3. 2
“You’re lying.” I blurt the words out, like a sinner confessing a sin.
“About what?” the demon asks, still smiling.
“About the spell,” I explain.
“This again?” Killian rolls his eyes, turning around the room as if frustrated. “I. Did. Not. Put. A. Spell. On. You. I cannot put spells on people. I can use my persuasion to make them recall memories and maybe tamper with dreams, but I cannot force people to be attracted to me. I cannot force a priest to fuck me with a cross. And I surely cannot force a priest to let me fuck him while he moans my name.”
I shake my head, disbelieving. A spell. A spell! Yes. A spell. That’s the answer. But will it work? My heart speeds up in my chest at the very thought. I look around the room, trying to find something I can use to mark the demon.
“Fine, demon…”
“Killian.”
“Killian. I believe you. You didn’t use a spell. You’re right.” I stand from the bathtub, the water rolling down my body. The demon’s eyes rake down my body, dark with desire. Perfect. “I did want all of that.” I step out of the tub, toward the demon. “I wanted you.” I wrap my hands around the nape of his neck. Killian doesn't even flinch at the sizzling. Being this close to the demon is doing something to me. No . I inwardly shake myself. I must concentrate.
“What’s this sudden change in demeanor? I thought you wanted forgiveness.” The demon’s brows draw, clearly suspicious. That doesn't stop his big hands from wrapping around my waist. It certainly doesn’t stop my body from reacting to the touch. A test. But I have a plan, and God will be so proud.
“I don’t know what I want. I know I liked what we did, and I’m confused about that.” I am struck by the honesty in my own voice. I swallow. I must not lose focus. “Can I blindfold you? Explore your body without judgment?” I hold my breath, silently praying the demon will go for this idea.
“Now you’re speaking my language.” The demon smiles, and he’s so pretty I almost forget what even asked to do. Focus, Levi, you have to focus.
I look around the room, trying to find something to use for a blindfold. All I can find is a purificator, which is a cloth used to wipe Precious Blood from the lip of the chalice and to purify sacred vessels. It is white but still stained red from the last service. I swallow, really not wanting to use the sacred item for this purpose, but I don't really have a choice. There is nothing else in the room that will work.
“Turn around,” I say, smiling sweetly. The demon looks suspicious again, but I make my eyes bigger and look up at him through my lashes. The demon groans, then turns around obediently. A thrill shoots up my spine. Okay. Maybe I could get used to a powerful half-demon doing whatever I want with just a look.
I walk over, grabbing the purificator between two fingers. I run it over Killian’s broad shoulders playfully, needing him to believe my intentions are pure. He doesn’t move, just watches me with dark eyes. I reach up, securing the cloth around his head, tying it in the back. I look him up and down, wondering what to do next.
Killian clears his throat. “Well go on, Father, explore my body like Moses explored the desert. I fucking hope it takes forty years.” His voice is husky, as if he is barely holding back something primal in him. It spurs me into motion, walking around to the front of him.
“Tell me, Demon, did you always know about your father?” I ask. Needing a distraction, I decide to take off Killian’s shirt. As much as I’m dreading seeing those intricate tattoos spread over his perfect, porcelain skin, I have to in order for this to work. With my fingers shaking, I work on the top button.
“No. I thought I was a normal boy when I was young. Then slowly, I started having these dark thoughts. At first, I thought they were normal. I even named my alternate personality. Joked about it. But then, when I started having real urges to do terrible things, I knew something wasn’t right. That’s when he visited me.”
“Asmodeus?” I ask, slowly, ever so slowly, slipping each button from its hole, revealing more and more skin as I do so. I force myself to breathe. Force my fingers to keep working. I try to force my stirring erection to calm, but that doesn't work. I’m getting harder and harder with each button undone. It’s like the demon had flipped a switch in me last night, one that will not go off. I will have God turn it off. He has before. He can do it again.
“Yes. He visited me in a dream. I thought I was crazy. I didn’t tell my mother or anyone. But it kept happening. The dream kept recurring, and the things he said began to make sense.” Killian hisses when my finger grazes his chest ever so lightly. I look down, finding Killian’s cock still bulging in his pants. Not fully hard but getting close. Just from my touch? This is a kind of power I have never felt.
A power God can’t give you, the voice in my head whispers.
“What did he say?” I ask, my voice cracking a bit. I swallow, trying to regulate my breathing. I use both hands to untuck the demon’s shirt.
“Said he was my father, and I needed to give in to my demon side. That I had a soul, so I needed to figure out how to burn it away.” Killian holds his arms back, allowing me to slip the fabric off. I can’t stop my fingers from tracing the contours of his chest, the light from the candles flickering off of his skin, making the tattoos appear as if they’re dancing. He groans from the touch, arching into my finger for more.
“Did you figure it out?” I ask, genuinely curious. I smooth my palms over Killian's pecs and down his torso, fingers moving with the ridges and valleys of his muscles. My cock stirs, the now familiar pulling sensation behind my navel back with a vengeance. What kinds of sounds would Killian make if I kissed his chest? Bit it? He’s so responsive to me.
He’s the son of the demon of perversion. Of course, he’s responsive. He would probably be just as responsive if a cold hotdog had touched him. You are not special. Don’t let him convince you that you are, I remind myself, internally shaking my previous thoughts out of my head.
“Mostly.” Killian looks down at me, and even though he can’t see me, I can feel his gaze. I shiver, remembering what Killian said the night before. He reaches for me, and I don't step back like I should. No. I lean into his hands, closing my eyes at the touch. His fingers are gentle, moving up and down my now dry body as if memorizing it. Pleasure jolts through me, making my cock twitch and my hands fist on the waistband of his pants.
“Let’s get these off.” When had my mouth come so close to Killian’s? The demon’s . I don't pull away. I almost close the gap. I find that I like this. This game we’re playing. I like this power I feel when I have physical effects on Killian’s body. This fire that I’m playing with is addicting. Instead of putting the fire out, I keep throwing things in to feed it. I need to stay warm when God isn’t wrapping me in His embrace.
“Father…” the demon whimpers, thrusting his hips toward me. His cock tents his pants now, and I can’t look away. My fingers shake so much, I struggle to unbutton Killian’s pants. This wasn’t a part of the plan. But plans change. I have to be convincing. I have to show God that I can avoid temptation, and what would be more tempting than a naked demon in my bathroom?
“Already hard for me?” I ask, and where did that come from? That didn’t even sound like my voice. Am I being possessed? Not possible. Maybe I’m losing myself to the act. Maybe I don't care. I know I will earn forgiveness. My heart is pure even though my body and mind are not. My body will be cleansed after this, and God can take care of my mind.
“Yes, Father. So hard,” Killian moans, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pull his pants down, noting that he isn’t wearing underwear. Again. His erection springs free, and my fingers itch to touch it. To taste it. To taste this body. To drink it.
No. God’s body is the only one I consume.
“Go on. Touch me,” Killian says, as if reading my mind. I reach out, my hand only inches away, but I stop myself. I fist my hand, forcing it away from Killian’s cock. Quick as lightning, Killian’s hand shoots out, grabbing my hand and placing it directly on his cock. We collectively hiss out a breath. Mine is in surprise and Killian in relief.
“Fuck, Father,” Killian groans, body somehow both sagging in relief and standing stiff in attention. The cock in my hand is soft despite how hard it is and as close to perfect as I could dream. Not that I dream of cocks. I don't. I have never.
“Stop thinking so much, Levi, and just feel,” Killian whispers, hand traveling up my wrist and forearm and to my bicep. “Feel how hard I am.” Killian’s hand trails back down my arm, wrapping around my own hand, forcing me to squeeze his cock. “Feel how heavy my balls are.” Killian pushes my hand lower, making me cup his balls. I roll them in my hand, and Killian moans again.
“It’s all for you, Father. Everything I do. Everything I am. It's all for you,” Killian whispers in my ear, and shivers travel down my entire body.
“Only me?” I can’t help but ask, stroking Killian’s cock once, just to see what would happen. He hisses out a breath but doesn’t answer. “I asked you a question, demon.” I stroke Killian’s cock again with more force this time, tightening my grip.
“Yes, I only worship you.” Killian’s mouth is closer to mine, and I simply can’t bring myself to pull away.
“Worship?” I whisper, slightly dumbfounded by the word.
“Yes. You are deserving of my worship. Of my faith. Of my prayer.” Killian grips my bicep. “ You the maker of my heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible.”
“I’m no God, demon,” I warn, but it’s weakly whispered against Killian’s mouth. His cock twitches in my hand, and he leans closer .
“Yes, you are. You created my universe in your image. You rule over me. I am your servant. I worship you. I pray to you. You have my devotion.” Killian closes the gap between our mouths, and this time, I give in and kiss him back.
One kiss. One more before I never look back. I commit every detail to memory. The feel of Killian’s mouth against mine is downright unholy, from the sinful taste of his lips to the deviance of his wicked tongue. The kiss makes the fires of Hell lap at my skin, but when he’s kissing me like this, the flames can’t touch me. Killian is fireproof.
“Lay down,” I command, breaking the kiss.
“Yes, Father.” Killian falls to his knees, the bone cracking against the tile of the bathroom floor. I wince. I shouldn’t care if the demon is uncomfortable. Shouldn’t care that he probably hurt himself obeying my orders.
“Glory be,” Killian says, voice so deep, I barely recognize it.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“I’m on my knees, Father. Since there isn’t a dick in my mouth, I figured the only other thing to do is pray.” Killian looks up at me, and even though his eyes are covered by cloth, I know there’s a mischievous glint there.
“Demon.”
“Glory be,” Killian starts again, over my warning. “to my Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.” My cock twitches at the sight of his perfect mouth forming around the prayer. At the sound of his deep, gravelly voice saying each word to me .
No. I cannot be turned on by prayer. Absolutely no.
I shake myself, looking around. I grab two towels. I lay one flat on the floor and the other I roll up, propping it at the top of the first towel. “I want you to lay down on your back,” I tell him. Instead of feeling around, Killian drops back onto his hands, cock jutting out into the air. I barely hold back a moan, desperately wanting to touch it again, to taste it.
“Here. I, umm… put a towel down for you to lay on.” I take Killian’s wrist and guide his hand to the towel, so he can feel where it is.
“Thank you, Father,” Killian says, and it sounds so submissive, I forget to breathe for a solid two minutes. I just dumbly watch Killian maneuver himself onto the towel. He leans back, his head gently laying on the rolled-up towel.
I reach for a candle, pulling it out of the stand. It already has melted wax rolling down it. I debate about warning Killian in regard to what is about to happen. Then I remind myself. This is a demon. I need to be rid of him, and this is how I will accomplish that.
“Father. Please. The anticipation. Please .” Killian squirms, literally squirms, and I almost want to punish him for rushing me. Good demons don’t rush people. Instead, I decide to give Killian what he wants.
I hold the candle over Killian’s tattooed chest, tipping it to the side. I watch the first bit of hot, white wax slowly drip from the candle and onto Killian’s chest. He immediately hisses out a breath, his chest dipping, and something about the entire thing makes my cock throb.
“Father…” Killian’s sentence trails off when I let another drop fall, landing on the other side of Killian’s chest. This time his hiss turns into a moan, and I am turned on. Already I debate about continuing on with my plan. I eye Killian’s cock, st ill rock hard and standing at attention. It’s all so tempting .
“St. Michael the Archangel,” I start, not even bothering to whisper or cover up what I’m doing. I tip the candle, more wax dripping onto Killian’s chest. I am more deliberate with it this time, conscience of placement.
“Oh, God,” Killian moans, chin pointed toward the ceiling. He doesn't move to stop me. Doesn’t take my hand in his own. He just lays there, allowing me to do as I please. The power.
“Defend us in battle.” I make a straight, vertical line with the wax on Killian’s right pec. “Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.”
“Can I touch myself?” Killian asks, hips thrusting up. I don't answer, just continue with the first prayer.
“May God rebuke him, we humbly pray.” I make a small, horizontal line across the vertical one with the wax, as I finish my first prayer. “And do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. ”
“Please, Father. Need. Please. Need to touch.” Killian’s voice breaks with his pleas. The pool of pleasure in my stomach deepens, pulling at my navel. I try to force myself to breathe steadily. Force myself to focus.
“Amen,” I finish, and if my voice breaks on the word, Killian doesn't notice.
“Father. Please.”
“No,” I answer, the simple word firm and unrelenting. Killian whimpers, actually whimpers.
“Yes, Father,” Killian finally responds, hands fisted at his sides. I smile, pride filling my chest. I’m not sure where the sensation came from or even why I’m proud. Maybe it’s the fact that this larger-than-life demon isn’t touching himself all because I told him he wasn’t allowed. The way he is obeying me.
“Spirit of our God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Most Holy Trinity, Immaculate Virgin Mary, angels, archangels, and saints of heaven, descend upon me,” I start the second prayer, hoping that Killian doesn’t catch on. I hold the candle above Killian’s chest, dripping wax in a steady stream to create another straight line from his belly button to the middle of his chest .
“Fuck,” Killian hisses, back bowing off the ground to get closer to the candle. My whole body responds, fingers itching to touch him.
“Please purify me, Lord, mold me, fill me with yourself, use me.” My voice wavers as I say the words because, I realize too late, that I’m not saying them to God, but to Killian. I want Killian to fill me and use me. Not God. I shake my head.
Continue. You can do this. Finish this, and you will earn His forgiveness.
“Jesus’ tits. Please. I need…” Killian’s words trail off, a layer of sweat now coating his entire body. His cock is pink and purple, looking more painful by the second. My own cock isn’t faring much better, but I’m attempting to ignore it.
“Banish all the forces of evil from me, destroy them, vanquish them, so that I can be healthy and do good deeds.” I force myself to believe what I am saying. I want this. I want this. I want this. I want this.
“I-shit. Father… I-” Killian’s mouth is open, stuck on the vowel, and I have never wanted to put my cock in something so badly. I ache for the feeling of Killian’s mouth again. I shake myself. No. I cannot allow myself to be caught up again .
With shaking hands, I drip a half circle at the top of the line I just drew with the wax. “Banish from me all spells, witchcraft, black magic, evil spells, ties, curses and the evil eye; diabolic infestations, oppressions, possessions; all that is evil and sinful, jealousy, deceitfulness, envy; physical, psychological, moral, spiritual and diabolical ailments.” This should work. It has to. It will break whatever spell this demon has put on me. It will banish the demon for good.
“Yes. Please. Yes,” Killian chants, seemingly unfazed by the prayer. What? No. This has to work. Maybe I just need to finish. Yes. That’s it. I need to finish, and then it will work.
“Burn all these evils in hell, that they may never again touch me or any other creature in the entire world.”
You don’t mean that. You want this creature to touch you. Even right now, you want his cock in your mouth. You want his hands on you. You want the power he gives you.
I tell the voice in my head to shut up. That it’s lying. I want none of that.
“Keep going, Father. Please. Keep going.” Killian thrust into the air, his whole body tense. I watch with wide eyes for a split second, before shaking my head, bringing myself back to the task at hand.
“I command and bid all the powers who molest me—by the power of God all powerful, in the name of Jesus Christ our Savior, through the intercession of the Immaculate Virgin Mary–to leave me forever,” I say, dripping a diagonal line across the first line on Killian’s chest. The skin beneath the wax is an angry red, raised from irritation. I want to trace it. Want to kiss the skin to make it feel better. I lick my lips, almost dipping my head.
“Fuck. I’m so close, Father. Please. Can I? Please.” Killian’s voice is frantic, fist clenched at his sides. The realization hits me like a freight train. He’s asking again. He’s asking my permission to come.
“And to be consigned into the everlasting hell, where they will be bound by Saint Michael the Archangel.”
“Oh God.” Each name I say is punctuated by Killian’s moans.
“Saint Gabriel, Saint Raphael, our guardian angels, and where they will be crushed under the heel of the Immaculate Virgin Mary.” I drip wax into another diagonal line, making an X over the P on Killian’s chest, finalizing the prayer.
“Fuck. Please. I’m gonna...” Killian’s hips thrust into the air again, a shiny bit of precome glittering at the tip. I hiss out a breath.
“Don’t you dare,” I growl, and I have no idea where that came from. Maybe it’s anger that the spell didn’t work. The demon is still in front of me. He didn’t disappear into thin air. I don't feel God's presence, His love. All I feel is a deep-seated arousal for the demon. I’m surrounded by Killian, not God. All I see is Killian. All I hear are his moans, his pleas to come. I can grant those pleas. I can answer Killian’s prayers. I could be Killian’s god.
Then the realization that Killian is the reason God abandoned me slaps me in the face. My eyes sting with unshed tears. I can’t believe I’m allowing myself to be wrapped up in this… abomination again. God isn’t here because Killian is. That’s been the case all along. I can’t feel God’s presence because I am in Killian’s. Why didn’t I realize it? As long as this demon preoccupies my body, mind, and life, I will never feel God’s presence.
There’s only one thing left to do.