Chapter 3
Chapter three
Malachi
My phone chimes in the background from somewhere on the bar top behind us, but I’m lost in the haze of Samael kneeling in front of me, his mouth wrapped around the ruddy head of my dick.
“That’s it; such a good fucking boy for me.” The sides of his hair are buzzed tight, but the top is a mop of dark-brown and silver strands I can grip. My hold makes it easy to thrust my hips forward so my length slides further down his throat.
He swallows me down, no gag reflex to be found—perks of being a Nephilim and lots of practice. We’ve been together for hundreds of years at this point—we know how to please each other.
Sam’s near-black eyes simmer as if he can hear my thoughts, but I have our angel comms—as I like to call them—closed off for the time being so we can’t communicate telepathically.
He needs to be focused on me and only me right now.
Besides, what fun would topping him be if he could hear my orders before I gave them?
I take one of my hands from his hair and grip his chin, pressing my thumb to his cheek and applying pressure.
His mouth opens wider, and his grip on my bare ass tightens.
Fuck, I love when he’s on his knees for me, when he lets me use him for my pleasure.
It gives me the power I sometimes crave—usually when I feel like the least powerful of my Nephilim counterparts.
Being the offspring of “The Angel of Death” makes Sam arguably as powerful as Remiel, if not slightly more.
Sam disagrees, but I think that’s only because he has a hard time accepting his angel side, unlike Remi and me.
I know Remi agrees with me. Because let’s face it, what is more powerful than death?
It is the be-all and end-all, what starts the cycle of life over again.
Then there’s Remiel and why he’s considered the most powerful, why he was brought first to Elysian Pines to guard it. His father is Michael. The Archangel Michael. Protector of the righteous, defender against evil. “He who is like God,” whatever that means.
We don’t actually know. Because while you’d think Nephilim, angelkind, would have met the all-knowing, all-seeing God, we have not. Nor have we been to heaven.
To us, God is simply an idea, a thought, a power.
A power that we believe influenced our angel fathers to seek out our human mothers and create us.
A power that eventually drew each of us to Elysian Pines, giving us not only a safe place to dwell with others like us but also a job and a purpose: to protect the town—or perhaps more accurately, to help and guide humans in need, those the town brings to us.
While I’m strong, and my father Gabriel was a powerful Archangel, my grace is more muted, probably affected by my human side. My Italian mother was a historian and a sweet woman. She claimed my father came to her in a dream, they fell in love, and less than a year later, I was born.
Since I aged slower than other children and was different in other ways, too, I was eventually drawn to Elysian Pines centuries ago and took the job I have now.
My grace and lineage allow me to see the past and help those who come into our care learn from it so they can live their best lives if they so choose.
It fits perfectly with Remi’s abilities to show the present and Sam’s to show the future.
We are the perfect trio, brought together by fate and the godlike power we believe fuels Elysian Pines.
Honestly, a lot about our lives and of being a Nephilim doesn’t make sense.
I’ve found and studied as much as I could over the many years I’ve been alive, but while I can see the past and learn from it, I don’t dwell on it.
Everything that’s happened led me here, to my life with Remi and Sam, whom I love and who love me.
They always know what I need, just like I always know what they need.
In Samael’s case, he needs me now. Needs to let go under my care, for me to be in control so he doesn’t have to think.
He gets in his head about things, and ever since we felt that shift in energy last night, he’s been off.
I have, too, but I don’t spiral like Sam does.
I’m more carefree in that way. I learn from the past but live more in the present, like Remi.
I trust Elysian Pines to settle whatever has gotten its panties in a twist whereas Sam wants to know the answers—to see the future before his grace allows.
I grip my brooding lover’s chin tighter, our gazes locked while he continues to bring me pleasure like he was born to do it. He’d stay on his knees with my cock in his mouth for as long as I commanded it right now.
“You gonna make me come, Samael?” I ask.
He answers by hollowing his cheeks as best he can with my cock stuffed in his mouth. I glance to one of the booths on the opposite side of the room. Before this started, Sam and I came to my bar, The Drift, to have a drink, which evolved into him getting on his knees.
It’s dark in here yet warm and inviting with an endless fireplace crackling on one side surrounded by comfy chairs. The walls are decorated with a mix of holiday decor and memorabilia from different eras, giving it the feel of a family-run bar.
When we get humans in town, this is often the first place they come.
It makes them feel at home. Safe. Welcome.
Which is exactly how they should feel, how I want them to feel.
It’s also a place where Nephilim who live here come to talk and connect.
Some of them “work” here when we have visitors from the outside, so the town appears like any other small mountain town instead of a magical one. But right now, it’s just Sam and me.
I let go of his hair and jaw, tapping his reddened cheek lightly as my wet length slides from his swollen lips, my veiny shaft glistening in the firelight to the right of us.
“Crawl to the booth,” I command. “Lay flat on your back, head over the edge and mouth wide.”
On a normal day, if I told Sam to crawl, he’d grab me by my hair and make me crawl instead. I would not complain, because I enjoy submitting and often do. But not today. Like I said, Sam needs this.
So, like a good boy, he does as I ask without complaint. My gaze follows his tight ass as he crawls on his hands and knees to the booth. The muscles flex against the formal black slacks he likes to wear. A pearl of pre-cum drips from my dick in desire.
He stands when he arrives at the booth so he can get into position, laying down with his feet near the wall and his head exactly where I want it.
I fist my cock, but it’s no longer wet. Sam’s heated gaze watches me upside down as I spit in my hand for lubrication, tugging my shaft to keep myself hard.
“Are you ready for me, baby?”
“Yes, Malachi.”
Heat pools low in my belly at my name. He only calls me Malachi when we’re in this dynamic or he’s angry/annoyed at me. Otherwise, it’s always Kai.
“I’d like to touch your naked body—is that okay?” I ask.
“Yes, Malachi.”
I wet my lips and snap my fingers. His clothes disappear from his body, and his hard cock slaps against his washboard stomach. In any other situation, I’d make a joke about an old man being able to get his dick so hard, but we’re all old.
I stand in front of his face, lining it up with his wide-open mouth. His lightly stubbled chin moves in further permission. I dip my cock in, the warm, wet hole creating the perfect sleeve for me to fuck.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we were fully human, if we’d met like humans do and had human jobs and human lifespans. One thing I know would be different is that I wouldn’t be able to be as rough with Sam as I can be now.
With that thought in mind, I plunge down his throat, my balls covering his nose.
He moans around my cock, and I cut off his air supply until his hands grip my thighs.
I pull back, and he inhales. I do it again and again.
In and out, in and out. I watch as my shaft makes his throat expand and he swallows around me for heightened pleasure.
“Fuck, yes. That feels so fucking good, baby.”
I grasp his throat with my palm and gently squeeze, fucking him deeper, harder. I love the way my cock feels when it moves under my hand. My gaze drifts to his stomach, abs contracting as he chokes on me. I spy a little puddle of his pre-cum that’s gathered below his navel from how turned on he is.
He gave me permission to touch, so I’m going to touch.
I shift forward and seal my mouth over the weeping crown of his dick, the salty yet sweet taste of him exploding on my tongue.
His hands pull at the back of my thighs, taking me somehow deeper into his throat.
I moan around his head and suck. He’s so hot, so hard, and I fucking love it.
I take him further down, and his nails dig into my flesh.
“Fuck,” I mumble, using one of my hands to cup and roll his balls. They tighten in my grip—he’s close to coming. We both need a release, and I know he wants to taste my lust just as much as I want to taste his.
I slide off his dick, tightening my hold on his balls. “Make me come, Samael. Play with my asshole.”
My body shudders as his hand creeps up my taint and one of his long fingers presses against my tight ring of muscles. I suck his dick back in my mouth, the girth of him stretching my lips, and he inserts his finger inside me, pressing to the spot he knows makes me come.
I let out a guttural groan, pleasure overtaking me.
My release spills down his throat, and I suck him harder so he comes, too.
He moans on my twitching cock as his taste coats my tongue.
I do my best to drink him down like a top-shelf whiskey, basking in my orgasm while wringing pleasure from his body.
When I’m spent and his shaft softens in my mouth, I pull away, dropping to my knees. I wipe a bit of cum from Sam’s swollen lips, pressing it against his tongue. His glassy eyes simmer as he sucks it clean, and I reverently kiss him while he’s still upside-down.
“Feeling better?” I ask as I pull away, helping him sit up.
Sam snaps his fingers, and his clothes are back on as if they never left in the first place, leaving me the only one naked. He straightens the cuffs of his black button-up and licks his lips with a low hum. “For now.”
I use my pointer finger to lift his chin to meet mine. His usual broody, sexy not-quite-smile is back on his sharp features. Yet his cheeks remain flushed, and he smells like sinful sex.
“If you need me again?”
He nods and stands, forcing me to step back. “I know where to find you.”
We exchange a subtle grin at the inside joke. We always know where to find each other—well, mostly. We couldn’t find Remi earlier, but we should have known he went to Garland. Probably got one of Holly’s steaks without us, the handsome asshole.
Sam snaps his fingers, and my own clothes reappear. Unlike Sam, I’m dressed the opposite of formal. My clothing style is casual to match the setting of the bar.
I run my hands down the long-sleeved light-brown Henley. “Thanks.”
He nods, and my phone pings. “Shit. I forgot it went off while my cock was down your throat.”
Sam’s eyes narrow, but I note the hidden humor in his eyes. Guy acts broody and indifferent a lot of times, but he’s got more feelings than Remi and I combined. It’s why he needs to be grounded by us when he spirals.
I snap my fingers to get my phone from where it lay on the bar and read the message from Remi.
With the pleasure of my orgasm fading, I’m reminded of why Sam and I ended up being intimate in this way in the first place.
The energy shift last night, the insatiable hunger we all felt that led to hard and fast sex.
Even after I had Sam’s and Remi’s cum inside me, I still wanted more.
That hungry itch reappears in my stomach again, and Sam clears his throat. I place my hand on his shoulder, knowing he feels it, too. I thought we’d satisfied it for the time being. I guess not.
“Relax,” I say softly. “Remi is on his way back. He says he has something important to tell us.”
“I do.”
Both of us look toward the entrance to find the missing piece of our trio.
He flings snow from his short dark-blond hair and wipes a hand over his five-o’clock shadow.
Despite our inability to feel the cold like full humans do, his nose is pink from the storm raging outside, his skin reacting to the brutality of Mother Nature.
“Our visitor arrives tonight,” he says as he steps forward, his tall, muscular frame taking up the space of the doorway.
“How do you know?” Sam asks, his shoulders straightening as he looks into Remi’s eyes.
“Because I met her.”
We both straighten, but I speak up first. “She’s here already? Where? We should have felt her cross the borders!”
Remi places a calming hand on my shoulder. “No, not yet. I met her at Holly’s, and I have no doubt she’ll be here soon.”
I leave Remi and Sam, walking behind the bar. It’s unusual for one of us to meet someone we’ll help before they come to Elysian Pines, but it has happened before. Still, it’s rare.
I set out three glasses and fill them with the whiskey we all enjoy. They sit on the stools across from me and take their respective drinks.
“Do you know anything about her?” I ask, running a hand through my shoulder-length brown hair.
Remi takes a sip of the whiskey, looking at me over the rim of the glass. His eyes sparkle like they always have, but in them I see the same hunger that Sam and I tried and failed to ease.
“Not much. Her name is Greer.”
“Greer,” I repeat. I like the way it feels on my tongue. It’s not a name I hear often, but I like it. I’m already imagining what she looks like, even though I have no clue.
“And do you know why Greer is going to be allowed to find and enter Elysian Pines?” Sam asks after a long pull of his drink.
“And why you met her before she arrived?” I add.
Remi sets down his glass, the sound of it clunking through the air. “I do, and she needs us. She needs this place.”
I chuckle. “Obviously.”
“But why?” Sam reiterates.
“Because…” Remi looks between the two of us. “She’s a Scrooge.”