Mammon (Devilry #2)

6. Beelzebub

SIX

BEELZEBUB

“Is that a fucking rat?”

Pouting, Gore holds our new dog in his lap, giggling when she licks his fingers. “No, it’s a dog.”

“It’s a Pomeranian,” Luc clarifies, sitting on Levi’s lap on the couch as he addresses Asi. “Incredible that they happened to have a purebred one in the pound.”

Asi wrinkles his nose in distaste. “It looks like a rat.”

“Be nice to Terror,” I chide, tossing a throw pillow at his head from my place on the floor. It misses him completely, knocking a jar of something off the kitchen island instead.

Asi rolls his eyes, muttering something condescending under his breath before disappearing into the hallway that leads to the stairs. Bending forward, Luc scratches under Terror’s chin and smiles. “I think she’s cute.”

“Zeus won’t like her,” Levi comments, standing and helping Luc off the couch. “Come on, I think I saw him hiding in our room.”

Luc rolls his eyes. “That’s just an excuse to get me into bed.”

“As if you need an excuse,” Levi mumbles, which earns him a sharp glare from his boyfriend. Immediately, he freezes until Luc places a hand on his back and guides him out of the living room, leaving just Gore, Terror, and I.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him, noticing that he seems far too sad for someone who just got a brand-new puppy. “Gore?”

“It’s stupid.” He shakes his head. “I just thought that maybe Mammon would want to hang out with us and Terror.”

“It’s not stupid,” I tell him, my heart hurting at his look of disappointment.

When we got back from the pound today, Mammon immediately dismissed himself to his office. I know he’s probably busy—you know, taking over the world and such—but would it have cost him anything to spend some time with us? Especially considering how sensitive Gore is?

I feel a sudden bout of rage. Rage because I’m not too sure what else I can say to comfort my best friend since I’m feeling that same rejection too. It burns me from the inside out, making me feel weak and pathetic. Gore cries when he’s upset, but I… I just want to lose myself so I don’t have to feel this way anymore.

Lifting Terror from his lap, I place her on her pink bed and crawl on top of him until he’s lying on his back. I slowly work his shirt up his pale chest, leaving lingering kisses on his skin. His breathy sigh is enough to get me hard in an instant. His soft body under mine feels so fucking good. We’re not the exact same size, but there’s just something so gentle about Gore that makes me want to put him in my pocket to keep him safe from the rest of the world.

It’s why he and I are never apart. It’s why I try to protect him, no matter the cost.

It’s also why we killed our entire foster family when we found out they were concerned about how close we were and tried to separate us.

Blood and sex.

Violence and fucking.

It’s the only way I can show how much he means to me.

I take my time stripping him, making sure that my hand brushes every inch of his skin as I do. Once he’s completely naked and writhing on the floor from my subtle caresses, I get undressed, but not with the same care and attention I gave him.

Showing him he matters is so much more important.

I reach for one of the emergency lubes I have stashed around the house in an old fancy cigarette holder and uncap it, putting a generous amount on my fingers.

“Open up for me, Gore,” I tell him, spreading and pushing his legs until they’re pressed against his chest. “Jesus fuck, look at that ass. Sometimes I think that pretty hole of yours is too tight to take me.”

He shakes his head, bright green hair falling on his forehead as pants. “Bel… Please…”

I always give him what he wants. Sometimes I like to torture him first. Make him hurt and beg and suffer before I fill him with my cum as a reward.

Right now isn’t that.

I prep him quickly, giving him enough time to open up for me. I wait until his hole is nice and loose before slicking up my cock and nudging it against him.

“You feel so good,” he cries. Dropping his legs, he wraps his arms around my neck. “Fuck me, Bel.”

I start with nice, slow strokes, getting him wound up. I make sure to press kisses on every part of his face before capturing his lips. There’s nothing like Gore’s taste. It’s like he’s sweetness personified, so fucking delicious that you don’t even care that he’s rotting you from the inside out.

Because while my Gore is sweet, while he’s kind, and while he’s perfect?—

He’s a fucking lunatic, just like me.

“How do you want it?” I rasp against his mouth, digging my nails into his pert ass. “Nice and slow, Gore? Or do you want me to rough you up a bit, huh?”

Sometimes he likes it when I take my time. We can spend hours fucking in bed, just holding each other until we finally need to come out for sustenance.

Other times…

“You know what I want,” he whines as he shoves my shoulders. “Fuck! Bel!”

The deep, groveling whine. The high-pitched, barely-contained shriek. The tension in his fingers as he digs his nails into my skin. The brutal thrashing of his head from side to side.

There it is. There’s the lunacy. There’s that part of him that his sweetness can’t overcome. He’s a fucking psycho. A madman.

He wants a fight?

I’ll give him one.