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When Azeraphis first saw Thrasyllos, this divine and awe-inspiring being, he thought he had died; this angel was ready to welcome him into a heaven he did not deserve but suddenly craved. He craved for this angel’s gaze on him, craved for its touch, craved for its body. This desire was so great that Azeraphis almost growled when the angel gave
so
much attention to Stick. He could not hear what was said over the thunder of blood in his ears, wrath and envy almost sweeping him off his feet.
Then, the angel turned to face him, and Azeraphis could feel his heart begin to beat faster in anticipation, his breath catching as the angel looked at him, his skin crawling with
need
. The angel walked over to him and only awe could keep him from trying to touch the angel and pull it close. The angel looked at his chest, and Azeraphis’ hands moved on their own as they made sure to display more, to try and win more of the angel’s attention. The angel touched his chest and he shuddered, the sensation one of satisfaction. However, the sensation only brought on even more longing.
“May I carve into it?”
Five words that Azeraphis could barely comprehend, lost in his awe and desire as he was. He wet his lips to will himself to speak.
“Yes.”
His voice was hoarse and only managed to push out the ‘yes,’ leaving out the ‘please.’ He could barely understand what was happening as the angel produced a shard of glass, and then Azeraphis’ world was one of pain, carving, and hot blood. All he could see was this beautiful angel in front of him, and the satisfied expression it wore, and all Azeraphis could feel was a
want
to see more of that expression. The moment only lasted for a second or two before Azeraphis collapsed onto the ground, his head spinning and his body reeling from the cutting of flesh. He tried to catch his breath but failed to do so. He was only left with bodily exhaustion and needing more.
Whatever happened next, Azeraphis could not tell. He was too lost in the burning sensation of his chest, the warmth of the blood and the aching serrated edges of flesh. The rest of the Stormtower Six began to leave, Stick and Severin trying to help Azeraphis up to his feet, but his eyes were still glued to Thrasyllos; the angel met his gaze, and an expression Azeraphis could not read came over its face. The magnificent being floated back over to Azeraphis and his colleagues, and Sev almost instinctively took a step to shield him. The angel cocked its head to one side, smile so radiant and oh so captivating. It completely ignored Sev, looking straight into Azeraphis’ eyes.
“I can see it. Your love for blood and flesh and pain. I can see you love it almost as much as I do. I can share more of my love with you, son of fire. What say you?”
Voice like honey, the angel’s words soothed and dulled Azeraphis’ pain, much to his chagrin. He mustered some strength and pushed Sev to the side, grumbling at him and Stick that he would be back later, before turning back to the angel.
“I say, take up your chisel and allow me to be your sculpture.”
Half-lidded eyes, a crooked smile, arms outstretched, clad in nonchalance but unable to hide how oh so willing he was. The angel’s smile widened, and it held out its hand towards Azeraphis. Mind and body hazy but
wanting
, Azeraphis took the hand and was led away; to where he was not sure, his eyes glued to the angel and its radiant eyes and chiseled body.
All he was aware of was the angel and its touch
as it stripped him of his clothes
as it kissed his bloody and mangled chest
as it bit his lips in a ferocious kiss
as it ran its hand down his back
as it took a glass shard
as it carved into his shoulders, a continuation from his chest
as it held him up when his shaking legs gave way
as it wiped the blood onto his cheeks as it wiped away his tears
as it cupped his cheeks with bloody hands
as it kissed him with bloody lips
as it kissed his neck
as it kissed his chest once more
as it kissed his stomach
as it kissed…
as it continued to carve into all of his body, giving bloody kisses and pulling on exposed flesh and caressing sweetly and drawing hot blood
as it took Azeaphis into a world of pain and pleasure
blood and kisses
all while wearing a satisfied expression, an expression pleased with this sculpture
and the sculpture who could only shake and beg for more.