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One could only imagine to be so praised upon, be so cherished it is blinding. Yet, this experience often remains a private dream, hidden away from the world. It is a beautiful sentiment, one that every being in their realm can only aspire to. To be loved with such intensity that even the gods themselves feel envious.
Love is often said to inspire individuals to engage in irrational behaviors, driving them to desire an intimacy with another that can be profoundly painful. Such thoughts were never intended to be realized; however, when one loves an immortal being—someone who can return unburdened by a painful history—these enchanting notions take on a surreal quality.
By now, both have stated what they desired, what they craved so deeply from one another.
Seraphlaser, holding a leash taunt in his left hand, reached upward to draw the other demon closer. He gazed with half-closed eyes, his expression rife with hunger and longing. Kramptana met his gaze with equal intensity, a different kind of hunger igniting within him, one he yearned to fulfill. He emitted a low, gravelly sound, a growl that served as a silent warning against being pulled down. Yet, he did not resist; he remained still, fully aware that he could easily break free from the chain if he so desired—but he chose not to. His hands gripped the seraphim's hips, his claws pressing into the dark flesh just enough to draw blood. The angel muttered softly, giving the leash a gentle tug, encouraging the other to proceed. Who was Kramptana to refuse? He sank his claws deeper, exploring his hips in a manner that was both pleasurable and painful. The sight of blood nearly overwhelmed him, the golden liquid staining his clawed hands. He longed to taste it, to savor every part of his beloved until he felt completely satisfied. Kramptana leaned in, his tongue slipping from beneath his mask as he licked the wounds, savoring the rich gold that flowed from Seraphlaser’s body. The sensation sent shivers through him, igniting a desire to consume the angelic form before him. However, he refrained, obediently pulling back and gazing up at Seraphlaser, his hands hovering lightly over the bruised hips.
They shuffle back, Seraphlaser lying supine, the other intimately pressed against him. Kramptana leans down, his tongue gliding over the curve of his neck, coating his skin with a mixture of saliva and blood. He opens his mouth wide, revealing sharp red teeth poised to sink into that very spot. His tusks penetrate the flesh and muscle, extracting the golden essence from the seraphim once more. Seraph emits a groan, the sensation a blend of pain and pleasure. He contemplates whether this is his true purpose, destined to fulfill his lover's insatiable hunger repeatedly. He yearns for this, hoping that one day he will be able to satisfy the beast he has come to cherish. Being beneath such hands, teeth, and gaze makes him feel as though he is the sole angel capable of bringing the other joy. The beast emits low, deep growls, relishing the taste of blood flowing into his mouth. He bites down more forcefully, drool escaping from his clenched jaws as the metallic flavor of blood accumulates. To claim that Seraph was not aroused by the act of being devoured would be a gross understatement. He relished every moment, every bite and scratch, every groan and squelch of skin.
For a brief moment, time appears to stand still. Kramp is captivated by the angel beneath him, savoring the wound he has inflicted. His tongue glides over the tender skin, seeking to extract more of the exquisite flavor. He could never tire of Seraph; not in a lifetime would he relinquish such a celestial being who has bestowed upon him a sense of worth. Seraph tugs at the leash once more, a firm pull that conveys his desire. Kramp gazes at him, observing the longing in his eyes. He raises an arm, presenting it to the creature before him. Without hesitation, Kramp seizes his arm, his mouth open wide as he sinks his teeth into the flesh again. A low hum escapes him, relishing every moment his teeth are embedded in his beloved. His jaws tighten, tearing through skin and muscle, nearly reaching the bone. Blood flows freely, cascading down onto the body beneath him, further saturating it. He drinks deeply, quenching his thirst for the golden liquid with an insatiable hunger, a desperate need to consume. The urge to rend him apart is overwhelming; he yearns to hear him cry out for more as he devours him alive. This thought elicits a groan, but it quickly dissipates as he becomes aware of the extent of the damage he has already inflicted.
Kramptana consumes what he can, savoring the excessively sweet liquid before withdrawing. He is aware that he cannot push the other too far, despite the discomfort it causes him to halt. They both pause, the atmosphere thick with tension as they lock eyes. With a tremor, Seraphlaser removes the collar, already presuming their interaction has reached a temporary conclusion. He reclines once more, sinking into the bed as an unexpected wave of fatigue envelops him. His gaze wavers as his eyelids flutter shut, sensing Kramptana shift beside him, drawing him close. No words are exchanged; none are necessary in moments like these.
Both individuals felt content for the moment. However, Seraph understood that this situation would never truly conclude, and he would remain vigilant for it each time.