Hellboy had left not too long after that revelation. A call had interrupted their night and pulled him into a mission. He didn't want to leave because now he had too many questions. Once the mission was over, he went and crashed into bed, by then it was four am. The rest of his night was rife with dreams.
The Right Hand of the Devil.
That mantra kept repeating in his dreams, woven through his thoughts as he struggled to survive the torture of watching Liz die and not being able to save her. The way he held her as her last breath left her body. Everything came crashing down and he roared awake.
He sat up, heaving. His cats had scampered off the bed and from under it. Sweat dripped from his face onto his chest.
The Right Hand of the Devil.
He slapped his hands on his face and wiped the sweat off, attempting to wipe out the intruding thought. He sighed as he rubbed his eyes.
The Right Hand of the Devil.
"Oh, shut up!" Hellboy yelled as he threw the covers off in frustration. He stood up and headed to the bathroom in the nude.
He slapped the light on then shut it off. The lights were too bright for his eyes for having just woken up. He'd rather shower in the dark. With his unique physiology, he could see in the dark. He never really needed the light. He went towards the shower, twisted the handle to spout out hot water. As hot as he could stand it. Just hot enough to burn the thought out.
Once it was to his satisfaction, he stepped in. He stood with his back towards the spray. He leaned against the wall as the water massaged his tight shoulders. He dropped his head with a sigh. The water seemed to have helped keep the mantra away. He thought back to last night. He recalled the way she told her story…the way her face betrayed the pain she went through. The way her fingers had touched his. He could tell she needed that little physical touch to keep going. His own father might have had his moments raising him but hers had taken the cake. He couldn't believe that someone might restrict their gift like that, but then again, he believed someone could. He'd seen too much in his life to believe otherwise.
He stood up and turned to let the spray hit his front. When the water cascaded over his bottom half, he remembered what he felt when he saw her chest. It twitched.
Fuck.
Before he could help it, images flashed through his mind of himself and Angel participating in activities beyond his wildest imagination.
He pressed her against the wall as he kissed her. His lower half fit perfectly against hers. His bulge pressed against her heat.
She pulled his hair and his head tilted back as she kissed his neck.
He leaned back and watched as her wings spread out from her back. They curled and pushed him into her. The wings held them in an intimate space. Like a cocoon.
He carried her through the bedroom and dropped her gently on the bed. He leaned over her, yellow eyes peering into brown.
She lifted a leg over his shoulder, and he entered her. The feel of his large member slipping into such a tight space. The little sigh from her as she felt him.
"No!" Hellboy roared as he slammed the side of the shower wall, concaving it. Pieces of tile fell onto the floor, mixing with the water.
As he had imagined them together, his member had hardened. He tilted the shower head to spray directly on his face. Almost as if he wanted to drown himself. He refused to touch himself. He didn't want to give himself into the pleasure when it was Angel he was imagining. He rather have Liz.
The image of Liz flittered through and he sighed. He almost forgotten what she had looked like. The way her smile seemed to have lit the room on fire. But as he remembered her, the tightening of his member began to slack. He frantically grabbed himself and began to stroke, trying to bring it back. He remembered those hot nights with Liz. The way she'd stroke him to attention.
But nothing worked.
The more he remembered, the more he stroked, the more flaccid he became. He groaned in frustration and gave up. He wanted the pleasure. He hadn't felt it for six months. He had forgotten how it felt. He thought of Angel, the way her wings had expanded behind her, and his member rose. His breath hitched as he caressed it. It got bigger and thicker.
He breathed harder every time he went up and down in his warm, wet hands. The liquid substance leaked, mixing with the water and falling to the floor. He stroked harder and harder until finally the pressure burst. He let out a groan of pleasure as his seed shot out and hit the wall in front of him. A tear leaked out from the corner of his eye.
Angel…Liz…
He stood there holding his pulsing member, waiting for it to finish. It had been six long months of no physical release. He relaxed and he let it go. He lifted his tired hand and cranked the cold knob. The burst of freezing water hit him, and he felt refreshed. Once he was sure he was cleaned, he turned both knobs to off and he stepped out. Hellboy stood there dripping onto the mat feeling a little unsure of what to do next.
Angel's voice flittered through his memory, "The Right Hand of the Devil can break the chain."
That got him going. He was going to get ready for the day and see Abe. See why this phrase seemed to include him. He was sure it was talking about him.
After all, isn't he the prophesized Devil?