F is for… Fallen Angels

This story is another continuation of my Demonised story. While the original part two, Waking the Fallen (which is also a song title, funnily enough) follows events down into Hell, this piece stays in the belly of the mountain with the Archangel Michael.

Even if my existence was as fleeting as a man’s, I would gladly spend every moment of it just like this. In a cave, deep in the heart of a mountain. Leaning against a wall of rock, an ethereal glow radiating from my very being. Watching a roiling mass of darkness fight and flail as light spreads from my feet to engulf it where it lies, helpless on the floor in front of me.

Oh, he is furious! I don’t think I’ve seen such rage since the First Fall.

Though it did not understand why, the cosmos had trembled the day the Creator fell into a silent contemplation regarding the fate of its most precious – most treacherous – creation. Some felt it like the coming of a storm, others like the death of a star. When the decision was finally made, all of Heaven had become still. It had remained that way until the Morningstar struck the Earth, and then one by one, his sympathisers were cast out.

This one, my captive, hadn’t just been among them. He’d been one of the first to go. But unlike most of the others, he had not screamed and bemoaned the fates for allowing him to be banished from the Creator’s presence. He had not uttered a word, for he was one of the few who had willingly taken the leap.

I’d monitored his descent from on high. Seven days and seven nights it took. At first, he was just a sphere of energy moving amongst the stars. As he’d approached the Earth’s atmosphere his energy began to solidify, forming the beginnings of a corporeal form. That form twisted and swelled, quickly becoming the shape of a winged man.

Something inside of me had ached when that man entered the atmosphere and exploded into flame. I imagined that I could smell him burning, that the acrid stench of torched feathers – he had grown such beautiful feathers – reached all the way to the Heavens. I had wept for his anger, hardened my heart against his fear.

For millennia, I’ve watched that force of beauty and goodness transform into the wicked thing he is today. Part of me still aches for him. For the loss of his light. But another part of me resents him for so fully embracing, for worsening, the cruelty and corruption the advent of our kind unleashed upon this world.

That’s why, every now and again, I pull my light back within me. Let the cave darken, narrow my eyes as it becomes dank and dreary once more. On the floor, he stills. Chains still glow softly about him, so I don’t fear his escape, but I allow him some room to move.

Just as droves of angels did before him, he tests his bonds. I know they burn his earthly flesh. They scorch his blackened soul. The energy that exudes from them penetrates his thick hide and worms its way into the cavity that should contain his heart. There is one there, but it is little more than granite now. Well, it was. He might not realise it yet, but his heart has softened under my loving attention.

It’s just as I expected. After I failed to reinforce my light against his weak attempts to free himself, he thinks my resolve is failing. He’s getting to his knees, wincing with the effort of lugging those chains with him.

I don’t make a move. I just stay here against my wall, my back cushioned by my feathery wings. Legs crossed at the ankle, arms folded over my chest, I watch with clear, bright eyes. I wonder if he knows that I almost like this form he has chosen. The dark tone of his skin is alluring, the bottomless black of his eyes an intrigue. If it wasn’t for the malice and the ravaged membranes of his wings, he would be a perfect example of a man.

What will he do this time? The first time I slackened my hold he had tried to attack me. I’d let him get within a hair’s breadth of sinking his talons into me. His roar when I’d forced him back with a mere nod of my head had vibrated within me, zinging in my veins, travelling along each of my nerves and invigorating me before settling into a soft throb in my groin.

In subsequent feints, he had tried persuasion, reasoning, threats. None of which would ever touch one such as I. I’m quite sure that nothing he tries will have any effect, my power won’t allow it.

Ah, this time it would appear that I’m not getting any words at all. He’s trying a new approach. Tilting my head to the side, I watch him run his hands over his chest. He fingers the fading wounds Radueriel, his last conquest had gouged into his skin. He pinches his nipples, flicking the heavy rings there, pulling on them until a tar like substance seeps from the holes. I will never acknowledge what this creature bleeds as blood.

Filling my lungs with the new reek on the air, I work to keep my face expressionless. What would it even show if I didn’t? Disgust? Pity? Or something else? Eyes on his hands flattening against his ribs and trailing down his torso, I realise I can’t be sure.

Lord provide me with the strength to prevail. I didn’t dream he would go this far. But he has. He has taken the long, thick appendage between his thighs in hand and is stroking down the shaft. Pulling the skin there back until his bulbous head is revealed. I was under the impression that it should begin soft but his is already as stone-hard as his heart.

Wrapping two hands around it, he starts pumping his hips. I should not be watching this. I should stop it, throw him back to the ground, tighten the chains around him, tighter and tighter until his lust is choked from his thoughts. But I don’t. Feeling my chest rising higher and falling deeper, feeling my muscles tense and my buttocks become taut, I move my tongue around inside my mouth. Searching for moisture that isn’t there.

Look at that body move! Such power in those thighs, such tension in that abdomen. I don’t want to look but I need to, I need to see it all. Tendons shifting in his wrists, biceps flexing, Adam’s apple bobbing as sounds vibrate from his throat.

Images come to me unbidden. I see Radueriel climbing his frame, see his cock disappear inside of her. His is not small and I can feel now that mine isn’t, either. I can feel its weight, tugging and bobbing, I feel the sack beneath it getting heavier and tighter.

Radueriel moves, sliding up and down his cock and I wonder how it would feel to have mine moving inside of her in such a way. I wonder what it would feel like to have him moving inside of me. I imagine him pinning me down, pushing my face into the ground, holding onto the base of my wings and sliding that hard thickness into my unused orifice. Claiming me, violating me. Being in the flesh what we secretly wanted to be when we were both made of sentient light.

I take a step towards him, lips parted, reaching for my own cock. His evil smile is deep enough to wrinkle his nose. It makes my heart ache. His hips move faster, splashing small beads of black fluid over the floor. It makes my cock throb. I can almost feel it entering his mouth, I can almost see myself getting to my knees and offering myself up to the one I missed so much. It is still him after all. The things he’s done… are they so bad?

Shock slams him back to the ground as light blazes from me unchecked. I’m punishing him with it, hiding within it. What in the Lord’s name am I thinking?! I am not here to play his carnal games, I am not here to be corrupted. I am here to reverse his self-inflicted soul-wounds and take him back to Heaven where we belong, together.

Even as his skin smokes and his vile sputum continues to spurt from his cock to sizzle on his thigh, he growls out a mocking laugh. “You might put me to the sword yet, Michael, my love. But not before I turn you into a sheath for mine.”

4 thoughts on “F is for… Fallen Angels

    1. I can’t decide who I want to come out on top. On one hand, Michael winning would sit right with the story in a ‘the balance of good vs evil’ kinda way, but on the other, it’s my nature to let the bad guy win, lol.x

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