Happy Valentines Day! If you haven’t already seen it, I’ve written a short Valentines story over on RJ Scott’s blog as part of her Valentines Guest Post Thing (I believe that’s the technical term).
Happy Valentines Day! If you haven’t already seen it, I’ve written a short Valentines story over on RJ Scott’s blog as part of her Valentines Guest Post Thing (I believe that’s the technical term).
Please bear in mind that I’m not a reviewer.
This is just a list of what I read and what I thought about it.
My personal opinions will undoubtedly differ from yours,
and they’re no reflection on the authors or their work, simply my own thoughts.
Links go to Amazon but books are available from multiple sources.
I try to buy direct from the publisher where I can.
Five Stars are given to those books that I wanted to start reading again the moment they ended.
Always happy to receive recommendations in the comments.
Mi Alma – Dale Cameron Lowry …one of the free reads I picked up at the Big Gay Fiction Giveaway. Short and sweet and sexy. Didn’t knock me out but there are some nice lines, warm backstory, likable characters and all well written. If you fancy a quickie, you won’t go wrong with this. 3.5
Half Broke: a Veterans Affairs Story – A.E. Wasp ….One of the free reads I picked up at the Big Gay Fiction Giveaway.
Upfront I’ll say that this is written in first-person-present, which I have a hard time reading, so my experience is probably influenced a little by that as I couldn’t immerse myself in the story. I liked this, though it didn’t wow me. It’s a quickie so there’s not much time to fall in love with the characters, especially as they had rich, interesting backstories and personalities that could easily have filled a full-length novel. The story itself is good. 3.5*
Drew can’t believe his luck when the dark blue sedan pulls up. Until he sees who’s in it.
It’s fucking freezing. Luckily, the spot he and Chris work from is out of the wind. He feels sorry for the girls around the corner, wearing next to nothing under the moth-eaten fur coats their management so generously allowed them to keep on; as long as they hold them open for the slow parade of curb crawlers running their headlights over them. At least he gets to wear pants.
Not that they provide much protection in this weather; cold fingers of night air penetrated the thin leather hours ago. Maybe if there was a sliver of air between the leather and his skin he might have felt a little warmer, but they were so damn tight there was no chance. He thanked Heaven that he’d decided to shove a rolled up sock down his crotch before they came out; it was the only thing stopping his balls from dropping off.
Part of him wondered why they were bothering tonight. A couple of the girls had been picked up, but there hadn’t been so much as a nibble in their quarter. Not even any of Chris’s regulars had shown up. And he always did well on a Friday night. Hell, he did well every night; laying on that thick southern drawl, as he tipped back his battered cowboy hat and chewed on a toothpick. It was mesmerizing. Christ, Drew would do him if he could afford it. But instead, they both stood there shivering under the street lamp’s mocking glow, pulling their jackets close over the thin, clinging t-shirts beneath, and praying for the sun to rise, or Prince Charming to show up.
So, yeah, that blue sedan looks like it could be the prince in question. The window rolls down as Drew walks over. He tries his best not to shiver when he allows his coat to fall open to show the way his nipples have hardened in the cold. The old letterman’s jacket that he found in a goodwill store is a little ridiculous, but it works. He looks a lot younger than he is – he’s twenty-five but with the right clothes, his preppy blonde hair spiked up and the right light, he can pass for seventeen on a good day. Young sells, so he figured it couldn’t hurt. The first time some guy asked him to wear nothing but the jacket, he figured it was worth the twenty bucks. By the time the tenth guy asked him, it creeped him out.
When he leans on the open window of the car, he goes from thinking he might make his rent, to hoping he’s going to make it back in one piece.
“You working?” The guy’s beautiful but his face is like thunder, and practically growls out the words.
Drew raises his eyebrows, and nods at the gold badge glinting on the guy’s belt. “Are you?”
The badge clatters into the glove compartment with a flurry of cursing. “Just get in the fucking car.”
Drew hangs his head, then dutifully opens the door and gets in. He sees Chris take a step forward, looking worried, but Drew winks and smiles to reassure him, even if he’s already thinking it’s a bad idea.
As soon as he closes the door, the guy hits the gas, and pulls away with his tires screaming. Drew glares, and fumbles with the seatbelt. “You in a hurry, Detective?” When he gets no answer he swivels in his seat to get a better look, while he warms his hands on the hot air blowing from the vents in the dash.
The guy looks exhausted, and on edge. His eyes are deep set in dark rings, his skin pale. His tall, muscular body is slumping, but his fingers beat out a tattoo on the steering wheel, like he’s got caffeine instead of blood keeping him upright. Dark hair curls behind his ears, the strands lank and greasy from the repetitive motion to keep them there. His dark blue suit is rumpled and unpressed, much like the rest of him.
The guy doesn’t say anything, just grips the wheel tighter. Drew’s about to start his spiel, when finally the guy awkwardly stutters out, “Do you have…is there a…where’s your–”
“No.” The word seems to take the guy by surprise, and he chances an infuriated glance or two at Drew. Drew stands – or rather, sits – firm, and folds his arms across his chest. “I’m not fucking a cop in parked car under a fucking bridge tonight.” The detective looks outraged, then accepting. Drew figures it’s tiredness rather than lack of discretion for the guy to think of something so stupid. “Your place or mine, I don’t much care which. Or drop me back on the corner.”
The cop’s apartment is a mess. Drew can’t quite believe his eyes, and he squatted with Chris in a crack house for three months. There are clothes and rotting half-empty takeout containers strewn about the place. There’s a thick layer of dust over every surface, and an ungodly smell coming from the kitchen. There’s a penicillin factory happening in a mug on the floor. The filthy coffee table seems to have some police reports open on it, showing crime scene photos and mug shots. When Drew wanders over there, they’re slammed shut suddenly, with a mountain of New York’s finest standing guard over them.
Drew hears a weird noise. He lifts his foot, peels the sticky candy wrapper off the sole of his sneaker, and holds it out. “Is it the maid’s week off, Detective, or–?”
“Don’t keep…Adrian. Just call me Adrian.” Adrian reaches out and takes the wrapper, adding, “Please.”
Drew smiles, and hopes it looks alluring. If there’s one thing he knows how to do, it’s bury his feelings of disgust to get a thing done. He shrugs off his jacket and throws it on the arm of the couch, next to a stained pillow and rumpled blanket. He thinks he’s subtle when he sneaks a peek at his watch, but he’s obviously not subtle enough.
“How much for the night?”
The question takes Drew by surprise. He shakes his head. “You can’t be serious?”
Adrian pulls out his wallet, takes out a bundle of cash and puts it on the coffee table. It’s so high it spills down like a landslide. “How much for the night?”
Drew looks at the money, ignoring Adrian as he steps towards him. Drew is tall, but he has to look up when Adrian hooks his hand around Drew’s neck, and pulls him into a searing, biting kiss.
There’s nothing pleasant about it. It’s teeth and stale coffee breath, and fingernails biting into the back of his neck, but Adrian’s paying so Drew lets it happen. It’s not the worst thing he’s experienced this week. Still, when Adrian releases him and steps away, his face all shame and rejection, Drew thinks that might be.
The way Adrian hangs his head makes something like fury rise up in Drew. He knows what Adrian’s thinking. That he’s taking advantage of Drew like all the other perverts out there; the ones that slap his face red raw before they come on it, or make him beg and call them daddy. Adrian’s standing there full of self-loathing, makes Drew want to shake him. Maybe if the cop wasn’t still wearing his gun he might have. Instead, Drew grabs Adrian by the wrists. “I’ll stay. But let’s get cleaned up first.”
The bathroom isn’t much better than the rest of the apartment. Drew resists the urge to offer to disinfect it before they shower, and tries to ignore the layers of dust and scum, and filthy underwear on the floor. He doesn’t bother trying to be sexy when he removes their clothes, aiming instead for tender. He figures what the guy needs more than anything is a little TLC. And, judging by the way Adrian seems to come to pieces as Drew strips them down, he’s not wrong.
Drew’s a little afraid that he might have to hold Adrian up in the shower, but he seems solid enough when they step under the hot spray. Drew takes his time soaping Adrian down, working his fingers against his tanned, muscular body, and through the dark hair that trails down the center of it. Drew cleans every inch, slowly and methodically. Every now and again, Adrian lifts his hand to brush against Drew’s nipple, or to cup his bicep or ass, but mostly he just stands there, watching in silence, gasping only when Drew’s fingers get close to his crotch.
Drew saves that until last. He works the lather through Adrian’s thick dark pubic hair, and around the side of his balls. He smiles a little to himself when Adrian opens his legs just a fraction, so Drew can slide his soapy fingers back to Adrian’s twitching pucker. He keeps his hand there, alternately working small firm circles over Adrian’s asshole, or rolling his balls between his fingers.
The other hand soaps Adrian’s dick. It’s half-hard, and getting heavier by the second, so Drew pushes Adrian back a step so the spray cascades over his shoulder and washes the soap away. Drew pulls him forward and goes to his knees in one motion. As soon as Drew’s tongue makes contact, Adrian keens above him. He tries to ignore the sounds Adrian’s making, and concentrate on getting his lips around Adrian’s cock before he comes himself.
He finds he’s not so much sucking, as tasting. Adrian tastes wonderful. Drew has a whole slew of skills in the cock-sucking department – he’s had to listen to how his mouth was made for it since junior high – but it’s like he’s forgotten them all. It’s pure pleasure to taste Adrian, to feel the velvet soft skin in his mouth, the sweet tang of pre-come as his runs his tongue along Adrian’s slit. He can’t help but hum with the pleasure of it.
Then he’s being yanked to his feet. “Not here.” Adrian sounds like he’s the one that’s had a cock down his throat. “Come to bed.”
Apart from a few clothes slung over a chair, the bedroom is pristine. It’s almost more of a shock than the rest of the place. Drew half expects Adrian to pick him up and throw him onto the bed, but Adrian pulls the covers back and waits for Drew to slide in before joining him.
The bed is cold, almost clammy. Adrian scoots right up to Drew, pressing the line of his firm body against him and starts rubbing Drew’s arms to warm him up. Adrian’s face is so earnest, Drew can’t bear it. He leans forward and presses his lips to Adrian’s. Adrian freezes, before relenting and kissing him back.
It’s not like before. It’s soft, and chaste in its own way, even though they’re naked, and rubbing against each other. Adrian’s lips are gentle and attentive; he’s lightly mouthing, sucking and licking Drew just the way he likes it. Drew could spend all night doing that – could probably come from just that – but he senses Adrian’s tiredness and pulls away. He smiles slightly, feeling strangely awkward. “I’ve got lube in my pants. I should–”
He starts to move but Adrian stops him and flicks open a drawer in the bedside cabinet, producing a tube with a half-hearted flourish.
Drew takes it and sits up. Adrian starts to protest but Drew pushes him back down on the pillow. He folds the covers back, and takes a position between Adrian’s legs, facing away from him. He doesn’t do this; put on a show. At least, he hasn’t for a while, so it feels a little embarrassing to start with. But by the time he has three fingers in him, he’s forgotten all about that. It helps that he can hear Adrian’s heavy breathing, and feel his hands kneading his ass cheeks, holding Drew open with his thumbs to get a better view.
Drew turns, his legs shaking with anticipation, and straddles Adrian. Adrian’s hands are shaking too as he holds his straining cock up against Drew’s open hole. Drew has a moment of panic.
“Ade…if you want to use something…”
“Do you do this with anyone else?”
There’s such agony in Adrian’s face when he asks that question, Drew can hardly stand it. He looks Adrian dead in the eye. “Never. I promise. Never.”
With that Adrian lifts his hips. There’s a delicious pressure on Drew’s hole before Adrian’s cock head breaches him. It’s been a long time. Drew had forgotten the sting, and how damn big Adrian is. But his lover waits, stroking his back and his thighs until Drew is ready to move again. It takes a while for Drew to fully seat himself, then even longer for them to build their momentum. They start in small tentative movements; Adrian sliding easily in and out of Drew, both of them relishing the drag and the sloppy sound they make, moaning in unison with it. When Drew starts to bounce, his hard, dripping cock bobbing in front of him, Adrian wraps both arms around Drew’s waist, and pounds him; tilting his hips to hit Drew’s sweet spot, and make him yelp. And when Drew comes untouched, Adrian milks every last drop out of him before coming himself with a shout, thrusting hard and filling Drew with everything he has.
“So…bad day?” Drew is the little spoon, so when Adrian doesn’t answer, it takes some effort to turn under Adrian’s heavy arm to look at him.
Adrian sighs, knowing he can’t get away from it now that Drew’s eyes are on him. “Five year-old, beaten into a brain hemorrhage for not taking out the trash.”
Drew purses his lips. It was a stupid question. There’s rarely a good day in homicide. “You wanna talk about it?” Adrian shakes his head, and pulls Drew closer, burying his face in Drew’s neck.
Drew strokes Adrian’s hair, and kisses his ear before asking, “You wanna tell me why you’re sleeping on the couch?”
Adrian keeps his head down and shakes it again. Drew sighs and waits, and eventually Adrian forces himself to look Drew in the face. “Because I can’t stand it. I can’t stand sleeping in here without you.”
“Ade, we talked about this–”
“I know, I know–”
“It’s called ‘deep cover’ for a reason–”
“I get it, I do, I just–”
“And if you blow my cover, it’s three years work down the drain–”
“They don’t suspect you, do they?”
“No…no, of course not.”
It’s not a lie. Not really. Drew just doesn’t want to explain to Adrian how his pimp thought he might be an informant when he’d found out Drew gets picked up by a cop once in a while. That the first time him and his goons half-beat Drew to death after catching him coming out of Adrian’s car, the only reason they stopped was his pimp realized that Drew’s ass was full of Adrian’s come. After that, he was quite happy to take whatever money Adrian paid Drew, as long as he got to see the proof. But the indignity of bending over so the bastard could check every time was offset by Drew imagining throwing him, and the rest of his people-smuggling friends, in a deep dark hole forever.
“How much longer?” Adrian always asked.
“Six months. Maybe a year.” Drew had been saying that for almost two years now.
Adrian pulls him in, kissing his husband hard. Then snuggling close, and closing his eyes, he finally looks rested for the first time all night. “And then no more. This is the last assignment, right? Then you quit vice for good?”
“Yes…this is the last time.” That’s not a lie either. Not really.
© Alex Jane 2016 All Rights Reserved
A short story for Halloween – 2.5k words – Explicit
“What are you talking abo’t? It’s the eve. All Hallows Eve, you fuckwit! It’s when the veil between worlds gets thin…when evil walks the earth…b’fore all the saints c’me out t’morrow. Or some shit. Anyway. WHO WANTS SHOTS?!”
For the fifth time in as many minutes, the drunk-ass college student dressed as a particularly ugly sexy nurse, adjusted his fake tits and stumbled back, nudging the double whiskey on the rocks that sat on the bar. The guy who belonged to it, sighed heavily and tried to make some space by twisting away, but the asshole just made up the difference and nudged him again.
The whiskey-drinker rubbed his temple, trying to decide if it was the unrelenting noise in the bar that was causing his headache, or the unrelenting stupidity. Suddenly, there was a snort of laughter to his left, and he felt an oversized body squeeze into the space next to him.
“You had to put up with that for long?” The voice was soft around the edges but came from a chiseled face and equally chiseled body.
The guy didn’t seem to be in fancy dress like the rest of the people crammed into the bar, although the blue paisley shirt was a little over the top for a weekday. It did serve to bring out his dark eyes, peering out from where his chestnut bangs fell across his face. It should have been hard to hear him over the din of the Halloween party that had been raging pretty much all day – College towns. What are you gonna do? – but his voice was as clear as day
The whiskey got downed in one swallow. “Too long. You’re late.”
The brown eyes smiled and sparkled in the low light. “Actually, I’m early. I keep telling you to get a decent fucking watch. And what in Hell’s name is that on your head?”
“These?” A hand reached up to fondle the plastic red horns nestled in his dirty blonde hair, like he’d forgotten they were there. “I’m the Devil.” Brown Eyes laughed, and the Devil grinned back. “Just trying to blend in.” He glanced over his shoulder and raised his ass off the stool, showing off the red devil’s tail poking out of the fraying seam of his jeans.
Brown Eyes swallowed. “Do I wanna know how that’s staying there?”
The Devil leaned in, and whispered, “If you’re going to make me explain butt plugs to you again–”
Brown Eyes burst into laughter, his voice deep and slightly too loud. It drew too much attention, heads turning to look at them from all directions. Both men tried to make themselves inconspicuous, which was a hard task being that they were the two tallest guys in the room.
Brown Eyes hunched over, resting his forearms on the bar. “So, if you’re the Devil, then what the Hell does that make me?” His voice was quiet and too full of sadness for it to be a joke.
The Devil reached out his hand but didn’t touch, just let his fingertips rest on the sticky wooden counter, just close enough to feel the potential of the other man’s hand. “You’re my Angel.” His voice was quiet but earnest. “You’ll always be my Angel.”
The Angel huffed out a laugh, all bitterness and hurt. Then he checked his watch, and shook his head. “We don’t have much time.”
The Devil slid off his stool and asked, “Did he notice? Did he see you–?”
The remainder of the sentence was cut of with a look from the Angel that very clearly said What do you think?, but what came out of his mouth was, “Did you get a room?”
The Devil eerily mirrored the Angel’s bitch-face back at him, and started pushing his way through the crowd, muttering, “Of course, I got a room. When have I ever forgotten to get the fucking room?”
The Angel pulled a face at the back of the Devil’s head and resisted the urge to give that bouncing red tail a good, hard yank.
The sidewalk was cluttered with people, all loaded and stumbling around. Everyone was dressed up or at least they had been when they started out. As midnight rolled around, most of their carefully planned cardboard constructions, or witty social commentary that they were wearing, were soaked in alcohol, sweat and puke, causing them to disintegrate. Along with their dignity. The night air was full of laughter and screams – sometimes it seemed hard to tell the difference. Music poured from different venues on the street, sounds competing for dominance until none of it made sense. Luckily the motel was only a couple of blocks away.
The quiet was a blessing as soon as they walked into the lobby. They headed straight for the elevator, although the Angel seemed caught up in looking around. “It seems different this time.”
The Devil pressed the call button and pulled the room key from his pocket. “Under new management, apparently. Damn sight better than last time.”
The elevator car arrived with a ding. The two men stepped in and the weight of them made the thing creak and dip. The Angel smiled over at the other man, but the Devil pulled the plastic horns from his head and held them nervously in front of him, keeping his distance and his expression neutral as the doors closed and they ascended.
When they got to the room, the Devil went in first, flicking on the light and shucking his leather jacket. The Angel followed, closing the door very gently as if trying not to make a sound. And then it was too quiet. The silence seemed like a barrier between them, until the Angel huffed out a laugh. “I feel nervous. Why do I feel so nervous?”
The Devil walked towards him, slowly, letting his hips snap, and his chest swell with each breath, pulling the flimsy black t-shirt even tighter across his muscled body. “You don’t have to do this, y’know.”
The Angel laughed. “Christ. Look at you. Of course, I do. I just…” The Devil was close enough that he could reach out and touch him. He chose to cup his jaw and run his thumb over the Devil’s wet, plump lips, as he gazed longingly into his too-green eyes. “I just wish we had more time.”
The Devil smiled, and chased the digit, whispering, “I missed you too,” before sucking the Angel’s thumb into his mouth.
The Angel groaned, his knees almost giving way, and then launched himself at the Devil, taking his head in both hands and devouring his mouth. Even though the Angel had the edge, being slightly taller, the Devil gave as good as he got, his fingers scrabbling at the Angel’s back, pulling him closer, their kisses biting and hard, every taste leaving them needing more.
It was the Devil who was the first to pull back, pushing his Angel away with a hand on his chest, the pair of them panting, chins raw and wet, both of them hard and aching.
The Angel tried to chase him but the Devil stepped back, a stern look in his eye, so he waited.
The Devil took hold of the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. The Angel stopped unbuttoning his own shirt and took a step forward, reached out to skim his fingers over the dragon tattoo on the left hand side of the Devil’s chest, it’s tail curling around his pierced nipple. The Angel swallowed, his voice sounding broken when he said, “That’s new.”
The Devil nervously balled up his shirt, and asked quietly, “Do you like it?”
The Angel nodded enthusiastically, and let his hand drift over to the stylized lion on the other side, then down to the snake undulating across his torso. “I love them all.”
They moved slower then, reverently undressing each other; the Devil easing the Angel’s shirt over his tanned shoulders, toeing off their shoes, unbuckling each other’s belts.
There was a hiss and groan as the Devil sank to his knees, pulling the Angel’s underwear down and letting his cock spring out. He leaned forward and licked a long, wet stripe from the base to the tip, sucking the head between his lips briefly. Nuzzling his face into the Angel’s thick dark hair, the Devil murmured, “If I could have anything, I’d want a day to taste you. Nothing else but one whole day just to taste every inch of you.”
A sound came from the Angel that sounded like a sob. “Don’t. Don’t say it. Please don’t.”
The Devil rose to his feet, and gathered the Angel in, letting him bury his face in his neck to hide his emotion. But only for a moment.
“How do you want to do this?”
The Angel pulled back and kissed him on the mouth, gentle and tender. Then he rested his forehead against the Devil’s, and whispered, “I wanna see you. See your face.”
The Devil nodded and without a word, walked to the bed and lay back, spreading his legs, and tipping his hips up to show off the bright red tail sticking out of his ass. He stroked his cock lazily as the naked Angel walked towards him, neither man taking their eyes from the others.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” the Angel breathed out, as he climbed between the Devil’s legs. “But this thing…is ridiculous.” He tugged on the tail, smirking wickedly as the Devil gasped and squirmed.
“You better get rid of it then.” The Devil almost didn’t sound like himself. Not when his Angel tugged on the tail, or when he twisted it, pulling it out a fraction and then working it back in, all the while the Devil biting at his forearm, writhing and begging for his Angel to just fucking do it!
When finally, neither of them could take it anymore, the Angel pulled the thing free, leaving the Devil gaping, and threw it to the ground with a thunk as he inched forward on his knees to position himself. He smeared the generous amount of precome that had leaked out over his head in lieu of more lube. There was still so much coming from the Devil’s hole that he didn’t think they’d need it.
And the Angel was right. As he breached him, they both groaned, and kept groaning until they were hip to hip. The Angel paused, his breath coming in short, sharp pants, and he looked his Devil in the eye, careful and strong when he said, “I love you. Don’t forget, will you? I love you–”
The Devil surged up and kissed him, desperate and wanton. “I won’t. I won’t forget, but we don’t have much time left.”
The Angel’s grin spread over his face, and he chuckled, “Like you’ll last long anyway.”
The Devil smirked, and canted his hips, making the Angel gasp. “Fuck you, Flyboy.”
“Next time. Definitely next time.”
They began to move then, choreographed moves that they’d practiced over eons, that pulled the maximum amount of pleasure from both of them, almost violent in the way they grappled and fucked into each other, unashamedly vocal and loud.
It didn’t take long for the Devil to look up, almost with fear in his eyes and stutter out, “Oh no…I’m…close…so close…Jesus fuck…I wanna see them…let me see them, please…Oh God…”
As he threw his head back, a light blasted through the room, white light almost too bright to bear, and from the Angel’s back unfurled two white wings that filled the room and shone like the sun.
When the two men climaxed together, their voices made the whole room shudder, and the ceiling cracked above them.
The Angel lay at the Devil’s side, his head on his shoulder, trailing his long fingers through the come splattered over the Devil’s chest. He smiled and said quietly, “If I could have a whole day, this is what I would do.”
The Devil pressed his stubbled cheek to his Angel’s head, and smiled into his hair. “You’d rub come into my belly?”
The Angel laughed and slapped him. “No, you moron. This…just…lying here with you.”
The Devil was quiet for a little while before tentatively asking, “But after we’ve had sex, right?”
The Angel rolled his eyes. “Duh. Of course.” He looked up and the two of them smiled at each other, counting down the moments until…
A pathetic electronic beeping sound broke the silence. The Angel laughed but there was little humor in it. “Will you please, please, get a new watch!”
The Devil slid his arm from underneath the Angel and rolled off the bed, his hand going protectively to the Casio on his wrist. “There’s nothing wrong with this one. Besides…I like that it annoys you.” He smirked down at his Angel, but the brown eyes wouldn’t meet his.
The Devil dressed in silence, neither one of them wanting to acknowledge the few moments left between them that were slipping away. The Devil was sat at the foot of the bed, tying his bootlace, when the Angel finally spoke.
“It should have been me. I should have been the one to–”
“No!” The Devil turned, anger flashing on his face. “No, we talked about his. We made the right decision. It was right that I should go.”
The Angel sat up abruptly and flung his arms around the Devil’s neck. “I can’t bear it without you…that he made us choose…”
The Devil smiled and pressed his mouth to the Angel’s naked skin. “That’s why he did it. So we’d both be in Hell.”
They held each other tight, knowing it couldn’t last, but as the Devil pulled away, the Angel half-sobbed, “Lucifer, please don’t–”
“Michael. I have to go. The veil is closing.” The Devil kissed his Angel one last time, then tore himself from his arms.
He walked slowly to the door, reluctantly taking up his discarded jacket, and sliding his arms into it. When he got to the door he paused, and asked quietly, “When you get back…can you tell Father that…?”
The Angel huffed out a laugh as he replied, “He already knows.”
He was smiling when the Devil turned to take one last look at him and for a second the Devil wondered if he could risk disobeying a second time, risk staying beyond the hour they were permitted. But instead, he soaked in the last sight of his brother, committing it to memory along with all the others, and opened the door.
“I love you too, Michael. Don’t you forget either.”
He walked out the door just as the veil opened and closed around him, saving his brother from any glimpse of the things he’d have to endure for yet another year. But he would. Always. For his Angel.
The End © Alex Jane 2015 All Rights Reserved – Artwork © Alex Jane 2015
Trademark Acknowledgements – Casio – Casio Computer Co. Ltd
© Alex Jane 2015 All Rights Reserved – Artwork © Alex Jane 2015