DISCLAIMER The following is an erotic story detailing the relationship (both emotional and physical) between two consenting males. It is for adults with open minds only. If you are underage, or are not comfortable reading about m/m sex, or if this subject matter is illegal in your area, please leave. If the above does not apply to you, then I hope you enjoy...
AUTHORS NOTE To all of you who have written to me about this series, I thank you. All of your letters were very encouraging and I am glad you all enjoy the story so much. Also, I'm sorry about the delay in getting this chapter posted, but it's been a hectic sorta month so far.
Angel & Demon ... A Love Story by Scorpio
Chapter 6 Suffering Angel
"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!" the electronic buzzer thundered painfully in Angels ears. He grabbed his head with both hands to prevent it from splitting in two.
"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!" Foggily, Angel recognized the evil sound as his alarm clock, demanding he wake up. His hand shaking violently, Angel reached out and clobbered the rude machine into silence. Relief set in for only a moment, and then the full force of his hang-over hit him. Angels head pounded so hard it set off waves of nausea in his gut. Unfortunately the theory 'If you ignore it, it will just go away' doesn't work for vodka hang-overs. With the sudden realization of now or never, Angel jumped up out of bed and ran buck naked to the bathroom with urgent need. Mindlessly shoving one of his frat brothers out of the way, Angel dashed quickly to the porcelain bowl and heaved.
After there was nothing more to come up from his tortured stomach, Angel brushed his teeth quickly. With every limb shaking, he carefully made his way back to his room, where he collapsed into a suffering heap in the middle of his bed.
A little over an hour later, Angel was woken up once more. This time it was Joey. Angel opened one blood-shot eye to peer at his best friend, as Joey gently shook his shoulder. He looked much like Angel felt. Wearing nothing but crumpled boxers, Joey was a wreck. Red hair all akimbo, unshaven and trembling slightly, Joey could have been the poster boy for the 'Hung-Over Frat Boy Society'.
"Wake up dude! We have a test with Professor Robinson in forty minutes."
Both of Angels eyes flew open with sudden startled panic. Oh shit! The test! Angel suddenly groaned loudly as his head reminded him of several shots of vodka too many with a viscous pounding in time to his heartbeat.
Joey looked at him with suffering eyes full of sympathy. "Man, I feel the same way. You might not believe me, but you'll live." Joey turned to walk back out. "Although you might not want to at the moment, huh?" With that, he closed the door to let Angel pull himself together and get dressed.
When Angel finally stood up, he was just going to throw on some clothes and head downstairs. However, he discovered that his body was coated in something slightly slimey and slightly sticky. His memory of last night was fuzzy, many details lost in the hazy fumes of alcohol. Angel had no idea what the clear fluid all over him was, but he was fairly sure he shouldn't ask Joey about it. With a sigh, Angel grabbed his robe and a towel and headed for the bathroom. Angel shaved at the sink while waiting for Brian to get out of the shower.
Angel was slightly surprised to find he felt better after he had cleaned himself up. Of course, the only thing he had for breakfast was three Buffrin and a glass of ice water, but hey, at least he could begin to think again.
With both young men squinting behind dark sunglasses, Angel and Joey headed to Professor Robinsons class. Joey started to speak several times, but stopped, unsure how to phrase his question. Finally, he just blurted out with it.
"So, did you two work things out last night, or what?"
Angel took a moment to probe his memory. "Yeah. I mean, I don't really remember too many details, but... yeah, we made up." He flashed a quick grin at Joey.
"Good." Joey was quiet for a few more minutes, then said, "Angel, how did we get home?"
Another memory surfaced, making Angel smile again, "Demon drove your car,... I think."
"Oh,... cool."
The two suffering young men had reached the classroom by then. They walked in and made their way to seats in the back. They exchanged looks that clearly said they both expected to fail the test. Professor Robinson walked in with a stack of papers and the mental punishment began as the two friends forced their fried brain cells to function once more.
By mid-afternoon, Angel was feeling much better. He had managed to eat a light lunch and had taken some Advil he had gotten from a girl in his second class of the day. His stomach was calm and his headache had died down to a dull throbbing, more a nuisance than anything else. Mostly, he was just tired. Normally, he would try to arrange a game of touch football with the brothers or head out to the gym at this time of the day, but not today. Angel figured he could head up to his room and organize his notes for his Marketing class and then maybe take a nap.
Making his way into the Delta Kappa House, Angel found Tommy and Brian arguing in harsh voices they tried vainly to hush.
"So what!?! I'm not saying I understand it, but that's not even necessary. I don't HAVE to understand! There are lots of things I don't get,... but that doesn't make them wrong." Brian was saying.
"Brian, what's wrong with you?!? How can you just accept that..." Tommy broke off suddenly when Angel stepped into the room.
"Hey guys. What's going on?" Angel asked.
Tommy and Brian both blushed a bright red and exchanged nervous glances. Tommy started to say something, thought better of it, then turned abruptly and stormed out of the House. Angel was totally confused at Tommys reaction and Brian seemed painfully embarrassed.
"What is his problem?" Angel asked artlessly.
For just a second, Brian looked like a deer caught in a set of headlights but then he quickly recovered. He just seemed slightly hassled and upset. Brian took a deep breath to settle himself, reached out one of his big hands and gave Angel a friendly squeeze on the shoulders.
"Don't worry too much about Tommy. He's just being a paranoid jerk. He'll calm down eventually and then everything will go back to normal." was Brians enigmatic reply. He turned and walked away, leaving Angel more confused than ever.
Trying to puzzle out what was going on between Tommy and Brian only served to make Angels head start to pound again. With a deep sigh, he turned to the stairs and headed for his room.
Angel put his Math book away on his shelf and grabbed his Marketing book. Pulling his notebook out of his back-pack, Angel tossed it onto his desk, and turned on his computer. It was only a matter of a few minutes to get everything set up for a good study session and then Angel sat at his desk. He opened his book to the current chapter and then reached for his notebook. When Angel grabbed the plastic coated binder he knocked a folded package of paper unto the floor. Bending down to pick it up, Angel realized that he didn't recognize it. He unfolded it to see who it belonged to, read it a second or two and then stopped, stunned.
Angel slowly stood up from his desk and walked over to his bed. He sat down and leaned back against his pillows. Slowly, with nervous anticipation, Angel began to read the letter that Demon had written him.
It was a little difficult to read at first. Demons handwriting was awful and his grasp of spelling the English language could be best described as creative. Some parts had been scratched out and rewritten and the crumpled paper was stained in spots from what looked like water drops that made the ink run slightly. The condition of the letter made Angel smile ruefully, but the content soon changed that.
After re-reading the letter twice, Angel curled into a ball on his bed and slowly cried himself to sleep.
Chapter 7 Demons Song
A while later, Joey walked into Angels room to see how he was feeling. He found his best friend in troubled sleep on his bed. Angel was clutching several sheets of paper to him. Gently, so as not to awaken him, Joey slipped the paper free. Curiosity aroused, Joey started to read.
Beloved Angel,
You're sleeping now as I write this to you. You are so beautiful that it is almost painful for me to look at you. Your face. Your body. Your soul. All of you. Beautiful. Your name is perfect for you. Angel. An Angel is pure goodness and performs miracles. That is you.
Oh my Angel, I am so sorry I hurt you by not calling you like I promised I would. I was really trying to protect you. Protect you from me and my life. I know that must sound really dumb, but it's the truth. My life is a hard one and the world in which I live is a cruel one. That is why I didn't call. I didn't think it was right to pull you into all the things that I see, do and ultimately am. You say that you don't care, that you want to be with me, no matter what. Fair enough. If you choose to come to me, I won't push you away again. I don't think I could, even if I wanted too. But you must know what it is you cling to. You must make that decision with open eyes.
So, I am going to try and tell you about me and my life. How it is now, and what it was like for me in the past. It is not something I can talk about real well and I hope that writing it will be easier. I have no illusions that this will be easy to read, I know it will be hard for you and for that I am sorry. However you must know these things if you are to be with me.
If you realize that you can not be with me after you read these pages, I will truly understand. I wouldn't blame anyone from turning from me and my life. I would, but wherever I go, there I am, so I guess I am stuck with me, huh? You however, have a choice. You must understand, I am doing this to warn you, or possibly to protect you. So,... here goes.
I'm the last of three kids my mom had. My dad was some highschool drop-out she took in off the streets. He split when I was real young. Left for New York where he started making pornos. (I have a whole collection of his movies at home.) I remember going there for two weeks every summer to visit him, what a riot. Every year I went, it was more and more wild.
When I was twelve, my mom sorta blew a fuse in her brain-box. She has been at the State Hospital in the mental ward ever since. I remember when she really lost it big-time. It was very scary. I mean, I didn't know what to do to help her, ya know. She just couldn't handle the pain any more, I guess. She's a lot better now in some ways, but worse in others. I don't think she'll ever come home.
That left us three kids in a mess though. My brother, who is the oldest, tried to take care of us as best he could. I remember him working at the garage all day when I was in school, and then after dinner, going out to break into peoples homes and shops for things to fence for cash. My older sister was great back then. She took up where mom had been before. She cooked and cleaned and made sure we were doing okay. It was when I turned fourteen that things all went to hell once more.
I spent time with my dad in New York like I do every summer. That's when I met Eric. Eric was everything I wanted to be. He was older and sophisticated. He was very good looking and sexy and he was the biggest flirt I had ever met. I adored him.
By the end of my second day there, Eric had seduced me. I learned so many things about myself and life in general during that time. He was a great teacher too, because he actually listened to what I said, and cared about how I felt. The sex was amazing and the emotions were running high. I asked my dad if I could stay with him from now on. I didn't want to ever leave Eric. I was so shocked and happy when he said yes.
Eric and I became inseparable. Dad knew that we were sleeping together, but he didn't care at all. He even borrowed a camera from the studio where they made the pornos he stared in and filmed us making love. (I still have the tape) By the end of the summer I had fallen deeply in love with him. I enrolled in school up in New York and life was good. For the first time in my life, I was truly happy.
Two months later, it all came crashing apart at the seams. Eric was killed by a gunshot to the head while we were walking into a store that was being robbed. I remember he slammed back against me real hard, and we fell to the ground together. He fell onto my lap, soaking me with his blood. I remember screaming his name real loud right before everything went black.
My very next memory occurs three weeks later. To this day I can not remember anything of those missing three weeks, and nobody will tell me what happened. Maybe I shouldn't know after all. When I did come to myself again, I was back at my moms house. Things had changed while I was gone.
My sister was shooting heroin and it was starting to show. My brother and she argued all the time, usually over money. I just couldn't bring myself to care to much about what was going on around me though. I was constantly thinking about Eric. Maybe if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own grief I could have done something to save my sister. I don't know. But one day after a huge fight with my brother, she just walked out the door. I wouldn't see her for two years, and by then she would be a heroin addicted street whore.
So, here I was. I had barely gotten to accept that I was gay, and my lover was torn from me violently. Then in the aftermath of that pain, my family was ripping itself to pieces around me.
I never bothered to re-enroll in school. I just stopped going. Instead, my brother got me a part-time job at the garage cleaning up and began to teach me the basics of breaking and entering. After about a month, maybe a month and a half of being back home, I spoke again for the first time since Eric had died. Scared the shit out of my brother when I did too. Some guy had been on my case for a while and had shown up at the garage one day and got in my face. I just turned to my brother and said, "Give me that." He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me like I had suddenly turned purple or something and then handed me the tire iron he was holding. It took that guy six months to heal up after I was through with him, but he never got in my face again. Few people did after that story got around.
Seven months after I beat the shit out of that guy at the garage, my brother got busted for fencing stolen goods and went to prison. (He's back on the inside right now - third times a charm, he's doing life) So, here I was, 15 years old and no where to go and no where to live. So, after a week on the streets, I made my way to my uncles house. (You met Sammy, but you probably don't remember him, although you might remember his son, Mad-dog) I stayed with them on and off for the next four years. The longest I was gone was six months.
During the time I was there, they taught me how to give tattoos and how to pierce body parts. They also greatly expanded my knowledge of breaking and entering. I learned how to shoot a gun from Mad-dog and how to drink from Sam. I also started taking lessons at a local Dojo. I still do. But I also needed money.
I stopped working at the garage after a while. It just didn't pay enough. I started pulling more and more jobs breaking into shops to fence the goods. It was good money, but risky work. It wasn't the cops who caught me though. It was a couple of guys who ran a men only playroom.
That's what they called it. The Playroom. That was the time I was away for six months. I spent that time shackled up in leather cuffs and chains to various things. Walls, floors, beds, tables, etc... They made quite a bit of money off of me, selling my body to the highest bidder. I learned a lot about myself and a lot about pain and pleasure in that place. In some ways I miss it. It isn't the easiest thing in the world to be a sex-slave, but it is intense.
I was a little shocked when they let me go after six months. I didn't think that they would ever let me leave. Even though I had dreamed of freedom, and even tried to escape a few times, when the time came, I didn't want to go. Clothes felt real ackward and I wasn't sure what to do now that I wasn't being given instructions anymore. Still, they pushed a lot of money into my pocket and dropped me off at a corner somewhere, and then drove away. I have looked for the Playroom ever since then, but I have never found it.
I went back to Sam and Mad-dog, almost 16 years old, with a pocket full of money, and more sexual experience than I had any right to. They tried to figure out where I had been, but I just kept my mouth closed. I started back at the Dojo again and tried to find a way to earn money that didn't involve theft. I shouldn't have even tried to keep that out of my life. Two weeks later, Mad-dog was dragging me on another adventure in the night. We made good profit. Still, I wanted to do something different than that. I felt that something profound was missing from my life.
I found it soon enough though. By total accident too. I wandered into a bar to use the phone. Simple enough, huh? Turned out to be a gay leather bar. Now this was something I knew intimately. I had spent six months being a masochistic bottom to some of the cruelest sadistic tops I've ever seen, and now I just stumble across a gathering of amateurs. It was funny in a way, I was the youngest one there and one of the few professionals. I didn't know that then, but I was very professional. I had learned to take punishments easily that many of the guys in the bar could not have done at all.
I got picked up by a guy within ten minutes of being there. I told him it would cost $100. He whistled and asked what I would do for that much cash. I told him I would do what ever he said to. That was the first time I had ever been Top. What a rush of power. It was liberating and exhilarating. After that night, I became a regular at the bar. I also found two others in the area. I worked them all and became well known on the circuit. As my reputation grew, so did my price. Top or bottom, it didn't matter, so long as the guy was willing to pay.
Mad-dog caught me with a customer when I was 18. I think it rocked his world. I had my own place by then and he just sorta barged in without knocking. (That was the last time he did that) My 'date' was securely shackled in a kneeling position. I had a leather collar around his neck that was chained to the cuffs round his knees, forcing him to stick his ass way up high in the air. His wrists were cuffed behind his neck and his ankles were shackled to a spreader bar. He had a ball-gag in his mouth and his back and ass were bright red from the strap I was belting him with. I was naked except for a black leather hood and a chest harness. Mad-dog walked in and his jaw hit the floor when he saw that scene.
He was very upset to say the least. That was the first and only time I ever threatened Mad-dog with violence. I'm glad he backed down, I'm not sure I'd like to think what would have happened if he didn't. He just turned and left. We had a real long talk about it later though. I guess you could say I totally spilled my guts. He had trouble at first, but he eventually accepted it.
It was two months after that when Sam started pushing to get me in as a full member of The Guild. That's the motorcycle gang I run with, by the way. I knew them all from growing up around them. My uncle, my cousin, and my older brother were in. So, I was expected to be too. Everything was going great until I got outed to the gang. Till then, no one knew I was gay except for my dad, my cousin, and my regulars from the bars. Shit started to hit the fan.
It was not an easy time. I was outed as gay and a whore. Not a good thing in the eyes of many of the guys. They were thinking of me as a cocksucking queen prostitute available for chump change. I was anything but. Okay, so the cocksucking part was true enough, but the rest wasn't. I was never cheap and I was never a queen. I am a leatherman and they needed to get that in their heads fast. On two separate occasions I had guys come up to me and start to give me crap about it, thinking I would back down. After all, I'm a fag and they all thought that because of it I would back down. Wrong. I put all but one of them in the hospital.
The third time it happened it was actually some guys from The Guild who got on my case. It's a good thing Mad-dog was there or things would have got real ugly. He made one hell of a speech, I'll tell you. They called me a wimp and a fairy-boy and Mad-dog went off on 'em. He told them they didn't know jack-shit about me if that's what they thought. He told them I was a brutal leatherman and that he'd walked in on me with a customer before and if they'd seen what he did, they would never have said that. He told them that my idea of sex looked like something out of a Demons bedroom, and he had to give any guy credit for having lots of guts if he was willing to get naked with me.
He must have mad a huge impression on them though. My initiation into The Guild was to perform a live sex act for the guys. They would decide if I was to be a part of the gang, or if I was to be denied by that performance. Nothing like pressure, huh?
So, I got in touch with a hustler friend of mine named Jay who also worked the leather bars. We had worked together before when a group of guys came in looking for a good time. I knew he could do a good job being bottom. He was a pro and could take a lot of punishment with style. I was going to have to come up with a lot of money though. Jay was almost as expensive as me and I was going to demand a lot from him, so I wanted to pad the price.
He agreed to do it when I told him about it. I thought he might not want to because of the audience, but after both Mad-dog and I assured him the The Guild would not touch him without his permission, he said okay. One of the guys told us we could use his basement to put on the show and I spent three days getting the place ready.
When the night of the initiation came, I put Jay through hell and back. I pushed his limits that night. He did great though and he made me proud of him. We both had shattering orgasims and it took us both a while to recover. Jay took a bit longer, but that is to be expected. They guys all had a blast watching it though. That's the night I earned my nick-name Demon. I got all sorts of compliments that night. Most of them still sound fucked up in my ears when I thin of them. Things like, 'That was the sickest shit I ever saw in my life!' and 'I can't believe people pay you to beat the shit out of them and then rape them!' and of course, 'You are one fucking psycho slut Jimmy, you are going to burn in hell for that!'
When I turned 20, I stopped working the bars. I was getting to be too much. The money was great, but it wasn't what I wanted anymore. I started doing more tattoos and I went back to robbery for money. Started doing work for a chop shop that one of the guys runs for a powerful family uptown. The money started to roll in again.
After a few months my dad came to visit me. He started to bitch and moan about his life. It was real depressing. I wasn't too worried about him, I mean, I want him to be happy and all, but I knew he would work it all out eventually. What got to me was that it made me realize what it was that had been bothering me lately. What had made me give up the bars. I didn't want a different face every time I turned around. I wanted to see the same one each time. Silly, huh? Demon wants to be loved. So, I tried it. It never seemed to work out though. I tend to be too mean and aggressive I guess.
So, here I am, 22 years old. I am a thief, and a gang member, and a former whore. And into my life walks a living and breathing Angel. Pure, innocent, and full of love. Beauty and grace, inside and out. And as I write this and think of you sleeping so peacefully I wonder, am I your damnation, or are you my salvation? Does it matter? Can you forgive me my past as well as my future? Can you live with me in your life now that you know who I am? Can you look me in the eyes and smile?
Oh Angel, my sweet Angel. You can do so much better than me. I know that you can. You deserve better than me. Someone who has seen only good things, someone who won't bring the shadows to your door. Someone who doesn't know how to turn pain inside out until it becomes pleasure. Someone who won't hurt you by their very presence.
Angel, I love you and I won't turn you away from me ever again. I will welcome you with open arms, but if you are smart, you'll run from me, not to me. I love you Angel and it is a scary thing for me. Think about all I have said. You know how to reach me if you want to. I will wait.
Love Jimmy Damond, aka The Demon
When he was through reading it, Joey put the letter down neatly on Angels desk. He walked quietly over to his sleeping friend. With a slightly trembling hand, Joey pushed a stray black curl out of Angels face.
"He's right Angel. You can do better if you only look around you." Joey whispered under his breath.
Deeply saddened and with a heavy heart, Joey turned and walked from the room.