Six queer stories of angels and demons, exploring love, desire, and the consequences that come with uninhibited, unearthly sex. Discover the contours of these heavenly shaped bodies under your fingertips, feel the cool air of a whisper on your ear, and uncover the throbbing desires for release along side our angels and demons. With the power to take on any physical form they desire, angels and demons can blur the lines of gender or transform themselves into whomever they want. KJ Kabza, Karen Cobb, Tanya Ashbury, Theorian D. Graves, Kate Vassar, and Monique Poirier create enticing stories that will leave you feeling both a deep emotional and sexual connection to each and every character as they are thrust into the throes of passion.
Table of Contents:
Introduction by Tabitha Dulla
Switch by KJ Kabza
Give & Take by Karen Cobb
Messengers by Tanya Ashbury
Breathing Brimstone by Theorian D. Graves
Seduced by Kate Vassar
At the Crossroads by Monique Poirier
At the Crossroads
by Monique Poirier
The brothel in The Gray City was reported to be the most extensive in all the world; a city in its own right. If I couldn’t find what I needed here, then there was no hope left for me.
The Gray City stood at the crossroads between light and darkness, the last border of either, and the whole of it was considered neutral ground. That did not make it safe, by any means, but it was most probably the only place in all creation where an angel and a demon might meet without the obligation that one was to murder the other if possible. It was depraved, by the standards of light, but that was exactly what I needed now.
I’d known something of the inner workings of this labyrinth long before I’d arrived. The Seven Circles catered to every possible taste, from the richest nobles who walked along the pathways of the tower to the common street trash who wandered the twisting alleyways known colloquially as “the gut.”
It was the gut that I stalked through now.
The price of admission to the gut was two alliance shillings, but the keeper of the gate had taken a glance at me and let me pass without comment. Perhaps he assumed that I was about official business–I seldom wore anything other than the uniform that marked me an Archon. Perhaps it was only that I was a winged man with a sword at the ready; only a half-blood, but most mortals took me for a proper angel. That made a startling number of them give me wide berth.
If I chose to ascend from the gut, I’d be charged again at every staircase and eventually at every door. This was the nastiest and most dangerous level of the complex, with twisting allies and tiny rooms that could be rented by the half hour. The whores that milled around at this level were those who hadn’t the quality to make it to higher levels–or those who had fallen. The old, the maimed, the insane, the diseased. My entrance fee meant that any flesh that I found to my liking was mine for the taking–brute force wasn’t discouraged, and no one, including other customers, was off-limits. There were guards here, but they cared only for the general peace and the interests of the house. They served to keep those who belonged in the gut from leaving it. The gut of The Seven Circles was as close to Hell as a mortal could find prior to death. I wouldn’t have stayed here, among the beggars and thieves and human offal, were it not for the fact that I’d caught the scent I craved.
It was nearly a week since I’d run down a band of incubi on the border with my comrades and been bitten by more than one of them in the final battle. The venom was still coursing through me, slowly driving me mad. The ones who’d bitten me had taunted me with lavish offers of pleasure at the time, and it had been a feat of great will that I’d resisted such offers long enough for my comrades to extricate me through blood and steel.
My comrades, being wholly human, had little idea of what I could do to rid myself of the venom save finding a demon and slaking my lust upon it.
Six days the need had been made to build and fester. Now it was like a fire in my mind, burning away rational thought, widening my options until every person I glanced at became a considered object for my lust, and every whiff of sweat told me that they were useless. I could fuck a hundred mortals with incubus venom in my blood and still meet no satisfaction–I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d come to that conclusion, but I knew it as rote fact in any case.
I’d caught the scent here–sweat and spice and that fiery twinge of rightness that I craved–the scent of a demon. I followed it ruthlessly, pushing aside any who were foolish enough to stand in my way in single-minded pursuit. My eyes darted in the direction that scent came from, searching the crowd. The stale wind shifted, and it came strong and sudden. I spun around a corner, and caught sight of my quarry.
He sat in the shadow cast by the waist-high wall surrounding the courtyard, eyes closed, features drawn tightly in exhaustion. There were bands of iron at his wrists and throat, marked in sigils that I dimly knew. His head was shaven within a quarter-inch of his scalp. The same could be said of fully half the whores in the gut; it kept the lice at bay. What remained was dark, contrasting skin the color of dust. His clothes were in tatters, but seemed clean enough. His limbs were long and lean, his features too sharp to be called beautiful, but still compelling. A pair of curving horns, like those of a ram, rose from his hair in a stately arc. Here was the spawn of Hell, more achingly beautiful than any other creature I’d ever seen. More than that, his scent was right.
I was there in moments, gripping a handful of tattered clothing and pulling him close, feeling supple flesh beneath my fingers, breathing the scent of him. I hissed something, hardly aware of my own words. I was going to fuck him into oblivion.
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