Chapter 11 Charlie
“Cassie, what the hell are you talking about?” A guy says over the radio. “ I think Cassie broke into her stash early!”
“Shut up and listen!” She yells frantically. “There are people, really fucked up people, everywhere. They’re … it’s like they’re crawling. They’re fucking smiling! Imagine that! They’re smiling while killing people.”
“Let me guess? With their teeth like fucking vampires?” He laughs.
My eyes lift to Suriel’s face. He’s not smiling. He’s paying close attention to every word.
“No,” Cassie replies. “Just listen! They – they have guns. They have … rakes. Things that shouldn’t even be weapons! If it’s sharp or heavy, they’re using it and- and the sky! It’s fucking …. It’s wrong.”
“How is the sky wrong?” the host asks.
Her voice softens. “I see the moon. The face in the moon is so nice. It’s so … pretty,” she hums.
Glass shatters somewhere, and there’s screaming, laughing, comments of ‘I’ll gut you’ and ‘such a pretty toy.’ Yelling, arguing, but Cassie sighs. “It’s so pretty. So nice. Paradise. Paradise is good. I’m ready for it.”
Static takes over for a moment, so I flip through the channels.
“What was that about the moon?” I ask softly.
“Salvation for the pure, the devoted, and the pious,” Suriel murmurs. “Part of Revelations.”
Yeah, I absolutely hate that answer considering the ‘pious’ I’ve met.
I need more information than that.
The radio keeps talking, giving the same updates on insane murders, violence, natural disasters, and warning everyone that all emergency services including police and EMS have been suspended.
It’s going on ten p.m. and I’m forgetting what normal is.
The reports of people killing and not knowing why, talking about life being war, about children vanishing, about some people just being gone, no blood, just the moon shining brighter becomes white noise as I flip between channels.
I definitely don’t like the insanity of this all and I’m about to speak up, demand more information when a new radio host moans loudly. “Oh, harder. Harder. Fucking own me, baby. Please this pussy, ruin it, fuck me until I die.”
“Yes! Oh, I need more. I want more! Give me more!” A nameless man orders.
A loud, wet crunch, then chewing, echoes over the radio. It’s the sound of a bone breaking. I know it. I recognize it. Then there’s a wet slurp and goosebumps spread across my skin.
The man lets out a feral moan. “Yes, fucking eat my fingers! Let me fill you. So fucking hot.”
The woman’s voice is muffled from … meat in her mouth. “I need more. I’m so hungry. I need it. I need you inside me. Every way. Fill my ass, my mouth, my belly, my pussy.”
More crunching, screaming from some third party, female and male groans and grunts. The man’s fade as the wet tearing and crunching sounds continue, then she lets out a deep, keening yell. “So fucking good!”
Suriel quickly turns off the radio, looking to the side. I clear my throat and squirm, expecting Suriel to gloat. This is exactly like what he predicted, but he doesn’t look pleased about that.
If he’s actually an angel, then why does he seem to hate that God’s plan is unfolding?
Worse, if he is really an angel, God is real.
The Devil is real.
But I’m a happy atheist.
I don’t want to believe that a God can be so ignorant and uncaring. I don’t want to believe in a Devil that makes people do terrible things. Because it makes everything too black and white and that’s not life.
“Why is this happening?” I whisper. “I read the Bible once. Heard plenty, but … why, Suriel?”
“God’s plans always come to fruition,” he says simply.
“So, there’s no way to shape life outside of someone else’s plan? Everything I’ve created for myself is a fluke? I was always supposed to be alone, supposed to help the dead?”
“No. Those decisions are yours, but some things … some things are bigger than one person, or the world as a whole,” he says, voice soft, tired.
“I don’t want this to be real,” I say honestly. “It can’t be and you know that. If you had any clue …”
He hesitates a second, like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do or what I’ll accept from him.
I spare him asking. “I’d like some fucking alcohol and a chance to sleep. I’ll drink myself to sleep. You can do whatever you want. I need to be done with all this for a while.”
He nods and walks to the kitchen. Instead of alcohol, he brings me water and pain medicine.
I down both and close my eyes. There are too many thoughts in my head and I want to kill them.
I want a distraction. I need something to calm everything rippling through me.
Hours ago, everything was normal. I was going to cum with a rougher version of Clay and that was going to be the most excitement in my day.
Now, I almost can’t remember the smell of formaldehyde or a clean morgue.
I can’t remember the details of living alone and grumbling about my loud, overly sweet neighbors who were so in love that the rest of the world didn’t matter.
Guilt and grief possess me like my body is theirs until I fall into a fitful sleep.
In the morning, Suriel unties me so I can take care of my morning needs, but stands outside the bathroom door and insists on tying my wrists in front of me again when I finish.
He motions to the bed, where there’s rope bound to the headboard, waiting for my hands.
I barely hear what the radio’s reporting, I’m focused on how to avoid being tied up again.
No. No.
“I’m not consenting to bondage without sex,” I say sharply, annoyed that I’m as turned on as I am thanks to dreams that may or may not have featured the annoyingly sexy man in front of me. “Absolutely not.”
“Sex isn’t an option,” he says darkly.
I glance down at his gray sweats. If we have four or five days left, then we should enjoy it in the best way possible and while Suriel is clearly crazy (or maybe divine which will break my brain), he’s sexy as hell. And considering I’ve seen his cock and know what he’s working with …
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a rough, gravelly voice. I move closer to him. He backs up, stumbles slightly and sits on the bed. I glance at the bed, him, then step between his legs. He looks up at me. “I’m serious, Charlie. If it’s not part of the plan, it’s not happening.”
“You don’t have to like me to fuck me,” I whisper. Even saying it makes me wet. He wants me tied up in place; this is a better reason than God giving orders. “I’ll let you tie me up and I’ll stay right here after an orgasm or two. I won’t even complain.”
Leaning forward, I boldly lick his throat while straddling his thigh.
I slowly draw my shirt up higher, then higher, watching him try to stay focused on my face until his eyes dip to my revealed thigh.
I trace up the inside towards my pussy with a finger.
“Give me incentive to stay, give us both a little pleasure. We deserve it.”
I let my fingers wander higher and let out a little moan, one I want him to taste from my lips. “An orgasm is really good incentive, especially if it’s given by an angel.”
“You’ll live,” he murmurs, grabbing my wrists and holding them behind my back.
“That’s already a guarantee with you, isn’t it? Convince me to be good,” I say, rubbing my breasts against him. I nip his jaw. “You know how.”
“Yes, I do,” he agrees.
For one delicious second, I’m excited when he spins us and pins me down on the bed, gripping my wrist and holding them over my head. I arch against him, then lift my head to steal a kiss that he doesn’t give me.
Instead, he’s tying my wrists exactly where he’d planned to all along. I squirm and lift my hips, still determined to tempt him, since I know I’m not imagining that war in his eyes or the way he’s staying hovered over me. A shield, sure, but he’s still a man.
“We can have fun just like this. Kill some boredom, enjoy each other,” I bait.
Suriel shakes his head as he finishes knotting the ropes around my first wrist while I try to hide my other. “If you’re bored, I’ll bring you the Bible so you can study. Otherwise, I can take care of any need or desire you have-”
“If I desire you?” I ask, trying to plot this out. If I fuck him until he’s exhausted, then I can escape. If I can’t exhaust him, maybe he’ll feel the need to purify himself or avoid me, so I’ll have another chance to leave. “What if I need you to eat me out, to fuck me?”
“No.”
“Ah, I’ll ask the right way. Like in church,” I say as my smile grows as a flush creeps over his face. I spread my legs, ready to show him real temptation. “Daddy, I’ve been naughty. Punish me for my sinful ways.”
He looks like he’s choking. “That’s not what’s said.”
“So. You don’t like being called ‘Daddy?’”
“We’re not going down this road.” He drags me further on the bed. “It’s not an option.”
“It is. A very fun, very tempting option that you should explore. There have to be some perks to the job, right?” I push, even though I’m used to taking no as an answer. I can get under his skin and he’ll either do it or leave me alone.
I try to wrap my legs around him. When he untangles us, I let out a whimper that’s more dramatic than necessary. He looks at my injured leg and shakes his head quickly before catching my free wrist and tying me down fully. I squirm and whimper.
“I apologize for hurting you. Restraint is best for both of us,” he says seriously.
“Can you kiss it better? My ankle and knee feel so much better when you touch them, so imagine how much farther a kiss would go.” I lift my leg, sure he can easily see my pussy at this point.
Suriel, always difficult apparently, turns his head slightly to kiss the inside of my bruised ankle and murmurs something against my skin while holding my eyes. I shudder as goosebumps spread over my body and my nipples tighten.
If the situation was different, I’d love playing with him, corrupting him, learning about him. He’s actually kind of fun to debate with, especially when he gets ruffled.
His fingers stroke down my calf, dancing over my skin with something close to reverence. My nipples tighten and my breath comes out in short bursts. I’m afraid to say anything, afraid that if I do, the moment will end and he won’t give in.
An orgasm is starting to feel necessary.
His gaze stays on my face as his lips graze my shin, then part against my knee. He kisses softly, then murmurs something that ends with ‘Amen’ against my skin before grabbing a few pillows and propping my ankle up. I try to trap him with my other leg, but he simply pushes it down.
“Other areas hurt. They ache. And your mouth could make it all better,” I try, not just annoyed that he’s not easily seduced, but so eager for an orgasm that I can’t hide it.
“Don’t do this,” he says hollowly. He stands next to bed and slowly looks me over. I glance down and see that one of my breasts has almost slipped free and the shirt I have on is barely covering my very wet pussy.
“Denial is cruel,” I murmur.
I want to argue, but he’s fast and he’s damn good at knots, apparently.
I hate this back and forth. One second, he’s seeing to every need I have.
He’s ensuring I’m comfortable, really taking care of me.
In the next second, he’s telling me no. He’s spouting crazy religious talk and behaving like some celibate monk.
What does a girl have to do to get fucked in the apocalypse?!
Suriel brings me painkillers and a glass of water.
“My hands are tied, you’ll have to pour it down my throat,” I hiss, embarrassed, horny, and now I don’t even have the option to touch myself! “Also, since you won’t take care of my needs and with these horsemen perverting them, you’re going to have to untie me from the headboard later.”
“That is a conversation for later,” he says after pushing the medication into my mouth.
I swallow the medication and stick out my tongue, moaning softly. His face twists in an expression I can’t name.
“Party pooper,” I grumble. “If the good have already been taken, then the sinners should sin and enjoy every second of it.”
“Swallow.” He presses the glass against my lips. I welcome the icy water over my tongue and down my throat. I’d rather have this angel’s cock tracing the same path.
Suriel would probably taste like Heaven.
His denial tastes like hell.
Apparently, that’s a taste I should get used to.