The Devil's Own

by BrinaCatherwood

Undertaker is in a relationship with Ash but what happens when Ash's devilish child; the devil himself, tries to seduce our favorite silver reaper. I might continue this, depending on reviews. My friend wrote Sebastian's bits and I wrote Unny's and edited. Thanks for reading!

Ravenous slates messily framed a pale face, wine optics darting back to his 'father'. "I want something, Father."

Undertaker's own sterling silver locks moved aside enough to reveal one startlingly lime-forest green eye. The bands of color forming a hypnotic mix. "Oh? Annnnd what might that be?"

The Devil stuck wet muscle out, revealing a ball upon a pink tongue, a piercing. Blood pools became one with said hypnotic orbs as pale, velvet lips spoke in a whisper. "Forgive me, Father; for I have sinned."

"My dear boy. Blackest raven. Guard-dog of the Queen's watchdog. Devil. Demon. There is no forgiving you, so how can you sin?" The tricky funeral director smirked with his own pale lips and his hand moved up to the demon's collar and a long spidery digit hooked around the English fabric, yanking the young demon up to his level of view. "You can't sin, if there's no chance you'll ever be forgiven. Forgive me, if I sound cruel."

"Isn't that the delicious humor you crave? Sins dance amongst the tongue of sinners, of demons, devils. We crave for the taste and fulfillment of our very curiosities." Said English fabric was tugged haughtily, velvet lips tempting to brush amongst the silver haired male, the elder. White pearls revealed a smirk full of sin, deviousness. Crimsons held curiosity. "Kiss me, Father. I want your taste in my mouth."

"You really do know how to cater to my tastes. My curiosity is getting the better of me. What is sin to a divine being such as myself? Sin is for petty humans and their folly." His long nails dragged across the demon's pale, flawless marble of skin. "What a pretty boy you are. Humor me." And his lips devoured the devil's own.

The Devil's lips had been reclaimed by none other than the king of Death. Crimson pools bid ado to Earth's cooing moon as stars crowded, eyes shining as diamonds enveloped amongst the bluest of skies. A pale, slender digit cut off a seemingly steamed kiss as lips parted way, a hitch of breath crowding at tempted lips. "Humans are pathetic. They break at if their bones, their structures, are made of nothing but glue and toothpicks. Tell me, Undertaker: How does your son taste? Of sin? The poison of vulgarity?"

"A reaper, a devil, and an angel. Life does not cease to amuse me with its eccentrics." After the breaking of the kiss, a mean gleam had begun to surface in the silver reaper's holy eyes. The gleam of lust as the poisonous green of his orbs flashed. "That delicacy intrigues you. It's what makes those pathetic humans such easy prey. As to the taste of my son; he tastes of souls. Lost souls and the cold but sweet bloom of death. Fiery but extinguished, in all its exquisite glory."