The Devil's Beloved: An 18+ MM Romance (part two)
A Zwahk Muchoney Production © 2025
I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about the biology of angels, both in and out of the bedroom, and have come to this conclusion: as celestial beings, they should have no need for food or drink, instead taking their sustenance directly from the cosmos. However, our leading couple, angel or not, are also gay men. Thus, I decided to throw narrative logic out the window and bring alcohol into the picture.
But before we get to all that, let’s begin by discussing the most important flavoring agent in mother’s recipe: chimera spice.
The mane of a chimera can be dried and ground into a warming, delicious additive. However, there are only seven known chimeras in all the Nether Realms. Because they’re an endangered species, procuring the spice requires capturing the beast in a way where it can be safely released afterwards.
The problem here is that the chimeras have learned how to get around the hunters who keep trying to catch them. My best goblin engineers have tried to devise all manner of elaborate traps, but to no avail.
After I described the flavor to Blarg, he said it reminded him of something called pumpkin spice. I don't know much about pumpkins, but as this spice is apparently quite widespread in your world, I can only assume they're far easier to catch.
When I asked what he’d found as far as dragon egg substitutes, he had the sheer audacity to suggest I use BIRD eggs. I pointed out that they lacks the density found in a dragon egg. He responded with that annoyed expression he so often sends my way…
You should be grateful, Blarg. If it weren't for my need of a bodyguard, you'd be stuck back home with the other orcs, engaging in witty banter with the likes of FaceSmash and StompGut…
What was that?
He just made a comment about how I should acquire reptile eggs if I'm so…
Wait, that's a wonderful idea! Blarg, where might one purchase such an item?!
He's scrolling on his tablet with that dainty little stylus. I'll pass the time waiting on him by continuing our tale of Hellish romance...
***
Tzyeriel turned away from the whimpering Rosier, smiled warmly, and said,
"I've had a wonderful time."
Their eyes met, locking in a moment of intense connection. Satan found himself saying,
"You don't have to go just yet. Would you care to spend a little time with me in my palace?"
Tzyeriel considered the offer, shrugged, and merrily replied,
"Sure! I really like spending time with you."
Satan knew it would be better to send the Seraph on his way, but the temptation to bask in his glow was simply too great.
They returned to the palace and went to sit by Satan’s balcony, where he ordered a jug of Hell's finest wine. After pouring each of them a glass in obsidian goblets, he offered one to Tzyeriel. The handsome angel said,
"Oh, my kind are not supposed to drink."
Satan asked,
"Why not?"
Tzyeriel puzzled over the question, answering,
"I'm not really sure..."
He watched Satan take a large gulp and asked,
"Is it good?"
The dark angel licked his lips, responding,
"It's absolutely delectable." He drank some more. The Seraph replied,
"I suppose one glass couldn't hurt. After all, I don't want to be impolite."
He took a small sip from his goblet. The angel’s eyes widened as he exclaimed,
"Oh my goodness, it’s delicious!"
He gulped down the wine as if he were a thirsty man trapped in the desert. Satan stared at him, not sure of how to respond. Tzyeriel wiped his mouth, raised his glass, and asked,
"May I have another?"
Satan nodded, topping off his glass.
The Seraph heartily downed his second glass. Trying not to look like a lightweight, Satan quickly drank the contents of his own goblet and poured himself another cup.
Several bottles later, they were both rather tipsy. Somehow, they got it into their heads to mess with Charon, the boatman who ferried the souls of the wicked to Hell. The angels stumbled their way down to the docks, and upon finding him, shouted,
"Heey, we wanna lift!" Charon, confused, called back,
"This ferry is only meant for the dead. You are angels, can you not fly?"
Satan wobbled over to him, drunkenly shouting,
"I wanna party boat, my gueshh-" he pointed at Tzyeriel, "hee’sh goin’ with ME!"
The pair erupted into peals of inebriated laughter. Charon grimaced as he let them onto the raft. He pushed against the banks of the river with his pole, and off they went.
***
Wonderful news, my esteemed audience! Blarg has found a place where I might procure a dragon. Even more exciting, he's discovered a breed that doesn't breathe fire or hoard treasure!
What a relief; an apartment fire would be bad enough, but just imagine how irritating it would be, having the neighbors constantly complaining about pilfered jewelry.
I’m off to the pet shop! There will be a full report upon my return.
***
I’ve done it; I finally have a... well, I suppose what could technically be called a dragon…
Right, I'm getting ahead of myself. Here's what happened:
I traveled with Blarg to the address. He wanted to stay behind to catch up on a deadline, but I insisted he come along so his magical glowing box could give us directions.
After about a mile of walking, we entered an establishment full of the sorts of animals kept by city humans. I explained to the attendant that I wished to purchase a female bearded dragon.
He motioned toward several glass enclosures. I wandered about the see-through cages, until I found her. I must admit, I was surprised by how small she was. The dragon was only a foot long from head to tail, but Blarg said she'd have clutches of fifteen-twenty eggs, so I supposed the large number could make up for her compact size.
Unfortunately, when I mentioned that I was buying her so I could add her eggs to a recipe, the shopkeepers became upset and told us to leave.
Blarg and I had no choice but to tread through the many backstreets in search of another shop. I suggested we rent a pair of scooters, but he was far too large to ride such contraptions, so it took us a good couple of hours to reach the next establishment.
This time, when I made my inquiry, I refrained from bringing up my culinary intent.
The apartment is now home to a dragon named Agatha, as suggested by Mark, a fan of this blog (sorry, I meant to say book).
Upon returning home, we set up a UVB heat lamp and sorted the furniture around until she had her own space.
We've proceeded to dragon-proof the apartment by stowing away all the bladed weapons in the cupboards. With any luck, she'll be laying soon, and I’ll be one step closer to recreating mother's recipe.
Don't worry, the next chapter's going to get hotter, see you there.