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Feb 16, 2025

He Tastes Like You, Only Sweeter [18+]

Thatcher just wants to drink his sorrows at the bar in peace, but the reappearance of a familiar face forces him to grapple with some complicated feelings...

this is technically a part three to this post, but you can also read it as a standalone because I don't really see it as canon, just a fun little side project!

Noise. So much noise. Thatcher hated clubs. The flashing lights and crowded space and booming bass made his head pound. Yet, here he was again, alone at the bar, while the person who dragged him here was out on the dance floor laughing, dancing, and flirting with god knows who this time. He silently seethed with jealousy at the thought, throwing back another shot that burned all the way down his throat.

He didn’t want to care so much. He didn’t want to let it bother him, to make him angry. He shouldn’t. After all, he may rightly be Abaddon’s, but they were never his. They made that abundantly clear every time they dragged him out to one of these seedy places, leaving him behind the second they found a new target to play with for the night.

He wasn’t a stupid man, perhaps hopelessly devoted, but never stupid, never oblivious. He knew he was being toyed with, month after month, but he was nothing if not loyal, always coming back to the angel like the obedient dog he was. He could get mad, enraged even, angrier than he’s ever been with anyone, until he felt like he would burst if he put up with it any longer, but he always came back, always sat at Abaddon’s heels, like he was expected to. Like he was supposed to.

Thatcher was a human, weak and fragile, full of emotion, but he was Abaddon’s favorite, that fact alone fueling his desire, keeping his anger at bay. At least that’s what they always told him, whispered against his ear, muttered into the sheets, sent in late night drunk messages that they rarely remembered in the morning. Degrading himself felt worth it if Abaddon kept fueling his laughable fantasy of being important to someone.

Another shot, and his head buzzed.

Someone took up in the seat next to him, but he paid no mind to it, continuing to stare into the woodgrain of the bar counter as he drank his sorrows. He finally perked up at the sound of a familiar voice, his blood running cold.

“Hi sweetie!”

Thatcher straightened up, afraid to glance over, but he did. Sitting in the seat next to him was a face he’d seen before, but not one he was eager to be reunited with. They sat there staring at him, their eyes too big, their smile too white, every tooth in their mouth perfectly aligned. Their canines weren’t even sharp. They flipped a strand of long, auburn hair across their shoulder as they sipped on a martini. It was pink in color, with two cherries floating within it. Somehow, it seemed fitting.

“L-Luvrina?” Thatcher swallowed, trying to stay calm, but dread clenched in his gut, “You…what are you doing here?”

“Just keeping an eye on things,” Luvrina laughed easily, but the sound set off alarm bells in Thatcher’s head, “Oh, don’t look so scared, silly! I’m only here for Abby, I would never hurt you, Thatcher! Unless you want me to.”

“Um…” he ignored the crude comment, tapping his nails nervously against the counter, “So...you’re still around? Watching us. Does Abaddon know?”

“Oh, goodness, I hope not! That wouldn’t be any fun at all,” they laughed again, taking another sip of their drink, “And it would especially ruin the fun if a certain someone were to tell them! Don’t you think so?”

Thatcher didn’t answer, only offering them a nervous laugh. The threat was heard loud and clear.

“Good, good…but enough about me. Why are you over here all alone, baby?”

“I, uh…” his face grew red at the pet name, or maybe it was the alcohol, maybe both, “Abaddon, they wanted to come. I don’t like to dance, so I just…I’m here.”

“Fascinating,” Luvrina propped their elbow up on the counter, cheek pressed into their palm as they gave him all of their attention, their tone feigning interest, “You’re so sweet, and they just leave you all alone like that?”

“I…” Thatcher swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling tight. Glancing to the dance floor, he hoped to catch Abaddon’s eye, to warn them, but they were nowhere to be found. Jealousy coiled in his belly again, knowing they were probably off banging someone in a bathroom stall. “Yeah, but they always do this. It’s…I don’t care. Really! I, uh, I just drink a little. Until they want to leave.”

“Hmm,” Luvrina hummed quietly, their deep brown eyes flickering over his features as he spoke, their smile suddenly morphing into something almost sweet. They set their drink down, creeping their fingers along the counter to ghost over Thatcher’s own. He twitched, but didn’t pull away. “I know, sweetheart, Abby always throws away the people that love them the most. It’s such a burden, loving them, isn’t it?”

“N-No, I don’t love them– They’re not a–” he blinked several times, stumbling over his words before falling silent for a moment, mulling over his thoughts, “...What do you mean, they always throw people away?”

“Oh…” Luvrina sighed dramatically, placing a hand to their chest and looking sad for a moment. Their large eyes turned downcast, their long lashes brushing their cheeks. “They were willing to throw away everything, Thatcher, just to be here on Earth. Away from our god, away from me, away from all the other angels, just to play pretend with you humans. Isn’t that cruel? To throw away their family, just like that?”

Luvrina sniffled, hiccuping a soft cry, but no tears fell. Thatcher took their hand in his own, squeezing it with reassurance. They looked back up at him with their doe eyes, blinking once.

“I’m…so sorry, Luvrina. I had no idea they treated you that way,” his gaze softened as he looked at them, his thumb soothing over their knuckle, “They’ve never…said anything about that. About you.”

“Of course not,” they spoke sadly, pouting, but still no tears, “I suppose they hate me, for coming down here, for spoiling their fun, even after everything I’ve done for them...”

“I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling,” Thatcher repeated his apology, not knowing what to say. What could he say? These celestial feuds were far, far above his head. At least, that’s what Abaddon always told him. Their words echoed in his mind: You’re a human, you wouldn’t understand.

“But…if I can ask, why are you telling me all this?” he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, growing nervous, “They’re my guardian angel, I can trust them, can’t I?”

“I’d just hate for you to get hurt by Abby, sweetie!” they suddenly perked up, their expression staring again, the flashing, multicolored lights of the surrounding club reflecting in the whites of their eyes, “They’re horrible, aren’t they? Haven’t they already hurt you? Just like they hurt everyone else?”

“No, no, Abaddon’s never…” he trailed off, trying to defend them, trying to rack his brain for any excuse, any acknowledgment that they cared about him. He realized he couldn’t come up with anything. “They’re just…intense. It’s not their fault, it’s mine, I shouldn’t be so sensitive. It must be hard for them, not being from Earth. Well, you know that…”

Thatcher rambled on nervously, Luvrina holding a soft smile as they listened to him. His words suddenly came to a stop, though, when the angel cradled his jaw, their thumb soothing over his cheek as they gazed at him. They cooed their next words, their tone sickly sweet.

“You’re so special, Thatcher. It’s a shame that Abby is so awful to someone as special as you…”

Thatcher’s heart beat quicker at the praise, at the sudden touch, his throat tight, feeling at a loss for words. Special? Him? He was nothing, just dust in the wind, blown away without a second thought. Still, their words ignited something in him, something eager and pathetic, the part of him that grasped at straws for any attention, always insatiable, always yearning for more.

Luvrina sounded so genuine, as if they actually cared about him. Did they? Were they looking out for him in the presence of their sibling? Or were they exactly like Abaddon? Lying to him, manipulating him, wrapping him around their finger to get exactly what they wanted? What did they want? He didn’t know. Part of him didn’t even care, just grateful to be acknowledged at all.

“Huh? Me?” he chuckled nervously, an awkward smile plastered on his flushed face. Luvrina’s hand felt cold against his cheek. “No, no, I’m nothing special, just…another human, you know? Uh…Thank you, though. For saying that.”

“Oh, you’re such a pretty human, though. You’re so darling, Thatcher,” they giggled, taking back their hand and moving their attention to their neglected martini, “Such a waste that you were assigned Abby, and not someone else…”

Thatcher blinked, staring at them as they sipped their drink, the adamant flirting not completely lost on him. He’d never been called pretty before.

He remembered when he had met them only a few weeks ago, their beauty standing out to him even then, despite the fear their presence brought him. Even now, in the dim lighting, he could make out soft freckles that dusted along their skin, across the bridge of their nose, their cheeks, even sprinkled along their collar and their shoulders. Plump lips were painted red, the same red as the long nails that tapped against their martini glass. Their skin seemed impossibly soft, perfect, unblemished, as if they truly were something other than human. An ethereal, alluring being, untouchable by human hands.

Glancing at him from behind their pink beverage, their eyes squinted in a seemingly genuine, playful smile. Thatcher’s eyes wandered down lower, his head buzzing with alcohol, then arousal as he finally noticed the low cut of their dress. They were practically spilling out of it, the tight material squeezing the curves of their body in all the right ways. His eyes darted back up when Luvrina offered him a knowing, flirty laugh.

“I am so sorry, I– I’ve been drinking and–” Thatcher stuttered, averting his eyes from the other and squeezing them shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. His face heated up to a dangerous degree, sweat beading along his skin.

“I know, isn’t this human form just gorgeous?” Luvrina ignored his apology, suddenly leaning forward to balance their weight with both hands on his thighs. Thatcher gasped at the contact, opening his eyes to find Luvrina’s toothy grin much too close to him now. Their eyes would be pretty if they just blinked. “I know you think so, too, ever since we met… You’ve been eyeing me, haven’t you? Tell me you have, Thatcher.”

“I-I, uh…” he choked on his words, his heart beating too fast in his chest with the angel so close. Could they hear it, too? The sound of his heart pounding in his ears? Surely they could, with how easily it drowned out the heavy rhythm of the bass surrounding the both of them. He swallowed, trying to speak.

“You're…very beautiful,” he finally admitted, his palms starting to sweat. He felt suffocated by Luvrina’s proximity.

“You wanna kiss me, baby,” Luvrina’s voice spoke low, hazy with want, hypnotizing the man trapped under their gaze.

It was a statement, not a question, perhaps even a demand from them. Thatcher hesitated at the proposition, but his feeble mind felt powerless to push down his desires. Not when Luvrina was so close, close enough that their breath ghosted across his face, not when his head felt dizzy with their praise, not with their hands squeezing his thighs like that, not when he glanced down and their chest was right there–

“Yes.”

Eager hands cupped his jaw as Luvrina leaned in further, pressing their lips together in a hungry kiss. Thatcher didn’t pull away, didn’t fight it, only allowed it to happen, even pressing eagerly into it, taking the bait. His eyes slipped closed behind his glasses, a small, pathetic noise leaving his throat as the angel easily overtook him.

They tasted exactly like Abaddon, sweet and addictive, devouring and greedy; Thatcher desired every second of it. The remnants of their sugary drink invaded his senses as they forced their tongue into his keening mouth.

It was too sloppy, too fast, but the adrenaline only made Thatcher crave more. He felt them smile against his mouth before sucking his bottom lip between their teeth, eeking out another quiet noise from him before their lips separated with a wet sound, unheard in the loud surroundings of the club. Luvrina’s hand slipped into the back of his thick hair, making him shudder, their lips moving to mouth along his jaw, then his neck, their tongue licking long stripes along Thatcher’s burning skin. Perfect teeth teased at a vein in his neck, a hand slipped too close up his thigh, causing Thatcher to gasp and twitch away from their overwhelming touch.

“We shouldn’t…What if Abaddon–”

“Don’t think about them, baby,” Luvrina ran their tongue along their top lip, gazing at him like a lion would its prey. Their lipstick was slightly smeared. “They abandoned you, didn’t they? Left you all alone for someone to snatch you up? I’ll take such good care of you, Thatcher…”

Their hand wandered even further up his thigh, groping at his groin, making him suck in a breath and squeeze his eyes shut.

He thought about Abaddon. He thought about their shared kisses, their intimate moments late at night, tangled in his sheets. He thought about the long drives, just the two of them, laughing and comfortable in each other’s presence. He thought about how they cuddled up to him when it was cold out, about the snacks they liked, their favorite blanket, how they laughed too loud at movies, how they got clingy when they were drunk, how they played their music too loud, but he let them anyway because it made them happy. He just wanted to make them happy.

What was he doing? He was cheating, betraying what he and the angel shared between them. Wasn’t he? But…they weren’t in a relationship, were they? How angry would Abaddon be if they found out? Would they direct their anger onto him, onto Luvrina? Would they even be angry at all? Would they be jealous? Would they even care?

He thought about Abaddon again. About the humiliation, the secrets, the willingness to string him along, then throw him away. Never a priority, never a first choice, never Abaddon’s, only ever a toy to push and poke and prod at until they were satisfied. Something to have fun with, never something to take seriously.

They were his guardian angel, but he was just a job to them. Why should he feel bad? Why should he care? For once, shouldn’t he make his own choice, prod at Abaddon for a change? Push their buttons, make them angry? Why did he always have to be the bigger person, for his entire life?

Jealousy, anger, and self hatred made a familiar home in his stomach again, bubbling in his veins and pushing away any regret he may have had.

“My car– It’s out in the parking lot.”

……….

Luvrina had practically dragged Thatcher the whole way to his car, barely giving him any time to throw money onto the counter for his drinks.

It was quieter out here in the parking lot, no loud music, no sounds of people laughing and cheering and screaming drunkenly along to songs. Only the sound of footsteps on pavement and the occasional thrum of cars going down the road. Thatcher struggled to wrangle his keys from his pocket, jangling them around a bit as Luvrina forcefully pressed him into the side of the car, capturing his lips again, a hand up his thigh again. His hands shook, but he finally managed to unlock the doors with a press of a button.

It was a tight squeeze, but the two of them managed to fit in his back seat. Part of him briefly wished he owned something bigger than a sedan, but his thoughts quickly dissipated as Luvrina pushed him onto his back and straddled him, grinding down against his quickly growing arousal. Thatcher couldn’t suppress a groan, his hands pawing at their hips.

“Oh my, you look so cute below me, even cuter than I imagined!” Luvrina purred, kissing gently at his neck before digging in their teeth. Thatcher yelped, grasping at their dress and jolting underneath them. They only laughed. “Hush now, I won’t hurt you too bad…”

Thatcher didn’t know what that entailed, but his thoughts were interrupted when two fingers suddenly hooked into his mouth, swiveling his head to the side. Thatcher took them in obediently, feeling Luvrina’s hot breath on his neck, then the slight sting as they sucked and bit several dark bruises into his skin. He whimpered at the roughness, the two of them working up a rhythm as they rutted against each other. Luvrina gasped soft murmurs of pleasure against his saliva soaked neck, making Thatcher feel as though he might go crazier than he already was.

Thatcher wanted to touch them, so he did, sliding a hand up their tan thigh, sneaking it under their short dress. He couldn’t help a quiet curse as he realized they weren’t wearing any underwear. Christ, had they planned this?

His stray thumb quickly found their clit nestled in the soft curls of hair between their thighs, where he rubbed in gentle, unhurried circles. They were wet, they were enjoying this, only accentuated by the low noise pulled from their throat, purred and grateful as they leaned into his touch.

“Good boy, Thatcher,” Luvrina murmured, apparently satisfied with the marks they left, now pressing soft kisses to his jaw, right below his ear where they whispered their praises. Their fingers were still in his mouth. He ran his tongue along them greedily. “You’re such a good boy… Are you this good for Abby, too? Or am I special~?”

The question made Thatcher’s stomach turn. Why was Abaddon being brought up now? Here? He ignored it, not wanting to think about them, only working his fingers against the other’s heat in the hopes it would distract them. It worked for a moment, dragging a pleasured sigh from them as they fluttered their eyes shut, their hips rolling into his hand, but it didn’t last. The fingers in Thatcher’s mouth suddenly gripped his jaw instead, leaving his skin sticky as they forced him to look them directly in the eye.

“Tell me,” the command was a quiet threat, panted out through their perfect smile. They stared down at him, seeming to take pleasure in his fearful expression. “Say it, Thatcher.”

“I’m–” Thatcher’s face burned, forced to stare into their unblinking eyes. Their fingers dug into his jaw, almost painful as he tried to gather his courage. Fear and arousal curdled in his blood. “I’m g-good for them, too. I do whatever they want…”

“I bet you do…” Luvrina finally let go of his face, instead busying their hands with unbuckling his belt, pulling down both his jeans and briefs in a quick motion, making him gasp as his cock was revealed to the cool air. He felt vulnerable, exposed, ashamed. Still, he shivered, groaning quietly when they gazed down at him, a hungry look on their face.

“Being obedient suits you, love. You’re so cute, I could just eat you up.”

Thatcher wanted to say something, he didn’t know what, but something, until Luvrina’s surprisingly gentle hand had him losing any train of thought he may have had. They stroked him softly, making him whimper, pure want and pleasure overtaking him. Threading his dirtied fingers through their long hair, he pulled them down to capture their lips again.

He didn’t want their tongue in his mouth again, but he accepted it, anything to taste them again, anything to keep their sweet fingers wrapped around his cock, squeezing in just the right places as he sighed into their mouth, begging for more without words.

Wandering fingers hooked into the front of Luvrina’s dress, Thatcher not being able to resist pulling it down and being rewarded with their chest spilling out into his waiting hands. He squeezed gently, brushing his thumbs over sensitive nubs and making the angel moan into his mouth with a renewed heat.

Luvrina was soft, softer than what Thatcher was used to. With Abaddon, there was lean muscle and hard angles, soft in their own way but so very different from what he was experiencing now. Luvrina felt good, their smooth curves pressing against his body, into his hands, warm and supple, pliable under his fingers.

He squeezed their chest again, thumbs rougher this time, causing Luvrina to bite at his bottom lip with an uninhibited groan. Thatcher felt it through his entire body.

“Please…” Thatcher breathed against them, not resisting as his hips thrusted up into their loose grip. They giggled at that.

“Oh? What are you begging for, baby?” Luvrina teased, suddenly tightening their grip on his cock, making him whine. He chased their lips as they pulled away. “Beg more, you sound absolutely perfect…”

“Please–” humiliation washed over him as he obeyed, yet he chased it with vigor. It was a familiar feeling, after all. “Please, please fuck me, please fuck me.”

“My goodness, you really are so good! I should just keep you for myself, shouldn’t I?” they laughed meanly at his desperation, staring down at him and watching his reaction, “Would you like that, if I kept you? My little pet…”

Thatcher didn’t answer, but the idea wasn’t unpleasant to him. God, what was wrong with him? Luvrina squeezed his cock again when he didn’t respond, ripping him away from his thoughts as pain raced up his spine, making him twitch uncomfortably.

“You should answer when you’re spoken to, love,” they decided to cease their teasing, growing quite impatient themself, finally shifting their hips forward and covering Thatcher’s lap as they began to ease him inside. The motion made both of them gasp quietly. “It’s only– nng– polite, dear...”

Thatcher’s thoughts turned to static as soon as he felt their heat surround him. His hands grabbed desperately at their ass, attempting to pull them in closer, to feel them take him in. Burying his face into the crook of their neck, he whined, still muttering soft pleas into their perfect skin. They smelled so sweet, like citrus and florals; he couldn’t help a long, appreciative lick against their neck, wanting to taste them, feel their supple flesh under his needy mouth.

Luvrina slid all the way down him with a grunt, the motion making a vulgar, wet sound, causing Thatcher’s head to spin. He didn’t mean to, not wanting to hurt them, but his hips seemed to have a mind of their own as he jolted them upward. Once, twice, feeling Luvrina squeeze slick and hot around him as he groaned again, pathetic and unashamed in his need.

“Oh, sweetie, now I see why Abby plays with you. You’re so eager…” Luvrina squeaked out a few moans at the sudden motion, taking pleasure in being bounced around for a moment.

“But you need to keep being good…” they cooed, sitting their weight on him, stilling his hips as they started to roll their own against him at an even pace. They placed a hand on his neck, keeping him down, thumb stroking gently at his throat. Thatcher whined. “Be still. Be sweet, my love, and I’ll make you feel better than they ever could…”

They kissed him again, Thatcher barely able to reciprocate as they rocked into him perfectly. He felt suffocated, the space too tight, their bodies squeezed too close together, their thumb pressed into his throat, the air shared between them too hot, heavy and oppressive. His lips were sore, sweat prickled and dripped down his burning face, his hands dug into Luvrina’s hips, desperately trying to hold on as he accepted the pleasure they allowed him. A heat pooled deep within his belly and he thought ‘too soon, too soon, too soon’, but he was already shuddering within them, helpless to stop it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry–” his orgasm shook his body, his voice strangled in his throat as he writhed beneath the other, desperate hands clinging to them as he rode out his high. Luvrina breathed something against his ear, then laughed, but he didn’t catch it, his head filled with too much fog, too much pleasure, drowning out anything else around him.

He felt exhausted when he finally came down, his breathing feeling like an effort he didn’t have the energy for. He shifted uncomfortably as he felt Luvrina still moving slightly atop him.

Fingers grabbed roughly at his face again, shaking him slightly and causing him to wearily blink his eyes open. When had he closed them? Luvrina was still there, not a dream, staring at him too closely. At least their large eyes were half lidded now.

“Don’t fall asleep, darling, I’m not done with you…” they were slightly out of breath as they spoke, their cheeks tinged with red, but they still smiled at him. Their words ghosted against his lips, Thatcher watching as a bead of sweat rolled down the side of their face. “Show me how sweet that mouth of yours is…”

“O-Okay, yeah…” he grimaced as he felt the other lift their hips slightly, freeing him from their embrace with a quiet, slick noise. He hurriedly stuffed himself back in his pants, trying to ignore the stickiness.

Switching positions wasn’t graceful, but they managed. Luvrina pressed their back up against the car door, their legs spread beneath their dress as Thatcher crawled between them. It wasn’t comfortable, having to contort himself in the confined space, and he dreaded the back pain that awaited him in the morning. Those thoughts were quickly pushed away though as fingers grabbed at his hair and pulled him close.

“Just be good a little longer, cutie…” Luvrina sighed, their head falling back against the glass of the window as Thatcher obediently buried his face between their thighs. The feeling of his lips made their eyes flutter shut, their mouth slightly open as their breath picked up. “I wish I could play with you all night, baby… I’d love to make a mess of you…”

Thatcher only whined in response, it’s all he could do with his mouth full. They tasted good, warm and salty, their fluids and his own mixing together with his saliva as he drooled. He tasted himself as he lapped at them, the realization making him moan, feeling dirty. Humiliation, shame, and pleasure washed over him all at once, the intoxicating concoction of emotions only driving his desperation, giving him the motivation to work his tongue quicker, pulling those sweet noises from Luvrina’s throat, over and over.

He wished they’d say his name, breathless and praising, squeaked out in a cry for more. He was greedy, he knew this, but he was only a man.

He liked being a good boy. He liked being obedient, being told what to do, being used. He wanted Luvrina to use his mouth, use him until they were satisfied. He liked being put in his place, needed to be put in his place, whether it be under them or between their thighs. In this moment, he wanted this, he needed it. It’s all he was good for, anyway, bringing someone else pleasure, filling someone else’s needs, making someone else feel good.

For the first time that night, Luvrina couldn’t seem to form words, their degrading praise melting into little whines and moans and keens as Thatcher continued to mouth at them. Thighs trembled under his grasp as he moved his tongue in gentle, eager circles, slipping their clit into his yearning mouth and earning a choked gasp from them. Luvrina squirmed under his touch, breath hot, but Thatcher’s fingers dug into their hips, holding them in place even when they began to fight against him in their pleasure. He breathed out his own noises against their sticky, flushed skin, even when the heel from their stiletto nudged into his back, even when sharp nails dug painfully into his scalp, he kept his pace, the pain only spurring him on.

Luvrina came with a sharp cry, dirtying Thatcher’s face as they rode it out against his mouth. He let them, his jaw sore, but more than willing to please the other until they were thoroughly finished with him. They breathed hard through cherry-stained lips, their hips rolling against Thatcher’s tongue until they were satisfied, then slowly stilling as they let the warmth of their high wash over them. Thatcher gave them a few last, little licks before kissing gently in the same spot. Luvrina practically purred at that, stroking a hand through Thatcher’s hair lovingly, possessively.

There was silence between them for a few moments, the only sounds being their labored breathing as they both attempted to catch their breath. Thatcher laid his head against the other’s fuzzy thigh, looking up at them with a tired, starstruck expression, his mouth painted with their fluids, marking him as their own. They returned his gaze, their wide grin beginning to creep back onto their exhausted face, but it seemed less malicious this time.

God, they looked gorgeous, he thought. Their makeup was smeared, their long hair disheveled, their dress barely containing them, their cheeks tinted red as they breathed hard, sitting there still spread and slick and open for him. A small pang of renewed arousal traveled down his spine at the sight. He wanted to taste them more, feel them more, but he knew the two could be caught any second. Despite his growing desire, there was no time for him to indulge in seconds.

“Goodness,” Luvrina finally spoke, still stroking Thatcher’s hair, to which he made a small noise and nuzzled into their touch. “You’re so lovely, baby…Such a good little dog, aren’t you?”

He blinked up at them, not knowing what to say to the insult, shame twisting in his belly for another round that night. Luvrina only laughed. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, finally sitting himself up with some difficulty, his limbs feeling like jelly. Luvrina joined him, stuffing themself back into their dress and smoothing it out, then brushing their fingers through their messy, ruby locks in an attempt to comb the strands back into place.

“That was just wonderful, darling. You really are such a nice distraction. If you were mine, I would get absolutely no work done!” they laughed out a quiet, amused giggle.

“...A distraction?” Thatcher mused quietly, the realization dawning on him. He stared holes into the back of the seat in front of him, avoiding looking at the other.

“Of course,” Luvrina said cheerfully, but matter of factly, as if it was an obvious statement. Their nails ran along the back of Thatcher’s neck. It made his skin crawl. “What else would you be, sweetheart?”

Thatcher didn’t respond, still looking away from them. His stomach turned. Luvrina grabbed impatiently for his face when he didn’t answer, forcing him to look into their eyes again.

“Well, this was a lot of fun, but I have such a busy schedule, my love, I’ve got to get going,” they smiled at him for the last time that night, wearing that same sweet expression from earlier, when they told him he was special. They blinked once as they spoke. “Just remember who really loves you, Thatcher. Remember who’s really looking out for you, and remember who would never hurt you.”

Luvrina pressed a soft, lingering peck to his lips before opening the car door and taking off, leaving Thatcher alone in his car to ruminate on the events of that night.

The door slammed, then silence. With the angel gone, Thatcher finally let out a heavy sigh as he leaned back into the seat, running a hand along his face and brushing back a few strands of hair that had stuck to his sweaty forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut, realizing how uncomfortably sticky he felt, wishing he had something else to change into, knowing he probably looked like a hot mess.

“Shit…” he muttered into his palm, anxiety nestling in his chest as he realized he needed to clean himself up before Abaddon came looking for him. He wondered if they even noticed he left. He searched for anything in the floorboards: a towel, a blanket, anything to clean himself of the evidence of his sins.

He found an old towel that he didn’t remember owning. That happened a lot, he would find things strewn about in places he didn’t remember, but he always chalked it up to Abaddon. They never seemed to care if they made a mess, or left things behind for him to find. It was fine, he was fine with it, at least this time it came in handy.

Thatcher hurried himself with leaving the backseat, instead sitting himself in the driver’s seat, studying himself in the rearview mirror. He felt almost revolted at what looked back at him.

It was just him, of course, but red lipstick was smeared across his lips, down his neck, along his collar. Bite marks, bruises tinged dark and purple littered the side of his neck, evidence of what he had done. What he allowed himself to do. At least the makeup came off easily with the towel, but there was nothing he could do about the bruises. He combed his shaky fingers through his graying hair, buttoned up his shirt, straightened his glasses, all a futile attempt to make himself appear somewhat presentable. He thought that he’d never looked worse in his life.

Sighing out a shaky breath, he laid his head back against the seat, laying his hands atop the steering wheel in front of him, just to have something familiar to ground him, something to tether him to reality, to remind him where he was, to calm his racing mind.

He squeezed his eyes shut again, attempting to breathe, but he felt tears sting in the corners of his eyes, felt his throat clench as those same tears threatened to spill. He wanted to fight it, to hold it all in, to act like everything was normal and fine and just as it always was, like he hadn’t just made one huge, colossal mistake.

But…things were normal, weren’t they? Things were always like this. Thatcher always allowed himself to get used, over and over again, just to feel some semblance of love, of companionship. It was easy to keep the cycle going, no matter who’s hand held his leash, he’d still pretend that someone could actually care about him, that someone would actually want to call him their own. If he just kept trying, kept pushing all of himself down for the sake of others, then someone was bound to love him, right? Wasn’t he worth that? Why wasn’t he worth it? Why? Why?

“Fuck!” the shout ripped itself from Thatcher’s throat as tears finally spilled. Hot and thick and angry globs blurred his vision, staining his skin as they rolled down his cheeks. He clenched his teeth, his fists slamming against the steering wheel as pent up rage burned deep within his aching chest.

Why did he keep doing this to himself? Why did he keep allowing himself to get hurt, taken advantage of, over and over again? Why was he such a coward? Why was he so broken? So pathetic?

Did Luvrina really care about him? Was he just a toy to them, too? Something to toss back and forth between their teeth until they got bored and threw him aside? Did either of these angels give even half a damn about him at all? Were they even capable? Was all his effort for nothing, all his desperation, all his longing? Was he grasping at a rope that had already been cut, sending him to a painful death when he hit the ground?

Part of him didn’t want to fight it, and that sickened him, but why fight the inevitable? It was so much easier to allow someone else to guide him, someone else to take control of his life, someone else to show him what to do, how to behave. After all, that’s how he’d allowed himself to be treated for his entire life. It was comfortable and familiar, even despite the pain.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” his voice cracked on the last note, each exclamation accompanied by another slam of his fists on top of the steering wheel, every repetition coming out hoarser, more enraged than the last, until he was screaming into the still, darkness of the night.

He couldn’t stop crying, all the pain and anger and regret too much for him. Loud sobs racked his spent body, even after his outburst, after his throat grew raw, still the tears fell, rolling down the curve of his jaw until they spilled into his lap below him. His hands shook so terribly, his chest ached so deeply; he couldn’t remember ever feeling so disgusted with himself.

Perhaps he should be angry with Luvrina, with Abaddon, with the universe itself, but all he could feel was anger turned inward, a self hatred so strong that he felt he might burst, the desire to crawl out of his own skin overwhelming him. After all, no one had forced him, no one held a gun to his head and made him do anything, his decisions were always his own, so why couldn’t he make the right one? Why did he make the same stupid decisions over and over and over again? Were a few sugary sweet words whispered in his ear enough to convince him? Enough to lure him into a false sense of security, enough to bend to another’s will, despite how wrong it might feel?

He hated that the answer was yes, and that it would always be yes.

Whimpers slipped from his throat, his forehead pressing into the steering wheel now as he leaned forward, the cool material feeling pleasant against his flushed skin. His sobs were quieter now, his body rising and falling with the hiccup of soft cries as he weeped openly into the night. He felt so tired, feeling as though he could sleep for days, but even then it wouldn’t be enough. No amount of rest ever felt enough.

Even in his despair, his rage, his regret, even through all of the self hatred boiling within him, his exhaustion took over and all he desired was for Abaddon to be by his side. They wouldn’t comfort him, he knew this, they were cold and haughty, but even being in their presence was enough for him. Just hearing their voice would bring him comfort, even if they insulted him, even if they hated him for what he’d done, at least it was them. At least they’d be near him, giving him any attention at all.

He hated himself the most for that.

……….

A rap against his car window startled him awake.

When had he dozed off? For how long? He blinked open his burning eyes with difficulty, glancing at the digital clock built into his dashboard, the neon lettering telling him it was two in the morning.

Another rap, and Thatcher finally looked over to his passenger side window, being greeted by a rather disheveled looking Abaddon. Their strappy heels dangled loosely from their hand as they mouthed something. The barrier of the glass window muffled their voice, but it was probably something along the lines of ‘let me in, you asshole’.

With hesitance, Thatcher unlocked the doors. He hurriedly wiped at his face, suddenly remembering he had been crying before he fell asleep. He didn’t look at Abaddon as they threw their weight into the passenger’s seat beside him. They practically melted into it, exhaling a sigh and throwing their shoes mindlessly into the backseat.

“Uuuuughh,” they stretched, yawning and sinking further into the seat before turning to look at Thatcher, “Fuuuuck, where’d you go? Couldn’t find you…”

They were drunk, he realized, their words slurring together as they wriggled around in their seat, trying to get comfortable. Good, maybe they’d be too inebriated to notice the marks on his neck. Somehow Thatcher didn’t think he’d get that lucky, though.

“Um, yeah. Sorry. Got too loud, so I came out here for a while,” he lied, sweat beginning to form at his temples as he continued to stare away from them. He laughed nervously, trying to act casual. “Guess I fell asleep…”

“Mhmmm,” Abaddon mumbled in half acknowledgement, reaching out to lazily grab Thatcher's arm. He stiffened at the touch, but it went unnoticed to Abaddon’s drunk mind. They leaned closer, attempting to kiss him. Thatcher flinched away, and they noticed that time. “Whaa~aat? Don’t like me tonight?”

“You smell like alcohol,” Thatcher said quickly. It wasn’t entirely a lie, they reeked of the stuff.

They didn’t answer him right away, so Thatcher finally glanced at them. They were staring intensely at him, their eyes squinted up, causing his heart to lodge in his throat. Fuck, did they know? How could they know? Had they seen him and Luvrina sneak off? Thatcher’s palms grew sweaty, his hands shaking.

“Hooooly shit,” Abaddon said slowly, smiling with their teeth, clasping a hand hard onto Thatcher’s bicep as they barked out a laugh, causing him to flinch again. “Thatcher!”

“What,” he managed through clenched teeth, his face burning. Abaddon grabbed for his face, attempting to swivel it so they could get a good look at him. He slapped their hand away, sick of his face being grabbed for the night. “Stop it. Please.”

“Damn, good for you,” they laughed again, drunkenly, meanly, as if it was out of the realm of possibility that anyone would find Thatcher desirable, “Who was it? I mighta seen them around tonight…”

“No one.”

“Better lay than me?”

Thatcher didn’t answer, staring straight ahead and feeling like his chest was going to burst. He wished it would.

“Come ooooon, tell me who,” Abaddon teased, their hand gripping his arm, all their attention on him as they invaded his personal space, “They must’ve loved you, I mean, shit, they marked you up good, baby.”

Silence still. Abaddon always found immense pleasure in his discomfort, so they continued to egg him on.

“I’m not gonna be jealous, Thatch. Just tell me–”

“Drop it!” Thatcher finally looked at them, anger bubbling in his chest, written all over his face as he raised his voice. He regretted it immediately, his eyes widening in fear at his outburst, his gaze returning to staring straight ahead, his hands grasping at the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, I’m just– I’m tired. Let’s just go home. Please.”

“Pff, asshole. Must've been a shit lay if you're that grumpy,” Abaddon scoffed at him, waving a dismissive hand before backing off and snuggling back into their own seat, “What, did they blueball you or somethin’?”

Again, Thatcher didn’t answer. Abaddon sighed, annoyed.

“Whatever, let’s stop and get food on the way. I’m starving,” they curled up slightly, closing their eyes and mumbling, “You know what I like, just wake me up when we’re home…”

“Sure, Abaddon,” Thatcher said dully, just wanting to be home already. He needed to take a hot shower, down a sleeping pill, collapse into his bed, and pray that the night’s events didn’t haunt his dreams. “Whatever you want.”

#kas writes stuff #oc tag #oc: thatcher #oc: luvrina #oc: abaddon #nsft #LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOO #RINA MY BELOVED!!!!!

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