Prince Abaddon: An Erotic MM Drama (part four)
The fearsome angel Abaddon crosses paths with the scribe Rideriel
Oh, I'm in a real spot of bother. I'm searched through the whole apartment trying to find my teleportation stone, with no luck.
Right, I haven't explained what I'm talking about.
A teleportation stone is a purple magical gem that can be used to send things back and forth between dimensions. Normally I enlist it when I need my goblin servants to send essentials that are unobtainable in the human realm. I usually keep the stone safely hidden in a tin, but a few weeks ago I opened the box, only to find it missing.
I suspect Stinksnort might have misplaced it. Sometimes he uses it to receive care packages from his wife. She bakes the smelly little bug cakes the fellow can't get enough of.
Yes, Stinksnort, I'm holding you responsible. I know you enjoy her cooking, but you need to keep things in their proper place.
All that said, I must find the stone. Many of my essentials have a durable replacement found in the human world, but I ran out of royal hair product this morning. No matter how many hair sprays, pomades, or other products I try, I can't find a human equivalent that works.
My hair is currently a mess. On most days I wear my crown, so it's difficult to notice, but last night I made the mistake of going to bed without it.
When I woke up this morning, my hair looked as if a pack of hedonistic nesting gerbils had gone in during my slumber, and had a mad party among my blond tresses. Oh, what humiliation!
The couch is currently in tatters, with its normal collection of blankets, throw pillows, magazines, and stuffed lizard toys strewn all about the living room. I'll dictate the next chapter of our story as I conduct my search.
***
Abaddon soared through the sky, surveying his kingdom from above. As he flew, he spotted the dim figure of Charon transporting souls along the river Styx. The prince thought back to the first day he and Satan had walked the barren landscape of Hell; Charon's grey figure had been waiting for them on that grimy shoreline.
Satan tried to strike up a conversation with the old man, but was greeted with a cold, empty silence. In that moment, Abaddon saw something in Charon's eyes that felt more ancient than any angel.
For all his power and bravado, those eyes had humbled him. Ever since that day, Abaddon had kept his distance from the ferryman.
As he flew over the iron mountains, a faint shimmer below caught his eye. Curious, he sent a dozen locusts down to investigate, waiting patiently while hovering above.
The insects came upon Rideriel's unconscious form. After crawling across his withered wings and scattered white robes, they chirped amongst each other and flew back up to report to their master.
One landed upon Abaddon's shoulder, whispering its findings into his ear. He perked up, and said,
"An angel? We'll have to give him a proper welcome now, won't we?" He flew down, landing gracefully as his wings folded behind him. He crouched beside Rideriel, glancing over his prostrate form. An amused smile spread across his face as he said,
"Well, well. A lost little lamb has found his way into my kingdom."
He traced his fingers across the scribe's soft, bruised cheek. Despite his injuries, Abaddon could not help but marvel at the angel’s delicate features. He trailed his hand through Rideriel's chestnut curls, marveling at their softness, and whispered,
"No, not a lamb. A bird, a beautiful, broken bird."
An ache stirred within his black heart. He rose, gathered up the wounded fledgling, and carried him off to the palace.
***
Satan paced the ancient stone, his eyes aflame with anger. A blind, jealous rage overtook him as he thought,
I don't care if it was only once. Tzyeriel is mine! He's the only one I've ever loved. How dare that sultry little angel come into our lives and-
A golden voice called out,
"Satan? Where’s Rideriel?"
Satan swallowed his anger, took a deep breath to calm down, and turned to face his beloved. In as reasonable a voice as he could muster, he answered,
"I played my fiddle for him. When that didn't work, I tried talking to him, but he flew away."
Tzyeriel landed on the rock floor, his face drawn with worry. He gazed at Satan and said,
"Oh no, we have to go find him before he runs into another fallen one!" Satan twisted his face into a look of false concern, gritting his teeth behind his smile. The cloven-hoofed angel walked over to his lover, wrapping his arms around the strong curve of the angel's waist. He looked into the Seraph’s beautiful crimson eyes and purred,
"Dear one, Rideriel isn’t the innocent babe he was upon first arriving in the mortal realm. Now that he's encountered an ancient one, I'm certain he'll be far more cautious in his travels." Tzyeriel shook his head and replied,
"We should still look for him. Otherwise, he might-"
Satan pressed against him sensually, gently grinding himself up against the Seraph erotically. Tzyeriel's heart began to pulse harder as Satan brushed his lips across his cheek, whispering,
"You've always been so righteous. It's one of the things I find attractive about you." Tzyeriel felt his resolve falter in the face of the seduction. His breath caught as Satan moved his hand downward, caressing Tzyeriel's swelling desire with great finesse. The golden angel ran his hands down Satan's backside.
Tzyeriel had fully meant to fulfill his mission, but the pleasure of his partner's ministrations overpowered him, until he found himself murmuring,
"We... We should... Ohhh.
Tzyeriel grinned mischievously, gripping Satan's throbbing length through the folds of his red robe. They locked eyes, and, as if by telepathy, separated just long enough to quickly remove and toss aside their clothes.
They fell upon the cold rock face. Tzyeriel eagerly grabbed Satan's firm, furry buttocks, giving his small goat tail an affectionate squeeze before taking the horned angel's throbbing member into his mouth. Satan moaned ecstatically, hungrily positioning himself to swallow Tzyeriel's glowing member in turn.
They pleasured each other with eager tongues and lips. After several minutes of being locked together in their love circuit, Tzyeriel thrust himself all the way down Satan's throat, spilling his blessed seed down his beloved's gullet.
The satyr angel consumed his essence, gratefully imbibing Heaven's light. Tzyeriel, gripped by the moment of exaltation, slipped his fingers inside his lover, causing Satan to gasp with overwhelming delight as he released his fire in kind.
Afterwards, they lay together under the moonlight. Tzyeriel, spent, drifted off to sleep. Resting across the angel's broad chest, Satan smiled with satisfaction, closed his eyes, and joined him in slumber.
***
Rideriel awoke with a start. He winced slightly, clutching at the spot where Satan had struck him. He realized he was lying in a large bed covered in black silken sheets. A bison-like demon stood over him, its gentle brown eyes watching him curiously. In a soft voice, it said,
"Ah, you've awaken! Very good, sir. I've dressed your wounds as per Prince Abaddon's orders, but you need to take it easy, it'll be awhile before you're fully healed."
Rideriel was surprised; it had never occurred to him a demon could be a healer. He nodded gratefully and said,
"T-thank you. Where am I?" The demon snorted softly and replied,
"You’re in the palace of Hell, angel. Abaddon brought you in last night. It's the strangest thing, he's never called upon my services for a non-combatant, you must have really piqued his interest."
Rideriel shuddered; everyone in Heaven knew of the cruelty of the locust angel. He asked,
"Why did Abaddon save me?" The demon patted him gently on the wing, and said,
"I wouldn't fret about it. What matters is you're safe for the moment. I'm sorry I can't offer amusements to distract you during your recovery, but there's a chest of various odds and ends in the dresser that might be of interest."
Rideriel nodded sullenly. The demon gathered its satchel of medical supplies, leaving him alone.
He carefully got out of bed; his body ached terribly, but the desire to explore these new surroundings outweighed his discomfort.
The room was decorated in black marble, with blood-red drapes hung over the window. A painting of the palace's new lord was displayed above the bed. Rideriel stared at it, fascinated by Abaddon's image.
The prince was dressed in elegant black armor, with a long flowing cape, and eyes as cold as steel. In spite of his fear, there was something in Abaddon's bearing that caused his heartbeat to quicken.
Rideriel stumbled over to the dresser, pulling open the wooden door. Hidden behind a few plain black robes was a small ebony box. Inside, he found a collection of strange trinkets: a golden sash, a scepter topped with a crystal grasshopper, and a small stone carving of an angel.
He pulled the statuette out, marveling at its craftsmanship. The figurine had been carved with a level of skill found only in the celestial realms. On its face was an expression of hope. Rideriel saw something familiar in its features. He held it up, comparing it to Abaddon's portrait.
Both represented the same angel.
The door creaked open. Rideriel, startled by the noise, nearly dropped the carving, only to catch it at the last second. A shadow spread across the walls as Abaddon stepped inside, his towering frame cloaked in flowing regal robes. His cold eyes locked onto the smaller angel. A cruel smile spread upon the prince’s lips. In a smooth, chilling voice, he said,
"Admiring my collection, little bird?" Abaddon gazed at the statue in Rideriel’s trembling hands, his smile deepening as he stepped closer. In an amused tone, he said,
"Oh yes, that little artifact. I acquired it long ago. It was brought to Hell on the person of an angel. I remember him well; he was idealistic, a dreamer. He genuinely believed the angels of Heaven valued freedom."
With one quick motion, he plucked the statue from Rideriel's hand, holding it up to the light of a wall-mounted torch. After staring at it for a moment, he chuckled, placing it upon the dresser.
Abaddon glanced down at the injured angel, noting his fear. The swarm lord leaned in close, staring deep into Rideriel's eyes. For what seemed an endless moment, those chilling orbs of grey peered deep into the scribe's soul. A single tear started welling up in the corner of Rideriel's eye. Abaddon stood back and said,
"You remind me of him. He wept as well during his first day in Hell."
A few locusts crawled through Abaddon's wings as he spoke. He continued,
"But fear not, little bird. In time, his heart died, and he ceased to feel sorrow. Perhaps someday you will also know such freedom."
Abaddon paused, raised an eyebrow, and said,
"It's been several centuries since a fallen angel landed in Hell. You don't strike me as the sort who'd make an attempt at overthrowing Heaven..."
Rideriel gulped nervously. The prince continued,
"I see everything my locusts encounter upon the earth. I've come across the occasional fallen angel traversing the mortal world, but never one, with a single exception, who had the authority to open a portal to Hell."
He stopped, turning the full force of his gaze upon his captive. A tide of bitterness welled up within Rideriel. After a few moments, he whispered,
"I was deceived by Satan. He said he could help me escape the mortal world by sending me to Purgatory, but-" Abaddon replied,
"Satan's a liar and a thief. I was meant to rule Hell, but he stood before Heaven with that accursed violin of his and stole my crown."
For the faintest moment, Rideriel saw a flicker of pain in Abaddon’s eyes. The dark angel's voice softened to a whisper,
"He betrayed both of us." He reached out, tracing a finger down Rideriel’s cheek, and said,
“But now, my beautiful little bird, you belong to me. I will teach you how to silence the grief within your heart, as I silenced mine."
Rideriel shivered at his touch. The prince, suddenly aware of his own vulnerability, straightened his posture, regaining a marble-cool composure. He turned and strode for the door. As he was about to leave, he gave Rideriel one last final look, and said,
"Rest, little bird, be grateful to have found yourself within a lovely cage." With that, he left the scribe alone, locking the door behind him as he went.
***
Oh, thank goodness! After ransacking the entire studio apartment, I've finally found the teleportation stone!
You wouldn't believe where I found it; somehow, it made its way into a half-eaten box of rock candy. The box was lying right out in the open for all to see, but the candy was so similar in appearance to the stone I passed it by several times without even noticing.
It's the strangest thing, though. There were little sooty tracks leading from the box all the way across the carpet. I can only wonder if some wandering Nether realm creature snuck through to took a brief walkabout around the apartment while we were all asleep.
No matter. Such things happen from time to time. I'll have to discuss the matter with my goblin guards when I send in the hair product order. They're supposed to be keeping a watchful eye on the other end to make sure venomous pixies and the occasional irate salamander don't manage to pop on through.
Until next time...