Cock Of An Angel Pt 03

Hello, lovely people! I hope you enjoy part 3 of this exciting project, any feedback is much appreciated; good or bad, cool new ideas are always welcomed :)

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Azrael opened the door a few moments later, his brow furrowed in puzzlement at my frantic pounding.

"What's wrong?" His gaze instantly hardened as he took in my panicked expression.

"Did you see the markings above our door?" I nearly shouted, jabbing a trembling finger towards the corridor.

Surprise flashed across his chiseled features before an inscrutable mask slammed down. "Get inside. Now,"

he hissed urgently, grabbing my arm and swiftly pulling me over the threshold before slamming the door shut behind us.

"Azrael, what sick fuck would do that?" I demanded, raking my hands through my messy hair as dread congealed in the pit of my stomach.

"I did it," he replied, toneless.

I recoiled a step, brow knitting in disbelief. "What? Why would you deface our home with those...those symbols?"

Terror began squeezing my chest as his unfazed demeanor provided zero reassurance. "I came rushing home because I just witnessed a man die right before my eyes, struck by a car one second and then vanished the next! And now this pagan graffiti?"

Azrael reached out, gripping my hands as he gently guided me toward the couch. "One thing at a time, Mena. Breathe." He settled beside me, tenderly stroking my knee. "What you saw were protective sigils - very ancient Enochian wardings. Powerful deterrents against...undesirable trespassers."

He held my bewildered stare steadily. "I inscribed them a few days after moving in. In my own blood as the key anchoring component. Just a prudent precaution, in case any evil entities sensed my presence and decided to come slithering after me." A shadow seemed to briefly haunt his eyes before he blinked it away. "Which could potentially endanger you as well, by proximity. So, I took steps to safeguard us both, whether you were aware or not."

"But...why didn't you tell me?" I whispered, wrongfooted by this startling revelation.

One corner of his full mouth quirked in a rueful half-smile. "Why mention arcane defenses against threats you have no understanding of just to alarm you? I vowed to shield you from the dangers that lurk beyond your comprehension, Mena, as my solemn responsibility from the moment I entered your life."

I searched his striking features as if truly seeing him for the first time, struggling to reconcile my naive assumptions about his character. For so long, I'd casually dismissed him as an arrogant, vapid pretty boy - one who viewed human existence as a trivial pursuit beneath his lofty disdain.

I could sense the profound shift in Azrael as the weight of his words, his unfathomable existence, truly sank in. But the ancient being before me now emanated strata upon strata of metaphysical complexities I couldn't begin to unravel. For the first time, it struck me how appallingly one-dimensional my perception of him had been. I had blithely delighted in his roguish charm, his elegant mystique, without sparing a thought for the unfathomable vastness scorching his psyche.

The untold eons he'd traversed, the unspeakable horrors witnessed and archaic evils grappled with - these forged an inseparable part of his primordial essence, scars forever etched into his very cosmos-spanning existence. And yet I had selfishly chosen to view his supernatural nature as mere peculiar whimsy, a curiosity to be idly marveled at when the mood struck.

While he had endeavored to spare me from the eldritch underbelly of reality he patrolled, I had reciprocated with willful ignorance borne of my own mortal naivete and self-absorption. A profound shame welled within me that this eternal warrior had granted me better friendship and loyalty than I could ever repay, even as I remained obliviously mired in my grief and anger.

Azrael's gentle rumble pulled me from my reverie. "Now...tell me about this man you claim to have witnessed die."

I haltingly recounted the disturbing apparition, from the strangely anachronistic 'witness' to the brutal vehicular impact that had made me scream - only for the entire harrowing scene to abruptly unravel into nothingness an instant later. As the fragmented details tumbled forth, a nagging recollection reasserted itself.

"Wait...there was one other detail. He had a briefcase beside him on a chair. And I distinctly remember seeing two embroidered initials on it..." I scrambled for my phone, fumbling to pull up a search engine as the fuzzy threads began weaving together. A handful of fateful keywords later and there it was - the answer, splashed across my screen in crisp digitized text.

"Azrael...this is him. The man I saw." I passed him my phone, letting him scrutinize the archival news article with its quaint period photographs and typing.

"Famous screenwriter Garry Lewis was struck dead by an oncoming vehicle," he read aloud with a deepening sense of disquiet. "Witnesses claim he purposely stepped into the path of traffic after being visibly distraught upon reading about his former lover's recent engagement to another...actress Maya Stuart."

I raked my hands through my hair, struggling to reconcile the macabre delusion with reality as it began crystallizing in my mind's eye. "That's what I saw - him hunched over the newspaper at that café before wandering dazedly into rush hour traffic right in front of me! But...Azrael, this happened back in 1959! Over sixty years ago! How is that even possible?"

Azrael nodded solemnly as I recounted the harrowing vision. "I believe you may have witnessed what's known as a residual haunting," he explained, handing back my phone after studying the archival article. "Emotionally-charged events that were so traumatic, their energy became soaked into the surrounding environment, replaying in an ethereal loop across time."

"These imprints are typically harmless echoes," he continued. "But in rare cases, they can become supercharged by unknown factors and begin interfering with the living residents of that location - at which point they've mutated into a malignant haunting requiring...professional intervention."

I arched an inquisitive brow. "Let me guess, the kind of 'intervention' that lands on an exterminator's to-do list?"

The faintest of rueful smiles ghosted across Azrael's full lips. "Quite so."

His arms enfolded me in a warm, reassuring embrace. "For now, let's focus on finding answers for you. I may know of an... unconventional source to consult."

I leaned back, his arms still wrapped around me as I met his penetrating gaze. "What did you have in mind?"

"We must seek out the Archivist," Azrael replied, crisp certainty underlining his words. "An entity with incomparable insights into matters of this supernatural nature."

"And who - or what - exactly is the Archivist?" I asked, unable to mask my burgeoning intrigue.

Azrael's expression took on a weighty solemnity. "One of the eldest and most knowledgeable of my kin.

Beings like myself who have studied and chronicled the vagaries of existence across innumerable planes and epochs. If any can illuminate the roots of these uncanny events, it will be them."

He rested his hand on my cheek, holding my gaze steadily. "But for now..." Azrael growled as he scooped my body into his arms, "The only thing I want to explore is you."

I couldn't help but giggle as he carried us into the bedroom, cradling me tenderly before laying me down on the plush mattress. The room was dimly lit, shadows playing on the walls from the gentle breeze swaying the trees outside our window.

"Mena, I'm so sorry this is all happening to you," Azrael's voice came out in a rough whisper, laden with sorrow, as he brushed soft kisses across my flushed cheeks.

"But why me?" I asked, my voice quivering with a mix of confusion and despair.

"I don't know, but I promise we'll find the root cause and put an end to these tormenting sights."

I let out a soft, involuntary moan as his hands began their deliberate exploration of my body. His fingertips glided over my skin with the precision of an artist sketching each contour, tracing every curve and hollow as if he were charting undiscovered territories designed to awaken my deepest desires. Every touch sent shivers cascading through me, igniting sparks of anticipation and pleasure that danced along my nerves.

"There you go with that damned moan!" Azrael grunted playfully, his lips descending from mine to trail down my neck and further down. I arched my back in response to his skilled tongue swirling over my skin, igniting a fire within me.

As his mischievous tongue traced a path down my body, I could feel the beat of my heart racing in my chest. Every nerve was being hit as he neared my stomach, and when he reached my mound, my breath caught in my throat. With a devilish smirk, he paused just above my now throbbing center. Without warning, he spread my legs wider and dove in with an insatiable hunger, eagerly licking at my folds until I couldn't contain the loud moans escaping from my lips. My legs shook uncontrollably; the pleasure was almost painful in its intensity.

His name escaped my lips in a whisper, barely audible over the sound of our ragged breaths as he expertly flicked his tongue against my throbbing clit. The sensations were overwhelming, causing me to feel like I was having an out-of-body experience. A wicked smile played across his lips as he dove even deeper with his tongue, teasing and taunting my entrance. "Mena," he murmured, "you taste divine."

My hips bucked uncontrollably as I struggled to hold back my moans of pleasure. "Az," I gasped, "you're gonna make me cum so fast. You're so good at this."

Azrael chuckled, clearly amused by my vulnerable state. "I can't wait to hear you scream again as you cum in my mouth," he purred seductively, sending shivers down my spine.

My fingers gripped the sheets tightly, my body squirming in anticipation as I felt myself climbing toward climax. With each passing moment, the build-up became more intense, and I could feel myself on the edge of an explosion. When I finally reached the peak, a loud, primal scream escaped my throat, burning in its wake. Azrael's vigorous lapping at my folds only added to the intensity, driving me further into a state of bliss. As I rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through my body, I reached for his hair and pulled him away, my body unable to take any more stimulation. I lay there, completely spent, in a state of pure relaxation and contentment.

"You look positively gleeful, Mena," Azrael chuckled as he got up and wiped his chin with the back of his hand, still slick with my juices.

"Indeed, I am, Az. My throat may be sore now, but it was well worth it," I replied, still breathless from our passionate encounter.

Azrael's grin widened as he positioned himself between my thighs, teasing me with the tip of his cock against my swollen pussy lips. "But don't think it's over yet, baby girl," he whispered huskily. "Your wet cunt is begging for an angel's cock." A shiver ran down my spine at his words, igniting a fire within me that I knew only he could quench.

A sharp cry escaped my lips as Azrael's member plunged forcefully inside me, the initial sting almost bringing tears to my eyes. My body tensed as I adjusted to his size, feeling him fill every inch of me. He took a deep breath and began to move his hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"Mena," he breathed, "I'll never tire of fucking you. It always feels sublime."

I grunted with each thrust as his pace quickened, pushing deeper and harder with each movement. He leaned back and squinted his eyes in an intense show of pleasure. Our bodies were in perfect harmony, moving as one and reaching extra levels of ecstasy with each passing moment.

I had experienced passionate nights of fucking before, but nothing quite like this. The way Azrael's hands roam my body with a gentle, yet firm touch, sparking fire within me, igniting a deep desire and hunger, unlike anything I've felt before. Under his touch, I felt safe and desired, free to express myself in any way that I pleased. Every moan or sigh was met with equal fervor from him as if he were attuned to every nuance of my body's reactions. This wasn't just physical pleasure; it was an emotional connection that left me feeling completely open and vulnerable to the intensity of our lovemaking.

My body ached with longing as I begged, my voice raspy and desperate. "Az, please, cum in me," I pleaded.

He chuckled, his eyes dark and intense as he gazed down at me. "Mena, you are my undoing, my little fox."

With a growl, Azrael began to plow into me with an unyielding force, sweat beading on his forehead. My walls clenched around him, eager for his release.

"Yes, yes, fill me up, please," I screamed, squeezing him tightly with my thighs.

With a few last thrusts, he let out a guttural groan and shuddered as he pushed his addicting semen deep within me. Slowly, he withdrew from our intimate connection, leaving behind a trail of thick ribbons of his essence. It was like being filled with molten fire, a sensation both intense and euphoric.

As the last of his climax echoes subsided, he let his body collapse on top of mine, both of us panting and sweat-slicked. I ran my fingers through his hair as he nuzzled his head under my jaw, peppering kisses along my neck.

"I've never felt more at peace with the world," Azrael whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion as he gripped me tightly and spun us around in a dizzying embrace. As he looked into my eyes, he brushed away strands of damp hair from my face.

"All people feel that way when they reach climax," I chuckled softly, relishing the warmth radiating between our bodies.

"I assure you, Mena, what I feel about you is unlike anything I've ever experienced before. It fills me with a sense of purpose and protection I never knew I needed. Please do not take my devotion lightly, for it comes from the depths of my heart." His words stirred a flutter in my chest as if my heart were a delicate bird yearning to escape its confining cage. Overwhelmed with emotion, I couldn't find the words to respond, so instead, I lifted myself and pressed my lips gently against his. My tongue traced the outline of his lips, silently requesting entrance. With a soft sigh, he parted them, and I eagerly explored the contours of his mouth, savoring every taste and sensation. As our passion intensified, I let out a quiet moan, lost in this shared moment of desire. Eventually, I broke away to catch my breath, and I rested my head on his chest, feeling content and at peace in his arms.

*

Sleep eluded me, despite the warmth of Azrael's embrace. His chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of slumber, but my mind raced, plagued by phantoms of lurking horrors. Shadows seemed to writhe in the corners of the room, and every creak of the old apartment building sent shivers down my spine. Unable to bear the oppressive darkness any longer, I gently extricated myself from Azrael's arms and padded silently to the kitchen.

The cool tile against my bare feet grounded me as I reached for a crystal wine glass, the clink of it against the countertop unnaturally loud in the stillness of the night.

As my mind raced with thoughts of the recent terrifying events, I couldn't shake Azrael's words about his cum. Was it making me act differently? Was it changing me somehow? Perhaps I was a bit more relaxed and more expressive than usual, but nothing significant. But what if I couldn't tell? What if his cum was actually affecting me and I didn't realize it? Azrael never mentioned a specific time period for its effects, but it always seemed to wear off after we calmed down and rested. The uncertainty gnawed at me as I bit my lip, deep in thought.

Cradling the wineglass, I wandered into the living room. Moonlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors. My gaze drifted over the familiar landscape of my life, each object a testament to my journey through this world.

The bookcase held a parade of framed photographs - a gap-toothed grin from my first day of school, awkward teenage years immortalized in prom photos, and the last picture taken with my parents before their untimely passing. Their frozen smiles seemed to mock the tumultuous changes in my life since that moment.

Shelves lined the walls, a colorful mosaic of my travels and interests. Snow globes from various travels abroad sat in neat rows, tiny worlds waiting to be shaken into life. Intricately carved figurines from street markets in spur-of-the-moment treasure hunts in new bustling cities jostled for space with dog-eared paperbacks and academic tomes.

Yet amidst this tapestry of memories, Azrael's presence was a void. No childhood mementos, no nostalgic knick-knacks, not even a stray photograph. His few possessions - a handful of well-worn books and a sparse collection of clothes - seemed transient, ready to disappear at a moment's notice.

The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. Azrael, for all his otherworldly power and timeless knowledge, lacked the very experiences that shaped human identity. He had never navigated the treacherous waters of adolescence, never felt the bittersweet ache of first love, never grappled with the existential crises that forge adults from the raw clay of youth.

He simply... was. Eternal. Unchanging. Azrael.

My introspective moment is interrupted by Azrael's silent arrival, his presence both comforting and unsettling in its otherworldliness. The contrast between my racing thoughts and his eternal calm is palpable.

"Can't sleep?" Azrael's voice, still husky with sleep, breaks the silence. His eyes, usually sharp and all-seeing, squint against the harsh kitchen light, momentarily making him seem almost... human.

My startled yelp shatters the night's stillness, my hand reflexively clutching at my nightgown, betraying my constant tense state, my body clearly on edge, unused to these harrowing past events. Azrael's soft chuckle at my reaction only serves to underscore the vast gulf between our experiences.

As he settles beside me, his nearness both reassuring and disquieting, I find myself voicing the questions that have been swirling in my mind. "Were you a virgin?" The words tumble out, surprising even me with their directness.

Azrael's frown, a rare display of confusion on his usually composed features, prompts me to clarify. "Have you ever been with another human before?"

His response, delivered with a slight shake of his head, opens up new avenues of contemplation. "In my existence, yes, in this body, no." The distinction he draws between his eternal self and his current physical form is telling, a reminder of the complexities inherent in his nature.

"Why do you ask?" Azrael's question hangs in the air, laden with unspoken implications. It's an invitation to voice my deeper concerns, to explore the vast unknowns of your unique relationship.

At this moment, the kitchen feels like a liminal space, suspended between the familiar comfort of my human world and the unfathomable expanses of Azrael's existence.

"I was just curious," I murmured, a hint of shyness coloring my voice as I averted my gaze. "You seemed so... experienced."

Azrael's lips curved into a tender smile, his eyes twinkling with affection as he gently pulled my chair closer. The warmth of his body radiated against mine, a comforting presence in the cool night air.

"Across centuries, yes, I've shared intimate moments with humans," he said softly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of my hand. "My skills come from a lifetime...or rather, many lifetimes of loving and learning, during countless missions here on Earth."