Angels and Dæmons Ch. 02

Hey yall, i'm back. Been immersing myself in the world of bikes, but i plan on actually making progress instead of disappearing after one chapter. This will be a lot of talking at first, probably boring for y'all. I'll get better, eventually. I don't have an editor, which might be a part of it. Also, I'm submitting this day before Christmas, so I consider my promise fulfilled.

Adam stood motionless as an internal war raged inside him. With a shuddering breath, he choked down the grief, the rage, even his humanity. He buried it all, put it in a jar on the top shelf of his mind. Fishing the dishrag from his sink, Adam swiftly went through the motions of cleaning up the shattered whiskey bottle.

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Helena waited in the darkness of the rank alley, her mind replaying the series of freak events that had gotten her forced into this mess. First, her boss files for a transfer: not something he would ever do, he was too committed to maintaining a close level of trust between employees. Then he gets replaced with someone nobody had heard of, and who had a perfect record no less. That was what had her on edge - nobody had a perfect record, especially not in the government's dirty division. It didn't technically exist, but it silently cleaned up any messes that might reflect poorly on the higher ups.

Helena burrowed deeper into her Kevlar trench coat. She didn't care much for trench coats, but the one she wore could stop a handgun and conceal a small rifle. Also, it was warm.

Just as it seemed like her contact was a no-show, someone popped into view at the end of the alley. Her breath caught in her chest, and confusion overwhelmed her as she watched the figure trudge through the shadows towards her.

"Here," he said, holding out a plain folder.

Helena had to clench her jaw shut to keep from moaning, she could smell her arousal wafting up through her trench coat. She accepted the folder with a trembling hand, quickly pulling out the contents so she could glance through them. Satisfied with what she saw, she stuffed the folder under her arm and reached into one of her pockets for his payment.

A small grunt was the only warning anything had gone amiss, until Helena noticed the tranq dart sticking out of the man's neck. He sat down calmly -too calmly- and put his hands on his head. Helena watched, feeling strangely disconnected from it all, as she moved forward and pulled the hood on his sweater back. Gorgeous... that was the only way she knew to describe him. She gently pulled out the empty dart and watched serenely as a full extraction team approached her. It was as if she was watching herself through a thick fog, one that got exponentially thicker as she threatened the extraction team with the tranq needle over something or other.

CHAPTER 2

Addict

Helena woke with a moan as she burrowed deeper into his chest. For the first time that she knew of, she was truly wet. She smiled and ground her folds against the thigh of her bedmate, her breath catching in her throat as the sensation echoed up her core. Claws waltzed down her spine, leaving her trembling.

Claws...

Helena's eyes shot open, drinking in the perfection that graced her bed. She scoured the apartment for any changes, the only ones being a large knife and huge revolver on her bedside table.

"How much do you remember?" her bedmate asked, his lovely baritone leaving her insides a gooey mess.

Right, question. Helena thought hard, her hand roaming across his flawlessly chiseled torso. 'i remember wanting you to fuck me senseless, but only after shoving your dick so far down my throat I can't breathe,'

"Would I be missing out if i didn't remember?" She asked instead.

He smiled at that, just a small one, but it left her stomach doing acrobatics. She clutched him just a little tighter, ground herself against him just a little. She watched enraptured as his face went through a vast array of emotions, breathing deeply of his rich scent as he settled into a sad kind of smile. Then he turned to face her, and any trace of sadness melted away.

"I'm afraid not," he grinned at her, those claws dancing up her spine once again.

That voice, it left her dripping, tingling all over, and the suggestion he let seep into his words... she ground into him more firmly, moaning into his perfect arm as her hand outlined his masterfully carved six, no eight pack.

"You must think I'm a slut," she mumbled as she fought down the urge to shove him down her throat.

"If I did, I wouldn't have let your hand wander so far south," his delectable baritone came from above her.

Helena froze, realizing why her hand seemed to have found a warm patch. Then those claws danced down her back again, and she groaned as the sensation ravaged her. She gasped, sucking in a ragged breath as she recovered, slowly pumping his cock while she ground against him.

She had to have him, now. What was left of her rational mind was screaming that this was not something that should be happening, but it was definitely happening.

She enveloped his shaft in one fluid motion, moaning as he bumped against the back of her throat. Backing off a bit, she sucked furiously on the head, before diving forward again with a purpose. Shoving her face into his crotch, she swallowed just as her gag reflex started to kick in, sinking down to the very base of his shaft. Pulling back until just the tip of his cock rested in her throat, she started face-fucking him for real, bobbing up and down at a rapid pace. Out of nowhere, hands were at the back of her head, pushing her down as he exploded down her throat. Her nose trapped between a cock and a hard place, Helena felt a massive orgasm building in response to the lack of oxygen. One hand feeling the bulge of him coming down her throat, the other rubbed her clit furiously through her drenched panties. Pleasure exploded through her, drowning out the sudden lance of pain that erupted in her skull.

Adam smiled gently at the redhead as she rolled off of him, flopping beside him in a post orgasmic mess.

"Fuck...," she groaned.

"I wish we had time for that. Just so happens, there's a succubus on the loose, along with who knows what else that I've been tasked with dealing with," Adam muttered through his after glow.

"Actually, you're supposed to take over the world," the redhead said with a smirk as information she shouldn't know settled into her mind.

"... The fuck!?"

A roll of his shoulders and his massive wings had launched him out of the bed to stand before one of the large windows that lined the bedroom.

"This!" He yelled, ripping away the curtains and pointing at the skyscraper across from them. "This is the world! An endless city we know fuck all about, where the only rule is don't bite the hand that feeds. We don't even know why the government exists anymore, other than to play at killing gangers!"

"Yeah, well, none of that matters anymore," the redhead shrugged.

"That's the worst part!" Adam screamed. "I'm told by PROXY that I'm supposed to make myself the most powerful man in this hellhole, and I'm already wondering if I can make an army of dispensable super thugs!"

"They don't have to be dispensable, and they don't have to be thugs. You're in a government building, let's make them our personal army. I can do a more sophisticated version of the mind fuckery that resulted in your cock down my throat, only the result would be an army controlled by your thoughts,"

Adam stared at her incredulously, before giving into the madness with a sigh.

"Get me some clothes and a grey trench coat, I might as well look the part. Blue jeans and a t-shirt though,"

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Gregory watched the Fed badge turn a deep shade of blue as it sat upside down on his stove, before picking it up in his assault glove and pressing it to his left cheek. It didn't hurt his hand, the glove was designed for use with bullpup rifles that routinely hit higher temperatures than what his stove could produce. His cheek, though... his wife might get upset before she heard the whole story. No matter, he had a job to do. He smiled as he tossed the ruined badge in his sink. At least she wouldn't have to worry about getting killed on the job anymore.

Putting on his combat vest, he ditched the ceramic plates before filling the webbing with a few spare mags, a flashbang, and a frag. Grabbing a pen and paper, he scrawled a quick note for when his wife got home.

'the Bear is active, I can't die of injury, I'm fucking you when I get home. Wear the plug. Gregory,'

Satisfied with his handiwork, he grabbed his bullpup and walked out the door, the bounce in his step still present when he got off the elevator forty six stories lower. He grinned as he greeted his four man team, all of them men he'd worked with for years. Suddenly a man with resplendent wings, feathers black as death, burst through the front doors.

"Kill everyone, forty-third Street, the door behind the bar. Keep any money for yourself, dispose of the drugs," Adam told the assembled team.

Spreading his wings, he gave a powerful flap which pulled him into the air, before heading towards the tallest building he could see. It was twice as tall as the surrounding skyscrapers, stretching skywards almost a kilometer. Every floor was lit except the top two, leaving a silhouette of black against the permanently grey sky. He flew straight towards the uppermost level, crashing boot first through the window. Air rushed inwards, sucking him in amidst a shower of glass before a steel shutter snapped closed over the hole. The air he had let into the room was immediately removed, although it seemed that lack of oxygen no longer affected him. The floor was tacky rubber, and a sleek humanoid drone hung from the wall. The bottom of its feet were a cluster of short needles. Adam shrugged and raised his pistol towards the drone, only for the drone to jump off the wall and surge towards him with impossible speed. His attempt to move out of the way was met with a strange sliding sensation from his thighs. Looking down, he realized that the strange drone had cut his legs off just below the dick.

He hit the ground with a thud, thankfully not having any air left in his lungs to be knocked out of him. Then the drone was standing over him, planting a very sharp foot on his chest, and ripping his arms off.

"Ouch," he said when the room had filled with a pungent yellow gas.

"You should be as dead as your clothes," the drone intoned. "this is fluorine you breath. And yet you bleed shadow," it said as it pulled his head off as well. "how curious," it continued as it carried his head across the room.

Adam rolled his eyes, unable to talk without his lungs. Luckily, he could feel where his limbs were, and was quickly scooting his body back towards his legs. He felt something smooth encase his limbs as his body stood back up, regrettably noticed by the drone.

"Oh well," it said, before caving his head in with a bionic fist.

Adam grinned, launching himself at the drone in that moment of distraction. He grabbed the mechanical body by the chest and started slamming it against the wall until he felt stuff start breaking inside. Once he was satisfied, he ripped the drones limbs off and threw them out a window. Finally turning to pick his head, he smiled as his body was whole once again.

"Explain. Who runs this city, and where did it come from," Adam asked the immobile drone.

"I ran this city, and it was built as a proof of concept for the ATLANTIS project. That is, this city is a small universe, created by an advanced civilisation,"

"That's fucking nuts, but okay. If you ran this city, then who runs it?"

"You. Right of conquest and all that,"

"That's fucking nuts," Adam scoffed. "Well, I'll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing, and I'll get back to this acid trip of a life,"

Adam got up and moved towards the window, immediately noticing the changes to his body. His new legs were powerful, yes, but talons were made for grabbing, not walking. With a despondent sigh, he leapt from the building and headed back to Helena's apartment.

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"Federal agent!" Gregory yelled as he burst into his large apartment.

He heard a staged gasp of surprise from the living room, and smiled as he headed deeper into the apartment. That smile turned into a lecherous grin as he entered the sitting room, rifle raised even as he double checked the safety. His wife was backing away from the couch towards the window that took up one wall, a towel clutched to her chest. She was a beautiful tabby he had met in a corner store, her sleek coat of fur a possessing a beautiful dappled pattern. Although she backed away in fear, her ears gave her away, standing forward in expectation.

"Hands above your head," he ordered, gesturing with the barrel.

She froze, but kept the towel clutched to her chest in defiance. A quick glance at his opaque mag reassured him it was empty, so he racked the slide for emphasis. She quickly dropped the towel, hands held high in supplication, fluffy tail covering her obviously drenched nethers.

"Well miss," he said, leering at her full breasts, "I came for your husband, but it looks like he's not here,"

He sauntered forwards, backing her into the window. Gently prodding her trim belly with his rifle, he leaned close to whisper in her ears.

"Your kind are such a temptation, tails swaying with your hips as you walk down the street,"

His free hand moved up to squeeze her left breast, which slightly overfilled his grasping fingers. A sharp pinch of her nipple resulted in a sharp gasp, her tail going slack and revealing her sopping wet pussy.

"Undo my pants and pull them down a little, then turn around and lift your tail," he ordered.

She did so slowly, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his erection out gently. When she didn't turn quick enough, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her, pressing her bare tits into the cold glass. Pulling up her resisting tail, he smiled at the sparkling jewel perched on her back door. Lining himself up, he pushed into her snug depths in one unrelenting thrust. Pulling her tail up firmly, his stunning wife had no choice but to stand on the pads of her toes, arching her back into his thrusts.

"There's a good little slut," he taunted, the wet slapping of their joined sexes music to his ears.

Just as she opened her mouth to let loose a butting retort, he let go of her tail and pressed the sparkling jewel lodged in her ass. Their height difference was emphasized as she relaxed. His thrusts were now pressing along the front wall of her pussy, and the sudden stimulus from the pressure on her plug turned her stinging insult into an encouraging moan. She smiled as she felt heat blossom inside her, some of her man's cum dripping the inside of her thighs.

Movement. Even in her distracted state, her eyes were drawn towards it. Vast wings with plumage dark as death, the body of a man but the limbs of a great eagle. The Herald. Roleplay forgotten, she twisted away from the window and launched herself into Gregory's confused embrace.

"He's here! He's really here!" She exclaimed, covering his face in excited kisses.

"Whoa, slow down babe," he chuckled. "What do you mean?"

"The Herald," she sighed, snuggling against his combat vest. "he's come to take us back to the city of our ancestors, where the Bear helped us achieve feats that rivalled the gods of legend,"

"Are you sure?"

"Gregory, my dear, only the Herald could have plumage the shade of death," Gloria grinned, before nuzzling back into her man.

Gregory mulled that one over. Plumage the shade of death, huh?

"Nah," he muttered.

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Adam stood in front of the window, a towel wrapped around his waist and a bottle of bourbon in his hand. He couldn't really call it a hand anymore, what he had was more akin to a talon.

"So you're just gonna brood?" Helena asked, walking up beside him.

"I am," he replied.

"For how long?"

"Until I get the truth," he said, taking another swig of bourbon.

"I don't know what you were told, but it was the truth. I promise,"

"This city is just a baby universe created as some pet project by some long forgotten civilisation," Adam scoffed.

"That... is, a bit of a stretch..." Helena stammered.

Adam turned towards her, his face mask of deeply buried pain.

"Never make a promise you haven't already kept," he growled, before taking one last swig of bourbon and having her the bottle. "goodnight," was the last thing he muttered before passing out a few inches from the bed.

Helena just stared at the passed out death bringer, doubts running through her head. The Bear wouldn't lie to her, would he? No, she decided, and even if he had, he wouldn't back out of his promise. No, Adam would still be hers, she would still adopt a beautiful daughter, and she would help him rule a vibrant new city, one without the crippling poverty that played this one. All she needed was patience, and it would happen. Right? Sighing, Helena got in bed and dragged Adam on top of herself, his smothering weight reassuring her.

Well guys, we did it! 3k words in a day and a half!

There will be more, but I've got six other stories to rotate through. Feel free to like, comment and subscribe, or whatever it is we do here. Brofist, I guess? no, that's PewDiePie's thing... anyways, until next time. Merry Xmas from the Pacific Northwest