(no subject)

[lordofthesouth.livejournal.com]

Date: March 27, 2001
Location: Earth
Status: Belial [Complete]
Summary: Belial has a long overdue encounter.



Belial dips his fingers into his whiskey and licks them clean while he contemplates the intense way the demon at the other end of the bar is staring at him. It would be a liability to let the poor creature go; after all, even Belial himself would risk confronting a bounty rather than incur the wrath of Lucifer. And, surely as not, the greasy little bastard would run and tattle as soon as Belial took his attention away long enough.

He flicked his eyes towards the pub's back door, and gives the other demon (rather short, not atrocious looking, but lacking in grooming apparently) a smile that cannot ooze anything but sex. He feels his lips purse just right, and the other demon jerks off of his seat disjointedly, a marionette under his will, and follows him into the alley. No one pays attention as they go; these things happen.

It is an animal that has been reborn in Belial, now, not as bleak hopelessness, but a vicious killer who does what it must. His fingers ply the clothing of this one, and he can feel unholy flesh quivering fearfully, submitting. Blond hair leaves damp trails of sweat and oil across his neck, frightened and awed. He pushes a finger into this grovelling creature's mouth, and smiles when it is accepted compliantly.

He does not think of Gabriel at this moment--when he thinks of Gabriel, he is often alone with his own hands--when he rips the demon's tongue out and flings it against the brick wall. It sticks, still writhing, and hisses acidly as it slides to the ground. Belial pushes the demon up against the closed door of the pub and presses their mouths together.

With a wet cough, Belial lets the shell drop with a meaty thud to the littered concrete. The soul crumbles from his lips, tasting of dust and death, and he pulls the darkness back around him like a cloak.