Page 8 of Meant to Burn

T he room is bathed in darkness as I stand next to the bed where Elijah’s slumbering form lies peacefully, only the soft light of the moon slipping in through the blinds.

His brows are furrowed even in sleep, and I want to smooth out the line between them and reassure him.

I won’t though. That’s not why I’m here.

He called to me earlier. I heard him, and I always answer his pleas.

So here I am, standing in my human form, stark naked and ready to climb into his bed and make him mine once more.

He stirs, arm outstretched and resting above his head, and I take one last look at him before pulling back the covers.

There, next to him, is his underwear on the bed.

He must have taken it off in his sleep, and that does something to my insides that I refuse to explore at the moment.

I want to ruin his carefully crafted facade—that’s the only thing I want to focus on right now.

Maybe it’s cruel of me to want to do that to someone clearly struggling with his sexuality, but I never claimed to be good.

I want him to admit it to himself, to me.

That he can’t get enough of this. That he wants this. Wants me .

Climbing into bed, I carefully straddle his hips and rest my knees on the bed.

Then I lower myself onto his naked cock and grind my hole against him slowly.

Intense pleasure wraps itself around my limbs, and I shudder.

I feel him growing hard under me, and a little whimper escapes his lips.

It makes my cock rock hard, and my nostrils flare as I grind a little harder.

His hands fly up to my hips, fingers digging into my flesh roughly until I’m sure my skin will be bruised later.

He lifts his hips and thrusts against me, and when the head of his cock pokes my hole, his eyes flutter open.

Elijah’s eyes widen upon seeing me, and I’m trying to decipher everything behind his gaze as if it’s Morse code.

I see heat. Lust. Relief. But I also see fear.

Fear that it’s real.

Fear that it’s not.

His eyes slam shut, and he shakes his head, reciting scripture at a pace that is barely comprehensible, begging for God to save him. I grind my ass harder on his cock, rubbing my hole against the head, and little puffs of air escape his lips as he tries to stifle his moans but is unable to.

I smirk. “God’s not here to save you, Little Lamb.” His eyes open once more at my words, and I circle my hips. He bites his bottom lip. “I am.”

Elijah shakes his head quickly as if trying to clear it. “I cast you out. In the name of God?—”

I chuckle lowly. “Oh, spare me your false words, Beloved. Your heart is beating louder than your prayers. I can practically taste the desire thrumming through your veins.”

“Please leave,” he whispers. “This place is holy.”

I laugh low and slow, and he shivers. “Is it? You dream of me, Elijah. Every time you touch yourself in the dark, it’s my name in the back of your throat.”

“That’s a lie,” he says gruffly, tensing. “I would never?—”

“Lie to God if you have to, but don’t insult me,” I snarl. “I know what lives behind your eyes when you close them at night. Me .”

Elijah is silent.

“If you could take what you want, no guilt, no penance, no witness. Would you take it, Little Lamb?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers, barely audible.

“You do,” I affirm. “You don’t want salvation, Elijah. You want to feel something,” I whisper back, leaning in. I want to expose him, peel back his flesh and take a long, hard look. “I know you ache deep down. For something warm. Something real. You ache for me .”

“This isn’t who I am.”

“Isn’t it?” I taunt. “Your body betrays your prayers, Beloved. If you’re not careful, God will see your deceit.”

I shift my face and bite his neck, then lick a trail down to his chest, lapping at the sweat droplets there.

It feels like a million degrees in this room, and our hot bodies pressed together is driving me out of my mind.

I shift my hips and thrust my cock against his abs, and his long fingers dig into me once more.

His chest is heaving as pants escape his lips in rapid succession, and I take his nipple between my lips and suck hard, then tug with my teeth. Elijah groans, hands flying to the back of my head and holding me in place, all but begging me to keep going. To never stop.

My suspicions are confirmed when he whimpers and says, “D-don’t stop.” His voice breaks. “P-p-please.”

I let go of his nipple, face buried in his chest. “Please, Azriel.” I kiss his warm skin. “Say it. Say my name,” I tell him softly.

“P-please, Azriel,” he pleads, not even hesitating.

“What do you want?” I smirk, and he lets go of my head. I lift my hips and grab his hard cock in my hand, pressing it to mine and wrapping my hand around both of us. We’re both leaking pre-cum, and it’s an easy glide when I grip him hard and shift my hand to jerk us both. “Name it and it’s yours.”

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“Say it, Elijah. Whisper it if you must.” I press my forehead to his, my lips brushing against his bottom one. “Admit what you crave. Do it for you .”

“I don’t want this.”

“Yes, you do,” I whisper, biting his bottom lip and jerking us slowly. “You’re just afraid it’ll feel like heaven.”

Elijah moans, and my fist tightens around us as I go faster.

Our chests are heaving in unison, and I can hear our quickening breaths, soft pants echoing in the silence of the room.

Gasps and groans begin to escape him as I bite his jaw, then lick the skin lined with stubble.

My hand trails down his chest until I reach his pec, and I squeeze.

His hips lift into my grip, and he begins to rock into my fist. With mouth wide open, I watch as his eyes open and focus on mine, pupils blown out as he watches me.

My fingers pinch his nipple, and he whimpers, coating my hand in more pre-cum.

He’s practically convulsing from pleasure, letting me worship him thoroughly.

“Yes, Elijah,” I moan. “Say how much you love this. You feel the pull beneath your ribs, don’t you?

The thread that tightens every time I breathe against your lips.

” I lean in close to his face until we’re sharing breath, then bite his bottom lip and pull.

He gasps. “You’re unraveling for me—one whispered promise at a time. ”

“What do you promise me?” he moans, thrusting his cock into my fist again and again. He’s feral now, unable to control himself. “Tell me,” he says through gritted teeth as he begins to tremble.

“Rapture,” I growl. “Freedom.”

I crash my lips to his as his cock begins to throb in my grip. It pulses as he comes, and for a split second, right before I thrust my tongue into his eager mouth, he gasps my name.

“ Azriel .”

I moan as his cum drenches my cock, making my hand slippery and wet.

It feels divine, and it makes me think about what it would feel like to be in his ass.

Surely it would break me, completely obliterate my mind.

Because once I do it, I know I won’t be able to stop myself from taking him again and again and again.

I hum as I feel the familiar tingling at the base of my spine, the delicious way my balls draw up until I can’t breathe.

Elijah chooses this moment to suck on my tongue, and my stomach flips as I tense.

He mewls against my lips as my cock throbs against his, and I feel him soften against me.

But I don’t let go, and when I come, I growl his name against his hot mouth.

His heavy breaths and whimpering feel forbidden in the darkness with his head thrown back in pleasure, making him look more angelic than I’ve ever been.

Elijah is saintly, and I’m meant to ruin him.

His eyes flutter open and look into mine, and his hands reach up and roam over my shoulders, drifting down to my back.

They trace the scars where my wings should be, and his lips part when I shudder.

But he doesn’t stop; instead, his hands keep descending until they reach the dimples above my ass.

His thumbs dip into them, and his lips quiver.

He’s touching me, allowing himself to explore my body momentarily.

His hands grip my hips again, squeezing once, then shifting to my ass.

He kneads my cheeks in his hands, pulling them apart, then dipping his finger down my crease until he’s touching my hole.

My lips part at his audacity, but I don’t stop him.

I also don’t stop the breathy moan that escapes me, though I do think I need to control the little flutter in my stomach that happens when he looks at me like this. Like I’m the center of his universe.

“Do you want me there?” he asks in a whisper, and I nod once, leaning forward to invite him in. I don’t even care that his fingers are dry. I want him that badly. “Will you let me in it?”

“Yes,” I groan when he taps against my rim. “Two fingers.”

I can feel my cock thickening again, and when he brings his fingers to my mouth and pushes them between my lips, I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.

But not in a bad way. No—this is so much worse.

Because I can’t get enough of him, and this side of him that he doesn’t show anyone else, that only I get to witness, is going to drive me absolutely wild.

Elijah presses down on my tongue and shoves his digits to the back of my throat, but I don’t gag. He pulls them back slightly, and I clamp my lips over him, gathering saliva and letting it coat his fingers. When he pulls them all the way out, they’re absolutely dripping.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Put them in my ass, Eli. I swear you’ll want to live in it from now on.”

“And what happens if I do?” His voice trembles as he asks, his fingers nudging my entrance once more.

“I might just let you,” I reply, gasping at the invasion of his fingers pressing against me, entering me roughly.