New Deal [ONC 2020]

CHAPTER 6

Slobber coated my face and hair, leaving an overwhelming smell of mutt behind. I familiarized myself with the devil's warm, pressed body—it felt foreign, exhilarating in so many ways. When was the last time I touched someone, felt their flesh, bones, and body onto mine?

"Stop licking his face, you three-headed-hound! Heel!" The Devil scorned, pushing off three tongues licking my face and a chorus of happy yips. So this was Cerberus? I thought he'd be grander, menacing even.

His hound whined, rested, and glanced between us as if trying to discern who he wanted to lick next—it frightened and amused me. So curious, each one of the hound's heads had different expressions, gruffing like a child put on time out. Pain jolted and rushed, reaching near my chest. Grappling the devil's biceps, I had rolled up the sleeves of his robes, showing a glimpse of his torso and pecs. My palms rubbed his smooth, lightly tanned skin, and alluring limbs. His skin reflected by glowing-amethyst-geode-orbs shuddered under my light touches, reminding me of what my late grandmother used to say—it represented royalty or nobility, and wisdom. The color of fate, she said. For the sake of my sanity, please have mercy on me.

The fates had me tide under his power. I figured one of them pulled and flicked onto my thinnest thread just for kicks. They probably looked like a bunch of old bats, cackling, snipping, and twinning threads while sipping their afternoon tea. He attracted me like a magnet or perhaps a great-white, ready to savor the spurs of sudden blood. He was, at most, a foreign beauty. Not your average GQ model, but a being not of this world. He wasn't of your world, but the one which you are now—sure whatever you say, David, keep telling yourself that. I might as well ground myself, know who I'm with.

Not a single word described his serene skin, eyes, and supple muscles. Bobbing my dry throat, he further pressed his body on mine, scalding me to the surface. His lips slightly plump, ready to be tackled, licked, feasted by mine. Even looking further down, I roused, hoped to see his firm and round bottom as vivid as my dream. My fingers itched to reach beneath his robes. Trace and squeeze them with my palms. To pull it apart, watch him moan, gasp under and over my will. If I could move my calloused hands over his globes and perky flesh. I...wait! Am I feeling something for the devil of all things? The devil? Why? I haven't felt this way about anyone in a long time.

Help me find the balance between my rational and my reality faced before me, lord oh, mighty! I whiffed his skin subtly, hints of fresh mint, and a fragrant bottle of whisky soothed my senses. So sweet and soft, it drove my flaccid cock to stir. He wiggled a little, and I breathed in deeply, suppressing a tightening groan. His thighs pressured, heated, rubbed against my half-hard cock. Stop it, David! Think of your boss, tanned like an ugly lobster, wearing a bikini bottom. Ugh, that's...acid bile clung to my throat. My cock limped down, and I breathed a sigh of relief, noticing the pain in my chest rested.

"Call Dr.Lust! He must get here quick! His Lord is acting strange!"

Lust?

"Dr. Lust? As in the Sin? He's a Doctor?" I raised a questioning brow, my curious-minded self, waited for him to answer. His face held neither curiosity nor fallacious happiness. The pain came back—I gasped softly—restrained by the murmurs and shrieks around the room—it looked to be from a Leonardo Da Vinci painting but with a modern touch. Projected screens floated above the cave-like sealing, names, numbers in all kinds of codes and languages. Some had images of people lying in bed or falling out of breath.