Page 40 of Sinful Pride

“Tirael, you have been a part of the Embassy for a year and you have helped us with setting up and later running this operation. I will be honest: it has been wonderful, but I think we can make one change to make it even better,” Zachariel said, smiling at me. He gestured at Hellion, who eagerly pulled up a stack of papers from under the table. It was my contract. The demon met my eyes, lifted the contract in front of his face, and then…

Tore it in two.

So this was the end. I failed in my task of becoming a true angel once more. I wasn’t able to gain Zachariel’s forgiveness and they were throwing me away. Was Michael going to push me down into Hell for my apparently unforgivable sins? Lucifer coming to disintegrate me on the spot would be kinder.

“…Tirael. Tirael!”

I realized someone was calling me. Oh, they probably wanted me to stop taking up space. I lifted up on my shaky legs only to be immediately pushed down back into the chair. I made a mistake of looking up at Hellion and what I saw confused me. Was his expression worried?

I shook my head to get rid of the static that prevented me from hearing what was said to me.

“Oh fuck, we broke him. Tirael, hey buddy, look at me. Everything’s fine, just breathe with me. Wait, damn, how many seconds you should breathe in and out to calm yourself?”

Oh, breathing. I kinda forgot about that. It wasn’t exactly necessary, but the routine did calm me, so I took a shaky breath in and out.

“Yeah, good, like that. You are doing well,” Hellion said, as if I did something admirable. Was that how low their level of expectations for me was? Just breathing?

“Are you calmer now?” Zachariel asked after a while, and I nodded.

“Good. Then we can discuss your new contract.”

“New… contract?”

“Of course, a new contract!” Hellion burst out. “Didn’t you hear what Zachariel said? You built this place with us, dummy. We really couldn’t pull this whole thing off without you. And I know I kinda treated you like shit in the beginning, but I hope you realize by now that we are friends. That we like you. We want to work with you and for you to be an integral part of the Embassy. That’s why we couldn’t abide by that old contract anymore. It basically made you a slave, and it’s one thing to make some nameless angel that wronged you do the dirty work and expect him to wait on you hand and feet as revenge, but it’s another thing to demand something like that from you, from Tirael, the person I have come to know and appreciate. I’m… “ Hellion swallowed. “I’m sorry I treated you that way.”

Did it mean..? It couldn’t. My white eyes tracked to Zachariel in helpless hope. His blue eyes softened.

“I forgive you,” he said. “Whatever obligations you had to me, you are free of them. But I want to offer you an opportunity, a choice, just for you. Do you want to work here? Not for us, but with us?”

Something in me cracked open. A shell only now I realized was suffocating me. I was forgiven. That was the most I have ever dared to hope for. But I got even more than that. Not only forgiveness, but trust, a place to stay, a cause within which I could make a difference, not only for the others, but for myself.

A home.

I got more than I expected, and when I ended that evening with a new contract in my hands, Zachariel’s proud gaze and Hellion’s quiet words stayed with me.

“You deserve this.”

The thing is, having expectations can be a curse.

With the newfound mind-blowing notion of me deserving things, it made my happy acceptance of whatever scraps I could get suddenly much harder. Once a treacherous thought that I could have more, I could want more, buried itself deep into my mind, it refused to leave.

In the months between the wedding and my new contract, I had continued my dalliance with Beelzebub and Raphael. It was the demon who took it upon himself to continue instigating our meetings and taunting Raphael with them, until we pretty much fell into a routine. Once a week, on average, I would find myself whisked away to somewhere on Earth. Sometimes, Beelzebub would work me over for hours before the Archangel showed up. Other times, I was sent over to a hotel room with instructions to bathe, stretch myself open, and kneel by the door with a collar around my neck until my owners arrived. Once, it was even me and Raphael who had to wait for the demon. I spent two hours with my mouth stuffed with Raphael’s half-hard erection, being used as a cockwarmer, as we waited for the last part of our dirty equation to show up.

Both of my lovers thrilled at my inexperience and made it a point to introduce me to as many kinks as possible. I accepted it all, not willing to risk saying no and losing their interest. After all, I thought it had to be the novelty, the experimentation that really spoke to them, and not my plain looks or bland personality. I wanted to enjoy the thrill for as long as I was allowed.

But today, with the weight of the new expectations on my mind, I couldn’t quite get into it. Beelzebub was sorting menacingly through steel rods that were supposed to go into my cock, while Raphael helped me undress, his hands gentle, the kiss he pressed to my cheek light and full of affection.

“Dirty slut,” Beelzebub said, his hand on my half-hard cock.

“Precious angel,” Raphael murmured, cradling me from behind.

I feared Raphael was lying to me every time he praised me and said I was a good boy.

I feared Beelzebub was saying the truth, what he really thought about me, when he curled his lips around degrading words such as slut, worthless, bad boy.

When the metal rod pushed into my slit, sliding down my urethra, making me cry out at the weird sensation, I found I didn’t really crave sex today.

I wanted what I could get after sex. The cuddling, being pressed together, slices of fruit patiently fed to me, a quiet conversation washing over me as I drifted. Or the trust I saw between Zachariel and Hellion. Possessiveness Abaddon and Aurelius displayed at their wedding. The intimacy I glimpsed from the way Lucifer held Michael’s hand. I wanted the closeness of a couple going on dates together, to tell Raphael and Beelzebub about my interests, my feelings, my day.

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