22. Beelzebub
TWENTY-TWO
BEELZEBUB
He won’t settle down.
Gore’s jumping on his toes, wagging his ass like he has a tail as he paces in front of Mammon’s office. Mammon’s been locked in there for what feels like days, only coming out to piss, and it’s driving Gore crazy. If it were up to him, we’d already be bursting back into his space, but I’ve been stubborn and making excuses as to why it’s not a good time to see him. I can tell that answer isn’t going to work for much longer, not with how antsy he is.
“I want to see him,” he whines, running a frustrated hand through his green hair, looking at me with big brown begging doe eyes. “Please?”
I shake my head. “I know you do, baby, but we’re not talking to him right now.”
I take him by the hand and drag him away from the door. He usually comes willingly and easily, but this time, he fights me. Yanking his arm away, he scowls as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Why are you being like this? Mammon did nothing wrong.”
A pit forms in the bottom of my gut. I’ve been patient with Gore throughout the last few days because my sweet baby can’t see what’s wrong with this whole fucked-up picture. Fuck, I’m surprised I can, but I think that’s only because the protective instinct within me is making me rational enough to see the situation as it is.
But now he’s pissed me off. This unrelenting devotion he has toward Mammon has to stop. Does he not think I don’t want to throw myself in Mammon’s strong arms and tell him everything is okay? That’s the only thing I want, but I need to have enough self-respect for the two of us.
“Really, Gore?” I say, mocking him as I snort. “You really don’t know?”
He stomps his foot. “Don’t patronize me.”
I grit my teeth. I see the gentle approach is going to be the best way to get through to him, but I still huff, dragging him into our room and shutting the door behind us. Pressing him against the wall, I frame his face with my hands. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Why can’t you just forgive him?” he asks, holding onto my wrists. “You know he doesn’t mean any of it. He loves us.”
I raise an eyebrow, testing him. “How sure are you of that?”
He cocks his head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“How do you know he loves us? Tell me, Gore.”
“I…” He fumbles over his words as doubt flickers in his expression. “He does. I just know it and so do you. We need him.”
“No, we don’t,” I insist, brushing my thumb against his bottom lip. “We want him. There’s a difference.”
He tries to slap my hand away. “You’re being stubborn.”
I grunt under my breath. I’m the stubborn one? Gore is smarter than he lets on and he’s blinded by this delusion he lives in. The knowledge of that means I know what I need to do now and I don’t like it one bit.
Gore is a sweet soul. Crazy, yes, but sweet as hell. He likes looking at the world through cracked rose-colored lenses. This makes him easily susceptible to all sorts of influences, something I know very well that I rarely take advantage of. He’s easily manipulated, led astray with nothing but a whisper, yearning for acceptance in a way that makes him moldable.
And that’s going to work to my advantage.
“Have I told you yet how special you are to me?” I ask, pressing my lips softly against his. “How much you mean to me?”
His cheeks flush. “No— Bel …”
He draws out a moan when I start massaging his clothed cock. As he squirms in my arms, I drop kiss after kiss to his sensitive neck. “Let me tell you a story,” I whisper in his ear. “It’s a story about two souls that got tangled together at a young age, that fed off each other, that fused and merged until they were inseparable.”
“Is… Is this the story of us?”
“Yes.” I pull him toward the bed, slowly removing every article of clothing with each step I take. “Tell me, Gore. Haven’t I been good to you?”
I meet his wide eyes as soon as I pull his shirt over his head and he nods. “Of course.”
“Have I ever led you wrong?”
“Well…”
“ Gore .”
“No.”
Guiding him onto the bed, I crawl over his now naked figure, running my fingers up the length of his body. “Something needs to be made clear, baby. No one is ever going to love you the way I do.”
“Mammon can,” he insists, whining when I stroke his hardening dick. “Fuck…”
I nod because he’s right. I’m certain that Mammon could love him to the extent I do; never more, but just as much. “He can, but he refuses to and that’s not okay with me.”
“What are you saying?” he asks, head tilting to the side, gasping as I move my way down his body so my lips are hovering over his dick.
“I’m saying that I need you to trust me.” I lick one long stripe up his length, relishing the way he whimpers. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“With my life,” he cries out, digging his delicate fingers into my hair. “Please. More…”
I take him in slowly, gliding down until he hits the back of my throat. Swallowing around him, just how he likes it, then I pull back. “He’s a manipulative bastard. We deserve better.”
“We deserve him ,” he mumbles, growing more mendable second by second that passes with him in my mouth. “We…”
I cradle his balls in my hands.
“He lies to us.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
I slide my finger between his crease.
“He tortures us for his own amusement.”
“So? Let him.”
Keeping my patience, I reach over him for the lube and slick my fingers. I press them against his hole, nudging until I’m granted entrance, and start to fuck him slowly. “Don’t you want to make me happy, Gore?”
“Always,” he breathes, nodding and opening his mouth with a silent cry as I give him two fingers at once.
“Don’t you just want to listen and be told what to do?”
“I…”
I let him trail off. Once he’s prepped enough, I drag the excess lube up my cock and position myself. With one solid and steady push, he pulls me closer so I’m suffocating him. I prop my arms up on either side of his face, kissing his cheek, before whispering in his ear. “Say it, baby. He’s no good.”
He shakes his head, scratching down my back as he wraps his legs around my waist. “I need to come.”
“Not until you say it, Gore. Tell me he’s a bastard. Tell me you won’t speak to him. Tell me the only one you love is me.”
Gore trusts me with everything he is and everything he will be. I’ve led him all his life and he has no reason to doubt my intentions. Even my manipulation is for a good cause. It’s twisted—the way I’m using his weakness against him—but necessary.
Because Mammon isn’t the only puppet master in this house.
“I… Bel! Please!” he begs, writhing in my arms as my thrusts become more erratic. I fuck him the way he loves, as I bend him to my will.
“Say it and I’ll let you come. Make me happy.” I kiss the tip of his nose, such a stark contrast to my words and my brutality, but I know he’ll eat it up. “You won’t talk to him, you won’t look at him. He’s nothing to you now.”
His eyes roll to the back of his head as I take his cock in my hand. “He’s… Are you sure?”
Barely coherent, his eyes flicker with uncertainty. He’s so close to seeing things my way, so close to bending. All he needs now is a little push. “You know he sees you as weak, cowardly, unworthy of his love.”
Those big brown eyes water as I gaze into them. “Don’t say that.”
“Poor little Gore,” I taunt with each thrust. “So pathetic he can’t see the truth right in front of him.”
“Stop!” he cries out, pushing and pulling, not knowing whether he wants me to stop. “I?—”
“You hate him, don’t you? You just won’t admit it to yourself. You hate the way he treats us when he’s not fucking us. You want to hurt him the way he hurt you.”
“You’re putting thoughts in my head. It’s not fair.”
No, it’s absolutely not, but this is what it’s come to. I’ll do anything to keep him safe, even if it means fucking with his mind until the only thing he believes is what I tell him.
“Say. It.”
I let his cock fuck my fist as I pound into him, breaking him apart from the inside out until he’s crying out for release.
His terrified eyes stare up at me, glazing over. “I… I hate him.”
“What else?”
“I…”
I bite down on his neck, which elicits a beautiful groan. “Word for word, Gore. I hate the way he treats me when he’s not fucking me.”
“I hate the way he treats me when he’s not fucking me.” Tears stream down his face as his cock swells in my grip.
“I want to hurt him the way he hurt me.”
“I… I want to hurt him the way he hurt me.”
“Good, Gore. So fucking good, baby. Go ahead and come.” I lick up his neck, claiming the scent of him as he reaches his end. “Come all over my hand. Show me how much you trust me.”
“Bel!”
The minute he comes, I’m a goner too. I follow him into the abyss I’ve carved, into the shadows I’ve molded, dragging him down and down and down until it’s just the two of us.
Rolling him so he’s on his side, I pull out, leaning over him as I pet his puffy little hole. “So?”
He gulps, staring straight up at the ceiling with a dead expression on his beautiful face. “He’s dead to me.”
“Good boy.”