A Demon and Angel at a Dungeon

Well, here we go. My first time writing erotica. I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please let me know. I'd really appreciate it.

-Absent

---

"Hey."

He hadn't heard anyone approach him, but the sounds of bodies pressing together, voices rising and falling, leather and cane striking flesh, all overlaid with the clink of chain and the creak of rope could easily have disguised her quiet footsteps. If she'd bothered to walk over, at least. He knew that voice--knew its owner very well--and knowing her, there was every chance she hadn't set foot on the ground that whole night.

El looked up.

Jez was short and sinful, her body curvy, tempting, and even easier to see than usual. She was wearing a pair of black tape x's over her nipples, a twisted chest harness of red and black hemp rope, and a black leather skirt that barely reached mid-thigh, studded all over with metal spikes. Her makeup was bold and dark, matte black lips as yet unsmudged, thick eyeliner projecting bat wings out from her eyes, red eyeshadow smeared artfully along the line between tasteful and trashy. She'd cut her hair sometime in the last couple of decades and it was now styled in a short pixie bob that was just long enough to make you imagine running your hands through it as you pressed your body against her, or tightened your hand into a fist and yanked her roughly toward you. If you were interested in such a thing.

And he was.

El stood up slowly from where he was checking the mounting on a Saint Andrew's Cross. She was somewhere around 5'1 and he, at 6'2, towered over her, especially with his broad shoulders and strong arms. He saw her eyes looking at him as he moved, drinking in the curve of his arm and the flex of his stomach. She wasn't subtle about things like that; subtlety wasn't in her nature. El lied to himself and said he was getting up slowly because he was surprised. Not because he wanted her to look.

"Hey," he said, raising his voice a bit to be heard. The play party had started an hour ago and things were in full swing--including the sex swing and a pretty impressive bit of suspension bondage. He'd seen the guest list but he hadn't known Jez was going to be there. From the look on her face, neither had she, though she didn't seem upset about it.

He wasn't at all upset either.

"You're dressed down," Jez said with a pointed glance at his black button-down and slacks, with only a brief pause to stare at his dick.

"I'm not a guest, I'm working," he explained. He tapped the neon green ribbon around his left arm that marked him as staff, along with the dungeon logo on his right breast, a pair to the larger version on his back:

Celine's Playroom

, written in a curlicued red font that formed into a pair of handcuffs. So far El hadn't been needed too much, he'd just been keeping an eye on things and making sure everything and everyone was safe. Protecting and caring for things. Jez was going to have a field day with that, he knew; he could already see the beginning of her familiar smirk curling her lip. The aggravated fondness that rose inside him in response to the expression was quickly shoved away. He

was

working.

"Of course you are," she drawled, taking a step closer to him. "All work and no play, that was always your way of doing things right? All

duty

and

virtue

and

following the rules

in everything." She laughed. The UV lights glinted off the stud in her tongue. "Well," she added, that old familiar mischief burning in her eyes. "

Almost

everything."

She took another step forward. He would barely even need to move to be able to grab her. Work his hand into her soft hair and pull her close, breathe her in so deep he could feel her scent burning in the pits of his lungs, let his hands move over to--

"I'm

working

, Jez," El scowled, driving away the distracting thoughts that she'd sent whirling around his head.

"So am I." She made a vague gesture to the room around them both, the party's energy still rising as the night continued to deepen. "I can't have you distracting me while I'm doing important things. And people."

"I'm not--" he started to say but she cut him off with another laugh. Hell, he'd always loved her laugh. The pleasure and the passion in it, not to mention the faint edge of mockery. It was there in her eyes too, always that sardonic gleam.

Well. Almost always.

He stared at her, and she at him. The conversation appeared to have ended but El knew they weren't done. It had been a long time since he'd seen her--a very long time--but he'd known her even longer. He could barely remember not knowing her. And with so much history, even with the recent gap in it, he could read her body language. The way her eyes flickered and fizzed to and away from his, the set of her body, leaning slightly towards him. The way she was gently sinking her sharp teeth into the inside of her cheek.

He knew what those signs meant. He knew she was probably reading similar signs in him. It'd taken him a long time to accept that flaw in himself, but now he recognized it with equanimity. He knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She asked. She always had to ask--that was her role in their dance and they both knew it--so it came as something of a relief to El when her lips (those full lips, which would look so good wrapped around-- no, that could happen later) finally parted and she said, "It's been a long time."

"It has."

"We both have work to do but I don't have any plans after the party is over. We could... catch up a bit after."

El almost smiled. "You won't be too tired for that after the night you have ahead of you?"

Jez laughed again. El couldn't stop his smile now, not with that beautiful, prideful laugh to contend with. "Please," she said in tones of mock insult. "You think they'll be enough to slow me down? You know it takes more than that to wear me out." Her eyes flicked up and down his body again. Slow, meaningful.

"I know," he said. He let his eyes trail over her, returning the favor. When his gaze returned to her face her teeth were bared in a hungry smile.

"Talk to you later then angel," she said and turned and sauntered away. El stared at her ass without shame as she moved through the crowd, knowing she'd enjoy knowing that he'd looked. A fake devil tail trailed down her leg, disappearing beneath her tiny leather skirt. Seeing that, El had to bite back a laugh.

He examined his feelings quickly, taking a moment to center himself. Jez's reappearance would complicate a few things. It would likely change his current life irrevocably, alter most of the cornerstones he had relied on for the last few years.

And he was also very glad to see her.

He could also feel himself straining against his slacks, something he hadn't felt at any point earlier in the night as he moved through the club and watched over everything.

He took a deep breath and pushed the arousal down. He had a job to do right now. The rest could wait until closing. There would be plenty of time for the other things then.

For now, he would be good.

It would make what he did afterward even better.

* * *

The event went off without a hitch, apart from those of the rope variety. Things built to a slow crescendo over the course of several hours and slowly began to trickle into a natural conclusion after that, one El and the rest of the staff at Celine's gently helped along as 3 AM drew near. Everyone left happy and content and with at least some water in them, though El couldn't help but notice the sheer number of people who bore bite marks on their neck, chest, or thigh, as he offered assistance. Hickies weren't exactly noteworthy at a play party, but he could recognize the pattern of those teeth. Jez had been busy indeed.

He volunteered to do the final inventory and first wave of cleaning--they would be wiping down and sanitizing everything again tomorrow too--and with a hug, a kiss, and a swat on the ass, Celine left for the night. El looked around at the organized chaos of the dungeon around him, sighed gently, then grabbed a garbage bag and began throwing away all the trash he could find.

When he looked up a few minutes later to check on his progress Jez was sitting on a spanking bench, kicking her feet gently back and forth as she watched him like a cat. He hadn't seen her at all the rest of the night, only noticed her handiwork, and he hadn't seen her still inside the dungeon when he'd locked the doors, but that didn't surprise him. Jez was good at going where she wasn't wanted, and where she was. Right there, right then, she was doing a little of both, though the 'want' part was certainly stronger. El could admit that to himself now, after all this time.

He took a single step toward her and she giggled. "I thought you had things you needed to do," she teased. "Surely ravishing me will have to wait until you've done your duty."

El paused, then shook his head and resumed picking up trash. "You haven't changed much then?" he half said/half asked.

She laughed loud and scornful. "We don't change, not even in... how long has it been?"

"Seventy-four years," he answered readily. "I thought I might have seen you in '69 but it was only a moment. I've never been sure."

"At Stonewall?" she asked.

He nodded.

"That was me alright. What were you doing there?"

He shrugged. "Probably the same thing as you but for different reasons. As usual."

"That is our normal pattern isn't it?" she remarked lightly.

He glanced over at her. Her dark eyes were wide as she stared off into space, her hand tapping an absent rhythm on her knee. Her tiny skirt was riding so far up her thigh it was almost a belt. He quickly pulled his eyes away.

"Seventy-four years, huh," she mused to herself. Then she smiled like a shark and said in a sing-song voice "You

counted

. You

missed

me!"

El finished gathering the last condom wrapper that had fallen beneath one of the snack tables, tied off the trash bag, and set it aside. Then he turned to look her square in the face and said, quite simply, "Yes."

She faltered. The sardonic smile dropped from her face like a star from the sky and she looked at him in confusion, wonder, disbelief, something like, but not quite, hope. Then she pulled her mask back in place and pouted at him. "I hate it when you do that," she grumbled.

"I know," he said. Then he smirked at her. "Why do you think I do it?" And just to add insult to injury, he winked at her, then turned away to grab some sanitizer.

She made no sound as she moved closer to him but he could sense her anyway. She could've hidden herself from him--or tried at any rate--but in that moment, her desperation striking like a snake within her and her caution cast aside, she may as well have announced her presence as she floated closer.

"I have work to do, remember?" he pointed out politely. "You said so yourself."

There was stillness, and then he could feel her back on the spanking bench. He knew if he turned around she'd be acting as though she hadn't moved at all.

He smiled.

She was right, he'd missed her.

"So, anything new I should know about?" he asked. "Limits, desires?"

She considered for a moment, then spoke in the voice she never used with anyone but him. "No blades. No breaking skin. Impact play is welcome and desired but nothing worse than bruises and bites."

He nodded, back still turned. "Something happened," he said.

"Yes," she said, sotto voice.

"You can tell me, or not."

There was silence. Then: "Later."

He nodded and finished wiping down every strap of a sex swing before he spoke again. "And what does the harlot crave this night?"

The temperature in the room rose a couple of degrees. Literally. Lord above, she hadn't been kidding; a good thirty or forty people and it hadn't even whet her appetite. "You know what I like," she said with pleasure and seduction coiling in every word. "But I

know

you like hearing me say it, so I'll do that for you. I want you, my big, strong, kindly angel, to ravish me. I want you to bind my wrists and ankles so I can't flee, to use your hands to bruise my ass and thighs and face and tits, to sink your teeth into my flesh and leave your mark on me. And I want you to

use

this body. I want it to hurt."

He set down his rag and sanitizer, that job finished for now. He turned back to face her, noting the slight flush in her chest, the brightness of her eyes and the way her tongue kept darting out to wet her lips. "How badly?" he asked.

There was another flicker of the face behind. The "real" Jez--though that wasn't entirely true, the confident slut was just as much a part of her as this other, more hidden part. This part was eager too, hungry, craving... but not in all the same ways. And when he looked into her eyes in that moment, there was all the weight of all their lives looking back at him.

"A bit," she said. "Not really badly. But I do want it to really hurt. Another time."

He nodded, accepting, and the glimpse was gone and there was just Jez--fun, flirty, inhumanely sexy--without a hint of what else lay within.

"So," she said, kicking herself up off the bench and sauntering toward him. He could see her throwing a little extra sway into her hips, letting her tits swing as she moved, and he enjoyed her efforts. "What does Mr. Responsible want? And where does he draw the line tonight?"

He considered simply grabbing her right then and there, but only for a moment. Negotiating was more important. "My usual limits apply," he said. "Worship what I represent if you wish, but not me as an individual. And I don't want to break any of your bones this time."

She nodded her acquiescence readily; there was no teasing about something so serious, so sacred.

"As for what I want..." he trailed off, considering, letting his eyes roam over her. "I like the sound of everything you asked for. It's been a long time. I could use... an outlet."

Her smile was hungry and sharp. She licked her lips. "I'm happy to provide an outlet for you, angel."

They stared at each other for a long moment, waiting to see if the other had any other questions to raise. The simple affairs--safewords, hard limits, etc.--didn't need to be discussed explicitly; after so long they knew those rules as they knew how to breathe. But things changed, and they waited to see if anything else had.

Nothing had.

El tipped his head to the side.

Jez's grin widened in return.

They were ready.

"Guises?" Jez asked.

El considered, then shook his head. "I like the new body and would enjoy seeing it in more detail later, but right now I want

you

, Jez. The real thing."

Jez smiled almost shyly. Then, with a motion like she was shrugging off a coat, she cast off her mortal guise.

She was beautiful, feeble a word as that was to describe her. It, of course, didn't do her justice. Before the Fall she'd been beautiful, but now, after? She was seductive, stunning, entrancing, radiant, sultry, gorgeous, slutty. Like a rich wine, the flavor deepened with age and experience and a touch of corruption.

She was still short in this form and still had a full bust and rounded ass; she was vain about her figure, and while she'd tried on all sorts of different bodies over the years--slender and willowy, fat and luscious, beautifully average and stunningly unique--she usually returned to something close to this form. Her skin was the burnt red of terracotta and her eyes glowed scarlet in the gloom with the flickering radiance of fire. When she smiled now the points of her teeth were just a touch longer than a mortal's, a row of sparkling white fangs hidden behind plump lips. Curling from the top of her head and flowing down her back were a pair of curved horns which made perfect handholds, and flicking around her legs and waist was a very real devil's tail, the end coming to a simple triangular point which was deceptively sharp. A pair of wings, batlike and fluttering eagerly, stretched out from her shoulder blades.

She was also entirely naked, which was only to be expected. Succubi had little need for clothes most of the time.

She smirked at him, her tail reaching out across the scant space between them and curling playfully around his left hand and arm. "Like what you see angel?" she teased. Her voice was different like this. Rich, smoky, slightly sibilant.

"Yes," he breathed, the word coming out low and thick and growling. He watched her slitted pupils dilate slightly at the sound and couldn't stop a small grin of his own from forming.

The edge of her tail drew itself sharply against his flesh leaving a small graze. He hissed, jerking away, and glared at her. Her eyes danced with mirthful hellfire as she took another step back. "Well, I showed you mine. Why don't you show me yours..." She looked him slowly up and down and licked her lips, long and slow and meaningful.

So, that's how it was going to be.

El could play that game. Maybe not as well as a succubus, but he'd had plenty of practice. He could manage.

He held a hand out before him and flexed his fingers. Light appeared in his hand, spiraling down toward the floor and up toward the air above his head until he was holding a shaft of light a head taller than he was, its end held a few inches off the floor. Raising it slightly he slammed it down against the ground, casting off his own semblance of mortality and stepping forward into his true form with a crash.

Normally pale skin turned alabaster white, golden radiance pouring off his body in waves. El felt his work clothes fade away--not gone, taken off, or destroyed, simply pushed into the background by the

realness

of what he was--as a flowing garment like a toga took its place, the white cloth silken and trimmed in gold. His eyes, he knew, were brilliant blue now, and the halo he could always feel had burst to light like neon around his head, casting yet more heavenly light down upon him and his surroundings. With a single languorous stretch, he let his wings spread behind him, each white feather glowing with its own internal light. He flapped them once, twice, lifting himself from the ground with the pleasure that came from defying mortal laws like gravity, then allowed his light to dim until it was enough to see by and not enough to blind.

He watched Jez the whole time as he settled into his other form. Her eyes roamed him with the same strange mixture of emotions that always seemed to fill her when this time came: envy, hatred, adoration, pity. Celestial beings weren't built for such complex emotions. Falling had given the infernal that gift in many ways. It had taken El centuries before he could even approach feeling things as Jez did. As mortals did. He didn't regret any of the time spent learning.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. She glared at him.

"You stole my line," she pouted.

"You're avoiding my question."

Jez stuck her tongue out at him. "Why don't you come over here and find out for yourself?"

He didn't bother speaking. There were four steps of space between them and he crossed it in a single beat of his wings, his strong hands moving with the sureness of long practice. One wrapped itself around her throat--not squeezing yet, just holding, warning--and one pressed against her stomach and slid lower. Lower.

Lower.

Jez's lips parted in a quiet gasp as his hand found its mark. She was warm--almost hot--everywhere in this form, but there more than anywhere else. And she was wet. Her juices coated his fingers in a moment and he felt the slickness marking her thighs where she'd rubbed them together.

She was eager.

Very eager.

He toyed with her clit for a moment, running gentle circles around it with his index finger before he slowly pulled his hand away, enjoying her little whine as he did. He held his hand before her eyes, showing her her own wetness.