Chapter 3
Beelzebub
“Fancy seeing you here, Raphael. Heaven not paying you enough? And here I thought they bent over backwards for your every whim.” I leaned over the bar counter, leering at the Archangel who, for some reason, was playing the part of a bartender tonight.
“What do you want, Beelzebub? Order or scram,” Raphael said, not even looking at me, as he added a drop of violently green substance to the drink in front of him.
It hissed and started steaming.
“I will have one of those,” I gestured to the possibly lethal concoction.
“Oh, really?” Raphael asked, his green eyes finally focusing on me. “This potion will be used for later activities, so, no, I’m afraid you cannot have it now.”
“Spoilsport,” I pouted. “You need to learn to have some fun. Why won’t you give me just a little taste, hmm?” I leaned closer to him.
When I saw Raphael leaning towards me, reciprocating my body language, I thought I had him, but he moved closer only to say, “You need to learn to obey rules,” and moved away.
I snorted at the absurdity of that request.
“Rules? I don’t know them. I think all those folks are staying with a bore like you.”
Usually, I would be well on my way to annoying one of the angelic freaks into taking some inadvisable actions, but Raphael’s stare was disconcertingly calm. My barbs just slid off him, leaving the still lake of his demeanor with no waves, clear of any disturbance. My, oh my, it seemed it was me who was getting bothered right now. I hated the thought of being ignored, of being insignificant. Not good enough to mar the perfect, shining beauty of this Archangel. I wanted to sink my claws into him and see the darkness in those eyes. Cruelty in his hands.
“Thinking rules can only be boring makes you a fool, Beelzebub,” Raphael looked down his nose at me.
“Oh, really?” I asked, the claws of the only good hand Abaddon left me twitching. “Is that what you tell yourself when you take those poor playthings under your wing and make them study rules and answer a multitude of questions before you even touch them? And don’t get me started on safewords,” I said with disgust. “Thanks, but I am convinced that my way of doing things, of taking my prey apart until they become primal, unrestrained, is much better than your boring way.”
Raphael straightened up and looked at me in a way that penetrated right into my damned soul.
“You want to bet?” he said coldly.
A spark lit inside me. Here was the perfect representation of order inviting me to make chaos. Because no matter what rules Raphael wanted to show me, I was going to break them. Was the unstoppable force or immovable object going to win?
“How are we doing this?” I asked eagerly.
Raphael tapped his perfectly manicured finger against his lips. “As we are both pretty set in our own opinions, I think we need an unbiased party to decide which way is better. We are at a BDSM party, so it stands to reason to use what we have at hand…”
My eyes widened at the leading words.
“You want to use one of the guests for our bet? How heartless,” I said with admiration.
A quick look around made me grimace. Sure, all the people here were kinky, or at least had nothing against kink and possibly could be persuaded to take part in our experiment. But there was a different problem. Most of the guests attending this party were already in a relationship. Even if I could persuade one of the existing pairs to join us in the fun that was a different dynamic than what I wanted now. We really needed only one person. And that left us with a limited choice.
There was Jaheel, the gruff, bearded, rough-looking angel who, to be honest, wasn’t my type at all. I wasn’t sure about the status of the relationship of his two female companions but by the way they made eyes at each other. I thought I didn’t want to step between that. Which left… I looked at Raphael to see that he was contemplating the same person I was. The skittish-looking secretary of the Embassy.
For once, Tirael was out of his stuffy, official-looking clothing and in an outfit that belonged at a party like this. Red and black leather trousers clung to his legs, and his midriff was exposed to my hungry gaze, while the upper part of his torso was barely covered by a sleeveless mesh shirt.
Raphael lifted a questioning eyebrow at me.
“Are we in agreement?”
“Yes,” I said. The teeth of the terrifying visage of a skull on my face stretched wide as we shook hands.
I considered myself a connoisseur, and the angel in front of me seemed a little plain. He hid his face behind the bangs of his black hair and bit his lip frequently. While the rest of us came here to have fun, he looked as if a maths exam was going to spring up at him from behind the bar counter.
I took pleasure in sneaking right behind him and breathing on his neck.
“Lovely night we are having,” I whispered, making him jump in his seat. “Isn’t that right, traitor?”
His non-alcoholic drink would spill all over if I hadn’t slammed my hand on the counter, preventing it from toppling. The gesture had the additional benefit of me caging the scared mouse against the bar.
“Only you would consider bullying someone flirting,” Raphael sneered, appearing a second after me.
“Fear,” I said, enjoying the taste of that word in my mouth. “Can be a precursor of arousal… or a companion to it. His heart is beating fast now, his adrenaline levels are high… our little lamb is ready for the taking now. I made your job so much easier. No need to thank me.”
With a smirk I danced away as Raphael only glared at me over the bridge of his nose. It was going to be fascinating to see him at work.
“Are you alright?” Raphael said when he approached Tirael.
“Raphael! Sir! No! I mean yes, I mean, no need to concern yourself with someone as low as me…”
“Huh, so you are not alright,” Raphael decided. “Let’s find a more secluded corner to let you take a breath, hmm?”
That angel had balls criticizing my methods while he perverted his profession as a healer into this, using the caring act as a tool in his seduction arsenal. Oh, sure, I am here only because I’m worried for your well being and not because I want to get into your pants, I mocked in my head. Raphael guided Tirael to the side and even touched his hand, cradling it gently between his palms as he spoke in hushed tones to the wide-eyed mouse.
I gave them the space to talk things out, as promised, but my stare burned holes in them, urging them to proceed to the fun part.
I wanted to eat that mouse alive.
Raphael
“Here we go. The pillows are really comfy, aren’t they? Hellion and Aurelius outdid themselves,” I said to Tirael, pulling him gently down to sit on the couch with me. “I’m sorry for Beelzebub; he is truly an acquired taste.”
“It’s a-alright, sir,” Tirael stuttered. “But what…”
As his voice trailed off I caught his hand between mine, squeezing gently, reassuringly.
“Just Raphael is fine,” I said, giving him a winning smile, hoping the flash of possessiveness didn’t show in my eyes.
I didn’t want him calling me sir because it was an address he used for all the angels and even demons he thought outranked him. It was just Tirael being subservient, and not in a way I craved. I wanted him to know what saying sir to me meant—that it was an acknowledgment of the dynamic between us, of me having control, of him allowing me the power over him and letting me use it to bring both of us bliss. I didn’t want him calling me sir yet. Not until he trusted me to pull him apart and put him back together.
“Ok, Raphael, si—,” he cut himself off, his cheeks flaring beautifully red as he nearly called me sir again, but stopped himself at the last second. “Raphael, what did sir Beelzebub mean when he said…” I tilted my head questioningly, curious which part of the bizarre experience he would choose to address. “What did he mean by saying ‘our little lamb’?”
My thumb smoothed a circle onto the back of his hand as I answered. “He meant we are both interested in you,” I said, choosing the blunt approach, as I feared the innuendo would fly over this poor, innocent soul’s head. Oh, I was aware what Tirael did to Zachariel, all Archangels and Archdemons knew, even if the rest of the public wasn’t aware of Tirael’s involvement, but having done one deed worthy of a demon didn’t mean that the man in front of me wasn’t a complete virgin.
I loved to guide inexperienced partners into the world of lust because I could help them set high expectations. After they knew how good it could be when done properly, with rules, and care, and safety, they never went back to the unpredictable and unfulfilling world of unstructured, unrestricted sex. They wanted more.
Often, they wanted me, but I wasn’t one to get tied down easily. This first stage of breaking someone in was the most fascinating part for me. I couldn’t imagine being as lovey-dovey as Zachariel and Hellion or Lucifer and Michael were, their happiness only increasing as their relationship progressed.
“Interested in me… Like, investigating me?” Tirael paled.
It seemed even being blunt wasn’t blunt enough. How could this pretty angel be unaware someone could want him? Was this low self-esteem, general anxiety, or his mind still being trapped in the sin he committed? Beelzebub certainly didn’t help with that when he so casually called Tirael a traitor. The blasted demon may treat the scent of fear as an aphrodisiac, but I didn’t enjoy seeing it on my partner’s face, especially before we had negotiated anything.
“Like: I think you are cute,” slowly, as to not spook him, I reached up to brush a stray length of hair behind Tirael’s ear.
“R-really?” he ducked his head, ruining my work as his silky black hair fell around his face, as if that would be enough to hide his blush.
“Really. This shyness of yours is endearing and I would love to see what other expressions you can make,” I said, placing gentle fingers under his chin and lifting his face until he was looking straight into my eyes. Like this, I could stare deep into his soul. Nothing could remain hidden — not the flash of apprehension and not the spark of lust. Of hope. Of just what I wanted to see.
“I’m offering you a bit of fun. We’re at a party, after all.”
Tirael swallowed, and I could feel the tension under my hand.
“And does that bit of fun include Beelzebub?” he asked, his brows drawn together.
I frowned, staring at the angel before me. Was this going to be a deal breaker? That would be a shame.
“It does for today. But if you’re uninterested in the demon, and you would like to try something with me, we can revisit this at a later time. There’s no pressure,” I reassured him.
Tirael bit his lip, appearing uncertain.
“No, that’s, um, that’s not it. I mean, I’m not uninterested. Beelzebub is… a fine specimen, but he’s so, so, so…” Tirael’s lips moved, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words. “…intimidating,” he finally settled on. “Larger than life. Does he really want me? It’s hard to believe that he would.”
I let out a breath, relieved that was the main issue. I could work with this.
“Oh, sweetheart, how could he not want you?” I crooned, stroking his cheek. I turned his head in Beelzebub’s direction. “Just look how he can’t keep his eyes off you.”
Tirael stiffened again when his eyes met Beelzebub’s fiery stare. The demon was sprawled on a chair far enough from us to not be privy to our conversation but close enough to see what was happening, so he responded with a grin at our attention. His tongue licked his lips lewdly, as if he was already tasting the poor lamb I was bringing to the slaughter. The gesture looked unsettling on a face painted like a skull.
Tirael shuddered.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” I soothed. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
“What… what if I want that?” Tirael whispered.
“Being hurt? Then I can offer my services. We are, after all, in a BDSM club, and I am proficient in the ways of bringing pleasure… With or without pain. I can give you a taste and we can see if you like it.” I dropped my hand from his face, but he stayed in the same position, spellbound by Beelzebub’s gaze. “But if it’s being afraid you want… that’s one thing I have to admit is Beelzebub’s expertise. Do you want to try with us?”
“I don’t know,” Tirael said a bit hysterically. He closed his eyes tight and visibly made himself calm down, his breathing becoming steady as if he was counting. In. Hold. Out. In, hold, out… When he opened his eyes again, resolve shone in them. “What are you offering? Why should I agree to be… to be yours for the night?”
“When was the last time you felt relaxed?” I asked. “You are stressed and anxious, nearly vibrating out of your skin. Let me soothe that energy, make you forget about your worries for a while. Let me take care of you, sweetheart. You deserve to relax and have fun.” I could see how hungry he was for praise as he involuntarily leaned closer to me, like a flower turning towards the sun. “You are such a good boy.”
When Tirael gasped I knew I had him.
He squirmed in his seat and finally asked, “And Beelzebub?”
I gestured at my partner in crime to join us.
“Tirael has a question for you. Why should he agree to be yours for the night?”
“It’s simple,” Beelzebub crowded Tirael on the couch from the other side, his clawed hand landing on one of the angel’s thighs, making him let out a high-pitched squeak. “I’m going to give you what you want the most: the punishment for your crimes. Pain, degradation, bondage… there’s so many fun ways to make you atone for what you did. It’s a crime in itself that they let you off so lightly and you know it, don’t you? It will torment you forever if you do nothing about it. If you re-open that wound it will hurt so much, but in the end… it will have a chance to heal.” Tirael swallowed harshly, his eyes blown wide. “But really, let’s be honest here. I’m just a sadistic fuck and I want to see you cry.”
Impossibly, I thought Beelzebub’s speech convinced the poor little lamb more than mine did. Did pain and punishment seem more tangible than praise and fun? Either way, Tirael sealed his fate.
“I’m yours. For tonight. Both of you. Do… do whatever you want with me.”
Tirael
Oh God, what was I doing? Raphael sat in front of me, looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to answer his questions. There were so many questions, and each one of them made my cheeks flare with heat. I knew a bit about the whole BDSM thing—there was no way to remain unaware of such a pastime when the Embassy was next door to the Steel Velvet Club, and when my boss and his lover were definitely practicing the lifestyle—but I couldn’t really say that I knew enough. Fortunately, Raphael agreed with me, even if I wanted to throw myself headfirst into the experience. Beelzebub was eager to catch me with his claws but when Raphael insisted on doing this properly, as agreed, and scolded Beelzebub, the demon just huffed and left, murmuring under his breath about preparing the room and the handcuffs and the whips.
“What was the question again?” I asked Raphael, wrenching my mind away from the implication of the overheard words.
“Your limits, darling. Please focus, this is important,” Raphael said.
“Oh, I don’t think I have any?” I said, scratching my head.
“I assure you, you do,” Raphael lifted his eyebrow at me. “Would you, for example, like us to use body fluids… other than cum, saliva, and blood, that is?”
I made a disgusted face, getting what he was referring to only after a few seconds of thought. “Oh, no, no, thank you. That’s definitely not my up alley.”
“I will add that to your limits, then. What else?”
“Um, how about you suggest some of the most common limits? I’m not really… I don’t know enough about this whole thing to know what I should avoid.”
“Very well. That sounds reasonable. I will just assume the more hardcore stuff is off the table today, but you indicated your willingness to play with Beelzebub, and from what he was saying, pain and punishment are definitely something we should discuss. Now, Beelzebub might not want to play by the rules or indeed have any rules in place, but I will be there for your safety, so I’ll intervene if necessary. If you say your safeword, I will step in. But I need to be able to trust you will use it if needed.” Raphael looked solemn as he said it, so I nodded slowly. From what I understood, not using a safeword was one of the worst things a sub could do to a dom. I may not care about myself, but I did care about hurting the angel in front of me.
Raphael smiled at me and I wanted to tuck that warm expression away, keep the image to remember forever.
“Now, there’s a few possibilities of kinks we could explore. Impact play, bondage, submission… Let me pull up a list on my phone. Talking through everything would take ages, but instead of pinpointing everything that you don’t want to do, we can find things you think you would enjoy instead. This approach is much simpler and often more effective.”
My mind began to settle. The smooth sound of Raphael’s voice was like a firm guiding hand on my neck, keeping me in place, focused. I nodded along with his explanations until the anxiety turned mostly to anticipation, to hunger for the night ahead.
My punishment was awaiting. My unrevealing.
Soon we stepped into a dark room, a demon hiding inside. I was ready to see what a mix of Heaven and Hell tasted like.