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Keigo was beginning to suspect you were catching on to his presence.
He hadn’t made himself officially known to you yet, but it was evident you were vaguely aware of his existence—as any human was with their guardian angel.
You, however… you were a tricky one. Perceptive.
You hadn’t committed any acts of sin—big or small—in an entire week, thus not requiring his guidance, his presence. He should technically be happy, but…
He was becoming suspicious.
Anxious, even.
It was some unknown hour of the night, where the moon was at its highest and odd, ancient energies were brimming within the air itself. Keigo had allowed himself into your room through your window, unlocking it with a mere wave of the hand. You were suddenly being so careful. Normally, he would be proud. His little human, being so diligent about her safety.
But now, he only felt a strange serpent of irritation coil in his gut. Were you trying to keep him away? He who worked so tirelessly for your ungrateful wellbeing?
Blasphemy.
You were nestled into your soft blankets, somehow on your side but also on your front, one leg stretched straight and tucked into the covers while the other was above, knee angled towards your chest. Your face was partially smooshed into squishy pillows, lips slightly parted to allow gentle, deep breaths to escape. Drool gleamed at the corner of your mouth. You were out cold, dreaming little dreams of faraway lands and blissfully ignorant to reality.
Keigo suddenly forgot every initial reason for his visit, sour mood immediately abolished upon seeing such an adorable sight. You had him utterly wrapped around your finger, and yet you were none the wiser. He would do anything for you.
You stirred slightly—as if sensing his vicinity, even within the heavy throes of slumber—and that golden gaze fell to the junction of your legs, where your movement was most pronounced. Your shorts, loose and airy for maximum comfort, were entirely ridden up, allowing a completely unbidden view of your bare cleft and the slopes of soft cheeks. You had apparently foregone panties tonight.
Just like that, the snake in his gut took on a different guise; one he couldn’t quite identify—one more carnal of nature. It relocated, intertwining with the notches of his ribs, seizing control of his lungs.
He hadn’t even realized he was sitting beside you now, leaning over you so his hands were planted on either side of your head, eagerly drinking in your obliviousness to the corded instruments of God’s will caging you in. That’s right, he had a very specific reason for being here tonight.
Keigo did not understand the things that he felt, but when he was with you, looking at you, everything felt so, so wickedly clear. He was here to give you his guidance, after all.
Yes, he thought, as he slotted himself into your immobile form like a puzzle piece. This was just another form of guidance, was it not? A learning experience, to better his trusted counsel for his most cherished charge. With the knowledge he gained, he would smother any embers of sin before they even sparked, he was sure of it.
For that was his sworn duty—his sole purpose.
“Purpose,” he muttered quietly, unmarred digits lazily burning a path up your arm while he battled with his own thoughts. A diminutive noise escaped you, possibly a byproduct of the dream you were having, and his internal conflict dissolved upon hearing the sacred sound, delivered to his ears only. Those lazy caresses quickly altered their tune, becoming greedy and fervent in their exploration.
If only he knew, how his presence seeped into your dreams, warping them into shadowy thickets and spindly, grasping fingers of naked tree branches.
Another sound, louder and more lucid this time, and he had to physically shake himself from his hazy reverie when the ever-attentive half of his divine wisdom reminded him how easily some humans, you specifically, could be roused.
He nuzzled his nose into your hair, inhaling deep and indulgently, before exhaling hotly into your ear, “Dream of me, my love. Let it be good.”
Incubi were just a subcategory of his fallen brethren, so it stood to reason that angels had a modicum of influence over dreams as well.
His voice was already hoarse and thick with desire, but that echo of cloying ethereality ensured it traveled deep within you, to the very depths of your soul. You would not be waking up—not without his permission.
So you continued to dream, the encroaching light of the waking world snuffed out entirely. The scratchy, grasping branches became actual hands, soft and warm, sensual and reassuring. They mirrored his to perfection, in appearance and intention. You sighed softly, head rolling back and into the nook of his shoulder, as if it had every sense to be there. And to him, it truly did.
Satisfied that you would be preoccupied mentally, he finally allowed his tightly leashed urges to run amok.
Keigo latched himself to your neck in clueless determination, mouth taking in your flesh without a hint of indecision. He had no idea where to put his hands; all he knew was he wanted them everywhere. And everywhere they would be.
His fingers stroked a path of fire down the length of your body, touch-hungry digits pressingly greedily into the malleable meat of your thigh, before anchoring in its suppleness so he could roll you to your back from your bent leg.
He swung a leg over your supine form, glowing eyes charged with brimming immortal energy as he straddled you. Your shirt had ridden up with his hurried maneuvering, and he eyed the sliver of your exposed tummy like it was the key to divinity itself. He scooted back, snowy wings twitching in excitement as you cradled him with your creamy thighs.
That impossibly vast mind suddenly felt tiny, as he simply did not know where to begin. He’s never been in such a predicament before. He was aware of what mortals did when they got ‘together’, but he was never keen on the specifics. He never cared.
Not until now.
He glanced at your chest, and gleefully decided he would start there, pushing your loose shirt up and over your head, leaving it bunched at your elbows. You hadn’t only forgone panties tonight, it seems.
Keigo licked his lips, unable to look elsewhere as those rosy buds topping your plush mounds immediately pebbled due to the electrically charged atmosphere in the room. He didn’t waste any time pondering their taste, quickly leaning forward to pop one into his mouth with feverish exuberance. His mouth opened to pant wetly against your breast, tongue laving in circles as one hand tended to the nipple not occupied by his mouth, the other slithering to the waistband of your shorts.
He made only a few brief attempts to wiggle them down your thighs, but to little avail did they budge. Right, he was kind of in the way of those.
Huffing in exasperated impatience, he leaned back, grasping your legs behind the knees and pressing them against your chest. He easily held them together with just one hand, the other quickly snaking down to jerk once more at the back of your waistband, and this time the testy shorts thankfully abided by his whims. He had more than half a mind to rip the flimsy material in two, but that would probably raise you some head-scratching questions in the morning, so it was a good thing he held out. He left them bunched at your knees, similar to your shirt. He would probably perish if he spent even a moment longer fiddling with your clothing and not the long-awaited prize that lay beneath.
If Keigo was awestruck by the sight of your bare breasts, then he was utterly mesmerized by the flawless presentation that was your pure, untouched pussy. He thinks he might have whined at the sight—he wasn’t entirely sure, but it was a safe bet that he had.
He was supposed to be the perfect being, and yet here you were, exposed and nubile, making him question his entire existence. Guidance, right? Yeah, he was supposed to be guiding you.
He gulped, swallowing thickly as he lowered himself until he was face-to-face with your glistening core, readying himself for optimal guiding. Combined with his naturally gifted touch and lust-charged dreams, your cunt was ripe and ready for harvest, and he absolutely could not wait to sample the fruit. Not for anything in the world. Not even his father.
His mouth melded with your syrupy folds before he could comprehend the thought of what he was even doing, lapping at your juices like it was the sacred ambrosia only offered to those of heavenly status, moaning obscenely all the while. No—this is better, he dizzily declared to himself. They don’t know what they’re missing up there, sitting high and mighty in that gilded palace he wasted far too much time in.
You were so cute, all twisted up in your clothes and dripping so sweetly for him, your soft, mousy moans joining his unapologetically loud slurps in their journey out your window and into the tenebrous night. He could feast on your essence until the end of time, if he were able. A tiny voice lurking in the rapidly expanding, shadowy alcoves of his mind suggested he sneak you some ambrosia one day just so he could.
His hand was still clutching your knees together, knuckles whitening with the otherworldly force he was withholding squeezing them together. He crooned at your whimper of pain, incisors gently scraping over your buzzing clit. His free hand kneaded your squishy ass roughly before walking a wicked path inward and up, two digits instinctively poised to trace over your fluttering, weeping hole. He was certain that was a gasp that just escaped your adorably quivering lips, just now.
He sincerely hoped your dream was as nice as what he was having.
Keigo’s eyes fluttered, a weightless sensation overcoming him as he slid those long fingers in, and in, and in. He wasn’t even licking you anymore, just mouthing at your pink flesh as he pumped into you like he had a vendetta against your poor pussy. The salacious squelches accompanying his every movement had his wings unfolding from his back, hanging over you in a display that would be extremely intimidating, were you awake to behold it.
Initially, he hadn’t acknowledged the foreign sensation of tightness in his groin, or the lack of space he suddenly had in his pants. He hadn’t intended to, content to devour you until the sun made its unwelcome entrance and then abscond to his ivory tower in the clouds; reminisce over your taste until the next night, where he would do it all over again. And again. And again.
But then, you had done something unexpected, throwing a cog into the whirring gears of his typically ironclad will—now rendered more fragile than the creature that was caged in his very grip.
You moaned his name.
He genuinely hadn’t expected that, something he only dared to imagine in his most sacred of fantasies, to grace his unworthy ears. He groaned in response, fingers freezing inside you as his hips rutted against your bed as if he were a filthy, lowly animal. He released his grip on your legs to grasp at the covers beneath you, the audible sound of tearing resounding in the otherwise tense silence.
It feels good. Why does it feel good?
His pretty eyes were wide and frightened; he felt like his father would appear at this very moment, and ruthlessly strip him of his holiness right there and then.
For a moment, he could merely sit and process, before slowly removing his drenched fingers from your gummy wetness. Silent with newfound resolution, he arose from his prone position between your thighs, tugging your shorts over the rest of your legs and tossing them over his shoulder, a tingling sense of finality settling in his gut.
Your legs spread lewdly wide upon being freed from their fibrous prison, and he released a shaky exhale at the alluring sight as he forced his pants over the carved jut of his hips, finally freeing his painfully erect cock.
He didn’t want to ponder what the viscous fluid beading at the tip was, or why his balls were warm and tingling as if they wanted to expel something, he just wanted this feeling to go away—
And he had a good idea on how to do it, marveling at your pulsing slit as if it was ferocious beast that intended to devour him whole.
Oh, for some reason… he hoped it would.
His wings were trembling, elegant white feathers vibrating at indiscernible frequencies as he grabbed your thighs once more, wrapping them loosely around his lean waist with a tenderness betraying the unbridled ardor coursing through his ancient veins. He hadn’t a clue as to how any of this worked…
But, by his father’s name, he was going to find out.
Keigo gazed at your face with a disturbingly rapt focus, blown pupils allowing only slivers of that hauntingly luminescent gold to shine upon you, draping himself over you as if seeking to fuse your bodies together from groin to torso. Just the sensation of your puffy, fluttering lips hugging the underside of his twitching length had the remaining fragments of his rational thought bursting in a brilliant shower of glittering dust.
His plump cockhead poked at your small, drippy hole like it had an agenda of its own; a few teasing thrusts inward testing just how far your virtue would allow him to go before snapping like a rubber band. You whimpered plaintively, as if mourning the purity soon to depart from you forever, never to return.
Keigo purred sweetly against your grimacing lips, “We’ll be each other’s first. First and only.”
And without preamble, he thrust forward, your rhythmically pulsating walls beckoning him all the way to the gates of your womb in one shot. He was just sizable enough to be nearly too much for you, stretching you to your absolute limit and yet fitting as if you were custom made, just for him.
Perhaps you were. Perhaps every human was meticulously crafted for their chosen angel, compatible in every way, shape or form.
“Oh,” he breathed, eyes wide and jaw slack with perverse pleasure as you squeaked beneath him, squeezing him even tighter, if it were even possible. “Oh my Lord, please forgive me. It—it feels so good.” He trembled above you, biceps straining to keep himself aloft—to not crush you entirely with his deceptively fatal mass. Angels were a lot heavier than they looked.
It was a struggle even removing himself, to slide out of your sloppy, honeyed vice for even a moment. He felt like he would legitimately die if he were out of you for even a second. It felt so right, when he fucked back into you, your velvety folds inviting him back in like he had left for a millennia. You felt so right. Why did this feel so right?
He was going to lose his mind—over a human’s pussy, no less. Since when did he refer to female genitalia as that word? Where did he even learn it? It felt like you were literally sucking the sense out of him through his dick. Was this truly what mortals called pleasure? No wonder they were sinning all the damn time. It was fucking great.
No, an inherent part of his very being, crumbling with every forward thrust of his hips, cried out in protest. He had to stop soon; he must, because he wasn’t quite sure of what would become of him if he didn’t. This was sinning, wasn’t it? This was sinning.
Yes, he promised himself he would stop soon... Just — just a little bit longer couldn’t hurt any more than it already has…?
As if that were the most sensible idea he had in all of his eternal existence, he hissed in vulgar satisfaction, ramping up the speed of his thrusts by nearly tenfold. His head thumped heavily into the crook of your neck, as if the muscles in his neck ceased operating in order to reroute every drop of his energy into driving that divine cock in and out of you at maximum tempo. Your legs bounced steadily against his lower back due to the bone-rattling thrusts, forcing choppy little wheezes from your sleep-slackened mouth upon each impact.
Your hips gyrated in small, mindless movements, seemingly swept up in the tide of his lusty whims and overlapping layers of fabricated reality. As far as you were concerned, a hunky blonde was giving it to you good in a lush, secluded garden—embracing you like you were the only woman in the world. How ironic.
Wet, ruddy lips found themselves on your chest once more, suckling your swollen buds like they expected a milky treat—a pitiful huff when they denied him such an indulgence. He moaned helplessly into your soft tits, yearning very much so to squeeze the doughy mounds of fat but his hands were fused to your ass, driving you into his frenetic undulations with enough force to have your bedsprings shriek for mercy.
When Keigo felt the stirrings of something in his gut, deliciously slicked abdominals tensing as molten heat pooled low to simmer deep in his groin, his rapidly fading sanctity could only watch in horror as he willingly succumbed to feral instinct; something his supposedly superior nature had never once known before.
“I love you,” he whispered reverently, speech slurred due to the rapidly dwindling light of his sane mind, and raised a shaky hand to stroke your face like it was the fuel for his existence. In an essence, it was.
The dark, wispy voice from before was quite louder now, sitting at the forefront of his mind and dictating each of his actions henceforth. It exuded darkness like a black hole, tangible and thick like oily tar, dripping into every crease of his brain and down his spinal column, effortlessly merging with the cells in his golden bloodstream like the perfect virus. It told him to pull out, and flip you onto your stomach, for some reason.
So that Keigo did. His feathers ruffled and fluffed at the obscene squelch following his exit from your sorely abused cunt, drenched length slapping against his abdomen lewdly while he promptly rolled you to your front. Why he was doing this, he had no idea, but the guttural growl that crawled past clenched pearly whites at the sight indicated it was a good choice.
He hadn’t bothered to spend much more time admiring your presented form, hands latching onto your hips like handle bars and sliding home in a single, shuddering exhale. He tossed his head back, lost in the sensation of pulpy walls caressing his throbbing veins, of his tight balls smacking against your wet, voracious pussy.
What a spectacle he made: a holy creature, a literal symbol of faith and protection, humping away into an unconscious human with utterly profane intention. Perhaps if he weren’t so engrossed in the suctioning slickness that enveloped his turgid cock, he would notice the dimmed flickering of his oddly skewed halo, or the scarlet hue slowly bleeding into his formerly pristine feathers. A holy creature… not much longer.
That foreign feeling from before returned with a vengeance, spreading through his loins like a wildfire and gathering in his aching balls like a loaded gun. Inside, inside. Do it inside, the voice goaded with tempting silkiness, trailing over his shoulder now instead of in his head.
Do… do what inside?
You know. You know, it snarled into his ear. Don’t play coy.
Keigo shook his head vehemently, blonde strands falling from their immaculate placement to dust over tightly furrowed brows and scrunched eyes. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t.
Oh, but a sick, budding part of him did—wanting so dearly to plant his virile seed in your womb, to deliberately breed an abomination of your union, an amalgamation of your forbidden love. How perfect would that be? You would be so happy, he was sure of it.
That thought alone, of your belly swollen with his child, body sweetened and ripened from his semen, was what released the floodgates. An unholy torrent of sizzling cum climbs its way from his palpitating testes and up his dick, spewing out his dilated slit to collect in the mushy pocket of your cervix. His hips continued to mindlessly jackhammer through his first ever orgasm, raunchy smacks of skin on skin bouncing off the walls, eyes rolled back into the vacant emptiness of his skull as he could only endure the overwhelming sensation of emptying everything he had into your spongy cunt.
Too lost in his own euphoria, your groggy, bewildered gasp of surprise fell upon deaf ears as you were ruthlessly yanked from your slumber; your hopelessly confused, sleep addled brain experienced but a fractional moment of mind-melting, toe-curling rapture, before giving out entirely and succumbing to the reassuring embrace of your dreams once more, face falling flat on your pillows. You wouldn’t remember anything, but your body would. The sensation of an impossibly flawless cock soaked in its own creamy sperm, rutting into you languidly, would be forever tattooed onto your subconscious, tainting the peace of your day-to-day living forevermore.
The sound of a metallic clatter abruptly pulled Keigo from his pussy induced trance, blown-out pupils immediately shrinking to beastly pinpricks as they sought the source of intrusion, those terrifyingly large wings flared wide in threat and alarm.
The source of the noise was none other than his halo, dull and rusted, spinning in circles on your floor. Not on his head, where it kinda should be.
He deliberately blinked a few times, hunched and breathing heavily over your prone form, not quite understanding what he was seeing. It was then he caught sight of his wings in his peripheral, and his pounding heartbeat stuttered in its rhythm.
Before, his feathers were so white they almost seemed to exude an unearthly light. Now, they were red—so red they looked like they were stained by human blood, an aura of darkness exuding from them that almost seemed to repel light itself. It was an undeniable symbol of the transgression he had just committed.
He had sinned. Partaken in mortal flesh. Defiled what he was honorably tasked to preserve. And he enjoyed it—every bit of it.
Keigo wordlessly glanced out your open window and at the clouds littering the night sky, angry thunder rumbling far off in the distance. Of course he would be watching. Father was always watching. It was foolish to think he could ever pull a fast one over that crotchety old fuck, even if he was the fastest among his brothers and sisters—or former brothers and sisters, he should say.
He had fallen, it seems, but not in the traditional sense.
A soft, sleepy mewl brought Keigo’s attention back to female beneath him, blissfully dead to the world and the ex-heavenly entity still hilted within her.
His stony expression melted into a smile, just you in your entirety enough to abolish any worries plaguing him. So he fell. It didn’t matter—not anymore. Not when he had his reason for being curled up against him, attached to his lap like you were always meant to be.
He sighed softly, stroking your back with a sickeningly loving tenderness, content to deal with the repercussions of his actions later. Right now, nothing could possibly ruin this moment for him. He wouldn’t allow it.
Perhaps it would be wise to ease you into things, rather than thrusting it upon you all at once and risk short-circuiting your fragile mortal brain in the process. There was a delicate balance to these things, humans especially, and Keigo was nothing if not determined to make it work.
Yes, he decided, as sinewy arms slithered around your midsection and pulled you into his damp chest, rolling the two of you on your sides, carefully tucking his wings into his back all the while. He will make it work.
An odd sense of lethargy overcame him, a feeling that the immortal had not experienced before. Sleep was something he hadn’t required before, but now he found himself unable to resist the alluring spell blanketing his mind. Maybe he’d allow himself one last indulgence for the time being…
Hours later, warm morning rays roused you from what felt like a death-like sleep. You blinked blearily at your surroundings while sluggishly processing the lead weight feeling in your limbs. Why did you feel like you just ran three triathlons back to back?
Groaning like death itself had a hold of you, you weakly reached for your bedside table, smacking your dried lips together, wanting nothing more than a fat gulp of water in that moment.
Expecting to feel cool glass against your trembling digits, you were bewildered to find something decidedly softer in your grasp instead.
A single, crimson feather. Elegant yet suspiciously large, and utterly without flaw. Perhaps it was your morning brain playing tricks on you, but it almost seemed to… bend light around it?
“Huh… neat,” you shrugged simply, before setting it back on the table, not pondering it further in favor of throwing the covers from your body and hunting down the nearest faucet to shove your face under. God, you were thirsty.
Wait. Where were your pants?