The Devil surveyed the man in front of him: slim, short, blond, powerlessly naked against the looming bulk he’d assumed for purposes of intimidation, but not intimidated. The man–Gavriel, his paperwork said–stood strong but not defiant with his hands clasped behind his back and his head down, sneaking little peeks up through his lashes at the magnificent manifestation of evil before him rather as though it turned him on.
This would never do.
He didn’t understand why Gavriel, whose record appeared to be stunningly clean, stood on the prickly square of carpet in front of his Throne of Judgement, but it was his job to figure it out, to torture the man sufficiently for his sins and then pass him on up to Heaven a clean and forgiven soul. It was a thing humans needed, apparently–atonement, forgiveness.
The Devil didn’t exactly understood humans, but he understood his job and this was it.
“Gavriel,” he intoned in his most monstrously deep voice.
A shudder ripped through the small figure in front of him, which he would take as a good sign if the shudder didn’t ripple all the way down to the man’s lengthening cock. For God’s sake.
“Do you know who I am?”
Lucifer. Fine. The Devil went by many names, but he had a soft spot for Lucifer because it was the name God had given him back when he’d lived in Heaven with the rest of the archangels. If the Devil had ever had friends, Lucifer was what they’d called him.
“Do you know where you are?” he continued.
Gavriel glanced around, quickly surveying his surroundings: the Throne of Judgement, a stunning fountain of flames visible through the picture window behind it–that always impressed the mortals–the cavernous hall whose walls were lined with manacles and spikes and all manner of delicious instruments of torture, through which the occasional bodiless scream echoed.
Gavriel didn’t sound convinced. What more did the man need? Fire, torture, imposing devil figure. All the boxes were ticked here.
Lucifer sighed. He liked his job. He really did. Or at least the physical aspect of it. It was the tortured souls part that didn’t always do it for him. Like, why did it have to be so angsty. Couldn’t a soul just enjoy what it enjoyed without all the emotional baggage?
“Yes, Hell,” Lucifer confirmed. “I assume you know why you’ve been sent here.”
Gavriel took stock of his surroundings again. A small smile graced his face, so hopeful and sweet it would’ve sucked the breath right out of Lucifer’s body if fallen angels actually needed breath or had corporal bodies.
“I have an idea.”
This was the part where the mortal was supposed to confess his sins. He’d sentence them to an appropriate penance, punishment would ensue, and all would be forgiven. The mortal could go on up to God and Lucifer could move on to the next sinner, of which he had a never-ending supply. Thank you, humanity.
He did enjoy his job, and this tempting morsel in front of him would be particularly pleasant to torture. Lucifer could already hear his pitiful screams, could see the graceful way his body would writhe in pain.
Maybe something with spikes, he thought. Gavriel would look lovely in spikes. He hoped the sin that weighed on his soul justified a nice, long session.
“Well?” he prompted when no confession was forthcoming, but Gavriel had his eyes back on the floor and he didn’t raise them now. “Do I have to torture it out of you?”
“OK.” Gavriel’s cock bobbed in a ridiculous fashion, seconding his words.
Lucifer knew that fear released hormones in mortals that occasionally caused unintended physical reactions, but he was starting to get the idea that Gavriel wanted to be tortured. Which was … nice.
He so rarely got masochists in Hell. Either they felt like they’d been sufficiently punished for their transgressions on earth or they recognized that punishment didn’t count as punishment when it gave you a fucking hard-on. Which would make this version of Hell ineffective.
But, OK. Gavriel wanted to be punished and God knew (God being all-knowing etc., etc.) that Lucifer wanted to punish him. This was going to be good.
He took a mental peek into the purgatorial lobby and found a half dozen souls waiting, but let them wait. They probably believed they deserved it anyway.
Gavriel was already naked. Not all souls showed up naked, but a surprising number did. It was the humiliation aspect, Lucifer figured–Hell being the worst thing they could imagine and nudity dovetailing right into that–but Gavriel wore his nudity proudly with his shoulders back and his posture perfect, right down to the submissive angle of his neck.
Lucifer found himself wanting to see the eyes that fronted Gavriel’s soul, so he wafted down off his throne and put a sharp-tipped nail under Gavriel’s chin to tilt it up.
Brown? Black? The lighting wasn’t good in Hell.
He stared deeper into eyes dark enough to be almost colorless, except … yes, a hint of grey surrounded pupils blown wide. Dilated pupils were normal for mortal eyes in dim lighting, but he could see from Gavriel’s faint tremble that something more was at play.
He ran his thumb over Gavriel’s lower lip, feeling his breath hitch in response. Gavriel wanted this. Really, really wanted this. He wrapped a hand around Gavriel’s throat and lifted, pulling him right off his toes until they were face to face. Gavriel’s feet dangled uselessly several feet off the ground. His eyes flickered shut as he exhaled a breathless fuck.
Lucifer laughed his most sadistically evil laugh, the one that terrorized mortals, but there was a hint of joy in it today. He carried Gavriel by the throat through the echoing hall. Gavriel didn’t need to breathe, being dead and all, but he wouldn’t know that. Breathing was a habit many mortals never did give up. Even Lucifer enjoyed a good gulp of air now and then.
But Gavriel didn’t struggle. His body was a limp, surrendered weight in Lucifer’s powerful grasp, almost as though he trusted him.
Lucifer walked faster. There was no hurry–eternity was eternity, after all–but anticipation lengthened his already-long strides. The echoing moans and screams recorded from sessions past, which reflected true terror, not this lovely acquiescence Gavriel was gifting him with, should’ve have lent atmosphere, but they unexpectedly rankled. He didn’t want to hear anyone other than the man at hand.
He cut the soundtrack off with a thought, leaving the long corridor quiet except for the sound of Gavriel’s strained breath. He picked a doorway at random, his attention too focused on the man who watched him with placid eyes to keep track of where in the labyrinth of the lower regions they were, and was pleased to discover the room held a rack. Gavriel would look stunning stretched out. With spikes. He remembered the spikes.
Being the devil had its perks, one of which was that he only needed to wish Gavriel onto the rack to have him there. His pale limbs, bathed in firelight–those picture windows open to the central pit of Hell in every room had been a stroke of design genius–were stretched unnaturally long. His delicate lashes formed crescents against his cheekbones, and his cock stood upright, defying gravity in its fiercely engorged state.
“Look at me,” Lucifer ordered.
He’d put on his best horns that morning–the long, curved ones, which he vaguely wondered if he could fuck Gavriel with. Maybe later. He’d gone with a darker-red skin tone, almost black with just a shimmer of color when he moved. Very elegant if you asked him, and Gavriel appeared to appreciate it.
Gavriel’s gaze moved slowly, head to toe, over Lucifer’s corporal appearance, snagging for a long moment on the inhumanly large cock, which he had to admit he wore only out of vanity, before rising to meet Lucifer’s.
“You want to be punished, don’t you?”
“Please. I deserve it.”
In his eagerness to torture the man, he’d lost track of the fact that he didn’t really have anything to torture him for. He mentally re-summoned Gavriel’s record and frowned at it. Nice to animals, tolerant of his fellows, made his bed in the morning. No criminal record, no prayers lodged against him. No long list of prayers from him, either. If he’d experienced trouble in his life, he hadn’t complained about it.
“Why?” he demanded again.
Whatever Gavriel was flaying himself for mentally that made him think he needed to be flayed physically, it must be too trivial to leap out at him in his excited state.
“Please?” Gavriel said, his tone exactly right. That begging need, the hunger of it.
He dismissed Gavriel’s empty rap sheet and stepped closer to him, allowing the fiery warmth of his skin to make Gavriel’s sizzle. Gavriel gasped as his flesh rippled and popped under the scalding heat.
He ran a claw down the center of Gavriel’s chest, watching a branded line form as he moved. When he reached the spot just below Gavriel’s belly button where his cock bobbed, red in the firelight and hard enough to bounce, he lifted his sharp-tipped finger and paused. He met Gavriel’s eyes, then, with a wicked smile, closed all five claws around Gavriel’s balls and squeezed.
Gavriel’s screams hit his ears as the smell of burning flesh hit his nose. He watched his talons sink into the tender flesh, cauterizing as they went, creating smoking craters. He changed it up so that his fingers cupped Gavriel almost tenderly and Gavriel moaned, low and grateful, as Lucifer stroked him with a hand that was still much too hot for comfort.
He leaned in, letting his mouth sizzle against Gavriel’s ear. “I want you decorated. Want to see you wearing the Devil’s charms.”
“Yes,” Gavriel hissed.
Lucifer used his thumb and index finger to mold Gavriel’s right nipple into a hard point. He snapped his fingers and a bauble appeared between them. He pinched it around Gavriel’s nipple, deforming the metal until the metal deformed Gavriel, until only a purple dot of flesh peeped through the constriction.
“Pretty thing,” he said, referring not to the glittery ring of platinum and diamonds but to that nubbin of tortured flesh. He stroked over the tender point, strumming the pain, meeting Gavriel’s fiery eyes above it.
He revolved the rack slowly, admiring Gavriel from every angle, but settling eventually on a view of his backside. Gavriel had an outstanding specimen of human ass–pale and round, unblemished and eager. Lucifer reared his hand back and let it make contact, watched the responding jiggle, listened to Gavriel’s assenting gasp. His hand made a bright red splotch, each finger separately delineated, his palm print a hotter red in the center. He laid down a swat on the other side for the sake of symmetry.
“More,” Gavriel pleaded when he paused too long in his admiration.
“I’m the devil here.”
“Be the devil,” Gavriel urged him. “Punish me.”
Goaded into action, he flailed the ass in front of him, covering it with handprint after handprint until the prints overlapped to form a glowing red sheen that covered Gavriel’s entire ass–both cheeks and that tempting crest below where the swell of his ass met the top of his thighs and below that too, the tops of his thighs as red as the rounded hills of his cheeks. Gavriel pressed back to meet him, his ass dancing under his hand, seeking it out, then swaying away again.
He put a hand against all that red, feeling it hotter even than his own skin. He rubbed, sealing the heat in with a bubble of impermeable air so that Gavriel couldn’t avoid feeling every blistering degree of his punishment.
Gavriel looked over his shoulder. “So hot.”
Yes, hot. Heh.
“Are you being funny?”
In all his eons in Hell, no one had ever cracked a joke, not even him.
“I’m being honest,” Gavriel said. “It’s really fucking hot. But also, you know, hot.” He snickered.
All right. Game time was over. It was time to teach this mortal a lesson.
Lucifer strolled down the wall of torture implements, window shopping to find the perfect weapon to show Gavriel that Hell was not a playground. He took down a riding whip–four feet long and razor thin. It would cut with the first stroke, which should put an end to Gavriel’s merriment and maybe also to the inappropriate erection which hadn’t subsided. Lucifer’s own cock projected from his groin in a manner he liked to think of as fearsome, but Gavriel’s erection was disrespectful. And also distracting.
The first stroke of whip against skin produced a satisfying red line across the thick of Gavriel’s shoulders and an equally satisfying shriek of pain from his sassy mouth. The whip was so sharp that the line of separated flesh produced very little blood–like a long, stinging incision all the way across his back.
Lucifer added another and then another. With each strike, Gavriel winced and cried out, his back arching under the force of the relentless blows, a graceful dance of jerk and response.
The lines crisscrossed down his back in alternating stripes–left to right, then right to left, until Lucifer could no longer find an unmarked inch to aim for. Here and there, drops of blood oozed where the whip had cut particularly deep. He put his tongue to one, savoring the blood and the hiss of burning flesh as his tongue cauterized the wound. His mouth moved from one drop of blood to another, winding its way across Gavriel’s back to absorb and seal each precious point of pain.
As he worked his way lower to those cheeks that were still red hot, he knew he needed to be inside the ass that moved to meet him. With a snap of his fingers, he had Gavriel bent over a spanking bench, untethered but unresisting.
He moved to the front of the bench to show Gavriel the cock he’d soon be impaled on. When Gavriel lifted his torso to get a good look, the head of his own dick peeked out from under him, still hard and now wet.
Lucifer reached towards that glimmering head with a talon-tipped finger. Gavriel’s eyes opened wide as he saw what was coming. He dropped quickly, sheltering his dick with his abs, but Lucifer wrapped a hand around his neck and raised him to expose that precious peep of cock glimmering with a smear of pre-come.
Gavriel shook his head. Lucifer smiled. He touched the tip of his talon to Gavriel’s slit and listened to the pop of roasting skin as he effectively sealed Gavriel’s dick shut. There, let him try to come now.
“Fuck,” Gavriel moaned. A shudder ripped through him.
Lucifer cupped his own balls, lifting his package to present Gavriel with the heft and hardness of his instrument. Gavriel licked his lips in an anticipatory way, so he added some length and thickness, plumping the head to unnatural dimensions. When Gavriel’s eyes grew hungry and hazy, he grew himself even bigger until those eyes widened with fear.
There. That was better.
He stepped forward and pressed his unnaturally bulbous cock head against Gavriel’s lips, letting him lick and suck at the tip, letting him struggle to open his mouth wide enough to take it in, letting him imagine his ass adjusting to that same bulk.
Despite what appeared to be a genuine effort, Gavriel wasn’t able to get his mouth very far down Lucifer’s elongated shaft, and as fun as it was listening to him choke and gasp and try, he wanted that red hot ass, so he moved behind Gavriel and made his fingers slick–more to prevent unnecessary abrasion to his own dick than out of consideration for Gavriel’s ass–and worked them inside. His fingers ended in sharp spikes and were fiery hot, but Gavriel somehow managed to be grateful for them, pushing back and writhing around in a way that had him even more eager to get his cock buried in there.
He used his thumbs to pull Gavriel’s hole wide, then pressed his dick against it, seeing it cushioned lightly, only the tip of the tip inside. The fleshy flesh surrounding his slit felt to Lucifer like cool relief.
He eased forward slowly, watching Gavriel’s hole stretch wider to accommodate him–so perfectly snug, so impossibly flexible. Inch by swollen inch Gavriel accepted him until he hovered at his cock’s widest point. Gavriel’s groans were continuous now as his asshole struggled to remain stretched at the full width of Lucifer’s bulbous cock head.
Fuck, that was so sweet.
He lingered–wanting to push in and wanting to be right there with Gavriel whimpering on his cock–and then he went in fast, driving deep in a single stroke. Gavriel screamed and kept on screaming as Lucifer rammed into him, over and over–brutally, with inhuman speed, his talons carving furrows in Gavriel’s hips, his cock burrowing beyond Gavriel’s capacity to absorb it.
He should have activated the recorder. Hell should have no other soundtrack than this, than these anguished, glorious screams.
But no, this was just for him. He’d savor it over the lonely eons to come, would relive these moments.
Gavriel’s feet flailed, his legs too short to reach the floor and his kicks too weak to feel like more than gentle strokes against Luther’s shins. He tried to raise himself, his abdominal muscles straining to lift his torso off the spanking bench, his arms reaching back to grab at the demon who fucked him.
Lucifer wrapped an arm around Gavriel’s body and lifted him. Gavriel’s back bowed like a wooden lady on the front of a ship, his dick pointing the way as Lucifer plowed into him.
Still hard. Gavriel was still hard. And his hands, which could now reach him, were clinging to him, straining to pull them tighter together, yanking Lucifer’s head forward until he understood what Gavriel wanted and lowered his mouth to rip at Gavriel’s neck with hot, sharp teeth.
The metallic warmth of Gavriel’s blood flooded his taste buds and he came with a roar. Gavriel convulsed like he was coming too. His dick twitched and his balls pulled up so tight. An agonized shriek ripped from him, reminding Lucifer that he’d sealed Gavriel’s dick shut.
Gavriel convulsed as spasm after spasm rocked through him with no outlet, until Lucifer relented and speared his slit open again. Come gushed from his cock in long, thick bursts and the most beautiful sound–the sound souls made when they slipped free to Heaven–rang from him.
Gavriel went lax in his arms, not an ounce of resistance in him. He wasn’t heavy, but his laxness was a reproach. Lucifer should be doing his job now, not cradling this mortal, but Gavriel was so limp, so sated. With a blink, Lucifer transported them both to his bedchamber.
The Devil didn’t need a bedchamber. His body didn’t require sleep and he’d certainly never had an overnight guest before, but a master suite had come with the place and he used it as a getaway in between tormenting repentant souls.
Here the only fire that burned was a cozy crackle in the fireplace. When there were screams playing, it was because he was having some quality alone time. And the walls were lined not with instruments of torture but with bookshelves. Eternity was a long time. A person would go crazy without something to read.
He didn’t need to sleep, but sometimes he slept, out of boredom or inertia. Today he lay with an unconscious Gavriel sprawled over him. He was still buried inside Gavriel, though he’d shrunk his cock to a more human size so as not to disturb his sleep. He nuzzled at Gavriel’s neck, licking over the healing puncture marks there.
It would all heal. Gavriel might look and feel like he had a corporal body–he undoubtedly believed he had a corporal body–but he didn’t. Gavriel’s body would always return to its original state, to however Gavriel himself saw it, and so the marks he’d left would fade.
The puncture wounds would close, the brands and burns would unpucker, becoming smooth, tender skin again. Even as Lucifer thought about it, the adornment he’d pressed into Gavriel pinged free as his nipple expanded to its normal, uncompressed state.
He reluctantly slid his cock out of Gavriel’s ass so that too could heal. His dick felt raw and unprotected, like air was too rough after the silky, smooth passage he’d been embedded in, like he needed to be back in there. He pulled Gavriel a little tighter against him so that Gavriel’s breath feathered against his neck, deep and even. Gavriel murmured a sound of appreciative agreement and somehow went even more limp.
Lucifer sighed in something like contentment, even as he chastised himself for taking this time. There was a lobby full of repentant souls waiting for him. And why was Gavriel even still here? If he’d been adequately punished, he’d be in Heaven now, believing Heaven was where he belonged. Lucifer had been doing this job long enough that it never took him more than one try to make someone feel sufficiently punished anymore.
He’d failed Gavriel.
Gavriel stirred in his arms. His light-lashed eyes fluttered open. He stretched, rubbing himself against Lucifer like a cat loving on its favorite human.
“Hungry,” he mewled, furthering the cat metaphor, the precious, sleepy thing.
Lucifer materialized a plate of finger foods and fed them into Gavriel’s pretty mouth one bit a time, placing squares of cheese and sections of orange between his lips and letting Gavriel suck in his fingers with the food. Gavriel’s pink tongue wrapped around his claws despite the steamy sizzle that accompanied every lick.
“You don’t need food, you know,” Lucifer told him. “Your body is an illusion.”
“But it’s yummy.”
Gavriel opened his mouth for another bite, guilelessly baring his throat as he tilted it back to receive the chocolate-covered strawberry Lucifer dangled into it. He snapped off a bite, nipping at Lucifer’s fingers with his pearly teeth.
“You don’t need to sleep either,” Lucifer told him.
“But I enjoyed that too. And so did you.”
Gavriel stopped eating to curl back into Lucifer’s side. Lucifer had to admit he’d never spent so many hours in a row relaxing. It was nice, but the growing crowd of people waiting for his attention weighed on him.
He eased Gavriel’s body off his own and snapped away the platter of food.
“Why are you still here?” he asked as harshly as he could manage considering they’d just been snuggling. “You should be in Heaven already. I have other souls to work on, you know.”
“Go do what you need to do,” Gavriel told him as he stretched out across the bed. “I won’t be jealous.”
“Jealous? This is my job.”
“I know. I won’t let it bother me. Go on, I’ll be here when you get back. Promise.”
He found himself agreeing, then realized what he was agreeing to.
“No, don’t be here,” he ordered. “Go to Heaven. Go.”
“I promise,” Gavriel repeated, and Lucifer knew he wasn’t promising to go Heaven. He wasn’t promising that at all.
He gave Gavriel one more crank, lifting him off the ground by the hook embedded in his ass. It wasn’t one of those anal hooks mortals made with a nice round ball on the end. No, this was Hell. Hell’s hooks were sharp and flared and very, very hook-like and Lucifer had jammed one up Gavriel’s ass without a bit of lube, making him squeal and almost try to escape in that not-quite-serious way he had that really pushed Lucifer’s buttons.
Around Gavriel’s throat was a wide collar. A short tether connected the collar to the hook. Gavriel could lean into the collar to take some weight off his ass, but only at the expense of cutting off the air his human brain told him he needed. Lucifer loved predicament bondage. Damned if you did, damned if you didn’t. Wasn’t that just Hell in a nutshell? Watching Gavriel squirm on the hook as he struggled to keep himself upright was making Lucifer’s already-hard dick pulse and weep.
When he’d gotten back to his room after tearing with reckless speed through the backlog of souls waiting to be tormented, he’d found Gavriel curled up on his couch with a book in his hand. His impatience to find out if Gavriel was, in fact, still waiting in his bedchamber (even though he shouldn’t be) had him bursting through the door with extra ferociousness. He’d lifted Gavriel up and carried him to bed and fucked him with only enough sadistic torture to get them both off.
Now Hell’s reception room was empty. Only one soul remained to be tormented, and Lucifer had that one soul strung up–his feet dangling and his hands hooked to his collar with that damnable erection sticking out like a flag pole in front of him.
This time Lucifer meant business. No more Mr. Nice Devil.
“You enjoyed that yesterday,” he posited, hissing out the words to convey that Gavriel was in trouble.
“Mm,” Gavriel agreed, sounding breathless but not repentant. His body revolved slowly as it dangled. Lucifer halted the circling with a hand to his cock. He slid up and down, his rough, heated paw snagging on the silky skin.
“Tell me what you liked about it,” he ordered, but only so he could do the opposite.
“Your nails, how they’re so sharp and hot. I liked the way you scorched me, the marks it left wherever you touched.”
“Like this?” He traced a fingertip around Gavriel’s nipple and Gavriel’s resulting moan answered the question–yes, like that. He continued the loop he’d drawn, running his nail down Gavriel’s chest, then making another swoop and continuing across his body so that the line of burnt flesh formed a cursive capital L.
A shame that would heal, really. Gavriel looked nice wearing the Devil’s signature.
Gavriel seemed to think so too. He’d dropped his head, despite what that did to his air supply, to admire the elegant whorls.
“What else?” Lucifer asked. The point wasn’t to cater to Gavriel’s desires. The point was to find a way past them.
“Your cock.” Gavriel wiggled himself upright again, settling his weight back on the hook buried in his ass. “This is nice, but your cock was bigger. And hotter. Like being fucked by a branding iron. A really thick branding iron.”
He smirked at Lucifer and arched his back, driving the hook deeper. His head tipped all the way back and his cock stuck out ramrod straight, taunting Lucifer with his complete failure to make this experience sufficiently horrifying to send Gavriel’s soul up to Heaven where it belonged.
He gave Gavriel a spin, standing back to admire his body as it revolved–first cock, then ass, then a profile peek at both. He put out his hand, fingernails fully extended, and let it trail along Gavriel’s flesh, carving grooves across his abdomen, down his back and ass, catching at his balls and cock.
“Tell me,” he demanded, suffering a pang of inadequacy because he’d never had to flat-out ask one of his victims how to make them suffer before. “Tell me what you need to feel sufficiently punished.”
“Ooh, that,” Gavriel said as Lucifer’s nails nipped at the head of his cock. “CBT.”
“Yeah, squeeze my balls. Squeeze ’em really–”
Gavriel screamed when Lucifer wasted no time in complying. He squeezed harder, listening to the shrieks ratchet higher, loving every one of them. He squeezed until he’d certainly have ruptured something if Gavriel had an actual body, but he didn’t, and the harder Lucifer clamped his hand around those spongy, resistant globes, the louder Gavriel screeched, the more desperately he thrashed, until Lucifer himself was the one suffering. He was so fucking hard he didn’t need immortal magic to swell his dick to superhuman size.
He lunged forward and jammed his mouth against Gavriel’s, thrusting his tongue inside the orifice that screamed out its pain.
It wasn’t the first time their mouths had touched because Gavriel, when not strung up on a rack or spinning on a meat hook, was an affectionate man. He’d run his hands and lips all over Lucifer while they’d been cuddling (cuddling, God, he was so going to get teased for that), but those kisses had been chaste, affectionate. This was raw, wet, demonic. Lucifer owned Gavriel’s mouth, sucking down his screams, taking what breath he had left, filling him with his own hunger.
None of which was getting Gavriel any closer to Heaven.
He stepped back and took stock again.
“Is your tongue forked?” Gavriel asked. “It’s so … pointy.”
He stuck out his tongue and allowed it to unroll to its full length, then licked lasciviously up the side of Gavriel’s neck. The dual points dug small tracks into his skin.
Gavriel giggled. Actually giggled.
Lucifer pushed him. His playfulness sent Gavriel’s suspended body in a wide arc towards the other side of the fiery pit he was strung over. As Gavriel swung back towards him, Lucifer summoned a paddle into his hand and used it to crack at Gavriel’s ass when it returned. Gavriel squeaked as he flew back across the flames from the force of the blow.
Back and forth Gavriel went, Lucifer swinging for the stands with both hands on the paddle like it was a baseball bat. He’d never had the chance to play any mortal games and this was fun, both to see how far he could send Gavriel flying and for the sight of his increasingly-red ass as it returned after each trip.
He turned down the tortured-souls soundtrack which was drowning out the sound of the paddle against Gavriel’s skin in an irritating way. The lower volume level allowed him to hear that Gavriel wasn’t just moaning happily when the paddle came into contact with his ass, he was also making a rather gleeful whee sound as he swung across the gaping hole that led to the lowest levels of Hell.
Lucifer stopped him by catching him around his waist. He pulled Gavriel against his body, snuggling Gavriel’s plump, red ass up against the dripping tip of his cock. Whether Gavriel was suitably chastised or not, he had to be inside him.
He ripped free the hook that suspended Gavriel and dropped him onto his cock before his gaping hole had time to close. He wrapped a hand around Gavriel’s balls and yanked and then he didn’t even have to thrust. Gavriel jerked and squirmed and writhed so hard, that he only had to hold on and he was coming, filling Gavriel with what felt like years’ worth of come.
Come spurted likewise from the tip of Gavriel’s cock. It dripped over his fingers, telling him that he’d failed Gavriel once again.
“This should have gone away.” He trailed a finger lightly over the L carved around Gavriel’s nipple. All the other marks from their earlier torture session had faded, but the L remained as distinct, as harsh as when he’d carved it there.
“Why should it have gone away?” Gavriel asked. “It’s your mark. It belongs there.”
He shook his head, understanding now why the brand remained when the rest was gone. If his mark was part of how Gavriel envisioned his body, it couldn’t be removed, even if he tried to remove it himself, which he had no desire to do. Gavriel was right–it belonged there.
The rest though–the welts and bruises–had healed like they’d never been there. If Gavriel could survive any torture, including having his nuts crushed in a Satanic vice, if he magically regenerated back to his original state no matter what Lucifer did to him, how could he ever wear him down? Gavriel would always heal, no matter what heinous torture Lucifer inflicted on him.
Which gave him some ideas …
But that wasn’t the point. The point was that Gavriel ought to be in Heaven by now. He’d been punished. Twice.
“Look,” he said, pushing Gavriel off his body and sitting up into a more formal position. “We’re not supposed to spell out how this works, but I’m just going to go ahead and explain it to you so you can be on your way. There is no Hell. No one stays here. It’s a sham–soundtracks and stage props, designed to give people what they think they deserve so they’ll believe they’ve paid their debt. Then tinkle-tinkle–” Lucifer made a wavy motion with his fingers to illustrate “–up their souls go to God.”
Gavriel nodded and attempted to pull Lucifer back down into the bed. As though Gavriel could budge him if he didn’t want to be budged. Nevertheless, he slid down a little and let Gavriel lean in on him.
“Right,” he continued, almost having forgotten his point. “So, you’re forgiven for–” he made wavy hands again “–whatever. God was never mad at you to begin with. He loves you just the way you are, knows you were doing your best even when you screwed up, etc., etc.”
“I know,” Gavriel said. “God loves all his children. Even the kinky ones.”
“Then go.” He gestured upwards even though there was no particular physical direction that led to Heaven. “Up you go to God, because you can’t stay here. There’s only one being who lives here and that’s me.”
“Well, now there’s two of us,” Gavriel said with absolute certainty. He snuggled deeper into the bed and into Lucifer, like he wasn’t going anywhere.
“If you won’t go, I’ll send you myself.” He was determined to put an end to this farce.
Gavriel snorted. “You know you can’t make me leave if I’m not ready to go.”
“But you don’t deserve to be here! Your record is spotless, you’ve done nothing wrong. Whatever you think you need to be punished for, you don’t. I promise.” He’d pored over Gavriel’s records and found nothing. “You’re a good man, Gavriel, the best. You don’t belong in Hell.”
“But Lucifer.” Gavriel put a hand on his chin and turned his head so they were looking at each other. “This isn’t Hell. This is Heaven. Our heaven. I was made to be here. I was made for you.”
“Why would anything be made for me?”
“God loves all his children, remember? That includes you.”
“If God loves me so much, then why do I reign in Hell?”
“Because you’re good at it and you enjoy it.”
“I do enjoy it,” he admitted. Even before Gavriel, he’d found his work highly satisfying. It was just …
“You’ve been lonely.”
Lonely, yes. He’d been lonely for the last however many passages of time. Terribly, terribly lonely.
The torturing was good, but it was missing something–the joy, the connection with another soul who enjoyed it as much as he did. And then there was afterwards, when the tortured soul would make its transition to Heaven leaving him alone again, which felt … lonely.
It was a misconception that the Devil was pure evil. Once he got his rocks off, he always came down with a terminal case of the cuddles, not that he got off that often. Although many of his visitors believed they deserved to be tortured, very few thought they deserved to be raped, and non-consensual sex was just that–rape.
But it hadn’t been rape with Gavriel. It’d been … love.
Something like love. Something like what he’d thought he’d never get to experience when he left Heaven with all its bullshit happiness and light to become the reigning Prince of Darkness. Fallen Angels didn’t deserve love.
“You were made for me?”
He’d been so angry at God over his banishment, but maybe God had sent him to the one place where he–warped, fallen angel–could be happy. And maybe he’d needed this time alone too, the way the mortals did, to suffer before he could truly believe he was forgiven. Before his soul could rise to Heaven.
“For you,” Gavriel affirmed. He pointed to the brand on his chest. “God loves you and wants you to be happy. I’m here to stay, Lucifer. I’m here to share your heaven.”
The Devil had never been known to cry. But that day, Lucifer did.
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