Prepare the Way
Jul. 31st, 2010 03:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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wordsontongueTitle: Prepare the Way
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
koulagirl666
Pairing: Lucifer/John Ryder
Rating: R 18+
Warnings: BDSM, religious themes
Beta:j_ryder446
Prompt(s): #8: incongruous
Disclaimer: characters aren't mine and i make no money from borrowing them.
Author's Note: The Prophecy / The Hitcher crossover. I have a migraine.
He knows this one is his, even before his soul reaches Judgment. The souls on his conscience make sure of that, though the intense determination to get himself killed before his time is a grievous enough sin in itself. Such untouched souls are rare; it's disgustingly normal for them to be tainted by some kind of faithful repression, as if anyone could believe Christ wanted them to kill after that show. It's the tendency of men to justify themselves in unreason and deny their part in their own actions; this one accepts it, never hid behind a church or a war, and that's why he's so special.
Lucifer sees him coming before the final spree; these last fifteen souls are meaningless in the scheme of forever, although some are particularly memorable. He saves enjoying them for another time, when the prospect of new souls is thinning, in favour of preparing for his new toy. Things must be absolutely ready before he arrives; the bedchamber needs to be warmed and the dungeon cleared and prepared.
He hums quietly as he lays out his favourite implements - the diamond cat, the steel fillet knife, the electric cock ring - and chooses restraints. It's calming to imagine using each one, to wonder how it will feel, how he will react; and soon he's hard, torn between what he wants to savour and what to do first. The wait is agonising; only hours on Earth and here it feels like days only because he needs it so much. He wants to see those green eyes darken with pain and lust and hear that cocky voice hoarse with screams that don't echo; he wants to see blood spray on the ice-white walls and taste it mixed with semen and sweat. He wants to make this one feel before time makes him like all the others - vague shadows of themselves, uncatchable and untormentable, fleeting and ghostlike in the flurries and storms of winter.
He slides a leather band down his cock and settles it around his balls; he slips off his robes and tightens the harness around his chest. Soon, the wait will be over, and he must be ready.
Author:
koulagirl666Pairing: Lucifer/John Ryder
Rating: R 18+
Warnings: BDSM, religious themes
Beta:
j_ryder446Prompt(s): #8: incongruous
Disclaimer: characters aren't mine and i make no money from borrowing them.
Author's Note: The Prophecy / The Hitcher crossover. I have a migraine.
He knows this one is his, even before his soul reaches Judgment. The souls on his conscience make sure of that, though the intense determination to get himself killed before his time is a grievous enough sin in itself. Such untouched souls are rare; it's disgustingly normal for them to be tainted by some kind of faithful repression, as if anyone could believe Christ wanted them to kill after that show. It's the tendency of men to justify themselves in unreason and deny their part in their own actions; this one accepts it, never hid behind a church or a war, and that's why he's so special.
Lucifer sees him coming before the final spree; these last fifteen souls are meaningless in the scheme of forever, although some are particularly memorable. He saves enjoying them for another time, when the prospect of new souls is thinning, in favour of preparing for his new toy. Things must be absolutely ready before he arrives; the bedchamber needs to be warmed and the dungeon cleared and prepared.
He hums quietly as he lays out his favourite implements - the diamond cat, the steel fillet knife, the electric cock ring - and chooses restraints. It's calming to imagine using each one, to wonder how it will feel, how he will react; and soon he's hard, torn between what he wants to savour and what to do first. The wait is agonising; only hours on Earth and here it feels like days only because he needs it so much. He wants to see those green eyes darken with pain and lust and hear that cocky voice hoarse with screams that don't echo; he wants to see blood spray on the ice-white walls and taste it mixed with semen and sweat. He wants to make this one feel before time makes him like all the others - vague shadows of themselves, uncatchable and untormentable, fleeting and ghostlike in the flurries and storms of winter.
He slides a leather band down his cock and settles it around his balls; he slips off his robes and tightens the harness around his chest. Soon, the wait will be over, and he must be ready.
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