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In his brief twenty-one years, he had never once doubted his faith. In fact, his entire life had been devoted to the worship of God—he knew the scriptures backward and forward, attended every mass at the chapel beyond his village alongside his mother, and lived solely to attain the highest sanctity, that his soul might find peace and his body remain chaste enough to enter Paradise.
Kongjiro, a devout young Catholic, was beloved by all in the village—not only for his physical beauty but for the purity of his spirit. He was the very embodiment of what it meant to be untainted.
Each morning, he rose at the same hour to attend mass at the chapel not far from his home—a place nestled in the mountains, surrounded by dense forests and winding stone paths. The church Kongjiro attended was the only one, and the grandest, in the village of Umbervale.
Yet one night, after finishing his prayers—as he did every evening—and settling into his comfortable bed, he began to have strange dreams. They left him gasping awake in the dead of night, his breath ragged, his heart pounding. Beads of sweat clung to his brow as he struggled to calm his fevered pulse and the heat in his cheeks. And so, in the darkness of his room, he began to pray to God once more.
Kong believed he had been corrupted by evil—by him, the one with horns for ears, the fallen angel—the one who had once been God’s most faithful servant but was cast out of Heaven for his ambition and now wandered the shadows, stalking innocent souls and broken hearts.
That was why, the next day, he woke up at six o’clock sharp—earlier than usual—and nearly ran to the village church, desperate to find the one person who could heal him, the voice of God himself—the Priest.
The yellow sun barely emitted any warmth, and thick fog blanketed the concrete buildings, completely obscuring the distant mountains. Inside the church, weak sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, faintly illuminating the dark brown wood of the pews. Golden ornaments rested on the altar, used for daily mass. Kong loved coming to church—it was one of his favorite places. He adored admiring its architectural beauty, how the sunlight bent through the colored glass and painted the walls, an undeniable monument to pure art.
His honey-colored eyes scanned the room, searching for his target—until he saw it. The confessional. Kong hurried into the small, rectangular booth, adorned with burgundy fabric and intricate carvings in the wooden walls. An intimate space, where it was just him and the presence of God.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” the young man spoke softly, almost whispering, crossing himself as he recited the rite.
“Hail Mary most pure.” said an older voice.
“Sinless conceived.”
“Tell me, my child,” the older man replied in his usual calm tone.
“I want to confess, Father,” Kong declared, a hint of fear in his voice. The priest did not answer immediately.
He had never confessed before—he had always followed the tenets of his faith to the letter, believing himself to be perfect, a living image of holiness. Being inside those four walls made him nervous, ashamed.
“May the Lord be in your heart and on your lips, so that you may confess your sins with humility and repentance.” the priest finally spoke.
Kong brought a hand to his chest, where his heart pounded violently. His cheeks tingled.
“Father, I confess to Almighty God and to you, for I have sinned.” his voice sounded calm, unlike the fire burning inside him. “I have had impure dreams, ones that seek to stain my soul, corrupting what is sacred with my filthy thoughts.”
“My child, the Lord sees your heart. The burden you carry will be lighter if you walk toward the light. His mercy knows no bounds when there is true repentance.”
“My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you, and I firmly resolve, with the help of your grace, to sin no more and to avoid the near occasions of sin. Amen.” Kong recited, closing his brown eyes.
“As penance for your sins, recite five Our Fathers and five Hail Marys for each night these thoughts have plagued you, and you shall be free from wickedness.” the priest continued, “God, the merciful Father, grant you pardon and peace through the ministry of the Church. And I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
Kong felt a weight lift from his shoulders. His grip on his chest loosened slightly, wrinkling the gray wool cardigan he wore.
“Amen.”
“Go in peace, my child.”
“Thank you, Father.” Kong crossed himself one last time before stepping out of the confessional, his heart lighter, calmer.
He left the church looking more at ease. The sun now rested atop the mountains, and the fog had begun to thin, faintly revealing the lush peaks in the distance—a sight that never failed to mesmerize Kong. He decided to return home, as there were still three hours left before Mass began at nine o’clock sharp. He could catch a little more sleep before his mother woke him.
The walk home was a spectacle itself. He loved the sound of birds heralding the new day, accompanied by the crisp morning breeze. The streets were empty, leaving only Kong and his shadow, and the echo of his footsteps, his sole companion.
When he arrived, he slowly opened the front door, careful not to make noise and wake his family. He lived with his parents and two younger sisters. His father worked at the city bank, his mother was a homemaker, and his sisters were finishing high school. Kong had already completed his studies and dreamed of studying abroad—architecture. Though he knew he was behind compared to others his age, he didn’t let it discourage him. While saving up, he helped his mother with household chores.
He tiptoed past the dining room and up the wooden stairs, pausing whenever the floor creaked under his weight. When he finally reached the second floor, he walked to his room and closed the door behind him. He stripped down to his white undershirt and boxers. The cold air sent shivers through his body, making him quickly slip under the still-warm covers. Kong sighed in satisfaction as his eyelids grew heavy. He didn’t resist, letting himself drift into deep slumber.
Then—what felt like minutes later—a scorching heat spread through his body. A soft, delicate touch, yet one that burned like a thousand suns, setting his skin ablaze. Kong writhed, letting out a quiet moan. The heat settled at the curve of his neck, searing into him, sending strange currents down to his abdomen. He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut.
That was when he heard it—a whisper in his ear.
“I want to devour your soul… I bet it tastes like the most divine elixir.”
His eyes flew open. The heat vanished as abruptly as it had come. He jerked upright in bed, his gaze locking onto a shadowed corner of the room.
There stood a man.
Tall, clad in black trousers and a shirt of the same hue, left carelessly unbuttoned to reveal the sharp lines of his collarbone and chest. His sleeves were rolled up; his hands rested in his pockets. His expression was severe—yet his lips curved in a wicked smile. Strands of dark hair fell across his face, barely obscuring eyes that gleamed with a sharp, hungry light.
Kongjiro swore his vision betrayed him. He dragged his hands over his face, as if to scrub away the remnants of sleep—but when he looked again, the corner stood empty. A choked sigh shuddered from his lips.
Without hesitation, he slid from the bed and dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the floorboards as he began to pray—to beg—the Almighty Lord for deliverance.
His heartbeat roared in his ears, making it impossible to focus. His clasped hands grew damp with sweat, his breathing ragged.
Then—the sound of the door startled him. He spun around, only to see his mother standing in the doorway. Relief flooded him. Thank God.
“Sweetheart, I thought you’d already be dressed for church,” she said with a smile. Kong glanced at the clock on his nightstand.
8:55 A.M.
Did I sleep that long? But it was only a few minutes…
Mass started in five minutes, and he still needed to shower, dress, and eat the breakfast his mother prepared daily. Panic crashed over him—he couldn’t be late to his favorite place, the sanctuary where he loved hearing the word of the Lord.
“Oh, Mother, I’m sorry-I’ll get ready right away,” he said, leaping up and rushing to his closet, his heart still pounding.
But as his mother stepped closer, brushing a hand through his hair, she froze. His forehead was burning.
“Darling, you’re feverish—are you feeling alright?” she asked, pressing her palm to his skin. Kong stared at her, confused.
“Y-yes, I’m fine,” he forced a small smile, meeting her eyes with reassurance—even as his heart threatened to choke him.
“I don’t think you should go today. Stay in bed, my love,” she murmured, gently stroking his cheek. Kong adored his mother; her affection could melt away any discomfort in an instant.
“But-”
“No ‘buts.’ It’s alright to miss one day,” she cut him off, patting his shoulder tenderly. “Go lie down and rest, dear.”
Kong knew arguing was pointless. As a dutiful son, he obeyed, putting his clothes back and climbing into bed. His mother tucked him in with care, kissing his forehead before leaving.
As the door clicked shut, Kong was alone again.
It was the first time he’d ever missed mass. He felt like he was disrespecting God, the Almighty—his heart and mind heavy with guilt. Kong was certain he’d committed one of the worst sins imaginable. He braced himself for divine punishment.
As the minutes ticked by, his thoughts began to fade away and along with that, his eyelids began to feel heavy, which then plunged him into a deep sleep.
That heat again.
Something burned against his skin, a gentle touch, but it burned like hell. It moved down his body with torturous slowness, passing over his chest, at the level of his heart, where the heat rested for what felt like an eternity, the fire spreading through his veins rapidly, his heart beginning to beat at an unbridled speed. Soon, that heat shifted and stopped in the same spot on his neck, then fixated on his mouth. Kong couldn't open his eyes—not because he didn't have the will, but because they felt as if something had glued them to his face.
The heat rested in his mouth, remaining there for a immeasurable amount of time. Suddenly, a warm breeze rushed against his lips—a sigh that seemed to contain a dangerously delicious elixir. However, he again felt the warmth vanish from his face and felt something wet trace his neck, passing through his Adam's apple. Kong opened his lips slightly and let out a gasp at the sensation.
His body felt like the source of hell itself, burning every corner of his body like a fire, provoking sensations totally unknown to him.
Purely dirty sensations.
From one moment to the next, he awoke with a jump, sitting up in his bed, without breath and with his heart pounding. A strange sensation invaded his lower part, which made him lift the covers in desperation expecting the worst, only to find a small wet spot at the level of his private parts.
His heart stopped.
No. It couldn’t be. Had he…?
His body had surrendered to profane desires. He felt filthy, tainted by the uncontrollable lust coursing through his veins.
A deep, masculine laugh made him jolt. He yanked the covers up to his nose, eyes darting to the corner of his room—where he stood.
Tall, dressed in black pants and an unbuttoned white shirt, sleeves rolled up, hands in his pockets. His sharp gaze locked onto Kong, piercing through his soul.
And then, in the blink of an eye—he was gone.
Leaving Kong breathless, heart in his throat.
And so it repeated—every day, whether under the sun or the pale moonlight.
For an entire month, Kong suffered these dreams—waking in the dead of night, panting, with his member painfully hard beneath his pajamas.
Not knowing what to do, he finally confessed to his friend during a visit. Though surprised, his friend gave him a reassuring smile.
“Namping, I don’t know what to do. I feel… strange.” Kong admitted nervously, fidgeting with his fingers.
“Jiro, it’s completely normal to feel that way at our age,” his friend said, brushing a strand of hair from Kong’s forehead. “But if you feel guilty, I have something that might help.”
Kong had left out the part about the apparition—not to lie, but because he wasn’t sure if it was real or his imagination. Either option was bad: people would call him crazy or possessed, and he didn’t know which was worse.
“Are you serious?” Kong’s eyes lit up.
“Totally. Give me a day, and I’ll bring it to you.” his tone was confident.
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
***
The next day, Kong got up as usual, getting ready to go to the nine o'clock mass with his mother. His sisters had attended the school and his father had gone to work at the city bank.
As he stood in the chapel, chanting the hymns, he spotted Namping in the distance, diagonally in front of him. He turned his head to where Kong was and gave him a gentle look, gesturing with his hands, pointing to his pants pocket, as if to tell him that he had brought whatever-it-was that was going to help him. His heart leapt with excitement at the thought that it was all going to be over and he would no longer have those dreams.
After mass was over, Kong indicated to his mother that he would meet Namping, so he told her he would catch up with her later. His friend approached him and took his hand to lead him to a place farther away from the crowd gathered outside the church, they turned a corner, not so far from the chapel and Namping spoke:
"I brought what I promised youˮ he spoke excitedly, Kong looked at him, expectantly.
And Kong expected else, prayers which he had to recite 50 times, or to deprive himself of certain comforts, such as stripping himself of his shelter for a week. What Namping handed him, however, was a yellowish-brown piece of paper: it looked completely tattered, as if it had been stored at the bottom of a trunk for an immensely long time.
Kong took it between his hands and carefully opened it, finding paragraphs in a strange language, it seemed to be written in a black ink, with a cursive handwriting. The young man looked back at his friend, staring at him in confusion.
"And this is...ˮ
"Oh, it's the page of an ancient book that contained prayers of protection and suchˮ Namping explained to him, Kong was still frowning, not retaining any kind of information, to which his friend understood and explained again. "Jiro, this leaf will serve you as protection and also to be able to ward off any kind of evil, it's exactly what you needˮ he finished.
This time, Kong stared at him, analyzing every word that came out of his mouth, then opening his eyes in realization.
"You-this is... Is this a ritual?ˮ he asked with some fear in his voice. Kong didn't want to disrespect God, much less do things he knew might affect his soul.
"Oh, no no no, nothing like thatˮ Namping held up his hands gesturing denial. "It is a prayer written in Latin, an old friend told me it was useful for this kind of cases, like yours,ˮ he gave him a confident smile, to continue saying: "besides, he told me that it was safe, since it is written in the sacred language, you have nothing to worry aboutˮ he finished explaining, making Kong feel safer.
"Okay, but... How do I know what is written, do I have to guess?ˮ asked Kong, Namping let out a laugh.
"Don't worry about that, you just repeat what is written out loud, all you have to do is recite it when night falls, and as if you were going to pray, say what is written on the sheet, and that's itˮ Kong was taking notes mentally, no detail could escape him, he had to do it perfectly.
"So, is that all?ˮ asked Kong, his friend nodded. "Thank you very much Ping, I really hope it worksˮ he said optimistically.
"It will work, trust meˮ he reassured him.
After talking to Namping, Kong walked home, guarding the paper as if it were one of his most sacred jewels. When he arrived home, his mother had started making lunch, so he helped her cook and make other things.
Night rose, and along with that, Kong's anxiety increased as the minutes passed. His whole family had gone to sleep, his mother had already said goodbye to him—as she did every night: a kiss on the forehead.
The young man was on his knees at the edge of the bed, paper resting on the bed—his hands clasped together, fingers interlocked, breathing agitated. He was ready, but he didn't know why he felt so nervous.
"You've already done this Kong, think of it as an everyday prayerˮ. He thought.
And after letting out a sigh through his mouth, he began to say in a tone of voice low enough that he could hear himself:
“O magne Domine, exaudi preces meas, qui clandestino igne amantes cecidere.
(Oh, great Lord, hear my plea—you who fell for loving with forbidden fire)
Defende me, o silentium, qui profundissimum spiritum nosti desiderium.
(Protect me, oh silenced one, you who know the spirit’s deepest desire)
Dirigatur obscurum coelum, et exul ambulet in hac terra.
(Part the darkened heavens and let the outcast walk this earth again)
Hoc testamentum verbis obsigno, et clamo ad eum qui deceptus est per crucem.
(I seal this pact with words, and summon the one betrayed by the cross)
In nomine eterni, qui inter flammas damnationis vagaris, evigila.
(In the name of the eternal, awaken, you who wandered condemnation’s flames)
Maledicta dilectio hunc mundum iterum cum carne et nomine suo attingat.”
(May the cursed love once more touch this world—in flesh, and in name)
Absolute silence.
Kong opened one eye, then opened the other and slowly stood up to proceed with his nightly routine.
"Clearly nothing was going to happen, you fool” he whispered to himself.
Then, the candle on his nightstand flickered—and died.
Kong’s gaze snapped toward it, his heart hammering against his ribs.
And in an instant, he was swallowed by darkness.
His stomach plummeted; his chest constricted.
He was not alone.
A presence loomed behind him—a hot breath gusting against the nape of his neck, sending shivers raking down his spine, seeping into his veins. The heat radiating from it threatened to scorch his very flesh. His breaths came ragged. Kong lacked the courage to face whatever stood at his back.
Yet a voice slithered against his ear:
“I’ve been waiting for you to call me with that pretty mouth of yours.” Deep. Guttural. Its breath blazed like a thousand suns, the words sinking into him—claiming him—burying themselves in the marrow of his bones, tainting his soul.
Kong swallowed hard.
He gathered all the strength he could and turned to face it. What a bad decision.
At that distance, Kong could clearly see every detail of his face: He was an extremely beautiful man, two eyes that emanated fire, desire. His nose perfectly positioned, large, straight. His pink lips, plump, glistening as if they had been glazed—so tempting to the eye, yet it looked he could spit the most poisonous words, intoxicating his entire being.
The young man tried to keep his composure, even though inside he was dying—you could see it in his chest, which was throbbing heavily due to the intense beating of his heart, while he was breathing heavily.
"Don't be afraid, I won't do anything to youˮ said the man, in a calm tone "yet” smiling mischievously as he said the last word, showing his perfect teeth, sharp enough to take the meat and devour it in one bite.
Kong's cheeks began to sting, and soon he felt his stomach clench. Kong could sense that the presence emanated something totally opposite of what he loved: it was evil, dark—a scent that emanated desire, appetite, as if it were a piece of meat placed in front of an animal that had been locked up for its entire life.
Kong looked at him with wide eyes, his heart threatening to leave him at any moment. And just as he was about to pray and close his eyes, the man stopped him.
"Don't you dare, sweetheartˮ and Kong swore he watched his eyes darken, and his breath grow heavy.
"W-who are you?ˮ he finally spoke, his lower lip quivering.
"Oh, you called me without knowing who I am?ˮ the laughter the man let out rumbled deep inside him, bringing shivers down his spine. "I’m the one who roams the darkness, the shadow of the omnipotent—the one who was condemned at the campfire for committing adultery in the eyes of the holy one: the Devil,ˮ the man smiled as he finished speaking, "but I don't like that name, call me Thomas.ˮ his voice was low but intense, each word coming out like a verse written by the devil himself—dangerously tempting.
It couldn't be true...
Had he summoned the Devil himself? Was he there to take his soul?
His heart clenched at the thought, he was frightened.
"Whatever you're thinking, yesˮ Kong recoiled startled, fearing for his life, and his soul.
"Why...ˮ.
"You called me, don't you think I should at least recieve a prize for being good and not devouring you the first moment I saw you?ˮ he spat, as he approached dangerously at the young man standing in front of him.
"No...ˮ Kong closed his eyes, expecting the worst. Thomas smiled.
"I will give you a month to decide what you want in exchange for your soul,ˮ he declared, changing his tone to a serious one. The young man's eyes snapped open, interlocking his gaze with Thomas', sinking into his flaming eyes, feeling his legs waver at the eye contact.
What?
And Kong swore (hoping he was wrong) that he saw Thomas lower his gaze to his lips, as he ran his tongue across his already-glossy lips.
Something inside his stomach seemed to twist at the action of the taller one.
Was he giving in to the carnal desires of those who had forbidden themselves so much?
No.
No?
"I'll come to see you every day, making sure you don't run away from meˮ he winked, and as soon as he said that, in the blink of an eye, he disappeared, leaving the young man in the solitude of his room, with his heart in his throat.
What... Just happened?
Kong sat on the bed a few inches behind him, and staring blankly at a spot in his room, his mind filled with overwhelming thoughts, eating him up inside.
Namping, what did you give me, were you deceived too?
“I'll give you one month to decide what you want in exchange for your soul.ˮ
"In exchange for your soul.ˮ
Kong thought for a moment that he had imagined it all, it all seemed too surreal....
Oh, Kong, what have you done.
However, reality slapped him in the face the moment his eyes caught sight of the impregnated footprints heading for the corner of his room, getting lost among the beige wallpapered wall.
Suddenly, the man's face appeared in his head, and Kong felt a shiver run through the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Thomas had extraordinary beauty—of course, he was one of the most beautiful angels. His physique was extremely attractive, slightly toned, broad-shouldered, small waist, long legs, strong arms and big hands. But the aura he emanated was something completely intoxicating, an intoxicating aroma, that threatened to burn every cell in his body, poisoning his system bit by bit, only to claim it as his own.
***
Several weeks had passed since that event, the deadline was approaching and Kong felt pressured—as if his heart was being squeezed. At first, the youngest had thought of going for help: the church.
However, something prevented him from doing so. Every time he went out he felt watched. And more than once he spotted a certain person staring at him as he walked in and out of the church or talked to someone else—someone who looked totally identical to Thomas.
"I will come to see you every , making sure you don't run away from meˮ.
That phrase echoed in Kong's head every time he caught sight of the man watching him from a distance. Every time his eyes connected with his, something in his back began to itch, his heartbeat was rapid and his hands began to sweat, feeling an inexplicable warmth inside.
Strangely, and to Kong's luck, after that night, he never had those peculiar dreams again, on one hand Kong was totally grateful that it stopped, however, another part of him—one that was buried deep inside, wanting to get out—felt deprived, empty.
He didn't know why, or at what point he had begun to feel weird about the lack of that warmth. And maybe he was crazy, maybe he was breaking all the rules imposed by his religion. But the sensations coursing through his body were incredibly magnificent—the warmth in his cheeks, the way that electric current ran up and down his spine, the tingling that increased every second, as if fireworks were exploding inside his stomach. They were stimulations impossible to ignore, and Kong felt guilty, ashamed. Because when he woke up, something felt heavy on top of his head, as if it were a stone. Sin followed him like a shadow, neither near nor far, but always with him.
Nor did he know at what point he had begun to think about him.
In his beautifully chiseled face, his perfectly toned body. The way his eyes conveyed such strong, intense emotions. The way his body seemed to emit flames that could ignite his body in just a few seconds. And Kong was curious, he was curious to know more, to get to know him more.
And maybe he was sick.
Perhaps he was sick for thinking that way, for breaking the sacred, for giving in to sin—because it was the Devil we are talking about.
There was something inside Kong, something deep inside him wanting to piggyback out—an insect in his brain that whispered mischievously that he should give in to the temptation, to taste the forbidden fruit, to savor the elixir so exquisite and poisonous at the same time.
Because Kong was afraid, the very thought of being lost, feeling further and further away from his faith. Because God was the light of his path, the one who guided him through the crowd.
But everything seemed to fall apart when he started having dreams about Thomas. They weren't nightmares, but Kong wished they were.
Because the dreams he had of Thomas were totally different and much more intense. Intense in the sense of: seeing Thomas kissing and biting his body a taste, licking every corner of his neck, adoring every part of him, looking at him as if he were the most perfect thing, with those eyes that emanated flames, as if they were saying "you are mineˮ.
And Kong for the first time, wondered what it would be like to taste hell.
One week.
He had a week left to decide what he wanted in exchange for his soul, and Kong didn't have the slightest idea. At one point he had thought about ignoring completely this whole situation, downplaying its importance. But something was him on, as if a chain was pulling him, taking him to places completely unknown to him.
Until the day came.
Kong could not perform his tasks without feeling that anxiety in his chest. As the hours progressed, his heart felt heavier and heavier.
His anguish increased when, unexpectedly, his mother told him that they had to travel to a relative on her father's side who had been in an accident.
However, his stomach clenched at his mother's announcement: she told him she would feel safer if Kong stayed to watch the house, that it wouldn't take them more than three days to return—and Kong was no one to disobey her.
The great orange sphere was beginning to hide behind the mountains, tinting the sky in shades of reddish and violet, people beginning to close their stores, the lanterns of the small town illuminating the streets that would eventually be deserted.
Kong's family had left a few hours ago, and the young man was trying to do anything to keep his head occupied. It was impossible, though, as his thoughts kept involuntarily drifting back to him. Every time he thought of him, his heart began to pound wildly, his body felt weak—he didn't know if it was out of fear or something else.
Finally, night fell, and along with that, Kong's anxiety increased dramatically. Trying to calm himself, he knelt down in front of the bed and clasped his hands together, ready to pray—as he did every night.
Maybe if I ask the Lord for help, he will protect me.
"What do you think you're doing?ˮ a whisper in his ear, the young man's skin bristled completely, freezing in his stall.
He did not respond.
"I told you, you can't escape me, darling” his breath, burning the exposed skin of Kong's neck, sending a current down his spine.
Kong closed his eyes tightly, increasing the pressure between their intertwined hands, which were slowly beginning to sweat.
He felt the warmth of the presence begin to recede.
It was then that Kong finally stood up and turned to face each other. He gulped. Definitely seeing him in his dreams was nothing compared to seeing him in person—he wielded a menacing dominance, a strong yet enticing scent. His eyes instinctively roamed all over the older man's complexion, seeing that he was wearing the same black suit, this time with a vest of the same hue, further accentuating his waist, then stopping at his face, where he wore an accessory he hadn't seen before—glasses.
Something inside Kong squirmed at the sight in front of him, why did it feel strange?
Was he really afraid of him? Or-...
“Do you know what you want?” a smile crept onto Thomas' face.
His heart began to beat rapidly, feeling the anxiety rise to a position in his throat.
“No...” he replied, almost as a whisper, he heard the taller one sigh, and Kong began to feel even more nervous.
“You ‘don’t know’, and what should we do about it?”
Kong began to play with his fingers.
“I-I don't know.”
His thoughts seemed to be clouded. Emotions were confusing, because his body was reacting a certain way, but his mind was telling him otherwise.
“Is there really nothing you want?” asked Thomas, putting his hands in his pants pockets. He had a look on his face that Kong couldn't quite decipher.
"Is there really nothing you want?”
Is there really nothing you want?
Something churned inside his stomach, he felt a stabbing pain in his chest.
Something I want?
Unconsciously, his thoughts flew back to the previous nights where he had dreamed of Thomas.
No.
However, his mouth was faster than his mind.
“Can you kiss me?”
He watched as Thomas stood without any reaction, until a smile took shape on his face.
“Is that what you really want?” he said as he slowly approached Kong, coming within inches of the shorter one.
Is it worth risking my soul and faith for a taste of hell?
Maybe..
“Yes.” he declared firmly, unable to think twice.
“Then, I'll make sure it's something you'll remember forever” Thomas moved closer until he was dangerously close to Kong's face, then ran his thumb across Kong's lower lip, sending flames to every corner of his body with just that small touch.
Kong was gasping for breath, suddenly, the atmosphere felt heavy, overwhelmed.
Then, the space between them was shortened by the older one. Bringing their lips together in a deep, passionate kiss. Thomas's lips felt like heaven itself (ironic, isn't it?)—they had a strong, dizzying taste that kept him going, more and more.
Kong had never kissed anyone in his short 21 years, as his entire life had been devoted to worshiping the Lord, and he pretty much kept his mind off actions that might harm his soul, like this.
Yet Thomas' kiss made his lips follow the rhythm perfectly, as if they were made for him, wanting to sink into his taste.
The kiss intensified, giving way to Thomas' warm tongue to Kong's mouth, who let out a gasp at the contact. Moving their lips in unison, the older man placed one of his hands on the younger man's waist, gripping the skin through the fabric, causing Kong to shudder beneath his grip.
Kong had dreamed about kissing Thomas, countless times, yet that was nothing compared to how good his lips tasted in real life—it was pure ambrosia, a liquor that intoxicated every taste bud, and Kong could understand why God called it the “forbidden fruit”—because it was something so exquisite he was afraid people could take it away.
How selfish.
Suddenly, Thomas broke away to stand inches away from the shorter one, at the sudden emptiness, Kong opened his eyes. The taller one had separated lightly to run his tongue across his own lips, savoring every drop of the kiss they had shared.
He felt something tighten in his abdomen at Thomas' action.
The kiss had been so intense that it had left Kong breathless, his cheeks hot, his heart threatening to leave him at any moment, his limbs trembling.
Kong noticed how Thomas's brow had furrowed for a second, only to have his lips curl into a smile immediately afterward.
"Was this all you desired?ˮ the taller one finally asked, his tone was low, almost like a whisper, his voice was raspy, gravelly. Kong felt his ears twitch at the sound.
He was slow to respond, still with his mind in the clouds.
Was this all he wanted?
Was it worth losing my place in paradise to taste the forbidden fruit?
"Can you... Touch me?ˮ he asked sheepishly, the blood in his veins rushing quickly to position itself on his cheeks. Thomas smiled in satisfaction at the question.
Adorable. He thought.
"Still can't get enough?ˮ he stroked his cheek, the shorter one nodded.
His tone was seductive—the same tone he used to use in this kind of situation, when people wanted to sell him their souls.
"How naughtyˮ he whispered, as he lowered low enough so that his mouth was in front of Kong's, releasing the hot air from his lips, looking up at him so intensely as if he wanted to devour him.
After saying that, Thomas captured his lips again. This time in a hungry, needy, savage kiss. The obscene sound of their lips and the saliva created a vulgar ballad inside the small room.
Thomas began to move forward until Kong's legs touched the edge of the bed, which was not far away.
With his hands on his chest he pushed him onto the bed, getting him completely on his back, Kong let out a groan at the sudden movement. Thomas climbed onto him, straddling him, his gaze was so potent that sent a current down the shorter one's spine, bristling his skin.
Then Thomas moved up to the high of his neck, inhaling the sweet, pure scent of his skin, then releasing the warm air in the area, feeling Kong shudder beneath him.
Suddenly, his tongue began to trace the length of his long, slender neck, pausing to bite into his skin, making Kong moan.
His large hands traveled to the edge of his nightshirt, tucking them under, feeling the warm skin of his stomach quiver at his touch.
He pulled Kong's shirt up to his neck, where he then began to move down with torturous slowness, his nose brushing against his skin. His hands caressing the skin of his hips, kneading at ease.
Then, one of his nipples ended up inside his mouth, Kong moaned audibly.
"Ngh!ˮ his eyes tightly closed, as his hands went unconsciously to Thomas's hair, pulling it gently. He felt him growl.
Thomas devoured the nipple with relish, as he licked and bit lightly, savoring as much as he could, wanting to sink there forever.
Kong was a whimpering, moaning sea, clutching Thomas's hair, pulling him to him, wanting more, so much more.
“Feels better than in your dreams?” he murmured against his damp skin.
Kong snapped his eyes open, lowering his gaze.
“W-what?” the shorter one asked, breathless. His head still fuzzy. Kong felt Thomas smile against his chest.
“I meant, is this better than in your dreams?” he repeated again, this time raising his gaze to connect his eyes with Kong's.
“H-how...?” he asked, not understanding what the man was referring to.
“I know you've been dreaming about me, sweetheart,” the taller one confessed.
Kong felt his heart stop.
“No...”
“You really are naughty,” he teased, then continued, “what am I going to do with you, mhm?” he asked, as he moved up so that his face was close to Kong's.
Thomas was struggling to control himself and not devour him right there, his nails dug into Kong's soft skin and his jaw tensed, breathing heavily.
And that's when Kong reacted.
He realized what he was about to do.
From what he had already done.
Had he really given in to temptation?
Kong had overstepped all the bounds of what was considered pure. His soul and his body had been corrupted by carnal desire—which he had tried to repress so much.
But the sensations that embraced his body were totally inexplicable, it felt strange but at the same time amazing. Kong had never before felt as full as he did at this moment—just to have someone else touching and worshipping his entire body.
Kong, however, wished with all his might that it would not be in a situation like this one.
To have the Devil himself on top of him, kissing and exploring every corner of his skin, marking his body, sending flames to his extremities.
The Devil, Satan, Lucifer, whatever you want to call him.
But they all concluded in the same definition: he was the personification of evil, the one who rebelled against God, the one who was punished and sent to the infernal lands for his ambition and adultery.
But, Kong thought maybe they were all wrong, because it didn't seem to be as bad as they described him. Because it made him feel like he had never been loved before, he made him feel desired.
And perhaps, Thomas' behavior was part of.
Perhaps that was his goal: to make people fall in love with him, his seductive gaze, and intoxicating aroma that would melt anyone who tasted his forbidden nectar.
And maybe, Kong didn't care about any of the above—he felt good, and wanted to feel that way for longer.
They were overwhelming emotions, his mind and body were in a dispute: his mind told him to stop, that he could not continue to disrespect his religion in this way, the other reacted obediently to Thomas' caresses.
He had to stop, but stopping meant breaking that bubble he was in. And he did not want this fantasy to end.
Kong's thoughts were interrupted by Thomas' lips on his, moving nimbly, as his tongue tasted all over his insides, while his hands were busy massaging his nipples, his mind went blank, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.
Then Thomas's lips moved down to his neck again, as if something was drawing him to that area, wanting to lick and bite. Kong responded with little moans.
"You taste so deliciousˮ he murmured against his white skin, releasing hot air.
In one motion, Kong raised his hips instinctively, causing his hard bulge inside his pajamas touch Thomas's, generating an exquisite friction between their arousals.
This action made the older man grunt, then frown. Something inside Thomas squirmed at the small action.
Something strange, unfamiliar. But it was not unpleasant.
He repeated the move Kong had made a few seconds ago, pressing his bulge against Kong’s, beginning to grind against him, earning a drowned moan by the smaller one.
Thomas felt that current in his abdomen again, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
What is this feeling?
The truth was, Thomas felt no sexual desire. Even when mortals called him or hailed his name to commit acts of impurity such as sleep with Satan, he did not feel anything. Although his body reacted to the stimulations, he was not able to feel that "pleasureˮ that he caused other people.
The reason?
When he was banished from paradise, he was punished by God, who took away his sexual appetite, the culprit of his adultery. Because when he was one of the most faithful angels, Thomas made the mistake of sleeping with a married woman—she was unhappy in her marriage and asked God for help, but instead Thomas heard her prayers and wanted to help her, terrible decision (or not).
Finally, he fell into temptation, and God hearing of this, banished him from the holy lands, punishing him with the deprivation of feeling "pleasureˮ.
And it had been hundreds, thousands of years... That Thomas had forgotten the feeling of being sunk in pleasure, that tingling in his stomach, the current running down his back.
But right now... It was strange.
It was the first time in thousands of years that he felt that tingling in his body.
The sensation was so intense that he had to stop abruptly, leaving Kong stunned at his sudden reaction.
He needed answers.
"I’m sorryˮ he said, as he stood up, while the younger man looked at him in confusion, his cheeks still flushed.
Was he apologizing? He never apologized.
He was the Devil.
But right now, he couldn't understand that feeling.
I need to ask him. He thought to himself.
"I'll come back for you, so don’t you dare give your soul to anyone else, loveˮ the tone of his voice was calm, though his face looked disgruntled, in an attempt to keep away those thoughts that threatened to clog his head.
As soon as he said that, he vanished into the darkness of the room, leaving the younger man, dumbfounded at the reaction.
Kong was breathless, his cheeks hot, his heart pounding and his pajamas crumpled and his excitement throbbing under his pajamas.
Trying to catch his breath, Kong felt a bucket of water fall on him—making him realize the atrocity he had just committed.
He had dishonored his God.
He felt the guilt and humiliation hit his face hard.
Still, a smile formed on one face.
It felt damn good.
And he would do it again.
***
Several days passed after that night.
His family was still not back, as they told Kong that due to a problem with the train's operation, it would take at most a week to get back to the city.
Thomas had not reappeared after that night. He couldn't even glance at him in the crowd, no sign of him, as if none of that had happened.
"I will come back for youˮ.
But when?
Was Kong really expecting him?
His mind was a mess—even though his head told him he should get back on track, his body felt a strange longing for him, as if something was pulling him.
Thomas, on the other hand, was a mess of emotions.
Emotions.
Something he never thought he would have felt. Something he thought was mundane, banal.
Something that made him feel weak, vulnerable.
Thomas, contacted God. He needed answers, and he was the only one who could solve them.
"Whatʼs wrong with me?ˮ he asked, just like that. His voice bouncing off the void. Hearing no response, he spoke again.
"Don't act like you don't know, old manˮ
Silence.
Thomas grunted at the null response, his eyes traveling across the small light looming in the distance. He sighed.
The truth was that hell didn't look like people usually described it. It was totally different—it was like a room without any ventilation, a dark, cold void. The only source of light came from afar, the one that connected with mortals, and that could be crossed, alone, and only if he was called or needed.
It was not a cave with lava lakes and cherubs torturing those who played God.
But it sounded so much better than being locked up inside nowhere, isolated with his own thoughts—it was a torture that drove him crazy.
He waited for God's answer for several minutes.
Nothing.
"You wanna play that game? Fine, Iʼll figure it out myselfˮ.
That was the last thing he said, and then returned to the last place he had set foot.
He didn't know how long it had been since he last saw him. He didn't know if it was days, weeks, or months. Because one of the things he hated about being in that place, was that he didn't know how fast or slow time passed.
And a strange sensation invaded his body as he thought it might have been months since he had seen Kong.
It was an unsettling feeling.
But there he was, standing in Kong's room.
It was night, and the room was empty. But footsteps alerted that Kong was coming upstairs.
Thomas smiled.
The moment Kong walked through the door and saw a silhouette within his field of vision, he was startled.
"Jesus Chri-ˮ stopped mid-sentence when he saw that the man in front of him had raised an eyebrow.
"Am I that intimidating?ˮ he asked, jokingly. Kong tried to calm his racing heart.
Heʼs literally the Devil.
Getting no response from the younger boy, he approached at a slow pace towards him, staying inches away from Kong. Thomas was wearing the same black suit as last time, in which he looked extremely good.
Kong closed his eyes out of inertia and said, "Have you come to take my soul away?ˮ Thomas couldn't quite decipher it but something in Kong's tone of voice told him that he was disappointed.
"Were you waiting for me? he murmured, in a tantalizing tone. Kong opened his beautiful eyes and intertwined glances with the taller one.
"And if I say yes?ˮ he said boldly.
Kong didn't think twice before saying it, he didn't know this new part of him. But he liked it.
This part of him—so rebellious, bold, daring.
The taller one smirked, showing his perfect teeth.
"Mhm, and what should we do about it?ˮ he said as he brought his face close to Kong's, to the point where their noses brushed, "Should I just devour your soul and leave?ˮ his breath was hot, exquisite. Kong's body shuddered.
The shorter one swallowed saliva.
"Take whatever you want from me, pleaseˮ he confessed, sounding pleading, as if he had been looking forward to this moment. The longing in his eyes made something inside Thomas start to beat*—*as if he still had a heart.
His eyebrows furrowed at the reaction. It was strange, this feeling.
His time away made him question too many things. Things he had never experienced with someone—with a mortal.
Because, although Thomas had slept with both men and women, none of them had ever made him stop. He was impulsive, fiery, ambitious.
Instead, Kong had made him thoughtful, pious, benevolent. He made him feel.
He needed answers, and he promised himself he would find them.
"You...ˮ finally spoke the taller one, as his two hands held Kong's face, "You'll regret asking for itˮ sounded like a bet more than threat.
Kong bit his lip.
And without thinking he joined his lips with Thomas'. He, surprised, smiled between the kiss and took the control. Their lips moved in a dangerous dance, the taste of the pure with the perverse creating an exquisite elixir. Thomas's tongue entered the lower one's cavity, roaming at will. The sound of their lips and Kong's gasps created a obscene, vulgar scene.
Soon, Thomas' hands began to move down the younger man's body. Leaving flames with his touch, Kong felt his legs wobble.
Thomas parted his lips and began tracing with small kisses and bites the path to his neck, where he began sucking lightly and then licking the area. Kong tilted his neck to give him more access, letting out moans that were caught by biting his lower lip.
"Tell me what you wantˮ he murmured against his moist skin. Hearing no response, he bit down lightly causing a whimper from the younger boy.
"Mmh...Ahh...ˮ.
"Tell meˮ repeated, his hot breath and hoarse voice made it hard for Kong to concentrate.
"I-I want you...ˮ he said between gasps.
"Yes?ˮ he whispered, his mouth moving slowly to his ear, where he tugged lightly.
"I want you to take my whole soulˮ he confessed, breathlessly. A smile settled on Thomas's face at that statement.
In one swift movement, the taller one lifted Kong up to take him in his arms, making him wrap his hips around his waist, holding him firmly so he wouldn't fall.
He walked to the bed where he threw him with measurable force, Kong lying beneath him.
Thomas's face was level with Kong's, looking directly into his eyes, sending a shiver through the shorter one's body—Thomas's intense gaze was hungry, dark.
Slowly, he began to move down the petite body, releasing the warm air over the cotton fabric, making Kong squirm. When he reached the edge of the t-shirt, one of his hands slowly lifted it up, until it exposed his pink nipples. Kong's body trembled as his fingers traced the edge of one of his nipples, then grabbed it and squeezed hard enough for a moan to escape from the younger boy's mouth.
"Oh!ˮ Thomas smiled at the reaction and quickly took the nipple in his mouth, licking deeply and tasting the skin, while he caressed the other with his hand.
Kong threw his head back and arched his back as he felt Thomas' tongue on his body. His eyes closed and his mind began to blur from the overwhelming sensations. In one motion, Thomas grabbed the nipple with his teeth, making Kong moan audibly.
"Ahh... Mmh!ˮ he closed his eyes tightly.
"That's it... moaning so pretty for meˮ he murmured against the damp skin.
The sensations were too much for Kong, who had never experienced anything like it, it was something totally unknown, but it made him feel good.
Thomas was starting to feel more aroused as the seconds passed, and in conjunction with the sounds coming out of the younger boy's mouth, it only made him want to devour him.
In one swift movement, he grabbed the edge of Kong's pajama bottoms, and pulled them down, just enough to free his skin, revealing his leaking arousal. Thomas traced his tongue along his own lips at the sight in front of him.
Oh, he would definitely devour him.
Without waiting for a response, Thomas took Kongʼs length inside his mouth in one, skilled movement. Kong let out a high-pitched moan and grabbed Thomasʼ hair with both hands, that only action caused his abdomen to slightly twist and his mouth to let out a low, deep growl.
"Ahh... Ahh!ˮ he pushed his hips further, making the taller one take him fully.
Thomas had grabbed Kong by his hips, holding him and making him pounce his mouth at his own pace, letting him do whatever he wanted with him.
The stimulation, both from his mouth and the obscene sounds Kong was making, was beyond words. He had never felt this overwhelming before, not even with the other mortals he had sex with—this was something entirely different, something that had his head distorted, his body burning, his breath heavy.
Something that made him go further, to see how much he was willing to bear.
The sensation of Thomasʼ mouth sucking and licking his lower body felt incredibly overwhelming, sending shivers through his spine, making his head spin and breath erratically. Suddenly, Kong felt Thomas do something with his tongue, causing his abdomen to tighten and release that warm tension inside Thomasʼ mouth.
"Ugh! Oh...ˮ he felt his body tremble under the taller one, his legs spamming from cumming so hard, it felt absolutely amazing that tears formed at the corners of his eyes due to the pleasure. His heart beating rapidly, afraid it would burst out of his chest.
When Kong opened his eyes, he saw the taller one lick the remaining release in the corner of his mouth with his thumb, then proceeding to lick his finger with his tongue, leaving no drop go to waste.
Thomas moved away from his lower body and began to move closer to Kongʼs face.
He smiled.
"Iʼm not done with you yetˮ spoke in a quiet voice, and began to take out the rest of the pajamas, throwing them somewhere in the room.
Kong felt his heart stop. He thought this was all of it. But he did not know anything about how this worked—only thing he knew was that he felt incredible, and wanted to feel more.
He wished it was endless.
Thomas took Kongʼs lips into a kiss—messy, needy. Moving his tongue along with his, creating a vulgar mix of flavors. His hands caressing and digging his nails into the soft skin of his round buttocks.
"Do you want to feel better?ˮ asked the taller one, whispering soflty over Kongʼs lips, releasing the hot air.
Kong, feeling overwhelmed still, just nodded, giving Thomas the permission he needed to make him feel better, as he promised.
He moved away from his face to have a better sight of the man beneath him—he looked so destroyed, fragile: rosy cheeks, sweaty forehead, teary eyes, swollen lips—absolutely a view worth of art.
His art.
Thomas then brought up two fingers into his own mouth, making eye contact with Kong, and proceed to trace along with his tongue, making a sucking motion—just how he was doing it minutes ago. The smaller one blushed hard at the obscene scene above him.
The man above him spread his legs and slowly, moved his long fingers down to his entrance between his cheeks, causing Kong to squirm at the strange feeling. Thomas began to caress the zone, making the body under him shudder.
He then pressed one finger in, exploring slowly, Kong let out a sob at the intrusion.
"Ahh...ˮ his hands dug hard into the white sheets of his bed, until his knuckles turned white. His legs starting to tremble again, his eyes beginning to fill with tears again.
It felt strange, Kong did not know if he liked it or not, he had never experienced anything close to this.
Then, another finger went inside, making Kong gasp even louder, forced to close his eyes shut and arch his back.
The sole sight of Kong being wrecked made Thomas send a shiver troughout his body, feeling strangenly good.
Something so good it was impossible to put into words. And he was determined to feel even more.
Thomas moved his slender fingers inside the tight walls of the smaller one, stretching the zone, watching how moans escaped his mouth. Then, he started to move faster, deep. At one point, he reached so deep inside, Kong let out a cry out loud.
"Oh!ˮ at this reaction, Thomas bit his lower lip and digged his nails resting on his ass so hard it left marks.
All of a sudden, Kong felt emptiness and opened his eyes at the abrupt lack of feeling.
But then he realized.
Thomas had unzipped his black pants, releasing his throbbing arousal, causing Kong to widen his eyes and slightly open his mouth.
What is he going to do with it?
Seeing his reaction, Thomas laughed.
"Now, you will feel even better, sweetheartˮ sounded more like a statement than a promise.
He already felt better.
Is it possible to feel even better?
Thomas positioned himself, one knee against the matress, then grabbed both of Kongʼs legs and pulled them close together, straightening them up against his still dressed chest, his hands serving as support. And slowly pushed himself inside Kong—passive, raw.
"Fuckˮ muttered between his teeth, the feeling was devastating, impossible to endure, becoming unbearable. A tingling installed in is lower abdomen that made him closed his eyes almost instantly and let his head fall backwards.
Although his struggle, he continued to push further, until he was completely inside, gaining a loud whine from Kong, and making Thomas almost come instantly at the pure sensation of being inside him.
The new sensations felt absolutely good.
He started moving slow at first, scared to move any faster and not endure it.
"P-please,ˮ Kong cried, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes, lips trembling. The uncomfortable burning he had felt at first was transformed into a feeling of pleasure, asking for more.
Thomas opened his eyes and traced kissed along his long lengs, making the one under him quiver.
"more... Ahhˮ whined, almost a plea. And Thomas felt bad for him.
"Look at you, looking so pretty and fragileˮ he said, as he held onto his legs to thrust in faster, making Kongʼs mouth let out obscene sounds.
"Oh... Ahh!ˮ
"Good boy, taking it so goodˮ praised Thomas, the overwhelming feeling starting to cloud his head, his chest burning like he was in hell, spreading through his whole body.
Then, he spread Kongʼs legs and positioned himself in between and started thrust faster, rougher. His chest moving against Kongʼs, foreaheads touching—overcoming feeling emanating from their bodies rubbing against each other.
It was a forbidden tableau—a clash of sacred and sinful, where tenderness bled into ravenous hunger. Their intimacy was pure as a prayer, yet twisted by the devilʼs claim; a touch that could damn souls, now worshipping skin like a sacrament.
The mere sound coming out of their mouths set the place ablaze, making the atmosphere heavy, foggy. The darkness of the room, illuminated only by the glow of the moonlight, and the warmth of their pressed bodies—seemed almost like a fever dream.
The heat started to rise intensely, along with a shiver running trough their bodies
Kongʼs abdomen tensed and released, coming again all over his abdomen.
"Mmh!ˮ an electric current ran through his body, making his limbs numb, tears falling out of his eyes. His breath was exaggeratedly rapid, chest moving up and down with difficulty.
Thomas came hard as he watched Kong, thrusting one at a time before releasing his warmth onto the smallerʼs abdomen.
And Kong then knew that he never felt so good as he felt now.
Not even his faith could reach this level of grandeour—he wanted it to feel it for a long time.
But that was it.
He was there to take his soul.
But maybe he took something more along with him.
Days passed.
And Kong hadn't been able to stop thinking about that.
As if he had left a mark inside him—letting him know that he would never forget what had happened.
"I'll make sure it's something you'll remember foreverˮ.
Kong remembered the Devil's words days before. Words he had not taken the weight of, but now understood. It was as if his brain had infected with Thomas' poison, toxins coursing through his veins, settling into every cell, tainting his soul, and his heart.
Soul…
Something as mundane as the soul, which was seen as unimportant, superficial. Something people joked about—not knowing the weight of what it really was to have one until you no longer had it.
And Kong knew it.
After that night, he felt empty. Like he had one less weight inside him. You could call him paranoid, or that he was losing his mind and it was just his head imagining things. But Kong felt it, something wasn't right, something was missing.
And that was when Kong took in the weight of what he had done. All the moments replaying in his head, the sensations, the words, the actions, everything.
He had slept with the Devil himself.
It wasn't until Thomas disappeared after that night, after taking his soul, that Kong felt not a bucket of water fall on him, but worse—it was as if a spiked hammer was pounding his head, and as if that wasn't enough, a thorny whip was lashing his back at the same time. The pain was intolerable, but the guilt, it was something much vaster. Something that gnawed at his insides, as if it was slowly rotting away, until there was nothing left of him, of his existence.
It is often said that emotional burdens prevent a good relationship with oneself, negatively influence psychological or physical well-being: as repressed anger, shame, fear denied. But guilt...
Guilt was something else entirely.
It was intolerable, a feeling impossible to control. It was like an insect whispering in your head, reminding you every second, making you feel miserable.
And Kong initially felt a lot of guilt, too much. So much that it was impossible for him to continue attending church, because he had acted against the will of God. He had sinned grievously.
However, Kong realized that if there was repentance he could opt for reconciliation with his faith.
But he felt no such regret.
Not one bit.
It sounded contradictory, but for Kong, it was the first time that something made him doubt his faith. He, being such a devout young man, giving his body and soul to the Lord, never thought he would find himself in this situation. Much less that he would choose to surrender himself completely to the Devil.
Just a whim, some will say. But who can blame him? Kong is inexperienced in all this, he didn't even know his body could experience so many things at the same time.
And for someone as inexperienced as he was, it felt like to be in paradise itself.
It felt great, something that totally surpassed his (zero) knowledge. And the fact that the Devil was attractive only added more bonus scores.
But not only that. Thomas was beyond the word attractive—his beauty was unreal, heavenly. Something that went far beyond "being handsomeˮ. His unearthly beauty contained an aura of aesthetic perfection, with a harmonious face, intense eyes and glowing skin. Physically he was imposing, with a tall, slender, strong body. But the aura he emanated was a dark light, dangerous, somber, but strangely attractive. Something that made everyone—including Kong, fall at his feet.
The fallen angel was contradiction made flesh: beauty and destruction, divinity and exile, pride and loss. It was simply complex.
And for Kong, who was still having trouble understanding his new emotions, it was difficult for him to deduce when he fell in love with a man.
Even worse, with the Devil.
Because Kong had never really thought about it before, he hadn't given it any thought. Even though he was not prejudiced, and even though some people called those who liked the same gender "aberrationsˮ, for Kong they were not. Even if in his religion they shamelessly imposed it, for him, love had no limits. Because one doesn’t choose whom love. You can't control the heart when it comes to love, or even deceive it.
But there Kong was, lying on his bed, staring at the white ceiling of his room, his head spinning around the same memories over and over again. His chest felt light, calm—but uncomfortable. It was a unknown feeling, something that made him frown every time he remembered.
It was noon, his family was due to arrive the next day. Kong had become accustomed to surviving on his own, because since he was a child his mother had taught him the basics, cooking, cleaning, tidying up. So it was no problem for him to be alone, but he did miss his family, hearing his sisters' laughter, the smell of the delicious food his mother prepared, and the way his father stroked his hair. A week without them was enough for Kong to wish they would come back soon.
That morning, Kong had not attended church, nor the previous days.
And he wondered if his family would shame him by knowing he had lost his faith. What would they say?
Worse, what would they think if they knew he exchanged his soul with the Devil?
Since that night Thomas hasn't stopped thinking about Kong's delicate little body. He felt hooked, as if his mind automatically led him to think about him. Because spending several days inside the void, where the darkness was the main factor, his mind did nothing but think, and automatically all his thoughts came to him, somehow or other, he could not keep his face away from Kong, as if it had been impregnated in his memory.
He tried to talk to God. There was no answer.
Sometimes Thomas really thought the arrogant one was not him but God.
So he had no choice but to talk to himself. Trying to decipher what that weight on his chest was.
And perhaps spending so much time with himself led him to a conclusion. Maybe a totally wrong one, but it was a conclusion.
And perhaps it sounded surreal, totally absurd.
But from the first time he saw Kong, before he started to have those dreams, something twisted inside him. Something he had tried to ignore, to bury deep inside himself. But at this point, he could no longer omit the abruamdorous feeling he felt when he was near him, not the way his stomach twisted when he heard Kong's moans or the shiver that ran down his back when their eyes met.
It was as unpleasant feeling.
A feeling that obstructed his senses, that made him feel like them—vulnerable, weak, a mortal.
A sentient being.
Something so inconsequential, so banal. Something he thought he could never experience in his existence.
Because, the Devil falling in love with a mere mortal? How ironic. Surely God would be laughing in his face right now.
"Say something, old manˮ he rebutted, beginning to feel irritated. A few minutes passed after hearing a reply.
"I think you already know the answer, sonˮ said a voice, echoing throughout the emptiness of the void.
And that was all he said, because despite Thomas speaking to him, there was no response.
So Thomas was wrapped up in his thoughts for an unpredictable amount of time.
In a moment, when Thomas closed his eyes, and opened them again, he was no longer in that darkness. There was light, warm, enveloping him completely.
It was Kong's room.
And there he was, lying on his back, while his gaze remained on the ceiling. He had not yet noticed the presence.
At a slow pace, he walked to the edge of the bed, facing the small recumbent body.
"Why are you here? the younger’s sudden question surprised him, making him raise an eyebrow at his tone of voice.
And as soon as he spoke, he rearranged his body so that it was halfway-sitting half-lying, with the palms of his hands on either side of his hips, resting on the mattress. His eyes connecting with Thomas'.
"How did you know I was here?ˮ
"I don't know, I felt itˮ Kong's tone of voice was different from what he remembered, perhaps it was the absence of innocence, of purity.
"You didn't answer my questionˮ the younger one asked again, with a hint of something that Thomas couldn't quite decipher.
"You already took my soul, what else do you want from me?ˮ his gaze was intense, deep. As if he wanted to find out what it was he was feeling.
Thomas, without responding, leaned forward, starting to crawl across the bed, but Kong stopped him by placing his foot on Thomas' shoulder, causing a mischievous grin to appear on his face, Kong mirrored his action.
"I just missed youˮ he said simply, it was the truth. But he didn't know why saying it made him feel so burdened.
"You? Does the Devil always comes back to his victims?ˮ said in a teasing tone, Thomas was stunned at the bold, fearless attitude of the smaller one.
This was interesting.
"I only come back to youˮ confessed.
"Oh...ˮ after he said that, his feet on his shoulder started slowly going down, provoking, tauting. "is that so?ˮ his suggestive tone made everything feel heated.
Kong felt like a whole different persona, was it because he had no soul? He did not know, but teasing the Devil felt incredibly good.
"This tone of yours... Will have you punishedˮ Thomas raised his eyebrows, fighting back, Kong bit down on his lower lip, causing the older man's eyes to dart to that area automatically.
"Mmh... Do it then, punish meˮ it was a dare.
In one swift movement, Thomas pulled Kong's leg away from his chest and positioned himself in between his legs, taking his hands and placing them above his head.
"You will regret asking for itˮ was it a threat? Kong didnʼt know, but the challenging tone in his voice gave him enough courage to close the distance between them in a demanding, eager kiss, showing how much they craved their touch. Their tongues dancing along, savoring every corner, strings of saliva escaping their mouths, making obscene sounds.
Thomas was losing himself slowly at the touch of Kong, making it unberable.
The taller one separated first, breathing erratically, trying to compose himself, then joined their foreheads and locked his eyes into Kongʼs—which were glowing like two stars, making him see how much she longed for him.
"I didn't come here just to do thisˮ said breathless, as one of his hands went down, softly caressing the skin of his forearm, his shoulder, to reach his flushed cheek. Seeing the confused face of the smaller one, Thomas continued: "There is something itʼs been bothering meˮ said with a frown.
Thomas let out a sigh before speaking again.
"You... Have something that makes me crave for more everytime I look at you... Damn it, it feels like torture when I canʼt even kiss you... What have you done to me?ˮ Thomas closed his eyes, it was frustrating, this feeling.
Kong was taken aback by the sudden confession. Was it really true was he was saying? Should he believe the Devil? The one who is well known for being a liar?
"You took my soul, why are you the one coming back to me?ˮ Kong muttered softly, his chest pounding hard, his breath becoming heavier.
"I wish I knewˮ
"But I know,ˮ answered the smaller one, speaking soflty, almost a whisper, but loud enough to be heard by Thomas. Kong continued, "because I feel it too”
Thomas froze.
"Because I feel it tooˮ.
Did he feel the yearning, the desire, the longing?
He wasnʼt sure of what it was called: this ache in his chest, the way his stomach twisted when he heard his voice, the way his eyes looked at him as if he was perfection itself. The urge to know more, sink deep inside him, praise him—Kong had something that dragged Thomas, not a gravitational pull but a chain.
A chain made of a metal that was impossible to break, not even at the highest temperature.
Almost like they were connected.
"We canʼt do thisˮ the abrupt response of Thomas made Kong ache in his chest.
"I knowˮ the smaller one said, as he sighed.
Knew it was impossible to reach for anything beyond this—these stolen kisses, these fleeting touches. Nothing more could ever be allowed.
It was madness enough that they’d already crossed so many lines. But the true insanity lay in the words they now dared to speak aloud—that they felt more.
***
After that day, Thomas disappeared.
Not quite like disappearing as in fading away. But he did not come back for, days, maybe weeks? He didnʼt know how much it was. But he was certain, it was torture. Being in the void—dark and cold, made him feel uncomfortable, uneasy. He couldnʼt believe he actually had to endure in there for decades.
What was even worse?
He could no longer see Kong, not even listen to his thoughts.
Not even his shadow could accompany him, he was all alone. And it felt terrifying.
And almost in a desperate state, the Devil, for the first time, begged to God.
"I know what my sins are. I carry them every second of my godforsaken existence. Iʼm so tired, old man. So tired. And I know you see it—I know you know Iʼm not lying. Iʼve never asked you for a damn thing... not once. Please. This time, donʼt turn your back on meˮ it was a devastating plea, something he would never say, ever.
But now, it was different.
He was different.
"Please... Iʼm begging you—please, let me be with him...ˮ His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper swallowed by the void. He had fallen to his knees in the cold, endless dark, trembling. Every part of him looked broken beyond repair—not just sorrowful, but emptied, like something vital had been torn from him. His hands shook where they clutched the dark ground, as if trying to hold on to anything that would keep him from disappearing altogether.
This was his only chance.
Pride had no place here—not when everything hung in the balance. Yet even begging for mercy offered no guarantee. It was a leap into the void, a fall where the end promised only two possibilities: the jagged teeth of rocks or the fleeting comfort of a soft landing.
This was his only resort.
“Is this what you truly desire?ˮ at the sudden response, Thomas looked everywhere, desperate even, knowing he was only going to encounter—nothing.
"Not only I desire it, itʼs something deeper, I canʼt explain itˮ he said hysterically, not even understanding his own words.
"You love himˮ.
Love?
Thomas was startled at the response. He had thought about everything but that... Love him?
Hearing the word "loveˮ scared him. Because he knew. He knew how powerful that word was. And God knew too.
But because he knew how potent it was, it did not mean he had felt it before. He could not recall a time when he could have felt what it was like to actually love, or even anything close to it.
Until then.
"Youʼve had loved him since the day you saw him, you know it very wellˮ every word he was saying felt like spikes of realization piercing through his skin.
"Arenʼt you mad?ˮ asked politely.
"I donʼt have the right to be, you have made your choice, you canʼt deceive the heartˮ Thomas felt silent, and the voice continued: "And it seems like he already made his choice tooˮ.
"What do you mean?ˮ.
"Good luckˮ
And that was the last sentence Thomas heard before he found himself standing in the same place heʼs been wanting to return since he left.
Kongʼs room.
It was slightly different. The bed was now at the corner of his room, but had the same amount of furniture. Thomas looked around the place, not finding the person he wanted to be in there. It was dark, the moon rose through the window, weakly illuminating the room, along with the single candle he had on his nightstand, giving off a warm, embracing vibe.
Suddenly, footsteps were heard. Thomas chest pounded fast. And then he heard him. That voice, sweet, melodic.
As the footsteps approached the entrance of the room, Thomas started to panic.
And he finally saw him.
He looked beautiful—prettier. He was wearing his pajamas, a light blue camisole bottoned up to the neck, along with pants of the same color, his skin was glowing, his hair a little longer than before.
Kong closed the door behind him and when he was about to go to his bed, he saw Thomas standing at the corner of his room, the smaller one widened his eyes in shock.
"You... Impossibleˮ he couldnʼt believe he was actually there, he thought he would never see him again.
Thomas rushed to stand in front of him, grabbing his cheeks with his hands and capturing without hesistation his mouth in a kiss—deep, eager, showing how much he had longed his touch.
Kong responded with the same overwhelming tenderness, lips moving with aching devotion, savoring every soft, lingering kiss like it was a promise whispered into eternity. He held on as if the moment were sacred, as if memorizing every heartbeat, every breath—wanting nothing more than to press this feeling into time itself, so it would never be lost.
They parted after a while, gasping for air, chests pounding with desire, aching at the separation of their lips.
"I waited for you a whole month...ˮ Kong muttered, his eyes still closed.
The statement made Thomasʼ chest throb with pain. Did he really left this long?
"Iʼm sorry, I’m so sorry, I had errands to take care of, did you miss me?ˮ said as he caressed the soft skin of his face.
"You have no ideaˮ
"Good to know, because now you will have to grow sick of meˮ a smiled formed at the corners of Thomasʼ mouth. Kong opened his pretty eyes, intertwining his with the taller oneʼs.
"What does that mean?ˮ.
"It means we are free to feelˮ
"You mean it?ˮ said Kong, a hint of plea in his look.
"I wouldnʼt be here if it wasnʼt the case,ˮ after Thomas said that, he then captured Kongʼs lips in a short, brief kiss. "I love youˮ that sole sentence was enough for Kong to catch Thomasʼ lips in a deep, unhurried kiss.
Now, they moved slowly, deliberately, savoring every taste like it was the first and the last—letting every emotion bleed through their skin, their breath, their trembling touch. It wasnʼt just a kiss: it was a vow spoken without words, a quiet, aching declaration of love that reached deeper than flesh, deeper than time.
And only then, they knew. No more words, no more promises, no more explanations were needed. What they had wanted to say to each other for so long—that which was hidden in elusive glances, in suspended gestures, in the trembling of the unspoken—was finally revealed with the brutal clarity of the inevitable.
Because you can't choose who you love.
And Kong understood too late: that Thomas had not only taken his soul, but also his heart. That at some point, without knowing it, without asking for it, Thomas had torn it out and carried it with him, like a flame hidden under his clothes, like something sacred and dangerous at the same time.
And he—who was not human, who was not born to feel—had ended loving him in secret, with a devotion so pure and desperate that it broke him from the inside.
Thomas had carried the weight of Kong's heart all that time, and without fully understanding how or when, that heart had made him human.
Not out of weakness, but out of love.
Because the heart, though invisible, was a real burden. A burden that hurt, that burned...
And that, deep down, it was the only thing capable of saving them.