What, you were expecting flowers?
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
the Bible
God/the devil
Rating: adult
God and the devil do it again.
Sequel to God and the devil take a night off
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I still wouldn't be able to say who does. No insult to any religion intended.
Please do not archive this story without asking me first. It's more than likely that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.
Warnings: Very strange. It's definitely another PWP. Read only if you think you're up to it. I really stayed up too late last night.
Notes: Betaed by Greg and Mareen, both darlings, who didn't suggest any changes, something that really puzzles me, but I trust them. Thanks from my heart to them both.
This is for Lizz, who's really sweet and needed a story to cheer her up last night (9/9/2000). It was written to the music of Blue Oyster Cult, "Joan Crawford" and "Burning for you," repeated a few times (three, I think), in case anyone's interested in my influences.
I'm pretty sure I took the last line from John Milton's "Paradise Lost".
*****
*Not long now.*
The thought comes over him with unexpected heat. He frowns at himself, even though nothing shows. How can it? He's pure vapor, gaseous, an entity merging with that in which he exists.
And he knows what he wants. All he has to do...is go and get it. But that's admitting...defeat? No. He doesn't lose, not to *him.* Never to him.
Hell, always to him. Why not be honest? Won't kill him, nothing can do that. Immortality is such a bitch sometimes, but not tonight (if this is night, it can be anything).
He lets himself form into something more interesting. Hmm. Now, where? The same place? No, not that tonight.
He can smile now, and does, sending out the call.
Let him wonder why he's giving in this time. Let him think he's won.
Because what is winning, anyway? To his mind, it's getting what you want.
So both of them are going to win. Again.
*****
He (fine, not really male, but if you're going to get that technical, go away and find yourself a nice book) comes out of the meditative trance on the nature of being that he so often goes into these days (days? Oh, don't get me started on that one, either), and finds himself taking on human form.
So he knows right away what the hell (good one) is going on.
So short a time. He never was any damned good at waiting. And...oh, interesting. Nothing more. Guessing games? Fine. He knows *everything*, hell, he created it, even the being who's thinking that his summons is enough to get him to come running.
Oh, he'll come, but when he's ready.
But he's ready now.
And, with that, he starts toward the place he knows it has to be. The place it always is when neither of them says (but no one ever really speaks there) where they're meeting.
The void.
*****
This time, no bar, no smoke, no leather, even. Just a long-haired bearded figure of a man sitting on...nothing, of course.
"No games this time."
"Nice to see you, too," god says dryly, taking the spot by him. "You just don't get enough."
"No one made you show for this one." The glance is mocking, and very knowing. "What, should I have waited for you to summon me to an audience? Did you want to fuck in front of all those prissy, fucked-up angels you're just so very fond of? Or did you want the monkeys to watch and jerk off?"
"Humans."
"Monkeys." The devil's eyes are laughing. "We both know what they are, but I'm the only one who has the guts to say it out loud."
"And you said no games." God's voice is thoughtful, but yes, interested. "This sounds like a game to me."
"No belt. That does limit your options." Taunting, knowing, evil. Like always.
"You want it?" A thick, worn leather belt hangs in the air between them. "If that's what gets you off, fine."
"No." And the belt is gone. "I want you to stop your stupid games. The 'I'm better than this' game. The 'this is about the rebellion' game. Even," voice dropping low, "the 'I don't want this' game."
God stares.
"You're not fooling me, oh mighty one. You want this. You want *me.* So say it. Say you want the evil you threw out of heaven. Say it, and you can have it."
"I can have whatever I want."
And there's a...sound? Could be, could be something else entirely. And the devil's pinned to nothing, wearing nothing, screaming as god's cock shoves into him, no lube, but that's easily fixed, but no, neither of them cares, and god fucks the devil, yes, fucks him until they both come, until they each come.
And the devil, broken (lucky it's not a body he's going to have to keep around and find out how long it takes to heal), bleeding, almost unrecognizable (and how that happened god has no idea), is laughing.
"Welcome to your own personal hell, god. Good thing you know the way out. But come around any time." A long pause. "I'll be waiting."
And god is alone.
His own hell. Oh, yes.
Where he admits he's just like the devil, after all.
He knows how to leave but doesn't. It's going to take a minute or two, an eon or three, to get over this...defeat.
*****
The devil's still laughing as he rises. Goes to the place god usually sits, but doesn't, just hovers there, looks over the angels (haven't gotten any less prissy), then decides the hell with it and heads back down.
Why would he want that job, anyway? Even though it's there for the taking now, if he just grabs and holds on. God's going to be brooding over his loss of control for long enough.
Look what it's done to god. No, thank you.
Still better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
The End
Posted 9/10/00
To the next story, Hell's a fun place to visit on a good day...
