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It’s six months since that day on Old Woman Butte, and every single day of that six months, Thomas Dagget tells himself that he faced Lucifer and (fell into temptation) won. He reminds himself of his victory in the morning as he shaves — looks straight into the mirror and sees a man whose faith is stronger than ever. At lunchtime, whenever that might be given his crazy cop schedule, Thomas prays over his food and thanks God for His loving presence and strength that night, (hates) thanks Him for being (silent) the bedrock of his convictions.
Thomas does these things every day, telling himself he finds comfort in the routine. His retreat to the habit of faith helps (him to pretend) to assure him of his supremacy over evil, if just for that one night, and he clings to that conceit with all his will.
He has to. It’s the only way he can make it through the nights.
Alone in the dark, lying on his twin bed, Thomas is vulnerable, because no matter how many times he tells himself he beat the devil, Lucifer’s face rises unbidden in memory. Thomas can still hear his low, seductive tones, can still feel the warm, solid body he was held against for far too (short a time) long. That’s when Thomas’s hand creeps down his belly and under the elastic waist of his cheap polyester pajamas, tugging at a (dick) penis that’s already half hard from memory alone.
Long, slow pulls on his (cock) penis lull Thomas into a sense of complacency as he tells himself once again that his faith in God was rewarded, that with God’s help, he beat back Lucifer. Over and over again, he replays that scene in his mind as his strokes get firmer and faster until —
Thomas yanks his hand out of his pajamas and curls up on his side, crying out in frustration. Masturbation is bad enough — a waste of life, when it comes right down to it — but masturbating with Lucifer’s name hovering on his lips? It’s an abomination that can’t be permitted.
Night after night, Thomas goes through this fruitless exercise, and night after night, he stops himself just before (coming) orgasm can sweep his mind and will away from him.
He doesn’t remain in the fetal position for long; it’s too tempting to add just that little bit of extra pressure that will allow his release. Instead, he forces himself onto his back and lies there for an hour, quoting bits of the Bible to himself as he waits for his erection to subside.
It’s six months since that night on the butte, and Thomas is slowly driving himself mad. He knows this, yet he can’t bring himself to alter his routine. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s convinced, all evidence to the contrary, that God is aware of his problem and will save him before it’s too late. For six months, Thomas clings to that (bitter) sweet hope of salvation, day after day, night after night.
Another day, another night, and then Thomas has his hand in his pants again. This night, however, is different from the others. He’s stroking hard, and just as he realizes how close to the edge he is, another hand, strong and hot, clamps down, covering Thomas’s hand with a hard grip and doesn’t allow Thomas to release his (dick) penis.
He looks up and whimpers when he sees the face above him. “Let me go.”
“Why?” Lucifer looks genuinely curious. “You clearly want to this. Your body is crying out for release.”
“It’s wrong,” he answers, trying to ignore the small surge of gratitude he feels at not being permitted to stop.
“You know better than that. You know perfectly well that God doesn’t care one way or the other whether you, a monkey who has forsaken the priesthood, spills his seed on barren ground.” Lucifer tightens his hold on Thomas’s hand, and in doing so, he adds just enough pressure to send Thomas over the edge and into the little death.
Once, twice, three times Thomas spasms, his (jism) semen spurting out onto his belly. Dear God it feels good not to deny himself this (pleasure) sin, but oh what a sin it is with such a beautiful face urging him on. Even so, Lucifer is the Prince of Lies, and Thomas tries desperately to remind himself of this even as Lucifer drags a long, elegant finger through Thomas’s seed and lifts it as an offering.
When Thomas pinches his lips together and tries to pull back, Lucifer lifts his finger to his own mouth. His tongue, delicate and pink despite all the lies he’s told, emerges for a small sample.
Lucifer smiles. “You taste bitter, monkey, much like your dreams, I would imagine.”
Staring in horror, Thomas finally thinks to ask, “Why are you here?”
“How could I resist? You’ve been wooing me night after night, showing me what you want as you call out to me.” With a slow swirl of his tongue, Lucifer licks his finger clean. “I’m the answer to your prayers.”
“No —”
“Yes.” Lucifer leans down abruptly, and he kisses Thomas with a brutality unmatched by anything Thomas has seen on the police force. There’s nothing tame or gentle or loving about this kiss. Lucifer takes what he wants, and right now, he wants Thomas to bend to his will. Fingers turn to claws and rake down Thomas’s chest and belly, stopping when they reach the pajamas. With a single tug, the cloth is rent and falls away, leaving Thomas’s (penis) cock vulnerable to Lucifer’s marauding grip.
“Please, no —” Thomas tries to pull away, but he may as well deny his own existence for all the good it does him.
“You’re mine.” With a single pull, Lucifer makes Thomas hard again, and it’s almost as if he hadn’t — “You have been since you were a little monkey, when I used to whisper to you in the dark.” — (reached orgasm) come not three minutes earlier. One more pull, and Thomas comes again, unwillingly and painfully. Lucifer catches all of the (ejaculate) spunk this time, and he shows Thomas the white mess cupped in his hand.
When Lucifer dips two fingers into the sticky fluid, Thomas looks away, shamed by such blatant evidence of his weakness.
“I’m going to be nice to you tonight, monkey,” he says, pushing and twisting two semen-coated fingers into Thomas and ignoring his cry of pain. “If you learn quickly, I might be inclined to be nice all the time.” Lucifer removes his fingers that (felt good so good) hurt so much and reaches down to coat his own cock. Thomas takes a moment to wonder that he hadn’t noticed Lucifer was nude to begin with, and then that thought is lost as he tries to make sense of what he sees.
Satan’s (penis) prick is set just a little too far forward and high up. It’s not that Thomas has seen all that many nude men, but he’s seen enough to know that something isn’t right. After a moment, he remembers that (devils) angels are fully developed hermaphrodites. Lucifer doesn’t have breasts, but Thomas can see the potential is there.
By the time Thomas looks into his face again, Lucifer has covered his cock with a thin coat of (semen) jizz. “And if you’re a very, very good monkey, perhaps one day, I’ll let you see what it’s like to fuck an angel. Right now, though, I have a message for you from God.”
Lucifer rolls Thomas onto his belly as if he weighs little more than a baby. He’s arranged so that he’s resting on his forearms and knees, but he hasn’t got it quite right, because Lucifer pulls on his hips so that Thomas’s ass is just a little bit higher. That first thrust is (so damn good) painful. This fucking is meant to punish, and as Lucifer sets a hard and fast rhythm, Thomas cries out.
Later, when Lucifer finally leaves, Thomas wonders if maybe he has a point about being an answer to his prayers.
Too bad it’s not the answer Thomas has hoped for these last six months.