Page 18 of Fallen: Darkness Ascending, Vol.1

Cornelius clicks his tongue chidingly. “Aww…of course I would. I promise you can cum. Do it, go on?—”

“ Fuck you…” Cillian’s words devolve into a seconds-long snarl, then twist back into shape. “When this is over…”

The man chuckles over his nipple and bites into it with a sudden nip that leaves Cillian creaking out a pinched, pained sound as he flinches. “I want you to come for us, Cill. I do. It’s okay, dark thing—you can give in…just give into the pain, the pleasure…”

Cillian’s brows pull in with stubborn, hesitant resistance at Cornelius’s encouragement. I’ve heard him say sweet little things like that to me plenty of times, and I know how impossible it is to resist.

And if Cillian wants to not come, then by god do I want to make him.

So despite myself, I maneuver on the bed beside him until I’m laying over his thighs, still holding that knife—slowly, slightly, twisting it just a little to pull the wound open and closed—then breathe across the blood on his sack, and find a clear spot to trail my tongue along menacingly .

The creaking sound that signals a brief loss of control feels like victory .

Cornelius eggs him on more, fist slowing in a tease and then suddenly jerking back to proper rhythm.

Cillian’s body begins to tense and twitch, barely a whispering moan of pleasure at the greatest fluxes of sensation, but otherwise his breaths indicate he’s getting close.

Cornelius draws his face back, peering at Cillian from inches away as his hands trace over the man’s cheekbones in something that feels like a mockery of affection.

A knotted sort of moan chokes up his throat.

“ That’s it , dark thing, don’t resist our gifts…do as you’re told, and come for us…that’s it…come, come…come for us, Cillian…”

My tongue halts at his skin as Cornelius works the second, far larger knife from the hilt of his belt.

A pair to the slender and lithe one I hold—the one in his grip looking like a big brother to the metal in mine.

As he coaxes Cillian to cum and we feel his body start to give in, the metal drags slow and shallow but meaningful across his throat.

“That’s it…yes, yes …! Come for us, Cillian, go, go go go… god yes….”

The pain sends him over, a necklace of blood appearing in a slow crescendo paced perfectly to Cillian’s release, despite that his body shakes and goes tense.

Cornelius draws a perfect line over his throat, a masterful wielding of the weapon.

Gurgled, drowning sounds and the coughing of blood are the only sounds that come from Cillian’s mouth as his cock kicks into the fist and blade driving him to orgasm, the splash of hot white spraying over his stomach and the plane of muscle beneath his chest.

Cornelius makes a lewd sound of want before sighing a moan across Cillian’s throat and tonguing up the blood there.

Cillian chokes and coughs, stomach jolting as his cock drools a few more trails of cum, blood flecking up onto his own face and dripping at the corners of his mouth.

I put a hand to the cock and hold it down—enough to hurt—before yanking the knife out in a sharp, somewhat sideways jerk.

The man writhes softly under the sensation of it, gagging more earnestly on his own blood as Cornelius palms and claws at his leaking throat, kissing, moaning, biting, and drinking up the blood like an animal.

I…don’t think I’ve ever seen him in any state other than complete, utter, control and confidence. It’s a little frightening to watch how much he enjoys eating up the other man’s blood.

Cillian drags a hand through Cornelius’s brown curls, and for a bit I can’t tell if he’s holding the man at his throat, or trying to pull him away.

Maybe both, for a little while. But then the tug is firm and insistent, and he drags Cornelius’s mouth to the gutter of muscle between his ribs, and forces his face to blend the crimson of those lips with the white of his spilled seed.

Cornelius simply laughs into the puddles, tongue reaching out wide to spoon up the thick slop and suck it up into his mouth.

Cillian keeps his hold rough on the man’s head, pulling and jerking him along as he gets cleaned up.

While holding him, the other arm reaches out and extends.

His fingers unfurl, reaching almost elegantly off the end of the bed.

It almost looks like famous Creation Of Adam painting—until an unsettling, physical shadow is what reaches out in return.

The shadows carry the golden mask off the nightstand, cradling it forward into their master’s hand, and Cillian tucks his fingers around it to take a soft hold.

I feel myself shrinking and recoiling out of instinct as the mask is lifted up and settled out across his face. The shadows from the underside of that glinting gold strike out across his body and bleed black onto his skin, demihuman form settling into place.

The cock is larger, now. An inch, both length and girth, that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Phantasmus takes over him, sighing in a comfortable relief. His voice always sounds like bubbling, boiling lava, and that’s doubly true now that his throat and mouth are coated in thick blood. “Did you have fun ? Making a demon pay for his sins?”

His hand clenches at Cornelius’s hair before pulling him away and leaving him to stumble on his feet, chuckling and wiping the white-red mess of his mouth. “I absolutely did,” Cornelius says thought a breathy laugh.

The mask tilts down to look at me—finding I’m slipping off the other edge of the bed, holding the bedpost, swallowing, standing apprehensively.

He’s far, far less expressive and vocal in this form than as than Cillian, but the littlest flick of a smile on his dark lips tells me he likes to see me cower.

“Your turn now, sweet little lamb…”

There’s absolutely no stopping the shriek in me when he lunges up and forward in the blinking of an eye, rough hands at my hips and tackling me to the ground—where the floorboards break away like ancient cobwebs and we sink down, down, down into the dark.

This time they aren’t lined with barbed wire, and when we splash into the weightlessness of nothing, he’s let me keep my senses, my awareness, even my body.

I see nothing else in the pocket of hellish black other than my own form, and his—fully demonic, fully fanged, wings wide, cock sculpted, ridged, and leaking a clear trail of pre-cum.

Cornelius’s white hair and feathers are almost blinding, here. We each float, unbound by physical restraints, bubbles of boiling water softly tripping upward, crashing over my back, tickling up, and drifting in the nothing to softly rustle the black and white feathers above me.

His unholy gaze rakes over my form, and Cornelius purrs when he says, “Mmm…his holiness truly made a marvel of you, Hope…So beautiful. So perfect. Every curve, every…crevice.” His mouth brushes my ear to whisper the word in a squeaking moan as his hand splays across my skin and courses down to cup me in his palm, one finger dipping forward to tease over my clit and then sink just barely into my entrance as I breathe out.

A movement in the darkness—Phantasmus, leaning, drifting in the void to circle around me. I can’t help but stiffen, the faint pleasure of Cornelius’s hand put on pause as my system worried about where the demon is going, and what he’s doing.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” Cornelius reaches to my face, stroking his fingertips over my cheek and settling in behind the turn of my ear.

He doesn’t draw my energy, my soul—at least not yet.

“Phantasmus got to eat you all up last time; this one’s mine.

It’ll be just like it’s always been, hmm? And god has it been so long…”

My lips part and droop out a faint moan as his hips draw back, then forward to sluice beneath his own hand and through my folds.

He breathes and mumbles little expletives across my lips as he slowly thrusts, not entering, just gliding along my slowly wettening skin.

I feel a faint rush of cold descend along my back, brushing between my thighs, and a forked tongue begins to lick around Cornelius’s shaft to reach at my anatomy and tease it.

My hips flinch and twist—clawed hands grabbing my love-handles and biting into the skin to hold me in place, each prick of his talons a tiny little punishment for trying to get away.

The eerily cold mouth of Phantasmus claims and suckles against me at each withdraw of Cornelius’s unholy cock, forced to settle for frenzied licking and flicking of that long tongue on my clit when the thick shaft gets in the way of my entrance.

My hands scramble softly, searching around Cornelius’s lean body, until I find the root of his wing and wrap my palm around the downy feathers there as an anchor.

His breath drips out of him in a shiver.

“… Fuck , little lamb, I can’t hold back anymore—I need you.

I need you…” He nuzzles his cheek against mine, then draws back until our foreheads touch and our gazes peer into one another.

The gleam in his ey e is desperate, hungry, the slightest tinge of danger beneath them.

“Will you give in to me? Will you let me have you, body and soul?”

I swallow, breath stuttering a little at Phantasmus’s moaning, devouring mouth on our grinding bodies.

The jerking little nod of my head makes Cornelius grin, melt, and snarl in a delighted chuckle. “That’s my little angel.”