Dead Moon Chapel | ✔️

twenty-one

there is sex here. if you don't want to read sex. what are you doing reading this book.

abel's anatomy is referred to in neutral terms (heat, folds, core, cunt, etc). no breast action invovled.

☆☆☆

TWO BODIES BECAME ONE AS a demon and an angel twisted around each other, their mouths crushing together in a heated battle. Neither knew what they were fighting for, if they were even fighting at all, but whenever Abel managed to flip Jericho on his back, he was turned right back over. It was dizzying and exhausting, and it was exciting. His heartbeat was erratic and violent, one Abel didn't only feel in his chest. The sensation drummed between his legs as his heated core rutted against the bulge growing in Jericho's pants.

Abel forced his way on top of him again. If he could get a hold of Jericho's wrists, he'd be able to keep the demon down. With the way his large red hands were exploring every surface of his body, though, Abel couldn't get a good grip.

He growled. It got lost in Jericho's heavy breaths. Somehow, this had turned from a simple, albeit eager kiss, into a furious wrestling match as the two both sought their dominance. For someone so fussed over what Abel wanted, Jericho was more determined to take charge than he'd expected him to be.

The demon slipped a hand into Abel's hair, long and white with the angelic influence of last night's slip-up. He'd done this twice before, grabbing his hair like this. But this time, as Jericho's fingers curled around the silky strands, he tugged on a fistful, forcing Abel to bear his neck to him. A loud, unexpected whine cut through their panting, silencing the room. Abel felt hot, and he throbbed against Jericho's stomach where he straddled him.

"Oh, you liked that more than I expected," Jericho murmured.

"Unhand me," Abel demanded. The force of his voice was undermined by a pathetic whimper. "Mmh..."

Jericho pulled tighter. His other hand reached up, tracing over the golden skin of Abel's exposed throat. "You turn such a pretty color when you get like this. It's a shame you have to get rid of it."

God, when he talked like that, it made Abel question everything he was doing. Did he really want to get rid of this when Jericho thought it to be so lovely?

"Enjoy it while you can, then," Abel said, voice catching.

Jericho's hand slipped down farther to his collarbones, then lifted to avoid the wrapping on Abel's chest. He returned his touch to his exposed stomach. Abel craved for him to touch lower, to slip his hand beneath his sweatpants, to give him the satisfaction he wanted. And yet, as much as he wanted it, something stopped him.

He gripped Jericho's wrist. The demon loosened his hold on his hair and pulled the hand away from his skin.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," Abel said before the words finished leaving Jericho's mouth. "I want you to. But I don't... I..."

Jericho touched him once more, softer this time. "We can do this however you need to."

Abel squeezed his eyes shut. "No."

Jericho paused. "What?"

"Stop being nice to me," Abel whispered. "I want you to take what you want. I don't want you to be nice to me. If you are, you'll give me too much room to overthink."

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breath. And then, Jericho's fist curled around Abel's hair again. In a single swift motion, he shoved Abel down by the hair, pushing him face-first into the mattress. His startled cry was muffled by a pillow.