Golden Blooded

8. First Day, Part II.

His hands gripped his hips as he was slid onto his lap. Alfred's head fell back as he felt kisses get pressed to his collarbone. The chitons belt was unlocked, and thrown to the side. Alfred looked over to it as it landed, wondering what exactly that meant before the chiton was slid off of his body.

Alfred sat nude on his lap. His face flushed red- normally demons didn't remove his clothes, just took him in the dress. Ivan, though. No. He wanted him bare before him. The demon licked his chops, his eyes trailing down his body, stopping on the scar that went from his clavicle to his opposite hip. The demon ran a finger down it. The angel shuddered.

"And who did this?"

Alfred pursed his lips. He was too incoherent to understand when he mumbled something, and Ivan asked for him to speak up, which made him whimper and whine in his ear before he said:

"It happened a long time ago, I don't remember."

He did remember. It was his High General that had done it, when he failed to kill that little angel boy he had befriended. What was his name? Yes. It was Davie. The High General had found out he made a friend out of a commoner and told him to kill him. He hadn't. So he'd been sliced up like a piece of meat and left to die. After a few days he picked himself off of the floor and went back to find his flock, and kissed the High General's boots for good measure. He had been seven.

Those memories made him sad, so he only thought of them for a moment before looking back to Ivan, feeling his breath on his neck and his hands trailing down his body.

"Take me," away from here. Away from these memories. Part of his mind cried out for help, the other part chastised it. He was being disloyal. No. He couldn't think of those thoughts. He just had to occupy Braginski for long enough to escape. Then he could go back to Heaven.

And get a traitor's brand under his eye. No! He wasn't a traitor.

Then get his head chopped over for promiscuity, just after getting his dick cut off for sodemy. That... no! If he brought them something, then they wouldn't kill him. They would understand he had been forced.

He whimpered. Ivan took that as him wanting him more. He looked down as Ivan unbuttoned his pants, before freezing.

"That won't fit."

"Shush," Ivan said, "relax. You're fine. It has before."

He held him closer to his warm body, whispering sweet things to him so he would calm down. His eyes half-lidded. He felt him entering, and it comforted him in a way he couldn't manage to describe.

Had they understood for Sebastian? He remembered being at the messenger angels trial. He'd been captured by demons while sending orders between his brothers, Lovino and Feliciano, and Alfred. He had escaped and returned home, before he was put on trial. His High General and High General Romulus had been there at his hearing.

The punishment for giving information to the other side- which the messenger had been forced to do, they stole his pack- was hanging. They hadn't just hung him. Since he had admitted to three major crimes: promiscuity, traitorism, and sodemy, they had crucified him.

He wasn't a messenger, though. He was a General. A War Hero! They could forgive.

Actually, he wasn't a War Hero. They'd never given him that title.

Alfred moaned, looking at the demon- studying his crystal skin, his eyes, his lips. His hands reached up to knot into his hair and he leaned in to take his lips. It was like his body moved on autopilot. What was this? What was in that sauna?

Ivan growled, and it sent shivers down his spine. His back arched as the demon dug his claws possessively into his ass. His face flushed red, his eyes beginning to water.