Where the Devil Don't Go, page 9
Sam chuckled again. “Once it’s nice and deep, I have a surprise for you. And, if you’re a really good boy, when you’re done with that toy, I’m going to fuck that greedy little hole and fill you up. Would you like that?”
Christopher gave another plaintive moan. “Yes, Daddy. Please.”
Sam let the lube drip between Christopher’s cheeks, roughly pushing two fingers into him without warning, cock throbbing at the startled gasp that fell from his lips. “You ready, baby?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Christopher promised.
Sam had fucked Christopher with his fingers, his cock, even his tongue, but there was something deeply erotic about sliding the tapered tip of the toy into him, watching the way his rim flared around the first small bead as it disappeared inside him. Sam pulled the toy free and did it again, addicted to the sight of Christopher’s body yielding for him. He worked the toy in and out of him a few times before feeding the next bead into his tight hole.
Sam took his time, edging them both. Christopher took the first three beads easily, moaning and whining, doing everything in his limited power to get the toy deeper, to get Sam to move faster. But on the fourth bead, he hissed in pain, a tiny cry falling from his lips as Sam slowly breached his body, obsessed with the way his rim pulled taut around the bead just before it slipped inside. He swiveled the toy inside Christopher, watching as the boy’s cock oozed pre-cum onto the towel below.
“You like that, pet? Like being stuffed full? Is that what you needed?”
“Daddy,” Christopher pleaded.
Sam squeezed his own throbbing cock, trying to keep himself from pulling the toy out and fucking Christopher into the mattress right then and there. Instead, he slapped his ass once, then again. “Yeah, you love when Daddy plays with your tight little hole, don’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Christopher really was fucking perfect. Sam tugged at the toy, enjoying the resistance his body gave, like it wanted the toy to stay where it was. Christopher yelped at Sam’s teasing, tears streaming down his face.
“Oh, don’t start crying now. We’re only halfway there, pet. This whole toy is going inside you tonight.”
Christopher shivered.
Sam spanked him once more. “Say, ‘thank you, Daddy.’”
“Thank you, D—” Sam tugged the toy out without warning—“Daddy.”
And so it went, Sam fucking the latex wand in and out, working each bead into Christopher’s hole until it gave. By the time they were at the final bead, sweat coated Christopher’s skin and he was shaking, probably as much from desire as the pain of having his arms suspended behind him and overhead with seven inches of toy buried within him. “You’re doing so good, baby. So good. But we’ve still got two more beads to go.”
Christopher groaned but he was still hard and leaking, his cock bobbing heavily between his legs. Sam dropped to his knees, leaning in to watch Christopher’s rim stretch, stopping where it was the widest, licking around the taut flesh, before pulling it back out and plunging it all the way in.
“Daddy,” Christopher moaned.
Sam didn’t even think the boy knew what he was saying or doing anymore. He kissed his ass cheek, trailed his tongue along his balls, and then slowly pulled the toy all the way out. “Just one more baby and you get your surprise.” Christopher sobbed. Sam stopped, leaving the toy where it was to bite his way along his spine, pulling him slightly upward to take the strain off his shoulders. “Are you alright, pet?”
Christopher’s eyes were wild, pupils blown, somewhere deep in that hazy blissful state he fell into whenever they played like this. “Yes,” he said, sounding drugged. “But I want you, Daddy.”
Sam moved the hair from the nape of his neck to suck on the salty skin there. “And you’ll get me, after you do as you’re told. You’re so close to having that whole toy in you. If you can handle the toy, you can probably handle me in my true form. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Tonight?” he asked, voice hopeful.
“No, pet. Not yet. You need more training before then, but soon.” Tears streamed down Christopher’s cheeks and he sniffled pitifully. Sam pushed his sweaty hair from his forehead. “You’re such a good boy. So pretty when you cry. Your pain smells incredible. You want to keep being good for me, don’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Christopher said, pouting.
“Good boy,” Sam said, kissing Christopher’s temple gently before letting gravity tug his arms higher once more.
Sam added more lube to the toy, moving it slowly to ensure he didn’t cause any damage. This time, when Christopher’s body relented, he gave a long, low moan, gulping in heaving breaths. Sam looked at the flared base resting flush against Christopher’s entrance, running his finger around it. “You did it. You took the whole thing. Fuck, you look so hot like this.”
He eased the toy out, then in, a couple more times, unable to stop himself. On the third pass, he clicked the button at the base of the toy, sending a slow pulsing vibration through it. The sound Christopher made was something between a startled cry and a wail that turned into a low, throaty moan.
Sam manipulated the toy, slowly pulling it out until Christopher began to babble. “Oh. Oh, wow. Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Hnf. Oh, right there. Oh, my God.”
That was where Sam left the toy, letting the pulses send Christopher into orbit as he moved to the front of the bed, trying not to further offset Christopher’s precarious position. Once, in front of him, Sam slid his black linen pants down until his cock bobbed in front of Christopher’s slack mouth.
“Suck,” he ordered, feeding him his hard length an inch at a time. Christopher nursed obediently, his own frantic whines sending their own vibrations along his shaft.
“Fuck, that’s it. Suck me. Good boy. In a minute, I’m going to pull that toy free and bury myself inside you.” He gripped Cristopher’s hair, pulling free of his mouth. “Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy.
“Good boy.” Sam took the restraints from the hook overhead, and Christopher collapsed face first onto the mattress, his ass still in the air. He made no attempt to move as Sam slid off the bed. He dropped his pants, climbing back onto the mattress between Christopher’s splayed legs. He slicked up his cock before gently removing the toy, flipping it off before tossing it wildly.
He used the restraints on Christopher’s wrists to pull him back against him, then brought him down on Sam’s waiting cock, impaling him in one easy motion. Christopher’s head fell back onto Sam’s shoulder. “Oh, fuck.”
Sam agreed. There was no finesse anymore. He wrapped one arm around Christopher’s torso and the other around his throat, holding him in place so he could drive into him again and again. “Fuck, you’re still so hot and tight inside. I’m already so close.”
“Please, Daddy. I want to feel it. I want to feel you come inside me. Breed me. Fill me up.”
Sam partially shifted, his demon teeth latching onto Christopher’s shoulder, his blood exploding on his tongue. That was all it took. Sam’s orgasm slammed into him like a wall, his whole body going rigid as he emptied himself into Christopher. He gave a low moan that turned into a cry of surprise as he came untouched, his cum painting the towel below.
Sam didn’t pull out right away, just licked over the wound on Christopher’s shoulder before burying his face against his throat as they tried to catch their breath. After a few minutes passed, Sam gently leaned Christopher forward to unbind his wrists. He yelped in pain as his shoulders fell. Sam kissed each of his shoulder blades and slipped free of him, releasing him from all of his restraints before removing the towel.
“Lie on your belly.” Christopher just pitched forward, face buried in the pillow. “Good enough,” Sam said around a laugh.
He took the oil he had in the drawer and drizzled it along Christopher’s back before climbing back onto the bed, straddling his hips. As he began to rub Christopher’s sore muscles, the boy groaned, completely limp. Sam had to watch his strength so as not to hurt him, but even when he dug his thumbs in deep, Christopher seemed to enjoy the attention.
“You did very well tonight. Are you in a lot of pain?”
Christopher’s response was a muffled, “No, Daddy.”
Sam leaned over him to nuzzle his ear. “Are you lying to me, pet?”
“No, Daddy. I’m just sore, but I like it.”
After his massage, they took a long bath, with Sam wrapping Christopher in a big fluffy towel and helping him into bed. After a peanut butter sandwich and two large bottles of water, Sam declared Christopher sufficiently cared for, saying he could sleep if he wanted.
They lay there in silence for a long time. Sam curled around Christopher, his nose pressed against his throat where his scent was the strongest.
It was only after Sam started to doze that Christopher asked, “Do you think it will be much longer? You know…before you feel comfortable fucking me in your true form?”
“Not too much longer, pet. Why?” Christopher only shrugged. “What is your fascination with my demon form?”
Sam wasn’t judging. He was truly curious. His human form was most definitely what humans would call attractive. He’d chosen it for that reason. Attractive people moved through the world with far more ease. It was sad but true. But his demon form? There was nothing attractive about that.
Christopher sighed, his hands finding Sam’s and playing with his fingers. “Because that’s you. The real you. This you is sexy and I love being with you like this, but it’s like you’re wearing a mask. Your demon form, red skin and all, that’s you. I find the real you sexiest of all.”
Sam felt like he’d been gut punched. It was such a simple answer but wholly unexpected. He couldn’t stop himself from gripping Christopher’s chin and tugging his head back to kiss him deeply.
Sam was in trouble. For centuries, all he’d wanted was to escape the human world and disappear into nothingness. Now, when he was moments away from achieving the goal that had consumed him all that time, there was this boy. This sweet human boy who was everything Sam could have ever wanted, if he’d ever thought to want something for himself.
But it was too late for him. For them.
Christopher liked their morning routine. He usually woke to Sam inside him, teeth embedded in his shoulder, growling for Christopher to make himself come. After Sam finished with him, they’d shower and eat breakfast, sometimes in bed, usually at the little table in his room. Sam would lounge in his plush blue robe, reading the paper. Christopher wore his silky purple robe Sam had bought him shortly after he’d arrived, devouring whatever book Lily had brought him.
In-between bites, Sam’s hands would wander, sometimes to curl around Christopher’s thigh, sometimes to play at his hairline. This was, by far, his favorite part of his day.
Until he had to leave.
Like always, Christoper laid across the mattress on his belly, watching as Sam dressed, sliding tailored black dress pants up over heather gray boxer briefs that hugged his ass. Sam was made for suits. He looked powerful and confident, and it made Christopher hard just looking at him. There was something so heady about knowing nobody else got to see him like this. Just Christopher.
Sometimes, he would help button Sam’s shirt, sliding the tails into his pants before fastening and zipping them up, his hands roaming over the bulge behind his zipper, doing his best to tempt Sam back into bed. More often than not, Sam’s sense of duty won out over Christopher’s clumsy attempts at seduction, but he won often enough to keep trying.
This morning, Sam rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, revealing muscular forearms. Christopher knew that meant he wasn’t planning on leaving the catacombs anytime soon, that he’d spend his day below ground with him. Somehow, that always made him feel better, knowing Sam was close by. Still, Christopher didn’t want him to leave.
“Can’t you just stay with me today? Just once?” he asked, watching Sam secure his fancy gold watch to his wrist. “We could play? We could use a bigger toy? Or you could finally fuck me in your demon form like you said you would.”
Christopher could hear the whine in his tone and knew he would have been punished horribly if it had been Vincent, but Sam just smiled, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Tonight, we’ll play. I promise. I have things to do today, pet.”
Christopher dragged himself to a sitting position, his robe falling off one shoulder. “Like what? What does a demon do all day?”
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers tracing over the puncture wounds in Christopher’s shoulder. “Deal with the sins of lesser demons.”
Christopher’s eyes widened. “Like…what kind of sins? Are you not allowed to tell me? I just want to spend time with you. Please, just stay with me?”
Sam leaned forward and captured Christopher’s lips in a kiss that curled his toes. “I cannot.” When Christopher’s shoulders sagged, Sam said, “But why don’t you come with me, instead?”
“Won’t that make the others mad?” Christopher asked.
Sam captured Christopher’s lower lip with his teeth before saying, “Your existence makes them mad. I can’t imagine this would be any worse. And even if it is, it’s not your problem. It’s mine.”
Christopher felt like that wasn’t entirely the case, but still, he scrambled to dress, following Sam out the door less than fifteen minutes later, threading their fingers together as they walked towards Sam’s office chamber. “This is so cool. I’ve never gotten to see anybody, like, actually run a company or anything.”
Sam gave Christopher a quizzical look as they entered his office. “Surely, someone in your family had an office job.”
All of the joy left Christopher at once, like Sam had punched the breath from his lungs. “No.”
When the door closed, Sam turned, examining Christopher carefully. “No? More blue collar than that?”
Christopher’s gaze slid to the floor. “My mom was a waitress.”
Sam nodded. “Nothing wrong with that. What about your father?”
Christopher shrugged, chest hurting like his heart was in a vise grip. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
Sam led him to his desk, sitting down and pulling him into his lap. “What’s wrong, pet? Did I say something to upset you? You smell sad.”
Christopher was sad. But he didn’t want to be. He was so happy Sam had decided to bring him to the office to spend the day with him. “I…” What did he even say?
“What is it?”
“I never knew my father. He went to prison when I was six months old.”
Sam’s brows rose. “Prison?” Christopher nodded. “For what?”
“Rape.” Christopher hated the word, as jarring and ugly as the act itself.
“Oh. I’m sorry, pet,” Sam said softly, sounding sincere.
“He raped my mom. She was fifteen. She worked at the ice cream shop he owned. She turned him in. There was a trial. Turned out he’d raped a lot of women. My mom was the only one who got pregnant. Her rape is the only reason I exist at all.”
Sam cradled Christopher’s head, pulling him down to kiss his temple. “Well, I’m grateful you exist, no matter the reason.”
Christopher’s stomach soured like curdled milk. “You’re the only one.”
Christopher had never said that out loud to anybody. It was his deepest, darkest secret. Nobody knew except his mother and grandmother, neither of whom ever let Christopher forget he was an abomination, given life only because it was against their faith to end his mother’s pregnancy.
They hated him. Always had. And because of that, he hated himself. When his mother wasn’t abusing and tormenting him, he was abusing himself. Pain was the only constant in his life. When he left with Vincent, he’d taken great pleasure in telling Christopher each day how nobody searched for him. How nobody cared for him but Vincent. It made his life feel flimsy and meaningless. Like he didn’t deserve even the minimum of basic human decency.
“I know I’m the last person to say this, but not everybody outside of those doors is a monster. There are lots of people who wouldn’t care about your accident of birth. You could have a life out there. A good one. We can’t control who our parents are. You didn’t ask to be here.”
Christopher leaned his head against Sam’s chest. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. How did you end up in charge instead of the others?”
Sam sighed. “That’s a long story.”
“I have time,” Christopher prompted, playing with the top button on Sam’s shirt.
When Sam threaded his fingers through Christopher’s hair, his eyes fluttered shut. “I was always in charge. The head of God’s army. I had an affinity for battle, for military strategy. I was ruthless enough to lay waste to my father’s enemies without question, hold the line. My faith in our father was unwavering. Until it wasn’t.”
“What about the Devil? Satan? Wasn’t he in charge?”
Sam grimaced. “That’s a myth. Azazel was jealous. He didn’t like my father’s obsession with the humans. He thought of them as simpletons. Childlike. He blamed Adam for chasing off Lilith. Saw him as a weakling, determined to keep her in a position of supplication. Azazel obsessed over her, coveted her, swore he’d have her at any cost.
At his core, Azazel is a hedonist, wants to taste everything, experience everything, especially the things he couldn’t have. First, Lilith, then Eve. She was literally forbidden fruit. When our father replaced Lilith with Eve—sweet, simple, passive Eve—Azazel was determined to seduce her, to corrupt God’s perfect little garden.”
“Azazel was…Lucifer?” Christopher asked.
Sam made a noncommittal noise. “Lucifer isn’t a person. It means Morningstar or light-bringer. Some say it was a reference to Venus, but in Azazel’s case, it was a…term of endearment. He was our father’s favored son and he hated it, hated the weight of it, the expectation of blind obedience while humans were allowed to err again and again. When our father turned Enoch, a prophet, into the angel, Metatron, that was the final straw. Azazel began to sow the seeds of discord among the other angels, convinced us it was better to reign on earth than to serve in Heaven. I loved my brother and I was also jealous of our father’s favoritism. I let myself be swayed.”
