His face contorted by rage and cruelty, he attacked the cowering, snivelling snitch again, beating him mercilessly and finally flinging acid in his face, before throwing him into the back of the van, oblivious to his screams.
Once in the passenger seat, he turned to the driver to tell him where they were to go, but his mouth dropped open in shock, because the bloke in the driving seat was not who he had been expecting at all.
Instead of the skinny, pasty-faced kid was a very different figure, bearded and with long hair and dressed in a long, black robe, much like a priest’s. Any resemblance to a priest stopped right there, though, because this figure radiated evil and malice to an extent that took even him aback. He felt himself shuddering.
The figure turned to him and smiled a terrible smile. A bony finger, the nail pointed like a claw and varnished black extended and caught him under the chin, turning his head up. He wanted to pull it away, but was powerless to move.
“Little Jason Locke. You were always such a promising pupil, right from infancy. I always know that you would come to me sooner, rather than later. That shirt you are wearing is a sin in itself.”
He couldn’t move, but his cocky bravado found a voice.
“Who the fuck might you be? Where’s the kid?”
“He’s languishing in prison, Jason, but unlike you, he’s alive. Also unlike you, he’s not mine yet. It could go either way with him.”
“What do you mean, ‘alive’? I’m alive.”
The figure laughed nastily, “Sadly for you, but delightfully for me, that’s not so.”
There was a shimmer in the air and Jason found himself naked on a narrow bed, smooth, cold skin under his fingertips, his head spinning and his stomach lurching. He somehow rolled off the dead thing, which had once been a warm, desirable, living female and staggered into the living room, sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor, his back against a glass-fronted cabinet.
He was dull, confused, but had a sense that something horrible had happened. A dark shadow fell over him and he forced himself to look up and try to focus.
There he was again, the mocking bastard in the black robe.
“Jason, I am proud of you. Rape and murder. You certainly lived up to that early promise.”
Day after day he had found himself repeating every crime he’d committed in his pathetic life. He relived every mean act of childhood, every act of torture towards animals and humans, every vicious robbery. He had always enjoyed the power that surged through him, when his fist connected with soft tissue and bone, or when he forced his rigid flesh into some unwilling woman or, in his prison time, man. He wasn’t a poof, of course and there had always been plenty of willing females ready to drop their knickers for Jason Locke, but easy conquests never carried the charge that exerting his will against resisting flesh, with that wonderful smell of fear in his nostrils, had given him. It had made him feel invincible, immortal even.
Now, though, he’d had enough of it all. He had finally come to accept that he was dead, even been shown his earthly body, face shattered by a shotgun blast. He had experienced the bitter taste of betrayal by that bitch he had always believed would come running back to him, no matter how badly he treated her. He couldn’t believe that he’d lost and she had actually won.
He had come to dread the repetitions, hour after hour, day after day and that figure in black always hovering over him like a giant black crow, enjoying the show. Lately, he had tried not to commit those acts, but it was no use, he had been compelled to repeat them over and over.
Finally, when his own personal Groundhog Day had brought him to his worst acts again, he had rebelled and raged at his tormentor.
“No, no. I won’t do it. I am going fucking mad here.”
“My, my, Jason. Are you confessing to me that you finally see the error of your ways?”
How he wanted to smash that face, but when he raised his fist, the other man caught his wrist and snapped it with a casual flick, leaving him writhing in pain on the ground.
“Jason, I thought you enjoyed pain. Of course, it was always the pain of others. Now if I choose, I can break every bone in your body, one by one, without even touching you. Then I can heal it all ….” Jason’s broken wrist was instantly mended again…” and do it all over again.”
“Who are you? What do you want from me?”
“Now you’re whining. You know who I am and as for what I want, whatever I want, I get. You should appreciate that. It was always your ambition.”
“I get it, I get it. I was sent here to learn my lesson. Well I have learnt it. Now please, make this stop.”
“What will you give me to make it stop?”
“Whatever you want.”
The air shimmered again and they were in a bare room lit only by a guttering candle on a small table. The only other furniture was an old four-poster bed. Jason found himself naked and kneeling at the feet of his nemesis.
“What I want right now is your total submission.”
“Jason Locke don’t suck cock or take it up the arse,” he snarled, attempting to keep up the bravado.
“But he will,” said the other voice and the black figure appeared to get bigger and somehow he got the impression of something horned and terrible. The robe parted and a huge, purple member protruded at his eye level, also seeming to swell.
Jason whimpered a little, but he couldn’t face the thought of repeating his sins again and the prospect of having his bones broken over and over dismayed him. Now the fear that he could smell was his own and although he didn’t eat or drink in this place, to his mortification, a thin, hot stream of urine trickled down his leg. When the clawed hand seized his hair and pushed his head down, he took in the cock, panicking, when it almost choked him in his inexperience.
Tears ran down his face as the bulbous head struck the back of his throat, making him gag and struggle for breath. The relentless fucking of his mouth continued until a surge of scalding molten lava surged from the cock and he screamed in agony as it gushed into his gullet.
Moments later, he had recovered, just as his broken wrist had mended and he was being picked up effortlessly from the floor and thrown face down on the bed. He was spread out, his wrists and ankles chained to the four bedposts. The other man had clearly recovered too and he felt the hard, hot, throbbing cock pressing against his cleft, while the black nails raked down his back. He screamed again as the cock was rammed into him and he felt the tearing of his own flesh, but he was given no mercy.
He tried to will himself to lose consciousness, but he could not and had to bear every agonising thrust, until the final, white-hot explosion really did make him black out.
When he came to, he was still tied to the bed, but lying on his back now. Another man was lying beside him and he shivered at first, when he realized that it was the man in black, having discarded his robe and now looking like a normal, even beautiful, naked man and no longer the monster he had glimpsed moments ago. The hands were gentle as they caressed him and the man leaned over and kissed him deeply. In spite of his earlier horror, he found himself responding. He felt as if he had passed some kind of test and began to relax.
“Please tell me who you are.”
“I have many names, but some call me Lucifer, Bearer of Light. Now I need you to come for me, Jason.”
Lucifer continued to move over his body, kissing, caressing, nibbling and licking, rolling his balls and making his body arch. He was still afraid, but his body suffused with pleasure, he gladly bucked into the strong hand and finally came as instructed, with a hoarse cry.
The air shimmered again and he heard unearthly laughter as he found himself back in the garish shirt, cosh in hand and Lucifer back in his black robes, smiling at him and giving him an encouraging push forward.
“But you said if I submitted this would all stop.”
“No, I asked you what you would give me to make it stop. There was no corresponding agreement, but your submission gave me a pleasant interlude.”
Jason howled in despair,
“No, please, you can’t do this to me. I’ve suffered enough.”
“That is not your decision to make. You are condemned to repeat your sins for eternity. There will be no time off for good behaviour, because there will be no good behaviour. Delicious irony, isn’t it?”
Summary: “Men are not punished for their sins, but by them”
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Crossovers Pairing: Jason Locke/Lucifer
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1564 Read: 789
Published: 27 Jun 2010 Updated: 27 Jun 2010