Realms of Fantasy

by Mychael Black

  Once he had been the first angel of the Order of Creation, the Heart of Michael. Now he was nothing. He had been the highest of the Three: Adonai, the Hand of Michael, and Gabriel, the voice of Michael. They had governed the universe in its order until men and women were created.

  After the Fall, humanity itself had become a bane to Lucifer’s existence. It blamed him for its misery. Easier to believe demons were at fault for a man raping his child or a woman killing her spouse. Far easier than to face the truth. Some demons did exist solely to exact revenge on the creation they had once loved and fought for, but not all evil was perpetrated by them. In his brethrens’ souls, it had all become twisted into a perversion of its former self. Still, mankind bore the brunt of its own inhumanity, but they simply refused to accept it. Those who didn’t blame it on Lucifer, blamed it on God.

  Outside of Lucifer’s domain, others of the Fallen wallowed in their own torment. They had created the barren landscape of their own pain and hatred, most of the hatred directed at themselves in punishment for their disobedience to Michael. Lucifer had refused to bow down. At the time, their battle had been just. In the intervening age, Lucifer finally realized Michael had been right. Their kind hadn’t been meant to guide humanity as they’d wanted. It was a bitter pill for him to swallow. Everything they had stood for had been rejected completely by the creatures the angels had loved so dearly. Even to the point of turning the Morning Star into evil incarnate, and giving Lucifer and the Fallen the blame for the ills of the world. If they had been among the mortals when this lesson became apparent, it would have completely destroyed them all.

  How could it have all gone so wrong? The shining light that had once been his soul dimmed. Lucifer had locked himself away from the mortal plane, but it still haunted him. Even when mortals found themselves in his realm, he ignored them for the most part. Not so oddly, many remained outside, punishing themselves for their perceived disobedience to God, just as some of his brethren did. A few reached his gates, and he allowed them in. He interfered with none. Lucifer simply refused to deal with them.

  Closing his eyes, he remembered the indescribable feeling of being in Michael’s presence. It had been that way for most of his existence. There were no words, only a steady stream of the peaceful bliss enshrouding him. Michael had been his existence, the sole reason for his being. When that had been torn from him, Lucifer had raged for time unknown. He’d laid complete waste to the realm in which he’d been imprisoned. After emerging from the ashes, he had created this place, and hidden himself away. The wounds on his soul were still raw, as if it had all just happened, but there was no longer any anger—only emptiness.

  The battle itself had lost meaning. Humanity was nothing to him. Nothing more than Michael’s creation as it should have always been. Whatever Lucifer had felt had been taken by humanity itself. Better that they had forgotten him. Lucifer still felt betrayed by them, but now he understood his own culpability.

  In all of this time, he had forged his own kind of existence. He felt it being threatened again, simply by being in Michael’s presence. Anger once again rose in him. He did not need Michael.

  He hadn’t wanted to hear those words Michael had said to him. Yet they played relentlessly in his mind even after he’d high-tailed it back to his own realm. His power had closed off his empire from any outside influence, refusing to allow in even a whisper of what had happened. Should his minions become aware of what had transpired, they would turn on him. He couldn’t afford the chaos, not with his own grasp on himself so tenuous.

  Once again he found himself haunted by the mesmerizing vision of Michael’s eyes, and the indelible memories of the Archangel’s touch. Lucifer had done his best to freeze it all out of his soul over the eons, only to find he hadn’t succeeded at all. His heart and soul needed to call out, but he refused to allow it voice.

  He stalked down the steps of the dais and restlessly paced in front of it. Every outlet he had tried left him more agitated. Nothing sated him, and he found no release from his own internal suffering.

  His body stiffened as he felt the invisible wave pulsing through his entire realm. Its resonance awakened something inside him. Quickly he looked around for Michael, at first thinking his creator had come to him. A second later he realized the truth.

  “That damn mage.” Lucifer knew the signature of the overwhelming power as it surged through the cosmos. The aftereffect rippled in waves of lesser intensity. It was the essence of Michael, yet not Michael. Lucifer wanted and needed that for himself. If he could have it and not have to deal with Michael, so much the better.

  His wings folded into his back and the illusion of a black cloak took their place. A breath later, he was in the mage’s house. So much easier to get directly to the source now. A low thrum, unheard by mortal ears, vibrated through the walls and floors of the house. It echoed within Lucifer, freezing him for a split second. The very core of creation whispered within the streams of power. It started as a tingle, running straight through Lucifer’s soul.

  The room glowed with an unearthly light, beyond the spectrum of mortal sight. It bathed the two occupants of the room, seen only by Lucifer’s eyes. A hypnotic swirl of energy beckoned to the demon as it twined around him, recognizing a weaker source of itself. Lucifer was unaware of his movement toward the center of that power. Even as his outer shell began to burn, he didn’t feel it.

  An explosion of thunder rattled the house, shaking the walls from the foundation to the roof. As the winds stirred outside, the sound resembled that of a freight train barreling down on the house itself. The cone of power flickered and pulsed, threatening to consume everything it could.

  Chapter Three

  Michael sat on his throne, deep in thought. While his body might be where it should’ve been, his mind was not. He’d gotten through the barriers once more, but it was nothing but a single hole in a wall of ice thicker than the first world itself. He was not without hope, however. He knew he’d started the chain reaction within Lucifer, knew Lucifer could still feel him. They were connected, just as he’d told Lucifer: two halves of one soul.

  As he sat there thinking, Michael became aware of something…not quite right. As the energy grew, he closed his eyes, tracing its path to the source. What he saw then set his heart racing. Without a second to spare, he spirited down to Earth, into the house of a man who should have never learned the arts he knew.

  Outside of the sphere of Michael’s control, the energy could obliterate Lucifer. Oblivious to his own danger, the dark angel walked in a daze toward the very thing he so desperately needed. Unable to distinguish between the power and his creator, Lucifer succumbed to the energy as it beckoned him. A sudden flare of brilliance blinded him, burning into his eyes, yet still he moved forward. It was everything he was, stripped bared. As illusion slipped away from Lucifer, his wings unfurled.

  The sudden vision of Lucifer in the room in all of his angelic beauty left the room’s inhabitants frozen in fear and awe. A stronger surge of the very same power that drew him rolled through the room as Michael appeared. Stilling, Lucifer turned sightless eyes toward his creator. Outside, thunder chased the wind as both increased in intensity.

  Lifting a hand, Michael beckoned to him. “Come.” His voice echoed in the room, the thunder and wind making it sound larger than life.

  The mortal occupants seemed frozen, their eyes unblinking, and their faces fixed in disbelief. Michael reached out, taking one of Lucifer’s hands, letting Lucifer feel the twin rhythms of their powers together.

  “It cannot give you what you seek. Only I can.”

  “Michael,” Lucifer called to his creator. He could feel Michael, yet could not see him. Darkness had swallowed his vision, and he had been left completely defenseless. The weaker sense of the original power no longer called to him, but its energy ate at his skin like acid.

  Enveloping them both in his wings, Michael freed the mortals from their frozen state just as he vanished, Lucifer held tight in h
is arms.

  Back in the cave between the realms, he placed Lucifer on the stone floor, smoothing the raven hair from Lucifer’s forehead.

  “What have you done?” he whispered.

  Pain was there, and it settled deep into Lucifer. His eyes had been burned and his skin and wings ravaged by the exposure. The soft touch of Michael’s hand eased far more than the physical damage. “I thought I could have you.”

  “But you do have me.” Michael kissed Lucifer’s forehead, the warmth and light seeping into Lucifer’s body to heal the damage the mage’s toying had done. “You have always had me,” he repeated, lips sliding over Lucifer’s face, down to his mouth. “Always.”

  “Without the aggravation.” Only then did Lucifer finally realize his actions could have destroyed him completely. The blackness clouding his vision started to clear as the healing light flowed over him, and the wounds left on his body began to heal and fade. When he could clearly see Michael, he reached up to his creator’s hair, fingers smoothing over its golden length.

  “If I wasn’t here to aggravate you,” Michael murmured against his lips, “then what purpose would you have to exist?”

  “I would have no purpose at all. And I thought I was the one who was supposed to aggravate you.” Drawing strands of Michael’s hair toward him, Lucifer let it fall over his own chest. The contrast between the darkness of his own hair and Michael’s were like night and day.

  “Oh, believe me, you are most aggravating.” Michael closed the scant distance between them, lips closing over Lucifer’s.

  “Yet still you want me.” Ever one to have to have the last word, Lucifer opened to Michael’s kiss.

  “Always.” Chuckling into the kiss, Michael set out to drive Lucifer so insane with need that thought was no longer possible.

  Lucifer caught the idea from Michael and decided to resist the attempt for as long as he could. Or at the very least turn the tables on the angel. He slid his fingers beneath the wave of Michael’s hair, caressing the side of his throat. Slow, leisurely strokes of Lucifer’s tongue played against Michael’s as if they had all of eternity. A soft moan slipped into the kiss, and Michael settled over Lucifer, bracing himself on his forearms as he deepened the kiss, rocking his hips over Lucifer’s.

  Too much clothing got in the way of Lucifer’s explorations. As one hand played at Michael’s throat, Lucifer slipped the other beneath the edge of the angel’s tunic. A slow drift of his fingers traveled over the bare skin, relearning the feel of his lover. Lucifer wanted to touch as much as he wanted to be touched. He wrapped his legs around Michael’s waist and arched. Drawing back from the kiss, he whispered, “We have time, Michael. Let me love you again.”

  Michael sat up, pulling his tunic off as he did. Then he started on his pants, pulling the tie loose, his gaze never leaving Lucifer’s. Lucifer watched him intently. “I am your other half,” Michael said quietly, arms and wings outstretched.

  “Eternally mine.” A thread of satisfaction wove through the words. In the space between their worlds, Lucifer felt free of the concerns that could take his attention away from Michael. Standing slowly, he undressed as well. As much as he wanted to touch the magnificent spread of wings, he knew things would spiral too quickly out of their control if he did. “Remind me to teach you a bit about luxury,” he murmured as he willed a large bed, draped in red silk, to appear. Moving in on Michael, Lucifer flattened his palms on Michael's chest, caressing over the smooth muscles as he gently pushed the Archangel toward the bed.

  Michael chuckled softly. “Ever the prideful one.” As soon as he touched the bed, he fell back onto it, reaching out for Lucifer. “Show me you believe. Show me that I am yours.”

  Part of Lucifer’s problem had always been that at times he couldn’t believe in what they’d had. He’d lost sight in his own internal struggles. Lucifer hovered over Michael and trailed his fingers over every inch of skin bared to him in soft caresses. As he set his teeth around Michael’s right nipple, his hand traveled over the taut muscles of his lover’s stomach.

  Michael hissed, pushing his chest up for more. “Yes.”

  Too much time had gone by since Lucifer had wiled away the nights in his creator’s arms. Biting gently, he tugged at Michael’s flesh. Lucifer made love to Michael with his mouth and hands, content for the time being. His body could wait for a short time while he sated his need for the taste of Michael. Releasing Michael’s nipple, Lucifer scattered kisses over Michael's stomach, working his way downward. The tip of his tongue circled slowly over Michael’s navel as his fingers caressed the Archangel’s inner thigh.

  Parting his legs, Michael closed his eyes, losing himself in this, in this touch he craved more than anything in existence. Just as he was a part of Lucifer, Lucifer was a part of him. He could feel Lucifer in his soul just as well as he could feel the Fallen angel’s touch on his skin. “Eternally yours.”

  A soft growl answered Michael right before Lucifer’s head lowered farther. Nestled between his legs, Lucifer caressed Michael’s thighs as he raised his gaze to Michael's face. Then Lucifer swallowed Michael’s cock.

  “My soul.” A quiet whisper of Lucifer’s thoughts reached Michael, the only thing intruding on the exquisite heat.

  “Yes!” Michael’s eyes flew open and he looked down. “Please. My love, my soul.” Groaning, he spread his legs farther, wanting everything, wanting Lucifer everywhere.

  As Michael opened to him, Lucifer caressed the curve of his lover’s ass before ghosting along the crease. A slow burning sensation lingered over Michael’s skin, increasing with each touch from Lucifer, and flickers of pleasure followed in their wake. Lucifer engulfed the hard length of the Archangel’s cock before pulling back, a quick flick of his tongue opening the small slit. He drank in the spoken words and the message beneath him. Michael needed to belong to him as much as Lucifer needed the same. In answer, part of what held him back began to thaw and his own emotions seeped through, blanketing the angel.

  Michael’s breath left him, every touch, every slide of Lucifer’s fingers and tongue, sending him soaring higher than any wings could ever take him. He wanted to touch, to kiss, to taste; wanted to feel Lucifer around him, within him.

  “Please. I need you. Inside me. Filling me.”

  Lifting his head, Lucifer said softly, “After I’ve had my full taste of you, Michael.” The angel’s pleading, breathless voice affected him, and Lucifer damn near lost it. He dipped his head back down. The slide of his tongue probed over the crease of Michael’s ass and his hands spread him open. Lucifer’s tongue lengthened as it entered the depths of Michael’s body.

  Michael cried out, trembling in Lucifer’s hands. He rocked his hips, driving Lucifer’s tongue deeper. Lucifer answered the need, felt it in every inch of his being as Michael cried out. Warmth ignited from Lucifer as his tongue plunged repeatedly into Michael’s writhing body. It spread quickly through the angel, and when his tongue withdrew, Lucifer surged up, thrusting into Michael.

  Gripping Lucifer’s shoulders and wrapping his legs around Lucifer’s waist, Michael thrust his hips upward, gasping as the dark angel drove deeper inside him. “Take me. Show me I’m yours,” he growled out, body writhing beneath Lucifer.

  Each word spoken by the angel was greeted by a forceful thrust of Lucifer’s hips. Lucifer held Michael captive, hands on the Archangel’s hips, tugging Michael into every brutal thrust. Talons dug into Michael’s skin, but didn’t break the surface.

  Grabbing Lucifer’s head, Michael pulled him down, growling into Lucifer’s mouth, “Take. Me.”

  For a moment, he resisted what Michael demanded of him. Lucifer knew what it meant. If he allowed it, any separation between them would tear him completely asunder. He wanted the carnal beast to swallow him whole and allow him no thought. His talons pierced Michael’s skin, blood seeping from the wounds as the sharp nails dug deeply into him. Throwing back his head, Lucifer cried out sharply as his soul struggled for balance.

  Unabl
e to stop the demand for their true union, everything within him poured into the angel. It sought its creator, the other half of his soul, his twin. They were the light and the dark. Neither could exist without the other. Lucifer began to tremble, and everything within him relentlessly commanded Michael to give the same. Lucifer's soul took without asking and his orgasm sent him spiraling out of control.

  Brilliance filled them both, Michael chanting Lucifer’s name as their souls wound tight, fusing together until it was impossible to know where one ended and the other began. Michael’s nails left sharp stinging trails down Lucifer’s back, the flames bursting forth and surrounding them both as Michael jerked, coming in a rush that left them both dazed and breathless. Tears streamed down his face as he clung to Lucifer, shaking uncontrollably.

  They were one soul in two forms, one and the same. Lucifer’s cry joined Michael’s as memories he’d long forced himself to forget, surfaced. Michael had given up half his soul in the creation of Lucifer. His head bowed to Michael’s shoulder, wetting his lover’s skin with his own tears.

  Michael murmured words of love and comfort, soothing strokes sliding over Lucifer. His heart raced, its twin echo beating from the being above him. He could feel Lucifer within him—a rich, soul-deep sensation that left him awestruck. “You are sacred to me,” he whispered.

  “Forgive me. I had forgotten.” The pain in Lucifer’s voice was clear. “You made me; I am you.” Lucifer’s face burrowed against Michael’s throat. His talons released their hold and his hands caressed over the wounds, healing them in a loving touch.

  “There is nothing to forgive.” Michael lifted Lucifer’s head, needing to see his face, his eyes. “We are one.”