dum spiro spero

by Deadgonegirl

Chapter 1: rue/minos/sisyphus

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“King Sisyphus?” You remark with no shortness of surprise as you look at the small golden plaque beneath the portrait of your friend, which depicts Sisyphus as he was in his mortal life. “You never told me that you were a king.”

He has dark, beautiful skin, and his hair is black, instead of auburn, but it remains styled the same as it is in the afterlife with long, well maintained dreads, although in the portrait he has them decorated with many fine glass beads and gold wires. His face is partially obscured by bandaging around his eyes that are tarnished and leaking with liquid gold. His cheek is rested against a curled fist, giving him a solemn, contemplative look, and his rich beard is so full that his lips only peek out a little, yet still, you can see that his mouth is set into a deep frown.

He has the same, broad, sloped nose as he does now.

When you turn towards Sisyphus, that very same nose wrinkles with what you think is disgust.

His portrait is set on the wall in his apartment next to the one of Minos and as he continues to gaze upon it, his lips upturn into a deep scowl and he crosses his arms.

“I was a poor excuse of one.” Sisyphus says in the same scathing, sharp way he would reserve for when insulting someone, but the tone is wholly directed towards himself. “I was tyrannical and scheming—I used both my subjects and those that I held dear as pawns in a game for power that I ultimately lost. I take far more pride in my accomplishments in the afterlife, when I became the leader of the insurrectionists and waged a war against Heaven. Although the endeavor failed, I look upon those that fell as brethren and I hold my head high at the fright we gave the divine.”

He glows brighter now with his pride, the indignation on his face loosening and his full lips now curling into a handsome smile.

“I did not pay attention to politics or the kings and queens of my time, for it made no difference who was ruling, as another war was always on the horizon, and it was us simple folk that would pay the ultimate price.” You hum, tapping your finger against your chin repeatedly as you think. “I cannot remember if I heard tale of King Sisyphus or King Minos—perhaps you were before my time. Perhaps after. Who can say? Time is strange and my memories are not what they used to be. I do recall you saying that you knew Minos in your mortal life. When and how did you meet?”

“We met only once in person and our interactions with one another extended only as far as joining sides against a common enemy. I was fascinated by the duplicity of the man—how kind and diplomatic he was, yet how ruthless and cruel he could become if need be. Minos was a highly skilled war tactician, whereas my skillsets laid in my ability to instill fear and lay the seeds of discord so that I could strike at the most opportune of times.” Sisyphus explains.

“Oderint dum metuant.” You quote, then translate a breath later, “Let them hate me, as long as they fear me.”

“Indeed.” He says with a nod and sick of ogling his old self, he walks over to the plush red lounge chair and takes a seat to smoke his pipe. “From the way you style your garb and the philosophers you have mentioned, I am of the thinking you were from a time after Minos’ and I’s rule. I am…relieved to have not met you in my mortal life. I am sure that Minos feels the same.”

“I was a rebellious musician who died protesting against the ministry of my city and publicly mocked the uncaring royals that sat on their laurels and held feasts even in times of great famine. Should I have lived in your city, I am sure I would have been killed for the things that I sang about.” You tell him.

“Tortured first, then killed.” He corrects.

“And not tortured in a fun way, I assume?”

Sisyphus snorts loudly.

“You are demented, little one. What sort of torture do you deem ‘fun’?” He asks, highly amused.

“Shall I show you?” You grin as you walk over and take a seat next to him with many, many sinful things flooding your brain as you reach out and sink your fingers into his soft beard, tugging the very slightest.

The front door opens and Minos steps out of the entry hall and into the living room.

“Perfect timing! Shall I torture you as well, my friend?” You offer to Minos brightly, who jumps a bit at your words.

“Torture? My, what hath my beloved and my dearest friend been discussing all this time whilst I labored?” Minos laughs while approaching the lounge and greeting you both.

“Rue was admiring the portrait of me that you were gifted.” Sisyphus explains, “We were speaking of the past, and what a piss poor king I had been.”

“I did not know Sisyphus was a king! I am only realizing now how little I know about the two of you, despite how close we have become.” You chime in.

“…Tis for the better, perhaps.” Minos says, his shoulders slumping.

“Ah, we need not speak of it. I did not mean to upset you—especially as soon as you returned home to relax.” You apologize and take his ivory hand and press a kiss atop it. “I have brought wine. Come, sit with us and tell us of your work.”

You get up from the lounge and pour three goblets of wine before returning and taking a seat on Minos’ left, with him in the middle, Sisyphus’ arm around his lovers waist. Pearl and Diamondus creep out of their master’s blue chiton and sneak up Sisyphus’ arm so that they can loop around his neck and leech off his warmth.

Minos talks of his work that day, but he seems…distracted.

No matter how much you joke and show him affection, his broad shoulders remain slumped as if weighed down by a significant weight—like poor Atlas, the world crushing him both physically and spiritually.

“Perhaps we ought to continue speaking of the past,” Sisyphus speaks up as he sets his wine down on the table, “For that is where your mind remains, beloved.”

“Tis so plain to see?” Minos entreats.

“Very much so.” You tell him and set a hand atop his lap. “Speak freely on what is on your mind, my friend, and rid yourself of these woes. I will listen and offer no judgement. I will not look upon you or treat you differently afterwards. This I swear.”

Minos is quiet for ages.

“I, King Minos, was the ruler of Crete, the largest of all the Greek isles, and I ruled beside my wife, who bore our charming, most beloved son. I do not have the heart to speaketh their names. The hurt of the tragedies that befell them is fresh in my mind, even after an eternity in the afterlife.” Minos begins with a world weary sigh, swirling his goblet of wine as if in dire need of a distraction, some physical outlet as he wades through the memories of the past.

“I was visited by angels one day and instructed to sacrifice a bull in the name of God. A common enough request, yet I refused. God would ask for sacrifices of precious livestock when I had asked for His favor as mine people were slain in a terrible, seemingly unending war? He ignored my prayers, and so in my hubris, I ignored the angel’s request. The slight didst not go unnoticed, and God repaid my insult most cruelly.

“I coupled with my wife in the hopes of having a second son, and our wishes were granted—she gave birth to the very bull that I had forsaken in sacrificing. The birth was terrible and taxed too heavily on her body, and so my wife passed on shortly after giving birth to that…abomination. It was no mere bull—it was a hybrid, both animal, and human. It became known as the minotaur.

“I could not look at the thing. It was a reminder of why I had lost my dear wife and the mockery God had cast upon me and so, I abandoned the creature in a labyrinth, never to look upon him again. I remember his cries. His brown, wet eyes. His shaky, human hands. I thought it would perish, but it lived. It prospered on the kindness of my subjects that visited it without mine permission. I had those very same subjects put to the sword, so offended by the audacity of their kindness—the kindness that I refused to show the minotaur.

“While the minotaur lived on, my favorite, true son, didst not. He was killed in the war that had plagued my country for years now. And so, in my grief, I became crueler. Once the war was won, I decreed that the losing side must make a sacrifice each year of a handful of young men and women. They wouldst be disposed of in the very same labyrinth where the minotaur remained. All were slaughtered, for in the minotaur’s isolation, it became cruel and bloodthirsty. It took a hero of great skill to at last slay the creature.

“My joy at its death was short-lived. I fell ill with an unknown sickness—or perhaps I hadst simply lost the will to live now that mine entire family hadst been lost, and I had so monstrously ordered innocents to be sacrificed. It was in the afterlife that I attempted to make amends. Even now, it doth not feel like enough. I remain as deeply ashamed as I did in mine mortal life. When I first became judge of Hell, I was presented with a…gift. A minotaur. In my fear, shame, and disgust, I cast the demon into a deep layer of Hell. History repeated itself, as it tends to. I learned nothing."

Minos cups a hand over the void of his face, having difficulty breathing.

“It hath been ages. I do not know if the Minotaur still lives.” He finishes, voice quivering with emotion.

Sisyphus pulls his lover against him and holds him as he shakes.

“Shall we go and see?” You offer after a very long time of deliberation.

Minos stiffens with a gasp and sits up to turn towards you.

“I—” He begins, then his voice gives out. “I do not think it wise. The Minotaur I was gifted is a demon—a real one, unlike what I accused my pitiful second son of being in mine mortal life. The demon is surely as spiteful and violent as all others.”

“We can go with my friend Lucie—pardon, I mean Lucifer.”

“Lucifer?” Sisyphus repeats, deeply shocked. “You have made friends with the very devil himself?”

“He is a little intimidating at times, but he is very sweet and noble of heart.” You explain with a dismissive wave. “He is the source of all Hell’s energy, and its demons, and has been traveling throughout each layer of Hell to rid away the demons that sneak out to cause harm. I am sure that he would not mind accompanying us and making sure no harm befalls us.”

Sisyphus and Minos ogle you for what feels like eons.

“Of course, it is your decision, my friends.” You amend, thinking you had overstepped a few boundaries. “I have already asked you to speak on such heavy matters, I understand if you would instead like a distraction now.”

“If my beloved and dearest friend accompany me, I hath the courage to go.” Minos tells you. “I wouldst prefer to do so now, while mine memories are fresh in mind.”

“As you wish, my friend.” You hum and clasp your hands together to pray.

Lucifer arrives at once, his towering, muscular form shrunk down to a manageable height, yet his golden helm and horns still scrape against the ceiling. He is dressed in all black mortal garb, as is custom now, and the sheer expanse of his double set of wings, both bat, and bird, conceal most of the living room even with them tucked against his back.

His prehensile, arrow-head tipped tail languidly swishes against the floor, but upon seeing you, it seems to wag a little.

“Rue, dear kin, I have heard your prayers and have arrived. What is it that you require?” Lucifer asks in that resolute, double-speak of his, a man and woman’s voice echoing each other. “And you are among friends—King Sisyphus and King Minos.” He adds with a fascinated hum, clearing the distance towards the lounge in only two steps, the breadth of his gait massive, his taloned, four toed feet tapping on the fine wood.

You get up from the lounge and greet him eagerly.

You take his large, clawed hands into yours and kiss them before hugging his leg.

“Hello, my friend! You were not busy when I called upon you, I hope?” You say while craning your face up a significant amount to look at him properly.

“Michael and I were enjoying the book that you lent us. Cicero is an impressive mortal, and I have enjoyed his works immensely. Truly, Cicero is ‘not the name of a man, but of eloquence itself’.” Lucifer tells you.

“You will like Cicero, or you will be whipped, as they say.” You reply, and Lucifer laughs, a dark rumbling sound that is peppered with feminine cackling. “I have called upon you to ask a favor: myself and my friends are in need of safe passage to a deep layer of Hell so that we might see a demon.”

“Are you not already in the presence of the greatest of all demons?” Lucifer remarks, although he expects no true answer, and continues, “I will heed this request of yours, for I am also in need of expelling the rest of the demons that have hidden away during my time catching up with my beloved. Where is it I will lead you?”

“…Violence.” Minos speaks up at last as he and Sisyphus rise to their feet. “I thank thee most ardently, sir, and wilt make sure to repay thine kindness sufficiently.”

“There is no need, for you have nothing that I desire that I do not already have.” Lucifer dissuades, his attention dropping to you and he reaches out to cup your face with his hand, gently stroking it with his clawed thumb. “Are preparations finished? May we leave at once?”

Minos and Sisyphus nod.

“Very well.” Lucifer hums and picks you up to cradle you in one arm before teleporting the four of you.

When all of you finish materializing, you are blinded and dizzied by the sheer whiteness of everything.

White walls and white ceilings and a white path greet you. The path leading into a sort of labyrinth is lined with dull gray crosses—gravesites. There is only silence here, and the air feels oppressive. You think you would feel worse, if not for the protection Lucifer extends to each of you.

“Remain close, for there are demons lurking in wait.” Lucifer instructs and Sisyphus and Minos follow closely behind as your friend leads the way inside of the monochrome labyrinth.

There are many twisting halls and rooms.

It is unnerving, but inspires not much else, that is, until the four of you come across a room with what appears to be fifty of those terrible mannequins, the very demon that had stalked and tried to kill you, if not for Sisyphus. Yet, as Lucifer walks past them, the demons do not spring to life to attack—they instead all crumple to the ground, the Hell energy sapped from them, their porcelain bodies, a mockery of the human form, now disappearing like sand in the wind.

Lucifer hums as if just enjoying a fine meal and continues onward without hitch.

As the four of you enter a room with three exits, Lucifer stops in his tracks as if hearing something.

No sooner has he stopped, does something barrel through the east wall with a resounding crash. It moves almost too fast for you to see, but there is no mistaking its pale form—it is a Minotaur, a hulking, twisted thing, with both the legs of a bull, and the hands of a man, a sort of hammer clutched and dragged along in one of those hands.

It pays neither of you any mind in its haste to go somewhere.

In its wake, there is rubble and…blood.

The demon has been injured and as you replay the memory of its arrival in your mind, you find that its movements had been clumsy and stilted, as if struggling immensely to keep moving.

Minos sucks in a sharp breath, and as you turn to look at him, he is somehow even paler, his body shaking now.

“Ah,” Lucifer speaks, “So that is the demon we have come to see. If you had intention of slaying it, you will find the task exceedingly simple, for it is already on its last legs. The Hell energy within it is not enough to support such a hulking frame, and it must know this, now, as it thrashes in the twilight of its life.”

“It seemed like it was desperately going towards something.” You remark.

“Indeed. Let us see where.” Lucifer agrees and begins following the blood trail.

The four of you travel deeper into the labyrinth, which now has many destroyed walls, and as you walk, you find that the path leads back to the very beginning of this layer where the pale grass, trees, and graves sit.

The Minotaur has stopped here in the middle of the path, unable to continue. More and more of its porcelain body has cracked and been shed, with a great ocean of blood pouring out of it. It breathes heavily, using its hammer as a means to keep itself upright, but even just clutching the tool leads to it spilling more blood.

It grunts and whimpers in an all too human fashion, still trying its utmost to drag itself towards the double doors leading into this layer of Hell.

The Minotaur ignores the four of your existence to instead shakily reach towards the ceiling, as if reaching out for the sky.

Minos approaches the demon, ivory feet becoming stained with blood, and he is weeping.

Lucifer sets you down beside Sisyphus and joins your friends side.

Minos falls to his knees with a sanguine splash, his fine chiton becoming soaked, and while the Minotaur flinches and twitches, it simply does not have the energy or strength to truly move away. Lucifer bends at the knee and presses his helm to the Minotaur’s head.

“You wish to see the sky.” Lucifer says, “You will be granted such.”

And he backs away from the Minotaur’s face and sets a hand atop its head between its horns, assumedly sharing his memories of the sky on earth, the sunrise and sunsets, the gloomy shades as a storm approaches, then the beauty of the sun cutting through the clouds.

Minos wraps his arms around the demon, holding it so tenderly as Lucifer leeches the last of its Hell energy before granting it a peaceful death.

The Minotaur slumps and becomes still.

Its labored breaths quiet.

Then, its massive, broken form disappears, leaving Minos holding onto nothing, and the man tumbles to the ground on his hands and knees, staring down at all that remains— blood, and his own sobbing reflection.

You and Sisyphus walk over to him and kneel in the blood to wrap your arms around him.

The two of you hold him for as long as he needs.

Notes:

....didnt expect me to upload so soon, did you? TEE HEE

i know i said this would just be smut/fluff with no plot, but i shrimply cant help it lol. i wanted to give my interpretation of the King Minos/Sisyphus lore and blend it into something that worked and honestly just wanted to write angst.

each chapter will be named with the couple/pairing its focusing on, so itll make skipping or avoiding potentially yucky or uninteresting ones easier! i will also make sure to tag lucifer/michael stuff both in the chapter title, and the beginning notes and once their chapter is finished, will be adding the tag "incest/sibling incest" so dont be worried when u see that. it will be the only instance of that happening in this fic, as no other couples will be added beyond what has already been established in the second part.

enjoy old man angst!

ily <3

edit: whoops! got a name mixed up! fixed now :D

Chapter 2: rue/gabriel/V2

Notes:

tw for daddy kink if anyone finds that yucky

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“It is suitable.” Gabriel declares with a satisfied hum as he claps his palms to rid them of dirt before crossing his arms, his helm held high and his wings spread out proudly.

“It is more than that,” You correct from where you stand atop a ladder, having just finished screwing in a bronze chandelier and placing a candle into each bobeche. “It is cozy and of fine craftmanship!”

You jump from the top of the ladder, mindful not to crack your head against the newly installed chandelier, and your lover catches you in his arms, holding you high enough that you are looking down at him.

You cup your hands on either side of his helm and give him a big kiss.

Gabriel sets you down beside him, his arm wrapped around you, and the two of you admire the results of many hours of work that day: one of the dozens of bedrooms that have been renovated from the otherwise useless and unoccupied rooms of the castle. It was a project that the two of you shared over a few weeks, with your lover having taught you rudimentary carpentry and the proper way to handle tools.

You could now build bed frames, chairs and tables with little difficulty.

Your angel processed the trees on the surface, making sure to plant three saplings for each that was felled, and returned to Limbo with planks and logs that were then sized for whatever piece of furniture that was on the roster to be built. The idea to renovate the castle had struck you rather belatedly one day as you sat at the fountain and spent time with your brethren husks, who, although far more at ease and peaceful due to their bodies being restored to working order, still seemed pitiful with how they were forced to rest out in the open.

The machines did not seem to care where they relaxed, yet after showing them one of the finished bedrooms, they had seemed undeniably interested at the privacy that would be granted with a door with a lock. Each room has been outfitted with a bed, a desk and chair, and either candelabra or a chandelier with candles affixed to them.

While Gabriel could have simply brought pillows and linens from the surface, it was far more fun for the two of you to instead get rolls of fabrics and bundles of stuffing to make them yourselves. Your angel had looked so charming in a chair, back hunched as he hummed and fluttered his wings while sewing. He embroidered designs into each blanket, tending to default on flowers and stars while you favored musical notes and hearts.

Finished for the day, the two of you gather all of the leftover materials and start carrying them back to the manor. Many husks and machines beep and sign at you eagerly, their demeanor bright with gratitude.

Teaching everyone sign language had been another project that kept you and Gabriel busy.

You had been tremendously incorrect on your initial thinking that you held more intelligence than your brethren husks—they simply had no way of communicating or expressing themselves other than whimpering and grunts, especially before Raphael had healed their forms and relieved them from the constant pain of their mangled forms.

Now gifted with sign language, the damned souls showed a wealth of understanding and intelligence.

Things were going so well.

You cannot help but sing as you walk and in return, Gabriel cannot help but stop to kiss you.

It takes twice as long as it should for you both to reach the manor because the two of you keep stopping to kiss or grab each other’s asses.

“YOU’RE FUCKING JOKING!” V2 booms as soon as you and your angel enter the foyer of the manor.

V1 scrambles out of his bedroom, running on all fours like an animal, but they are not quick enough and Vee catches them by the back of their hoodie and hoists them up in the air with one arm like a misbehaved kitten.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SAVED OVER MY FILE??? I WAS ON THE LAST LEVEL!” V2 continues with equal parts incredulity and annoyance.

V1 chimes remorsefully, poking the tips of their index fingers together.

“Wasn’t paying attention…” Vi signs.

“Like I give a shit? I ought to—”

Vi curls their hands into the shape of a heart.

V2’s mechanical eyelid slides down halfway, giving him an accusatory look.

“Oh, trying to be cute? WELL I’M STILL MAD!” He fusses, his other hand now raising to point at V1.

V1 deflates, dangling in his grip sadly, but they perk up a second later when an idea strikes them. They lower their hands to the hem of their hoodie and slowly pull it up to reveal the frilly bralette they’re wearing underneath.

V2’s fans puff loudly.

“You…” He starts, the finger pointing at them beginning to shake, “UGH, FINE. I FORGIVE YOU.” He relents and sets them down so he can cross his arms and tap a foot.

Vi beeps happily, even hopping in place, before pulling V2 into a tight hug and clanking their visor against his repeatedly. They dash down the stairs and jump into Gabriel’s arms, kissing him next, then smushes their visor against your cheek. They leave a whirlwind in their wake as they bolt out of the manor to do…something.

Your lover was always running off and finding strange things to occupy themselves with.

Vee huffs and jumps atop the banister to slide down it.

He does a flip and lands with flourish before the two of you.

“You two done building shit yet? It’s been houuuuurs and I want to spend time with you.” V2 whines.

“Yes, sweetheart, we have finished.” You tell him and for now, you simply set the supplies down on the ground, leaving them to be put away in the storage room later. You stand on tiptoe and kiss his optic. “I am sorry about your game. When you play through the levels again, I will gladly watch and cheer you on.”

“Yeah? My own personal cheerleader?” V2 remarks as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him. He lowers his visor to your ear, voice dropping a few decibels as he speaks again. “How exactly are you planning on cheering me on? It wouldn’t happen to do with that pretty mouth of yours, would it?”

“I can be far more creative than that.” You whisper right back at him, kissing the side of his visor as your hand skirts up to tease one of the wires on his shoulders.

Vee shivers, fans puffing, and nuzzles his visor against the warm curve of your neck.

“What about you, Gabby? I bet I can speed through the levels if you were sitting around my bedroom in some panties.” Vee speaks up again as he rests his visor atop your shoulder.

“You are a degenerate.” Gabriel huffs and sets the tools down on the ground to walk over to V2 and set a hand on his shoulder, bending down significantly to level his face with theirs. “…I am too mentally exhausted to watch your games at the moment, but I would very much like to spend time with you in other ways. Allow me a moment to change out of my chiton.”

“Take all the time you need, gorgeous. The two of you have worked hard and deserve to be spoiled.” V2 says with glee.

Your angel excitedly flies off towards your bedroom first.

You and V2 share a look before he hefts you over a shoulder and runs up the stairs two at a time.

He nudges open your bedroom door with a foot and his fans kick up.

When he sets you down, you can see why.

Gabriel has quickly changed out of his chiton and was now dressed in only a pair of white, satin panties, the very same pair he had worn on your date back in Lust when you pegged him for the first time. He is standing just beside the bed, his muscular arms looped behind his back in a way that makes him look so demure. The beauty of his soft, obsidian skin is amplified by the light of the few candles he has lit.

The contrast of white against his skin will never cease to make your heart flip.

You kick the door shut behind you and lock it without ever taking your eyes off your angel.

“Let us give our angel attention first.” You tell V2 with a hungry smile on your lips.

Gabriel squirms in his excitement, his cock hardening in his panties.

You and V2 sit on the edge of your bed, a few feet of distance between the two of you, and you both pat your thighs invitingly. Gabriel shyly walks over and lays across you both, with you nearest to his helm and wings, and Vee closest to his ass and thighs.

You set a pillow on your lap to make him even more comfortable.

Gabriel is heavy, and soon enough you know your thighs will fall asleep, but you have never once cared about that.

You glide your palms up and down his wings, reveling in the softness of his blue plumage, and how the color slowly morphs into a lovely pink. You pluck a few old feathers out and he shivers, wings ruffling and gently smacking you in the face a few times.

V2 massages his lower back with his five-fingered hand, grabbing his thick, shapely ass in between his ministrations.

Gabriel sighs, becoming heavier in his relaxation.

You sink your fingers deeper into his feathers, now stimulating the preen glands, and your angel hides his helm against the pillow to muffle the whine of pleasure that steals from his throat.

You smile, using both hands now to rub at those glands, your fingertips becoming slick with oil, which you then comb through the rest of his wings.

He breathes harder and harder, arching into the care you and V2 so lovingly offer.

“You’re so pretty, Gabby~” V2 sighs, his optic pink as he bends in half to rub his visor against your angel’s ass. “Do you want me to keep massaging you? Or do you want something else?”

“…I wish to feel pain, please.”

“Mmmm, what kind, baby? Do you want Knuckleblaster? Or…” And V2 straightens so he can pinch the curve of his ass that hangs out of his panties, “Do you want me to spank that cute ass of yours?”

Gabriel’s wings fluff out and he moans, arching his back needily.

“Yes, I would love that.” He shivers.

You take your hands off his wings to watch with perverted glee as V2 rubs his hands in circles atop Gabriel’s ass, squeezing here and there, before he reels his hand back and slaps hard, the fat of your angel’s ass rippling from the strike.

A hoarse, beautiful moan slips from Gabriel.

It makes your blood simmer.

“You like that, baby? Have another.” V2 says cheerfully and wastes no time giving him another solid slap, “I bet I could make you cum like this. Want to find out?”

“Yes!! Y-Yes, I love it. I want to finish just like this. Please…” Gabriel hisses with pleasure.

Vee gives him slap after slap, Gabriel growing louder by the second, his toes curling and his wings fluttering spastically.

You are petting his helm now, leaving fingerprints because of the leftover oil from his wings.

“You’ve earned this, my love. You work so hard and we love you so much.” You coo at him and he whimpers, turning his helm towards you stomach so he can nuzzle against it sweetly.

“You’re getting close.” V2 remarks with much pride. “Do you want me to spank you harder?”

“Pleeeease hit me harder, daddy.” Gabriel whines, kicking his feet a bit in his desperation for more.

He goes completely rigid half a second later when he realizes what he had just said.

V2’s fans hiss loudly, steam puffing out of them.

You yourself have become soaked with how sexy his words had sounded.

“I-I…I did not mean…” Gabriel begins with acute mortification. “I am sorry! Please, forget that I said such a thing! P-Please…”

Your angel sounds like he is on the verge of tears and he starts to shake, not from pleasure, but from the deep fear that he will be ridiculed.

“Shhh, shhh, my angel, be calm. You have done nothing wrong. There is no need to be ashamed.” You reassure him and continue to pet him gently.

“…Say it again.” Vee says with unnatural quiet to his voice. “Gabriel, I want you to repeat what you just said.”

Gabriel continues to shake, his poor heart now so conflicted with his want to be good and the fear that remains of shedding his pride completely in order to grant himself his truest of desires.

He swallows hard, hiding his helm against your stomach.

“P-Please…hit me harder d…daddy.” Gabriel stutters.

“Fucking HELL that is hot.” V2 moans and slaps your angel’s ass hard. “I don’t care who you fuck, but I’m making a rule now: I’m the ONLY one that you’re ever going to call that. I’m not fucking around either, gorgeous, I want you to SWEAR to me.”

“Yes!! I promise—I swear! Daddy, please, it feels so fucking good. Don’t stop…” Gabriel sobs as his ass gets spanked harder and harder.

Vee curses, fans roaring, and keeps slapping until Gabriel finishes with a breathtaking cry.

His dark, divine skin is glistening with sweat as he gulps down air.

The two of you allow your angel to catch his breath and let his nerves settle for a few minutes.

When Gabriel has calmed, he carefully gets up and crawls onto the bed.

There is a generous wet spot on his panties.

Your mouth salivates and you crowd your angel, pushing him onto his back so you can bury your face between his thighs to lick the spot. His cock is so big and stiff that half of it is sticking out of his panties, the tip already leaking with a fresh stream of precum.

“You’re going to watch me give Rue attention and you’re going to get that pretty hole of yours stretched for me. You’re not allowed to cum—if you do, I’m not touching you for a week. Got it?” V2 instructs as he settles properly on the bed.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” V2 challenges.

Gabriel’s cock twitches hard in his panties.

“Yes, daddy…”

“Good.” Vee praises, “See that mess you made in your panties? Get some of it on your fingers and use it to work yourself open.”

The two of you watch hungrily as Gabriel slips his panties off, leaving them hanging off an ankle, and uses two fingers to scoop some of his cum before bringing his hand underneath him to smear it against his hole.

You hum approvingly.

V2 takes your chiton off and sits you atop his lap, your back to his chest, and he doesn’t go straight for your tits like you expect him to. He takes one of your hands between his and starts massaging.

You sigh, melting against him.

Your nipples harden from the chill that runs down your spine as he tugs each finger and pops the knuckles. He rubs his thumb against your fingertips, then against each joint. The talons of Knuckleblaster are exceedingly sharp, but your lover is so gentle as he touches you that the claws never once cut your skin—only scraping against your palm light enough that these pleasant tingles spread out across from your scalp and make their way down to the rest of your body.

You could close your eyes to savor the feeling more, but that would mean not seeing how wide Gabriel has his thighs spread as he fingers himself.

Vee glides his five fingered hand up and down your arm before focusing on rolling your wrist and massaging the pulse with his thumb.

You crane your face over your shoulder to kiss the side of his visor.

“I need your fingers in me.” You moan, “I need you.”

“I’ll take care of you, beautiful.” He assures, giving you a big hug before having you stand on your hands and knees above Gabriel.

The view of your breasts hanging over him and the lustful way you watch him fuck himself with his fingers makes your angel whine loudly. He almost cums, and you feel a little guilty for nearly making him break the rules, but he is just so lovely and fuckable.

“Be good, angel. I have faith that you can do this. You will be rewarded so nicely.” You promise him.

“Yes, my muse…” He sighs, a cute little shake to his voice.

V2 teases your wet folds with his right hand then slips a finger inside. You take it with ease, so wet and pliant, and since he has not given you any orders, you thrust back on it eagerly, shaking your ass at him.

“Fuck, I love you two.” V2 confesses, sounding like he was so turned on that it was starting to hurt.

He gives you a second finger and while it is wonderful, you want even more.

“I need your cock. Please fill me.” You look over your shoulder to beg.

You are so wet that you drip on the sheets when he takes his fingers out.

He stands on his knees flush behind you and grips his cock at the base to line himself up. He thrusts inside with a sharp snap of his hips and your tits bounce.

“Yessss, just like that.” You throw your head back to hiss.

You move your hips back to meet each thrust. Your bedroom is loud with the sounds of wet, eager holes being filled.

It is music to your ears.

“Oh, sweetheart, I want you so much. I want it harder—I want to feel your vibrations and be filled with your cum.” You sing.

“Christ, baby, you’re going to make me cum first if you keep talking like that. It’s hard enough—HEH—keeping it together when Gabby’s got his thick ass thighs all spread out.” V2 huffs as he fucks you harder, his cock as wet as your cunt.

The two of you work in perfect tandem, meeting each other’s thrusts to ensure you are filled to the absolute brim. Vee turns the vibrations on when you least expect it and just like that, he has ensured that you finish first. You do so with a breathy wail of his name, your vision spotty from the waves of pleasure you are graciously drowning in.

Gabriel curses, almost finishing again and he is so close that he wrenches his fingers from out of himself, but even then, his cock keeps twitching, threatening to spill.

“Don’t do it, Gabriel.” V2 warns, and you swear you can hear his optic turn red. “Be. Good.”

You crawl away from your angel to help him with this impossible endeavor and lay beside him to catch your breath.

Gabriel trembles all over, his shallow breaths not enough for what his lungs demand, but somehow he manages to calm.

“That’s my baby~! You just needed a little reminder. Good job—now it’s your turn.” V2 praises brightly and he is so strong that despite the size disparity between the two of them, he is able to grip both of Gabriel’s hips and flip him over.

He tugs your angel’s hips up, leaving only his ass sticking up while the rest of him is pressed to the bed.

You roll onto your side to eagerly watch.

“You look less like an angel and more like an animal presenting to be bred.” You tell him, and Gabriel whines before hiding his helm against the cradle of his arms.

His wings flutter hard enough that some of the papers on your desk fly off.

He is so cute.

V2 lines himself up and thrusts his red cock right inside. Knuckleblaster grips Gabriel’s hips so tightly that a steady flow of blood trickles down his left thigh and dribbles onto the sheets.

He sobs into his arms, so worked up that he’s already close again.

“Cum whenever you want. All I need you to do is stay just like this and take it.” V2 says as he starts thrusting hard.

The way Gabriel’s ass and thighs jiggle is hypnotizing.

“I’ll be so good for you. I’ll take your pain, your pleasure—everything. Just please fuck me. Please use me, daddy…” Your angel weeps.

Gabriel is fucked so hard that the bed frame rattles, V2’s servos noisy as he pistons his hips and pounds that bundle of nerves deep within him. You hum approvingly as Gabriel’s cock spills against the sheets, and you watch it with just as much interest as he cums again and again, milked completely, and all he can do now as he is fucked is twitch and whimper.

V2’s chest is beginning to overheat.

Steam rises from his chest and dances towards the ceiling.

“Just one more. I just need to cum one more time. Will you let me, baby? You’re not too sore are you?” V2 asks with static peppering his voice.

“I-I’m yours to use. Keep going.” Gabriel slurs.

“FUCK! You are so precious and perfect and—” V2 compliments as he thrusts even faster, his optic now blue with error warnings running across it, but he ignores it as he steals another orgasm for himself. “ASBNVCDSFG2733…..!!” He shouts in complete, incomprehensible static as his systems shut off one by one in a desperate attempt to cool him off.

He slumps atop Gabriel, his optic dim.

You get up and carefully slip V2’s cock out before laying him down on his side, facing Gabriel.

You grab some of the sheets and start fanning him with it.

V2 awakes a few minutes later and the first thing he does is lean over to clank his visor against Gabriel’s helm.

“Proud of you, baby. You deserve to get some rest.” He tells your angel so sweetly.

Gabriel hums weakly and scoots over closer to drape an arm across Vee’s waist.

“So do you.” You tell Vee, and now that he has cooled, you rest flush to his back and drape your own arm across him.

You lace your fingers together with Gabriel’s and give his hand a squeeze.

You all mumble your love for one another, deeply satisfied, and go to sleep.

Notes:

sorry minos, only V2 gets to be called daddy by Gabriel...

im sure he'll be fine with being called "king" LOL

hope u guys enjoyed, and ily ! thanks as always for reading <3

Chapter 3: rue/lucifer

Notes:

double upload and devil fucking >:^D

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You are sleeping.

Dreaming.

It is a vivid dream—you are mortal and have just returned home to your cottage from a long day in the city busking for obols and bartering the fruits of this summer’s harvest. You open the front door to your home and it is not a lover that greets you, nor a friend who had stayed the night.

It is your mother, Elpis, and she kisses your cheek as she always did when you arrived home.

You are an adult.

She should not be alive.

The timeline is all wrong, but you do not know this in your sleeping state.

You are simply happy to see her.

Her skin is bronze from countless hours in the field, and her eyes and mouth have these laugh lines that you think no painter could truly capture the beauty of. On her left leg is a splotchy birthmark that you inherited from her.

You not only return her kiss, you scoop her into your arms and hug her tightly, your face pressed to her heart, which beats steadily. You do not know why you feel the need to check that her heart is pumping, but you feel tremendous relief upon hearing it. You cling to her like a child and your mother laughs, swatting you a bit because you are making it difficult to walk to the kitchen table and you are irritating her bad hip with your added weight.

You relent and let her go but not without another kiss.

You sit down at the table next to her and grin.

She has cooked your favorite meal: fried mackerel and a tomato stew using the produce from the farm, spiced so heavily that it made your nose runny.

Your eyes are watery, but you have not started eating.

How odd.

As always, you wait for your mother to begin eating first out of respect, and once she hums, content with how things turned out, you eagerly tuck into your own serving. The terracotta bowl in your hands is your favorite—it has a chip on one side, which had added to its charm, instead of lessened.

You are so happy with the meal that you hum as you eat, nearly choking sometimes, and your mother laughs at you and bumps her shoulder against yours.

After you have washed dishes, the two of you go to your shared bedroom and you stand behind your mother as she works on her loom to massage her shoulders.

“Put out the torch outside, please, Calli. It slipped my mind as I was cooking.” Elpis tells you.

“Oh, I suppose I can do that.” You sigh, teasing, and kiss her cheek before heading outside through the back door which leads straight to the farm.

When you step onto the back porch you pause for a moment to admire the full moon in the night sky and how the fields of tomatoes, wheat, and grapes dance in the breeze that rolls through. You grab the standing torch to your left and are about to upturn it into a bucket of water when you hear something—rustling in the fields, despite the wind having stopped.

You raise the torch back up and sharpen your eyes.

You see nothing out of the ordinary.

Perhaps it is your dog, Leon, a black, molossus hound that has nearly outsized you in its adulthood. You make kissy sounds to call him over, thinking that the poor dog got locked outside by accident, but he does not come over to you.

You frown.

Perhaps he found a snake.

You venture into the fields with the torch in hand, careful to hold it close to yourself and not set the crops on fire like a moron.

Your carefulness is unneeded, as the torch extinguishes despite the lack of a breeze, and you are now only guided by the full moon’s light as you continue on.

You startle when you hear barking.

Then you relax.

That is Leon’s bark.

…But it is coming from behind you, back towards the cottage.

There is something in the fields with you and it is not your pet.

“Come out, stranger!” You shout, anxious and annoyed, “If you are in need of food, I will give you some, but I will not tolerate you sneaking on our property in the dead of night.”

You wait.

A great gale rolls through the farm and you shield your eyes from the dirt that gets kicked up.

When you lower your arm you gasp.

There is a man, no, an angel standing before you, and he is in all black, towering over you like the shadow of death.

Your fear melts.

You know this angel.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” You ask him.

“It is.” Lucifer tells you. “You said that I may communicate with you through dreams. I stopped by for a visit and found you napping.”

“Would you like me to awake?” You inquire.

“It is your choice. I am surprised that the revelation that you are dreaming has not already roused you from your slumber.”

You approach him and take one of his clawed hands into your own.

“There is no telling when I will awake, so let us enjoy ourselves until then.” You say then lead him back towards your home.

Leon is gone, as is your mother, because your knowing of Lucifer combats the timeline and logic of their existence.

“Shall I conjure her back?” He offers as he downsizes to be able to fit into your humble home.

“It is fine. I am happy to have shared time with her.” You dismiss and give him a tour of the cottage.

You show him your mother’s loom, the urn she had made to honor your dead father, your favorite, chipped dinner bowl, and the stack of papyrus that you scribbled poetry and lyrics on.

“Shall I show you my beloved city next? It is beautiful at night. It will take a while to reach it by foot, but we will have the moon’s light to guide us on the path.” You offer.

“I can teleport.” Lucifer reminds you.

“That defeats half the enjoyment.” You say with a little frown.

“Hmmm.” He hums, crossing his arms now as he thinks. “…I can carry you in my arms as I fly, and so you will see that which is familiar from a new vantage point.”

“That would be fantastic!” You gush and start climbing up him like a tree in your excitement.

Lucifer’s tail wags and he scoops you up to save you the rest of the work of scaling his form. He tucks you into the crook of one arm and ducks a considerable amount as he slips past the front door and steps into the night.

He flaps his wings once, twice, and the two of you are airborne, your cottage and farm looking smaller and smaller by the second.

It is breathtaking being so high up with no fear of plummeting.

You feel like you can pluck a star right out of the sky.

You reach out and find that you can.

It is so luminous and warm in your palms.

You offer it to your friend, and Lucifer accepts, holding it in his free hand between his clawed thumb and index.

He turns it this way and that, then closes his palm, the light shining through the gaps of his fingers.

When he relaxes his hand, a dove made out of pure starlight sits in his palm.

You marvel as the creature flies off.

Lucifer begins to descend and lands just outside of your city’s front gates.

“I await whatever trouble you cause, whore, for it will give me an excuse to drive my spear through your miserable hide at last.” A soldier greets you from where he is stationed outside the city gates.

“Your mother stopped by the brothel the other night, I should mention. Speaking of spears, I drove mine quite enthusiastically into her backside.” Rolls off your tongue with such ease.

The soldier’s hand tightens around his spear, his leg twitching as if wanting to rush over.

You grin at him and waltz inside of the city.

“Ah, how nostalgic.” You remark, truly coming alive in spirit as you walk through the torch-lit streets of your city—your performance stage.

You do not focus on the faces of the people walking past, for in your dreams, their features are muddled and strange. It is only the people you knew closely that are depicted as they should be.

Lucifer goes unnoticed by all as if invisible.

That is perhaps because if he allowed himself to be seen, the threads of your dream would tangle then fall apart entirely as more and more people became frightened of the fallen angel walking besides you.

You take your friend to the central plaza where you performed and sing for him atop a wooden crate. You attract a large crowd as usual and at the end of your performance you are showered with obols and flowers. A few men and women approach and kiss your cheek, and you kiss them back just as eagerly.

There is a rather charming looking man and you whisper in his ear for him to visit your lover’s brothel later, offering to service him in one of the private rooms. He blushes and stutters and you get the terrible urge to fuck him right then and there in the middle of the crowd.

You show Lucifer the most affluent temple in the city and spit on the steps, which makes him laugh and laugh.

“You are so charming when you blaspheme.” He tells you with such fondness.

“I should have brought the rotten tomatoes from my farm so we can pelt them at the walls.” You sigh, then remembering this is a dream, you close your eyes and suddenly find your arms full with a basket of off-color, mushy tomatoes.

You grin wickedly and toss the largest one right at the temple’s front doors.

It splatters wonderfully.

Lucifer picks up five at once and catapults them with such force that it breaks a window.

A priest comes outside and yells at you.

The two of you laugh and run off.

“How precious—you are smiling in your sleep.” Lucifer tells you.

“I missed wreaking havoc with a friend. Let us go and mock the king next.” You tell him with a big smile and he carries you in his arms again so he can fly towards the large estate at the north sector of the city.

He brings you over to an open window on the second floor and you take a seat on the windowsill.

Like magic, you suddenly have your lyre in hand, and you begin to sing a mocking song like a lullaby to the sleeping king, who awakes with a startle at once and shouts for his soldiers. You rush into his bedroom, crawling into his bed like a madman to snatch the golden laurel from his head before blowing a raspberry and jumping out the window into your friend’s arms.

The laurel is far too small for Lucifer, so you hang it over one of his horns like a wreathe.

You show him the food stalls that you frequently visited, the docks that you liked to sit and watch the sailors work, sometimes playing with the stray cats, then lead him to the brothel that one of your lover’s owned.

It is packed today, each room sounding off with shared moans of ecstasy and wet slapping.

You are so used to the sound that it does not even arouse you, practically background noise.

You are far more delighted that the place is not on fire.

The brothel is filled with low candlelight and the scent of incense pervades the air. Every window is open to allow fresh air to fight off the cloying scent of sex. The white and red curtains flutter in the night air, and in the main room of the brothel are many tables where men and women drink before they inevitably end up in one of the rooms to share time with the prostitutes.

“Calliope?” A woman calls from behind.

You know that voice.

You turn around and find one of your lovers, the owner of the very brothel you are standing in, and she is as beautiful as you remember her to be.

“There you are you empty-headed fool. Did you forget that you told me you would visit tonight? It will be morning soon! That is twice now that you have been late!” Your lover, Dorothea, fusses at you in that fierce way of hers, and your heart bursts with the love you feel for her.

Her rich brown skin and dark eyes are exactly as you remember.

She walks over to you in quick steps, about to continue berating you, but her words snuff out like an ember in the wind as you curl an arm around her waist and dip her low to the ground to kiss her passionately.

Dorothea melts against you, making these enticing, cute little noises as you half suffocate her with your affection.

“Forgive me, my love. I was showing a friend around the city and lost track of the time.” You explain as you lift her back up, your arm remaining around her plump waist. “Do you need help with anything? Bookkeeping? Setting new candles and incense? Or perhaps…” And you tuck your face near her ear, “You are in need of my mouth?”

She giggles the same way she always has.

You want to eat the sound.

You want to eat her, and before you know it, you have her scooped up in your arms, her legs around your waist, and you press her atop the counter where she greets patrons, one of your hands skirting up her blue peplos to fondle her ass.

“Keep it in your chiton,” Dorothea chastises. “When I have finished work we will walk to your home together. You know how I dislike you sleeping alone in that cottage.”

“Ah, but that would mean forcing you to make a four hour round trip whenever you venture from the city.” You say and take out the sack of obols that you made from your performance earlier and hand it over to her.

You always gave the bulk of your earnings to her to make sure that her business stayed afloat.

As long as you had enough food and wine in your belly and a bed to share with someone, you had no need of anything else.

“All the more reason for you to live here with me in the city.” She replies and hums at the heft of the sack before leaning back on the counter to tuck away the obols.

This is a frequent argument between you two.

“You know that I need my freedom and you know that it would break my poor mother’s heart to sell the land and home that she so tirelessly labored on for decades.” You tell your lover with a sigh and rest your cheek upon her collarbone, your hands having lost the will to keep wandering her attractive form.

“And what of my heart?” Dorothea challenges as she cups your face in her hands and makes you look into her dark eyes which were so prettily curtained with the longest lashes you may have ever seen. “The clergymen and the soldiers are becoming quite upset with your antics.”

“Antics?” You repeat, thoroughly insulted. “I am the only person that will call out their hypocrisy, their violence, and their rigid doctrine and you would reduce that to the mere antics of a—of a squabbling child who has not been given what they so stubbornly asked for?”

“It is not so.”

“Then plainly tell me what it is.” You press.

She turns away from you.

“…They know where you live. What if they raze your farm and I, nor your other lovers, are able to help you?” She speaks again after a moment as if needing to build courage to speak the words.

“And to be in the heart of the conflict would be better?” You dispute, and she wilts, so sad looking. You reach out and cup her chin gently to make her look at you once more. “My heart cannot bare the thought of myself attracting any ill-intent towards you, nor anyone else that I hold dear.”

Dorothea curls a hand around your wrist and brings your hand to cup her cheek.

“I fear that I will lose you.” She whispers with tears in her eyes.

Your heart breaks.

“…I know.” You tell her.

She disappears from the dream.

Your breath catches in your throat and you tear out of the brothel and sit at the bottom of the steps, a hand cupped over your eyes.

Someone sits next to you.

You think it to be Lucifer, but when you look it is…

“Mel!” You gasp and wrap your arms around the man at once. “It is late! What are you up to?”

“Same as you—wandering.” He tells you in that calm, steady voice of his as he shrugs, “You had another disagreement with Thea?”

“More and more as of late.” You sigh and separate from the hug to lay your head upon his lap.

His solemn, contemplative face is lit by the torch nearby and it accentuates the darkness of his curly hair and shadows his deep-set eyes further.

He styles his chiton the very same as you do.

The two of you even have the same gold pin keeping it in place—the shape of a dove.

“…Do you think I ought to sell my property once harvest finishes and winter comes?” You ask your dearest friend.

He begins stroking your hair, humming in thought.

“Can you bare to look upon your old home where your mother raised you and see someone else living in it?” He entreats.

“ABOSLUTELY NOT!” You bark in answer. “They would not care for the home as it should be cared for and they will not tend to the land as expertly as my mother did and has since passed down to me. Not only that, but—”

Melanthios is smiling down at you.

“The answer is clear, then. Keep your home.” He tells you.

“But Dorothea…” You protest, thinking of the tears in her eyes.

You turn your face to look off into the street.

“You cannot have it both ways.” Mel tells you plainly.

He means far more than just your lover’s spat.

He means your safety—the safety and the freedom of you, and all of your loved ones, should you continue rebelling against the church.

Something begins to steadily drip against your cheek.

It is not his tears.

It is far too warm and coppery in smell for that.

You do not dare look upon your friend’s face.

You awake from your dreams with tears in your eyes.

Lucifer is seated beside you on your bed.

He pulls you into his arms and holds you tightly.

“I am sorry. Dreams are difficult things to manipulate.” He tells you softly and presses his helm against your forehead in a kiss.

You hide your face against his neck.

“I am grateful to have seen my loved ones once again. Just as I am grateful to have spent time with you.” You sniffle.

Lucifer hums, pleased by that.

“Would you like to share a bath? I enjoyed our time in the realm of dreams but would like to spend time with you in the waking world as well.” You offer a few moments later.

“I am agreeable.” He answers and just like in the dream he carries you in one arm out of your bedroom.

You have him open V2’s bedroom door and set you down briefly so you can hug each of your lover’s tightly before giving them a kiss.

Gabriel is off in Heaven, so you pray your affections to him.

Lucifer carries you to the bathhouse and you undress and slip inside of the wooden tub first.

He does not mind at all that you stare as he undresses from his black ensemble. He unbuttons his black long sleeve and reveals a generous pair of breasts and well defined stomach, the abs so prominent it is like they are carved from granite. He removes his pants next, temporarily making his feet very small so that the claws of his four toed feet do not utterly shred the fabric.

He has wide hips and powerful legs.

Between his thighs is a cock—one that is proportionate to his size, and average considering the rest of him, but to you, anyone really, it is massive.

He slips into the steaming water across from you and rests his arms against the rim; wings settled behind him and his tail hanging over the side of the tub. You wade over to him and sit atop a thigh, your back to his front. He makes a pleased noise and wraps his tail around your middle, the arrow-head tip batting against your ribs as it wags.

“Your heart is beating faster.” Lucifer remarks, the tip of his tail now resting over where your heart lays. “Are you panicked from the vestiges of your dream?”

“Merely aroused at your form.” You admit casually, “But I am in no mood for coupling. I simply wish to bathe with you.”

“But you wish to couple together at some point?” He asks.

“If the feeling is mutual, and Michael would not mind, then yes.”

“He is agreeable.” He says like it should be more than obvious—always with a tone of finality, like each thing he says will come to be exactly as he describes. “Dearest Michael allows me to visit his dreams as well and he has often envisioned the three of us coupling.”

You swallow hard, fire igniting in your belly.

“He wishes to lay with you in private as well. Sometimes he moans out your name in his sleep. He thinks of when you took his virginity so fondly.” He continues and noticing you shiver, he moves to rest a hand against your stomach, the size of it so big that it covers a good part of your chest as well. “I have seen the memory myself—you treated my beloved like the precious gift that he is. I am so delighted that he knows you. I know without a doubt that if the two of you had never met, he would have never confessed his true feelings for me. I have loved him since time immemorial, but I knew that he could not bare such a thing. Not back then.”

You turn around on his thigh, looking up at him.

“Your eyes are burning with lust. Have you changed your mind on coupling, my kin?” Lucifer asks.

“I have. It is difficult not to when you say such enticing things and look so beautiful.” You reply and curl a finger around his tail, using your thumb to massage the tip.

He purrs—an actual purr, and his clawed hand glides down your back, the nails filed so they do not cut you, instead soothingly dragging across your skin and making you break out in goosebumps, your nipples hardening.

He cups your ass and pulls you flush to him.

You are used to feeling small, but this is something else entirely.

You have your friend lift you up so that you can kiss the front of his golden helm all over. You drag a tongue across a gilded horn—it is no true horn, so there should be no feeling, you think, but since it is apart of his helm, his face, Lucifer does in fact feel something, now sighing in pleasure.

How fascinating.

You suck at the underside of a horn, lips gliding up and down its length, and you bring your other hand to its pair and pump it like you would a cock.

Lucifer purrs even harder.

You lower, hands now dancing across his collarbones, his shoulders, then land on his breasts.

You wish you had more hands.

And another mouth.

It probably looks silly having someone so much smaller crawling all over him to suck his tits but each drag of your tongue, each squeeze of your hands, makes the rumbling in his throat louder, almost sounding like an approaching thunderstorm, but out of all the storms you have suffered, this one brings you no fear.

You return to sit on his thigh and kitten lick the water that has gathered on his abs. The muscles dance under your tongue and when you nip at them with your teeth he moans.

You move a hand to his cock and find with little surprise that he is so girthy that your fingertips refuse to meet. You pump him a few times before slipping into the water to take his balls into your mouth, which you massage with your tongue in firm circles.

You have a great pair of lungs and are able to slip under the water entirely for a good, long while as you keep lavishing his sac with attention. You breech the water slowly to inhale, water running over your eyes and blinding you a bit, but it does not at all stop you from staring up at him through your lashes as you drag the flat of your tongue from his sac to his tip.

You can fit the tip of his cock and maybe an inch more into your mouth, the cheeks of which are bulging to an absurd degree. There was no fitting his length into your cunt unless he shrank down more, but you are creative and can find plenty of other ways to please him as he is.

You have Lucifer close his legs, making a nice table for you to sit on so you can wrap your thighs around his cock and squeeze, your hands settling to rest behind you so you can thrust your hips up and stimulate his shaft.

“I have met many mortals, but you are without a doubt, my favorite.” Lucifer tells you with a dark laugh, one that is terribly fond.

You wink at him and squeeze your thighs tighter, thrusting your hips faster now to stimulate his cock. The pleasure you get from your clit grinding against him is an afterthought—you derive far more pleasure in easing a rumbling moan from his throat, one that is echoed by a high pitched gasp.

Lucifer’s wings spread out, blocking all else from sight, and his cock twitches hard before spurting thick ropes of cum across your from, the potency of his orgasm shooting some of it on your face.

You hum and lick some of his seed that stained your lips.

You are about to slip off his lap and rinse off but Lucifer wraps a hand around your waist and teleports.

Not to anywhere familiar—or so you think, at first.

He has taken you to the pocket of void that you found him in.

“Close your eyes and keep them shut until I give you the command that it is safe.” Lucifer instructs and waits until you do so, growing even more pleased when you throw an arm over your eyes. “You have felt the pleasure of an angel, surely, but you have yet to be served the pleasure of a demon.”

You hear him take off his helm.

Then you feel Lucifer’s form become limitless, both warm and cold, and ghosting all over you like a dense vapor.

“You will know ssssuch pleasure.” Lucifer hisses into your ear.

It feels like many hands are now fondling your body.

“Focus on my wordssss. Let them incite the deepest of your dessssires.” He continues as your small body is ravaged by eager hands that squeeze and stroke every inch.

His words are like fuel to a fire and you desire for him grows into something almost terrifying in its intensity.

“Lucie, please…” You beg, sobbing even, because you have never felt such an ache within you before, not even when you were suffering in Lust by your lonesome.

“Your voice is so sweet.” He tells you. “You are skilled in enthralling others, but I am afraid that temptation is the devils mastery, and you are but a student—a gifted one, without a doubt.”

The hands caressing you turn into mouths.

They kiss you.

They suck your tits.

Each hole is licked open and they even nurse at your clit.

Euphoria does not even begin to describe the pleasure you are feeling.

“Fuck~!!” You wail, shaking all over as you cum so hard it feels like it is wrenched out of your very soul, “Fuck, o-oh it is fantastic! I feel like my heart is going to give out. Lucie, my love, my kin, it feels like you are baptizing me in sin.”

“You are beautiful.” He purrs into your ear. “I will fuck just as much Hell energy into you as the divine has. You will leak sin and virtue in equal measure—the touches you feel will be the most heavenly of Hells.”

Time is so odd in this place.

You lose track of things.

All you can do is repeat his name in worship as he makes you finish over and over.

“Yessss, praise me. Say my name.” Lucifer tells you.

“Lucifer. Dawn breaker. First angel and first demon.” You put all your efforts into saying with a modicum of coherency. “I will praise your name and worship you. I have never once prayed to God, but you have my devotion readily. Feel my trust in you. Feel my affection—my love. If none shall pray to you, I will pray. If none should think of you fondly, then I will think of you. This I swear, my kin. You will have the respect and love owed to you.”

“You are no mere student—you are tempting the very devil himself. What a delightful mortal you are. I must have you.” Lucifer declares and you feel him thrust inside of your cunt and your backside.

“Take me, my lord.” You pray in your mind, knowing he can perfectly hear it.

Lucifer fucks you for what feels like an eternity.

Your mind is reduced to sinful sludge.

When you can no longer think, when you are barely clinging onto sanity from the endless pleasure he grants you, only then does he relent.

You feel water all around you.

“You may open your eyes.” Lucifer tells you.

Your arm flops from your eyes and you realize deliriously that you are seated back atop his lap in the bath.

You can barely keep your eyes open.

You are so exhausted—every drop of pleasure having been drained from you and leaving you aching and sore.

Lucifer tucks you against his chest protectively.

“Sleep, Rue, my dearest disciple—my one and only. I will keep you company in the waking world and beyond.” He whispers to you.

You sleepily press a kiss to his heart, thinking of how much you adore him; your beautiful, terrifying, profane kin, the only true God you would kneel before, and you feel his soul brighten in response.

Notes:

<3

Chapter 4: rue/V1

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The bedroom door shuts in your face.

“…Gabriel?” You call.

He ignores you.

You dejectedly walk down the stairs and take a seat at the very bottom. You rest your elbows atop your knees and let out a crestfallen sigh as you stare at the stained glass windows.

“What was all that bitching about?” Vee suddenly asks.

You hear him trotting down the stairs, whirr-tap, whirr-tap.

He takes a seat behind you and rests his visor atop your head. His loops his arms around you in a tight embrace.

“I am in the ‘dog’s house’.” You huff, fingers crooking to make quotation marks.

“HA! You? No way—what’d you do?” V2 delights.

“I keep getting gifted rosaries. More than I know what to do with. And I received a really thick, smooth set, and asked Gabriel if I could stick them inside…”

“Damn! That IS sexy.”

“Isn’t it?” You sigh again. “He would not entertain the idea and asked for privacy. I can hear him pacing while he mutters indignantly to himself.”

“He’ll cool off soon enough. Wanna watch a movie while I work on my guns?” He offers.

“Perhaps later.”

“Okay, you big baby.” He teases before knocking his visor against your cheek gently.

His bedroom door shuts and you remain on the stairs, not quite sure what you feel like doing.

Not too long after you hear quick footsteps.

The front doors of the manor bang open and V1 bolts right over to you. They tackle you to the ground excitedly. Your idol activates just as your back collides with the edge of the steps.

“Careful, my love.” You laugh and reach out to tug their visor down so you can kiss them, “Welcome home. Did you have fun?”

An eager nod.

“Still feel like doing something.” Vi sits up on you to sign.

“Like playing music?”

A shrug.

“A game?” You say next.

“What kiiiind…?” Vi signs with their eyelid lifted with glee.

“Hmm…Tag?” You suggest, “Or hide and seek?”

“We can do both—I’ll go slow.”

You are given fifteen minutes to conceal yourself.

You do so in a dim room in the castle that consists mostly of the stairs that wrap around the wall, with the bottom floor having a bed of shallow water and…what looks like an alcove of some kind.

Maybe it leads to the drain.

You tuck yourself into the pocket and find that there’s more room. You do not want to explore too much and get stuck so you put yourself out of initial view and nothing more. You calm your breaths and wait for the sound of footsteps.

You hear one of the doors to the room open.

The hiss and whine of servos becomes louder. Clearer. It sounds like it’s above you on the stairs.

You hear the door above you open and close.

There are no more footsteps.

You wait a breath before squirming from out of the waterway.

You stand up, shivering a bit because your clothes were wet.

You hear a gentle twinkling sound then something hits your back.

You turn around and see a coin by your feet in the water.

You look up and find V1 in the doorway.

You startle with a laugh and rush out. They allow you some time to put distance between the two of you, but not much. Each time they capture you, V1 seems to grow more impatient. You do not know if them scooping you up before you can even finish hiding was better than them just…eerily standing, just out of sight as you scoured a room for a good spot. They were so still that it took you a moment to realize someone else was even in the room and it made your stomach flip in a terrible way.

You are about to exit the castle and find a moonlit room in Limbo to hide, but you are tackled to the ground for the second time that day. Your idol wiggles against your chest as if sharply admonishing your lover. V1 has you on your back and your wrists are pinned over your head as they loom over you.

“You win.” You concede, slightly annoyed, and try to get up.

Vi’s grip tightens around your wrists.

You squirm, starting to become nervous, and Vi beeps cheerfully, their optic flushing red and catching the light with a menacing glimmer.

Their grip tightens and tightens and the only reason that your wrists are not broken is because your idol has remained active.

“You are frightening me. Get off.” You say and use your feet to push them away from you.

For a mortifying handful of seconds they do not move.

Then, as if lagging, V1 reels away from you as if struck before scrambling backwards like a spider until they are a good distance away from you.

They blink rapidly.

Their optic slowly turns to its usual amber.

Breathing hard, you stand up.

You need a few minutes to calm before you can ask just what on earth happened.

You do not get the opportunity.

V1 jumps to their feet without even sparing you a second glance and runs off.

You do not see them for hours.

Gabriel left for Heaven and V2 had left shortly after to stretch his legs on a walk on the deeper parts of Hell, promising not to stay out for too long. You are in bed clinging to a pillow. You usually sleep naked but you felt chilly, so you had slipped into a silk robe.

You are warm from a fresh bath, but the heat was quickly leeching out against the cold sheets.

Maybe you should have asked V2 to stay long enough for you to fall asleep…

You squeeze the pillow tighter to yourself and drift off to sleep.

You awake to the sound of V2’s TV playing.

You are tired still, but you slip out of bed to greet him. You walk down the hallway slowly, taking a moment to admire the stained glass depiction of Gabriel. You push open Vee’s door and pause.

V1 flinches where they sit on the floor watching an animal documentary.

It was something about the difficulties an animal faces in captivity.

You don’t pay it much attention.

“Are you staying home…?” You ask cautiously as you lean against the door frame.

It felt so awkward.

V1 nods but does not look at you.

“Good. I’m happy.” You tell them, and that surprises them enough that they do look at you, “I would like to talk about earlier.”

V1 freezes.

“…Don’t want to.” They sign.

“We have to. You wanted to hurt me and it wasn’t an accident.”

“…”

“Did it give you a thrill of some kind? Did you like seeing me scared?” You entreat.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But I don’t like how I feel after.” They sign, hands getting shakier by the second, “And I don’t like hurting you.”

“Did it become easier to do because you knew I wouldn’t actually get hurt?”

A nod.

“It was still terrifying.”

“I’m sorry. Do you still trust me…?” They sign.

“I do.” You say and crawl into V2’s bed, “Come—I have missed you.”

You spread your arms open wide.

V1 hesitates, torn between guilt and want of affection, but you are relieved to see them make up their mind and slip into bed next to you. You curl around their back, their wings tucked away for now, so your face is flush to the soft fabric of their hoodie.

“Are you happy here?” You ask.

“I am.” They tap in morse against your arm. “I have everything I need.”

“Is there anything that you want?”

“…I miss killing the husks and other machines. I know its not allowed but I still miss it. The sessions in the Cybergrind with Vee help, but sometimes its all I can think about.”

“I’m sorry.” You sigh and press a kiss to their back, “I wish there was a way for me to indulge you that wouldn’t also encourage the same urges you are trying to move away from. You can’t be blamed for how you were made to be. You were a war machine, but that’s not all that you are anymore, right?”

“Yeah,” V1 taps, “I’m your flower.”

Maybe the problem is that V1 is running out of secrets to discover in Hell. Maybe it’s the fact that Gabriel and V2 have been slowing down their visits to the surface because they preferred the comforts of home. V1 disliked going by themselves, but you think as more and more time passes, they’ll simply bite the bullet and travel by their lonesome.

V1 hasn’t been in a talking mood lately.

They just linger around the manor watching what other people are doing or watching animal documentaries. V1’s favorite is the one on marine life. You have fallen asleep and woken up curled around them while it played. You often wondered if you slept for a short amount or if they kept starting the movie over each time it ended.

The blue light of the TV displaying the ocean shines on Vi’s form in a breathtaking way.

It inspires you to build something for them: a fish tank.

You enlist V2’s help and the two of you spend hours building one while V1 was off somewhere—hopefully for a while, too, because neither of you have gotten the pump or lights working in the tank.

It was standing, at least, and looked…pretty good!

It was sizable enough for any of the “regular” fish in Wrath.

V1 arrives home at the perfect time, just as the tank has been finished and while they had walked with slumped shoulders as they repeatedly flipped a coin, upon seeing you and V2, they perk up, snatching the coin mid flip before quickly walking over.

“What’s with the tank?” V1 signs, visor craned to the side curiously.

“Its for you, dummy. Should be suitable for any kind of salt water fish you catch.” V2 explains with a huff.

“Thanks.” They sign before sucker punching V2 in the gut, “Want to go fishing with me? It’s been a while.”

“You hit like a prototype.” V2 mocks, “I just polished up, but sure, I’ll deal with the sand for you.”

You have nothing planned for that day so you are an easy sell.

The island has a day and night cycle which makes keeping track of being away from home simple. It has been three days. You have a pretty good feel for things, and you can tell that your lovers are enjoying themselves, but V1 seems to be avoiding you again.

You have a hunch why that is.

The most time you spend with them during the trip is when the three of you are fishing.

You have never fished more in your life.

You barely even process what you catch—you keep watching V1’s every movement. You smile at them each time your gazes meet but its short lived because they do not look for as long as you do.

Out of all the fish Vi has caught, they decide to bring home a red (funny stupid) fish and that is it.

The fish settles into the tank nicely.

Vi spends hours sitting on the floor watching their pet.

You have never seen them so still.

Instead of watching them from atop the stairs like you usually did, you walk down to the foyer and approach the spot to the left of the organ.

You seat yourself behind V1, arms curling around their waist.

You rest your chin on their shoulder.

“The fish looks a little lonely.” You say softly, voice barely louder than the rumbling of the tank. “Do you think it wants a friend?”

“I AM its friend.” V1 turns around in your hold to sign.

“I know, but I meant a fish friend.” You snort.

“…Does it look lonely?”

“Fish are hard to read. Even ones with funny faces. It looks like it’d be happy doing anything, really.” You hum.

V1 lets out a long, low beep as if humming in consideration.

They end up bringing home another fish—a funny fish with black markings near its eyes that gives it a rather devious look.

Things go well.

The fish interact with one another with no troubles. Neither of them hogs the food or seems to care about territory.

Yet one day you hear a screech from the foyer and know immediately that something has gone wrong.

You race down the stairs and find V2 holding V1 away from the fish tank as if they had been about to smash it in their fury.

The first fish is floating belly up.

It has been partially eaten.

The devious looking fish seems to be smiling even more than usual.

“I DON’T GET IT.” V1 signs shakily, “IT HAD PLENTY OF FOOD TO SHARE. PLENTY OF ENRICHMENT. SO WHY…? IS KILLING SO INGRAINED INTO ITS NATURE THAT EVEN WITH ITS NEEDS MET, IT CRAVES VIOLENCE?”

…That does not sound like they are talking about the fish anymore.

“I dunno, baby, animals are unpredictable.” V2 says and manages to shrug while still holding V1 in his arms. “Who can fucking guess why it did that? It just did.”

V1 goes limp in his arms and starts making these pitiful beeping sounds as they cry.

“We could give it a burial.” You delicately offer, “And if you want, I could release the other one back into Wrath.”

Vi is still for several moments.

“…I’m mad at it. But I still love it. I want to keep it.” V1 cranes their visor up to look at you and signs sadly.

They squirm out of V2’s grasp and walk over to the tank and slip a hand into the water. They cup the dead fish in one hand and hand it over to V2. The devious looking fish nudges at the glass repeatedly as if wanting something and does not stop until V1 puts their hand in the tank again.

You expect it to get frightened or become aggressive, but the fish rubs against V1’s fingertip.

It looks almost proud of what it has done.

Notes:

was busy now im back :3

rue was playing tag but v1 was playing fnaf...

rip funny fish the first

Chapter 5: rue/gabby

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You are in Lust, enthusiastically performing for a crowd of astonishing size.

Most of your audience you recognize, but there are a few you have not met with, perhaps newcomers, or those simply stopping by from another layer of Hell for a visit. Each person that you lock eyes with you make sure to grin at, even offering a playful wink.

You have been playing your lyre and singing for an hour now. Your red chiton is damp with sweat on the back where a cape of the same color billowed behind you, pinned to each shoulder. You are standing atop one of the elevated plazas with a fountain, and while you could sit on the rim or the steps while you performed, you have always preferred to remain standing so that you can dance—or avoid a rock being thrown.

Not that you expect any kind of assault like that now, not in the afterlife.

Your audience is as eager as you are.

There is no ministry or soldiers to quiet your voice.

You sing loudly.

Freely.

It is like your voice reverberates all throughout Hell; a stone dropped down a dried up well.

Out of all in the crowd, one person stands out particularly to you:

An angel.

He is taller and broader than everyone by such a significant amount that to not notice him in the crowd would be the truest of miracles. His skin is a beautiful obsidian, his neck, collarbone, and shoulders on full display. The slightest movement makes his muscles flex. Your eyes sharpen on how his biceps twitch when he crosses his arms, now becoming flustered of your continued staring.

But how are you meant to look elsewhere when he is so lovely?

This angel with his dark skin, his blue wings, and that handsome face of his. He is dressed beautifully—an arrow pierces your heart as your eyes trace the off shoulder, pink satin dress he is wearing. He has a white, fluffy looking coat on, just large enough to shield his arms.

The angel adjusts it so that the coat conceals more of his well-defined pecs.

You unknowingly drag your tongue across a canine hungrily.

The white gold of his helm is tinged blue, pink and purple.

It gives him a dreamy sort of look.

You finish your current song, the last of the performance, and cup an arm to your waist before bowing.

You are showered with applause and fanfare.

An absurd amount of obols and flowers are tossed your way.

You laugh and hang your lyre on your back before picking up your payment. A few of your friends slip from the crowd and help you gather everything into a satchel.

You tuck your earnings into your bosom.

V1 and V2 would be delighted to have more coins to shoot with.

You hug and kiss your friends and descend the fountain steps to speak with the angel, but when you finally get to where he was standing, you find him gone.

You frown, wondering where he ran off.

Ah, well perhaps you will see him on your walk home.

You are about to leave the plaza entirely when a hand curls atop your shoulder.

You peek at it and find to be a blinding pink shade.

You turn around a find a new face: a pink Mindflayer.

A male—the first you have ever seen.

He is thin and delicate looking.

He has a narrow chest and waist, the cock between his thighs average, and half hard. He has a perky looking set of thighs and without seeing him from behind, you imagine his ass to be just as pleasing.

He is standing in front of you in a very demure manner, his arms looped behind his back and he sways from side to side as he stares down at you.

You know what he wants.

You do not need to see his cock twitch at the sight of your cleavage to figure it out.

“Hail and well met, friend,” You greet and offer a nod, “Thank you for enjoying the show. I would like to make proper introductions, but I am afraid I am in a rush. Perhaps next time when I visit.”

You are more than used to turning down people.

You are quite good at it, too.

You always kept things clear and polite.

Yet, for all your politeness, you would think that you had just spat in the Mindflayer’s face for how intensely he flinches back, a hand raised to his face as if gasping. He chimes sadly, and when you try to walk off again, he catches your hand.

“You will find someone else that is suitable, I am certain.” You say as you take your hand back, a grin still on your face but quickly losing its warmth. “Farewell.”

You set off into a hasty walk.

‘Home’ for the evening is an apartment in one of the various sprawling buildings. It is actually an apartment you have visited before—very frequently in fact, at least for a time until its purpose was served.

You forget about the pink Mindflayer entirely as you walk.

Just where has that beautiful angel gone?

No matter where you look you do not see him.

You enter your apartment building with a sigh. You slip into the elevator and take it all the way to the top floor. You step out of the elevator and immediately notice something: the angel.

He is standing at the end of the hall leaning against a wall between two apartments.

He looks unsure.

Nervous.

He also looks like he is waiting for something.

Someone, you think hopefully.

You do not reveal yourself as of yet. You are content to peek around the corner of the wall and watch him. He becomes shy and flustered each time someone walks past and stops dead in their tracks, so enthralled by his beauty.

A few simply compliment him and leave.

Those that are lucky enough to know him already chat for a little bit before carrying on their way.

Each of them pays you no mind as they notice you hiding by the elevator.

They are used to your antics and simply wave at you to stop from drawing attention towards your hiding spot.

For the second time this night, you are about to approach the angel but find yourself stopping.

Someone steps out from the corner of the opposite hall.

It is the pink Mindflayer.

He approaches the angel with the same demure, oddly flirtatious style he had earlier when he sought out your attention. He sticks around for a while, using sign language to ask the angel to join him, but even if he wasn’t you can tell by how he sneakily steps closer and closer to the angel, backing him against the wall.

The angel has politely declined twice now, yet the Mindflayer remains.

Worse yet, he moves a hand over to one of the angel’s thighs.

You see red.

You step out from behind the wall and stalk over to the two.

“Do not lay a single finger on him.” You snarl as you slip between Gabriel and the Mindflayer, “He has rejected your advances already, and either stubborn, or too stupid to realize it, you have continued your desperate advances.”

The Mindflayer pales in color at your animosity, now holding up both their hands in a defensive manner, but you will have none of that. You step forward, then again, again, until it is the Mindflayer that is backed against the wall, the sheer difference in your height nothing of consequences to you, for in your fury, he might as well be an ant for as little you consider him a threat.

“You are not owed anyone’s attention or pleasure. I demand that you apologize.” You say while your blood pounds in your ears.

The Mindflayer beeps anxiously and quickly signs.

“…I am sorry.” He tells you.

“And whom are you apologizing to?” You challenge.

“Your lover.”

“Indeed. He is my lover.” You agree sharply, “Now you will take your leave with far more grace than you take your rejections.”

The pink Mindflayer teleports.

You do not care where he has gone so long as he is out of your sight.

You rush to your lover and take both of his hands into yours, frantically kissing each knuckle before resting them against your forehead.

“I am sorry, dove, I cannot focus on the roleplay that we had planned. I am far too irritated.” You tell him, voice shaking with emotion.

“…I could have handled that.” Gabriel tells you awkwardly.

“There should be no need of you handling it!” You argue, “I will warn Minos about the Mindflayer. I do not trust my threats to ward off his unsavory behavior for long.”

“Be calm, my muse. All is well now.”

“I will not be calm! You have been disrespected and I will not tolerate that in any shade.” You growl at him, “You are mine. M-i-n-e. If he had touched you I would have torn him asunder and spat on the scrap heap afterwards.”

Gabriel’s breath catches in his throat and his wings ruffle.

“…Would you have really done such a thing?” He asks quietly.

You slowly crane your face up from where your forehead is pressed to his knuckles.

The intensity of your stare, the fury in them, makes him shiver.

His cock starts to harden in his satin dress.

The way he clenches his thighs together, the way his pink high heels make the smallest of sounds as he squirms under your staring, is one of the most charming things you have ever seen.

You lead him by the hand inside the apartment to the left.

“Do you recognize this apartment?” You ask Gabriel as you guide him into the humble, one room abode, the only thing here of value is the bed tucked against one wall and the little table with a singular candle.

The window that had once been nailed shut is open and the lights of Lust paint the rich wood flooring and walls.

“This is the apartment we used when I provided for you when we first met.” He remarks.

“Indeed, the very one.”

“It feels like ages ago when we first met. I was so pompous, self-righteous, and utterly out of my depth when it came to helping you.” Gabriel says with a little laugh as he walks further into the apartment, his heels clicking gently.

“And I was bitter, lonely, and going half mad. We have both changed significantly for the better, I think.” You reply with a small laugh of your own.

Gabriel takes a seat on the edge of the bed and pulls you atop his lap. He hunches his back so he can press his helm to your forehead, his large, warm hands cupped around your hips to keep you secure.

“I am so blessed to have you in my life.” He tells you in a fond whisper.

“That is my line, angel.” You hum before kissing him. “Are you wearing what I asked you to?”

“…Yes.” He admits.

“How does it feel?” You smile.

“Maddeningly good. I can barely walk straight.”

“And what a feat that is, given how graceful you are in heels.” You say and slide the fur coat off his shoulders. It barely makes a sound as it falls to the bed. “Gabriel, you are so beautiful. I cannot tell you that enough. Sometimes I find myself scribbling poetry about you without even meaning to. I simply cannot help it.”

“I-I write poetry for you too!” He confesses shyly, “I do not think I am brave, nor skilled enough to share it with you…”

“I will show you mine if you show me yours.” You purr against his neck before sinking your teeth into his soft skin.

Gabriel’s wings spread out with a gust, ruffling the sheets, and it almost deafens the choked little moan he had let out.

What a shame it would be to have missed such a thing.

His hands move to your shoulders and gently unpin the cape. His hands stroke your back, your ass, then one settles on the back of your neck and presses encouragingly. You bite him even harder, using all the force you can muster, and that effort is just enough to break through skin and paint your canines with blood.

You are not fond of the taste, but you have always liked how Gabriel’s divine blood makes your tongue sort of…tingle. It is thick too, needing a few swipes of your tongue to clean it off your teeth and lips. It is disappointing that the love bite heals so quickly, but it gives you the pleasure of leaving a fresh one over and over to the same spot.

Gabriel is a whimpering, squirming mess under your touch.

“You were breathtaking in your fury.” He shivers, his hands groping your ass firmly, “I felt my spirit shake in the face of it. It reminded me of the way you used to fiercely berate me when we first met. I should have taken the way my heart skipped a beat with each insult that I would be owned by you in both body and spirit.”

You pull the front of his dress down and roughly take a bite out of his pec.

Gabriel moans hoarsely, and at the slightest push of your hand he falls to his back, the bed creaking as he bounces.

You crawl to sit atop his stomach.

You admire how his arms rest on the bed near his head, the muscles relaxed, yet still so prominent. If he flexed in any true way in this dress it would undoubtedly tear in several places.

“Your body, your spirit, every feather in your wings and every sparkle of divinity within you is mine, angel.” You speak like an oath against his silky skin in between ravaging him with love bites.

“Do you have your dagger with you?” Gabriel asks seemingly out of nowhere.

“I do.”

“…Please do something for me.” He starts cautiously.

“Anything, my love.”

“Will you cut your name into my skin? I-I know that it will heal shortly after, but your name, even healed, will remain with me. I will always know it was there. I understand if that is unsettling.” Your angel explains with obvious anxiety.

“Perhaps I would have found something like this unsettling ages ago, but…” You say, thinking of how you were as a mortal, “But, now I find the idea arousing. Yes, gorgeous angel, I will carve my name against your skin. Where would you like it?”

Gabriel sits up only enough to pull his arms from the straps of the dress so that he can push the garment down to his hips, making it look like he is wearing a skirt.

“Over my heart.” He answers breathily, already shaking with anticipation as you pull your dagger from where it was strapped to your thigh.

You tease the blunt side of the dagger up and down his pecs, a ghost of a touch, just a tease for what is to come. You tighten your grip on the handle and level the blade over where his heart lays. You slowly, carefully, ease the tip into his divine flesh and drag, cutting in the neatest line you can manage while he twitches and bucks like a rabbit in a snare.

You curve the blade as you finish the ‘R’ of your name, watching the blood bloom to the surface before following the swell of his pec and tracing his ribs.

“Please brand me as yours, beloved.” Gabriel whines and sticks out his chest for even more.

“I have never heard a dove sing so sweetly for pain.” You compliment with a hum.

As you carve the last letter into his pec you lean back to see the finished work.

‘Rue’ bleeds steadily across his left pec and onto the sheets.

Some of it even stains his pretty fur coat.

Gabriel is shaking the hardest you have perhaps ever seen him. He pants hard, vocalizing his pleasure in these high pitched, little moans that he can never really get out fully before another one is torn from his throat.

He is so close to cumming, you can tell.

His halo is blinding as he worships you.

Idolatry is one of the most heinous of sins yet not once has your angel ever stopped himself from committing it.

An angel can feel when they are worshipped. You have been told it feels like someone is loudly thinking of them and that depending on the prayer, they feel the emotions tied to it.

For you, a mortal, you feel a sort of…brightening to your soul?

You feel refreshed in a way that sunlight and a good nights rest would leave you, but there is something almost jittery about it? Like you are being given a rush of some kind, the first burning sip of alcohol.

“On your hands and knees.” You instruct and feel a swell of affection rise within you as Gabriel, despite his shaky faculties, teleports into the perfect position for you.

His dress hangs off his hips like the tail of a mermaid.

You do him the favor of unzipping the back and peeling him out of it and find yourself biting a knuckle to stave off the lust that threatens to overwhelm you.

Gabriel is prostrated before you in nothing but these pink heels, and tucked between his thick, shapely ass cheeks, glimmering like a jewel, is the end of an anal plug.

He has been wearing it ever since the two of you first left for your date.

It has been hours of constant stimulation.

You are genuinely surprised that he has not ruined his dress yet.

You will correct that soon enough.

You stand on your knees behind him and set a hand atop his lower back, stroking gently, your blunt nails scratching here and there, and just as Gabriel begins to calm you reach with your other hand between his cheeks and secure three fingers around the plug. You tug it firmly, and just that has him kicking his heeled feet; his wings pink and fluttering constantly.

You smile wolfishly and give the plug another pull, just enough to ease it out maybe half an inch out of his hole, before thrusting it right back inside.

“G-God…!” He blasphemes sweetly, “It feels like you are fucking me with just the tip of your cock.”

“I will save that idea for our next date and make you beg to have every inch lovingly buried in that perfect ass of yours.” You promise, inner thighs already sticky with your desire for him, but the image you conjure of him in your mind as he cries and cries to be filled is enough to make your head spin.

You fuck the plug in and out of him, never taking it out completely, and your angel grows noisier, clawing the sheets and digging his heels into the mattress wildly like he is being overtaken by a virulent poison. You get him to the very edge of pleasure before taking out the plug and lapping your tongue against his fluttering, stretched hole.

The shout that leaves him makes your ears ring.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkkkk….!!” Gabriel moans, voice partly ruined from how loud he had just been.

His cock twitches hard repeatedly and soils the sheets.

You are admiring him from behind one second then in a blink you are pressed onto your back with Gabriel looming over you. His cock is still twitching with the last vestiges of his orgasm but already there is precum eagerly dribbling from the slit.

“Eyes closed.” He tells you suddenly, and you are hit with a wave of excitement.

You do as instructed and the very second you do you hear his helmet slide off then feel it being placed on the bed near you.

You feel a mouth kissing your inner thighs.

A few of them, actually.

You feel a tongue drag across your skin, neither solid, or gaseous, warm, nor cold, and Gabriel guides it from the curve of your knee, your thighs, to your soaked folds.

He is almost noisier than you are as he eats you out.

He is so cute you think your heart will burst.

‘Good angel’, you pray to him, and even with your eyes closed the way his halo brightens is blinding, so you throw an arm over your face.

Your lover is insatiable. He makes you cum hard, then does not pause in the slightest as he keeps licking at your cunt. It even felt like he is pressing more of himself between your thighs, many mouths now leaving love bites on your delicate skin. He sucks hard at your clit, the warm-cold of his formless body giving you sensations that fail to be replicated by anything else.

You are becoming so sensitive that you squirm away from his touch but you are held down. Gabriel doubles his efforts and you thrash your head against the bed, finding it harder and harder to breathe, your body this perfect, taut coil that has been primed perfectly to snap.

That is when he stops and moves away from you.

“No, no, n-no, my love, I need you, please…” You cry, clamoring to grab any part of him, but its useless, he simply slips through your fingertips.

The bed rustles and Gabriel plucks your arm off your face a moment later.

He stares down at you as he reaches out to cup your face.

“You have me.” He assures you in a gentle whisper.

You are swathed in the dark, protective shadow your lover casts as he adjusts to loom over you once more. He is so big that you doubt that anyone would be able to see you underneath him. He spreads your thighs wide, as far as they can go, and grips his cock in hand to align it at your entrance. He keeps his helm focused on your face, wanting to see the exact expression you make as he thrusts inside.

You gasp, tits bouncing.

“You are nothing short of resplendent. Utterly resplendent…” Gabriel moans, and you are so wet and eager that he can give you more already, easing another few inches before pausing again to let you adjust.

He means to be patient, but feeling you squeeze around his cock, seeing how you so lovingly stare up at him with tears in your eyes, makes him apologize suddenly before he starts fucking you roughly.

Each thrust knocks the bed against the wall and fills you so, so deep.

The entire floor of this apartment is loud with your coupling.

“I love you.” Gabriel tells you breathily on the next thrust, “I love you so much. Your steadfast heart, your beauty, your kindness…Your taste. Each breath I can taste you in the back of my throat and it is like the headiest of wines.”

You shakily reach out and lay your hand flat against his left pec where you had carved your name, the wound long since healed, but the memory forever sealed.

Gabriel lays a hand over yours as he fucks you even harder.

You…think you may have passed out for a few seconds from the intensity of the orgasm he just gave you.

When you blink back into focus you are still riding the waves of your own euphoria. Your lover thrusts once, twice, before cumming deep inside of you. Even though he has came already it still feels like you are filled almost to bursting with how much he spills within you.

Breathing erratically, the two of you stare at one another.

Gabriel, still buried inside, brings your hand up to his helm. He presses it flush to the surface in a kiss before rubbing his cheek against it. You smile and brush your thumb against the little trio of holes on either side of his helm, which have always reminded you of freckles.

In that little apartment in Lust, the two of you pray to one another; a perfect feedback loop of love.

Notes:

i sure hope that pink twink mindflayer doesnt show up again....

hope u guys are doing well! thanks for reading and hope u enjoy~! ily :D

Chapter 6: rue/melanthios

Notes:

tw for suicide attempts/mentions of suicide

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“That was my brother you slept with, you daughter of degenerates, and I will not have one with your reputation and utter lack of station couple with him again. You will swear to never darken our doorstep again, or I will crack that damnable instrument over your skull!” The woman shouts at you fiercely, her pale face pink with her ire.

You had stopped by the docks to visit a new lover of yours, but instead it is his sister you have discovered on the boat.

She approaches you swiftly, a finger pointed at you with the same finesse as a blade, and she is a wild-eyed, beautiful thing, just like her brother, and so despite all her insults, you do not find yourself truly upset.

You are only worried about how much she is backing you towards the stern of the ship…

“I am only a humble musician.” You attempt to convince her, but all it does is make her walk faster towards you. You hold up your hands placatingly and offer as sincere of a smile as you can muster, “I promise that your brother is in good hands.”

“OH, you are a clever one, aren’t you? Clever enough to keep running your mouth after being threatened. I really am going to bloody you.”

You wince at her volume.

And for your poor choice of words.

“Forgive me, beautiful,” You try again, your feet knocking against the steps leading up to the stern, almost tripping as you continue backing away from her, “I would make a true defense for myself, however, I am drawing closer to the water and I cannot speak if I have a mouth full of sea water…”

She stops dead in her tracks, eyes widening.

“BEAUTIFUL!?” She squawks scandalously.

She blushes all over—another trait shared with her brother.

She has a very cute nose, too.

While she has stopped her advancement, you, utterly charmed, have kept moving and your backside hits the railing of the stern before you tumble backwards. Your gut flips as you topple from the ship and into the dark sea with a resounding splash.

You are a fantastic swimmer, so you resurface quickly, but…

Damn! Your lyre is getting soaked.

Sea water was terrible for the wood. If you did not dry it properly and oil it, the wood would begin to warp. You wrestle your lyre’s strap from your back and hold it over the waves as you begin to awkwardly swim towards the docks.

You look like an utter moron, there is no doubt of that, but as you glance towards the ship you had just fallen off, you see that the woman is staring at you.

She no longer looks angry.

She looks worried.

Perhaps that is a sign that the next time you visit her shared home, you will not be chased away when she finds you in her brother’s room with his cock in your mouth…

A distracting thought.

One for later, you think, as you need to get out of the sea already.

There is a dock nearby you can swim to, but you notice that the one a bit further away has someone sitting all by their lonesome. A man, about the same age as you, sits at the edge of the dock with one leg hanging off, the other crooked up so he can rest his chin atop his knee. His back is hunched and he looks to be in deep thought as he stares at the dark waters to watch the reflection of the full moon.

That strikes you as fairly strange and so you swim over to him.

“Why are you staring at the reflection of the moon instead of the moon itself?” You ask the man as you grip the edge of the dock with one hand, using it to secure yourself as you set your lyre down first, before pulling yourself up next.

The man ignores you.

You do not mind.

You busy yourself with standing up and squeezing all the water out of your black chiton. You would have to leave your leather sandals by the fireplace when you returned home, otherwise they would mold. You hate the feeling of wet leather against your skin so you take off your sandals and use the laces to tie them to the strap of your lyre.

You take a seat beside the man and even though your clothes are damp, you still try your best to dry off your lyre.

Now that you are left with nothing to do, and the man continues to ignore you in favor of watching the moon’s reflection, you take to studying him. He has a very serious, solemn face, his thick brows furrowed like many of the philosophers you debated in the city.

He has the darkest eyes you have ever seen, and they are round and sorrowful like a cows. His nose is prominent, the bridge hooked, and he has full lips that are unfortunately so dry they are cracked to the point of bleeding.

Or perhaps he keeps tearing at the skin with his teeth.

He is in poor form.

His clothes are frayed and stained. He is barefoot and carries nothing with him. He reeks of sweat. There is a gauntness to him—he does not eat regular meals or works far more than he eats and so his body cannot cling to the sustenance. He is the same age as you, perfect for finding work anywhere, so you doubt that he is a beggar, unless he has some sort of ailment that cannot be disclosed by the naked eye alone.

Maybe he is freshly moved from another city and has no connections as of yet, and so he has been down on his luck.

You are more than happy to welcome him properly to your beloved city, if that is the case.

“Well met, I am—" You begin to say.

“I know who you are.” The man interrupts.

He sounds bored.

Or is that exhaustion making his deep voice so lifeless?

“You ignore questions asked of you, yet you are eager to speak if only to interrupt.” You point out with a huff.

Well, if he knew who you were, then he is no stranger to the city.

“Melanthios.” The man speaks up to say randomly.

No, wait, that is his name, you are pretty sure.

You give him a funny look.

Then you bump your shoulder against his.

“Well met, Melanthios—little rain cloud that you are.” You tell him, “What are our plans for the rest of the evening?”

“Our?” Melanthios repeats as he lifts his chin from his knee to at last turn to look at you.

“Did you want to spend all night by your lonesome on this dock?” You ask.

“And if I did?”

“Then I will not allow it.” You tell him plainly and set your lyre onto your back before taking one of his hands in yours to tug him along with you as you stand, “You can be miserable any other night—not this one. Let us stretch our legs and see what fun we can have.”

He just lets you drag him along.

You introduce him to the family of cats that lives on the docks. The kittens are old enough that their ears are no longer flat and their eyes are beginning to color. They are very noisy and friendly, so used to sailors taking care of them, but the frequency of the meowing makes Melanthios’ jaw clench; his brows furrowing a little more.

“The sailors feed them. There is no need to feel bad about not having anything to give them.” You tell him as you pet the mother, a white and orange cat with a very crooked tail.

He startles badly and whips his face towards you like you had just said something gravely insulting.

“Do you read minds?” He asks.

“Hmmmm…” You think aloud obnoxiously, even tapping your chin with a finger, “No.”

He does not seem all that convinced.

He keeps staring at you.

You blow a raspberry and some of the kittens startle.

You apologize through your laugher and pet them all before standing up and leading your new friend towards the city’s front gates.

The guards are brusque to you as usual, but you reserve your sharper insults for another time, not wanting them to treat Melanthios poorly by association.

“I am starving. Let us go find something to eat.” You announce.

“I have no money.”

“It is my treat.” You dismiss and reach into your cleavage for your pouch of obols, but find it gone.

You pat yourself all over.

It must have been lost in the sea…

Your mother made you that pouch.

You cup a hand over your eyes just as you feel them sting with tears and force yourself to take a few deep breaths.

“…I seem to have misplaced my obols. No matter—I can sing a few songs and earn some more.” You tell him with forced calm.

He is the one giving you a funny look now.

You do not have the energy for a grand performance, so you avoid the central plaza and instead stand near the entrance of the marketplace.

There are two large stone braziers with roaring fires so you stand as close as you can to one so your lyre and clothes can dry a bit more.

Melanthios, now that he is not actively being pulled along, takes a seat on the ground.

He stares at the dirt instead of anything else—the moon, the people, the architecture.

He just looks so uninterested with it all.

Yet, when you begin to sing, he slowly cranes his face towards you, his dark eyes wide and his mouth partly hanging open.

Many strangers smile at you and slip obols into your palm.

You make enough for several meals.

You lead Melanthios into the market and flock towards all of the food stalls that remained open.

You ask him what he prefers and he remains silent.

You purchase an absurd amount of lamb souvlaki and hand over half the skewers to him before excitedly tucking into your meal. You burn your tongue a few times, but it is simply too good to wait.

It is Melanthios, who weighs less than you despite being taller, who moves with such world-weariness in each movement, that hesitates to eat.

You roll your eyes and pluck a skewer from his hands and nudge it against his lips, smearing them with grease.

His bottom lip wobbles.

You freeze.

He notices that and takes the skewer from your hand and turns his face away as he at last begins to eat.

“This is nearly perfect.” You speak up after a few awkward moments, “It just needs—”

“Wine.” He casually answers for you.

You almost drop your food.

“Are you sure you are not the one who is a mind reader?” You challenge.

He is still not looking at you, but there is no mistaking the raspberry he blows at you.

You huff a laugh and bump shoulders with him.

Finished eating, you lick the grease off your fingers and stand up.

“It is getting late. If I want to get my work done so that I can have my fun in the city, I must start the long walk home.” You announce.

“Farewell, Calliope.” Melanthios tells you as he remains seated.

He says it with such finality, like the two of you will never again meet.

…You think of how miserable he had looked seated on the docks by himself as he stared into the dark water.

You felt compelled to stay by his side then, and the feeling resurges now.

You are wholly convinced that if you leave him now something terrible will happen.

“Farewell? I was just about to invite you to my home.” You tell him.

“And why is that?” He inquires.

You think he is referring to your reputation to sleep around.

“I want you to meet my dog, Leon. He is getting old, but he is still such a sweet boy.” You say instead of voicing your worries about the despondent fashion in which he does everything.

Wordlessly, Melanthios stands up.

When you begin to walk, he follows.

He makes no complaint on the fact that your home is a two hour walk from the city.

You walk up the hill leading to your cottage. The moon is so bright that the white and gray mortar of the walls looks like it is glowing. You make kissy sounds and from the shadows your dog comes running over. He is so big that when he stands on his hind legs his paws reach your shoulders.

You thank him for guarding your home and feed him the extra meat skewer you saved piece by piece. Leon stares at Melanthios, curious, and while the man does not smile or even make himself look friendly in any sort of way, your dog eagerly goes up to him anyways.

Your new friend gently sets a hand atop Leon’s head, allowing your pet to rub its wet nose all over his palm as it familiarizes itself with his scent.

You head inside your cottage and light a few candles, then the fireplace.

“Make yourself comfortable. I need to put out the torches outside and give the farm a glance.” You say before slipping right back outside.

You are not shocked to discover that when you return, Melanthios is just standing in front of the fireplace, not having moved a muscle since you left. You drag a chair over to the fireplace and set your lyre atop it to dry. You briefly go to your bedroom to slip into a fresh chiton, another in black, then lay the damp one over the back of the chair.

“You are welcome to share my bed.” You tell him as you enter the main room.

“I would prefer the floor.” Melanthios tells you, eyes still on the fire.

Your heart drops into your stomach at the sharp insult he had so casually served.

“I am not planning on forcing myself on you.” You tell him at once.

Melanthios jumps a bit at that.

“I did not mean to imply that.” He clarifies.

“How else am I meant to interpret you declaring you would be happier sleeping on the ground like a beggar?” You reply.

“I was refusing because I thought that I had been shown enough pity for one night.” He explains.

“Pity???” You repeat, growing even more affronted, “I am sincere!”

“I am a stranger.”

“You are my friend!” You correct.

Melanthios has not moved all this time from the fireplace but now you find him stalking over to you.

You get a terrible sense of déjà vu as you are backed against the wall.

“I am a man who’s history you are ignorant to and you are a person living alone a great distance from anyone else.” Melanthios whispers to you with burgeoning fury, the most emotion he has displayed all night, “Have more care for your safety.”

“My safety?” You scoff before grabbing a handful of his filthy chiton and tugging until his face is level to yours, “You are the one who has followed a stranger from the city without a single question about where we were going. I could have led you outside the city to be robbed or worse. That is without even mentioning the glaring fact that you looked seconds away from jumping off that dock. What care of that?”

“What would you know?” He challenges, his dark eyes burning like coals as he glares at you.

“I know because three weeks ago, I sat on that very same dock with the same intention!” You tell him fiercely and he stiffens, now realizing that the dark garment you are wearing is because you are grieving someone—your mother. “I wished with all my heart that someone had talked to me then. It was the loneliest I have ever felt.”

The fire dies in his eyes.

“…What stopped you from jumping in?” He asks.

“I heard a cat meowing on the docks. She was pregnant and hungry. I had no choice but to run back to the city and get a meal for us to share. I felt less like killing myself after I had shared a meal with a friend.” You say.

Melanthios shuts his eyes tightly just as a breath catches in his throat.

“And so you made sure to share one with me.” He points out with shaky realization.

He bows his face and starts to weep.

You wrap your arms around him and he slumps against you.

You are the only thing keeping him standing.

Without ever separating, you lead him to your bedroom and lay down on your side with him pressed to your front, his face buried against your chest. His curly hair is unwashed and greasy, but you do not mind as you comb your fingers through it and gently work out the knots.

You sing to him softly as he cries.

Melanthios calms after a long while, his body becoming still and his breaths even. He says not a word, as quiet as the grave, and so you think he has fallen asleep, until you feel him crane his face up to stare up at you.

“Who is it you are grieving?” He asks, voice slightly muffled because his face is partly squished against your bosom.

“My mother.” You answer and thinking of when you fell into the sea hours ago, your eyes burn with tears, “…I lost something she made for me. Something precious. She made me a little pouch to hold my obols. She embroidered Leon’s face onto it. It slipped out of my chiton when I was swimming and I did not realize until we were getting something to eat, and so it has probably already drifted off, lost, as my own mother is lost to me.”

Melanthios is silent.

He adjusts higher on the bed so that he is the one holding you.

He is surprisingly warm for someone so skinny.

“What of your family? Your friends?” You sniffle against his chest.

“My birth parents left me as a babe on the porch of a stranger—an old couple. They raised me lovingly like their own, but they passed away when I turned thirteen. I have drifted from place to place ever since.” He answers in that world-weary way of his.

“You could stay in this city.” You suggest, but the words do not feel right, so you speak up again, “You could stay with me.”

Melanthios separates from you so he can look you dead in the face.

He looks deeply confused.

“This is so strange. I feel like I have known you all my life despite only having just met tonight.” He tells you.

“I feel the same way.” You say with a sort of hysterical laugh, still crying a bit.

You fall asleep shortly after and do not realize that Melanthios had never given you an answer on staying here until you wake up in the morning and find the spot next to you empty, your dog snoozing at your feet.

You are struck immediately by the terrible image of him floating lifelessly in the sea.

You jump out of bed, heart hammering, and storm into the main room of your home with the intention to throw on your sandals and run to the city.

You skid to a halt.

“…You are soaked.” You cannot help but remark with confusion and relief as you find Melanthios still in your home.

He is naked and seated in front of the fireplace on the floor.

Melanthios points to something hanging from the mantle of the fireplace to dry—your pouch!

“One of the fishermen pulled it up in their nets. They insisted on keeping the obols inside.” He tells you with a frown.

He makes no mention of the four hour round-trip he made at dawn to reach the city in time to speak with the fishermen.

He makes no mention of the fact that the pouch is a few shades lighter because he had washed it before hanging it to dry.

Your vision blurs with tears.

You walk over and sit on your folded knees in front of him.

You cup his face in your hands and kiss both of his cheeks before resting your forehead against his.

“Thank you.” You tell him from the bottom of your heart.

Melanthios’ lips curl with a little smile.

“Anything for my friend.” He says.

…The dream dissolves.

You awake at your desk, having fallen asleep in the middle of composing.

You take the framed painting of Melanthios from the wall and bring it to your face.

“Little rain cloud.” You say to him fondly and rest your forehead to the frame.

Notes:

what if we were both going to kill ourselves on the same dock but became soul mates instead...? :D

there will be more dream/past chapters for rue, either by themselves or with Lucifer, (for those that enjoyed the last one and were wondering!)

i also started writing a dark AU where Rue is mortal and they are alive during Minos/Sisyphus' reign as kings and instead of being killed in their city for their rebellion, they're sent off as a slave to Sisyphus. Idk when or if ill finish that, but if i do, ill just post it as a chapter here instead of making a separate fic.

i know i said no new couples would be introduced in this part but...i got a cute idea for one LOL

anyways, thank you for reading and ily <3

Chapter 7: rue/michael/lucifer pt 1

Notes:

this chapter was so huge that I had to split it into two. ***TW for sibling incest (lucifer/michael) but nothing nsfw happens in this part, but there is DEFINITELY NSFW in the second part, which I will be posting shortly after this one.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“DICIPLE.” Lucifer says with a resounding echo as he materializes in the middle of the foyer of your manor in Limbo.

You are seated on V2’s lap on the carpet with V1 across from you as you teach them how to play cat’s cradle. Gabriel, having been practicing a new song on his organ, abruptly stops as he turns around in his seat to see his kin.

You look away from you and Vi’s joined hands and crane your face up a significant amount to look your friend and Lord in the face properly.

“Hello, Lucie. Is something wrong?” You ask casually with a smile.

You ask this because Lucifer has his arms crossed and his tail is whipping behind him.

“…I have missed you.” He confesses after a breath.

His tail droops to the floor.

“Damn, baby, you got the devil pining for you? I guess we’ve been keeping you all to ourselves lately.” V2 laughs, his arms around your waist tightening as he gently knocks his visor against your cheek in a kiss.

Gabriel stands up from his organ and approaches his sibling to set a hand on the crook of his arm.

“Hello, brother. It has been a while.” Gabriel greets warmly, and it is so odd to see your angel dwarfed by someone else, “Forgive me for not visiting your home as of yet. Heaven has needed my attention more and more as of late and I find that when I finish with my work I only have the energy to return home.”

Lucifer’s tail raises to pat the top of Gabriel’s hand.

“There is no need of an apology. You are filling in the work that our Father’s absence has left, and I would never begrudge anyone in that position the rest that they need. I will await your visit eagerly—and patiently.” Lucifer assures.

Gabriel’s shoulders relax significantly, but something about what his brother had said seems to stick in his mind, for his halo dims the very slightest, like he is contemplating the weight of something.

Noticing it himself, your angel shakes his helm and stands up straighter.

“Are you staying over? Shall I serve wine?” Gabriel offers.

“Michael misses Rue as well, and so I intend to bring them to our home for a visit—a few days.” He explains.

“Ah, I see. If that is the case, I can pack your things for you, my love.” He turns to you to offer.

“You are sweet. I would appreciate that greatly.” You say and blow him a kiss.

When you turn your attention back to the game of cat’s cradle you are playing with V1 you do a double take.

Somehow, they’ve managed to manipulate both of your hands to make the shape of a spider.

A rather intricate one.

That was not one of the standard shapes used for this game and you truly do not even think there is enough string between the two of you to make such a thing, but there is no denying that it is there.

“How did you do that???” You blink, and Vi’s shoulders start to rise and fall quickly as they laugh in a series of cheerful beeps. “You are always full of surprises, aren’t you?” You compliment and lean over to kiss them.

You finish the game, giving the win to V1 of course for somehow finding a way to break the game in a way you could not understand.

“It’s weird as fuck seeing someone bigger than Gabriel…” V2 cannot help but point out when you slip out of his lap and he stands up next.

He gives Lucifer a good look, hands on his hips as he does.

V1 joins in.

Their yellow optic is sparkling with curiosity.

“It is the form I take to make navigating Hell easier.” Lucifer explains, and in a blink, he reverts to his natural size, all eighteen feet of it. “You will find none of this magnitude, I should think.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” V2 whistles, a hand held over his visor as if he’s observing a mountain and the sun is getting in his eye. “I joked about Gabby being a fat baby, but with your size its like you ate a few of your siblings.”

Lucifer chuckles, the dark, rumbling sound peppered with feminine giggling.

“There is only one sibling I have eaten.” Lucifer says nonchalantly and you catch his meaning immediately and throw your head back and laugh.

It takes V2 a second, probably thinking he actually ate someone, but he is clever and figures it out shortly.

“HEH-HEH-HEH. You’re freaky—guess that’s expected of the devil.” He says and pretends to wipe a tear from his optic.

V1 keeps trying to catch Lucifer’s tail and while your friend has tolerated it for a little bit, his patience runs out and his tail suddenly whips around your lover and ensnares them before rising them high in the air to be level with Lucifer’s helm.

Lucifer does not need a face to demonstrate that he is annoyed and giving them a warning to behave.

“Can I sit on your shoulders?” Vi signs to ask, uncaring of his annoyance or the way they are being held like a doll.

Lucifer only stares.

“Pleeeeeease!” Vi signs, then clasps their hands together in askance.

“…Very well.” Lucifer obliges and sets your lover atop a shoulder.

“Be mindful of his horns, my flower.” You warn just as Vi is about to hold onto one to use as balance.

Their hand retracts and instead clings onto a handful of the black robes Lucifer always wears over the rest of his mortal ensemble.

From their perch, V1 levels V2 with a cheery gaze and raises a hand to flip him off.

“Think you’re safe up there, huh?” Vee huffs and cocks a hip to the side, “Got any more space up there for me, Lucie? I can call you that, right? We’re bros.”

“It is acceptable.” Lucifer says and picks up Vee with his tail next and sets him on his other shoulder.

As soon as he does Vee punches Vi in the arm.

It starts a round of fighting and they use Lucifer like a tree to climb up and down and try to swipe at one another.

“It must feel like having two kittens climbing up you.” You remark with a little laugh.

“Indeed.”

Gabriel returns to the foyer with a bag in hand and your lyre under one arm.

He freezes on the last step of the stairs.

His helm flashes red, but before he can shout at V1 and V2 for the disrespect of treating his sibling like an obstacle course, Lucifer holds up a clawed hand.

“Would you care to join as well?” He offers.

Gabriel reverts to his usual coloration immediately.

“W-What?” Your angel falters a bit, but then realizing his sibling is perfectly happy being treated like this, he relaxes and then laughs softly, “I—No. No, thank you.”

Gabriel sets your things down so he can pick you up and cradle you in his arms like a bride, holding you up high enough he can nuzzle his helm against your cheek affectionately.

“I hope that you have fun on your trip. I will miss you every second that you are gone.” He whispers lowly, the words for you alone.

You smile, cupping his helm, and press kiss after kiss to the cool metal surface.

“My thoughts never stray from you for long. Neither does my body.” You whisper right back as you begin to trace the jaw of his helm with a finger.

He is the only angel you have seen with that handsome chin of his that you have so fondly made a habit to refer to as his ‘beak’, given he is your precious dove.

Gabriel shivers a little and tucks his helm against your neck.

You pray to him, expressing your undying love and trust, and he brightens magnificently.

You and Gabriel startle when you hear two sets of thuds—V1 and V2 jumping off Lucifer so they can swarm your angel and climb him next in order to get affection too. He has no problem carrying all three of you, but it certainly is crowded.

You kiss and hug them all for a long while.

Lucifer picks up your bag and lyre for you when you separate at last, but before you can walk over to him, V1 beeps to get your attention and pulls you by the hand over to the fish tank near the organ.

“Oh, it almost slipped my mind.” You apologize and purse your lips to kiss the glass to say farewell to their pet, the funny fish with the black markings over its eyes that gives it a mischievous look.

The fish bumps gently against the glass then swims in little loops as if showing off.

Or so delighted by the kiss that it must find a physical outlet.

You and V1 are the only ones that the fish shows any affection towards.

It has spat water at V2 and Gabriel each time they try to be friendly.

“Little bastard.” V2 huffs as he watches the tank.

Vi whips their visor towards him accusingly.

“What? Who said that?” V2 says casually with a shrug.

You are settled into the crook of one of Lucifer’s arms and he teleports just as V1 lunges at V2, Gabriel squawking loudly because he gets pushed over by their antics.

You sincerely hope that your home will not be a wreck when you return…

The two of you materialize on Lucifer’s island in Wrath with the lighthouse.

It is raining as always.

While a light drizzle, Lucifer still extends a wing over you to shield you and your things from it.

“The lighthouse is powered. Why?” You ask as he carries you across the gloomy beach towards the structure.

His two story cottage sat at the foot of the lighthouse.

“There is a ship that weathers this treacherous sea. It brings passengers from this layer elsewhere. It is chartered by a Ferrymen.” Lucifer explains.

“A Ferrymen? I wonder if it is the same one that Gabriel knows—the one that he commissioned a statue of me from.”

“It is a lovely statue. If it is the same Ferrymen, I would happily commission a statue of Michael. Perhaps if the ship passes during your stay we can make introductions.” He replies as he reaches his home, and once standing on the porch, Lucifer shrinks down to his usual height.

He steps through the front door, closing it with his tail, before he sets you and your things down.

The cottage is dark and quiet.

He is the first home.

“Where is Michael?” You ask.

“Heaven. He promised to return home soon—and with a surprise no less.”

“I wonder what he got you.” You hum as you watch Lucifer approach the fireplace situated on the west wall of the main room.

You can only see him in small intervals when the lightning flashes through the windows. You watch him in a sort of series of snapshots as he kneels in front of the fireplace and snaps his clawed fingers to produce a flame.

The fireplace slowly comes to life.

He lights each sconce and candle, leaving a trail of light in his wake as he walks through the first floor of his home.

“The surprise is for you.” Lucifer corrects as he returns to the main room, “But I am not privy to the nature of it, so do not ask me for details.”

“I wouldn’t have! Well, maybe I would have asked for a hint.” You admit.

Lucifer hums and walks over to the luxurious wooden chair that is bigger than all the others by a significant amount and is situated near the fireplace. He removes his cloak and hands it on the back of it before taking a seat. He settles in comfortably, a hand atop the armrest, and the other held up to hold the jaw of his gold helm.

His tail swishes against the floor languidly.

He is the very definition of expectant.

You walk over to him with a smile on your lips. You crawl atop his lap and adjust to sit sideways, your arms wrapped around him and your face pressed to his chest. Lucifer purrs loudly, so loudly the sound almost drowns out the rain. His tail begins wagging so hard that you feel it hitting against the legs of the chair.

He picks you up so he can hold you level to his face. He nuzzles his helm against you, mindful of his horns.

“I missed you too, my kin.” You laugh, “I pray to you each night before I go to sleep.”

“I have heard each prayer,” Lucifer tells you with a deep rumble, a feminine purr echoing it, “My dearest, little disciple, your words warm this heart of mine.”

He is in a very affectionate mood and refuses to part with you for a second.

When he gets up to fetch wine and a book he simply carries you along with him.

The two of you sip wine as he reads aloud, the rain outside, the crackling of the fire, and his purring that starts up every now and then adding to make the perfect ambience of a cozy stay in.

“You mentioned being the first angel to be created.” You bring up when he takes a break from reading.

“Indeed. I was the first and only for quite some time before my Father decided to create the rest. I was curious and rebellious the very first second I came into creation. He saw this and made the rest of my kin as…insurance, I have begin to understand after all this time. A fail safe for his plans.” He explains.

“So you are the oldest, largest, and strongest?”

“Yes. But even being what I am, the differences of power and spirit between myself and my Father are still astronomical. Imagine it like this: God as the bottle of wine.” And Lucifer picks up the bottle to give you another serving, “And the glass of wine as myself. That is how much our powers differ.”

“And the rest of the angels?”

“Gabriel and the rest were all made at the same time, but it was your lover that was bestowed a fair amount of our Father’s light and divinity. Compared to myself, I take the role as the bottle, and Gabriel as the cup.” He continues and serves himself another cup, “As for all the others, even the other archangels such as Michael, their power compared to Gabriel’s is…”

He dips a finger into his cup of wine and flicks it.

It leaves droplets of wine across the little table by his chair.

“Droplets of rain against a waterfall.” He explains.

“Ah. I see.”

“That is not to say Michael is not exceedingly strong of heart and spirit.” He clarifies at once, “He is extraordinary. Graceful and frightening when need be. The wars that we used to fight alongside each other…” He sighs wistfully, sounding so in love.

“You are so endearing when you speak of your love for him.” You remark and kiss him before sipping your wine.

“I do not know when I first fell for him. It feels as if I have always loved him. Perhaps my true purpose was not rebellion—perhaps it was loving him. Or is it my love for him is its own rebellion?”

The question lingers in the air.

The answer comes in the form of a flash in the main room, not from the lightning cutting through the windows, but from the arrival of divinity.

“Beloved.” Lucifer says so fondly as he sees his lover materialize near the front door, “…And another sibling, it seems. A small one.”

“Raphael!” You greet brightly and hop off Lucifer’s lap to approach them.

Raphael is dressed as usual in their multilayered ivory robes, a red sash tied around their thin waist. The hood of their robes is pulled up and that leaves only the front of their silver hem visible. The light from the fireplace makes the icon of the caduceus at the center of their helm glimmer brilliantly.

What strikes you as strange is the fact that Raphael has their wings covered with a cloak.

Not a single feather is visible.

You pull them into a tight hug and they wince when your arms brush against their cloaked wings.

You apologize and adjust accordingly.

“It has been ages!” You tell Raphael as you pull away from the hug to look at them properly, “Heaven has become busier for all, it seems. I have not seen you since we all gathered at my lover’s fishing spot.”

“Endlessly busy.” Raphael agrees with a sigh, their soft, quiet voice like the first few seconds of rain, “I read each of your letters and heard every prayer but did not have time for a visit until now.”

“I hope that you liked the ‘surprise’!” Michael speaks up shyly as he lays a hand atop Raphael’s shoulder.

His helm and the icon of the four pointed star shines so brilliantly as if polished and paired with how his halo brightens at his happiness to be home, he is dazzling to look at.

You kiss Raphael’s cheek and move over to hug him.

“I loved the surprise. How could I not?” You smile as you wrap your arms around him, and as usual with all other angels except for Raphael, your face ends just about at his waist, your face pressed to a hip.

Michael does more than just return the hug—he picks you up and swings you a bit, your legs dangling uselessly in the face of his excitement.

“Are you staying…over…?” You manage to get the question out to Raphael despite your little body being squeezed.

“For as long as I am able.” They answer, then timidly look over to where Lucifer is still seated, “And if I am not intruding, of course.”

Lucifer stands up and approaches the three of you.

He slips an arm around Michael and pulls him into a tight embrace, and seeing as how you are still held in Michael’s arms, you are squished by two sets of breasts—not that you have any mind of that.

Quite the opposite.

Lucifer rubs his helm against Michael’s in a sweet kiss.

“Welcome home, dearest.” Lucifer says while purring, his tail looped around one of Michael’s legs.

“It is a relief to be back and a blessing to have so many of my loved ones here with me. We must invite Gabriel the next time when his work has decreased.” Michael says.

“Raphael, was it? Michael has always spoken very highly of you. It is an honor to meet with you at last, my kin. You are more than welcome to stay as long as you desire. Make yourself comfortable and treat our home as you would your own.”

“T-Thank you. It is an honor to meet you officially after all this time. We only ever saw glimpses of one another before.” They return meekly, having a very difficult time maintaining their gaze.

Lucifer lays a clawed hand atop Raphael’s shoulder, but really, it covers the entirety of their shoulder and good portion of their arm as well.

“Shall we have a party?” You suggest, “We have plenty of wine and I have brought my lyre. We could move all the furniture aside to make room for dancing.”

“I love dancing!” Michael gushes and begins to clear away things at once.

Lucifer helps move things with his tail alone and serves wine to Raphael with his hands.

He graciously allows you to sit in his chair while he stands flush to its side. He swirls his cup of wine as you tune your lyre. Finished, you begin to play something lively.

Raphael and Michael share a dance with one another first.

“I never did learn if you play any instruments.” You mention to Lucifer as your fingers dance across the strings of your lyre.

You had asked him this question the last time you visited, but far more important things had ended up being discussed instead, namely, your incorrect thinking that Michael had no further want of intimacy with you and had used you.

The memory of your misunderstanding still shames you deeply.

You are meant to be partying, so you dismiss the negative emotions that begin to arise.

“I do not, although I deeply enjoy music.” Lucifer answers.

“And what of singing?”

“I have not sang since…” He begins.

“Since the celebration we held last in Heaven before you were cast out.” Michael speaks up to answer for him.

“Ah.” Lucifer says, “So it has been some time.”

“You must sound lovely with your double speak—a duet all on your own.” You tell him.

“My voice did not always sound like this, just as my form differed before I was cast out.” He explains, then stiffens, halo brightening, as he turns towards Michael, who has not said a word, but you know without a shadow of a doubt he had just prayed some variation of a compliment to his lover to assure him of his looks.

You are unsurprised that Lucifer asks to cut in for a dance with Michael shortly after.

The two of them dance in a waltz.

They are flirting via prayer, you can tell, because both of their halos light up intermittently and sometimes Michael laughs breathily, his wings fluttering.

Your cheeks hurt from how hard you are smiling.

The two of them are so cute.

You had offered the chair for Raphael to sit, but they had preferred to take Lucifer’s spot standing beside you instead.

You think it is because that for whatever reason they do not want their wings to bump against the back of the chair.

“It is unfair that you must provide the music and lose out on dancing! Allow me to fetch my violin so that you may have a turn.” Michael says to you before kissing Lucifer and running off upstairs.

You have always found it charming when angels forget that they can teleport.

Or maybe since this is his home, Michael prefers to take his time and enjoy things.

Either way, your spirit only continues to brighten.

You are having such a wonderful time.

When Michael returns with his violin he breaks out into a catchy tune, playing so enthusiastically that he sways with the melody.

You grin at Raphael and take their hand.

“Let me teach you how the people of my time danced.” You say.

In the center of the room, you slip your arm into the crook of Raphael’s and begin to teach them the steps slowly. They are a quick learner and are able to copy you with little if any mistakes and now warmed up, the two of you dance in earnest, twirling around one another and doing what V2 always refers to as ‘fancy footwork’.

“I refuse to go so long without seeing you again, my kin! You must find a way to take more time off from work. I insist!” You laugh brightly to Raphael.

“Forgive me.” They say with a shocking amount of sincerity.

It is shocking enough that you almost trip over your own feet.

You recover quick enough.

“Give me a twirl and perhaps I will think about it.” You say with a wink.

Raphael begins to twirl you but your foot catches on the part of their cloak that drags on the floor. When you spin, it drags the cloak entirely off their wings.

In their mortification, Raphael drops you.

Your focus goes to catching yourself instead of viewing just what lay underneath the cloak you had clumsily pulled off.

Things happen a little too quickly for you to process.

Michael suddenly teleports to Raphael, blocking them from sight, then teleports elsewhere.

Lucifer is suddenly behind you, preventing you from falling with his tail.

All at once it is just the two of you in the main room and the music and merriment has died.

You blink rapidly, utterly confused.

You see something on the floor where you and Raphael had just been dancing—bloodied feathers.

Your heart drops to your gut.

You kneel and pick one up.

As you rise to your feet you hear something from upstairs.

It is crying.

That is Raphael crying!

You turn towards Lucifer with alarmed eyes.

“You must go alone. I am not close with Raphael and to see more than I already have would be a cruel intrusion.” He tells you.

He gives you a reassuring push on your back before taking his seat by the fire.

You walk past the cozy kitchen and towards the stairs.

You take the steps slowly.

Quietly.

You are anxious on what you may discover, but more than that, you are worried sick.

The door to the master bedroom is cracked open.

Raphael’s cries become clearer as you approach.

You only linger in the dim hallway for as long as it takes for you to resolve yourself.

You push the door open and step inside.

Raphael and Michael are seated on the bed, with the smaller angel in Michael’s arms, their helm buried against his bosom as they sob.

Hearing the door creak open, Raphael gasps and tries to hastily throw their cloak back on.

“Please don’t, my kin. There is no need to be alarmed or ashamed.” You assure while holding up a hand. “…Why is it you have hidden an injury?”

Raphael’s wings are ragged—bald in some spots and shedding constantly. Their wings twitch erratically as if being tickled. Not a trace of blue remains, each feather pure white as if all emotion has been washed out save for their anxiety. There are parts of their plumage that look uncomfortably clustered with new feathers, akin to an ingrown hair a mortal would suffer. Many, many spots are flecked with blood.

“It is no injury,” Michael corrects, “They are molting—something all of us angels must deal with from time to time, and while it is a taxing process, for some, such as Raphael, it can be extremely difficult. Keeping history is one of Raphael’s domains, but the purpose in which our Father created them was to heal and soothe others. They are the most skilled healer in all of Heaven. It is tiresome work—healers accrue much stress and exhaustion from tending to others. They see the most gruesome of injuries and soothe away all manner of fears and worries. They bleed themselves dry to uplift others.”

“…It is why I have been away for as long as I have.” Raphael finds the courage to at last speak after a long moment of silence, “My molts have kept growing worse and I did not wish to be seen in such a pitiful, disgusting state so I isolated myself. I thought it would help but it did the opposite. I have been dreadfully lonely and now I have made a poor impression with Lucifer and have made my friend see something unpleasant. Please do not think less of me for this. I am sorry for how I am.”

Raphael can speak no more.

Their words dissolve into miserable sobs.

You take a seat next to Michael, unsure if Raphael wants you to be anywhere near their wings or to be close to them.

“I have cared for you during your molts before, although it has been quite a while since the last one. Why did you not seek me out?” Michael asks gently.

“When I think of asking for help it gets stuck in my throat. My stomach turns.”

“You did not used to be like this.”

“…The Council was not sympathetic with the stress us healers are put through. When I would ask for even the briefest of reprieves they would in turn mock me. They called me weak of spirit and even weaker of faith. Even with them long dead, their cruel words have remained in my mind as strong as ever. It has festered within me.” Raphael explains in a brittle little voice.

“You never spoke of this.” Michael remarks sadly.

“How could I, when you and Gabriel were made to suffer far worse?” They say.

“Gabriel especially.” Michael agrees with a wince.

“It is the fact that you have been made to suffer at all, not the magnitude of the suffering.” You speak up to tell Raphael, “Please do not think that the strifes your siblings have dealt with shadow your own. We are all owed rest and respect, are we not?”

Raphael hums in agreement but they do not sound confident.

All in due time, you suppose.

“Would you let me tend to your wings? Please.” Michael implores.

Raphael separates from them to clasp their gloved hands together anxiously.

Just that movement alone has made them shed several more feathers.

“I would like to help as well. It has always struck me as a shame that I was only permitted to care for your wings that one instance, so long ago.” You say.

“…You are not disgusted? You truly wish to care for me?” Raphael asks with a tone that breaks your heart.

“I love you deeply, my kin. The only thing I am disgusted by is the treatment you were given by the Council.” You assure before turning towards Michael, “I am an amateur when it comes to wing care and I do not wish to cause any further hurt than what they are already suffering. I think that you should tend to their wings and I will soothe them in other ways.”

Michael nods and leaves briefly to gather a bowl of water, a cloth, and to undoubtedly inform Lucifer not to enter the bedroom for a while.

You sit at the head of the bed with your back propped by a mountain of pillows. You have Raphael lay atop you, their helm resting atop the pillow on your stomach. Michael settles on the bed on Raphael’s left, the bowl between his massive thighs, and begins to work.

It takes a very long time.

Old, frayed feathers are plucked one by one. The patches of new feathers that are clustered together are worked through with gentle fingers, some of them having to be plucked as well to allow proper growth without being overcrowded. It is those new, overeager feathers that seem to bring Raphael the most pain, as they whimper and hide their helm against the pillow each time one is removed.

You pet their helm and their shoulders as you pray to them.

‘You are so loved, my kin. We will never mock you or turn you away when you are in need. You have a beautiful, kind heart. A steadfast soul. You are precious to each of us and we will treat you exactly as that. I will allow none to insult you or make you feel lesser. Not even your Father. Know this with certainty.' You pray in your mind.

Raphael’s halo brightens and they cling to you tighter.

Michael finishes one wing and starts on the other.

“I am making a mess of your bed.” Raphael sniffles when they notice all the feathers and bits of dried blood littering the sheets.

“I do not mind at all.” Michael dismisses. “And I should mention that although I am saddened that your molts are always such a stressful process for you, I enjoy taking care of you and being close like this. I always have. So, please, in the future when you are in need of help do not hesitate to come to me.”

“Yes, brother, I am sorry…”

You shush Raphael and start massaging their shoulders.

The difficult work has been taken care of and now all that is left is for Michael to brush out the feathers and help the oil spread. He does so gently, and it is now that Raphael begins to relax.

Raphael scoots up higher on you so that they can rest their helm between your cleavage, soothed by the softness and your warmth. You wrap your arms around their waist and secure them against you.

You begin to sing softly.

Their wings are fluttering nonstop and are now blue and pink. Their halo is bright with the affection they are being given.

Michael cleans the bed as best as they can with the two of you still on it.

“Rest now, my kin.” Michael says as he leaves to take the bowl and bloodied cloth out.

“…P-Please do not leave.” Raphael weakly pushes up from you to say, “I wish to sleep with you beside me. I am sorry for asking for so much.”

“Do not be sorry. I will put these away then return. We will all nap together. Do you mind if Lucifer joins?”

“I am denying him his bed…!” Raphael realizes with horror.

“You are not. He has no qualms remaining in his chair and reading while you rest.” Michael corrects.

“I do not mind. I hope that he is not upset to have his bedroom so crowded.”

“He is delighted, I am sure.” Michael replies and takes his leave.

You massage Raphael’s shoulders again to get them calm again.

Michael returns shortly after with Lucifer, who has taken his serpent form and is loosely wrapped around his lover’s neck, the candlelight dancing across his black scales.

His red eyes are piercing.

Michael returns to bed and lays on his side. He slings an arm over Raphael, and by extension you, and pulls you flush to him. Lucifer unloops from his neck and slinks towards Raphael. He flicks his tongue a few times against their helm in a kiss before hiding away in Michael’s bosom, only his head peeking out.

You start singing again and in no time at all both Raphael and Michael are asleep.

You yourself are on the edge of it, but Lucifer looks wide awake.

He is staring at you.

“Bored?” You ask quietly.

“Very.” He speaks into your mind, “If you are tired, do not force yourself to stay awake on my account. In fact, if you fall asleep, I may join you in your dreams. I have been curious to see more of your memories.”

“I enjoy sharing my mortal life with you and I have found these dream sessions of ours to jog memories that I had previously thought lost to me.” You tell him.

“Then sleep, and I will join you shortly.”

You wink at him then close your eyes.

You focus on the sound of the rain and Michael’s snoring.

You focus on the comforting weight of Raphael atop you and how they keep nuzzling their helm against your chest even in their sleep.

You fall asleep.

You are no longer Rue.

You are Calliope, and you are alive and mortal and—

Pissed off.

Endlessly so.

Melanthios is standing just beside you in the marketplace of your city. He had just offered his services mending nets to a woman who’s husband was a sailor, but instead of simply turning him down, she took a look at you, recognizing you as this city’s troublemaker, and spits at his feet, insulted he would even dare offer such a thing when he associates with you of all people.

You see red.

You push your lyre into your friends arms and lunge at her.

The woman hits the ground hard and you hit her even harder, striking her across the face sharply with one hand. She howls and slaps you back, but you are so furious you barely even feel the hit, already moving to hit her again. She tries to kick you off but you are a wild, stubborn thing, and even when she bites you, you do not stop, and you repay her childish gesture by yanking a fistful of her hair.

Someone pulls you off her.

You don’t go easily.

You make sure to spit at her feet as Melanthios hefts you atop one of his shoulders like a sack of flour. He used to be a scrawny thing, but his working on your farm and helping the sailors at the docks has filled out his tall frame and he has no problem carrying you or your lyre.

He walks hastily from the market as you shout obscenities.

You are carried the entire way, not trusted to walk on your own or else you might run back to the market and break that woman’s nose. Melanthios takes you to the alley that your friends and lovers hung out in.

“Oh, Calli, what has happened?” A friend asks as you are at last set down and they see the bruises forming all over you and your split lip.

“Merely taught someone a lesson in manners.” You huff, “I am fine—just deeply irritated.”

“Let me tend to you.” A lover steps closer to offer.

Melanthios takes your hand and leads you to sit down against a wall.

“I will take care of it.” He says in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

Not that anyone tries—they know that out of all of them, he is the most protective of you.

You sulk like a child in your seat as Melanthios leaves and returns with some water and a rag. He sits in front of you, the frown on his face more pronounced than usual, and begins to clean your face.

You hiss when the rag brushes against your split lip.

“This is not going to repeat.” Melanthios tells you as he looks you dead in the eyes.

Your nose wrinkles.

“And what shall I do the next time someone insults you? Thank them?” You challenge.

“Ignore them or make light of it as you do when you yourself are insulted.”

“What care have I when insults are slung my way? I have been called every name under the sun.” You scoff.

“So have I, back when I drifted from place to place. I am no stranger to insults or cold gazes.”

“But—”

“I will not suffer seeing you bloodied unnecessarily like this again.” Melanthios tells you fiercely, his dark eyes burning like coals as he stares at you.

“It was entirely necessary!” You argue.

“Calliope.” He says firmly.

You shut your mouth with a click and turn away, a scowl on your face.

His gaze lingers on you.

You can feel it.

He is waiting for something and you know exactly what.

You take a deep, shaky breath.

“…This will not repeat.” You relent through your clenched teeth.

In the corner of your vision you see him relax.

He gently cups your face and cranes it to look at him.

“Thank you.” He tells you, eyes soft, and the smallest beginnings of a smile on his lips.

You grumble.

He kisses your forehead then presses his own against it.

You melt against the touch as you stare intensely into his eyes.

It is how the two of you of you ground one another. He watches you and you watch him, your breath eventually matching his as the world shrinks down to just the two of you.

When you have calmed, he adjusts to sit beside you against the wall before pulling you against him. You drape across his front, face on his stomach as he strokes your hair. He combs the knots out gently, his fingers working through the unruly waves you have always had a difficulty wrangling into styles. It did not help that the humidity made it even wilder, random curls and cowlicks springing forth.

He combs your hair section by section, never rough, not even by accident, and the minute tugging of your hair as he works makes these pleasing tingles run across your scalp and spread all over. You shiver and wrap your arms around his middle to somehow be even closer to him.

You want to break through the barrier of skin and rest against his soul.

His short nails scratch your scalp after he is done with your hair. He keeps at it well past the point of you becoming a boneless puddle atop him.

Only now does Melanthios allow others to flock over.

You sleepily talk with your companions as he continues petting you.

"Where did you get such a beautiful brooch?" One of your friends ask as they point at the shoulder of your chiton.

You blink at that, confused, because as always you should be wearing the dove brooch that you and Melanthios both own a copy of.

Instead of the dove, you see a brooch in the shape of a coiled serpent—a black one with red eyes.

You wake up.

You turn towards your right and find Lucifer awake, but just barely.

His red eyes blink slowly at you.

It makes you think of how cats do that to show who they care for.

You blink back slowly and go back to sleep.

It is dreamless this time around.

Notes:

my eyes were crossed by the time i finished this beast of a chapter lmfaoooo

i am sure that there will be a bunch of errors i need to fix up but im going to sleep for the next 12+ hours

welcome back raphael!! its been a while since they showed up so i wanted to give them extra attention

going to keep this note short since i'll be posting the next chapter right after :3 <3

Chapter 8: rue/michael/lucifer pt 2

Notes:

***TW for sibling incest (lucifer/michael) the NSFW will be happening at the very end (when raphael leaves), so you if want to avoid it but want to read everything else, there you go~

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“It is a shame that it rains all the time. Gabriel packed my swimwear, although I am still not all that used to wearing clothes to swim. It seems silly to put on clothes just to get them wet when you could swim naked.” You remark casually as you stare out a window.

Raphael and Michael are playing chess at the dining table and Lucifer is seated in his chair by the fire reading.

“If you are tired of the rain, then it will cease.” Lucifer declares and just like that you do not hear the rain anymore.

When you look outside, you see that he has made only the island sunny, with the rest of Wrath still storming and gloomy.

It is so strange to see.

It must look like the island is about to be lifted to Heaven.

You rush over to Lucifer excitedly and kiss his cheek in thanks.

He hums, his attention on his book still, but there is no missing his tail wagging.

You go to the washroom and change into the pink, blue and yellow bikini V1 gifted you a while ago.

Michael has seen you in it once before, but his wings still flush pink and ruffle at the sight of it when you reenter the main room.

“I could go for a swim.” You declare brightly, hands on your hips, before turning towards Lucifer, “There aren’t any dangerous things in the water, are there?”

“There is a singular danger in these seas, but it will not dare to venture close to our home, nor will it dare to attack my disciple. You will be safe as you have your fun.” He assures.

“I-I would like to swim as well!” Michael says, utterly forgetting about the game of chess he is in the middle of.

Raphael does not mind at all and stands up from their seat to save the game for later.

“I will join, too.” They say.

The three of you stare at Lucifer who continues to read.

“…Very well. I will join the merriment.” He sighs and closes his book with a snap.

Raphael dresses down to the bloomers they wear underneath their robes and Michael wears a lightweight, billowing long sleeve, and loose shorts. Lucifer does not change at all to your disappointment, so you know he has no intention of going into the water.

You still splash him quite a bit and annoyed, he curls his tail around your ankle and lifts you up until you are dangling upside down. Your breasts pop out of your bikini and Raphael squeaks and looks away.

“Apologies, little Raphael.” Lucifer clears his throat and sets you back down.

Michael is staring right at you as you adjust your bikini.

You smirk at them and give your tits a shake.

He turns into a stuttering mess.

After the three of you have had your fill of swimming as Lucifer lounged in the sun, all of you take a walk across the island’s coast.

“The other angels are still getting used to the fact that Lucifer has not been lost to us.” Raphael mentions after speaking on some of their recent work, “I think the process would go a lot easier if they were to see you, brother.”

“I have no intention of ever returning. It has been thousands of years since I was cast out, but the pain and humiliation of it is still as vivid as it was back then. Not only that, but I am still slowly knitting myself back together as the person I used to be. The punishment I was given after being cast out weighs heavily upon my spirit. The pain of that is even fresher than my exile from Heaven.” Lucifer explains with a long suffering sigh.

“Is any of the pain that lingers physical?”

“It is of the spiritual sort.”

“I see. Only time and love will mend such a thing. I am glad that you have Michael.” Raphael says gently and hugs Lucifer.

“You are kind. I am appreciative to have you in my life now, too.” Lucifer says and lays a hand atop their helm.

“Is your relationship known in Heaven?” You ask Michael.

His wings turn ashen white at once.

“Heavens, no! I am not ashamed of the love that I share with Lucie, but angels are not known for their understanding for things outside of the norm and I know without a doubt few will be as understanding as you and my close siblings have. I admit, I have always been sensitive to what others think of me, and so perhaps it is my own cowardice, rather than other’s lack of understanding, that stops me from speaking on it.”

“It is your own private affairs.” You dismiss with a wave, “Not every aspect of yourself needs to be shared freely with others, especially those that you are not close with. You can say that you are close with Lucifer, and that you will tolerate no disrespect on his part and leave it at that. There is a difference in keeping something secret out of shame and keeping something private because it is no one else’s business.”

“…You always know exactly what to say to calm my spirits.” Michael admits quietly and slips his hand into yours to squeeze it.

“I am wise when it comes to three things: music, relationships, and coupling. Even then, I still stumble here and there. No one is perfect. We are all navigating this life as best as we can. As long as you are happy and safe, nothing else matters. Let that be the mantra to help you ward off any troubling thoughts.” You tell him.

It is not enough to walk beside you hand in hand.

Michael picks you up and carries you for the rest of the walk on the island.

The four of you sit on the sand after and watch the water.

“It is strange how nature is both artificial and real in Hell.” You speak up as you slip your toes into the sand. “Limbo is completely artificial, yet Greed has real sand and plants that I have transplanted from the surface. The sand is real here too, in Wrath, as is the rain, and the fish.”

“I have no answer on why that may be. Hell’s creation was a shocking revelation to us all. It is as cruel of a construct as it is strange. You would think such a domain would be stagnant and rigid in the confines of how it defines itself, but no, Hell is adaptable. Almost as adaptable as you mortals.” Lucifer says.

“Was it on purpose? Some parts being real, others being fake?” You ask.

“Who can say?” He replies. “Was it mere coincidence? Was the disparity of real and artificial meant to be another form of torture? I am of the belief that it was not intentional, for what is real and what is not seems to be picked almost at random.”

“…It reminds me of the elderly painters that I knew.” You say with a frown, “They were masters of the arts, but there is no stopping how one’s mind becomes feeble with age. They lost the ability to articulate exactly what it is they wanted to express, even with the mastery still there in their body’s memory. They would paint a flower, only for it wind up a scribble, or something else entirely, and not even be able to spot the difference.”

“That would paint our Father in a sympathetic light, would it not? Hell, this cruel creation, a mistake, instead of something that was planned. I am afraid that is not the case at all. Our Father was lucid when he made this place, and it was made not out of an ailing mind, but out of a grieving, furious one.” Lucifer explains, “I know this because I was the sole angel that told him what an abominable idea it was and I was swiftly cast out for it.”

“Believe me, your Father is the last I would offer any sympathy towards.” You assure him, “If not an ailing mind, then yes, I believe one fully succumbed to fury would make such a creation as this. True anger, true grief—it can destroy and make terrible things.”

“Indeed.” Lucifer sighs.

You stand up and dip your feet in the water.

Something bumps against your leg.

Something shiny.

You bend down and pick it up.

It’s a bottle—one with a message in it.

You turn towards your companions with a quirked brow.

“Do not keep us in suspense. Let us hear what is written.” Lucifer says.

You pop the cork off and shake the bottle over your hand until the folded note falls out.

“LEAVE.” You say loudly, and startle Raphael, “That is all the message says.”

“I hope that for whoever’s sake that wrote it, the words are not intended for Michael or I.” Lucifer says darkly, his tail whipping.

You are about to speak up again but something hits the back of your ankle.

Another bottle.

You frown with confusion and pick it up.

“DON’T SHOW YOUR FACE.” You read aloud, and not a second later another bottle washes up, then another and another.

‘HAVEN’T YOU TORMENTED ME ENOUGH?’

‘HELL SPAWN.’

‘CORRUPTOR.’

‘THIEF’.

No other bottles wash up.

You return to sit with your companions with a bundle of notes in your hand.

“They have fantastic handwriting.” You compliment as you admire the neat cursive scrawl.

Unbeknownst to you and the others the messages are meant solely for you.

Having had your fill of the sun, all of you return to the cottage and change clothes. Lucifer returns the rain to the island and Raphael and Michael are about to resume their game of chess when Raphael notices something out the window.

“I see a ship!” They gasp, hands pressed to the glass.

You move over to their side to see.

In the distance there is a massive shape.

Lightning flashes near it, and the two of you see a figure standing atop the bow.

“That must be the Ferrymen!” You say excitedly and wave Lucifer and Michael over, “Do you think we can go visit them?”

“I do not see why not.” Lucifer hums, but as he stands up, Raphael gasps again, but it not in awe.

“The ship is being attacked by something enormous!” Raphael says.

You look out the window and on the next flash of lightning you see the shape of a giant sea serpent poised to strike the Ferrymen.

“What a nuisance that creature is.” Lucifer sighs, “I should have culled it when Michael and I first moved here, but I was preoccupied with taking care of the other, trickier demons in Hell. I will remedy this mistake on my part at once. We will go to the ship.”

Lucifer wraps his tail around the three of you and teleports.

One second you are in the cottage, the next, you are being rained on at the bow of a modern day ship, a terrible creature far too close to your liking. It is a sea serpent, but it is made of the same flesh and porcelain-adjacent material as the other demons you have seen, namely the mannequins and the Minotaur.

The face of the creature depicts something quite salacious.

As morbid and frightening as this Leviathan is, your eyes wander to the figure laying lifelessly on the ground—the Ferrymen. Their body is cloaked from head to toe with an ivory cloth, but their legs and arms peek out. They are skeletal and an eye catching shade of phthalo blue. There is a gold bangle on one wrist.

There are deep cracks on both of their arms.

“I will do away with this pest. Tend to the Ferrymen.” Lucifer declares nonchalantly and from his chest he pulls out a weapon—a burning claymore, the blade of which is the length of two mortal men.

He disappears with a flash and in the next, you see him high in the sky, hovering just in front of the Leviathan’s face. Before the creature can even make a posture in aggression, Lucifer sinks the blade into its skull and begins to languidly walk down the expanse of its back, bisecting the creature with the ease of one tearing paper between their hands.

Blood and gore gushes like a geyser out of the creature and Michael extends both of his wings out just as a flood of the stuff heads for the three of you. He makes a disgusted sound as his wings are dirtied but makes no further complaint.

Raphael clasps their hands together and prays over the Ferrymen.

The cracks in the Ferrymen’s bones heal right before your eyes.

With a gasp—you wonder how it is they can gasp as a skeleton—the Ferrymen sits up.

Their cloaked face turns towards Raphael.

Then Michael.

The Ferrymen scrambles to kneel before them.

“There is no need to bow, you are among friends.” You tell them, and hearing your voice, the Ferrymen’s cloaked face snaps up.

They begin to shake.

You think they are emotionally moved from being saved.

They are shaking because they had spent all afternoon sending you hateful messages only for you to witness them take a humiliating defeat and then show up on their ship.

To your complete ignorance, you have been the source of many of their troubles.

“Are you alright?” Raphael asks them, now placing a gloved hand upon their shoulder. “Please do not conceal any further injuries you may have. I am more than happy to assist.”

“…I am perfectly fine now. It is like I never suffered the blow to begin with.” The Ferrymen speaks. “I thank you profusely. I do not deserve such kindness—and from angels, no less.”

It is a male voice.

Raspy and soft, and they talk in a polite, refined way.

“We angels are meant to care for others. You are deserving of care as we all are.” Raphael corrects. “Please, stand to your feet.”

The Ferrymen rises, using the oar in his hand like a walking stick.

There is a loud flap of wings.

“Forgive me, beloved, for having your wings suffer such filth. I will tend to them when we return home until they are pristine.” Lucifer says as he lowers next to Michael and returns the burning sword back inside of his chest, “Ah, and I see the Ferrymen has been taken care of. Excellent. You, nor your ship, will suffer that creature’s attacks again.”

“Thank you, your divinity. Is there some method in which I might repay this kindness?” The Ferrymen offers graciously.

“I was under the impression that you are the very Ferrymen that my little brother, Gabriel, is acquainted with. Is this true?”

“G-Gabriel…?” The Ferrymen repeats breathlessly. “Yes—Yes, I am the one.”

“Then you are the exact Ferrymen I am interested in. I would like a tour of your ship and would like to speak with you another time on commissioning a statue of my beloved.” Lucifer says.

“I would be honored to do both for you, your divinity.”

“I am delighted.”

“Ah, so you are Gabriel’s friend!” You say with a grin and approach him to lay a hand atop his shoulder. “I have wished to meet you for so long! Your skill with sculpting is second to none—and what a handsome ship you charter!”

Your good mood bounces off him and dies somewhere between your feet.

The Ferrymen is stiff and quiet.

“I am being too forward, perhaps.” You amend and take your hand off.

“I am his friend. You are correct.” The Ferrymen says, and says nothing more on that matter, “I will give you a tour of the ship. Please, follow me.”

The Ferrymen shows you the innards of the ship and you are all deeply fascinated with everything you see. The foyer of the ship is tawny wooden railings and stairs, with the floors covered by blue carpets. There is a statue of two figures fighting on the base floor, and on the wall is a paining of Gabriel lifting a Ferrymen in his arms.

The very same Ferrymen, you assume.

You marvel at the painting.

“You depicted his beauty perfectly. Just looking at the painting inspires a song within me. You are so talented.” You again compliment, but all the Ferrymen does is bow slightly in thanks, having taken a vow of silence whenever it came to you speaking to him.

There are cozy hallways with lit candles on the walls. There are little bedrooms that are unoccupied for the most part, but there are in fact a few husks and machines around, having paid to be sailed across the sea.

You gasp as you come across a large room with what appears to be a bar, a modern one, but your attention is solely on the statue at the very end of the room.

It is another depiction of Gabriel.

He looks to be slowly descending, one leg partly lifted, and his hands raised at his sides.

On either side of him is a statue of bowing Ferrymen.

“I would love to have something exactly like this in my home!” You gush, stars in your eyes as you break from your companions to rush over to the statue.

Someone joins your side.

You do not expect it to be the Ferrymen.

“It is yours.” He tells you with defeat in his voice, “…It has always been yours.”

“Ah, did you make this for me some time ago?” You ask.

He neither confirms nor denies a thing.

“Are you certain I may have it? You seem to have built it with the other statues in mind. I would hate to ruin your art piece.” You say.

“I am certain. Take it with you when the tour has finished.” He tells you and walks away to wait near the next set of doors.

There is something troubling that man but you cannot parse it.

You figure it out once you enter a dim room, the only source of light a sort of…blue projection of Gabriel, one that speaks soothingly to someone, telling them the importance of rest and not squandering God’s creations.

You have a hunch on who it is your angel had been saying those words to.

This Ferrymen is in love with Gabriel.

Obsessively so, and he seems to have been in love with him for a very, very long time.

The messages that washed up on the beach now make a lot of sense.

So does the Ferrymen’s general stiffness towards you.

You think of the pain he must have felt when Gabriel asked to have him commission a statue of his lover—you.

You think of the pain of then having said lover show up to his personal abode and see each expression of his heartbreak and devotion.

You allow him his distance for the rest of the trip.

“That was a magnificent tour.” Lucifer says at the end of it. “I was surprised to see that there were in fact people being ferried. Ah, that reminds me, do any of your patrons have a habit of littering? I had a slew of messages in bottles wash up on the shore of my island, my home, and they contained very hateful messages. I doubt that they were addressed to myself, but I am not one to tolerate a slight of any kind. Do you have information on this?”

The Ferrymen stiffens.

You stare at him and he only grows stiffer.

You think he knows that you know.

You are not sure how, but you are positive.

You could expose him for his cruel words and his pettiness but…

You are neither cruel, nor petty.

You subtly place a finger over your lips and wink, promising to keep it secret, before turning away from him.

“I do not, your divinity, but I will make sure to scold anyone I come across for dishonoring your home in such a way.” The Ferrymen answers after a breath.

“I appreciate it.” Lucifer says, “I will teleport Rue’s new gift to their manor than I will meet you all at home.”

He teleports in a flash.

“I really enjoyed seeing your ship and your artwork.” Raphael speaks up, “Would you allow me to visit again in the future? If that will not get in the way of your work, of course.”

The Ferrymen almost jumps with how badly he startles.

“…You wish to visit?” He asks, deeply shocked by this.

“Yes, of course! I had so much fun!” Raphael tells him brightly, their hands clasped together and wings fluttering eagerly.

“…I would be honored.” The Ferrymen says a very long time later, but no less sincerely.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

Unfortunately, Raphael leaves for Heaven the next day.

They are showered in affection and are not allowed to leave until they promise to return the very second they are able to.

You sigh, staring at the twinkling divinity left in their wake.

You already miss them terribly.

“I am afraid I must leave for a while as well,” Lucifer speaks up from where he stands between you and Michael, “I meant to take care of a few demons in Greed and have put it off for far too long.”

“You can put it off for a while longer, I should think.” You say with a frown.

“I immensely enjoyed having Raphael visit, but I must confess…I have been waiting for the three of us to have privacy.” Michael confesses timidly.

“…You will have me afterwards. I will only be gone for a few hours.” Lucifer says with restraint to his tone so potent you can taste it. “Enjoy one another’s company for the time being. I will return.”

He kisses Michael, then you before teleporting.

You huff, disappointed.

The two of you play chess half-heartedly at the dining table and sip wine.

“We could always make him return home.” You say as you set down your cup and move your bishop.

“Make him??” Michael repeats as he considers your move.

You hum, resting your chin in your palm.

“We could make it so that he has no choice but to return.” You elaborate.

“How would we do that?” He asks incredulously.

You straighten in your chair, not caring about chess in the least anymore, and slowly begin to untie your peplos from around your body. Michael sucks in a gasp as the fabric slips down your shoulders and your breasts spill out. You smile at him wryly as you stand and let it fall completely off.

The light from the fireplace accentuates your naked form.

You use that to your full advantage as you approach him in languid steps until you are standing just at his side.

You cup his helm with one hand.

He shivers.

“We could start our own fun and then pray to him with the image of what we are doing.” You explain, and keeping your hand on him, you slip onto his lap, “If you are willing, that is. We could always go back to playing chess.”

Michael swallows hard.

“I am very willing.” He tells you breathily.

“Good angel.” You hum and stand up on your knees to kiss him.

He makes a beautiful little noise.

His hands fly to your hips, squeezing lightly. You kiss him all over his helm, then focus your attention on his neck, which is so sensitive. Each kiss, each gentlest of bites, has him squirming in his chair.

“I have missed this dearly.” He confesses in a desperate whisper as his hands stroke your back, “I have missed you.”

You lean back to smile at him.

His hands move all over you. He caresses your face with such a gentle hand, tracing the curve of a cheek, then the cupid’s bow of your top lip. You stare up at him so fondly that he cannot help but lean down and press his helm against you. His hands skirt down your arms, fingertips dancing, and gives each of your thighs a tentative squeeze.

“So soft. So beautiful.” He gasps quietly against your lips as you kiss him.

His hands trail up your stomach, beginning to tremble the slightest as they near your breasts but when you arch your back encouragingly, his hands cup them immediately. He has such large, warm hands. He squeezes your breasts together, breath hitching at the sight of your cleavage, before he massages them gently. His thumbs brush against your nipples and you arch your back even more.

He gives them an experimental flick and you moan. He needs no further encouragement to tease you properly. Michael teases each nipple between his index and thumb, rolling the stiff peaks with varying pressure. He adds the slightest more pressure and pinches you and your keen loudly, hips bucking. Your belly burns with heat and your cunt begins to drip on his lap.

He takes one hand off your bosom to gently prod your lips with two fingers.

You open your mouth eagerly.

He glides his fingers across your tongue, thrusting slowly in and out like a cock, and you hollow your cheeks and suck his fingers just like one.

You maintain eye contact with him, the light of the fireplace in your eyes.

He trembles with excitement at the sight of your smoldering gaze.

Michael teleports and you find yourself on your back on the other end of the dining table with him standing between your spread thighs. He lowers a hand between your thighs and teases your folds with his slicked fingers. He slides two fingers to sandwich the hood of your clit between his index and middle finger. He squeezes them together and the pressure is wonderful.

He massages that bundle of nerves with his crooked knuckles, using the flat part to stimulate in tantalizing circles. You are so wet that his fingers sometimes slide away from where he means to.

He apologizes hoarsely and you find it so, so cute.

You clasp your hands together and start on your first prayer.

‘Oh, my lord, Lucifer, I wish for you to see what we are doing in your absence. I wish for you to feel what we are doing. Can you not sense how badly we are both in need of you? Would you leave your one and only disciples prayers unanswered? You are not a cruel God. I know that you would never do such a thing. You love us too much. We love you so much in return. We only wish for you to return…’

You release your hands and return your full focus to the pleasure that Michael is giving you.

His finger goes to your entrance.

You are so pleased that he does not hesitate to slip it inside.

You gasp as he stretches you open. He has thick fingers, but you are so wet you take the first one to the knuckle with ease and greedily wiggle your hips for the second.

“It does not hurt at all, does it?” Michael asks you sweetly.

“It feels amazing, my dear. Please keep going. Give me more.” You sigh and spread your thighs as far as they can go.

He starts thrusting his fingers inside you cautiously, watching out for any sign of pain of discomfort, and after finding nothing but your desire, he grows confident and gives you exactly what you need, now fucking his fingers in you at a firm, steady pace. You are positive that you are leaving a wet spot on their dining table.

You cannot help it—he is so handsome as he gives you pleasure.

Michael whimpers and pants like he is the one being fingered. He finds you so beautiful and wants to be good for you. The sentiment is professed in each reverent touch, each quiet gasp of your name.

“I love you,” You gasp as you tiptoe closer to the edge, “Michael, you feel so good in me. I want to feel it forever. Please, keep fucking me.”

He chokes on a breath and rests his helm against your face, staring at you intensely as he starts fucking you roughly with his fingers. You wrap your legs around his hips and greedily squeeze for every drop of pleasure he gives you. You cum with a breathy gasp of his name and your arms fly to his shoulders to give you something to stay grounded as your body is wracked with pleasure.

“Good angel. You did so well.” You praise, and he hides his helm against your breasts with a tortured sound, “…You are soaked, aren’t you?”

He shyly nods against your bosom.

“Undress for me and sit on Lucie’s chair. I have gone too long without tasting you.” You instruct as you stand up.

He is so eager that he teleports over to the chair and starts stripping out of his clothes at once, too turned on to feel self-conscious about his body, or perhaps he has grown comfortable enough with it that he is no longer ashamed of it.

You hope that it is of the latter.

He is a perfectly beautiful man.

For him to feel any shame or disgust with himself dampens your soul.

Michael’s last garment falls to the ground and he stands in front of the fireplace naked. He is so tall and muscular. His biceps ripple with the littlest of movements. He has the largest breasts you have ever seen and they are certainly the softest, too. You would need several sets of hands to fully enjoy them. They are so heavy that you can barely see the gold embellishment that sits under them.

He has washboard abs, not a single trace of fat to be found on his stomach, and it leads down to wide hips and wondrously thick thighs and legs.

He takes a seat in Lucifer’s chair.

You walk over and stand in front of him, arms looped behind your back and a wry smile on your lips.

“Spread your thighs for me.” You tell him.

Michael’s wings flap hard.

Then he obliges.

His dark, muscular thighs part for you and reveals his glistening cunt. He has plump, puffy lips, and his clit is so swollen with blood and aching to be touched.

He is breathing so hard with his excitement you think he is teetering on hyperventilating.

“Be calm, my dear.” You shush as you cup his face, “I need you to keep your breathing even so you can pray to Lucie. You need to keep your thoughts focused enough in order to do that. Are you able to do this for me?”

“Yes—Yes, of course. I can do anything if it is you who asked.” Michael nods eagerly.

You kiss him then lower to your knees between his legs.

He begins to tremble.

You maintain eye contact as you lean closer and closer.

Upon the first kiss that you press against his folds, Michael’s hands clap together loudly and he begins to pray at once. You grin as you kiss each soft lip, then his folds, and when your mouth brushes against his clit he wails, one of his legs kicking a bit, but he does not hurt you at all.

“Keep praying.” You order and he nods.

You drag your tongue up and down, eager to taste him.

It is so heady and addictive.

He responds to the littlest of touch so strongly and it encourages you to give him everything. You swirl your tongue around his clit and look up to admire how tightly he has his hands clasped. It makes his biceps stand out handsomely. You want to sink your teeth into those muscles but are far happier eating him alive instead.

You nurse at his clit, sucking now, and he turns into a frantic, shaky little thing.

His wings are so pink they teeter on being red.

They have fluffed out an impressive amount, too.

You close your eyes and focus on giving him pleasure. When you tease a finger inside and crook it the very slightest his thighs suddenly clench around your head and he sobs as he cums with a startling gush against your lips.

He soaks your mouth and chin and utterly slumps into the chair.

You kiss his thigh and are about to praise him when the fireplace completely snuffs out.

Every candle on the first floor of the cottage follows next.

“Is there a window open? I did not feel a breeze just now.” You say with a blink as the two of you sit in the dark.

Lightning flashes through a window and brightens the living room momentarily.

Michael gasps as he sees something behind you.

“Beloved…” He says with a shake to his voice.

You rise to your feet and turn around just as another lightning strike illuminates the room.

Lucifer has returned.

“I had just located the group of demons I had been tracking in Greed for a few weeks now when I heard your prayer, my disciple.” Lucifer informs you in a low, steady voice that makes you break out in goosebumps, “I was deeply affected by your prayer, I always am, but through much effort, I calmed myself and focused on my work. I corralled those demons into the perfect corner; they had no hope of escaping me. All I needed to do was take them all out in one fell swoop. And then I heard a second prayer, one from my dearest, and all focus fled my mind. The demons fled much the same.”

He takes a step towards you and you feel compelled to take a step back.

He takes another, and another, until you have fallen into Michael’s lap.

“Time and effort has been wasted. What do you have to say in your defense?” Lucifer reprimands as he holds your face in his clawed hand.

You set your hand atop his and maneuver the thumb.

You stare right at him as you drag your tongue from the knuckle to the tip.

A rumble starts deep in his throat.

It is not a purr—it is a growl.

He tucks you under one arm and grabs Michael with the other. He could teleport upstairs but he goes through the effort of stalking through his home and walking up the stairs, taking them three at a time. The door to the bedroom opens for him as if willed and he kicks it shut behind him, undoubtedly leaving claw marks on it from his taloned feet.

He tosses you both onto the bed and as you sit up you see him tearing out of his clothes.

His breasts sway as he walks over, his powerful legs flexing with each step. His clawed feet make the softest of noise. He shrinks down a few feet shorter, now about ten feet, only a little taller than Michael, and his cock, while still large, is far more manageable in size.

You will actually be able to fit him inside.

You lick your lips, eager, and crawl over to him.

“You are not in control here, disciple.” Lucifer tells you at once, “You will not move unless I give the word and you will not know release until I grant it. When I tell you that I am doing work, you will heed to that and not interrupt.”

He is genuinely annoyed with you.

You have miscalculated things and made a terrible blunder.

You turn away from him, biting your lip.

“I am sorry…Truly.” You say quietly.

“You will be.” He tells you darkly and uses his tail to guide your face back to him, “You will seek forgiveness with your body—both of you. You craved my touch so much that you interrupted my work and so you will be given my touch in excess to the point that you can no longer stand it. Is that understood?”

“Y-Yes. I will not interrupt your work again.” You shiver.

“I need an answer, dearest Michael.” Lucifer says.

“…I will not interfere. I promise.” He says sincerely.

He stares at the two of you for an unnerving amount of time as if weighing the truth of your words.

“Beloved, you will use your newest gift from me on our kin while they service me with their mouth.” Lucifer says, and your interest piques at once.

This hardly sounded like a punishment at all.

You loved sucking cock and now Michael was going to give you attention with something new and exciting.

Perhaps you should piss off your lord more often…

To your delight, when you see Michael return to the bed he has a harness on and a black, impressively sized strap is affixed to it.

“What a handsome cock.” You compliment, “It suits you perfectly.”

You would say more, but Lucifer interrupts.

“On your hands and knees, disciple.” He orders.

You do so and stare up at him.

His breasts look fantastic from this angle.

The bed rustles behind you as Michael settles flush to your backside. You arch your back, so eager to be fucked by him.

“You will take them, but you will not make them finish. You will stop just shy of it each time.” Lucifer continues.

Your excitement snuffs out.

“Is something wrong?” Lucifer challenges, “I am being merciful, but if you find a problem with this punishment I am creative enough to think of another.”

You are frightened of what else he may come up with.

You shake your head fiercely.

“Nothing is wrong.” You say.

“That is what I thought. Now open your mouth and take all that I give.” Lucifer tells you.

You open your mouth and he guides his cock to it. You want so badly to swipe at the tip with your tongue and taste the salt of his precum but he has made it clear that if you do anything that is not a direct instruction you will only earn more of his ire. You keep your tongue flat and your jaw relaxed. You do not even let your breathing stray too much from the norm in case he will punish you for that as well.

Just as his tip slips inside, you feel the tip of Michael’s cock nudge against your entrance.

You fight with all your might to stomp the urge to thrust back and force him inside.

You shake with the effort it takes.

“You cannot stand being denied what you need and it is us that you need, is it not?” Lucifer asks cruelly as he shallowly thrusts the tip in and out of your mouth, “Yes, I can see it in your eyes. You wish that we were buried deep in you already. You want to be filled. You want to be claimed. You have not earned that. But you will, with time.”

You clench your eyes shut and whine around his cock.

This is unfair.

The feeling only increases when Michael begins to slip inside of you.

He takes it so slowly and gently, you can tell he does not mean to tease you, that he is genuinely wanting to be careful with your so much smaller and fragile body, but the slowness in which he gives you each inch drives you half mad and you were already desperate to begin with.

Lucifer fits all of his cock into your mouth, staying nestled deep for thirty seconds, before pulling out and letting you breathe. He repeats this over and over, enjoying the feeling of you swallowing around his length, but he does not allow you or instruct you to give it attention in any other way.

You want to use your tongue.

You want to trace the thick vein that serpentines under his cock. You want to kiss the slit and smear his precum like rouge on your lips. You want to have your mouth fucked in earnest, not this pseudo cock warming you are made to do for him.

You want so much and so deeply.

Michael bottoms out after what feels like ages. It is so wonderful to be filled by something thick and hard but you remind yourself not to get too excited because he will not be fucking you to completion.

The reminder does nothing.

As soon as Michael starts to thrust in and out, even at a snail’s pace, you become noisier and clench around him happily.

It was the only thing you could get away with, really.

You think that if you force yourself to remain calm and quiet you can also sneakily cum without Michael or Lucifer realizing before it was too late.

No such luck.

The first time you draw close to perfect oblivion Lucifer notices at once and has Michael pull out and leave you empty for a full five minutes afterwards.

You wail around his cock, so furious and desperate that you kick your feet a bit.

He pulls out of your mouth and you stare up at him with tears in your eyes.

“It is unfair!” You cannot stop yourself from saying this time, “I do not deserve to be tortured like this.”

“We already established that you do. The only reason I am not punishing Michael the very same is because I know that it was your idea in the first place.”

Your bottom lip wobbles and you sniff.

“Is it so terrible that I love you and miss you even when you are gone briefly?” You ask pitifully, “I am like this with all of my lovers. I cannot help it.”

Lucifer starts purring.

Loudly.

He does not mean to, you can tell, because he clears his throat several times in order to stop it, but it is useless.

“Curses.” He hisses, irritated with you and himself, “I cannot deny you a thing. I had a premonition such a thing would come to be and I have not been proven wrong. You are an enthralling little mortal and you make it very difficult to maintain my anger with you even when deserved. You are as much of as blessing as you are a handful."

He starts fucking your mouth roughly and you are so pleased.

You stare up at him as best as you can and graciously take every inch with a salacious moan.

‘This same tongue that praises your name will praise your cock for hours if only you let it.’ You pray to Lucifer, ‘My throat is a vessel for your pleasure— please use it to its fullest. I want to taste your seed.’

Lucifer grunts as he cups the back of your head with a clawed hand and thrusts even faster.

He finishes with a loud, drawling hiss, and spills deep in the back of your throat.

You swallow once, twice, warmth spreading downward.

Lucifer pulls out of your mouth and teleports.

He has pulled Michael out of you and has laid him on his back in the center of the bed. You are picked up next, his hands cupping under your thighs, and he lowers you back onto his lover’s cock before kneeling behind you.

Michael curls his hands around both of your hips and gives an experimental thrust to test out this new position and with how you are seated atop him each thrust drags against his clit even more than it usually would. He is enamored by the way your tits bounce as he thrusts up.

“Lucie…” Michael calls out pitifully.

“Disregard everything I have said. You may fuck them however you wish.” Lucifer says, picking up exactly on what is troubling his lover.

Michael starts to fuck you with surprising force. He is not shy at all as he pounds his cock into your soaking cunt. The stretch of his cock and the drag of it against your walls is so lovely it makes you sing with pleasure.

You get even louder when you feel one of Lucifer’s trimmed fingers tease your ass.

‘Please give it to me.' You pray.

His finger disappears momentarily and when it returns it is slicked. He eases it inside and you thank him over and over, so happy to be filled that your thoughts become too unstable to even keep praying to him.

It is all too much for Michael—the noises you make, the way your eyes sparkle and you smile, your skin flushed as you take him so eagerly.

He finishes with a throaty moan and goes rigid, no longer thrusting in you.

That will not do at all.

You brace your hands flat on his abs and start fucking him hard.

“I love you. I love you so, so, much.” You babble like a drunk as you use his cock all for yourself, “Michael, its so thick. You didn’t let me taste it. I want to use my mouth on you next time. Please…”

All he can do is whimper as you fuck him.

He cums again before you do in even less time because you are fucking the strap so hard the base of it constantly rubs against his clit which is so overstimulated from all the attention its received that night.

You are pulled off him before you can make him faint and laid down on your belly with Lucifer looming over you, his cock pressing against your back. His tail curls around your waist and lifts your hips the perfect angle to make guiding his cock into your entrance a breeze.

You bite the sheets and moan loudly, toes curling as he sinks inside.

He is even bigger and thicker than Michael’s strap and so you get a whole new round of being stretched.

Lucifer lays atop you and his weight is comforting against you. It grounds you as he fucks you into a state of hysterics. Tears stream from your eyes at the acuteness of this pleasure. Even though he has shrank down his body even more than usual he is still quite big.

You were too small to be getting fucked so hard and filled this much.

Yet you eagerly take every inch.

Michael rolls over onto his side and watches eagerly.

He takes one of your hands and teases the palm, tracing his blunt nail over the life lines and you are unsure if he knows that your hands are sensitive, but it does not matter because all the same it is that touch of his that pushes you off the edge.

You bury your face in the sheets and nearly scream with ecstasy.

It is such an intense thing.

Your ears ring, your vision blacks out, and a breath seems to catch in your throat and stay there instead of ever reaching your lungs. You go completely rigid, coating Lucifer’s cock with your pleasure, then you go limp and tremble like a leaf.

He continues fucking your pliant little body until he’s had his fill.

Even though you are wiped out completely you still feel a blossom of pleasure as he spills deep inside.

You whine as he carefully pulls out.

It feels like a gallon of cum pours out of you.

When you fall asleep seconds later there is no chance at all for you to dream.

All that greets you is peaceful void and the feeling of two people cuddling around you.

Notes:

i got a rando idea in my head that ferrymen/raphael would be cute *shrug*

also sowwy we cucked him with Gabby LOL

i had a blast writing this chapter and thats why it ended up so fucking long lol. i didnt want to make u guys sit through a 14k chap so i split it down the middle and hopefully made avoiding some of the parts that are yucky/gross to some people easier to avoid.

excuse any grammar or spelling issues my brain is frieeeed lmfao

thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed! ily <3

edit: my dumbass kept writing ferrymen instead of ferryMAN omegalol ill fix that later...

Chapter 9: rue/V2

Notes:

tw for mentions of past sexual assault/rape

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

V2 has been gone for…a while.

Out of all of your lovers he was gone the least, and while Gabriel and V1 are protective of you, it is taken to an entirely different level with him. He sees protecting you as his sworn duty and takes great pride in each minute you are kept safe. Before you found your idol, Vee would even get upset if you banged into something and got a bruise.

You do not think he has ever hurt you physically, not even by accident.

You wonder if that is from a self-discipline he has instilled within himself or if some of his programming prevents him from harming someone he has deemed under his “care”. He mentioned that despite being made to protect humans, he could ignore that directive and kill them. He has mentioned even being able to simply turn that directive off completely although you are unsure if he ever did before venturing into Hell.

There were no other humans left on the surface.

All mortals were now in Hell or Heaven or lost to the void that came after being killed a second time.

Whenever your lover talks about humans he does so with resentment.

Or outright hostility.

He detests his creators, you are well aware, but you had thought there would be at least a few humans that he came to tolerate or even befriend. Perhaps his life in the lab did not allow a chance for true respect or affection to ever blossom. Was he ever allowed to leave? Had his entire existence been that cold, sterile lab where he was forced to do test after test to prove himself superior to V1, his predecessor?

Mass production of the V-series never took off but it had progressed enough that advertisements had been made—videos and posters, the latter of which he has proudly nailed to a wall in his bedroom and often poses in front of.

V2 does not mourn the end of humanity like you.

He is kind enough not to mock your brethren’s demise in front of you.

He is a gentleman like that.

While he detests all humans except for you, he gets along great with other machines.

Each friend you have introduced him to in Lust has spoken so highly of him the next time you visited. V2 is popular amongst machines and it is well deserved; he is confident, handsome, and stylish. He does everything with such flare, each word he says so colorful and bleeding with personality.

He is a charming mix of protective and possessive.

When you were alive you would not have found possessiveness to be attractive in any degree, but you have changed a lot since dying. You yourself have become possessive, although it would never resemble the deep, clawing need that V2 harbors for you.

Not truly.

He has these little rituals of his that should be creepy, or overbearing, but you find it sweet instead. V2 often watches you sleep from the crack in your doorway. He does it as much as he watches you change. He touches you in your sleep, not in an enticing manner, although he has mentioned in the past that he has felt the urge to couple with you when you are snoozing away and looking so soft and vulnerable.

No, he touches you like a doctor would.

He curls two fingers around your wrist to check your pulse, then he presses them against the curve of your neck. You have woken up in the middle of your sleep to him pressing his visor to your chest to listen to your heartbeat.

Each time you return home from an outing he always drags you off to his bedroom by the hand and sits you down on his bed so he can check you from top to bottom. He still does this even with your idol. It is how he greets you home and he can never breathe easy until he has made sure that you have the same amount of scars as usual.

There are ten dot shaped scars around your lips, five over the top, five under the bottom, and the scars are slightly raised, enough to be able to be felt by fingertips, even mechanical ones. It is the scar from when your lips has been sewn shut upon entry into Hell and it is this scar, as well as the x-shaped one on your thigh caused by a Swordmachine, that V2 always feels out with a sad look, his mechanical eyelid half-mast and his shoulders slumped the lowest you may have ever seen them.

You sigh, unable to focus on the book you are reading at all, so you give up and shut it closed before standing up from your desk and exiting your bedroom. It is just you home currently, as Gabriel is busy in Heaven, (more and more as of late), and V1 has run off on a solo adventure in Hell. You hope that they find the ‘secrets’ you have been leaving around Hell for them. You have hidden away notes with professions of your love for them, small pouches of obols in vents and behind statues, and with the help of your angel, you have learned to sew dolls of fish, about the length of a finger and about two inches wide, each one made with a different pattern.

There are about thirty of the fish in total and you had asked Sisyphus and Minos to hide a few on the tops of the sprawling buildings and for your friends, namely Glacia and Aurora, to scatter a handful more throughout the plazas and alleys.

It will keep V1 entertained, but for how long, you are unsure.

You can always make more fish if they find them all, you suppose, but sooner or later, you are going to have to come up with something better to keep your lover from devolving into boredom. Hell was massive, seeming to go on forever and forever once you strayed from the main path, but V1 spends more time exploring then they doing sleeping, so you truly wonder when and if Hell will run out of curiosities for them to have fun with.

The last you heard, V2 was visiting a friend in Greed.

That had been about three days ago, you think, because as always there was no true way of defining how much time passes in Hell. Any device that could be used to tell the time or date refused to work or simply broke after a while. Strange, given any other piece of technology worked just fine.

You shiver a little as you walk down the hall towards V2’s bedroom because it is always a little chilly in the manor since you never light the fireplace in the storage room because you are worried of things catching flame with how messy it is in there. You really should spend some time tidying things up but with the frequency that your lovers brought things back from the surface it seemed pointless.

You could put on more clothes, you suppose, but you have never liked layering up and preferred to be warmed by another. You are dressed in a purple satin robe, one with long, bell sleeves but the garment itself surprisingly short in length, the hem ending about an inch below where your backside is. It was a gift from Gabriel, and unfortunately, he has not been home the times that you have worn it.

It is extremely comfortable, but thin, and so you shiver again as you slip into V2’s bedroom. His room is chaotic, with the only tidy thing being his bed, which he made up with spartan efficiency every time he left. If he was home the sheets would be in disarray and one of his handheld consoles or a dirty magazine would be atop a pillow. The floor is an ocean of technological devices, with each pile being a sort of island that you must tip toe around to navigate towards the bed. His current project that he’s been working on sits atop the desk on the opposite wall of his bed. He went back to his old home, the lab, and grabbed some laptops which needed to be fixed up. It seemed important to him to retrieve whatever data was on them, as you had seen him seated at his desk, back hunched, as he toiled for hours.

The window that sits at the foot of his bed is always left open and you peek your head out of it briefly to gaze at the plants in the gardening room below.

Staring at the red salvia makes you miss V2 terribly…

You dislike how quiet the manor is, but you do not feel like singing, or playing an instrument of any kind, so you play Phantom of the Opera for the hundredth time and get comfortable in bed. You hug one of the pillows, wishing it was a warm body instead. You are tucked under the sheets but as time passes you grow no warmer. You have watched the movie enough that you could play it from start to finish in your mind, and you had truly only played it for background noise, so you hide yourself under the sheets entirely and rub your face against the pillow until it warms.

You fall asleep and dream of a beach that has fish with button eyes and zipper mouths…

The sun breaks through the clouds and you feel its rays across your skin. You reach out for it, wanting even more, and are rewarded with even stronger rays, the chill that had followed you into your sleep now dissipating.

You felt warm and cozy.

You felt safe.

Despite dreaming of a beach, you smell synthetic oil, a hint of gunpowder, and the hard to pinpoint scent of a machine’s fan’s running on high, something like dust or something else minute burning a bit.

You are exceedingly familiar with this smell.

It comforts you deeply, in fact.

The warmth and the smell must mean…

Your eyes flutter open and you awake.

You are no longer curled under the sheets clutching a pillow. You are laying atop V2, the pillow having been set atop his chest to give you something soft to rest on, and your movie has been swapped out for some action flick. The volume has been set very low to not disturb your rest.

“You were shivering in your sleep.” V2 tells you as he turns away from the TV and looks at you.

He has one arm draped over your back and the other curled behind his visor.

Sleepiness fades away quickly in your delight in having him home.

You push the pillow off his chest, needing to feel him against you with no buffer, and wrap your arms tightly around him. You smother him with kisses, starting at his chest, then moving up to his shoulders, his exceedingly thin neck, then his visor.

His fans puff hard enough that it makes the collar of your robe sway.

“You’re clingy~” Vee chimes, his mechanical eyelid sliding up halfway to look at you with unbridled happiness.

“I missed you.” You say in another kiss to the side of his visor, “When did you get home? Are you staying for a while?”

He stiffens and blinks hard a few times.

“I just got back like an hour ago.” He explains, “I don’t have any plans on leaving again anytime soon.”

You smile brightly at him and settle back down to watch the movie he has on.

You trace the spot on his chest where his name is engraved repeatedly with the tip of your finger.

“Hey,” Vee speaks up a little later, sounding oddly unsure of himself, “Uhh, I haven’t been neglecting you have I? You haven’t been…lonely?”

Your finger stills.

“…A little bit.” You say for both questions. “I cannot remember the last time we went on a date and you have been leaving home more often.”

“Shit.” He curses, “Shit, shit, shit. Don’t be mad at me please, baby. I’m sorry—I was just distracted having fun. God, I’m such an asshole. Here you are alone at home fucking shivering to sleep because I’m not here to keep you warm.”

His fans have kicked up with his upset.

You shush him and press a kiss over his name.

“I am not upset with you. Be calm.” You assure him, “I am happy that you are beloved by your friends and have so many to spend your time with.”

“So you…don’t care when I’m gone?” He entreats.

He sounds deeply insecure about that.

“Sweetheart, I miss you each second that you are not with me, but the love I have for you is not a cage. You may go wherever you please, spend your time with whoever strikes your fancy. I may get lonely at times, but I know you will always return to me. You were simply gone longer than I expected this time around.” You explain.

“I had fun while I was out but I need this—I need you. I can’t function without you. I love you so fucking much.” He professes shakily and cups your face with both of his hands, gently tracing the curve of your cheek with one of Knuckleblaster’s talon, the sharp of which he keeps from cutting your delicate skin despite how easy it would be.

You smile at him fondly.

“I love you too. The need is mutual.” You say and lean up to press your lips right to his optic, which flushes pink immediately, a digital heart dancing in the center where a pupil would be, and it dances all for you.

You blind him with kisses as your hands begin to wander his muscular frame. He is so similar to V1, yet so different. V2 is taller by four or five inches and his body is bulkier, with his chest and arms having significant heft to them, especially Knuckleblaster, which has additional components then his right arm to allow him to shoot from the knuckles.

You trace the plating of each pec, loving how warm and solid your lover is. The hum of his fans and the whine of his servos that follows each movement is deeply comforting to you.

You like how noisy he is.

You always know exactly where he is in the manor.

You take Knuckleblaster in your hand and bring it to your face. You admire how the talons gleam menacingly even in the lowlight of his bedroom, the only source of light as usual being whatever electronics he has plugged in and the blue artificial light that spills in from his window.

The dimness of his room makes the amber glow of his optic like a beacon—the shining ray of a lighthouse amidst a dark sea.

The scent of gunpowder wafts from the two nozzles that make up the ‘knuckles’ of Knuckleblaster. With a single hit of the shells loaded in his forearm your head could be reduced to chunks, yet you have never once been fearful of his deadly appendage. Quite the opposite—your trust in him is so deep that you kiss those very same knuckles, the coolness of them pleasant against your lips.

You stare right into your lover’s eye as your mouth parts to curl the tip of your tongue inside one of the nozzles.

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you—are you tongue fucking Knuckleblaster??” V2 voices the question through the sharp static that is now peppering his voice.

“Maybe~” You smile wryly, “Do you want me to stop? Does it feel weird?”

“DON’T STOP.” He moans loudly, so loudly that his voice box almost entirely engulfs the words with static.

You smile even more, delighted to find yet another avenue to bring your lover pleasure.

You tighten your grip on his wrist to keep Knuckleblaster steady as you continue lavishing it with attention. You close your eyes, imagining that the nozzle is a wet, eager hole, and you give it all the attention it could ever want, tracing the tip of your tongue around the metal circumference of the nozzle a few times before you tuck it inside the opening and shallowly thrust it inside.

The panel between his legs slides open and his cock springs out, pressing against your backside.

It feels larger than you remember.

You briefly stop giving him attention to turn around and look.

The cock standing proudly at attention is the same length as Vee’s original, but it is unmistakably thicker, and instead of being made from red, semi-translucent material, it is made of the same soft silicone as V1’s genitals. It is still red, a personal choice, clearly, but the shade is softer, not a candy red, but instead something closer to pink.

“Gave myself an upgrade during my last trip to the surface when I returned to the lab. I’ve still got the other one, so I can switch between them whenever I want.” He explains.

“Oh? Am I the first to see it?” You ask.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, I was saving it for you. Haven’t fucked in days. Starting to feel delirious from horniness, if I’m honest.”

“In a way it is like we are coupling for the first time again.” You remark with a hum.

“I wish you were my first.” He tells you with surprising sincerity.

And sadness.

Your heart plummets to your gut.

You cradle Knuckleblaster between both hands and rub your cheek against it.

“Can we…” Vee begins, voice quiet, his visor pointed at the TV instead of you, “Can we pretend like it is?”

You think he is wanting catharsis for the way his creators used him.

“Of course.” You say, eyes burning with tears, “Vee, please make love to me.”

He shakes hard as if wracked with cold before sitting up and rolling you onto your back. He settles above you, hands braced flat on the bed on either side of your head as he stares down at you. His optic is pink again, and his fans are running so hard you can no longer hear the movie.

He leans down and gently bumps his visor against your cheek.

Then your neck.

Like he tends to do when you sleep, Vee rests his head against your chest to listen to your heartbeat and there he stays for several seconds before sitting up a little to unfasten the tie of your robe and pull it open. He admires every inch of skin that is exposed, his fans puffing and fingers twitching eagerly.

His cock leaks excessively with lubricant.

“You’re gorgeous. I remember the first time I ever saw you—you were bathing in the fountain at the entrance of Limbo.” V2 says as he reverently slips your robe from your shoulders and leaves you naked before him. “Your back was turned and you didn’t see me. You were singing and you looked so soft. I always thought humans were stupid for killing each other over their lovers but I took one look at you and I understood immediately that if anyone ever harmed you I would make the end of days look like a fucking joke.”

He sits on his heels between your spread thighs and cups a hand over each breast. He gives them the gentlest of squeezes, kneading the fat in his hands before smushing each breast together so he can nuzzle his visor against the cleavage.

“But you’re more than just your looks.” He speaks against your bosom, looking up at you now, “So much more. You’re…kind. Really kind. But you don’t let people take advantage of it. You have a spine—you have no problem getting in someone’s face and telling them off. You know how to put others in their place. Even me. I should hate that, but I never have. I want you to hold the reins. I want you to help me be better. I want to be perfect for you.”

“You have always been perfect to me, sweetheart.” You tell him with fondness in your eyes, “You were so easy to fall for, did I ever tell you that? It shocked me how quickly and how fiercely I fell for you.”

He startles at that, now leaning back up to stare at you, his visor craned marginally to the right like a dog having heard a whistle.

“…Even though I was a jealous dickhead and was super possessive?” He asks incredulously.

“My love, you are still jealous and possessive. You have calmed down in both regards, yes, but the traits are still very much there.” You tell him with a little laugh, your voice so full of the affection you feel for him, “And I love you for those traits, not despite them.”

“Not denying the dickhead part, huh?” He points out and gently pinches your nose.

“We are all dickheads at times. You are not unique in that regard.”

He laughs at that, a loud, singular ‘HEH!’

“It’s weird hearing you say that word.” He tells you.

“You teach me so many colorful words and gestures.” You reply and to prove that you flip him off.

“I really do love you. It’s…kind of scary how much.” V2 confesses through his laugher, suddenly sobering in the face of the feelings that you inspire within him, “I never thought I could feel an emotion like this. I never thought I would feel it this intensely. As much as I posture like a man, I’m still just…a machine at the end of the day. The heart in my chest beats, but its not real like yours. But I swear, artificial or not, it beats for you all the same. It always will.”

“You are a machine. You are also a man. In fact, you are one of the best men I have ever had the honor of meeting.”

“…You mean that?” He asks.

“I do.”

V2 leans his weight against one bent arm so he can lay partially atop you. He glides his five-fingered hand down your chest, your stomach, then dances his fingers up and down your inner thigh.

You spread them even wider, eager.

His cold, mechanical fingers grazes your folds.

“You’re soaked. Fuck, you really did miss me.” V2 comments as he takes his fingers back and spreads the fluid, looking fascinated by the sticky strand that stretches between two fingertips like a bridge.

He brings those wet fingers to his chest and smears it across the red plating.

It gets absorbed immediately and processed as electrolytes.

Your breath catches in your throat at how sexy that was.

Then your breath catches again when he starts massaging your clit with his thumb, rolling it in languid circles, sometimes making his finger vibrate, but only in short bursts, just enough to make you break out into a sweat. He stares right into your eyes as he teases you, optic flickering between amber and pink.

He sees the exact moment that your mouth falls open with a gasp as he slips two fingers inside of you. You clench around it greedily, hips wiggling. His fingers are thick and hard, the grooves of each digit massaging your walls. He works you open lovingly, taking his time and looking out for any sign of discomfort but all he finds is desire.

You burn hotter and hotter, sweat dappling your skin as he fingers you and draws you closer to perfect oblivion. He curls his fingers and strokes stubbornly at that dizzying spot inside of you and you cry out his name, eyes shutting as your pleasure overrides all else—the need to breathe, the ability to even string along thought.

It is just so good.

“I want you to be my first. I want to christen my cock in your pretty cunt.” V2 tells you with such hunger that his voice shakes as he watches you calm from the afterglow of your orgasm.

“Take me.” You pant, “I am yours, my love.”

He rolls you over onto your side and lays behind you. Your back is blocking some of the vents on his chest but proper airflow is the last thing in his mind. It warms up your back to the point of it becoming sticky with sweat and you are given the ticklish sensation of your sweat being absorbed against his chest.

“You do not want to be given attention before we couple in true?” You crane your face over your shoulder to ask.

“I want each time that I cum to be inside of you.” He says as he curls a hand around the base of his cock and aligns it with your entrance.

He presses the tip inside and you gasp at the thickness.

“It doesn’t hurt does it?” V2 asks you, his visor pressed against your cheek.

You shake your head vigorously.

“It’s good—I want more.” You tell him.

He curses.

Now that he’s secured inside of you he takes his hand off his cock and wraps an arm around your waist. He eases deeper inside, hugging you tightly, and you arch as you are spread open.

“Fuck.” He hisses when he bottoms out, “I feel like I’m already about to cum and I just stuck my dick in you. How are you so tight? It feels like you’re hugging my dick.”

You squeeze around him mischievously and he screeches.

A gush of artificial cum spills in you and you moan at the feeling.

Your lover is so pent up that all his first orgasm serves in doing is reminding him how starved he is. V2 starts fucking you slow and hard, both of you so wet and eager for one another that each thrust leaves your inner thighs soaked and soon enough there is an impressive wet spot beneath you.

“O-Oh, fuck, Vee, I have missed you so much.” You whine needily, “Is it good for you? I want your ‘first’ time to be perfect like you.”

His moans are peppered with static, so overwhelmed by your words and the idea that this truly is his first time.

“So fucking perfect. I’m yours forever, babe. You own me.” V2 manages to get out moments later, but it is the last thing he has the ability to say as he starts chasing his pleasure in earnest, fucking you faster now, each thrust filling you to the brim and knocking the bedframe noisily against the wall.

He makes up for lost time and fucks you to the point of excess, each of you finishing over and over, your mind beginning to feel fuzzy around the edges from the slew of feel good chemicals drowning it. He has filled you with so much cum that it now gushes out of you with each thrust.

His chest is hot against your back, steam hissing out of it with each thrust as he teeters closer to overheating, but he keeps fucking you, not yet satisfied.

“I want to finish together. I need it badly. Please.” He tells you desperately.

You take his arm from your stomach to be able to hold his hand.

“We’ll do it together, sweetheart.” You assure him and give his hand a squeeze.

When you tell him you are close again he picks up the pace and fucks you roughly, racing to meet you there, and you focus on your breathing, making sure not to cross that edge without him.

He curses loudly, about to spill, so he turns on the vibrations and it eases a frantic moan out of you.

He goes rigid the exact second you do and fills you with almost an absurd amount of his seed.

Your vision blurs, your heart races, and you shake in the face of this shared ecstasy.

It takes ages for your breathing to calm.

V2 wraps both arms around you and hugs you tightly, his visor resting on your shoulder.

“Love you.” He says in a quiet, vulnerable way.

You lay your arms atop his.

“I love you too, Vee.”

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

V2 stays home for a while after that day.

You thought he would be in an affectionate mood but it has done the opposite.

He holes himself in his bedroom for hours at a time, not saying a word to you, or V1. He leaves his door cracked open the slightest, so he is not upset with either of you. Each time you have checked up on him he has been at his desk working on the laptops he brought back from the lab.

You have just finished teaching V1 a new song on a lyre of their very own and they had wanted to play it for their fish, so after getting a kiss from you they run off downstairs to hang out in the foyer.

You set your lyre down on the ground near your desk and for the dozenth time that day, you head to V2’s bedroom and poke your head in.

Vee is at his desk again with a laptop but this time its powered up and running.

It is even playing a movie.

No, that is not a movie—it seems to be a recording.

Sharpening your eyes reveals that it is security footage from the lab.

You watch from the view of the wall-mounted camera how a female scientist enters a large, white room with equipment you are unfamiliar with before approaching a large, stainless steel table.

V2 is laying atop that table and there are various tools nearby.

It is so strange seeing him just laying there, not even talking. He is awake, there is no mistaking that as his fingers twitch minutely and his optic is lit up.

He seems anxious.

He mentioned before that maintenance was always something he hated having done in the lab because most, if not all of the scientists, were not understanding of how discomforting it could be and how a single careless move could cause him extreme pain.

“Oh, you got it working at last!” You speak up when you step inside of his bedroom properly after a few seconds of just idling in the hall.

V2 startles badly and closes the laptop at once.

He does not turn to look at you.

The fact that he doesn’t makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“…Would you like privacy?” You ask.

“Yeah.”

You are a little disappointed with the swiftness he had answered that, but you oblige and blow a kiss that he does not see before closing his door shut behind you.

You grab a book and head to the gardening room.

You climb up one of the trees and perch yourself on a branch, your back to the trunk and your legs spread out. You cannot put your entire focus into the words, so it comes as no surprise that when the door to the garden opens your eyes fly to the visitor immediately.

It is V2.

He notices you in the tree and walks over with a meekness that does not at all suit him.

You close your book and adjust to sit on the branch with your legs dangling.

He stops to stand just below you.

His shoulders are slumped and his eyelid is lowered.

He looks exhausted.

“Are you tired, my love? You have spent so much time fixing up your newest find. You deserve to rest.” You say to him.

“…Not tired in a sleepy way.” He admits, avoiding your gaze.

You frown.

You hop from the tree branch and he catches you in his arms.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” You ask gently while reaching up to cup the side of his visor.

“Can you do my maintenance for me?” He asks.

You blink a bit, wondering if him watching the recording of his own maintenance inspired the want to have it done in a much better setting. You suppose the reason does not truly matter—your lover feels bad and wants you to do this for him.

You do not mind.

You love tending to him and V1 this way.

“Of course, sweetheart.” You say a second later and smile at him.

He carries you to his bedroom and kicks the door shut behind him.

The laptop on his desk is closed.

He moves a few piles of things over so there is space for the both of you to sit on the floor. He sits with his thighs parted and you kneel on your folded legs between them, a toolbox beside you.

You fall into the work, humming as you tended to him. You use tweezers to pull out debris from the nooks and crannies of his frame and each time you glance up at his visor to gauge how he feels. You wait for him to nod before continuing. When you finish with that, you oil his joints, then pour some on a cloth and work his body to a gleaming shine.

You set the rag down and stand on your knees, a hand set on each of his shoulders.

You give him a kiss before taking Knuckleblaster and raking the talons across your left palm. You press your bleeding hand to his chest. By now you have grown more than used to the pain of cutting your hand and the itchy, strange feeling of your blood being siphoned.

“Aren’t you going to ask about the video?” V2 speaks up after a self-imposed vow of silence that had stretched throughout the entire time you did maintenance.

“Would you like me to?” You ask, thinking again of how swiftly he had shut the laptop once he knew you were watching, “Just because we are lovers does not mean I am entitled to know every single thing about you. You may keep things private. I trust that you will speak to me about important matters.”

He bumps his visor against your forehead softly, looking like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“…Thanks. It means a lot.” He tells you quietly.

When you finish fueling him up and take your hand back you hear a familiar hiss.

Your eyes automatically go to between his legs and you find his cock hanging out.

“That always happens when I finish helping you with maintenance. Does it feel so good that you get turned on?” You ask curiously.

V2 tucks himself away and leans over to grab the medical kit from under his bed to wrap your palm for you.

“Just a habit.” He answers stiffly.

You detest the implications of that.

His creators had been cruel to him in so many different ways—starving him of fuel, pitting him against V1, and using him to seek out their own pleasure. Apparently the scientists had used him after every maintenance session and so your lover has associated the task with being forced upon.

If he had not stopped the video earlier you are positive that after the woman finished her maintenance she would have done exactly that.

Seething hatred bubbles inside of you.

You will give V2 so much love and affection that this habit of his will be done away with, this you swear to yourself.

When he finishes bandaging your hand he presses a kiss to it as usual. You pull him up with that same bloodied hand and take a seat at the edge of his bed. You have him lay down on his side and lay his visor atop your lap.

“Thank you as always for trusting me to help you with this. I love you dearly.” You tell him with a smile as you pet him gently, mindful not to touch any of his wires.

You do not want him to think of sex after maintenance.

You want him to think of this—your soft, encouraging words and your even softer touch, which is meant to soothe, not entice.

It affects him deeply.

“L-Love you too.” Vee returns shakily, and that shake follows to the rest of his body, leaving him trembling against you, his fans roaring, “Calm down you fucking loser.”

You frown.

“Do not talk to yourself in such a way.” You chastise, “Take as much time as you need to settle down. You are safe. You are in control. I will not do anything unless you ask me to. If you tell me to stop touching you I will do so at once.”

“Please keep touching me just like this. Fuck…Why do I feel so awful?” He says unsteadily.

You let him come to his own conclusions.

It is not your place to tell him what he is feeling or how he should process things.

You are simply there for him.

V1 peeks into the room at some point.

V2 does not tell them to leave, so they tiptoe inside and settle on the floor at your feet.

They gently bump their visor against Vee’s.

“Can we cuddle?” V1 signs to ask, “I miss you, but if you want to just cuddle with Rue that’s okay.”

“Nah, come here.” V2 says and gets off you to move to rest properly at the head of the bed.

He lays on his back and holds open both of his arms invitingly.

You and V1 settle on either side of him, your heads pressed to his chest and your arms draped across his stomach.

V2 falls asleep cradled in a pair of loving arms.

He deserves nothing less than that.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“Hey, you guys aren’t mad at me, right?” V2 asks as he leans against the door of your bedroom.

You are laying in bed with Gabriel and V1, each of you occupied with your own hobbies. Gabriel is sewing a patch into one of V1’s hoodies, with V1 laying between his legs and using his stomach as a pillow as they play a handheld console. You had been working on some poetry, using a pen instead of a quill, but you had been making so little progress that it was more accurate to say that you had been watching V1 play their game.

“For…?” Gabriel sets down the hoodie to ask.

V2 crosses his arms and stares at a wall.

“You know, cuz we haven’t, uh…” He struggles to get out, now rubbing the back of his visor sheepishly, his weight shifting from foot to foot, “Fucked— in a while. I haven’t been in the mood.”

“…Vee, while I deeply enjoy coupling with you, that is not the reason why I love you. If you announced that you never wished to have sex again, I would be more than fine with that. My love would not waver in the slightest.” Gabriel tells him firmly, “So, no, I am not upset with you.”

“I share the same sentiments. It is your love and affection that I cannot live without—not the pleasure you share with us.” You speak up.

V1 lowers their console to free both of their hands.

“D-U-M-M-Y.” They spell out, “We got together before I even made the upgrades to have sex. Do I need to say more?”

V2 huffs a laugh but it’s a quiet one.

“You guys aren’t just saying that?” V2 asks just as quietly.

“We are sincere.” Gabriel assures, “Is there something you wished to discuss? Is that why you brought this up?”

“Nah.” He dismisses and straightens, “Was just wondering. Thanks.”

He leaves as abruptly as he had arrived.

Hours later, you wake up from a nap and find that it is still just the three of you in your bed.

You gently slip out of V1’s arms and Gabriel scoots over in his sleep to pull them against his chest.

You admire how cute the two of them are before quietly exiting your bedroom.

You walk over to V2’s bedroom and find the door closed.

You hear talking from inside.

He is watching another recording.

You would typically give him his privacy but there is no mistaking the forlorn beeping and roar of his fans that signifies he is crying.

You open the door and your eyes widen.

V2 is standing in the middle of his bedroom, the laptop in his raised hands as if he is seconds away from throwing it against a wall. His optic is red and the recording that is playing is disturbing.

The security footage shows the same brown haired woman that you had seen in a previous video having her way with your lover. She coos at him softly, promising to give him fuel, that she just needs to have this then he will have his fuel. Vee reaches out to touch her with surprising gentleness.

His hand gets pushed away.

He is not allowed to touch.

He is only meant to service her.

V2 visibly realizes that and lays back down on the table lifelessly, his visor turned to stare at the bag of cold blood just out of sight.

You know that this woman is already dead but that does not stop you from wanting to wrap your hands around her neck and squeeze the life out of her.

You approach him swiftly and take the laptop from his hands.

You shut it closed and set it on his desk.

He is frozen, his arms still in the air, and his breathing has not calmed in the slightest.

You remain standing near his desk.

You will not lay your hands on him when he is in such a disoriented, vulnerable state.

“You are safe.” You tell him firmly, “No one will put you through something like that again. I will not allow them to—none of us will. This is your home. This is your bedroom. You belong to me, but you are not a thing to be used. You are my lover. You are a man. You will be respected and treated as such.”

V2’s knees give out and he crumples to the floor.

He bangs a fist against it a few times, cracking the wood.

“I LOVED HER.” He sobs, “SHE WAS NICE. SHE ALWAYS GAVE ME FUEL AND COMPLIMENTED ME ON MY TRIALS. SHE WAS SO GENTLE DURING MAINTENANCE. BUT SHE STILL—” His emotions get the best of him and all he can do is weep for several moments, “…But she still used me like all the others.”

You have never seen him so small.

So miserable.

“Many nice people do awful things. Many awful people do nice things. Things are not always as clear cut as we may wish them to be but know this with certainty: you did not deserve the abuse you suffered.” You explain to him with tears pouring down your face.

You walk over to him and mimic his positioning, leaving a fair amount of distance so that you do not touch him accidentally. He cranes his visor to the right and finds you staring at him, your cheek pressed against the ground.

You offer an encouraging smile.

V2’s shoulders shake hard.

Then he sits up suddenly so he can pull you into his arms.

He holds you so tightly.

“You want me, right? You need me? I-I’m yours and you’ll never leave me or…” He asks weakly.

“I need you like a flower needs the sun and a lung needs a breath.” You say through your tears, “And I swear to you, I will only ever give you the pleasure that you ask for.”

He only shakes harder.

“Fuck, b-baby, please…Hold me tighter. Tell me that you love me.” Vee begs.

“I love you.” You whisper and wrap your arms around him more securely. “I love you so much. You are so precious to me and I count myself lucky for each second I can spend my life with you.”

He calms little by little and becomes heavy in your arms.

The door creaks open slowly.

Your back is to it but you can tell by the shadows on the wall that it is both Gabriel and V1.

Your angel stares at the two of you for a few moments before walking over and picking up both of you. He lays down on V2’s bed on his side, both of you held in his arms, and V1 crawls into bed and curls behind you.

Vee is comfortably sandwiched in the middle.

All of you tell him how much he is loved and touch him so softly.

When Vee turns his visor towards you it is to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

His optic is that lovely shade of pink and displays a heart.

His heart, both physical and digital, beats for the three of you.

Notes:

thanks for reading! ily <3

Chapter 10: rue/melanthios pt 2

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“I do not like the way he looks at you.” Phaedrus, your newest lover, tells you with a deep scowl etched into his freckled face, and it is that scowl, and the nasty tone in his voice that hides away his handsome features, much like the moon eclipsing the sun.

Unfortunately this is not the first time he has told you this.

Far from it.

“If you do not like it then look elsewhere.” You return with a sigh as you continue dressing yourself back into your chiton after a round of coupling.

You had originally planned on spending the entire day with him but seeing as how he is in a foul mood, you decide that you will go and see some of your friends then return to say farewell to him before you head back to your farm.

“Melanthios is in love with you. He wants you. I have seen the fire in his eyes.” Phaedrus continues.

You stop lacing up your sandals to turn around on the bed and shoot him a flat look.

“And if he does?” You challenge, “What business of it is yours? I have dozens of lovers and you take no offense to that, but with him alone there is an issue?”

He throws the sheets off so he can hastily sit next to you.

“You look at him the same way. You do not look at me or anyone else that way.”

There is fury simmering in his voice.

As is a deep hurt.

You only have sympathy for one of those emotions and in his case, you can only sympathize so much.

You are not a songbird to be caged.

You share your love with many and that did not diminish that love.

“He is dear to me. You are dear to me as well, but I will not entertain this conversation where you think you can instruct me on how to live the one precious life I have been given.” You tell him steadfastly and once you are done dressing you stand up and gather your things.

You leave without kissing him.

He does not let you.

Your elbow is grabbed roughly and you are pulled towards him.

“You love him more than me. Just speak it plainly and be done with this farce already.” Phaedrus pleads, and there is such a sharp disparity in the softness of his voice and the tightness in which he holds you, his fingertips digging into your skin so hard that there will be bruises later.

“Your insecurities are your own burden to bear. Find someone else to soothe them for I have suffered them enough.” You spit and yank your arm from his grasp.

“Suffer?” He balks, blinking rapidly, and all softness has now left his voice, “I am the one who must watch his lover cavort with another man, a man who they live with, and tell their deepest secrets, always holding one another like to do otherwise would mean to die, yet you are the one that suffers?”

You do not like the way he is staring at you.

You especially do not like how his hands are now shaking at his sides.

You turn to leave quickly but again he stops you, this time grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you along until he has you pressed against the wall.

“Unhand me.” You demand.

“Not until you confirm what I have suspected all this time. You’ve been fucking him haven’t you? Does he satisfy you better than me? Is that what this has been about?”

“I owe you nothing.”

Phaedrus’ grip tightens so hard that you yelp.

You have had more than enough of this.

You thrust your other hand between his legs and clutch his balls tightly in your fist.

He is the one yelping now, eyes watery with nauseating pain as you give him a ruthless squeeze.

You release him a second later and he crumples to the ground.

You look at your wrist and already see a hand shaped bruise forming.

That, and the bruise on the crook of your arm would undoubtedly be purple in a few hours.

What a selfish, pitiful man you had fallen for.

No longer.

All affection you held for him has snuffed out and you see him now for what he truly is.

“Thank you for showing me the true depths of your love and trust for me. I will never forget the pain of it. This is farewell. Consider us strangers.” You tell him furiously and you take your leave for the third time.

His panicked cries do not at all make you hesitate from fleeing his home.

It is not until you are amongst crowds of people in the central plaza of your city that you feel that you can breathe easy. You wanted to see some of your friends but you feel like you need to calm down, so you take a walk with nowhere in mind. You walk for an hour or so and end up on the street where a brothel has finished being built but it has not opened yet.

You wonder if the owner was someone freshly moved to the city.

Your mood has lightened somewhat and you sing as you walk past many homes. The sun is beginning to set and each house smells of a different meal, each scent more delicious than the last.

Just as you are thinking of walking to the marketplace to buy a meal, someone catches your singing from their open window and peeks their head out.

“Calli! Are you busy?” A friend of yours asks.

You stop walking, turn towards him, and approach to stand just below his window.

“Not at all. What is it?” You say to him.

“Nikolai cannot watch my children this evening and I am to work a few hours extra at the textile shop in order to finish a rug that is expected to be completed in two days’ time! All else who I could ask are currently sick.” Your friend, Kallistos, explains wearily.

“I will gladly watch over your babes. What time are you to finish and return?”

“Oh, will you? You are a lifesaver!” He tells you and leans over the windowsill to cup your face between his hands and kiss your forehead. “I am hoping to work no later than midnight. I know that means that you will return far later to your farm than expected, and I am deeply sorry—”

“Nonsense, the farm can wait. You said it yourself that there is no one else to be asked.” You dismiss and kiss his cheek in return.

“Would you like some obols as payment?” He offers.

“I would like to have whatever scrumptious meal you have cooking in that kitchen of yours. I was just about to get something to eat.” You say.

He laughs and dips inside of the window.

A minute later he meets you at the front door.

You share a meal with him and his children— two girls, the eldest five years old and the younger three.

“Did you get into another argument with one of the guards?” Kallistos asks around a bite of well-seasoned lamb, licking his fingers before pointing the index at the bruises on your arms.

“You know me,” You sigh, “I can never keep my mouth shut.”

“Your mouth is the talk of the city.”

“My lovers like to gossip about my skillsets it seems.”

“I meant your songs, you scoundrel!” He laughs raucously, “Your new songs, anyhow. You are quite bold to make such scathing remarks about the king. He may be a thick-headed layabout with more greed than sense, but he is a man of power. You need to mind your words, is the point I am trying to make.”

“He needs to mind his greed.” You huff, “I only sing of the truth. My songs are simply a mirror held in front of his face. How many more taxes must we suffer? It was a poor growing season for all and I have a feeling that the next will be even poorer. He will not offer us help when a famine is to come—this I know with certainty.”

“Do you truly think there will be one? A famine?”

“Why not?” You shrug, “There was one ten years ago and we are suffering the same weather I was told preluded it. I was young, but I remember each and every night that my mother and I went to sleep with nothing but milk or water in our bellies.”

To that, your friend falls silent.

He stares at his little girls eating.

You take a deep breath and set your hand on his shoulder.

“Should a famine befall our city, I promise that whatever I am able to produce on my farm, I will gladly share it with you and your little ones. Put to rest any fears you may have of them going hungry. All will be well.” You promise him.

“…Thank you.” Kallistos tells you with his head bowed.

You give his shoulder a squeeze and finish your meal.

He leaves for the textile shop not too long after.

You sit on his porch with his daughters and put on a ‘puppet’ show with your hands, making the left in the shape of a rabbit, and the right the shape of a fox. You are pretty good at doing voices, and you play your role enthusiastically—so much so that the older children that walk past the house stop by to watch.

The three year old daughter climbs atop your lap in the middle of the rabbit tricking the fox and rubs her little face against your bosom.

“You are far too old for that and I have no milk to give.” You laugh and wrap an arm around her chunky stomach to pull her against you and blow raspberries against her neck.

She laughs and laughs, kicking you a bit, but you do not mind.

Once night has fallen over the city in true, the older kids run off and you head back inside to wash up the girls and put them to bed.

Afterwards you sit at the open window facing the street and play your lyre quietly as you people watch.

You are zoned out, so you do not notice that someone has followed the sound of your singing and walked over to stare up at you.

“You were supposed to meet me at the front gates to head home two hours ago.” Melanthios suddenly says and you startle, nearly dropping your lyre, but you catch it in time.

“Damn! It completely slipped my mind.” You wince and he crosses his arms and levels you with an unimpressed look, “Forgive me—a friend asked me to watch his daughters until midnight. I just put them to sleep.”

He relaxes now that he knows you had not been in any trouble.

“I will wait with you so that we can walk home together.” Mel tells you, “Am I allowed to wait inside? I do not know this friend of yours.”

“He knows all about you, do not worry. Come on in.” You say, rolling your eyes at his politeness.

You wave at him to head inside already and you forget about the bruise on your wrist until the movement elicits a sharp sting.

Mel stops walking and looks right at your arm.

You drop it out of sight at once.

It is stupid and pointless and only makes him walk towards the entrance of the house faster.

Melanthios steps into the bedroom, first eyeing the two girls sleeping, then his attention zeroes in on you seated by the window. He walks over to you and wordlessly picks you up before sitting on the floor with his back to the wall and setting you atop his lap, your back to his chest.

He delicately takes your arm into his hands and examines the bruise on the crook of it. He does the same for your wrist. His fingertips trace the hand imprints.

They start to shake with his fury.

He wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you tightly.

“We will speak of this when we are home.” Melanthios tells you gently, but no less firmly, before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Hours later you are thanked profusely by your friend and given a bottle of wine, which you initially refuse because he had fed you dinner, but you do love a good drink, so you end up accepting after he pushes it into your arms the third time.

You pop the cork and you and Melanthios pass the bottle back and forth on the long walk home.

You give your dog, Leon, extra attention for being out so late, check on the farm, then give yourself a quick wash before heading to your bedroom where you already find Melanthios washed and naked, laying on his side with his chin propped in one hand, an expectant look on his face.

You slip out of your chiton and crawl into bed.

He curls his other arm around your waist and pulls you flush to his chest.

He is so warm.

“What happened?” Mel speaks against the crown of your head after pressing a kiss to the spot.

You repeat the events of this afternoon while he strokes your back.

He is rigid by the end of your tale.

“He wishes that the love I felt for you was strictly of the romantic sense.” Melanthios says with quiet animosity as he hugs you, “What I feel for you is much more complex than that.”

Your eyes widen.

It is the first time he has ever said aloud that he loves you in any degree.

“Repeat that.” You move a bit from him to say.

He stares right into your eyes.

“Nay.”

“Now is not the time for jokes—” You huff, then quiet.

He kisses you clumsily.

Very clumsily.

“That was your first kiss.” You remark, a little dazed as he pulls back.

“What a relief to know how obvious it is.” He snarks.

“…Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I wanted to. Because I think you are the only person that I ever want to kiss. What I feel for you is…strange. It feels like we have known each other our entire lives. I love you. I think a part of me is in love with you. But you also bring me the calm that a mother would. I feel protective of you like a sibling. It is like we are two sides of the same coin. But…yes, sometimes I think I want to kiss you.” He explains.

It is like your very soul brightens at his words.

You surge forward and kiss him so passionately that he falls off the bed and takes you along with him.

You loom over him, hands cupping his face, a wild look in your eyes.

“You are the right arm to my left.” You tell him with more feeling than you have ever put towards anything else, “The air in my lungs to make me sing. Love is not strong enough a word for the bond we share. I love you, and I think that I was born carrying this love for you all this time, the feeling nestled away, dormant, until I met you.”

“…Does this change things?” He asks a little sadly, “I do not wish to be treated like one of your lovers. I do not wish to kiss you all the time and I may never have the desire to couple with you. I…have never felt a deep craving for such things. It is barely a craving at all, just an ember that sparks to life every blue moon.”

“Nothing has changed. If you kiss me, or feel that you want to lay with me, that is more than acceptable but know this, my dearest rain cloud, the other half of my heart: you owe me nothing. I will never ask for what is not readily given.” You swear and seal the promise with a kiss to his forehead.

When you lean back you find him smiling brightly.

It is so rare to see him smiling in such a way.

You could count the number of times that it happened on one hand and now that you are thinking about it, each instance has been because of you.

You help him off the floor and the two of you return to bed.

You fall asleep hugging one another like you always do.

The two of you stay home the next day to catch up on the work that needs to be done on the farm but the day after both of you venture to the city for some fun, although Melanthios shortly breaks away from your side and says that he needs to take care of something, promising to meet up with you and your other friends later.

When he does show up about an hour later, he looks perfectly normal.

…Save for the split knuckles on his right hand.

“That errand wouldn’t have happened to involve Phaedrus, now would it?” You ask him with a knowing grin as he takes a seat next to you.

“Who can say?” He shrugs, his lips quirked up minutely in a smile.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“Calli.” Melanthios calls firmly, tugging on your leg hastily, which almost makes you lose balance from the wooden crate you are standing atop of.

You can barely hear your friends voice from how loudly you are singing and strumming your lyre, and while you almost fall, you right yourself last second and keep your eyes exactly where they have been for the past several minutes—the king of your city, doing one of his rare appearances outside of his palace which always calls for a great gathering of citizens.

He had made no address of how sharply he has increased taxes despite this being one of the worst years for harvest for all.

You could not keep your fury to yourself.

You never have.

So in the middle of his blustering about how much he loves this city and its occupants, how ‘we’ will all persevere through this troubling time together, you had dragged a crate towards the middle of the crowd and stood atop it and you had thrown a tomato right at the steps of his palace where he was postured with his guards.

Now with his attention, and the growing ire of his guards, you play song after song calling out his callousness and his greed, and every word that spills from your lips inspires fury in those around you and the crowd has now quickly turned into a riot, with many people trying to force their way towards his palace and shouting obscenities.

“Calli.” Melanthios calls again as some of the guards now separate from their master to silence you.

“King? King of what? Not this beautiful city you neglect. You are the king of nothing. Mark my words, you will die with nothing, not even the riches you cling to so fiercely. Each pleasure, each finery, will be stripped from you like the flesh off a corpse by a carrion bird!” You bellow with a final strum of your lyre and you raise a hand to point at the king, your eyes smoldering with your hatred.

The guards are moving closer.

They are cutting through the crowd with ease.

Melanthios grabs you from your spot on the crate and carries you over one shoulder as he breaks out into a run.

“MAY EVERY NIGHT THAT YOU SLEEP BE WITH THE FEAR OF YOUR CITIZENS TURNING ON YOU. YOU ARE OUTNUMBERED!” You shout as he carries you off.

Melanthios escapes the crowds of the central plaza but the guards are still giving chase. He sets you down after he almost trips and the two of you run side by side, your poor lyre banging against your back repeatedly from where you have it strapped.

Some of the guards draw closer and Melanthios pushes you in front of him.

“Thief!!” Someone shrieks, and her voice is shrill enough that it momentarily gives everyone pause.

It is no stranger being accosted—it one of your friends.

She winks at you before making a great show of squawking and looking around for an imaginary assailant. Her diversion gives you and Melanthios an opportunity to slip down an alley mostly undetected.

You must thank her later.

“We must split up. They know where you go, I follow. I will run to the marketplace. Go towards the public bathhouse. I will meet with you in our usual spot when things have calmed down.” Melanthios tells you quickly and presses his forehead to yours.

“No, we will run together!” You protest.

“Calli, they may rough me up a bit, but they are determined on beating you to a pulp. I need you to listen to me. Please.”

“…I will do as asked. Please be safe until we meet up later.” You say and stand on tiptoe to cup his face and kiss him, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now run.” He says and takes off in the opposite direction.

You cannot remember ever running so much.

Your lungs burn and your side has a painful stitch from overexertion but despite the diversion your friend had caused you can still hear the guards approaching. You make it to the street with the public bathhouse but you know that before you can reach the entrance the guards will round the corner and see exactly where you are going so you tuck inside of the building closest to it, entering through the back door.

It takes you a second to realize that it is the newly finished brothel you had just stormed into.

It is not open as of yet, so your mad dash towards the front door disturbs no one.

Or so you think.

You crash right into a woman with dark eyes, dark skin, and dark hair.

You almost knock her right to the floor but you curl an arm around her plump waist and right her last second. Before you can apologize and continue onward, she slaps your hand away from her and grips a handful of your chiton in a fist.

“WHO ON EARTH ARE YOU TO BE RUNNING LIKE A RABID HOUND THROUGH MY ESTABLISHMENT!?” She shouts, the volume impressive, and leaving your ears ringing.

She has the longest eyelashes you have perhaps ever seen.

“Shhhh, I am being chased. I only mean to cut through the building and make it to the other side of the street.” You explain quickly and turn around to eye the back door you had just stormed through.

“Chased??? So you are a criminal—” She says, now backing away from you.

“I am not.” You assure, “I have only committed the crime of mouthing off a bit and I am due for a few blows if I am caught. Please believe me.”

She shakes her head.

“You will leave. I want none of your foolishness here. I am busy getting things ready to open.” She says while crossing her arms and raising her chin to look down at you, although it is a little pointless, given she is shorter than you.

A rare feat, since you yourself were not tall in the slightest.

There are footsteps quickly approaching.

Several of them.

“I am out of time. I will not make it to the other street. I must hide here.” You say, your gut starting to twist into anxious knots.

“Hide here? I will not allow it.” She tells you at once.

You drop to your knees before her and hold one of her hands.

You press your forehead to it respectfully.

“Please.” You crane your face up to beg.

She stares at you for a few precious seconds.

Then she sighs.

She curls her hand around yours and pulls you to your feet to drag you along towards the front of the brothel where a wooden booth sits. She all but shoves you underneath the counter before taking a seat.

It sounds like she opens a book and a bottle of ink.

You can hear a quill scratching against parchment.

All you can see from your cramped spot under the counter are her shapely legs and the hem of her pink peplos. The scent of honey and almonds wafts off her soft skin. She smelled good enough to eat and had such a plump, soft looking body.

You almost forget that you are being chased until you hear a sharp knock, then many pairs of feet enter the back of the brothel.

“I apologize, but we are not yet open, sirs.” The woman tells the guards as they approach.

“Did someone enter just now? They had a lyre on their back.” One of them asks.

“I am the only person here. If I had another living soul to help me, surely I would have finished my bookkeeping by now.” She huffs.

“The people outside said they were positive they ran here.”

“You are more than welcome to check each room but I better not find anything missing. This may be a brothel but I like having nice things.” She tells them sternly.

The guards move away to check every room.

They return empty-handed, of course.

“Are you sure it was not the bathhouse they ran to? It is right next door after all.” She suggests.

There is a long stretch of silence.

“Perhaps.” A guard says.

“You may help yourselves to the water I have near the entrance. You will need a drink to keep up the chase.”

“…Thank you.”

After the guards have their drinks and leave, the two of you remain exactly where you are for almost ten whole minutes.

It is safe to come out now.

The woman scoots her chair back from the counter and you crawl out from it to rest your hands atop either of her thighs.

You stare up at her brightly.

“You are a fantastic actress!” You compliment.

The woman promptly slaps you upside your head.

“All I want to hear is your thanks and then your swift exit. I have work to do.” She snips.

“You have my utmost thanks. Truly.” You tell her and take one of her hands to kiss the top of it, “I will never forget this kindness—or your beauty.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Yes, yes, that is all very nice to hear, but what would be even nicer is a reward of some kind for risking my neck.” She tells you flatly.

“I have obols.” You say and grab one of your breasts and give it a shake so that the pouch of coins tucked in your cleavage jingles as proof, then you lower that same hand to cup the back of a thigh so that you can rub your nose against her soft skin, “…Or would you prefer to be rewarded with my mouth?”

“The obols—” She begins to answer haughtily, but when you brush your lips against her skin, now staring up at her with heat in your eyes, her words die in her throat.

You do not think she even realizes how she has spread her thighs wider.

She crosses her arms and looks elsewhere.

She looks like she is pouting.

What a cute woman.

“Fine, you may service me.” She says in what you think is her attempt to be nonchalant, but her chest is rising and falling very quickly with her excitement.

You spread her thighs wider and her breathing only becomes faster. You settle comfortably on your knees between those thighs and gently bunch up the hem of her peplos around her hips. She is a woman who eats well and often, the fat of her thighs rippling with the littlest of movements and her lower belly is chubby.

You cannot help but nip at her soft stomach, making her kick at you until you lower your face back down to where she wants it.

You admire her soft bush before burying your face right in it and taking a deep inhale.

“You truly are a dog.” She tells you indignantly, yet she arches into the touch all the same.

You hum in response, tongue lapping at her folds, and you find her to be as sweet in taste as she is in smell. You heft her thighs over each of your shoulders and start to eat her out with enthusiasm. You have no idea if you will ever have a chance to do this with her again so you savor every second, committing each beautiful little noise she makes and how she squirms into your memory.

She keeps making these enchanting ‘ah, ah, ah’ sounds as you start to tease that pretty bundle of nerves.

When she finishes with a gasp it stokes the fires of your lust even more. You have always been ravenous, so even with her twitching as she enjoys her orgasm you still give her more attention.

“Your hand, damn you—give me your hand!” She demands breathily.

You relent and stand up to pick her up and lay her on her back across the counter with you looming over her.

You fuck her with your fingers all while kissing her bosom and stomach.

“You are so cute.” You tell her as she draws closer to the edge again.

“S-Shut up!” She barks at you, then arches her back and keens loudly when you give her a solid thrust of your fingers.

You laugh, so charmed by her fiery temperament.

“I must have you like this again. Am I allowed to visit?” You ask.

“Absolutely not! You will bring trouble with you!” She sits up on her elbows to say.

“Ah, so I should take my leave now as to not attract any further attention to your establishment.” You say with understanding, a ploy, and begin to slip your fingers out of her.

She wraps her legs around you and clenches so that you have nowhere to go.

“Are you MAD!? I am so close!” She fusses.

“Tell me I can see you again and you will have another serving of pleasure.”

Her nose wrinkles with insult.

“How brazen you are!” She tuts, “You are a dog, a scoundrel, and some sort of fool! I should—”

You lean over her, your face hovering just above hers.

She sees the desire in your eyes.

She shivers in the face of it, her skin breaking out in goosebumps and her thighs quivering a bit.

Your face is suddenly grabbed and she kisses you fiercely.

She drags her tongue across your lips to taste herself and you moan.

“Visit me.” She whispers against your lips.

You lose track of time, forgetting all else that is not her warm, supple body…

When you reluctantly leave her later you are gifted her name:

Dorothea.

Her name is all you can think about as you run to the alley where your friends hung out. The city has quieted from the riot you caused earlier and people go about their day as usual, although there is a tension that refuses to leave their shoulders, you notice. The king will know peace for the remainder of the day but his transgressions have not been forgotten or forgiven.

You spot Melanthios leaning against the wall of the alley, his frown more pronounced than usual with his worry, but upon seeing you, he brightens and goes to you at once. The two of you touch each other all over, looking for any injuries, but thankfully both of you had narrowly avoided the guards.

“What took you so long?” He asks as he pulls you into a hug.

“I met a beautiful woman! She allowed me to hide in her establishment.”

“Hiding is not all you did. You reek of sex.” He snorts.

“And you reek of animals. Did you hide at the butchers shop?” You say to him.

“I did. I owe him a day’s labor for giving him a fright when I crashed through his door.”

“I will assist with the work.” You volunteer, “It is only fair after I forced you to run with me.”

“There was no forcing. I have said it already—where you go, I go.”

“Then let us both go home to bathe while we can still sneak out through the south gates.” You tell him and kiss his cheek.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You and Dorothea have become lovers to your endless delight.

You introduce her to all your other lovers and friends with Melanthios of course being the first you bring her to.

There are hours until Dorothea must open her business so she spends her time with you in the alley where all your friends hung around. She is seated on your lap as she watches Melanthios play his pan flute while your other friends dance with one another.

“You are close with one another—deeply so.” Dorothea remarks when Melanthios eyes you again in the middle of playing, a habit of his, like he is always making sure you are where he last saw you and that you are unharmed.

“Verily.” You agree, now peppering the back of her neck and shoulders with kisses, but remembering how your former lover, Phaedrus, had reacted, your spirit dims. “…You are fine with that, yes? That I share my home with him and even share a bed.”

She is precious to you.

You would hate to lose her over this but…

There was no losing Melanthios.

Not for her or anyone.

You can understand his being your priority to be a point of contention, even insult, but there was simply no helping it.

“I am glad that you have someone to keep your tomfoolery at bay. Heaven knows you need a warden. Or at the very least, a leash.” Dorothea huffs.

“My love, I would gladly be leashed by you.” You tell her.

“I would tie you to a tree and leave.”

You laugh and give her ass a pinch.

“You are cruel!”

“You enjoy it.” She reminds you.

You sober with a sigh and rest your chin against her shoulder.

“…I really wish to know your thoughts on the matter. Our closeness truly does not bother you? Sometimes the boundaries and nature of our relationship blurs. It is difficult to define it to one category—it is a chimera, the head storge, the bosom eros, and the hands philia. The limbs may switch around but it is the same beast at the end of the day. I simply cannot be without him. That is not to say that my life would not be dimmer with you or the others missing from it.” You explain.

Dorothea adjusts to sit in your lap facing you.

“I do not mind or care whatever it is you two get up to, defined or not. I have no doubt in my heart that you care for and need me with how pitifully you cling to me the few hours before I must leave for work.” She tells you firmly.

A grin cuts across your face.

“Most pitiful indeed!” You laugh, so, so relieved to hear those words from her, “It is the cruelest of torture to have you leave me, but I must say, it is enthralling to watch you go. You have the fattest ass of anyone in the city and seeing it sway upon your exit does soothe the pain I feel upon having you go.”

“You are a scoundrel.” She says with a suck of her teeth and a roll of her dark eyes.

“Your scoundrel.” You correct and give her a big kiss.

…You awake from the dream with a love-struck grin on your face.

“You have always been fond of those with dark skin and full figures.” Lucifer remarks from where he is laying in your bed beside you.

As much as he enjoys physically being there in your dreams with you to experience things, he tends to conceal himself just as often, usually taking the form of a snake brooch on your chiton, or a cat watching just out of sight.

“Indeed.” You laugh and move to sit atop him. “Shall I show you just how much?”

His tail wags eagerly.

Notes:

the next and final "memory/dream" session for Rue will not be fun...

Chapter 11: rue/sisyphus + sisyphus/gabriel

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You exit the elevator on the floor where Minos and Sisyphus’ abode resides and stop dead in your tracks.

Sisyphus is standing just outside his apartment, his arms crossed and back straight as he laughs that terrible laugh of his—the one that is sharp, scathing, and reserved for those he intends to intimidate.

He is talking with someone.

…No.

He is being talked AT and it is by an angel, one that you are unfamiliar with yet just looking at them from a distance makes your blood run cold.

You cannot see this angel’s face because the hood of their black robes has been drawn up and leaves the front of their helm entirely swathed in darkness, as if they had no face at all. Their black robes are long and spill across the floor like an ocean of tar. Unlike every other angel you have met, this one does not have blue wings. Their wings are perfectly white and do not flush with any shade of color even as Sisyphus continues to laugh in their face, unaffected by how they tower over him.

Held in one hand like a crutch is a scythe, the blade nearly as long as the pole and the edge of it gleams like the smile of a crescent moon.

You detest how this angel is looming over your friend.

But you are terrified.

Terrified, yet endlessly stubborn.

It is that stubbornness that kickstarts you into moving towards the two of them despite how your brain screams at you to leave. You do not stop moving until you are standing in front of Sisyphus, which…undoubtedly looks stupid, given your diminutive size and lack of strength, but looking stupid is the last thing that you care about.

“I do not know what is going on but you will not antagonize my friend on his doorstop, angel.” You declare while staring up into that cloaked void of a face.

“Friend?” The angel speaks with a disturbingly soft, gentle voice, like the last breath puffing out of a dying person’s lips, “You have a friend, tyrant? Oh, you really have softened in death. I remember the days you would cut a man’s tongue out just for failing to address you properly. Friend…Ha!” The angel laughs, the eerie sound punctuated by a bang of their scythe’s pole against the ground, “And who are you, mortal, to speak to me with any authority?”

You break out into a mortified sweat.

Your knees are starting to shake so hard they knock against one another.

“You already said it,” You say steadily despite your fear, “I am his friend. I owe you no other answer.”

“I need none—I can sense it. Calliope, child of Elpis, you died at twenty-six on a full moon. What a brutal death it was.” The angel casually and cruelly reveals.

You freeze, beginning to feel sick.

“Death has shrouded your life so much it is a surprise you did not greet me like an old friend.” The angel continues, the hood of their cloak craning to the side marginally as if taking a better look at you, “Ah! But you did not die alone, it seems.”

“I am well aware that I died seconds and inches apart from my dearest friend.” You say through your clenched teeth.

“I did not mean him.” They correct and lean down so that that their hood is level with your face, “You were with child.”

You feel more than just sick now.

It feels like your entire world is falling apart at the seams and you will soon fall apart with it.

…Pregnant?

You had been pregnant???

The last person that you coupled with and had spilled inside had been…

You fall to your knees, hands pressed to your face, and sob uncontrollably.

You cry so loudly that all of Heaven and Hell can surely hear it.

You are too emotionally compromised to notice the way Sisyphus has rushed at the angel and wrapped a hand around their throat, pressing them to the wall with so much force it cracks.

“You would not be the first angel I have killed.” Sisyphus growls at them, “It took several of your ilk just to imprison me. What do you think you can manage to do all on your own?”

There is a gurgle in answer.

You curl an arm around your stomach and fold into a ball, forehead pressed to the ground as tears pour endlessly from your eyes.

The pitiful sound of your weeping truly does ring out.

Someone teleports into the hall.

Whoever has arrived is so incensed that the lights are flickering and the hall trembles as if there is an earthquake.

“What insolent fiend dares cause my lover such turmoil!?” Gabriel demands, dressed in his armor and his blades drawn.

“Lover?” The angel in black rasps as Sisyphus releases their throat.

Your friend does not do it out of mercy—he does it so he can bend to the floor and pick you up, gently holding you in his arms with your face tucked to his neck.

“Azrael, little sister, am I to believe that you have traveled all the way from Heaven to torment my beloved?” Gabriel challenges as he takes one step, then another, until he is the one now crowding the other angel. “I do not care if you have come to have your petty disagreements with your nemesis about the humiliation he made you suffer when he was mortal, but you have overstepped your station as an angel and have needlessly interacted with a mortal with the sole purpose of causing them distress. What a poor excuse of an angel you are.”

“Gabriel—”

“Enough.” He interrupts, the hall shaking again, “I see now that the end of days has left you with far too much free time. I assure you that I will rectify the matter at once and you will find yourself entrenched with so much work that you will have no time to speak such cruel words. Now…” And Gabriel turns away from her to approach Sisyphus so he can gently wipe the tears from your cheek, “My muse, would you like me to have her kneel before you and apologize?”

You shake your head weakly.

“I do not ever want to see her again.” You weep.

He leans down and presses his helm against your forehead.

“As you wish.” Gabriel tells you softly, before slowly turning around to face his sibling, “Azrael, you will return to Heaven and wait for me in my personal quarters. You are hereby banished and forbidden from ever stepping foot into Hell.”

With a wave of his hand his sibling is forcibly teleported away.

Gabriel plucks you from Sisyphus’ arms and you cling to him desperately.

“Shhh, shhh, my love, I am deeply sorry that you had to weather such cruelty. Take a deep breath—yes, just like that. Good. You had wanted to visit Sisyphus, yes? Shall I carry you inside so that you may lay down?”

“I will bring them inside myself, angel, you are not welcome in my home.” Sisyphus growls, but when he hears you whine, then sees you cling even tighter to your lover, he reins himself in.

He sucks his teeth then walks over to his apartment and wrenches the door open.

He does not audibly invite Gabriel in but the gesture is more than obvious.

“Blasted angels.” You hear Sisyphus say darkly under his breath as Gabriel crosses the threshold and heads towards the living room.

Gabriel sets his swords on the ground by his feet as he sits down on the lounge chair. He lays you down on your side so you can rest your head atop his lap. He strokes your face gently, whispering how much he loves and cares for you. You hear the front door close with more force than necessary then hear thundering footsteps as Sisyphus stalks over to the lounge and takes a seat at the other end.

He sets your legs atop his lap and brushes his fingers up and down them soothingly.

It is horrifically awkward.

You pray to Gabriel to speak of what happened in private, not having the strength to repeat what you learned out loud.

“Oh, my love…” He says miserably, “Life was far more vicious to you than I had ever anticipated. Rest now and put all thoughts of death from your mind.”

Gabriel bends at the waist to press his helm against your forehead, his wings curled around the two of you to block Sisyphus from looking.

“Stop shedding all over my furniture.” Sisyphus sneers as your lover straightens and a few feathers fall from his wings.

“Do you ever cease being as insufferable as you are?” Gabriel shoots back haughtily.

“No. Now spare me any other stupid questions, angel, or I will toss you out.” He threatens.

The thought of Gabriel leaving makes you weep harder.

You bury your face in his lap and clutch at his skirt.

Your angel stares at Sisyphus and flaps his wings a few times petulantly to spread even more feathers all over the lounge.

The way Sisyphus grinds his teeth so loud it can be heard is lost on you through your crying.

It goes back to being silent in the apartment save for your sniffling.

“Would you like some water? Some wine?” Gabriel asks you softly.

“Wine, please.” You manage to get out after several attempts.

He looks at Sisyphus expectantly.

“I am no servant.” Sisyphus tells him at once.

“Would you prefer to have me snoop in your kitchen?”

There is a prolonged stretch of tense silence before Sisyphus lifts your legs and stands up to head to the kitchen. He returns with a bottle of wine and a single cup, which he pours a generous amount of wine into before handing it over to you. He pointedly does not serve Gabriel any and instead drinks from the bottle and goes back to rubbing your legs.

“…Was that truly Death?” You ask after you down your wine in one go and lay back down.

“No,” Gabriel answers with a sort of indignant sigh, “Azrael likes to posture herself as death itself, but she is only a reaper. She is like a farmer harvesting ripe fruit—not a butcher. She has no sway when or if a man shall meet his end. Her purpose is to gather the souls and bring them to be judged. Nothing more. Death and the void that follows when a soul is destroyed is no one’s domain. That is why it is terrifying even to us angels. We are divine, but can be killed, and it is that void that awaits us, and you mortals should you perish again in the afterlife. God himself was created from that unknowable void. Who created the Creator? It is a question I have thought on for eons.

“Although, for as noble a task as it is to bring souls to be judged, Azrael was always terrible at it and did the deed with a crassness that did not befit one of that station. She is disliked in Heaven by many for her refusal to show kindness to mortals or the respect that a soul—any soul—deserves.” Gabriel continues, “It is why in Sisyphus’ mortal life, when he tricked her into handing over the chains she uses to bind a soul to her, and she became trapped in the mortal world, we let her stay as such for a long while despite the fact that with her trapped, no mortal could truly die. It was quite the spectacle—seeing men be slayed but their souls remaining in the body. It was like watching the dead become reanimated and continue on shambling as if ignorant to the wounds they suffered.”

“I thought you angels were incompetent—now I learn that you let her suffer on purpose to teach her a lesson! It is a shame I will never again see that wretch, for I would happily mock her with this newest of revelations.” Sisyphus says and breaks out into laughter—his true laugh, the one that is deep, rumbling, and so handsome.

It is the first time Gabriel has heard him laugh in such a way.

Your angel stiffens and stares right at the man, wings fluttering.

Realizing he was staring, your lover clears his throat and returns his attention to you.

“Yes, well, it is better for Azrael to simply never return, even if it would be satisfying to see you humiliate her once more.” Gabriel says, “…I do fear how Lucifer will react once he hears of his disciple being disrespected.”

To that, all of you fall silent with the dread of what could come.

You would not put it past your Lord to storm the gates of Heaven to seek out vengeance.

“…Azrael will be lucky if her soul is still intact if he intends to seek out retribution.” Gabriel remarks with a shiver a moment later, “Perhaps I should speak with him on your behalf. I am the de facto leader of Heaven, and so an angel’s transgressions fall squarely on my shoulders. I do not look forward to the conversation, but I suppose it is better to take care of it sooner, rather than later. I will let you spend your time with Sisyphus and take my leave to attend to these matters now.”

You crawl atop his lap and stand on your knees to cup his helm and press your forehead to it.

“Thank you.” You tell him then kiss him passionately.

His wings spread out and knock against Sisyphus, who swats it away stubbornly, but Gabriel does not at all notice as you kiss him all over.

“Anything for you, my muse. I am always at your command. I hope that you enjoy your time here and I will see you at home once I have finished with work.” Gabriel tells you sweetly.

He gives you a tight hug, first with his arms, then his wings, before setting you down on the lounge and picking up his swords from the ground.

He teleports.

The second the yellow, divine light left in your lover’s wake dissipates Sisyphus pulls you into his arms.

He is so warm and his voice is deep as he hums while stroking your back. You melt against him, face buried against his neck once more. He always smells of smoke and eucalyptus. You used to hate the smell of smoke—it even frightened you, reminding you of those three days of fire in your mortal life that led up to your death.

You have slowly begun to associate the scent with this man and your fears have since diminished. You find that you even enjoy the scent now, and you press your face against his neck even more, nuzzling against it.

“I can handle angels. There was no need for you to step in like that on my behalf.” He speaks after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Nonsense. You are my friend and I will not let anyone treat you as she did. I do not regret how I acted and I do not regret learning what I did.” You lean away from his neck to tell him firmly, now staring into his iris-less eyes, the whites of them blinding.

“You have wept.” He reminds you with muted fury.

He raises a hand to cup your face.

You lean into the touch eagerly.

“I have, but in time I will smile,” You tell him, then your eyes drop to his full lips, “Perhaps sooner if you kiss me.”

Sisyphus’ eyes burn even brighter.

He guides your face closer and closer, nose to nose with you now. He uses the hand on your face to crane it marginally to the right. His breath fans against your mouth. The man moves with purposeful slowness, watching you, as he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours.

You cannot help the small, pleased noise that slips from your throat.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and cling to him desperately. His mouth parts to drag his tongue against your bottom lip and you open for him like a flower blooming at the sun. His lips are warm but his tongue is exceedingly so. You break out into a sweat, feverish, as he kisses you fiercely.

Your lungs scream for breath but you chase the taste of smoke.

You slip a hand into his auburn beard, fingers admiring the fullness and how soft it is.

You become so carried away with kissing him that you fail to notice that Sisyphus has curled an arm around you and has laid you on your back until he separates and you find him to be above you, his dreads swaying like a beaded curtain freshly disturbed.

Your friend says not a word as he bunches up the hem of your chiton before cupping each thigh and spreading them wide. The feeling of his beard rubbing against your inner thighs is lovely. Sisyphus noses at the soft curve of one, giving you a playful bite that makes you yelp, before he buries his face against your cunt with no further preamble.

You arch off the lounge as if electrocuted, gasping at how suddenly and intensely you are given pleasure. It is the opposite of being teased—he gives you everything you could want and more to the point of it driving you half mad.

You are soaking wet and trembling and he just keeps going.

“Sisy..phus..” You gasp, writhing frantically as you grip a handful of his dreads and tug to have something to keep you tethered to this plane of existence.

He hums against your folds as if assuring you he is here, that he will not stop, and when you feel his tongue press inside of you, curling, you shout and clench your legs around his head.

Your orgasm is akin to a lightning strike—it hits you hard and suddenly and there is nothing to do but just give in to it. Your senses are entirely lost to you as pleasure stitches itself into each nerve ending.

You fall limp against the lounge, gasping for breath.

Sisyphus kisses your overstimulated cunt and you jump a bit.

He smirks as he sits up and makes sure you see him lick his lips.

His cock is straining out of his chiton.

When your eyes drop to it your friend pulls his garment up to reveal the twitching, thick length. He does not motion to penetrate you and you cannot tell if he is not in the mood for a full round of coupling or if he is being kind and does not want to spill inside of you and make you think of the terrible thing you had learned.

Either way, you watch eagerly as he begins to stroke himself over you.

You adjust your chiton and pull out your breasts, staring up at him as you tease them with both hands to give him a show. He has such a fat, handsome cock. You have always liked how similar to the rest of him, it is a sort of red orange, with the tip being the darkest point, an oddly pretty gradient stretching across the shaft.

Thinking of how much stress he had to deal with when it came to angels, and how sweetly he has treated you in your time of need, you cannot help but smile at him, even though it is a small, weary thing.

As small as it is, it is that smile, not the way that you toy with your breasts, that makes his cock twitch and a grunt leave him.

He spills across your front.

He cums an impressive amount and it makes you wonder if Minos has been too busy lately to couple with him and he has become pent up. It only strikes you now that with Lucifer freed and taking care of the demons in Hell, that Sisyphus has little reason to keep patrolling the halls leading up to Lust.

You are not surprised that Sisyphus picks you up and carries you to the washroom. He undresses you with spartan efficiency before putting your soiled clothes in the sink to be washed then sitting you in the tub as he begins to fill it.

What does surprise you is the fact that when he slips into the tub next after it has filled and pulls you atop him, chest to chest, that he holds you with a desperation you have only ever seen him exhibit when he had reunited with Minos after their brief falling out, which you had been the source of.

You do not know how to interpret the gesture.

It does not merely feel like cuddling after sex.

Sisyphus holds you like he expects you to disappear—like someone will take you from him.

“…You have nestled deep into my heart like the roots of a stubborn weed. It disturbs me how much I do not mind.” He admits quietly.

“I love you too, my friend.” You lean back to tell him with a fond smile before rubbing your nose against his.

He sucks his teeth but makes no argument against that.

In fact, he holds you tighter.

“Friend.” He repeats, tasting the word and finding it strange, “It is not a term I use loosely. You are the only person I have considered to be a friend since I was a mortal child.”

“This cannot be, surely?” You blink.

“My grandfather was cruel and so his son became cruel. My father was cruel and I became so as well. I had many siblings and we each despised one another. The very second our father died we waged war against one another to steal the throne. I beat them each into submission. I became king—a tyrant. Even when I took a wife and had children of my own, this cruelty remained. I did not love my family. I do not think I knew how. All I knew was ambition and greed and the cruelty of a father.”

He is silent as he stares at you intensely.

Then he sighs.

“It took dying for me to learn how to love and it took meeting you to learn what it meant to have a friend. If you are the only friend I should ever have I am more than satisfied with that. I could ask for no greater companion.” He finishes, and exhausted with speaking of the past, he slips lower into the tub.

“I am honored and delighted to be your friend.” You tell him and press a kiss over his heart then rest your face against his hairy chest. “I do have one complaint in regard to our friendship, however.”

“And that is..?”

“You have yet to pay my home a visit!” You answer and reach up to pinch his nose.

You are perhaps the only person in existence aside from Minos that he will tolerate this kind of behavior for.

“I have fought against your lovers.” Sisyphus says in a slightly nasally tone, before gently swatting your hand from his face and continuing, “I thought I was doing you a kindness by not showing my face and disturbing the peace.”

“That was ages ago. V1 and V2 may initially be avoidant or distrustful, but they will not antagonize you unless you give them reason to.” You explain.

“And Gabriel?” He challenges, “What am I to do with that angel? Just having him in my home, even briefly, was deeply irritating—although perhaps not as much as I originally anticipated. The annoyance of his presence was soothed by our mutual care for you and our mutual dislike of his sibling but in all other situations I am confident that I will want to throttle him as usual.”

“But you will not actually lay hands on him, will you?” You tentatively ask, now staring up at him with big, sad eyes.

His jaw clenches.

He turns away from you.

“…I will not harm your angel.” Sisyphus promises with great effort, but before you can rejoice too much, he turns his face back to you and suddenly lifts you from the water to level your face with his, “But know this, little one, for each time your lover annoys me I will take out my frustrations on you and just thinking of him has irritated me.”

Your heart races at the growl in his voice.

“I will bear any punishment for him.” You shiver and lean forward to kiss him.

“Indeed you will.” He replies lowly.

You do not leave the tub or his arms for quite a while…

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The door to your bedroom creaks open and V1 walks in with their arms crossed.

You stop strumming your lyre and give them your full attention.

“What is wrong, my flower? Is your fish misbehaving?” You ask.

“Sisyphus just arrived. I told him I’d grab you for him but he just started walking around the place like he owns it.” They sign with annoyance.

“Ah, I see. Was he intruding on you and V2? I will tell him not to enter your bedroom without express permission.”

They shake their visor.

“He only checked out the bottom floor. I think he went to the garden.” They tell you.

You stiffen.

The garden? Gabriel was in there you are certain because he offered to take care of the plants so you could spend time working on your new song.

You know that your friend will not raise a hand against your lover, but you are still nervous about them being alone together. You set your lyre down and give V1 a quick kiss and head downstairs.

The door to the garden is cracked open.

You are curious about how they will act without you there to act as a buffer so instead of entering, you linger at the door and peek through the gap.

Gabriel is standing in front of the tomatoes, dressed in only his skirt, and his back his to the door. Despite his back being to you, there is no mistaking his burgeoning irritation upon having Sisyphus in the same vicinity.

Your angel’s wings are yellow in some places and they have ruffled to the point of doubling in size.

“Rue is in our bedroom composing.” Gabriel informs Sisyphus in a dismissive manner and promptly returns his attention to the plants.

Sisyphus, standing about a yard away from him, crosses his burly arms and hums as if deeply amused.

“Is that how you greet your guests?” He asks.

“Greetings, Sisyphus. Welcome to our home!” Gabriel returns with false pleasantries, his tone sickly sweet and entirely mocking, “Does that suffice? May I return to my hobby?”

“It will do. Carry on, angel.” He says as if approving of a peasant’s gift but he does not leave.

Sisyphus walks over to a tree and leans his back to it, his arms still crossed as he now watches your angel tend to the garden.

Gabriel’s helm flashes red intermittently.

It is tense and quiet in the garden as your friend watches him work.

“What news of Azrael? Was she torn apart by the devil or not?” Sisyphus speaks up at some point.

“She yet lives,” Gabriel sighs and sets the watering pale down and claps his hands to rid them of dirt. He moves over to the hydroponic garden and begins checking each of the flowers growing, “Although perhaps she will regret my brother’s mercy with how tirelessly I have made her work ever since returning to Heaven. Truthfully, she is lucky that I did not kill her myself. I cannot remember the last time I saw my love cry so hard.”

“Yes, I saw the killing intent radiating off you. It is a relief to know that I was correct.” Sisyphus says approvingly.

“Correct on what?”

“That you have not shed your ruthlessness.” Sisyphus explains, “When you so pathetically spared my life ages ago I thought it was due to you becoming spineless from love but love has honed your violence into something magnificent.”

“Is that a compliment?” Gabriel scoffs, “Do not make me laugh—or sick to my stomach.”

“Do you regret sparing my life in any degree?” Sisyphus asks.

The question startles your angel.

“I do not.” He belatedly answers but there is no uncertainty to his words.

“And why is that?” Sisyphus inquires.

“You deserved a cruel death in your mortal life, but you did not deserve the one you were served in the afterlife. While I mourn my siblings that were lost in the insurrection you led, it would be dishonest for me to say that that Heaven did not deserve to be challenged.”

“…Perhaps you have changed, if only the slightest.” Sisyphus remarks.

Gabriel’s helm snaps over to where the man is standing.

“What? Did my words touch your heart?” He derides.

“I was just thinking of welcoming you into our home properly, but now I find that I wish nothing more than to strangle you with your own dreads.” Your angel tells him furiously and stalks over to stand in front of him, “Each time I think you will relent, you only become more stubborn. I have never met anyone in my thousands of years of existence as irritating, barbarous, and quite frankly, fucking annoying, as you.”

Sisyphus is wholly unaffected by your angel’s fury.

He reaches out calmly and grips your angel’s jaw in his hand.

The touch surprises Gabriel so much that he goes entirely rigid.

Even from where you stand at the door you hear him swallow hard—not with fear, either, as his wings are slowly turning pink at the edges.

“I hate that you are beautiful. It makes it difficult to want to kill you.” Sisyphus admits casually despite how much of a reaction it elicits from Gabriel.

Your angel jumps about a foot in the air, his wings spread out and completely pink now.

Gabriel stutters and trips over his words, unable to get anything out.

Sisyphus takes full advantage of that and glides his hand from your angel’s jaw to his neck, which he cups with one hand as if to strangle him but pointedly keeps his grip loose, even tapping his fingers languidly as if playing the piano.

Gabriel’s cock starts to stiffen in his skirt.

“What made you hard? My hand on your throat or the simplest of compliments?” Sisyphus asks.

“I-I owe you no answer.” Gabriel huffs and begins to move away but Sisyphus does not let him.

He moves too quickly for you to see.

Your angel is pressed to the tree just where Sisyphus had been standing, his back to the trunk, and Sisyphus is standing flush to him. The press of his cock against Sisyphus’ stomach and the hand on his throat makes Gabriel moan despite his best efforts not to.

“I asked you a question, angel.” Sisyphus tells him sternly.

His thumb traces Gabriel’s pulse.

Then his hand drops down to his cock and gives it a firm squeeze that pulls out a strangled sound from Gabriel’s throat.

“If you answer I will give you more.” Sisyphus barters.

“Who are you to come into my home and make such filthy demands?” Gabriel demands in a high and mighty, utterly indignant tone, one you have not heard him use since the two of you first met.

“I have always done as I pleased. Why should I stop that now?”

“You are genuinely a bastard of the highest regard.”

“That turns you on apparently.”

“It does not—ahh~!” Gabriel starts, then is interrupted by the pretty moan he lets out when his cock is stroked again through his skirt.

“Tell me to stop. Tell me that you hate this.” Sisyphus says.

“…”

“As I expected. Now, answer my question: what initially turned you on? My calling you beautiful or my hand on your throat?”

“Both.” Gabriel gasps.

“I thought so, filthy angel. Have you always been like this or did your lovers teach you these aspects of yourself?” He asks.

“Must you talk so much???”

“That eager for my cock?” Sisyphus laughs.

“Shut up!!” Gabriel shouts hoarsely, “Shut up, shut up, s-shut up…!”

His voice grows weaker and weaker as Sisyphus continues stroking him.

When Sisyphus takes his hand off Gabriel tackles him to the ground and straddles his lap. He grinds against Sisyphus, whose own cock was now sticking out of his chiton so much it looked like it would tear right through the fabric.

“Go on. Service me.” The man instructs with all the confidence of a king.

“I am not doing this for you!” Gabriel sneers as he pulls his skirt up then frees Sisyphus’ cock so he can take both in hand and start pumping them, his hips grinding here and there to do some of the work.

Your angel’s cock is bigger, but there was none thicker than Sisyphus, you have found.

“It does not matter who you are doing it for, as you are doing it all the same. And quite enthusiastically too. Will this be enough to satisfy you? I think not. I think you are wanting to get bent over and fucked. I think you want me to claim you.” Sisyphus remarks in a deep, low tone that makes your angel shiver.

“You are projecting.” Gabriel accuses, “Just how long have you thought of fucking me?”

“So you do not deny it would be you getting fucked.”

“I cannot stand you in the slightest.” Your angel growls and works his hand faster.

“It is a good thing you are fond of cock, then.” Sisyphus remarks.

Sisyphus rolls your angel onto his back and starts pumping each of their cocks at a relentless pace.

“Mmmmmm, give me more. I need it faster. Harder.” Gabriel whines.

The sexiness of his voice throws Sisyphus off guard, clearly, and his hand fumbles a bit before he adjusts and gives your angel exactly what he demands. The two of them stare at one another, panting, and it is Gabriel that finishes first and he does so beautifully, his back arching and a loud moan leaving him as his wings flutter sporadically while his cock spills against Sisyphus’ palm.

Your angels cum makes a fine lubricant for Sisyphus to use to pump himself and when he finishes he paints Gabriel’s dark skin with his seed.

“You will fuck me or I will show you how ruthless I am.” Gabriel tells him furiously and grabs a handful of his dreads.

“You can ask for my cock far more nicely than that.”

“I am not asking. Fuck me or take your leave. My time will not be wasted.”

“Hmmm…” Sisyphus hums and makes a great show of thinking, “I suppose I can fuck you, seeing as how you are so desperate for it. On your knees, angel.”

Gabriel huffs as Sisyphus gets off him so he can roll over and settle into the position.

He whimpers when the man roughly grabs his ass and gives it a squeeze.

“You have an ass that was meant to be fucked. Does Rue fuck you with that strap of theirs? I bet you beg for it each night. I bet you wail for it.” Sisyphus asks followed by a wet pop as he takes two fingers out of his mouth and guides them right to Gabriel’s hole to start teasing him open.

Gabriel moans and thrusts his hips back eagerly.

“Just get on with it.” He snips impatiently as Sisyphus works him up with surprising gentleness, “I am not a fair maiden. Fuck me already.”

“I promised your lover that I would not hurt you, but they failed to inform me that you were a glutton for pain. My cock is going to spread you open and fill you completely. You do not want preparation for that?”

“Your cock is nothing compared to Rue’s.” Gabriel insults.

“Nothing is it?” Sisyphus repeats with deceptive calm before he takes out his fingers, grips the base of his cock, and suddenly thrusts inside.

“Fuck!! Oh, fuck, yesssss…!” Gabriel shouts and arches his back for more.

“Is my cock still nothing, I wonder?” Sisyphus mocks as he snaps his hips roughly with each thrust, giving your angel the perfect amount of pleasure and pain. “It does not sound like ‘nothing’. It sounds like if I stopped fucking you right now you would break down in tears. Is that true, angel?”

“…”

Sisyphus stops thrusting.

He even starts to pull out.

“D-Don’t stop. Please…” Gabriel whines.

Sisyphus’s cock twitches hard.

Then he shoves it right back in Gabriel’s ass and fucks him even harder.

“I should make you sit on my cock and warm it for hours until you really are crying. Maybe I will make Minos watch—you are fond of my lovers cocks, after all. Perhaps we will both fuck you until you all you can do is mutter your most gracious of thanks.”

“Mmmmm…”

“Filthy angel. I felt you clench around me.”

He pounds your angel’s ass until Gabriel is flat against the ground, only his ass sticking up, and drains him over and over, his cock spilling against the grass, but even when Sisyphus has his fill and pulls out with a great flood of cum pouring out, you see that Gabriel is still hungry for more and teleports so that he is straddling the man again.

Gabriel grips Sisyphus’ cock and thrusts back down, shivering with pleasure, and starts to bounce on it.

Sisyphus growls, his cock sensitive from just finishing, but the way Gabriel rides him is far too good for him to shove him off.

He leans back on his elbows and watches greedily.

“Beautiful.” Sisyphus grunts, his hands clenching handfuls of the artificial grass, “Go on, take what you need—I want you to remember this pleasure and I want to know with certainty that the memory of it will haunt you. You will crave my cock as much as you crave your lovers, and I know that one day soon, you will show up on my doorstop and you will ask to have this again.”

“N-No, I won’t…” Gabriel whimpers, a hand curled demurely against the chin of his helm like he wants something to hide behind.

“Oh, but you will, I have no doubt, and when you show up, beautiful, filthy angel, my former nemesis, I will grant you another serving of my cock. You want that, don’t you?” Sisyphus teases before he thrusts his hips up suddenly and startles a gasp out of Gabriel.

“YES! Yes, I want it! O-Oh, please…” He babbles, pecs bouncing as he rides Sisyphus harder and faster, taking every inch of his fat cock with a desperation that is breathtaking.

“You will have it.” Sisyphus promises with what you think is…almost a shred of fondness.

Out of everything that has transpired that is what shocks you the most.

Gabriel shouts as he finishes again, going still, but Sisyphus grips his hips and keeps fucking until he gets his own final release.

There is so much cum splattered on their hands and stomach from their rigorous coupling.

Your angel flops atop Sisyphus, helm pressed to his chest, and pants hard.

You correct your former statement—seeing Sisyphus allow Gabriel to lay atop him afterwards is the most shocking thing of this day.

While he does not pet or stroke Gabriel, he does let him take all the time he needs to catch his breath and when Sisyphus pulls out, he does so gently.

“You will teleport us to the bathhouse and wash my back.” Sisyphus demands after his breathing has evened out and just like that the soft moment is ruined.

“Shall I wash your back before or after I drown you in the tub?” Gabriel replies.

You think that is your cue to leave.

You back away from the door and bump into something hard but before you can gasp a mechanical hand cups your mouth and stops the sound.

“That was pretty hot, huh?” V2 says quietly into your ear as he curls his other arm around your waist and tugs you flush to his chest.

You are unsure just how long he had been standing there with you but apparently it was long enough to give his opinion on the coupling.

“Very.” You whisper, heart racing.

“Want to sneak in a quickie while those two bathe?” He offers.

You tug one of the wires by his hips in answer.

Notes:

ty reader 'beanie goth' for leaving a comment about sisyphus/gabriel hate fucking. the idea got stuck in my head and resulted in this chapter LOL

took me a while to figure out how these two would have sex without killing each other but it was super fun, and i liked touching on the irl sisyphus mythos with death being tricked

im sure everyone has guessed who the last person Rue slept with/got pregnant with is, but if not, it will be talked about in the next memory/dream chapter

(omega drama is brewing....)

hope u enjoy and thanks for reading as always <3

Chapter 12: rue/gabriel/v2/v1

Notes:

no foursome, just named the chap that since they all get some action

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“Mmm…baby, is it time for you to leave already…?” You hear V2 say quietly as he rouses out of sleep mode upon feeling Gabriel moving underneath him.

All of you were in your bed sleeping atop Gabriel, with you and V2 on either side of him and V1 sprawled out atop him, their visor limp against his shoulder and their optic dim with their slumber.

“Unfortunately.” Gabriel sighs, curling an arm around V1 as he sits up to keep them from toppling off before he deposits them gently into V2’s awaiting arms.

Your angel moves to sit at the edge of the bed and takes a few minutes to wake up further before he stands up.

He stops before he can commit to the action because you have crawled over and settled behind him.

“I am not ready to be without you.” You murmur sleepily as you wrap your arms around him, your bare breasts pressed to his back. You rub your face against his velvety skin and the base of his wings where his feathers were the softest and fluffiest. “Stay with us a little longer, dove. Heaven can wait, surely?”

“I would love nothing more than to stay in bed with you all,” He sighs once more, both in reluctance to leave and from the way you start peppering his back with light kisses, “But I have been away from Heaven long enough as it is and I do not doubt that my work has piled up tremendously.”

You tighten your grip on him as he stands up and are now left dangling naked from his back which makes V2 laugh so hard he wakes up V1, who groggily pushes up and cranes their visor over to you two.

“Leaving..?” Vi signs with slow movements, “But I was so cozy on you…”

Your angel now has three gazes locked onto his back.

He bends at the knees so you can safely drop down.

“I must.” He turns around to tell you all with defeat in his tone, “I love you all dearly and will think of you constantly while I am away.”

Vi beeps sadly and contents themselves with cuddling with V2, both of them watching curiously as Gabriel gathers his swords and starts donning his armor.

Before he can put the entirety of it on, you push him up against your desk until he sits on top of it, the wood creaking underneath his weight, and stand between his thick thighs, trailing your fingers up and down the inner curve. He swallows hard, freezing in the middle of putting on a gauntlet. You take that hand, undoing all of his work and freeing it from its armor, and you bring his hand to your face to kiss the palm before rubbing your face against it.

You stare right up at his helmet as you guide his thumb to your lips.

Your mouth parts and you drag your tongue from the knuckle to the tip, pressing a kiss flat to the calloused pad, before sucking his thumb into your mouth.

“Rue…” Gabriel says breathlessly, wings ruffling.

“Stay just a few more minutes, angel. If you must leave my bed, then I will not be without your taste. Won’t you allow me to spoil you?” You coo at him, your tongue flicking temptingly against his thumb.

“You’re screwed.” V2 remarks with another laugh and you hear the bed rustling as he presumably sits up a bit to better watch things unfold.

“…Yes. Yes, please spoil me.” Gabriel shivers, his cock stiffening under his skirt.

You smile at him and kiss his hand before lowering to stand on your knees.

You push his skirt up and free his cock.

Just staring at you naked makes him stiffen to full hardness and while you want so badly to sink your teeth into his thighs, you do not have the time that you want to tease him properly. You curl a hand around the base of his hefty length and start stroking with a firm, steady hand. His skin really is like velvet, so soft and smooth. You lean your face in closer and trace the throbbing vein under his cock with your tongue.

He curses, hands gripping the edge of your desk.

His cock is impressive both in length and girth and the beautiful gold embellishments that are beneath his pecs and bracketing his stomach and hips can be found on his sac. You suck them into your mouth, massaging the balls with your tongue, then tracing those gold markings like you intend to polish them to a twinkling shine.

He is shaking now with how close he is.

You raise your face and go back to stroking him, doing so quickly now as you suck and kiss at the wet tip, unable to help how you hum, pleased, at the salty musk of his precum coating your tongue.

One of his hands fly to cup the back of your head and you take him deeper.

Gabriel’s cock twitches hard and spills across your tongue.

You take it all greedily, moaning even, as your tongue eases him through his orgasm and cleans him of every drop.

You pull off his cock and press a kiss to the weeping slit.

For a minute, your angel cannot speak a word, but he speaks his affection by cupping your face with his hand and stroking your cheek.

“One is never enough to satisfy you,” You remark as you admire how his cock remains just as hard, “But you must leave, and so this has to do for now. Let it be inspiration for you to return home even quicker.”

He shakily stands to his feet and finishes putting the rest of his armor on.

He prays for a few moments afterwards to calm himself and his twitching cock. It is a little difficult when you are still naked, but Gabriel manages with tremendous effort. You make sure that his skirt is clean, and once he is fully dressed, he scoops you into his arms and hugs you tightly, nuzzling his helm against your face, before setting you down and walking over to the bed where he kisses V2, then V1.

He teleports, and the three of you sigh with disappointment.

“Are you still in the mood to sleep?” You ask them both.

“After seeing that? Get real.” V2 says while sitting up, the sheets tented over where his crotch sits beneath it.

V1 is seated on their folded knees and staring at you expectantly, even squirming a bit.

You smile wryly and crawl back into bed to spoil them both with your mouth.

Afterwards, Vi and Vee have a sparring match that you half-heartedly watch while reading a book. You tend to the garden, spend time with Vi’s fish, who has since been named ‘Cronus’, specifically after the painting Vi had seen of the mythical being devouring its son.

You think that it is safe enough to assume that V1 has since moved past that incident and forgiven their pet. If being given a name wasn’t enough to prove that the hours that your lover spends seated in front of the fish tank, feeding Cronus by hand other smaller fish as a treat from their usual flakes, was definitely enough.

Cronus has gotten a lot bigger, you note as you peer into the tank, practically nose to nose with it, because just like with V1, they are very affectionate and wanting attention, but only from you two.

You wonder just how large it can get.

After pressing kisses to the glass, which always makes Cronus swim around in overexcited circles afterwards, you head back upstairs. V2 is working on the second TV he brought home, which will be yours once he finishes, and after kissing him you head to your bedroom to maybe do some composing.

“Movie time~!” V1 signs at you excitedly from where they are seated on the nest they’ve made in front of your bed by dragging all the pillows and blankets off it. The main TV has been set atop your desk and its already on the title screen of some animal documentary.

You smile at them and put all thoughts of composing from your mind.

You take a seat next to them, but that is not close enough for their liking, so Vi pulls you into their lap and rests their visor atop your shoulder, arms curled around your waist snugly.

You hum and settle comfortably against them as the documentary starts.

You are surprised that this one is not about marine life, as that is their favorite, and is instead about the birds of prey and predator cats that live in savannahs. V1 beeps excitedly each time a bearded vulture drops bones from a great height to smash them against rocks.

They grow even more excited when a lion pack takes down an adolescent elephant and tear into it fiercely, their faces completely soaked in viscera and their tongues lolling out to lap at the blood on their fangs.

Vi’s fans puff loudly and they hold you tighter.

When the credits roll, you are about to speak up and ask if they wanted to watch another but you find yourself suddenly laid out on your back with V1 sitting atop you breathing hard and unevenly.

“Yes…?” You inquire with a blink.

“Want to see your teeth.” Vi signs.

“You have not tired of seeing them yet? Very well.” You oblige and open your mouth.

Vi curves their back to lean over you, both hands settled on your jaw. They thumb at your lips, fascinated by the softness as always, before prying open your mouth a little wider so they can look inside.

Your mouth is popular today—more so than usual.

A mechanical finger slips inside and traces its pad across the top row of your teeth, a sort of rattling following the movement as it drags across the many grooves. It feels a little weird. V1 gives your bottom row of teeth the same treatment before their focus goes entirely on your canines.

“How does it feel to bite something?” V1 leans back to sign, which gives you the perfect opportunity to lick your lips and remoisten your mouth.

“There is a strain in my jaw and temple and I can feel resistance pushing back against my teeth,” You take a moment to think before saying, wanting your description to be as accurate as possible, “If I’m biting something soft, there is no resistance at all, but if it’s something firmer, for example, another person, then there is warmth and resistance. If I clench down hard enough the skin gives way and my teeth pierce. It takes a lot of effort for human teeth to break skin so my jaw would be aching. If I bite something hard, there is no give and my teeth start to hurt. If I continue beyond that my teeth will chip and crack which is painful.”

“I want teeth.” V1 signs with shaky hands and the way their fans keep revving up, their shoulders trembling the slightest, makes it seem like they had shivered with excitement, “I want to bite. I want to crack open bones with my teeth and eat marrow.”

“Carnivore.” You say to them affectionately, “Vee has told me what it feels like for him to fuel, but is there any further sensations beyond that process? What is blood like for you?”

“Blood is…warm. Sticky. I can’t taste it or smell it.”

“It tastes and smells like iron. There are some parts on your body where the metal tastes almost exactly like it. “ You explain.

“Really?”

“Indeed, my flower,” You hum, and then remembering something, you speak up again, “I watched a movie with Vee that had a creature known as a ‘vampire’. It drank blood and used its fangs to pierce necks to get to it.”

V1 does more than just shiver now.

They lean back down and rub their visor incessantly against the warm curve of your neck.

“Want to bite you and drink your blood.” They tap in morse against the floor.

You get an idea.

“Get my dagger, please.” You tell Vi, and they get up at once to retrieve it before returning to straddle your lap.

You bring your idol to your lips and kiss the top of it, whispering to it that you are going to intentionally harm yourself, which you always do when you fuel your lovers, and each time, even now, it shakes a bit as if worried, until you promise that no life threatening wounds will be inflicted.

Only when it settles down do you grip the hilt of the dagger and drag the blade across the junction of your neck and shoulder, which is well away from the important arteries that kept your blood pumping. You wince, tears brimming in your eyes as you cut, but you only intend to make a long and deep enough cut for there to be a steady trickle, nothing more.

You set the bloodied dagger down and turn your face to the side to offer the wound.

V1 lays atop you and buries their visor against your neck exactly like the lions in the documentary. It hurts, and the feeling of your blood being siphoned is both ticklish and itchy, but you withstand it, even encouraging them to take more by wrapping your arms around them and cupping the back of their visor to press it even harder against the cut.

“So sticky and hot.” V1 taps on the ground with the hand not curled around your shoulder to keep you in place, “Almost at full tank now. Should I stop…? Are you dizzy?”

“I can give more still. I want you to be full.”

V1 chimes unsteadily, deeply affected by your words, and continues rubbing their visor into the wound, their wings unfurling from where they had them tucked neatly against the back of their hoodie and you watch as the wings spread out, twitching here and there.

When their tank is full and no more blood can be siphoned they pull back with a roar of their fans as if gasping for breath. The blood staining their visor is absorbed right before your eyes but the flecks that stained their optic remains, needing to be manually wiped away.

You wonder if it is enough to obscure things and make you look entirely blood soaked.

You hear a familiar hiss and sit up on your elbows to see that the panel between their legs that keeps their genitalia tucked away has moved aside.

You do not see a pair of blue, silicone lips.

You see V2’s original cock.

…It seems that your lover had a surprise for after the documentary and your impromptu feeding has revealed it.

You stare at the quivering red, semi-translucent cock and feel yourself salivate at the sight of it leaking with excess lubricant.

“Want to fuck you.” Vi signs, hips squirming to seek out stimulation, “Need to fuck you. Need it so bad.”

“I am yours.” You assure, “And I am eager to be taken this way by you for the first time. I know we have coupled using my strap on one another but this time you will be able to feel it as you fuck me. I am jealous you can switch out parts so easily. I have always wondered how it felt to have a cock in true.”

“Want me to describe it like how you did biting?” They offer.

“If you can retain the focus to do so, then yes.” You laugh a bit, knowing that they were about to enter a world of so many new sensations.

Vi removes your chiton for you, tearing the fabric in a few places in their excitement to get to your naked body. They are sweet and try their very best to take the time to appreciate you and get you ready but when they begin to lower their hand between your thighs you gently push it away.

“There is no need, my flower. I am just as excited as you are. You can go straight to fucking me.” You tell them.

The way Vi braces a hand flat on the floor near your head, looming over you with their other hand curled around the base of their cock, makes you break out in goosebumps. You bite your lip, feeling yourself leak with excitement. The tip of their cock bumps against you, a little too high up, but you correct it immediately by slipping a pillow under your ass and putting yourself at the perfect height. This time when Vi nudges against you its right at your dripping entrance.

Their optic is staring down right at you.

They want to see the exact expression you make when penetrated.

“Fuck me.” You plead in a whisper.

For the briefest of seconds their optic flashes red.

V1 thrusts the tip inside, waits a breath, then thrusts the rest of their cock inside in one go, spreading you open and filling you suddenly. The force of their thrust jostles your entire body, making your tits bounce. You gasp at the feeling, chewing your lip, and you are both gracious and overwhelmed by how your lover starts fucking you with no preamble. It is rough, but they take it slower than you expect, dragging out each sensation while still making sure neither of you are starved of what you need.

“It’s wet.” V1 manages to tap out in morse on the floor directly near to your ear so you can hear it over their fans and the whine of their servos, “Tight. So tight. It feels like I shouldn’t be able to fit.”

To that, you squeeze hard around them and they make a high-pitched shriek in pleasure.

“There was resistance when I first entered. Now there is none. It feels like you’re pulling me in deeper. It feels like you’re hugging my cock. The pleasure is intense like when you’re licking my clit, but it’s a little duller. Less sharp.” V1 continues to tap with great pauses between some of the words as they cannot help but fuck you faster, lubricant and your own juices spilling down your backside with each thrust. “I want to bury myself the deepest I can go and stay there but I also want to keep moving. It’s a little confusing.”

“But it feels good?” You ask.

“Soooooooo good.” They tap in answer, “But not enough.”

And with that said they hoist you up onto their lap, cock still buried in you and settle to sit with their back against the frame of the bed. Gravity makes you take their cock even deeper and you throw your head back and moan hoarsely. V1’s hands grip underneath your ass so they can start manually lifting you up and down, impaling you on their length.

The pleasure is so intense it brings tears to your eyes.

They do not let you move at all and you are made into a vessel of pleasure to be claimed by them—prey taken by a predator.

You love every second of it.

You babble frantically about how much you love it, drooling a bit.

You probably look out of your mind.

Your pleasure spikes and you go rigid, eyes clenched shut and little fireworks dancing behind your eyelids as you cum hard. V1 fucks you through it, beeping sporadically as your walls clench around them. They spill inside of you after another solid thrust and when they pull you off your cunt drips artificial cum all over their lap.

They seem to take great pleasure in watching that.

They are not finished with you just yet.

You are bent over the bed, your knees on the ground and ass pointed at them.

They lean atop your back, pressing you down so you have nowhere to run, and slip a hand atop yours, lacing your fingers together and squeezing it before they thrust right back inside of you.

You gasp and bury your face in the sheets.

The door to your room creaks open and both of you turn towards it.

“Don’t mind me.” V2 says as he leans against the door, his own cock out, which he strokes leisurely.

You had a feeling you heard him walk down the hall earlier.

Instead of burying your face in the sheets you keep staring at him as V1 goes back to fucking you ruthlessly. Just thinking about the next time they fuck you like this has you shaking. You want them to bend you over every surface, you want them to hoist you against a wall while you are in the middle of something and take you anyways.

You want so much and are given even more than that.

V1 turns the vibrations on and you bite back a scream, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you cum again.

“Get over here and fuck my mouth now.” You command V2 with a delirious, fucked out kind of tone.

“Holy shit.” Vee curses, now tearing across the room and crawling atop the bed to sit right in front of where your face is. He spreads his thighs wide, his legs bracketing you, and he scoots forward until his cock is flush with your face.

He starts fucking your mouth enthusiastically while V1 continues thrusting into your cunt with wild abandon.

Your room is exceptionally noisy with the groan of servos, holes being filled to the brim, and all three of your vocalizations of pleasure.

V1 and V2 finish at the same time and it is exhilarating to feel your mouth and cunt filled simultaneously.

You swallow what you can and when Vee pulls out a moment later the rest spills down your lips and chin. He cups your face fondly and brushes away some of the mess with his thumb.

V1 stays nestled inside of you for quite a while before at last pulling away.

You are so sore you cannot even move.

“Don’t worry, baby, we’ve got you.” V2 tells you sweetly as he picks you up and carries you in his arms like a bride, “Vi, can you grab the medical kit and fresh clothes for them? I want to bathe them.”

After doing as asked, V1 and V2 walk out of the manor with you carried along and they lead you to the bathhouse. You are wiped down gently before being lowered into the perfectly heated waters.

You sigh in pleasure, resting your arms over the rim.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” V1 sits on the rim of the tub to your left to sign.

“Not at all. That was perfect.” You assure and lean over to kiss their thigh, “You gave a lot more descriptions than I expected and you seemed to enjoy that a fair bit. Would you like to do it again in the future?”

They nod eagerly.

“I can’t tell if I like being fucked or fucking more.” V1 admits.

“It is a relief that you do not have to choose between them then.” You hum in response as V2 starts washing you.

“Getting fucked seems so…vulnerable.” V2 remarks.

“It is. Man or woman, the act demands care and preparation.” You say.

To that, he is silent.

You do not even slightly entertain the idea of bringing up again that he could always switch parts with V1 and see how things are for himself. He is a man and prefers to have all the aspects that come with that, so you will respect his wishes.

After V2 finishes cleaning you he bandages your neck and presses a kiss to the spot. You are not made to lift a finger—V1 dresses you, and V2 carries you back to the manor so the three of you can cuddle in bed. They sandwich you between them, both of their optics pink, and while another documentary has been started, none of you pay any mind to it, so distracted by your love for one another.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“I have been thinking…” Gabriel speaks up after you finish playing the song on the organ he had just showed you.

You are seated atop his lap since there is no room for two on the organ bench and he has been kind enough to step on the pedals for you since your feet no longer reach it from your boosted height.

“About…?” You prompt, dropping your attention from the instrument to turn and sit sideways in his lap, now staring up at him.

“While the Cybergrind and sparring with myself and V2 has sated some of V1’s more violent cravings, I cannot help but feel that it is not enough, even with all of their new hobbies to enjoy.” He explains.

“I agree. From your tone it sounds as if you have found a solution for that.”

Yet, he hesitates to speak further.

“You have found a possible solution but are unsure that I will want to hear it.” You guess and get confirmation in the way he looks away from you, “Speak freely, my love, you will not be ridiculed or yelled at.”

“…I was thinking that outside of fueling, I could have sessions with V1 where they inflict pain upon me.” Gabriel confesses quietly.

Ah.

You see now why he had hesitated.

You cannot say that you are pleased to hear this but as promised, you remain calm and do your best to think over things with a clear head.

“Forgive me. I should not have even mentioned it given the betrayal on my part from long ago.” He says quickly when you remain quiet but you shake your head.

“I am simply gathering my thoughts. Be calm.” You assure him and press a kiss to his bare chest, “These sessions—you would be doing them for V1, but you are also seeking out pleasure for yourself in the pain they will inflict?”

“Yes. It would be mutually beneficial, but it would be something that is plainly discussed and agreed upon. We would not be…selfishly using one another like how I orchestrated things to be previously. I will also inform you of when these sessions are taking place. It will be no secret, I swear to you.”

You think for a long while.

“Let us discuss this with V1. If they agree, we can have a session now—a sort of trial run.” You decide.

Gabriel carries you to V2’s bedroom. Your other lover is currently out hanging with some friends in Lust, and so it is only V1 in the room. They are seated on the floor playing a video game but upon seeing the door open they pause it and set their controller down.

“Want to play?” V1 signs then points at the other controller.

“Perhaps later. We wished to talk to you about something.” Gabriel explains and walks over to the bed to set you down before taking a seat next to you.

V1 rises from the floor and sits on Gabriel’s lap sideways with their legs draped across your own lap.

“My audio feedback is all yours~” They sign brightly.

Gabriel laughs quietly but the cute sound is short-lived as his nerves become frazzled as he thinks on how to approach the subject while also trying not to succumb to the guilt that still lingers.

You bump shoulders with him and speak up, saving him the effort.

“Would you like to have sessions with Gabriel where you inflict pain on him?” You ask bluntly.

V1’s visor reels back, shocked by this.

They blink rapidly.

“…You won’t be mad at me if I do?” They sign.

“I will not because these sessions will be nothing like the ones you two shared previously.” You answer, “For one, you will not be inflicting any mortal wounds and you are not going to bleed him dry. You will harm him, yes, but you will do so with care. Think of it like fighting versus having a spar. There will be restraint and respect and after these sessions I expect you to not only tend to his injuries, should any remain that have not healed immediately, but to spend time with him after. In that same vein, Gabriel is to care for you as well.”

V1’s optic twinkles, you swear it does, and they nod fiercely.

“I want to do it!!” They sign eagerly, then paw at Gabriel incessantly, “What about you? Have you made up your mind already?”

“…I have. I would be more than happy to do this with you.” Your angel replies.

The two of them now look to you for the final say.

“I think this will be very good for both of you.” You say, but before either of them get too excited, you speak up again, “However,” You continue, voice stern, “There is a boundary—a line—and should either of you cross it, these sessions will be put to rest at once and I will never entertain the subject again. I will not tolerate either of you using each other as cruelly as you did before. Is that understood?”

“Yes, of course, my muse.” Gabriel tells you at once.

“I understand. I promise I will do things properly.” V1 signs then holds out their pinky.

You curl your pinky around theirs and give it a shake.

You take a deep, deep breath, then let it go.

“If you wish we could have a session right now in the sparring room.” You say.

“We?” They sign, craning their visor to the side in confusion.

“I will be sticking around for the first session to make sure everything goes smoothly and to help you two along but afterwards these sessions will be between you two. That is not to say that afterwards, if either of you need further comfort, you cannot come to me. I will gladly give both of you affection if I am available. I am sure that V2 feels the same.”

“Are you positive you wish to see such a thing?” Gabriel asks, “It is understandably…difficult for you to witness any of us being injured, even in a controlled setting.”

“I am sure. I have grown tolerant to small amounts of violence, given the fact I use a riding crop and my dagger on you. And as I said, there will be no grievous wounds inflicted. If I become disturbed I will let the two of you know and take my leave but I think that reminding myself that you are being harmed for your enjoyment, not out of guilt or shame, will ward off that feeling.”

“Very well. I trust your judgement.” He says.

The three of you head to the moonlit sparring room after you grab your dagger from your bedroom. You sit on your folded legs at the lip of the stone leading into the water and have Gabriel lay on his back with his helm atop your lap.

Vi sits atop his lower stomach, dagger in hand.

“Is there anything you would like Vi to avoid doing?” You ask Gabriel.

“Hmm…” He thinks, “I would prefer if you did not strike my helm or my wings. Or my privates. I am fine with all else.”

“I don’t want to touch your privates, no worries there.” Vi signs, “I know you’re super into pain but I don’t want to feel your dick on me so I’ll stay like this on your stomach. Whenever we do this again I don’t mind what positions we take as long as you aren’t poking me.”

“You may want to sit higher up if that is the case.” You speak up, “He’s quite big after all.”

Gabriel’s wings flush and he makes no remark on that.

V1 scoots a little higher up, now sitting atop where his solar plexus lays.

“That should be adequate.” Gabriel says meekly, “I am ready and willing. You may start whenever.”

“V2 sharpened my dagger for me so you will not need much, if any force, to draw blood. Please keep that in mind.” You tell them.

Vi nods and after looking at you, then Gabriel, their fingers readjust around the hilt of the dagger and they move it to hover over one of Gabriel’s pecs. They lower their hand, the tip of the dagger now pressing against his obsidian skin, and your angel’s breath hitches enough that it pierces, drawing the smallest bit of blood. You hear a whining sound, like Vi’s optic sharpening. They press harder, sinking the blade deeper, but only slightly, before dragging it down and making a perfectly straight cut about three inches long.

Gabriel’s wings flutter against the water, splashing the two of you a bit.

Vi watches the blood trickling from the wound with unmistakable hunger. They trace the wound with a finger, the blood absorbed immediately. Their fans puff excitedly at the feeling of being fueled. They dig a finger into the cut, wanting to ease more blood out, and Gabriel makes a strangled sound.

You have no doubt that he is hard.

The cut heals a minute later.

Vi makes another cut on the same pec, this one deeper and longer, and they slap a palm to the wound roughly both to siphon the blood and inflict even more pain. Gabriel’s hips buck and he apologizes. You shush him, petting his helm. His breathing is uneven and his chest rises and falls rapidly now.

Cut after cut is made across his chest and shoulders.

The blood and violence leaves Vi just as aroused as Gabriel.

They switch things up a bit, setting the dagger down to curl their bloodied hands around your angel’s throat. They do not exert any force yet, staring down at him for permission. Once Gabriel nods, their hands clench the slightest. The moan it draws out is snuffed out as his airway is briefly closed. His wings are flushed pink and are now flapping sporadically against the water.

He taps Vi’s hands a moment later and you are delighted to see that they relent immediately.

Gabriel sucks in several ragged breaths.

“I would like more of that, please.” He tells them.

Vi chimes happily and lets him catch his breath for another minute before they curl one hand around his throat and pick up the dagger with the other. They choke Gabriel while leaving many shallow cuts all over his chest. Your angel is trembling all over, body so taut with pleasure he is being given.

You thought you would be nauseated during this, at least slightly, but even with the memory of the incident lingering in your mind, you find that you are calm.

You find that you even enjoy watching some of this, although the choking is something you would need time to wrap your head around. These sessions were not for you, so you suppose that there really was no need to understand liking such a thing. You do wonder, however, if Gabriel will want to be choked by your own hands during your coupling, but you unfortunately lack the strength to give him what he truly wants.

You were also still wondering when these two will find that they have had their fill, and part of you was worried that they wouldn’t ever, what with Gabriel’s masochism and V1’s bloodlust, but you are immensely relieved to see that what stops them both from seeking out any more is the fact the they have both become so aroused that they can hardly think through it.

Just as you are trying to figure out how you will give them both pleasure at the same time, since V1 has no interest in coupling with Gabriel, the doors to the sparring room opens and V2 steps inside, having freshly returned from his trip to Lust.

“Oh, I came home just in time.” V2 remarks as his fans roar.

“Vee…” Gabriel moans.

“I think that should do it for now, yes?” You say to both of them, “While we agreed you two would comfort one another, I think that will have to wait until you two can think past your desires. Gabriel, why don’t you let V2 take care of you? I will take care of Vi.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tire myself out with my friend. I’ve got plenty of energy for you.” Vee promises as he rolls his shoulders and cracks his knuckles, “Go wait for me in my bedroom, baby. I want you on the bed, hands and knees.”

“Y-Yes, Daddy…” Gabriel shivers.

V1 hops off him and he teleports.

“HEH! This is going to be so fun. I love being back home~” V2 says with perverted delight, and pantomimes blowing you two a kiss before he runs off towards his room.

You stand to your feet and curl an arm around Vi’s narrow waist before tugging them against you.

“What will it be, my pretty flower? Do you need to fuck me? Or will I be fucking you?”

“Both?” They sign.

“You are insatiable!” You laugh, then press a kiss to the side of their visor before dropping your voice several decibels, “I will be fucking you first. You are far too enchanting like this for me to resist.”

Vi shivers and picks you up so they can run off towards your bedroom.

You have never seen them run faster.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“Vi, will you please close your eye and follow us? We have something for you.” You tell your lover with Gabriel and V2 at your side as the three of you approach where V1 is sitting in front of their fish tank.

“A surprise??” They stand up to eagerly sign, “I loooove surprises!”

They shut their mechanical eyelid and hold out a hand.

You curl your hand into theirs and lead them towards the gardening room.

“The surprise is from Raphael mainly, but each of us contributed things towards it.” You explain as you pull them into the room and walk over near the hydroponic garden.

You stop a few feet away from the hydroponics and guide V1 into standing in front of you.

“You may look now.” You tell them.

Vi’s eyelids shutter apart and they stare at what sits in front of them: some kind of structure, rectangular in shape, which is concealed by a sheet.

They pinch the corner of the cloth and pull it away carefully.

Vi chimes loudly, jumping in place a few times in their excitement at what they see.

In front of them is a large cage atop a wooden table. The cage is filled with straw bedding, a water source, a wheel for running, and a little terracotta pot that has been upturned to make for a cozy spot to hide or sleep.

Sitting in the middle of the cage, nibbling away on seeds, is a grey hamster with very beady eyes, of which give it a sort of empty-headed cuteness, like it could not form a thought if its life depended on it. It is a very pudgy creature, and very calm in temperament, as it does not startle at all upon suddenly being revealed and having many people standing around it.

“Hamster!!!!!!!!” V1 signs, punctuated by the sound of their feet tapping against the ground as they dance from foot to foot.

They slip down to their knees and press their visor to the cage.

“Raphael found it on the Ferryman’s ship. With all the rain and lightning, we thought it to be a poor place for it to live. I told them you would be interested in caring for it, so I asked Gabriel and Vee to gather everything it would need from the surface and I built the table for its cage to sit on.” You explain.

Not even the way Vi suddenly stands up frightens the hamster.

They jump towards the three of you, trying their best to wrap their arms around each of you, their optic so pink.

The three of you laugh and hug them tightly in return.

“Love you too, dork.” V2 laughs and returns the hug eagerly.

Notes:

florp! :^D

also been meaning to write out height/sizes in case anyone was curious:

biggest/tallest: Lucifer (18 feet naturally but shrinks down to 13 or even shorter if required), Gabriel (a solid 9 feet tall), Sisyphus (only a few inches shorter than Gabby)
Middle: Michael, mindflayers, Minos (all around 6-7 feet)
Average: V2 (5'11) , V1 (5'7), Raphael and Rue are about the same height (5'5)

edit 5/10: holy FUCK hakita just released a song for the newest layer and said it would be shown june 8th i am NOT ready XD

Chapter 13: rue/minos + ??

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You find your friend in the sector of Lust that currently homes no husks or machines, as most of the buildings are in dire need of repair or to be rebuilt entirely. Much progress has been made, you note as you approach, your eyes drifting from the tiny homes that have been finished, the only thing left to make them a true home was someone living in it and adding their own touch.

“You have been at it for a while.” You say in greeting to Minos, who is carrying some lumber over a pale shoulder while the few angels that are working alongside him clear away rubble.

The angels gasp, wings ruffling, upon seeing you.

They bow their helms in respect.

You offer a casual wave and a smile in return.

Minos lowers the massive hunk of wood he is toting and turns towards you.

“Ah, dearest friend, tis wonderful to see thee.” Minos tells you brightly and walks over to lift you into his arms and hug you tightly. Your legs dangle a few feet in the air, but you have never once minded being held like a doll like all of your lovers and friends have a habit of doing, “I hath missed thee most ardently! Mine endeavors hath demanded such great heed that I couldst not visit thy abode.”

You return his embrace just as eagerly, shivering at the feel of his icy skin.

“There is no need to apologize,” You assure and kiss his cheek, “Although I do hope that you are not overworking yourself. You have a habit of doing so.”

“…I am well enough.”

“You are a terrible liar.” You snort, “Your back is hunched and you are flushed blue. Tell me which of those you thought I would fail to notice?”

Minos only blushes harder.

“Thou art as astute as usual.” He says sheepishly after clearing his throat.

“You are finished for the day.” You say, but he mistakes it as a question.

“There remains a few more tasks I must undertake—”

“I was not asking.” You clarify, “I am telling you that you are finished. Or would you like your friend to be upset with you?”

You cup his face and stare intensely into the void of it.

Minos swallows hard.

“Mine work hath finished.” He agrees belatedly.

You smile.

He sets you down and thanks the angels for their work, but their attention seems to be wholly focused on you.

“You angels deserve reprieve as well. Carry on home and rest. It is well earned.” You tell them.

The angels mutter their gracious thanks before teleporting.

“Wilt thou be accompanying me to mine abode?” Minos asks.

“I wanted to take you somewhere if that is agreeable with you. Nowhere far—it is in the city.”

“Gladly. Lead the way.”

The two of you walk hand in hand.

It is both fascinating and strange how cold your friend always remains despite how much he has physically toiled.

“Where is thy pet?” Minos asks.

You are confused initially, wondering how he knew about V1’s pets Cronus and Florp despite not having visited recently enough to meet them, until you remember he means the black serpent with red eyes you had brought along with you only once before.

“Oh, that was no pet. That was Lucifer in disguise.” You explain.

Minos stops walking.

He visibly remembers how he had affectionately pet Lucifer with a crooked finger and then connects the snake with the massive fallen angel that exuded power and grace.

“Ah…” He says, embarrassed.

“It is alright. He would not have let you touch if he did not want you to. Forgive the deception—at the time, Lucifer had not wanted to reveal himself.”

“He is a most handsome serpent.” Minos says almost in apology, like he could not help but pet those beautiful black scales, “I wondered why mine own serpents hadst been so unnerved upon seeing one of their kin.”

“He can be intimidating, but he is a very sweet man,” You tell him, “And he is a very sweet snake as well. He enjoys sleeping in my bosom just as much as Pearl and Diamondus tend to.”

“Art there any in existence that doth not feel great solace when resting upon thy bosom?”

“Not to my knowledge, no.”

That earns a charming little laugh.

“Is Sisyphus home? What has he been up to?” You ask.

“He is,” Minos nods, “And he hath been laboring in Greed, expanding upon the village thou and the angels constructed. He hath taken an interest in gardening as of late, although the fancy lay solely in desert flora.”

“Has he now?” You grin, delighted to hear this, “Then I will have much to talk to him about the next I see him. As will Gabriel, if the two of them can find it within themselves to get a few sentences out before wanting to beat one another senseless.”

“Beat off, perhaps,” Minos chimes in and you laugh, “Whilst mine beloved remains steadfast in his dislike of thy lover, the fury in his voice hath lessened when speaking of Gabriel. He doth not grind his teeth and clench his hands into shaking fists as much as he once did.”

“I would be a fool to ever think they will reconcile fully and become friends but I am happy to hear that it is possible for the tensions to ease, even if slightly. Who knew all it took was a good fuck?”

“A good fuck and the mutual love of thee.” Minos corrects, “Sisyphus is so fond of thee, after all.”

“I am fond of him as well and do not take his affections lightly given the kind of man that he is.”

He hums, pleased, and gives your hand a squeeze.

The two of you walk the rest of the way in companionable silence.

You stop in front of a home on the base level of Lust—a small, sort of hole in the wall abode that lacks a proper door and instead has a beaded curtain.

Minos turns to look at you at once.

“You recognize this place, don’t you?” You say with a wry smile, “It is the place where I found your laurel ages ago. You must have had quite the time with Aurora and Glacia for a king to have forgotten his crown.”

“Thou hadst conspired against me with mine own subjects?” He says with an air of astonishment.

“And what will you do about it, king?” You challenge and give his ass a slap, “I returned your laurel, didn’t I?”

“Indeed. I wilt not forget it this time around.”

“Oh, did you not like being rewarded with it afterwards? You earned that crown with the fucking you served my lover and I.”

“I enjoyed it immensely.”

“That is what I thought.” You hum and pull him along inside the house, “Come, my friend, I wish to spoil you for all of your hard work. Do you have any protests about our mutual friends joining in?”

“A pair of beautiful nymphs led by a siren to tend to mineself? Mortal men wouldst hath waged the bloodiest of wars to be granted such a thing.”

You grin at him, then your friends, who are lazing atop their nest of a bed across from one another, their legs kicking behind them cutely as they each thumb through a fashion magazine.

“Hello, my lovelies,” You greet Aurora and Glacia, “Sorry to keep you waiting. It took some time locating the king.”

“Was getting bored!!” Glacia signs moodily, tossing the magazine behind her before she floats over to you and picks you up to squeeze you against her petite blue bosom.

Aurora follows next and hugs you from behind, her massive teal breasts squishing against you and between the two of them, your head is almost entirely concealed by tits. You manage to blindly fondle whatever soft curves you can reach, earning a fluttering chime that is unmistakably a giggle.

“Hi, sir,” Aurora signs shyly at Minos when she separates from you, “We have missed you.”

“I hath missed thee both as well. Forgive me for mine absence.” He says and unlike with you, he does not have to bend down at all to kiss Aurora and Glacia, although in your friends case he is simply pressing the void of his face to the metal towers that make up the Mindflayer’s head and face.

The lack of lips does nothing to take away the sweetness of the gesture.

You cannot help but notice how both of their wires curl and sway happily like a cat’s tail at his affections.

“Don’t stay away so long next time…” Glacia signs then crosses her arms, a finger tapping against her bicep as she stares at Minos.

“I wilt make sure to visit more often. This, I swear.” Minos tells her before scooping her up and throwing her over one shoulder before hefting Aurora under his other arm, their weight and size nothing at all in the face of his boundless strength.

He carries them to the bed and they giggle the entire way.

You serve wine and the four of you sit on the bed and relax.

As usual, you finish your serving first and you set your cup on the floor before moving to stand on your knees behind Minos, your hands resting atop each of his shoulders.

“Your body is so tense and overworked. I fear that even with the wine, your mind remains the same as well.” You remark and start massaging his stiff shoulders.

“It hath proven…difficult to relax of late. My mind doth ever dwell upon the tasks that require mine attention.” Minos sighs, “Tis something mine beloved hath remarked upon endlessly, much to my great shame.”

“The king of Lust, unable to grant himself leisure.” You tut, “You forget pleasure and comfort as quickly as my own lover. Not to worry, I am a skilled teacher. You will be taught the lesson thoroughly.”

“Thou make it seemeth like I am to be punished most grievously.”

“You do not sound offended at the notion. In fact, you sound as if you would like to be punished. Is that true?”

“…I wouldst be very agreeable.”

“Oh?” You reel back, turning to look at Glacia and Aurora, “Do you hear that? He wishes to be punished. Then let us spoil you with punishment for neglecting yourself, my friend. I promise that you will break the habit after a single session alone.”

Minos shivers.

“I am in thy care.” He says.

Glacia and Aurora finish with their wine and move to sit on either side of Minos, taking one arm each for themselves to begin massaging the overworked muscles as you tend to his shoulders.

“You have so little fat on your body. You are hard, cold, and pale. It is like you were carved from marble.” You remark and curiously drag your tongue up the curve of his neck, the sensation like licking a slab of ice, “Your pecs and ass seem to be where all your fat resides.” And you lower your hands from his shoulders to reach around and grope his chest just as you sink your teeth into his neck and leave a love bite.

Minos is blue-blooded, both figuratively and literally, so not only does he blush blue, but the love bites that you begin to leave all over his neck are the same pretty shade as well.

Your friend moans, melting against the loving hands tending to him.

Once he is fully relaxed you reach over the bed to where you left your satchel when you first arrived in Lust before going off to find him.

“You mentioned before that you would not mind being tied up. Does that remain true?” You ask.

“Yes. I am quite fond of it.” Minos admits with excitement in his voice.

“If we knew that before we would have used our wires on you.” Glacia signs as she curls her wires around one of his wrists snugly.

“I am unfortunately too strong to be bound in true. I wouldst hate to harm either of thee by accident.” He tells her.

“There will be no need to worry of anyone being harmed with the ropes I brought with me.” You say.

“Didst thou plan this from the very beginning of thy visit?”

“I did. I have been thinking of you tied up and at my mercy more and more as of late.”

“I wilt do mine best to remain bound but if I become too excited I may still break free.” Minos tells you.

“You will not break free.” You declare confidently, “You will be well-behaved, won’t you?”

Minos’ breathing quickens.

“Yes, my little star. I wilt behave.” He nearly hisses at you in his eagerness.

“I know you will.” You hum approvingly and kiss the back of his neck.

Little does he know he has no choice in the matter.

The three of you undress him, kissing and fondling him here and there, and once he is naked you tie his wrists together with the yellow rope you brought with you, the material of which twinkles like spun gold and looks so pretty against his ivory skin.

You move to the floor and tie his ankles next.

Aurora, the strongest here aside from Minos, helps the man lay down on his back in the center of the bed.

Minos positions his bound arms above his head, making his biceps, chest and the muscles of his stomach flex attractively.

You crawl atop him and pluck his laurel from his head.

“You are no longer king.” You tell him as you twirl the accessory around your finger, “You will forget all about your responsibilities and station. You are an instrument of pleasure and we intend to make you sing.”

He likes that very much.

Minos’ void of a face gushes with black fluid that dribbles down his chin. The pale mound between his legs now has a visible pink slit, one that parts wetly so that his duo cocks slip out, one red, the other blue, and both lacking balls or a flared tip, the same thickness from top to bottom with no change in texture. His cocks are perfectly smooth, much like the tentacles that reside in his face, and are impressive in both girth and length. Each cock glistens in the low candlelight enticingly.

Aurora lets out a long, drawn out beep, a whine, and squirms at the sight.

It has been a while since she has been given cock and it shows.

“You will have him soon enough. Let me show you two how much I missed you first while our friend becomes used to the ropes.” You say and slip out of your garments quickly.

You guide Aurora and Glacia to lay down side by side, with Glacia flush to Minos.

You climb atop Aurora, peppering her metal face with kisses, then share the same affection with Glacia. You are a fantastic multitasker, so it is no problem at all for you to start sucking at Aurora’s tits while you fondle Glacia’s with your right hand. You get them both worked up and eager, sometimes switching who you are seated atop of, but eventually you settle between Aurora’s legs and spread her fat thighs to reveal her dripping teal cunt.

You bury your face against her at once and begin to eat her out enthusiastically.

She chimes so prettily.

Before Glacia can feel neglected you guide a hand between her thighs and tease her folds.

“To hear thine moans as thou savor her…” Minos remarks breathily, the bed rustling slightly as his hips thrust shallowly to seek out stimulation, “Tis the sweetest of torture.”

You pull away from Aurora after she cums with a high pitched beep and gushes across your lips.

You lick your lips.

“She is sweet, I cannot help but be noisy.” You say, “Does he deserve to taste you, Aurora? He has only been left alone for a few minutes. We could make him wait far longer.”

“He is so handsome…” She signs.

“Mmm, he will look even more handsome begging. Stand on your knees above his face. He can have whatever drips from you until he has asked nicely for more.” You instruct and as she sits up you give her ass a smack and she chimes cutely.

You settle between Glacia’s thighs next but do not dive in immediately.

You watch Aurora settle over Minos.

Her juices leak into the void of his face and Minos hisses with his hunger, his cocks twitching eagerly.

“Go on, ask for it.” You command him.

“Prithee, allow mineself to service thee. Mine face wilt make an apt throne for such a pretty nymph.” He pleads with a strained, hoarse voice.

Aurora trembles.

She looks at you for permission.

“Very good.” You praise Minos, “You may use him now.”

Aurora plops right down on his face and the dark tentacles laying in wait breech from the depths of his face and squirm out to crowd her cunt, some of the thick black tentacles thrusting inside of her, others wriggling against her folds to tease her clit.

You cannot tell which of the two are enjoying themselves more.

You listen to the sounds of their shared pleasure while you service Glacia with your mouth with such skill that she cums in less than a minute, than screeches with ecstasy when you do not pause in the slightest and start fucking her with your tongue. You are greedy and are not satisfied until she finishes at least three times and has to gently push your face away because her poor folds are so sensitive.

You sit up, catching your breath, than guide Glacia to follow you onto Minos’ lap. The two of you sit on his lap facing one another and you take his blue cock in hand while she takes the red, both of your hips hovering over his lengths. Once the tip of each is secured within you both, you lace your fingers with hers and use your joined hands as an anchor as you start riding him.

Minos lets out such a handsome, strangled moan.

“You will not cum.” You order him sternly, “You are ours to use and you will make sure that we come first. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yessss…I wilt obey.” He hisses, his words not at all muffled despite his face being buried underneath Aurora.

“Good pet.” You praise and feel his cock twitch hard in you, “Mmm, you really do enjoy being used. Does it feel nice not having to worry about anything else except pleasing us and following my commands?”

“My mind feels fuzzy around the edges…” Minos wheezes, “I feel relaxed yet so frantic. Tis addicting.”

The three of you use him over and over, your friend’s pale body now flushed blue, and he is shaking head to toe from how desperately he tries not to cum. Aurora lifts from his face, her thighs stained black, and you slide off Minos’ cock so she can have a turn while you seat yourself on his face next.

You will never get used to the foreign and oh so wet sensation of many eager tentacles writhing in and against you.

After another round of pleasure the three of you crawl off him and take a few minutes to catch your breath and enjoy more wine.

“Prithee…May I finish…?” Minos begs.

“Not yet.” You say as you sip wine.

“I wilt perish.”

“You will perish if you disobey me, pet. Calm your breathing and rest.” You instruct and stroke his chest and shoulders to help him along before you turn towards Glacia and whisper quietly to her: “Let us do it now.”

Glacia nods, then scoops you into her arms.

She teleports.

The two of you materialize in front of Minos and Sisyphus’ apartment.

Knowing that Sisyphus is home, you slip the note you had hidden away in your satchel underneath the door then knock firmly.

You are teleported back to Glacia’s home, the trip only having taken a minute or so, yet it seems much has transpired because Aurora ducks her metal face a bit, unable to look at you head on.

She seems nervous.

“What is wrong, beautiful?” You ask as Glacia sets you down.

“…He tried to break out of the ropes.” Aurora signs after much deliberation.

Minos flushes, guilty, and turns his face away to stare at a wall.

“The second I leave you forget how to behave. You are making to be a poor pet.” You huff, severely disappointed, and your friend wilts at that disappointment, much to your satisfaction, “If you thought me to be cruel before, you have incited something within me that is entirely worse now.”

You approach the bed and instead of crawling atop it you walk, standing above Minos, your spread feet bracketing his ribs.

“Go on, try all you like to break free—it will do you no good. Those are no ordinary ropes. They are divine and will only come loose if and when I untie them. I told you at the beginning that you would not be breaking free.” You declare, staring down at your friend, naked, and exuding indisputable authority.

“Forgive me…” Minos pleads, now trying to sit up, but you move a foot to his chest, right over his heart, and interrupt the motion, not because you are strong, but because the look in your eyes makes his very heart tremble, visibly beating faster now.

“I will not.” You tell him, “You have deeply irritated me. Aurora, on the other hand…” And you walk away from him, now kneeling on the bed beside her. You kiss her sweetly and all of her nervousness drifts away. “Good girl. I know you felt bad tattling but it is for his own benefit.”

You have Aurora adjust Minos so that he is laying on his front, his face and chest flat against the bed, his ass in the air.

Glacia floats over to the foot of the bed and settles herself right in front of Minos’ face, scooting closer until his face is buried against her cunt.

She wraps her bulky metal legs around him and tugs him even closer to her.

You reach into your satchel and pull out your harness, strap, and a vial of slick.

After putting it on you stand on your knees behind Minos, admiring his muscular ass and his thick thighs. Aurora lays on her side, watching the three of you, and uses her wires to drag the sharp ends against Minos’ chest and back, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave pretty blue lines all over him like he has been clawed at by an overeager feline.

You fondle Minos’ ass, squeezing the muscles and giving it a few slaps to watch the fat ripple. A blue hand print remains for a few seconds. You like it so much that you slap him over and over, your strength not enough to truly harm him, but the act of spanking him for his misbehavior affects him deeply.

He chokes on breath after breath, arching his back for you.

You slick your fingers and spread his cheeks apart. You massage his hole with the pad of your thumb, rubbing in tortuously slow circles. Yet, for as desperate as he is, he makes no struggle to free himself, even subconsciously. He has finally accepted that he is a pet, that he is at your mercy, and that he has much to do if he wishes to be in your good grace’s once more and have his release.

“If you cum without my permission you will be left here, untouched, for hours.” You make that very clear to Minos as you begin to slip a finger inside of him, “Tell me how sorry you are for trying to free yourself while I prep you to take my cock.”

Minos shakes hard.

“…I am deeply remorseful for mine poor behavior.” He tells you with a tightness in his throat, like he is saying the words through clenched teeth.

“You can do far better than that.” You huff and slap his ass as you shallowly thrust a finger in and out of his hole.

“Rue, mine dearest friend, forgive my trespass and my insolence. I wish to make amends. I wish to be thy pet. More than anything, I wish to please thee.” He speaks again with far more sincerity.

“Much better.” You coo at him, some of your irritation ebbing, “Here, have another finger.”

He moans and hisses at the feeling of an additional finger now scissoring his tight ass open.

Every muscle in his body is taut and his skin is flushed so blue in some spots that it is purple.

You take your fingers out not too long after, slick your strap, and rest it between his cheeks. You grind between his cheeks, smearing his hole with even more slick, and each time the tip of your cock catches against his hole Minos makes a broken, desperate sound.

“I wilt do anything to hath thine cock buried within me. I cannot take another second without it. Oh, prithee, mistress, grant thy pet what he so craves.” Minos pleads, sounding as if he is on the verge of tears.

You get a swell of arousal at the title.

You could get very used to bending a king to your will.

“I forgive you.” You tell him, “You have earned this, my pet.” And you begin to thrust inside, “Just be obedient for a little while longer and you will have your release.”

“Y-Yes mistress…”

You push in deeper and earn a sharp gasp when your cock is buried to the hilt.

You tease him no further.

You snap your hips and fuck him hard, the sight of your dark purple cock being greedily taken by his hole making your blood simmer. Each thrust is deep. You pound his prostate relentlessly and he cries handsomely into Glacia’s cunt.

“You have earned this—every inch,” You praise him, your voice soft in contrast to your rough thrusts, “Is it good? Do you want more?”

“Yessss…!” Minos hisses, “I am thine to be claimed. Use mineself to thy hearts content!”

You have always had sharp hearing.

That is why you are able to hear footsteps approaching the front door despite the sounds of Minos and Glacia’s pleasure and the wet slapping as you fuck him.

Your lips spread into a wolfish grin.

“You are allowed to cum now, my pet.” You say and put your entire back into fucking him while Aurora moves her wires from off his back and curls one around each of his cocks and jerks him off.

Just as the beaded curtains are pulled aside by a red hand Minos shouts hoarsely as he at last cums, his brittle, shaky voice thanking you over and over. Sisyphus enters the home and sees his lover slump against the bed into his own cum, every part of him flushed and shaking.

Glacia has had her fill at last and unlocks her legs from around his head so he can catch his breath properly, floating over to Aurora so the two of them can cuddle.

“You took your time getting here.” You tell Sisyphus as you pull out of his lover.

Hearing that, Minos weakly lifts his face from the sheets.

“Beloved…” He whines, sounding out of sorts from the earth shattering orgasm he was still recovering from.

Sisyphus approaches the bed silently.

He stops just in front of it, his cock half hard in his chiton.

He bends at the knees to cup his lovers soaked face.

“Do you have the vigor for another coupling?” Sisyphus asks with a gentleness he only reserves for you and his lover.

Minos nods eagerly.

You untie the ropes from his arms, then his ankles and give both a massage to soothe the indentations that had been left behind.

“He is all yours. He has been more than prepared to take you.” You inform Sisyphus as you join the cuddle pile with Aurora and Glacia.

“My thanks.” He hums approvingly.

Sisyphus picks up Minos, first holding him like a bride so he can rest his forehead against his, then he adjusts his lover to lean his back against his chest, a red arm hooked around both of his pale, muscular legs to keep them in a neat bundle and allow Sisyphus to grip his now fully hard cock and guide it to his entrance.

He sinks Minos onto his fat cock slowly.

Minos clings to him, reaching behind him to claw at his shoulders, his face leaking profusely.

Sisyphus fucks him with no preamble, keeping his pace slow, but his thrusts dizzyingly rough, always pulling out until the tip almost comes out, before shoving right back in. It is enthralling to see a man like Minos be taken like this. He is not small by anyone’s standards, and is exceedingly muscular, but Sisyphus is simply something else entirely, an entire two and half feet taller than his lover and at least a hundred pounds heavier.

You watch, enamored, as Minos is impaled on his lovers cock repeatedly, fucked like a doll, and it is Minos that finishes first, crying out so loud that his voice cracks, then gives out, his strength depleted to the point that he cannot even hold onto Sisyphus anymore, simply limp.

Minos is bent over the bed and Sisyphus gives him a hard thrust, then another, then the man grunts and rests his face against Minos’ back as he spills inside.

The home is quiet now save for harsh breathing.

Then it falls even quieter when Minos, utterly spent, falls asleep.

Even when Sisyphus pulls out it does not disturb his lover’s rest.

You and Sisyphus clean him up while Aurora and Glacia remove the soiled top layer of sheets and serve more wine. The five of you cuddle in bed afterwards, with Glacia tucked between you and Aurora, and Minos in the middle of you and Sisyphus.

You turn towards Sisyphus with exactly one thing in mind.

“Did you enjoy hearing him wail for my cock?” You ask him, and your specific choice of wording is not lost on him.

Sisyphus stiffens, then throws his head back and laughs.

“So you watched me claim your angel.” He remarks, deeply amused.

“I did.” You agree, “It was very enjoyable.”

“As was seeing you claim Minos. I cannot remember the last time I saw him flushed purple. Where might I acquire my own set of those ropes?” He asks.

“You can keep them. I will have Gabriel bring me another set.”

He hums in thanks and leans over to kiss your cheek.

The five of you snooze for a few hours. Minos and Sisyphus are the first to awake and they are the first to leave. You stay behind with Aurora and Glacia, praising each of them for assisting you teach the king a lesson, and after you help them tidy up their home you give them each a kiss, collect your things, and head back home.

…Little do you know as you walk through Lust that you are being watched.

Notes:

its about time the king got dommed by rue/reader lol

also, welcome back aurora and glacia :^D

hmmm i wonder who the hell was watching Rue...it wont be revealed next chap, cuz next chap is going to be the last dream/memory sequence and its going to be pretty sad stuff so hold onto ur asses....

ive been working on the rue/sisyphus au where they are a slave little by little on the side of the main chapters, but i also got the idea of an au with rue/minos where rue/reader IS an actual siren/mermaid. ive also been thinking about writing a chapter that switches POV of different characters to 1) show how they see/think of rue and 2) show off how minos and sisyphus act with one another. if i wrote a chapter like that would it be best to do it in third person or from the perspective of each different character that shows up? :^O

after the next chapter there is going to be a really heavy/drama filled chapter so for fluff enjoyers...have mercy on me

anyways, thanks for reading as always and i hope u enjoy. ily <3

edit: had to fix so many mistakes lmfaooo thats what i get for posting so late

Chapter 14: rue/mel pt 3

Notes:

tw for pet and animal death (lots of human death too)

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“My love, won’t you come to bed?” Gabriel asks you gently as he enters the gardening room and finds you kneeled in front of your own statue, which you have been glaring holes into for a good handful of hours now as you morosely strum your lyre.

You are not singing.

You have not had it within you to sing lately.

“I will sleep eventually.” You reply lifelessly, your fingers barely wanting to even move against the strings but if you did not keep busy then these terrible, blood-soaked memories will keep plaguing your mind.

Each time you have tried to sleep you have awoken panicked—nearly hysterical with the fear and misery that gripped you.

The nightmares you suffer always consist of the same three things:

Fire.

Blood.

Death.

Your memories of your last days alive as a mortal are fuzzy around the edges and disorienting. You remember the grand plot but the details escape you. You know that you, along with all your dearest friends and lovers, had been killed over the course of three days and that you yourself had been killed seconds apart of Melanthios, dearest of all, but the exact order of things, the details, and most of the conversations held were lost to you.

Gabriel makes a small sound—a sigh, one tinged with sadness, and he approaches to sit behind you and pull you atop his lap.

You hum, leaning against him. He is warm from sleep and his heart beats so steadily. Your lover plucks your lyre from your hands and sets it on the grass. He wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly.

“I am worried about you,” Gabriel confesses almost in a whisper, “You have not slept or smiled in days. If there is anything I can do, that we can do, you need only speak of it. You are not alone, my muse. You are so loved and we only wish for you to be happy.”

“You are sweet beyond compare.” You reply and kiss the tops of his arms, “…I do not know what it is I need. I do not know what I want. All I can think about is—”

Death.

Blood.

Fire.

“—dreadful things.” You say instead, voice shaking the slightest.

“The longer you go without proper rest the worse you will feel.” Gabriel tells you.

“I know…” You sigh.

“Why not spend a few days with Lucifer and Michael? My elder brother will undoubtedly ensure that you have a peaceful slumber.” He suggests.

You are not sure if it is peace that you want.

“Yes. Y-Yes I…I think that will be good.” You agree around the lump in your throat.

Gabriel prays to his kin then begins packing your things as you spend time with V1 and V2.

Lucifer and Michael arrive in the foyer just as you have finished saying farewell to Cronus.

You try to smile at them both but all you really manage on doing is making the corner of your mouth twitch the very slightest.

You are so ashamed at the pitiful attempt that you simply look away.

“Greetings my friends and kin,” Lucifer says with a curt nod, “I have come to collect.”

He steps forward and curls his tail around your waist. He lifts you into the crook of an arm and Michael moves in front of him to nuzzle his helm against your cheek.

“I have missed you.” Michael tells you, then his voice becomes sad, “Although I wish that the occasion of your stay with us was less melancholic.”

“As do I.” You agree and cup his helm to press kisses all over it.

Michael hugs Gabriel then takes your bag from him.

“Hey,” V2 speaks up, having been oddly quiet this entire time, his arms crossed and his visor pointed towards the fish tank, but now as he talks he looks right at Lucifer, “…Take care of them alright?”

His body language exudes worry.

It exudes guilt.

He feels bad that he has not been able to help you.

He thinks he has failed you.

That could not be further from the case.

“You have my word that I will keep them safe and will do my best to return the sparkle to their eyes.” Lucifer promises.

“Thanks, man. It means a lot.” Vee says, then falls quiet once more.

Gabriel sets a hand on his red shoulder and squeezes.

Vee beeps sadly and sets Knuckleblaster atop it before heading up the stairs to his bedroom, none of his usual confidence in his movements.

Maybe it is a mistake to leave.

You should stay and comfort him—

‘Allow your own spirit to recover before soothing another’s.’ Lucifer speaks into your mind, ‘When drowning, one must breech the surface first and fill the lungs before diving back down to lift another, otherwise both will perish.’

It is difficult, but you force down the urge to escape his arms and chase after your lover.

V1 walks over to Lucifer and hops in place a few times, holding something in one hand: an amateurishly sewn fish doll, much like the ones you and Gabriel have made and hidden all over Hell for them to find. The fish doll has loose threads sticking out everywhere, almost looking furry, and its button eyes are not level.

None of that takes away from its cuteness or the kindness of this gesture.

Michael takes the fish and places it into your awaiting hands.

You kiss the doll, eyes on V1.

They beep happily and make a heart with their fingers at you.

Then they run over to Gabriel, slip their hand into his, and tug him along up the stairs towards Vee’s bedroom.

Lucifer teleports and the three of you arrive on his island in Wrath, the weather surrounding the island a light rain instead of stormy like the rest of the layer. Both of them know how frightened you are of thunder and lightning and so your Lord has made sure that upon each of your visits that the weather is calmer.

You are brought inside of the cottage at the foot of the lighthouse swiftly.

The fireplace on the ground floor is already lit, since the two of them had both been home when called upon by Gabriel. You see a half-finished game of chess on the dining table across from the fireplace. There is a stack of books on the little table by the throne of a chair Lucifer always sits in. Each of them has a ribbon used as a bookmark. It appears he likes reading several at once.

Or does he switch between them when he becomes bored of one?

You do not know.

There is a sweet smell in the cottage.

Familiar, but you cannot place it.

Michael brings your things upstairs to the master bedroom then returns downstairs and you see him slip into the kitchen.

You hear water boiling.

Lucifer removes the dark cloak from his shoulders with his tail, sets it behind his usual seat, but pointedly sits at the dining table instead. He sits with you in his lap, not quite ready to let go of you as of yet.

You often share your thoughts and dreams with him so maybe he can feel the depths of your emotions even if you do not speak on them.

…Or maybe you look more miserable than you thought.

Michael enters the main room with a tea pot and three cups.

“I hope that you enjoy chamomile,” Michael says shyly as he sets things down, “When Gabriel told us you were having difficulty sleeping I gathered some from the garden in Heaven.”

“I did not drink much other than water or wine when I was alive but it smells wonderful. Are you sure a sinner is allowed to partake in Heaven’s bounties?” You tell him.

Michael pours tea and gently sets the first cup in front of you.

“You are most deserving of it.” He says and bends down to kiss your cheek.

He pours Lucifer a cup, then serves himself.

Michael brings a chair over beside his lover and leans his helm against his arm.

“Tell me, dearest disciple, what has ailed your mind and prevented you from restful slumber?” Lucifer asks.

You pick up your cup of tea, inhaling deeply, and watch the dredges of leftover chamomile sway at the bottom of the cup.

Your hands warm little by little.

“…My dreams are plagued by my last days alive but they are disjointed. I am frightened to remember. Yet, I am frightened to keep forgetting. I am at such odds with myself.” You explain wearily.

You sigh and sip your tea.

It is sweet.

Soothingly so.

“You suffered many punishments when sentenced to Hell,” Lucifer remarks, the male half of his voice seething with fury, the female almost hissing, “Your lips were sewn shut to stop your beautiful voice from inciting others into rebellion. You were filled with such a concentrated drought of Lust that it was akin to a poison, stealing your dignity and your clarity of thought. The erosion of your memories was the punishment of breaking free from the previous.”

“But…” He continues after a moment, calmer now, although fury still lingers, much like the dredges of tea, “In this instance, I am unsure if you have truly forgotten the details of your death as part of that punishment or if you have blocked the memory to spare your soul the misery.”

“Blocked them?” You repeat, incredulous, “To purposely forget is the biggest betrayal I can imagine.”

“It is a subconscious decision. Sometimes it is a mercy to forget.” Lucifer clarifies.

You shake your head.

“To forget, subconsciously or not, is an insult to all who I have loved. May they forgive me for being so weak…” You say bitterly.

“It is not weakness,” Michael tells you kindly, reaching to cup your face, “There is only so much tragedy a soul can suffer before it breaks entirely.”

You disagree wholeheartedly but remain quiet.

The three of you sip tea in a silence you would not call comfortable.

It is merely the quiet before a storm.

Rain continues to fall. The fireplace crackles.

You stare at the dredges of tea at the bottom of your now empty cup. Some of it clings to the back of your throat—like how your memories cling to a forgetful mind.

You set the cup down.

“Whether my memories of that time were forgotten from punishment or to protect myself, I am making the choice now for myself: I want to remember.” You speak steadfastly.

“It will be painful, surely. It will weigh upon your soul considerably.” Lucifer explains.

“I accept that.”

He is quiet after.

Thinking.

“…Very well. I will assist you in bringing these memories to the surface. We will weave the disjointed flashes of your final moments into something comprehensible and you will be able to witness the finished tapestry and make of it what you will.” Lucifer decides.

He finishes his tea, sets the cup down, and stands up, carrying you in his arms again.

The three of you head upstairs to the cozy bedroom.

The fireplace in this room is lit.

Just like the one downstairs your eyes cannot help but stare at it for a few long moments.

You change into the silky robe Gabriel packed for you instead of heading to bed naked because Wrath is chilly with the constant rain, and neither the fireplace nor the tea you just drank keeps that chill fully at bay.

You keep staring at the fireplace.

It feels like it is mocking you.

“Can you put out the fire, please?” You ask.

With a snap of his clawed fingers Lucifer extinguishes the flame.

Michael fluffs up the many pillows on the bed, pulls the blankets aside, and is sweet enough to carry you to bed despite it being only a few feet away from where you are standing. You are laid down gently and he leaves and returns with an additional blanket which he drapes across you.

He teleports downstairs where the bookcase is near the kitchen and comes back with one of the books Lucifer was a third way of finishing. He lays down next to you on his side and cracks open the book from the beginning. You roll over onto your stomach and he starts rubbing your back with the hand not holding the book, now reading quietly.

Lucifer teleports into bed on your other side, mirroring Michael, and he gently drags his trimmed claws up and down your shoulders, making you shiver.

“I will be with you in these dreams but I will remain out of sight as to not disturb things. You may feel alone, but rest assured, you will not be. I will see and hear everything. Your grief. Your pain. It will be shared, and in doing so the burden will be lessened.” Lucifer promises.

He leans over and kisses the top of your head.

“Sleep, my disciple…” He whispers into your ear.

Your eyes become heavy.

Your mind fuzzes around the edges and your breathing deepens.

…

…

…

Someone tries to tug the arm you have draped across your eyes.

“Calli, we are being included in the painting.” Melanthios informs you as he gives your arm another tug.

“I care not.” You sigh and keep your arm right where it is, obscuring most of your face from everyone’s view, “For I am certain that if the artist depicted my face with the misery currently etched into each feature, their paint would spoil and their canvas would rot.”

Melanthios says nothing to that and gives up on moving your arm.

He instead curls a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

He lets you be.

You are splayed out on your back, utterly drunk, and that, and the fact that you have been crying all day, is the reason why you shield your face both from your friends and from the sun glaring above you and cutting through the alley.

How dare it be sunny on a day like this?

The nerve.

That morning you and Melanthios had awoken to a heartbreaking discovery—your dog, Leon, passed away. He was curled up in front of the snuffed out fireplace in the main room as if he had not wanted to disturb your rest.

You spent hours building him a funeral pyre and saying farewell.

You thanked him for almost sixteen years of companionship and hard work protecting the farm.

It was Melanthios that tended to the farm by his lonesome as you grieved, and although he was exhausted afterwards, he still suggested going to the city so you could get your mind off things.

You had donned the same black chiton that you wore when your mother died.

The wine you guzzled down thankfully made it difficult to think but you would need to get good and sloshed to not be able to think of Leon’s shiny black fur or his floppy ears.

You had him since he was a puppy.

He was gifted to you on your tenth birthday by your mother.

It was extraordinary that he had lived so long.

It was like he did not want you to be alone and had waited until he was sure that Melanthios would be living with you permanently before he handed over the reins of watching over you to him.

You choke on a sob.

Your dear friend starts playing his pan flute to soothe you.

The melody is soft and healing.

The painter leaves a few hours later, having enough of a rough draft so that he can finish the rest in the comfort of his home. Melanthios hauls you to your feet and your other friends flock to you and smother you with hugs and kisses. You are given more wine, which Mel does not approve of but he makes no motion to stop you from drinking yourself stupid.

He has already accepted his fate of holding your hair back when you inevitably become sick later that day.

He needs to take care of some work so he drops you off on the street where one of your lovers resides and does not leave until he sees you knock on the door.

You hope that your lover will not mind that you arrived drunk or holding you in her arms as you wept.

Xenia, a fair haired woman a little older than you, not born in this region, opens the door a minute later.

She does not look happy to see you in the slightest.

Still, she moves aside and lets you inside her home.

“My love, have I upset you?” You entreat as she shuts the door, “Why have you not kissed me or greeted me properly into your home?”

“Because soon you will be leaving. But not before we discuss a few things.” Xenia tells you with such a stern tone that it makes you pause.

“What on earth could I have done to make you speak to me so coldly?” You ask, now walking over to her to take her hands into yours but she pulls away, wanting instead to stand near her kitchen table with her arms crossed and her back to you.

“Try and think, will you?” She says sharply, “Have you not been the talk of the city? The king is displeased with you and the guards now find any excuse to roughen you up for all the trouble you have caused. Honestly, what were you thinking inciting all of those riots?”

“I speak against injustice and I am the one to be punished?” You balk.

“Who are you to speak against it?”

“Everyone should speak against it! And if they will not, then I will be the first!” You argue, “How can you speak of trouble when you have never known it? Comfortable as you are to never say a word against anyone even when a situation demands it. You never called it trouble when I stood up for you and bloodied myself on your behalf but now that I do it for my city, my people—”

“Mock me all you want but I will not sacrifice the life of comfort and safety I have earned.” Xenia interrupts, now looking over one shoulder to glare at you.

“Safety?” You laugh bitterly, “We are on the edge of a famine and there is war breaking out in every city around us. How long will you walk about with your hands over your eyes? Your fingers in your ears?”

You turn her around so that she looks at you.

“And you call this comfort?” You continue, waving around her home furiously, “Hiding away at home all your life and giving up every desire if it means you will keep the peace. You live like you are dead already! I would rather die while speaking under the sun then hide as you do like a mouse satisfied with crumbs when she could have a feast if only she were brave enough to seek it out!”

She slaps you.

Hard.

“You will leave and take your troubles with you. You are not to darken this mouse’s doorstep ever again.” Xenia tells you with so much ire her words tremble.

There is no love in her eyes.

That hurts far worse than the slap.

You leave quickly.

You shamble to the brothel.

It is not open yet but the back door is always left unlocked for you.

“We are not open—” Dorothea begins to say but stops when she sees your dark garments, your bruised cheek, and the tears you have been fighting off.

She rushes over from the booth and pulls you into her arms.

“Oh, dearest, what has happened?” She asks softly.

You cannot get it out.

All that spills from your lips are anguished sobs.

Dorothea locks the back door and leads you to one of the rooms.

She takes a seat at the edge of the bed and you collapse at her feet, your face buried in her lap. Your lover lets you cry for a good while. Then she cups your face and lifts it to look at her.

“What happened?” Dorothea asks again as she brushes away your tears with her thumb.

“…Leon passed away this morning.” You hiccup, “And Xenia has broken things off with me. She thinks that I am trouble and wants nothing further to do with me. We were together for a year, yet she so callously tore out my beating heart and crushed it beneath her heel.”

Dorothea’s eyes narrow as she pieces together just who it was that struck you.

“Leon was very old wasn’t he? He was such a sweet boy. I am sure he was happy that he spent his life with you.” She assures you in the gentlest of tones, voice like a cloud, “Would you like me to have an urn made for him?”

“Oh, would you? That would be lovely. I will put it next to my parent’s urns.” You tell her graciously with a sniffle but thinking of your home being filled with another urn, another memory of a dead loved one, starts a whole new round of sobbing.

“As for Xenia, she is a fool. Yes, you bring trouble with you but the trouble is well worth it for the brightness you add to our lives. She is a coward—one who cuts her losses before the game has even finished. Well, you listen to me, Calliope,” And Dorothea stares deeply into your eyes, her own dark eyes so beautiful with the passion that burns in them, “You will never be cast out from my doors or my heart. You are mine and I always take good care of what is mine, don’t I?”

“Yes…” You sniffle.

She kisses your forehead.

“If I see Xenia I will make sure to repay her cruelty with my own hands. How could anyone think to hit such a pretty face?” She tells you.

“Your hands are too soft and loving to be tarnished with violence.” You say in return and hold both of her hands to kiss them.

“Would you like these hands to comfort you?” Dorothea offers.

“Yes, please…I am aching.”

She lays you down on the bed and crawls over you. She kisses you passionately. Every inch of you is touched so lovingly. Dorothea punctuates each touch, each kiss, with whispered promises that she will never leave you. She fucks you with her fingers again and again until you can finish no more.

Then she holds you sweetly, your face tucked against her bosom.

“Stay with me during my work tonight. I want to keep you close and the main room could use your music. You will drink water and have a bit to eat for me, yes?” She says.

“Of course, my love. Anything for you.”

“Very good.”

After she has freshened the two of you up, the back door of the brothel is unlocked once more so the prostitutes can come inside and prepare for work.

“Oh, is Calli staying with us this evening?” One of them asks.

“Yes. Please be kind to them. They have had a terrible day.” Dorothea explains as she lights candles and incense.

“We will be kind.” Another agrees with a wry smile.

“Very kind, indeed.” One chimes in.

You swallow hard.

Once the brothel is open you seat yourself in a chair near the booth and play your lyre. When you take a break one of the prostitutes approaches to sit atop your lap sideways. She kisses you and fondles your breasts.

The patrons watch eagerly.

On the next break a man kneels before you and tucks his face right between your thighs and services you with his mouth.

When you take your third break and another prostitute wanders over to give you affection you feel the need to offer payment.

“Nonsense. You are our favorite musician and the owner’s lover.” She dismisses.

“She is only turning it down because all the obols you put into my business turns into her wages.” Dorothea points out without even looking away from her bookkeeping.

“That is precisely why Calli is our favorite.” She corrects, “That, and the fact that you kindly watch over our littles ones. It certainly helps that they are so gorgeous, too.”

“Gorgeous, am I? Is that why you are so wet from merely kissing me? You have not serviced anyone yet, so it must be true.” You hum as you slip your fingers between her bare thighs and tease her folds.

She shivers and crawls into your lap.

You suck her tits while she rides your fingers.

Once she is nice and warmed up a patron flags her down, eager to have her for himself for however long he can afford. You lick your fingers clean and wink at her as she leads the man to a room.

The front door opens and Dorothea turns towards it at once.

“Welcome, sir—ah, hello Mel, how fares you this day? Calli is here.” Dorothea says, dropping all professionalism when she sees it is only your friend.

Melanthios’ shoulders relax and he offers a nod in greeting before walking right over to you.

“You look a mess.” He remarks as he takes in all the hickeys littering your body and your bloodshot eyes, “But you seem better than earlier. I went to Xenia and she told me you were not with her—that she sent you away.”

“We are no longer lovers. I am sorry as always to make you run after me. Perhaps I really do need a leash…” You say with a deprecating little laugh.

“She struck our dearest.” Dorothea informs him, and Mel’s jaw clenches, “It is not proper for you to raise a hand against a woman. Leave the revenge to me.”

“My thanks.” He says evenly then leans down to kiss your bruised cheek, “Why don’t we spend the night in the city? The farm can wait.”

And you had no dog waiting for you to come home, he is kind enough to omit.

“The three of us can share my bedroom upstairs.” Dorothea says.

Mel blinks at that.

“You do not mind me in your bed?” He asks.

“So long as you wash up, no, I do not mind.” She huffs.

The brothel closes at three in the morning and after the prostitutes have been given their wages and the building was tidied and locked up, the three of you head upstairs to Dorothea’s bedroom. You all wash up then lay in her plush bed. Your loved ones curl around you.

“Speak your mind.” Melanthios says, able to sense as always when something was troubling you.

“Am I making a mistake in challenging the king?” You ask as you stare at the ceiling.

“Ask me the real question you are avoiding.”

“…Am I doing the right thing?” You say instead.

“You are.” Melanthios tells you without hesitation, “Whether or not you are rewarded for that is up to anyone’s guess but you were not born to be quiet or complacent. You have always been loud, stubborn and generous of heart. Do not let any take that from you. Whatever you do, you will not do it alone. I will be with you each step of the way.”

Dorothea cups your face and guides it towards her.

“Nothing good ever comes to us easily. It takes work getting it and twice as much to keep it.” She tells you.

“But my love, you call me easy all the time.” You point out.

“You are the only exception.” She teases and pinches your nose.

You turn your face back to stare at the ceiling.

You smile for the first time all day.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The famine you had sensed coming for weeks arrives.

It was ushered on by the poor weather and the mysterious blight that has overtaken many farms. The heat is unbearable, but you would rather dry out to a husk than see even one more plant on your farm spotted with disease.

You slip through the backdoor of your cottage, aching and filthy and stinking of smoke.

To stop the blight from spreading to the entirety of your farm you had to set the effected plants ablaze. With the dry spell plaguing this region the only way that you are able to continue watering your crops is because Melanthios makes frequent trips down to the coast to carry back buckets of sea water, which he then boils and collects the purified water in a still, which is then transferred to a barrel.

Every part of the process is tedious so the two of you agreed that he would be in charge of the water while you handled the crops.

Melanthios rises to his feet with a bucket of distilled water just as you make it over to him.

You kiss his cheek and take the bucket with you back outside, walking more carefully than you ever had in your entire life. You were holding hours of work in your hands. You water the thirstiest looking crops and head back inside.

“Rest.” Melanthios tells you no sooner than your foot crosses the threshold, unable to ignore how you must fight to walk steadily.

“After I figure out what we are to eat for dinner.” You dismiss and walk over to the kitchen.

The windows are all open so the clay oven being used while the fireplace in the main room was lit shouldn’t make your home any hotter than it already is. Before you can even enter the kitchen you become dizzy and lose balance.

You try to grab at a wall but miss by an embarrassing margin.

You do not hit the floor.

You are caught in a pair of warm arms.

“Rest.” Mel speaks right into your ear, steel in his voice, “I will take care of the meal.”

Despite his own exhaustion he picks you up and when the two of your eyes meet your heart flips.

You swallow hard.

He carries you to the bedroom and sets you down on the couch by the open window. He leaves and returns with a cup of water. You drink it greedily and obediently take some time to cool off. It was like the longer you remained seated the more you became aware of each ache in your body.

As you are categorizing all of the things you needed to do in your mind from most dire to trivial, Mel slips into the room.

“The food is ready.” He announces and once again picks you up and carries you to the dining table.

He smells like sweat and the sea.

You press your face to the curve of his neck and kiss the pulse.

He hums, kissing the top of your head and sets you down in your usual seat at the table, which has been set with wine, a pitcher of water, smoked fish, fried bread and a bushel of grapes from the farm.

It is a feast—one that you are positive neither of you will be able to share again for a while so it greatly deserves to be savored.

It is common courtesy to wait for a guest or your superiors, such as ones parents, to begin eating first and since Mel has been so kind you wait for him to eat first. He is just as stubborn as you and refuses to eat until you do.

Neither of you make a move to tuck into the meal.

“We will starve to death at this rate.” Mel comments and you laugh.

You give in and pluck a grape but just as you are about to bite it you reach out quickly and push it past his lips.

You cup a hand over his mouth.

He scowls at you as he chews and you only laugh harder.

The two of you finish your meal and wash up afterwards. You try to return some of his kindness and wash him but your hands are aching and sore. Mel only allows you to wash his back before he takes over the rest himself. He even washes you. You cannot help but shiver when he drags the cloth against your breasts and folds.

He is staring right into your face as he does it.

His dark eyes seem to smolder.

Your belly coils with heat.

…You must calm yourself.

You will give yourself release when he has fallen asleep.

Both of you slip into bed and the sheets are freshly washed so it feels even more pleasant against your naked body. It is a balmy night, but the breeze that rolls through the window helps, as does your damp hair. Melanthios runs hot but he does not seem to care as he adjusts at the head of the bed, sitting up partly, so he can pull you against him, your back to his chest.

“Your hands are so pretty. I hate seeing them overworked.” Mel remarks as he holds your hands in each of his own, “They are trembling even while at rest.”

You can tell he is frowning from his voice alone.

“I cannot let them idle. Not now when there is so much work to be done tomorrow if we are to salvage what we can of this harvest. I put to fire all the blighted crops but did not have the strength to mulch the bases of the healthy plants.” You explain with a weary sigh.

“Shall I massage them?” He offers.

You try not to become excited and fail.

“It is fine. You have done so much for me already today.” You tell him, hoping that your voice is as steady as you need it to be.

He sucks his teeth.

“It is not like you to be meek when it comes to accepting my affection.” He admonishes, “I want to do this for you. It is no bother. I enjoy it.”

“…Your touch will excite me. My hands are—”

“Sensitive.” Mel finishes for you, “I am well aware.” He traces a finger up and down the life lines of one palm and you shiver, “Do you wish to be tended to or not?” He speaks up again to ask.

“Y-Yes, please…” You answer breathily.

He sets your hands down so he can reach over to the table near the bed and grab a vial of oil. He pours a generous amount into his cupped hand then rubs them furiously together to warm it up.

He begins caring for your left hand first.

He pulls each finger, popping them, then uses a thumb to massage your knuckles. You melt against him, eyes fluttering shut. He pinches your fingertips with his thumb and index, wiggling them a bit, which you have never had done to you before and find that while it feels ticklish it also feels…strangely good.

Really good, in fact.

He uses his index finger to trace the shape of your hand, starting at the left side of your wrist, then trailing up the meat of your palm, then your pinky, and his index follows the delicate webbing, dipping high and low as it travels the peak and base of each finger until he arrives at your thumb.

He turns your hand over, palm facing you, and uses both thumbs to massage the palm.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and fight back a moan.

By the time he gets started on your right hand you are panting and your inner thighs are sticky.

“M-Mel…It feels too good. I cannot take it. We must stop.” You wheeze.

“Must we?” He whispers into your ear, “Did you think that I would rile you up so much and force you to deal with the aftermath by your lonesome?”

“I would never force you to participate in that which does not interest you.”

“Who says it does not interest me?” He shoots back and grinds against your back.

You were so lost in the pleasure he was giving you that you failed to realize that he is fully hard against you.

“I told you that I had a low appetite for these sort of things. Not that I had no appetite at all.” Mel reminds you.

You let out a quivering moan, far too excited at the aspect of coupling with him for the first time.

You are almost frenzied with the desire.

You turn around to sit on your folded legs between his thighs. You stare right at his cock, humble in size, and almost pretty with how the tip glistens in the moonlight like it is jeweled.

You salivate.

You bring your eyes back to his face and see that he is staring at your breasts.

When his eyes lift and meet your own you become even wetter.

His gaze is always so intense.

It is like he is staring right into your soul.

You cup his face and press your forehead to his.

“My love, please take me. I have never felt such need before.” You whisper.

Mel keeps his eyes open as he kisses you. Something about that is far too erotic for you to handle. You moan into the kiss and melt against him. He is an amateur when it comes to kissing but it does nothing to detract from how pleasurable it is. His warm arms curl around your waist, tugging until you seat yourself on his lap. His cock presses against your cunt and lower belly in a distracting manner.

His breath catches each time you roll your hips and grind against him.

“I will not last if you keep that up.” He warns, “I do not share the vigor that you do.”

“Stop being so maddeningly handsome, then.” You tell him petulantly and move your face to his neck to pepper it with kisses before clamping your teeth against it and sucking hard.

His cock twitches and he moans.

You want to eat the sound.

You mark his entire neck like an animal claiming its mate. He is almost as wet as you are now.

“Will you let me use my mouth on you?” You sigh against his ear.

“You are determined to make me finish before I fuck you.” He notes disapprovingly.

“Just a taste.” You plead, pulling back to stare at him, “I have thought of your cock in my mouth so often that the desire follows me into my dreams. Won’t you please let me see for myself if it exactly as I have dreamt it to be?”

You see the exact second he caves in.

“Just a taste.” Mel agrees with a hard swallow.

You smile and kiss his forehead before laying on your belly between his legs. You nuzzle your face against his thighs, kissing the inner curve, then curl a hand around the base of his cock. You bury your face into the dark bush over it and inhale deeply. His musk makes you beside yourself with lust. You raise your face, staring right at him, and drag your tongue against his wet slit. The salt of his precum makes you whine and you lose yourself and take him into your mouth, his length buried in your throat, and Mel curses loudly, hips shaking, and he pushes your face away.

“I said just a taste, damn you.” He struggles to say.

You fight against his hand and swallow around him.

“Calli.” He says sternly.

It is Mel and Dorothea that are the only ones that can make you obedient.

You pull off his cock at once, sitting up and panting hard.

You lick your lips and keep swallowing to try and make the taste of him remain as potent as it currently is. You keep staring at his cock, squirming all the while, tortured by the fact that you want him to both fuck your face and you, but he will only last for one of those things and you have already pushed him dangerously close to the edge.

But he is just so perfect.

You cannot help it.

Why should you restrain yourself when he is yours and yours alone?

You are the only one that will ever taste him and ogle his handsome body.

“You are lust incarnate.” Mel growls at you and surges forward to push you flat on your back.

It is unfair how attractive he looks looming over you bathed in moonlight.

He leans his weight on an arm and ravishes your breasts. You arch into the touch, offering everything that you are to him. His mouth is clumsy but eager. You have never been as wet as you are currently as he nurses at each breast, tongue teasing your stiff nipples.

For as many hickeys as you left on his neck, he leaves on your bosom.

He slips a hand between your thighs and massages your slicked folds.

“I do not require any prepping. I need you to fuck me now.” You whine.

“And what of the dreams I have had about making you cry out with my fingers?” He challenges, and he slips two fingers right inside of you and starts thrusting them, “You are soaked. How is it you are trembling like this when I have seen you so calmly engage in threesomes in the middle of alleys?”

“Because it is you.” You gasp, squeezing around his fingers.

“Mmmm, that is exactly how you sounded in my dreams.” He remarks.

You slap his hand away in a short amount of time.

“I am close.” You tell him.

“You do not want to have a serving of pleasure before I enter you?” He lifts his face from your breasts to ask, a thick brow quirked up in disbelief.

“I want to finish with you.”

“…Fuck.” He hisses, resting his forehead against your chest for a moment before he pushes up on his hands and grips the base of his cock, “We will come together, my love.”

You spread your thighs wide and he lowers, the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance. You breathe shallowly and unevenly, drowning in desire, and when he pushes inside you swear you almost finish then and there. You are so sensitive—it was like you were being fucked for the first time.

Only Mel could reduce someone with as much experience as you to a quivering virgin.

He eases deeper inside, breaking out into a sweat, and every inch he gives you, you clench around greedily, silently begging for more and more until he buries himself completely.

“Yessss, my love…! Can we be like this forever?”

“I am struggling as it is to make this last more than a few more minutes.” He chokes, “God, Calli, it feels like actual heaven. My blood feels like it is on fire. You are far too beautiful. Far too enticing. If I did this with anyone else I know I would not care for it one bit but with you…It feels amazing. More than that, it feels perfect.”

He starts to thrust and you understand the true meaning of perfection.

You grab his face and kiss him.

You simply have to.

“It is like we are one being.” You moan deliriously, so enamored with the idea of that.

His cock throbs hard in you.

Mel delights in that thought as much as you do.

He fucks you harder, faster, and you gasp, clawing at his back now.

“I am—” You begin.

“Me too.” He says.

He presses his forehead to yours and the two of you stare at one another as perfect oblivion draws closer and closer.

He suddenly slips his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together, and he pins it to the bed.

Just that touch is enough to make you finish.

You cum crying out his name.

He pulls out and spills across your belly, trembling all over and a little cross-eyed as his pleasure overwhelms him.

He slumps against you after, uncaring of the mess.

You wrap your arms around him and stroke his dark, curly hair.

You fall asleep just like that—a tangle of sweaty limbs, your dearest friends face nestled against your bosom.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The famine worsens.

The king, lazy bastard that he is, could do nothing as he always tended to but no, he has decided to raise taxes once again in the middle of what you think is the worst growing season this region may have ever suffered.

You do what you can.

You bring what you can salvage from your farm to the city and give portions to your friends and lovers, and because you are farmer, the guards that usually scorn you and threaten to cause you bodily harm are instead as respectful as if you were royalty.

In fact, when you and Melanthios had approached the front gates of the city hours ago where two guards were posted, carrying baskets of food in your arms, both of you would have needed to be deaf not to hear how loudly their stomachs had growled.

You had thought of all the times they chased you and called you a whore and far worse.

Yet, you had ended up giving them fried bread anyways, unable to make yourself as cruel as they had been.

You had been partially shocked to hear them thank you so quietly and so graciously.

It reinforced your decision even further to remain as you always have been despite how badly life wanted to mold you into a bitter person.

You are friends with the many beggars and philosophers that hang around in the poor district of the city, and that is where you and your friend head to now that your loved ones were tended to.

You pass along bread and what little produce you have left. One of your favorite philosophers, an ornery, bizarre sort of man, is huddled in the overturned pot that he calls home, the sheet draped over it acting as his front door. You knock on the side of it and he tells you to leave him be, for he is thinking.

“You would think more sharply if you had some food to fuel that funny brain of yours.” You tell him while holding out some bread.

His arm slips past the sheet and his palm is held out expectantly.

You set the bread into his palm and it retreats.

You snort, amused at his rudeness, and take a seat next to Melanthios on the ground to share gossip.

“We must be ever careful, for there are many threats on the horizon.” An elderly woman tells you as she eats her food slowly, taking the time to savor each granule of salt.

“It is as you say,” You agree wearily, “But tell me what you mean specifically.”

“There is a group gaining power. They are apart of a religion that worships a singular god, one that is as wrathful as he is righteous.”

“I care not for worshipers.” You scoff, “Let them do what they will so long as they leave me out of it. I am more concerned about the king and his taxes and how I will make sure we are all fed.”

“Learn to care, bard,” The woman points a finger at you to say, her milky blue eyes blind, yet they stare directly at you in a way that stops a breath in your throat, “The wars in the neighboring cities? They are being fought in name of this groups god and I have seen his followers steadily trickling into our city. They have no temple yet, but they are a steadfast, merciless people. Once they see an opportunity they will try to take hold of this city, this I know for fact. Perhaps this famine was an omen to their arrival.”

“We will weather this famine together and we will not let interlopers ruin our city!” You protest.

“You are kind for watching out for us street rats.” She says, then shakes her head, looking close to tears, “…I only hope that fate treats you as kindly.”

Her words disturb you greatly.

Even days after her words remain in your mind.

When you visit the city to do another round of passing out food your heart breaks when you see how much weight Dorothea has lost. It brings you to tears. Your friends are starting to get sick and soon all that will be had for dinner is milk and water once your farm is exhausted of its resources.

This cannot go any longer than it has.

Your songs and your rioting has amassed many followers. You will need the help of many hands to make the plan you have thought up to work. One night, when the moon is hidden by clouds, you and Melanthios sneak onto the kings property while your other friends make a riot down the street, a big one, one that needs every guards attention, and so they leave their posts and leave holes in the security.

The two of you creep past bushes and use the darkness of the night to your advantage. You make it to the stables where the fat oxen and cows are slumbering. You sing to the animals to soothe them as you awake them, feeding them hay and petting them, and you have never been more thankful that animals adored you then now.

You tie ropes around their necks loosely and lead each of them out of the stables just as the rioting really picks up and becomes so hectic that none notice the fact that you are leading multiple oxen from the kings property while Mel hoists the sacks of flour, grain and salt over his shoulders.

…The theft goes smoothly.

You take back alleys and short cuts towards the butchers shop, the owner, who has several hungry children, having easily agreed to work alongside you on this plot. You, Melanthios, and the butcher all thank the oxen profusely before killing them quickly. You stay up the entire night, assisting the butcher process the animals and salting all the meat. Not a single part is wasted.

When dawn breaks, the three of you are still working, this time getting a massive pot going over a fire to prepare stew made with the flour, grains, salt, meat and the last of the tomatoes from your farm. If portioned well, it should be more than enough to feed everyone.

Once it is finished, you unlock the front door and use your powerful voice to call for everyone to come eat and to spread the word that food was available here. It is like the entire city lines up outside of the butchers shop. People bring what little food they have left and share it. Wine is poured and fruit is savored. You have never been more exhausted in your entire life but it is well worth it.

Along with each serving of stew, portions of salted meat are handed out. It shocked you how much each animal could provide—you had only been able to bring along three oxen, but the meat that has been salted and the rest that will be smoked or cured will be enough to last everyone for quite a while if they ate it sparingly.

Many cry as they eat, this stew being the first real meal they have had in days. Children laugh and young mothers delight in being able to eat enough to produce milk for their babes.

How could you have ever thought that rebelling against the king was a mistake?

Your people are joyous.

Someone in line makes you pause.

It is Xenia.

She approaches you with her face bowed and her cheeks scarlet.

You take a deep breath, say not a word, and serve her a portion.

You even manage to offer a smile.

She thanks you with tears in her eyes.

You can tell that she wants to apologize, but when she opens her mouth to do so, you shake your head. You lay a hand on her shoulder, give it a squeeze, and remain silent.

You are just happy that she is not ill.

So many have died already this season and although you resent her for how she broke your heart, you did not want her to end up as one of them.

The butcher takes over serving so you and Melanthios can enjoy your own meal.

Guards arrive not too long after.

You hand your bowl over to Mel and tell the butcher to head back inside.

“The king has demanded that those who stole from him be collected for punishment. I have no doubt in my mind that you were behind all this.” One of the trio tells you as you stand to block the entry of the butchers shop.

“Yes, I am the sole perpetrator.” You confess, “The king is lucky that he was not the one stolen and stripped of meat. His people are starving and he has the nerve to not only refuse to lift a finger to help them but to raise taxes as well? He will do well to remember that he is only a mortal man.”

“You openly admit to stealing from the king and now you threaten his life?” One of the guards remarks.

“The way that he rules this city is a threat to us all, you moron. Look me in my eyes and tell me that you are not hungry. Look me in my eyes and tell me you have none at home becoming sick or feeble.” You challenge, “How long did you think we would all tolerate this? Can you fill your belly with the misplaced devotion you have to the king?”

“It is not our place to question him. He has ordered us to get the criminal and we have come to do just that.” The tallest of the trio tells you, his hand tightening on his spear.

“You are not on your master’s property.” You remind him, taking a step towards him with fire in your eyes, “You are in our city, in our establishment but for you three, it may as well be the maw of Hell you have waltzed into for the danger that should arise if you attempt to raise a hand against any of us. You are outnumbered.”

The crowd draws in closer, circling the three guards.

They will only escape if the people decide it.

Fear becomes bright in each of their eyes.

Tension rises.

“We cannot return empty handed. Something must be done.” One of them speaks up desperately.

“Return with these instructions: tell the king to stop his taxes and to begin handing out daily rations from his own reserves. He will do so unless he wants his palace overtaken by hoards of starving people.” You say.

You slip into the shop and have Melanthios begin serving three bowls, which you take one by one and give to the guards.

“Do so on a full stomach. I am not heartless enough to make you smell food and to deny you it.” You say as you hand over the last bowl.

The guards stare at you for a long while.

Then they bow their faces, nod, and take a seat on the ground to tuck into their meals.

The tension breaks.

You exhale sharply, adrenaline coursing through you.

Melanthios hands you a bottle of wine that was being passed around.

You take a deep drink and he kisses your shoulder.

The king does not lower taxes or ration his stockpile.

He does something better—

He dies.

Murdered.

Poisoned.

It could have been anyone honestly.

The king had no children, not even a wife, and once he is dead you and the rest of your city are unnerved to find that a group takes over the palace and converts it to a temple.

The very first temple in their god’s name in your beloved city.

You think again of what that old blind woman had told you.

More trouble is yet to come.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The famine has passed but you almost miss the simplicity of that problem versus the new one that had arisen in your city.

A group known as ‘Catholics’ have settled their roots here and grow powerful day by day, spouting rigid doctrine and the horrors that would await any unfaithful in the afterlife. These interlopers have the nerve to tell the people how they should live their lives and to convert them to their unloving religion.

It was once the king you rebelled against, but now you rebelled against these worshipers. There are many that share your detest for them and the following you had amassed grows and grows.

You sing in the central plaza about the cruelty of these people—how they have waged wars in the surrounding cities all while speaking of loving ones neighbor and the virtues of mercy. The hypocrisy is enough to make you sick. But the soldiers that work for the church are unlike the guards that worked for the king. They cannot be reasoned with. In fact, they seemed eager for any that voiced issue just to have an excuse to bloody them.

More and more you and your followers are targeted and bloodied.

Riots break out almost daily.

You run from the church’s soldiers just as often.

Even when you are at rest, like now, in the alley you, your friends and followers have long since claimed for yourselves, the peace is disturbed. You are seated on a lover’s lap, kissing him passionately as he fondles your bare breasts.

“Would you heathens please keep your foul activities private? You are across a temple, for goodness sake.” A woman shouts.

You turn to the left and see a group of holy women.

“Do you hear that, my love? We are fooooul. Oh, I could weep.” You mock and bury his face in your breasts like you are clinging onto him to keep from crying, which makes him nip at you playfully and you laugh, “And this alley was here before the temple, so us heathens have seniority on the happenings of this little street.”

“It is the street you will remain for God’s light fails to shine upon you.” One of them derides.

“That is what the sun is for, no?” You huff, “I find I quite like the sun more than whatever dim, paltry little light your religion can offer.”

One of the women, furious, takes a step towards the alley.

Her cohort stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Do not bother. They are a lost cause only seeking to pull you down their sinful path.”

“Why don’t you harpies go do something useful? For all your talk of virtues I have not once seen any of your ilk tend to the poor or the sick. Are those people undeserving of your god’s light as well? All you people do is wave around that little book of yours and demand alms for the next temple to be made. What a farce.”

“I will not be talked to in such a way by a whore!”

“Yet this whore continues to speak!” You laugh wildly, and stand up from your lover, breasts still bared and lean against the mouth of the alley to serve these uppity women a very unimpressed look, “Shut me up yourself or carry on your pompous way. Or do you linger because you crave this whore to give you what your god denies you to partake in?”

You start groping your breasts, moaning obnoxiously loud, and one of the holy women’s face flushes scarlet and she turns away.

She keeps peeking back at you.

You grin at her wolfishly and curl a finger, beckoning.

“Enough of this.” Her cohort tells her and drags her along as the group at last continues on their way.

You and your friends laugh and ridicule them all the while.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The first day of fire commences.

There was no expecting the horrors that would be waiting for you all.

As you and Melanthios are sneaking out of the city to head back from after another day of inciting riots and singing against the church, you hear people crying out in panic about a fire.

The brothel is on fire.

Fear has never gripped you so tightly before.

You race to the street the brothel dwells, uncaring of the guards that notice you, and you are not even close when you see the plumes of smoke rising to the sky and blackening it. When you arrive at the building there are screams and pandemonium. Most have escaped before the fire caught to the entire building but there are still people inside—you can hear coughing and begging for help.

But the fire has progressed so much that the top floor could collapse any second.

…You do not see Dorothea.

You race towards the front door but Melanthios stops you.

“I must.” You tell him.

He only falters for a second before running inside the flames alongside with you. The two of you keep your heads low and hold your garments over your nose to keep the smoke away. You find some of the prostitutes and patrons on the first floor, feeble from the smoke, and the two of you pull them out and lay them on the street before diving right back inside.

You call out for Dorothea until your voice is hoarse.

You spot dark skin and dark hair underneath some rubble.

Your heart stops.

Melanthios is the one to begin clawing away the rubble to free her and it takes him shouting at you to get you to follow his lead. You pull out your lover and heft her in your arms as you cough and cough, becoming dizzy from the smoke. The three of you manage to escape the building a minute before the second floor collapses. There were probably a few more inside that you missed but…there was nothing that could be done.

You fall to your knees as you race out the front door and lay your lover on her back.

She is unmoving.

She is covered in soot, bruises, and one of her arms is bent awkwardly from where it had been broken under the rubble.

You lay your ear to her chest.

There is no sound at all.

You pry open her mouth and breathe air into it.

No response.

You slap her face lightly then try breathing into her mouth again.

Her eyes remain closed.

Even after several minutes pass, Dorothea does not awake.

“No, no, no, no, please, anything but this…” You choke, tears flooding your vision, “My love, stop this and look upon me. Take a breath of air and speak my name as sweetly as you always do.”

Dorothea says not a word.

You will keep shaking and give her every breath from your lungs until she does.

“Calliope.” Melanthios says as he kneels next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

He is staring right into your eyes.

He shakes his head.

She is dead.

You break down in agonized sobs, clinging to Dorothea’s limp body, which was deceptively warm, not with life, but from the heat of the fire that had stolen her from you.

You and Melanthios carry her body to your farm.

You build her a funeral pyre.

You wash her beautiful body that you will never again hold in your arms. You comb her dark, lustrous hair, which you have awoken and fallen asleep smelling the sweetness of. You kiss her lips, your tears your rouge, and dress her in the finest clothes that you own before laying her atop the pyre.

You set your lyre beside her.

Your hands could not save her and so they did not deserve to ever play music again.

“Forgive me.” You beg on your hands and knees, “It should have been me. Oh, my love, my dearest Thea, it should have been me stolen by that fire.”

Melanthios lights the pyre and he holds you as you fall to pieces.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

There is no time for an urn to be made on the second day of fire.

The only thoughts that stay in your head is of revenge.

You spend all night on your back porch staring at the remnants of your lover's funeral pyre.

You drink and drink and drink until dawn breaks.

While Melanthios sleeps, you don a cloak and make the walk to the city while it is early enough that true morning has not started.

You sneak into the city, the only thing with you is jars of oil and some flint.

You move, undetected, through your city. You speak with the beggars in the poor district and they confirm your suspicions—it was the church that set your lover’s brothel ablaze. They had seen clergymen sniffing around the property and the fire broke out soon after they had left.

You go by your lonesome to the most opulent temple in the city. The holy men and women are still asleep in their chambers and because it is sacred ground none of the doors are locked.

Excellent.

You walk all throughout the temple, spilling oil as you go along. Each room is coated with the stuff and you make sure to splash the fine tapestries and the carpets to give the fire something to eat. Once you are at the entrance, you make a spark with the flint. It is deeply satisfying watching the fire ignite—it is like a serpent suddenly coming to life, slinking into each room, then sinking its fangs into the fabrics and engulfing the place with smoke.

You take your leave and tuck yourself in an alley to watch it burn.

By the time any of the holy men and women inside had awoke the fire had become too wild to stop.

There is no chance of escape for them through the front or back door.

You had made quite sure of that.

A few manage to claw out of the broken windows but with the way they are staggering you know the smoke will get them soon enough.

You will not be satisfied until every single one of them has died.

Dorothea was worth a thousand of these bastards.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The fighting and fire is constant now on the third day.

The church has demanded that you be found and publicly killed.

Your followers, everyone in association with you, is now targeted.

You beg your friends to let you turn yourself in so that they may have a chance to escape, but they refuse.

They know death is waiting for you all and they accept it.

They will remain by your side.

It is not safe for you all to leave the city, the soldiers watch your every move, and you can no longer tuck yourself in alleys.

You and your followers hide themselves in the cistern beneath the city.

A lot of them have been killed yet their spirits remain steadfast.

You wish that you could say the same.

Your friends and followers think that hiding away in this cistern for a few weeks will make the church forget but you know the truth of the matter: the church will not be satisfied until all of you have been brutally killed.

You know the feeling very well.

Setting that temple ablaze had been your final act of rebellion.

You knew that the second you wandered on its holy ground.

You have secluded yourself in a shadowy corner for hours, speaking not a word to anyone.

…You hear footsteps.

When you raise your face from your knees you see it is Melanthios.

You are unable to look him in the eye.

Asking for forgiveness for dragging everyone into your mess would have been permissible weeks ago—not now, at the end.

Yet still, the urge remains.

You had never meant for things to turn out this way.

Or maybe you did.

Was it worse to be a fool or to be stubborn?

“Surely being a stubborn fool is an option as well?” Melanthios says as he takes a seat next to you, a bundle of things in his arms.

You must have spoken the question aloud.

You do not lean against him as you typically would.

It feels like too much to ask and you have already asked for so much.

He unties the bundle and offers you bread and cheese.

The two of you eat silently.

You give up after a few bites and cup a hand to your eyes as you weep.

“You need your strength. You cannot run on an empty stomach and the chase has not ended.” Your dear friend tells you.

You shake your head.

You deserve to waste away, alone, in a dreary place like this.

“Thea would not want to see you like this.” He tells you softly.

You set the food down and stand up, furious.

“Do not speak her name!” You shout at him, voice echoing in the cistern, “Do not invoke the thought of her beautiful, dark eyes, nor her loving hands into my mind—I will suffer all other methods of torture, but this, I cannot bear.”

You cling to a wall, forehead pressed to it.

“It should have been me! I should have died in that fire, not her! I am cursed, I tell you, for every person that I meet will be shadowed by Death himself. I should have been a hermit. Then none would be forced to—”

Mel has stood up and he now turns you around forcefully.

You have never seen him so furious.

“You are the brightest thing in my life.” He tells you vehemently, “You are like some star crashed upon the earth, guiding me from my misery. I lived before I met you but it was not a true life. I shambled, numb, like a man already dead until you held me in your arms. Do you remember the day we met?”

“Y-Yes. Yes of course…”

“Do you regret your existence still?” He challenges.

Do you regret saving me, is what he truly means.

“No…” You sniffle, turning away from him, “But it hurts. Everything hurts. The pain suffocates me.”

“Then let me hold you until you remember how to breathe.” Melanthios tells you and pulls you into his arms.

Your knees give out and he follows you to the floor, tucking you against him.

“Thea…” You weep, “My poor Thea.”

“She is resting now. You will meet her again.” He whispers to you soothingly.

“I hear her voice at night. I see her in the corner of my eyes. She is haunting me.”

“You are grieving.”

“All I have done in this life is grieve.” You confess bitterly.

“Do nothing but focus on the sound of my heart. I am alive—we are both alive. Let us take comfort in that for as long as we can.” He tells you.

He kisses you and you tremble.

You meet each kiss with desperation, feeling so empty, so aching.

“You have not felt the touch of a lover in weeks. Let me care for you.” He says.

He makes love to you.

When he is about to pull out you stop him.

“Do not pull out. Please.” You beg with tears in your eyes.

“…You are that confident you will not live to see pregnancy.”

“I know that I will not. But should I be wrong, and if any seed is to take root within me, I want it to be yours, my love. My precious, little rain cloud.”

“You will have me.” He relents, tears in his eyes, and he kisses you as he begins to thrust again, “You have always had me. Calliope, if we are to meet our ends know that I will find you on the other side. You will never be alone.”

It is the only promise he has never kept.

...It is the end of the line now.

There is nowhere else to run or hide.

Your hideout in the cistern is discovered hours later and everyone scatters as soldiers flood the place and start a massacre.

You and Melanthios run hand in hand down the alleys of your beloved city. He thinks that the two of you can make it out of the city, but the soldiers know where your home is, so the two of you would have to keep running further still.

It is a long way to go.

You make it as far as the central plaza before the two of you are surrounded.

“I love you, Calliope. We are two halves of the same coin. There is no true separation that we can suffer.” Melanthios tells you and he raises your joined hands and kisses them.

But you could suffer pain.

Lots of it.

You are brutalized first, all of the soldiers attention focused on you. They strike you with their fists, then their shields, and each blow you suffer Melanthios tries to block with his own body. When you fall to the ground, he curls around you, acting as a shield, but he is torn away from you and beaten next.

He is beaten to the point of being unrecognizable, his handsome, perfect face now a bloody, broken mess.

He keeps telling you how much he loves you as you weakly crawl over to him.

You are not allowed to go to him.

A spear plunges into your back and you scream.

Blood spurts from your lips.

You remain stubborn and keep crawling even as you bleed out.

A foot stomps upon your head, cracking it against the cobblestone, and keeps you in place.

Melanthios reaches out to you.

You reach out to him.

A spear drives into his chest and he gasps, then goes still.

Your hands never reach one another.

Only the blood does.

You have been made quiet at last.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You awake sobbing.

All you can feel and comprehend is the truest of despair.

You look at your hands and no matter how many times you blink you still see blood.

You tear out of bed, falling hard, but you scramble to stand up.

“My kin, you are unwell.” Lucifer tells you as he teleports to your side but when he tries to lay a hand on your shoulder you fight against it, “Allow us to comfort you—”

“Leave me be.” You say coldly.

“…As you wish.” He relents.

You race downstairs.

You drag a chair in front of the fireplace and fall into it.

You cup your hands around your head, panting, and gaze into the flames.

It is mocking you like always.

You cannot stand it.

Closing your eyes meant seeing Melanthios’ bloodied face.

Opening them meant seeing the very thing that stole Dorothea from you.

It should have been you.

On every account, it should have been you.

You had dragged your loved one into your mess and they had all been killed brutally and for what?

Nothing was worth all that bloodshed.

Your breathing becomes faster, your tears refuse to cease, and every inch of you is a vessel for grief and misery.

You go to the dining table where your satchel sits.

You take out your dagger.

You take off your idol.

You raise your right hand high in the air and you drive the blade into the palm of your left hand, using so much force it becomes pinned to the table.

Even with the dizzying, shocking pain, you still think of blood, death and fire.

“Rue!” Michael gasps as he reaches the bottom of the stairs.

He teleports to your side and takes the dagger out of your palm then holds it away from you.

“Damn it all, it should have been me!” You wail.

Lucifer teleports behind you.

He cups a hand over your eyes.

“Sleep.” He whispers, and you slump.

You dream of nothing.

A mercy.

When you awake an indeterminable amount of time later you are no longer in Lucifer and Michael’s home.

You are at the manor in Limbo—your home.

You are in your bed.

You stare at the ceiling.

Then you lift your left hand up.

The wound has been healed.

You cup your hands to your face and sob.

You fail to even notice that all of your lovers and dear kin are in bed with you. Gabriel, V2 and V1 hug you so tightly. Your head is atop a pillow on Raphael’s lap. Michael sits at the edge of the bed, a hand over one of your legs.

Lucifer is kneeling against the bed, his helm buried in his arms.

His shoulders are shaking and his breath is uneven.

…He is weeping.

“Forgive me.” Lucifer cries, and you think he means showing you your memories, so it deeply shocks you that he speaks of something else entirely, “You are too precious, too beloved, to ever risk coming to harm, whether it be another’s or your own hand. I have ensured that no pain will ever befall you again.”

You turn to look at him, deeply alarmed.

You now realize that the idol looped around your neck feels…cold.

Lifeless.

“The idol—it agreed to have its hell energy, its very being, transferred to you. The necklace remains, but it no longer houses a demon. It is now apart of your very soul.” He reveals.

He has blessed you to never feel pain but in doing so he has robbed you of your freedom—your bodily autonomy.

You are furious.

You feel betrayed.

…But Lucifer weeps so pitifully, so conflicted with guilt about the decision he made for you, and so you say not a word.

You simply return to staring at the ceiling.

Days pass and you do not say a word to anyone. Lucifer, Michael and Raphael remain at the manor. Your family does their best to cheer you up. Michael plays his violin. Raphael serves you wine and reads to you. Gabriel washes and dresses you and brings flowers to your room. V2 and V1 put on performances of your favorite plays.

And Lucifer…

He drifts around your home like a specter.

He is silent as well.

You wake up from sleep and see him standing over you, tail limp and dragging against the floor.

He always leaves when you awake as if he feels he does not deserve to be in your presence.

You have lost more than you can ever make peace with but you are not alone.

You are loved.

You are so loved.

It is while you are watching a movie with them all that the guilt of everything hits you hard.

“I am sorry!” You cry hoarsely, the first words you have said in days, “I am so sorry—please believe me. I never wished to break your hearts. It just hurts so much. All my life I have felt like there is something rotting within me and clawing to spread its disease to others. I try so hard to be happy and each time this rotten, bitter thing within me rises to swallow me whole.”

V2 pulls you to him, clinging so tightly.

“Baby, please…I’ll do anything to make you happy. Anything. I can’t lose you. I need you. I-I can’t function without you. Just say the word and I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t leave me. Please…” He cries, fans stuttering.

V1 beeps sadly, shoulders shaking, and clings to your back.

“Love you.” They tap in morse against your bicep. “Love you, love you, love you.”

Gabriel pulls the three of you against him and wraps his wings around you.

“We will weather any storm alongside you, my love, but you must remain with us to see the proof of that. It hurts, I know, but I swear that you will remember happiness. You are so dear to us all. Life has been cruel to you but the afterlife need not be so. There is hope but only while we still draw breath. It was you who taught me this. Allow me to teach you the same.” Your angel whispers to you softly.

Michael and Raphael join.

Lucifer remains where he is.

His golden helm is bowed in shame.

“Lucie.” You call weakly, reaching out for him.

His helm snaps up, shocked that you would still call to him.

He crawls over, shrinking down even smaller than you, so he can tuck himself right against you.

Your mind is still plagued by fire, death and blood.

But there is love.

Lots of it.

Notes:

...rue's final days at last revealed

tbh i cried when writing some of the parts of this D'X

i was considering splitting this into two chapters because it was omega lengthy, but i said fuck it, so pls excuse any issues/errors you see because this took me a while to edit.

the philosopher in the tub is none other than diogenes

for those wondering whatever happened to Mel's soul, he ended up in Limbo, but did not remember his past life like Rue/Reader. He may be alive. He may be dead. The same goes for Dorothea, who was sent to Lust. Both of them did not have a strong enough spirit to be a supreme husk like Rue, so like all other husks they just shamble in a sort of odd existence. I feel like Lucifer would be able to tell which ones they are, but he probably decides not to speak of it so Rue doesn't go crazy over the fact they arent remembered or recognized.

i WILL say that neither of them were killed by any of Rue/Reader's lovers. thats way too cruel for me to write lol

now that the idol is apart of Rue, they can no longer be hurt! :^D

...that does not stop other awful things from happening to them, which will be shown later on.

"dum spiro spero" means "While I breathe, I hope" which is the main theme of this third installment, because i wanted to focus on a lot of characters dealing with past issues/trauma and growing stronger from it.

Rue, V1, V2 have reached that point, but...Gabby still has something he needs to learn from Lucifer.

i hope it has nothing to do with all those 'testaments' left around hell...

enough yapping, anyways, i hope you all enjoyed and thanks for reading!

ILY :^D <3

Chapter 15: rue/gabriel/v2/v1 pt 2

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You are seated at your desk finishing the last touches of another bird house.

You are painting this one red and white.

Aside from the color variations each of the four bird houses you have built were the same: the body made of oak, which was considered holy in many religions you have read about while studying worship and sacred practices, with a gable roof, a cupola, and a small porch. You skipped on making a perch, given these would not actually be used for birds, and in place of it you have affixed gold dishes which will serve to hold offerings.

You paint the name ‘Raphael’ onto the front of the red and white bird house and set it a little away from the others so it can dry. Gabriel’s is white and gold, Michael’s silver and blue. You will probably paint designs on the side of the bird houses at some point but for now you are very satisfied with how each of them looks.

In your mortal life you had never once prayed, not even when your loved ones were stolen from you and you were on the brink of death but now, in the afterlife, you pray quite often.

You even enjoy it.

You do it mostly to remind your loved ones that you miss and care for them. Sometimes you simply use it as a way to communicate but it is a one-way transmission. The only one that could hear your prayers and answer them directly by speaking into your mind was Lucifer. You wondered if that was because he was the next strongest being in existence aside from God or if it was because you were his disciple.

Praying is not what you expected.

You did not know how warm and bright your soul would feel during it. You thought it would be laborious and spiritually taxing but it is opposite—you feel invigorated and deeply soothed.

You know for a fact that you only feel this way because it is your family that you pray to. If it was God you suspect you would only feel the same deep, unshakeable contempt you always have held for him. You have no need of communing with him and that would remain true even if you were not already privy to the fact that for whatever reason he has become quiet, not even responding to the prayers of his children, let alone the countless mortals that would have cried out for mercy during the end of days on Earth.

Once finished you would nail each of the birdhouses in a neat row on the wall to the right of your desk, given the wall directly above it was covered top to bottom with framed photos. The next thing to be built would be for Lucie but as of yet you have not figured out exactly what to make for him. You know that it will be much more elaborate than a birdhouse since he is not only your kin but your Lord as well.

You would need to write another list of the supplies you needed for Gabriel to gather from the surface.

You have been building things nonstop lately.

It is a good distraction from the vestiges of heartbreak that came about from reliving your grisly last days alive. You are recovering well enough emotionally but it will take far longer for you to feel wholly like yourself and to have true peace in your heart. Your lovers make it easier—they are so sweet and attentive. You have not touched your lyre or sang as of yet but you have managed to smile here and there, even if it is a small, dim little thing compared to your usual big grins that you have been told countless times make your eyes sparkle.

V1 and V2 have been asleep on your bed behind you for the past hour, exhausted and hugging one another after a long sparring session. Neither of them so much as stirs or twitches when someone teleports into your bedroom with the usual fanfare of divinity arriving.

“Greetings.” Lucie says when his form finishes materializing.

He is dressed in his usual dark mortal garments, the even darker cloak that perpetually hangs from his shoulders rippling as his mismatched wings flap a few times.

What is unusual, however, is his voice.

It does not retain the resolute and all-knowing tone it typically did.

In fact, he sounded a little timid.

How strange.

“Hello, my kin.” You greet in return, not quite sounding like yourself either, “I just finished what I was doing if you wanted to spend time together.”

Lucifer approaches your desk and peers at the birdhouses.

He sees the names.

He does not speak a word but he does not have to with how his tail droops with clear disappointment at the fact that there is not one for him.

You have no problem speaking on it.

“I am planning to make you something as well but it is going to take far more materials and time then the bird houses.” You explain as you stand up and stretch.

“I see.” Is all he says in return, perfectly neutral, yet his arrow-tipped tail is wagging frantically.

The smallest of smiles graces your lips.

“Let’s take a walk. I have been hunched in my chair for hours.” You offer.

You wake up Vee to tell him you were going to walk around Limbo and after he kisses you he goes right back into sleep mode, hugging Vi even closer to his chest now.

You walk hand in hand with Lucie out of the manor. He had seemed a little surprised that you had wanted to, going rigid at first, then squeezing your much smaller hand eagerly. You guide him to the front rooms of Limbo, specifically the one with the circular tiered stone pillar. You have him carry you to the top and the two of you sit side by side at the highest rung.

His golden helm raises like an animal catching the scent of something and his wings flap a few times.

“You nearly perished twice in this room.” He remarks quietly.

“Yes,” You confirm with a sigh, “The first attempt was made by myself when Gabriel initially moved me here from Lust and my memories were beginning to fade. The second time was the incident with Michael.”

He makes a small noise in acknowledgement but otherwise remains silent.

It is impossible to ignore that something is deeply troubling him.

You bring his clawed hand to your face and press a kiss atop it.

“I am sorry,” You say, and again he seems startled, “You warned me beforehand that reliving my memories would be emotionally devastating and while I understood that, there was simply no way of preparing myself for the anguish I would feel afterwards.”

“…Do you regret it?” Lucifer asks.

“Not in the slightest. Even now with this ache in my heart I would rather remember than forget.” You tell him steadfastly, staring right up into his helm, “Thank you, my kin and Lord, for helping me remember myself. Please know that I do not hold any resentments towards you.”

He shrinks down to your size and pulls you atop his lap. You reach up and cup his helm so you can press it against your face. You share with him your thoughts and emotions so he can see for himself the sincerity of your words. Lucifer gasps in his relief and wraps his arms around your waist to cling to you tightly.

“I feared that you would come to hate me.” He confesses shakily, “I feared that you would abandon me. It has plagued my mind nonstop.”

“I would never. You are so dear to me.” You assure and kiss the icon depicted on his helm, lips pressing to where the sun peeks out over the clouds.

“Do you still wish to share dreams and memories with me in the future?” He asks.

“Yes. I love being intimate with you like that.”

He trembles like he is shaking away the anxiety that has clung to him all this time.

“My swirling thoughts have been extinguished. My heart is no longer heavy. I have not the words to express my staggering relief upon hearing this from you.” He tells you with a rumbling purr, “Rue, you are very precious to me. That is why I cannot risk ever losing you or having you come to harm…even at the cost of your own agency.”

“I have made peace with that. It is a blessing that I now wholeheartedly accept. Although…”

“Yes?”

“Since I cannot be harmed I have been unable to share my blood with my lovers and friends.” You explain.

“Ah.” He says with an air of blinking, “Then have another blessing: the ability to produce blood without the preamble of making a wound. You will never offer more than what your body can sustain—even by accident.”

Lucifer leans towards your ear and begins to whisper profane, unknowable things into it before leaning back.

“Let us have you make an attempt now. Squeeze your palm into a fist and envision your blood creeping to the surface.” He instructs.

When you do as instructed you feel a ticklish sensation.

Relaxing your fist reveals your bloodied palm.

“Thank you.” You say with a smile and give him a kiss, “Would you like to share a bath then watch a movie?”

“I would like that very much.”

Lucifer is quiet throughout the bath and movie. As the credits roll he does not even seem to react.

“There’s still something weighing down on your mind.” You point out from your seat on the floor next to him.

He taps his clawed fingers one by one atop his thigh.

“There is.” He agrees.

“Speak freely, dear.” You tell him encouragingly and lean against his arm.

His tail curls around your waist and it reminds you of how a child would cling to a doll.

“…It is not a matter that pertains to you.” He says, and while not dismissive at all in tone you still get the impression that he is shying away from the topic as if to ward you from any further emotional turmoil.

“I would still ask to hear it if only to ease your spirit.” You reply stubbornly.

“It is to do with Gab—” Lucie finds it within him to say but his words stop dead in his throat as your bedroom lights up as someone teleports in it for the second time that day.

“Oh! Hello, brother.” Gabriel greets brightly, his freshly polished armor glimmering handsomely on his even handsomer form, “What a pleasant surprise to come home to after finishing my work in Heaven. Are you staying for a while longer?”

Your angel walks over and sets a hand atop Lucifer’s shoulder and gives it an affectionate squeeze.

“Yes.” Lucie answers stiffly but thinking him to just be in a quiet mood, as he frequently tends to be, Gabriel makes no remark.

Gabriel hums, pleased to hear he is staying, and kneels on the floor beside you for a welcome home kiss before he stands back up and starts removing his armor and set down his swords. Dressed down in only his black skirt, he crawls into bed in the middle of where V1 and V2 are still sleeping and pulls them both against him.

“It is so good to be home.” He sighs as he begins to relax, “Are you going to put on another movie? Oh, could we please watch the animated one with the Greek hero? The songs have been stuck in my head for ages.”

“Of course, dove.” You smile and get up to switch the DVDs out, “Would you like any wine? Or a massage?”

“I am content to simply rest and share space with my loved ones for now. Perhaps I will take a bath later.” He says.

With that, everyone’s attention goes to the movie.

Mostly.

“You were about to say Gabriel’s name earlier.” You pray to Lucifer.

“…Yes. There is something I wish to discuss with him but I fear that the knowledge I will bequeath to him will be too much for him to bare. He is happy as he is. Content. I do not wish for there to be a repeat of—”

“What happened with me.” You finish for him.

His wings droop and his tail loosens from your stomach.

“He is strong.” You pray, “He has us to support him should his heart or spirit be broken. If it is something important he has the right to know.”

“It not only concerns him but all of Heaven—all angels.”

“Then allow him to be the first angel to know. He loves and trusts you.”

Lucifer pulls you atop his lap and rests the chin of his helm atop your head.

His resolve has been solidified thanks to you.

Gabriel naps after the movie and V1, V2, Lucie and yourself go to Vee’s bedroom to watch him play a game so your angel can rest with no interruptions.

“Get real—I would be Dante. Your lameass can be Vergil.” Vee mocks Vi as he sits cross-legged on the floor as he mashes a bunch of buttons, his optic glued to the TV screen.

“You bow and do all that geeky stuff like Vergil!” Vi signs with no shortness of annoyance.

“Yeah in a SPAR. In a real fight I’ve got way more flare then you. I’m even red like Dante.”

Vi crosses their arms and pouts.

“Aww, don’t be pissy. Let me have this, alright? Vergil is the stronger one of the two anyways. Don’t you like being strong?” He tells them as he pauses the game.

“…He gets beaten at the end.” V1 signs to point out.

“Yeah and I still plan on beating you one day. It’s just not my number one priority anymore. As long as I can keep you guys safe that’s all that matters to me.” He replies with startling sincerity and maturity.

V1’s fans puff and their optic turns pink.

They eagerly crawl into V2’s lap and bump their visor against his.

“Sucker for sweet talk, huh?” V2 says with amusement, “Cute~”

You are only half paying attention to their conversation because you are in the middle of showing Lucifer how to use your CD player.

He is fond of classical music and the loud, erratic rock music V2 favors.

You hear your bedroom door open and close down the hall then hear footsteps approaching.

The door opens a moment later and Gabriel enters with a big yawn.

“Sleep good, baby?” V2 asks.

“Indeed. I really needed that.” Your angel replies as he gives his neck and shoulders a stretch.

V1, still on V2’s lap, pats the spot on the floor next to the two of them invitingly.

Before Gabriel can sit you speak up.

“My love, can I borrow you for a moment? There is something Lucie wishes to talk to you about.” You explain.

“Of course. I am all ears—metaphorically speaking.” He says.

“In private.” You clarify.

“Ah, I see. Let us go to the garden.” He nods.

The three of you head downstairs and slip inside the gardening room to stand in a sort of huddle under one of the trees.

“…I am in possession of knowledge that I have been withholding from you for quite some time. It is of dire importance but I failed to find an opportunity, nor the courage to reveal it. I thought it would be best to keep it from you, not wanting to burden your spirit with it but Rue has helped me come to the realization that keeping you in the dark benefits only the one that must speak on it. I apologize for doing so all this time.” Lucifer says with his helm bowed after several moments of collecting his thoughts.

“I am not upset with you.” Gabriel says at once and reaches out to lay his hand on one of their shoulders, “It is understandable to feel hesitant when speaking about heavy topics. Better late than never, as they say. What do you wish to speak to me about, brother?”

“Our Father.” Lucifer says.

Gabriel stiffens.

Time seems to freeze for a while for him.

“Father…” Your angel repeats breathlessly, “You know of his whereabouts? Have you spoken with him?”

“Throughout Hell there are testaments left behind from Him. They reveal his deepest sorrows. His deepest regrets. I have read them all many times. I can share His words with you if you wish.” He explains.

Gabriel takes a step towards his sibling and lays his other hand on his shoulder.

“Yes! Yes, more than anything! Please share them with me.” He says desperately.

Lucifer shrinks down to match Gabriel’s height then leans forward to press his helm against your angel’s. It would look like a kiss if both of their bodies were not rigid and their wings drooped.

The two of them stay like that for a while not speaking a word and barely even seeming to breathe.

Then Gabriel breaks away with a gasp, staggering backwards until his back is pressed against the trunk of the tree. His chest rises and falls rapidly and all color has drained from his wings.

“Father—” Gabriel starts but fails to say anything, needing multiple attempts to get the rest of the words out, “It cannot be! He is…dead? All this time we could not feel Him or hear Him because he was long dead? He took his own life? The gravest of sins—sins which he declared, and still he…”

“He could not live with the guilt of creating Hell.” Lucifer speaks up, helm still lowered towards the grass, “…I like to indulge myself and think that He could not also live with Himself for casting me out when I protested against its creation.”

“Dead.” Your angel repeats, deeply shocked, “I have seen the proof in your mind yet…It fails to register. I admit I have been troubled by the length and suddenness of His disappearance all those millennia ago and have often entertained the idea that He somehow met with a miserable fate but this is…” And he pauses, choking on a sob, “This is awful. Truly awful. I have always held onto the slightest hope that our Father would someday return just as mysteriously as he left us but he is gone.”

Gabriel cups his hands to his helm and cries loudly.

You rush over to him and pull him into an embrace.

“Oh, my love, I am so sorry.” You say to him softly.

His knees give out and hit the grass. He buries his helm against your stomach and clings to you tightly.

Lucifer kneels beside him and curls his wings around you both.

The door to the garden creaks open and you see V1 and V2 peeking their visors in. You wave them over and the two of them almost trip over themselves in their haste to soothe Gabriel.

Your angel is held as he cries.

He cries for a long, long while.

He quiets at some point, not completely, still sniffling and gasping here and there, and his body has failed to stop trembling.

“And what of His remains?” Gabriel speaks up, throat tight, “Is there any trace of His light? His divinity?”

“I have scoured every inch of Hell and have found nothing. I cannot sense any part of Him. He has returned to the void from whence He came it seems.” Lucifer answers.

Gabriel is silent.

“What will you do with this information?” Lucifer asks when your angel continues to say not a word.

“I am the leader of Heaven. It is my responsibility to guide and bring comfort to our siblings and the souls that reside there. I have no choice but to tell them.” Gabriel answers.

“You have a choice in keeping it to yourself. The news will inevitably tarnish many spirits. Riots and hysteria may break out.”

“Then I will deal with that if it occurs!” Gabriel shocks the four of you by how steadfastly he says the words, “I refuse to have those in Heaven continue to pray only to have them go unanswered. No longer. Our Father’s death is not the end of us. We have lived and prospered without Him all this time. We will continue to do so.”

Lucifer cups Gabriel’s helm between his hands and this time there is no mistaking when he presses his helm to the top of your angel’s that it is a kiss.

“I am proud to call you brother.” Lucifer says as he pulls back, “Your heart is strong and your soul is bright. Forgive me for doubting your resolve. I am, and will always be, at your side. There is nothing I would not do to assist you or comfort you during this difficult transition. Please keep that in mind.”

“There is no storm we will not weather together,” You tell your angel as you kiss him next, “That is what you told me, yes? Allow yourself as much time as you need to steady yourself before you return to Heaven. Stay home with us and let us soothe you. I think it will be beneficial for us to invite the rest of our kin and hold a funerary process here at home. Leave all the preparations to us.”

“…You would do this? Even with your detest of my Father?” He asks with disbelief.

“My love for you outweighs all else. There is nothing I would not do for you, my love.” You tell him.

He sniffles.

Then he nods.

“I am so grateful to have you all in my life.” Gabriel says as he pulls all of you closer to him.

The five of you remain in the garden for a while…

Gabriel remains at home. He mostly stays in your bedroom sleeping or quietly spending time with you all. Sometimes when he waters the plants his hands begin to shake so much that the watering pale falls from his grip. Each time you take those shaky hands and bring them to your face to kiss each knuckle. No matter which room in the manor he goes to he is never alone. V2 in particular follows him like a shadow—always offering hugs and kisses and easy distractions to take his mind off things.

Often you have seen V1 sitting on Gabriel’s lap while the two of them sew dolls or when your angel teaches them a new song on his organ.

Lucifer remains here too but he leaves frequently, first to inform Michael and Raphael of the news in Gabriel’s stead, then to gather materials for you on the surface. With the help of Michael, Lucifer and Raphael, you build a shrine in the gardening room underneath a tree. It is made from oak and gold. It is decorated with a surplus of rosaries, white flowers, and sticks of incense perched into dishes of ash.

The day—or night?—it is finished the three of you gather V1 and V2, then Gabriel, who has just finished a bath and was sitting in bed in the black robes he has taken to wearing.

Hearing the door open and seeing all of you, your angel slowly stands up.

“It is time, then?” He asks.

You nod and approach him to slip your hand into his.

You pull your other arm from behind your back and offer him a wreath made with lilies and gladioli. Your angel’s breath gets caught in his throat.

He takes the wreath from your hand and holds it up reverently to admire the delicate beauty of it.

His shoulders start to shake.

You give him a big hug then lead him along with the rest of your family to the garden.

When Gabriel sees the gilded shrine under a tree he begins to weep.

“It is lovely.” He cries as he is led to it.

He kneels before it and all of you sit around him.

“Allow me to lead us in prayer.” Lucifer says, the responsibility his alone as the eldest, and when he clasps his hands together all of you follow suit.

It shocks Gabriel when he sees you do so without a shred of hesitancy.

You offer him a smile and after holding your gaze for a few moments he returns his attention to the shrine.

Lucifer speaks of their Father’s triumphs, grace, and the power of His love. He does so with no stutter, having no difficulty tucking away his many hurts and conflicts towards the same father that cast him out and imprisoned him, just as you have no problem praying alongside your kin despite having not a shred of love for the God.

When the devil’s words quiet, he has Gabriel set the wreath atop the shrine and light a stick of incense.

“Rest well, Father.” Gabriel says.

The seven of you sit in respectful silence afterwards.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

Your angel left a few days ago for Heaven.

All in Hell can hear how Heaven weeps at the news that their God would never again shine his light on them. The multitude of voices ringing out with despair and heartbreak inspires endless tears from your eyes.

Neither you, V1 nor V2 leave the manor.

The three of you want to be here the exact moment your angel returns.

He will need to be cared for in this solemn hour.

You cannot comprehend the weight of the responsibilities on Gabriel’s shoulders as he now officially takes the role as the leader of Heaven instead of treating the position as a placeholder for when his father returned as he has thus far. Lucifer had stayed for a while but left for his home in Wrath to await Michael’s return. You are unsure if Raphael will visit your home or his.

You have a feeling they may seek out comfort from their newest companion.

The friendship that germinated between Raphael and the Ferryman has sprouted into something very touching. Always the small angel speaks so highly of their friend and the Ferryman’s ship has quickly become a place of comfort and enjoyment. You are relieved that Raphael has more than one place to find solace away from Heaven. While they are close with Gabriel, Michael and Lucifer, they have never once mentioned being friendly with other angels.

This has always troubled you greatly.

You know that the Ferryman holds resentment and bitterness towards you for his heartbreak over Gabriel but you have wanted to thank him for always treating your kin so sweetly.

Perhaps instead of visiting you could write him a letter for Raphael to pass along instead.

You become anxious as time goes on and Gabriel still does not return.

You knew he would be gone for some time but the longer he is gone the more you start to believe Lucifer’s words that hysteria has broken out. As you are praying at your desk, a candle lit on the dish of your angel’s bird house, the door opens and Vi and Vee waltz in.

“Wish I could do that.” V1 signs as you lift your face and turn towards the two of them, “Praying I mean. I guess I could pray still but without a soul Gabriel won’t hear it, right?”

“You may lack a soul but none can say you lack spirit, my flower.” You tell them, “There is worth in the gesture still. If you tell me what you want to express I will pass it along to our angel. The offer goes to you as well, Vee.”

Vi walks over and sits atop your lap sideways while Vee sits atop your desk, optic on the swaying ember of the candle.

“Can you tell him…that I miss him? That I want him to come home and hope that things aren’t bad up there?” Vi signs.

“Of course.” You say and kiss them.

You turn your attention to V2.

“…Just tell him that I love him.” V2 says.

You slip your hand into one of his and give it a squeeze.

Then you clasp your hands together and resume praying.

The three of you rest in your bed afterwards and are quiet as you cuddle.

It is comforting but just short of perfect.

You can tell that V1 and V2 feel the same. V2’s optic remains on Gabriel’s bird house and V1 hugs the pillow that Gabriel mainly uses.

You are teetering on falling asleep when you hear the high pitched droning of someone teleporting followed by the blinding yellow flash of divine light.

“MY LOVES.” Gabriel declares loudly, the grandiosity of his return ruffling a few papers off your desk and snuffing out some of the candles in the room. He floats down to the floor and stares at the three of you in bed for a moment. Then his shoulders slump and his halo dims. “…I really need a hug.”

It is comical how quickly the three of you scramble out of bed to smother him affection.

“Fucking missed you.” V2 says emotionally as he hugs Gabriel.

Without either of you letting him go, you lead the four of you into an odd dance, shuffling backwards towards the bed until you guide your angel into taking a seat at the edge of it. You kneel before him and start removing his armor starting from bottom to top as V1 and V2 kiss either side of his helm fervently.

Gabriel makes a small, pitiful noise.

“There, there, dove. You are home now and can rid yourself of any thoughts of responsibility. Let us tend to you.” You tell him softly as you remove his sabatons, his greaves, then his cuisses. You lay his armor in a neat pile on the floor and once he is down to his skirt you lift from the floor and pull out some clothes from the dresser near the bed. “I went through the clothes that we’ve collected and adjusted a few outfits for you with our loves help. Here—these will be far more comfortable then your armor.”

You hand over a pink, off-shoulder cashmere sweater, the back of which has two gaps for his wings to spring out from, a pair of satin panties, and pajama pants that will now actually fit the length of his legs and the swell of his muscles.

He changes into the outfit immediately.

“…It is extremely comfortable. Thank you.” Gabriel tells you with the slightest flush to his wings.

“You look so soft and cute.” V1 signs, then points to the little patch on the left breast of the sweater where a pair of white cartoon wings have been embroidered by their hands.

“The cutest.” V2 speaks up to agree, “Come on, Gabby, cuddle with us.”

You tidy up the bed and the three of them lay down while you put on a movie that all of you have seen countless times and will serve as background noise more than it will entertainment. Your angel lays on his back with V1 and V2 on either side of him and after you have finished you crawl into bed and lay atop him, chest to chest.

Your angel takes a deep, deep breath.

Then he lets it go and relaxes.

“I feel as if I have not done enough in this life to deserve you all—to deserve to be loved as fiercely as I am.” Gabriel confesses quietly after a stretch of silence, “At times, especially now, I wonder if I am allowed to be this happy.”

“Love is not something to be earned. Neither is happiness, although it does have a habit of making us fight to keep it, I must admit.” You tell him.

“Nothing can stop me from loving you.” V2 says firmly, “I told you: I’m yours. You can’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

“I’ll remind you every day how much I love you so you won’t ever forget.” V1 taps in morse against your angel’s shoulder before leaning up to bump their visor against his helm.

Gabriel starts to shake.

Then he begins to cry.

He is held so lovingly in each of your arms.

“When I first met you there was so much conflict and self-hatred within you. The weight of your responsibilities, the weight of your past—it was too much for you to bare. Your spirit was like an ember struggling to remain alight in an unrelenting downpour. It looked so close to extinguishing but all you needed was a gentle hand to shield you from the rain and you ignited into something so breathtaking.” You tell him fondly, one of your hands cupping the cheek of his helm, “There is so much goodness in you. So much sweetness and grace. I saw your noble, gentle heart flickering in the dark and refused to let it be snuffed out. I had no choice but to take it for myself and bolster it.”

“I am unsure if I will ever see myself as you see me.” Gabriel confesses, throat tight, “But…I have no doubt in what you see. I trust you more than I even trust myself. When you are the one to say these things it feels indisputable.”

“It’s because it is.” V2 chimes in, “I couldn’t stand you in the slightest when we first met. I honestly thought one of us would kill one another at some point. You can imagine how fucking stupid I feel looking back at things now. I never really hated you at all. I think my anger with you was just…some kind of defense mechanism for how scared I was to fall for you so quickly. The second I stopped being jealous of what you had with Rue and you two made it clear that you wanted me—it was like…taking a breath for the first time. A real one. I don’t have a soul like you two but I swear when you told me you loved me I felt something in my chest light up.”

“O-Oh, Vee…” Gabriel cries harder.

“Shhh, baby, don’t cry.” Vee says.

“They are happy tears.” Your angel explains.

V2 lets out a long beep, a hum, and holds him a little tighter.

His optic is flushed pink.

Vi untangles from the pile and sits up.

They raise their hands, about to sign, but repeatedly set their hands back down only to lift them again a second later. It takes them a while to organize their thoughts.

“…I’ve always heard about love. I’ve known about it ever since my creators made me back in the lab. I’ve read about it in books and I’ve seen it in the way they would sneak around to kiss and hug one another away from the security cameras. It seemed stupid. It seemed frivolous. Humans have such short, fragile lives and they are very stupid and ungrateful with it. Half the time when they kill one another is because of love. I thought: if they just focused on survival they would be a lot better off.” Vi signs slowly and thoughtfully.

They shake their visor then continue.

“But I was wrong. Existing isn’t about survival. There is no point in surviving without things like love. I didn’t realize that until I came here and you all taught me what love really meant. Now I know I was the stupid one—now I know that I cannot exist without your love.” V1 concludes then sets their hands neatly atop their lap.

Gabriel pulls them back down and presses his helm to the top of their visor.

“You will always have my love—our love.” He promises, tone resolute and his voice unwavering.

Vi’s optic is just as flushed as Vee’s.

You can tell that your angel wishes to speak more but the softness of his clothes, the warmth of the bed, and each of your loving touches and your fond words has soothed his spirit to the point that he is struggling to stay awake.

“Sleep, angel.” You whisper to him.

“Mmmm…” He mumbles, body relaxing further and further, his cries dried up at last, “Love you.”

You smile, the sparkle back in your eyes.

“I love you too.” You say.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“Be safe, I love you both dearly.” Gabriel tells V1 and V2 as all of you convene in the foyer to see the two of them off as they leave for the surface for a date.

When V2 pulls him down for a kiss your angel makes a delighted noise.

One of his legs even curls up daintily.

You grin like a fool, falling in love with him all over again.

V1, impatient and wanting affection too, wiggles their way in between the two and wraps their blue arms around Gabriel’s middle tightly. Your angel lifts them up and tosses them high into the air, making them beep excitedly, then he catches them and presses a kiss atop their visor before setting them down.

Happy now, V1 runs over to where you are seated at the table you used to entertain guests and sits atop your lap so they can smother you with kisses.

“GREEDY. Save some for me!” V2 huffs and just like how V1 had done, he wedges himself in between the two of you so you can kiss him.

You laugh as the two of them fight for your attention. Your chair starts to fall backwards and your stomach flips.

Gabriel teleports behind you and rights your chair.

“Have fun and take care of yourselves.” You tell them both, still laughing a bit as you give them each another kiss.

V2 adjusts his chlamys and the bag over one shoulder, grabs V1’s hand then breaks out into a run towards the front door.

“LOVE YOU TWO~!” V2 shouts behind him as he drags V1 along with him.

The doors shut behind him and their hasty footsteps quiet.

You shake your head, deeply amused, then rest your chin in your palm.

“It has been a while since it has been just the two of us.” You remark.

“It has.” He agrees, still standing behind you and he now begins to massage your shoulders, “I have a surprise.”

“Mmmm, what kind of surprise? The divine ropes you brought back from Heaven will be difficult to beat. You look so gorgeous tied up and at my mercy.” You hum.

You hear him shiver.

“Just as you look gorgeous standing over me.” He replies, voice dropping a few decibels.

“Careful, angel.” You warn, “You said that you had a surprise but you are making it difficult not to tie you up this very second.”

“Allow me to show you the surprise first. The ropes can wait.”

“Very well. Shall I wait here?” You offer.

“Yes, please.”

Gabriel rarely teleports at home, preferring to instead take things slowly and move about as a man, instead of an angel. You shamelessly watch his ass sway in his pajama pants as he walks up the stairs. He slips in and out of your bedroom and when he descends the stairs its with an arm tucked behind his back. As he approaches the table again you hear liquid sloshing.

You close your eyes when he is standing near you.

There is a solid thunk as something is placed atop the table.

You open your eyes and see…

A bottle.

A large one. It is square shaped and made of frosted glass, the surface decorated with pretty flowers and serpents. A round glass stopper plugs the top. The liquid inside is pure amber and is far thicker than you expected as you give the bottle a little shake.

“I thought you might like to share a drink with me.” Gabriel says, “It is ambrosia—a potent drink, I have been told. More potent than even the wine from Heaven you are so fond of.”

You tug the glass stopper off and give the contents an experimental sniff.

Your eyes water.

“It certainly smells potent.” You remark, “You will have to be careful, love. You may be big but your tolerance for alcohol is low.”

“We will both need to be careful.” He shoots back a little defensively, embarrassed about the fact that he gets tipsy off of one glass of wine while you could function perfectly fine after drinking an entire bottle.

“I am not teasing you—Greeks are simply far better suited for alcohol than angels.”

He crosses his arms.

“That sounds like teasing…” He huffs.

“I am only speaking the truth. Is that not a virtue?” You grin.

His wings start to twitch.

“Hmph. Why don’t we play a drinking game and see who truly is better suited for these things.” He challenges.

“Oh?” You blink, delighted, “And what would the winner get?”

Gabriel’s wings flush and he looks away.

“…If you win, you may use rosary beads on me indecently like you requested previously.” He says.

You imagine your lover naked and bent over your desk as you ease the rosary out of his shapely ass bead by bead.

“Deal.” You say immediately, “And in the off chance you win what would you like?”

“I am choosing to ignore that remark.” He tuts, “…If I win I have an outfit that I wish for you to wear.”

“And what kind of outfit would that be, angel?” You inquire.

“It is something the modern humans wore during intimacy. It is tight and restrictive—both traits that you dislike in garments.”

“Very well. I agree to your terms. Shall we pray for your good luck?” You cannot help but tease him further.

His wings do more than just twitch now.

They flap twice with his annoyance before he grabs the chair next to you, pulls it out, and plops himself in it. He slides the bottle over and presses the spout to his helm to take a drink.

His wings go completely white and he coughs loudly as he sets it back down.

“DEAR LORD.” He wheezes.

You snort loudly and take the bottle from him to have a drink next.

The ambrosia is very sweet, a little citrusy, and burns a staggering amount as it goes down. The thickness and heat of the alcohol makes you think of how it would be like to drink lava, if such a thing were possible. Just one drink makes your face and belly warm.

You clear your throat a few times then slide the bottle back over.

Your angel stares at it with no shortness of trepidation.

“Already giving up? I cannot wait to have my prize.” You tell him.

“I am no quitter!” He blusters before taking another drink.

He doesn’t cough this time around but he cringes quite a bit.

“There is no shame in running from a hopeless fight.” You continue to mock after you take some for yourself.

“You—” Gabriel starts, deeply offended, and to prove himself he takes not just one, but two drinks on his turn.

He sways a little in his seat afterwards.

You make the mistake of laughing as you take a swig and you choke, some of the ambrosia shooting out of your nose.

Gabriel laughs at you pompously, even pointing a finger at you. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand as your sinuses burn then flip him off.

The gesture only makes him laugh harder.

Then he hiccups.

You give him a knowing look.

The two of you pass the bottle back and forth as much as you exchange light-hearted insults. At some point you end up on his lap. You cannot remember if you had made the move or if he had pulled you against him. Either way, when you take another drink you keep the ambrosia in your mouth before giving him a big kiss, letting some of the alcohol trickle onto his helm to be absorbed.

Things start to get fuzzy around the edges.

You lose track of time…

…

…

…

Your eyes blearily crack open a mysterious amount of time later.

Your head is pounding and your mouth feels dry and tacky. You push up from where you were laying and your vision spins. You groan. You are still in the foyer but you are on the floor—wrong, you are atop Gabriel, who is flat on his back on the floor. He is snoring away. He is completely naked and smells of dried sweat, alcohol, and something else. When you sit up completely atop him you notice a ridiculous amount of cum drying on both of your stomachs and thighs. His arms are sprawled over his head and they are bound with divine rope.

He is naked but you are not.

You are dressed in…some sort of black, leather leotard. One that makes your breasts stick out and rides up your ass a lot. The front would need a deep scrubbing to get rid of all the drying fluids sticking to it. You have a pair of fishnet stockings on and they are torn in several places. The stretchy fabric over the crotch of the leotard has also been ripped in your lover’s eagerness to stuff his cock in you.

Or maybe you had ripped it.

You cannot remember a thing.

You know one thing for certain: you have never been more sore in your life.

Around you on the floor is a vial of slick that remains uncapped, the sticky contents staining the carpet.

There is a soiled cloth next to it, your riding crop and your harness.

The two of you must have had a lot of fun.

Sore or not, you climb off your lover and move towards his arms. You untie the ropes and give his strained muscles a massage to help the circulation. You try to stand up so you can get started on cleaning both of you but your legs have none of that and you fall back down.

Your backside is being prodded by something.

You reach around yourself and grab it.

It is a piece of wood.

You blink, deeply confused, then turn around.

Your jaw drops.

The table in the foyer has been completely smashed to bits. It looked like a boulder had crashed right in the center.

You get a flash from earlier: pushing Gabriel roughly onto his back atop the table, his bound arms flexing handsomely as you fucked the daylights out of him.

Funnily enough the bottle of ambrosia sits on the floor perfectly intact. It is upright and even has the stopper back on. One of you must have had the sense to move it before your shenanigans started.

“Dove.” You call to Gabriel, shaking his arm.

His snores persist.

“Gabriel, wake up.” You try again, louder this time.

No response.

Rolling your eyes, you clasp your hands together and pray to him incessantly.

His snores cut off.

“Huh?” Gabriel asks inelegantly, helmet snapping up to look at you, “Ughhhh, my head. Rue—what on earth happened?”

Before you can answer his attention noticeably zeroes in on the outfit you are wearing.

Then he notices the broken table behind you.

“Goodness.” He swallows hard as he sits up on his elbows, “I hope that table is the only damage our poor home suffered.”

“Fingers crossed.” You say, “I can’t walk at all. Would you mind teleporting us to the bedroom then the bathhouse?”

“I will try.” He slurs, still as drunk and exhausted as you were.

He starts to sit up properly but stops.

“What is wrong? Do you feel light headed?” You ask with a frown.

“…I think there is something inside of me.” He confesses quietly.

You almost swoon from how flooded with lust your brain becomes.

“On your knees, angel. I will check.” You say.

He follows your instruction and you see the glimmering, flared end of an anal plug between his cheeks.

“There is definitely something in you. Relax and let me take it out. You must be so uncomfortable.” You tell him as you settle on your knees between his spread legs.

You use three fingers to grasp the plug and tug gently.

“Mmmmph…!” Gabriel moans prettily.

Damn it all—the two of you needed to clean up but he sounds so attractive.

You pull the plug out halfway, pause for a moment, then thrust it back inside.

“R-Rue!”

“Sorry.” You say with a shaky breath, “I could not resist.”

You pull the plug out completely and set it on the soiled cloth on the ground.

You stare at his stretched, fluttering hole and feel your resolve weaken second by second.

“Is something wrong—aah~!” Gabriel starts to ask then gasps as you spread his cheeks apart with both hands and lick at his overworked entrance, “O-Oh, God, my love, have mercy…”

Yet he does not tell you to stop.

You lap at him eagerly, moaning, and his feet start to kick against the floor. His musky, almost sweet taste is obscured with the lubricant that stains him. You lick him clean then suck the very slightest at the sensitive ring of muscle. You are astonished how quickly he cums and how he finishes with a pitiful amount of cum spurting from his cock, barely a few drops hitting the carpet.

You must have nearly drained him dry earlier.

“Fuck…” He wheezes, body trembling.

His wings are pink and blue like a sunset.

You press a kiss to his tailbone then wipe your mouth on the back of your hand.

“As much as I want to keep laying about we have to clean up.” You sigh.

“In a few minutes…?” He suggests hopefully.

“Now, angel.” You say firmly, “We have been sitting around in filth long enough and this outfit is irritating my skin. Your arms must be tired from passing out while still bound too.”

“Very well, my muse.” He relents and rolls over sloppily to scoop you into his arms.

He teleports to the bedroom but his aim is off.

He ends up in the storage room on the bottom floor.

“Let’s try that again.” He says, embarrassed, and clears his throat.

The two of you end up in Vee’s bedroom.

“Oh for goodness sake!” Gabriel huffs.

He tries for a third time and ends up just outside of your bedroom.

Good enough.

He pushes the door open then stops.

Your bedroom is a mess.

Not only is the bed frame destroyed but a lot of the pillows have been torn apart and there are feathers littering almost every surface. Everything that had been atop your desk had been shoved off. There is a pool of congealing cum on the surface. Each drawer of your dresser has been pulled opened and there are various garments half hanging out of it. The bookshelf in the corner has a few books on the floor. One of you must have bumped into it.

The bedroom reeks of sex and alcohol just like the foyer.

“I suppose I am relieved it was only the foyer and our bedroom that has been wrecked instead of the manor in its entirety.” He sighs.

He grabs fresh clothes for the both of you, a cloth, and teleports to the bathhouse. He is a few rooms off and frustrated, Gabriel makes the decision to simply walk the rest of the way. Settled inside of the bathhouse, your angel helps you out of your outfit. The two of you sit on one of wooden benches and scrub one another squeaky clean. He pours some oil into the bath then enters the steaming water with you in his arms.

Both of you groan with immense relief as your aching muscles are soothed by the water.

“I can only remember flashes. I guess the victor will remain a mystery.” You remark as you sink chin deep into the water.

“I have no doubt that you bested me but given that I awoke to you dressed in that outfit I think you were gracious enough to give me my prize anyways.” He replies, “I am beginning to think that the ambrosia is potent in other ways.”

“You think its some sort of aphrodisiac? I don’t know if I agree. We couple often, don’t we? Although usually there is less furniture being broken.” You hum.

“The bed frame is going to be annoying to replace.” He sighs.

“We could build it this time instead of finding one from the surface. We could even fortify it so it has a chance of survival.”

“Surely we won’t start that after the bath?”

“Of course not. I can’t even walk.” You remind him, “We will have to sleep in Vee’s bed until we finish.”

He hums quietly then falls quiet.

The hot water is fantastic at easing both of your bodies but the temperature is a little overwhelming to your sluggish, hungover brains. The two of you exit the tub now and then to splash yourselves with cold water before slipping back in.

Clean and feeling marginally better, Gabriel dresses into a pair of sweats and dresses you in one of your silky robes. With you nestled in his arms he teleports back to the manor. A lot needed to be cleaned but you will not force him to do it all himself so you relent on having him gather all the sex toys and cleaning the various wet spots. When he finishes he makes his way to Vee’s bedroom where he deposited you before he started cleaning.

You are laying in the bed on your stomach.

You pat the side next to you invitingly.

Gabriel tiptoes around the mess that’s always scattered on V2’s bedroom floors and lays down on his side facing you.

“Your face is pinched.” He remarks worriedly.

“The bath helped but I’m still aching.” You admit.

“Let me massage you.”

“You are not feeling the best either and you just did us both the favor of scrubbing our mess off every surface.”

Gabriel thinks for a moment. Then he rolls onto his back and pulls you atop him so that you are chest to chest.

“It should be fine like this, yes?” He says, his big hands massaging your lower back.

You moan and press your face against the curve of his neck.

“That feels wonderful.” You sigh.

He focuses on your lower back but gives your shoulders, hips and thighs attention as well. The hem of your robe is short and you are wearing nothing underneath it so his fingers brush against your ass and inner thighs often. When his fingers dance across the curve of your ass he swallows hard. Unable to resist, he squeezes your ass before spreading the cheeks apart the very slightest.

You whine against him.

His fingers skirt lower, slipping between your thighs to tease your folds.

“…Rue, you are so soft and beautiful. I cannot help but want to share pleasure with you even now. But I should resist. Your poor body has been through enough. I do not want you bedridden for days.” Gabriel tells you huskily.

“Maybe I want that.” You challenge, “Angel, won’t you claim me? Won’t you give me all that I can take?”

His breath catches in his throat.

In a blink you are laying against the mattress and he is looming over you, having teleported with the most precision he has ever since waking up in a stupor. He is braced on an elbow to prevent him from squishing you flat. He pushes up your robe with his other hand and nearly growls at the sight of you.

“Take it.” He speaks lowly into your ear as he slips a finger inside of you.

You gasp and arch your back.

You love his hands.

You always have.

They were so big, warm and always gave you exactly what you needed, whether that be the softest of caresses or the rough, desperate manner he is fingering you currently. He has had so much practice easing pleasure out of you with his hands that it is second nature to him now. He knows just how you like it and makes you sing with the same expertise he would his instrument.

A second finger joins and begins thrusting in and out of you. The way he curls them and strokes that sensitive spot in you makes you gasp his name repeatedly, hips shaking, and with a few more thrusts you cry out and grab fistfuls of the sheets as you cum.

You tremble after, panting.

You feel the tip of his dripping cock nudge against your entrance.

“Yes, yes, yes, please…” You whine into a pillow as you wiggle your hips encouragingly.

Gabriel sinks inside of you tortuously slow. His fingers are never enough to prepare you fully for his cock and you revel in the stretch as he makes a space for himself within you.

“P-Perfection.” He moans as he bottoms out, “Utter perfection. When I am buried deep in you, every inch nestled into your resplendent body, any of the pleasures of Heaven become so dim—so paltry in comparison to this most sacred of unions.”

The way he blasphemes sweetly drives you wild.

“Let me claim you. Let me worship you.” He really does growl at you this time.

“Gabriel…!” You keen as you clench around his massive cock.

The room becomes bright as your angel worships you with each thrust. His weight pins you to the mattress and you find it to be as comforting as it is erotic. It should not be possible for someone as big as him to fit inside of you. It should not be possible for you to withstand such a rough fucking but it is like your eagerness for him, your love for him, makes you into the perfect scabbard for his sword.

Every thrust makes you sing. Your body feels like it is on fire. Pleasure radiates from every nerve ending and you worship your lover in turn, praying with delirious, fucked out fervor. You proclaim your love and need for him over and over. You thought he was fucking you wildly before but now Gabriel seems determined to ensure that you will not be able to leave bed for a week.

After so many orgasms over the hours, even the forgotten ones, you thought that your next orgasm would be shallow at best but you have never been more wrong. You bite a pillow and sob with pure, unfiltered bliss. Tears spill from your eyes. The sounds you make as you are overwhelmed with pleasure pushes your angel over the edge and when he spills inside of you he does it with excess, making you feel impossibly fuller.

Even as his cock softens he keeps thrusting to make sure his seed is buried deep in you.

He pulls out carefully and rests his helm against the curve of your back as he catches his breath.

“I-I take it back. I think that ambrosia really is an aphrodisiac.” You barely manage to tell him as you float back down from dizzying ecstasy.

You fail to remember another time the two of you fucked this much in one day.

Gabriel pushes up on the bed so he can give the two of you a quick wipe down but he freezes when a terrible creaking sound starts.

“Oh, no—” He begins.

The legs of V2’s bed frame gives out and the mattress crashes to the floor.

You do not end up squished or landing on any of the broken wood. Gabriel had scooped you into his arms and teleported before the bed had even finished collapsing.

The two of you stare at what was previously the only bed left in the manor.

“…We could make a bed with blankets and pillows?” Gabriel suggests in utter shell-shock.

You slowly turn away from the destroyed bed and look up at your angel.

Then you burst into a hysterical fit of laughter at the ridiculousness of all this.

“Vee is going to wring our necks.” You laugh so hard the muscles in your stomachs protest.

“This is—this is so absurd! Oh, my goodness!” Gabriel giggles in that breathy, shaky way he does when he is truly beside himself with amusement.

The two of you are still laughing as he gathers the blankets and pillows and makes a sort of nest on the floor. He lays you down on your side and curls behind you.

The bedroom becomes quiet.

Then a loud snort tears from you and it starts a whole new round of laughter.

Notes:

had to take a break after the mermaid AU but we are so back! :D

the ambrosia was a gift from Lucie lolol he's gotten into brewing alcohol as a hobby.

i wanted to mention im still catching up on all my messages but i appreciate them so much! <3333

i hope you guys enjoy and thanks for reading <3

Chapter 16: rue/gabriel pt 2

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You had not been a patient person in your mortal life.

That was a trait gifted to your better half, Melanthios, and it was his patience and foresight that prevented you from running head first into all sorts of trouble but only the trouble he was confident that you could not handle alone.

He was your partner in crime, after all.

Where you went, he followed.

A lot has changed yet stayed the same about yourself after dying. Your detest for organized religion and rigid doctrine remains but you now held the understanding of why it is people flocked to the former. It brings people comfort to pray and to be among others in community. It had made you look at religion differently, although you still failed to understand why it is every religion always seemed to rely on conformity, unquestioning loyalty and hierarchies. Perhaps it was not for you to know. Perhaps it said more about the human condition than it did about the ones humans worshiped.

You will never hold love for God in your heart but you no longer felt the burning need to curse his name as you previously did.

You have come far—you now care deeply for many of his followers and children.

You are still stubborn and quick to debate and call out wrongdoings when you see it. Your love for music and the fine arts has not wavered. You are as affectionate and loving as you always have been but there is admittedly a…hunger to your love now. You did not used to be possessive but there was no other word to describe the clawing desperation you felt towards each of your lovers and friends. It is a symptom from losing so many, you know, yet it is still difficult to swallow.

In the afterlife you have at last gained the patience you always lacked.

That patience was not an infinite well to be drawn from, however, as is displayed now as you are composing at your desk, the manor empty aside from yourself, yet there is loud knocking on your bedroom door that severs the thread of your careful concentration.

Several knocks actually.

Gabriel is in Heaven and V1 and V2 were off on a date.

Your door was rarely closed and so you think that V1 and V2 have returned. You are always happy to greet your lovers when they return but they had such unfortunate timing! You were on the cusp of finishing your most recent composition, the last lyrics on the tip of your tongue, begging to be written, but the words had been blown away like dirt scattered in the wind.

Your nose wrinkles with annoyance and you plug the ink stopper and set your quill down before slipping out of your chair and walking over to your bedroom door.

You pull the door open with a little more force than necessary and are greeted with an unexpected sight: a group of unfamiliar angels, each with their arms filled with crates of things.

They all gasp and flush in the wings at the sight of you only in a silky robe, the ties of which have loosened after yanking the door open.

The angels turn their helms away.

You huff, rolling your eyes, and adjust your clothing.

“I would have dressed appropriately had I known I was to entertain guests but you did not allow me the opportunity.” You tell them as you lean against the door frame and cross your arms, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and making your cleavage very difficult to ignore.

“W-We are deeply sorry!” One of them says in a flustered tone, clearly the bravest of the bunch because they are the first to turn their helm back towards you although they visibly freeze for several seconds, their helm pointed right at your bosom, before they jump at the realization of what they are doing and look at your face, “If you wish we will take our leave. We only wanted to gift you these things, milady.”

“Milady?” You repeat with a frown, “I am no such thing.”

“But you are Gabriel’s love and so you are deserving of the utmost respect!” Another speaks up to explain.

“I have a name. I advise that you use it instead of referring to me with honorifics or facets of my identity. I am more than Gabriel’s love—I am a person.” You make very clear.

“That is far too forward!” One protests.

“We have only just had the honor of meeting. It would be impolite and out of line.” An angel in the back chimes in.

This was giving you terrible nostalgia of when you and Gabriel first met. Back then your angel had the idea that he knew better than you did and would bend himself backwards to accomplish things you did not ask him to do all while stubbornly ignoring the things you screamed at him to do.

“You angels will listen and listen well,” You instruct as you straighten from the door frame to cast them all a stern look, “You will refer to my by my name and look me in my eyes when you are speaking to me. I will have none of this talk of propriety when you are too nervous to even speak with me with your helms forward. Most importantly of all, you will remember to send word of your visit before making the visit. Is that clear?”

“Yes, milady….” One angel says morosely, then all of their siblings whip their helms towards them, “Apologies! I mean, yes, Rue!”

“Please do not be upset with us.”

“Shall we leave as to not upset you further?”

“I have made such a terrible first impression…”

The angels are falling into despair.

You know that they are and forever will be grieving their father. You know that while misguided and clumsy, their intentions are good.

They simply wanted to meet their brother’s lover that they have heard so much about.

You take a deep, deep breath and let it go.

“All is well. I am not upset—only mildly annoyed.” You explain, “You may stay for a visit but allow me to dress into something else.”

You close your bedroom door and as you dress into one of your peplos you can hear many sets of wings ruffling in excitement and eager whispers.

You have all the angels convene in the foyer and take a seat at the new dining table that you and Gabriel had recently finished building. Instead of being circular like the last one, the two of you had made the smart decision to build one that was long and able to seat your entire family.

You gather a few bottles of wine and many cups before dressing the table.

“We only drink on special occasions!” An angel feels the need to tell you.

“Is our first meeting not a special occasion? If you do not wish to drink there is no obligation.” You say with the bottle hovering over their cup.

The angel jumps a bit as if someone had kicked their foot under the table.

“It is very special!” They amend and are the first to take a sip.

You take a seat at the head of the table, having run out of cups so you simply drink from the bottle like you prefer doing anyways. The angels at the other end of the table feel neglected and they scoot their chairs over closer to where you sit. You do not mind being flocked by them so you speak not a word in protest.

Things relax as the angels tell you about the gossip in Heaven and the current happenings. You in turn speak of what books you have read lately, your favorite movies, and speak about the song you have been working on, making sure not to mention that they had interrupted it being finished because that would only serve to ruin the cheery mood despite how annoyed you still are about it.

You can tell that the angels are wanting to ask personal things about you but they are nervous about upsetting you again.

Or most of them are.

“When are you and Gabriel getting married?” One blurts out, unable to contain the question any longer.

You choke on your wine and the angels nearest to you kindly pat your back.

“I have no intentions of getting married currently.” You explain.

“But you are his dearest love!” The angel says.

“I am one of his dear loves.” You correct as you lower the empty bottle of wine to the table, “Why have you not asked when he will marry our other lovers? Are they not equally worthy of it in your eyes?”

Silence.

There are far too many cruel and ignorant things they could say so you do them the kind favor of changing the subject.

“Would you care for some music?” You offer and all of their wings flutter.

“Oh, what an honor! We have heard so much about your voice and your lyre.”

You leave and return with your lyre and perform a few songs.

The angels are deeply enamored with your music. Some have inched their chairs even closer to you. One in particular, a little tipsy, spills wine on their robes and squawks before apologizing profusely to lower to the ground and use the hem of their garment to scrub at the stained carpet.

“Far worse has been spilled on the carpet.” You assure them and set your lyre in your seat as you walk over to them and set a hand atop theirs to stop their furious scrubbing, “Your clothes will be permanently stained if we do not wash it out at once. There is a waterfall that I do laundry at—oh.”

Just touching their hand had made the angel faint.

You blink, utterly perplexed.

“I will help them to the waterfall!” One of their siblings offers.

“Shall I walk you to it?” You ask.

“No, no, I could not ask you to do so! You are already being gracious enough singing for us.” They say and hastily pick up their knocked out brethren to carry them out of the manor.

When the two of them return you offer some water for the angel to drink but when your fingers brush against theirs they swoon again.

You simply place the cup of water on the table and resolve to not directly touch them any further.

You give the angels a tour of your home save for V2’s bedroom. You spend the most time in the garden because they marvel at the raised beds and hydroponic garden, as well as the statue of yourself and the shrine you built for their father. The angels flock to the shrine and each leave a feather from their wings in offering before praying for a very long time. You kneel beside them, hands clasped, but you do not pray—you instead use this opportunity to try and remember the lyrics that had escaped you.

Tour finished, all of you return to the foyer.

You take your seat at the head of the table but none of the angels return to theirs. The angels form a line and it is now that they present you with the gifts they brought. Music sheets, ink and quills, flowers, candles, several copies of the Bible and prayerbooks and a vial of holy water are all given shyly.

You thank them all, taking their hands into your own and pressing your forehead to it in gratitude.

Another handful of them faint.

“Your poor hearts are going to give out at this rate.” You sigh as you kneel to the ground to fan a few of their helms with your hand, “And please, while I am appreciative as always of the gifts you angels give to me I want to make clear that there is no obligation to keep doing so. This may be the first time we are meeting but we are family, yes? There is no need to shower me constantly with presents.”

“Family! Oh, what an honor!” The one you are fanning suddenly awakes to say.

The angels leave soon after and while you had wanted to hug them as they go you make the smart decision to simply smile and wave to prevent any more from swooning.

When your home is empty once again you take a seat at the table, pop open another bottle of wine and take a deep drink.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You are sleeping.

Dreaming.

You are not Rue—you are Calliope, and you are back in your old cottage, laying in bed with Melanthios. Neither of you speaks a word, content to simply hold one another and gaze into each other’s eyes. He is smiling so fondly at you as he runs his fingers through your wild hair. It feels so pleasant. You lean forward and press your lips to his, the kiss soft and tender but he makes your heart skip a beat by how fiercely he returns the gesture.

“Mel…” You whisper, clinging to him as he rolls you over onto your back so he can press himself against you.

Both of you freeze when you hear an incessant scratching sound.

“I thought we let Leon back inside.” Mel remarks, confused.

“As did I.” You say.

The two of you get out of bed and go to the backdoor of the cottage leading to the farm but when you open the door there is nothing there.

The scratching sound persists.

Your eyes crack open and the dream fades.

You sit up, heart feeling heavy as it always did after seeing your other half, then shriek when you notice that you are not alone in your bedroom.

There is an angel seated in the chair at your desk and they have turned it around so that they can watch you sleep.

There is a parchment and pencil in their gloved hands and so the scratching noise you heard in your dream reveals itself to be the noise of them drawing you.

“Please do not be alarmed! I was simply watching over you as you slept and could not help but commit the beauty of your sleeping form to paper!” The angel explains hastily, “I am relieved I arrived when I did. It sounded like you were beginning to have a nightmare! You kept tossing and turning and repeating the name ‘Mel’.”

“Do not speak that name.” You tell the angel in a furious hiss and they freeze, utterly mortified.

The door to your bedroom slams open before you can say anything else and V1, optic red, sees the intruder, sees the anger in your face, and goes over to the angel to grab handfuls of their robes before holding them against the wall.

“It is a misunderstanding! I meant no offense. Please tell it to put me down!” The angel says with rising panic.

V1 almost drops them from the shock of being called an it.

“You come into my home uninvited, watch me sleep, speak names that you are entirely undeserving to utter and worse yet, you call my lover an it.” You say with growing animosity as you slip out of bed and stand just beside Vi, “I have been patient with the naivety and casual insults of you angels because you are all having a difficult time with the loss of your father but it seems my kindness has been interpreted as being spineless. Allow me to correct that—Vi, would you please toss them out of our home?”

Your lover drops the angel, who barely manages to stay upright, before curling a hand around the back of their robes and beginning to drag them out of your bedroom like a misbehaved kitten. The angel is about to teleport out of their grasp, you can tell, so you speak up.

“Angel, if you do not wish to make things worse for yourself then you will obediently take a fraction of the disrespect you have served us. Is that understood?” You tell them fiercely.

“…Yes. I understand.” They say and become limp as Vi drags them out of your bedroom, down the hall, the stairs, then the foyer.

You hear the front doors open.

There is a resolute thud.

Then the doors close and you hear the whirr-tap of Vi walking back up the stairs. You see them walking down the hall towards your bedroom. Their shoulders are slumped and their optic is no longer red. Their mechanical eyelid is lowered halfway and gives them a sad look.

You rush over and pull them into your arms.

“My love, please do not take what they said to heart.” You say.

“…That kind of hurt a lot.” They separate from you to sign.

Their visor is pointed towards the ground.

Your heart breaks.

“I am so sorry.” You whisper and cup their visor between your hands to kiss them, “They were speaking out of ignorance. That angel knows nothing of your beautiful heart and spirit. They know nothing of your sweetness, my flower.”

V1 beeps sadly and clings to you.

You sit at the head of your bed and have them sit on your lap. You lace your fingers together with theirs.

“You are so strong. So fascinating. I have never met anyone else like you before and what an honor it is to know you—to love you and spend eternity with you.” You tell them steadfastly.

V1 shyly presses their visor against your cheek in a kiss.

You have them lay against you so you can rub their back. You sing to them softly and little by little they relax. Soon enough your lover goes into sleep mode. You adjust their hoodie around them so it isn’t bunched up and carefully tuck their visor against your shoulder.

Then you clasp your hands together and pray.

You inform Gabriel that all of Heaven, save for your immediate family, was no longer allowed to visit your home and you would be accepting no more gifts. You replay what happened in your mind and you know that your lover has heard your prayers because the manor rocks suddenly as if there is an oncoming earthquake.

Heaven itself seems to tremble for a few moments and the aftershocks linger in Hell.

None of this disturbs Vi from their sleep.

You do not pity Gabriel’s siblings in the slightest for the fierce dressing down they are being served currently.

Sometime later you hear the front doors of the manor open and close.

“Anyone home~?” V2 calls out as he jogs up the stairs.

He notices your bedroom door open and makes a beeline for it.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees the upset on your face and the way Vi is clinging to you so tightly in their sleep.

“…What happened?” He asks.

You tell him about the incident and by the end V2’s hands are curled into shaking fists. He rushes into bed and lays on his side so he can pull both of you against him.

“The next angel I see in our house that isn’t one of ours is going to get plucked of every feather and turned into a fucking pillow.” He remarks nastily as he rests his visor atop your head, “What, it wasn’t enough that one of them walked in on us fucking the other day? Now they’re watching you sleep and making cutie depressed? I really am going to—”

Vee stops talking as his fans start to roar.

You are not the only one that has learned patience.

He remains quiet as he sorts through his temper.

“These angels are shocking with how tactless and overbearing they can be. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised given that is how Gabriel and Michael were when I first met them.” You huff.

“I know its like, bad to speak about the dead but holy shit did their dad suck at raising them.” Vee says.

“Verily.” You agree, “After this incident and Gabriel reprimanding them I am certain that we will no longer have to weather this sort of behavior.”

Vee beeps, too annoyed to bother with speaking.

He hugs you and Vi closer to him.

“Watching me sleep is your job.” You joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“Damn right.” V2 huffs and pinches your ass.

An hour or so later when V1 wakes up the three of you spend time with Cronus then move to the garden to play with Florp. Florp is very sweet and docile. It makes no fuss being taken out of its cage and held by someone ten times its size and it seems very happy to roam around in the fenced in area the three of you make by sitting in a circle on the grass.

Vi likes holding them in one hand and petting them slowly with one finger until Florp has become completely flat and relaxed. Your lover holds the hamster over to you and you kiss the top of its head. V2 has no real care for animals but is unable to resist hand feeding Florp sunflower seeds.

“Florp’s getting kinda fat, huh?” Vee remarks with unmistakable fondness, “I guess that’s the goal of every animal. It can still run around just fine and its fur is shiny so I think its okay.”

Little by little Vi cheers up. Once Florp has fallen deeper into sleep it is returned to its cage and Vi asks Vee to play a video game with them. You give both of them a hug and a kiss and stay in the garden to take care of the plants. You can hear what game your lovers are playing due to V2’s bedroom window always being open and the volume being turned up loud.

Florp continues to snooze on, unbothered by you moving around the garden or the loudness of the game.

You pluck a few flowers and set them on the shrine. You will take the old, wilting flowers and press them in a book. It is as you are tidying up the shrine that an angel teleports into the garden and for the most fleeting of moments you think it to be one of Gabriel’s extended family so your face pinches with annoyance as you look towards the left where the divine light is.

Seeing that it is only Gabriel you relax but not by much.

Your angel exudes wordless fury.

His armor is scarlet and his wings are yellow and tripled in size with how fluffed out they are.

His arms are crossed and his shoulders are rigid.

“I held a meeting with my brethren and each of them has been explained the depths of their disrespect just as they have been informed of the punishment that will await any who should repeat this poor behavior.” He tells you at once as he walks over, “I am deeply sorry for all the trouble my family has caused. There is no need to worry about our home being intruded upon any further.”

“Thank you, my love. Vi is feeling better now.”

“A relief.” Gabriel sighs and picks you up to cradle you in his arms. He presses his helm against your forehead, “I made something for V1 the last time I was home but was waiting for an opportune moment to reveal it. I suppose there is no better time then now, seeing as how my foolish siblings have upset them.”

“Oh? What sort of gift is this?” You ask.

“I made an outfit for Florp. I based it off the sleep attire mortals used to wear—it consists of a blue nightgown and a sleeping cap.”

“Vi is going to love that! You are so sweet.” You tell him before cupping his helm and kissing him.

Gabriel hums but his armor remains scarlet.

“I hope that it will brighten our love’s spirits even if a little. I was very tempted to throttle my sibling that watched you sleep.” Gabriel admits, “Very tempted. I am still thinking about it. How in the world did they think that was acceptable? They, along with the rest of my extended family, offered to write letters of apology but I told them the best apology would be to heed our instruction on how to conduct themselves.”

Gabriel pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts, then sighs again.

“Even before this incident I was meaning to speak with them.” He says.

“About?” You inquire.

“…You are so beloved in Heaven, even by those that have not met you, that there have been talks of making you a saint.” Gabriel explains delicately.

“A saint?” You repeat, your emotions skipping annoyance and rushing head first into simmering fury, “My lovers, dearest friends and I were slaughtered by the church and its soldiers and they would make me a saint?”

You are so incensed that you have your angel set you down so that you may pace back and forth to expel some of it with a physical outlet.

“Is your extended family aware of this? Are they aware that I hold no love for God and have blasphemed against him often?” You ask him.

“They are not aware of any of that. They only know of your love and kindness.” Gabriel tells you.

“And so not only is the offer an insult but to accept would make me the saint of falsehoods and hypocrisy.” You remark bitterly, then shake your head, “I refuse such a thing.”

“I knew this would be your answer but needed to inform you of the offer anyways, as is my duty.”

“Lucifer will not take this offer well.” You remind him.

“…I know.” He agrees, “I am dreading speaking with him of it but to keep him in the dark about such matters will only be seen as another insult.”

“There is no need for you to speak on my behalf. I am his disciple and will inform him. You have enough on your plate.” You say.

“That eases my worries greatly. Thank you.” He says and kneels before you to hold your hands in his.

“Let us forget about these things for now. You are home—now is the time for relaxation.”

“I fear I will not be able to relax. It is difficult to rid myself of this anger.” Gabriel admits.

“Why is that, dove? You have already given your siblings an earful.”

“A reprimand does not feel like enough.” He explains, “I know what my siblings mean to do by all this—the endless gifts, the clamoring for your affection and the offering to make you a saint. They mean to make you a replacement for our father. They may not even realize they are doing it but it is very plain for me to see.”

Things have become startling clear now.

You think on his words for a long while.

“I sympathize with your family. Truly, I do, but they must learn at some point to live for themselves and think without another’s guidance. It is painful, this growth, but to do otherwise is to not even be a person.” You explain.

“I know not how to guide them. It was you who helped me realize the person I wanted to be and it is you that has kept me from straying from the path I have carved for myself.” Gabriel says in a defeated tone.

You kneel to the ground and slip his gauntlets off so you can press a kiss to each of his knuckles.

“Encourage your siblings to explore themselves outside of the roles they were made to fulfill. Have them become used to doing things alone. Have them get used to failure. They must learn to fall and pick themselves back up when their family cannot. When they have the strength to rise back on their own two feet they will find that they can extend that to others. Most of all, tell them to question everything—their father, the world itself, themselves. Especially themselves. Who we are today is not guaranteed to be the same person reflected in the mirror the next day.”

“Yes. Yes, I will do so.” Gabriel promises and squeezes your hands, “I want them to grow as I have. I want them to know the happiness I have known.”

“They will. Just as I will keep you from straying off the path, you will now do so for them. Then they will do so for each other. We need to stick together but we must not become dependent on others to the point that we forget we are our own persons. All will be well in time, dearest angel.” You assure.

Gabriel lets out a shaky, uneven exhale.

The scarlet of his armor recedes.

He looks up from your joined hands to gaze at your face.

You smile at him fondly.

He sucks in a sharp breath and surges forward to kiss you. He does not stop until you are flat on your back beneath him.

“How is it that all I need to feel better is to see your enchanting smile?” He asks with quiet fascination as he traces the curve of your face, “All my worries, all my doubts—they crumble in the wake of it.”

Gabriel presses his helm against your forehead, your nose, then cranes it the very slightest to the side to have it flush to your lips in a sweet kiss. Your eyes flutter shut and you hum. It is so refreshing feeling the coolness of his helm against your skin but there is something deeply satisfying about warming up the surface of the metal with your mouth.

You loop your arms around his neck and let your mouth fall open so you can drag your tongue up the raised gold of the cross. Your angel grips a fistful of grass, a breath catching in his throat. He breathes hard and he breathes unevenly. His breastplate rises and falls and just as suddenly as he had kissed you, he now tears your robe open and your breasts spill out.

“Forgive me. I cannot contain myself.” He tells you huskily as he buries his helm between your breasts and uses both hands to squish them against it. You hear him inhale deeply, soothed by your warmth and scent, “…It is not enough. I need to taste you.”

He takes his hands off you to slip off his helm but you quickly stop him.

You guide his attention to the open window.

V1 and V2 slowly tuck their visors back inside now that their staring has been exposed.

“That would have been disastrous. My true form is enough to make a mortal lose their mind. I am unsure what it would have done to other forms of life.” Gabriel explains, sounding guilty about his recklessness.

“Take us to the bedroom. Hurry, angel.” You instruct.

He teleports the two of you at once.

He locks the door and starts tearing out of his armor. You do not make it easy for him. He is so much bigger than you, nine feet and hundreds of pounds heavier, and the top of your head stops at his hips. It leaves your head at perfect height to rub your face against the erection sticking out of his skirt. You grab the outline of it and give it a few pumps.

Gabriel moans prettily and presses flat against the door, some of his armor hanging off him partly by the straps.

You are about to stick your head under his skirt when he grabs you and reverses your positioning so you are the one pressed flat against the door, your breasts squished against the door and your legs dangling a few feet in the air. He takes a step forward and presses you even more against it, his clothed erection right up against your ass.

“I am going to take my time fucking you.” Gabriel whispers as he slowly grinds against your backside, “I am going to savor your body and make sure every nerve ending sings with utmost pleasure. I will take you as a man. Then I will take you as an angel. Each version of myself will drink deeply of you. I will not stop until each swallow I take reminds me of your taste.”

You shake hard and feel your want drip down a thigh.

It does not escape your angel’s notice. He drags his fingers against your inner thigh and steals some of it for himself. You cannot see it but you know that Gabriel smears it against his helm because his cock throbs hard against you as he moans.

You are turned around and held higher, back to the door and your thighs bracketing his helm.

“Make use of your angel.” Gabriel commands.

You bite your lip and start rolling your hips against the front of his helm. The smooth metal of the cross is perfect to grind against.

“Yes…” He hisses with pleasure, “Do not hold back. Take what you will and then some. You deserve nothing less.” He sighs shakily as you rut against him wildly, his helm becoming sticky.

His halo is steadily becoming brighter as he worships you.

Even with your eyes closed the divine light is blinding.

Each thrust of your hips, each drag of metal against your flushed, dripping folds makes you hotter and hotter, sweat beading at your brow as your pleasure heightens.

“I will never forget the first time you allowed me the honor to taste you. It was in Lust and you were so sore from being serviced with my hands alone that you took what you needed from me forcefully, locking your beautiful legs around my helm and grinding against it the very same way you are doing now.” Gabriel says breathily, sounding almost drunk, “Oh, how I burned for you. Nothing felt more perfect than servicing you on my knees. It felt like I had found my true purpose. It did not feel like you were despoiling me—it felt like you were baptizing me.”

It is too much.

His words.

His worship.

This pleasure.

You grab at his helm with both hands as your thighs begin to shake.

“Angel..!” You gasp, body going rigid, every muscle taut, then releasing with a tremble as you soak his helm, finishing hard.

“I am here. I am yours.” He moans as he absorbs every drop against his helm.

He teleports and you are on your back on the edge of the bed, legs hanging over it. He stands before you, watching you catch your breath as he quickly sheds the rest of his armor and carelessly tosses it aside. Naked, he kneels on the floor and spreads your sticky thighs. He buries his helm right back against your sensitive folds and you whine. He nuzzles against your clit, greedy, and you are not made to do a thing but lay there and let him taste you.

It is only after he has pulled another orgasm out of you that he lifts his helm off so he can slip two fingers inside of you and start fucking you achingly slow with them.

“You are so small, my love. It astounds me each time we couple that I can fit any part of myself in you.” He remarks with perverse fascination, “Often, when I am in my quarters in Heaven, I like to imagine you seated atop my lap, my cock buried deep within you as I work. I like to think of you squeezing around me, teasing me, all while instructing me fiercely that I am not allowed to cum until I have finished all of my work.”

“If I was permitted in Heaven you would truly never know peace.” You gasp.

“Indeed.” He laughs breathily, then he sobers, something dark and possessive taking over him, “…Heaven does not deserve you. You belong here with us. You are ours, but I am your angel. Your one and only. You own my body, my soul, and my divinity. I am yours to command. I am the worshiper at your feet.”

“G-Gabriel I need more.” You beg, tears in your eyes.

“Shhh, my muse, you will have it soon enough. I swear to you. For now allow me to luxuriate in the splendors of your body.” He assures you softly but with unmistakable steel in his tone.

He fucks you with his fingers for a long while. Each subsequent orgasm should be shallower than the last but something about your lover—something about the hunger he is displaying—makes each of them dizzying in their potency. You nearly faint a few times, forgetting entirely to keep your breathing even.

After another round of pleasure you are left shaking from head to toe, panting hard and covered in sweat and your own fluids.

Your limp, sensitive body is scooped up and Gabriel settles on the bed seated on his folded legs. He holds you by your thighs and aligns your entrance with the tip of his cock. He holds you snugly but allows gravity to do all of the work with sinking you onto his length. You throw your head back and let out a hoarse moan as he at last fills you. He watches you intensely as you are lowered inch by inch. You claw at his chest frantically, overwhelmed in the best of ways, and your angel moans, deeply aroused at the sight of you wordlessly begging for more.

He takes his hands off your thighs and lets you plunge down the two inches that are left. You land on his lap with a wet slap, suddenly so full, and you cry out as you finish again, the tears that have been fogging your eyes all this time now spilling.

“Beautiful.” Gabriel tells you softly as he wipes your tears, “Do you need a moment to calm?”

You shake your head.

“I want everything that you will give.” You say shakily.

His cock throbs in you hard.

“Very well, my muse.”

Gabriel slips his hands under each of your thighs again and slowly starts to pull you off his cock. You feel the drag of every divine inch. He nearly takes you off him completely, the tip barely nestled inside, before he starts lowering you back down just as slowly.

Your toes curl and one of your legs even kicks him a bit.

You feel like a doll in his hands—so small, and so precious.

The core of your being—your soul—feels warm and fuzzy as he continues to worship you with each touch.

“Perfect angel.” You shiver, “I will never let you go. I will never stop loving you. Each day I fall for you all the more. I cannot contain the love I have for you within myself. It shines out of every part of me like a beacon to guide you back to me each time you leave.”

Gabriel whimpers, wings flapping hard behind him.

Each feather is a lovely shade of pink.

He wants to drag this on for eternity. He wants to never stop this feeling.

He has always been weak to your words.

Your voice.

“I love you.” You tell him and he shakes hard, “Gabriel, I love you so much.”

His patience snaps.

He starts impaling you on his cock fiercely, moaning handsomely as he fills you to the utter brim and then some. You go limp, his hands the only thing keeping you upright, and he fucks you over and over until he can spill no more and you cannot formulate a single coherent thought.

When he lifts you off his cock a staggering amount of seed spills out and stains your thighs like a cork had been pulled from an upended bottle. He revels at the lewd display, holding you up like a work of art, admiring each bead of sweat and the mess that spills from your puffy, overworked lips.

He kisses you then lays you on your stomach.

“Keep your eyes closed.” He whispers into your ear.

You freeze.

You had forgotten entirely that he was going to take you this way.

You shut your eyes and even hide your face against the cradle of your arms. You hear him slip off his helm and the very second he does all of the candles in the bedroom extinguish as his form reverts to something intangible—solid, yet gaseous.

Warm, yet cold.

You feel him spread all over your body and the bed like a shroud. Not a single part of you is untouched. As promised, your angel tastes you, the feeling of a not quite solid mouth pressing against your lips and lapping at the remnants of his seed. You sob into your arms, the pleasure more than your mortal body can withstand yet to tell him to stop goes against your very nature.

You have always been an insatiable person.

Even as your mind teeters on total frenzy you beg for more.

Every second that passes another mouth forms and latches onto some part of your body. There is one at your neck leaving various hickeys. There is one licking the sweat off your back and one tasting your other hole. You try to tell your angel how fantastic this all feels—how good he is being for you but all you can get out are weak vocalizations of pleasure.

You really do faint this time when you cum.

When you awake a moment later you find that Gabriel has not stopped in the slightest. He is ravaging your body with even more hunger, the feeling of something nudging at both of your entrances now. He slips inside and thrusts shallowly, stretching your hole carefully while another part of him relentlessly fucks your cunt. You babble and keen uncontrollably, throat becoming sore from how much noise you are making.

It feels like your very soul is getting fucked.

You are so out of it that you cannot tell if he has been claiming you like this for hours or minutes. Here and there he becomes warmer and you feel something like static or sparks against your flesh—the telltale way of knowing he has finished in this form. He can speak while in his true form but it seems he prefers putting his sole focus on pleasuring you.

Your body can take no more.

You wail as you are pushed over the edge and the hysterical, pretty sound makes the parts of him inside you almost hot, a tingling sensation spreading within you.

When you faint this time you do not wake up for ages.

Sometime later when your eyes open you find yourself washed and dressed in a fresh robe. You are on your back so the first thing you see is the wooden paneling of the ceiling. Craning your face to the right rewards you with the handsome sight of Gabriel resting on his side naked, staring at you with what could only be interpreted as unwavering affection.

He has a hand resting atop your stomach, his other hand propping up the jaw of his helm.

His wings are still pink but they are no longer twitching sporadically.

“You have been asleep for a while.” He tells you, “You still look tired, my love.”

“Mmmm….mmmm…” Is all you can manage to say as you weakly try to scoot closer to him but you discover you lack the strength to move a muscle.

Gabriel laughs softly.

“You are so cute. Allow me,” He says and pulls you flush to his chest, “Please do not force yourself to stay awake on my account. Your body must be aching. Will you allow me to massage you as you sleep? I find so much pleasure in caring for you. I think I simply cannot help myself because I love you so dearly.”

“Love you…” You put all of your efforts into saying, “Perfect angel of mine.”

“Yes. I am yours, my muse.” Gabriel hums, utterly content, and leans down to kiss the top of your head.

You are soothed back to sleep by his steadfast heart and his warm touch.

Notes:

been so busy ahhhhhh DX

love u guys sowwy for the wait <33333

Chapter 17: rue/michael/lucifer pt 3

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“You look well, my kin.” You tell Raphael with a smile just as they finish materializing in your bedroom.

You have just finished packing a bag for a stay over at Michael and Lucifer’s home.

The small angel’s wings flutter happily and they approach you at once to pull you against them in a tight embrace. You are lifted and spun around a few times before they set you down and nuzzle their silver helm against your face repeatedly.

“I am doing very well!” Raphael agrees after they finish smothering you with kisses, “ …To be honest, when I heard the news of our father’s passing I thought that I would never find it within myself to ever feel happy again. How could there be light in my life without His light, I thought. But I have come to understand that although I will forever miss Him and I will always be conflicted about many things He did, I do not have to be chained to such feelings.”

“Your father is proud of you, I have no doubt.” You tell them and hold their helm between your hands to press your forehead against it, “Just as I am proud of you and honored to call you my family.”

Raphael’s halo brightens and their wings flap so hard they are pushed forward and you yourself are pushed onto the bed on your back.

You laugh as they rub their helm against your cheek furiously.

“And what of you? Are you doing well?” Raphael asks delicately as they push up on their hands to stare down at you.

“I am. It is still…difficult at times. I know the heartbreak I have always carried with me will never disappear, never in full, but with time and with the assurances of my lovers and kin I know it will diminish and become manageable at the very least.” You explain.

“I am always here for you.” They tell you steadfastly but even then their voice remains soft and quiet as always, always sounding as if they were moments from falling asleep or trying not to disturb someone else’ slumber.

“Just as I am here for you.” You promise in return and lean up to kiss one of the wings on the caduceus that is depicted on their helm. “Oh! I just remembered: I have a letter for the Ferryman. Would you please give it to him? There is no rush for him to read it or any obligation to respond.”

At the mere mention of him Raphael’s wings fluff out and flush at the tips.

“O-Of course! I will make sure to deliver it during our visit.” They say.

You slip off the bed and gather the letter from the drawer on your desk before handing it over to them. You gather your bag, your lyre, then exit your bedroom to say farewell to your lovers before Raphael teleports the two of you to Wrath.

“Why is it we can never teleport directly inside Lucie’s home?” You ask as you materialize on the gloomy beach a few yards off from his cottage and hastily cover your lyre with your garments to shield it from the rain.

“My brother has warded his home to prevent any of the divine from entering it. I am not even sure if he did it purposely or if it was a subconscious desire his immense willpower acted upon as a way to stop interlopers.” Raphael explains as they stretch out one of their wings to cover you from the light drizzle.

“Would anyone other than his immediate family visit him without notice? The warding, whether purposeful or not, seems inconvenient for you and Michael.”

“The rain is no bother to me.” They dismiss as the two of you reach the porch of the cottage. They open the door, allowing you in first, and give their wings a few flaps to get rid of the damp before following in after. “I am sorry to say that while all of Heaven was relieved to hear that Lucifer was alive, only Gabriel, Michael and I have expressed that he did not deserve to be cast out. We are the only ones that hold true affection and love for him as well.”

You set your things down on the table and approach the fireplace across from it to toss in a few more logs and stoke the fire. Lucifer and Michael are not home yet, most likely on a date, so the two-story cottage is quiet save for the crackling fire, the rain outside, and the two of you talking.

“He was cast out for the speaking against the creation of Hell, I was told. Do the other angels think a place like this should exist?” You ask while taking a seat next to Raphael at the dining table.

“…They do.” They admit with much shame, “My extended family firmly believes that sinners should repent even if the punishment far outweighs the sin itself. It is another reason why I am grateful that it is Gabriel that now leads Heaven. If it were anyone else I know that Heaven would revert back to the way it was back when the Council was ruling it.”

Your nose wrinkles and you huff as you rest your chin atop your hand.

“Even if Lucifer had not been cast out for speaking against the creation of Hell, he had already earned our siblings and our father’s ire in other ways. I am sure that you have heard the story of him tempting Eve with the apple.” Raphael continues.

“If it were not for that temptation all of humanity would be unquestioning, ignorant pawns, no better than dolls to be puppeteered.” You argue.

“I agree but we are a handful of the few that think so.” They sigh, “While the rest of us were made after Lucifer, we were around to see Adam and Eve cast out from the Garden. It was Michael, Lucifer and I that watched over the first humans as they fended for themselves outside the bliss and safety of paradise. From time to time Michael and I would see Lucifer fighting against creatures by his lonesome but it was Michael that approached to help while I was too cowardly to make the first move, so frightened of becoming a black sheep and being ostracized for helping Lucifer. Michael has always been steadfast and brave. It was after Michael raised his halberd to fight alongside Lucifer that the two of them struck a bond. They became more than just extended family—they became brothers-in-arms.”

“…What sort of creatures attacked the first humans?” You ask.

“Terrible beings.” Raphael says with a shiver, “Most were primordial creatures—ones who naturally spawned during God’s creation of Earth. Think of it as the leftovers of a meal, rotting and festering, the foulness then taking form in the chaos as things settled into God’s true image. Some are so awful that even to speak of their nature causes me great duress so I will speak of the lesser beings. You saw the Leviathan that Lucifer slayed when we first met the Ferryman. It was an imitation of the true beast that plagued the seas.”

“Was slaying these creatures not considered acting against God’s will?”

“It was.” They confirm, “But Michael could not bare to see Eve’s family harmed and although I did not fight alongside him and Lucifer I always made sure that her family did not suffer from blights or perish from mortal wounds. I wish I did more for them all. It has always shamed me that I did not. Michael faced many troubles because of his care for Eve’s family but he displayed his faith so strongly in other ways that our siblings were able to forgive him—rightfully considering his disobedience to be one born from an angel’s nature to protect God’s creations, although our siblings would never audibly admit to such thinking.”

“Surely not all of these creatures were malevolent?” You feel the need to ask.

“Most were but the Nephilim were not.”

“And what sort of creatures were those?”

“…They were beings born of the union of angels and humans. An exceedingly grave sin on both parts. The Nephilim were giants, scorned both by Heaven and those on Earth that encountered them. The angels that coupled with human women were cast out, their divinity torn from their beings and without it they perished. The human mothers died during pregnancy—punishment for tempting the divine.”

You are quiet for a while after that.

You do not even notice how you have curled a hand over your stomach.

“I have always wondered what Gabriel and I’s children would look like if we could have them.” You speak up after ages, voice small, and your heart heavy, “I suppose it is better we met in the afterlife.”

Raphael slips an ivory gloved hand into yours and gives it a squeeze.

“Do you wish for children even now?” They ask.

“Yes.” You say without any hesitancy or doubt, “I have always wanted children. I was an only child and lost both of my parents sooner than I could ever make peace with. I learned from one of your siblings that I died pregnant—another thing I have not and perhaps will never make peace with. The father was the other half of my soul, I have no doubt, as he was the only one that I coupled with the last weeks of my mortal life. Perhaps I will always want children just as I will inevitably always carry this heartbreak with me.”

You stand up from your seat at the table and approach the fireplace.

You stare somberly into the flames.

It does not feel like it is mocking you as it tended to but its warmth fails to truly comfort you in any way that matters.

Two arms wrap around your middle and pull you into a hug.

“From the depths of my soul I am sorry.” Raphael tells you gently, “You would be a wonderful mother and your children would be as beautiful and as steadfast in spirit as you are.”

You take several deep, shaky breaths.

Then you take a seat in Lucifer’s throne of a chair next to the fire. Raphael kneels at your feet and rests their cloaked helm against your lap. You push the hood back and stroke the back of their helm then the tops of their wings.

“I have always seen you as someone that I wished to care for and dote on like a child,” You confess to them, eyes still on the fire, “That must be insulting for a mortal to say to a being thousands of years older and wiser than myself. I do not mean to be condescending nor do I consider you unable to fend for yourself. I am sorry for any offense. We can forget I ever said such a thing.”

Raphael’s helm snaps up to stare at your face.

“I-I do not wish to forget! I am not insulted at all. If anything I am…happy to hear you say those words. Deeply happy. In truth, I have always seen you as a source of comfort and guidance. I would have been honored if I were your child. I have always wanted a mother and to know what it felt like to be held their embrace.” They tell you with gut dropping sincerity.

Your eyes widen and your heart clenches in your chest.

“…May I refer to you as ‘mother’? Am I deserving to be called your dearest child?” Raphael asks in a fragile, anxious voice.

Your throat becomes tight.

Your eyes blur with tears.

You slip from the chair and onto the floor so you can pull them against you, their helm pressed to your bosom.

“You are so deserving.” You whisper as you press a kiss to the top of their helm.

Raphael sucks in a sharp breath, wings fluffing out. Then they melt against you and curl their wings around you.

“Mother…” They say, testing out the word.

It feels good to hear it.

Really good.

You lack the words to truly express how light and warm your soul now feels.

The two of you cling to one another, heartbeats falling into an almost perfect sync.

Raphael becomes heavier and heavier against you.

Their breathing becomes deeper.

You ready to speak but pause, strangely timid.

You resolve yourself and force out the words you have always wanted to say but never had an opportunity until now.

“My child,” You say, the words feeling perfect, some of the pain that always resides in your heart lessening just by uttering it, “Would you like to nap as we wait for our kin to arrive?”

“I would. I am always so tired as of late…” Raphael replies.

The two of you walk hand in hand out of the main room, past the humble kitchen and towards the stairs. In the master bedroom each of you shed your sandals before you climb into bed first and rest partially upright on your back, arms spread out wide and invitingly.

Raphael stares at you shyly despite having napped with you many times before.

They duck their helm a bit as they crawl into bed next and lay atop you, helm resting on your chest. You cup the back of their helm with one hand and use the other to preen some of the loose, frayed feathers along their wings.

“Rest well, my child.” You say softly.

Raphael clings to you tightly.

You are content to soothe them to sleep first, singing quietly and carding your fingers through their plumage.

Sleep sneaks up on you next.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You awake in the same position you fell asleep in but there is added weight atop you.

Michael is sleeping next to you on his side, snoring away with an arm curled over you and Raphael. Feeling you rouse from sleep an additional weight on your neck moves and reveals itself to be Lucifer in serpent form.

His black scales shine handsomely under the light of the fireplace.

His red eyes are like rubies.

You lean forward and kiss his muzzle.

He in turn flicks his tongue against your nose.

“Hello, dearest disciple and kin.” Lucie speaks into your mind, “Did you rest well? Your soul is very bright.”

“I did,” You pray in response, “Raphael and I had a talk. May I share it with you?”

“There is nothing that you cannot share with me.” He says magnanimously.

You think of earlier and play it back in your mind for him to see.

“Ah, what uplifting news. The bond you share with Raphael is sweet. I am happy for you both.” He says and although he is a snake, and it may be a trick of the light, you think the curve of his muzzle upturns just the slightest with a smile.

It is very cute.

“Did you have fun on your date?” You pray.

“Quite.” Lucie tells you with unmistakable mischief in his tone, “It is why my beloved is so in need of rest.”

You huff a quiet laugh.

“He will get no sleep at all between the two of us.”

“Indeed. It has been a while since we shared pleasures of the flesh.” Lucifer hums, “I have certain things planned for you and Michael. I will not spoil the surprise no matter how kindly you ask.

“Then I will wait,” You promise.

You look down at Raphael.

They mentioned being tired lately and so you would hate to awake them. You carefully slide them off and adjust them so that they are held in Michael’s arms. Lucifer coils securely around your neck as you slip off the bed. You tuck the blankets around Michael and Raphael and give each of them a kiss before heading downstairs.

The second your foot touches the bottom floor Lucie uncoils from your next and slinks down your body. In a blink he changes into his usual form, although shrunk down to be able to walk freely in his home. He rolls his shoulders and flares out his mismatched wings a few times to stretch them out.

“Would you care for some tea?” He offers as he returns the favor of you carrying him and scoops you up into his arms, “Michael has been making various blends if you are in no mood for chamomile. I myself prefer to drink black tea—spiked with a generous helping of ambrosia, of course.”

“I will have the same tea as you but will skip on the ambrosia for now. I will not be able to conduct myself decently otherwise with Raphael here and I would hate to break any of your lovely furniture.” You say.

Lucifer begins to laugh handsomely, the sound echoed by feminine cackling as he carries you to the kitchen and uses his free arm and tail to throw logs into the wood-burning stove. He drags the tip of his black, prehensile tail across the floor and the tip sparks with flame like a match which he uses to light logs. He grabs the kettle, fills it with water and sets it atop the stove.

“I have been brewing all sorts of alcohol. It is a thrilling hobby, I must say. I have plans on expanding our home so that I can have a basement to age wine. Would you like to be the first to try the fruits of my labors when it is finished?” He explains.

“I am always eager to be someone’s first.” You tell him with a wry smile and reach for his swishing tail to bring the tip to your mouth and give it a lick all while staring up into his golden helm.

“Rue, you are being far too enticing when we must keep quiet so our kin may sleep.” Lucie chastises yet the words are said with a purr and he is the one that nudges the arrowhead tip of his tail past your lips and thrusts it shallowly against your tongue.

You massage the delicate muscle with your tongue, sucking very lightly, and his purring only becomes louder.

“I can only imagine how alluring you must have been after sampling the ambrosia I gifted Gabriel. You brim with such potent lust naturally—to have it bolstered in any shade must have made all of Hell tremble.” He remarks as he walks over to the wall by the pantry and with each step he shrinks in size until he is only slightly taller than you before pushing you against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Would you like to tremble before me, my Lord?” You ask salaciously after slipping his tail out of your mouth, “I think the sight of you on your knees taking my cock would demand not only the highest of worship but several temples to be made.”

“Yessssss….Worship me.” He hisses, his clawed hands dragging across your chiton and tearing it in a few places, his tail whipping hard and his wings spreading out so much that the rest of the kitchen is no longer visible and you are swallowed in almost perfect darkness, “Take me and fill my soul with your—”

The two of you startle when the kettle begins to whistle.

The bird half of Lucifer’s wings has fluffed out tremendously at the scare.

You cannot help but laugh.

He takes the kettle off the stove, sprinkles some black tea leaves in it, and lets it steep.

“Perhaps the interruption was for the better. There was no possibility of us coupling without making a racket.” He says as he sets you down so he can take a bottle ambrosia out of one of the cupboards.

“I was not the one hissing and purring up a storm.” You point out and stand behind him to grab his ass through his dark slacks.

Predictably, he starts purring loudly again.

“Behave, disciple.”

“Mmmm….or what?” You challenge and give his ass a slap.

“Or what, indeed?” Lucifer repeats in a dark, threatening voice that makes your hair stand on end and a shiver run down your spine, “Perhaps I will allow you to accrue punishment and then have you drown in the tidal wave of your sins when I deem it the perfect time, my precious, little disciple.”

You make the wise decision to stave off on teasing him any further.

For now, at least.

When the tea is done brewing Lucifer serves two cups and pours a generous amount of ambrosia into one.

“I changed my mind—I’ll take a dash in mine.” You speak up before he can put the stopper back on the bottle.

He chuckles wickedly but thankfully pours the humblest amount into your cup.

He brings the cups and the kettle to the main room and sets it down on the small table by his throne before taking a seat. He stares at you expectantly and you pick up on what he wants immediately. You take a seat on his lap sideways, grab your cup of tea, and give it a tentative sip.

…Even the smallest amount of ambrosia makes you flushed in the face.

You think the batch he keeps at home might be even stronger than the one he gifted you.

Lucifer picks up his own cup, absorbs half of it against his helm without so much as a twitch then sets it down and takes one of the many books he has stacked on the floor and thumbs it open. He curls an arm around you and gets comfortable.

Very comfortable.

His erection is pressed against your backside in an extremely distracting manner and with your head against his bosom you find it impossible to think of anything else but his muscular, warm body.

Finished with your tea, and belly coiling with heat, you set your cup down and adjust to sit against him with your back to his front. He holds his book in front of you so both of you can read from it but you have no care for that at the moment. You brace your hands on either of the armrests and start grinding against him.

He has no care for reading either.

He tosses the book aside and sets both of his clawed hands against your hips and starts grinding right back against you, the two of you falling into perfect tandem with one another’s movements.

He takes one hand off you and slips his trimmed index and middle finger into your mouth. You moan around them, sucking, and you feel his cock throb against your backside. His fingers taste a little sweet—he must have gotten some honey from the tea on them.

You want more than just the sweetness of his fingers.

You slip off his lap and kneel before him, hands set atop each of his muscular thighs. He hums approvingly and spreads them wide for you. You reach forward and unbutton his slacks, licking your lips as you stare are the bulge sticking out of them.

A foghorn goes off loudly and you shriek a little.

Lucifer’s helm turns towards the window near the front door.

“…The Ferryman’s ship is near. He must be wondering if Raphael is visiting.” Lucifer tuts, before carefully standing up, “I will awake Raphael—take some time to calm yourself. I know that you would be uncomfortable for them to see you in such a state.”

You breathe a shaky thanks and stand to your feet as well.

Lucifer adjusts his robes over his front to make himself decent and heads to the stairs. You move over to the window and stare at the ship in the distance. You cannot help but think what poor timing that had been. You are not terribly annoyed because you know Raphael will be excited to visit the ship.

Instead of walking down the stairs Raphael glides, wings flushed pink, and in their excitement they almost fly right into you as they enter the main room.

“Apologies!” They say when you catch them by their shoulders, “Umm, m-mother, you don’t mind if I visit the Ferryman for a while, do you? I’m supposed to be spending time with my family yet instead I’m—”

You kiss the cheek of their helm, place a hand on their lower back, and push them towards the door.

“I’m your mom not your warden. Go have fun.” You snort, “I’m staying over for a few days so there isn’t any obligation for you to spend every waking moment with me.”

Raphael nuzzles against your face, waves at Lucifer, then steps out the front door and takes off in flight.

Lucifer, amused, stands at the front door and watches their sibling fly for a moment before shutting the door and turning around.

There is weight to his staring.

“Michael still sleeps. There is no better time for what I have planned for the three of us then now.” He says.

So this surprise of his has something to do with dreams.

Curious.

The two of you return to the master bedroom and find Michael sleeping on his front now with his arms crossed under the pillow and his wings twitching lightly. Lucifer hums, admiring his lover as they sleep, and slips off his cloak and hangs it on one of the posts at the foot of the bed before slipping his hand into yours and leading you to bed.

He rests on Michael’s left and you take the right.

You are warm from the spiked tea so you curl up over the blankets and get comfortable.

You focus on the ambient noise of the rain, crackling fireplace, and Michael’s snores. Before you know it your eyes become heavy and your breathing evens out.

…

…

…

You awake in Michael’s dream.

You do not see him as of yet and instead take in your surroundings. You are curled up, naked, at the foot of an astonishingly large tree in a clearing of a forest. All of the trees are bigger and sturdier than any you had seen in your mortal life. They exude a vitality that you can almost feel.

The air is crisp and sweet.

The grass is lush, yet somehow foreign.

The roots of the tree you are under seem to coil around you like a cradle and surrounding you is a patch of beautiful flowers. Through the canopy of the forest the sun shines through and makes these mesmerizing patterns across the grass.

You hear the flapping of wings then hurried footsteps.

“Lucifer? Where have you gone? I have slain the rest of the beasts. Please tell me that you are unharmed—”

Michael stops talking as he steps past some trees and enters the clearing and when he sees you laying on the grass he stops walking entirely. His silver armor and golden halberd are splattered with blood. There are tears in the robes he wears underneath them. The sunlight catches against his silver helm and makes the icon of the four pointed star look as if it is twinkling.

“Rue…” He says with a shake to his voice, now taking an unsteady step forward but stopping again as if frozen with awe.

You sit up from the bed of flowers and smile at him.

His weapon falls from his hands and he races over to you. Michael falls to his knees just in front of you and reaches out with his hands, not making contact, because his gauntlets are filthy with blood.

“Michael.” You greet in return, uncaring of the blood and slip your hands into his to hold them between the two of you.

“This is a dream. I know this. I have seen you in my dreams often but…” He says with a loud swallow, “Are you truly here with me? Are you sharing this dream or…?”

“I am here with you.” You assure.

He shivers.

“I have missed you. The only times we have seen one another lately is to talk of grim matters.” Michael tells you as he adjusts to sit on his folded legs and pull you atop his lap, “I almost mistook you for a nymph. I am not convinced as of yet that you are not. The sun and flowers seem to flock towards you—much like myself.”

“Do you dream of me like this? Some maiden of the forest you happen upon?” You ask as you reach up and cup his helm.

“Yes. I cannot help myself. Sometimes my dreams depict you as nymph singing sweetly to animals. Sometimes you are a mermaid combing your hair and watching the sunset. Of course, I also dream of you as you truly are; inviting me into your home with open arms as you always have.” He says.

“You are so precious I do not know what to do at times.” You say with a sparkling smile, “And I have missed you too, my dear. In our time apart I have composed a song just for the two of us. I brought the music sheets with me—I hope that the accompaniment I wrote for your violin sounds as it should.”

“I-I love you!” Michael cannot help but blurt out as he pushes you down onto the grass.

“I love you too.” You tell him with a fond laugh as you stare up to admire the handsomeness of his form.

He caresses your face with one hand and shyly leans down to kiss you. When he feels you kiss back he makes a charming little noise as if surprised. To your surprise he starts tearing out of his armor as if it is burning him. He is usually hesitant when it comes to undressing and you typically do not stare so much as he does but he seems unbothered and so you sit up on your elbows and make no secret of your watching.

You see why it is he is far more comfortable undressing now—with his armor shucked off and his robes peeled away, you find Michael’s form to be completely masculine, his massive breasts now muscular pecs, and his hips far narrower. Between his thick thighs is his half hard cock.

“In my dreams I am able to take the form that I have always preferred.” Michael explains, squirming a little under your attention, “…Am I still pleasing to you? You always call me perfect and handsome so I would hate to disappoint you.”

“I adore every iteration of yourself but you are most handsome when you are confident and comfortable with yourself as you are now. I am happy that you have an avenue to explore your truest self.” You reply.

His halo brightens significantly and his wings spread out proudly.

“You are my favorite person.” Michael says emotionally, “I cannot express in words the peace of mind you have always given me.”

“Express it with a kiss.” You tease and he laughs huskily before settling back over you and pressing his helm to your lips.

You paw at his firm pecs and his shoulders, nails dragging lightly across his dark, velvety skin, and just the meeting of your lips and wandering hands is enough to make him fully hard. He is so cute. You tug his helm down and smush it between your breasts. He gasps against them then his hands fly to each of them to smother his helm.

“You smell so lovely…” He remarks with a shaky breath, “So soft and warm and sweet. Like a beautiful flower—your sweat the dew,” And he lowers a hand between your thighs to tentatively curl a finger against your folds, “Your desire like nectar.” With that same hand he brings it towards his helm and moans at the taste, “May I make a request?”

“You are polite even in your dreams.” You laugh, “Of course, my dear, I cannot deny you a thing.”

“Would you do me the honor of…sitting on my face?”

You blink a few times, surprised, then smirk.

“You are becoming bold, aren’t you?” You hum, “I remember when you fainted when I kissed you and now you are asking me to ride your helm.”

“I have wanted to please you this way for some time after we first coupled but it was not until Lucifer and I made our love known for one another that I learned to seek out these wants.” He explains timidly.

“I am proud of you.” You say as you lay a hand flat on his chest and keep pushing until he lays on the grass on his back. You crawl atop him slowly, tracing your fingers up his washboard abs, then hover your hips over his helm, your thighs bracketing it. “I will give you all that you ask for, angel. Will you let me do something in return?”

“A-Anything!”

“You cock is so lovely. Will you let me please it with my mouth afterwards?” You ask.

He shakes so hard you almost lose your balance.

“Yes! I have always wondered how the feeling would differ from my actual form. You are so skilled with your mouth that I have no doubt that it will be just as dizzying in its pleasure.” He tells you excitedly.

With that settled you plop yourself right down on his helm and the very second that you do Michael’s hands grip your thighs to keep you in place and he lets out perhaps the loudest moan you have ever heard.

“Oh, H-Heavens, you taste…!” He keens, rubbing his helm stubbornly against your folds until it is sticky, “So good. So sweet and heady. All I can see, taste and smell is you. I could spend hours like this. This cannot remain solely in my dreams—I must do this with you when we awake. I would have you just like this before I returned to Heaven so that the taste of you could comfort me as I toiled away.”

“Drink deeply, angel. I am yours.” You shiver as you roll your hips against him.

He whispers his desperate thanks over and over, his frantic movements calming so he can move his helm in sync with the thrusting of your hips. You break out into a sweat and it seems to delight him even more. He becomes noisier as your pleasure heightens, and as a breath catches in your throat and you cum you feel him go rigid and something hot spill across your back.

When your senses return you realize he has finished alongside you.

You carefully slip off him to sit on his chest and stare down at him.

Michael looks away, wings hot pink and clears his throat a few times.

“You are just the cutest, aren’t you?” You laugh and lean down to lick his helm clean which makes him gasp and squirm, “What a good angel. It’s my turn to have a taste.”

You adjust atop him so that your face hovers near his cock and your backside is pointed at him. You lap your tongue up his length to clean what little of his seed remained that wasn’t painting your back before slipping him in your mouth. You take him all the way to the base in one smooth movement and swallow hard, pulling a shout from him.

Michael grips your ass hard enough to bruise but you feel no pain even as he adds more pressure as you start to bob your head. He cannot speak a word, only able to gasp and holler. You feel two fingers tease your entrance and you hum approvingly, wiggling your hips at him, and he obediently stuffs them inside. His cock throbs hard in your mouth at the feeling of the wet silk of your walls squeezing around his fingers.

The serenity of the forest is broken by the sloppy sounds of you sucking his cock while being serviced by his hand. He is always so noisy during sex and you find it deeply charming.

“I am close again.” He warns.

You are about to tell him he can spill in your mouth when he teleports and you find yourself pinned onto the grass on your front. Michael’s weight keeps you from going anywhere.

“I wish to finish inside of you.” He says lowly into your ear.

You grip handfuls of grass and arch your back.

“I want it. Fill me.” You moan.

He sets his much larger hand atop one of yours, lacing the fingers together, and guides his cock to your entrance. He is hesitant at first—or is that him being careful?—and so he only nudges the tip the shallowest inside but once he gets the briefest feel of your cunt he thrusts inside with a strangled sound.

To your surprise and delight he does not finish as soon as he buries himself completely in you.

He must couple with Lucifer like this frequently.

Michael fucks you at a slow pace, savoring each drag of his cock against your walls and the wonderful way you hug around every inch. The weight of his warm, muscular body pinning you down, his hand holding yours, is as comforting as it is arousing. With every solid thrust he whispers sweet words against the nape of your neck. You finish with a gasp of his name and beg him to keep going and take what he needs.

It drives him wild to hear you so wrecked with pleasure and he apologizes profusely as he suddenly picks up the pace and fucks you roughly. He spills in you with a broken, handsome sound and buries his face against your sweat slicked back as he shakes and shakes.

He settles his weight fully atop you as he catches his breath.

He is heavy and both of you are sticky with cum and sweat but it is nice.

The sunlight that shines down through the canopy disappears as if covered by some clouds and the clearing drops a few degrees.

“I hope that you two did not mind that I watched while hidden in plain sight.” Lucifer speaks up suddenly and Michael pulls out of you so the two of you can look towards his voice. He is in serpent form, hanging loosely from one of the branches of the tree directly in front of you where you had awoken. His forked tongue flicks out as if tasting the sex in the air. “It was a beautiful coupling. It took every ounce of willpower not to join but I wanted the two of you to enjoy one another’s company fully seeing as how it has been a while.”

When the sun peeks back out of the clouds and light returns to the clearing Lucifer is no longer in the tree.

He is no longer a serpent.

He is lazing on his side next to you two and he has changed his form to be around your height, perhaps a little taller, and he is completely naked. His breasts remain but he has done away with his cock and is fully feminine. A clawed hand rests atop his wide hips and his tail swishes behind him languidly.

“Beloved!” Michael greets fondly and scoots over to kiss him, “I knew I felt you nearby.”

You roll onto your side so you can admire Lucifer’s new form.

“You are stunning in your usual form but you are quite fetching like this.” You remark as your eyes lower to between his thighs, “You have such pretty lips and you are utterly soaked. Won’t you let me please you, mistress?”

You roll onto your back and pat your chest invitingly.

Lucifer purrs and kisses Michael again before he crawls over to you and seats himself elegantly atop your face with his clawed hands braced on the grass above your head. It gives you a nice view of his full breasts hanging over you. You wink at him before getting comfortable.

You bury your face against him and take a deep inhale of his hairless, dripping cunt. You press kisses to the mound of it, kiss each lip, before rubbing your face left and right to spread him without taking your hands off him. His purrs become even louder as you slowly lap at him with your tongue.

Michael moves to sit above your head so he can place a hand on each of Lucifer’s golden horns and begin stroking them. You feel him buck his hips and become even wetter.

“The base of his tail is even more sensitive than the tip.” Michael reveals to you in a playful whisper, “I have made him finish just from massaging his tailbone with my thumb.”

You hum, fascinated by this, and move your hand behind Lucifer to feel out for his tail so you can begin massaging the base with your fingers in slow circles. He hisses loudly and whips you a bit with the rest of his tail in his pleasure but you are guarded from the pain.

It is like you and Michael share the same thought just then: how can we utterly wreck this pretty devil?

While still eating him out and playing with his tail you begin to pray and the effect is immediate.

Lucifer starts to whisper and gasp in a language so profane it makes your ears ring and makes you break out into a cold sweat. Yet it does nothing to stop you from pleasing him and from the growing brightness of Michael’s helm you can tell that he is now praying alongside you.

Lucifer’s curvy body shakes and he cums with an exceedingly loud hiss.

You do not stop licking at him until he crawls off you and gives you no other choice.

He is sprawled out on his back, breasts rising and falling as he catches his breath. You do not intend to leave him alone for even a minute. This is a dream so you are not limited to what form your body takes although it takes some concentration to make things how you want them to be.

Michael gasps at the sight of a cock nestled between your legs.

“On your knees, mistress. I promised you that I would make you tremble and you are not shaking enough for my liking.” You say as you lick your lips.

“I am tempted to never let either of you awaken so you may pleasure me like this for all of eternity.” Lucifer replies as he rolls over and settles onto all fours, his breasts flush to the grass and his ass high in the air.

His tail waves at you like a finger beckoning.

“Just an eternity? I need to try harder.” You remark and he laughs.

“You are insatiable. An apt trait for my disciple.”

You adjust to stand on your knees behind him. You squeeze his plump ass, enjoying how it bounces when released, and rub the tip of your cock up and down his entrance. You grab the base of his tail then thrust roughly inside with no further preamble. Lucifer’s back arches taut like a bow and he claws at the grass. It feels almost too good—the wetness, warmth and squeeze of his walls. It is just like V1 had described; you are torn between burying yourself at the hilt and staying there and fucking as fast as you can.

You do a mixture of both, switching between snapping your hips and fucking him with wild abandon then stuffing yourself as deep as he can take it and staying there to feel him quiver around you.

Michael whimpers at the display and grips his lover’s horns—not to stimulate them but to keep Lucie’s helm exactly where he needs it to be so he can grind his weeping cock against it.

You see something slither out of the bottom of Lucifer’s helm and curl around Michael’s shaft.

A forked tongue, one several inches in length and just as flexible as his tail.

Thinking of that tongue inside of you makes you fuck him even faster. Lucifer’s thighs shake, drawing closer and closer to the edge and with the littlest touch of his tail he cums with both a keen and a growl and clenches around you so tightly your eyes cross and you spill right after.

Even as he slumps completely to the grass Lucifer still works Michael’s cock with his tongue until his lover paints his golden helm white.

It is funny to be so exhausted while asleep.

You find it so funny that your initial huff of laughter turns into a full on set of giggles.

When you open your eyes to wipe the tears away you realize that you have awoken and are in Michael and Lucifer’s bed.

Not only that but the ambrosia is still taking effect, leaving you desperate for sex despite having several servings in your dream.

When you sit up you find Lucifer and Michael awake as well.

They are both staring at you intensely.

You get the distinct feeling that you will not be leaving their bed anytime soon.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“There! It is finished.” You declare proudly as you and Michael admire your combined efforts over the last few days.

In the garden room of your manor, stationed in front of the numerical stone tablets, is an altar for Lucifer. It consists of a table made from mahogany, the legs and ledges decorated with carvings of serpents. A rich, black cloth is spread atop it and many red candles surround a golden offering dish. Behind the dish, propped against where it leans against the stone tablets, is a medium sized portrait of Lucifer seated in his throne by the fireplace as he reads, which you had commissioned the Ferryman to paint based off a picture you had taken of your Lord on the last day of your visit in Wrath.

There are branches of apple blossoms Michael gathered from the surface bracketing the portrait.

You will eventually add more to the altar but for now you are quite satisfied.

“He is going to love it.” Michael tells you as he sets a hand atop your shoulder, “Are you ready to make an offering?”

“Will you not be making one as well?”

“I think that you, his disciple, should be the first.” He says.

You nod and take the poetry you had written and set it neatly in the dish before clasping your hands together and praying. A breeze far stronger than what any of the box fans in the garden can produce rolls in and snuffs out every candle on the altar.

You turn around and find Lucifer standing directly behind you with your poetry held in one hand.

You jump a bit.

“You startled me!” You laugh, “I did not expect you to arrive immediately but I am glad that you did. Michael has been helping me create an altar for you and we made the finishing touches just a moment ago. My woodworking has improved immensely but it still needs some more time before I become an expert so I hope that you do not mind some of the amateurish looking serpents I carved.”

You are about to show him how you painted the eyes of each serpent red when you are scooped up into Lucifer’s arms.

“I have not received a sincere offering in my name ever since being cast out of Heaven.” Lucifer tells you in a shaky whisper, “There were a few mortals that worshiped me after my fall but they held no love for me. They wished for curry my favor for power and their own selfish gains. Even if while trapped in Hell I was able to grant them such a thing, I would not have. But you, Rue, my dearest and only disciple, I would hand over the world. I would gift you Heaven and all of its splendors if only you asked. Speak of a desire and I will grant it at once.”

“Any desire?” You ask.

“Any at all.”

“I think I would like a kiss.” You tell him with a smile.

He freezes.

He is silent for a long, long while.

Then his shoulders shake and he throws his helm back as he laughs.

“Very well. I will grant this.” Lucifer says and presses his helm to your face, “But allow me to gift you something else: sainthood. You are no longer just my disciple—you will be known as Hell’s first saint, known for their love, adoration of the fine arts, and steadfast spirit. And to mark your sainthood, please accept this as well.”

Lucifer waves his hand then holds it palm up.

Cupped in his palm is a brooch of an apple with a snake coiling around it, the eyes of the snake and the apple bejeweled with glimmering rubies.

“What an honor, my Lord and kin. I gladly accept.” You say brightly and pin the brooch to your chiton right over your heart.

The weight is deeply comforting.

Notes:

thanks for reading :^D <3

Chapter 18: rue/gabriel/v2/v1 pt 3

Notes:

tw for kidnapping, drugging, sexual assault

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“Enjoy yourself, my love, and give my regards to Minos…and Sisyphus, I suppose.” Gabriel tells you with a sigh at the end as he leans down a significant amount to kiss the top of your head.

You hum, leaning against him, and close your eyes to further enjoy the touch.

“I will come home in a few days. Nights? Time is unknowable here.” You tell him as you separate but not before you take both of his hands into yours and kiss each knuckle.

“Day or night, as always, I faithfully await your return.”

You smile, give his hands a squeeze, then walk over towards the elevator in the sparring room. Your angel remains as you press the button and you blow kisses at him until the doors close. You adjust your satchel’s strap on your shoulder and whistle a tune as the elevator descends to the Lust level.

You are hoping that Minos and Sisyphus are willing to take a trip to their vacation home in Greed so you can see the desert flora the latter has been planting in addition to the ones you yourself had added around the man-made oasis.

You do not have your lyre with you. Instead, your satchel is almost bursting with books and magazines about gardening.

As you think of bitter roots, pygmy poppies and cliffroses, the elevator door opens and you step out into the dim red halls leading up to the city of Lust. You have never again seen the tabby cat that ran from you minutes before you met Lucifer for the first time. You hope that wherever the odd looking little creature is, it is safe. None of your friends have mentioned seeing a cat so perhaps it slipped into the elevator as someone was exiting it and now explores another layer of Hell.

It occurs to you now how many significant moments of your afterlife happened in this specific hall—Sisyphus apologizing to you and a friendship at last starting between the two of you, his rescuing of you from the terrifying mannequin, your meeting with Lucifer, and of course the date you had with V2 where the two of you pretended to be strangers.

Out of all the hallways in Hell this one seemed to be the busiest.

That made sense, you suppose, given the city of Lust was the most populated sector of Hell. You could be wrong of course, given you have not ventured into the deeper, far more dangerous layers of Hell by your lonesome. The only time you have visited Violence was when you were accompanied by Lucifer, Minos and Sisyphus when the Minotaur had been mercy killed.

You hear something behind you.

Something like a pebble being tossed.

You turn around, thinking perhaps it was the tabby cat suddenly making an appearance to bat at some debris but you find nothing out of the ordinary. You find nothing at all in fact. Just the same red hallway and no one exiting or entering the elevator behind you.

Strange.

You turn back towards the doors leading into Lust, immediately forgetting about the minor distraction, and hear something again—an ear piercing sort of sound. Before you can turn around to investigate once more a pink hand clutching a rag cups over your mouth.

You want to shout but there is something soaking the cloth.

After being forced to take a deep inhale your eyes roll into the back of your head and you lose consciousness.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You awake in…a white room.

White and pink.

It is difficult to take in much else. It is difficult to think. You can barely even comprehend that you are awake given how dizzying everything is. Whatever you were drugged with has not left your system. Or perhaps you were given something additional to keep you as out of it as you are.

Unbeknownst to you, you have been brought to a bedroom. One located in Violence, far deeper than you had been when you came here before. There are no sprawling mazes or graveyards or Minotaurs. The monochrome walls, floor and ceiling have been partially obscured with various pink decorations: tapestries, the linens on the queen sized bed pressed to the north wall, fluffy carpets, and many, many bouquets of pink flowers of all kinds.

But you are not on the bed.

You are not even on the floor.

Well, that is somewhat untrue.

You are on the floor but you are in a cage. It is only big enough to allow you to sit up shakily and there is nothing else inside of it. You blearily look down at yourself and find that you are naked. With a drunken stupor you see your clothes and satchel atop a dresser near the bed but it is like as soon as you take note of it your head spins and you fall over onto your side, breathing hard.

You feel so sick.

Your senses are obscured and failing. Stringing along a coherent thought is impossible but despite all that, something deep, deep within you recognizes that you have been trapped. Despair wells within you and you weakly curl your hands around the iron bars of the cage and try to give them a shake but your grip loosens immediately and your hands flop down.

You try to shout in your fury but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper.

The doors to the bedroom open and someone as pink as the decorations saunters inside—the pink Mindflayer you had met in Lust that had tried to woo you and Gabriel, only to be viciously rejected when he tried to make further advancements. All this time he has held a grudge against you for the humiliation you had served him and each time you have returned to Lust he has been hidden, watching you, waiting for the opportune time for you to be alone so he could steal you away.

The Mindflayer approaches the cage and sits down with his legs to the side in a dainty manner and stares at you for several moments. He seems to derive great pleasure in not only seeing you naked but seeing you so out of sorts and unable to properly speak or defend yourself.

He is so delighted that he clasps his hands together, swaying side to side.

“That cage suits you perfectly~! I knew it would!” The Mindflayer signs and you fail to understand any of it so you just weakly stare at him, cheek pressed to the floor of the cage and sweat slicking your skin. “You’re very small but you are really mean, you know that? Like this, you’re a lot cuter. You can’t tell me no and you can’t threaten me. We can finally spend some real time getting to know one another. I just need to keep you drugged up and you can stay here forever with me. You want that don’t you?” And he reaches inside of the cage to grip your face and force you to nod, “I knew it! See, we’re already getting along so well.”

His thumb massages your bottom lip. Then it slips inside. He thrusts it a few times but you are unable to really control your bodily functions so your mouth just hangs open and some drool spills from the corner of your lips. None of this impedes the sexual gratification he gets.

He chimes happily and takes his hand back.

“It was so haaaard finding chloroform and the other drugs I needed from the hospitals on the surface but now that I have you here with me I think it was well worth all that effort!” He signs, “I’ll need to be careful not to make you overdose. I want you pliant and docile—not dead~”

You groan, vision spinning, and try again to shake the bars of the cage but it proves as fruitless as the first endeavor.

“You aren’t trying to see how sturdy those bars are, right? Of course not! You think I’m so cute you just want to touch me, don’t you?” The Mindflayer coos and takes your hand and sets it atop his neon thigh.

Even in your drugged state you know that the last thing you want other than to be caged is to touch this creep. You try to yank your hand back but it simply falls off his thigh. Thinking it was an involuntary movement the Mindflayer sets your hand back in place. When you move it away again his shoulders stiffen and some of the long, whip-like wires connected to his visor start to writhe like serpents.

“There’s no need to be shy. You can touch me all you like.” He signs and now he tries to lay your hand flat on his stomach.

Something like a snarl tears from your throat and he freezes.

“You’re not being shy. You’re being mean again.” He signs with shaky, furious hands, “What? Am I not good enough for you still? I’m such a pretty color—the prettiest of colors—and I’m so soft and warm. What more could you ask for???”

He watches you for an unnerving amount of time.

Then he spreads his thighs and bares his cock to you.

It is as glaringly pink as the rest of him.

“Maybe you just need a little more convincing. Why don’t you watch me and you can see what you have been missing?” He signs before getting comfortable in front of your cage and beginning to stroke himself to full hardness.

Each time you close your eyes to make the world stop spinning he rattles the bars of the cage violently to startle you back into watching. You curl up on your side and deliriously watch him jerk himself off.

“There you go. Now you’re being good. I think you deserve a little treat.” The Mindflayer takes his hand off his cock to sign before standing on his knees and pressing himself flush to the cage, his length now sticking between two of the bars near your face. “Go on, you can have a taste. Say ahh~”

You just stare at him.

He reaches out, grips your face, and guides it towards his cock. Before it can even touch your lips you snap your teeth together with an ominous click—a warning.

He startles back.

Then he begins to shake all over.

The pink Mindflayer stands to his feet and starts to furiously jerk himself off.

He shivers and his cock twitches, spilling its messy artificial cum on your breasts and stomach. When his orgasm has finished he kneels back in front of you to admire the mess he made of you.

You gather all the saliva in your mouth and spit at him.

He goes completely rigid.

Then he lets out a mechanical shriek, horrified you would do such a thing, and he teleports to his bed to wipe himself clean on a sheet. Then he stalks back over to the cage, grabs it, and throws the entire thing across the room. The cage bangs loudly against a wall, denting it, but you are not harmed in the slightest, just nauseous from being tossed around. Seeing that you do not have a single bruise and that you are not trembling with fright pisses him off immensely.

The Mindflayer approaches you and starts kicking the cage until it becomes warped, leaving you no space at all to move.

“What is that white light? Why aren’t you hurt???” He signs in between his assaults.

The adrenaline that courses through you helps clear your mind even more.

Without even taking your eyes off him or closing them, you pray.

In a blink the bedroom is crowded.

Gabriel, V1, V2 and Lucifer are now standing in the middle of the room.

Before the Mindflayer can finish standing up he is sent flying towards the wall behind you, his limbs pierced with Gabriel’s divine spears which keeps him from teleporting.

It looks like he is being crucified.

“Do not kill him as of yet. I must read our kin’s mind to see what exactly has happened.” Lucifer explains darkly and approaches the cage to bend the bars apart like they are sapling trees instead of pure iron.

He sees you naked and despoiled and the room trembles with his fury. He scoops you out of the cage gently, carries you over to the bed and sits you down to wipe the artificial cum off you before pressing his helm to your forehead.

The room only shakes more as he sees how things have played out.

“Rue was drugged and kidnapped on their way to Lust. This fiend has not had them for long but in the short time that he has undeservingly been in their presence, he has attempted to use them carnally to no avail.” Lucifer explains.

V2 is borderline overheating from his rage, steam hissing out of each of his fans and his optic scarlet. He rushes over to the bed and checks your pupils then your pulse.

“He could have made them overdose.” Vee barely manages to get out through the static peppering his voice box, “Disgusting little freak. I need….I need to—”

Warning messages pop up all over his optic.

Lucifer shrugs out of his cloak and wraps it around you. Then he sets a clawed hand atop V2’s shoulder.

“I will make Rue sweat out the rest of the drugs. They are safe, my kin. They have been disrespected gravely, but they are alive.” He tells your lover.

V1 flocks over to the bed and helps you lay down with your head atop their blue thighs. They beep sadly repeatedly, caressing your sweat slicked face. You weakly try to touch them but fail.

They help you and lace your fingers together with theirs.

Gabriel walks over to stand in front of the crucified Mindflayer.

Splendor and Justice are clutched in both of his hands.

He swipes both of his blades upwards and cleaves the Mindflayer’s arms from his torso in a spray of blood.

The Mindflayer shrieks in pain and with his legs still pinned to the wall he cannot fall and instead folds in half, head bowed to everyone, his gaping wounds pouring blood like twin waterfalls.

“We are not finished with you.” And Gabriel brings a hand to each stump, the divinity shining from his palms and acting like a sort of plug. “There. Now the blood has slowed to a trickle. You are not getting out of this so easily. You will wish that all we did is kill you.”

With some of his ire abated Gabriel approaches the bed and holds your hand as Lucifer makes you sweat out the rest of the drugs in your system.

A pool forms underneath you.

After several minutes you are completely yourself again.

You sit up shakily and all of them hug you tightly.

V2 beeps, fans roaring as he cries. He is still teetering on a system shut down from overheating but he calms slightly when you kiss him.

“Now all that is left is to take care of the fiend.” Lucifer declares.

You shake your head.

“I cannot be the only one he’s done this to. There might be other husks nearby that he has been abusing. I would hate for them to be left here.” You say.

“I will check at once.” Gabriel says, “If I find any I will bring them back to our manor. Do not wait for me. There is no reason for you to suffer this awful place any longer, my love.”

He cups your face and kisses you.

Then he flies off.

“Let us kill him.” V1 signs, “Please. We’ll make him suffer. He’ll be so sorry.”

“You don’t need to stick around to watch us disembowel him. We’ll handle everything and you can just focus on feeling better, alright?” V2 adds.

“…Take care of him for me, please?” You ask quietly.

“Anything for you.” V2 says at an unsettling decibel as he pulls out his shotgun and gives it two pumps.

“Let us return to your home and wait for everyone’s return.” Lucifer says before teleporting.

Sometime later V1 and V2 return then all of you hear Gabriel teleporting into the foyer not long after.

All of you exit your bedroom and rush downstairs to greet your angel.

There are five husks held in his arms. They are weak and shaky. They shake even more when V1 and V2 approach.

“Please give them space,” Gabriel tells your other lovers, “They seem to have developed a fear of machines.” And once V1 and V2 shuffle back a fair amount your angel turns his attention to his older brother, “Lucifer, would you mind healing them? I am…unfortunately unable to heal at all, as it was never the purpose of my existence. I disposed of the additional machines that broke the peace treaty of Hell and scoured the nearby area for any victims but found only these five.”

Lucifer shrinks down to your size and approaches Gabriel and the husks with slow movements to not startle them. Your angel sets the husks gently on the ground and Lucifer kneels to lay a hand on each of them. Even after being healed the husks continue to whimper and shake.

All five of them flee to a corner of the foyer and there they remain despite all of Gabriel and Lucifer’s assurances.

You slip to the floor and crawl over to them, making sure to leave a fair amount of distance, before sitting on your folded legs.

“Shhh, shhh, my friends, you are safe now.” You tell them softly and open up your arms wide, “Would you like to be held? I also suffered at the hands of the Mindflayer. We are brethren in our suffering.”

The husks slowly peek their faces at you.

After a long, long time, one of them walks over to you and kneels. Then another, and another, until all five are grouped in front of you. You curl your arms around them and hold them close.

You sing quietly as you console them.

“You can live in this layer. There is plenty of room for you in the castle. You can each have your own room or share one together. I will ask the machines that reside in this layer to keep their distance from you. How does that sound?” You ask.

The husks nod frantically and cling to you even tighter.

Once they have calmed you exit your home and shepherd the husks towards the castle. You find a cozy room that you and Gabriel outfitted with bunk beds and the husks inspect it curiously.

They find great comfort in the fact that there is a door with a lock.

“There are clothes in the drawers. Would you like help dressing?” You offer and do not move a muscle until each of them nods.

You dress them in long sleeve shirts and pajama pants. With their bodies covered the group of husks stops shaking. Instead of each of them taking a bed for themselves they all pile into one.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed and offer them a reassuring smile.

“The manor you were brought to is my home. You are always welcome to visit. I am here for you should you need comfort or need help. You are not alone in your suffering. Know that with certainty, my friends.” You say.

One of the husks reaches out and sets their hand atop yours.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“Baby, won’t you let me in? I just want to check up on you. Pretty please?” V2 calls with a knock against your locked bedroom door.

You have not been feeling well. You keep waking up sweaty from nightmares about being caged. Even when you walk around your home you feel eyes on your back. You had felt fine the first day you were brought back home but as time progressed you felt worse and worse. You have not left the manor—not even to walk throughout the rest of Limbo. Most of the time you just stay in your bedroom like you are now. You are on the floor, arms crossed atop the bed with your face buried.

As quiet as you are trying to be V2 can definitely still hear you sniffling.

You ignore him but do not hear him retreat.

About an hour later he knocks again.

Then another hour.

Instead of a knock this time around there’s a loud crack then a wheeze as the door to your bedroom is blasted off. You look up from your arms with a startle and watch the smoke rise from Knuckleblaster to curl against the ceiling.

“You know I hate being ignored.” He grumbles as he gives his arm a shake to get rid of some of the wood chips that have dusted it.

His metal feet crunch against splintered wood as he walks over to you and kneel. He brushes some of your hair from your face and tucks it behind an ear.

He bumps his visor against your temple, beeping quietly.

V2 pulls you into his arms and rests his visor atop your head. His warm, solid body anchors you from the sea of turmoil in your mind. You hear his fans whining and the groan of servos as he begins rubbing your back. The tension in your body is cast out in the wake of his touch and you immediately slump against him and release a breath you had not been aware you’d been holding.

You cling to him even tighter.

“I’ve got you, babe, don’t worry.” He says in the quietest tone his voice box will allow it to be. “I wasn’t going to let you lock yourself away forever. You’re m-i-n-e. Some stupid door isn’t going to keep me from you.” His arm tightens around your waist and his fans pick up, “Just like how some freak isn’t going to steal you away from me—not for long.”

He curls a finger under your chin and lifts your face.

“Wanna know something?” He asks and when you nod weakly he continues, “I added a model to the Cybergrind that looks exactly like the pink Mindflayer. Vi and I have been tearing it to shreds.”

You huff a quiet laugh.

“Come on, lets hang out in my room.” V2 says while standing to his feet and holding you in the crook of one arm.

His room has been tidied for once and all the piles of things on the floor have been sorted and tucked away. His bed has been made and it looks like he mopped the floor. He usually keeps his room dark save for the meager blue light that spills in from the open window at the foot of his bed. The only other light tends to be his yellow-orange optic or the glow of whatever electronics he’s running but he’s lit a few candles on the night table. One of them is encased in glass so that must be where the nice smell is coming from.

“Skipped the flower petals on the bed. There’s enough of them all over the place. It’s like they fall off you or something.” V2 explains as he lays you down and sits on the edge, “Let’s get your mind off things. I have the perfect thing for us to do.”

He reaches under the bed and pulls out…a stringed instrument.

It is lacquered an eye catching shade of candy red. You’ve read enough modern books and magazines by now to know that this is an electric guitar. The entire time you have known V2 he has only ever shown interest in listening to music and seemed extremely bored with the concept of sitting down and learning how to play an instrument. You think the sudden interest is because of the main character of the video game series he favors.

“For us? You wanted us to learn electric guitar together?” You ask and reach out to stroke the strings. “It will be a little awkward with only one guitar.”

“Well I guess it’d be more like you helping me learn while also learning yourself? I don’t want to totally rely on you but it seems stupid not to have you help, right?”

“I can teach you how to read sheet music and we can both learn how to read guitar chords.” You agree, “How do you get this powered on…?”

V2 brings an amp and speaker from the storage room and sets it up. He shows you several times how to not make the speaker squeal yet he ends up doing it himself. He only grumbles a little at your laughter. You are thankful to see that he not only found the guitar but a case for it, books, picks and string.

V2 positions the guitar on his lap and gets familiar with the shape and weight. The barest graze of Knuckleblaster’s claws cut a string.

“Shit. Didn’t think about that…” He huffs.

“You won’t be able to touch all the strings with three fingers either. Are there left handed guitars?” You ask.

“Probably but I don’t feel like going back to the surface so soon again ughhhh.”

“I can start learning first and then I’ll have a better time teaching you.” You offer.

“Fiiiiine.” He relents and hands over the guitar to you before pulling you atop his lap. He sets the open book on your thighs and with his visor resting on your shoulder you can hear each time his optic sharpens as it zooms in to read.

He is quiet as he watches you try out the different finger positioning then work through a few chords when you are more familiar with the placement of everything. Being held like this, being somewhere other than your room and having something to stimulate your mind is exactly what you needed.

You feel leagues better than you did hours ago.

“Done for now?” V2 speaks up when your hands still, “I’ll tuck it in the case. It’s maintenance time.”

You start to get up to grab the tool box but he pushes you back down.

“Maintenance for you not me.” He clarifies.

He brings a clear plastic case and a damp cloth. He returns to sit cross legged in front of you and starts unpacking things from the case. It’s a bunch of glass jars with paint and what you assume to be the accessories for them.

“You know those old TV recordings we’ve been watching with the cassette player I fixed up? I found a beauty segment about nailcare.” V2 explains as he first wipes your hands with the damp cloth to rid the natural sweat and grime. He trims and cleans your nails, the mess tucked away in the cloth he folds up and sets aside. “…I like your hands a lot so I wanted to learn how to take care of them.”

Your eyes soften as you smile at him.

“You are so sweet.” You say and he sits up proudly, optic sparkling.

He holds your left hand while he unscrews the top off the nail polish.

“You don’t mind red, do you?” V2 teases as he starts painting your nails without waiting for an answer. He does it skillfully, dragging the small brush up and down in smooth, even strokes and keeping the paint to your nail alone.

“Not at all.”

V2 paints your nails one by one then has you hold them awkwardly in front of yourself, fingers spread out, so they can dry. Nails dried, he paints them again but this time with something clear. You repeat the process of holding your hands out to dry then he gathers everything and puts it on the floor. He sits at the head of the bed, pulls your back to his chest, and returns his attention to your hands to now start massaging them.

He uses Knuckleblaster to hold your wrist while he uses his five fingered hand to massage his thumb in soothing circles against your palm. You sigh and relax against him. He rubs his thumb into shapes: a heart, a frown, then the letter V. Then he traces the life lines that are interrupted by the thick scarring on your left hand from all the times you used to cut it. The scarring makes his touch feel duller but it’s still pleasant.

Your breath catches in your throat when he starts lightly pinching at the webbing bridging each finger together. It feels strange and intimate. The heat that has been coiling in your belly since your lover began giving your hands attention sparks even further. Each finger is stroked then the knuckles popped. Gliding the sharps of Knuckleblaster up and down your wrist makes you bite back a moan.

“Yeah? That feel good?” V2 asks.

You nod rapidly and he lets out a cheery beep.

“Gorgeous.” He tells you as he nuzzles his visor against your cheek, “You want some more attention?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Stay just like this. I’ll take care of everything.” V2 instructs with almost a purr.

He curls a foot around your ankle and spreads your thighs wide. Then he pulls you up a little higher against him, visor resting atop your shoulder now as he reaches between your thighs and massages two fingers over your clothed folds. The fabric adds nice friction and you arch into his touch eagerly.

Knuckleblaster teases its claws over your garments and circles your nipples, working each of them to perfect stiffness while the fingers stimulating you become faster, firmer, rubbing stubbornly now against your clit. You break out into a sweat and whine your lovers name repeatedly as he gets you worked up. He brackets the hood of your clit with his index and middle finger then turns the vibrations on. You writhe against V2, skin feeling like it was on fire. The vibrations increase in strength little by little until it becomes way more than your body can handle and you cum with a shaky, hysterical noise before slumping, your thighs sticky and trembling.

Vee rolls you over so you can cuddle with him but as soon as you’re facing him you surge forward and press your lips flush to his optic. He never complains about how much you smudge up the screen. You blind him with kisses then trace his mechanical pecs with a finger.

“Can I see?” You ask, gently tugging at his chest, “It’s been a while. I miss seeing you.”

A puff of steam hisses out.

“Eyes on me.” V2 instructs unsteadily like he had just swallowed. He reaches inside his chest, presses a button, and both halves of his chest click and pop. Breathing hard and maintaining eye contact, he spreads himself open and lays himself bare to you.

“You are so handsome.” You compliment with a little sigh, “Pristine and perfect.”

You admire his artificial heart, the two metal boxes that work as his lungs, the thick fuel lines and the neat bundles of black wiring that sits like a coiled snake in his stomach. You reach out with one hand but do not touch, watching him for permission.

“Touch me. Stare at me. I’m yours.” He tells you.

He is shaking before you even touch him. When your fingers do brush against some wiring V2 beeps loudly and his hips buck.

“Did that hurt?”

“N-Nah. Fuck, it really has been a while.” He says with an awkward laugh, “Can you go slow? Please?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I like taking my time with you anyways.”

You caress his innards with the gentlest of hands. His cock is pressing against your backside and leaking excessively. He does not grind against you so you do not pay that part of him any mind and put your entire focus on tracing the wires of his stomach. You curl a finger around a bundle of wires and give it a light squeeze.

“Fuck!!” Vee moans in garbled static, his hands flying to the sheets for purchase, “Your hands feel so good. I want more—I want it deeper. I’ll never get over the feeling of you inside me.”

The things he is saying makes your head spin.

“Deeper? Like this?” You ask and release the wires you were toying with to sink your hand further into his chest cavity, now grasping a bundle of wiring almost as thick as your forearm before squeezing.

Your lover shrieks in his pleasure and Knuckleblaster tears through the sheets.

You feel his cock soak your back.

“It kind of freaks me out how much I’ve always liked you doing this. Everything feels so raw and…vulnerable.”

“Do you want me to stop, my love?”

“I think I don’t ever want you to stop.” He admits in a rare display of shyness, “Shit, this is so weird. It’s like you’re fucking me. It’s like I’m a woman. But if its like this its fine. With you it’s…”

His optic flushes pink as he moans again.

“With you I feel fucking perfect.” He says quietly.

“You are perfect.” You tell him and start squeezing the wires in your hands intermittently, always stopping just shy of his fans overheating before you allow him time to calm down and start the process over again. You are struck by an idea. “Do you want some blood?”

“Fuck yeah. Fill me.”

“I want to try doing something. Please tell me if it hurts.”

You curl your hand around his beating heart, some of the fuel lines between your fingers, and the warmth and weight of it is almost like a breast. V2’s fans start wailing and he curses repeatedly as you lean your face closer and closer, breath now tickling the pulsing organ in your hand, and with a little concentration you make blood spill from your lips and press the bloodiest of kisses to his heart.

“R-Rue…! I can’t—it’s so fucking good. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“My precious sweetheart.” You coo, rubbing your bloody lips over the silicone exterior of his heart. You nurse a little at a fuel line, mindful of your teeth, and V2 emits loud static before his systems shut off one by one.

You take your hand from around his heart, wipe his cock clean, then yourself, and lay down beside him to wait patiently for him to wake up. It takes a while this time but as V2 boots up you are reassured by the lack of error or warning messages on his optic before it flicks on to its usual amber.

He shuts his chest plates, turns his visor towards you, then his optic instantly turns pink and he looks away.

You think he’s embarrassed about some of the things he said.

“I feel a lot better.” You tell him.

“…Yeah?”

You hum.

The two of you hear footsteps coming up the stairs. A minute later the door to his bedroom opens and V1 waltzes inside.

They hold up the remnants of the handle to your bedroom door.

They crane their visor to the side curiously.

“Got sick of waiting.” Is all V2 says in regard to that before making himself more comfortable.

V1, satisfied, tosses the handle aside and jumps into bed.

“You didn’t let me cheer you up.” V1 signs then crosses their arms as if pouting.

“No one’s stopping you from cheering them up now, dummy.” V2 argues.

With a series of beeps that sound like offended grumbling, V1 grabs the nail supplies off the floor and sits on their folded legs at your feet. You are made to lay on your back and set a foot atop their blue thighs. V2 complains about having to switch positions but now as he lazes on his side with his visor in hand he seems to take great satisfaction in verbally explaining to V1 how to properly paint your nails.

Vi of course does every nail in blue.

After admiring their work they start massaging your feet.

“I know you’ve got some feelings about how you used to look versus how you look now, but is there anything you’re happy about not having anymore?” V2 asks very suddenly but no less sincerely.

You stare at him, blinking, then give the question proper respect and think for a while.

“I honestly never thought about it.” You answer, “I was so focused on what was missing that I never appreciated that there might be something gained from the loss. Now that I am thinking about it, the first thing I don’t miss that comes to mind is bleeding every month.”

“You were injured every month??” V1 takes their hands off your feet to sign, optic wide.

“All human women are injured every month.” V2 answers thoughtfully instead of mocking them, “Its called menstruation. Their body preps for a baby, if one isn’t made, then all the stuff they made to prep for it is discarded.”

“Stuff???” V1 signs.

“Uterine tissue, blood—that kind of stuff.” V2 replies, then pauses as if there had been a shift in the air you failed to notice, “…Your fans started roaring the second I mentioned blood. Did the idea of fucking a human while they’re bleeding get you worked up?”

Vi squirms then looks away.

They nod shyly.

“We spill blood during sex already, no?” You say to V1.

“Something about it just spilling out of you is different…” They sign.

You hum, thinking, and sit up to roll V1’s hoodie over their head then remove their bralette before guiding them to lay down on their back. V2 whistles and gropes at their petite, mechanical breasts as you settle to stand on your knees above them. Your knees bracket their chest.

You pinch the fabric of your robes and lift slowly to expose yourself, a wry smile on your face as Vi begins to squirm and twitch in their excitement. You concentrate and then feel the ticklish sensation of blood dripping from your folds. It feels extremely strange but the first drop of blood that lands on Vi’s breasts elicits such a powerful reaction from them that you immediately make peace with the sensation.

Vi beeps happily and paws at their breasts to smear your blood all over. Their fans are noisy and the plating between their legs has slid away and revealed their glistening blue cunt. It is like the more blood you spill the wetter they become. They writhe against the torn sheets and beep loudly when V2 swipes two of his fingers into your blood and thrusts them right inside.

“You’re so cute.” V2 says affectionately as he fucks them roughly with his fingers, “We’ll give you everything you need, baby.”

V1’s optic flushes pink and their back arches hard. A pretty, wavering chime escapes their voice box as they finish. You watch the remnants of your blood be absorbed into the blue plating of their chest as their systems calm down. You wipe yourself clean then settle down in bed with V1 sandwiched between you and V2.

“This is almost perfect.” V1 signs, “Definitely missing something.”

“Someone.” You correct with a sigh, thinking again of how many days Gabriel has been working in Heaven, and figuring that you all have suffered his absence long enough you pray to him to come home regardless of what he is currently in the middle of doing.

There is no response for a few seconds.

Then divine light shines through the bedroom.

It’s not Gabriel.

It is a Virtue.

It is strange just seeing one of them. Even stranger to see that this one has a golden box affixed to the chains around its spherical body. The lesser angel flies over to the bed and lands atop your lap, its large body partially would be blocking all else from sight if not for the fact that its semi-transparent.

“Hello.” You greet the Virtue and give it a kiss, “You are not my lover—did he send you in his stead?”

The Virtue’s halo brightens and they bump the box against you until you lift the lid and take what is inside: a folded parchment sealed with gold wax.

You take Knuckleblaster and use a claw like a letter opener and give the letter a read.

‘Forgive me, beloved, but I am entrenched in work and do not think I can take my leave as of right now. I will make sure to spend all of my time with you when I have finished and returned. Please give V1 and V2 my love’, is what Gabriel had written.

You frown.

You thank the Virtue, wait for it to leave, then pray to your angel again.

“…I thought after a few days I would be able to move past the incident with the Mindflayer but it is still lingering with me. Our loves have been taking care of me but I want you here with me as well. I miss you so much.”

There is a flash against your eyelids the very second you stop praying.

You open your eyes and find Gabriel standing in the middle of the room. You offer him a smile but it’s a small, weary thing. He strips out of his armor hastily and crawls into bed to lay on his back and hold the three of you against his front. You rub your face against his silky, dark skin, inhaling deeply as you enjoy his scent and the firmness of his muscles.

He starts running his fingers through your hair and V2 laughs a little at how quickly you go boneless under Gabriel’s touch.

“I did not mean to be away from home for as long as I have been. Time tends to slip right by us older beings and the work in Heaven never ceases.” Gabriel speaks up at last, his voice soft and very contrite, “I will remain home for a while. Is there anything I may do to brighten your spirit, my muse?”

“You have already brightened it by being here. Just…please keep holding me.”

“I will hold you until the last star goes out.”

“Fruit.” V2 mumbles and V1’s shoulders shake as they repeatedly beep in a telling manner.

“EXCUSE ME!?” Gabriel squawks, wings puffing out, “Perhaps I will take Rue all for myself and two of us will cuddle in our bedroom in private.”

“Door’s broken.” V1 signs.

“W-What? How?” Your angel balks.

“I was being stubborn in my misery.” You explain, “I wouldn’t let V1 or V2 see me and I kept the door locked for hours.”

“Ah, I see. How disheartening. I suppose thanks are in order for taking care of our lover in my absence. I will let the insult from earlier slide.” Gabriel tells V2.

“Yeah? Why don’t you thank me by letting my dick slide between your—” V2 begins but the rest is unclear to you because Gabriel teleports.

Gabriel materializes in your bedroom with you in his arms, walks over to the bed and tucks both of you under the sheets as if that will be enough to muffle V2’s laughter or grant either of you true privacy.

“He is lucky he is so handsome, otherwise I would not tolerate half of what he says.” Gabriel huffs, the broadness of his wings making a sort of ceiling in the sheets and like this the two of you are tucked away in a soft, candlelit world of linens and your shared heartbeats.

“Gaaaaabby, I’m sorry~! I didn’t mean it!” V2 hollers from down the hall but he’s still laughing way too much to even fake sincerity.

You hear two sets of mechanical feet and servos approaching the doorway.

The two of you decide to ignore them.

“Oh, I see how it is. You want me to rip the sheets off like I did the door? Fine by me.” He says and walks over to the bed. Before he can grab the sheets, Gabriel shoots out his arms and captures V2 by the middle. “H-HEY!”

V2 is dragged kicking and beeping under the sheets, unable to fight against Gabriel’s natural strength. It is a wonder how the sheet stays over the three of you while the two of them wrestle.

What stops the two of them is V1 jumping atop the sheets.

You are the first to crawl out, not wanting to get squished, but V1 captures you and drags you right back in. Tangled in the sheets the four of you end up falling off the bed in a pile.

It is silent for a long while.

Gabriel snorts.

Then he starts giggling hysterically. You follow right after him, hiccupping with your laughter, and while V2 grumbles a bit at first he lets himself be lured in by the silliness of everything and gives a few handsome ‘HEH HEH’s.

There is distressed beeping.

“O-Oh! Apologies.” Gabriel says before getting off V1, who he had been partly sitting on.

“Enough of the dumbass games let’s cuddle in bed already.” V2 says.

“Even though I’m a fruit ?” Your angel snips.

“Prettiest peach in Heaven.” V2 says and grabs a handful of Gabriel’s ass as he stands up.

The four of you settle into your bed properly. It is only now that Gabriel notices that your nails have been painted.

“You have such lovely hands and feet, yet they are so strong for a mortal.” He remarks as he lazes on his side and holds your hand, “It is a shame I have not gifted you any rings as of yet. Are you fond of them?”

“I never wore any jewelry in my time alive save for the pins and brooches I used to style my garments. It was not until we became lovers that I discovered an appreciation for finery.” You explain.

“So you would not be opposed to receiving a few rings?”

“I love and appreciate everything that you gift me, dove.”

Gabriel hums then becomes quiet, content to lay on his stomach with his helmet cradled against his arms. V1 lays atop him using him like a pillow, while V2 curls around you with an arm around your stomach.

You think everyone is preparing to sleep until your angel speaks up again.

“In modern times humans exchanged rings on their wedding day.” Gabriel says quietly, like these words are a secret not meant for your ears, “I witnessed a few of the ceremonies the rare times I explored the earth in my free time. They are truly wonderful. You can feel the reverence and love as tangibly as you would a hand on your shoulder.”

You stiffen, blinking rapidly as you come to the realization of something.

“…Gabriel, are you confessing only now that being married is something you are interested in?” You ask delicately.

“I-I never considered such a thing possible for a being such as myself!” He tells you, wings pink, “Being an angel—being the right hand of my father; I thought that was all I could be, given it was the purpose of my creation, but the life I share with the three of you now as a man…” He inhales shakily, temporarily tongue-tied from his emotions, “It is easy to imagine a married life. Very easy.”

“You have brought a light to the matter but left me in the dark still. Tell me plainly: do you wish to be married?” You press.

Gabriel hides his face in his arms as he feels everyone’s attention go to him. V1 even rolls off his back to peer at him, poking his bicep a few times.

“You have never shown interest in marriage. The opposite, in fact: you detest anything that binds you. I am deeply content with how things are now. I would never want to pressure you into something—” Gabriel protests.

“Beautiful angel of mine.” You say sternly and nothing more.

You are made to wait but not for long.

“…I would be honored to marry you three.” Gabriel at last spits out.

“As would I.” You say and when he gasps, helm snapping up to whip towards you, you give him a bright smile, “Vi, Vee, what are your opinions on the matter?”

“Sure, I’ll be your husband. Dunno how I’m going to wear a ring, though. It goes on the left hand and I’m the only one missing a ring finger on theirs.” V2 says, holding up Knuckleblaster to prove his point.

“Rings would get in the way of our finger joints.” V1 signs, “Or it’d just slip off. We could wear the rings on a chain like our ‘BFF’ necklaces. We would need a lot of rings too. Three for each of us is twelve rings in total. We could loot a jewelry shop on the surface?”

“I will have them crafted in Heaven!” Gabriel sits up at once to say, offended by the idea of using ‘leftovers’, “Our rings should be personalized. Special. Gold and silver bands are traditional but there is no reason for us to be completely traditional. Oh! Are we having a ceremony? We would need to prepare so much! A location would need to be decided on, we would need to invite our family and friends, and of course gathering decorations—”

He quiets as he notices all of you staring at him again.

“It sounds like you want to get married way more than you were letting on.” V1 signs before reaching out and curling their hand into one of Gabriel’s.

“Perhaps.” Gabriel admits with a nervous laugh, “But none of this would matter to me if the three of you did not also want it.”

“We want it.” V2 assures and takes his other hand to kiss the top of it.

You scoot over closer and wrap your arms around the three of them. Gabriel extends his wings out and curls them around you all. He kisses V1, V2, then you, and not a second after he leans away from you another giggle sneaks out of him.

“Married! Me ?” He gushes incredulously.

Notes:

(´｡• ω •｡`) ♡

Chapter 19: rue/gabriel/v2/v1 pt 4 + rue/minos/sisyphus

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“So…” Gabriel begins, tapping his quill repeatedly against the parchment in his hands as he paces around the room in the castle the four of you have decided on being the destination of your wedding, “We have a location. We’ve already started on decorations, furniture and rings. That leaves inviting everyone, clothing, and allocating what roles our friends and family will take.”

“I’ll invite everyone.” You offer, “And for roles we should have Lucifer officiate things. It’s supposed to be done by a priest, right? Having one’s Lord do it instead is even better. I would like Raphael to be our ring-bearer.”

“And who’s going to walk down the aisles with the brides?” V2 speaks up.

“Want you to walk me down the aisle.” V1 signs at V2 shyly.

“HUH? You do?” He asks loudly in his shock.

Vi nods furiously.

V2 looks away, steam puffing from his chest.

“…That’d make me happy.” V2 confesses quietly.

Vi beeps happily and slips their hand into V2’s to give it a squeeze. He’s still looking away but you’re sure that his optic is pink.

“I would like Michael to walk with me.” Gabriel decides. “He has been there for me many times in my life and…I want to make sure that he knows that my love for him has not wavered in the slightest.”

You know exactly what he’s referring to.

“You are being walked down? So you’re taking the role of a bride?” You ask Gabriel.

His wings puff out.

“Is that acceptable?” He asks with a touch of anxiety.

“Of course, my love. So that makes two dresses we’ll need at the minimum. I could wear something traditional to my time and you could wear a modern wedding dress.”

“A tux for me, obviously.” V2 says.

“I don’t know what I should wear. I don’t like dresses. But I don’t want to wear a suit…” V1 signs.

“You could wear a nice blouse and a skirt?” Gabriel suggests.

“That’s perfect! I like skirts~” V1 chimes, hands gleeful in their motions.

“We’ll need accessories as well. A tie, garter belts, veils.” Your angel hums and adds even more to the list. He clears his throat, suddenly shrinking inward as if expecting sharp ridicule as he speaks again, “Additionally, I wanted to propose that until the ceremony we abstain from coupling with one another. I thought it would make things special.”

“WHAT?” V2 squawks in static, “We better get married tomorrow if that’s the case.”

“You can still please yourself.” Gabriel clarifies and immediately V2’s demeanor relaxes.

“That’s still torture but…if that’s what you want, babe. Ugh." He huffs.

“As long as we can still cuddle I don’t care.” V1 signs.

Three sets of gazes turn towards you.

You cross your arms loosely, turning away and acting like you don’t notice.

“I should mention that this agreement includes coupling with our friends.” Gabriel adds.

“…So be it. For you, angel, I would do anything.” You relent with a sigh.

To be honest you could not remember when you had ever abstained from sex outside of the week of your monthly bleeding back when you were alive. Your stomach would ache if you ate too much and you would become sick if you drank too much wine but sex? So long as it was clean and consensual you could never have enough of it. You have yet to find a limit to your desires and that only becomes exacerbated in the face of what a total neglect of it might bring about.

It comes as no surprise that V1 immediately makes a bet with V2 on which one of you will end up breaking the agreement.

“With both of us out of commission Hell is going to be in a desperate need of a fuck.” V2 jokes and holds up his hand.

You clap your hand against his and give it a shake, a mischievous curl to your lips.

“Aurora and Glacia are going to be upset with us.” You tell him.

“Not half as upset as your boy toys.”

“Boy toys? Do you mean Minos and Sisyphus—” You begin to ask but all four of your attention is captured by the arrival of the divine and craning your face to the side you peek over your shoulder and see that Raphael has come to visit. Just seeing your child brightens your spirit but you are not able to rejoice for long. “…My dear, what is wrong? Has something happened?”

Raphael’s wings are the most fluffed out you may have ever seen them and they are a glaring shade of yellow, like the sun had been rung out of its saturation like a drenched towel over their wings the plumage subsequently dyed. The small angel’s robed shoulders are rigid, their gloved hands balled into shaking fists at their side. With their cloak raised and their head bowed, you are unable to see Raphael’s helm.

You stand up from your chair at the table in the foyer, readying to approach them, but are unable to take even a single step when Raphael’s head lifts and reveals the red and yellow despoiling it, making you give significant pause.

“Mother…” Raphael calls out miserably, their soft voice as shaky as their hands, fragile like a clay pot that had not been fired correctly and would shatter at the slightest of touches. There is a flap of wings, a gust, then your child is on you, arms wrapped around your frame so tightly that it curves your spine; a tree bowing down to a great gale.

You wrap an arm around their waist and cup a hand to the back of their helm, guiding it towards the soothing warmth of your neck. Raphael is about an inch taller than you and the weightiest thing about their form were their wings, so you think you should have no problem carrying them to the garden but again, before you can enact the thought, Raphael strikes first, suddenly bending at the knees to scoop you into their arms, your legs wrapped around their slender waist.

Without even a proper word of greeting to the rest of their family, Raphael carries you towards the garden, having either a great memory of the layout of your manor or some preternatural ability to avoid tripping.

Raphael nudges open the doors to the garden with their foot and rushes inside to lay you on the grass on your back. They remain hovering over you, audibly breathing unevenly, either of their hands bracketing your head. You reach out slowly and cup the cheek of their helm. They make a pitiful sound, leaning into the touch desperately.

“Won’t you tell me what is wrong, my love?” You entreat.

“…I have never wanted to harm another creature in all of my existence. Not once—not even against the terrible beings that harmed the first family of humans after the week of Creation. But that Mindflayer,” Raphael spits the last word like it is bitter medicine, the fury in the small angel’s body becoming too much for it to withstand, “All I can think about is hurting him. It frightens me how much I want to hurt him.”

“He has suffered a gruesome end, I promise.” You try to assure but Raphael shakes their helm side to side in protest.

“It is not enough!” They tell you, every second another new feather puffing out and becoming disorganized, “He deserves even worse. I hate him. I hate him so much.” Raphael pauses and instead of laying down atop you they adjust to sit on their folded knees just above where your head sits to pull it atop their lap.

Raphael is whispering furiously under their breath as you gaze up at them. The words do not make you recoil or dizzy so it is not them flinging curses at the dead Mindflayer. First with the left, then the right, they peel off their gloves to reveal their thin, delicate hands. A soft hand is cupped to your forehead and you feel a warm, tingling sensation burgeoning from it. It felt as if someone had gotten a telescope’s lens and held it in the way of a sunbeam and concentrated the light right at your face. It’s the kind of warmth you have no choice but to move closer towards, the kind of warmth that only a roaring fire during a storm could provide.

Your eyes flutter shut soon enough whether you order them to or not.

The soft yellow light that starts from the hand cupping your forehead spreads to the entire length of your body. It reminds you of when your Idol protects you, but the light engulfing you currently is not without sensation—there is tingling, like a limb having fallen asleep then disturbed, and this bright, uplifting feeling that chases just behind it in what could only be concentrated glee. It feels a little overwhelming at first. Too good. Too much. It fluctuates and wanes until perfecting into something that your body, your very soul, seems to be in dire need of, clinging to it now with all the finesse of a man drowning at sea.

It feels healing.

…It is healing, you realize belatedly.

You felt similar when Raphael healed your injuries when the incident with Michael occurred. This is the responsibility that your child governed in Heaven—tending to both the physical and spiritual wounds of others. All stiffness melts from your body and you are left boneless. Thoughtless. All of your senses sort of haze and mush together. It is the soft bridge of almost sleep.

Raphael’s hand glides down to cup your eyes. They were already closed from relaxation but something about the weight of the hand against you makes you realize that even with your eyes closed there was still stimuli from the artificial moonlight and the lamps. Like this, your brain sends little messages for your eyes to fully relax and things begin to feel impossibly better. Your child’s other hand slips into your wild hair, starting at the tips and combing gently towards the roots. Not once do their fingers snag even though the pain would be lost to you. Your hair is dexterously worked through section by section and once cared for, Raphael settles their fingers against your scalp and begins to lightly scratch their nails in circles repeatedly.

Time floats on mysteriously…

The light eventually recedes and so does the warmth. All that remains is a marrow deep serenity and a bolstered sense of self.

“Your soul is lighter.” Raphael remarks wearily, “Do you feel any better? I am sorry that this is all I can offer to ease your suffering, mother. I cannot give you blessings to protect you from pain like Lucifer, and I am sequestered in Heaven so much that I could never even dream of keeping you safe here in Hell.”

They swallow hard and turn away.

Raphael starts sniffling in a very telling manner.

You sit up and pull them close. You press their helm to your bosom and begin to pet them, singing softly all the while. Raphael’s rigid positioning eases until they are spread out, half laying atop you with their helm nestled against your chest. The softness of your body, your warmth and your voice is like a balm to their upset.

“Little cherub of mine, please don’t cry. Just as I comfort you, you comfort me. Do not dismiss how much I love you nor how much you do for me.” You coo at them and they whine, nuzzling against you, “Shhh, you must be tired now. You told me that tending to others was taxing.”

“I am not tired. I want to keep soothing you.” Raphael argues.

“It is you that is in need of soothing now.” You tut and guide them to lay on their side with you so you can hug them more comfortably.

It helps but they are still restless in your arms—still in need of something but unknowing of what it is. Raphael keeps rubbing their helm furiously against your robed chest, looking almost as if they were polishing the divine metal. It makes you think of the nights you used to share in the early days of your relationship with Gabriel; the nights when you were in such need of physical touch, any sort of proof that you were not alone and that your brain was not playing tricks on you that you had adhered yourself to your lover, every inch of you touching every inch of him.

You gently push Raphael’s helm away and they protest, but you only need a second to adjust before you settle right back down. You had only wanted to unfasten your robes and reveal your cleavage. Seeing your skin, Raphael eagerly dives back in, helm completely smushed between your breasts, and once they have their arms curled around your waist tightly, only now do they seem to discover the same comfort they have gifted you.

“Yes, just like that, cherub. Be calm. Everything is fine. I am safe and you are here with me.” You tell them.

“I love you. I do not ever want to leave your embrace. I wish to stay like this forever.” Raphael whispers sweetly.

“Forever?” You hum, amused, “If we stay on the floor like this forever it will make attending my wedding difficult.”

“Wedding??” Raphael repeats, confused, and when they peek up at you and see that you are not just being silly, they gasp sharply, “Oh, what joy! And congratulations! Please tell me that I may help you with preparations!”

"Of course. I was hoping that you would be our ring bearer."

"I would be honored!" They say, forgetting all about their upset.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

“You have a habit of startling me in this exact room.” You remark nonchalantly to Michael from where you are seated in front of the waterfall in Limbo doing laundry. He has just stepped through the doorway and like clockwork, no matter if it has been several seconds or weeks since the last he saw you, whenever Michael sees you he always goes completely still for a breath as if astounded by your existence.

It is very much how he behaved in the dream you shared recently—the one where he discovered you to be some child of the forest just waiting to be found by him. There is always so much reverence and love to be found in Michael’s gazes, of which were many. You always seemed to catch him staring or just shy of building up the confidence to touch you in some way.

You are not even sure if he is aware of just how much he stares at you.

He simply cannot seem to help himself.

“It certainly seems that way, yes.” Michael agrees with a breathy little laugh as he enters the room properly and approaches with his arms looped behind his back as he tends to when they are not crossed over his massive chest, “I would have visited sooner but it took a while to calm down Lucie and Hell has a habit of becoming very inhospitable whenever he is upset.” He explains as he seats himself beside you and rolls up the sleeves of his button up to the elbow before turning his attention to the pile of dirty clothes you were working on, “May I assist?”

You split the rest of the pile in half and the two of you fall into the work.

“I was surprised by how calm Lucie was when he arrived with the others.” You say.

“He is aware of how intimidating he can be to others and makes great effort to remain at least visibly calm. The second he came back home it was another story. Never have I heard him hiss up such a storm. The things he was saying—the hostility behind his profane words blackened our home like tar and made the seas of Wrath churn. All of the flowers wilted and had to be replaced.” He explains with a laborious sigh, “Not only that, but his clawed feet make these little embers when he’s upset. It is like someone sparking flint. I find it very charming but he scorched the wooden flooring in several places…”

You imagine burnt foot prints all over the cottage and a laugh steals from you before you can cup a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound.

“R-Rue! It was no laughing matter! Although, I admit the scorch marks do add a ‘lived in’ touch to our home…” Michael says, huffing, “Lucifer was not the only one that needed to be calmed. When he informed me of what happened I—I came here straight away with the intention to gather my old armor and halberd. It felt so natural to have an enemy to point my weapon at again. The intensity in which I craved violence after giving up my armaments, even while justified, shook me to my core.”

You set the sopping wet clothes aside and give your full attention to your kin. You take his wet hands into yours and lace your fingers together.

You give his so much larger, warmer hands a comforting squeeze.

“I understand the feeling.” You remind him with a little sigh.

You take a few calming breaths then lean over and press your face to his helm. You share the unceasing, acidic hatred that had fueled someone as peaceful as you into premeditated murder back in your mortal days. The memory of the church members crawling out of shattered windows to escape the fire like maggots fleeing a disturbed corpse fills you with the sickest, deepest satisfaction you may have perhaps ever felt in your existence.

When you separate from Michael he is breathing hard.

“Yes. Y-Yes you certainly do.” He agrees, and after a long stretch of tense silence he clears his throat and speaks up again, “On a far brighter note, I wished to extend my congratulations on the betrothal and express my deepest gratitude not only for being invited to attend but to have the honor of walking my brother down the aisle.”

“Thank you, dear. We are all very excited for the ceremony—although not half as much as Gabriel.”

“I have never seen him so radiant! Whenever he returns to Heaven all the Virtues flock over to him, drawn by the love that exudes from him. One of my siblings told me that when they passed Gabriel’s quarters they have even heard him singing as he works.” Michael says.

A love-struck smile spreads across your face.

“He is so precious.” You hum.

“Talks of a wedding have brightened everyone’s moods. It has certainly made my workload easier to tolerate now that there is something to look forward to. Please let me know if there is anything else I can assist with! Whether it be gathering materials from the surface or helping you build things.”

“Oh? I wouldn’t want to overwork my family.” You tell him.

“It is no trouble!” He assures very loudly then clears his throat, “…I find planning things like this to be very enjoyable.”

“Maybe the next wedding will be yours and Lucie’s.” You remark and the angel's wings turn completely pink.

“Getting married feels far too soon! It feels like we are still catching up for all the time that was lost.” He says with acute embarrassment.

“You have known each other for thousands of years.”

“We have only been together for a very, very small portion of those years!”

“Fair enough.” You acquiesce, “If and when you do decide on a wedding, I reserve the right to officiate it. That’s within my power as a disciple of Lucifer, yes?”

“Yes, it is very well within your right.”

“...You do not sound happy about that.” You remark.

“It is only—I was hoping that it would be you that walked me down the aisle if I were blessed to be married…” He confesses.

“Then I will lead one handsome groom to the other while Gabriel officiates things as the leader of Heaven.” You amend.

Michael, elated, sits back up and pulls you to seat you atop one of his muscular thighs. He cups your face with both hands and nuzzles his helm against you. You smile against the barrage of kisses you are served. Michael makes a very cute noise when you kiss him back just as happily, like he was surprised you were reciprocating despite all the intimacy the two of you have shared.

It feels good just sitting in his lap kissing him. Your hands wander idly, fingertips floating across his broad shoulders, marveling at the way there is no give—just hard, solid muscle underneath your touch. If you wanted something soft your hands would need to dance over to his plentiful breasts or the pouch of fat that sits just below his well-defined abs.

You truly had just meant to have a taste and return to the laundry but your hands explore further now, insatiable, as your face leans away from Michael’s to hover just over the curve of his neck. Your breath fans against his skin and he shivers. He shivers again for each kiss you press to his pulse. When you playfully nip at him his hands fly to your hips and give a tight squeeze.

You hum approvingly, smiling as you open your mouth further in preparation of leaving a love bite when you freeze, remembering something.

You groan and slump your face against the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“What is wrong?” He asks.

“My lovers and I promised to refrain from sex until the wedding.” You regrettably confess, duty-bound to uphold this agreement—just the word ‘duty bound’ makes you wince with affront, “I did not mean to rile you up. Forgive me.”

“Surely kissing is still acceptable?” He presses, no expression to be found on his helm but every part of his body language screaming with hope. You surge forward and pepper the front of his helm with kisses in answer. Something like a gasp and squawk startles out of his throat. “A-And some touching?” He adds, less hopeful and more a polite sort of desperate now.

You trace the icon of the four-pointed star on the front of his helm with the tip of your tongue, staring right him as you do, eyes half-mast and breath tickling him. His hands cup your breasts, one of them large enough to cover the entire expanse of your chest.

Michael has always been especially sensitive to intimate touches and even after your many shared couplings with one another or with Lucifer he remains just as responsive.

He was like a finely tuned instrument just begging to be played with. Your fingertips twitch with the desire. You latch your mouth onto his neck and suck hard, pawing at him with frantic hunger when his throat rumbles with the pretty moan he lets out, the vibrations tickling your lips. You tongue at the divots left behind by your teeth like an animal tracking signs to a burrow, the tip of your tongue stopping at the proverbial den entrance of his collarbones.

Your hips move on their own to grind your folds against his thigh. Your efforts make an impressive wet spot on his dark slacks. The drag of fabric against your clit only gets better when Michael slips his thumb into your mouth. He swallows hard, enraptured with how pliant your mouth is and how every part of him is always welcomed to nestle as deeply as it can within you. You moan, flicking your tongue against the pad of his thumb while you ride his thigh harder.

“I can see the outline of your cock.” You purr at him as you kitten lick his thumb, your hand lowering to cup the shape of his strap, “Did you wear it because you were visiting me?”

“I feel…at ease wearing it even when I have no plans for intimacy. The same way that I feel at ease in the garments that human men wear. But, yes, I had the hope that we might couple. It is difficult not to. You are beautiful, after all.” Michael explains, voice tight as he watches you suck his thumb and use his thigh like a dog in heat, “So beautiful…” He adds in a whisper while he gently thrusts his thumb in and out of your mouth.

He shivers and takes his hand back.

“I must honor the oath you took. I will not despoil you before your wedding.” Michael reminds himself.

Pleasure licks at your heels with each snap of your hips. Your swollen, slicked folds have soaked his thigh so much that each grind against the fabric leaves sticky trails. You are panting as you claw at his shirt desperately, needing so much more than this shallowest of answers to this primal call within you.

“Michael…” You moan sweetly, mind fuzzing over.

He kisses you and you cum with a quiet, shaky gasp.

In the afterglow you cling to him. Your face presses against his chest and his erratic heart beat tickles your ears.

“...Rue I am so aroused I cannot think but I want to help you with the wedding preparations.” Michael confesses in a strangled voice.

You snort loudly.

“Well, luckily for you sex is not off the table. Why don’t you teleport home and let Lucie finish what I started? Then we can tackle some of the things on Gabriel’s list of preparations—”

Before you even finish Michael teleports.

Your laughter follows him on his way out.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The elevator doors close succinctly like a jaw snapping shut, groans, and begins to ascend the building in Lust where Minos and Sisyphus live. It is extremely telling what is on both you and V2’s mind the exact second the elevator starts trudging along because the two of you turn towards one another immediately, gazes locked, before your combined attention zeroes in on who stands in the middle of you two: V1.

Noticing tension rising, V1 beeps and stops flicking the coin in their hand to give you two a quick glance. When their amber optic lands on you it beckons like a will-o-wisp in the night, drawing you in until you have your lover backing towards the wall. It is not the wall Vi is cornered against, but V2, who snakes his bulky arms around their middle.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?” V2 tells Vi, fingers tapping lazily one by one atop their lithe waist, “How come you decided to wear this cute outfit after we all made the dumbass decision to not fuck each other, huh? These shorts barely even cover your ass.” And his hand moves lower so he can pinch some of the fabric, the hem of which ends right where Vi’s thigh connects to their pelvis.

You stand flush to Vi, a thigh between their legs, and the contact makes them beep loudly, steam puffing so hard from their fans the crop top they’re wearing flaps like a sail caught in a breeze. You tug their shirt up and expose the frilly bralette covering their flat, mechanical breasts. You lower your face to them and softly kiss every inch, nuzzling at the material of the bralette and liking how it has been warmed by your lover’s fans.

“Each time you bent over today I forgot all about the agreement we made and could only think of how badly I wanted to bend you over every surface and fuck you into a pretty, chiming mess.” You tell them huskily, dragging your tongue up the diagonal strips of yellow lights that sit where nipples ought to be.

Vi beeps off-key and their hands jump to your shoulders, clinging, as they arch into your touch. The elevator stops and the doors open to reveal a machine boredly waiting for it to arrive.

“Occupied. Take the stairs, dude.” V2 says before pressing the button and sending the elevator right back down to the bottom floor. You hear the panel over his crotch hiss as it slides away and then hear your lover moan as he starts grinding his cock against Vi’s backside.

“Breaking the agreement!” Vi signs frantically.

“Mmmmm’not,” V2 moans, “I’m not fucking you and I’m not giving you pleasure—just taking it and I’m not even going to finish on you. Just using your cute little ass to get me mostly there so I can jerk off. Rue’s the one cutting it close. Yeah, you thought I didn’t see your hand lowering. Can’t fool me.”

Your face grows hot as he laughs. You huff as you take your hand away from Vi’s inner thighs.

He is right, however.

Taking a deep breath you lower Vi’s crop top and slip your hand between your legs to massage your clit in desperate swipes. The cramped elevator is warm now, the air cloying with lubricant and the want dripping down your thighs. You kiss every inch of Vi you can reach with the hunger that has been accruing within you for a week now. You felt so hot—your skin flushed and tingling.

Masturbating, whether in private or not, has done little to quell your desires.

You practically wake up from wet dreams each time that you sleep now. A part of you is starting to go a little mad, if you were honest. Here you were in an elevator with two of your lovers and you could not fuck either of them. Your mouth keeps salivating at the smell of artificial lubricant, the need to have a cock fucking your throat or soft folds to nurse at hitting you square in the gut.

You drop to your knees, now fingering yourself roughly, and bury your face against Vi’s crotch to greedily lap at the growing wet spot on their shorts.

“We c-can’t…” V1 signs, pushing your face away and while you relent with a whine, you steal a startled shriek out of them when you suddenly pull their shorts all the way down to the ankle and slip it from around their feet. You maintain eye contact as you bring the crotch of the shorts to your face and lap at the fabric, fingering yourself furiously now.

Their blue legs start to tremble.

As if possessed, Vi pushes you on the ground onto your back to stand on their knees above your head.

“I’ll fuel you just like you do for me.” Vi signs as they stare down at you, placing one hand flat against the wall of the elevator and bringing the other to their inner thighs. They pull aside their panties and reveal their glistening folds. Their slender blue fingers start to tease and the littlest of touch makes them leak profusely.

You toss their shorts aside and open your mouth wide, tongue hanging out flat to catch every drop.

“Jesus fucking Christ this is hot.” V2 says, voice strangled with static as he follows Vi’s lead and stands on his knees behind them, Knuckleblaster gripping one hip and his five-fingered hand pumping his cock.

The three of you draw closer and closer, the elevator hot and filled with wet slapping and the groaning of servos, yet right as you are about to finish you hear the tell-tale ding of the elevator arriving back at the top floor.

“STILL OCCUPIED.” You inform the same machine from earlier with a snarl, smashing the button with the meat of your palm before the doors can even fully open. All of your focus returns to the sweet, tacky material dripping into your mouth and the pressure building in your belly.

Your back arches and you cum with a hoarse cry.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…!” You hear V2 frantically repeat, his servos speeding up until you hear garbled static as he finishes.

Vi is close, you can tell, and if you cannot help them along the traditional way you offer something else instead: your blood. You sit up on your elbows and give their inner thigh a big, bloody kiss.

The high pitched shriek that tears from Vi’s voice box should be warning enough yet you still find yourself surprised when excess lubricant gushes across your face, thankfully missing the top half.

It takes another elevator ride up and down to allow the three of you to clean up both yourselves then the defiled floors. When you reach the top floor and genuinely exit it this time around the machine is nowhere to be found, likely having taken the stairs at last. If you run into them again you will make sure to offer some of your blood as apology.

You walk hand in hand with your lovers down the hallway, stop at Minos’ apartment and knock twice, stealing a few more kisses and fondling V2’s muscles as you wait.

“I’m like five seconds away from dragging your ass back into the elevator.” V2 warns as you hug him from behind and grope the bulky, broad expanse of his red and black chest. You ignore him and slide a finger under the plating of one of his pecs, fingertip gliding along the ridge in a slow, smooth movement. “M-Make that two seconds…”

The door opens and Minos stands under the threshold wearing a fluffy blue robe. He is greeted to the sight of you and Vi grabbing at V2 like he’s a rack of meat on display in front of feral dogs.

“I hope we’re not interrupting.” You say in reference to his garments, and you notice that his neck is glistening a little and the scent of sandalwood wafts from him.

He must have either just finished a bath or you had interrupted one.

Minos stares at you for a few seconds, his body language difficult to read.

“I am the one that is guilty of interrupting, I shouldst think.” Your friend says after a breath of just standing there, staring at you, and while his tone remains warm and polite as it tends to, his voice is quieter. “Shall I dress into something more suitable to entertain guests?”

“Just saying hi before V2 and I visit some friends.” V1 signs.

“Tis unfortunate. We must make time in the future to become more acquainted with one another.” Minos hums, disappointed but understanding, “That extends to thee as well, V2. Thou art always welcome to pay a visit with or without Rue.”

“Thanks, man, I appreciate it. Gotta be honest, I don’t really know what the hell we’d get up to together. You’re from Rue’s time, right? Dunno if I want to sit around talking about ancient Greek architecture or the thrill of throwing around a discus.”

“We are on opposite ends of history, tis true, but I am of the belief that there is much in common to be found between us if given the opportunity.”

“…Sure, why not? I’ll drop by sometime.” V2 shrugs before turning his attention to you, “We’ll come back in a few hours to pick you up, babe. Love you—and don’t forget the agreement~!”

He kisses both your cheeks and gives you a big hug then Vi follows suit. The two of them run down the hall hand in hand and your traitorous brain already begins to imagine what sort of tomfoolery would be happening in that elevator.

You look back over towards Minos and find him closer than he was. You jump with your startle, laughing a bit, but the sound is extinguished when your friend wraps his arms around you and pulls you into an embrace so tight all the air wheezes out of your lungs.

“Minos..?” You mumble against his shoulder.

He is silent.

Without moving his face from your neck he turns on heel, enters his apartment and kicks the door shut, even locking it, which you have never once see him do the entire time that you have known him. Minos does not walk over to the main room to sit on the lounge or go to his bedroom to cuddle with you. With the door shut and locked he is content to just lean his back against the wall of the entry hall as he holds you.

“To think that the one who stole thee away and held such foul intent towards thee was one of mine own citizens…” Minos laments, voice shaking from emotion, “An utter disgrace. Thou shouldst walk my city freely, bereft of any worry of attacks or despoilment. Dearest friend, from the bottom of mine heart, I am sorry.”

You wonder if it was Gabriel or Lucifer that told him about the Mindflayer.

“I attract trouble wherever I go. The same remained true when I was alive.” You offer in return, not really knowing what to say about the incident.

The Mindflayer was dead and you now had a wedding to look forward to.

…Yet, you still have nightmares of being caged.

You have become jumpy whenever someone suddenly slips behind you.

Just more scarring, you reason, although this was of the emotional kind.

“Thou art too precious to suffer such things.” He protests.

“What care does suffering have on who feels the sting of its whip?” You scoff and caught off guard by the bitterness of your words, Minos raises his face from your neck to stare at you. He lacks facial features—lacks a face at all—but there is no mistaking that the way he is staring at you now is with worry.

You are unable to maintain eye contact.

Minos carries you over to the lounge and lays on his back partially seated upright. You are laid atop his chest with one of his arms slung around your waist. He strokes your hair gently for a while, the places where his fingertips touch making you shiver from the chill of his skin. You hear the plug in the bathtub being pulled loose and water beginning to drain. Then you hear steady footfalls approaching. You turn your face the other way and find Sisyphus dressed in a black robe, his burly arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at you with all the intensity of the sun.

Minos, reading his lover’s mind, stands up and hands you over. You are cradled in Sisyphus’s arms, his warmth radiating in waves and bleeding through the fabric of his robes to extend to you. Just like Minos, Sisyphus stares at you for a while, quiet as the grave and twice as difficult to read. His emotions even out or he comes to conclusion that is lost on you, as for whatever reason, Sisyphus suddenly begins to move, first adjusting you to sit in the crook of one arm so he can hold Minos’ hand and guide him to follow where he goes.

Sisyphus cuts a path to the bedroom and once inside he lets Minos’ hand free so he can scoop up the man by the middle and carry him under one arm like lumber over towards the bed. In a very kingly manner, he settles at the head of the canopy bed and lays both of you on either side of his chest, an arm around you both. When you move slightly to try and adjust Sisyphus’ grip on you tightens like he thinks you are leaving.

…You realize belatedly that the possessiveness that he holds you with is not sourced from the fear of you leaving but of you being taken from him.

You press a kiss to the part of his chest peeking out of his robes.

Sisyphus does not crane his face towards you and lacks irises or pupils yet even still you know he is looking at you.

Or maybe he has never stopped looking at you.

You are pulled flush atop him suddenly and Sisyphus leans his face towards your ear.

“Know this, little one,” Sisyphus speaks into your ear, voice a low rumble that makes a shiver run down your spine, “That when you walk through the gates of our city you will be given the respect and care that you are owed. That you will be protected. I have resumed my patrols, not just at the city’s gates, but in the city itself. Many have volunteered to do so as well in groups and they have sworn to report any oddities they see. There is nothing that will transpire in Lust that Minos or I will not be privy to. An incident such as this will not repeat. This, I swear.”

He leans back, not fully, just enough that he can press his forehead to yours, his blinding white gaze boring into you.

Your eyes soften and a small smile sits on your lips.

“Thank you, love.” You tell him and give him kiss.

Sisyphus stiffens at that, never having become used to the fact that you genuinely love and care for him and express it openly. It was like he was taught love was worthless. Or that he was undeserving of it. Maybe a mixture of both. But, like always, while the man first goes rigid, he then kisses you so fiercely your head spins. He cups your ass and squeezes it greedily.

A cold hand fondles your thigh, fingers skirting nearer…

“I cannot.” You break away from the kiss with a gasp to say.

Minos takes his hand back astonishingly quickly.

“Forgive me. I shouldst hath inquired if thee wished to couple so soon after the incident. It is weighing upon thy mind heavily, surely.” He tells you.

“You are sweet, but that is not the case. I didn’t just stop by on a whim—I wanted to invite the two of you.”

“To…?” Sisyphus inquires.

“My wedding.” You grin, eyes sparkling, “We’re still working on the preparations and that includes inviting our friends and family. Gabriel asked each of us to refrain from sex until the wedding so I am afraid I will have to be without your touch until then.”

“Congratulations! Oh, I am so delighted for thee. When wilt the ceremony be held?” Minos tells you brightly.

“There is no concrete date. We were planning on having it the day after all the preparations are finished and we’re only about halfway through the list Gabriel has made.”

“Then there is still time to procure an appropriate gift.” Sisyphus remarks as he sits up, now seating you atop his thigh, “It is no small feat marrying three lovers. It is difficult enough managing to keep one.”

“Difficult, am I?” Minos hums.

“A handful to be sure.” Sisyphus teases and leans over to kiss him.

“A couple of handfuls at the very least.” You chime in, “I know it may be considered rude, or overzealous on my part, but I actually have a gift in mind already that I would like from you two.”

“Is that so? And what is it that you desire, little one?” Sisyphus whispers to you and when your eyes traitorously drop to between his legs he laughs handsomely, “You are salivating. You must be half-starved of cock.”

“Half-starved and fully aware of it. As for what I desire besides from the very obvious…I was hoping, what with you two being such skilled architects, that you could make a few renovations to my home. Namely, building a basement and an attic.”

You wanted to have the storage room on the bottom floor of the manor cleared out so it can serve as a proper bedroom, one that you wish to give Raphael. The attic will be given to V1. While they seemed happy enough to share your bed or V2’s, you have always thought that they might prefer to have a room of their own.

“Consider it done.” Minos declares.

You smile fondly at both of them and give them each a kiss. Minos does not let you escape his grasp. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, giving you a boost in height, one that allows you to look down into the void of his face. The blackness looks less pronounced, undulating now as his tentacles breech the cavernous opening to stickily greet you. You let your eyes flutter closed and part your mouth, breath naturally evening out from the muscle memory of every other time you have shared kisses with your friend.

The tentacles are a fascinating combination of firm yet soft—able to thrust with all the force of a pair of hips but unable to withstand any sort of pressure or touch that was beyond a wet hole to be filled. You never grabbed a tentacle directly and never with any sort of force. If one slithered its way into your grasp you would always keep your hand relaxed and let it do whatever it wanted. Minos enjoys you stroking his tentacles with your fingers and your tongue but he seems to derive the most pleasure when you are still and patient, allowing him to be in control of the kiss.

Soon enough your entire face becomes engulfed in tentacles. You have long since discovered that the black, viscous liquid that coats the tentacles and drips out of Minos’ face has some enhancing properties to it. Wherever the liquid stained you that area proved to be twice as sensitive as it had originally been. There is a thick tentacle exploring your mouth and another dragging up and down your neck like the tongue of some large animal. Several smaller ones caress your face and massage at the shell of your ear.

You hastily tap Minos’ arm so he can extract his tentacles from you. You suck in mouthfuls of air, tasting the salt-sweet of the tentacles each time you lick your lips.

You sit on your folded legs on the bed and spread your thighs wide. The hem of your chiton naturally bunches up around your hips just as one of your hands naturally glides down your belly to paw at your wet cunt.

“Tis a dangerous look in thine eyes.” Minos remarks around a hard swallow.

You curl your hand inward and hold up two fingers to give yourself an imitation of a cock to ride. You unabashedly start bouncing on them, making these little ‘ah, ah, ah’ sounds that has Sisyphus steadily gripping the sheets and Minos’ face dribbling a river of black.

“You look possessed. Like some she-beast claiming the cock of her mate.” Sisyphus tells you breathily as he pulls off his robe.

Your eyes trace the curves of fat on his chest and stomach, the red-orange gradient of his flesh like the ooze in the lava lamp V1 had brought home ages ago. His biceps are twice the size of your head, you notice not for the first time. The littlest of movement makes the muscles twitch. You curl your tongue over a canine to stave off the urge to sink your teeth into him.

Minos takes a seat on the thigh you had previously occupied and his tentacles unfurl to kiss his lover passionately. Sisyphus hums, mouth parting further to welcome the writhing masses. Minos is careful not to get his tentacle’s fluid on the man’s dreads but there is no preventing the sticky spots that gather on Sisyphus’ beard. They hold hands while they kiss. They are always holding hands, you realize, remembering how their fingers remained laced together even when asleep.

Sisyphus makes an attractive, breathy little sound when Minos’ hand curls around his fat cock and starts stroking it languidly. Its erotic enough that your walls suddenly spasm around your fingers and you finish with a curse.

It is not enough.

Sisyphus parts from the kiss and pushes Minos onto their back so he can tear their robes off him and expose their pale, muscular body. Your eyes go right to Minos’ cocks and you make a pitiful sound, bouncing on your fingers again but not finding any true satisfaction from it. Each cock is gripped at the base and guided to Sisyphus’ mouth. You are flooded with lust at the sight of how greedily he takes his lover’s cocks. Minos sighs his name softly, sitting up on his elbows to watch Sisyphus please him. He reaches out and gathers Sisyphus’ dreads neatly to keep them out of his face.

You give yourself a third finger, tits bouncing with how hard you ride them as if your enthusiasm will be enough to will it into an actual cock. You bring your other hand to your swollen, overstimulated clit and grind against the butt of it, adding to the wet, sloppy sounds of Minos’ cocks being sucked.

It is the sight of your friend finishing in his lover’s mouth that pushes you over the edge again and your orgasm punches through you, clouding your senses for a solid five seconds before you crash back down.

You quietly catch your breath, trembling and teary-eyed.

“Has that sated you?” Sisyphus asks.

You shake your head miserably.

“Come—lay beside me. I will help as much as I am able.” He instructs while Minos crawls atop him to straddle his hips.

You curl on your side next to Sisyphus and he kisses you deeply as you go right back to fucking yourself with your fingers. It is a shame neither of you are watching the enticing sight of Minos preparing his hole with his black-slicked fingers. Sisyphus moans into your mouth as the base of his cock is gripped so Minos can slowly sink down on it. A drawn out hiss escapes Minos as he takes every throbbing inch. There is a steady dripping sound—you have no doubt it is the king’s face leaking.

You lose track of how many times you have orgasmed while kissing Sisyphus and listening to Minos ride him. Your cunt is aching and things are beginning to feel uncomfortable from the constant stimulation but you felt like you just needed one more.

Just one more taste of release and you will be able to stuff these gnawing, relentless desires back inside yourself until your wedding day. Somehow in tune with what you need, Sisyphus parts from the kiss to slip a hand into your hair, lightly gripping a handful of it and stealing a strangled moan from you. He uses that grip to crane your face to the side and expose the curve of your neck. He brushes his lips up and down the pulse, beard tickling your skin. Then he latches onto your neck and sucks hard, making your toes curl and your back arch, leaving you no other choice but to cry out his name as you cum.

He pulls off your neck, grips Minos’ hips, and starts pistoning his cock inside of them at a brutal pace.

It takes Minos entirely off guard and the man shouts as his prostate is pounded repeatedly, his ivory skin flushed such a pretty shade of blue. Black stains his face, chest and thighs, and plenty of the fluid has stained Sisyphus’ stomach. With another solid thrust Minos’s cocks stiffen then release an impressive amount of cum.

“I love thee ardently.” Minos tells him shakily, seeming to need every ounce of willpower to be able to utter the words, “Oh, beloved, taketh all that thou wilt from mineself. Fill me to the brim.”

It effects Sisyphus viscerally.

The entire room shakes with how hard he fucks Minos now.

Sisyphus spills inside Minos with a grunt, gripping his hips so tightly that blue hand marks are left behind. Minos slumps atop him afterwards, face pressed to his chest. You scoot over closer and lick the remnants of black from his chin before kissing his cheek and settling down.

The three of you laze for a while but eventually Sisyphus gets up to clean everything then return to bed with a bottle of wine and three cups.

“And who wilt be gifted the honor of walking thee down the aisle?” Minos asks after you have finished explaining the roles that have been planned.

“I was hoping you two would.” You say.

Sisyphus was about to take a sip from his cup but he lowers it and gives you his full attention.

“…You sincerely mean this?” He asks.

“Of course. I love and cherish both of you very much.”

“Nothing wouldst honor me more.” Minos tells you brightly.

“I—” Sisyphus starts and stops. It is such an odd thing to see him uncertain. He falls silent for a long time as if deliberating the pros and cons of something. His hands repeatedly tighten into fists. After a minute passes you think he has decided better on speaking but to your shock he speaks again and when he does, he does so quietly. “…I love you as well.”

You gasp.

It is the first time he has ever said it plainly.

He is ill-equipped for such vulnerability. It seems to make him deeply uncomfortable but for all his discomfort he does not turn away from you after saying this. He does not want you to think that he is unsure about this or that he is merely saying it on a whim.

His gaze on you is weighted just as it had been when he declared that he would be happy if you were the only friend he ever had for the rest of his existence.

You set your cup of wine down and crawl over to Sisyphus with a sparkling smile on your face. He lifts you into his arms and you press your forehead to his, your affection for him shining out of every pore.

He sees that affection and his full lips curl into the rare, breathtakingly handsome smiles he only ever lets you or Minos witness.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

You are in the bathhouse seated on the edge of the tub, feet kicking in the water as you run a comb through your hair, singing happily.

Most of the preparations for the wedding have been finished and all that was left was the finishing touches. The room in the castle that will serve as the venue is fully decorated and sits ready and waiting for you and your lovers.

It would only be a few more days now until you were wed.

Your face hurts from how much you have been smiling lately.

There is a sharp gasp behind you and you startle, dropping the comb into the water in your haste to turn around.

It is Gabriel, freshly returned from Heaven. He must have teleported to the manor, found you missing and assumed you were working on things. Seeing your naked body glistening with water and sudsy here and there is clearly not what he had expected.

You had not expected this either.

The two of you have made a point to bathe separately to not rile each other up needlessly but now that your angel is here, dressed in only his black skirt, you feel your resolve crumble into dust. Tension builds as you stare at one another. Gabriel’s chest heaves as he breathes unevenly, cock visibly stiffening in his skirt. He takes a step towards you shakily and his knees almost give out.

He needs you so badly he seems close to swooning.

The ache you feel for him is deep.

You do not even realize that you have slipped out of the tub completely until you are standing in front of your angel. The tension thickens, a sort of pressure on your lungs now. You swallow hard and lick your lips as your eyes trace over every beautiful inch of his dark skin.

“Angel…” You whisper.

Gabriel shivers and takes a step forward obediently, flush to you now. You are only tall enough to reach his hips so his clothed erection is temptingly close to your face. You know that you shouldn’t but you can’t seem to stop yourself—you lean forward and press a kiss to the tip of his cock.

A genuine snarl tears from Gabriel’s throat and you find yourself scooped up and pressed hard against a wall, his hands hefting the underside of each of your thighs. He spreads them apart and bends you in half until your knees are bracketing your head. He squishes your little body against the wall and his clothed cock nudges against your entrance.

You are hit with a wave of nostalgia.

You think of your early days with Gabriel and the one time he became so consumed with lust he rutted against you like an animal, unable to deny himself the pleasure he had been without his entire existence for another second.

You had been practically rabid for his cock back then and the same remained true now.

“Gabriel, please—” You plead, laying your hands on his abs and gazing up at him with fire in your eyes.

Before you can say another word he cups a hand over your mouth.

“Do not speak the rest of those words or I will be unable to stop myself from fucking you.” He commands in a dark, tight voice, “We will be wed soon enough. You will have me. You will have every part of me. Just as I will have every part of you, my beautiful, tempting muse.”

You whine, pawing at his chest until he lifts you higher so you can kiss him frantically.

“I know. The need is great.” Gabriel shushes you as you keep whining pitifully. It is unfair that he is talking to you in the same soft voice that he did when he would take care of you in Lust. He carries you to one of the benches and sets you down. He teleports and returns without his skirt, holding something: a dildo with a suction cup on the bottom and a vial of slick. “We will share this toy.”

He offers the vial but you shake your head.

You take the dildo and slam it onto the bench. Nice and secured, you raise your hips over it and immediately begin to sink down. You keen at the stretch, imagining it to be your lover’s cock instead, and that just makes taking it even easier. You bottom out and do not even give your body a second to adjust before you start thrusting down hard.

Gabriel whimpers, hand flying to his cock to grip the base and start pumping.

“It feels good, my love, but it is nothing compared to your cock.” You moan, “You’re much bigger. Thicker. You fill me up so perfectly. Perfect angel. I am going to drain you of every last drop on our wedding night. I will take you so deeply within myself that our souls will touch.”

He spills into his fist with a gasp.

You snatch his cum slicked hand by the wrist and bring it to your face to lick it clean, sucking each of his fingers and releasing with a wet pop.

“Get yourself ready for your turn.” You tell him and let his hand drop.

He cranes his arm behind himself and lifts his hips. He sighs at the feeling of his fingers brushing against his hole. Like you, he is impatient and skips any further preamble so he can stuff a finger inside himself.

“What a pretty moan.” You praise, “Angel, give yourself a second finger. You can take it, can’t you?”

“Yes…” He says and adjusts to slip his middle finger inside himself, wings flexing.

“Match my pace. Like this,” You instruct and wait for him to start thrusting on his fingers in tandem with you fucking the dildo, “Good. Just like that. You are so handsome I cannot stand it. Fuck!”

You thrust faster and he follows your lead.

You reach out and slip your hand into his, giving it a squeeze, and like that both of you finish seconds after one another. You lift off the dildo and with your hand still in his, you switch spots with Gabriel. You encourage him as he takes the tip inside. Every inch that nestles inside seems to make him shake. Dildo buried to the root, Gabriel sits on the bench and sucks in breath after breath.

“I want to bounce on your cock exactly like this.” He tells you as he breaks out into a steady pace, his pecs and thighs rippling with each thrust.

“You will, angel. I’m going to make you live on my cock after making me suffer like this.”

Your threats only excite him more.

You stand on your knees for a boost in height and scoot closer to him to sink your teeth into the pec you had once engraved your named into. You clench with enough force to draw blood and your angel shouts at the pleasure and pain. His cock spurts messily all over your front. He keeps moving his hips until his cock softens and can spill no more.

You bring your joined hands to your face and kiss the top of his hand.

“Will my betrothed allow me to tend to his wings as he bathes?” You ask while peppering his knuckles with kisses.

That alone is enough to turn the 'righteous hand of the father' into a flustered, giggling mess.

Notes:

im still alive lol summer has just been hectic sowwy

next chapter is rated M for marriage and....

a secret :^D

the next chapter is the FINAL of the "story" of this part but I added an extra chapter because I have a lot of extra smut and POVS i want to post. ive also been working on a second chapter of the Mermaid au AND a second chapter to the sisyphus au which WILL showcase his afterlife with rue and minos (basically an AU of an AU of what happens in a moment in memory lol where instead of being saved by gabriel, Rue/Reader dies, reunites with Sisyphus, and things play out very differently but a lot of the same things still happen)

anyways enough of me yapping.

love u guys and hope u enjoyed the chapter! im still catching up on comments but i appreciate every single one of them <3

edit: on second thought, i might just make the extra smut stuff its own separate part to this series, that way each chapter can be tagged with the couples and kinks. thoughts?

Chapter 20: rue/gabriel/v2/v1 pt 5

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

A polite knock interrupts you from your thoughts.

“Come in.” You say, setting the comb down on the vanity, at last satisfied with how you have tamed and styled your stubbornly wild hair. Jeweled pins twinkle here and there under the lamplight, winking at you like stars in the night sky. Fresh flowers are braided into your locks and the smallest movements, such as tucking a stray hair behind your ear, causes a few petals to disturb then flutter down gently on your lap.

You are wearing all of your finery: your garnet necklace, your idol, gold laurel, and the many, many bracelets and bangles you have been gifted.

The only thing missing were the three rings that would sit on your finger.

A grin spreads across your lips as you look at your finger and it remains as the door to the room in the castle you have claimed as your dressing room opens and closes quickly.

Minos meets your reflected gaze in the mirror and visibly freezes.

“Thou art beautiful beyond compare. Truly.” He tells you, voice soft and endlessly fond.

You turn around in your chair to look at your friend properly.

“You look quite handsome yourself. I thought you would wear the kingly garbs of our time but modern clothes suit you very well.” You remark, making no secret how you drag your eyes from top to bottom of his muscular body.

Minos is wearing a black suit, the dark color a lovely contrast to his ivory skin. The jacket is left open and reveals the phthalo blue dress shirt beneath, tucked into straight cut slacks. The first few buttons are left undone and show off a hint of his pecs. You are shocked to see him wearing dress shoes, which have been polished to an almost blinding shimmer, but there is no denying that for all the discomfort they must be causing him, it does finish his outfit nicely.

His snakes, Pearl and Diamondus, are laced around his collarbones like a necklace and each of their necks sports a small ribbon tied into a bow.

“Tis restrictive, yes, but these garments art well worth the stuffiness after all the compliments I hath received thus far.” He says while walking over to you.

You have finished your hair and have your silk white and pink peplos styled perfectly; a gold ribbon acting as a girdle around your waist, accentuating your curves. The hem is long and flowy, and when you had walked around earlier you were pleased to find that it wisped behind you ethereally.

You think Minos is going to stand behind you to watch you finish the last touches or drag a chair over to sit beside you but noticing that you had yet to put your sandals on, he bends at the knee and sets one of your feet atop his thigh.

“Tis a lovely color on even lovelier feet.” He tells you with a hard swallow, admiring the fresh coat of pink nail polish V2 had applied hours prior.

You quirk a brow, fascinated by reverence he always displays when he touches this part of you. Minos is always eager to offer massages and have your legs sprawled atop his lap.

The observation of that jogs your memory of something.

“You got hard when I stroked your cock with my feet in an astonishingly short amount of time when you visited my home.” You remark with a hum, moving your foot from his grasp to glide it up his pantleg towards the inner seam, avoiding contact with his privates and only granting him the exhilaration of the temptation, “Do you remember?”

“…There art many nights that the memory of thy touch kept mineself from slumbering. I didst not wish to disturb mine beloved in the dead of night, and so I wouldst pleasure mineself quietly, the thought of thy delicate feet pressed against me too much to bare.” Minos confesses in a tight, shaky voice, the sides of his face flushed blue.

“Pressed against you like this?” You ask, stretching your leg out further and laying the ball of your foot flush to his crotch.

Black spurts from the void of his face.

You shoot your hand out and cup it under his jaw, catching the mess before it stains his garments.

“Look at the mess you almost made.” You purr, “Mmmm, you just cannot help it. Its leaking out no matter how hard you try, pet. So wet and sticky.”

Another gush spills from his face as Minos hisses out a curse.

“Forgive me.” You say with a sheepish laugh, “I am beyond pent up and couldn’t resist teasing you, if only to make you suffer a little like I have.” You take your foot back and grab a cloth, dipping it into the bowl of water you used to wash your face, and clean your hand before gripping Minos’ chin and wiping him clean. “There.” You hum and kiss his cheek.

“The very second thou returneth from thy honeymoon thou art to allow Sisyphus and I to whisk thee off to our abode in Greed.” He demands, breaths still uneven, as he makes quick work of lacing up both of your sandals, keeping his touch polite and efficient, before standing to his feet.

Both of you startle when the door opens and closes, with Minos jumping in front of you to shield you from view in case it is one of your lovers.

It is only Sisyphus.

“The others are ready. Everyone is where they should be.” He informs the two of you as he shuts the door behind him and leans against it, arms crossed. When Minos steps aside to allow you to be seen, Sisyphus inhales sharply. His blinding white eyes zero in on you and the intensity of his gaze makes your face warm. “Songbird.” He says in greeting, the pet name he uses only in private in contrast of how he calls you ‘little one’ or ‘little star’ far more often than even your own name. He takes a breath, organizing his thoughts, or resolving himself of something before speaking up again, “…You are utterly bewitching. A nymph pulled straight from a painting.”

He walks over, dwarfing you and Minos, and cups your face.

He admires you as much as you admire him.

Sisyphus wears a black suit just like his lover but has decided on a red dress shirt and has forgone dress shoes in favor of a pair of sandals far nicer than the usual ones he wears. His auburn dreads have been swept up into a neat ponytail and his beard looks freshly trimmed and oiled.

“Are you ready?” Sisyphus asks, thumb stroking your cheek.

“Ready and eager.” You grin.

Sisyphus’ full lips tug into a smile and he bends at the middle to be able to press a kiss to your forehead before he lowers your veil over your face. You stand up and they each join your side, Sisyphus holding your left hand and Minos your right. Minos opens the door and peeks his head out, making sure none of your lovers were walking in the hall before leading you out.

The three of you walk until you reach the large, symmetrical room at the end of a corridor, the double doors left wide open. A red carpet cuts across the middle of the room and leads up to the raised steps where Lucifer stands waiting. On the left side of the room, just behind your Lord, is a statue, and behind it the stained glass depiction of a skull being held up. The same is reflected on the right, although the red-blue palette has been swapped.

Whenever you had entered this room before the sky visible in the glass paneling had been red in hue, like a sunset, but with Lucifer’s tampering he has made it sunny, the room glowing with artificial sunlight.

Chairs are lined up in neat rows and your friends and family are seated, talking excitedly with one another. There are two long wooden tables flush to one another, the first holding many bottles of wine and glasses, the other heftily piled with gifts of all shapes and sizes, some wrapped in boxes with bows, some so large that they must be sat on the floor with a sheet draped over them.

Wedding music plays from boombox on a small table. Michael had wanted to play his violin during the reception but that would make him unable to walk Gabriel down the aisle, so he had settled on having V2 help him record his playing on a CD.

Before you can even step past the threshold, someone rushes out.

“Mother!” Raphael greets you excitedly, wanting to hug you very badly, but their hands are busy holding the velvet pillow that your wedding rings sit atop of. Your child settles on nuzzling their helm against your cheek. “You look divine. I am so excited I keep tripping and bumping into people but I promise I will not embarrass you when the time comes!”

Your child is dressed in a fancier version of their usual ensemble of multi-layered, ivory robes, the hood of their cloak lowered, and along with the red sash that always sits snugly around their waist, their white gloves have been swapped out for a red pair that you made and gifted them recently. Inside the gloves reads ‘for my dearest cherub’.

“Be calm, my dear. There is nothing you could do to embarrass me.” You assure and give them a kiss. “…I do not see him sitting with the others. Did the Ferrymen change his mind last minute? I understand his reservations for coming but Gabriel will be very disappointed that his friend did not attend his ceremony.”

The first letter you had asked Raphael to pass along to the Ferrymen ages ago had been you expressing your sincere gratitude on him always welcoming your child aboard his ship and giving them a place to relax outside of Heaven.

V1 tends to only spend time with those they find interesting or care for. Your lover enjoyed their solitude, always running off by themselves to find weird things or playing video games somewhere hidden away in Limbo, sometimes in a tree or a shadowy nook.

The few friends they have is a choice of V1’s whereas Raphael’s lack of friends derives from their difficulty finding time away from Heaven and allowing themselves to open up to those that were not family.

The second letter you had Raphael pass along to the Ferrymen was the wedding invitation.

You are aware of his bitter, complicated feelings regarding your relationship with Gabriel, and had only sent the invitation because so much time has passed and you had figured that with all the paintings Raphael tells you the Ferrymen paints of them, that the captain was beginning to fall for your child just like they have fallen for him.

It was the observation of those burgeoning feelings that made you decide it was safe enough to invite the man.

“He told me that he would attend...” Raphael says, wings drooping, and just as their helm lowers to the ground sadly the four of you hear something—creaking, light footsteps, followed by the rustling of fabric—and your child suddenly gasps, helm raising just as their wings perk up.

Looking over your shoulder you see the Ferrymen.

He is veiled as usual. It is a little strange to see him without the oar he always has clutched in his skeletal hands.

“You made it!” Raphael gushes, flapping their wings and floating over to the Ferrymen, halo bright, “I-I was beginning to think you changed your mind…”

“I promised.” Is all the Ferryman says to that, making no move to explain why he had arrived far later than the others. His voice is breathy and soft, his intonation polite, yet firm.

“Yes. You did.” Raphael remarks sheepishly, embarrassed that they had lost faith in him.

The two of them just stand there staring at one another.

Then Raphael jumps, realizing that they were stopping the Ferryman from entering the room and taking his seat.

They move aside to let him in.

The Ferryman nods to Minos and Sisyphus in greeting, and when he nears you he pauses, thinking for several seconds, but either having too many things to say or deciding that now was not the time to speak on such things, he simply nods at you then wanders off to take his seat.

Raphael returns to their spot at the back of the room and now with everyone present and seated, Minos and Sisyphus begin to walk you down the aisle. You smile at all your friends and family and when you are brought to the very end of the room where Lucifer stands waiting, your dear friends give your hands a squeeze then separate from your side to take their seats.

Your lovers had asked you to be the first to be walked down the aisle since you have no problem being the center of attention. They had explained that having you greet them would serve as a balm for any nervousness they may feel.
Lucifer, finding it far too amusing to deny himself the opportunity, has dressed himself in a black cassock, a ferraiolo in the same shade, and has a clerical collar to complete the priestly look. He looks very regal as he stands in front of you with his massive claymore drawn and pointed blade down, his clawed hands curled around the hilt. The flames have thankfully been extinguished.

“What a vision you are, my disciple.” Lucifer speaks into your mind just as his prehensile tail curls around one of your ankles.

“Watch where that tail wanders, priest.” You pray in response, and Lucifer’s shoulders begin to shake as he laughs, the masculine and feminine tones echoing one another.

He is about to say something else, you can tell, but his tail uncoils from your leg and raises so the arrowhead tip nudges against your chin, making you turn your face towards the right.

Your eyes widen.

Standing under the threshold of the reception room beside one another are V1 and V2, arm in arm. V2’s suit, down to the jacket, dress shirt and shoes, are white, the only contrast being the red from his body and the chlamys you gifted him long ago, which he styled to drape across one shoulder. Seeing you waiting for him, he stands up straighter and starts to lead V1 along, walking confidently, his other hand tucked into his pocket. His bravado puts a spotlight on how shy V1 is, your blue lover shaky in the legs as they walk more from nerves than the fact they are wearing heels for the first time. V1 wears a white blouse with poofy bell sleeves, the wrists cinched with blue ribbons, and the hem tucked into a frilly skirt that stops just at their knees.

The entire time they walk they fidget with their veil.

You are smiling so hard your cheeks hurt but none can see it with your own veil obscuring your face.

Your two lovers make their way over and V1 joins you to stand on the side of the ‘brides’ while V2 positions himself across from you as the singular groom.

“Rue…” V2 begins with none of the confidence he had displayed mere seconds ago. He blinks hard, mechanical eyelid clicking a few times. He looks away from you, fans picking up, and ultimately ends up staring down at his shoes. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, then slowly cranes his visor back up, his optic pink. “You look…pretty. Really pretty. I feel kinda dumb I can’t word that better. Guess poetry isn’t so lame after all. Heh. At this rate I’m going to short-circuit when all of you get those fucking veils out of the way.”

“G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S!” V1 spells out with shaky hands to compliment you, “Heart feels like it it’s going to burst.”

“Your eye is pink, my flower. I can see it through your veil.” You point out and V1 beeps, flustered by that, “For all my love of poetry and lyrics, I’m equally at a loss on expressing just how attractive you two look. A few words come to mind: captivating, alluring—”

The three of you notice movement in the corner of your visions and turn towards the entrance.

“Stunning.” Falls from your lips as you see Gabriel entering the room with Michael.

Gabriel’s helm is hidden by his veil and the fabric hides a generous amount of his broad shoulders and chest. The wedding dress he wears is of the off-shoulder kind and is without sleeves, leaving his muscular arms on full display, the muscles twitching sporadically as he tightly clutches a bouquet in his hands. The dress is form fitting at the top but the skirt blows out exaggeratedly, multi-layered and voluminous. Your angel is taller and bigger than everyone in the room save for Sisyphus, who was the same height give or take an inch, and Lucifer, who even while shrunk down dwarfs everyone, but Gabriel’s height is made even more pronounced by the heels he’s wearing, which are hidden under the dress.

Michael, who is already two feet shorter, is made to look even smaller with the added boost in height, which was a little silly given the man himself was not at all small.

Feeling everyone’s eyes on him, Gabriel stiffens to the point of becoming unmoving, his wings fluffing out and turning a little pale. His chest rises and falls rapidly. You see Michael whisper to your lover, likely encouraging him, but it is not until you hold out a hand, beckoning, that Gabriel calms. He takes a second to steady his breathing then begins to walk.

Time seems to slow. Each step he takes towards the three of you feels monumental. You do not want to blink and miss a single second. Maybe not blinking is why you eyes are so wet by the time Gabriel joins your side.

“Hey. Deep breaths.” V2 tells Gabriel quietly, “Good. Just like that. Damn, look at you. All of Heaven doesn’t compare.”

Gabriel makes a small noise.

Something like a squeak or a stammer.

The music quiets and Lucifer’s mismatched wings flap lightly once before he begins to speak the rites and vows. The finality that always peppers his tone is perfect to express the unwavering love the four of you shared. The entire time your Lord talks the four of you fidget and stare at one another, trying to savor the moment but also excited for things to move along.

There is a pause so that V2 can lift each of your veils, needing to have Gabriel bend down a significant amount to be able to do so. His fans hiss with so much steam at the sight of the three of you his suit jacket inflates. Cursing a little, V2 flattens it down and tries to look collected, but his optic flickers between yellow and pink and he keeps accidentally inching near the brides side, wanting so badly to touch.

Each of you prepared a few things to say to one another but it is Gabriel that pulls two full pages out from somewhere he’d been hiding it. As he has the most to say, the three of you go first then allow him to take as much time as he needs to read out his declarations of love, pausing here and there because he gets so emotional he starts crying.

After your angel calms, Lucifer curls a finger at Raphael, who jumps a bit, but calms themselves as they begin walking down the aisle towards you all. They do not trip even once. You wonder if that is because of your words earlier of the fact that the Ferryman was here watching. The pillow is presented meekly. The four of you go about exchanging the plethora of rings, with the ones being given to V1 and V2 affixed not to a new chain Gabriel had commissioned in Heaven like originally planned, but onto the ‘BFF’ necklaces V2 had given V1 when they first became a couple.

You admire your now crowded ring finger.

Gabriel’s ring is gold and has a twisted, delicate band, like two sapling branches tangling with one another, with one half of the band plain, glimmering gold, the other half dotted with sparkling diamonds. V1 and V2 had decided on their rings being a stackable pair, so the designs are the exact same; a silver band lined with a generous amount of rubies, the other lined with sapphires.

Your ring, which sits prettily on Gabriel’s finger and around your other lover’s necks, is a traditional cathedral band, flowers engraved onto the band and an emerald cut in a heart as the centerpiece. The wedding bands of your own time were less appealing, the ‘Hercules knot’ looking more like a noose than a promise of a happy marriage, so you had gone the modern route. The choice in gem was decided on by your culture, as emeralds were widely associated with the goddess of love.

“I pronounce you man, woman, and undefined. May the kissing proceed.” Lucifer declares and stamps the blade of his claymore into the ground, the blade erupting into flame.

The music shifts to something livelier and once Gabriel has lowered enough, the four of you form a little huddle and smother one another in kisses as a round of applause rings out through the room.

“I am s-so happy…!” Gabriel warbles, bursting into tears again, and the three of you give him a big hug and hold him tightly.

“Why not share some of that happiness?” You say, and have your angel, your spouse, give his back to the room so he can throw the bouquet.

Before the bouquet has even fully arced in the air there are two flashes and a gust of wind.

Blinking rapidly, you see that Sisyphus and Lucifer stand side by side, both of them having caught the bouquet but their strength had torn it clean in half, leaving them both with a handful of slightly crumpled flowers.

The two of them just stare at one another.

You snort loudly then clutch your stomach as you start to laugh.

The entire room follows suit and the merriment drowns out the music entirely.

Sisyphus huffs but pays no one any further attention as he walks across the room towards Minos and offers the flowers. Minos, a little flushed, continues to laugh just as handsomely as he has been, slipping an arm around his lover’s waist happily and plucking one of the flowers out of the bouquet to tuck it in Sisyphus’ hair.

Lucifer teleports just behind Michael, holding up the flowers with his tail.

“Two betrothals at our wedding? What a joyous day.” You remark with a delighted laugh.

Everyone flocks over to you and your spouses to offer their congratulations and compliments then some of the room is cleared away to make room for dancing. You share a dance with your spouses, your kin, then your friends. Gabriel, V1 and V2 are already seated, having had their fill of dancing, but you are still working through a long list of people who had asked you for a dance.

Aurora and Glacia hold each of your hands and give you a twirl, then a kiss, before they both float off towards the table with the wine. Thinking everyone has had their fill of dancing, you start following right behind them but are stopped by a hand on your shoulder.

Turning around, you find the Ferryman.

“May I…?” He asks.

You smile as you turn around to face him. He leads you into a rigid sort of waltz so you get the feeling that he wants to say something—perhaps the same thing that he had decided on not saying earlier and is using dancing as a way to speak with you out of earshot of the others.

“Thank you.” The Ferryman eventually speaks up to say, “For the invitation and for…making Gabriel happy.”

There is not a trace of bitterness to his words.

He sincerely means this.

“Thank you for attending.” You tell him, equally as sincere, “It means a lot to have you here. Not just to Gabriel, but Raphael as well.”

He almost trips at the mention of the small angel but you steady him.

“They call you ‘mother’.”

“Verily.” You agree proudly, although a little confused why he had brought that up, and with the veil covering the majority of his body its nearly impossible to read his intentions through his body language. You take a gamble and lean in closely to whisper to him: “and as their mother, I give you my blessing, should you decide to speak on your feelings.”

He inhales sharply, forgetting entirely to lead the waltz, so you take over, guiding him closer and closer to something that he is too flustered to realize until it is too late.

“Would you care for a turn? I want to rest my feet and drink wine.” You ask Raphael, who had been chatting with Michael and Lucifer.

“O-Oh! I, umm,” Raphael stutters, fingers tapping anxiously around their wine glass, which is plucked from their grasp by Michael, their brother then laying a hand on their lower back and gently pushing them towards the two of you. “Yes, I w-would like that very m…much.”

You take your leave.

You join your spouses at the table they’ve been occupying.

V1 sits atop Gabriel’s lap, holding his left hand to admire how the rings look and when he sees you approaching, V2 spreads his thighs and pats them invitingly.

“Take a seat on your husband’s lap.” He says, eyelid raised up in a gleeful manner.

“Just your lap?” You hum mischievously as you sit sideways on his lap, his arm curling around your waist to keep your secured.

“For now.” He scoffs, then lowers his voice: “…The only reason I haven’t snuck you off into another room and fucked you is because your kid would hear it. Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Your face heats.

“Where are we going for our honeymoon?” V1 signs to ask, “And when?”

They squirm a little on Gabriel’s lap.

Gabriel clears his throat and adjusts V1 to sit a little lower so they don’t accidentally grind against him.

“I thought that the island on Wrath we use as our vacation home would be a suitable choice. As for when we are to leave, it will have to wait until we graciously accept each of the gifts we have been given.” Gabriel explains as he raises a finger to point towards the mountain of gifts, “We will need to return home first to pack before we leave as well. Raphael offered to stay at the manor to take care of Florp and Cronus.”

“Let’s do the presents now. Pleeeeease.” V1 signs impatiently and they bump their visor against Gabriel’s helm stubbornly, forceful in their kissing, until your angel relents.

People approach your table one by one with their gifts.

First in line is a trio: Lucifer, Michael and the Ferryman.

The gift hefted in Lucifer’s arms is rectangular in shape and exceedingly large, about three feet in width and twice as tall. It was the gift that had been set on the ground against the wall with a sheet over it.

‘Before I present you with this gift, dearest kin and disciple, I must know if you are comfortable with those that are present seeing the most vulnerable, intimate parts of yourself. Something that you have not yet shared with even your lovers—pardon, your spouses.’ Lucifer speaks into your mind, so it looks like he is just standing there staring at you.

You give that a thought.

A brief one.

‘I am.’ You pray in response.

“I commissioned the Ferryman for a painting.” Is all Lucifer says in preamble before pinching a corner of the sheet and pulling it away to reveal a framed canvas.

You are deeply shocked at what you see.

The painting is of you.

Not the current you, not Rue, but Calliope.

But you are not alone.

The painting depicts you seated in a large chair, a smile on your face and your eyes bright. Seated on the chair’s left armrest, leaning against you and smiling just as much is Dorothea. The darkness of her skin, hair and eyes has been masterfully captured. She wears the same pretty blue peplos she did when you first met her.

Standing behind the chair is your mother, Elpis, her hand atop your shoulder. You remember the exact feeling of her hand—the callouses from toiling the farm, the bump of the scar on her right thumb where she had cut herself preparing dinner one night. The weight of it. That comforting touch had soothed away countless worries.

Countless nightmares.

Sitting at your feet with his head atop your lap is your old dog Leon, his black muzzle peppered with white hairs.

At your left, holding your hand, is Melanthios. His skin was always on the paler side despite being in the sun just as much as you. The sun simply never took, not even leaving a freckle behind. His hair, chin-length, dark, and curly, looks tussled like he had just slipped out of bed from cuddling with you. Your heart clenches at the observation. While everyone else looks forward as if staring at a painter, he has eyes for you alone. The look in his dark eyes is of unwavering, marrow-deep fondness.

You have missed him looking at you like this.

You have missed them all so much and for so long.

You cup a hand over your eyes and start to cry.

Your spouses cling to you, stroking your hair and kissing you until you calm.

“You have the same wild hair as your mom. Even the white streak near your forehead stayed after you ended up here. She’s got some strong genes, huh?” V2 remarks, and it steals a sniffling, wet laugh out of you.

“The way you smile and how your eyes sparkle is still the same, too.” V1 signs.

“Much has changed yet remained the same. You were a beautiful human. You are even more beautiful in the afterlife.” Gabriel tells you next.

The relief you feel upon hearing these words is staggering. Always, you have been worried about your spouses learning of what you used to look like then being unable to continue enjoying what they now had. The misalignment you felt with your current form recedes, practically nonexistent now.

You stand up and give Lucifer a big kiss.

You are not foolish enough to think the Ferryman will accept one, so you slip your hand into his and give it a squeeze.

“Thank you.” You say to them both, making peace with the fact that mere words alone would never be enough to repay them for this kindness.

Lucifer offers to return to your home that very second to display the portrait in the foyer and teleports in a blink to do just that after you nod, the spot where he had just been standing now marked with a few black feathers.

Michael, unable to stand the idea of his lover’s feathers being trampled on, gently toes them out of the way before speaking.

“Are you the gift?” You ask with a wry smile, seeing as how your kin is empty-handed, and had not spoken up about having any part in the painting being made, “If that is the case, I gladly accept.”

He looks very attractive in his black and white two-piece suit, after all.

It takes Michael several seconds to organize his thoughts and the way you keep smiling at him does not help at all.

“Your gift,” Michael at last manages to get out, “is in relation to where you will be spending your honeymoon. I thought of the idea myself and had our extended family assist with the gift. I do not want to spoil what you have waiting for you so that is all I will say on the matter.”

“Whatever it may be, I am thankful and eager to see it. I will make sure to pass along a letter of thanks for your siblings in Heaven and pack some of the photos taken from today with it. I had three of my friends taking pictures the entire time so there should be quite a lot once we have them all printed.” You say.

Raphael is next and their gift is plain to see.

Held between their gloved hands is a potted sapling.

You find familiarity in the shape of the leaves at once.

“Is that a willow sapling?” You cannot help but blurt out before they can even speak, already reaching out for it.

Raphael hands it over and you lean your face forward, smelling the leaves.

What a nostalgic, comforting scent.

You tug your child over by the sash around their waist and press a wet smack of a kiss against their forehead, making them laugh shyly.

The gift giving goes on for quite a while. By the end, V1 and V2 have nearly their weight in gold coins, electronics and trinkets from the surface. Gabriel has the small beginnings of a library with the sheer amount of books he has been gifted, and it is very cute seeing him perk up when Minos and Sisyphus gift him a few potted succulents grown from Sisyphus’ burgeoning desert garden.

Hours of merriment come to a comfortable end. You announce that you and your spouses will be heading home to prepare for your honeymoon and your guests assist with carrying all of your gifts to the manor, with Aurora and Glacia being among the first to volunteer to stay behind to clean up the reception room.

When you reach your home it takes almost as long saying thanks and farewell to everyone as it did accepting the gifts.

You think V2 is going to combust from sexual frustration very soon.

You cannot say you are not feeling the same.

The only ones that remain now are Raphael, Sisyphus and Minos, all of whom have business in your home, and pay you no mind as the four of you head up the stairs to your bedrooms and start packing bags. You wonder if the week you will be gone will be enough for your friends to finish building the basement and attic. The time crunch did not seem to bother them in the least so you assume they would not have agreed if it were impossible.

You finish packing first and head downstairs with your things. You startle when Minos is suddenly at your side, always faster than you can process, to carry your things for you. You sit on his lap at the table in the foyer while Sisyphus furiously scribbles some measurements and various designs for the rooms that will be built.

It is extremely funny seeing how carefully he must hold a pencil in his massive hand.

As funny as it is, your attention drifts to the newest addition in your home: the portrait of you and your mortal family.

You close your eyes eventually, wanting to rest a little while you waited, but it has only been a few minutes when you suddenly jump to full alertness.

It was like someone had just said your name.

“I wilt not let thee fall.” Minos assures, his arm tightening around your middle.

You hum but are unable to comfortably close your eyes again.

Your attention again drifts to the portrait.

After everyone has said farewell and gathered their things, Gabriel teleports the four of you to the island on Wrath.

V1 beeps cheerfully, jumping in place excitedly at the sight that lays ahead.

The humble fishing cabin has been greatly expanded upon, now having a second story and a front door. A small garden of tropical plants has been started on the west side of the cabin and near the dock is a limestone pavilion with a domed roof, round benches lining the inside with a fountain in the center.

Gabriel begins hefting up a few of the bags to bring them inside but Vee gently knocks his hand away.

“I’ll bring everything inside in a second. There’s something else I gotta bring in first.” Vee explains, “The husband has to carry the brides across the threshold, right?”

“You do not have to—oh! ” Gabriel dismisses shyly, more than aware of how much bigger and heavier he is, yet somehow forgetting that despite the size disparity, Vee was more than capable of hefting him into his arms.

“Were you saying something?” V2 challenges, taking careful steps towards the cabin so he doesn’t trip over the excess of Gabriel’s dress.

You can barely see Vee past Gabriel. It almost looked like your angel was floating, if not for the pair of red legs sticking out. There is some difficulty with fitting Gabriel through the doorway, and you even see his helm knock against the frame, but your angel does not seem to notice at all, giggling and flushed in the wings.

V2 exits the cabin, clapping his palms like he just finished manual labor, and whips his visor at V1, raising his hands and making a grabby motion with them. V1 beeps shyly, then screeches when Vee breaks out into a mad dash towards them, kicking up a sandstorm, before skidding to a halt in front of V1 and grabbing them by their waist, spinning them around, before tossing them high in the air, so high you have to crane your face up.

V2 pantomimes checking a wristwatch before leaping into the air just as V1 begins to descend, catching them in his arms and landing with flourish. You expect him to run towards the cabin but this time he takes his time, bumping his visor against V1’s until their optics are pink.

You wait on the beach, admiring the sunset, when you hear footsteps calmly approaching from behind. When you turn around you find Vee lowered on one knee, visor pointed at the ground. He raises his head, optic still pink, and spreads out his arms invitingly. You smile at him, reaching out to cup his visor, thumb rubbing the metal plating on the side. You loop your arms around his shoulders and settle comfortably into his arms. He rises, optic still on you, and when a breeze rolls through he sweetly tucks some stray locks behind your ear.

When you are under the doorway, he leans his visor slowly towards your face, inch by inch, time even seeming to slow, before he is pressed flush against your lips in a sweet kiss. It is a kiss you happily return, grinning as you blur the lens of his optic and leave kissy marks all over the frame of his visor.

The main room with the fireplace is fully furnished with a massive couch, and a thick, rectangular carpet that was so plush you felt like you would bounce a bit if you walked across it. There are flowers in tall, standing vases, bouquets in vases, and dried flower petals leading out of the main room towards what used to be a dead end closet, but now led to a staircase leading to the second floor, a wooden wrack full to the brim of bottles of wine directly left of it.

Gabriel and V1 are seated on the couch, and it is between the two of them that V2 deposits you before he walks over to the fireplace and gives it a shot with Knuckleblaster to light it. He leaves and returns repeatedly to bring everything inside and once finished, he kicks the front door shut.

The air becomes thick with tension at once.

You can smell desire in the air like perfume.

To your surprise, each of your spouses turn their attention towards you. Feeling very much like prey, your gut coils with heat and you swallow hard. V1 beeps lowly as they cup your face and kiss you, the noise eerily similar to a purr, and bumps their visor against every part of your face—your forehead, both temples, your nose, even your chin—before nuzzling against your neck.

Gabriel’s large, warm hand takes your right arm and he leaves a trail of kisses starting from the tip of your fingers to your shoulder. He gives your hand a squeeze, massaging the knuckles, and a breath catches in your throat. Another soon joins the first when V1’s fingers dance across your collarbones, then cups your breasts. You are so distracted by all the attention being given to you that you fail to notice V2 once again kneeling before you, this time taking each of your legs so he can remove your sandals.

The gold ribbon around your waist gets pinched between Gabriel’s index and thumb, the drag of it ticklish, and after it has been pulled away entirely your peplos loosens, sagging around your breasts and stomach, making it very, very easy for the garment to be peeled away completely. Your spouses pause their touches to admire your naked body, and you squirm under the intensity of their gazes, a little dizzy from how your thoughts are racing with the thousand and one things you want to do and have done to you.

“Please.” You beg, spreading your thighs wide.

“There is no need to plead.” Gabriel whispers to you, “You will be given everything and more. You will be pleasured to the point of excess and pleasured even further still.”

Vi and Gabriel grope a breast each for themselves, something as small as that able to make you throw your head back with a gasp, skin on fire. Your nipples are pinched and rolled, reducing you to a writhing, desperate mess. It is nearly humiliating how sensitive you are.

When V2’s five-fingered hand skirts up your inner thigh your hips buck, slick pouring out of you.

“Breathe.” Vi taps in morse against your sternum when your lungs start to fail you and all you can do is gasp and pant, barely able to take in a full breath of air, especially now with V2’s hand inching up higher, his cool, mechanical fingers softly dragging up and down your soaked folds.

You fully stop breathing when a finger slips inside, your cunt so desperate and wet that it welcomes it with no trouble, practically sucking it in. You squeeze tightly around what you have been given, heart pounding in your chest. V2 starts thrusting his finger inside of you at a steady pace, and because he so rarely wears clothes the fact the he is still fully dressed in his wedding suit, looking so handsome kneeling between your thighs, your orgasm sneaks up and utterly blindsides you with its intensity. Your senses have not even fully returned to you before he slips in a second finger and starts fucking you at a relentless pace, your cunt gushing with each thrust, making his entire hand sticky. Gabriel’s hand joins Vee’s, two of them resting atop the hood of your clit. He massages it in firm side to side motions, sometimes tracing a circle, but never quickening his pace.

The contrast between how fast V2 fucks you versus Gabriel and Vi’s slow, steady touches drives you a little mad.

You cum in an even shorter amount of time, no less intensely, and are left a quivering, sweat-soaked mess.

“Catch your breath. Wouldn’t want my wife’s heart to give out.” V2 teases.

You help Vi out of their outfit and heels, leaving them in their pretty bralette and panties, while V2 helps Gabriel out of his dress, mindful of the sharps of Knuckleblaster and surprisingly dexterous when it came to taking off the garment. Gabriel wears white silk panties and a frilly garter of the same color squeezes a thigh. The way his massive cock bulges out of the fabric turns you on so much your head spins.

The little piece of fabric captures your full attention.

You slide off the couch and stand on your knees between your angel’s thighs.

“Life your leg up slightly.” You instruct and he does, “I told you I would take this off with my teeth, didn’t I?”

You stare right up at him as you nip the garter between your teeth and start to tug, the drag of fabric, your warm breaths, teasing his skin. He points his foot in a dainty manner as you pull the garter down his muscular calve, his ankle, then off him entirely.

Your angel’s patience snaps.

He scoops up each of you and flaps his wings hard, soaring up the staircase and reaching the master bedroom in a blink. The bedroom is spacious and the bed that sits flushed against the north wall in the center is easily twice the size of the one back home. There is an open bay window on the wall above the bed and the curtains ripple in the breeze, moonlight flooding in and acting as the only source of light besides the glow of your spouses optics.

You and Vi are laid down on the bed but V2 is made to stand so Gabriel can hastily remove his chlamys, then his suit, the process slowed down by how much V2 grabs handfuls of your angel’s ass.

“Your turn.” V2 says to Vi as he crawls into bed and looms over them, cock already hanging out and dripping with excess lubrication.

You watch as he lays his hands over Vi’s petite, blue bosom, comforted by the steady beat of their artificial heart, then traces the fabric of their white bralette like rivers on a map. You startle as you are dragged towards the foot of the bed by your ankles, and you do not stop moving until your legs hang over the edge of the bed and Gabriel’s helmet is flushed to your folds.

“Your body is a temple I have left neglected. Allow me to worship at your feet properly.” Gabriel says huskily, drunk off the headiness of your desire. He rubs his helm against you furiously, the gold cross icon slicked from your fluids and making the glide of it so lovely your toes curl, back arching. “E-Exquisite.” He shivers, when you tighten your legs around him, “How I lasted as long as I did without this…Without you…I do not think I can go through such a thing again. The need I have for you is too great.”

Your angel makes you finish again and again, your clit so swollen and overstimulated, each grind against it like a bolt of lightning coursing through you. Tears pour from your eyes and you push him away, needing a break, but he latches onto you harder, giving you even more pleasure until all you can do is just lay there and take it, your thighs and the sheets underneath you soaked.

You do not faint but you come very close to it.

When he at last pulls away there are multiple sticky threads connecting your cunt and his helm.

“On the bed, angel.” You command, voice rough from how much you have been moaning, and in his eagerness he teleports, suddenly appearing right next to you on the bed, seated on his folded knees to await further instruction, “Take off your panties and sit just like that.” You tell him before turning your attention towards Vi and Vee, the latter of which has his visor pressed to their tits and his five fingered hand stuffed into their panties, his fingers vibrating noisily. You get to see the exact moment Vi falls apart, the light of their optic flickering on and off rapidly as they screech in their throes of ecstasy. “Vee, fuck me while I have our pretty flower ride my face.”

Steam hisses out of his fans.

“I missed how freaky you are. God, this is so hot.” V2 says with a manic sort of laugh as he slips his hand out of Vi’s panties, “Come on, cutie, go get even wetter so I can fuck you right after.” And he gives their folds a soft slap, making their hips buck.

Gabriel makes a needy sound, squirming, as you drag a finger from sac to tip. His wings flutter sporadically. Vi crawls over to you and swings one leg over your face to stand on their knees above you, their folds dripping onto your mouth and chin. You do not need to see to be able to pleasure your angel, so you have V1 sit down at once, keening loudly at the taste you’ve been denied.

You wish you could take your time but there will be opportunities for that later. You eat them out greedily, licking and sucking for each drop that spills from them while your fingers tease the tip of Gabriel’s cock, the pad of a finger massaging the slit and coaxing out even more precum. His entire cock becomes soaked as you tease the head and the flared glans. When you at last grip the base and give it a pump your hand almost slides off completely from how wet he is.
Two mechanical hands lift your ass up marginally and a pillow slides underneath you. Something hard and wet presses against your entrance. You cry at the feeling, desperate, and the vibrations ease an equally tortured sound out of Vi. V2’s cock slowly slips inside, the stretch of it addictive. It feels so good he cannot even speak, only able to mutter curses that are peppered with static.

He bottoms out and you can tell by how hard he shakes that he wants to take things slowly too, but you are tremendously relieved that he comes to the same conclusion you did and simply lets himself take what he needs, snapping his hips and suddenly fucking you so hard the bed rocks and you scream against Vi’s folds.

“Fuck !” He shouts, driving his cock into you the deepest it can go with each thrust, that sweet spot inside of you getting stimulated ceaselessly, driving you just short of hysterics, then pushing you fully into it when his cock starts vibrating and he fucks you at an even more merciless pace. “I c-can’t take it. You sound…You feel so—”

Intelligible static and beeping, then you feel him spill inside of you. You have missed the warm rush of your lover’s spilling inside of you so much that the sensation of it is enough to make you finish. You frantically grope Vi’s body until you find a wire and you curl your finger around it and give it a nice tug just before your brain completely shuts off as you drown in pleasure.

Your ears ring a bit and starts dot your vision as you come down from the high.

Vi flops off you, steam rising from their bosom, and V2 pulls out and joins them, needing to allow his system to cool off as well so he didn’t prematurely reboot. You should need a break too after such a wonderful fucking yet you’re suddenly pushing Gabriel down onto his back so you can stick his cock in your mouth.

When you fit most of it in your throat and keep it there, swallowing around him, your angel turns into a sobbing mess, making the most beautiful of sounds as you swirl your tongue against the throbbing vein snaking underneath. Cum fills your throat and spills across your tongue. You swallow it all down and lick him clean. Then you crawl atop him, flushed cunt hovering over his twitching length. You brace your hands flat on his abs and start to sink down.

V2 is seated up now, legs crossed, with V1 in his lap, his red cock already buried deep in them. The two of them are holding hands, optics pink, and their visors flushes to one another.

It is as sweet as it is arousing.

Sweat drips into your eyes as you bounce on Gabriel’s cock, the symphony of holes being filled and servos groaning inspiring you to fuck him harder, faster, until it becomes simply too much and you fall apart, vision swimming and breaths punching out of you evenly. You flop against your angel’s front. He grips your hips and picks up right where you left off, slamming you down onto his cock. You wail, clawing at him, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth.

With another snap of his hips he cums, spilling hot and hard with a high-pitched, quivering moan.

He stays inside as he softens, hugging you.

You kiss the twitching muscles of his stomach.

The two of you watch V1 and V2 fuck, helping them reach bliss by letting your hands wander and give attention to any wires they come across. They finish at the same time, letting their hands drop so they can hug one another tightly.

Gabriel pulls out of you and rolls onto his side to curl around you. Vi and Vee take some time to cool off before laying down as well. Gabriel pulls them closer, an arm around all of you now, and he takes a deep, deep breath, before letting it out in a shaky exhale.

“I love you all so much.” He says softly, a little emotional again.

“And you are loved just as much.” You reply, raising his left hand to kiss the knuckle of his ring finger, each wedding band sparkling under the moonlight.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

After a week the four of you return to Limbo.

As soon as all of your forms finish materializing in the foyer of the manor, the door to the garden opens and closes and Raphael flies out, halo brightening at the sight of you all.

“Welcome back!” Your child greets, floating over with Florp held in their gloved hands, “I hope that your honeymoon was enjoyable. Everything is fine here. Ah, but you just missed Sisyphus and Minos leaving. They just finished cleaning up all the materials and tools. The attic and basement are finished now. They moved everything in the storage room to the basement already. I offered to help but they would not let me.”

You know very well why it is your friends denied your child assisting with clearing out the storage room but you refrain from speaking on it just yet.

V1 gives Raphael a hug then takes Florp from them to make a beeline towards the fish tank so they can spend time with both of their pets.

You pull your child into an embrace, even spinning them, and they laugh and laugh, delighted to have you returned.

They will be delighted for another reason very shortly.

They hug Gabriel next.

“What? No hug for dad?” V2 jokes and pulls them into a one-armed hug.

“I-I did not want to make you uncomfortable or overstep any boundaries.”

“It’s just a hug, dude. We’re family.”

Only then does Raphael relax and return the hug properly.

“Have you been inside of the old storage room at all?” You ask Raphael and when they shake their head you smile, “Excellent. Let’s take a look at it now.”

They are a little confused but follow along with V2 and Gabriel. V1 has no interest in anything other than their pets at the moment and remains seated in front of the fish tank as the three of you walk past them.

You open the door to the small room and step aside to let everyone in.

The room once only held a fireplace and had quickly become full of all the things your spouses brought back from their explorations on the surface. It has now been furnished into a proper bedroom, one with a cozy bed tucked against the wall in the corner, a bookshelf across from it filled with anatomy and history books. There are framed pictures of each member of your family on the fireplace’s mantle.

“Do you like it?” You ask Raphael.

“Me???” They balk, even more confused now, “Y-Yes, I like it. Your friends did a wonderful job.”

You slip their hand into yours and lead them over to the bed so they can sit sideways on your lap.

“I’m relieved to hear that since this bedroom is meant to be yours.” You explain with a hum.

Their wings shoot out in their surprise and partially hit you in the face.

“But my living quarters are in Heaven!” They protest, even turning towards Gabriel as if expecting to be scolded, but all their brother does is walk over and set a hand on their diminutive shoulder.

“You are being asked if you would like this to be your new living quarters. Your home .” Gabriel explains gently, “Think not of Heaven or your responsibilities when you consider your wants. Think only of what will make you happiest. You will not be denied it, I promise. No matter what decision you make, you are always welcome here with us.”

“Yeah, fuck what anyone else thinks. Do what you want.” V2 casually supplies from his spot at the doorway, his arms loosely crossed and an ankle crossed over the other.

Raphael lowers their helm to their lap and wrings their gloved hands together anxiously.

They think for a while.

“I want to live here with you all. I want this to be my home.” Raphael raises their helm to say, not a hint of indecision in their tone.

Your grin and give them a big kiss.

“That makes me so happy, cherub. Why don’t you start bringing your things here? I’ll help you decorate.” You tell them.

“I will! Thank you all so much! I will return!” They announce before hopping off your lap and teleporting.

You hold up your cupped hand to catch one of their shed feathers in your palm.

You set it on the bed then wink at your spouses.

“I’ve got one more surprise. It’s for Vi.” You explain, and the second their name leaves your mouth you hear the whirring of servos then see their visor peaking behind V2’s back.

“Surprise?” V1 signs, optic sparkling with their excitement.

You snort loudly.

“I always forget how sharp your hearing is.” You laugh and walk over to slip your hand into Vi’s, giving it a squeeze, “The surprise is upstairs.”

You lead everyone upstairs and stop just in front of the stained glass depiction of Gabriel.

On the ceiling is wooden panel with a drawstring attached to it.

“The surprise is in the new attic?” V1 signs.

The surprise is the attic.

You say nothing as you give the drawstring a pull and the ladder extends out. You gesture for V1 to go first and follow behind them. You hear Gabriel yelp when V2 pinches his ass as he heads up next.

The attic is very inviting. The cove ceiling is decorated with yellow string lights and a mobile made with the various fish dolls V1 had found throughout Hell are attached to it, slowly spinning in an endless cycle, the sequence beads that acted as the scales glimmering as the yellow lights bounce off it. A bed is against the west wall and across from it a table with a TV and some of V2’s extra gaming consoles. All of the plushies your spouse owns are tucked under the sheets, only their heads sticking out and at the foot of the bed is a wooden trunk.

On a little table to the left of the bed is a vase of violets and morning glories, all gathered from your garden.

Vi approaches the flowers and touches the petals gently before turning around, tapping the tips of their index fingers together demurely.

“…For me?” They sign.

“For you.” You grin.

“Yaaaaay!!” V1 signs, jumping in place repeatedly before walking over to you and tugging you towards the bed, “Want to cuddle?”

“In a little bit, flower. I want to check the garden and I’ll need to help Raphael with decorating when they return.”

“And I would like a bath.” Gabriel speaks up, “But I will join you soon enough. Why don’t you and V2 pick out a movie for us to watch?”

V1 chimes happily, nodding, and makes V2 sit on the floor so they can sit on his lap while they go through their stack of DVDS.

Gabriel gives you a kiss then wanders off into your bedroom to get fresh clothes for his bath. You head downstairs. Before going to the garden you approach the painting Lucifer had gifted you.

“I’m home. I won’t be leaving again anytime soon. At least not for as long.” You whisper to the painting, fingers affectionately tracing the golden frame. You press your forehead to the frame, finding the chill comforting.

“Calli .” Someone says and you gasp, startling.

You turn around and find yourself alone.

Wide-eyed and heart pounding you look all around the foyer.

You find nothing and no one.

Yet, there was no denying that someone had said your name.

It had been a familiar voice too.

Very familiar.

“It is just my mind playing tricks on me like it used to.” You rationalize, hand clenching over where your heart lays.

When you had first been rescued from Lust and your memories began to fail you there were many times that you could have sworn hearing your loved ones but time after time it just turned out to be your loneliness manifesting in pitiful ways.

You startle again when a sharp, droning noise sounds off.

Raphael stands near the front door of the manor with a bundle of things in their arms.

“Is something troubling you, mother?” Raphael asks, wings drooping.

You take a deep breath and hold it.

“Not at all. Just lost in thought.” You explain, “Let’s get started on your room.”

Hours later, after your child has fully settled into their bedroom and gone to sleep you head up to the attic and find all of your spouses waiting for you in V1’s bed. They invite you with open arms and each of them gives you a kiss. The movie is nice enough but you only give it a fraction of your attention in favor of meticulously grooming Gabriel’s wings.

Your angel is asleep, snoring away happily, and V2 is nearly there too, his eyelid lowering bit by bit as the movie progresses. He eventually gets annoyed enough with his indecision and finally announces that he’s going to sleep, giving you two a kiss before he powers down.

Vi moves to lay atop you as the credits roll. Their visor sits comfortably between your breasts, one arm extended to hold your face in their cupped palm.

“I am very glad to be alive.” They tap in morse against your cheek.

They have never expressed feeling the opposite. There is a significance in their choice of wording that you will not allow the drowsiness of your mind to skirt past.

Things existed.

People lived.

The realization that they now fully accept themselves as a person, not a war machine, or a tool to be used for someone else’s end, makes your soul brighten.

Smiling fondly, you set your hand over the one they have on your cheek.

“Me too.” You tell them.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

There is only so much shooting awake from sleep, disoriented and haunted, that a person can ignore before they have no choice but to admit that there is perhaps a problem, although the source of your current problem eludes you.

You are not going to let this spiral any further than it has—refusing to worry your spouses over something inexplicable like this—and so when you again awake from a dream you cannot remember, the ghost of a touch on your forehead and the smell of petrichor pervading the air of your bedroom, you decide that now is as good a time as any to speak with your Lord.

You carefully pry yourself from Gabriel’s arms and slip a robe on before leaving. You head downstairs and peek into Raphael’s bedroom, finding them still asleep, but the sheets tangled around their legs so you walk over and fix them, tucking them neatly around their chest before kissing their forehead before exiting the room.

You go to the garden, pluck a flower, and place it in the offering bowl on Lucifer’s altar.

“It is not required to make an offering when calling for me, you know this, but the gift is appreciated nonetheless.” Lucifer says from behind you.

You turn around and find him holding the flower between his thumb and index, twirling it by the stem.

He sees the distress on your face and the flower wilts.

He lets it fall from his hands and picks you up, holding you level with his helm.

“Has someone attempted to harm you? Have you been insulted, my dearest and only disciple?” Lucie asks, the feminine half of his voice hissing, the masculine snarling, “Speak of the transgression plainly and I will devise a suitable punishment.”

You give him a kiss and his tail stops whipping.

“I do not know what is wrong.” You confess, “Lately, more and more, it feels like something is calling out for me. It feels very similar to how you used to call for me but the dreams I have now I cannot remember at all. There’s this unceasing feeling of loss. I wake up feeling like someone has carved open my chest and taken everything out and all I can do afterwards is just sit there aching.”

“There are no demons left in Hell, none of which would have the capability of communicating with you in such a way and if it was someone divine trying to reach you they would not be so secretive about it.” Lucifer explains, “That leads me to believe that whoever is calling out to you is of a different nature entirely. How odd.”

“I do not want to suffer these feelings anymore.”

“I will see to it that you are spared from it. I promise.” He assures, “Tell me, is there anything else aside from these dreams?”

“I feel touches that are not there. I hear someone calling my name. My old name.”

“And what does this voice sound like?”

And here lays the true problem.

You close your eyes, biting your lip.

“…It sounds like Melanthios.” You say, heart clenching tightly in your chest, that feeling of loss more pronounced now, “But it cannot be him. I have been dead for…however long and the entire time I have lived in Limbo and Lust I have not seen him. I thought he was lost for good. I-I was beginning to make peace with that. And yet I hear his voice and feel his touch!”

You break down in tears.

Lucifer tucks your face against his neck and strokes your hair as you cry.

“We will figure this out together.” Lucifer tells you gently, “Is it only at home that you experience these things?”

You shake your head, sniffling.

“It does not matter where I go, although sometimes the feeling is more pronounced in other places.” You explain.

“Let us use that feeling as a compass. We can take a walk through Hell and ascertain which layers call to you the strongest. Allow me to first inform the rest of our sleeping kin of our leave so they do not think anything is amiss.”

After telling your family you were leaving, Lucifer carries you out of the manor and throughout Limbo, first through the castle, then the sunny rooms with stone arches and artificial flowers. The feeling sparks here and there but it does not linger. Each layer of Hell stretches on infinitely if you stray off the established path and doubting that anyone would be out there in the strange, unknowable fringes, Lucifer decides it is better to avoid going there.

Lust provides nothing.

So does Greed.

All that remained was Wrath and the deeper, more malevolent layers of Hell that you would prefer ultimately to never again return to, voluntarily or not.

“I am losing my mind.” You say, defeated, when all that you feel in Wrath is the cold rain.

“You are not. What you are feeling is very real. I have seen it in your mind.” Lucifer tells you firmly, “There is another place in Hell we have yet to explore.”

“Where is it?”

“The mouth of Hell. Or perhaps it is politer to call it the front door given how much more pleasant this place has been made. I will take you there, but I will not take you anywhere near the true entrance. I have told you once before that if a damned soul should attempt to leave Hell their soul will be destroyed. There is no risk of that truly happening but it unnerves me that it is a fate that can befall you at all. You have no qualms if I do not allow you to walk on your own when we are there, do you?”

“Not at all. You can keep carrying me.” You tell him.

Lucifer teleports and you are suddenly in a part of Hell you have never been to but truthfully there is nothing of interest to really take in. The pseudo foyer to the sprawling abyss yields the same red walls with yellow lights, statues crouched in thought, and constant droning. Even after all the traps and hazards have been done away with not a single machine or husk populates this place.

It is almost shocking how devoid of anything this place is.

All that can be found here is metal and Hell energy.

…Yet you feel something tugging on your soul.

You claw at your chest, heart racing.

“Did you feel something?” Lucifer asks, and when you nod he hums, continuing to head in the same direction.

The feeling only gets strong and stronger as he makes his way down a blindingly yellow staircase and through a room with a high ceiling and a steps leading down.

Another room.

Then another.

The feeling crescendos, nigh unbearable, when Lucifer enters a squarish room with only one other path—a presumed dead end.

There are broken wooden planks on the ground.

Lucifer raises a hand to point a clawed finger directly ahead.

“That is the entrance of Hell. It is how all the machines made their way here. It is a sheer drop, so you have no hope of ascending it to escape, but I am unsure if even nearing it will have an adverse effect.” He explains to you sternly, “I do not wish to be in this place for long. Do you hear or feel anything else?”

You are about to speak up that the feeling has dampened when you hear something and the sensation slams back into you full force.

…Someone is crying.

You and Lucifer turn towards the sound and notice that a metal grate has been pried off a very large duct.

Lucifer approaches it and something startles, moving away into the darkness.

The crying quiets but you know that whoever is doing it has not stopped, merely waiting for the two of you to leave. The more Lucifer tries to peer into the duct the more the person scoots away, now whimpering with fear.

“I will shrink down in size and pull them out.” He says, but you shake your head.

“Let me.” You offer, and his tail starts whipping at once, “I swear to you that I will not go anywhere near the entrance. Please.”

He thinks it over for a full minute.

It is very clear that he does not like this in the slightest but he obliges and lowers you to the ground so you can crouch on all fours and peek your head into the duct. You cannot see the person anymore but you somehow know without a doubt they are there.

“We mean you no harm. Are you hurt, my friend? We can tend to your wounds. There is no need to hide away. You are safe with us. No harm will befall you. I promise.” You say gently.

There is a sound.

A thud.

A second, then a third follows suit, picking up slightly in speed until the stranger is close enough to reveal themselves.

It is a Stray, now seated at the entrance of the duct, perfectly visible. They sit with their back against the duct, arms around their bent knees. Ever since the reformation of Hell all of the husks have been healed of the grievous wounds and alterations they suffered but they still barely resembled humans. The same remains true about this Stray. Their once flayed skin has been restored, slightly pale in color and without a freckle, but they still lack facial features, instead having two gaping black holes for eyes, the skin completely smoothed over where a nose and mouth should sit.

From the Stray’s eye sockets spills an endless amount of tears.

The two of you just stare at one another.

It feels right.

Slowly, so as not to frighten them, you lean forward and press your forehead to theirs.

You suddenly smell the sea and the fertile soil of your old farm.

“I know you, don’t I?” You whisper, tears starting to well in your eyes, “My soul feels brighter just by being near you. I feel…found. Like a piece I have been missing has at last been returned to me.”

The Stray whimpers, tears pouring even harder down their face, and they press against you, all but laying atop you now, their spindly arms weakly curling around you.

They are so warm.

Their weight is familiar.

Your breath catches in your throat. You hold the Stray closer to you, burying your face against their neck and inhaling deeply.

You are so hopeful but you are frightened of somehow misleading yourself out of grief.

“Do you remember who you are?” You ask.

The Stray lacks the clarity of mind to shake their head or nod.

It was only you, Minos, Sisyphus and the Ferryman that were different from all the other damned souls but you were hoping that maybe this time it would be different.

“…Do you remember your name?” You ask next and find that things are in fact different.

The Stray separates from you to start clawing at their lack of mouth, confirming that they do in fact know the answer to that question but lacked a way to give it.

You capture their wrists and stop them from hurting themselves.

“Be calm, my friend. There are other ways to communicate. Here,” You say, and will blood to spill from your palm to give them something to illustrate with, but the Stray becomes upset seeing you supposedly hurt and cries harder, their agonized whimpers breaking your heart, “Shhh, shhh, I am not hurt. It is just something I can do now.”

It takes a long time for them to calm down and remember the question you asked.

You are patient.

You remind the Stray as many times as it takes until they dip a shaking finger into the small pool of your blood. To your disappointment they do not write a name, least of all one that starts with an ‘M’ and instead start drawing something. A series of curves are connected eventually into a round shape—a cloud.

It holds no significance to you.

Not until the Stray dips their finger in the blood repeatedly to darken the inside of the cloud and add little spots falling from it.

It’s a rain cloud.

That means the world to you.

“My little rain cloud.” You cry hysterically, pulling him back against you so you can kiss his tear-stained face, “Melanthios, we are finally reunited. I gave up hope. Have you waited here all this time for me? How did you avoid being killed by the machines? The demons? How am I only now hearing your calls for me when we died seconds apart? The realization that you have been here all this time, alone and senses failing—I am so sorry. My love, forgive me. Come with me. Leave this lonely corner of Hell and share my home with me like we once did. I will take care of you. I will make up for all the countless years I have made you wait for me. I swear to you. Now that I have you again I will never let you go.”

Melanthios’ understanding of all that goes as far as the observation you are more distressed than before so he in turn becomes upset, keening and whimpering miserably as he tries to comfort you by again pressing his forehead against you.

Everything else may have escaped his mind but not his love for you.

Never that.

“Is there anything we can do to restore his sense of self? His intelligence?” You plead to Lucifer.

“Melanthios is neither a Prime soul nor a Supreme husk like yourself.” He reminds you, “And while I have the ability to alter my own form, altering someone else’s is another matter entirely. I am no longer divine. My powers lay in the profane and Hell energy. His soul is too weak. If I tampered with it at all he may become less stable than he is currently. But…if we were to bolster his soul with some of your own I am positive that I can restore his mind, although I cannot promise what form his body may take afterwards. He may look the same. He may resemble more of his old self. He may become something entirely different.”

“I cannot leave him like this. I will do anything to help him.”

“Sharing a part of one’s soul is no trifling matter. You can no longer suffer physical pain but your soul can and I assure you that the pain you will feel will be unlike anything else you have felt both in your mortal life and here in the afterlife. It will likely feel akin to the pain I felt when I was stripped of my divinity and cast out of Heaven. There is no one I would wish that pain on. Would you still agree to this?”

“I would.” You tell him adamantly.

“…Very well.” Lucifer agrees and picks up you and Melanthios before teleporting.

You arrive home and find your spouses all awake and seated at the table in the foyer, looking various degrees of worried but upon hearing your return they all perk up and stand from their seats.

“Who the hell is that?” V2 asks, jutting his visor at Melanthios, who is disoriented from teleporting and the sudden change of scenery and people and clings to you tightly, hiding his face against your neck.

“A new friend?” V1 signs.

“…Or perhaps an old one?” Gabriel speaks up, starting to connect why it is you and a supposedly random Stray are clinging to one another so intimately. That much is confirmed when his helmet turns towards the painting of you when you were alive.

“An old, dear friend.” You agree, still crying a bit, “Dearest of all. I have reunited with Melanthios at last.”

“That is wonderful news! I am so happy for you, my love, but he is…” Gabriel starts, growing more unsure the further along he gets, not wanting to be insulting, but there was no ignoring the elephant in the room.

“He is not himself. He recognizes me but that is it.” You explain and once his suspicions have been confirmed your angel lowers his helm sadly, not knowing what to say.

“Babe, I dunno what to say. Congrats? Sorry?” V2 says, rubbing the back of his visor with one hand, “He’s going to stay here with us right? Do you think just being around you will like, jog his memory? Does he have the capacity to learn sign language? Not all of the husks can. Seems like their intelligence varies a lot.”

“Rue has agreed to conduct an…experiment of sorts.” Lucifer explains, “Essentially, I will be taking a piece of their soul and placing it within Melanthios to strength his. With a combination of their soul and my profane influence, we are hoping to make him an artificial Supreme Husk.”

“Taking a piece of their soul??” Gabriel repeats incredulously, “Brother, is that wise—”

Lucifer holds up a hand and your angel quiets.

“You and I are both aware of just how strong and steadfast Rue’s soul is. I will only be taking a small amount, I promise, although the process will be horrific. How can one describe the feeling of someone grasping their soul and shaving a piece of it? You can imagine the worst pain you have ever felt, increase it tenfold, and will still fail to comprehend the true depths of the agony that will be inspired through this.”

“I have never heard of such a thing being done but if anyone can do it I am certain it is you.” Gabriel amends, wings fluttering with his anxiety, “…There will be no repercussions afterwards? No side effects?”

“Rue will only suffer the agony of the process. Nothing further. On that note, I think it would best if everyone aside from the three of us leave while I tend to this. It is a delicate procedure and I need utmost concentration. Not only that, but I would not want my family to have to listen to the pained screams of their spouse.”

“What?? I’m not leaving. If my wife is going to be in pain I should be here to comfort them.” V2 protests hotly.

“There will be no comfort you can offer. Not for this.” Lucifer explains.

“Bullshit—”

“Vee.” Gabriel interrupts firmly, “We should leave. If there is no comfort we can provide then there is no point of us torturing ourselves by staying here and listening to our lover wail in pain while we are unable to do anything. And my brother needs peace and quiet to do his work. You know that will not be possible if we are here.”

V2 falls silent but his fans do not.

You have Lucifer set you down and while Melanthios protests and cries, you have him remain in your Lord’s arms so you can comfort Vee.

You stand on tiptoe to kiss him.

“It will be okay, sweetheart.” You whisper to him.

His hands settle on either side of your waist and tug you closer.

“Promise me.” He returns just as quietly.

“I promise.”

He gives you a big hug, squeezing all the breath from your lungs.

“…Okay. I’ll leave.” He relents.

Gabriel, V2, V1 and Raphael leave for your vacation home in Wrath.

You hope that it distracts them from ruminating over what you will be going through even if only slightly. Lucifer sets Melanthios down and your other, better half rushes over to you, a fresh round of tears starting as he clings to you, not understanding why he had been kept from you and extremely distressed about it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, shhhh. I’m here.” You say and lead him over to the painting of your old selves, lifting his face so he looks at it instead of you. He stiffens, although you cannot tell if that is because he recognizes what he is looking at. “I do not look the same as I once did. Neither do you. But we are still ourselves. I am going to help you remember yourself but I want you to know this, my little rain cloud: even if things should fail and you remain as you are now, you will still have me. My love for you has not wavered.”

He nuzzles against you, having his fill of the painting and going right back to adhering himself to you.

“Shall we begin?” Lucie asks as he takes the spot on your left.

You take a deep breath.

“Yes. I am ready.”

You lead Melanthios upstairs to your bedroom and have him sit on the edge of your bed. Even though he lacks genitalia that does not mean that he is comfortable walking around naked like he has been. You wipe the tears from his featureless face but discover that his tears truly are endless. It saddens you deeply. For a while all you can do is just hold him. Eventually you dress him in one of your chitons and help him lay down in your bed. He keeps trying to get up until you lay down next to him.

Rolling over onto your side and pulling him against you feels like the most natural thing in the world.

You sing to him and stroke his back, easing him to sleep. Only when you are certain he will not be disturbed do you speak.

“What must I do…?” You ask Lucie, craning your face to look at him over your shoulder.

“I am afraid that there is not much, if anything that you can do during this other than experience it.” Lucifer tells you with a weary sigh as he brings your desk chair over to the bed and shrinks down to be able to sit down in it comfortably. He uses his tail to tuck some of your hair behind an ear. “I will ensure that your companion—nay, your soulmate—will remain asleep. For him, it will feel like a restorative little nap. Sleep will not be possible for you, my kin, and for that I am deeply sorry.”

You shake your head.

“You are the only one that must stay here and witness me during this. I should be the one apologizing.” You say.

“Witnessing it is nothing compared to experiencing it but I appreciate the sentiment. Now, do you wish for some time to calm your spirit or will we be starting things immediately?” He asks.

“I have waited long enough, I think.”

“True enough.”

He reaches out and hovers both of his hands palm down a few inches above your chest. He begins to whisper in the same profane, unknowable language he did when giving you your blessings. Every hair on your body stands on end. The candles in your bedroom flicker then completely extinguish, leaving you in almost complete dark, save for the eerie red glow that was emanating from your Lord’s hands.

His hands slowly lower then lay flat against your breasts and stomach. Then, to your horror, your skin gives way, no longer a solid barrier, and his hands plunge inside of you, this squirming, intrusive feeling now overwhelming every sense. It felt like your organs were being pushed around. It felt like something very, very precious was being toyed with. It gives you the sensation of needing to clean yourself—like there is tar stuck in your eyes and lungs and no matter how much you cough and cry it will not expel.

His hands become still and there is momentary relief.

You feel nothing.

Then you feel everything, a blood curdling scream tearing from your throat as his hands grasp something and begin to pull. You want to kick and fight but the pain is so great that your body fails to comprehend it and decides to just go completely rigid in defense, as if it knows intrinsically that this is only the beginning and it is trying to protect you from what is to follow.

Lucifer’s hands root around in your body for only a few more seconds before he takes them back. He is not empty-handed. Carefully held in his hand is something formless and blinding. There are strands connecting it to you. It gives you the terrible imagery of your beating heart being ripped out and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Fainting allows you a few seconds of reprieve but you return to the waking world screaming and thrashing. Your body feels like it is on fire. You scream and scream until your voice gives out then keep screaming anyway even if all that comes out is the faintest of croaks.

The last thing you see is small orb being plucked from the blinding light that could be nothing other than your soul—the core of your being.

This time when you fall unconscious you do not reawaken for a long, long time.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

Your eyes crack open and a pained wheeze rattles from your throat.

You roll over onto your back and feel a heaviness to your body that transcended any exhaustion or ache you have ever known. It felt like you had fallen to the bottom of the sea and been compressed by the weight of the water and gravity. You try to sit up but find that you are too weak to do so.

“Lay back down, sleeping beauty.” V2 tells you, and hearing his voice you blearily turn towards it, finding him laying on his side on your right, an arm draped over your stomach, “You still need a lot more rest. Just take it easy, okay?” And he leans over and kisses you, “…Can’t tell you how fucking happy I am to see you awake, though.”

You try to speak but find that you can’t and visibly panic.

“Your voice is shot cuz you were screaming your head off during whatever the hell Lucie was doing to you. You would have been healed but the Hell energy during the process is preventing that so you’re going to have to deal with it the old fashioned way. Michael’s making you some tea right now. He brought a fuckton. The whole manor reeks of chamomile. Oh, duh, I should probably mention that everything went well. Lucie said you’ll feel like shit for a while so that’s gonna suck but you’ve got all of us to take care of you so it should be fine.” V2 quickly explains, “You owe me extra cuddling for each day you made me worry and I’m adding the ‘V’ tax to it so its going to be in the triple digits.”

You weakly reach out and tap out: ‘Woe is me’ in morse.

“Heh. Glad you feel okay enough to crack a joke.” He replies.

The bedroom door opens to reveal Gabriel and V1, the latter holding a steaming cup of tea.

Your angel breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing you awake.

“I was so worried. I knew things would be fine, yet still, I—” He says, then takes another breath to steady himself, “I suppose it does not matter anymore. Everything went as it should. All we should focus on is your recovery.”

With some help, V2 gets you seated upright, your back propped by a mountain of pillows. Before you accept the tea V1 offers you have them and Gabriel sit beside you so you can hold them both. It gives the drink time to cool but you were more in need of your spouses’ touch than you were a soothing drink. You are only in the mood for half of the serving you’ve been given but under the watchful eyes of your lovers you obediently drink the rest and do not turn up your nose at a second, which has even more honey slathered into it then the first.

“You are trying to replace my blood with tea.” You sign to Michael when he himself visits your room to deliver a third cup, yet you accept it all the same, not wanting to spurn his efforts even if you would prefer an endless refill of mulled wine instead, “It is very good tea, at least. Just how long was I out for?”

“A week.” Michael answers, “And Lucie told me that it will take you twice as long to feel fully recovered. Thankfully, I have been making blends of tea and so when you become sick of chamomile I will switch it out to something else. I hope that you do not mind that I am staying here during your recovery.”

“Did the week I was knocked out make you forget my doors are always open to you? That we are dear family? Silly angel.” You sign and take his hand to kiss the top of it, “Thank you—all of you.”

You are washed and dressed into a fresh robe afterwards and are picked up to allow all the linens to be changed before being tucked back under the sheets. Raphael joins your crowded bedroom next, frustrated to tears because they cannot heal you, and they lay down next to you and rest their helm atop your lap, hugging you tightly.

You pet their wings soothingly until their cries quiet.

There is a knock on the door, which you find odd since the thing is already halfway open anyways.

It pushes fully open and reveals Lucifer.

“Ah. Perfect, you are awake.” He remarks, “I just finished checking on your soulmate. He has been awake for days now but I had to tend to him in private in order to make sure that his mind is as it should be. I am proud to say that he is clear of mind once again—and very eager to see you. I had to subdue him several times to stop him from escaping. He shares the same charming stubbornness you do.” He chuckles darkly, “Are you feeling well enough to see him? I have already explained why it is you cannot speak currently and imparted to him my blessing to understand all languages.”

You give him a look.

“Of course. A foolish question.” He amends with a nod then steps aside, revealing that Melanthios has been standing behind him all this time.

Your mouth falls open.

“Calli.” Melanthios greets you in that quiet, fond way he always has and that is where your familiarity with him comes to a screeching halt, at least at first.

He is no longer a Stray— no longer featureless and gaunt. As an Artificial Supreme Husk, he shares the same mostly human form that you do. His frame is tall and on the thinner side like it tended to be, but his skin is not the pale shade it once was. It was now more like a matte shade of gray. He is wearing one of your chitons so you cannot see exactly at what point his midriff shifts from human to goat, his bottom half covered in black curly fur, his legs now hooves, which he stands up on unsteadily, unused to the new gait he must now take.

His face is not quite how it was. It remains solemn and contemplative, but it is more statuesque now. His black, curly hair remains and it is longer now, reaching his shoulders, which you discover to be very, very attractive, and now regret all the times that you had allowed him to cut his hair when the two of you were alive. The tips of his hair are wispy and constantly in motion like a raincloud.

On the crown of his head are curled horns.

Out of everything it is his eyes that have not changed in the slightest. They are dark, with long lashes, and hold such natural sadness to them, yet always seemed to stare so intensely.

A grin spreads across your face.

You open your arms wide.

Relief washes over Melanthios and he grins right back at you, now rushing over to you, but with this new form he easily loses balance and trips. Lucifer curls his tail around them and rights them, keeping his tail there as he walks just behind your soulmate to help him over to you. Mel still ends up falling atop you but you do not care—how could you think to complain about anything now, when your life has become the closest to perfect you think anything in existence has ever come to it?

Mel stands on his furry knees over your lap and cups your face between his hands, eyes on you as he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours.

“Is this—” He begins to whisper.

“Real?” You sign, “It better be or I am going to strangle someone.”

He blinks, thrown off by how easily the two of you fell back in sync with one another despite everything and he soon breaks out into one of his rare, gleeful laughs, the sound like music to your ears, until the laughing quickly turns to sobbing.

“I waited for you.” He weeps, “I could not make sense of things in the afterlife. I could not remember much, if anything about our time alive. But I remembered you. So I looked. I looked and looked and could not find you where I had been placed and so I went to where I saw all the newly departed flooding in from. Still, I did not see you. I lost hope we would ever reunite but I could not make myself stop looking.”

“I would have found you had I known. All this time you were so close. What a cruel joke.” You sign, crying now too, “Forgive me for leaving you alone. Forgive me for dragging you into my mess in the first place and getting us all killed.”

“I would wait thousands of years for you.” Melanthios tells you fiercely, “I told you: where you go, I go. Our grisly deaths have not stopped that—only given it pause.”

“A long pause.” You sign, sniffling, “…How do you feel? We are reunited but we are not the same as we once were. The evidence of that is hanging in the foyer.”

“You remain as perfect as you were when I first met you on that lonely dock. You have shared with me the deepest part of yourself, your very soul, so that I might share this afterlife with you properly. What care have I for the new form I take when I at last feel complete with you beside me?” He tells you and kisses your nose.

“Then all is well?” You sign.

“And if it isn’t, it will be.” He nods in answer.

You join your hands with his and give them a squeeze.

He squeezes back.

The missing piece of your soul is hardly noticeable when the other half of it has at last been returned to you.

Notes:

thank u for patiently waiting! things have been hectic but nothing was going to stop me from finishing this <3

no update for 2 weeks then i drop 17k in one chapter lol. i wanted to get this chapter out before august and i did it with a day to spare to yippee! ahhh, this was so fun. i had like thirteens tabs open on different types of rings, gemstone meanings and clothes.

i just HAD to figure a way to reunite Rue/Mel so now he lives in the manor with them as an artificial supreme husk (and as a stormy satyr. now the pan flute really suits him. that, and the fact Lucifer's influence/hell energy would influence him to look a little devilish, so the goat/satyr look fits even better.) also the whole time Stray! Mel was finger painting that cloud i had the perry the platypus meme in my head. *paints cloud* Rue: a cloud...? *paints a raincloud* Rue: Mel!!!??

Rue/Reader's looks are up to everyone's interpretations but i wanted to share what i personally think they look like after they die: wild red or pink hair, a white streak right at the forehead, and their eyes are literally sparkling like opal. humanoid, but very siren/nymphcore, so theres always flower petals and a sweet smell wafting off them. i think the nymph motif they have plus mel's satyr motif is very very cute/complimentary. because they love music, plays, etc, i also imagine Rue to have two faces, one being their true face and secondary spectral one that always depicts them being sad/bitter, like a contrast of the comedy and tragedy masks used to represent the fine arts (also like ranni from elden ring)

i have a lot to say but i stayed up all night editing this so im going to add more to this later after i sleep. for the meantime, THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading and i hope you enjoyed <33333

edit 8/5: with all this censorship BS happening online i highly recommend downloading any fic of mine you enjoy. im currently thinking about making a site on neocities to host all of my fics, but ive got them all backed up to several different things in case anything happens so dont ever worry about this stuff disappearing <3

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of ULTRAKISS <3