Stories I Never Finished

Swear To God

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Night as cold as a wanderer lost within an endless forest, Luke found himself enclosed in a soft shade of darkness; whose gaze was a grey colour floating through netted curtains against a breeze flowing through the open window of his lover's bedroom.

It wasn't rare to find himself in such a place, drawn to the pleasure he could find, the kindness and the haze of humanity within a cold heart, and yet he often forgot how painful it was after.
How much agony it cost to feel pleasure, how much torment he would brunt afterward.

"We can't keep doing this..." Luke whispered, a dismal sound to his hurt words as his hands clutched a rosary coil of beads; holding them close to his bare chest.

Softly, the devil grazed the tips of his fingers over Luke's arm, trailing up further until they reached the curve of his shoulder; curling around it and pulling Luke closer to them as the two sat together within the soft sheets of Ashton's bed.

"What's'it matter?" Ashton whispered, raising a hand to gently tuck a strand of faded blond hair from Luke's face; watching the way blue eyes strained to focus on the crucifix hanging from what would typically be wrapped around his neck.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Ashton continued, trailing his fingers down Luke's cheek until he could tilt the slender man's head up and turn it to face him.

Soft blue eyes burdened by decades of pain gazed back at him, weakened by the tears threatening to fall.
There once was a time where Ashton would have found great joy in Luke's demise, relished every tear; soaked it in tissue and squeezed it into the vodka he drank. But such a time was so long ago he could hardly remember why he would feel such a way.

"But He's not..." Luke woefully said, exhausted. "He watches me. Always."

"You know, sometimes..." Ashton gently lifted Luke's head slightly, fingers beneath his chin while dark hazel eyes studied the way such beautiful features had been gifted to the humane creature before him. "I think you're just psycho."

"Psycho?" Luke lowered his beads, finding himself more enthralled with the devil's conversation.

Maybe it was cruel to call Ashton such a thing...

"If God was alive, do you truly believe he would spend his days," he leaned forward, brushing his lips against Luke's ever so gently, "watching some lost angel?"

"It's my punishment-" Luke found himself whispering quieter than before, thrown into a trance the moment Ashton's lips touched his.

"You've done nothing wrong..." Ashton pressed their lips together, lifting a hand to curl gentle fingers through Luke's hair and tilt the man's hand slightly; deepening their touch until all Luke could do was close his eyes and drown in the devil's love.

The beads fell from his hands, his long fingers finding their home in Ashton's curly blackened hair and pulling until he heard the demon moan; feeling such a devilish sound vibrate against him.

"You've done nothing wrong." Ashton repeated, driving his point deep like bashing a nail into the surface of Luke's skull as he pushed the blond back down against the bed; lifting himself to hover over him.

Blue eyes stared up at him, watching in awe as black swirling orbs of lost violence gazed back, flowing veins interrupted with each pulse of love within, as though Luke truly were an angel beneath him.

"Then why do I feel so ashamed?" Luke muttered, gingerly placing his hands against Ashton's bare chest and smoothing them slowly down harsh skin.

He could feel every bump of unhealed scars, every trace of rough tattoos throughout years of madness on mortal soil. His soft touch felt like a piece of heaven had fallen and speared through Ashton's heart each time his hands fell upon the devil's skin.
It burned in a way no Holy Water could, and Ashton lived solely for its deadly warmth.