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Keith's garage isn't very big. Of course, neither is the house. But he made the garage himself, and he's pretty proud of it, having something he built with his own two hands. It fits his motorcycle and a freezer, and it suits his needs. He hangs up his helmet, shakes out his glossy black hair, and heads into the house.
The day job kept him busy today, even having to speak directly to three entire customers at the shop. He's tired, and he's hungry, but the busy day has also left him deeply satisfied. He can probably even manage to sustain himself on pizza until tomorrow.
First, though, he's desperate for a shower.
He takes a few minutes to just luxuriate under the near-scalding water. The heat's never bothered him, and, ultimately, he thinks it's a gloriously sensual experience. Once showers became widely used, he indulged as often as he got the chance, and, as they're wont to do, the humans just keep making them better and fancier. The one Keith has now lets him change all sorts of settings, and even has two showerheads. He delights in it. The humans have been so innovative.
When he's done, Keith pulls on a pair of soft pants, and decides that's quite enough clothes and makes his way to the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water from the fridge—straight from the fridge, another human delight—and turns to lean against the counter.
The glass doesn't make it to Keith's lips. There's a bright flash of light from the living room, which dims to a soft glow before a tall, white-haired man, muscular and handsome even with a scar across his nose, strides with purpose into the kitchen. One of his arms is brilliant and shining silver, to match the scale armour skirt he's wearing over a loincloth. His chest, arms, and feet and most of his legs—all perfectly-formed, save for a patchwork of scars—are all absolutely bare. He is a very fine specimen of a man.
There's a faint halo over his head, and huge, shining white wings on his back.
"Oh," says Keith, setting the glass down, "hey."
The angel lifts his chin and looks haughtily down at Keith without saying anything.
"Can I help you?" says Keith.
"I am Shiro, servant of God," the angel replies, his expression so very stern and serious. "I have been tasked with your apprehension, so that you can be tried and judged in Heaven for your crimes."
Keith bites the inside of his cheek. Oh, this is adorable. Shiro is gorgeous, and his presence fills the room, even with his wings folded behind his back. Keith is relatively sure he could take him, maybe even in a fight. He's also eager to see how this plays out.
"Yeah?" he says. "That all sounds very serious. Can I get you something to drink, instead?"
Shiro frowns. He steps forward, shoves the entire table aside—to be fair, it's not a particularly big table—and bears down on Keith. For his part, Keith stands his ground, keeping his stance relaxed and his expression carefully neutral, even when Shiro comes to a stop mere inches in front of him.
Even when Shiro procures honest-to-God manacles. He watches on, unbothered, as Shiro grabs one of his wrists. It's not terribly surprising that he can wrap his fingers almost all the way around Keith's wrist. The size difference between them is striking. Frankly, Keith likes it. And then Shiro slaps one of the manacles around Keith's wrist.
Keith looks at the cuff. He looks at Shiro. He promptly bursts out laughing.
Shiro frowns, adorably unamused by this reaction. "This is not a joke, incubus," he says sternly, his voice ringing with authority. He does, indeed, know exactly what Keith is. "Your kind preys upon the innocent, feeding off of their... energy. It cannot be allowed to continue, and you must face judgement for your transgressions." He quickly fastens the other half of the manacles to Keith's other wrist. He leans in close, and says, "My power is beyond yours. You know that. Don't resist—there can be no delay."
"C'mon, big guy," Keith says, his voice a throaty purr, "this is a waste of everybody's time, and you know it. Sure, I'm an incubus, but I pay taxes. I'm a homeowner, I'm gainfully employed, I volunteer at the soup kitchen. The last time I killed a human while feeding was—" he frowns in thought, "I think it's been seventy years."
"Even if what you say is true—and I highly doubt it is—your current actions can't erase what you did in the past. You took souls that rightfully belonged to God, and your mere presence here is corrupting, a threat to the well-being of everyone around you." He reaches up to brush his hair out of his face. The gesture is surprisingly tender, intimate. His fingers slide down Keith's face, and he brushes his thumb lightly over Keith's lower lip.
His eyes are very dark.
"I've been tasked with upholding the Divine Law," he says, and Keith can hear the Capital Letters in the way he speaks. "Punishing you is my duty."
Keith smirks. "Is that a promise, big guy?" he asks, licking Shiro's thumb.
Surprise flashes in Shiro's eyes, and maybe Keith imagines there's a spark of excitement there. For a moment, Shiro is silent, probably taken aback, then something frosty falls over his face, his expression hardening. He pulls his hand away. "My purpose is to bring you to justice, not indulge in your wickedness and temptations," he declares.
Keith can't stop smirking. There's a charge in the air now, a tension, and he can almost taste Shiro's desire for him. He takes a tiny step closer, and Shiro doesn't back down, doesn't even blink, and Keith likes that. Likes taking a moment, in the crackling silence between them, to indulge himself in just looking up into Shiro's gorgeous face.
"Wickedness? Temptations?" he echoes. "You make me sound so naughty."
He can see a little muscle in Shiro's jaw twitch at those words, and he can't help himself: he leans up and drags his tongue along that lovely jawline. For a moment Shiro was utterly frozen, standing very still in shock, so Keith nips at his jaw, too.
That gets Shiro moving. He yanks on the chain between the manacles, dragging Keith to the table. "You seem eager to be punished early," Shiro says. He bends Keith over the table.
Keith has to stifle a laugh. And then he has to stifle a happy sigh as Shiro yanks down his pants, and he wriggles to get his hands out from where they're dangling awkwardly between his own body and the table while Shiro's busy. He manages to get his hands under his chest, instead, and braces himself on his forearms, and he waits.
Soon, a big, warm hand presses down on his lower back. "We shall begin with the simplest punishment for a sinner such as you: a thorough scourging," Shiro says.
Keith hums. "Threatening me with a good time," he says, wiggling his hips at Shiro. "C'mon, give me everything you've got. Show me how naughty I've been."
From above and behind him, he can hear Shiro let out an actual, undeniable growl. It's really fucking sexy. And Keith finds himself stifling another noise—this time a moan—when Shiro's other hand comes down on Keith's ass in a stinging blow that's shockingly loud in the small kitchen.
"Silence," Shiro commands sharply. His hand comes down again. "This is punishment, demon. Insolence yields pain. This is what happens when you defy the natural order."
Keith would argue that 'incubus feeds on humans' is, actually, the natural order, but he's too busy enjoying being spanked by an angel.
The fingers of the hand pushing down on Keith's lower back splay out, then that hand slides up, between Keith's shoulder blades, then tangle in his hair, pulling his head back. "Do you feel it, Keith?" Shiro says, his voice rough. Keith quirks a brow—he hadn't introduced himself properly, but he decides not to call Shiro out on that. "This is the touch of righteous fury," the angel continues, "and it's only the beginning of your torment."
More of those open-handed, firm smacks, and Keith moans shamelessly, squirming with every blow. "Ah—fuck—fuck, c'mon, is this your best? Punish me harder, angel. I'm a wicked monster. I've been so—" he draws out that syllable way longer than necessary, "bad."
Shiro keeps the intensity steady, but the pace of the spanking increases, every impact sending delicious shockwaves up Keith's spine, down his legs, and straight to his cock.
"You crave more, do you?" Shiro says, archly. "Then beg for it. Go on. Show me the depths of your depravity. Show me all of your corruption laid bare."
And he stops. He actually stops, the bastard, and he grabs hold of Keith's hips with both of his big hands, holding him still.
"Come on," Keith says, his voice embarrassingly whiny, "give me more, punish me, I've been so bad, please!" He struggles to shake his ass at Shiro, to hump the air, but he can't bring himself to use any of his own strength to dislodge the angel's hands. He lets out a huff. "Come on," he repeats, all the breath leaving him in a huff. "Show me my own corruption. Or are you not strong enough to withstand it?" he taunts.
There's absolute, oppressive silence between them. And then there's a clatter—Keith knows it's the sound of a scale skirt hitting the floor. And then a rustle of fabric, and soon a big, hard cock rubs along the cleft of his ass. He relaxes then, slumping on the table, his overheated cheek resting on its smooth surface. Fuck, yes.
"You filthy creature," Shiro says, his voice a little less authoritative, a little more... awe-struck. "You think you can manipulate me with your wiles? I am an instrument of divine retribution." He leans down, his broad chest pressed against Keith's back, and whispers in his ear, "But maybe you're right. Maybe you do need a much more thorough punishment."
To emphasise his point, he rocks forward against Keith's ass.
Panting for breath, feeling a rush of obscene power, Keith grins. "Yes, angel, that's it," he says, his voice a smooth, velvety purr. "Punish me with your thick, hard spear. Impale me to show me the error of my ways."
He's pretty sure he hears a snort from above and behind him.
Yeah, that might've been laying it on just a little too thick.
Shiro nips at Keith's earlobe before the heat and weight of his chest leaves Keith's back, and then he feels the blunt, dripping head of Shiro's cock catching on his rim. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, arching his back. "C'mon," he chants, "c'mon, c'mon, c'm—ah!" He cries out, throwing his head back, as he's split open on Shiro's cock, gloriously full and stretched as Shiro buries himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.
"This is what you get for tempting mortals with your sinful charms," says Shiro, his voice much less controlled than just a moment before. There's a bit of a quaver there; not uncertainty, but lust. Keith licks his lips—tasting the air, really, tasting Shiro's desire for him without even needing to put his mouth on him.
It's entirely possible no one's ever wanted him as much as Shiro does. Keith likes it. A lot.
Shiro's lust is overwhelming. Keith is certain it's the most delicious he's ever tasted, which must have something to do with the whole angel thing. He's never fucked, or been fucked, by any other angel. He lets himself sink down into it, drowning in it with every thrust of Shiro's hips from behind him.
Then, of course, there's the pleasure. Keith was literally made to endure it, even when it's almost too much. But Shiro's angle is perfect, and his cock finds Keith's sweet spot again and again, making him see stars. He lets his pleasure—and Shiro's pleasure—wash over him in ever-intensifying waves.
Right before Keith comes, Shiro pulls back. The keening wail that Keith lets out will be embarrassing to him later, but in the moment, he just needs. But then Keith's world is spinning—oh. Oh, no, it's not the world; it's Keith, because his back lands on the table, and his legs are lifted, his pants dragged all the way off and tossed to the floor. Shiro holds Keith's ankles, and his gaze, as he rests Keith's calves on his shoulder before pushing back inside his body.
Keith cries out, feeling heat and pleasure and lust coil in his body. He rests his bound hands on his chest and openly stares up into Shiro's face as the angel takes him—fucks him, hard and fast, pounding into him with an intensity that no mortal could ever match. Keith's body is made for this, made for fucking, and Shiro's strength has made him particularly adept at delivering in a way humans can't.
Both of Shiro's arms wrap around Keith's legs, keeping them held up, his dark eyes on Keith's face. Keith's hands start to move down to his own cock, but Shiro shakes his head. "No," he says, very softly, "you'll come from me taking you, or not at all, incubus."
Keith laughs in delight. "If you insist, angel," he says, breathlessly, and almost flings his arms up over his head, before he remembers there's a chain between the manacles and decides not to take the risk of ruining all of this by hitting himself in the face. So he keeps his hands on his belly, and lets himself sink down again, into the pleasure, into Shiro's delicious desire.
That desire could sustain him for weeks. Months, even.
If only this could actually last that long. Keith knows it can't, especially as Shiro's soon releasing his legs, bracing his hands on the table on either side of Keith's body, and fucking him with a wild abandon that he really never would imagine a tight-laced angel could manage. His pace quickly becomes erratic, his thrusts short, his rhythm faltering, and that is Keith's undoing. His back arches off the table and he lets out a low, ragged groan as he comes, spending himself all over his own stomach.
"That's it," Shiro says, breathlessly. "Receive your just punishment for luring innocent souls astray. Feel the full weight of divine judgement inside you."
Gladly. Keith wraps his legs around Shiro's waist, beneath his wings, and digs his heels into his lower back. "Yes—yes, fill me with your divine judgement," he says. Just a few heartbeats later, Shiro lets out a low growl as he buries himself deep in Keith's body, his arms trembling with the effort of not collapsing on top of him while he floods his insides. Keith can feel the warmth of it spreading inside him, and the sheer quantity of it as it leaks out when Shiro withdraws from him.
A moment later, he drags Keith to his feet, and the manacles clatter to the linoleum. Keith rubs his wrists. "You worked me over real good," he says, and closes the distance between them. He rises up on his toes and brushes his lips over Shiro's in a tender, almost chaste kiss. "I love it when you stop by, Shiro. Same time next week?"
For a moment, Shiro remains still, his expression unreadable as he looks down at Keith. Then, a smile plays over his lips, softening all the lines of his face. "Of course, Keith. I shall return to aid you in your continued... redemption." He lifts a hand and brushes Keith's hair back from his face. The gesture is wonderfully tender and intimate.
"Until then," Shiro says, "you should meditate on repentance and patience."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll do my homework."
Shiro's hand moves to Keith's lower back, pulling him in against his chest, and the other hand cups Keith's cheek. He leans down, and kisses Keith again. "I hate to leave so quickly, but I have duties."
"I know," Keith says, stealing just one more kiss. "Duties."
"Next week," Shiro says. As he steps back, his callused fingers slide from Keith's cheek, over his shoulder, down his arm, until his fingers curl around Keith's. "I have no intention of giving up on you."