3: Sacrilege
The fallen angel flew him up above the altar, to the point where he could taste the drops of painted blood on Jesus' crown of thorns if he extended his tongue. "This isn't going to have any consequence on my fate should I decide to die, will it, cavorting with the Devil?" asked Armand.
"Like you care."
"You're right, I don't. I just…" The vampire gasped as one sharp fingernail made a slit in his rayon-silk shirt, exposing one nipple to the draughty air. "I just assumed there would be some sort of drastic consequence to making love with the Ruler of Hell."
"What were you expecting – that you'd become my favourite harlot?" Lucifer smiled almost tenderly, stroking the vampire all over with his lips, his tongue. "Then again, you just might."
"Hmmm. A privilege even the Brat Prince Lestat cannot claim, eh?"
"Never. You are exquisite." Lucifer spread Armand's arms forcefully over the cross, aligning him with the suspended statue of the Christ. Golden ropes shot out of his hands and bound Armand's slim wrists to the ends of the wooden beam. Another long rope wound in an X across the vampire's chest, pinning him securely to the crucifix. The ribs protruding from the martyr's body jabbed into his back.
Armand was in a sort of uncomfortable ecstasy, the restraints a little too tight to allow him to breathe properly. "Of all the games Marius played with me, he left this one out," he gasped.
"Oh, I like your insolence, that defiant look on your angel-face. Makes the whole process so much more fun." The Prince of Darkness smiled. "Mind if I show you my favourite trick? It goes like this – " He formed his exquisite lips into an 'O' and blew on the velvet suit, the expensive shirt, the boots, everything; and they crumbled away like so much dust, leaving Armand completely naked. The absence of clothing also confirmed Lucifer's suspicion that the boy's organ was hard and ready, even as he turned his face away in pleasurable shame, cream-coloured cheeks flushed like ripening apples. Yes, pleasure and shame, the two contrasting elements that so governed the human's desire for physical intimacy.
Well, they were neither human nor divine, and at least one of them felt no shame at all.
"You will enjoy this," the Devil whispered, and drove his tongue into Armand's mouth, raping the crevice as he was going to rape the other one shortly. The scaled surface hurt a little, but not enough to stop Armand from moaning, more, more. His face, his silken hair, was crushed in the angel's grip; he felt nothing, he was a mass of excited organs and rushing blood. Nothing he did would stop this rampant assault now. The sharp incisors cut into Armand's tongue and squeezed out a rivulet of blood that trickled out from the corner of his mouth. The thorns adorning Jesus' head pressed into his scalp and punctured it. Were he not immortal and invincible to small wounds, this whole thing would have been rather dangerous.
Now the fiery tongue that had spoke sweet words in his ear trailed all over, leaving no territory unexplored. Lucifer's fangs grew delicately pointed and curved in imitation of a bloodsucker's, and he suckled Armand's flushed and erect nipple, drawing thread after thread of blood. The bound vampire wanted to cry out from the painful sweetness, but his lips, his tongue was bruised from the brutal kiss. He could only whimper – small, husky, mewling sounds like a starved kitten. It excited him terribly so that he begged and begged for release, forced him into a vortex of all-consuming rapture that he wanted no part of, and yet, did. Come spilled from his swollen member; he was surprised to feel the warm wetness. He thought it had dried up with his mortality almost a millennium ago – but here it was, dead impotent fluid of course, but coursing down his thighs nonetheless.
"Ah, the magic fountain," Lucifer teased wickedly and lowered his devouring mouth to drink of it. Armand was almost afraid he would bite the appendage clean off; but no, now he was ever so gentle, as gentle as a newborn lamb sucking its mother's milk – slowly, so slowly, excruciatingly.
"Don't – don't, please, please," begged the cherub-faced vampire. "Don't do this to me. This is cruel. I cannot take anymore – Ahh – " A new gush of semen poured forth, as if the Devil had slashed open a fragile wound. "My God, do you mean to make me come until I am dry and dead! If you must have me then take me now. Are you really so heartless as to prolong the torture!"
With wet salty lips Lucifer kissed him. "Shut up," he said roughly, tenderly. "Here, you have the chance to torment me the same – do it!" And he slid his hardened cock into Armand's panting mouth. The latter struggled, no, I don't want this, but his sounds of protest were stifled by the enormous member and the hot salty-sweet nectar pouring down his throat. He had no choice but to take it. All choice had been stripped from him from the moment he had set foot in here. He was a prisoner robbed of every shred of dignity. Oh, this was degrading and terrible delicious at the same time, he couldn't decide which –
And then it came to an abrupt halt.
"Lucifer, stop it!" a voice like angry silver bells commanded. "This is sacrilege!"
It was the Archangel Michael.