Chapter 14
Tirael
When I received the official summons to meet with the Consul and his Shadow (yes, Hellion insisted upon those titles) I was instantly terrified.
If they wanted something from me, they could just swing by my desk. Or, as Hellion was prone to do, shout loudly enough for his voice to carry and for me to go see what his lazy ass wanted. So, being greeted with a written message made my stomach plummet. The meeting was in just half an hour. Hurriedly, I made my way to the kitchen. My gaze roamed wildly over all the different teas and snacks I had gathered to please my employers. I had to bite back a curse when I saw the box with Zachariel’s favorite was empty. Sure, I could go with the second best blend, but what if that wasn’t enough? It never was enough, so I had to stack the deck in my favor in every possible way. My decades serving different angels taught me the difference between being just humiliated for hours and being dismissed for good could lie in daring to lift your eyes from the floor for a second. Sure, Zachariel and Hellion taught me to behave a bit differently. Sometimes they even wanted me to be bolder and share my opinions… but the expectations were still there and missteps were plausible, almost a certainty.
It was very hard to carry the tray with the tea when my hands wanted to shake.
I rapped my knuckles against the door to the main office, the tray haphazardly pressed to the wall to allow me for that courtesy.
“Come in,” Zachariel invited.
I opened the door and stepped in, making a beeline to set the tray down and serve the tea. There were only two cups. If they wanted to be rid of me, me partaking in the ritual of tea would make them madder. Doing the polite thing and waiting until I finished sipping the hot beverage would only prolong the torture. It was a logical choice, but I kind of regretted it when I sat in front of my employers and had nothing to fiddle with in my hands.
“Tirael, just the angel we wanted to see!” Hellion chirped.
I couldn’t read that expression. Was that a smile at my expense? Or maybe whatever was going to happen to me just didn’t matter enough to lower Hellion’s good mood.
“You have been with us for a year now,” Zachariel picked up the conversation. Oh God, I was right. It was a performance review. I felt sweat gathering at my brow, the recollection of every mistake I had made in the past year flashing through my mind. The time I spilled tea over important documents. When one of the demons found my polite manner dismissive and made a complaint straight to Zachariel. The time I overslept and came to work late.
“A year of this venture, can you believe it? Fine, fine, I will stop interrupting you, Zach. Go on with your big speech.” Hellion rolled his eyes.
“Tirael, you have been a part of the Embassy for a year and you have helped us with setting up and later running this operation. I will be honest: it has been wonderful, but I think we can make one change to make it even better,” Zachariel said, smiling at me. He gestured at Hellion, who eagerly pulled up a stack of papers from under the table. It was my contract. The demon met my eyes, lifted the contract in front of his face, and then…
Tore it in two.
So this was the end. I failed in my task of becoming a true angel once more. I wasn’t able to gain Zachariel’s forgiveness and they were throwing me away. Was Michael going to push me down into Hell for my apparently unforgivable sins? Lucifer coming to disintegrate me on the spot would be kinder.
“…Tirael. Tirael!”
I realized someone was calling me. Oh, they probably wanted me to stop taking up space. I lifted up on my shaky legs only to be immediately pushed down back into the chair. I made a mistake of looking up at Hellion and what I saw confused me. Was his expression worried?
I shook my head to get rid of the static that prevented me from hearing what was said to me.
“Oh fuck, we broke him. Tirael, hey buddy, look at me. Everything’s fine, just breathe with me. Wait, damn, how many seconds you should breathe in and out to calm yourself?”
Oh, breathing. I kinda forgot about that. It wasn’t exactly necessary, but the routine did calm me, so I took a shaky breath in and out.
“Yeah, good, like that. You are doing well,” Hellion said, as if I did something admirable. Was that how low their level of expectations for me was? Just breathing?
“Are you calmer now?” Zachariel asked after a while, and I nodded.
“Good. Then we can discuss your new contract.”
“New… contract?”
“Of course, a new contract!” Hellion burst out. “Didn’t you hear what Zachariel said? You built this place with us, dummy. We really couldn’t pull this whole thing off without you. And I know I kinda treated you like shit in the beginning, but I hope you realize by now that we are friends. That we like you. We want to work with you and for you to be an integral part of the Embassy. That’s why we couldn’t abide by that old contract anymore. It basically made you a slave, and it’s one thing to make some nameless angel that wronged you do the dirty work and expect him to wait on you hand and feet as revenge, but it’s another thing to demand something like that from you, from Tirael, the person I have come to know and appreciate. I’m… “ Hellion swallowed. “I’m sorry I treated you that way.”
Did it mean..? It couldn’t. My white eyes tracked to Zachariel in helpless hope. His blue eyes softened.
“I forgive you,” he said. “Whatever obligations you had to me, you are free of them. But I want to offer you an opportunity, a choice, just for you. Do you want to work here? Not for us, but with us?”
Something in me cracked open. A shell only now I realized was suffocating me. I was forgiven. That was the most I have ever dared to hope for. But I got even more than that. Not only forgiveness, but trust, a place to stay, a cause within which I could make a difference, not only for the others, but for myself.
A home.
I got more than I expected, and when I ended that evening with a new contract in my hands, Zachariel’s proud gaze and Hellion’s quiet words stayed with me.
“You deserve this.”
The thing is, having expectations can be a curse.
With the newfound mind-blowing notion of me deserving things, it made my happy acceptance of whatever scraps I could get suddenly much harder. Once a treacherous thought that I could have more, I could want more, buried itself deep into my mind, it refused to leave.
In the months between the wedding and my new contract, I had continued my dalliance with Beelzebub and Raphael. It was the demon who took it upon himself to continue instigating our meetings and taunting Raphael with them, until we pretty much fell into a routine. Once a week, on average, I would find myself whisked away to somewhere on Earth. Sometimes, Beelzebub would work me over for hours before the Archangel showed up. Other times, I was sent over to a hotel room with instructions to bathe, stretch myself open, and kneel by the door with a collar around my neck until my owners arrived. Once, it was even me and Raphael who had to wait for the demon. I spent two hours with my mouth stuffed with Raphael’s half-hard erection, being used as a cockwarmer, as we waited for the last part of our dirty equation to show up.
Both of my lovers thrilled at my inexperience and made it a point to introduce me to as many kinks as possible. I accepted it all, not willing to risk saying no and losing their interest. After all, I thought it had to be the novelty, the experimentation that really spoke to them, and not my plain looks or bland personality. I wanted to enjoy the thrill for as long as I was allowed.
But today, with the weight of the new expectations on my mind, I couldn’t quite get into it. Beelzebub was sorting menacingly through steel rods that were supposed to go into my cock, while Raphael helped me undress, his hands gentle, the kiss he pressed to my cheek light and full of affection.
“Dirty slut,” Beelzebub said, his hand on my half-hard cock.
“Precious angel,” Raphael murmured, cradling me from behind.
I feared Raphael was lying to me every time he praised me and said I was a good boy.
I feared Beelzebub was saying the truth, what he really thought about me, when he curled his lips around degrading words such as slut, worthless, bad boy.
When the metal rod pushed into my slit, sliding down my urethra, making me cry out at the weird sensation, I found I didn’t really crave sex today.
I wanted what I could get after sex. The cuddling, being pressed together, slices of fruit patiently fed to me, a quiet conversation washing over me as I drifted. Or the trust I saw between Zachariel and Hellion. Possessiveness Abaddon and Aurelius displayed at their wedding. The intimacy I glimpsed from the way Lucifer held Michael’s hand. I wanted the closeness of a couple going on dates together, to tell Raphael and Beelzebub about my interests, my feelings, my day.
I fulfilled my contract! I’m forgiven! They let me stay at the Embassy!I wanted to shout, but would they even be interested in hearing that?
I spaced out during Beelzebub’s ministrations, but not like I did usually. This time, instead of sinking into the feeling and getting lost in it, I shied away from it, making my mind blank to separate myself from the sensation.
It took me a second to notice the motion of the metal stopped. A black hand gripped my chin hard.
“Are you enjoying this?” Beelzebub asked, his brows furrowed.
“Yes,” I said, because that was the shortest path to get what I really wanted. I suffered through worse things in my life to get just a bit of affection. Beelzebub’s fingers tightened, his claws threatening to pierce my skin.
“Do not lie to me,” he snarled, his voice low.
“Is something wrong? Tirael, you know you can ask us to stop, right? Do you want us to stop?” Raphael’s worried voice piped up from my back.
The answer to that question was no. I didn’t want them to stop. But I wasn’t sure if that was what Raphael wanted to hear.
“Are you enjoying this?” Beelzebub asked again, his expression grim.
“No,” I managed to choke out.
Beelzebub carefully pulled the rod out, and seconds after that Raphael was fussing over me, giving me the aftercare, even though we hardly did anything. I was bundled into a soft throw and sat between my two lovers.
“So, sounding is off the list, I guess,” Beelzebub shrugged. “It was inevitable we would find something you didn’t like.”
“Which is fine, completely fine,” Raphael reassured. “Limits are a good thing.”
“It’s much better when my prey writhes in ecstasy as well as agony,” Beelzebub added with a smirk.
“We can stop for the night. Or we could do something you like instead. Let’s make it your show tonight. Tell us; what do you want?” Raphael asked guilelessly.
It hit me then. What I wanted was to go to a shitty human diner with them and ramble about my promotion. Share the happiness with someone who cared. I realized I couldn’t get what I wanted here. This whole arrangement was only for sex; both Raphael and Beelzebub had made it clear plenty of times. Raphael didn’t do commitment and Beelzebub didn’t do feelings. I was such a fool. I couldn’t do this.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, but they heard me anyway.
“That’s fine, completely fine. We don’t have to do anything. Just a suggestion,” Raphael said gently.
“No, I can’t. Do. This,” I said, more firmly. My hand emerged from under the blanket as I gestured wildly between the three of us. “I can’t do this anymore. This… This arrangement is not what I want. I want more, but I can’t have it. I know I can’t have it, so I can’t do this to myself anymore.” I stood up and took a few steps away from my stunned lovers. Then I teleported away.
Beelzebub
“He left,” Raphael said.
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“He left us,” Raphael repeated, disbelief clear as day in his voice.
“Yeah, he did,” I confirmed grimly. “But can you blame him?”
Raphael wheeled on me, his eyes wide and a bit wild.
“What does that mean?”
“We didn’t exactly give him a reason to stay. What he said… Tirael wants more. The question is, do you?”
Raphael’s mouth worked, opening and closing, words escaping the healer as he fought with himself.
“Maybe?”
“Yeah, I can see by your reaction to him leaving that you would like at least a few nights more. But that wasn’t what he was talking about. And it isn’t what I’m asking you.” I came closer and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Do you care for him?”
Something like shame flickered in those gray depths.
“Yes…” The confirmation was barely a whisper, as if he didn’t say it loud enough, he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the statement and the truth in it. “But even if there is something, I… we… it’s ruined,” Raphael said despondently. “Everything is ruined now.”
“If you truly do care about him enough to make it work, then maybe not everything is lost.”
The flicker of hope in Raphael’s eyes turned into confusion.
“Do you care about him?”
“Why wouldn’t I? He is singularly enchanting. And I can admit to myself, he not only captured my interest, but sustained it for a while. It bodes well for the prospect of a relationship.” I let the menacing rows of white teeth on my face spread in a grin. “Especially if there is someone else who can do all the lovey-dovey stuff and I can just focus on fucking his brains out.”
“You want… you really want for us to pursue him together? For real?” Raphael asked.
“I would like to try,” I said simply.
“Okay, yes. Yes! Let’s do that!” Raphael looked immensely relieved and ready to jump straight into action. “Let’s catch up to him, then. We should check his room at the Embassy first—”
“No.”
“No, what?” Raphael frowned.
“We are not going after him today.”
“Why not?” Raphael asked warily.
“Because as much as a relationship, a three-way one, no less, suddenly seems like a good idea, it may not seem to be one tomorrow, or in a week, or in a month, when another pretty young thing catches your eye, or I tire of beating the crap out of people to soothe my aggression and itch to instead take a whip in my hand and rip a pretty subs back open.”
“You want me to wait? Oh God, you do want me to wait. How long? How much time will prove I stand by my decision and won’t allow myself to…”
“Whore yourself around?” I supplied helpfully.
“…be distracted by other things,” Raphael continued, shooting me a stink eye. “How long will it take for you to be convinced of my, and your own, sincerity?”
“Three months,” I said. “At least three months. You are pretty much addicted to sex. If you can stay away from temptation for that long, I won’t consider you completely hopeless.”
“Same goes for you.” Raphael measured me with narrowed eyes. “I think you are the one more at risk of getting entangled with someone than I am.”
“We are in agreement, then.” I presented him with my hand. He gripped it firmly and shook, sealing the deal. “Let’s meet here again in three months’ time. Until then, let’s give Tirael space. It wouldn’t do to break his heart twice, when we are unsure if we can even give him what he wants.”
“You know, even if everything goes well with that part, it isn’t a guarantee that we won’t fuck it up at some later stage. I… I don’t even know how to do it anymore. How to date. How to be so close to someone. It will be hard,” Raphael ran his hand through his hair.
“Don’t you like a challenge? Don’t worry, Angel. I have a plan.”