Chapter 3
THREE
Idrop into the oversized armchair, sinking into the leather as though it’s a throne built for a king who has long since forgotten his crown.
The weight of the room presses against me.
Bastion sprawls across the couch opposite, his massive frame taking up nearly all of it.
The firelight licks at his tattoos, casting them in molten gold as his thick fingers cradle a bottle of whiskey.
He is already halfway gone, eyes hooded, his free hand idly tracing the edge of his belt.
The scent of smoke and spirits clings to him, heavy and intoxicating.
At the far end of the room, Cassiel sits at the grand piano.
His fingers move like water over the keys, weaving a melody that feels older than memory, a song that could summon ghosts from their graves and make them weep.
Even now—especially now—he is all grace.
All composure. His hair falls in soft gold strands over his forehead, his expression distant, like he’s somewhere beyond the flames, beyond Hell itself.
He looks divine. Untouchable. Sometimes I hate him for it.
I lean forward, snatching the whiskey from Bastion’s grip before he can react.
He growls low in his throat, a warning that vibrates through the room, but I only smirk, taking a long swallow that burns all the way down.
When I pass it back, his hand closes over it with deliberate slowness, his eyes fixed on the flames.
The fire cracks and pops, the only sound besides Cassiel’s music.
Then Cassiel’s gaze finds mine. His fingers never falter, but his silver-blue eyes pin me where I sit. “You’re worked up over something,” he says softly. His voice cuts through the air like a blade wrapped in silk. “What is it?”
I let my head fall back against the chair, staring up at the dark ceiling. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” The music stops. The silence swells, heavy and expectant. Both of them are watching me now.
My jaw tightens. I don’t even know how to explain it to myself, but the words come anyway. “I met a girl today.” I drag a hand over my mouth. “She was… different. I can’t explain it.”
Bastion snorts, lifting the bottle to his lips. “Some human girl has you all worked up? Pathetic.”
A growl builds in my chest, low and dangerous, but Bastion only arches a brow, unimpressed. I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees. “She wasn’t human. Or at least… I don’t think she was.”
That gets their attention. I can still smell her on my hands, on my clothes—the sweetness beneath repression, the ache buried under years of denial.
It clings to me like incense after a forbidden ritual.
“She smelled so fucking sweet. And dark gods help me, the arousal dripping off her…” I exhale sharply.
“She’s been denying herself for so long, she’s practically choking on it. ”
Cassiel tilts his head, thoughtful. “One of those religious girls, then,” he murmurs. “Did you invite her to the church?”
I smirk. “Of course I did.”
Cassiel rises from the piano bench with slow precision, the soft fall of his hair catching the firelight as he moves toward me.
Graceful. Composed. Still so angelic it makes my teeth ache.
He really is beautiful, and it drives me insane—not just because of what he used to be, but because of what he still is.
Obedient. Loyal. Willing. He lets me pull the worst parts of him to the surface. And maybe the worst parts of me, too.
His silver-blue eyes lock onto mine, reading me too easily. “You need to feed.”
I don’t deny it. I haven’t fed properly in days. The bonfire will give me more than enough, but until then? I need something to take the edge off. Cassiel already knows. He drops to his knees before me, smooth, practiced, familiar. Like a prayer. Like surrender. Like sacrifice.
I don’t speak. He’s already freeing my cock, wrapping his fingers around me with reverent precision. A smirk tugs at my lips as I grip his chin, tilting his face up. “If only your God could see you now.”
Cassiel’s lips part, but before he can speak, I shove him down onto my cock.
He groans around me, the vibration echoing up my spine, lighting every nerve with heat.
His submission is perfect. Clean. Addictive.
And I need it. Now. I tangle my fingers in his hair, but this time I grip too tightly—not to dominate, but to survive the unraveling.
I fuck his mouth harder than I should, my hips snapping forward with brutal, desperate rhythm. Still, he doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t resist. Because that’s what he is to me. Mine. No matter how much it hurts.
From the couch, Bastion groans, stroking himself through his pants.
His arousal seeps into the air, thick and indulgent, another thread of pleasure to wrap around my hunger.
He frees himself, long and heavy in his grip, stroking as he watches.
His gaze is fixed on Cassiel’s mouth, on me.
Always watching. Feeding me in his own way.
The scent of sweat, sex, and lust curls around us like smoke.
I fuck Cassiel’s mouth harder, letting my obsession with that girl bleed into each thrust. Letting the fury rise.
But it’s not enough. The image of her—dark blue eyes, soft lips, the tremble in her voice—flashes in my mind. She’s still in my head. Even now.
And something breaks.
I grip Cassiel’s hair tighter, jerking his head farther down, burying my cock to the base.
He gags around me and I don’t stop. His fingers claw at my thighs, but not to escape.
To ground himself. He’s trembling—his whole body shaking from the effort to keep going.
Tears spill from his eyes. But he doesn’t stop.
He chokes on me, moaning, crying, and stroking himself harder.
Pain warps his features even as pleasure radiates from him like heat.
Tears. Obedience. Devotion.
And I lose it.
“Take it,” I snarl. “Take all of it. You want my cum, don’t you?”
He sobs around my cock but nods—a broken nod.
I thrust into his throat like I’m trying to erase her from my mind.
Like I can bury my obsession in someone else’s suffering.
Cassiel’s hand moves faster on his cock, his entire body strung taut like a wire about to snap.
Bastion groans louder, his strokes becoming rougher, more erratic. He’s not far behind.
I push Cassiel down again, so deep I feel his throat convulse. He’s gasping around me, mouth drooling, jaw trembling—and he comes. Hard. Violent. His body jerks, a muffled cry vibrating against my cock as his climax hits. Bastion follows a second later, snarling as he spills over his hand.
And then it hits me.
Their energy crashes into me—pleasure, surrender, pain, devotion.
I drink it in, greedy and starved. Only then, only after I’ve consumed everything they offer, do I come.
It’s sharp, brutal, a dark pulse of heat that rips through me as I spill into Cassiel’s mouth.
He swallows every drop, choking on it through ragged breaths, his lips red and raw.
When I finally release him, he slumps forward, resting his forehead against my thigh. Tears glisten on his cheeks, still fresh. His body shakes softly, but he doesn’t speak. He just breathes through it, worshipful in his wreckage.
For a moment, everything is quiet. Perfect. Raw.
And then the high fades. The emptiness rushes back in.
I lean back, chest rising and falling, my jaw clenched. I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm the fury still curling in my gut.
“Still not enough?” Cassiel asks softly, his voice hoarse.
I don’t answer right away. I just stare at the fire, the taste of obsession still thick on my tongue. “No.”
Bastion chuckles from the couch, voice low and lazy. “Maybe your little church girl can fix that.”
I glare at him. But the thought has already taken root. And it’s not going anywhere.