AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is long, just saying that right off the bat. It's about 3 AM here and I just got done re-reading it for about the 10th time. I hope I've caught most of my mistakes and given you something to enjoy that is worth the read. I know it's been a couple weeks since my last update. Some chapter come fast and some come slowly… and considering coming…
WARNING WARNING WARNING: This chapter contains mature sexual content. This chapter is the first chapter which gives the REASON behind the 'M' rating. If you cannot handle it, please please don't read it. You can safely go onto the next chapter and not lose a whole lot of plot… some, but nothing that won't be reestablished later in the story. Specifically with this chapter's mature content, there is guy on guy action, there is violence, and there is rape. Seriously, if you can't stomach it, please don't read it.
Commodities: Chapter 10
Sebastian held his hand around the doorknob for several minutes, hoping that Grell had enough sense to submit to whatever Skoll wanted. Each moment seemed like an eternity ticking away the silence. He knew that if the shinigami opened the door, he would have to drag him back. Helping him escape was out of the question.
Sending the innocent reaper to a torturous slaughter was something he knew all too much about, but it was a necessary evil. In Grell's case, however, he wouldn't actually be killed by it. Though his crime was no longer victimless, the means were nothing more than a footnote to the end. He wanted to feel guilty but just couldn't make his heart bleed for Grell. As the only one who agreed to help him he knew the risks, didn't he?
Leaning back against the door gingerly he tried to quell the squall of uncertainty with himself. The reality was that Grell had no idea that something like this could happen, Sebastian wasn't sure that he had realized it either. Not before it was way too late to turn back. It wasn't Grell's well being that brought on the uncomfortable lurch in his stomach, but the much sharper pang of losing face. Skoll had taken the reaper so easily, and in many ways had done so publicly. What was he supposed to do?
He kept his arm tense a few moments longer, but when there was no turn, no pull, no sound beyond, he relaxed his grip. In quiet contemplation he listened, straining to hear any sound beyond that would give him a clue to what was happening within. The one thing he could not allow was Grell's death, and he didn't trust Skoll to play nicely. Despite that, he reminded himself that there wasn't anything he could do. As the less refined man would say, he really fucked up.
Faintly through the heavy wooden door, he heard the soft murmur of voices. The confident growling tenor of Skoll taking turns with the much lighter trill of Grell. It was like listening to birds at dawn, with eyes closed against the encroaching light there was sound, but no meaning. This was the same. Their conversation went back and forth like a staccato song, but the lyrics were faded from his page. Still, the idea of a dialogue between them eased Sebastian's mind somewhat.
With a loud thump, the door shook at his back. That was more like what he expected. Grell's muffled yell followed by the sound of fabric dragging downward across the wood marked the beginning of Skoll's attack. Dry scuffling and successive bumps against the door followed. Sebastian closed his eyes against the dull twinge of pleasure shivered through his body, bringing a prickly numbness to the tips of his fingers. The idea of Grell fraught against Skoll, the knowledge that he could have been the one to take such advantage, knowing that Grell would have received him much differently, made him envious despite his aversions.
He pushed his bangs back with a nervous hand, embarrassed that his mind wandered there so easily. Still, his mind continued to whisper that there was nothing to stop him from having his turn when it was over. He fought back the ugly little smile turning up the corners of his lips. He was a lot more like his brethren than he liked to think; A real bastard at heart.
He held his breath, listening for what would come next. He didn't know if he listened to make sure Grell was alive, or if his twisted arousal at the first indication of a struggle kept him there. After a moment, all he heard was the rhythm of his heart, fast and loud in his ears. He was almost disappointed. He let his breath out slowly, trying to turn his attention to something else. It would look bad if he went back into Skoll's room. He had lost enough face for one night. To turn around and participate now was unthinkable. It was just plain desperate. Never mind that he would most likely be asked to leave anyhow.
A thin wave of nausea swept through him, hot on the heels of his pleasure. Had Skoll just cut to the end and killed the reaper? It would be the ultimate insult to Sebastian and make a very clear statement about what the demon did with uninvited company… as well as to those who left his pack and then tried to return to ask for favors. What he was ever thinking by coming here was a mistake. But it was beyond too late. He decided it would be best if he left, rather than guess at what was happening just beyond the door. Either Grell was dead, or he wasn't. He would wait till morning to find out.
As he made his way down the dark hall, he heard Stella at his back, "Did you lose something, Shadow?"
Her cackle followed him down the corridor like hooves against cobbled streets, hollow and grim. He was much stronger than she, but he could do nothing but keep walking. One measured step in front of the other, each one putting just a little more distance between him and his latest mistake.
The answer to Stella's question was yes, of course. Though he doubted she would understand much about it. She was a perfect fit for this place, for the lifestyle. She could be brash and fierce and wild within the confines of Skoll's kingdom. She could fill herself endlessly with the souls Skoll provided and be rewarded for her gluttony with his attention. The Death Ministry would have put a swift end to her if she tried to hunt in London, but in the mountains she called home, Skoll was king. The Ministry, perhaps wisely, chose to forget about the high hamlets where souls were simply snuffed out.
When he returned he would collect Grell, who he hoped would be alive at that point, and leave this literally god-forsaken place behind him once more. It was just another chapter he wanted to forget, wash away with the blood of the future. He would welcome a new contract and a new start; one where the only debts on the books were those owed to him. He would never, ever let this sort of vulnerability come to light again. He would wear the mask he so diligently showed Ciel day after day, for eternity.
Picking up his pace, Sebastian turned the corner at the far end of the hall. The air felt leaden as he breathed, suffocating him with anger. Rather than empower him, the way anger often did with human beings, it made him feel even less himself. He felt weak and out of control. It was not a sensation he was fond of. He fought it back, pivoting on heel to face the closest window. Stepping back till his fingertips touched the far wall he got a short running start, leaping through the arched stone casement, into the night. As he fell toward the courtyard below, wind rushing icily past his face, he wanted the anger to fall away, left behind. The stony ground beneath his shoes replied a gravely no, he could not leave his feelings at the door. He could not outrun himself.
Grell lay motionless on the bed, staring fixedly at the thick canopy of drapes above. The smell of blood, his own blood, locked him with the agonizing fear of impending death. He could feel it drying on his face, in his hair, on his shirt. The splashing color he loved so much, turned against him in a sick twist of fate. How could Sebastian do this to him? How could he just leave him behind after promising him- but he hadn't actually promised him anything, had he? He had said if Grell was 'useful', then he would get what he wanted. Not that it had been discussed thoroughly. He had been so stupid.
He flexed the finger on his right hand experimentally, feeling the uncomfortable tackiness of his cooling blood soaking the glove completely. Pain laced down his arm in a powerful shudder, running through his shoulder before settling in tempo with his anxious heartbeat. The long, thin blade which had been driven into his palm minutes before pinned his arm above his head absolutely, sending a very clear message that Skoll did not want to play a game of chase with the reaper.
He quivered as each heartbeat brought a new trill of pain. It had happened so quickly and with such simple resolution that it had taken a moment for Grell to register what happened. Skoll had been using the knife on him, cutting thin trails through his shirt, across his chest and belly with mild interest. It wasn't until Grell tried to get up that Skoll grabbed his wrist and plunged it through his hand and into the mattress.
His other arm lay wisely beside its pinned brother, uninjured and wishing to remain so. He just hoped the demon lord didn't plan to repeat his violence without provocation. The stinging song of pain trailed over him as a very slight draft found its way into the room. The candles flickered lowly, nearly leaving the room in complete darkness before glowing back to life. Grell would do the same, ember himself to nothing and return to himself when it was over. At least, that is what he told himself to do. Regrettably, he was terrible at following directions, even his own.
He felt a hand on his ankle and flinched without thinking, adrenaline icing through his veins like quicksilver. The hand tightened in warning, pulling his leg back into position. It unlaced one shoe, unhurried and unconcerned, before repeating with the other. Grell heard them hit the floor at the foot of the bed and bit back a sob. He didn't understand how Sebastian could just let this happen to him. He had agreed to help him even though it jeopardized his job and most likely his life. He had come all the way to Romania on payment of a kiss with the promise of more to follow, only to find himself abandoned to the dark. No matter how many times he ran it through his mind, the truth was always the same.
"What are you thinking?" Skoll asked, walking round to sit on the edge of the bed. His accent was much thicker now that Sebastian was gone, heavy and robust like the unforgiving landscape in which he lived. In another time, another life, Grell would have found his voice alluring. But with the fresh pain of desertion cutting deeply through his heart, it sounded like rot.
Two tears rolled hotly down the sides of Grell's face as he tried to keep his gaze upward. He didn't want to look at the demon beside him. Another sob welled in his chest and wretched itself free; So much for silence. He closed his eyes, more tears finding their way free. He could feel them trickling down to his ears and falling into his hair, warm as they struck, cold an instant later. It wasn't just a few tears anymore, he was crying openly, wretched and afraid.
Skoll's fingers traced along the redhead's face, starting at the hairline and touching along his features ever so lightly. His middle finger caressed the peak of Grell's thin, straight nose while the other digits wandered silently over the arch of his brow and eyes, dragging through the wet trails on his cheeks before settling firmly on his delicate jaw. The demon lord pressured the reaper to tilt his head, so that when he opened his eyes he would have no choice but to look at him, "I asked what you were thinking. Won't you tell me?"
The demon lord's thumb pressed against Grell's lips, dragging back and forth over the pouty flesh possessively. He cocked his head slightly as he pulled Grell's lower lip down, revealing the tightly clenched teeth beneath. The dangerous points gleamed even in the low light and Skoll took the opportunity to run a finger from his opposite hand over them, "I have not seen teeth these on a reaper," he said, hunching forward to bring Grell's mouth against his own in a selfish kiss. "But then, I haven't had much opportunity to be this close, either."
The door opened with a soft click as Stella let herself in, eyeing Grell hungrily as she pushed it closed. She sauntered up behind Skoll, wrapping her arms loosely around his shoulders with comfortable familiarity, "Shadow is gone."
"Does that bother you, reaper?" Skoll asked knowingly, "To know your friend has traded your trust to meet his own needs?" He paused, tilting Grell's head from side to side slowly, "Is that what you're thinking about?"
"Are you going to share this one?", Stella asked innocently, "I've had my eye on him all night."
Skoll smiled as he turned to give her a peck on the cheek, "When I'm done, perhaps. You can't kill him though."
"If I can't kill him, may I watch?" she asked almost innocently, "I want to watch what you do."
"Why would you want to do that?" Skoll asked with a smirk.
"He's pretty," she said simply, "So much more interesting than a human."
"Sometimes I think you're turning out like Shadow," Skoll said coldly, "Bored with your food more and more."
Stella frowned, disentangling herself as she straightened. She was nothing like Shadow and resenting that Skoll would dare liken her to him. It wasn't like she was even going to be allowed the reaper's soul. Watching barely counted towards her hunger, a mere distraction.
With a terse, 'hmph' she grabbed the knife handle and jerked it free, satisfied when Grell arched against the bed, mouth wide in a silent scream. The jagged points of his teeth shone dangerously, but they were false weapons. Or rather, weapons he wouldn't think to use. He was too afraid of what would happen if he tried.
"I'll go tell the clan to not interrupt you," she said, licking the side of the blade with a light flick of her tongue before dropping it carelessly on the bed. "But I want to watch."
"Then hurry back. I'm feeling impatient."
Grell opened his eyes a little, watching Stella slip out of the room once more as she grinned from ear to ear. His eyes already stung from his own tears and with a couple short blinks he realized he was about to start crying again. He could see Skoll above him, hovering, as if he was a hawk ready to strike. His smile was reminiscent of his own toothy grin in its Cheshire glint, sharpened canines predatory.
Clothes fell away quickly, almost seeming to melt in the dark. Whatever did not slip off easily was torn and discarded. Grell could feel the small white buttons of his shirt pop off, pinging across the bed. The final one shot up from his collar, hitting just below his chin. He tried to calm himself, to not react, but it was so difficult. When Skoll unbuttoned his slacks and began dragging them downward, Grell sat up sharply, grabbing at his pants, "No! Stop it! Leave-"
The backhanded slap hit Grell with enough force to black his vision. It sent him reeling back towards the bed, driven even harder by the heavy hand which shot out to grab a fistful of his scarlet hair. Skoll threw Grell's head into the bed, making Grell gasp against the thick blankets, neck twisting at a hazardous angle. Each word that followed was punctuated by a forceful shove, "Do- Not- Test- My- Patience-"
"I'm sorry," Grell cried, voice muffled against the bed, "I didn't mean it, I just- I'm so sorry."
As much as the apology was meant to appease the demon hovering over his prone body, it was an apology to himself, "I'm sorry," he whined again. He had been so stupid. It was also an apology to Will, who he now realized was going to know, either by the delivery of his dead body or showing back to work with his crippled hand. Will, who would be humiliated at the Ministry because of him, again. Why hadn't he really considered what would happen?
Grell felt like he was playing Angelina's butler again, apologizing endlessly while vainly taking solace in his thoughts of suicide. It had been so contrary to his nature and had given him the most amazing high, pulling off the act so flawlessly. The difference now was that it wasn't an act. He was himself and the creeping idea of a way out was becoming more and more appealing. There was no thrill in it, only the ache of loneliness and betrayal.
As Skoll's grip on his hair loosened, the shinigami raised himself up on his undamaged arm. He looked at Skoll timidly, frightened by the ferocity that glowed like foxfire in his eyes. He brought his injured hand up to dab beneath his nose, using the back of his wrist gingerly. As he feared it came back slick with blood. Touching lower, he realized his lip was split at both the center and corner of his mouth. Grell looked at his mangled hand, watching the dark blood flow down his arm in a thick trail. Red, his favorite color, turned so easily against him, used to paint the pain across his flesh. For the first time in his life, the hue was not on his side. It was… horrible.
Grell watched in horror as Stella reentered the room, cruel grin still painted across her face. With a confident saunter she walked over to a plush armchair against the wall and reclined, flipping one leg over the other boldly. Was she actually going to watch this?
"Welcome back, Stella," Skoll purred, sliding Grell's pants off in two strong tugs.
"I see we're making progress," she replied, keeping her gaze on Grell's face. "I had hoped I didn't miss all the fun."
Skoll moved between Grell's slender legs, running his hands up the soft, pliant thighs on either side of him. He marveled at their smoothness, remarking inwardly that if he didn't have the absolute proof of Grell's gender in plain sight, he would swear the man was actually a woman. His hands traveled up farther, ignoring the reaper's soft member in favor of the tight grooves where legs met body. He lingered there, cupping his hands around the Grell's hips as he dug his thumbs into those grooves, testing the grip. Grell's heart beat frantically as the grip tightened, pulling upward just slightly in a mock thrust. He didn't want to think about where the activities would go from there, but his thoughts betrayed him at each protest.
Grell's body felt exquisitely warm wherever he touched and Skoll took his time in wandering. The demon trailed his fingers along the flat of Grell's belly, tracing along the dip of his navel before moving over the bony rise of his ribcage. If Shadow didn't need him so badly, Skoll knew there would be no stopping his hunger. As it was, the intense arousal burning through him was only partially sexual. The rest was raw hunger, eager to tear the death god to pieces and savor his death with the fine wine that was his soul. It was almost painful knowing that this one would leave alive.
Skoll smiled despite himself. There would be time to hunt this one after Shadow's debt had been paid to the witch. A life of immortality taught one nothing, except patience. Still, it was a shame.
Grell let his arm fold beneath him as Skoll moved up his body, pressing his naked body into the bed as he caught Grell's bloody lower lip with his teeth. His bite was gentle, but the pressure of his mouth built as Skoll coerced Grell's mouth to his own with his tongue.
Grell did not deny or help the kiss along, keeping his jaw relaxed to allow Skoll to do as he pleased. The demon's mouth moved with practiced ease over his own, giving him attention not unlike a lover, caressing his tongue and tracing the inner recesses of his mouth with much more delicacy than Grell had expected after their violent beginning.
Just as Grell's mouth tilted to return the kiss, tongue answering the call of the other inside his mouth, a resigned acquiescence to his fate, Skoll pulled back. A filament thin string of saliva hovered between them like spider thread before breaking under its own weight. The wet strand fell to Grell's chin, where Skoll brushed it away with his thumb, "Slut," he murmured, chuckling before he went in for another kiss.
The red heat of shame rose as Skoll feasted upon his injured lips, pushing his body down as he seated himself more securely between Grell's thighs, pressing his arousal against Grell's nakedness. He didn't know whether to kiss him back again or go back to playing the unmoved doll. It wasn't that he wanted any of this, he just figured that if he played along maybe… maybe…
Skoll turned Grell's head to the side roughly with his cheek, nuzzling him possessively before catching the man's earlobe with his teeth sharply. He held firm as the redhead winced beneath him, drawing one leg closer to his body as his hand reached towards the pain. It stopped short, wary of punishment.
"Are you still afraid?" he asked quietly, mouthing his way down Grell's neck before nipping Grell's winged collar bone, "Because you should be."
"Y-yes," Grell replied breathlessly. His wounds hurt, but Skoll's ministrations were feeling less and less frightening. Still, the fear was searing. The word tasted sour on his tongue though, the word which he had given Sebastian, that led him to this place, led to his betrayal. Tears welled once more, breaking free almost immediately to run freely across his face. He was back to square one, thinking about Sebastian, about how he used him and there was no preventing the inevitable. Now added was the weight of being called a slut; He wasn't a slut. He was already deeply ashamed for returning the kiss, even a little. He crossed his arms up over his chest and balled his hands into delicate fists. The cuts on his chest stung, and his hand was screaming in fiery pain. The only thing worse was the stabbing pain in his heart, pulsing over and over in perfect tempo with his despair. He drew his legs up, trying to bring them together uselessly.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Skoll growled, resituating himself against the redhead as he roughly pulled Grell's legs apart by his knees, "Enough self pity already. It's no longer interesting."
From behind tear laden lashes, Grell looked up at Skoll fearfully. He watched the demon spit into his hand, fairly certain he knew what Skoll was going to do next, "Please don't do this to me," Grell whined, trying again to close his legs against the assault from the man above him.
Skoll moved to his cock, running his hand over its erect length generously. As he coated himself with saliva, he stifled a heady moan, holding his breath before letting out in a rough sigh. Skoll's wolfish eyes shone bright in the dark as he jostled the redhead onto his belly, lifting his hips forcefully as he raised himself onto his knees.
Grell felt his muscles begin to quiver in cold anticipation of what was to come. The demon's hands wandered the small of his back, reaching to find purchase with his hips at this new impersonal angle before sliding back over his narrow, girlish behind. Grell closed his eyes tightly as he felt him touch two fingers to his entrance, stroking the delicate pink hole before pressing in.
Grell faltered against the bed, lurching away from the touch only to find himself tangled in his own hair. He couldn't raise his head enough to move, "Please," he pleaded earnestly, "I don't think I can do this."
Skoll smirked, leaning over Grell's back far enough to get his fingers into the redhead's mouth, "Sure you can, now suck them. And don't bite me."
Grell whimpered against the hand gripping his chin so harshly but did as he was told, coating the invading digits liberally with spit. He felt them withdraw, trailing back, rubbing ever so lightly before pushing in once more.
Grell squeaked, shifting his legs in an effort to escape the assault. He felt Skoll's hand on the small of his back, pulling him back into position, "Stop that," he said flatly.
Another finger joined the pair inside, moving in and out in a slow rhythm, preparing him for the demeaning act which was to come. It didn't hurt in the way his open wounds did, but with every movement, his sensitive nether regions protested the unique pain. It was a dull ache that spread from inside, spreading through his thighs, up his back.
Skoll moved deeper, reveling in the way Grell' body clenched around his fingers when he alternated between sliding them in, spreading them, and withdrawing. His gaze wandered up the reaper's back, enjoying the pale expanse of skin. The soft indentation of his spine leading up to the shadowed angles of his shoulder blades looked so inviting. He couldn't wait to press his body against that flawless span.
As Grell began to adjust to Skoll's ministrations, he tried again to relax. The fingers worked him rhythmically, sliding back and forth easily with the slick saliva as lubrication. He couldn't say that it felt good, but as it went along it felt less intense. He pulled his hair around, situating himself more comfortably on the bed. He couldn't believe himself, lying there quietly as the demon probed him. He knew he should fight back, or should have continued to fight back, but even his wild side knew it would only end badly. Skoll was more powerful than Sebastian and even if he managed to get away from him, there was a whole castle full of demons who would hunt him down. Thinking ahead wasn't ever at the forefront of his personality, but he didn't want to end up on the death list either.
As Grell gathered his hair, pulling the heavy locks from his back, Skoll paused, confused, "What is that on your shoulder?"
Grell reached back to cover the mark, silent shame evident in his body language. He could feel the raised scar beneath his fingers, a reminder of his crimes, still knotted and angry from where it had been burned into him months ago. It was emblazoned just above the blade of his left shoulder, his punishment. The perfect circle crossed with an X through the center, points radiating diagonally past the round diameter, was the mark of a rogue shinigami. It was the mark of a murderer, a warning to all that he was not wired right. It meant that he had been demoted. It meant he could not be promoted past the rank of captain, beneath the sector head. It meant a lot of things that didn't bother him. It was the scar itself that was unspeakably terrible. When he had caught sight of it in the mirror, when the bandages had been removed, he was horrified at the spidery lines which cut across his otherwise alabaster skin. Time was not kind; Hope as he might the scar was showing no signs of fading.
Skoll batted his hand away, running his fingers roughly over the marred skin, "You've been branded."
"It's nothing important," Grell said weakly, leaning until his knees slid out from under him, laying him on his side. If Skoll wanted his ass back in the air, the demon could hoist him back up. He felt both his willpower and obedience leaving him in equal measure. He hadn't thought about the scar since Sebastian had brought up his dark deeds and even then it had only been fleeting.
"You know," Skoll said seductively, "The longer I look at you, the more I want to consume your soul. These little quirks of yours tell me that you would be quite delectable."
"That's what I was thinking," Stella said in the darkness, earning her a grave look from her master. Skoll said she could watch, he didn't say she could talk, "I'm sorry Skoll, I remember my place."
Skoll pulled Grell's knees back up, splitting his legs easily as he resituated himself between them. He was done playing around and was already growing bored of the toy he wasn't allowed to kill. He crushed Grell's body to the bed with his own, enjoying the hot little body beneath his thoroughly as the heat from the reaper burned against him. He mouthed Grell's chin, moving up to capture his mouth in a ferocious kiss. He laved the split flesh of his lip, sucking fresh blood to the surface. He enjoyed the coppery taste as it spread through his mouth, enticing him to do more. Grell's teeth grazed against his tongue accidently, threatening to cut him, but in the warm wetness they slid past harmlessly.
He moved to Grell's neck, biting and sucking without mercy at the sweet flesh there. He could feel the other shivering beneath him, small quivers turning to noticeable shaking within a few short moments of his attack. He tasted the salt of the reaper's tears mixing with the dark blood which had dried in smears across his body. His hands traveled freely over the soft skin of Grell's chest, rippling over the deep marks he carved into him with his knife.
Skoll moved his hands to Grell's supple thighs, grabbing them as he pulled him roughly to his throbbing arousal. He was beyond ready, and with one more coat of saliva, he began rubbing against the inviting cleft of Grell's ass, pressing forward with the guidance of his hand. He could feel it right there to be had, that soft indentation where he could press farther, get inside him.
Blood pounded in Grell's ears like thunder as he lay beneath the demon, legs spread like a common whore. His heart ached from the strain of beating so incredibly hard, working to fight the deadly emotions welling within him. He didn't want this, didn't want any part of it, but he could feel it coming. He could feel Skoll's muscular body between his thighs, one hand pressed against his belly as the other moved the wet tip of Skoll's member up and down against him. He could feel the head pushing in, much larger and harder than the fingers that came before it. His breath began to come in shallow gasps, he couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything. He clenched his eyes shut, steeling himself against the pain.
Then something inside him snapped like an unyielding branch in the raging storm of his mind. He barely registered his own movement; tucking his knees against himself before kicking out, "Get away from me!"
Skoll leaned away from the kick, catching one leg by the ankle as the other connected squarely with his jaw. As Grell tried to scramble away, Skoll caught his other leg by the calf and dragged him back firmly. Grell continued to fight by shooting his palm against Skoll's chin and pulling one leg up again to push him back. Each move was countered and each ticked down just how close Grell would come to death before it was over.
The demon grabbed for the discarded knife angrily, and held it high above the struggling redhead. There was a flash of recognition in those green eyes as they saw the dull glint of the blade in Skoll's hand and the whole scene seemed to freeze in time. The blade came down as Grell tried to break free. If he could just unbalance his attacker, he could run for the door, just beyond the bed.
He felt Skoll's powerful hand on his shoulder, shoving him back violently and digging against the hollow beneath his clavicle while the other hand finished the knife's arc. The blade struck just above his breast, a couple inches beneath his collarbone. Pain soared to new heights as he could feel the steel cutting through him as easily. When it hitched, Skoll turned the blade harshly; breaking through whatever tentative resistance Grell's body had given it. It went all the way through, just as it had with his hand.
The anguished scream that wretched itself from Grell's throat was heard far beyond the castle grounds, resounding off the mountain peaks like a force of nature, echoing eerily long after. A second followed, and then a third left the night air electric with its passing.
From his perch, tucked against a cliff overlooking the stronghold, Sebastian simply closed his eyes against the onslaught of sound. It reverberated through his mind, demanding that he feel guilty, calling for help, for pity, for anything Sebastian would give. As the lone demon blocked it from his mind, dismissing it with ease that even he found surprising, it settled beyond, crashing itself against the landscape in desolate frustration. Before allowing himself to drift into a time passing sleep, Sebastian reminded himself just once more that Grell would be made to do what was needed, and even though the price was high for the reaper, it was just another paid service to Sebastian. Whether he could have handled it differently was unimportant now, what had transpired, was already the past.
Back in the castle room, Grell lay in agony as Skoll stabbed him one last time. A keening cry was all he could manage as the blade bit close to the original mark, driven completely through his narrow body to pin him once more. The smell of blood was all around him, drowning him in his own red essence. It was everywhere now, warm and wet and sickening. Fresh pools spilled over his shoulders and smudged gory handprints over his legs where Skoll grabbed, wrenching him around with bruising force.
He felt Skoll's cock against him, still erect and eager despite their struggle. The demon nudged the head against Grell's unyielding entrance, pushing forward with steady pressure before pitching his hips in a short thrust. The redhead's body stiffened as Skoll continued to press into him, pain flowing through his veins like ice.
Skoll drew back and gave a short series of thrusts, going deeper with each shift of his hips. The reaper was incredibly tight despite the blood and spit which covered his member, like a hot vice around him. He knew part of it was that Grell wouldn't settle down and let him have his way, "You really should try to relax," Skoll purred, grinding until he could go no farther, completely sheathed within the immortal god, "Otherwise this is going to be very painful," He paused, smiling before he clarified, " for you."
Grell whimpered as Skoll began to move smoothly in and out of him, long rhythmic thrusts which stretched him mercilessly, filling him till he thought he may choke from it. Each thrust threatened to break him and little by little each one did. He felt his body relax even as his mind began to protest louder than ever. He was being fucked and there was nothing romantic or beautiful about it. It didn't even feel good. Whatever pleasure he thought he should be feeling was swallowed by the gravity and finality of it. He really was a whore, used and defiled so that Sebastian could get what he wanted. And what he wanted wasn't Grell, never would be.
Skoll was getting close, he could feel it. Grell body was so warm, so sinful with his pale skin and dark red hair. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed someone so much like this. Even though he couldn't completely destroy the reaper, he was very satisfying. However, there was one thing missing, one piece which would make his ecstasy complete. He groaned, debating whether he should do it or not. One little taste wouldn't hurt anything, or more specifically, one little taste wouldn't kill him.
Skoll continued thrusting as one strong sinewy arm snaked to the base of Grell's neck, palm down at the hollow of his throat. The blood made it hard to grip him properly, but Skoll didn't care. It was just a little taste, nothing more. He looked down at the reaper, who was staring back with green eyes impossibly wide. It was like Grell was staring his death in the face and he knew it.
The heartbeat beneath Skoll's palm was impossibly fast, threatening to give out all together. It beat itself against Grell's chest like a frantic sparrow caught in the dark, crushing itself against walls and windows as it tried to escape. It was impossibly human, driving Skoll to an even better high. What a wonderful trade he had made.
Grell's breath caught in his chest as Skoll began pulling his soul away. It was like being ripped down the middle and somehow surviving to endure the pain of it. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to take a breath, tried to scream, but his lungs wouldn't obey. He just lay there, consciousness crumbling as Skoll continued to savor his soul and body at once.
There were wet sounds between them now, messy sounds of their two bodies coming together as one. Grell didn't know how he could hear it so clearly over the rushing din of his soul, but there it was, sickening in his ears. It was him, his body making those sounds, used for pleasure. The sound came faster as Skoll's thrusts quickened his pace. His body shook with the force and he turned his head away, finally resigning himself completely to the darkness. The rushing sounds of his soul subsided as Skoll moved both hands to Grell's waist, pulling the limp reaper against him again and again until he finally came inside him.
Through the pain Grell felt Skoll spill into him; waves of warmth that finalized his defilement. It was over; it was done, paid in full. Grell didn't even notice the angel soft kiss placed against his lips as Skoll withdrew. There was just the dull ache of his very core, body and soul.
Skoll turned to Stella, barking tersely, "Get him cleaned up."
Stella looked up with shimmering pink eyes in the dark. She was hungry and the whole scene which had played out before her only added to the gnawing need to hunt and consume. Surely Skoll would let her finish the reaper off, Shadow be damned.
Skoll ignored her obvious need, motioning to the door, "Go and get someone to clean him up, immediately."
Snapping back to the moment, Stella nodded, "Yes, Lord Skoll."
When the door was safely closed behind her, Skoll moved back to the unmoving reaper on his bed. Grell's hair fanned beneath him in a tangled mess, mingling with the rivulets of blood that covered much of his body in a swirling camouflage of crimson over pale ivory skin. Skoll moved to the knife still protruding from the damaged reaper's body, dislodging it with surprising gentleness.
He knelt beside the bed, cupping his hands together as if in prayer. He looked at Grell thoughtfully, touching his lips to his hands before opening his mouth to speak, "I wish you hadn't fought against me," There was a long pause, like he was deciding whether or to say more. Grell remained silent, as if sleeping, "At least then your first could have been… special."
"You are so cruel," Grell whispered to the dark, eyes closed.
"I am not cruel, young reaper. I outgrew that years ago," he replied, brushing a lone bloody tear off Grell's cheek. "But you need to understand what you're dealing with."
"All this, for that?" he croaked. "Are you serious? You did this to me to teach me a lesson?"
"No, of course not. I did it because I wanted to. I did it because Shadow hated the thought of me doing it. However, what you should take away from it is clarity."
Clarity was the farthest thing from Grell's mind at that point. He hurt. He was in pain like he had never experienced before. His body was on fire and his heart felt like it had all but left him to die. To make it worse, Skoll knew. That bastard knew exactly what it meant to fuck him. He took it from him and he knew it. How was this not cruelty of the worse kind? The sobs rose and the tears fell, leaving nothing but his echoing hitches in the dark. Skoll left it at that, disappearing into the gloom of his castle like smoke from a snuffed candle. He would return in the morning to give Grell the book he needed along with the binding reminder that he should keep his verbal contract with Shadow.