Work Text:
Kinktober Day 29
Prompt: Body Worship
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The Angel Devil watches Aki slice his way through the fiend with finality, clearing its head from its shoulders in one fell swoop. It was the Shame Devil, Angel had confirmed as soon as he’d smelt it, lingering at the edges of the pews in the Catholic church they’d been called out to this afternoon. It had taken root in the priest who presided over the congregation here, swallowed up by his own crimes towards some of the children who tended the altar on a Sunday. It must have been hanging around for a while, the entire place rancid with the smell of it, sweet and musty like the old wine the humans used in mass. Angel wonders if it had shown its face before or after the priest had begun molesting his charges in private, and decides it doesn’t really matter. He doubts very much it had been the Shame Devil itself that convinced the priest to commit suicide and hand his body over for its taking. That’s how shame works; working its tendrils deep and undetected, feeding on the fear of being discovered in whatever sinful endeavour a human indulged in. It was more likely just opportunistic that the priest had killed himself in the church, allowing the devil to conduct its work from inside an empty vessel, further attempting to ensnare his congregation with its poison.
The way it had taken form on the man’s face was somewhat interesting, at least compared to the other fiends Angel has encountered. Jowls like a wolf’s, snarling and sharp, but littered at the edges with the fluffy, cottony texture of a sheep’s wool. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, is what Angel remembers the human idiom going like. It’s quite fitting. The devil might have continued to reap the benefits of such a community, had it not gotten greedy with it. Such is the plight of a devil, however. It’s one of the reasons Angel is glad he straddles the line between both of his namesakes. Devil first, though. Angel second. He reminds himself of this as he watches the waning sunlight filter through the stained glass window above the altar, dappled rainbows catching in the inky darkness of Aki’s hair.
He’s sitting on the altar, munching distractedly on one of the fiend’s hands, the first thing that Aki had flayed from its body once it revealed itself. Aki usually doesn’t mind if he distracts himself like this; he enjoys killing devils, and isn’t overly fond of Angel getting involved unless absolutely necessary, which suits Angel. There isn’t any blood left in the hand, Angel having sucked it dry first. It had the same musty sort of flavour as the scent of the Shame Devil, so overall the experience has been fairly lacklustre. He wonders if Aki will let them stop for ice cream on the way home, opening his mouth to ask as much.
“That looks like you,” Aki says, before Angel can talk. Angel frowns, chucking the spent hand down into the pile of viscera that remains of the Shame fiend, turning his head to look at the image depicted with the stained glass he’d been admiring. Angel isn’t sure if the image looks that much like him, except for the obvious wings and halo, and perhaps even the trident the creature is using to pierce a human at its feet. It looks much too enraptured, its expression warped with righteous damnation. Angel would never bother pulling such a face. He shrugs.
“Does it?” he asks non-commitally, allowing his feet to sway playfully back and forth. The marble of the altar is cold through his dark uniform pants, cold against his skin. Aki approaches the altar, flicking blood from his sword.
“Don’t you think so?”
Angel makes a hum of disinterest.
“I suppose,” he says, more to placate Aki than anything. It makes him a bit irritated when he realises he’s done it for that reason. When it comes to this human, he always seems to find himself slipping towards his more angelic tendencies than anything else.
“Why is an angel attacking a human like that?” Aki asks, considering the image before stowing his sword at his back. One of Angel’s, fashioned from his halo and radiating with his power. Aki has no idea what he wields, not truly. He knows it's one of Angel’s, but beyond that, he’s a bit ignorant to the sheer strength of it. It’s probably for the best. “Do you know?” Aki prompts.
Angel frowns, sparing him a dispassionate glance. Aki is watching him closely, as he often does these days. They’ve been having some variation of sex for a while now, mostly Angel swallowing Aki’s cum and orgasming inside his own underwear with the thrill of the look in Aki’s eye when he finishes. It’s as close to true worship as Angel thinks he’ll get in this life, which is slightly irksome. His inability to touch the human is in some way responsible for that feeling of lack, and it makes the side of Angel which is firmly devil rear up with aggravation at not being permitted to indulge.
“I’m not an angel,” Angel says, “So I wouldn’t know.”
Aki rolls his eyes.
“You know enough,” he says dryly, eyes sliding back up to view the stained glass. “More than you like to let me in on.”
Angel tilts his head, considering the stained glass too.
“It doesn’t look as if the human minds being prodded with the trident,” Angel says, an observation more than anything, now that he’s properly looking at the expression on the human’s face. Something sparks in the back of his mind, ardent and sharp and it makes his tongue pool with saliva. “It seems content to give the angel what it wants. Maybe it's hoping it’ll receive something in return.”
“Like a contract?” Aki asks, and Angel feels his halo sting with energy, pulse with promise. He tries to maintain the careful blankness of his expression, tries not to allow Aki to realise how close he is to the truth. Unfortunately, this human is a tenacious one. “You said you don’t have any contracts with humans.”
“I don’t,” Angel says mildly, keeping his gaze carefully trained on the window to avoid Aki’s probing glance.
“But if you did,” Aki continues. “If someone wanted to forge a contract with you. That’s how you would go about it?”
Angel licks at some of the dried fiend blood at the corner of his mouth, savouring the metallic flood of saliva on his tongue despite the fusty undertones. Something deep seated and primal sings out from his core, an allure beyond his control at the thought of having someone bound to him with a contract. Sealed in blood. His for the taking. It makes him feel hungry in a way he hasn’t in a long time, makes his skin feel even colder than it usually does, as pale and chilled as marble. Aki steps upwards towards where he’s still sitting on the altar.
“You look different,” Aki says. Angel allows his eyes to flicker down to the tip of his wing where it curls absently around his body. The feathers do look brighter, awash with the desire he feels humming low in his abdomen. He hasn’t been in a place like this in his life, hasn’t sat like this on an altar lording over a human, but something instinctive within him tells him this is the place. The stipulations of a devil’s contract may shift and change depending on the whims of the devil and the needs of the offeree; but each devil understands at the core of their existence, present before they gain true consciousness, if they ever do, what a contract requires at its most base.
“It's this place,” Angel says, shrugging one shoulder as he runs a hand over his primary feathers, wondering at the subtle glow they exude. They seem a bit larger, a bit more powerful, as if they would carry him higher in the sky than he’s ever been. “It lends itself to my… conflicting nature.”
“Makes sense,” Aki says, sparking up a cigarette. The scent immediately overwhelms the lingering dread of the Shame fiend’s odour, fills Angel with a strange melancholy. It’s become a familiar scent, one that goes alongside the flavour of vanilla ice cream on his tongue. Aki inhales deeply, spewing smoke from his lungs in one long breath. “There’s plenty of angels and devils in here. Catholics like pictures, don’t they?”
Angel makes a non-committal hum, once again studying the stained glass above his head. The angel’s expression looks remarkably euphoric to him now; the human’s face twisted in a bizarre mirror of it, despite the way the trident pierces its flesh.
Aki has arrived at the top of the stairs to the altar now, pausing a foot away from where Angel’s legs dangle off the side.
Angel feels a rush of tantalising power, all of a sudden swelling between them like a wave crashing over the shore. He turns his head to look at Aki Hayakawa, who is already staring at him with eyes the same colour as those waves.
“Why do you make contracts with devils?” Angel asks. The question leaves him before he can stop it, almost as if his base nature is overwhelming his propensity towards indifference. Which side of that nature is speaking to Aki now, he can't quite ascertain. Aki frowns around the end of his cigarette.
“For power,” he says. “I need their power to kill other, stronger devils.”
“Even though it means aligning with something you hate?” Angel presses further. Aki’s eye twitches a little.
“The end will justify the means,” Aki says. Angel nods.
“You hope,” he says.
Aki kills his cigarette, flicking the spent end of it into the carcass flayed across the aisle of the chapel.
“I hope,” he agrees.
There’s silence between then, only the emptiness of the cavernous space around them.
“Fox, Curse, Future,” Aki ticks the names of devils off on his fingers when he breaks it, before studying Angel beyond the tips of them. “A stronger devil would provide more reassurance. Ensure the end would definitely justify the means.”
Angel raises a brow.
“It depends what end you’re considering,” he says. “Some devils would rather not make a contract with such a short-lived pawn.”
Aki’s mouth quirks then, an unpleasant grimace.
“Is that why you’ve never offered me one?” he asks. Angel shakes his head.
“You’ve never asked.”
“Doesn’t it usually work the other way around?”
Angel feels a shiver run the length of his spine, his wings spluttering with the motion right to the tips. Aki’s gaze travels with it, watching the way Angel’s wings extend at his back, wider than usual, brighter, and his eyes squeeze tighter at the sight.
“Don’t humans usually ask angels for help, before they’re given it?”
“You’re a devil, not an angel,” Aki replies quickly. Angel nods. Then, eyes flickering briefly to the stained glass image above them, Aki says: “Before he was the Devil though, he was an angel.”
Angel feels detached somehow, above his own consciousness in this moment, spread across the altar before this human hungry for power. Hungry for more of him, always scrabbling for more, demanding it. If he asked the right question, perhaps Angel could indulge him. Just this once, in this way. In this circumstance, the perfect stage set for an agreement he’s never forged before. Angel watches Aki, his eyes hazy with an array of emotion; suspicion, Angel thinks, but also desire. Undeniable, unshakeable. Angel licks his lips.
“He was,” Angel says softly, “Either way, humanity worships him.”
Aki, clever Aki, sees the words for what they truly are.
“Make a contract with me,” Aki says, and his eyes appear focused now. His jaw is steady, his mouth flooding with saliva. Angel can smell it, can smell his arousal, the way his blood moves in his body the way it always does before they pleasure themselves, always themselves, never each other. Aki sinks to his knees, face between Angel’s thighs, gazing up at him. “Give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“What do you want?” Angel asks.
“To touch you,” Aki says at once, his cheeks flooding a beautiful pink as he realises how quickly he spoke, brow hardening into a frown as he tries to retrace his steps. “To lend your power. You could share it with me; the lifespans you hold. You could extend what little I have left.”
Angel feels a thrill shake his core again, giddy, hungry, his instinct to compel and control overwhelming his better judgement.
“You think I could do that?” he asks.
“I know it,” Aki says sternly. Angel feels the giddy excitement bubbling up, harder and harder to maintain his stoic shell, racing to escape the confines of his throat. He considers Aki carefully.
“And in return?” he asks.
Aki slides both of his palms up the fabric of Angel’s black pants, coming to rest on the tops of his thighs, thumbs hooked on the soft inner flesh as he pushes them apart.
“I’ll give you what you want,” Aki promises. He presses his face forward, nose ghosting the outline of Angel’s cock through his clothes, never breaking eye contact. “My devotion. My blood. Undying, a font that refills itself only for you. I’ll worship you the way you want.”
Angel can feel his halo stinging with power above his head, lifting strands of coral coloured hair from his shoulders in a static filled shower. He tilts his head, can feel the way his teeth have elongated, sharpened, hungry to tear at the pulse racing at the human’s delicate throat.
“Show me,” Angel says.
Aki opens his mouth, his wet breath immediately hot over Angel’s cock. He’s half-hard already, the promise of more from this human bent before him making his blood sing in his veins. He’s certain he could give Aki what he wants, if the human is able to demonstrate his devotion appropriately.
Aki hooks his palms around the backs of Angel’s thighs, tugging him forwards on the cool marble surface so he’s forced to hook his legs around Aki’s shoulders. He watches Aki’s lashes flutter shut, the tip of his tongue tracing the outline of him in his pants, his fingers bruising where they cling to his thighs. He noses distractedly at the crease of Angel’s thigh, alternating between both sides, smelling him, inhaling the scent of Angel’s power increasing as Aki pleasures him. He fixes his mouth over the bulge of Angel’s cock, tongue sweeping across the head of it, teeth scraping delicately as if he’d tear the fabric from his skin if he could. Angel can smell how hard Aki is, pressed up against his own thigh in his stifling boxer shorts and revels in the way he ignores it in favour of lavishing Angel with attention.
Abruptly, Aki stands, sweeping one hand down to continue rubbing Angel through his clothes. He uses his other palm to press his chest down, so his wings splay out either side of them on the altar, the frigid feeling of the marble through his jacket growing warmer with their every move. He dips his head to nuzzle at Angel’s hard nipple through his shirt, tongue lapping across the bud with precision. Angel shivers with the motion, throws his head back with the relief that floods him, before forcing himself to look at Aki as he works. He’s illuminated so brightly, the light spilling from Angel’s halo painting him with an otherworldly glow. He looks beautiful like this, Angel thinks, an intrusive thought, an angelic one that rallies against the devil in him which causes his cock to throb between his legs. Aki’s cheeks are the colour of cherry blossoms, alive and desperate. He ruts his cock against Angel’s leg where he’s pressed up against him, instinctively, distractedly, before using his free hand to smooth his way across the feathers of one wing.
Angel lets out an ungodly sound then, nothing angelic about it, primal in the back of his throat and desperate for more.
Aki silences it with a kiss, their first, Angel’s first, lips wet and hungry as he urges his mouth open and tastes the noise on his tongue.
Angel can feel it, and he knows Aki can too. His lifespan, steadily draining, escaping with all the urgency of sand cupped in the palm of your hand. Aki doesn’t let it stop him, pressing his mouth harder against Angel’s, and it only makes his power surge stronger. He feels his wings beat involuntarily with the dizzying high of it, drunk on the sweetness of Aki’s blood as his teeth pierce the swollen flesh of his bottom lip. Aki makes a sound then too, low placed in his chest and encouraging, pulling back with a blood smeared chin to press kisses into Angel’s throat. Angel can feel where Aki tugs his cock free of the confines of his underwear, bare palm hot against the velvet flesh of it, and it sends a bolt of pleasure so powerful through his body that his toes curl in his shoes. He wraps his legs tighter around Aki’s hips, willing him closer, lapping up the blood which spills unbidden from Aki’s mouth and delighting in it. His wings curve around Aki’s back, sheltering them in their snow white softness. It makes Aki’s hair look darker, makes his eyes burn like sapphires. He pulls back just enough to stare at his hand as he pleasures Angel, undoubtedly aware of the sensation of his own life racing away, but it doesn’t stop him. He pushes Angel back further onto the altar, and takes his cock into his mouth.
“Human,” Angel gasps, hands scrabbling to find purchase in Aki’s hair, yanking it from where it's pulled back from his face so it pools around his shoulders as he sucks Angel down. He keeps his hands working, soft smoothing motions up and down the length of Angel’s torso, tears beading at the corners of his eyes as his throat closes around Angel’s cock and he retches. The sight is maddening, dizzying, and Angel uses it to propel him through his next movements. With his thighs trembling, orgasm fizzing in his abdomen, cock jumping in Aki’s tight throat, he reaches down to tug his sword from Aki’s back and drives the blade straight into Aki’s shoulder.
He smells Aki’s devotion, his mouth flooding over with saliva as blood spills hot and sticky from the wound in his shoulder at the same time as he unloads on Aki’s tongue.
Time seems to still around them, the sand suddenly suspended as the contract is sealed. Angel can feel the way it threads the grains of it, all that remains of Aki’s lifespan caught in its silk-thin grasp. Still, it's strong, pulling on him taut, seconds and minutes and hours of what lives in the endless loop of Angel’s halo now flowing through Aki too. Every point that their skin touches provides a conduit for Aki’s life to respool, and Angel feels the pleasure of his orgasm searing through his every nerve, as he tugs the blade free from Aki’s shoulder and throws it to the side. The wound is shallow, a symbolic thing, but the blood oozes from it hungrily none the less. Angel licks along the edge of it, meeting Aki’s eyes as they widen with the realization of the contract which has just sealed between them.
“More,” Angel begs him. “I want all of it.”
Aki doesn’t think twice, yanking his tie free from his throat and wrestling with his shirt before tearing Angel’s open too. He undoes the buckle on his belt, frees his own cock, fat and red with lack of stimulation, tugging hastily at Angel’s pants and underwear until he rips them off his legs. He dips his fingers into the blood pooling in Angel’s mouth, presses a kiss there when he’s sliding a blood drenched digit into Angel’s awaiting hole. Angel relishes the sensation, overstimulated but buzzing with the fresh bond between them, gasping at the foreign stretch deep inside. Aki is gasping now too, drunk with the energy that is undoubtedly leaving him dizzy in the wake of the transfer of recycled life, and he murmurs various expletives as he fingers Angel until he’s wide enough to take the tip of his dick. Angel’s wings shudder, curling protectively around Aki, shielding him from the eyes of the other angels and saints depicted on every surface of the building. He wants Aki all for himself, has coveted him selfishly since the moment he reached for him in the onslaught of the Typhoon.
Aki plunges inside him with a long drawn out groan, blood and spit making the wet drag on Angel’s rim sting with pleasure. Angel lets his head fall back, his halo throwing fresh shadows against the cage of his wings.
“Angel,” Aki moans his name, tugging his cock out slowly before thrusting it back in, deeper this time, his thighs pressed against Angel’s ass as he fucks him. “Angel, Angel…”
He seems suddenly incapable of saying much else, the word becoming lost between their mouths as they kiss wet and needy. Aki fucks him hard, with all the vigour he now possesses, hands yanking at the sharp dips of Angel’s hips as he holds him in place. Angel keens with the motion, knees nudging needily into Aki’s sides as he urges him in closer, deeper, deeper still. Angel feels as if he could endure Hell itself, return triumphant as the ruler of it. Aki’s body feels human and warm above him despite it all, the salty, coppery taste of him on Angel’s tongue utterly maddening.
Aki’s hips stutter as he nears his end, bottoming out inside Angel with one final surge of his halo above the two of them. When he comes, Angel feels it throb hot inside him and trembles through the sensation, cock jumping limply on his abdomen in a second white hot orgasm.
The air stills, as Aki does, mouth pressed to Angel’s collarbone, head bowed in reverence.
Above them, their stained glass counterparts watch on, silently.