The Reaping [malexmale]

Chapter One

Chapter One

"Ohh, fuck yes."

No other words could describe the amount of pleasure coursing hot through my veins, like liquid fire. Hot desperate gasps poured past my lips, my eyes closed against the blast of euphoria that flooded up my spine and into my head, making me dizzy. My cheeks were flushed, sweat trickling down the back of my neck and down my spine. My light brown, naturally blonde highlighted hair, stuck to my face as I struggled to contain a sob of desperation.

Large callused hands intensified the sensations wracking my form, rubbing over my swollen nipples and grazing down my back to cup my ass firmly. A hot wet mouth rose up to meet mine, capturing me in a kiss that sent another hot orgasm blazing a path through my body. I cried out and sank my fingernails into rock hard muscles that trembled beneath me. That sweet hot mouth moved to my throat and suckled hard until I was sure there'd be a bruise.

And moments later, the pleasure blinded me and I ended up laying against the headboard of my blue and green canopy bed decorated almost like a peacock. I lit up a cigarette and stuck it between my lips, inhaling lungfuls of toxic fumes before exhaling so it curled into the air in front of me.

"You were pissed today." Stanton said, making me frown and glance at him out the corner of my eye. He was laid out in the open on my bed, on his stomach with his hands propping his head up, elbows digging into my blue silk pillow.

Yeah, I'd be a liar if I said Stanton, for all his irritating qualities, was the sexiest thing alive. Well, setting aside the Deadly Sin of Lust, Devereaux. No, Stanton was gorgeous in a rugged masculine kind of way. His voice was deep and gravelly, laced with a heavy Brooklyn accent that gave me chills. His jaw was stubbled and prickly, explaining why my cheeks were all red from his nuzzling. His eyes were as pitch black as a starless night, and his blonde hair was currently swept back from his handsome face. He was completely naked so I could happily admire the rippling muscles in his back all the way down to a firm round ass that could make models weep with envy, and long muscular legs littered with blonde hairs.

"Yeah," I said after a moment of staring at him, only to stop when I saw him smirk at me, and I rolled my eyes, looking away as I took another drag on the cigarette, "Of course I'm friggin' pissed. Babysitting? Seriously? How did he talk you into that, huh?" Stanton sighed wistfully.

"He didn't need to do much convincing. Your body's addicting." He added. I rolled my eyes again and blew out a smoke ring, narrowing my eyes at it.

"Well, I don't need a fucking babysitter. You're just my fuck toy and nothing more." I responded. Even though I said it, I knew it wasn't true and that only made me angrier. Why did I have to pick him of all people to feel like this for?

Stanton was a douche. And he was also Death. Though handsome to the core of his soul, he was extremely powerful, maybe even more than a typcial god. Without him, souls bound for Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory, would never make it to their destination and forever be trapped in their corpses, or they'd become ghosts. Stanton himself never went on typical jobs, pulling souls out and whatnot. That was grunt work that he left up to his army of reapers. No, Stanton was a bigger fish. He was present during the largest catastrophies. He'd been there during both World War I and World War II. He was there for the tsunami in Japan. For the Christian Crusades. Every major disaster that had taken hundreds of lives at once. He reaped the souls and he sent them to where they belonged. He usually hung out with other gods of death, like the Greek god, Thanatos, or the Japanese god of death, Izanami.

He generally visited Hell for the sole purpose of being a pain in my ass. Literally. He used to just come over to pick on me and bother me until I snapped, but we'd made the mistake of getting into a fist fight and one thing led to another and now we were sleeping together.