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Of Sinners

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The hand slid down slowly, fingertips pressed against glistening skin ever so lightly. Sarathiel’s eyes followed its trajectory, his knuckles trembling from how tightly he was grabbing at his robes. He felt himself swallow past the dryness in his tongue, as Dantalion’s fingers caught on Sytry’s hardened nub, and the long digits flicked the reddened nipple with a callousness that had both Sytry and Sarathiel flinch – the former from sharp pleasure, the later from the sight.

There was a low chuckle brushing past Sarathiel’s earlobe, the heat spreading down his spine. As Dantalion proceeded to pinch and tug harshly at the abused nub again, Sytry’s keening filling the room in response – he could not help but close his eyes, trying to push down the hot flush at the thought, anticipation, of a similar treatment awaiting for himself.

“Eyes open.” The amused voice nipping at his ears had no waves, as though its owner had not slapped Sarathiel’s cheek just now, as though he wasn’t choking Sarathiel on his fingers right now. Sarathiel could barely gasp out a cry, much less make an actual answer. All he could feel were the rough callouses on the fingers that rubbed and tugged on his tongue, and the hand that burned white hot on his thigh, dragging up his disarrayed robe ever so gently.

“You wanted to watch.” Roseier’s voice fell into a purr. “Isn’t that right?”

Sarathiel would have wanted to refute him. But even if his mouth had been free to form words, he knew he could not, not when it was true.

There’s no reason to hide away from sin. He reminded himself, in between breathes that caught every now and then, in tandem to Rosier’s exhales against his ear. Rather to face it and turn away – that is the true nature of virtue.

In front of him Sytry had fallen between Dantalion’s thighs, chocked sobs sounding from where the dark-haired demon fucked into his throat. Sarathiel felt his own breath stuttering at the sight. Dantalion moved with a harshness that left Sytry reeling every time, the pale demon having no way to retreat with his head kept in place under his lover’s grip.

Sarathiel wondered, almost absently, what Dantalion’s seed tasted like, heard Rosier laugh and knew that the demon had read his mind.

A sharp sob rushed up his chest as shame burned on his tongue that was still suckling at the invading fingers, and before Sarathiel could regain his composure, of what was left of it at least, he heard a broken mewl sounding from his right, from his companion that he had been trying to ignore because he could not possibly look another angel in the eye right now.

 

Kushiel was sprawled on his front, red robes pulling at his throat while the rest of him was flushed bare. Sarathiel felt himself whimper as Belias pushed in the second marble on the string inside Kushiel, the mirror behind them showing him clearly how the angel’s reddened entrance glistened with saliva, trembling as the marble caught on the tight, puckered edges before being forced inside. Kushiel groaned again, and Sarathiel could see him crying even as he twisted his own nipples, the abused nubs a dark red against his pale flesh.

He is punishing himself. Sarathiel thought. Punishment means he has taken pleasure where he should not have.

“Then how shall you punish him, angel of discipline?” Rosier whispered against his ear, Sarathiel’s thought ringing loud to all of the room’s occupants. He saw Kushiel’s body trembling, sharp sobs spilling out for a single moment, before he went back to biting his lips, pressing his face against the soft bed.

Sarathiel felt his spine arching as Rosier’s finger, finally, pinched at his nipple, the other hand thumbing at the tip of his cock that was safely secured behind its silvery cage, never to be removed lest he spilled his seed and fell from heaven. He felt his toes curling as Roseir’s fingers pulled away all of a sudden, before sinking in within his moist passage with a sharp violence that made his muscles spasm with fluid heat.

From behind blurred visions he watched Dantalion spilling over Sytry’s lips, the thick white liquid dripping down the pale demon’s throat and heaving chest.

Envy is a cardinal sin. He thought.

“He has taken pleasure actively.” Sarathiel mumbled, squirming as Rosier’s fingers rubbed his inner walls, exploring his shame with a careless ease. “He shall be tied, with pleasure brushing past him yet unable to grasp. He shall give pleasure, with none for himself.”

“And I – “ He cried out as Rosier’s fingers pressed against a place that made him burn, “I have desired what is not mine to have. I must watch while others attain their wants, be reminded that I can never have what is not mine even as I beg for mercy.”

He watched Sytry moved towards Kushiel, the angel’s sobs louder since the proclamation of his punishment, his body trembling with anticipation, as Sytry pulled him up by the hair, running his tongue down Kushiel’s neck slowly. Sarathiel felt himself arching up as Dantalion leaned down over him, taking one of his nubs in his mouth, rough tongue flicking over the tip. He sobbed as Rosier’s fingers tugged at the other one harsh and fast, and one more finger forced its way inside him.

“Such obedience to rules.” He heard Belias laugh, a sharp sound in concert to Kushiel’s scream as Sytry tilted a candle over the angel’s nipples – first one, then the other. Sarathiel watched him take a thread next, and holding it taut as he rubbed it over the wax covered nipples, removing the hardened wax bit by bit, while Kushiel keened, eyes pushing out in a plea of relief, held in his place, immobile under Belias’s spell.

“God must be pleased with you.” Rosier whispered in his ears.

“Don’t – don’t take his name.” Sarathiel cried out. “Not now. Don’t – don’t.”

“Oh?” Dantalion looked up, pulling away. Sarathiel sagged. “Do you think God is watching?”

“Don’t – “

“Do you hope he is watching?” Belias laughed again, pushing in two more marbles inside the captive angel. Kushiel’s body spasmed with silent sobs in response, his mouth held open between Sytry’s fingers while the pale demon rubbed his hardness over Kushiel’s tongue.

“Do you want him to watch while you punish yourselves?” Rosier murmured, hands holding Sarathiel’s legs open, as Dantalion leaned down to push his tongue inside Sarathiel, making him choke out a scream at the feeling of moist, warm muscle wriggling inside him.

“While you take the fallens’ seed inside yourselves, writhe under hell’s touch, beg for more…” Rosier bit down on Sarathiel’s neck, licking at the bite the next second – “Do you pray that God is bearing witness to your obedience?”

“Perhaps you hope –” Sarathiel felt a scream tear through him as Dantalion pulled away, words of power falling from his lips against the edges of his entrance.

“…that it could be him inside you, instead of a demon’s spell?”

Please. Please. Sarathiel thought he heard his own voice, though he did not know if he was making any sound at all. No more. I need more. Let it end now. Please.

“That spell”, Dantalion murmured, his crimson eyes alight, “will be as a butterfly’s wing’s against your gland of desire. It shall flutter and tremble, giving just enough that you shall itch to be filled, to be invaded, and yet will keep you away from finding relief.”

“This was your proclamation, angel.” Rosier smiled, his fangs sharp and hungry. “You will beg and never receive.”

Sarathiel felt himself being lowered. He looked up as Rosier loomed above him, the demon’s body glistening with sweat. A tremble wreaked through him as his mouth was held open, before Rosier guided his cock in.

The hardness laid over his tongue with a moist heaviness, a sharp tang of salty bitterness dripping down the back of his throat as Rosier started to move, slow and lazy, yet inescapable as he held Sarathiel’s head in place, the hard cock pushing in till the angel’s nose was pressed against dark pubic hair wet with sweat.

There was wetness on his face. Though whether it was tears and saliva, he did not know.

I need more punishment. He thought, almost hysterically, as his own penis strained against its shackles. He knew there was white drops leaking down fruitlessly.

I want more pain. He wanted to sob at the burning thought. I have sinned. I have sinned. I must be punished.

“Are you praying to God?” Dantalion’s whisper was a murmur of mockery, burning through him even as he felt the demon lift him up, an anticipation of shame pressing against his invaded throat for what he knew was coming next.

In the moment of sinking down on that hardness sheering through him, he thought that Dantalion was right

Father. Father. Bear witness to your child’s sin.

Father. Father. Punish me.

The heat moved within him with a merciful harshness, erasing away all thought. The hardness down his throat choked him, the warm flesh sliding down as he spilled more saliva from the friction, the veins pressing over his tongue, the bitter taste of seed pervading him till he wanted more of the demon’s sin.

And the hard flesh spearing him from behind burned against the spell on his pleasure, his naval and abdomen clenching continuously as he came dry, again and again – unable to find relief. Sarathiel felt a heaving sob being choked down back in his chest, his vision nearly blacking out as Rosier thrusted down, Dantalion shoved up, his cock pressing against Sarathiel’s prostate with a roughness that rivalled his fingers squeezing his caged penis. He felt his body jerking in an uncontrolled stutter as Dantalion pressed over his naval with his other hand, a single finger pressing in, and Rosier wrapped a hand around his throat, thumb pressed against his pulse point.

His body jerked one final time, bitter seed sliding down his throat, and an equally warm viscosity flooding his anal passage.

 Sarathiel felt a rush of heat flowing through his muscles moments before going lax. His sight blacked out.

 


 

When he came to, he found himself half-submerged in warm water. Blinking against the exhaustion that seemed to drag at every feather, Sarathiel forced himself to open his eyes. He saw Kushiel, still unconscious, covered with proofs of the sin of desire just as Sarathiel knew he himself was. He was in the pool as well, being bathed.

“Lie back down.” Dantalion sounded exasperated. “Both of you need to rest.”

Sarathiel squirmed as the pair of arms washing him caressed over a particularly tender bruise, and felt himself warming as the owner of the arms seemed to realise it as well, touching him ever more gently.

“We should return.” He mumbled, trying to tug away as Rosier placed a gentle press of lips over his forehead, his eyelids growing heavier despite the words. Through a warm haziness he saw Belias curl around Kushiel, holding his head up carefully as Sytry washed the angel’s chest. Almost absently, he noticed that both him and Kushiel were missing their cockcages.

“Rest first.” He felt warm lips flutter against his ears and neck before Dantalion pressed his cheek to his own. “Heaven isn’t going anywhere.”

Or we could just stay. He thought, sinking down in blissful darkness, a soft laughter ringing in his ears.

 

”Or you could just stay.”