Where the Devil Don't Go, page 4
Christopher knew it was all lip service, but, still, it was hard not to fall back into that space. Sam fucked him like he couldn’t get enough, he bit him like he needed his blood to survive, and now, he was telling Christopher that he was good, so good, just for him.
“I want to breed you,” Sam snarled against his throat.
It wasn’t a question. Christopher wouldn’t have said no even if it was. He was too far gone. Sam rolled him onto his stomach, yanked him up onto his hands and knees before slamming back inside him.
“Touch yourself.”
Christopher froze. “What?”
Fire trailed across his skin as Sam slapped his ass hard. “Touch yourself, get yourself off. I want to feel you come. I know humans do that.”
Christopher had never been allowed to actually enjoy sex, not when anybody else was around. Only sometimes, when Vincent forgot to cage his cock and left him alone. He wrapped his hand around himself, using his pre-cum to slick his palm. It was slightly sticky, keeping his movements from being fluid, but it was more than enough. Once more, Sam spread him open. “Fuck, you’re stretched so tight.”
Just the knowledge that Sam was watching himself fuck into Christopher was enough to send him hurdling towards the cliff of his release, but when he curled his body over him, rutting against him like an animal, once more sinking his teeth into his shoulder, that was it. Christopher came hard, crying out in surprise, his seed spilling over himself and the mattress.
Sam grunted, his hips stuttering as his thrusts fell off rhythm, his teeth still embedded in Christopher’s flesh as his cock throbbed with his orgasm. Christopher collapsed onto his stomach, grimacing at the wet spot. Sam licked at the teeth marks on his shoulder, still oozing blood. He didn’t pull out right away and Christopher was grateful. He felt like laughing and crying at the same time.
“You did very well. Better than I could have imagined.” He kissed his injured shoulder. “Do you wish me to heal this for you?”
Christopher thought about it for a minute. “No. I think I want to keep it.”
“Good.”
Christopher hid his smile in the covers. Sam sat up, his cock slipping free of Christopher’s body. He winced as Sam roughly pulled his cheeks apart, examining him once more. “You are still intact,” he said, sounding rather clinical. Still, he ran the pad of his finger around Christopher’s abused rim, pushing the cum back in a few times. “I can make the pain better if you like. I don’t want you so battered I can’t use you later.”
Christopher’s dick twitched at the thought. “I’ll be alright.”
Then Sam was standing, zipping his pants and replacing his shirt. “I’ll have somebody bring you something to eat and some clothing. If you’d like to take a bath, it’s right through that door. There are fresh towels.”
Christopher’s heart sank. Of course, he wasn’t staying. Vincent had never stayed either. But he wasn’t locking him in a box or forcing him into a cage. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Christopher didn’t look up as Sam rearranged himself or when he walked to the door, but when he hesitated, he did finally glance towards him.
Sam cleared his throat. “I meant what I said. You did very well. I’m…very pleased.”
It was so weirdly formal that Christopher had to fight the urge to laugh or cry. “Thank you.”
Then he was gone and Christopher was alone. He buried his head in the pillow and sobbed. He had no idea why.
Sam took a seat at the end of the bar, grateful for the quiet. The place was a dive, a dimly lit, dirty little hole in the wall that smelled like sweat and beer. Sam liked dwelling in dark places. He was at home in the dark. There were others like him strewn about the place, demons, angels, those who fell somewhere in-between. None of them were on his kill list so they weren’t his concern. He just wanted a drink and a little bit of peace. At least, that was what he told himself.
A witch named Crystal was working the bar. She dropped a whiskey in front of him without asking for his order and left him to it. He hadn’t been there in a while, but he had been a patron for decades. He stared down into the amber liquid, doing his best to reconcile what had just taken place in his bedroom.
He shouldn’t have let Ari goad him into doing what he’d done. He didn’t understand humans. He didn’t get what they needed. He’d been so caught up in looking at him, playing with him, turning him this way and that. He’d smelled so good and looked so angelic, like the cherubic ones painted on chapel ceilings. He’d been so expressive, so…vulnerable. It had triggered something inside him. A need to punish that had been dormant forever. He was reformed.
It didn’t matter anyway.
He’d gotten something wrong. Of that, he was certain. The boy had started crying before the door was even shut. Perhaps he’d hurt him too much? Not given him enough praise? He’d liked the pain. He’d made the most wonderful sounds, breathy pants and tiny squeaks like a mouse. He was tiny like a mouse, too. Watching the boy take his cock had been one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen. He’d been so determined, had worked so hard to please him.
But Sam had ruined it, ruined him. The boy’s scent had soured at the end, just before he left, his sadness drowning out the scent of sex and fear. And then he’d heard him crying. That wasn’t the only time he’d fucked up, though. He’d been buried inside the boy the first time he’d lost him, saw the moment he had drifted outside himself to escape. That was when he’d realized the boy wanted praise, needed reassurance. He’d gotten him back, had pulled his focus. But it clearly wasn’t enough.
“Well, well, well…look what the cat dragged in.”
“Not tonight, Abby.”
Abaddon cackled, the sound echoing through the room. “You’re in my bar, sweetie. You’re never in my bar. Not anymore. Does this have something to do with your fight with our brother?”
Sam finally looked up as she slid onto the barstool beside him, her dress sliding dangerously higher. Sam looked away. Abaddon was like a brightly colored bird. Her hair was a shocking shade of magenta, her green eyes highlighted with glittery purple shadow. Only her clothing lacked color. Her black dress was painted on, and her leather boots were high enough to cover her knees, the heels sharp enough to kill. It was theater. She was a caricature of a human. Unlike Sam and Ari, she loved them.
“Let me guess, Ari called you to come down here and talk me into killing…the boy.”
She gestured at Crystal, who dropped a glass of water in front of her on the bar before wandering away again. “Ari called me to complain that you were a stubborn ass who’d stolen a human for a pet. A sex pet.’”
Sam’s jaw ticked. “I didn’t steal him. He was offered to me as payment for not killing an incubus on my list.”
She snickered. “Yet, you killed him just the same and kept his…offering.”
“The human offered himself to me in exchange for his life. Begged, in fact.” Perhaps Sam was embellishing that part a little, but how could he refuse that face?
Abby crossed her legs. “Tough choice, bed a demon or die. Doesn’t seem like a fair trade. Kind of like do I want to get eaten by a lion or mauled by a bear? Both dangerous, both shitty, both will probably kill you, one just slower than the other.”
Sam grunted. He didn’t like this, this feeling like he’d made the wrong call, done the wrong thing. He didn’t do the wrong thing. Not anymore. He set the example. He showed the others how to behave. How to finally find peace by righting their wrongs. “Are you telling me I violated the boy?”
Her brow shot up. “Already? My, certainly not letting the grass grow under your feet, are you? He must be something special. I’ve never seen you so interested in a human. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you interact with a human if it could be helped. Ever. They’re more my thing.”
Sam stared down into his drink once more, like it held the secrets of the universe. “I’ve interacted with humans.”
“You said humans were the equivalent of house plants with anxiety.”
“This one is different.”
“Oh,” she said, as if his answer explained everything. “That’s why you’re here at my bar after all this time. Not because you want to be alone, but because you want to talk to me about your human.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
Sam wasn’t lying. He didn’t want to talk about Christopher. Not exactly. At least, he didn’t think he did. He’d done something wrong, and he didn’t like doing things wrong. He could feel Abby’s eyes boring into him.
Finally, she said, “Okay, maybe you don’t want to talk about your human but about humans in general… Something hypothetical? Nobody knows them better than me.”
Sam scoffed. “I don’t think spending centuries torturing an entire race makes you an expert.”
“Yes, you do. That’s why you’re here. Besides, I may have spent centuries torturing them for fun, but now, I do it for money. Down there, it’s all about giving them nothing they want, making them see the error of their ways. Up here, it’s about giving them what they need.”
“Humans need to be tortured?”
Abby shrugged. “Some of them. Humans are weak, fragile, emotional. They have depression, anxiety, neuroses. They breed and pass those imperfections onto their children who don’t know how to cope, so they turn to people like me.”
“You’re a dominatrix because humans have crappy parenting skills?”
Abby tsked. “I’m a dominatrix because people need a pressure release. Pain releases endorphins, floods the brain with chemicals that make them feel high. It’s…stress relief.”
“So, when I made him hurt, it got him high? Was that why he was making all those noises?”
Abby leaned in, resting her chin on her palm, smirking. “What kind of noises?”
Just imagining the sounds had him fighting another hard-on. “Like, high-pitched, breathy noises. Like…like a squeaky toy.”
Once more, Abby threw her head back and laughed. “You liked it. You liked bedding this human. No wonder Ari is beside himself. Does he know you’ve already had him? I imagine not or he’d be taking the church down to the foundation with his supernatural temper tantrum.”
“It’s none of his business. It’s nobody’s business.” He looked at her pointedly.
“You came here. You came to me. You want to know something. So, out with it.”
Sam wasn’t sure what the hell he was even doing in there. But she was right. He’d sought her out because nobody understood humans like she did and he couldn’t shake the notion that he’d hurt Christopher, not physically but in some other way. “I think I did something wrong.”
“Wrong? I’m assuming you don’t mean physically. The mechanics of sex are still the same, angel, demon, or human. At least, in these bodies. Did you hurt him?”
“Yes, but he liked that,” he said dismissively. “I told you, he made these…noises. But he liked when I told him he did a good job.” Sam flushed. “I figured that out all on my own.”
“Great job, Columbo,” she said, patting him on the shoulder awkwardly. She was making fun of him, that much he knew.
Sam glowered at her. “When I was leaving afterwards, he cried and he smelled sad.”
She frowned. “What do you mean, when you were leaving? How long after you did the deed did you dip out on him?”
Sam frowned. “Immediately. I had things to do.”
Abby tapped the bar to get the witch’s attention, holding up two fingers. A glass of whiskey appeared before her. She took a long gulp before she looked at him. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“Look, I’m not going to pretend to be some saint when it comes to humans. Lord knows I’ve racked up quite the list of war crimes, but, down there, they’d earned it. Divine justice and all that. Up here, you can’t just get them high off of sex and pain and trust and then abandon them when they crash. You essentially poured whiskey down his throat and then abandoned him, drunk and alone.”
Had he done that? Had he left Christopher broken? “He said he didn’t want me to heal his bites or…anywhere else that I injured,” he said vaguely.
“It’s not the physical parts that bother them… It’s the emotional parts. Humans need extra care. They need attention. It’s like you said, they’re just like houseplants. If you’re nice to them, give them love and care, they grow. If you neglect them or their needs, they shrivel.”
“He’s an emotional houseplant?”
“Maybe that’s not the right analogy. They’re like pets. They’re weirdly loyal, they’ll let you get away with anything if they like you, but only if you give them head scratches and belly rubs…metaphorically speaking.”
Sam frowned at her. How was he supposed to metaphorically rub Christopher’s belly? “I offered him food, a bath, and clothing. I told him he was a good boy. Isn’t that attention?”
“Okay, I was trying to be gentle with you because you’re a demon who knows literally nothing about humans, but you can’t shove your giant monster cock into a tiny human and then walk out and leave him lying in the wet spot. It’s…impolite. There needs to be cuddles and praise and food that you give him while you’re still there. That’s how this exchange works in the human world. They give you their pain, but you have to make them feel safe and loved.”
Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “He’s plenty safe. Do you think I’d allow anybody to hurt what’s mine?”
“If he’s yours, then he’s your responsibility. All of him. That includes his head and his heart. We don’t feel things like they do. Ari’s right. He’s a bad idea. You are this close to finishing your list and disappearing forever. What happens to your new pet when you do? You can’t just leave him to one of your demon buddies. They’ll kill him without a single thought. Or maybe you don’t care about that? Are you just going to use him up until there’s nothing left and kill him or wait until he kills himself? ‘Cause if that’s the case, what are you even doing here darkening the doorstep of my establishment?”
“I-I don’t want to leave him broken.” That was true. “But I’m not giving him up. Not yet. I like the way he smells. I like the sounds he makes when I’m inside him. I like that he isn’t afraid of my demon side. Hell, I think he prefers it to my human face.”
She looked at him like he was the ridiculous one. “Then you need to listen to him when he talks, hold him when he sleeps, praise him when he does something well, especially after sex.”
“And that will make him not smell sad anymore?”
Abby shook her head. “Temporarily. But he’s going to fall in love with you and then you’re going to complete your list and disappear into nothingness and he will be left alone. Unfortunately, you can’t magic that away.”
Sam sighed, downed his drink, and slapped a twenty on the bar, leaving Abby to watch him go.
“You’re welcome,” she called as he pushed the door open and headed back into the crisp night air.
The bar was a short walk from the church. He took the back entrance behind the rectory, heading below ground, grateful he didn’t run into Ari or the others on the way back to his chambers. Inside was dark, but it had no effect on Sam’s vision. On the table was a tray full of untouched food, but no Christopher.
Sam knew he was there somewhere. He could smell him, smell the salt of his tears and the scent of his sadness. He found him at the foot of the bed, curled up like a little mouse under what looked like the rug from the bathroom. Sam frowned, scooping him up and placing him on the blankets.
The boy’s eyes remained closed. “I know you’re not sleeping.”
Christopher blinked up at him, expression miserable. “Sorry, Daddy.”
“Why are you on the floor when there is a perfectly good bed?”
“I didn’t know where I was supposed to sleep.”
Sam felt the boy’s words like a physical blow. “What do you mean?”
“Vincent didn’t let me sleep on the bed. I didn’t know what to do.”
Abby was right. Sam was shit at this. He brought the tray over and placed it on the bed, undressing himself, leaving his clothes where they fell. One of the staff would get them tomorrow. When Christopher saw Sam stripping, he sat up, wiggling out of his own clothing as if he expected sex to be the next logical step. He didn’t look excited about the prospect.
Sam climbed onto the large bed, not lying down but sitting beside the boy, dragging the tray closer. “Why didn’t you eat? Was the pasta not to your liking?”
Christopher shrugged. “I’m not supposed to have carbs. They make you fat.”
Sam frowned down at the bow-tie shaped noodles. “You humans have such strange notions about…everything. Open up.”
Christopher did as Sam commanded, taking the bite offered and chewing thoughtfully. Sam managed to get five more bites before Christopher shook his head. “I’m full, Daddy.”
Sam could sense the lie, but he let it go, moving the tray off the bed before peeling back the covers. “You eat like a little mouse, too. Get in. It gets drafty in here at night.”
Christopher wriggled himself under the blankets but laid there like a wooden board, staring up at the ceiling. Sam had really fucked this up. He just wasn’t sure why he cared. “I shouldn’t have left you earlier.”
“What?”
“I should have stayed, fed you, bathed you. You gave me your body and I just used it and left. That was…rude of me.”
The boy turned then, looking at Sam as if he’d slapped him. “I don’t understand. You’ve been very…kind.”
“I made you cry.”
Christopher’s eyes grew wide. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just get…emotional sometimes after. I’ll do better next time.”
Sam grunted, his frustration overwhelming him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t say anything wrong. You were perfect. You did…everything right.” Tears sprang to Christopher’s wide eyes. Sam should just walk away. Should send the boy away. Instead, he put his arms around him stiffly. The boy’s response was equally timid. “I don’t really understand humans,” Sam confided.
