![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aunt_zeldaTitle: They All Forget I Had A Choice, You Know
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Word Count: 7,263 (approx.)
Series: The Denny’s Court Universe
Pairings: Father Suede/Benzaie
Characters: Father Suede, Benzaie, Ask That Guy, Critic, Little Miss Gamer, Santa Christ, background demons.
Warnings: Sexual harassment, highly questionable and very explicit sex, vague religious implications I don’t fully explore.
Summary: Dragged down to Hell, Father Suede faces the greatest test of his Faith yet.
Continuation: Takes place directly after Persephone II
A/N: Wow, it’s finally finished. This fic has been … almost three years in the making? Really? Time flies. Pieces of this were written when I was still in college, then abandoned, then reworked, and now, after far too long, this is finally complete. There’s been a lot of build up, especially if you’ve frequented the community chats over the past few years, you’ve heard bits and pieces. The timeline is a bit of a mess, but this should fit into the DCU continuity pretty well. I very much hope that this has been worth the wait. Big thanks to ladydiskette and butterflyslinky for their patience, beta-reading, and pushing me to keep working on this fic.
Suede remembered a fairy tale from when he was a child. It was about a girl whose father had unwittingly sold her to the Devil. She’d prayed and washed herself clean and drew a circle of chalk around herself, and the Devil could not take her. The story had taken a very dark turn, with the father cutting off his daughter’s hands and her crying on the stumps to keep herself so pure the Devil still could not take her. She’d had hands made of silver later, when she’d married a king, but Suede had been haunted by the image of the father cutting off his pious daughter’s hands while she wept and let him.
In Hell, in Benzaie’s chambers, Suede found a stick of charcoal in the fireplace. He drew a circle around himself and prayed. He prayed for salvation, for rescue from Hell itself, for some sign that this was merely a test of his devotion and that soon he would find himself at the Gates of Heaven.
Benzaie arrived after some time, and chuckled.
“You know, when I pictured you on your knees in my chambers, this is not what I had in mind,” Benzaie drew closer, eyes flicking over Suede and the circle. “You think this will keep me out?” he scuffed at the outline.
“Ah, yes, your continual refusal to respect my personal space.”
“I am absolutely brimming with respect for you, my priest,” Benzaie crouched down and leaned forward. He reached to cup Suede’s cheek in one hand.
His fingers brushed Suede’s skin, and no sooner had the contact been made, he wrenched his hand away, yelping with pain. Benzaie’s fingers looked as though they’d been covered in frost, and blue-black patches were spreading across his hand. They faded gradually.
Suede allowed himself a small smile and closed his eyes, bringing his hands up once again to pray. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.”
Benzaie hissed in disgust and left the room.
~*~
“It’s been nearly three weeks, Suede.” Benzaie said one day. He was perched on a chair in the corner of the room.
Suede was praying in a circle again, trying to ignore Benzaie. There was little else to do, confined as he was to Benzaie’s chambers. Much as he wanted to flee, and though he suspected it might be possible for him to actually cross through the Gates of Hell, his encounter with that monstrous gluttony demon had convinced him that such an avenue was far too dangerous. If Benzaie hadn’t chased after him … Suede didn’t want to think about that. Apparently wearing that vile necklace would keep demons from touching him, but Suede had refused to wear it. Putting it on would have been a symbol of stepping down the path to damnation.
“I know your Lord works in mysterious ways, but surely abandoning one as devout as yourself in my hands for this length of time is … rather lax?” Benzaie smirked.
“Time works differently here.” Suede said. “You could have cast a glamour on my mind, made me think this much time has passed, when in reality it has been a few hours.”
“You flatter me, Suede,” Benzaie touched his heart, or, rather, where his heart would have been were he human. “But even I cannot manipulate time like that. Besides, I would not lie to you.”
Suede snorted.
“I am serious, Suede.” Benzaie covered his hand in his sleeve to briefly touch Suede’s chin, force him to look him in the eye. Even this, however, did not protect him for long. Benzaie shook his slightly singed fingers in the air. “Up there, on Earth, I had many reasons to lie, to deceive, to manipulate you. But … you’re here now. With me. In my domain. I have no need to try to seduce your mortal form to ensure your damnation. So why should I keep track of lies and deceptions when it is far easier, and crueler, to tell you the truth?”
Suede looked away. “I can’t trust you,” he said, but his tone was less forceful than before.
Benzaie smirked to himself and wondered how long the priest would be able to last.
~*~
Three days later, Benzaie fled the room clutching at his face. Various patches of singed flesh were still sizzling with frost and sickly colors.
He’d tried to make a move on Suede. He’d thought Suede would be more malleable at this point. He’d been wrong. Very wrong.
Suede continued to pray. Though he would not admit it aloud, Benzaie’s words had taken root in his soul. It made no sense, how Suede could have been stolen from Heaven, dragged to Hell, and no rescue had been sent. He had spent almost all his time in Hell praying for deliverance and protection, thus far no help had been sent.
An utterly terrifying thought crossed Suede’s mind.
What if God could hear his prayers, even from down in Hell?
And what if God had abandoned him?
Suede shoved the insidious thoughts from his mind and continued to pray. But gradually, inch by inch, the doubtful thoughts returned.
~*~
Suede knew that eating in the underworld was a bad idea. Eating in any place that was hostile or dangerous was generally not a smart move. However, he still felt the pangs of hunger. Residual impulses from being alive, he supposed. It wasn’t as though Suede needed to breathe anymore either, but he still did that.
Lately his hunger had been less severe, his queasy terror at being abandoned had robbed him of the desire to eat or drink. But as the days became weeks, and Benzaie informed him that it had been three months now since he was dragged down to Hell, even his fear could not hold back the gnawing sensation in his belly.
Suede had never felt so lonely in his entire life. His vocation as a priest, one placed in an active city, had kept him in nearly constant contact with people. Morning, noon, even night for evening mass and church events. Confined to Benzaie’s chambers with only the demon for company, and their conversations limited to sexually-charged banter from Benzaie and strong defense from Suede, had been incredibly isolating. If he’d been in a remote monastery, even that would have held other holy men, and given him the ability to wander the surrounding woods or shoreline depending on the monastery.
Suede had traced the confines of Benzaie’s chambers so often he knew the exact measurements of every room, the location of every piece of furniture and grotesque knick-knack. Benzaie, having witnessed Suede’s pacing about, had taken to altering the rooms in subtle ways, a few feet here or there, a doorframe shifted, a table dragged into a new location.
First Suede had been frustrated by this behavior. Then he had caught himself laughing at the new arrangement of the day. He’d stifled the sound hurriedly, but it had been too late: Benzaie had seen him, heard him, and in response had smiled a triumphant smile.
This had sent Suede into a full-on panic. He’d fled to the other side of the place, stared out the small window to the lake of fire, and wrapped his arms around himself, sobbing as quietly as he could manage. He was in Hell, but he didn’t belong there. There seemed to be no end in sight, no signal of rescue or sign as to why he was here and not in Heaven where he rightly belonged.
Worst of all, his thoughts towards Benzaie, already dangerous enough when he’d been an Earthly man and as capable of sinning as any other, had become increasingly difficult to manage. The constant proximity of Benzaie, his barrage of comments and suggestions, his manner of dress and habit of posture, all had combined into a private torment for Suede. Not nearly the degree to which those suffered outside the chambers, Suede could hear the screams sometimes even from so far away, but still, he was being tormented.
He was being tempted. He was feeling the lack of God’s proximity, and he was doubting in God’s everlasting love.
Voicing his concerns to Benzaie had been unthinkable not too long ago. Now … now Suede needed to talk to someone about this, even if that someone was a demon.
“Would you take my confession?” Suede asked, one night. (At least, Suede thought it to be night, Hell had no sky, no sun, no morning commuters.)
Benzaie looked at him, startled. “Your confession?” he raised a single eyebrow.
Suede hated himself, for finding that expression alluring. It should have been monstrous, tempting, evil … and yet when he saw it, all Suede felt was raw desire.
“Yes,” Suede cleared his throat. “My confession. It’s been rather a long time since I’ve been able to unburden myself.”
“And you seek to do so with a demon?” Benzaie grinned broadly.
“No alternatives present themselves.”
Benzaie laughed. “No, I’m afraid they don’t. I can’t imagine some of the corrupt Popes we have down here would interest you. Nasty pieces of work, the lot of them.”
Suede shuddered, but said nothing.
“Very well,” Benzaie stretched out on the couch, head propped up on his hand. “Shall we begin?”
Suede vaguely recognized the pose from Titanic, and some internet meme about wanting to be drawn ‘like one of your French girls.’ He shook himself, collecting his thoughts. “Um, yes. Ah …” the set-up was all wrong, he wasn’t used to confessing while staring straight into someone’s eyes. A confessional booth was private and safe. This was anything but. “Normally I would beg forgiveness and you would bestow a blessing, but as you are not a priest, I think we can forego that.”
“Naturally,” Benzaie nodded.
Suede took a deep breath. “It has been … four months, since my last confession. I have … I have found myself … I have … for the first time in my life I have …”
Suede took a moment to compose himself. Benzaie said nothing, he only continued to stare. Suede made the mistake of looking at him again, following the curve of Benzaie’s throat to his collarbone.
“This was a mistake.” Suede stood up.
“Aw, come on! This was just getting good!” Benzaie bolted up, eager and attentive. “Never pegged you for a roleplayer, Suede, but I can work with this …”
Suede turned on Benzaie, fury burning through his lust. “Why do you always do that? I was trying to share something with you, something important, serious, and you twist it around into … smut!”
“I’m a demon, Suede. An incubus. I’m supposed to constantly remind people of how easy it would be to slip into a bit of lustful indulgence. I … I can’t really stop it, it’s just a part of who I am.”
“Well, it’s crass, and annoying.” Suede began to walk away, then paused in the doorway. “And it’s not nearly as appealing as you think. It makes you sound tacky.”
Suede got a glimpse of Benzaie’s outraged expression before he fled the room.
Well, he hadn’t been able to give his confession. But he did feel much better.
~*~
“I’m sorry.”
Suede looked up. What kind of trick was this?
Benzaie wasn’t looking at Suede. He was tending to the fire in the grate.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry. About the other night.” Benzaie looked over his shoulder briefly, then back to the fire. “You were trying to confide in me, trust me, in a strange way. That must have taken a lot for you, especially under these circumstances. And I made light of it. I didn’t respect you. And for that, I am sorry.”
Suede waited for the joke, the flirtatious quip, something. Instead, Benzaie continued to tend the fire in silence through the night, until Suede had drifted off to sleep.
~*~
One night (at least, Suede thought it was night) he was sitting on Benzaie’s couch reading. Nearly all the books in Benzaie’s home were sexually charged in one way or another, or were average books that every few pages revealed centerfolds. Suede had discovered that if he dedicated enough thought to it, he could force the books into stopping such shock displays and carry through a narrative somewhat. True, the books were mostly written by notorious sinners, but at least it was something to occupy his mind.
Benzaie had joined him on the couch, but had made no advances towards him for some time. Suede found Benzaie’s proximity mildly distracting, despite the demon doing nothing but sit a few feet away from him on the couch. His focus shifted, and soon the centerfolds were back in the book, startling him from the storyline.
Benzaie chuckled under his breath, but said nothing.
Suede, increasingly flustered, made an impulsive decision. He continued to turn the pages of the book, but darted glances over to Benzaie. The demon’s hand was resting on the couch cushions. between them.
Suede reached out and grasped Benzaie’s wrist, fingers stroking over the palm of his hand.
Benzaie went very still. His skin did not burn, his flesh did not sizzle into patches of unnatural shades of red and blue.
Suede dropped the book in shock.
Benzaie leaned forward to kiss Suede, but Suede flinched back, letting go of Benzaie’s hand.
“No!” Suede scrambled back, half falling off of the couch in his haste to stand and get away from Benzaie.
“No?” Benzaie titled his head to the side and smirked. “We were making real progress there.”
“That was a mistake.”
“You say that now,” Benzaie stretched languidly. “But soon, you’re going to beg for more. Your barriers are finally breaking down. That icy shell is melting. I’m a patient man, Suede, I can wait a little while longer.” Benzaie licked his lips, and vanished in a puff of red smoke.
Suede tried to pray that night, and found he couldn’t concentrate.
~*~
Benzaie always made a big show of eating. He locked the doors to whatever room Suede was in three times a day and ate lavish meals in front of him. In the beginning, Suede had drawn his circle and prayed during these displays. Increasingly, he’d taken to watching, or sitting at the table and not touching anything. At first he had justified it to himself as punishment, testing his resolve. Suede had been forced to admit, privately, in his own mind, that it was because he was so hungry. He missed the taste and texture of food, the feeling of being full and content. Though he knew rationally he required no food now, decades of mortal life and mortal needs were hard to set aside.
It was dinner. At least, Benzaie was pretending it was dinner. Suede’s eyes were drawn to Benzaie’s lips as he ate. How could eating be so sensual, so suggestive, so … alluring?
This was dangerous. Suede knew he should leave the table, face the wall, and pray. But he’d been praying for months now, with no word from Heaven, no sign, not a single feeling of God’s protection. True, there had been the frost, but Suede had felt no force of God’s powers behind that, only a burning and energy-draining sense of his own soul fighting back against Benzaie’s onslaught.
He was alone.
Suede watched Benzaie and, for the first time, allowed the full force of his desires to reign free.
Suede stood up and circled around the table, towards Benzaie. Benzaie stopped, fork halfway to his lips, watching him.
Suede knocked the fork from Benzaie’s hand.
Time stood still.
Benzaie turned, slowly, to fix Suede with a very dangerous look.
Suede pushed Benzaie’s chair out a few inches, and straddled him very carefully. Benzaie kept his arms at his sides, though his hands were clenching from the effort of not reaching up and touching, not yet. Suede let his hands trace over Benzaie’s face and neck, tangling in his hair.
“Don’t you say a word,” Suede whispered, tongue darting out to lick the shell of Benzaie’s ear.
Benzaie moaned, squirming with the effort of not touching Suede as he so clearly wanted to.
“I thought I was a good man. Not a great man, of course, just another servant of the Lord,” Suede said, experimenting with rocking his hips slightly. From the way Benzaie reacted, he seemed to find it quite enjoyable. “I hoped that I helped people, kept them on the path of the righteous, steered them from temptation. I thought I was succeeding. I thought that when I died, I’d have left the world a bit of a better place. That at least a few people were saved, because of actions I’d taken.”
Benzaie tentatively reached up to wrap his arms around Suede’s waist, hands gripping the back of his shirt.
“Hmm … no.” Suede murmured, and gently pulled Benzaie’s hands away. “Let’s do this right. In your bed.”
Benzaie moaned openly and clapped a hand over his own mouth, clearly stifling a barrage of sexual innuendos in response to Suede’s suggestion.
Suede knew where Benzaie’s bedroom was. For the first several days and nights in Hell, he’d woken in there, in Benzaie’s bed, regardless of where he’d fallen asleep the night before. He’d always leapt out of the tangling, soft, pomegranate red sheets, scrambled away to peals of Benzaie’s laughter. Now, now he was seeking it out.
He paused in the doorway, on the threshold, as it were, of sin. Even now, he had a chance. He could pray harder. He could continue hoping against all hope that he would be rescued from this pit of debauchery before he could debase himself.
Benzaie touched him on the shoulder, an almost chaste gesture, before pressing against Suede’s back. There was nothing chaste about the outline of Benzaie’s erection against Suede’s body.
Suede reached back, took Benzaie’s wrist in his hand, and led him inside.
“As I was saying, I thought I was a good man. But I can’t have been, if you were able to corrupt me.” Suede turned, making himself look Benzaie in the eye. “And you have corrupted me. Utterly and absolutely.”
Benzaie gasped, face turning almost as crimson as his sheets. He turned his hand and encircled Suede’s fingers with his own, the unnatural warmth pulsing through his skin.
“I’ve been praying,” Suede whispered. “Day and night, or whatever it is down here. And for the first time in my life, I haven’t felt God’s presence. I haven’t felt His protection, His love, His blessing. All I’ve felt is emptiness. Silence.”
Suede suddenly pushed Benzaie backwards. Benzaie fell onto the bed, eyes wide.
“I am completely …” Suede climbed up onto the bed and shoved Benzaie down onto the mattress “… utterly …” he pulled Benzaie’s shirt off “… alone.” Suede unzipped Benzaie’s jeans.
Benzaie made a strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat.
“So, if He has indeed abandoned me to my fate, after my lifetime was spent spreading His word, guiding people based on His wisdom … then I am damned already.” Suede pulled Benzaie’s jeans off of him, and found that the demon wasn’t wearing any underwear. “And if I’m already damned, I should enjoy everything the damned get to experience before they end up down here.”
Benzaie wriggled with excitement.
Suede’s confidence flagged. He knew, in theory, what he was supposed to do now. But he’d never done it before, and never been on the receiving end, so he had no idea what it was supposed to look like or feel like.
Benzaie seemed to sense his hesitation.
“If I may … offer some guidance?” Benzaie offered, propping himself up on his elbows.
Suede felt his face redden, but nodded.
“Wrap one of your hands around the base like … ohhhhhh, yes, like that,” Benzaie’s hips bucked as Suede followed his instructions. “That will give you more control. Now, you’re going to want to go slow, very slow, and make sure you breathe through your nose. Don’t just try and swallow it down all at once like you’ve seen in porn flicks.”
“I’ve never watched porn,” Suede reminded Benzaie.
“Oh, right. That’s actually good, in this case, you don’t have any preconceived idiotic ideas. Make sure your teeth are covered as best you can, and just … go slow. Yeah.”
Suede nodded, and focused on Benzaie’s cock with determination.
“Don’t look so grim!” Benzaie laughed. “This is supposed to be fun!”
Suede nodded, took several deep breaths, and leaned down.
It was … strange. The taste was not what he had expected, though truth be told Suede wasn’t sure what he had expected. It was difficult to keep his teeth covered, and Benzaie made a few pained gasps from time to time when Suede’s teeth scraped against him by accident.
Still, the overall response from Benzaie was a series of increasingly loud, delighted moans of pleasure. Suede wriggled his tongue experimentally as was rewarded with a string of blasphemies from Benzaie.
“Yes … yes … you’re doing wonderfully Suede … keep … keep going … please …” Benzaie’s voice cracked towards the end.
Suede felt a surge of pride, and rode the wave of it forward. He found, if he relaxed enough, he was able to take Benzaie’s length deeper into his mouth.
“Oh no …” Benzaie cursed in a string of languages Suede didn’t recognize, finishing with Latin and French. “No, not yet … I’m going to …” Benzaie moved his hips as if to pull out of Suede’s mouth entirely.
Suede let go of his grip on Benzaie’s cock, only to dig his fingers into Benzaie’s hips instead, pinning him in place.
Benzaie swore colorfully in French and Latin, one hand grabbing Suede’s hair and yanking hard enough that tears sprang to Suede’s eyes.
Suede choked and gagged, pulling away.
“You can spit if you want, I won’t be offended,” Benzaie stretched out languidly on the bed.
Suede swallowed with difficulty. He wiped his face on his hand and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Well, as charming as that was, and it was charming to see your lips wrapped around me like that … I think it’s my turn to be on top, don’t you?” Benzaie was sitting up suddenly, arms wrapped around Suede’s chest and unbuttoning his shirt.
Suede shifted to allow Benzaie to undress him, feeling his face heat up as they progressed. No one had seen him naked in a very long time, and never in an intimate fashion. Benzaie stripped him methodically and quickly, pressing burning kisses to Suede’s skin as he went.
“Beautiful,” Benzaie whispered, as he laid Suede out flat on the bed and took him in. “Just … beautiful.”
Suede felt the urge to cover himself with his hands. It had been one thing to pin Benzaie down, fellate him even, but Suede had been fully clothed then. Now he was naked, bared completely, and there was no concealing anything, least of all his burgeoning erection.
Benzaie smirked. “Lucky for you, it doesn’t take long for me to get ready again.” He twitched slightly, and suddenly he was as hard as he’d been before. “Now … let’s get you ready.”
What followed was a series of actions Suede only vaguely understood and couldn’t observe easily. He felt Benzaie opening him up, aided by a jar of what Suede hoped was lube but could have been the blood of the damned for all he knew. Once Benzaie started jabbing his fingers against something deep inside Suede, he stopped caring about anything at all besides the pleasure he was experiencing.
“Ask me,” Benzaie breathed, one hand on Suede’s thigh, hips canted forward. “Ask for it.”
“You know what I want.” Suede squirmed. “Go on.”
“Ask me,” Benzaie trailed slick fingers over Suede’s cock teasingly. “Invite me.”
Suede huffed a laugh. There was a dirty joke there, a play on the usual way of things between humans and demons, requiring permission to enter a home. Well, Suede’s body had been his temple. And now he had to invite Benzaie in to defile it.
“Please,” Suede stared at the wall. “I want –”
Benzaie took him by the chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “Tell me.”
Suede stared up at Benzaie. “I want …” he said slowly, unable to tear his gaze from Benzaie’s, “I want you to … fuck me.”
Benzaie smiled, and Suede would have sworn he could see all of the demon’s teeth.
Despite the preparation, it was painful at first. The sensation was unlike anything Suede had ever experienced. He grasped at the pomegranate red sheets as Benzaie sped up his pace. At one point, Benzaie thrust so forcefully that Suede hit the headboard. Suede reached up and gripped at the slats in the headboard to prevent that from happening again.
“Don’t come yet.” Benzaie panted.
“Why not?” Suede asked. His cock was dripping, throbbing, and every time Benzaie seemed to thrust against that spot inside him, Suede’s cock twitched.
“I want to taste you. Just hold on, if you can …” Benzaie groaned.
Suede tried, tried focusing on the pain instead, but even the pain felt pleasurable at that point.
Benzaie swore, and collapsed on top of Suede. Suede squirmed underneath him, barely capable of movement of his own such was his overwhelming desire.
“Patience, my priest,” Benzaie slid down Suede’s body, rubbing his cheek against Suede’s cock. He swallowed Suede down quickly.
Suede had a brief understanding of what Benzaie had meant earlier about not going so fast, before his vision went white and he fell back against the pillows. He came within moments, moaned aloud in a way that should have been embarrassing, and found he didn’t care.
Benzaie crawled up to lay beside Suede, nuzzling against Suede’s shoulder. Suede shifted weakly but made no significant effort to move away.
“I think we should take a break for a while, don’t you?” Benzaie smiled lazily.
Suede did agree. He fell asleep sometime after the third round, or was it the fourth? Regardless, he fell asleep tangled in the sheets in the arms of a demon.
~*~
When Suede woke, he was in Benzaie’s bed, in Benzaie’s arms. He jolted, panicking, as all the memories flooded back. He’d slept with Benzaie. Thoroughly, utterly, as if going down a checklist of requisite sexual acts. While perhaps there were some positions they had not attempted, no one could deny they had been intimate in a variety of ways. What little power he had held over Benzaie, to hold his attention for so long, had been extinguished. Suede was no longer a novelty, a prize to be pursued, an unattainable goal. Benzaie had discovered things about him last night that Suede had never even known about himself previously.
Benzaie met Suede’s eyes and smiled. “Morning, my priest.”
“Are you going to eat me now?” Suede blurted it out before he could think.
Benzaie blinked. “What?”
“Eat my soul. You know. Torture me. For eternity.” Suede gulped, the queasy anxiety returning tenfold. “Because I’d rather you … you get on with it.” His breath was strained, panicked even.
“Oh, mon cher,” Benzaie drew Suede close, embracing him tightly. “You must be so frightened. I have given you no cause to trust me, to trust that I would never harm you. But know this: after all the trouble I went through to get you here, to have you willing in my bed, I have no intention of ever harming you. And I certainly have no intention of ever allowing you to come to harm at the hands of others.” Benzaie buried his face in the crook of Suede’s neck. “You are my priest. Mine. Last night only cemented that fact.”
There was no reason for Benzaie to lie now. He’d gotten what he’d wanted, and now he wanted to keep Suede.
“Oh,” was all Suede could manage.
“Shall I introduce you to the benefits of taking advantage of morning wood?” Benzaie waggled his eyebrows.
“… sure.” Suede settled in for another round of sexual exploration.
~*~
The ringing continued for several minutes. It sounded like a doorbell, with significantly more ancient bells clanging.
“FINE, I’m coming!” Benzaie left the couch – and Suede – reluctantly and yanked open the door to his home. “What is it?!” he snapped, eyes flashing red and smoke curling around him.
A timid demon squeaked and took a leap backwards. “My lord, you have been summoned!” it spluttered, holding up, of all things, a cellphone. “Someone is at the Gates to Hell, demanding your priest!”
“What? Who?” Benzaie stared in shock.
“S-s-s-santa Christ!” the demon whispered, utterly terrified.
“He’s here?!” Benzaie looked around frantically.
“No, my lord, he’s just outside the gates! A Guardian Angel is with him, and the Critic, the brother of Ask That Guy!”
Benzaie gaped.
“My lord, you have been summoned!” the demon repeated. “You are to bring yourself, and the priest, to the Gates at once!”
“By whose orders?” Benzaie asked, though there was no more fire in his words.
“Ask That Guy.” The demon shivered upon saying his name.
“Well then, we must do as he says,” Benzaie said slowly. “Tell him we’ll be there right away.”
The demon bobbed a frantic half-bow half-curtsey before scampering away, chittering into the cellphone.
“Santa Christ is here?” Suede asked, hardly believing it.
“And a Guardian Angel, I can bet I know which one,” Benzaie scowled. “And the Critic … what is he doing here? This makes no sense.”
“They … they came for me?” Suede asked. “But … I waited … months and months … and now they’re here?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Benzaie said dismissively, throwing on a shirt and raising Suede from the couch. “You’re mine, now, and they can’t take you from me.”
~*~
There was quite the tableau waiting for them at the Gates to Hell. Ask That Guy, surrounded by a curious crowd of demons, was fuming off to the side. Critic was standing nearby, arms crossed and looking like he’d rather be watching Batman and Robin than doing this. Little Miss Gamer stood next to him, the closest to the Gates. She glowed with pure light, for all she looked timid and frightened of her surroundings. Suede noticed that her feet did not touch the ground, she was hovering in the air.
Then, just beyond the Gates, a brilliant, blinding light glowed in the distance. It looked like a small sun. If Suede squinted, he could just barely make out the details of a figure with a red hat. Santa Christ!
“Father Suede!” Little Miss Gamer gasped with relief. “I was so worried!”
“Hey,” Critic looked Suede up and down. “You’re looking … a lot less repressed.”
“Indeed. That is rather the issue, is it not?” Ask that Guy chuckled. “I’m afraid you arrived too late for a proper rescue mission. You’ll just have to turn around and leave … and take that preposterous idiot with you!” he glared in the direction of Santa Christ.
Suede glanced at Ask that Guy. He seemed angry, yes, but there was something underneath that … fear. He was frightened of Santa Christ. Had Santa Christ ever ventured this close to Hell? What would happen if he got closer to the Gates? What would happen if he entered through the Gates and into Hell itself? Would the balance of the universe be thrown out of check?
“Suede, what happened?” Little Miss Gamer gasped. “Your soul, it’s … it’s …” she looked horrified. “What did you do?”
Benzaie threw an arm around Suede’s shoulders. “What didn’t he do, is the question you should be asking.”
Even Ask That Guy laughed at that. Suede felt his face heat up, for the first time in weeks, not from pleasure but from shame.
“Not the issue at hand. Heaven alleges that you stole this soul unjustly, and you have to give him back now.” Critic said, reading off of a notecard pulled from his jacket pocket. “You held no claim over the soul of Father Suede, and he was due to be taken to Heaven by this Guardian Angel when his time came.” Critic pointed to Little Miss Gamer. “She showed up, and you yanked him away. You can’t just do that, Benzaie, come on. There are Rules.”
“Rules were made to be broken, brother,” Ask that Guy drawled. “For example, there was that time when we got particularly drunk on moonshine and you offered to –”
“Not the issue here!” Critic spluttered quickly. “Look, he’s not yours, he’s Heaven’s problem. Hand him over, and we can all go back to where we belong.”
“He belongs here, with me,” Benzaie growled. “And you will not take him from me.”
“Suede, I don’t understand how he can be touching you,” Little Miss Gamer blurted out. “You’re a man of God, even here you should have protections. It should be painful, impossible, for them to touch you here, to influence you at all. And yet he … he can touch you.” Little Miss Gamer waved her hand to the arm Benzaie had around Suede’s shoulders.
“Oh, we can do more than that,” Benzaie leaned in and snatched a quick kiss from Suede, before Suede lightly shoved him back.
Little Miss Gamer’s eyes were wide with horror. Critic’s eyebrows were raised. Ask That Guy leered, as did many of the demons who had gathered to watch the proceedings.
“Let’s ask Suede what he thinks, shall we?” Critic asked. “Suede, do you … want to leave Hell?”
“Of course he does!” Little Miss Gamer yelped.
“Of course he doesn’t!” Benzaie snapped.
Suede glanced between the two of them, and then rested his gaze on Critic. “Can we talk, alone, please?” he asked.
Critic nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Everyone like, clear the field.”
Little Miss Gamer pulled back towards the Gates. Ask That Guy and the other demons pulled away. Benzaie reluctantly took several steps away as well.
“What happened?” Suede asked as soon as they were relatively alone.
“What do you mean?” Critic asked. “You got murdered, that’s what happened.”
“No, not that,” Suede waved his hands. “This! Me: here! I’ve been here for months, I prayed every day, and I received no signs, no messages, nothing at all! I … I did not feel God’s presence with me. Not once since I’ve been here. I thought I’d been … abandoned. And so I … I sinned.” Suede glanced at Benzaie in the distance. “I sinned, and I enjoyed it. And now you come here, and tell me that Heaven wants me after all? After I’ve … the things I’ve done … debased myself … ruined myself … all for enjoyment, for lust, for … for a demon!” Suede struggled to keep his voice down.
“Look, Father,” Critic stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s been a gigantic fuck-up back on Earth, and from what I hear, Upstairs as well. They still don’t understand how the fuck Benzaie managed to drag your ass down here, or keep you for so long. They kept thinking you’d just walk your way out, since demons aren’t supposed to be able to touch you, but you never showed, and so they wanted to send someone down here, but Little Miss Gamer couldn’t come alone, and so they had to get me in to be a mediator, and it’s just been a trainwreck up there, I swear.”
That still didn’t explain why Suede had not felt God’s love.
“Maybe they wanted me before, but they certainly won’t want me now.” Suede gestured down at himself. “I’ve lived the sins of a dozen people since my time here. Heaven won’t want me after this.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Critic shrugged. “That’s not my call. You gotta go up to the Pearly Gates to find out about that. And, I mean, extenuating circumstances like whoa. You’re not exactly a normal case. I’m sure you’ll get in, no problem.”
Suede looked at Benzaie. They might never see each other again.
“You do … want to go to Heaven, right?” Critic asked, narrowing his eyes. “Look, Father, I’m sure it’s fun doing the nasty all day and night with a sex demon, but he’s gonna get bored eventually. Then he’ll toss you to one of his friends, or just throw you in a pit and forget about you. You don’t want to be stuck here forever, trust me.”
There was merit to that. As much as Benzaie claimed to love him, to want to keep him forever, forever would be a reality in Hell. Suede could only be interesting for so long, surely, and Benzaie would cast him aside for another distraction to his immortality?
“You’re probably right,” Suede said, heart heavy.
Critic waved everyone back to the somewhat circle.
“Well?” Ask that Guy demanded.
“I’m leaving,” Suede said, unable to look Benzaie in the eye. “This place … this is not where I belong.”
Benzaie made a soft, distressed noise.
Suede flinched. “I must be judged by Heaven. Though Critic thinks otherwise, I believe I will not be allowed inside, and will return here.”
“Oh, that I can guarantee,” Ask That Guy cackled. “I can see your soul, Father, and it’s deliciously corrupted.”
“You only see the bad in people. You see only flaws and stains. Those in Heaven can see a complete picture of a person’s soul.” Little Miss Gamer said, managing to cast a rather imperious glance at Ask That Guy.
Ask That Guy sneered. “Delude yourself all you like, angel, but I know this one will be back. Probably crawling on all fours begging for someone to give him a good rough –”
Critic reached over and slapped Ask That Guy across the face.
The gathered demons gasped. Even Suede and Little Miss Gamer looked shocked.
“You will pay for that, brother,” Ask That Guy hissed, rearing up and seemingly towering over his twin.
“I know. We’re leaving now though. See you around. Or not.” Critic started walking backwards to the Gates. “Let’s go, now!” he said, voice reaching some urgency as he watched Ask That Guy continue to fume.
“Suede, don’t go!” Benzaie took him by the hand. “I meant it. Every word, I meant it! I would never harm you, or lie to you.”
“Not at first, no. But you’d grow bored of me eventually.” Suede sighed heavily. “Once the novelty wore off. I’m not very interesting. I lead a rather uneventful life, until you came into it.”
“Stay, please!” Benzaie lunged in for a kiss, gripping Suede’s head between his hands and pinning them together.
The kiss was hot, searingly so. Suede felt himself melting against Benzaie’s touch. He imagined the future, going back to Benzaie’s house, back to the bed …
… but it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last.
Suede broke the kiss and gently pushed Benzaie back. “I can’t stay. I have to leave. I’m … I’m sorry.” He actually was sorry.
Suede left with Critic and Little Miss Gamer. Behind them, the Gates clanged shut.
~*~
Heaven was very much as Suede had imagined it. Bright lights, fluffy clouds, a sense of peace and serenity he had experienced in very large churches and among groups of the devout.
Suede was being judged, as he understood it, but the idea did not fill him with dread or shame. It was impossible to feel such things in Heaven. He registered them distantly, but the overwhelming sense of calm rendered him unable to feel them.
Critic had not come with them, he’d been dropped off on Earth, grumbling all the while.
Santa Christ had looked Suede over with a very knowing expression. “I am disappointed in you, Father Suede,” Santa Christ had said.
Suede knew he would carry that with him for the rest of his existence.
Little Miss Gamer appeared after a long stretch of time. “They don’t know what to do,” she said, stunned. “You were supposed to be here, but then he snatched you and … well …” Little Miss Gamer blushed.
“So I’ll be sent back?” Suede asked. Was he excited? Upset? He felt like he was in a fog. Perhaps the transition between Hell and Heaven was a shock to the soul, like going from a hot day to an air conditioned building could upset a person’s body.
“No, they don’t … you shouldn’t be condemned to Hell for all eternity, but you can’t stay here forever either …” Little Miss Gamer bit her lip. “I just don’t know! This isn’t right!”
Suede thought of Benzaie’s pomegranate colored sheets. He thought of the Gates to Hell opening and shutting. He thought of the joke he’d made a few days ago, that had made Benzaie laugh so hard he’d fallen over, about a double meaning of eating seeds. Suede looked around, at the blinding bright lights of Heaven. He belonged here, surely … so why did it feel so uncomfortable?
“I have an idea …” Suede said slowly.
~*~
When Suede returned to the Gates of Hell, he walked inside and kept walking. Demons approached him, some even tried to attack him, but none could withstand the bright light and freezing cold emanating from his body. Suede walked until he reached Benzaie’s door, and rang the bell.
“Leave me alone, Chaos D1!” Benzaie groaned from inside. “Go back to Lilith and tell her I’m busy wasting away to nothing!”
“Benzaie, it’s me!” Suede yelled.
Benzaie scrambled inside and yanked the door open. He looked worse than Suede has ever seen him, pallid, messy hair, clothes disheveled not sexily but carelessly.
“You’re … you’re back?” Benzaie gasped. “But … how? Why?”
“It’s complicated,” Suede began, moving inside and shutting the door behind himself. “Heaven didn’t know exactly what to do with me. So I proposed something to them. A sort of … trade off.”
Benzaie nodded. “I like the sound of that.”
“Half the year, I’m in Heaven, as any good Christian man such as myself should have been all along. But the other half, I’m here, ah, atoning for my sins.” Suede smiled. “And doing my upmost to convert you to the loving embrace of God, who forgives all sins, however extreme –”
Benzaie seized Suede and kissed him forcefully, slamming him against the wall.
“The only ‘loving embrace’ I’m interested in is yours,” Benzaie growled, ripping at Suede’s clothes with his hands.
Suede laughed. “Well, we do have eternity to work on that.”
After his “welcome home” as Benzaie put it, Suede got out of bed and stretched. He opened a set of drawers and rummaged around for several minutes.
“What are you looking for?” Benzaie asked, rolling over in the sheets, lazy and sated.
“This.” Suede pulled out the necklace of guts.
Benzaie waved a hand in the air. “Chuck it out the window, I’ll have someone take care of it later.”
“No, I think I’ll do this instead.” Suede draped the necklace over his head and turned to face Benzaie. “It marks me as yours, right?”
Benzaie stared, and nodded slowly, face flushing with newfound arousal.
“Well, I am yours,” Suede returned to bed, catching Benzaie’s eager lips in a kiss. “So, as long as I’m here, I’ll wear it.”
Eventually the necklace was replaced with something less grisly and more refined, twists of jewels and metal, glowing stones. However, Suede never did let Benzaie throw out the original necklace.
(the end)
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Word Count: 7,263 (approx.)
Series: The Denny’s Court Universe
Pairings: Father Suede/Benzaie
Characters: Father Suede, Benzaie, Ask That Guy, Critic, Little Miss Gamer, Santa Christ, background demons.
Warnings: Sexual harassment, highly questionable and very explicit sex, vague religious implications I don’t fully explore.
Summary: Dragged down to Hell, Father Suede faces the greatest test of his Faith yet.
Continuation: Takes place directly after Persephone II
A/N: Wow, it’s finally finished. This fic has been … almost three years in the making? Really? Time flies. Pieces of this were written when I was still in college, then abandoned, then reworked, and now, after far too long, this is finally complete. There’s been a lot of build up, especially if you’ve frequented the community chats over the past few years, you’ve heard bits and pieces. The timeline is a bit of a mess, but this should fit into the DCU continuity pretty well. I very much hope that this has been worth the wait. Big thanks to ladydiskette and butterflyslinky for their patience, beta-reading, and pushing me to keep working on this fic.
Suede remembered a fairy tale from when he was a child. It was about a girl whose father had unwittingly sold her to the Devil. She’d prayed and washed herself clean and drew a circle of chalk around herself, and the Devil could not take her. The story had taken a very dark turn, with the father cutting off his daughter’s hands and her crying on the stumps to keep herself so pure the Devil still could not take her. She’d had hands made of silver later, when she’d married a king, but Suede had been haunted by the image of the father cutting off his pious daughter’s hands while she wept and let him.
In Hell, in Benzaie’s chambers, Suede found a stick of charcoal in the fireplace. He drew a circle around himself and prayed. He prayed for salvation, for rescue from Hell itself, for some sign that this was merely a test of his devotion and that soon he would find himself at the Gates of Heaven.
Benzaie arrived after some time, and chuckled.
“You know, when I pictured you on your knees in my chambers, this is not what I had in mind,” Benzaie drew closer, eyes flicking over Suede and the circle. “You think this will keep me out?” he scuffed at the outline.
“Ah, yes, your continual refusal to respect my personal space.”
“I am absolutely brimming with respect for you, my priest,” Benzaie crouched down and leaned forward. He reached to cup Suede’s cheek in one hand.
His fingers brushed Suede’s skin, and no sooner had the contact been made, he wrenched his hand away, yelping with pain. Benzaie’s fingers looked as though they’d been covered in frost, and blue-black patches were spreading across his hand. They faded gradually.
Suede allowed himself a small smile and closed his eyes, bringing his hands up once again to pray. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.”
Benzaie hissed in disgust and left the room.
~*~
“It’s been nearly three weeks, Suede.” Benzaie said one day. He was perched on a chair in the corner of the room.
Suede was praying in a circle again, trying to ignore Benzaie. There was little else to do, confined as he was to Benzaie’s chambers. Much as he wanted to flee, and though he suspected it might be possible for him to actually cross through the Gates of Hell, his encounter with that monstrous gluttony demon had convinced him that such an avenue was far too dangerous. If Benzaie hadn’t chased after him … Suede didn’t want to think about that. Apparently wearing that vile necklace would keep demons from touching him, but Suede had refused to wear it. Putting it on would have been a symbol of stepping down the path to damnation.
“I know your Lord works in mysterious ways, but surely abandoning one as devout as yourself in my hands for this length of time is … rather lax?” Benzaie smirked.
“Time works differently here.” Suede said. “You could have cast a glamour on my mind, made me think this much time has passed, when in reality it has been a few hours.”
“You flatter me, Suede,” Benzaie touched his heart, or, rather, where his heart would have been were he human. “But even I cannot manipulate time like that. Besides, I would not lie to you.”
Suede snorted.
“I am serious, Suede.” Benzaie covered his hand in his sleeve to briefly touch Suede’s chin, force him to look him in the eye. Even this, however, did not protect him for long. Benzaie shook his slightly singed fingers in the air. “Up there, on Earth, I had many reasons to lie, to deceive, to manipulate you. But … you’re here now. With me. In my domain. I have no need to try to seduce your mortal form to ensure your damnation. So why should I keep track of lies and deceptions when it is far easier, and crueler, to tell you the truth?”
Suede looked away. “I can’t trust you,” he said, but his tone was less forceful than before.
Benzaie smirked to himself and wondered how long the priest would be able to last.
~*~
Three days later, Benzaie fled the room clutching at his face. Various patches of singed flesh were still sizzling with frost and sickly colors.
He’d tried to make a move on Suede. He’d thought Suede would be more malleable at this point. He’d been wrong. Very wrong.
Suede continued to pray. Though he would not admit it aloud, Benzaie’s words had taken root in his soul. It made no sense, how Suede could have been stolen from Heaven, dragged to Hell, and no rescue had been sent. He had spent almost all his time in Hell praying for deliverance and protection, thus far no help had been sent.
An utterly terrifying thought crossed Suede’s mind.
What if God could hear his prayers, even from down in Hell?
And what if God had abandoned him?
Suede shoved the insidious thoughts from his mind and continued to pray. But gradually, inch by inch, the doubtful thoughts returned.
~*~
Suede knew that eating in the underworld was a bad idea. Eating in any place that was hostile or dangerous was generally not a smart move. However, he still felt the pangs of hunger. Residual impulses from being alive, he supposed. It wasn’t as though Suede needed to breathe anymore either, but he still did that.
Lately his hunger had been less severe, his queasy terror at being abandoned had robbed him of the desire to eat or drink. But as the days became weeks, and Benzaie informed him that it had been three months now since he was dragged down to Hell, even his fear could not hold back the gnawing sensation in his belly.
Suede had never felt so lonely in his entire life. His vocation as a priest, one placed in an active city, had kept him in nearly constant contact with people. Morning, noon, even night for evening mass and church events. Confined to Benzaie’s chambers with only the demon for company, and their conversations limited to sexually-charged banter from Benzaie and strong defense from Suede, had been incredibly isolating. If he’d been in a remote monastery, even that would have held other holy men, and given him the ability to wander the surrounding woods or shoreline depending on the monastery.
Suede had traced the confines of Benzaie’s chambers so often he knew the exact measurements of every room, the location of every piece of furniture and grotesque knick-knack. Benzaie, having witnessed Suede’s pacing about, had taken to altering the rooms in subtle ways, a few feet here or there, a doorframe shifted, a table dragged into a new location.
First Suede had been frustrated by this behavior. Then he had caught himself laughing at the new arrangement of the day. He’d stifled the sound hurriedly, but it had been too late: Benzaie had seen him, heard him, and in response had smiled a triumphant smile.
This had sent Suede into a full-on panic. He’d fled to the other side of the place, stared out the small window to the lake of fire, and wrapped his arms around himself, sobbing as quietly as he could manage. He was in Hell, but he didn’t belong there. There seemed to be no end in sight, no signal of rescue or sign as to why he was here and not in Heaven where he rightly belonged.
Worst of all, his thoughts towards Benzaie, already dangerous enough when he’d been an Earthly man and as capable of sinning as any other, had become increasingly difficult to manage. The constant proximity of Benzaie, his barrage of comments and suggestions, his manner of dress and habit of posture, all had combined into a private torment for Suede. Not nearly the degree to which those suffered outside the chambers, Suede could hear the screams sometimes even from so far away, but still, he was being tormented.
He was being tempted. He was feeling the lack of God’s proximity, and he was doubting in God’s everlasting love.
Voicing his concerns to Benzaie had been unthinkable not too long ago. Now … now Suede needed to talk to someone about this, even if that someone was a demon.
“Would you take my confession?” Suede asked, one night. (At least, Suede thought it to be night, Hell had no sky, no sun, no morning commuters.)
Benzaie looked at him, startled. “Your confession?” he raised a single eyebrow.
Suede hated himself, for finding that expression alluring. It should have been monstrous, tempting, evil … and yet when he saw it, all Suede felt was raw desire.
“Yes,” Suede cleared his throat. “My confession. It’s been rather a long time since I’ve been able to unburden myself.”
“And you seek to do so with a demon?” Benzaie grinned broadly.
“No alternatives present themselves.”
Benzaie laughed. “No, I’m afraid they don’t. I can’t imagine some of the corrupt Popes we have down here would interest you. Nasty pieces of work, the lot of them.”
Suede shuddered, but said nothing.
“Very well,” Benzaie stretched out on the couch, head propped up on his hand. “Shall we begin?”
Suede vaguely recognized the pose from Titanic, and some internet meme about wanting to be drawn ‘like one of your French girls.’ He shook himself, collecting his thoughts. “Um, yes. Ah …” the set-up was all wrong, he wasn’t used to confessing while staring straight into someone’s eyes. A confessional booth was private and safe. This was anything but. “Normally I would beg forgiveness and you would bestow a blessing, but as you are not a priest, I think we can forego that.”
“Naturally,” Benzaie nodded.
Suede took a deep breath. “It has been … four months, since my last confession. I have … I have found myself … I have … for the first time in my life I have …”
Suede took a moment to compose himself. Benzaie said nothing, he only continued to stare. Suede made the mistake of looking at him again, following the curve of Benzaie’s throat to his collarbone.
“This was a mistake.” Suede stood up.
“Aw, come on! This was just getting good!” Benzaie bolted up, eager and attentive. “Never pegged you for a roleplayer, Suede, but I can work with this …”
Suede turned on Benzaie, fury burning through his lust. “Why do you always do that? I was trying to share something with you, something important, serious, and you twist it around into … smut!”
“I’m a demon, Suede. An incubus. I’m supposed to constantly remind people of how easy it would be to slip into a bit of lustful indulgence. I … I can’t really stop it, it’s just a part of who I am.”
“Well, it’s crass, and annoying.” Suede began to walk away, then paused in the doorway. “And it’s not nearly as appealing as you think. It makes you sound tacky.”
Suede got a glimpse of Benzaie’s outraged expression before he fled the room.
Well, he hadn’t been able to give his confession. But he did feel much better.
~*~
“I’m sorry.”
Suede looked up. What kind of trick was this?
Benzaie wasn’t looking at Suede. He was tending to the fire in the grate.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry. About the other night.” Benzaie looked over his shoulder briefly, then back to the fire. “You were trying to confide in me, trust me, in a strange way. That must have taken a lot for you, especially under these circumstances. And I made light of it. I didn’t respect you. And for that, I am sorry.”
Suede waited for the joke, the flirtatious quip, something. Instead, Benzaie continued to tend the fire in silence through the night, until Suede had drifted off to sleep.
~*~
One night (at least, Suede thought it was night) he was sitting on Benzaie’s couch reading. Nearly all the books in Benzaie’s home were sexually charged in one way or another, or were average books that every few pages revealed centerfolds. Suede had discovered that if he dedicated enough thought to it, he could force the books into stopping such shock displays and carry through a narrative somewhat. True, the books were mostly written by notorious sinners, but at least it was something to occupy his mind.
Benzaie had joined him on the couch, but had made no advances towards him for some time. Suede found Benzaie’s proximity mildly distracting, despite the demon doing nothing but sit a few feet away from him on the couch. His focus shifted, and soon the centerfolds were back in the book, startling him from the storyline.
Benzaie chuckled under his breath, but said nothing.
Suede, increasingly flustered, made an impulsive decision. He continued to turn the pages of the book, but darted glances over to Benzaie. The demon’s hand was resting on the couch cushions. between them.
Suede reached out and grasped Benzaie’s wrist, fingers stroking over the palm of his hand.
Benzaie went very still. His skin did not burn, his flesh did not sizzle into patches of unnatural shades of red and blue.
Suede dropped the book in shock.
Benzaie leaned forward to kiss Suede, but Suede flinched back, letting go of Benzaie’s hand.
“No!” Suede scrambled back, half falling off of the couch in his haste to stand and get away from Benzaie.
“No?” Benzaie titled his head to the side and smirked. “We were making real progress there.”
“That was a mistake.”
“You say that now,” Benzaie stretched languidly. “But soon, you’re going to beg for more. Your barriers are finally breaking down. That icy shell is melting. I’m a patient man, Suede, I can wait a little while longer.” Benzaie licked his lips, and vanished in a puff of red smoke.
Suede tried to pray that night, and found he couldn’t concentrate.
~*~
Benzaie always made a big show of eating. He locked the doors to whatever room Suede was in three times a day and ate lavish meals in front of him. In the beginning, Suede had drawn his circle and prayed during these displays. Increasingly, he’d taken to watching, or sitting at the table and not touching anything. At first he had justified it to himself as punishment, testing his resolve. Suede had been forced to admit, privately, in his own mind, that it was because he was so hungry. He missed the taste and texture of food, the feeling of being full and content. Though he knew rationally he required no food now, decades of mortal life and mortal needs were hard to set aside.
It was dinner. At least, Benzaie was pretending it was dinner. Suede’s eyes were drawn to Benzaie’s lips as he ate. How could eating be so sensual, so suggestive, so … alluring?
This was dangerous. Suede knew he should leave the table, face the wall, and pray. But he’d been praying for months now, with no word from Heaven, no sign, not a single feeling of God’s protection. True, there had been the frost, but Suede had felt no force of God’s powers behind that, only a burning and energy-draining sense of his own soul fighting back against Benzaie’s onslaught.
He was alone.
Suede watched Benzaie and, for the first time, allowed the full force of his desires to reign free.
Suede stood up and circled around the table, towards Benzaie. Benzaie stopped, fork halfway to his lips, watching him.
Suede knocked the fork from Benzaie’s hand.
Time stood still.
Benzaie turned, slowly, to fix Suede with a very dangerous look.
Suede pushed Benzaie’s chair out a few inches, and straddled him very carefully. Benzaie kept his arms at his sides, though his hands were clenching from the effort of not reaching up and touching, not yet. Suede let his hands trace over Benzaie’s face and neck, tangling in his hair.
“Don’t you say a word,” Suede whispered, tongue darting out to lick the shell of Benzaie’s ear.
Benzaie moaned, squirming with the effort of not touching Suede as he so clearly wanted to.
“I thought I was a good man. Not a great man, of course, just another servant of the Lord,” Suede said, experimenting with rocking his hips slightly. From the way Benzaie reacted, he seemed to find it quite enjoyable. “I hoped that I helped people, kept them on the path of the righteous, steered them from temptation. I thought I was succeeding. I thought that when I died, I’d have left the world a bit of a better place. That at least a few people were saved, because of actions I’d taken.”
Benzaie tentatively reached up to wrap his arms around Suede’s waist, hands gripping the back of his shirt.
“Hmm … no.” Suede murmured, and gently pulled Benzaie’s hands away. “Let’s do this right. In your bed.”
Benzaie moaned openly and clapped a hand over his own mouth, clearly stifling a barrage of sexual innuendos in response to Suede’s suggestion.
Suede knew where Benzaie’s bedroom was. For the first several days and nights in Hell, he’d woken in there, in Benzaie’s bed, regardless of where he’d fallen asleep the night before. He’d always leapt out of the tangling, soft, pomegranate red sheets, scrambled away to peals of Benzaie’s laughter. Now, now he was seeking it out.
He paused in the doorway, on the threshold, as it were, of sin. Even now, he had a chance. He could pray harder. He could continue hoping against all hope that he would be rescued from this pit of debauchery before he could debase himself.
Benzaie touched him on the shoulder, an almost chaste gesture, before pressing against Suede’s back. There was nothing chaste about the outline of Benzaie’s erection against Suede’s body.
Suede reached back, took Benzaie’s wrist in his hand, and led him inside.
“As I was saying, I thought I was a good man. But I can’t have been, if you were able to corrupt me.” Suede turned, making himself look Benzaie in the eye. “And you have corrupted me. Utterly and absolutely.”
Benzaie gasped, face turning almost as crimson as his sheets. He turned his hand and encircled Suede’s fingers with his own, the unnatural warmth pulsing through his skin.
“I’ve been praying,” Suede whispered. “Day and night, or whatever it is down here. And for the first time in my life, I haven’t felt God’s presence. I haven’t felt His protection, His love, His blessing. All I’ve felt is emptiness. Silence.”
Suede suddenly pushed Benzaie backwards. Benzaie fell onto the bed, eyes wide.
“I am completely …” Suede climbed up onto the bed and shoved Benzaie down onto the mattress “… utterly …” he pulled Benzaie’s shirt off “… alone.” Suede unzipped Benzaie’s jeans.
Benzaie made a strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat.
“So, if He has indeed abandoned me to my fate, after my lifetime was spent spreading His word, guiding people based on His wisdom … then I am damned already.” Suede pulled Benzaie’s jeans off of him, and found that the demon wasn’t wearing any underwear. “And if I’m already damned, I should enjoy everything the damned get to experience before they end up down here.”
Benzaie wriggled with excitement.
Suede’s confidence flagged. He knew, in theory, what he was supposed to do now. But he’d never done it before, and never been on the receiving end, so he had no idea what it was supposed to look like or feel like.
Benzaie seemed to sense his hesitation.
“If I may … offer some guidance?” Benzaie offered, propping himself up on his elbows.
Suede felt his face redden, but nodded.
“Wrap one of your hands around the base like … ohhhhhh, yes, like that,” Benzaie’s hips bucked as Suede followed his instructions. “That will give you more control. Now, you’re going to want to go slow, very slow, and make sure you breathe through your nose. Don’t just try and swallow it down all at once like you’ve seen in porn flicks.”
“I’ve never watched porn,” Suede reminded Benzaie.
“Oh, right. That’s actually good, in this case, you don’t have any preconceived idiotic ideas. Make sure your teeth are covered as best you can, and just … go slow. Yeah.”
Suede nodded, and focused on Benzaie’s cock with determination.
“Don’t look so grim!” Benzaie laughed. “This is supposed to be fun!”
Suede nodded, took several deep breaths, and leaned down.
It was … strange. The taste was not what he had expected, though truth be told Suede wasn’t sure what he had expected. It was difficult to keep his teeth covered, and Benzaie made a few pained gasps from time to time when Suede’s teeth scraped against him by accident.
Still, the overall response from Benzaie was a series of increasingly loud, delighted moans of pleasure. Suede wriggled his tongue experimentally as was rewarded with a string of blasphemies from Benzaie.
“Yes … yes … you’re doing wonderfully Suede … keep … keep going … please …” Benzaie’s voice cracked towards the end.
Suede felt a surge of pride, and rode the wave of it forward. He found, if he relaxed enough, he was able to take Benzaie’s length deeper into his mouth.
“Oh no …” Benzaie cursed in a string of languages Suede didn’t recognize, finishing with Latin and French. “No, not yet … I’m going to …” Benzaie moved his hips as if to pull out of Suede’s mouth entirely.
Suede let go of his grip on Benzaie’s cock, only to dig his fingers into Benzaie’s hips instead, pinning him in place.
Benzaie swore colorfully in French and Latin, one hand grabbing Suede’s hair and yanking hard enough that tears sprang to Suede’s eyes.
Suede choked and gagged, pulling away.
“You can spit if you want, I won’t be offended,” Benzaie stretched out languidly on the bed.
Suede swallowed with difficulty. He wiped his face on his hand and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Well, as charming as that was, and it was charming to see your lips wrapped around me like that … I think it’s my turn to be on top, don’t you?” Benzaie was sitting up suddenly, arms wrapped around Suede’s chest and unbuttoning his shirt.
Suede shifted to allow Benzaie to undress him, feeling his face heat up as they progressed. No one had seen him naked in a very long time, and never in an intimate fashion. Benzaie stripped him methodically and quickly, pressing burning kisses to Suede’s skin as he went.
“Beautiful,” Benzaie whispered, as he laid Suede out flat on the bed and took him in. “Just … beautiful.”
Suede felt the urge to cover himself with his hands. It had been one thing to pin Benzaie down, fellate him even, but Suede had been fully clothed then. Now he was naked, bared completely, and there was no concealing anything, least of all his burgeoning erection.
Benzaie smirked. “Lucky for you, it doesn’t take long for me to get ready again.” He twitched slightly, and suddenly he was as hard as he’d been before. “Now … let’s get you ready.”
What followed was a series of actions Suede only vaguely understood and couldn’t observe easily. He felt Benzaie opening him up, aided by a jar of what Suede hoped was lube but could have been the blood of the damned for all he knew. Once Benzaie started jabbing his fingers against something deep inside Suede, he stopped caring about anything at all besides the pleasure he was experiencing.
“Ask me,” Benzaie breathed, one hand on Suede’s thigh, hips canted forward. “Ask for it.”
“You know what I want.” Suede squirmed. “Go on.”
“Ask me,” Benzaie trailed slick fingers over Suede’s cock teasingly. “Invite me.”
Suede huffed a laugh. There was a dirty joke there, a play on the usual way of things between humans and demons, requiring permission to enter a home. Well, Suede’s body had been his temple. And now he had to invite Benzaie in to defile it.
“Please,” Suede stared at the wall. “I want –”
Benzaie took him by the chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “Tell me.”
Suede stared up at Benzaie. “I want …” he said slowly, unable to tear his gaze from Benzaie’s, “I want you to … fuck me.”
Benzaie smiled, and Suede would have sworn he could see all of the demon’s teeth.
Despite the preparation, it was painful at first. The sensation was unlike anything Suede had ever experienced. He grasped at the pomegranate red sheets as Benzaie sped up his pace. At one point, Benzaie thrust so forcefully that Suede hit the headboard. Suede reached up and gripped at the slats in the headboard to prevent that from happening again.
“Don’t come yet.” Benzaie panted.
“Why not?” Suede asked. His cock was dripping, throbbing, and every time Benzaie seemed to thrust against that spot inside him, Suede’s cock twitched.
“I want to taste you. Just hold on, if you can …” Benzaie groaned.
Suede tried, tried focusing on the pain instead, but even the pain felt pleasurable at that point.
Benzaie swore, and collapsed on top of Suede. Suede squirmed underneath him, barely capable of movement of his own such was his overwhelming desire.
“Patience, my priest,” Benzaie slid down Suede’s body, rubbing his cheek against Suede’s cock. He swallowed Suede down quickly.
Suede had a brief understanding of what Benzaie had meant earlier about not going so fast, before his vision went white and he fell back against the pillows. He came within moments, moaned aloud in a way that should have been embarrassing, and found he didn’t care.
Benzaie crawled up to lay beside Suede, nuzzling against Suede’s shoulder. Suede shifted weakly but made no significant effort to move away.
“I think we should take a break for a while, don’t you?” Benzaie smiled lazily.
Suede did agree. He fell asleep sometime after the third round, or was it the fourth? Regardless, he fell asleep tangled in the sheets in the arms of a demon.
~*~
When Suede woke, he was in Benzaie’s bed, in Benzaie’s arms. He jolted, panicking, as all the memories flooded back. He’d slept with Benzaie. Thoroughly, utterly, as if going down a checklist of requisite sexual acts. While perhaps there were some positions they had not attempted, no one could deny they had been intimate in a variety of ways. What little power he had held over Benzaie, to hold his attention for so long, had been extinguished. Suede was no longer a novelty, a prize to be pursued, an unattainable goal. Benzaie had discovered things about him last night that Suede had never even known about himself previously.
Benzaie met Suede’s eyes and smiled. “Morning, my priest.”
“Are you going to eat me now?” Suede blurted it out before he could think.
Benzaie blinked. “What?”
“Eat my soul. You know. Torture me. For eternity.” Suede gulped, the queasy anxiety returning tenfold. “Because I’d rather you … you get on with it.” His breath was strained, panicked even.
“Oh, mon cher,” Benzaie drew Suede close, embracing him tightly. “You must be so frightened. I have given you no cause to trust me, to trust that I would never harm you. But know this: after all the trouble I went through to get you here, to have you willing in my bed, I have no intention of ever harming you. And I certainly have no intention of ever allowing you to come to harm at the hands of others.” Benzaie buried his face in the crook of Suede’s neck. “You are my priest. Mine. Last night only cemented that fact.”
There was no reason for Benzaie to lie now. He’d gotten what he’d wanted, and now he wanted to keep Suede.
“Oh,” was all Suede could manage.
“Shall I introduce you to the benefits of taking advantage of morning wood?” Benzaie waggled his eyebrows.
“… sure.” Suede settled in for another round of sexual exploration.
~*~
The ringing continued for several minutes. It sounded like a doorbell, with significantly more ancient bells clanging.
“FINE, I’m coming!” Benzaie left the couch – and Suede – reluctantly and yanked open the door to his home. “What is it?!” he snapped, eyes flashing red and smoke curling around him.
A timid demon squeaked and took a leap backwards. “My lord, you have been summoned!” it spluttered, holding up, of all things, a cellphone. “Someone is at the Gates to Hell, demanding your priest!”
“What? Who?” Benzaie stared in shock.
“S-s-s-santa Christ!” the demon whispered, utterly terrified.
“He’s here?!” Benzaie looked around frantically.
“No, my lord, he’s just outside the gates! A Guardian Angel is with him, and the Critic, the brother of Ask That Guy!”
Benzaie gaped.
“My lord, you have been summoned!” the demon repeated. “You are to bring yourself, and the priest, to the Gates at once!”
“By whose orders?” Benzaie asked, though there was no more fire in his words.
“Ask That Guy.” The demon shivered upon saying his name.
“Well then, we must do as he says,” Benzaie said slowly. “Tell him we’ll be there right away.”
The demon bobbed a frantic half-bow half-curtsey before scampering away, chittering into the cellphone.
“Santa Christ is here?” Suede asked, hardly believing it.
“And a Guardian Angel, I can bet I know which one,” Benzaie scowled. “And the Critic … what is he doing here? This makes no sense.”
“They … they came for me?” Suede asked. “But … I waited … months and months … and now they’re here?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Benzaie said dismissively, throwing on a shirt and raising Suede from the couch. “You’re mine, now, and they can’t take you from me.”
~*~
There was quite the tableau waiting for them at the Gates to Hell. Ask That Guy, surrounded by a curious crowd of demons, was fuming off to the side. Critic was standing nearby, arms crossed and looking like he’d rather be watching Batman and Robin than doing this. Little Miss Gamer stood next to him, the closest to the Gates. She glowed with pure light, for all she looked timid and frightened of her surroundings. Suede noticed that her feet did not touch the ground, she was hovering in the air.
Then, just beyond the Gates, a brilliant, blinding light glowed in the distance. It looked like a small sun. If Suede squinted, he could just barely make out the details of a figure with a red hat. Santa Christ!
“Father Suede!” Little Miss Gamer gasped with relief. “I was so worried!”
“Hey,” Critic looked Suede up and down. “You’re looking … a lot less repressed.”
“Indeed. That is rather the issue, is it not?” Ask that Guy chuckled. “I’m afraid you arrived too late for a proper rescue mission. You’ll just have to turn around and leave … and take that preposterous idiot with you!” he glared in the direction of Santa Christ.
Suede glanced at Ask that Guy. He seemed angry, yes, but there was something underneath that … fear. He was frightened of Santa Christ. Had Santa Christ ever ventured this close to Hell? What would happen if he got closer to the Gates? What would happen if he entered through the Gates and into Hell itself? Would the balance of the universe be thrown out of check?
“Suede, what happened?” Little Miss Gamer gasped. “Your soul, it’s … it’s …” she looked horrified. “What did you do?”
Benzaie threw an arm around Suede’s shoulders. “What didn’t he do, is the question you should be asking.”
Even Ask That Guy laughed at that. Suede felt his face heat up, for the first time in weeks, not from pleasure but from shame.
“Not the issue at hand. Heaven alleges that you stole this soul unjustly, and you have to give him back now.” Critic said, reading off of a notecard pulled from his jacket pocket. “You held no claim over the soul of Father Suede, and he was due to be taken to Heaven by this Guardian Angel when his time came.” Critic pointed to Little Miss Gamer. “She showed up, and you yanked him away. You can’t just do that, Benzaie, come on. There are Rules.”
“Rules were made to be broken, brother,” Ask that Guy drawled. “For example, there was that time when we got particularly drunk on moonshine and you offered to –”
“Not the issue here!” Critic spluttered quickly. “Look, he’s not yours, he’s Heaven’s problem. Hand him over, and we can all go back to where we belong.”
“He belongs here, with me,” Benzaie growled. “And you will not take him from me.”
“Suede, I don’t understand how he can be touching you,” Little Miss Gamer blurted out. “You’re a man of God, even here you should have protections. It should be painful, impossible, for them to touch you here, to influence you at all. And yet he … he can touch you.” Little Miss Gamer waved her hand to the arm Benzaie had around Suede’s shoulders.
“Oh, we can do more than that,” Benzaie leaned in and snatched a quick kiss from Suede, before Suede lightly shoved him back.
Little Miss Gamer’s eyes were wide with horror. Critic’s eyebrows were raised. Ask That Guy leered, as did many of the demons who had gathered to watch the proceedings.
“Let’s ask Suede what he thinks, shall we?” Critic asked. “Suede, do you … want to leave Hell?”
“Of course he does!” Little Miss Gamer yelped.
“Of course he doesn’t!” Benzaie snapped.
Suede glanced between the two of them, and then rested his gaze on Critic. “Can we talk, alone, please?” he asked.
Critic nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Everyone like, clear the field.”
Little Miss Gamer pulled back towards the Gates. Ask That Guy and the other demons pulled away. Benzaie reluctantly took several steps away as well.
“What happened?” Suede asked as soon as they were relatively alone.
“What do you mean?” Critic asked. “You got murdered, that’s what happened.”
“No, not that,” Suede waved his hands. “This! Me: here! I’ve been here for months, I prayed every day, and I received no signs, no messages, nothing at all! I … I did not feel God’s presence with me. Not once since I’ve been here. I thought I’d been … abandoned. And so I … I sinned.” Suede glanced at Benzaie in the distance. “I sinned, and I enjoyed it. And now you come here, and tell me that Heaven wants me after all? After I’ve … the things I’ve done … debased myself … ruined myself … all for enjoyment, for lust, for … for a demon!” Suede struggled to keep his voice down.
“Look, Father,” Critic stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s been a gigantic fuck-up back on Earth, and from what I hear, Upstairs as well. They still don’t understand how the fuck Benzaie managed to drag your ass down here, or keep you for so long. They kept thinking you’d just walk your way out, since demons aren’t supposed to be able to touch you, but you never showed, and so they wanted to send someone down here, but Little Miss Gamer couldn’t come alone, and so they had to get me in to be a mediator, and it’s just been a trainwreck up there, I swear.”
That still didn’t explain why Suede had not felt God’s love.
“Maybe they wanted me before, but they certainly won’t want me now.” Suede gestured down at himself. “I’ve lived the sins of a dozen people since my time here. Heaven won’t want me after this.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Critic shrugged. “That’s not my call. You gotta go up to the Pearly Gates to find out about that. And, I mean, extenuating circumstances like whoa. You’re not exactly a normal case. I’m sure you’ll get in, no problem.”
Suede looked at Benzaie. They might never see each other again.
“You do … want to go to Heaven, right?” Critic asked, narrowing his eyes. “Look, Father, I’m sure it’s fun doing the nasty all day and night with a sex demon, but he’s gonna get bored eventually. Then he’ll toss you to one of his friends, or just throw you in a pit and forget about you. You don’t want to be stuck here forever, trust me.”
There was merit to that. As much as Benzaie claimed to love him, to want to keep him forever, forever would be a reality in Hell. Suede could only be interesting for so long, surely, and Benzaie would cast him aside for another distraction to his immortality?
“You’re probably right,” Suede said, heart heavy.
Critic waved everyone back to the somewhat circle.
“Well?” Ask that Guy demanded.
“I’m leaving,” Suede said, unable to look Benzaie in the eye. “This place … this is not where I belong.”
Benzaie made a soft, distressed noise.
Suede flinched. “I must be judged by Heaven. Though Critic thinks otherwise, I believe I will not be allowed inside, and will return here.”
“Oh, that I can guarantee,” Ask That Guy cackled. “I can see your soul, Father, and it’s deliciously corrupted.”
“You only see the bad in people. You see only flaws and stains. Those in Heaven can see a complete picture of a person’s soul.” Little Miss Gamer said, managing to cast a rather imperious glance at Ask That Guy.
Ask That Guy sneered. “Delude yourself all you like, angel, but I know this one will be back. Probably crawling on all fours begging for someone to give him a good rough –”
Critic reached over and slapped Ask That Guy across the face.
The gathered demons gasped. Even Suede and Little Miss Gamer looked shocked.
“You will pay for that, brother,” Ask That Guy hissed, rearing up and seemingly towering over his twin.
“I know. We’re leaving now though. See you around. Or not.” Critic started walking backwards to the Gates. “Let’s go, now!” he said, voice reaching some urgency as he watched Ask That Guy continue to fume.
“Suede, don’t go!” Benzaie took him by the hand. “I meant it. Every word, I meant it! I would never harm you, or lie to you.”
“Not at first, no. But you’d grow bored of me eventually.” Suede sighed heavily. “Once the novelty wore off. I’m not very interesting. I lead a rather uneventful life, until you came into it.”
“Stay, please!” Benzaie lunged in for a kiss, gripping Suede’s head between his hands and pinning them together.
The kiss was hot, searingly so. Suede felt himself melting against Benzaie’s touch. He imagined the future, going back to Benzaie’s house, back to the bed …
… but it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last.
Suede broke the kiss and gently pushed Benzaie back. “I can’t stay. I have to leave. I’m … I’m sorry.” He actually was sorry.
Suede left with Critic and Little Miss Gamer. Behind them, the Gates clanged shut.
~*~
Heaven was very much as Suede had imagined it. Bright lights, fluffy clouds, a sense of peace and serenity he had experienced in very large churches and among groups of the devout.
Suede was being judged, as he understood it, but the idea did not fill him with dread or shame. It was impossible to feel such things in Heaven. He registered them distantly, but the overwhelming sense of calm rendered him unable to feel them.
Critic had not come with them, he’d been dropped off on Earth, grumbling all the while.
Santa Christ had looked Suede over with a very knowing expression. “I am disappointed in you, Father Suede,” Santa Christ had said.
Suede knew he would carry that with him for the rest of his existence.
Little Miss Gamer appeared after a long stretch of time. “They don’t know what to do,” she said, stunned. “You were supposed to be here, but then he snatched you and … well …” Little Miss Gamer blushed.
“So I’ll be sent back?” Suede asked. Was he excited? Upset? He felt like he was in a fog. Perhaps the transition between Hell and Heaven was a shock to the soul, like going from a hot day to an air conditioned building could upset a person’s body.
“No, they don’t … you shouldn’t be condemned to Hell for all eternity, but you can’t stay here forever either …” Little Miss Gamer bit her lip. “I just don’t know! This isn’t right!”
Suede thought of Benzaie’s pomegranate colored sheets. He thought of the Gates to Hell opening and shutting. He thought of the joke he’d made a few days ago, that had made Benzaie laugh so hard he’d fallen over, about a double meaning of eating seeds. Suede looked around, at the blinding bright lights of Heaven. He belonged here, surely … so why did it feel so uncomfortable?
“I have an idea …” Suede said slowly.
~*~
When Suede returned to the Gates of Hell, he walked inside and kept walking. Demons approached him, some even tried to attack him, but none could withstand the bright light and freezing cold emanating from his body. Suede walked until he reached Benzaie’s door, and rang the bell.
“Leave me alone, Chaos D1!” Benzaie groaned from inside. “Go back to Lilith and tell her I’m busy wasting away to nothing!”
“Benzaie, it’s me!” Suede yelled.
Benzaie scrambled inside and yanked the door open. He looked worse than Suede has ever seen him, pallid, messy hair, clothes disheveled not sexily but carelessly.
“You’re … you’re back?” Benzaie gasped. “But … how? Why?”
“It’s complicated,” Suede began, moving inside and shutting the door behind himself. “Heaven didn’t know exactly what to do with me. So I proposed something to them. A sort of … trade off.”
Benzaie nodded. “I like the sound of that.”
“Half the year, I’m in Heaven, as any good Christian man such as myself should have been all along. But the other half, I’m here, ah, atoning for my sins.” Suede smiled. “And doing my upmost to convert you to the loving embrace of God, who forgives all sins, however extreme –”
Benzaie seized Suede and kissed him forcefully, slamming him against the wall.
“The only ‘loving embrace’ I’m interested in is yours,” Benzaie growled, ripping at Suede’s clothes with his hands.
Suede laughed. “Well, we do have eternity to work on that.”
After his “welcome home” as Benzaie put it, Suede got out of bed and stretched. He opened a set of drawers and rummaged around for several minutes.
“What are you looking for?” Benzaie asked, rolling over in the sheets, lazy and sated.
“This.” Suede pulled out the necklace of guts.
Benzaie waved a hand in the air. “Chuck it out the window, I’ll have someone take care of it later.”
“No, I think I’ll do this instead.” Suede draped the necklace over his head and turned to face Benzaie. “It marks me as yours, right?”
Benzaie stared, and nodded slowly, face flushing with newfound arousal.
“Well, I am yours,” Suede returned to bed, catching Benzaie’s eager lips in a kiss. “So, as long as I’m here, I’ll wear it.”
Eventually the necklace was replaced with something less grisly and more refined, twists of jewels and metal, glowing stones. However, Suede never did let Benzaie throw out the original necklace.
(the end)
