Diary of a Fallen Angel

That sliding hand cups over the whore's throat, then lifts, forcing the man's head to lift, his breathing squeezed just a little by the grip. "We're going to have you, Mariel. That's what your purpose is now. Well..." he smiles, dark eyes narrowing. "It's what your purpose has always been. To be used and thrown away."

That hurts. Mariel flushes, his eyes watering. These two were the best of the best, the most high, most favored... and even they have no sympathy for him. His tan eyes close, not wanting to be witness to their scorn if he can help it. The hand at his throat squeezes, then slowly pulls him down to kneel, the fallen creature bracing his trembling hands on Michael's fit, masculine body, palms coming to rest on the archangel's muscular thighs.

Fabric rustles, and Michael's hand moves to cup the whore's chin, forcing his mouth to open with the tip of a finger hooking on his teeth. The whore whimpers, tensing and flinching, and then there's a pair of slender hands on the back of his shoulders, holding him still, trapped. Mariel sucks in a breath through his nose in surprise, eyes still squeezed shut as his jaw is guided to open wide. The leaking, salty head of Michael's cock is pushed over his tongue, scraping over that bed of muscle as it slides towards the whore's throat.

Mariel cries out in surprise, Gabriel's hand pressing to the back of his skull. The smaller archangel is shockingly strong for his size, his palm as sturdy as a brick wall. Reluctantly, the fallen creature's throat relaxes, forced to do so as Michael keeps pushing himself deeper. At a certain point Mariel tenses, hands grasping at the man's thighs desperately as he gags. The cock is withdrawn a little, giving the whore a moment's respite... and then Michael's hands both cup the back of the fallen creature's skull.

Mariel's experienced this before. He knows what's coming. The fallen one tries to relax his jaw and throat, gripping at the robes Michael wears, sucking in a deep breath. And then he's used, brutally, quickly, hard. It's a blur of pain and tightness, of wet quick sounds, of smells, of numb lips, aching jaw, and raw throat.

Something is said softly, inaudible to the fallen creature getting throat fucked, but almost immediately the abuse ends. Mariel is pushed over onto the floor, on all fours. Gabriel grabs him by the hair, taking a seat, robes pulled open to reveal his slender, twinkish, hairless dick. The fallen creature is pulled forward slowly, his mouth directed to that much smaller organ to suck on it and pleasure it. Taking it all is an easy prospect, the whore swallowing at the femme's crown without trouble.

From behind, he feels the caress of hands and the brush of robes. Michael's thick, gleaming cock slides in between bared cheeks, the whore's body tensing nervously, then tensing more as that crown is pressed against that star mercilessly. Mariel groans, gripping Gabriel's robes tightly, bracing firmly on his hands and knees, until his ring relents and admits the man behind him. It's a tight, aching fit, and the larger archangel doesn't bother to wait until the whore acclimates.

Gabriel gasps as the rutting shoves Mariel's mouth hard against his own cock, a gripping hand guiding the whore's head. The smaller archangel's bare, hairless legs part, one hand bracing back on the floor to steady himself. "Fuck..." he breathes, gritting his teeth, leaking already as he's hungrily sucked off.

The fallen creature whimpers and groans against the flesh in his mouth, eyes squeezed shut as he's rutted from behind. Michael's fingers curl against his hips, digging in, bruising, cutting with his nails, scraping welts. Mariel's toes curl, his back dipping, hips tilting to the perfect angle to let the larger man behind him plunge in as deeply as he can. The archangel's heavy sack crashes against Mariel's tight, hairless one, punishing it, delighting it, the fallen creature rock hard this entire time.

A gleaming line, lit by the firelight, drools from the fallen angel's cockslit, the spill growing thicker and thicker. Without warning, he tenses and jerks, hips curling a little as his cock shoots its load, the unwanted seed splattering on the floor beneath his chest. That climax tightens him around Michael, the archangel gasping, caught by surprise at the clench. One last grind, burying himself, and the larger man groans, emptying himself slowly, pulse by pulse, into his kin's body.

Mariel's whimpered, pained pleasure around the smaller archangel's cock is too much. Gabriel shudders and pushes the whore's head down fully on his cock as the smaller angel erupts, splashing the back of the fallen creature's throat in a series of quick, desperate spurts.

\\\

Twenty minutes later, Mariel's walking out the front door of the estate. Dressed, shades back on, cigarette between his fingers, he pauses some steps outside the front door as it closes and locks behind him. The flame from the lighter illuminates his face, flushed still, but calmed. He pulls on the cigarette and breathes out a lungful of blue smoke, wincing a little as he begins to make the long journey back to the coast, slinging his duffel bag more securely over his shoulder.

And the small fortune he's earned this night pleasantly weighs him down the entire way.

Chapter 3: Shadow

The business card for Derelict's Modeling Agency is crisp and off-white, caressed over the fallen angel's hand as he mulls over a few things up in the upper level of the Diablo Night Club. In this shadowy balcony area, he looks down at the brighter floor below, watching the crowd surge and writhe to the pulsing music. His own head nods to the beat, his tan eyes not focusing on anything, save for his thoughts.

He's so distracted, in point of fact, that the black fingernail that lightly traces over his right cheekbone catches him by surprise, eyes widening before they abruptly half-lid. His head barely moves a fraction, dipping just a little in respect as he murmurs, "I thought you weren't coming."

The nail trails along his temple and behind his ear slowly, moving down over nape. It makes him swallow and shiver, his eyes closing just in time for a pair of smiling black lips to murmur by his ear, "You think so little of me, Pretty Boy." The nail and its finger hooks into the collar of his gray coat, drawing him away from the rail.

Mariel's smile grows as he lets himself get drawn back. A long, slender arm slides in around his chest, shifting his collection of necklaces and chains and making him hiss. The healing wounds in his chest are nearly gone, but the flesh there is still tender beneath the other man's possessive touch, his caress making the angel press back against that other, as if he might escape the examination. The new arrival is as tall as Mariel himself is, his body slender and welcoming. It would give him a comfortable backrest if the man's assets weren't so snugly bound in leather armor - a strange thing to wear to a club, but this client has always been a touch unusual.

The man presses his hips against Mariel's ass, the other hand moving down to cup at his crotch, keeping the angel in place, a puzzle piece fitted in against his body. The reflected lights from the dance floor below gleam on his teeth, revealed within his growing smile, and he nuzzles his cheek against his captive's flushing counterpart. His clutch upon Mariel's hidden genitals, hidden beneath the loose material of his slacks, reveals the man's effect on the angel already, and a sadistic, slow, firm squeeze makes the whore tense and whine... and stiffen further.

"Come along," he purrs, kissing Mariel's cheek before he summarily moves away from him, the angel's compulsion forcing him to catch his breath and follow along. The back corner of the balcony seems more obscured by shadows than normal, and the tall man, dressed all in black leather himself beneath a billowing black cloak, blends in... then more than blends. He walks into it, disappearing into the murk, just as the angel does soon after.

\\\

When he opens his eyes, he's greeted by a large living room with a fire pit at the center. A ring of stone keeps the burning coals in place, and a circle of stone seating, softened by leather-upholstered cushions, rings the light. Upon the walls are tapestries of impossibly fine weave, the threads in part metallic and providing illusions of glistening water or snow.

Mariel swallows, looking around for the man who brought him here. His client. One of his first in this new city, as it happens. He only knows the man as Shadow - fitting, given his mode of travel and style of magic. A sense of movement enters his awareness on the right, and he sees the flap of a black cloak just pass into a hallway leading further into this large, dark apartment suite.

He steps cautiously down the passage, the firelight only reaching so far. Stone walls are smoothly carved, as if the apartment had been carved from the bones of the earth. Or, well, wherever they are now. Doors to the left and right loom up, each with a symbol at eye height. But it's the door at the very end that stands open, inviting him in.

The angel shrugs out of his coat, turning his head, trying to let his eyes adjust to the low light at the entrance to what seems to be a bedroom. He just drapes his coat over a chair by the door when a hand seizes his chains and necklaces, using them to draw him forward... towards his host.

Before him stands a man of obviously fae heritage - his knifelike ears slender and elegant through the fall of straight, long black hair, and his features just as wild and beautiful. The man's silver eyes reflect the light like a wolf's might, his black-lipped smile growing as he draws his prize forward slowly, slipping his other hand down to grip his belt buckle. "You were so much easier to undress as chattel," he muses, tugging the belt free of its fastening and leaving it to hang open. "But then, you were far easier to find. It's great fun to track you, Pretty Boy. Such great fun - your blood is in the oddest places."

Mariel swallows. "I was shot. There was an accident..." The angel gets into the oddest situations, even without the help of fae admirers.

Shadow hardly cares, twisting the hand holding the chains, choking them about his throat. The fallen creature grits his teeth, feeling his airway nearly pinched shut, and he grips at the sidhe's wrist nervously. His fly is pulled open next, but it's the hem of the shirt Shadow's after, lifting it up to reveal a myriad smattering of healed over bullet holes. The man tilts his head, then lifts a brow and looks judgmentally into Mariel's eyes. "You're so careless, Pretty Boy." The angel's chains are released, the sidhe's hands moving away from him, until...

CRACK!

Mariel gasps as he stumbles to the side, his head thrown that way first by the hard slap gifted to his right cheek. Already the welt throbs on his skin, the whore's hand lifting to cover it, then caress it. His jaw stretches as he groans with pain and arousal both, looking up at the tall sidhe who merely watches him. Shadow's eyes slide down and then stop, the fae's black lips pulling into a grin. When Mariel looks down he can see his erection tenting in his pants, which themselves have nearly fallen down from all the stumbling.

A pregnant silence, and then he gasps, lifting his arms to fend the sidhe off as he approaches. Mariel's hands grip at his client's shoulders, but the john's far stronger than he is. Shadow's clutch grips directly at Mariel's throat with a clap that makes him cough. It's easy to guide the angel back to the four-poster bed that waits in the murk, the backs of Mariel's legs pressing against it, fighting to stay upright for a brief second before the heels of his shoes lose their grip and he's pushed back onto the mattress.

The fallen creature looks up at Shadow's silhouette - it's all he can see of him now, and it scares him. Unthinkingly he tries to turn away from the sidhe and crawl to safety deeper on the bed, that slap clearly having addled his thinking. The bed itself is large - very large. Large enough for several people of his own height to share it comfortably.

Or for one to be used on it.

A metallic rattle sneaks out from the darkness, a cool sensation coiling around the angel's neck. The chain's links are cold against his skin as it leashes him, holding fast as he changes tack and tugs back against it. "What?!" His knees brace on the bed and he leans back, rearing up, hands gripping the chain and pulling, doing nothing but grinding the links into the nape of his neck.

In the periphery of his senses, he can vaguely hear the sound of things being dropped on the floor. Of zippers being unfastened, of laces being pulled with a whine through eyelets. Mariel's heart beats faster, his teeth grit as he shivers, eyes closed. A hand slides along his tensed wingless back, the touch tracing down the divot of his spine over the wing tattoos. Down and down, the fingers slip into the back of his pants, tugging them until they bunch at his knees. When Mariel's hands reach back, flailing and slapping that touch away, more of those obedient chains grip his wrists and pull them up, until he's forced to kneel, arms tautly upraised and palms facing the ceiling.

"Mmmm," Shadow purrs, caressing the angel's bare ass and giving it a harsh SMACK. "You seem made for abuse, Pretty Boy." His warm palm slides over Mariel's other cheek, gripping it, and then SMACK! That one's left stinging, too.

The touches and strikes make the fallen angel tense and grit his teeth, his stomach and back tight with nerves even as his cock is hard with desire. "Please, Master Shadow..." he begs, his head dipping, toes curling in the shoes he's still wearing.

"Please what?" the sidhe asks with a chuckle, moving around to take a seat on the side of the bed, in the angel's view this time. There's just enough light to see the man's body, slender, tall, and regal... even if his expression is amused and cruel. Perhaps because it is. "I can hardly help you if you don't tell me what you want."

Mariel flushes and frowns at his captor, pulling back against the chain leashing his neck with a whine. "Why do you have to..." he begins to spit out...

...until Shadow interrupts him to say, "Tell me exactly what you want, Mariel."

The command makes the angel gasp, his throat clenching around the words he was going to say, killing them just behind his tongue. He swallows them down, the ghost of his tantrum, and he shudders. "I want you to hurt me," he says in a soft, flat voice, his lips, tongue, and throat moving beyond his control. He takes in a deep breath, recoiling at the admission, gripping at the chains above his head. Such tension leaves his slim, tall, bound form beautifully vulnerable and taut.

With his eyes closed, Mariel isn't prepared for the SLAP that lands right on his tender chest, the bruised muscles and healing tissues punished by the strike. It makes him cry out and flinch, pulling to the end of the chain leash with a thrumming pressure. "No, no please..." he begs, quite in contradiction to his compelled admission.

The fallen creature's eyes, wet, look into the silvers of his captor, client, and tormentor - begging Shadow to keep going, to ignore his pleas, his pain, his fear. To push him.

The sidhe knows. Shadow wouldn't have hunted him down again if he didn't know.

Another strike hits the angel in his tender chest again, and he screams, his agony unheard beyond the enchanted walls of this strange living space. It's like the darkness eats his sounds, relishing it, seething and roiling with excitement the louder he gets. The sidhe moves, shifting to rest on his knees beside him, pressing against him, obviously hard and ready. The man's lips suckle on Mariel's wailing throat as he strikes the angel again, and again, and again. Despite his shaking, despite his cries, Mariel leans against the sidhe, wanting him, wanting more of his pain.

When Shadow turns the angel's head, the whore doesn't resist, devouring the sidhe as he kisses him. He moans into his mouth as Shadow draws his nails over the angel's stomach, leaving the fallen creature trembling, cock leaking, oh so ready. With a gesture from the sidhe's hand, the chains release their prize. The moment Mariel's freed, he cups his client's cheeks, curling bodily into the kiss, leaning against the other man, stomach to stomach, chest to chest, cock to cock.

Wanting him desperately. Needing him. Aching for him.

Shadow leans back, bracing on the mattress with his free hand as he draws the angel down by the chains he wears. Mariel moves as he's bid, soon laying on top of the other man, his hips naturally gravitating in between the sidhe's slender thighs. The sidhe must have lubed himself in the dark already, because he's already slick against the underside of Mariel's shaft as he grinds in between taut, elven ass cheeks. The angel's face is practically feverish, his tongue curling with his john's. Shadow's hands move to his back, caressing along the healing exit wounds, tracing along each one, dipping into each furrow indulgently.

The fallen angel parts the kiss, dipping his head down to worship the sidhe's slender neck and throat, a hand sliding down between them to guide himself right. Shadow hooks a leg over the angel's hip, encouraging him, the whore's crown sliding over the other man's ready star, as slick as could be. Mariel presses his teeth to Shadow's skin as his hips dip and roll forward, urging him inward, past the initial clench to delve into tense, needy heat.

The sidhe groans, back arching as Mariel begins to fill him, the angel's hands caressing down the sidhe's sides, needing to touch his client everywhere. Against that scarred chest the Shadow's nipples are hard, scraping against healing marks as he writhes, the sidhe's head tilted back. The angel's teeth clutch harder, making Shadow wince, the bridge of his nose wrinkling, the softest of whines escaping his long throat. "Pretty Boy, yes..." he breathes hotly, clutching at the angel's ass with his hands, black nailed like the whore's.

Mariel surges like a sea, his sinuous movements slow and deliberate as he fucks the other man, unable to do anything else but give in. The angel's not compelled - he's been seduced, his baser needs and passions courted to devastating effect. A sharp strike to his ass makes him ease his bite, a low, rumbling growl buzzing Shadow's flesh in its place.

The sidhe gasps, then closes his eyes. Chains snake out, wrapping around Mariel's neck once more, pulling him away. The angel howls in frustration, his cock pulled from its molten sheathe, left wet and wanting, aching with need. Onto his back the angel's moved and bound, hands chained by the headboard, ankles wrapped together by the foot of the bed. And upon him the sidhe climbs, straddling him and sinking back down onto his prick.

Before the whore can moan, Shadow's hand clutches his prize's throat, squeezing it nearly shut. Mariel grits his teeth, writhing in his bondage, eyes closed as he's ridden and used. Every once in a while he's struck in the chest, slapped hard, making him jerk and arch. His heels dig into the mattress, body struggling to both get away and get closer, until at last Shadow sheathes him fully, grinding with slow rolls of his hips, cock neglected but leaking and ready to burst in spite of that. The sidhe gasps and tenses mere moments later, stilling as his body clenches around the fallen creature's cock. Cum, hot and plentiful, jets in hot, thick arcs to splash onto the angel's abused, hurting chest and stomach.

The sidhe's quivering clutch milks that last moment from the angel beyond his control or choice. Mariel's climax is nearly silent, a soft hiss beneath the press of his captor's hand. Within, his cock pulses, doses of hot spunk offered to make the fit that much tighter, balls oh so painfully tight. Slowly, very slowly, Shadow's hand moves away from Mariel's throat, and the angel gasps, his burning lungs filling with air. It's only now that he feels wetness on his cheeks, his eyes watering, makeup surely running by now. The angel's left to lay there, panting for a few moments as the chains release him completely this time, his arms slowly pulling back down, fingers sliding over his cheeks, then down over his throat and chest. Leaving trails of black to mix with the white.