Chapter 13
Dina lay in bed, facing a wall. There was no nausea in him as there had been last morning, but his mind still flashed with the lights, the sensations — a hand on his back, the burn in his mouth, the deep hole in his stomach, each thud of the music and the bodies dragging against him.
A pair of broken lips, husky against his ear, wet tongue, teeth scraping.
Black inkblots bled into his memory — a dark shadow where the man’s face should be — and he found himself unable to remember chronologically.
He had been drinking one moment, then the man had a leg between his own, then he was by himself, briefly, at the center of an oval of people, who clapped their hands and cheered.
He’d been dancing for them. Angels love to dance, about as much as they like to sing — though this is often never written about.
Dina himself had never danced much, only a few times in secret with Azazel and Armoni and a handful of other times in his short life before the war.
The first time he’d danced, it had been with angel Lucifer.
Ta, ta, ta — Lucifer’s feet had hit the table they were on top of.
Dina could still feel the leg of the stranger pressing up between his thighs; he could still feel his breath caught in his throat, the stutter of his heart.
‘Dina,’ called the star Apsinthos. The fingers squeezing his waist, the chorus again and again, the spinning of the room as he was handed drink after drink.
‘Angel.’ Suddenly, a certain goodness had lit aflame in his belly, nascent and novel.
It had been wonderful, all the touches. ‘Are you going to waste another day in bed?’
Finally, Dina lifted his body, so abrupt that he expected for a wave of nausea to hit as it had the previous morning. “Hm?” ‘You’re still here, still in bed?’ “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry…”
Slow, the angel readjusted, saw himself donned in shorts and a shirt too small, that showed a sliver of the brown skin of his belly.
Nearby, he could hear the shuffling of feet, furniture, the murmur of talking.
And he remembered he was in the home of Tadeo, the anti-Christ. The voice of Uriel, again, again, echoed in his mind, telling Dina of the apocalypse that must never occur.
‘What am I doing here?’ This place that was nothing like the forests and castles in his fairy books.
Abruptly, he remembered the sensation of the books in his hands, and the deep reverb of Uriel’s voice nearby, telling Dina to go to bed.
He remembered flushing, lifting his chin, staring at the old angel nearby, standing by the dim glow of candlelight.
‘Very few times,’ Dina thought, ‘you were warm to me, Uriel. But I cherished those moments. After losing Azazel and Armoni, I thought I’d never know kindness again from an angel.
Sometimes, you handed me bread, and I thanked you with all of my heart.
I thanked you for telling me to rest. Thank you for letting me live with you even if you don’t want me here.
Once, Uriel, you said that you didn’t mind me.
Once, you grabbed the collar of my tunic and told me not to touch you ever again after I tried embracing you.
I never want to see you angry at me. If I ended our world, would you forgive me? ’
‘Don’t apologize,’ said the star, ‘angel. Do you still feel ill?’
‘What happened to me?’
‘You were drunk.’
‘I’ve been… like this before.’ Once or twice in his short life before the war, and a couple more times in the dark with Azazel and Armoni.
‘It was more intense this time. I wanted his touch — that man’s.
I think he thought I was a woman. He used terms for me that I know they reserve for women.
I liked his hands, though I know it’s against the laws of Heaven to think so.
He pressed his body to me, and that’s against the laws too. It’s a sin to enjoy it.’
‘You’re already a sinner.’
‘But I cannot ask for forgiveness again.’ Dina hesitated, then — ‘Is this right, Apsinthos?’
‘Is being touched right?’
‘No. No, I mean being here, on Earth. Uriel said that humanity shouldn’t rise to Heaven. And I like Uriel. He’s always been right. He’s the angel of wisdom.’
‘I think you confused your conflicted feelings on desire with your feelings on being here, sweet Dina,’ said the star as the young angel grimaced, almost shaking his head.
‘You drank too much, and you felt the affection of a man; you aren’t thinking right.
If you were, you’d remember that you were never doing this for that archangel Uriel.
You were doing it for God. It’s what He desires; you read it in His scripture for yourself.
He will love you if you do it. You want to be loved by God, don’t you, Dina? ’
‘I do,’ the angel surrendered, ‘more than anything.’ He supposed he should crave God’s love more than Uriel’s; he supposed that is how a good angel should feel.
‘To fulfill the prophecy of Revelation, you will have to sin. You may have to lie, to covet. How the angels have had to kill humans for God, you will have to commit some sin for the greater good.’ The star paused, then it asked, ‘Have you ever pleasured yourself with your hands, Dina?’ The angel gripped at the bedsheets as his muscles tensed, and his cheeks warmed.
‘It wasn’t a sin once to do it. In the time before Satan, there was no sin, just acts of pleasure and acts of pain.
When time has ended, there will be no such word for sin anymore.
You may be able to feel pleasure again how that man made you feel. Do you want to?’
Dina swallowed thickly, and he remembered the stranger again, his hands on his hips, his waist, the man’s huffing, and the building heat in between the angel’s legs, the almost painful tightness that had nearly bent his knees unwillingly.
He imagined having knelt, then, unable to hold himself up, staring up at the man as if he were God.
His sighing face nearly pressed to a clothed pelvis.
“I shouldn’t.” ‘I shouldn’t want it. I shouldn’t have hoped he’d grab my hair and force me down onto my knees. ’
‘But you do want it. You want to do what you shouldn’t.
Bring your hand between your legs.’ Dina was relieved it was a command, that he didn’t have to live with the guilt of doing it on his own accord.
Apsinthos was very considerate, he thought.
The star was kind to him, perhaps more than Uriel.
And he couldn’t fall the way Azazel or Armoni had; he was already here.
Trailing a hand down from waist to thigh, the young angel glanced down between his legs.
‘Closer.’ Biting his lip, Dina palmed properly at the place of damning and, sharp, gasped, toes curling at the new sensation, hips stuttering up.
‘Run it up, down.’ He did, caressing with his fingers and instantly clenching his eyes shut.
Inside his abdomen, it felt as if a knot was tightening, tightening.
‘Slowly.’ His hands trembled, but they ran up, down — just as ordered — up, down. ‘Sin feels right, doesn’t it?’
Quicker, Dina’s fingers worked, and he had to bite down hard on his cheeks when a sudden jolt of a sound almost spilled from his lips.
His hips continued rocking forward, chasing his touch, moving together as if reeled on the same hook, and his free hand went behind him, grasping the pillow he’d slept on before he might fall over.
Breaths were coming shorter, refusing to stay in his mouth, as if he were running, chasing.
What could he be chasing? All he knew for sure was that his fingers were damp now, as if he were working them into his mouth.
He imagined that, the weight of something in his mouth.
He imagined weight, over him, his entire self.
The face of Apsinthos came to mind, his fiery features and enormous size. How warm would it feel to be held down by the bright body of a star? How warm would it feel to have a star burn his way inside and fill the angel with flames?
When Dina’s thighs were spasming, the star said, ‘Finish. Do it for me.’
The angel, blinded by need, felt the throb in him almost painfully now, the discomfort like a limb tied down, like an urge turned panicked need.
He couldn’t stop his gasps anymore, though he kept them as soft as he could, trying to ignore the noises of the house.
‘Apsinthos, are you looking at me? Do you like seeing this?’ His body jerked, as if revolting against the goodness twisting him up inside.
One foot kicked helplessly, and he turned his face, eyelids half-closed.
‘Please.’ He slapped a hand over his mouth as he finished, overwhelmed by the pulsing sensation of pleasure in him, so strong that he was certain he’d died of ecstasy and risen up to the stars himself, met Apsinthos again with his great smile, his fire hair.
Dina would be tiny in his palm, but if the gorgeous sun lifted him, Dina would get on the tips of his toes to brush his lips on his.
‘Apsinthos,’ he thought without meaning to, his pale wings partly fluttered out of him, his skin feeling too tight over every scorched thing that made an angel up. ‘I want to see you again, Apsinthos.’ He wanted to kiss him, wanted the world to end how all stories ended — with a true love’s kiss.
‘When it all ends, we will be together, angel.’ And the angel smiled. He had felt good, and he was happy.