See Description

FIRST CHAPTER OF A STORY I'M WORKING ON. DON'T WORRY, THERE'S NO PORN BUT THERE IS SOME MENTIONS OF SEX. IT WAS ABOUT AN HOUR AFTER CLOSING. THE BAR WAS EMPTY BUT HE DIDN'T REALLY HAVE ANYWHERE TO GO. NOBODY REALLY NEEDED HIM FOR ANYTHING NOR DID HE WANT TO BOTHER FOR ANYONE FOR ANYTHING. SO, ASMODEUS JUST SETTLED ON A GLASS OF WHISKEY WITH A LONG FORGOTTEN WASH RAG LEFT ON THE BAR COUNTER. HE HEARS A FLUTTER OF WINGS BEHIND HIM. AT A DIFFERENT TIME (YOU KNOW, BACK WHEN HE WAS THE KING OF HELL, HYPED ON ARCHANGEL GRACE– OR EVEN BEFORE THEN), HE WOULD'VE GIVEN THIS MORE THOUGHT THAN JUST A RAISED EYEBROW. IT WAS PROBABLY ANOTHER CUSTOMER. ANGELS NEVER REALLY SEEMED TO CARE WHAT THE OPEN HOURS WERE. THEY EXPECTED TO BE SERVED UPON ARRIVAL. BUT ASMODEUS WAS HARDLY YOUR TYPICAL DEMON. HE DIDN'T TAKE WELL TO PEOPLE THAT EXPECTED HIS OBEDIENCE. "WE'RE CLOSED." HE SAYS, SHARPLY, NURSING ANOTHER SIP OF HIS WHISKEY. HE DOESN'T EVEN BOTHER TO LOOK BACK TO SEE WHO IT WAS. AS FAR AS HE WAS CONCERNED, IT WASN'T IMPORTANT. "TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF." ALRIGHT, THIS GOT HIS ATTENTION. HIS EYEBROWS SHOT UP AS HE TURNED AROUND. HE DIDN'T KNOW IF HE SHOULD FEEL OFFENDED OR HONORED. THAT WAS UNTIL HE GOT A LOOK AT THE FACE BEHIND THE VOICE. ABOUT THE SAME HEIGHT HE WAS, HAIR AS DARK AS NIGHT, SWEPT CARELESSLY TO THE SIDE, GREEN EYES THAT STARED STRAIGHT THROUGH YOUR SOUL, CLOTHES THAT LOOKED LIKE THEY WERE STOLEN FROM DEAN WINCHESTER'S CLOSET, AND THE MOST KISSABLE LIPS HE'S EVER SEEN. ASMODEUS SMIRK, COCKING UP AN EYEBROW, AS HE LEANS AGAINST THE COUNTER. OH, THIS WAS GOLD. HE GOT THE GOOD BROTHER, HIMSELF, FLUSTERED. "ARCHANGEL MICHAEL, I ASSUME?" HE GIVES HIM A GOOD ONCE OVER. "YOU DO MATCH THE DESCRIPTION." ASMODEUS REACHES OVER FOR THE BOTTLE TO TOP HIMSELF OFF. "IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR A GOOD TIME, I HEAR MY BROTHER IS YOUR BIGGEST FANBOY." HE DOESN'T BOTHER TURNING BACK AROUND, PARTIALLY OUT OF DEFIANCE. BUT MOSTLY TO DRIVE THE ARCHANGEL JUST A TAD MORE MAD. HE CAN HEAR MICHAEL SIGH FROM BEHIND HIM AS HE TAKES ANOTHER DELIBERATE SIP OF HIS DRINK. "I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH RAMIEL." MICHAEL RISES HIS ARMS UP AND LETS THEM FALL DOWN TO HIS SIDES. HE SOUNDED EXHAUSTED... LIKE HE HAD GIVEN UP ON LIFE. OR HE HAD JUST RUN OUT OF OPTIONS. "BUT WHY.... ME?" ASMODEUS TURNS TO FACE HIM AGAIN, DRINK IN HIS HAND. "SURELY, YOU'VE GOT BETTER OPTIONS." A TINY SHRED OF HIS OWN SELF-LOATHING SLIPS THROUGH THE CRACKS OF HIS COLD, CALCULATING, THE-WORLD-IS-MY-BITCH MASK. AND MICHAEL PICKED UP ON IT. HE WASN'T WRONG. HE HAD BETTER OPTIONS. THEY JUST ALL SUCKED. AND ADAM WAS WITH SAMANDRIEL, NOW, SO.... "LOOK." MICHAEL TOOK A DEEP BREATH, COMPOSING HIMSELF, STARTING TO LOOK AND SOUND SOMETHING CLOSE TO THE FABLED HEAVEN'S GENERAL THAT EVERYONE THINKS HE IS. "I WAS HERE EARLIER. I DOUBT YOU REMEMBER–" "I DO." ASMODEUS STATES, FINDING IT ASTONISHING THAT MICHAEL THOUGHT HE WOULDN'T. HIS SCOFF KINDA GAVE AWAY WHAT HE WAS THINKING. MICHAEL DECIDED TO IGNORE IT. "ANYWAY–" HE HAD AN IDEA OF HOW STUBBORN ASMODEUS WAS. AT LEAST, FROM THE HUMORS HE HAD HEARD AND THE HORROR STORIES HE GOT FROM GABRIEL. HE KNEW HOW WRONG THIS WAS SO HE DECIDED TO JUST CHOKE IT OUT. WHO CARES IF HEAVEN WANTED NOTHING TO DO WITH HIM AFTER THIS? THEY HAD ALREADY DISOWNED HIM. "THE THING IS, FOR WHATEVER REASON, I LIKE YOU. AND I DON'T WANT TO WASTE ANY MORE TIME ON THIS DISCUSSION." HE PAUSED, WAITING FOR THE RESPONSE, HOPING TO CHUCK HE'D SAY YES. IT WAS AN UNUSUAL FEELING FOR HIM BUT HE COULDN'T ACT WITHOUT CONSENT SO HERE HE WAS.... DESPERATELY, AWAITING THE APPROVAL OF A PRINCE OF HELL. HEAVEN DEFINITELY WASN'T TAKING HIM BACK AFTER THIS. ASMODEUS SWIRLED THE AMBER LIQUID IN HIS GLASS, STARING DOWN INTO IT LIKE IT WOULD HELP HIM MAKE A DECISION. THE THING THAT BOTHERED HIM MOST IS THAT HE COULDN'T TELL IF THIS WAS A TRICK. HE WAS CERTAIN IT MOST DEFINITELY WAS. WHY WOULD AN ARCHANGEL COME TO HIM BEGGING FOR SEX. IT DIDN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. BUT A TRULY AWFUL PART OF HIM; THE PART THAT STILL REMEMBERED WHAT IT FELT LIKE TO BE HUMAN, TO BE LOVED; REALLY WANTED THIS TO BE TRUE. HE SET HIS DRINK DOWN ON THE BAR COUNTER. "I'M LISTENING." HE SAID, CALMLY, WITH HIS BEST POKER FACE ON, STRIPPING HIS VOICE OF ANY OF ITS USUAL SASS. MICHAEL MADE A SPLIT SECOND DECISION– ONE MOMENT HE WAS METAPHORICALLY COWERING AGAINST WALL AND THE NEXT.... HE HAD HIS FISTS IN ASMODEUS' WHITE SUIT JACKET, PINNING HIS BACK AGAINST THE COUNTER, PRESSING HIS LIPS INTO HIS. FOR A GOOD LONG MOMENT, THE DEMON DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO REACT. HE DIDN'T KNOW IF HE SHOULD PULL HIM CLOSER, PUSH HIM AWAY, WHAT–? THEN THE HORMONES KICKED IN. ASMODEUS KISSED HIM BACK, HUNGRY BUT SURPRISINGLY TENDER, AS HE GRABBED HIS WAIST, PULLING MICHAEL FLUSH AGAINST HIS BODY. HIS HANDS SLIP DOWN TO GRAB AHOLD OF HIS ARSE LIFTING HIM UP AND SPINNING HIM AROUND TO BRING HIM ON TOP OF THE COUNTER. MICHAEL WRAPS HIS ARMS AROUND HIS NECK OUT OF INSTINCT, HAVING TO FORCE BACK A GIGGLE AT BEING MANHANDLED LIKE THAT. ASMODEUS LEAVES A TRAIL OF BRUSING KISSES DOWN HIS NECK BEFORE SINKING HIS TEETH INTO HIS NECK, CAUSING A YELP TO ESCAPE THE ARCHANGEL. HE PAUSES, WAITING FOR A BAD REACTION. WHEN HE RECIEVES NONE, HE PULLS BACK TO LOOK MICHAEL DEAD IN THE EYE WITH THE MOST SERIOUS EXPRESSION. "ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT THIS? FROM ME?" THE WORDS TASTED FOREIGN ON HIS TONGUE, STILL UNSURE HOW ANYONE OF THIS POWER COULD WANT HIM, TRAGETY AND ALL. HELL, HOW ANYONE PERIOD COULD EVER WANT HIM. BUT MICHAEL'S EXPRESSION REMAINED STEADY, UNWAVERING EVEN AS HIS FINGERS TRACED PATTERNS ON HIS THIGHS. SOMETHING ABOUT THIS TURNED HIM ON EVEN MORE. "BECAUSE ONCE I GO IN, THERE'S NO TURNING BACK." ASMODEUS PAUSES FOR MOMENT, JUST FOR THEATRICS, BEFORE CONTINUING IN A LOWER, MUCH MORE MENACING TONE. "YOU'RE MINE." THIS WAS MEANT AS A HALF-THREAT, HALF-PROMISE, BARING HIS CANINES, TRYING TO SCARE HIM OFF– IF THAT WAS EVEN POSSIBLE. BUT EVEN STILL... MICHAEL REMAINED UNBORHERED BY HIS POSSESSIVENESS. MAYBE EVEN LIKED IT. AND THIS... SCARED ASMODEUS MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE. "I AM AWARE OF THE TERMS." MICHAEL STATES PLAINLY, HIS HANDS PLACED GENTLY ON TOP OF ASMODEUS'. "I ONLY HAVE ONE RULE." AND JUST LIKE THAT, IT'S ALMOST LIKE A SWITCH WAS FLIPPED AND A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SIDE OF MICHAEL TOOK OVER. HE DUG HIS NAILS INTO THE BACK OF ASMODEUS' HANDS WHO INSTANTLY TRIED TO PULL AWAY BUT COULDN'T. HE STARED DOWN AT HIM WITH A HALF-GLARE, HALF-SMIRK THAT WOULD'VE SENT SHIVERS DOWN THE BACK OF THE DEVIL, HIMSELF. ASMODEUS KNEW WHAT THIS WAS. IT WAS A CHALLENGE, TO SEE IF HE'D RUN, BUT HE REMAINED PUT. HOWEVER, HE COULDN'T IGNORE THE SOUND OF HIS OWN HEARTBEAT FLOODING HIS EARS. "IF YOU SO MUCH AS TRY TO TAMPER WITH MY GRACE," MICHAEL THREATENS, COLDLY. "I'LL SMITE YOU WHERE YOU STAND." THE ARCHANGEL PAUSES FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT, HIS EXPRESSION SLOWLY TURNING MORE AND MORE INTO A MANIACLE SMIRK. "UNDERSTOOD?" HE EXPECTED THE DEMON TO GULP OR EVEN QUIVER UNDER HIS HEAVY STARE BUT ASMODEUS DID NEITHER. HE SIMPLY SMILED BACK, GAVE HIM A QUICK NOD AND SAID, "UNDERSTOOD."