Azrael

I go back to my quarters and lay on my bed for a while. The thumping in my chest doesn't stop —funny, because obviously I have no “real” heart, just as everyone who inhabits Hell; it's just an imitation of one that was created from my mind, when my soul passed the veil between the mundane world and Hell. The interaction with Dante plays and replays a thousand times in my mind, and I keep wondering what would have happened if he hadn't left. I wonder if I could have grabbed a handful of his shirt to pull him a bit downwards so I could kiss him.

I didn't even know I wanted to kiss him, until tonight. I thought he was an interesting experiment, a nice source of human emotions to feed from.

But he's more than that. 

He intrigues me. I want to interact with him more. 

I wanna suck in all of his emotions and rejoice from the intensity of them.

My mind provides a very vivid image of Dante pushing me against a wall with a hand on my neck and I can feel myself getting hard.

I wonder if he would be into that...

There are many questions I want answers for, and all the time in the world, literally, so I can wait and see what happens. I doubt he would be receptive to advances like that now, but who knows. 

I know I am obsessing over the topic, because my heart is beating as fast as it did in the ballroom.

In the end I decide that some fresh hair might help calm my body down, so I walk downstairs to the back of the church, towards the area where I keep a little garden. It's always particularly peaceful in this section of the grounds, and I wanna be alone and bask in the avalanche of emotions that I was a recipient of tonight.

I get closer to a bush of white roses that are looking especially bright with the moonlight, and I am about to touch the soft petals when I hear a weird sound, coming from somewhere closer to the church wall. In this area, the outer wall is full of alcoves with engravings in the stone. No artificial lighting is on them, so the only source of light are the moon and the lamps around the garden, which don't quite reach the outer wall.

I take a few steps towards the sound, silently, to be able to hear better.

When I realize the sounds are moans I smirk, and stop advancing, not wanting to bother whoever is there in their private moment.

When I hear a single “Oh fuck” and I recognize it as Dante's voice, I gasp before I can contain myself.

The moans stop immediately, and I don't know what to do. I can't see him, but I gather he must be covered by the darkness of one of the alcoves right in front of me, but surely he can see me. 

I have never before felt like an intruder in my own domain, but right now I know I shouldn't have stepped in on this. 

I hear shuffling, and a moment later Dante is walking out of the shadows, angrier than I saw him before, “What the fuck do you think you're doing? Are you following me?”

He's almost shouting. I start to feel the same rush of adrenaline that his intense emotions give me. I take a step closer, and the warning in his eyes is clear: don't you dare. 

But oh, I dare. 

I walk slowly towards him, never averting my eyes from his, until we are almost recreating the scene at the ball. He stands his ground, even as I am stepping way into his personal space. 

I hook my finger to grab his belt again, and I slide my finger back and forth for a few moments so he has time to pull away. 

He doesn't.

Then, slowly, I run my finger downwards, tracing with my knuckle the head of his cock, very visible through his pants. 

An almost imperceptible gasp abandons his lips. His heart is beating fast, but he's still looking at me with murder in his eyes.

I bite my lips hard when I feel his dick twitch against my knuckle. I can feel myself getting hard too, and I want to get on my knees and suck him off, so I follow my instincts and drop to the floor right there, and when my face is directly in front of his erection, I look up at him. His eyes darken and in the next moment he is grabbing a handful of my hair and buries my face in his crotch. 

My own crotch feels wet with arousal, so much that I think if I don't get some relief soon I will go crazy. 

He manhandles my head slowly but firmly so my mouth rubs against the front of his pants, and soon I am panting against him. I dart out my tongue to leave a wet stripe right where his cockhead is.

He grunts low in his throat and when I move my head on my own to properly mouth and suck at the head with desperation, I suddenly feel his hand let go of my hair. 

“Do you want it?” He says, voice rough with desire.

I almost choke on my own tongue trying to get the words out as fast as possible. “Yes, please. Give it to me” I lick another stripe from the base to the head of his cock and I think I'm starting to taste precum even through the fabric of his pants.

He stays silent for a few seconds, taking in the sight of me on my knees begging for his cock.

Then he takes a single step away, so slowly that I think there's reluctance there. “No.” And he turns around and walks away towards the front of the cathedral, while I look at him retreat with astonishment.

The echo of his steps soon fades and I am left there, on my knees, hard as I have ever been and almost vibrating with need.

But, despite the frustrating situation, and the humiliation I should be feeling, I smirk, because I don't actually feel bad about this.

I stand up, fix my hair and huff amusedly.

Two can play this game, darling.

—

Dante

As soon as I get to my little corner inside the cathedral I sit down and just then I realize I am panting. 

I should have stopped it sooner, I know that.

But something in him stirs things inside me that I don’t want to feel.

Not yet.

Not yet.