I do not own the rights to Angel Sanctuary or to its characters.
Who has ever taken the Lord of Heaven the way he wants to be taken? Who has ever hurt Lord Rosiel – Can you hurt Lord Rosiel? Is his body capable of feeling pain? But he looks at Katan with bright, eager eyes, and says "hurt me", and Katan – God help him – he has to try.
There's no point asking why – He tried that one time. It earned him a blow for his presumption and, more importantly, it was a week before Lord Rosiel came back to his bed. "Hurt me," he's smaller, younger looking than before, but he's the same Lord Rosiel. His face is still delicate and perfect; his hair still falls in the bright ripples that were the first thing Katan saw after he gave him his body. And he looks at his creation with hungry eyes and he says "hurt me, drive the knife in deep. If I have to tell you again, it'll be the worse for you." He rips away his shirt, bares his pale, blue-veined chest.
No matter how often they've done it, it hurts every time. "Lord Rosiel, please," Katan's eyes are downcast. He doesn't want to look, doesn't want to see – What is he afraid of looking at?
Maybe it's just the eagerness on his lord's face. A slender, be-ringed hand catches him across one cheek. "Insolent!" Rosiel's voice isn't loud, but it's shrill, tense, "you dare tell me what you will or will not do?" Another blow sets Katan's ears ringing.
"Please, Lord Rosiel," he brings the knife up in a trembling hand – He is the most loyal of the High Angel's servants, he always obeys his master's orders. …But when those orders tell him to destroy? The knife is poised – Before Katan knows whether he can bring himself to hurt his lord this time, Rosiel's hand's closed around his own wrist. He pulls the knife in, slashes viciously at his own chest.
Then he laughs. He drives the knife in again and again; he keeps on laughing the while. It's an angry, desperate sound, and it hurts Katan's as much as it hurts him to watch his master's blood pouring out. Blood spatters both their faces. It soaks their clothes, soaks the bedding underneath them. "Now fuck me," Rosiel commands, pulling the cherub down with him. Down onto the blood-soaked bed, down with Lord Rosiel's blood wetting him, growing sticky against his bare skin. Rosiel pulls him into position and uses him as a puppet. Does he care that Katan doesn't want this? Does he really even want it himself? "Fuck me," he says in his shrill voice, "fuck me hard. I want to feel you inside me." He spreads red-spattered legs for his servant's entry, he takes him fast and hard, as fast and hard as Katan can manage, while the wounds on his chest are already closing and becoming invisible.
And he doesn't come, but Katan does and, when he has, Lord Rosiel falls back panting as if it was his own climax. Silver curls pillowed against the red of his own blood, he stares upward and the smile on his face looks almost relieved. Katan thinks he knows what he's thinking. He thinks his master likes it when he can make one of his servants go against his own will. He hates it that he's come to obey so mindlessly, he, who hasn't yet lost his will to Lord Rosiel's cursed chip.
But cherubs can't read the minds of High Angels. Lord Rosiel, who can feel pain – some – is thinking what he always thinks when he can come close to death. He's thinking that his body is mortal. Somewhere, somehow, there can be an end to the pain he endures.