The Glitter Jungle:
Fiction:
Solution
Easy fix. Dogma/Brimstone
"This is really depressing," Metatron ranted to the deity sitting on the barstool next to him. "Especially when you meet someone you really like." He looked down at his groin, dispirited. "I'd sell my soul to... well, you, if it would solve my problem. What was God thinking to herself anyway?"
The devil grinned.
"Okay." He said casually.
"What? No, no!" Metatron panicked as his corporeal body started growing new and exciting parts. "I didn't mean!.. I don't even *have* a soul!"
The devil's grin widened. "This one's on the house, then."
Sequel:
Part II: Testing
Self exploration.
He spent all day as usual, trying to avoid the issue.
Eventually, he had to. Just *had* to...
Try and touch it. Just the tip of it.
Moan.
Stroke down the length and shudder all over.
This... was new.
Interesting.
Delightful.
Metatron grinned when the tip poked from its covering skin. Touched there and trembled.
God would kill him.
He could always blame the devil. That bastard shouldn't have...
Granted his wish.
A hand below at the soft sac, feeling the balls inside and groaning. Squeezing just a tiny bit and...
Oh.
Other hand stroking more surely now and never let it be said that celestial beings weren't fast learners. Metatron bit his lip.
Leaning against the wall, rubbing faster and faster and letting just one finger trail further back and...
Oh.
Oh, wow.
How could anyone make this last more than twenty seconds was beyond
him.
Sequel:
Part III: Advanced Level
"Having problems?"
Does he have to materialise like that? Metatron pulls himself back into his pants hurriedly, wincing when he almost gets caught in the zipper.
"Need a hand?"
And it would really help if he didn't smirk quite that much. "Go away, fallen angel."
The serpent takes out a weird device of leather and metal. Metatron frowns.
"Do you know what that is?" Metatron shakes his head and the devil says, "It's called the Gates of Hell."
Metatron shivers.
"Usually not for beginners, but I thought, what with you being a seraph..." He dangles the toy and Metatron wonders what it would feel like to have what he felt before but for much, much longer. With another person.
With another being, because this isn't a person, it's the great tempter himself, and he probably knows what he's doing.
So he nods before he can stop himself and then winces because he probably shouldn't've said yes, or even hint to a yes, but it's too late. The devil's smirk widens and Metatron feels something pressing, tightening, and there's a clicking of metal from inside his pants.
"Too tight?" The devil asks amicably. Metatron shakes his head mutely, concentrating on the feel of leather and metal.
The devil grins.
"It will be. Give it time."
