Eventually, Anifiel had come to release him from the bed, and Ryan had rubbed at his neck, stretching his arms above his head deliberately, only to find that here, in Heaven, it didn’t hurt to have been tied up for so long. Sighing in fresh resentment at that, he glared at Anifiel, as if the blond Angel were responsible.

“Do not give me that glare, Pet,” he said offhandedly, and Ryan seethed as Anifiel dragged him by the leash out of the Pavilion. He had a thousand insults to mouth at the Angel’s back, but they all died in him when he laid eyes on Vithius again.

Still, nothing had changed, and it was demoralising to see. Anifiel walked Ryan over to Vithius and placed the leash in the dark-skinned Angel’s hand. He regarded Anifiel blankly for a moment, and then his eyes cleared – just a little.

“Anifiel,” Vithius said, as if he had only just now remembered the name, and Ryan shivered. He was getting worse. He looked at Anifiel in alarm, but the blond Angel just looked back at him in displeasure. How thick could you get? They should be making a concerted effort here, and surely if Anifiel only embraced his friend, Vithius would come back to them. As much as Ryan wished it, he simply could not draw the same response from Vithius that Anifiel could, and he sighed in helpless frustration.

“Pet, don’t sigh like that. Sit.” Ryan rolled his eyes and sighed again, but he sat down in front of Vithius when he saw a flash of something forbidding in the blond Angel’s eyes. He was terrified Anifiel would humiliate him further if he disobeyed… probably he would make him beg again. Let me be your pet!? What had he been thinking? Oh, that’s right – he hadn’t been thinking. Ryan sighed again, and then looked into Vithius’ eyes. The Angel regarded him for a moment, and Ryan thought he saw recognition there. He caught his breath, but he was mistaken.

“Pet…” Vithius mused thoughtfully, reaching out to touch Ryan’s hair. Ryan let his head fall down in defeat; sure that Anifiel was getting some kind of sick enjoyment out of this. How could someone so cruel and odious be an Angel? It was unfathomable. “Lie down,” Vithius said gently, absently, and Ryan couldn’t resent Vithius for being like this – he didn’t know what he was doing.

He lie down beside the dark Angel hopelessly, weeping softly, wishing there was something he could do, wishing there was a command he could obey that would make Vithius see him again.

After some time, Anifiel left them, with a condescending command to Ryan to “Stay.” He didn’t care. Let Anifiel leave and go where he would – perhaps both of them were better without him. He tried to rest, and only became aware a while later that Vithius had dropped the leash. Ryan wondered what to do. He considered for the briefest moment, passing the end of the leash back to Vithius so that Anifiel could not accuse him of leaving Vithius alone while he was away, but then he rebelled against it.

Wrong or not, human or not, deserving or not, he wasn’t a Pet. He stood up, noting that Vithius didn’t even register the fact that he had moved, and stomped off to the other side of the Pavilion, shaking his head. The end of the lead trailed in the grass, snagging every now and again, as if to remind him that he now belonged to Anifiel, to be talked down to, and made to sit and lie down, and whatever else. He rolled his eyes yet again, and slumped to the ground with an audible thump.

He mourned for his friend, and despite his animosity towards Anifiel’s blame of him, he couldn’t help wondering – no – it was more than wondering. If Ryan hadn’t been there, Vithius would not have succumbed, because Anifiel would not have been distracted. Sick with worry, he remembered wishing to throw himself from Heaven, wanting to punish himself if no one else would. And then Anifiel, once more urging him to surrender; to kiss his feet, to accept his place. Now he would stay here, where the only punishment was his own guilt, and to watch Vithius drift further and further away from them, helpless to stop it. Perhaps that was the point, because Ryan thought these things might be worse than anything he could expect from the Beneath, even remembering the Demon leering at him didn’t conjure up such heartbreaking, refined tortures. He couldn’t help! He couldn’t put anything right!

As if searching for an escape, his mind jumped from one thing to another until it found a place to stay that wasn’t so heartwrenching and depressing. Many times when Ryan remembered his life, they weren’t comfortable thoughts. Even now, he shied away from most of it. But there were some things about Earth that he missed. He began to fantasise and let the images he called surround him as he closed his eyes, the chosen environment somehow more comforting than Heaven’s green grass and endless blue skies.

Once he began to think of the things he missed, it seemed there was a never-ending stream of them. He missed cities, rain, neon lights, the smell of hot dogs, being anonymous in a town full of people who didn’t care who you were or where you were going. He missed music, television, and cinema. He missed the pandemonium and bustle of human life – because human life wasn’t here. Most of all, he realised he missed the dark. He actually missed the night time, and especially now, because it would suit his despair. It was actually difficult to feel melancholy and unhappy in Heaven, and the disturbing sensation that his feelings were out of place only seemed to accentuate them.

Ryan drifted off into sleep, embracing the fantasy of night time… and a bar with an endless supply of hard spirits.

He awoke to a familiar sensation… or at least it was a feeling he would never forget. Curled up on his side, he was no longer alone. A tongue moved slowly over the back of his neck, drawing small circles as if to tease him, but the Angel had no need to resort to such a tactic to get his attention; already he felt the first stirring of the fugue, and he sighed languidly as he awoke further.

Vithius! He had returned! Ryan smiled with his eyes closed, and then remembered the battle, and Vithius’ seeming coma-like existence. “I am so glad you are back!” he said happily, hearing relieved tears in his voice. The gentle touch stopped, and Ryan moaned a little in dismay. He tried to roll backwards, into Vithius’ body, but a large hand came to rest on his hip, making him keep his distance.

“Good,” a familiar, but hated voice said smugly. “There are many ways to the Beneath, little human. Corrupting an Angel is surely one of them, wouldn’t you agree?”

He wanted to make a properly scathing, sarcastic reply – something that would really get up Anifiel’s nose – but the words weren’t there; he was too filled with disappointment when he realised that Vithius was still unwell – it made his heart ache. Instead, he shook his head, trying to ignore the heat of Anifiel’s palm against his hip, seeming to radiate through the tunic he wore. He could feel the Angel’s apple-scented breath on his neck, and he inhaled it with every breath of his, almost able to taste it.

In his sleep, he had flung his left arm high above his head, and Anifiel imprisoned it now with his other hand, bending his head so that he could skim his lips lightly over Ryan’s ear. He felt his own cock become hot and hard, as though Anifiel had ordered it, resting against his thigh, and he shifted as much as he could with Anifiel’s hand on him, whimpering when his cock moved slightly, rubbing against his skin. He moved his legs, trying frantically to get some relief, and cried out when Anifiel threw a leg over his carelessly to stop him.

“Is it because you cannot control your own lust, that you seek to inflict it upon others?” Anifiel breathed intimately into his ear. Ryan couldn’t answer; not when he felt the length of Anifiel’s body pressed against his own. The heavy hand moved from his hip, giving him a little freedom at last, but Ryan wasn’t about to move away. He could feel the Angel behind him, was sure he didn’t imagine it, and when Anifiel moved slightly he knew he was right.

The fugue overtook him suddenly at the thought of exactly what part of the Angel was touching the cleft of his buttocks, and as Anifiel stroked his free hand down over the front of Ryan’s shoulder and chest, moving further down, over his midriff, only to come to rest on his stomach, he whined in indecision and torment, simultaneously trying to arch into the touch, and press backwards against Anifiel. Everything seemed to slow down, as if to make sure that he felt every single passing second, and yet through the fog that descended on his mind, he considered Anifiel’s statement.

“Why don’t you leave me alone then?” he asked suddenly, in a rush of breath, somehow comprehending that with his words, Anifiel meant that Ryan was also tormenting him, even if he hadn’t said as much.

“Leave you alone?” Anifiel purred dangerously, the hand moving back to his hip so that he could pull Ryan hard against his body. “Do you think that is what you deserve?” Ryan stopped breathing, and then moaned long and low as he felt Anifiel’s member slowly filling out, elongating so that he felt it – so big, and oh, so nearly there...

“Please! Don’t!” he whimpered breathlessly. “Don’t leave me alone!”

There was a sound that was unmistakably the sound of Anifiel laughing at him, even if the Angel’s laughter sounded a little strained, but Ryan no longer cared. He felt Anifiel’s hand move down him again, and it drove him to the edge of madness. He writhed in Anifiel’s grip.

“You like to be stroked, don’t you, Pet?” he purred in amusement. The reminder of his humiliation at the Angel’s hands only served to make him give in completely. He felt an exited, nervous fluttery feeling in his stomach as he answered.

“Yes!” He undulated into Anifiel’s touch, moaning and arching his back like a cat… or a pet.

“Rest assured, you cannot corrupt me, Pet,” Anifiel breathed against his ear in the manner of a confession or a secret. “But you may try,” he added quietly, his voice more of a vibration than a sound, and Ryan moaned. “We shall see how long it takes for you to lose your place in Heaven, hmm?” The words were cruel, but to Ryan’s clouded and influenced mind they were somehow seductive.

“Yes! Oh, yes!” he agreed fervently, hardly aware anymore of the threatening connotations in Anifiel’s speech, only aware that the Angel would allow Ryan to try and please him. Nothing mattered except for that. He began to pray that Anifiel would move again, even slightly, and as much as he twisted his body, he couldn’t seem to get what he wanted. As if sensing his motivation though, Anifiel moved against him, and Ryan heard the Angel inhale deeply, as if in surprise.

He felt himself orgasm spontaneously, and yet he knew it wasn’t over for him. He experienced the same bliss and euphoria, yet not the consequent satisfied warmth. Despite his current mental state, he knew with sudden clarity that there was no release from this for him unless Anifiel found it too, and the need to please the Angel became of paramount importance.

Suddenly he was reminded of the leash, because he felt himself jerked up by the collar on his neck as Anifiel let him go. It was out of his hands, and he allowed Anifiel to manipulate his position until he found himself kneeling on the ground by Anifiel’s feet. Eyes half-closed in lust; Ryan bent to the task before Anifiel could even demand it of him, pressing his lips against the Angel’s feet gladly.

“Good, Pet,” Anifiel said above him, smugly, but Ryan found he didn’t care. The praise only made him work harder to please, and without even thinking about it, he removed one of the Angel’s sandals, so that he could reach the underside of the foot, moaning in abandon when Anifiel wiggled his toes slightly, as if to remind him where his attention was wanted. He ran his tongue underneath the line of Anifiel’s toes, rejoicing silently when he heard a sudden intake of breath again from above him.

He cradled Anifiel’s foot in his hands as though it were something precious, and sighed in reverence as he let his lips sweep over the skin above his instep to the inside of his ankle. He looked up, and what he saw then made him catch his breath. Anifiel had his eyes closed! Emboldened, Ryan placed his hands on the Angel’s shins, and began to move up his body slowly, sliding his hands over the golden hair until they crept beneath the tunic to rest heavily on Anifiel’s thighs. Just a little further, his lust insisted, and he followed the motion of his hands with his mouth, only to cry out in dismay when Anifiel’s hands covered his own, making it impossible to push up the barrier of his clothing.

Still, undeterred, he simply continued moving upwards, until his lips encountered something unmistakable under the thin cloth. He whimpered as another bout of the fugue flowed over and into him, and he couldn’t help himself, or stop it, only obey.

He kissed and licked at the fabric longingly, nosing at it as though to try and move it out of the way so that Anifiel was bare to his lips and tongue. He breathed hotly onto the hardness beneath, moaning when the heat returned to him twofold as if reflected, but flavoured with the intoxicating scent of the Angel’s arousal.

“Let me,” he whispered over and over again, wanting only to taste and caress. “Oh, please!” He registered how his attentions had dampened the front of Anifiel’s clothing, and it was almost see-through, but not quite. He began to tongue the material more desperately, driven wild by the certainty that he could taste the Angel’s arousal, seeping through the fabric.

“Yes, this is how you corrupted him,” Anifiel said deeply, a catch in his voice that made him sound less certain, and more vulnerable. Ryan didn’t answer, only continued to rub his face against the wonderful hardness that he could almost touch; his cheeks, his lips, his nose… he even opened his mouth and lightly scraped his teeth against the material. “Isn’t it?” the Angel demanded then, much more harshly, his voice rough and gravelly.

“Yes,” he whimpered, trying frantically to move his hands from beneath the Angel’s, having no idea what he was agreeing to, only certain that he would deny Anifiel nothing.

“Stop!” Anifiel gasped, and through the heaviness of the fugue, Ryan looked up in shock, hearing not an order, but a plea from the commander’s lips. The moment of hesitation was all Anifiel waited for, and he let go of Ryan’s hands, only to pull him up and wrap strong arms around him. Ryan whined as the onslaught of the pheromone Anifiel secreted hit his abused senses again, and Anifiel’s embrace was so total – Ryan felt as though he was being swallowed by it. Anifiel’s lips touched his neck, and although Ryan became pliant and let his body mould to the hard angles of Anifiel’s own, it was as if the Angel couldn’t get close enough.

“You will not do this to me,” Anifiel growled, and Ryan cried out then in perfect, joyous understanding.

“Anifiel!” And he licked at the Angel’s neck, kissing all the skin within his reach, trying to make Anifiel give in… give in to him.

“No!” Anifiel roared. And suddenly he was thrown backwards, so forcefully that even here, in heaven, it almost hurt. He lay still on the grass while everything seemed to move without him, and then moaned as his mind suddenly found itself free of the devastating influence the Angel had over him.

“Please,” he begged weakly, not even sure if Anifiel heard him, only aware of how close it had been.

“No,” Anifiel replied eventually, and Ryan looked up, only to find the commander as composed and unruffled as ever now. “You may not.” He looked away, confused and exhausted as he felt the sudden cool breeze that ruffled his hair and meant Anifiel was leaving him. He lay looking blankly up at the beautiful blue sky for some time longer, and then crawled over to where something strange rested, forgotten in the grass. Anifiel’s sandal. Ryan gathered it close to him, and then finally found enough strength to stand up and walk over to the other side of the pavilion, where Vithius still sat, staring out endlessly at heaven as though it didn’t matter.

He sighed and curled up at Vithius’ feet, reflecting that this was becoming a familiar place for him to be. He looked up, and the Angel didn’t acknowledge his presence. He couldn’t help wondering if it would be the same, and at the same time he wondered if it would make a difference. Ryan knew he would try anything, do anything to bring Vithius back – to mend him. He smiled. He would even be Vithius’ Pet. He prostrated himself on the grass before Vithius and regarded the Angel’s left foot. Vithius didn’t wear sandals, and his hands curled possessively around the treasure he held as it occurred to him for the first time to wonder why Anifiel did.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan breathed, and lowered his lips to Vithius foot as if in supplication. He had perfect feet. Ryan smiled. Of course he did – he was an Angel. But then he sighed because it wasn’t the same. In fact, he felt a little foolish for what he was doing, because how could this have any effect whatsoever? He began to feel tired again as his lips pressed loving kisses to Vithius’ instep. It wasn’t the same, but Ryan wanted to worship Vithius all the same. And apologise.

He breathed his regret in-between his kisses, and ended up falling asleep curled up at Vithius’ feet, the leash attached to his collar trailing over the Angel’s ankles, clutching the sandal to him in sleep greedily, as though it were a comfort.

THE END