John was seeking him, coming to him, his thoughts a tempo of desperation and rashness. Fast-beating. Unceasing. The corners of Asmodeus’ mouth arched with the barest hint of ravishment. He closed his eyes, relished the throb of anticipation – until Raphael spoke.
“Why are you so intent on keeping this human by your side, Asmodeus? He may carry the blood of Sarah, but he is not she. You would damn a soul to an eternity of torment for your lust?”
Raphael’s voice had softened, carried neither indictment nor disdain, only questions. Asmodeus studied his eyes, warm sapphires, confusion, the need to understand. He smiled then, no masquerade in his smile, congealed with the rarity of lassitude.
“Do not presume to know my mind, Raphael. You didn’t know it then – and you don’t know it now.”
Lips thinned, his smile elided, slew the vestige of pretense. Asmodeus didn’t feel the urge to conceal emotion, to twist his words into something else, this time.
“You cannot claim ‘love’ in this case, Asmodeus.”
Raphael was right, Asmodeus knew, but there was more to it than simply that, more than he could ever explain in terms that the archangel could fathom. The thought annoyed him, this innate zeal to make Raphael see through his eyes. Raphael’s whole presence was a thorn, embedded too deep, aggravating old wounds, but for some reason, Asmodeus was loath to dissemble. Not now, not when Raphael was staring at him with something akin to remorse, as close to an apology as he could ever give.
“Is it so wrong for a creature such as myself to want love? There is not a single being that doesn’t want love. You should know that, Raphael.”
A dazzle of gold, Raphael shook his head, sighed.
“You cannot love, Asmodeus.”
Damned angel… Asmodeus chuckled, chastised himself for being coerced into Raphael’s views, into admitting things that held no gravity in a demon’s heart. Smile wreathed in slyness once more, he hummed, perused Raphael under thick lashes.
“Why do you care, Raphael? Why are you truly here?”
“You have never condemned a soul unjustly. That is my reason for coming. Why do so now?”
Raphael… Still trying to save me, are you? It was a charming quality, Raphael’s reluctance, his inability to consign the past to oblivion, even if he couldn’t perceive where it stemmed from.
“Do I detect a note of, dare I say, regret?”
Asmodeus sidled up to him, laid a hand on Raphael’s arm. Too light a touch, seraphic fire under the pads of Asmodeus’ fingers, sibilant presage – to never touch. Raphael stiffened, the lustre of his skin kindled, but made no other move.
What a lie! Laughter buzzed in Asmodeus’ throat, palpitated like a rapture ridden drum, trapped within the confines of his larynx. His hand snaked upwards, brushed against muscles, clenching, flexing, over Raphael’s shoulder. Digits begirt the nape of Raphael’s neck, tangled within silky amber, massaging, stroking. Slow, methodical, were his motions. A circlet of torridity, fire in the flesh, tongue smoothing over Raphael’s cheekbone, and higher. Asmodeus knew why Raphael acquiesced to such liberties, even if Raphael didn’t. Lips, teeth, and the slightest touch of tongue - a susurrus of infatuation and implications.
“I did no such thing. You had your orders…ever the good soldier, aren’t you?”
It was not a command, as much as it sounded like one, and Asmodeus dared the serpentine fires into an inferno. They grew and blazed, potent, sweltering heat wherever Asmodeus touched. It drew him more, closer, tighter, as was his nature.
“Why don’t you tell me what I should do then?”
“Set the human free without a trial.”
Heavy, donned in smokiness, Raphael’s voice echoed, and Asmodeus imbibed its temptation - one sultry lick, languid, dragging along the angles of Raphael’s jaw.
“That, I cannot do. You see, I want him - I want him to love me. You took Sarah away from me… You will not take this one.”
The words were swollen with ardor, baneful delectation. Canines grazed the arc of Raphael’s neck, never breaking skin, never sampling the lava underneath taut cords. To do so would be pernicious, slow-spread toxicity, they were both aware, and the reason Raphael had not thwarted Asmodeus’ advances so far. Asmodeus wanted to prey on Raphael’s lapse but merely that, unless -
“But is that really what you want, Raphael? Never has an angel demeaned himself by coming to hell, yet you did… Tell me -”
An interruption, unwanted, perhaps fortuitous, and Asmodeus released his hold on Raphael, turned to address the human making a fierce entrance.
- Excerpt from Mercy's Price, WIP
