Dead Moon Chapel

twenty-five

i'm sorry to all the non monster fuckers out there (i'm really not you knew what you were getting into)

the sacrilege basically peaks here btw You Have Been Warned

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A WORLD OF LIQUID SHIFTED into the solid form of a silent corner of the Chapel. They were in the actual chapel, but at this late hour, there were no services happening. It was the best place for them to be without being seen.

Abel stepped out of Jericho's arms once he was settled. He recovered without a hitch, something he could only attribute to his current form. Little things like teleportation sickness didn't trouble him when he was overrun by the power of the heavens. Was this Heaven, though? Why would Heaven gift him with something that grows stronger when he speaks sacrilege?

Walking on silent feet, Abel made his rounds of the doors, double-checking the locks. They were secure. There weren't many members with keys to the chapel, and those members were likely to have other matters to attend to if they weren't sleeping.

"We're safe," he said, turning back to face Jericho.

He froze.

Jericho was the same as he always was, yet different at the same time. Sprouting from his forehead were four smaller horns. His pointed ears were longer, stretching towards the sky, with tufts of black fur at the ends. His fingers were black and doubled in length, thanks to the vicious, jagged claws. The black tattoos over his body were darker, like they were not made of ink. Instead, they were empty spaces carved into his skin, leading to the same endless void as his eyes. More black fur sprouted from his elbows, in the center of his chest, and a trail leading down to the buckle of his belt. A black cross was carved into his forehead, sharp and crude.

Perhaps the most noticeable change, however, was the pair of wings that sprouted from his back. They were made of twisted black branches, sharp and brutal. Abel's own wings curled around himself.

"Oh, come on, is it that ugly?" Jericho pouted, looking down at himself.

Abel swallowed. "Not in the slightest. I just... wasn't... expecting this."

"I figured this would work better if I was more hellish," said Jericho. "This is kind of what I normally look like. I smooth myself over so I come off less, uh, threatening."

"Threatening indeed." Abel's voice was low and raspy as his eyes raked over his companion's new form-or, original form, apparently.

Jericho gave a bashful laugh. "I, um... yeah. Is that-is that bad?"

If it was bad, Abel wouldn't have been moving closer to him, all of his eyes drinking in the sight of him. He wouldn't have slipped a hand over Jericho's bare chest, nor would he have shoved his back against the wall. But he did do those things. He pressed their bodies flush together, hands exploring his front like they'd never felt the skin of another before.

"We're trying to sin, are we not?" Abel murmured into his ear. "So what if it's bad?"

He rolled his hips against him, and Jericho gasped. "Mmh... So it's... You like it?"

Abel buried his face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Not a trace of that foul evil even now. "Take a guess."

A delightful noise rumbled in Jericho's chest when Abel ran his tongue over the skin of his neck. His hand slipped over the demon's jaw, thumb stroking his lip. He bit down on his throat, and Jericho's knees buckled.

"I want to... mmh... hear you say it." Jericho could barely get the words out between his moans.

Abel sucked at the skin until an angry black mark blossomed over the surface. "Say what?"