Losing The Light

Chapter 9

"I want you to be free." Azmael held the shuddering demon in his arms, Rane's back to his chest, and breathed in the scent of his turmoil. Rane was so fucking hot and delicious, and Azmael was going feral for him. Even as he tortured Rane with his words, his aim was to set the demon free. It would be a long game, but Azmael always played to win. He'd even had to use healing magic, which was practically unnatural -just a weak leftover ability from before his ancestors were cast out by God - but he didn't regret what he'd done. He had Rane right where he wanted him.

"F-free?"

He almost purred at Rane's tone. He was so clearly in need of reassurance. He was disoriented, confused, unsure what was the right thing to do. Azmael, of course, was to blame for that. But he was trying to make a point.

I had no idea his confusion would make him cave so easily. Azmael would have guessed the ease at which Rane gave in to him would make the chase boring, but it was the opposite. It only stoked the flames of his obsession, because it was clear that Rane's true nature was simmering just under the surface of his facade.

"To choose," Azmael clarified. His hand still covered Rane's eyes, because the little demon had seemed to need it, and Rane was relaxed in his captivity. It was tantalizing. "Free to decide for yourself what to do. Not to be governed by what others impose on you."

"I choose to do the right thing," he said, as if by rote. "I choose that."

You poor little thing. "I choose to take my pleasure from you," Azmael said. He undid his fly and shoved Rane's pants back down his thighs. "Are you going to stop me?"

"W-what's the right answer?" Rane's whisper was so quiet it was almost inaudible, just a mouthing of the words from his plush, kissable lips.

"Yes or no, Rane. Are you going to stop me?"

"I- I-"

"Do you want to stop me? Don't lie," Azmael said sternly.

"No," Rane admitted. Azmael was honestly surprised that the demon was being truthful about his desires, but chalked up Rane's bout of honesty to his befuddled mental state.

Azmael used his long tongue to taste Rane's tear as it fell down his cheek. He let himself shrink down a bit, until he was closer to human size. "Good, little demon. Good."

"I, we need to go back inside, though," Rane's detective persona tried to resurface. "I- I'm on the clock, we're supposed to be-"

"You don't give a shit about that." As far as Azmael was concerned, they had all the time in the world to get this right. The nephilim had been all too easy to manipulate. Right now, he was trapped in Azmael's elevator, his signal blocked by the cellular dead zone of the metal tube. Rane was alone.

Alone with me. Just the way it should be.

"I'm supposed to care about it," he insisted. "I'm supposed to give a shit."

"Right now, you're going to care about getting me off. Fair is fair. Right?" Azmael used his astral hands to press Rane's thighs together. He slicked his dick with the liberal amount of precum he'd leaked while getting face fucked and squeezed his cock in between Rane's legs. He could feel Rane's balls on the top of his cock and he rubbed against them.

"What are you doing?" Rane didn't resist. Instead, he leaned back against Azmael's chest, settling deeper into his hold. Azmael nearly purred at that.

"Using your pretty thighs to jerk myself off, since I think your partner might notice if I fucked your voice out, and there is no way I'm going to rush when I really fuck you."