a lot of people during the course of my long existence—some for work, some for pleasure—but it’s never felt like this before.

  I start to move, still keeping a slow pace at first, easing nearly all the way out, back in again, and then out once more. Tom is looking up at me, and I meet his gaze. As our eyes lock, I thrust in more quickly than before. He moans. I pull out and adjust my angle, changing my grip on his leg. This time when I impale him I know I’ve hit the sweet spot because he screams and presses his head back into the cushions.

  “Faster. Harder. Saul. Please!”

  Well, I don’t need any more encouragement than that.

  I hook his other leg and grip the backs of his thighs, pressing my fingers hard into the soft flesh to steady him as I ratchet up the pace. I am plowing his ass now, and it’s mind-blowing. The friction is just right, and he’s hugging me so tight every little movement sends a shockwave of pleasure through me. It’s complete sensory overload.

  He reaches down between us and grasps his cock, already rock hard again. He pumps in time to my thrusts, and it’s so beautiful I feel a sudden urge to claim him as mine. No one else should ever touch his skin but me. No one else should be allowed inside him. It’s a completely irrational thought, and I’ve no idea from whence it came. But then I feel my climax nearing. The physical takes over from the mental. My rhythm becomes desperate and erratic.

  Tom reaches his peak first. He screams out my name, and his cum sprays over his chest, white on white. That’s enough to push me over the edge, too, and I climax. I shoot my load into his perfect ass, and I swear I’ve never come so hard or so long before. For a moment I think it will never end, that I’ll be coming inside him forever. But gradually the spasms recede and I slow to a stop.

  I release Tom’s legs and collapse on top of him, smearing his cum between our bodies. He and I are both panting, gasping for breath. When I can finally move again, I inch up higher and kiss him, running my oil-slicked fingers through his hair and tugging lightly on the curls.

  “That was... wow!”

  “I aim to please.”

  I keep my tone light and jovial, but that’s not how I’m feeling. Rather I’m hit by the terrible realization this night ceased having anything at all to do with work a long time ago. That’s never happened to me before, and I’m worried where it will lead. For now, though, I have to concentrate on Tom. I want to concentrate on Tom. On his pleasure.

  “Catch your breath, sweet one. We still have a long night ahead of us.”

  I CAN sense the approaching dawn. Not in the way vampires can, before you ask. Coming from darkness, I can simply feel the buildup of light. It’s still below the horizon for now, but it won’t be long before the first rays break forth. Once that moment’s here the terms of the contract are fulfilled.

  I look over at Tom. He’s sleeping—exhausted, but I hope blissfully so—amidst the cushions. He’s such a stark contrast to the dark silks. Light against the darkness. Light against my darkness. Oh, Hell, since when did I become so bloody sentimental? What I should do is ease up off this bed, get dressed, write him a note instructing him to shut the door on his way out, and then leave, never to see him again. Until I come to collect on our deal. Yes, that’s absolutely what I should do. So why am I not doing it? Why am I sitting here waxing lyrical about the sunrise and the light? I chose darkness long ago, and Tom, well, Tom belongs to the light. It’s as simple as that.

  Except it isn’t, is it? I’ve changed all that with my contract, my promises, my seduction. Tom is pledged to the dark now just as surely as I am. And he’ll start to feel it. There may not be a time limit on our contracts, but I wasn’t entirely honest with him. Each passing year the darkness will take a firmer hold. He’ll sense it, maybe not straight away but eventually, and there’ll be nothing he can do about it. Oh, don’t look at me like that! I know, alright. I shouldn’t have
done it. I should’ve walked away, gone after another fish—they always say there’re plenty in the sea, don’t they?

  But I didn’t.

  I said don’t look at me like that! What help were you anyway? You could’ve said something. You could’ve tugged on my sleeve, told me to hold up. You’re just as culpable as me, you know—you stayed for the show, after all. You wanted excitement, wanted to see me in action. You wanted to see him come undone every bit as much as I did. Don’t deny it. The angelic geek with the golden locks. By all things unholy!

  Wait a minute: the contract.

  I carefully edge off the bed and scurry through to the lounge. My jacket is still draped over the chair, and when I reach into the pocket I can feel the parchment. Normally I’d have lodged it before the ink was even dry. This time I’d been so obsessed with getting him back here I’d put off the admin until this morning.

  What if I never lodge it? Would He know, I wonder? I’ve always been good at the bureaucratic side of things. The thought of not lodging a contract has never even occurred to me before. Will it be enough? No, surely not. Even if he’s not booked into the system, the magic of the contract will still draw him into darkness. Destroy the contract then? Is that even possible? Has anyone ever tried it? I rack my brains, trying to remember back through the centuries. Mortals have tried to destroy contracts before to no avail, but I can’t remember any occasion when a demon has attempted such a thing. Maybe, just maybe....

  “Saul?” I look up from my contemplations and see Tom in the doorway. He’s wrapped a burgundy sheet about him and is rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Is it dawn?”

  “Nearly.”

  All sorts of things are bubbling up in my mind—things I want to say to him—but I’ve not done anything like this before, never felt anything like this before, and I don’t know where to start.