Page 13 of Garden of Poisoned Delights

“You’re doing very well,” Sebastien praised, teasing at the tip of Devon’s cock with the knife before moving to trace it up his inner thigh. Devon couldn’t quite stay perfectly still, but it was an admirable effort.

He looked up and saw Sariel peering at him from around the cross, wide red eyes intent and unblinking, glowing softly with hellfire and whatever immutable darkness created him. “It has been some time, my demon,” he said, voice full of affection, then raised the knife and pressed a gentle kiss to the cold, bright silver blade.

“Yes, Host,” Sariel agreed. “But this is better than the screams of those you once brought here.”

Sebastien had to agree. Watching Devon struggle to stay still for him, hearing his breathing, seeing how hard he was for this, for them…it was more delicious than the screams and thick scent of blood that used to fill this space before. He wasn’t hurting Devon, and despite Sariel mimicking what Sebastien was doing with the knife with his talons, the demon wasn’t hurting him, either. They were restraining him, settling him with slight fear and focus, and it was so satisfying that Sebastien found himself growing just as aroused as Devon.

“Ah,” Sariel clicked again. “You want to take him.”

“Yes,” Sebastien said, placing a warm hand on Devon’s chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath his palm. For all that Devon was flushed and hard and maybe even a little afraid, his heartbeat was steady and strong, not racing too fast as it sometimes did when he was in the grip of too many emotions, or caught in dark memories of his past.

“Take him so that I may watch,” Sariel purred, talons tapping on Devon’s mouth until he opened it and let Sariel slip them inside.

Sebastien was so caught by the sight of his demon gently fucking Devon’s mouth that he was momentarily unable to speak. Devon, bound and beautiful, eyes wide while his demon made those contented little sounds…he nearly dropped the knife, he was so distracted. “That’s very inspired, Sariel,” he praised, and his demon’s wings flared.

“I know,” Sariel said, voice bell-like. “He grows warm for me, too, Host.”

“Yes. As do I.” Sebastien turned and put the knife on the little table, and went to his demon. He reached up, carefully, and waited for Sariel’s little nod to stroke a hand over the demon’s wing. It felt more substantial than usual, more like feathers than smoke poured over silk.

Sariel gently removed his talons from Devon’s mouth, shifted on the cross to keep him pinned, then reached down with the same claw and touched his talons to the side of Sebastien’s face. They were still damp, and Sebastien sucked in a breath as his own desire grew stronger. He couldn’t recall Sariel ever doing this to him before.

“I watch you from within, when you take Beloved,” Sariel said, slyly. “I see what he likes, what you do to make him kneel for you.”

Sebastien turned his head slightly and kissed the edge of Sariel’s closest talon. “Do you?”

“Yes,” the demon murmured, wings rustling, and Sebastien heard Devon give a low moan as Sariel gently caressed Sebastien’s face and neck with the sharp, pointed claws. He removed them, and Sebastien wished for a moment he could kiss Sariel as he kissed Devon. Sariel made a little noise and gave a shake of his head—he didn’t always like to have his head touched, only occasionally allowing Sebastien to stroke his horns before he returned to dwell within him.

Sebastien nodded to show he understood and went back to Devon. He laughed softly when he saw that Sariel had one taloned claw wrapped around Devon’s cock, and Devon was staring down at it, afraid and rapturous.

“Do be careful with that,” Sebastien said, amused. “I’m fond of Devon’s cock.”

“Yes,” Sariel agreed. “You are. I could make one,” his demon said.

Sebastien raised his eyebrows. “A cock?”

“Yes. I command the dark here, my shape.” His limbs grew slightly, the better to hold Devon to the cross. “I will make a cock and I will take Beloved, so that he may know he is mine.”

“Oh, I think he knows, but that is quite the interesting idea.” Sebastien stepped up to kiss Devon. “Would you like that? To be taken by Sariel, as I take you?” He traced his fingers over Devon’s collar, waiting.

Devon nodded, squirming a bit against the cross. “I—yes. Yes, please.”

“Sariel,” Sebastien asked, stepping back and regarding his demon once more. “This cross, can you make it something else? A bed, like the one where we sleep?”

Sariel disentangled himself from the cross, and Devon slipped down until his bare feet hit the floor and he stumbled a bit. Sebastien caught him with an arm around his waist, and they watched Sariel turn and stalk off into the dark. There was a sound of something swishing, and Sebastien shuddered as Sariel started consuming whatever was in the room with them. Something squealed, and he could hear a wet ripping sound before pleasure had him nearly coming when Sariel ate what he’d caught. Sebastien needed to brace himself against Devon’s sturdy frame as the intensity nearly sent him to his knees.

“Sariel,” he gasped. “I shan’t be able to take Beloved if you keep—ah.”

“I eat the things so that I command the dark,” Sariel said, from the shadow, and Sebastien heard Devon chuckle softly next to him.

“He’s backtalking you,” Devon murmured.

Sebastien sighed. “Yes, he is.”

Sariel didn’t respond, but he returned after a moment, his form still strongly visible, his talons clicking as he approached them. Standing on two legs, he was slightly shorter than Devon, his wings neatly folded at his back. “Turn around, Host. See what I have made.”

Sebastien turned, and where the cross, the table and knife once were, there was a bed. It was similar to the one in his room, with black, heavy curtains, the same slick, dark wood as the cross. “Where does this come from?”

“The dark,” Sariel said, unhelpfully. “I do not know the words if you do not know them, Host.”

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