An angel falls for a human...in more ways than one.
***
The year is 970 B.C., and the Angel Cathetel has never felt lust, love, or heartbreak.
Then, Cathetel meets Asher.
Asher is a human, and unlike any other mortal under Cathetel's watchful eye...
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As a Watcher, I was not supposed to interact with humanity. But of course, there were occasions when a message had to be delivered and the other angels were "busy."
(Translation: "Michael's started a pissing contest with the demons again," that self-righteous bag of dicks.)
When I was forced to slip into a human's skin, I couldn't wait to get out. I'd never stayed in a body long enough to have to care for it. I'd simply pop into a stray body, deliver whatever message was necessary—like, "Go sacrifice your son," or "Shrimp's not Kosher," or "Wait, don't actually sacrifice your son, idiot!" yada, yada, yada—and then pop! Right back out.
But I knew this possession would be different.
Being inside of a human this time would not be a means-to-an-end, but the entire point: To experience. To be with Asher as a human would. For the first time in my existence, I wanted to possess a human. I ached to control hands that would touch his body and relish his warmth; to bury my face in the crook of his neck and taste the salt of his skin; to breathe in the earthy scent of his hair; and to receive his moans in my own ear.
***
I soared down from the heavens to Asher's farm the day after I Watched him. Asher lived some miles outside of a village on acres of farmland. The location was beside a river and ideal for agriculture, but as I flew over his crops, I noticed that they were sparse and faded.
Asher, it turned out, was not a very good farmer.
Indeed, Asher worked in his dying fields as I glided on the breeze overhead. I paused in my flight to admire his well-toned arms as he hefted a hoe and brought it down to hack away at the barren crust of soil. Sweat dripped down his bare chest and ran a streak through the dirt clinging to his skin, sliding down to the linen cloth gathered at his waist.
I admit that my attention was rapt on that cloth. I ogled him brazenly, as only an invisible entity could.
At last, however, I realized that Asher worked alone in the fields, without the aid of the man who had made love to him the night before. Where can he be? The sun was still high in the sky, barely past noon. The man I intended to possess should be helping Asher work.
With difficulty, I tore myself away from my desire's intoxicating presence and continued onto his quaint hut. Perhaps the man was there, resting or cooking a meal.
But no, the house was abandoned. It seemed that Asher lived alone.
Yet, the hammock gently swinging near the back door was awfully small. A child's size.
