Title: Facade

Author: Orchyd Constyne

Fandom: Brimstone

Pairing: The Devil/Ezekiel, sort of

Archive: yes! Just let me know where...

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimers: Don't own anything to do with Brimstone. If I did, I wouldn't have canceled the show. ^_^

Facade
by Orchyd Constyne

The room was awash in neon red. Perfect. The door to this cheap, seedy place was closed softly. I turn to my companion, removing my coat. He begins stripping his clothes, our eyes never leaving one another as we reveal ourselves. His body is perfectly sculptured, taut in all the right places. He is a few inches taller, light haired, light eyed. The light to my darkness.

I approach him and grab him fiercely by his hair, pulling his waiting mouth to mine. He snakes his tongue into my mouth, setting my belly on fire. We press against one another, our body hot and aching. This was a long time coming, and I meant to treasure every second. I wrench his head back and rake my teeth over his throat, delighting in the moans I elicit.

"You like this, Ezekiel?" I ask, biting the base of his throat and tasting his salty-sweet skin.

Panting is his reply. I smile and recapture his mouth, savoring his taste and his need. I had entered this room hot and ready for him, but I wanted to *enjoy* his submission, his wanting. After trading barbs with him for months, after silently watching him and desiring him, he was mine. At this moment, in this room, his need was pressing against my belly and it sent spike of passion down my spine.

I broke the kiss and pushed him to his knees in front of me. I wanted to watch him give himself to me, completely mine. He took my cock into his mouth and I could not hold back the loud moan of pleasure that erupted from my throat. He slowly engulfed me, his tongue driving me mad. My fingers entwined with his hair, my eyes closing of their own volition. I could not stop myself from thrusting, though my little Ezekiel seemed to care very little what did with my hips. He compensated for every one of my moves.

I stopped him; I was balanced so close on that edge. I didn't want it to be over just yet. I needed to taste *him*. I pulled him to his feet and led him to the bed. He sat on the edge and I knelt in
front of him, his legs slightly spread to allow me access to his glistening member. I eagerly took him in my mouth to the hilt, moaning at his sudden jerk and cry of surprise and pleasure. I owned him, body and soul, and he knew it. He gripped the bed sheets beside him as I pumped his cock with my mouth. He was just as close as I was and now I was ready for him.

He reached over to the bag we had brought with us and pulled out the small bottle of lubrication. As I dripped some on my hand and slicked my cock up, he changed position, kneeling on the bed with his ass to me and his head against the mattress. I inched up to him, then slithered my well-oiled finger into his tight ass. He groaned into the pillow, moving his own hips against my hand. I
slid a second finger inside him; working him, spreading him, preparing him for my cock.

When I felt he was loose enough, ready and wet enough, I eased myself into him. I did not want to take this by force, I wanted it to be willingly given. And it was. He leaned back some, meeting me and taking me as deep as he could. We sat like that for a moment; I could feel my cock pulsing inside him, and I ground my teeth holding back that perfect moment. I was not ready.

He sat up into my lap, impaling himself on my firm shaft until I could feel his heat surrounding every inch of it. I reached around my lover and gripped his cock, slick with his fluids, hot and
thick. As I stroked him, he began to ride me, slowly at first. When I buried my face in his neck, though, nipping and biting the soft flesh, he bucked and ground his ass against me. He was hot and tight, his body offering to me in that moment everything I'd been craving from him.

I hissed his name in his ear. "Ezekiel," I said. "I have wanted you like this since I first saw you... Writhing in my hands, calling my name... and now I have you."

I drove myself into him once more and felt my cock jerk, my muscles spasm. I exploded into him with a groan. His body clenched around my rod, taking every drop of my need. I worked his cock with my hand, searching for his release. As the last ripples of my orgasm washed over me, his voice rang out in a ragged moan, and he came. Hot and cool all at once, spurting out over my hand and the bed beyond.

I pulled my cock from his shuddering flesh, removed my hand from his already-wilting prick, and stood up from the bed. I used the sheet to wipe the remaining evidence of our coupling from my shaft and hand and looked down at my scattered clothes. I shook my head, envisioned the result I wanted, and made it real. The fabric from an identical set of clothes settled around my naked human form with the power of my thoughts; one of the few abilities not denied to me on this mortal plane.

The boy was still laying there, shuddering in the congealing pool of come. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a wadded handful of bills, and tossed them onto the bed without counting them. I walked to the door, turning to take one last look at the cheap little boy-whore I'd paid, certain he'd use the money for another needleful of manufactured bliss, and left the room without another word.

Of course it wasn't really Ezekiel; none of them were. But one thing about mortals that I love is that, for the right price, identity is a tradable commodity.

** The End **