Damn!

Fandom: Maloney/Earth Angel

Category/Rated: NC17 Het & Slash

Year/Length: 2001/~10,520 words

Pairing: Anson Greene/Maximillian

Disclaimer: These characters definitely aren't ours, and we have made no money from them.

Warning: Max is a devil, and this means that the things he does are just not nice.

The door opened, and the young man in the blue jeans and the leather jacket stumbled in. "I... I don't understand. You have no right to bring me here against my will." He stumbled against the door. "Where's the bar anyway? I'm not drunk. I swear I'm not."

Uncoiling from his seat in the corner, the faceless stranger stood up and crossed the room, moving without effort, until he faced the newcomer. Reaching out to place a cool hand underneath the confused man's chin, he fixed him with a knowing smile and forced him to meet his eye. "Hello..." he purred, "so glad to be the first to make your acquaintance..."

Anson jerked his chin away and leaned back, tilting his chin to escape the touch. "Who the fuck are you?" he gritted, as he stepped back until he felt his shoulders touch the door behind him.

"I'm your...I'm a friend, Anson. Let's just say I'm looking out for your best interests." He stepped closer, trapping Anson between the door and himself. "You can call me Maximillian...or whatever you like." He inhaled deeply, smiling as he closed his eyes. "At this point in the game you can call me Mother Fucking Teresa for all I care." His eyes opened with an almost audible flash. "All I ask is that you call me."

"I... I'm not sure what you mean. Who the hell are you anyway?" Anson could feel the warmth of the body that held him against the door, and he shivered despite it. "What are you doing? Why am I here?" He pushed the suddenly solid body, but could get no purchase, and if anything the other seemed to move in closer.

"I am your..." Maximillian smiled as he tilted his head, "I like to think of myself as your guardian angel. Sent to protect you from the..." a slight chuckle, "evils of the real world." He leaned in, stopping just short of clasping his mouth to Anson's neck. "You," he breathed hotly, tasting Anson's skin without even having to touch it, "are in a very special place." He giggled, delighted to be so close to someone he knew he would be able to possess. "Not quite heaven, not quite hell, but damn if there isn't a lot to keep you interested."

Anson looked around himself in an attempt to ignore the heat of the body that was pressed against him. "Where exactly is here?" he asked.

"The general public likes to call it limbo, but I like to call it my waiting room." Max forced Anson to look at him without laying a finger on him. "You are...forgive me for being indelicate, but you are just a little dead. Now, you have the choice of either flittering off to heaven to join the legions of precious little do-gooders, or..." He grinned widely and winked at Anson as he thrust his hips forward. "You can side with some individuals who know how to have a good time. Your choice, but I don't really have you pegged as the Boy Scout type."

The words fell like stones onto Anson's already buzzing brain. "Dead? I don't understand. Get the fuck off me." He pushed Max away, and frowned when the other man giggled childishly. "Don't you have somewhere you'd rather be?" Anson turned to leave by the door behind him.

"Um, I'm afraid you're going to find that that door doesn't really open," Max said, stifling another giggle as Anson tried it to no avail. "See, they like to put things like that in to give you some kind of false hope." He shrugged. "I don't get it, personally, but..." He pointed upwards made a face mocking anything holy or respectful. "There are certain *types* who really get off on making you think salvation is just around the corner. Or," he pointed at the door, "behind door number one."

"Look," whispered Anson. "I don't have any money. I don't know who you are. What are you trying to do to me." He took hold of the handle with both his hands and shook the door, rattling it until the handle came away in his hands. Finally he turned to Max, a forlorn look on his face and whispered, "Why? Why me?"

"Because you're so..." Max bit his lip and shook his head. "Anson, I can honestly say you are my wet dream." He put a superficially comforting arm around Anson's shoulders and started walking him towards his dark little corner of the room. "I'm what you would call a fallen angel," he explained, his hand moving down gently to cup Anson's backside, "and you are a human I've been keeping my eye on. Your lack of regard for your fellow human is..." he laughed softly. "Let's just say following your exploits has given me new hope for the state of evil in the world." He gave Anson's ass a squeeze. "Say the word and you'll live again, on one condition." He leaned in and smiled as he swiped his tongue over Anson's neck. "If you agree to be mine, you will live forever."

This fucking asshole in the white suit was telling him that he was evil. He stood, shocked at first, trying to get his mind around what the man had said to him, and then, finally it was too much. He could feel the heat of the hand that gripped his buttock, and he felt the familiar rage rising inside of him. How dare this asshole touch him up? Who did he think that he was?

Anson took a sharp breath, turned, and let fly a wild punch at Max, his whole body behind the stroke that would, he hoped, put Max out of action.

Max practically yawned as he saw the blow coming from a mile away. "Anson," he said, scolding as he moved his head slightly so as to avoid the punch, then holding the other man up when momentum knocked him off balance, "you really shouldn't try to hit me. It tends to make me a little impatient." He sighed and stroked the side of Anson's face. "Would you like me to use smaller words to explain who I am and exactly what I want from you? You're so pretty, I don't mind having to wait a little before I get what I want."

"What do you want? You tell me that I'm dead. You tell me that I'm evil, and then you tell me you want something. That just plain sucks, man! I can't be dead. My lawyer said that the Governor would order a stay of execution. I can't possibly be dead. What about Annabel?" Anson suddenly shrank in on himself, wrapping his arms around his body as though to protect it. For a moment he seemed impossibly young, and then he drew in a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs, "I can't be fucking dead!"

Max raised an eyebrow and folded his arms in front of his chest. "Um," he cleared his throat and jutted out his chin, "are you finished? I wouldn't want to interrupt your, er," he grinned, "emoting."

The words sank home gradually, and Anson slowly folded up. His hands went to his face, and he began to sob, deep, wrenching sounds that issued from between his fingers as he collapsed. "Oh, God! Annabel. My little girl. Who's going to watch her? I'm dead.." Finally, all that could be heard were the sounds of his inarticulate grief.

Pursing his lips, Max looked down on him then sighed. He squatted next to the broken man, and put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it in slow circles meant to comfort and lull him. "It's all right," Max whispered, "she might end up being okay." He moved closer until his lips were brushing against Anson's ear. "But since you're the only one who can really take care of her, I think it's important that you know I can..." He tsked and shook his head. "No, I shouldn't even think about doing that. You have too much to deal with." He moved his hand up to stroke Anson's hair. "You need time to accept what has happened, and I'd...I'd like to help if you'd let me."

It felt nice to be caressed, nicer still to be understood, soothed as though the man actually cared about him. His mom had done that once upon a time, before... He didn't want to think about before. Still, it was nice to have the hands on him, consoling him, caressing him. It took the sting out of being dead... And what was it that this gentle man had said to him? Anson frowned and raised his head to look the man in his strangely compelling eyes.

"What should I know that you can do? Tell me!"

Max looked for all the world as if he was struggling with the decision to tell Anson or not. "I don't know. It might not be the right thing to do."

The explosion of anger was almost instantaneous. Anson lashed out, fists and feet flying as the man he'd lately accepted comfort from suddenly became an obstacle to his desires. "I need to know, you fucking bastard. I need to know how to..." As the realization of his situation hit once again, he let out a low moan and relaxed once more. "Fuck it. It's all gone wrong. Help me, please?"

Max hesitated before moving closer to Anson and putting an arm around his shoulders. "I want to help you," he purred, "but before I tell you how I can, I think you need to relax. Would you...It's okay if you say no," he said, suddenly looking demure as he hid his smirk, "but I'd like to take you home with me. Maybe give you a drink or something to eat. Then we can talk."

"This is so fucked up! How can I eat or drink if I'm dead?" Anson gave a laugh that was high sounding and hysterical, but permitted Max to leave his arm around him. "Whatever. You're gonna take care of me, aren't you?" He laid his head on Max's shoulder briefly as he spoke.

"Of course, I am," Max smiled, putting a hand to Anson's face and patting it gently. "I'm here to take care of you, don't you know that? But first things first." He got up, moving too quickly for the action to really register. "I'm going to show you that even the dead deserve to partake in the simple pleasures of," he laughed softly, "life. You know, eating, drinking, and whatever else you might be interested in." He held out his hand. "Come with me, Anson. You don't have to, though. Remember that the choice is yours."

"You're funny." Anson took the hand that was offered, and rose to his feet at last to follow. You promise that you're going to help me take care of Annabel?"

"I promise that I'll do whatever I can to help you." Max raised Anson's hand to his lips and kissed it slowly, his eyes fixed on the other man's. "If you promise not to question me."

"What do you mean?" asked Anson automatically, snatching his fingers away from the disconcerting feel of another man's lips on them. "Why... why are you kissing me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Max said, sounding properly chagrined. "I, uh... I was under the mistaken impression that you liked the, er, company of men. I apologize if that's not the case." Looking down shyly, he gestured towards another door. "We can just make our way to my home."

Walking with Max towards the door, Anson felt a certain relief, as though he had somehow made a decision that would set everything to rights. Following close behind, he passed through the door and into a long corridor. Max walked ahead, form-fitting black silk rustling as he moved. Wait one moment. Form-fitting black silk? What was happening here? Anson was almost sure that the man had been clad in white. He rubbed his eyes, but the black-clad figure didn't alter. Anson found himself watching the way Max's body moved. The man was grace and power, every movement sensual. If he could learn that walk all the chicks would go for him.

"The company of men? I got no problem with men. What's not to like?"

Max smiled to himself and led Anson down the hall. When they finally reached the door to his penthouse, he paused. "Men are wonderful things. So are women." He turned around. "And if you've been lucky enough to enjoy the pleasures that both have to offer, you're a very fortunate man. Now, let me welcome you to my humble home."

He opened the door to reveal an ornately decorated foyer. There was a staircase to the left, spiraling upwards, and to the right was a luxuriously furnished sitting room. "You'll have to forgive some of these finishing touches," Max grinned as he fingered a marble statue, "but my decorator went crazy when I told her that money was no object. Follow me. The dining room should be ready for us."

The first thing that greeted them upon entering the large dining room, was the soft glow of candlelight. On the long table, a feast had been prepared, offering the finest delicacies available to man. Also included were spirits of every kind, alongside desserts and fruit enough to tempt anyone.

"Please, take a seat, Anson. Help yourself." Max sat down, biting his lip as he watched the other man. "I'd love to see you indulging yourself."

All this was a little too much, wasn't it? Anson wasn't sure if the man was having a laugh at his expense, or if he was on the level. Only one way to find that out, Anson, my man, he thought. He hooked a chair towards him and sank into it, his eyes fixed on Max as he searched the man's face for clues as to this motives.

"What did you say that your name was?" he asked as he reached absently for a bunch of grapes, breaking off a stem and nibbling on the fruit. "Why are you doing this stuff for me? What do I have to do in return?"

"My name is Maximillian, and, as I said, I'm a friend." Max reached for a piece of chocolate and took a bite, sighing as he savored the sweet richness of it. "I don't want anything from you, Anson. Whatever I get will be because you are willing to give it." He leaned forward, smiling his most winning smile. "Just give me a chance to help you. You know, show you that dying does not have to be the end of your life."

Anson ate another grape, and giggled as he listened to Max's words. Looking around at the delicacies that were heaped on the table, his face creased in confusion. "What is this shit?" he asked, grimacing as he surveyed the caviar that nestled in the crystal dish amidst the ice shavings that kept it chilled.

Max got up and walked over to Anson. "That," he said, taking a seat next to Anson, "is caviar." He spooned some onto a toast point and offered it to him. "It's delicious and expensive and pretentious..." He pressed it to Anson's lips. "And you feel like you're the shit just because you can afford the good stuff."

Taking the morsel from Max, Anson took a bite somewhat dubiously. A second later he coughed and choked, laying the rest of it down on the table.

"For fuck's sake, it tastes like... like fish," he growled. "It's disgusting. Don't you have any hot dogs?" He grabbed for a nearby bottle and poured himself a healthy slug of Remy Martin, knocking it back in one gulp. "Don't do that to me again."

Max laughed loudly and swept the dish of caviar off the table. "If you don't like it, I don't want it anywhere near us." Smiling at Anson he reached for a dish that seemed to appear out of thin air. "Here are your hot dogs," he said, presenting the platter to his guest. "Enjoy."

This was more like it. The mustard was tangy, and the relish dribbled down his chin when he took a huge, succulent bite. Mouth full, he could only nod in pleasure at Max, who seemed to be watching his every movement with something that approached the fixed stare of a cat hunting a small, helpless creature. Before he could ask, Max had passed over an open bottle of Dos Equis, and was now raising another in wordless salute. Anson placed the neck of the bottle to his mouth and drank deep. This was the good stuff all right.

"Wow. Thanks a bunch, Maximillian. Do people call you that? It's kinda tough to say after a couple or three beers, isn't it?"

"You can call me Max," he laughed, finding himself growing fond of this human who lacked the grace and elitism of the ones he usually dealt with. "That's what my friends call me, anyway. I'd like to think you're my friend, Anson." He reached for a pint of beer that mysteriously appeared. "Here," he grinned, "Have a cold one. There's a lot of comfort in the familiar, right?" As he handed the glass to Anson, he moved closer. "Tell me what else you want," he said breathlessly, watching Anson's mouth as he licked it clean.

"I... " Max's unwinking gaze was beginning to make Anson uncomfortable. The crease appeared at the bridge of his nose as he frowned. "What else is there? I mean, what can I have?" He laughed suddenly. "You know, you're pretty cool, yeah? How do you do that shit with the beer and stuff?"

"You can have anything you want," Max murmured, picking up a piece of mango and biting into it, the juice running down his chin. "And the beer was a lucky guess. You look like a man who appreciates the simple things in life." He put out his hand and a bowl of potato chips materialized. "Feel like a snack?"

Picking at the chips, Anson tried to think of what he did want. There wasn't really anything he could think of. He'd eaten. He was drinking the good stuff. What else was there? Unless...

"Getting laid might be good, I guess," he said, hopefully.

The laugh that escaped Max's lips was colored with relief and joy, but also insecurity. Rare for him, no doubt, since he was used to having whatever he wanted in much the same way a spoiled child was used to having his own way. But... Max draped an arm around Anson's shoulders and nuzzled his neck. "I know you think you want a woman, but... No, never mind. I'll give you the woman you desire." There was a sudden flash and a stunning brunette, perfect in every way imaginable, had replaced Max.

She looked at him shyly. "Hi, my name's Bridget. I've been... I was told that you wanted some company..."

Anson took in the lush red lips, the large, dark eyes, and the voluptuous figure. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "You're gorgeous. Do you live here with...? " He suddenly felt disconcerted. Max had been here, and then suddenly he wasn't. Suddenly it was Bridget, who was beautiful, and undeniably female, and yet as Anson looked at her, he seemed to see Max.

Not good. Definitely he was thinking too much. He lowered his mouth to crush the ripe, red mouth beneath his, and sank his fingers into her long, dark hair. "I'm a friend of Max's," she whispered against Anson's mouth, "but if you're not pleased with me, I can tell him." She pulled away slightly. "I'd like the chance to give you what you want, though."

Whoafuck! Anson needed no further urging. His mouth devoured her, while his hands slid up under the stretch fabric of the shirt that she wore to find and caress her breasts. As he pressed her up against the table, he could feel his cock swell, and he began to move against her, urgent in his growing arousal.

Her fingers gripped his hair, pulling on it as he kissed her deeply. "Oh, god, Anson," she murmured, grinding her hips against him, "you're so hard. I want you to fuck me. I want whatever you do."

His hands tore at her clothing. Her skirt was dragged down over her hips, exposing the creamy white of her belly, and the slick, shaven mons beneath it. Anson, fumbled, then looked, and moaned, dropping to his knees and burying his face in her crotch, his tongue sliding between the hairless lips to find her clit. She parted her thighs to let him reach where he willed, perching her behind on the edge of the table, and he spread her lips wide so that he could lap at her.

Her breathing was heavy, desperate as he devoured her. "Ahhh....fuck...Anson..." she groaned helplessly, grinding her crotch against his face as she writhed in ecstasy. "I want your cock," she pleaded, her features changing back to the man she really was as she got lost in her desire, "please...."

She was begging for it. He couldn't believe how hot she was. He shucked his jeans and then his briefs, revealing a penis that was hard, eager and already shiny with the leakage of pre-ejaculate. Taking her thighs and raising them up, he centered his dick and slid it into the tight, furnace heat of her, feeling his entry as a shivering pleasure that crawled along from his cock all the way up his spine to the back of his neck.

Eyes closed and mouth slack with need, he pushed in deeper and deeper until he could go no further.

Her fingers clawed at his back and she cried out, making all the right noises as he fucked her mercilessly. Finally, unable to conceal himself any longer, Max laughed and wrapped his legs around Anson's waist. "Fuck me," he grunted, "fuck me like that fucking pussy you think you want..."

What?

Fuck!

He couldn't stop. He really couldn't. The heat and pressure on his dick were delicious. He could feel the last, slow build up towards orgasm as though it were a living thing that had coiled within him and was now finally awakening. He knew that he couldn't stop it, didn't want to stop it. Uttering a curse, he fucked harder, driving into the slick, elastic sheath of flesh that held him captive, and clung to the sweet, tingling feelings that had begun to shake his body.

"Oh....yessss...." Max cried out as he felt Anson give himself over to the inevitable. His body shuddered and jerked like that of any human man as his orgasm raced through him, but the pleasure was the product of victory rather than the mechanics of good sex. "Anson, I... you're mine," he whispered, clinging to Anson for dear life.

This was different. This was savagely different, and Anson wasn't sure what the fuck to do about it. Didn't seem to be a lot of point in doing anything about it. He'd just had the orgasm of his life and if this guy wanted to play bumboy for him that didn't make him queer. He'd been a woman when Anson had started to fuck her. Hadn't he had his face in her cunt? He'd have noticed a little thing like a dick, wouldn't he?

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "What the fuck? How do you do that?"

Max licked his lips and gave a slight shrug. "I just know how to make things happen." He pushed Anson away and stood up, suddenly as neat and tidy as he'd been before. "Why? Did you like it? You certainly acted as if you liked it."

"I... I'm not gay. You can't make me gay. It was a woman..." He tailed off, voice hitching in confusion as he looked at Max with hopeless eyes. "It was good - great. I... really liked it," he whispered, almost to himself, and hung his head.

"Of course you liked it," Max said softly, putting an arm around Anson's shoulders. "It's all right to like things that feel good, you know. And I have no intention of making you anything you're not. If you want to stick to women, no sweat. Just say the word." He chuckled and leaned in to nuzzle Anson's ear. "You have to believe me when I keep telling you that every choice you make is yours and yours alone. I'm not here to try and sway you."

There it was again. The man kept on touching him, and it felt good. He felt loved at last, and that scared him. Why would this weird dead guy love him? It's not as if he was anything special. He'd never made anything of his life or been a hero in any way. What the hell was he intending? Anson finally turned to Max, seizing the other's forearms and waiting, unusually quiet for him.

"What are you doing to me? Why me?"

"Anson..." Max whispered, the most understanding and gentle expression he could muster on his face. "Why not you? You're in a place where souls are the only things that matter, and I know that yours is exactly what I'm looking for." He pulled free of Anson's grip and slowly embraced him. "And no matter what you think, you *are* special," he murmured, tightening his hold and forcing Anson closer to him. "If you let me, I could do so much for you. All I'd ask is that you show me just how worthy you are of being one of my..." He laughed softly. "I like to think of us as a family, and I'm always looking for more family."

Staring into Max's eyes, Anson suddenly, finally, realized that Max was his double in almost every way imaginable. He staggered a little.

"You... You're me. Stop it. I mean, stop being me. I'm the one that owns that face, not you. What are you doing to me?" He came to a halt, voice failing as he hyperventilated. "Why do you look like me?"

"Do you have any idea how old I am?" Max snickered. "'Cause if you did, you'd know that you're the one who looks like *me*. I think it's rather fitting that we find ourselves together like this, don't you?" He slapped Anson on the back and went to take his seat at the head of the table. "Besides," he smiled, reaching for a glass of wine, "think of all the fun we could have." He took a long sip and smacked his lips. "You know, if you agreed to work with me, you'd get so much more respect because you happen to have my face. Wouldn't you like that, Anson?" His voice lowered and he fixed Anson with a dark stare. "People would respect and fear you. You'd have power and you could just take anything you wanted. For the first time in your life, people would look up to you instead of thinking you're beneath them." A slick, slow grin spread across his face and he leaned forward. "Isn't it about time you got a break?"

That was language that he understood. He'd never had a break in his life, and he was dead now. He didn't think that there were breaks after death. Sagging into a chair beside Maximillian, Anson leant his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes,

"If I give you what you want, what will you give me? What do I have to do? You keep half telling me things and not finishing." He sat up, turned to look at Max once more and reached out a hand to touch him, as though making sure that he was real. "What were you meaning before when you said about Annabel? Please. I have to know.

"That's a lot of questions," Max whistled. "Good thing for you we've got all the time there is." Without lifting a finger, he turned his and Anson's chairs so they were facing each other. "I know how important Annabel is to you," he smiled, "and you would only have to do one thing to be able to see her again." He sat on the edge of his chair, suddenly more animated. "I can give you life, Anson. If you tell me you want to live again, I can give you your body back. All you'll have to do is help me...run things back on Earth." His eyes narrowed as he stopped abruptly, seeming to study the man before him. "Unless you don't think you can do something like that. I'd understand if you wouldn't want that kind of responsibility."

"You could do that?" Anson breathed. "You could really send me back, and not yank my chain?" Anson sat forward in his own chair, and suddenly, Max's breath was fanning his cheek, warm and sweet, redolent of the wine that Max was drinking.

Max was laughing, turning away from him, and he had to do something to keep him there. The promise of life, the world, and Annabel swam before him. He reached his hand to cup Max's smooth cheek.

"What do you want from me in return? This?" Tentatively he leant forward and laid his lips on Max's.

Max smiled and pulled back just enough to break contact. "You're a very smart guy," he murmured, brushing his lips against Anson's, "but you don't have to prostitute yourself in order to get my help." He kissed the corner of Anson's mouth then sat back. "I'll help you because you deserve it."

"But I thought that you...?" Anson frowned now, troubled by this new conundrum. Whoever heard of a selfless act? There had to be more to it than was immediately apparent. Anson had never yet failed to figure out an angle, and this time would be no different. It would just take a little time and careful thought. "Okay. What do you want me to do to get started then?"

"Well," Max said, standing up and stretching, "it's been a long day for you. Why don't we go to bed," he grinned, "in separate rooms. By the time you wake up tomorrow, you'll be a brand new man." He chuckled and squeezed Anson's shoulder. "I guess you could say you'll be born again, huh?"

"I never went to church," murmured Anson. "Didn't see the point of all that kneeling and stuff." He stood up, turning to face Max again. "So where do I sleep, and what do you mean by being born again? I feel real - as real as you do. Aren't I real?" He examined his two hands for a moment in apparent perplexity. "Nothing's going to change, is it?"

"You won't feel any different, actually. The only thing that'll change is when you walk through my front door, you'll be in the real world." Max reached for one of Anson's hands and held it between both of his. "I hope that you'll be ready to take full advantage of this opportunity. I'd hate for you to disappoint me."

And there it was again. Anson sensed the veiled threat, but couldn't put a finger on what it was that made him uneasy. "How could I disappoint you, Max?" he asked, huskily. "If you tell me, perhaps I'll be able to avoid doing it by mistake.

Max paused, his features gradually darkening as he moved closer to Anson. "You'll only disappoint me if you ever question me," he whispered. "If you question me, I'll make you wish you'd stayed dead." He bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile then moved back. "But you won't do that, so there won't be a problem, right?" Smiling genuinely, he stroked the side of Anson's face as if the past few moments had never happened. "Come on, I'll show you to your room."

There seemed little more to say. Anson followed Max as he moved sinuously out of the room and down another corridor, pausing to watch as the other flung open a door and beckoned him forward. The room he was shown into was a masterpiece of interior design, from the raised bed that was covered in sheets of blood red silk, through to the wall hangings and furnishings. In the corner of the room was a Jacuzzi, sunk into the floor, filled with foaming water from which steam was rising.

"Please, help yourself to anything you like," Max said, moving to trail a hand down Anson's back. "Everything in my home is at your disposal." He pressed his mouth to Anson's ear. "And there's nothing better than a nice Jacuzzi before bed, so I'll just leave you to it."

Anson watched the man leave, closing the door behind him as he went. Looking at the Jacuzzi, Anson felt as though somehow at last he'd lucked out. Swiftly shucking his worn clothes, he tossed them into a corner and moved purposefully to the hot tub, stepping down into it and sinking into the warm, bubbling depths with a sigh of contentment. All he needed was a drink, and he'd be in total heaven... at least, he thought it was heaven.

"Here's your drink, Anson," a soft female voice purred in his ear as a tray was presented to him. "I hope it's all right."

The suddenness of the voice made him jump. He hadn't heard her enter the room, and he glanced at her suspiciously to see if it was ‘Bridget.' This woman looked very different from the one that he'd fucked earlier. Slender and boyish where the other had been richly curved, she was clad only in a translucent gown that revealed fine golden pubes, gilded nipples and a jewel that was set in her navel. He gasped.

"Is there anything else you'd like?" she asked softly, setting the tray down then slipping the gown off her shoulders so it fell to the floor. "Max said I should make sure there's nothing you need." Her eyes were fixed on Anson's as she stepped into the tub and slowly lowered herself into the water.

He hadn't believed himself in need of anything until she had done her sinuous slide into the water, but now, he knew exactly what he required. Despite his earlier orgasm, he found that he was growing again, his dick swelling rapidly as he lounged in the swirling water. Leaning forward to take her hand and place it on his erection, he smiled his best smile. "Got any ideas?" he asked her.

"Would you like me to jerk you off, Anson?" she asked, her face completely devoid of expression. "Or would you like to fuck me?" She brought her mouth to Anson's as she straddled his lap. "And how would you like to fuck me?" she murmured, licking his lips.

His cock gave an enormous twitch at her words, and he let out a small sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. "You're a sassy broad. What's your name?" His voice was hoarse as she licked at his face, and he grinned, caught her face between his hands and kissed her, letting that mobile tongue with its lewd mobility in between his lips. After a moment, he drew away. He knew what would be good. "Suck me," he said. "Take my dick in your mouth and suck it until I scream."

She smiled and kissed him again. "Well, first, my name is Ariel, and second, would you like me to suck you in the tub or on the bed? Max said you have to get whatever you want."

"In the tub?" Oh God, yeah. That sounded like bliss. The feel of the water bubbling around him and that tongue of hers, eel slick and agile? He couldn't think of anything better than that. "Won't you drown?" he asked her.

She smiled again and took a firm hold of his erection. "I'll come up for air when I need to." With that she took a deep breath and disappeared underneath the water.

The first tentative licks were barely perceptible as she explored the tip of his cock. He was enjoying the feel of her hand on him, though privately he was thinking that it wasn't much of a blowjob. When she suddenly got started, fastening her full lips around the head of his dick and sucking at it while her tongue flickered around the eye of it, he sat up straight for a second, before subsiding back to spread his legs wide for her explorations. Her hand on his balls was tickling and stroking, and her fingers were traveling down from the heavy testes to the crack of his ass. He bucked sharply.

Suddenly a hot hand touched him on his shoulder and there was warm, steady breathing in his ear. "Hold her down," Max whispered. "Hold her down until she stops moving."

"You want me to kill her?" Anson felt a thrill of something primitive and vicious pass through him, shaking his body with rough excitement. He turned to Max. "I don't think that I can." Even as he was reaching with trembling hands to put them on Ariel's head.

"Yes, you can," Max grinned, cupping the side of Anson's face and leaning in to kiss him, his tongue plunging, hot and wet into the depths of his mouth. He pulled back only to suck on Anson's lips and chin and jaw. "She's struggling now, Anson," he said huskily, "starting to panic because she needs air and you're pushing her down." Groaning softly, he raised his head, gasping. "Can you feel it?" he choked out the words. "Can you feel her fear?"

"No... I don't know... Yes, yes, yes!" Anson let go of the woman's head to throw his arms around Max and force another kiss, beside himself as the woman sucked him deeper still into her throat, showing no signs yet of breaking the surface to breathe. He couldn't believe that this was happening to him, but he wanted it to go on forever.

Max laughed as Anson kissed him, reveling in the need and lust he could taste in every stroke of Anson's tongue. He broke the kiss and took Anson's head between his hands. "Kill her," he smiled, breathless. "Kill her because you want me and you want to please me."

Getting to his feet, Max started walking backwards towards the bed. His clothes seemed to melt from his body until he was naked and glowing as if lit by some unseen light. "Kill her, Anson. Kill her and then claim your reward."

He barely thought about it before his hands had pushed her down hard. She seemed to lie still almost at once, and when he released her, she floated to lie face down on the surface of the water. Anson didn't give her so much as a backward glance. He had risen from the tub, and was climbing out, dripping water, his angry cock bobbing as he stalked towards Max.

Max was kneeling on the bed and was practically bowled over as Anson eagerly joined him. He let himself be knocked backwards, laughing as he wrapped his arms around Anson. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me," he said excitedly, pulling Anson to him for a kiss, craving the delicious taste of adrenalin on Anson's tongue. It was always the same. No matter how many times someone took a life, Max noticed that their kisses had an even more exquisite flavor to them. It was always strongest right after a kill.

"Fuck me, Anson," he growled and spread his legs, rubbing and writhing shamelessly underneath the other man. "Fuck me and I own you..."

The words didn't sink in. Anson was almost there, erection straining as he felt Max's heady caresses. He sobbed, mouth searching for more delicious kisses, and somehow, his cock found its way to the opening that it craved. He didn't have to do a darned thing. It seemed to happen all on its own, the feeling as the little orifice gave beneath his thrusting dick, the sucking heat as he felt himself sink in, and all he could do was lie there, underneath Max now as the man began to ride him.

A series of grunts and breathy moans spewed from Max's lips as he threw his head back and moved frantically against Anson. As he screwed himself down, forcing Anson's cock impossibly deeper with every grinding, rocking twist of his body, the sounds became more animalistic until he was growling and fighting not to let Anson see his true form. It was too soon for that. Still, despite his best efforts, his hands clawed at Anson's chest, tearing deep crimson streaks in the pale skin as he was pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Pain sparking pleasure, Anson screamed, thrust, writhed as the man drew his orgasm from him. He could feel the rippling pulses surging around his dick as Max moved, and the fingers, unspeakably sharp, were lending a painful, brilliant counterpoint to mounting sweetness. Anson smelled blood, looked at his chest to see bright fluid welling from it, and dabbled his fingers in it, bringing it first to his own lips, then, bolder, painting Max's lips with it too. His balls were impossibly tight now and he couldn't last much longer at all. When he felt what seemed to be a finger invading his ass to stroke at the sweet spot inside, it was all over. He came, tipping over the edge until he tumbled down into the tonic spasm of complete sensory override, unable to do anything but suffer the waves of orgasm to roll over him.

Max gave what could only be described as a cry of triumph and joy as he felt Anson lose control beneath him, his body being filled with the seed of yet another conquest. "This is so fucking easy!" he shouted, licking the blood from his lips and smearing the dark, sticky fluid seeping from Anson's wounds over his chest and stomach.

He brought a blood red hand to his own cock and started pumping it viciously. "You're going to be my favorite," he gasped as his orgasm burst free and his cock shot streams of come to mix with Anson's blood. His hand reached behind him and he grasped wet, stringy hair. "And look who's come to join us."

But... she was dead. He'd killed her. How was this possible. For a moment, he gazed at Ariel's once pretty face, suffused with blood, the water and mucus streaming from her mouth and nose, and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I... I thought that she was dead. It was a shame she had to die like that; I liked her. Will she be all right now?" Come on, Anson. Think, man. He was dead, wasn't he? He was just beginning to realize that death actually didn't need to be permanent.

"Um, you're not dead anymore," Max giggled. He snapped his fingers and the room was filled with the sound of birds singing and strains of 'Morning Has Broken.' "I get a little impatient, so it's officially the next day and you are officially alive." He leaned down and gave Anson a sloppy kiss. "Happy birthday, baby."

Sitting up again with a grin, he jerked his head in Ariel's direction. "Unfortunately, she got caught in the middle and wouldn't you know it...?" He slapped her but she continued to stare straight ahead. "She's nothing but a George Romero extra now."

Anson looked at the girl who had been so full of life, and felt cold inside. Was this what he would become? Would he kill with indiscriminate zest, just because Max demanded it of him? He felt his gorge rise, and he turned away to vomit.

Annabel. It could have been Annabel, and then she would be this zombie... this thing that Max was pushing towards the door. He didn't know if he could stand it or not. He retched suddenly, crouched in a huddle as he tried to turn his stomach inside out.

Max turned around and frowned. "Do you...need something?" he asked impatiently. "Or does sex usually do this to you?

"I... I feel so strange." Anson crouched on the floor watching Max as he shoved the girl out through the door. "I don't think that I'm what you need."

In an instant Max was standing in front of Anson. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He squatted and roughly pulled Anson's head up so he was looking him in the eye. "What's wrong with you?

The pain in his head, the sharp jolt to his neck made him queasy, and he retched again, dry heaves that served no purpose other than to fill his mouth with acrid tasting bile. "She's dead, and I killed her. I don't want to do that any more."

"I thought you liked killing, Anson," Max said softly, rubbing Anson's back. "You were so excited at the idea. What changed?

"It... I... I don't know. I didn't think..." Anson put his face down into his hands and began to sob.

Max growled deep in his throat and reached out a hand to grab Anson's hair. "You want to tell me what the *fuck* your problem is?" he asked through clenched teeth as he yanked Anson's head back. "Because I really need to know what the hell to do with you."

He'd taken enough. Yanking his short hair free, Anson shoved back at Max, and succeeded in dumping the precariously crouched lookalike on his ass. Drawing a deep breath, he screamed, a full-throated shriek that seemed to continue forever. When at last he ceased, and sat, panting, he was covered in sweat.

"Do with me? Leave me the fuck alone would be good. I don't wanna kill people. I just wanna party. Do you get me?" He sniffed, and wiped his eyes on the cuff of his shirt.

"No," Max growled, "I don't get it. And I don't think you understand exactly what's expected of you." He closed the distance until his mouth was pressed against Anson's. "You will do as I say," he said, his breathing labored, "and you will like it or I'll have to kill you." He bit Anson's bottom lip for emphasis.

"But..." Anson wailed. "I'm dead. I don't understand. You said that I'm dead. What do you want from me? Tell me and get it over with."

"You're not dead anymore. I made it clear I'd bring you back to life and now you want to shit on me for that??" He stood up and dragged Anson with him. "You don't want to do that, Anson. Tell me that's not what you're doing, or I'll make you very, very sorry."

Anson's eyes blazed. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. What do you want? What the fuck do you want? Tell me." He shook his head to clear it, rolling it from side to side, his eyes darting this way and that. Finally, he turned to Max and faced him full on. "I can't be what you want me to be if I don't know what that is, can I?"

Max grabbed the back of Anson's head and squeezed, his fingers, now claws, digging into the tender flesh. "You," he growled, his breath hot and foul against Anson's face, "are my servant. You were born again to serve me," he hissed, his teeth sharpening as he placed his mouth to Anson's. "You are a fallen angel, just like me," he whispered, slipping his cold, dead tongue into Anson's mouth.

"An... angel?" Anson trembled. "What the hell did that mean? I'm a man. Anson Bernard Greene. I'm only a man. How could I be anything else? An angel has power, doesn't he? I haven't got any power. Mr. Fuck-up, that's who I am. How can I be an angel?" He was so shocked that he didn't recoil from Max's advances.

Max yanked his head back and sneered at him, his eyes flashing red. "I've given you all the power you need, Anson," he said, his voice crawling into Anson's ear. "Think of something you'd like to do, and it'll happen. I don't have fuck-ups on my side, so stop trying to use that as an excuse to deny your power."

"What can I do?" screamed Anson. "Tell me what!" He thought about his life - his death. There was nothing that he wanted to do... unless.

"Annabel!" he screamed. "I want to see her. I want to see Annabel!"

"You do, don't you?" Max started laughing. "Oh, Anson, you are so much fun for me to fuck with..." He took a deep breath and bent his head to start sucking on Anson's throat. "I can show you what happens to her," he said between painful nips and licks. "I can show you where she ultimately ends up."

"Annabel? You can?" Anson gazed at Max, tear spiked lashes veiling brilliant eyes. "Let me see. Please?" He put his hand up to stroke Max's arm.

"Please?" he asked again.

"Since you begged so nicely..." Max sighed, bored, and pressed a hand to Anson's forehead. "Time to see your darling baby girl," he breathed into Anson's ear. "See her? There she is. She's the one in the foster home getting fucked by her foster father every night because you decided to fight me. See it?"

Anson found his hands both going to seize Max's wrist, as though he might somehow temper the vision that was reaching him. He moaned as he saw the thin, dark-haired girl with the bruised face fall to the ground at his feet, blood on her legs and her mini skirt hiked high enough for him to see that she had no underwear.

"Please, no. Don't let that happen. I'll do anything."

"But there's more," Max sighed, licking Anson's ear before showing him another vision. "See her on the street, Anson? How else is a runaway supposed to support herself?" He bit Anson's ear lobe. "Her blow jobs are spectacular, by the way."

Eyes bugging as he looked at the teenager that had been his little girl, Anson felt his hair prickle as a cold shiver ran down his back.

"No, please... Don't do this... Don't let it happen. You told me that I could have anything I wanted. I want Annabel... Please." He bit back a sob, his face white as he looked at the images before him.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Max grinned and looked up. "There she is."

Before his movements could be seen, Max was standing next to a frail, dark-haired girl of about sixteen who'd just entered the room. Without a word, he embraced her and leaned down to give her a bruising kiss on the mouth, pulling her tightly against his naked body. When he raised his head, he was breathless and looked at Anson with a wink.

"Guess I should have told you that you've been here a little longer than you thought." A predatory smile spread across his face as he moved behind the slight girl, making sure Anson got a good look at the erection he was now sporting. He turned her so she was facing Anson, his hips undulating as he began rubbing against her. "She's grown up nicely," he murmured, staring into Anson's eyes as he slipped a hand under Annabel's shirt to fondle her breast, "don't you think?"

"No. What do you want from me?" Anson turned away, not able to watch the other's slow caress as his hand moved lewdly inside his daughter's clothing. This was a nightmare. He couldn't really be experiencing it. It just couldn't be happening.

Looking up, he saw the gleam of apparent good humor in Max's eyes, and shuddered. "Just tell me what you want from me. That's all."

"I told you," Max giggled as he kissed the girl's ear, his gaze still not wavering. "You do exactly as I say without questioning me." His features hardened and his hand moved slowly down her body to slip under the waistband of her skirt. "Swear your loyalty to me and you won't have to watch me fuck her." The smile was back. "Unless you want to."

"I promise. I promise. Let her go and I'll do what you want. Help me, please." Anson was shaking now, his body trembling in half-panicked shock. Stumbling back, he sat on the bed, his mind completely disabled by the things that he was watching. "Please don't do this to her. She's all that I have."

Max sighed and pushed Annabel aside, walking towards the bed with a sorrowful expression on his face. "Oh, Anson, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you'd be so upset by this. Look," he gestured behind him to the now empty room, "it was all a trick. She's not really here." He put a finger under Anson's chin and tilted his head up. "Did that scare you?"

"S...s...scare me? Yeah, it scared me. It scared the shit out of me. Where is she? What did you do with her?" His eyes were woebegone, the lashes thick and spiked with tears. As Max held his chin he shivered. "Just let me have my baby and I'll do anything you want." A single flicker of hope shone momentarily, and then the lashes drooped and shuttered the telltale signs.

"You can't have her, Anson. All I did was show you what will happen if you ever cross me." He bent down and gave Anson a soft, delicate kiss. "I won't have any of those horrible things happen to her as long as you remember your place." He brushed his lips over Anson's again. "I told you that you were the only one who could take care of her, but I never told you you'd have her with you."

Those kisses. The man wanted this. Anson could tell that he wanted it. If that was what was needed, Anson would give it gladly. A fuck was a fuck, and it really didn't make that much difference who was doing it as long as he got off, right? He'd fucked the man earlier, and it had been good. Now, he thought that he knew what Max wanted.

"You wanna fuck me, don't you?" he murmured.

"Yes..." Max breathed hotly against Anson's mouth. "Very much..." He pushed Anson back on the bed and stretched out on top of him. "And I want so much more than that," he whispered as he began assaulting Anson's neck with his mouth, sucking and biting until the pale skin was covered with dark red marks.

I give him what he wants, and she's gonna be safe, Anson thought as he arched beneath the tug of teeth, and the sucking, greedy mouth that moved against his skin.

"Come on, you bastard. Show me what you want. Tell me what it is. Give it to me." Anson stretched out, inviting the hands to roam over him, wondering if he could get it up a third time tonight. Hoping that he wouldn't need to.

"You'll need to give me a whole lot more than one fuck to keep her safe," Max growled as he moved down Anson's body. His teeth scraped over Anson's chest, breaking the skin. "I don't just want your body," he smiled as his tongue flickered over Anson's skin, licking up the blood as it beaded from the fresh wound.

"Then what?" Anson panted, his breath hitching as the sharp little pains blended with the full and heavy arousal that was stealing over him yet again. "You have to tell me. I need to know." Deliberately, Anson scratched Max's back, digging deep enough to find his own bloody trail, and raising one finger to his lips.

Max chuckled deep in his throat at the sweet sting he allowed himself to feel. "You need to know what I want you to know, Anson." He began sucking on a pert nipple, tugging at it with his teeth until it started to bleed. "But tell me what you fear the most."

"I fear... I fear you." The words were out and in the air before he could call them back. Anson cowered, fearing the reaction that they might cause. The pain was pleasure as Max sucked at his flesh, and he bucked against the covering body. "What can I do?" he whispered again.

"You can keep being honest with me," Max grinned, sliding sinuously back up Anson's body, making sure to keep as much skin to skin contact as possible. "I like that," he breathed against Anson's ear, "I like that you fear me because you should." His hands trailed over Anson's arms, fingernails raking over the hot skin and firm muscle until he reached Anson's hands. "You will always fear me, even if it's just a little bit," he whispered, entwining their fingers and slowly raising Anson's arms above his head. "But, if you just give yourself completely to me," he murmured, licking the other man's mouth, "you'll never fear anything else ever again."

Anson was writhing now, his body pulsing with the pleasure/pain that his assailant was inflicting on him. Spreading his legs wide, he bent his knee and ran a foot over the taut flesh of Max's buttock.

"Please...?" he begged, and yet he wasn't sure what it was he was asking. "Help me not to fear. That would be wonderful."

"Wouldn't it, though?" Max giggled, moving his hips and thrusting his cock against Anson's. "It'll be so good," he said, his breath hitching as the newest addition to his fold moved beneath him, "and so easy." He raised his head enough to stare deeply into Anson's eyes. "Let me inside your head," he whispered. "Give your mind over to me, then I'll fuck you and you'll be mine completely. I'll be the only one you need."

"I don't know how." Anson felt the hot regard on him, and found that he couldn't look away. Those eyes that were so like his were eating him alive, devouring him within and without as they stripped him of his conscious thought, leaving behind only a raging need, although he was no longer sure for what.

Max brought his hands down, but Anson's arms were now bound above his head. "It's so simple," he explained, his hands roaming greedily over Anson's body, the lust and arousal coming off the other man invading his senses. He groaned softly, tasting Anson's need and fear when he bent his head to suck the sweat from Anson's throat. "Denounce anything good you might believe in," he murmured. "God abandoned you on the day you were born, Anson, and now I'm the only one who cares about you. Curse Him...hate Him... He's the one who made your life hell." A giggle caught in his throat and he smiled widely. "In a way, He prepared you for me."

"Why?" The single word was a wail. "Why did He do that to me? What did I do to Him? I was just a little kid. I didn't know any better." Anson was sobbing now as the realization of his plight came home to him. "I was doomed from the start. How could that be? Why would that happen to a baby?" Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. "You're gonna make it all right though, aren't you? You're the man, aren't you?"

Max licked the tears away with a smug smile. "God hates you, Anson, he always has. I don't presume to understand His motives, but from the day you were born, He wanted nothing to do with you. Maybe it was your mother's fault. After all, she betrayed you in the end, didn't she?" He sighed as his hands moved down to tease the insides of Anson's thighs. "All I know is that I'm the only one who loves you, and, yes, I can make it all right for you. All you have to do is believe in me and pledge your soul to the one I serve. He will never let you down the way God did, I promise."

"I believe in you." Anson whispered. "I've seen what you can do. You... you promise? I want to believe you. I want to. How do I do what I have to? I've never pledged my soul to anything. I didn't even believe that I had one."

"Of course you do, you sad, beautiful man," Max laughed, kissing Anson deeply as he pushed Anson's legs up and open, "and it's very important to me that you give it to me of your own free will." He positioned his cock to the tight opening between Anson's legs and licked his lips, desperate to have the willing body beneath him. "I can give you anything you desire and all you have to do is tell God to fuck off. He doesn't deserve someone as beautiful as you on his side..."

Alternate Ending 1

"I want it. I want all the good things I never had. Give it to me. If you can do that, you're my master, and I turn from God. He never cared for me anyway." Anson brought both his legs up to wrap around Max's waist, pulling him tightly against his aroused body. "I'm yours."

"I knew you would be," Max breathed and thrust his cock inside Anson, ripping harshly into him. He bent his head to kiss him, draining any ounce of faith that may have saved him and replacing it with the darkness that would damn him for all time. "You are mine, Anson," he growled, his voice rattling in his throat like some decrepit thing.

And as Anson came, he laughed. Now he would have his just desserts. The taste of blood in his mouth was suddenly a good thing. He would have more, presently.

Alternate Ending 2

"No!" Anson screamed the word into Max's face as the horror of what Max was asking of him suddenly became apparent. "It's lies. It's all lies. God... God loves me. God... God help me." The sound of his desperate voice resonated, shook the bed on which he lay. "God, save me?" he howled again.

"Nooooooooo!" The shriek that emanated from Max's mouth was one of defeat and horror and anger that he was so close and would lose now. But even his enraged cry was not enough to stop the bright light from descending onto Anson and lifting him free. Max had to shield his eyes and stop himself from retching at the goodness and purity that dared invade his home. Finally, with a burst of white light, it was over and Max lay panting and beaten on his bed. He raised his head to see two white feathers resting on the pillow beside him. Looking up, he smirked. "I'll get the next one."

The End

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