Page 3 of Azriel

There was definitely something wrong in his head. He’d had fantasies of being pinned and sort of raped. In his mind, it was always a woman holding him down and riding his dick. It would never be more than a fantasy because besides the handjob, no women would be lining up to get on his cock any time soon. He was too ugly for that.

He’d certainly never fantasized about a man tying him up and rubbing their cocks together. A couple of times, Vali had seen a guy that he thought was rather good-looking, but that most definitely, one-hundred percent did not mean that he was gay. It was just because they were dressed fancy, and people put on nice clothes to look nice.

That was it.

He shouldn’t have enjoyed last night. Part of his brain kept saying it had all been a dream because it seemed so impossible, but he’d tasted the cum, and he’d had to wash himself in the basin since wiping himself with his sleep pants hadn’t done a very good job. He’d had an orgasm and felt the angel cum all over him.

In the privy room, he’d even noticed very faint marks on his wrist where the rope had been. They were like the ones from snug clothing and had already faded this morning, but they had definitely been there. He hadn’t tied himself up.

Somehow, the angel did some kind of sex magic, although that made no sense. Maybe it needed that pearl as food or something. That wasn’t in the Bible, but what did he truly know about angels? It also never said anything about angels doing gay stuff with human guys who were trying to sleep.

Was the angel going to come back? Why would it even want someone so ugly? Then again, it had been dark, and he’d been sleeping on his stomach, so the angel must not have realized how he looked. Vali assumed it magicked itself inside the house. Angels could do that, right? That’s how they got from Heaven to Earth, although he always imagined their trips were to save people, not give them amazing orgasms while tied up.

“You’re awfully quiet,” said Mother.

“I’m just thinking. Jeez.”

“About what?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re thinking about nothing?”

“Yeah.” Did he want the angel to come back again, tie him up, and force him? Hell yes, although it wouldn’t be forcing him since he wanted it. It would be like his fantasy.

"Okay, son." Mother pushed away her empty bowl. “I need to get going soon.”

She sounded like she was trying to give him a last chance to talk to her, but he simply shrugged. “Okay.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I guess I’ll try to find a new job.”

“You should take some time off. You know we don’t need the money.”

They still had loads since Father had given Mother quite a bit before he ran off so he didn’t have to deal with the baby.

“Maybe you should go to Nat’s house and ask her if she’d like to take a walk,” said Mother.

He scowled at her. “And look like a fool? Why would I do that? She doesn’t even know me.”

“She said hello to you last week when you came by the shop.”

“It’s called being polite. She’d laugh at me if I ever tried to go beyond a hello.”

She stood. “I don’t know what’s got your drawers in a twist, but take a few weeks off and relax. Try to…do something. Find someone to talk to. You can't just work and come home all your life.”

It was easy for her to say that.

When Mother left, he went upstairs to flop on his bed. He was never going to look better, and nobody would want him. Mother always said he was a handsome boy, but all Mothers probably thought that. She’d say it even if he had giant, hairy warts all over his nose and buck teeth that stuck out a mile.

Fortunately, he had no warts, and his teeth were pretty straight, but he still had problems. One eye was blue, the other was green, and that had led to him being called a fairy boy and a changeling when he was growing up. Worse, his hair was orange. It wasn’t a pretty red like the neighbor six houses down or the Earl’s wife. It wasn’t slightly orange in tone either.

His hair was bright, vivid orange just like a carrot. It had been the source of much ridicule. He cringed when he remembered other kids calling him Carrot Head, and occasionally, he still heard insults or jokes about it.

Beyond that, he was sure his face was nothing special, he was more on the skinny side, and he wasn’t that tall either. He’d grown so slowly as a kid which had made way for new insults and short people jokes. Mother had stuffed him full of tinctures from the apothecary and rich foods because she thought he must have been sickly. Eventually, he’d grown to five-seven in his early twenties.

He’d always hoped to be tall when he grew up because at least he’d have one good feature to attract ladies, but no.

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