Prince Abaddon: An Erotic MM Drama (part seven) 18+
The angel Rideriel attempts to escape the Kingdom of Hell
No worries, dear reader. We're still alive, at least for the moment. The remaining dragon hatchlings are starting to emerge from their egg sacs. Blarg is keeping watch with his net at the ready.
Meanwhile, I've bravely left the safety of the bathroom to keep an eye on the little fellow who almost set the apartment ablaze. I can hear him scurrying about under the cooking pot. At least he's only three inches long, otherwise he might be strong enough to upend his rounded prison.
Nicole is currently running all over town, grabbing up the supplies needed to create a new dragon-proof nursery.
I have my spray bottle at the ready, while Stinksnort is keeping a fly swatter draped across his lap. Seeing as I'm not going anywhere at the moment, let's continue our tale and keep our fingers crossed that Blarg's girlfriend will return in time.
***
Abaddon was seated upon his throne, waiting for Andras and Astaroth. The unexpected arrival of the Marquis had dissuaded the raven demon’s neighbor from launching an immediate attack, but without proper negotiations, their armies would present a constant threat to Hell's ever-precarious stability.
His mood had grown progressively darker since parting ways with the scribe. Rideriel's beauty and innocence had struck a chord deep within his black heart. Even while thrusting himself deep within his concubines, he’d thought of Rideriel with every brilliant ejaculation.
One of his locusts alighted on his shoulder, crawling over to his ear. It whispered a report. Abaddon nodded and replied,
"Ah, he made it back to his room. Good. Tell me, what did he do on his castle tour? Did he manage to wander off, or was he obedient?”
The insect spoke, its faint words barely audible. After a few moments, the prince's face brightened with bemused surprise. He said,
"He spent the entire day reading scrolls?" Abaddon laughed softly, and continued,
"What a frightfully dull angel. I intentionally selected a chaperone he could easily outmaneuver, and he used the opportunity to pore over a bunch of old documents?"
He smiled wickedly, imagining a scenario where he and Rideriel were in the library together. In his sensual daydreams, the slender angel eyed him seductively while whispering,
"Oh Abaddon, teach me all you know of forbidden knowledge." The locust lord envisioned his slender beauty running his hands up and down his body suggestively, swaying with obvious desire. In the fantasy, he replied,
"I shall have you as my pupil. Let's begin our first lesson." The dark angel grinned, enjoying where his train of thought was taking him.
He was interrupted by a guard, who came into the throne room, announcing,
"The Marquis Andras and his retinue have arrived." Abaddon frowned and thought,
Business before pleasure, then.
***
Rideriel sat by the window, his mind awash in questions. During his years in Heaven, he'd never heard of the exodus of life, having always been led to believe demons preferred living in Hell.
Andras and his retinue of similar bird-like demons landed in the middle of the courtyard. Each wore crude, lightweight armor buckled around their wings. Despite their ferocious bearing, Rideriel couldn't help but be reminded of his own kind. During his time in the mortal realm, he’d spent a great deal of time sitting in the trees, watching different bird species interact, and thought,
We were perched in the Heavens above, watching the world below. The smaller birds defer to the larger birds, and so it was for the scribes in Heaven; we always submitted to the whims of the Archangels.
He studied Abaddon's portrait, thinking,
Were you an Archangel once? I know so little about you. One of the reasons I read through all those documents was to learn more of your past, but you're an elusive mystery.
Rideriel remembered the contents of the ebony box. He wandered to the dresser, pulling the container out. He emptied its contents, stretching Abaddon's tattered golden sash across the bed. Upon further examination, he realized it was covered in thousands of small, gleaming letters.
The words were written in an ancient form of the angelic language. Much of it had become indecipherable over time, but he managed to make out one phrase:
His song stirs the seeds before the rain.
Rideriel furrowed his brow, wondering what the phrase might mean. He then held up Abaddon's scepter. The detail of the crystal grasshopper's form was greater than he'd initially realized. The scribe ran his fingertips over its antennae, and-
Snap
The fragment of the statue fell to the ground. Horrified, Rideriel bent down to pick it up. A sense of absolute terror filled him as he imagined what Abaddon might do when he found out.
He examined it, hoping it might still be repairable. He noticed the break in the seam where the antenna joined the grasshopper’s head. Rideriel realized the inner material was something hard and metallic. An idea occurred to him,
I might be able to fashion this into a lock pick. If I can get out of here, perhaps I'll-
What? Find something in the castle to fix it and then lock myself back in this room like an obedient little slave?
Rideriel wondered,
I've felt no hunger. Surely I'm not as the fallen of the ancient conflict. Heaven didn't expel me; I left by my own choice. If I call out to my brothers above, perhaps they will send someone to rescue me, and I may-
He frowned, murmuring,
"Shall I live in Heaven as one forever scorned, or stay here, trapped by that mad angel?" Rideriel paced back and forth, thinking,
At least Abaddon doesn't cover up uncomfortable matters with songs of glory in the same way as the Archangels.
The image of the locust lord's handsome, well-chiseled form filled his mind. Rideriel's primal side surged within him, temporarily enveloping him in the same lust he'd felt when he first met Tzyeriel. His heart beat faster as he thought of Abaddon's strong hands, of what they could do to him…
But then the memory of what he'd experienced after his encounter with the Seraphim resurfaced: the period of obsession he'd endured, the endless longing, and the pain of realizing the angel he'd freely given himself to would never love him. A tear rolled down his cheek as he whispered,
"Abaddon is no different. He said it himself, he would never love me, or anyone else." He wiped his grief-stained cheeks, whispering,
"Even if he took me to his bed, surely he'd tire of me sooner or later, and then what? I have a feeling I'm no safer bound to him in Hell than walking upon the earth."
Rideriel recalled Tzyeriel and Satan mentioning encounters with other angels like him in the human world. He wondered if perhaps he could escape and, in time, find another angel who could love him. Rideriel considered his next steps, thinking,
The scrolls in the library detailed portal points used during the Exodus of Life. If I can sneak out of here, I might be able to fly along the edge of Hell until I find a way out.
He nodded and got to work, carefully fashioning the metal piece into a pick.
When he was done, he tiptoed over to the door, looked out the keyhole to make sure nobody was standing guard, and inserted the pick into the gap. He gave it a few cautious turns. This went on for a while. He almost gave up in despair, when the lock made a resounding click.
The door creaked open. Rideriel cautiously peered outside. Once he was certain nobody was around, the angel quietly slipped out into the hallway, fearful of what might happen if he were found out.
***
Thank goodness. Nicole has returned from her mission.
She's carrying a large metal terrarium into the apartment, with a packed hemp grocery bag slung over her shoulder.
After throwing the large, shining container onto Agatha's pillow fort, she asked Blarg for a brief status report. He anxiously noted several of the little fire-breathers had broken through their egg shells.
Meanwhile, our bearded dragon Agatha has forgone her motherly duties, choosing to instead spend this time basking on her little rock.
Nicole emptied her bag onto the floor. It had been filled with several ceramic tiles, as well as a pair of sturdy, long-cuffed gloves and some kind of leather apron. She proceeded to put on the set, explaining all the while that these articles of clothing were worn by welders to protect against heat and fire.
She then started lining the floor and lower walls of the terrarium with tiles. When I asked what she was doing, she replied,
"The metal will provide a barrier of protection from flames, but with so many little dragons flying around in there, the floor underneath might get scorched. These ceramic tiles should act as an effective barrier."
Soon, she gave the nursery one last look-over. I stood guard, spray bottle in hand, as she carefully reached under the metal cooking pot. With one swift movement, she grabbed the tiny winged reptile, quickly carried it to the modified container, and placed it inside, swiftly snapping the mesh cover overhead.
Fortunately, moving most of the new dragons was easier, as all but one were exhausted from their recent hatching.
Several minutes later, they were all locked up safely. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
However, Blarg has brought up a good point. We're going to need to figure out how to regularly give water and food to the dragons without any escaping and causing us all to be destroyed in a towering inferno.
With any luck, this will be resolved by the time I'm done with the next chapter. I'll see you then.