|The World Between
Author: Gryvon PM
Elijah Ember has spent most of his life avoiding the war brewing around him. Contains male/male romance.Rated: Fiction M - English - Fantasy/Drama - Words: 6,198 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 1 - Published: 04-16-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2908021
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Smoke filled the bar like a thick fog, obscuring all but the first scattered row of tables. The overhead lights tried to pierce the gloom and failed miserably. Every half-hour or so one of the lights would flicker, sputter like a dying man's last gasping breath, then go out. A skinny boy with a dishwasher's apron moved through the room, dragging a wooden ladder and two buckets with him as he swapped out the old bulbs for new ones. The new bulbs slowly faded, their light sucked in and swallowed by the smoke, leaving the bar in perpetual gloom. Large shapes moved in the smoke, their shadows all that could be seen.
Elijah Ember lifted his glass and signaled for another drink. The bartender gave him a short, weary look and then hefted a black glass decanter from behind the bar. A whiff of brimstone filled the air as the bartender uncorked the bottle. Steam curled from the opening, swirling around the bottle and up the old man's arm as he filled Elijah's glass with dark red liquid. The steam stayed close to the old man as he recorked the bottle and returned it to the shelf. He sighed, his shoulders slumping a fraction more as the smoke disappeared into his skin and he wandered off to fetch another drink.
"Strong stuff for a mortal."
Elijah glanced at the man two stools over. The stranger smiled widely and nodded towards Elijah's glass. He was perfect. Absolutely, not a hair out of place perfect. Crisp, clean clothing framed his body, likely tailored, and they did wonderful things to his form. He looked like he'd stepped off of an Abercrombie billboard and splashed through every gay man's wet dream on his way to the bar. He looked too good to be in a crap bar like this, which meant he was likely dangerous as fuck and here for more than the alcohol selection.
A cigarette burned slowly between the man's thick fingers, a thin trail of smoke curling from the red tip to swirl in strange shapes over the bar. The tip of the cigarette glowed unnaturally bright.
"I'm not mortal. Not entirely." As subtle warnings go, it was one of his better. He raised the glass to his lips and took a long sip. The liquid burned as it ran over his tongue and down his throat, leaving faint warmth behind. It tasted like cherries and fire and copper and sin.
The stranger raked his eyes over Elijah's body. His smile slipped more towards a leer. Elijah caught a brief flash of black feathers as the stranger turned and slouched casually against the bar. "Close enough. You're human, definitely. I can smell it on you."
Elijah shrugged. He was probably the closest to mortal here, aside from the staff. That's the way it usually worked out, which was one of the things he liked most about this bar.
The man extended a hand. "I'm Ramiel."
Elijah hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking the man's hand. Warmth flooded through him the second their skin touched, leaving him momentarily feeling as if he'd drunk twice as much. An inadvertent smile spread across his face. The room spun as he pulled his hand back. "Elijah."
Ramiel laughed. It sounded a little like church bells, deep and resonant. "That hardly seems fitting."
Elijah shrugged and took another swig of Hellfire brandy. Someone had once told him that his name had something to do with God. They'd been trying to recruit him at the time, so he hadn't really paid much attention.
Ramiel took a long drag from the remains of his cigarette before snuffing it out in one of the ash trays scattered along the bar. There was a no smoking sign above the cash register opposite them. Someone had drawn devil horns on it and there were holes from when it'd briefly been used as a dart board.
"So." Ramiel drew the word out. "Come here often?"
He'd heard worse pick up lines. "Often enough." More often than he should. More often than was good for him in the long run.
Ramiel stood and shifted closer. He moved like a cat, all fluid grace and subtle danger. Elijah felt like he was being stalked as Ramiel closed the short distance between them. Ramiel's fingers brushed along the bare skin of Elijah's forearm, idly tracing the runes tattooed there. Heat spread from his touch but it felt different this time. He felt warm, warm enough that he wanted to take his clothes off right there at the bar. "I don't recall seeing you before. I think I would have remembered someone so pretty." Ramiel leaned close. His breath tickled the hair around Elijah's ear. "Someone so... vulnerable."
Elijah caught Ramiel's wrist in one hand. "Stop that." The runes on his forearm flared blue for a brief second and the warmth from Ramiel's touch disappeared.
Ramiel quirked an eyebrow. "Impressive." His fingers traced the rune directly over Elijah's wrist. Othala. Inheritance. "I thought they were ornamental."
"Not entirely." He knocked back the rest of his glass and left it on the bar with a twenty. Ramiel stepped back a step, giving Elijah the barest amount of room necessary to stand. Their bodies brushed against each other and Elijah now found himself looking up at Ramiel. The man had a good foot of height on Elijah and easily twice the amount of muscle. "I get the impression that you'd like to continue this conversation somewhere a bit more private."
"That would be a correct assumption." There was something off in Ramiel's smile. It diminished his overall perfection, made him seem just a tiny bit more real, more human, though Elijah knew he was far from either.
He didn't look back as he stalked from the bar. The street outside was only slightly darker than the bar had been. Every lamp on the street was out, though the full moon gave enough light to navigate by. The streets were wet and the air smelled of garbage and rain. He heard Ramiel's footsteps behind him, an unnecessary reminder of the presence he could feel tingling along his skin. Now that they were out of the bar it was easier to get a feel for Ramiel. There was something holy about him, a kind of clean and wholesome presence that filled the street, but it was tarnished, darker. Fallen.
It'd been a while since he'd fucked an angel.
Ramiel said nothing as they wound through the Seattle streets. They walked for four blocks before Elijah turned down a side street, then another. The buildings got seedier the further they went and the stench of rotting garbage grew until it filled the air with a cloying sweetness. Elijah stopped in front of a plain metal door halfway down a dark, dead-end alley and pulled an old iron key ring from his pocket.
"This is a rather dangerous neighborhood you live in." Ramiel's teeth flashed white in the darkness. He moved like a predator.
Elijah glanced at him and then turned back to the door. "I don't live here." He unlocked the door and pulled the chain hanging inside. A bare light bulb crackled as it lit up the small stairwell. Elijah paused halfway up the stairs and turned. "Did you need an invitation?"
Ramiel shook his head as he stepped inside. The door swung shut with a loud, metallic clank. "That's vampires."
"Just checking." He continued up the stairs. There was a second metal door at the top, this time requiring two keys and a brief press of flesh to metal to open the wards.
The door opened into a dirty studio apartment. Large industrial windows filled part of one wall, looking out over a jagged skyline of warehouses and a small junk yard. There was a small kitchenette against one wall with a leaking faucet. The bed took up most of the room, filling the space directly in front of the windows. The smell of dirt and sex was heavy in the air. He didn't bother turning on the lights.
Ramiel shut the door behind him. Elijah heard both locks click shut and the deadbolt slide home. Elijah took a step towards the bed, hands already reaching for the hem of his shirt. Something large and heavy hit him from behind. His breath was knocked out of him and he stumbled, fell forward. His hands pressed into the mattress. Ramiel's hands dug into Elijah's hips and he ground hard against Elijah's ass.
"You mortals never know when to be afraid."
Elijah turned in one fluid motion and slammed a glowing blue palm into Ramiel's chest. The angel went down and Elijah went with him, straddling Ramiel's hips as he kept the angel trapped against the floor with one hand. Their eyes met. Ramiel smiled, slow and deadly. Elijah rolled his hips, pressing his body against the hardness he felt beneath him.
"That's half the fun." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment, feeling his power coursing through him, restraining Ramiel. The angel didn't even try to struggle. Opening his eyes, he leaned forward until he was laying on top of Ramiel. His lips pressed against still flesh. He let the power go.
Ramiel's fingers twisted painfully in Elijah's hair as he pulled Elijah into a deep, brutal kiss. Teeth dragged over Elijah's lip and he moaned, then repeated the sound louder as Ramiel's free hand cupped and squeezed Elijah's ass. They moved together, bodies shifting, rocking, pressing against each other without providing any real relief, only building the tension between them. It was maddening and exhilarating at the same time.
Something sparked in the back of Elijah's mind. Another presence entered the room. He gasped as he felt it touch his mind, shivered as it pressed inside, sliding past Elijah's defenses like they weren't even there. Ramiel mistook the reaction for pleasure. His arms slid to circle Elijah's waist. He sat up, then stood, taking Elijah with him. Elijah wrapped his legs around Ramiel's waist as he was tilted back onto the bed. He felt a button pop as Ramiel yanked at Elijah's jeans, pulling them and Elijah's underwear down to his knees in one swift motion.
Elijah felt his eyes pulled towards the ceiling. There was a spot, in the middle of a large stain from water damage, that shimmered faintly green. He was being watched.
Ramiel stepped back and flipped Elijah so that he was face down on the mattress. His pants fell around his ankles. He heard Ramiel's pants hit the floor.
"Milk crate." Elijah pointed off the side of the bed. It took Ramiel a second to find the bottle of lotion hidden beneath old clothes and adult magazines. Ramiel squirted a generous portion on his hand and then slid it over his rather amply sized cock. Elijah's fingers curled into the sheets as he watched. He shifted his feet further apart in anticipation.
Excitement that wasn't his own filled him as Ramiel stepped behind him. He gasped as two thick fingers pushed inside of him, felt a shiver of pleasure crawl down his spine. Ramiel was rough. He moved his hand quickly, efficiently, stabbing his fingers in hard enough to hurt. It only made Elijah want him more. He clenched his hands into the sheets and dropped his head to the mattress.
"Fuck me already."
He almost regretted the words when Ramiel took his hand away and slammed into Elijah. His hips smacked against the edge of the mattress, shifting it towards the opposite end of the frame. "Again." Elijah moaned as Ramiel complied. He curled against the mattress and screamed as Ramiel thrust into him again and again. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air. Ramiel smacked into him with a sharp, staccato rhythm. His skin tingled from being watched, burning hotter than the little tricks Ramiel had tried to play in the bar. It felt so good. He was going to be sore in the morning but it was worth it to feel Ramiel's fingers digging into his skin, to feel the pounding of flesh against flesh.
It wasn't enough.
Elijah nearly screamed with frustration. He shoved Ramiel off of him, then grabbed the angel by the hair and threw him down on the bed. Ramiel's eyes flashed murderous for the brief second it took Elijah to crawl on top of him. He arched his back as he slid down onto Ramiel's cock. Ramiel's hands went back to Elijah's hips and Elijah cried out as Ramiel simultaneously slammed his hips up while pulling Elijah down.
Yes. This was what he wanted. Elijah felt appreciation flood through him.
He balanced himself with one hand on the baseboard while the other wrapped around his neglected cock. Ramiel's eyes blazed as Elijah touched himself. He screamed, low and guttural as the touch short circuited his brain, taking all semblance of thought with it. He felt too much. It was more than he could take and he had to close his eyes before he drowned from pure pleasure. Ramiel's cock felt like Heaven burning through him, hot and thick and unrelenting, driving into him in harsh, heavy thrusts. He was on the edge, so close to falling over. His throat hurt and he screamed every few seconds as one of Ramiel's thrusts coincided with Elijah's hand circling the head of his cock.
Ghost hands brushed through his hair and over his chest, then down between his legs, curling over his own hand and stroking his hot flesh. He came apart with a primal shriek. Warm liquid poured over his hand. He started to slump forward, whimpering every time Ramiel pushed his hips up into him. Ramiel grunted, pulled out, and rolled them over until Elijah was face first into the sheets. Sharp fingernails dug into Elijah's scalp as Ramiel held Elijah's head down and plowed into him so hard he thought his hips were going to break. There was a sharp crack, like the sound of a sail unfurling, and Ramiel growled loudly. Seconds later Ramiel came, his fingernails scraping four long gouges into Elijah's hip as he spilled his release into Elijah. Ramiel's breath came out as low, raspy rumbles. They stayed frozen like that for a long moment before Ramiel let go.
Elijah rolled over and looked up at Ramiel. Black feathery wings stretched from the angel's back, reaching all the way to the ceiling. Ramiel's eyes glowed red as he stared down at Elijah. He inhaled sharply, visibly bringing himself back under control in seconds. Elijah envied how easy Ramiel made it look. There was a strange look in Ramiel's eyes as he reached forward and brushed his fingers through Elijah's hair and down his cheek. His hand brushed over Elijah's neck.
"So vulnerable," he whispered, the words soft like a prayer. Ramiel's hand closed over Elijah's throat, fingers pressing into his skin.
Elijah closed his eyes and relaxed into the mattress with a sigh.
Ramiel's hand pulled away. The room was silent save for the steady drip-drip of the faucet.
He opened his eyes a few minutes later. Both Ramiel and the green shimmer on his ceiling were gone.
Elijah woke to a pounding on the door that echoed the pounding in his head. He half rolled, half fell out of bed, wiping ineffectually at the dried fluids on his skin with the sheets before pulling on his jeans and stumbling over to unbolt the door.
Tobias Hargray pushed past Elijah. He glanced once at Elijah's partial attire then quickly looked away to survey the room. His eyes lingered on every dark corner, stared at every crack in the wall and patch in the ceiling.
"It's over," he said several minutes later.
Elijah scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. It was too early for cryptic messages. The sun wasn't even fully up yet, which meant he shouldn't be either. His hangover wasn't going to sleep itself off. "What's over?"
"The war." Tobias looked at him. He stared back as he waited for the words to make sense. Even through his post-debauchery haze he knew they were important but they just weren't clicking. "The war's over. We're all doomed." Tobias shifted, turned, started pacing. His eyes flitted around the room, never resting on one spot for more than a moment.
Elijah sighed and wished he had a coffee pot here. He'd put up with instant if it made the world make more sense. All the pacing was giving him a headache. "Tobias. Stop. I would have heard if the war was over. There would have been... I don't know. Fireworks. Rain of toads. Something."
"Fine." Tobias's fingers twitched, trying to grasp at something that wasn't there. "It's not. Yet. But it's ending. Soon. I told you you should have picked sides. I told you. Told you. Too late now. Too late."
Elijah sighed. He needed a gallon of coffee before he could deal with Tobias on a good day. Today was not a good day. It was a shitty day following a great night and he would rather still be in bed than listening to his sort of friend go slowly crazy. Crazier. His spine felt like jelly. He was stiff and sore in all the right places. Every few seconds Tobias's eyes flitted towards Elijah's bare hips and then nervously darted away again. Elijah glanced down and smiled at the vivid bruises Ramiel had left there. He'd have to look Ramiel up sometime, do that again. That thought sent a stirring of want through his groin and he suddenly wanted Tobias out of there so he could spend some quality time with his hand down his pants.
"If the war was ending, there would be a warning. Labrigan-"
"Is dead." Elijah froze, shock cutting straight through his hangover. Suddenly Tobias's wide-eyed nervousness made sense. Tobias continued, each word pulling Elijah further back to lucidity. "They're all dead. Madrigal, the Jade Princess, Alastair, the Vizier. Dead, dead, dead, dead. The entire Council's dead, and whoever killed them is coming after the rest of us next."
Bile rose in Elijah's stomach. He forced it down and stared at Tobias. His mouth opened but no words came out. Tobias glanced at him and all of his nervous energy drained out of him at once. His eyes stopped on Elijah and stayed there. A look of pity spread across his face.
"I'm sorry. I forgot."
He felt like he'd been dropped in the middle of a frozen lake. He could hear the ice cracking beneath him. "How..."
Tobias shook his head. "I don't know. I just heard the report. He was one of the first. I... I'm sorry." Tobias's face scrunched into a queasy-looking frown. "I know you and your father weren't very close, not since... Well. Sorry."
Elijah slumped backwards against the wall.
Tobias took a step forward. His hand twitched towards Elijah, stopping halfway between them as if unsure whether to touch him or not. "At least now he can't hurt you anymore."
Tobias blinked. His hand fell. He looked confused. "What-"
"Get. Out." Rage welled up inside of him. The ice cracked louder. It was going to break. He was going to break and Tobias was standing far too close.
Tobias backed towards the door. "You should have picked sides. If you have any contacts, any friends at all, call them and maybe they can save you." He shut the door behind him as he left. Elijah could hear him running down the stairs.
Five minutes later, the apartment exploded.
"You look singed." Ezekiel Carpenter looked up as Elijah walked into the store. He had an old leather suitcase balanced on a stool and a stack of books in his arms. He pulled another book seemingly randomly from the shelf and dropped the entire pile into the suitcase.
Elijah flicked at a spot of soot on his sleeve. It only made the stain worse. "I was upset."
Daniel turned back to the shelves. He waddled slightly as he walked down the aisle. "That explains the warehouse fire on West Chestnut."
A man walked up to the door, took one look at Elijah through the glass door and blanched. Elijah flipped the sign from open to closed. The man quickly walked away.
"Buildings burn down all the time without my help." He knew at least twenty fire-related creatures living in the city. Most of them were easily excitable. One had a forked tongue and liked to make Elijah beg.
Ezekiel looked at him over his round wire spectacles and dumped another armful into the suitcase.
Elijah shrugged. "Okay, so that one was my fault."
Ezekiel stopped and brushed his hands on his brown pants. He gave Elijah a look much like the one Tobias gave him. "So you heard?"
"How long have you known?" He didn't move from the door. His feet felt rooted to the spot and he hoped, almost desperately, that Ezekiel wouldn't say what Elijah feared he would.
"About two months." Elijah closed his eyes. It didn't make sense. "He was one of the first casualties. The other side... They have someone new. Someone as powerful as your father. More powerful, obviously, since he was able to defeat him. He was one of our best, even with... Well, even after what he'd done. Even though he was never officially acknowledged. The rest of them didn't stand a chance."
It just didn't make sense. Elijah should have sensed it. He should have noticed that his father was dead. He should have noticed a lot of things but apparently staying out of the wizarding world meant he was the last to find out when the world was crumbling apart.
He opened his eyes. Ezekiel's suitcase was almost full. "Where are you going?"
Ezekiel glanced at Elijah and then quickly away. There was the nervousness again, the same as Tobias. Nervousness and guilt. "Vatican City. They're preparing a stronghold there. One last bastion against the dark." He looked at Elijah and suddenly Ezekiel looked every year of his considerable age. He looked old. Old and sad. "I'm sorry. I'd take you with me if I could. You're like a son to me, and I wish..." He sighed. "I wish things were different."
Elijah swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. "I understand. I know He doesn't want me." It was too late for Hail Mary's. Too late to ask for forgiveness. The only one whose forgiveness he wanted was dead. In comparison to that, the end of the world barely mattered.
"I'm sorry. I hope you can find someplace safe. "
Elijah smiled as best he could. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," he lied.
As he walked out of the shop, it was like he finally saw the world for what it was. The street was lined with closing businesses. People moved quickly through the streets. The sky was dark, even at midday. Fear permeated the air. Even the mortals were afraid, though they had no clue what they were afraid of.
The world was ending and all he could do was wait.
The door to his apartment - his real apartment - was unlocked when he got home. The lights were off save for a thin line of light from beneath the door to his study. He closed the front door quietly behind him and left it unlocked. Slowly, he bent down, unlaced his shoes, and pulled them off. He crept silently across the living room. He paused at the edge of the hallway and listened. There was faint music coming from the study. It sounded old - one of the waltzes he kept on vinyl, one of the ones his father had liked.
He was two steps from the study door when it slowly opened, moving seemingly of its own accord. Blue fire glowed around his right hand as he crept towards the door. He used his body to shield the faint light from his hand, hopefully giving himself the element of surprise. The visible half of the study was empty - his old mahogany desk was scattered with papers, the window was shut with curtains drawn, a record spun on an antique gramophone on the table on the opposite wall.
Elijah stepped into the doorway. He brought his hand up towards the intruder and froze. The fire surrounding his hand died.
Alastair Ember smiled and set the record sleeve down as he turned to face his son. "Welcome home."
His stomach rolled with bile. He steadied himself with a hand on the doorframe as his knees threatened to give out. "You're supposed to be dead."
Alastair's smile widened. "Sorry to disappoint. It was easier this way. Kept people from looking for me." His boots made little sound on the carpet as he started towards Elijah.
It had been years since Elijah had last seen his father. Well over a decade. He'd had a long time to think about what he would say to his father next time he saw him, what he would do. His hand fell away from the doorframe and he looked down at the carpet. It was red, almost the color of blood.
A pair of brown boots stopped in the center of Elijah's field of vision. Long, thin fingers brushed gently through Elijah's loose hair. It was a kindness he didn't deserve.
"I'm sorry," Elijah whispered, his voice barely audible over the too-cheery music.
"I know," Alastair replied, just as soft. His fingers tightened in Elijah's hair and brought him to his knees with a slight tug. Alastair released him as soon as Elijah's knees hit the floor and his fingers started slowly stroking through Elijah's hair. "I know. You made a mistake. You lied. He may not forgive you, but I will." Elijah shivered and opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. Words seemed inadequate. Alastair shifted closer, his hips inches from Elijah's face. "Show me how sorry you are."
He looked up, stared into brown eyes so much like his own. Alastair's face was calm, almost tranquil. His fingers kept brushing through Elijah's hair. The touch was reassuring. Slowly, Elijah reached up and unfastened his father's belt. His hands trembled slightly as he slid the button loose from his father's trousers, popped the hook, and unzipped his fly. He reached in, through the slit in his father's boxers and pulled out the warm length of flesh inside. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and slid his mouth over his father's cock.
The flesh was warm and heavy in his mouth. He remembered the taste of it, salty with a hint of sweet. His lips closed around it as he slowly slid down, savoring the feel of it. He whimpered when his nose pressed against the fabric of his father's boxers and he shuffled forward on his knees, pressing closer until he could feel his father's flesh all the way at the back of his throat. Alastair's fingers tugged lightly at the back of Elijah's head and he pulled back, starting on a slow rhythm, in and out, sliding the flesh along his tongue. He paused every time he had Alastair all the way in his mouth, swallowing around the flesh and then dragging his tongue along it as he pulled back out. He let his lips slide off so that he could lick at the head, suckling it like it was a lollipop for a few seconds before sliding back down. His lips started to burn several minutes later but he didn't stop, not until Alastair pulled his head away.
"So good." Elijah looked up with his lips still parted expectantly and shivered at the naked lust in his father's eyes. "Show me what else you can do." He started to lean forward again but Alastair held him back. "Not like that. Stand. I want you to strip for me."
Alastair let go of Elijah's hair and stepped back. His eyes stayed riveted on Elijah as he stood. He peeled the t-shirt off over his head and tossed it into the hallway. Alastair's tongue darted out to lick his lips as Elijah's hands settled on his fly. He slowly slid the zipper down and let his pants drop to the floor. His boxers joined seconds later and he stepped forward, free of the fabric. He braced one hand on the arm of a high-backed armchair as he pulled off his socks.
"My, how you've grown."
The way Alastair looked at him felt familiar. He shivered and fought back the brief urge to cover himself.
"Put your hands on the desk."
Elijah quirked an eyebrow but did as he was told. He planted his hands in the center of the desk, leaving him half leaning over the thick wood. There was a rustle of leather against fabric as his father pulled his belt free. For a second, he thought Alastair was going to beat him, a punishment for past misdeeds. The expected strike never came. Elijah's wrists were pulled back, one at a time, and the leather belt wrapped around them, tying them tightly together. Alastair pushed Elijah forward until his chest rested against the desk.
"I've been watching you."
Elijah gasped as his father circled the desk and pulled a bottle of lube from the top left drawer. He'd suspected the green light that appeared sometimes was his father. He'd hoped. He heard the cap uncork, waited for his father's fingers to press into him. Elijah jumped as cool liquid squirted against his hole and then the bottle was being set aside. He had a brief second to suck in a deep breath before his father pressed against him, forcing his way in like the inescapable slide of an avalanche.
He bit his lip but a muffled scream still escaped. His hands clenched against him bonds. It hurt, but in a distant sort of way, like the slow burn of exercising too hard too fast. Alastair pushed in slowly and Elijah couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but moan and wait until Alastair was buried all the way inside. He shivered, pressed his forehead against the wood to ground himself. It felt like Alastair was absorbing him, covering him and surrounding him until the whole world fell away and all that mattered was Alastair inside of him. It felt perfect, a perfection he'd known long ago and been denied, now returned.
"I've seen the way you let people use you." Alastair's breath tickled Elijah's ear. He shivered again and moaned. Alastair's hands rubbed at Elijah's hips, pressing softly against the marks Ramiel had left. Elijah whimpered as Alastair started to pull out at that same slow pace. "You let them take you. You let them have you in a way that once belonged solely to me."
Elijah pressed back, trying to speed up the pace. His father held him by the hips, his fingers gentle but firm, leaving Elijah with no control. "The Council..."
He let out a strangled moan as Alastair slid back in. "They're gone now."
"I'm sorry." Elijah trembled. He wanted it so much, needed it and Alastair wouldn't give it to him. He was going to go mad at this pace. Maybe that was his punishment. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. His hips rubbed against the edge of the desk every time Alastair pressed forward but it wasn't enough. He needed more. "I'm so, so sorry."
"Why are you sorry?" One of Alastair's hands ran up the inside of Elijah's thigh, fingers tracing around the base of Elijah's cock and then moving back down his leg.
Elijah squeezed his eyes shut to prevent more tears and let out a shaky sob. "I'm sorry... for lying. I told them... I told them you raped me." Another sob wracked through him. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "I told them I didn't want it. I lied."
Alastair pushed in faster. Elijah slumped against the desk and sobbed with relief.
"That wasn't hard, now was it?"
He shivered, shook his head as best he could while pressed against the desk. "No, father."
Elijah cried out as Alastair stepped back, sliding free of Elijah's body. Strong hands flipped him, turning him onto his back. His legs went over Alastair's shoulder as he pushed back inside. Elijah nearly cried from relief. His arms hurt from the weight of his body on top of them but it was low enough on the pain scale that Elijah could ignore it for now. He didn't want to move, not now that he finally had his father back inside of him and moving at a more reasonable rate. It wasn't the fast pounding that Ramiel had given him the night before, but it was enough and in all the ways that counted, better.
Alastair's hand closed around Elijah's cock and that was enough to make Elijah come undone. The hand tightened, stopping Elijah before he could come. He shrieked and bucked into Alastair's hand but he wouldn't let go. Alastair's hips kept moving, increasing in pace. Elijah writhed against the desk. It was impossible to get any leverage. His legs dangled over Alastair's shoulders, his hands bound. There was no way to get purchase, nothing to do but let Alastair control him. He begged wordlessly, gasping and moaning with each thrust. He could feel his release building inside of him, like a tidal wave crashing against a dam, trying to break through. He arched against the desk and felt his mind peeling away.
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
The words pierced straight through the fog in Elijah's brain and called to something deep inside of him. "Bless me, father," he gasped, "for I have sinned."
Alastair's hand relaxed, gliding over the head of Elijah's cock and he came apart, seed spilling into Alastair's hand as his body trembled violently against the desk. His vision went blindingly white and all he could hear for a long time was the sound of ringing in his ears. He may have screamed.
When he came back to himself, Alastair had stilled against him. He was watching Elijah with a look of smug contentment. His fingers traced the side of Elijah's face but he remained quiet, just watching, for several minutes. The gramophone came to the end of the record and the music shifted to static.
"So pretty. It's a shame you were my son. Things could have turned out differently if you'd just been born to someone else."
Elijah gasped for breath. It took an effort of will to focus on what his father was saying. "What?"
Alastair's fingers brushed over Elijah's throat and along his collarbone. "I made a bargain."
As the post-coital haze slowly lifted, his arms reasserted their presence. The pain was edging past uncomfortable. He shifted against the desk but that only made it worse. "Daddy..."
The fingers traced a line down his chest. Alastair's nail pressed in, scraping a sigil over Elijah's heart. Green flame poured from Alastair's hand and over the lines on Elijah's chest. He screamed as the sigil burned into his flesh. For the first time in years, Elijah felt fear.
Alastair's eyes glowed red as he looked down at his son. "They made me an offer, something He never would have allowed."
Elijah shivered. His stomach felt heavy with dread. "What did you do? Please... tell me you didn't..."
Alastair smiled and it was colder than anything Elijah had seen before. He felt like a stranger had just stepped into his father's skin. "They let me have you."
His eyes went wide as Alastair reached forward. There was a flash of green light, searing agony, and then for a brief moment, nothing.
The doors of Hell opened beneath him and he fell.