[ What he expected was to feel irritation, indignation, in response to whatever gloating, teasing words he knew Belial would send his way— what Sandalphon doesn't expect is the way his legs clench and his thighs press tight together on instinct when Belial tells him he's such a slut, the way his soft laugh and the touch of his fingers across his back send shivers down his spine. Sandalphon doesn't punch Belial in the jaw, but he does kick him on the shin, almost on instinct, to send across the same message, and he turns his head to face away from Belial and hide the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip. ]
I see you have enough modesty and self awareness to admit to at least some of your own shortcomings. [ He snaps back, fighting off the memory of Belial eyeing him up like a piece of meat, cooing poisonously, perversely sweet words over his body, calling him an eager little thing and such a good little cockslut with heavy breaths in between thrusts, how his most demeaning, coarse words felt like glowing praise, fighting off the way just remembering these words makes his heart beat, but not in the way that it should. Fighting off the memory of how every word from Belial's mouth felt holy, how it felt to be under Belial's control, the bizzare, foreign, unnatural feelings of slavish adoration he felt for this despicable, treacherous creature.
It's mortifying to think about now. Mortifying, humiliating, disgusting. The idea of thinking in such terms of anyone but Lucifer— and he wants to think of Lucifer right now even less, of how he's betrayed him and his memory in this way, let alone how this act has disgraced his title and position. And yet, when he remembers how intoxicated he was on the feeling, how freeing it was to let loose and forget everything but Belial, how he's felt calmer and more relaxed within these few hours than he's had in a long, long, long time...
... He needs to get away from here. Away from Belial. Now. He's gotten what he came here for, and that's all there is to it. Just a one time thing, to stave off his own frustration. ]
Anyway, don't hold your breath. [ Sandalphon sits up, looking around for his clothes, and slips off the bed as he spots them, trying not to be too self-conscious about his nakedness as he begins to gather them up from where Belial put them. ]
no subject
I see you have enough modesty and self awareness to admit to at least some of your own shortcomings. [ He snaps back, fighting off the memory of Belial eyeing him up like a piece of meat, cooing poisonously, perversely sweet words over his body, calling him an eager little thing and such a good little cockslut with heavy breaths in between thrusts, how his most demeaning, coarse words felt like glowing praise, fighting off the way just remembering these words makes his heart beat, but not in the way that it should. Fighting off the memory of how every word from Belial's mouth felt holy, how it felt to be under Belial's control, the bizzare, foreign, unnatural feelings of slavish adoration he felt for this despicable, treacherous creature.
It's mortifying to think about now. Mortifying, humiliating, disgusting. The idea of thinking in such terms of anyone but Lucifer— and he wants to think of Lucifer right now even less, of how he's betrayed him and his memory in this way, let alone how this act has disgraced his title and position. And yet, when he remembers how intoxicated he was on the feeling, how freeing it was to let loose and forget everything but Belial, how he's felt calmer and more relaxed within these few hours than he's had in a long, long, long time...
... He needs to get away from here. Away from Belial. Now. He's gotten what he came here for, and that's all there is to it. Just a one time thing, to stave off his own frustration. ]
Anyway, don't hold your breath. [ Sandalphon sits up, looking around for his clothes, and slips off the bed as he spots them, trying not to be too self-conscious about his nakedness as he begins to gather them up from where Belial put them. ]