Dancing on the Head of a Pin

by Kiernan Kelly

  From the instant Malak had given him permission, Cael had taken charge, and he relinquished nothing. He had waited for and fantasized about this moment too many times, had longed for it far too long to give up an iota of control now.

  Claiming Malak’s lips in a fiery kiss, his tongue thrust impatiently past them to sweep the sweet warmth of Malak’s mouth. Teeth, tongue, palate, all were greedily tasted in their turn as his hands cupped Malak’s firm ass and pulled him flush against Cael’s body.

  Skin pressed against skin, each inch of Cael’s body burned brightly with a mindless passion. In an age-old dance, he rubbed his cock against Malak’s, their tender foreskins brushing, their scents mixing into a heady and potent cocktail that wafted up between them.

  Leaving Malak’s lips almost reluctantly, Cael nudged Malak’s head to the side and took the tender skin of his bared throat between his teeth. Nipping and suckling, he raised a dark bruise on Malak’s pale flesh, then another, and another, until he had laid a trail of purpling blooms along the curve, marking Malak as Cael’s. Each love bite wrung a sweet, soft moan from Malak’s lips, and pearly drops from his cock.

  His body reacted forcefully to the whimpers and soft coos that fell from Malak’s lips and the tentative touches of angelic fingers along Cael’s spine. He scooped Malak up in his arms, inspiring a sense of déjà vu. He had done the same three thousand years earlier, and now they had come full circle. The thought flitted through his mind as he carried Malak toward his bedroom.

  Chapter Six

  MALAK HARDLY had the time or the presence of mind to shiver his wings into translucency before Cael swept him up and carried him away. He was barely holding on, his mind overwhelmed by the sensations churning through him. He wanted desperately to experience each moment, immerse himself in the feelings and tastes and textures, but he was finding it difficult to remain in control of his senses. The instinct to mate had roared to the surface from somewhere deep inside, nearly obliterating his ability to remain calm and focused.

  The house, the porch, everything around him had faded, becoming mere shadows of reality. All that existed was Cael—his touch, his tongue, and his body. He filled Malak’s world completely, dominating every sense. He injected Malak’s very being with the bold flavor of his lust, contagious and utterly addictive.

  From their first kiss through their soaring, sweeping mating flight, Malak had ached for more, for the completion he knew would come. Cael had kept frustratingly out of reach, allowing Malak only the smallest fleeting touches, until they landed on the balcony.

  Then the fire he ignited with his lips and hands on Malak’s body had become a firestorm, sweeping through Malak, obliterating any thought other than one.

  He must mate with Cael.

  Now.

  Surely if his lust was not sated soon, it would kill him. He couldn’t possibly survive much longer, not with the ravenous hunger that gnawed relentlessly at him, hunger for the taste of Cael on his tongue, the smell of Cael in his nostrils, the feel of Cael inside his body.

  As Cael carried him into the bedroom, Malak’s fingers clawed at Cael’s shoulders, and his teeth clamped down hard into the soft flesh of Cael’s throat, nearly deep enough to draw blood. He was beyond words, a growl that rumbled deeply in his chest being all he could manage.

  “Patience” came Cael’s answering rumble. Cael dropped Malak on the soft mattress and crawled on top of him.

  Lying there, trapped between Cael’s decadent satin sheets and the heat of Cael’s silken skin, Malak ceased to be. He became simply a collection of tingling nerve endings, each one reverberating with passion and need. He locked his legs around Cael’s thighs, holding Cael in place, their erections pressed tightly against one another. Malak’s nails raked Cael’s back, marking the smooth golden skin with thin red furrows. His teeth nipped at whatever flesh he could reach.

  It became painful, this need, a sweet agony that suffused every cell in his body. “Please, Cael,” he managed to whisper hoarsely against the skin of Cael’s shoulder. He bit Cael again, repeating more fervently, “Please.”

  “My lovely, impatient angel,” Cael admonished. Malak felt Cael’s arms tighten around him. His body grew ever tighter, spurred by the aching need in Cael’s husky “Hold.”

  Malak’s body shuddered as he felt Cael stiffen against him, growing as still as stone. He understood the reason for it and sympathized. Malak had all but handed Cael his virginity on a silver platter, which must have been surprising enough, but Malak acting so completely wantonly must have had Cael threatening to spill.

  Regardless, Malak was unable to wait. He heaved and rolled Cael over, straddling those muscular thighs. Malak bent his head and traced a slow path from one of Cael’s nipples to the other, the taste of salt and something else, something uniquely Cael, on his tongue sending a shivering tingle to the pit of his belly. Taking one tightened rosy bud between his teeth, Malak pinched until Cael squirmed and growled almost angrily. His chuckle at Cael’s annoyed grunt died swiftly as Cael rolled them over again and glared at Malak with lust-darkened eyes.

  Straddling Malak’s thighs, the full length of his cock resting against Malak’s, Cael conjured a vial of scented oil from a place far in the distant past.

  Cael uncorked the vial with his teeth and spat the stopper across the room. The scent filled Malak’s nostrils and erased the centuries in an instant with the exotic spice of myrrh, at one time worth more than its weight in gold. Tipping the vial, Cael spilled it into his palm, unmindful of the waste that overflowed onto the sheets, and used it to slick his cock with long, slow strokes. A tingle of anticipation tripped up Malak’s spine as his eyes followed the path Cael’s hand took from tip to root and back again, a thick, oily sheen coating Cael’s erection.

  Finally, Cael spread Malak’s legs and bent Malak’s knees to touch his chest. An embarrassed flush heated Malak’s cheeks as he felt his most private area exposed to Cael’s gaze. The idea that Cael would watch his face as Cael took him, would see the ecstasy in Malak’s eyes when he reached his orgasm and was pitched headlong into the abyss, only flamed Malak’s face further.

  Malak felt vulnerable and exposed as the head of Cael’s cock pressed against his asshole. His fingers slid over Cael’s strong arms to rest on Cael’s shoulders, his grip tentative, unsure of whether he wanted to push Cael away or pull them closer together. The breach of his body by Cael’s thick length ripped a ragged gasp from Malak’s throat, and his hands made his decision for him. He pushed.

  “Be still, Malak. The pain will soon stop,” Cael whispered soothingly. His eyes were veiled with lust, his lips wet and slightly parted.

  “No…. Please stop, Cael.” Malak’s voice was gritted with pain; it sounded harsh and desperate in his own ears.

  Cael clucked softly at Malak’s desperate pleas but stilled.

  “There is no going back, Malak,” Cael said, bending forward and kissing him.

  Cael’s lips were soft and warm, his tongue sweet and wet, and the kiss went a long way toward rekindling the flames of Malak’s desire. Within moments Malak’s body was screaming for release, and it came as an unexpected relief when Cael began to slowly move. Then Cael reached between them and took Malak’s cock into his hand.

  Malak’s eyes rolled back in his head, a long, low moan on his lips. The warmth of Cael’s hand on his arousal heated his blood again to the boiling point, distracting Malak from the discomfort of being filled. The faster Cael stroked him, the less he felt the sting until suddenly, surprisingly, he realized it had subsided altogether, replaced by a feeling of fullness and completeness unlike any he’d ever felt before.

  It was then that the first bolt of pure pleasure rocketed through him as Cael’s cock touched a place buried deeply within Malak’s body. With each angled stroke another wave crashed through him until he was writhing, pleading, begging Cael for release from the ecstatic torment being wreaked on his body. Every nerve in Malak’s body was sizzling with desire. In an abrupt about-face
, Malak’s fingers clung to Cael’s shoulders, his nails digging into silken flesh, trying to pull Cael closer, deeper into his body.

  Groaning loudly, Cael pushed himself deeper, his eyes squeezed tightly closed. Malak’s body was overcome with alien feelings, every fiber screaming so loudly for relief that he barely heard Cael moaning, “Malak, goddamn, Malak….”

  Malak’s only answer was a groan tinged with longing and the tightening of his legs as he wrapped them around Cael’s back. Cael was completely sheathed within him, moving in a torturous, exquisitely delicious rhythm, their moans filling the air with sweet music.

  Cael’s eyes opened, and his gaze bored into Malak’s, silently encouraging him to let himself go, hand feverishly working Malak’s erection. The slap of flesh against flesh as Cael’s cock slammed into his body, and the slippery sounds of Cael’s fist gliding over his cock filled his ears.

  Malak felt the moment Cael began to come almost as if it were he who climaxed. He felt the maelstrom of pleasure in Cael’s body, felt it in Cael’s erratic, almost brutal thrusts. Cael’s voice rang out, and liquid heat filled Malak, searing him and drawing his orgasm from him in great shuddering spasms.

  It began as a whisper, not in his groin but in his veins, a thrumming that swiftly grew into a thunderous pounding in his blood. By the time it reached a crescendo, Malak’s entire being was trembling, shaking so violently that he was no longer certain if it was Cael’s hips thrusting against Malak’s body or if it was simply the force of the vibrations that wracked him.

  His muscles quivered ferociously, sharpening the rapture that already rippled across his skin and bloomed in explosions of light behind his eyelids, sweeping his very core to a high, dizzying pinnacle.

  Almost as if he were in Cael’s head as fully as Cael filled his body, Malak felt Cael’s satisfaction and pride as his orgasm boiled up and over. Then he was lost in the blinding pleasure, hearing, seeing, and feeling nothing but the ecstasy that shattered him.

  It was then, as the wracking of his body slowed to euphoric twinges that continued to tickle at the pit of his stomach, that he felt it.

  A sense of unease that flickered but steadily grew stronger, until Malak felt as if a knife were slicing through his innards. As it strengthened, it brought with it a sense of profound loss, as if something of incalculable value, something deeply personal and precious, had been ripped from him. Within him, a desolate, empty hole opened that once had been filled with light and warmth.

  Gasping for air, his chest heaving, Malak looked up into Cael’s eyes. He saw in their wide azure depths a reflection of what he was feeling, a ghostly mirror image of his shattering revelation.

  There, shimmering in Cael’s wide blue eyes, a piece of Malak’s soul looked back at him.

  Chapter Seven

  “CAEL?” MALAK whispered, feeling sleepy and sated and exhausted in a way physical labor had never afforded him. His eyelids felt like lead, fluttering as he tried to stay awake. He reached for Cael’s cheek, rubbing his knuckles gently across his smooth skin. “Did you feel it? Did it feel the same for you? It was wonderful, but then, at the end….”

  “Yeah, I felt it. Did it hurt, Malak?” Cael asked. His voice sounded anxious, concerned, while at the same time filled with the same wonder that Malak was feeling. “Oh shit, I never wanted to hurt you.”

  Cael slid out from Malak’s body, their physical connection broken. Still, Malak felt something, an insubstantial filament that linked them together even as their bodies eased apart—an awareness of Cael that Malak had not experienced before. He attributed it to the physical act, not wanting to admit for the moment that it was caused by something else.

  “A little, but not terribly. It was worth it, though. I’ve never felt anything like that before. Not ever.”

  “That isn’t what I mean. I know that had to have hurt. I’m not exactly small in the penis department, Malak, and you were a virgin. I meant the other thing.”

  “What other thing?” Malak asked, his lips curling in a smile at Cael’s matter-of-fact boasting. It was true, after all. Malak thought in passing that a statue should be erected somewhere in tribute to Cael’s cock. A likeness in marble, gleaming and hard, just like the subject. His grin grew wider, and he chuckled softly at his newfound naughtiness.

  “Didn’t you feel it? How could you not? I thought it was going to kill me, Malak.”

  Malak’s smile slipped a notch, a vague sense of unease stirring. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’ve had sex countless times. This couldn’t have been any different for you.” Malak frowned, letting his hand fall to the mattress. The look on Cael’s face caused the edge of disquiet Malak was feeling to suddenly sharpen.

  “Your soul, Malak. Did it hurt you to give me a piece of it?”

  Malak froze, his face paling and his eyes widening as he finally realized what had happened and what was causing the continued connection between them, even though their bodies had separated. In the fury of their lovemaking and the explosion of feelings within his body, he’d forgotten the inevitable outcome of their joining. He’d lost a piece of his soul to Cael.

  Malak was trapped on the earthly plane.

  Forever.

  Tears suddenly burned in his eyes, and his breath caught in his chest as the enormity of what he’d done—of what he’d given up—came crashing down on him.

  And with the realization of his sacrifice came new emotions, ones he’d never felt before, when his soul had been undivided.

  Despair.

  And loathing.

  For himself, for Cael, for Heaven and Hell, and for every mortal creature who had never felt the absolute hopelessness that was now filling Malak, eating him alive.

  An anguished roar ripped from his throat, and he pushed Cael off him, rolling out of bed. He stood glaring down at Cael, every muscle in his body tightening into hard knots of fury. His teeth were bared in a feral grimace, anger growing swiftly to consume every fiber of his being. New to the experience of dark emotions, he had no skill at taming them. They exploded through his veins at light speed, unchecked. Gone in the blink of an eye was the soft, sated feeling, the memory of the intense pleasure Cael had wrung from him, crushed by the growing rage that blossomed in his belly. Despair segued into self-hatred and an all too mortal need to place the blame for his pain on someone other than himself.

  “You did this,” he hissed in a flat, dead voice. “You bastard!”

  “Malak?” Cael looked up at him with wide eyes. “You knew what would happen….”

  “Shut up!” Malak bellowed. “I don’t want to hear another lying word out of your mouth, Cael! You wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace. You pushed and pushed, kept after me constantly, hounding me for three thousand fucking years until you finally got what you wanted. I actually felt sorry for you!” Malak screamed, his hands fisting so tightly that his knuckles whitened and his fingernails bit deeply into his palms.

  “Malak—”

  “Stop it! Stop lying to me, Cael! It was just another trick to get me to give in, wasn’t it? All that talk about Asmodai and what was going to happen to you when you got back to Hell—it was just another lie! Well, you’ve won. You got what you wanted. I hope you’re happy with it. I hope you fucking choke on it!”

  He raised his fists, wanting to strike Cael, to beat him until he felt as badly as Malak did, but instead stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him with such force that he cracked the jamb.

  CAEL WINCED as the door slammed shut, the boom it made reverberating in his fledgling soul. He’d never seen Malak lose his temper like that, and he was shocked by the hate he’d seen burning in Malak’s eyes.

  Malak had been exquisite in his fury, his pale skin flushed with anger, his eyes flashing. Every muscle in his body had bunched and bulged, flexing with the strength of his emotions. But the loathing that he’d seen in Malak’s eyes had nearly ripped his heart in two.

  Cael despised the feeling. He’d
been subject to pain before, horrible miseries administered freely by the eager whips of Lucifer’s taskmasters, but nothing he’d suffered before compared to the pain that tore at him now. All the insults and venomous taunts that had been heaped upon his shoulders in Hell, every blow he’d ever felt flay his skin open paled next to this, and for the first time since his creation, he wept.

  Tears burned down his cheeks, unfettered, born of a pain so devastating it consumed his very being.

  With a start, Cael realized that what he felt was the byproduct of having a soul. In addition to keeping him out of Hell, it had granted him a power he had never anticipated. It had given him the capacity to love, and with it came overwhelming, crushing guilt at having hurt the one he was closest to. The one he loved. Malak.

  Malak was right. It was Cael’s fault—all of it. He’d known what taking a piece of Malak’s soul would do, but Cael hadn’t cared. He’d lusted after Malak without thought to the damage he would do, to the darkness into which he would plunge Malak, a creature who needed light to survive. He’d trampled on Malak’s heart, grinding it into dust under his feet in his quest for the means to end his own miserable existence in Hell. Cael’s guilt consumed him, and he wallowed in it, soaking it up like a sponge until all he felt was utter desolation.

  Malak deserved better, deserved more than a weak, pitiable creature that had fed on him like a parasite, a common thief who’d stolen a portion of the most valuable of Malak’s possessions.

  Dragging himself to his feet, Cael shuffled out onto the balcony.

  MALAK FUMED, pacing back and forth across his bedroom floor with stiff, tense strides. Now what was he supposed to do? He was trapped in the mortal realm, subject to cold and hunger, to want and need, doomed to an existence of hiding himself from the mortal world until the end of time. Even then would he be allowed to reenter Heaven? Or, because he was no longer whole, would he simply cease to exist at all, his broken soul dissipating like smoke on the wind?