THE BOY WHO DYED RED

1. Fox Trap


"Fall with me, and I shall make you unique."

The demon's eyes shone with exuberance unmatched in all things normal, and oh god, Chance suddenly did not want "normal." He wanted fucked right up.

He would fall for him. He would never get back up. If only he could have one touch, one taste, this delicate sin of —

The demon was unbuttoning his black dress shirt. He was walking backwards with a strange smile. His eyes were glowing amber, cat's eye, fox snare. He let out a sultry laugh as his shirt fell open, and Chance shuddered at the sight of the demon's body. Sculpted, but somehow modest in appearance. The body of a thief, of someone who spent their life running... or chasing. Likely chasing.

Typically, it was Chance's duty to fight this kind of thing. This kind of creature that masked temptation in every step. However, he'd never expected one to actually tie him up and proceeded to... well, what was this guy doing?

Stripping?

The demon started to unbutton his pants.

Yep, stripping.

His mouth was dry and his body was hot and his breathing was a little over the top, but this particular demon with his dark hair and luminescent eyes, his slender neck and carved collar bones, his lean shoulders and lithe body...

It wasn't fucking fair.

Chance nearly choked when said lithe body came back around, closer. The boy took each step as if he had all the time in the world, saunter perfected, smirk never ending. Chance felt himself react when the boy dropped to one knee and gripped Chance's chin between calloused yet delicate fingers. His smirk widened and he leaned closer so their noses brushed, their eyelashes grazed, and their lips almost — almost — touched.

"Well?" he purred. That voice, husky and throaty and horribly pleasing to the ear.

Chance emitted a pathetic, plaintive sound.

Oh, he always knew this sin would be the one to ruin him.

Against his restraints, Chance lunged forwards. The chains rattled against the cold wall, singing a song of destruction, as if encouraging the distortion all around them. His lips took the demon's, and the demon shrieked in triumph against Chance. He gripped Chance's hair and tugged his had back so his neck was exposed, and he inhaled shakily against Chance's skin.

"Fall, little angel! Fall!"

Chance's eyes flashed open. The demon kissed him ferociously, lips and tongue and teeth, and then he pulled back, hopped up so he was standing upright, and then his black wings ripped from his back. He threw his head back and laughed a tortured laugh, and Chance screamed as he felt his own white wings being ripped from his back.

And before he knew it, he was reaching for all the things he couldn't grasp.


AN: the beginnings of a dirty but totally classy story, i swear ;)