Drugstore Divinity

After an angel saves Eve from an unfortunate fate, the woman is eager to repay her savior.

Content Warnings: explicit sexual content, implied violence, bloodplay, cannibalism, public sex

The angel in the alleyway stares at the girl with uncountable eyes. Three sets of wings — one pure white, tainted red with the dead man’s blood, one a shifting, imperceptible hue, and the third made of a thousand crooked shards of glass — shadow out from its back as a lightning strike sends the small crevasse into blinding light for half a heartbeat.

Eve — a short, brunette woman with blood streaked across her freckled cheeks — exhales a long, shaking breath as adrenaline surges through her system.

BE NOT AFRAID.

The words aren’t spoken. Rather, Eve hears them in her chest, feels eons-aged vibrations in her skull. She clutches her car keys tight, pressing ridges into her palm, and thumbs over the keychain knife she wasn’t able to open in time.

“I’m not afraid,” she says. “You saved me.”

The man’s gutless corpse between them quivers with a violent twitch. Blood oozes out of his torso and onto the dingy concrete. A few spilt drops stain the white rubber tip of the girl’s canvas shoe and she digs her toe absently into the brick beside them.

Lightning strikes again: a jagged, spidering calamity of light that backlights the angel in electric crimson.

“How can I repay you?” the girl says and takes a step closer. She’s careful not to trod on the corpse, but her foot splashes down in a puddle of rainwater and gore. The angel crooks its inhuman head to the side like an owl. The alleyway is only illuminated by the jittery drugstore sign flickering neon onto the smooth expanse of flawless flesh and eyes, eyes, eyes. “I’d like to thank you, I mean. For saving me.”

The angel reaches out a gnarled hand that casts a shadow like a branch in a horror movie. Eve doesn’t pull away as the angel touches her, as its long, gnarl-knuckled fingers stroke blood across her already stained cheek– in fact, as the angel comes closer to her, she leans into the caress.

“Lead us not into temptation, my ass,” she murmurs and reaches out. “May I touch you?”

TEMPTATION.

“Yes, I rather find it all consuming,” the girl says and steps even further into the angel’s space, reaching up to drag a wavy line down the exposed skin between each blinking eye. Each pupil tracks her movements until she approaches its hips. “You are such a gift.”

The angel touches Eve’s mouth and the scent of violent copper fills the girl’s senses. It tastes, it smells, it aches of blood, and the thrumming between her legs grows stronger. The angel’s fingers are alluringly long and the girl’s mouth falls open with ease to take the taste in further, feel the weight of them on her tongue. The angel seems almost exploratory in its movements, tracing one hand over Eve’s side while the other drips saliva and blood down the front of her shirt.

The alley the girl was cornered in is situated between a bar and a grimy twenty-four hour convenience store. The man pressed her against the brick behind a large metal ice machine and she’s still hidden from view now with the reflective beauty of her guardian angel between her and the road.

“Here,” Eve whispers and pulls the angel’s rough hand to her jeans. “Have you done this before?”

The sound that ripples through her mind is something like a disbelieving laugh: the angel’s way of saying of course I have, little one. It flicks the button free and pushes her jeans down to rest just below her ass, exposing grey panties nearly soaked through at the crotch. The angel tilts its head down and watches her expression with dozen-eyed intent. Six massive wings tilt in unison and shield the duo from view. The shattered glass feathers shift into a precise geometric pattern of camouflage and reflect the dirty brick back out to any possible onlookers.

The only sign they’ve been there at all is a damp blood smear, yet Eve still feels distinctly exposed.

The angel’s pointed fingertip drags down her hip and crooks into the waistband of her underwear, tugging it out. A warm breath emanates from the angel’s mouth — one of many, Eve notices as the angel’s neck is bared to her — and caresses her. She lets out a shuddering, wordless plea, but the angel understands her regardless.

It reaches an impossibly long, knobbed finger between her legs and slides the pointed tip over her clit. Eve is soaking wet already and she doesn’t care to stop herself from grinding down.

The angel stops.

Its eyes narrow — dozens of blue, brown, green, red irises shrink in sync as its pupils expand — and two more arms spring from the darkness of its body to pin Eve against the brick.

PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE.

Eve laughs and writhes in delight even with her wrists pressed into the gritty wall. The skin breaks and blood begins to well up through her skin but she just grins, all sharp teeth and bloody gums, and leans forward.

“I’ve been plenty patient enough already, angel,” she snarls.

For one breathless moment, her eyes shine fully black.

The angel moves her with an effortless motion to rest higher on the wall, give its strange, elongated hand more room to move. A blunt fingertip prods her soaked entrance and Eve almost sobs with relief.

“Come on, come on,” she gasps and grinds down. A second hand– from where, Eve doesn’t care to find out– reaches down and begins rubbing at her clit, using the girl’s own arousal to lubricate the motions. Eve’s head falls to the side and a strand of sweaty hair falls in front of her blown eyes. “Fuck me already, Rumiel.” The angel’s form vibrates with a chittering laugh and it presses its finger inside her to the first bulbous knuckle.

DONE ALREADY?

“Enough of the games, I need you inside me,” she pleads.

Rumiel’s head crooks as if it is thinking before it plunges its finger deep into Eve’s core. She cries out and jerks against its restraining grip as Rumiel massages deep inside, pressing carefully right at the spot that always makes Eve go wild.

“Yes, yes,” she whines and grinds down. The base of Rumiel’s fingers are tapered and thick, but just one still isn’t quite satiating the woman’s needs. “Another, Ru. Now.”

Rumiel lets out that same odd laugh and nuzzles its face into Eve’s throat, biting so hard with sharp enough teeth that dark sluggish blood begins to drip down her chest into her bra. Eve curls her legs around Rumiel’s shoulder and lifts her hips up, then drops them back down on its finger. Rumiel laps at her blood– black as ichor and twice as thick– and growls as it withdraws its hand.

Two fingers nearly split Eve in two and it’s all she can do to not burst out of her mortal form then and there. Blood from the man between their tangled legs, rainwater, and demonic plasma mingle into a violent soup that Rumiel licks up like a starved creature of the hells. Each thrust of Rumiel’s fingers sends Eve’s back scraping against the wall again, and again, and again, until her shirt and back alike are nearly shredded.

The drugstore sign explodes as Eve comes for the first time.

Glass and neon shatter into thousands of microscopic shards and clatter to the ground, bouncing off the careful glass shield of Rumiel’s cracked wings. A lightning strike stings through the air.

Rumiel doesn’t let up. It thrusts three knobbed fingers inside of Eve and massages the nerves inside, pressing up and curling until Eve contorts so hard she nearly falls out of Rumiel’s grasp. She writhes against the wall, sludge blood spilling down her shoulders, and Rumiel reaches a free hand up to push a smear of slippery gore between her lips.

FEAST.

Eve’s tongue flicks out and laps at Rumiel’s fingers, eager for every last drop of the dead man’s life. It hits her senses– copper and rot, seasoned with rainwater and made sweeter by Rumiel’s incessant thrusts. Its fingers swell and throb inside of her and she knows she’s careening towards the edge as the flesh slides down her throat. She can’t speak, not with spit dribbling down her chin and Rumiel’s fingers fucking her all-too-human throat, but her angel seems to get the idea and slams into her again, and again, and again, pressing bits of flesh and blood against her mouth until her climax approaches.

This time, a power line snaps, sending a shower of sparks flickering down into the alleyway. The rainwater staves off any fire that might’ve caught, but the thrill of it still electrifies Eve to her core as she loses herself in the waves of pleasure coming from Rumiel’s fingers.

A human passes by the entrance of the alley and Rumiel’s bloody hand covers Eve’s mouth at once. Its head crooks and a half dozen eyes narrow in a silent warning: quiet.

Eve’s smile widens. Her teeth are sharp and dripping with blood and in the jittering light, she’s never looked more like the devil.

“Oh, Ru,” Eve moans, playacting at humanity in the way only the especially clever demons can. “More, more!”

Rumiel bites her throat harder and jams its fingers into Eve’s throat, choking her. Spit dribbles down her chin and mixes with the blood and rainwater already drenching the front of her shirt. The angel’s fingers are bulbous and each knuckle is thicker than the one before it. Her sharp teeth graze against the inhuman skin.

With another impossible hand, Rumiel pulls at the corner of Eve’s mouth like a fish hook, replacing any room she might’ve had for breath or tongue with more knife-shorn flesh from the dead man below them. Eve knows it’s at once a gift and a way to shut her up and she writhes. She feels smothered, pressed between the brick wall, pinned between Rumiel’s fingers in her cunt and her throat, and she could swear the flesh on her tongue tastes faintly of apple.

Eve flashes her teeth as Rumiel presses at her clit, circles it with eons-practiced fingers and a little too much claw, and she comes undone. She isn’t sure if her human form survives her violent end as Rumiel’s teeth tear her jaw to shreds. Blood and cum splatter against the cement beneath them.

A car alarm goes off. Glass shatters, wires spark, and someone curses God. Eve’s ribs ache from holding herself up, her skin is rubbed raw, and the demon is the most satisfied she’s ever been. Rumiel’s wings quiver as it slowly withdraws its fingers, helping Eve to her feet once more.

HAPPY NOW?

Eve lets out a long, shuddering laugh and slowly extricates her fingers from where they had begun prying into one of Rumiel’s many mouths. She drags her nails down its throat and leans in to sloppily kiss its lips, dragging tongue across teeth and gum until both of their mouths taste of flesh.

“What a lovely kill,” Eve murmurs into Rumiel’s mouth, then shifts to another to kiss it just as passionately. “And an even lovelier celebration.”

Rumiel drags its fingers over Eve’s chest, smearing a gruesome landscape over the swell of the woman’s breasts. It traces a dark claw over where her heart would be, the empty cavity filled instead with black ichor and headstrong evil, and presses a single wing forward to caress the demon.

Eve yanks her skin-tight jeans back up her hips and leans into the feathered embrace. Rumiel looks at her hungrily.

“You should go,” she murmurs. “Unless you want to get caught, Rumiel.”

Rumiel rumbles a final chittery laugh into the air before raising its wings, breaking the perfect mirror that protected the duo from view back into a fractalled feather pattern. It lifts six wings in sync and with a flash of light and a gust of sex-scented wind, Rumiel disappears into the night.

Eve is left alone, a snake in the shadow of a drugstore dumpster, mouth still dripping with the flesh of the guilty.

Lou (they/them) is a non-binary lesbian passionate about passion, in love with romance, and writing about it all as earnestly as possible. You can find them on Twitter @loubirde.