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Chapter Text

Devastation prevailed over Pentagram City, the crimson red sky mirrored the blood of hundreds of demons who lost their souls forever in this yet another attack, becoming part of hell themselves.
Besides, the Angels responsible for this slaughter, called the Exorcists, were worse than Hell itself.
A whole army of creatures, mostly female-looking, all dressed in black with eerie smiling horned masks and their trusted angelic spears at their side, ready to wipe out as many sinners as possible everytime they came in Hell. 
Lute was one of them, their second-in-command actually, currently complying and keeping one foot forcefully planted on the demon's mauled chest while energetically pulling out the spear's pike from his head, splattering blood everywhere and over her legs. Then she lifted her head, still hidden under the mask, toward the dark sky as her pale eyes focused on the still-open portal to Heaven where most of the legion of angels were now heading, while others completed the mission but when she was about to flex her knees, ready to leap and follow her army, something stopped her in her tracks and peeked at her curiosity.
Her thirst for blood was still running high with adrenaline coursing through her veins when a high-pitched female voice came from a side alley and she promptly sprinted in that direction, spreading her massive wings, white with black outlines and stripes, to give herself more leverage.
Then, her grip around the staff of the spear tightened while she raised and pointed the pike over her shoulder and... Adam!?

At that she froze for a moment, turning into the alley right after and peeking out from the corner while keeping herself hidden as best as she could.
< I know it turns you on too... fucked by me, the first one..the Dick Master.. > the Commander's scratchy voice gasped in utter impatience and euphoria then… < ..all over these corpses..like the bitch you are > he added, barely growling while he kept a rather young Exorcist, trapped against the wall.
He stood behind her, effectively pinning her down with his imposing size as he was extremely tall. Unlike the rest of his female army, he was dressed in his purple and gold battle uniform, a studded long-sleeved tunic with a wide neck and a large "A" embroidered on his chest while a bright halo was shining on his head. The huge feathered wings on his back were golden as well as the crazed expression on the mask covering his face, with the demon's blood all over himself, dripping down and staining his angelic clothes.
Lute stilled, feeling her heart dropping to her stomach, making her feel weak as her vision became blurred for a moment.
Meanwhile, Adam kept going as he slid a hand under the angel’s black dress, lifting the fabric until he forcefully grabbed one of her tits and forcing her smaller figure more against the wall with his weight while he visibly hunched over her. At the same time, his other hand reached for her pants, violently pulling them down and leaving her perky bottom completely bare as he greedily started grinding his still-clothed cock against it.
At that, a soft whimper left the Exorcist's mouth while her back arched willingly and her whole body reacted under the attention she was given, staying still and bent over the wall with her face hidden under the mask while her exposed butt shyly started seeking more.
Adam, however, didn’t seem to appreciate suck slow and clumsy movements that much as he lifted his chin enough to look down in annoyance at the female figure with a creepy razor-sharp smile on his mask.
< Come on… squirm a little more, y’know I like it when y’all struggle > he groaned, clumsily fumbling with one hand under his tunic, followed by a loud rustling noise as he finally freed his swollen sex only to rubbing it between the angel’s thighs right after.
Lute, who was still watching the scene from her hiding spot, couldn’t clearly see what Adam was actually doing due to the Commander’s dress and the angle she was in, but his movements were as clear as the Exorcist’s who immediately complied by quickening her pace while she tried to balance herself between the harsh wall and the man’s body, clinging and scratching to his tunic.
But that gesture didn’t go unnoticed and, clearly wasn’t appreciated, causing a violent reaction from Adam who forcefully grabbed her wrist as a result.
< That’s it, good girl.. > he panted, spreading his long legs wider while parting the other’s ones, slightly restrained by the fabric of her pants, with his knee.
< We..we have to..fuck..we have to be quick.. > he roughly moaned out as he stroked his turgid sex along her intimacy, before entering her in a sharp and quick movement, pulling a high-pitched wail out of her mouth.
< ..the others are already... on their way.. > he added with a lewd smile, painful even, as he hunched over her once again and started pounding in a rather harsh pace, crushing her more against the same wall she was trying to support herself to while one of her arms was yanked back by Adam whenever he loudly thrusted forward.
Then, already overwhelmed by the situation, she began to audibly call his name between moans and sighs and he, in response, forcefully grabbed her by the horns of her mask, taking it off and tossing it to the ground without any care. As soon as the demonic mask collided with the blood-soaked ground, it rolled several meters away until it landed at Lute’s feet who flinched and took a small step backwards the moment she saw it.
But despite that she stood still, almost petrified, as her vacant eyes were fixed on Adam’s figure who violently claimed the other Exorcist, restraining her by one arm while smashing her chest on the brick wall before them.
The more she stared at the scene in front of her eyes, the more their frantic voices began to ring in her head as she felt as if her heart was going to burst out of her chest at any moment while a deep sense of apprehension or jealousy maybe, took hold of her.
As these sensations kept messing with her mind, her breath rose along with her pulse, becoming frantic even when she awkwardly stepped back more and brought a hand to her throat while gasping in sheer panic. Only then she did divert her eyes from the view before turning around and, with a powerful jump, she spread her wings into the wind and straight up into the red sky to then disappear inside the portal soon after.

…

The locker room itself wasn’t that big, although it seemed so with everyone away and most of the other Exorcists' messy belongings hanging on the walls or left behind on the benches.
And there was Lute, removing her blood-soiled mask and forcefully throwing it against one of the small tables in the room to then leaning against the edge of one with one hand, slumping forward and gasping for air with her eyes wide open.

After what she saw she immediately returned to Heaven and to the headquarters, which was a large five-story black and gold structure dominated by the imposing picture of Archangel Michael wielding his Sword against the Seven-Headed Red Dragon on the front.
Lute was no different from the rest of the Exorcists in terms of height or appearance, a small female figure with a black halo, thin enough to be wrapped in a grey mini-dress while her arms were covered in white gloves that went past her elbows and her boots past her knees where the narrow pants disappeared. Her silver hair, longer on the front, sported a messy bob cut with a sideway fringe and, on her sharp face, wide eyes with a golden iris.
< Lieutenant Lute! > Suddenly the voice of another Exorcist forced her back to reality.
At that she jerked upright, swallowing hard and facing in the direction of the voice she just heard while trying to put on the straightest, most assertive face possible.
< What is it...? > she replied flatly, almost as if she didn’t care.
< The Commander is expecting you in the briefing room, something unexpected and quite dangerous has happened that needs your full attention > the other added at once, while a concerned expression appeared upon her face.
< .. >

After that brief exchange, she quickly made her way to where Adam was waiting for her, and even though her uniform was still stained with demons' blood and she hadn't had time yet to clean herself up, when she entered the room, an imposing white room alight with several windows that faced both sides of the building, she noticed that Adam thought the same, since he still had the mask on while sitting on the main desk with his back facing a turned-off screen.
It was only the two of them in the room and as she approached the tall male figure, her footsteps echoed over the floor.
< What happened..? > She pressed once closer, noticing the visible scowl on the other's face and took it as a sign that something was definitely wrong.
< Tsk… see it for yourself.. > He grumbled as he spun around and switched on the monitor while Lute stopped and stood next to him.
As soon as it was on it projected the image of a headless female body of an Exorcist lying across the battlefield.
< They killed her! Some hellish piece of shit beheaded her, it had never happened before! >Adam boomed out in anger, gesturing with the remote still between his fingers while nervously pacing the room in circles.
Lute, who was still reeling from the shock, felt as if her heart would stop at any second now alongside her breathing.
< ... >
< We can't let the word get around too far in the army nor among the demons, but we definitely can't let them get away with it either! > Adam added with confidence as he walked back to his second in command, leaning over her once he was close.
< …Sera? Sera knows about this..? > Lute asked then, raising her tense gaze up at him.
< Of course she does, in fact, we have agreed to push forward the next extermination by six months, to teach those worthless shits that they can’t stand a chance against us, against Heaven! > he yelled, arching his back and sticking his middle finger up in the air while the fiery demonic mouth on his mask curved into a sinister and fierce grin.
< Sera will summon Lucifer over to the angelic embassy and there we will notify him about that.. > he blurted out then, somewhat amused by the thought to then shutting off the screen and tossing the remote on the desk…<..I wanna see his butthole tightening in sheer panic > he added as the creepy smile never left his mask. 
< That said, I'm off to get this shit off my body and have myself a nice pineapple pizza, you have no idea how much I need to chill. > he stated, regaining some kind of composure… < ..do you want to have that together...? > he continued, curiously asking with a quite dramatic flair while leaning further and over her from above with one hand resting on the edge of the table while his golden eyebrows arched in a comically but eloquent expression.
< .. >
At that, she glared at him at first but at the same time relaxed with a hard chuckle.
< I knew it! > he suddenly shouted, playfully pointing at her with one bony black-gloved finger that seemed to clash with the massive stature shown between his robe and his height, then the same arm reached out and wrapped itself around the lieutenant's shoulders.
< That's great, however… you're getting those pizzas. > he slyly stated and then, as soon as his fingers reached around Lute's thin shoulder she stiffened, causing him to jerk away, in both embarrassment and shock as he pulled away his arm and snapped to attention < ..and > a little less convincing, but just for a moment < ..and the drinks too > he chuckled as he added more, coughing idly and waving a hand in the air while walking away and toward the front door with his back to her now.
< ..mpf, I'll add that to the pile of debts you have with me then > Lute mumbled softly, in an amused but nervous tone while she remained leaning against the edge of the table with her arms folded across her chest and her eyes following Adam's figure leaving the room.

She really did that, letting that asshole coax her to go get him food in the mere hope of spending more time with him and not having to worry about anything, especially now that they had too many things to worry about. Such as the Exorcist's death, for example, which represented a serious threat that shouldn't be ignored. How was this even possible? What kind of weapon did they use? No such thing ever happened, nor did she think it was even possible. Do angels also die then?
While all these thoughts still ran wild in her head and with her hair yet damp from the shower she just had, she paced down the long white corridor of the dorms to Adam’s room, which was the largest of all and located at the very end.
Said room featured a heavy black wooden double door with every kind of stickers all over, small guitars, rock ones and even some nasty slurs that were supposed to dissuade anyone from coming near it. But in reality everyone came and went into that room, the Exorcists at least, his little harem, a brothel that he could use as he pleased whenever he wanted.
After all, there wasn't an Exorcist who didn't love him, he was their leader, their Commander, he took care of them and pleased them in the perfect depiction of the rooster in the hen-house, all except her, just her, the only one, for she was different. 
Their relationship at least was, built on mutual respect, the Commander and his second, she didn't need that kind of attention anyway and she had no interest in offering him any, so why would she? He certainly didn't care about it.
On the other hand, she cared about him, she learned to appreciate him and forge a mutual trust that went beyond any kind of relationship as they had never been together.
She huffed out an annoyed sigh, nervously furrowing his dark eyebrows while thinking, their bond surpassed the low carnal desire, they respected each other so much that it felt like a mutual thing in her respect for him and him for her. Then why Adam had never made a move on her? Was that actually the reason?
Did he ever really try to touch her in a way that felt inappropriate? Did he ever tease her? Did he ever really look at her, other than her being his second in command?
She suddenly stopped in front of his door, staring at its handle with wide eyes, too lost in her own mind while tensing up a little.
What the fuck was she thinking? She said to herself then, shaking his head side by side as if to pull herself together...

“< Come on, tear him apart > .. < Ohhh, poor thing, he's bleeding, does he want his mommy too?.. stand up, move you asshole - as someone said once >”

From inside the room, an aggressive but also amused voice interrupted her train of thought. The sounds reached her clearly, as Adam kept on cursing and shaping his tone mockingly behind the still-closed door.
< ..? >
And as soon as she heard that, she raised her golden gaze once again, along with her eyebrows and knocked a couple of times before speaking up

< ..Sir? >

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Only three showers hadn't been enough to shake off that feeling of disgust, jealousy, and damned arousal. She was repulsed by herself, and that incident filled her with a very odd feeling, similar to the one she was experiencing when thinking about Adam as well. Attraction? Longing? Frustration? Hate? She had known him all her life, she was his second in command, but had she never seen him having sex with someone else and ... not being able to get over it?

So that was it? Was she that down for him? No, she wouldn't allow it, she wouldn't be like the other exorcists. But, at least there was one thing for sure, Adam now wanted her too.

She growled in annoyance at that last thought, smacking her hands on her cheeks a couple of times with clear irritation also visible in her angry face, which was incidentally her usual expression. 

Then she finished putting on her uniform; the same one she used for the morning's extermination but still not yet washed. 

Those demons needed a forceful warning. she thought, under her arm the usual horned mask with the creepy smile.

She arrived at the end of the corridor toward the Meeting Room and when he opened the door Adam was already there, sitting at the end of the table with the projector in front of him that would allow them to be inside the Heaven's Embassy.

He had on the usual white and gold tunic with the signature A on the chest, high collar, and studs while the mask, with the trademark golden expression, was set on the table in front of him. On the other hand, his golden wings, which unlike her own, were closer to a bird's, were resting against his sides, followed by the glowing halo, which was so strikingly out of place on someone like him.

Lute, with her lips neatly curved downward and her permanently arched eyebrows, clicked her heels in his direction, drawing the male's golden gaze on her.

< .. >

< .. >

Suddenly, there was a long, drawn-out stare, full of a telling sense of embarrassment on both sides, a shame they both delivered with anger and disappointment like equal parts of the same coin.

However, he possessed a unique kind of explosive energy, and he immediately voiced it by letting himself slump back against the back of the chair and draping his right arm over the top of it

< Ohi, you put on the uniform still covered in blood, looking great! > pointing at her with his other hand's black index finger, which he next waved in front of his face, wrinkling his nose in disgust < That shit stinks, by the way! >

As Lute walked up to him, she stopped and stood at the side of his chair, clutching her mask harder against her side; in this position, she was slightly taller than him while keeping her eyes focused down, her expression serious.

< .. > At that, Adam arched his eyebrows, flushing in evident irritation mixed with embarrassment 

< Mpf > He grumbled, lifting his chin and leaning more in her direction.

< You are angry, aren’t you? > he hesitantly asked, arching only one eyebrow toward her, to then immediately blurt out without even waiting for an answer <  .. what the fuck, I didn't even get why you were so mad! > Straightening up suddenly and slamming both fists on the table

< You can't treat me like this, I'm your Commander! I'm Adam, the First Man, if you have a problem with me you must tell me, and I .. > his voice was raspy, agitated, loud in his peculiar tone, as he gestured at nothing, shifting expressions abruptly while doing so and casting sideways glances toward her as if to seek a reaction, some sign, something < .. I decide how to deal with it ! >

And the more he kept talking, the more she stared at him, allowing a smile on her face that grew more and more amused the more he went on. He was honestly funny, changing expressions and fidgeting like he was almost talking to himself.

< I’m not angry > Lute only replied.

And with that single answer, Lute stunned him, leaving him with a bewildered expression on his face, confusing him by bringing her hand close to his chin and brushing the rough hairs of his goatee with her fingertips. It always took her so little to shut him up despite being made of the exact same kind of aggression.

Then she shifted her gaze in the direction of the projector and, while eloquently arching her eyebrows, she added < You ready ..? >

< .. > At that abrupt shift in the subject, which she did with a shocking amount of calm, Adam was once again filled with frustration and opened his mouth several times as if he wanted to lash out at her again, but...

< Damn right I am ! > He followed her in their duty, gripping tightly with both hands onto the chair's armrests < .. But that little wimp of Lucifer won't show up ! >He stretched his lips into a wickedly amused smile, after all even that situation was deeply exciting.

< What does it mean ..? > Lute asked, turning serious again, while Adam sank back against the backrest.

< He sent his daughter. He's so butthurt that he sends that little slut in his place ! > He said in a high-pitched falsetto voice, waving his clenched fists close to his face in a bizarre mockery of Lucifer's apparent panic < ... and it stings the shit out of me, too. I'm gonna have fun. Are we going to have fun ? > He grew serious again in the last question, lifting his face in Lute's direction.

< .. > Lute stared at him with apparent displeasure for a long minute but then she yanked the mask she still held against her side and, catching it with her other hand, she shoved it over her head as well, flashing a wild grin upon her features < we are having fun ! >

With the same evil expression, Adam mimicked her gesture, picking up his own mask from the table and putting it on his head as well.

The blank eyes on the horned helmet immediately lit up with dark excitement as he held out the knuckles of a closed black hand to her, immediately receiving a knowing fist bump from his Vice Commander.

< Keep the others ready and keep the lights off, I want to see that little cunt flinch in fear !> He added gravely, switching on the projector that streamed their holograms directly into the Embassy Hall of Heaven, all the way down to hell.

…

< .. I swear it to my honor, girls... It happened weeks ago! She literally asked me if I wanted my mark on that crap and I said , “ Oh I love branding things... especially with cock !” > Adam's boisterous voice cut behind the amused giggles of a couple of exorcists. Both without masks, they had silver hair and a neat, boyish cut and from their facial traits, they appeared to be twins. He leaned with his backside and the palm of his left hand against one of the tables in the common area, a small living room with couches and armchairs that all featured the same design of wings and strangely painted eyes. He had a turtleneck on similar to his tunic but shorter out of which his black jeans showed, and his helmet that made his grin light up with razor-sharp jaws and his expressions even more exaggerated. He kept the mask on as much as he could only because it gave him that certain flair of the dangerous Commanding Officer which he was, besides, some of the exorcists had never seen him without it either.

One of the two exorcists clung softly to his arm that he kept resting on the edge of the table, brushing her soft breasts firmly against his biceps.

< Well, you're also great at marking with your cock . > she longingly admitted, looking up at him from where she was.

But that single act summoned the First Man's curious gaze.

< But of course, sweetheart, I am the Dick Master, no one can use it better than me! Ah ! > And in response, he puffed out his chest in arrogance, raising his chin as high as he could. 

< You should have seen the look on her face when we kicked her out of the room - Ha Ha! She's trying to redeem sinners, those hellish fuckers and send them to heaven! Did she even hear herself ? > he grimly chuckled, to then add < She's just a repressed slut who could use a good, nice shag! >

At that line, a couple of girlish giggles escaped from the two exorcists' lips. < Oh, can you show us?.. I mean.. in practice .. > after that, even the other exorcist moved forward, placing both hands on the dark fabric of his sweater and sinking her nails into the softness of his belly.

< .. > To that touch, Adam's golden, eerie stare fell upon her, turning the corners of his mouth downward in a sudden confusion that reddened his face even through his mask, as the flush lit him up where his nose should have been. There were two of them and they were hitting on him.

But the sound of footsteps in the hallway indicated the appearance of Lute's figure before the doorframe, with still his uniform and mask on. She paused there, turning her head with a look of utter disgust on her face.

Adam glanced in her direction closely, followed by the twin exorcists'.

< When you're done here, I'll wait for you to discuss tomorrow's activities, Sir . > Lute simply said in between judgement and disgust, starting walking again until she disappeared past the wall.

There had been no more talk between the two of them, no more discussion of what had happened, as if they had both hidden every thought, anger or desire deep down inside them.

Life in Heaven had gone on as normal without anything out of the ordinary. Lute was back to her usual self, constantly angry at everyone and everything, obedient, compliant to support every bullshit he said and done. The same Second-in-Command who had walked past the door now without flinching, despite finding him in such a predicament.

That indifference reignited the fuse of all that had been silenced for so long, unleashing the anger that rose from his chest until it warmed his face, forcing him to grit his sharp teeth and clench his jaw; He dug his nails under the edge of the table with such violence that the wood creaked, tensing every last fiber of his body as his stare lingered, charged with a profound sense of frustration, in the direction of the hallway.

He was about to tear his hand away from the table, ready to go after Lute and opening his mouth wide enough to say something, but gasped shortly after when the other exorcist standing before him suddenly literally pressed against him.

He instinctively straightened his back while his golden gaze lowered upon her, feeling her thigh languidly pressing between his own legs as her hands moved up his abdomen up to his upper chest.

< Eher! Myra, I have to …- > Adam had just enough time to place his other hand on her shoulder to stop her that Tyra, her twin, had now climbed to her knees on the table and was pressing her breasts against his shoulder blades.

< You busy, sir? Do you wish us to stop ... ? > Myra said again, looking up at him as she searched his gaze like a damned devious cat, at least that's how Adam saw her in his head while standing there still utterly baffled.

Fuck. It was a damn curse, a fucking curse from Lute. Maybe that bitch had made a deal with a demon to create those kinds of fucked-up situations whenever he decided to confront her. It couldn't be possible! There were two of them now, for fuck's sake!

Then, his hand moved down from Myra's shoulder to grab her hip, clutching tightly to the fabric of her dress and pulling her more against himself < Are you kidding, sweetheart! > He spoke once again, voice all too loud, almost unnatural, leaning over her with a broad, sharp smile. The exorcist, as a response, extended both hands as she grabbed at the sides of the mask and slid it off in one fluid motion, freeing his face whose eyes were highlighted by the black Kajal already on. Adam had just time to take in some fresh air that Tyra's gloved hands were already on him, grabbing both of his cheeks and yanking him back to her.

At that, his golden eyes widened, as her tongue found his mouth. Kneeling and almost hunched over his shoulder, the exorcist started kissing him lewdly, his response was all but immediate. He released a soft, warm breath, closing his eyes slightly as his pupils dilated dangerously with arousal. He remained propped with his butt against the table facing with his bust at Myra's direction while his face was turned to Tyra's, catching her saliva with his golden tongue as he delved greedily into her mouth.

And, as he kissed one, the other fumbled with the studded belt of his pants, unbuckling it and lifting the fabric of the long-sleeved sweater just a little, sliding her hand between his legs, her fingers finding his sex.

He had trained them all too well, or far too badly, now they were the ones jumping at his bones, knowing full well that he would never refuse. And yet now, there was something that stung, a lump in his throat, a nagging feeling of apprehension that weighed down his chest and told him that it was somehow wrong to be there. He wasn't supposed to be there, okay...but where else was he supposed to be? There were two of them, goddamn it!

It's not like it happened all that often, that was all he wanted, this was a fucking Heaven, his own Heaven.

< Everything’s alright, Sir? >

Myra's voice called him back to reality, he was just overthinking too much about too much nonsense and his sex was still soft. It was limp, that was one of the major problems that plagued every world. That hell slut should have thought about this instead of rescuing a few demons.

< It's all right, suck on it, baby . > Adam's gaze became just as sharp and controlling as the tone of his voice. He placed a hand on the silver head, past the exorcist's black halo, and forcefully pushed her down, forcing her to kneel on the ground. And she complied, eventually unzipping his pants completely and pulling out his sex, which she encircled with her tongue before driving it into her mouth, only to slip simply sliding into her, it throbbed and swelled along with the huffs and puffs along with the additional flushing of its owner.

He huffed as Tyra kept grabbing hold of his hair to turn him toward her direction as the kiss went on wantonly and sometimes suffocating. 

Meanwhile, Adam had traced with his whole arm the chest and belly of that same exorcist, delving his hand inside her pants and then deep inside her: he fingered her while letting the other rest with her body nestled against his own arm and, with his other hand, controlled the intensity of the movements of the kneeling one's head on the ground.

He spread his legs wider, shuffling his feet on the floor, and in turn began to move his hips, rocking them in the direction of the woman's head that he kept pinned by the hair; he moaned hoarsely as he drenched himself deep in her throat, steadily sliding his sex over her exposed tongue until he felt her nose brush against the brown hair that went up from his crotch to his navel. 

Lute . 

At the same time, a pair of fingers sank frenetically into the other's intimacy, drawing her back to him with only the frantic movements of his wrist flexed between her thighs, leaving her clinging to his arm, moaning and gasping on his own shoulder.

Lute . 

He was getting increasingly hot, some of his hair was starting to stick to his forehead and his gaze was alight with a longing that made him languid, almost aching yet aggressive at the same time; the same that he unloaded against and inside Tyra by unexpectedly adding a third finger, causing her to gasp in a sharp and loud cry.

Lute. Fuck!

He clenched his teeth tightly, his jaw tensed and his forehead stiffened. He gave up everything he was giving Tyra by bending forward and grabbing Myra by the hips until he pulled her up like she weighed nothing. He spun around then, slamming her loudly to sit on the table; she let out an excited gasp and spread her wings more as the flush on her face grew even more.

He had lost control again. He was turned on, with his sex dripping saliva and stretched to the limit, and his hands fumbling and tugging at the exorcist's clothes now lying with her wings wide open on the table; he left her without her boots and pants and he bent over her completely, eagerly running his wet sex against her naked intimacy. And while he held it with one hand, he spread her apart, gathering every last bit of her wetness and then forcibly entered her, holding her in place by her thighs. He dug his nails into her flesh pulling her back to him as he pushed his hips hard, making even the table rock. At that thrust, as well as at all the ones that followed, Myra began moaning aloud as her arms clung onto the man's shoulders while her ankles wrapped around his loins right under the large golden wings that spread and trembled in turn.

He was gasping, his skin hot, damp with saliva dribbling down his mouth as Tyra didn't give him much of a chance to swallow or breathe properly: in fact, she latched onto the wide collar tugging at him while still seeking his tongue as her mouth bonded with his.

< My turn, next.. > the exorcist seethed languidly and eagerly against his lips.

Among the sharp, loud movements shaking him, Adam's eyebrows furrowed, giving his quivering gaze a hint of genuine desperation.

This was Heaven. His own personal Heaven.

And Lute ..

…

Chapter Text

Thanks to the motion sensors, the room, steeped in semi-darkness, quickly lit up.

It wasn’t a large space, equipped with a small kitchenette like most of the others. Most of the furniture, sleek and modern in design, was black. The bed was a single, pressed against the wall on two sides. There weren’t many personal items or decorations, save for a poster of an old concert from Adam’s band stuck to one wall.

Adam hadn’t been in this room very often. For a moment, still bent over from where Lute’s slender hands held him, his tired, dazed gaze wandered, trying to take in the details. But not this time. He was too angry, and Lute would have to try much harder to calm him down.

His unfocused, wide eyes snapped to her figure. Without hesitation, he seized her by the shoulders and shoved her toward the bed. She resisted, planting a heel firmly on the floor and swinging a hand up to slap him across the face.

Adam caught her wrist mid-air, faster than she anticipated, gripping it so tightly that she whimpered in pain, her fingers stiffening unnaturally. Even so, Lute kept her free hand against his chest, as if trying to create a barrier between them.

“Are you trying to hit me?!” she demanded, her voice a mix of fear and unsteady aggression.

“Pretty rich coming from you—you’re the one trying to hit me!” he growled, baring his pale teeth at her.

“...”

She froze for a moment, stunned by his response, before snapping out of it. Her fingers twisted and bunched up the fabric of his sweater. “I’m supposed to know what’s going on? What’s going on, Adam?!” she yelled back, shoving her knuckles against his chest. Her face tilted up toward his, boldly confronting him, daring him with golden eyes burning with fury, all fear or respect discarded. “Why did you come to me like this, huh? Why did I see you about to screw around with those two sluts?!”

That word—sluts, aimed at the two other exorcists—made him freeze. His eyes went wide, his mouth hung open slightly. She had actually called them that.

And in that brief moment of silence, he reacted. He yanked her wrist again, pulling her closer as he leaned in until their faces were just inches apart, his fury undiminished. “I’ll screw whoever the hell I want! It’s not the first time, and it sure as hell won’t be the last!” he snarled, his jaw clenched tight. “They’re the ones throwing themselves at me because I’m Adam! The First Man! The Dic—”

He didn’t get to finish. Lute’s hand shot up to grab his collar, yanking him down hard. She kissed him.

The “k” died in his throat, swallowed by her mouth as her tongue pressed against his.

At that moment, Lute had two options: kick him where it would hurt the most, frustrated that he still didn’t understand anything—not even now, with her jealousy practically slapping him in the face—or kiss him.

As we’ve seen, she chose the latter, throwing him into yet another bout of confusion. Not that there was much left to confuse in his thick, empty, or deeply traumatized head—burdened as it was by the weight of his creation and all the expectations he had failed to meet.

Adam’s eyes widened at the kiss. He’d never understood women. Two wives had happily told him to go to hell, and his relationships with exorcists were devoid of romance. It was just sex, trust, and the respect and obedience owed to him as their Commander. But Lute… Lute knew how to push her advantage.

He couldn’t fall in love again. He refused to accept it. It would all go to hell—literally.

Yet this kiss melted him, disarmed him completely. She tilted her head, avoiding perfectly aligning their profiles, but her mouth moved deeper, her lips pressing insistently against his. Her tongue sought his, coaxing his mouth to part. When he did, he exhaled sharply through his nose, his golden eyes fluttering shut. Warmth rose in him, pooling in his chest and flushing his cheeks and nose red.

She was flustered too, aroused and embarrassed. He could see it in her half-lidded gaze. Her body remained tense, rigid, but her kiss was too hungry, too eager, her saliva mixing wetly with his.

He extended his other hand, trying to grip her waist and pull her closer. But her hand against his chest pushed back firmly. He didn’t expect that resistance and didn’t apply enough force to overcome it. She used the moment to shove him away, breaking the kiss and making him stumble back a few steps, dazed.

“Use my bathroom. Go clean yourself up,” she ordered, her voice firm and sharp. She licked her lips and then wiped them with the back of her gloved hand, removing the traces of their shared saliva. Her gaze quickly turned away, flustered and avoiding him.

“...”

Adam stood there, stunned, before puffing up again. He pointed a finger at her, regaining his bluster. “Don’t give me orders! And don’t you dare yell at me like that again!”

His focus, however, drifted to the bathroom door. He wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore. Honestly, he’d just been with two exorcists, and he looked awful—exhausted, frazzled, and barely holding himself together. More than a bath, he needed sleep.

With a huff, he turned away, his golden wings flaring slightly. “Hmph.” He stomped toward the bathroom. Along the way, he tugged off his sweater and tossed it to the floor with a heavy thud, leaving him shirtless.

His build was strong, suited to his height, but it was softened by a layer of bulk. He wasn’t skinny. As someone would say later, he had let himself go since Eden.

His chest bore a dusting of brown hair that trailed down to his navel—surprisingly present, given that he’d never experienced a mother’s womb—and continued until it disappeared into the studded belt of his jeans.

His stomach wasn’t flat, but it suited him—at least to Lute, who watched him until he clumsily disappeared into the bathroom, dragging his golden wings behind him.

The room was beautiful in its imperfections, much like him.

Adam didn’t possess even a shred of the perfection he arrogantly tried to impose on the world. He was a man—fallible, volatile, foolish, and yet deeply capable of manipulating others. It was true that the world began with him, and so did Hell.

Lute sank onto the edge of the bed, her hands—still gloved—pressing into the mattress on either side of her thighs.

…

The sound of water rushing from the bathroom, the door left ajar by Adam, felt eternal. Time stretched and slowed. The knot in her chest grew tighter, heavy with both apprehension and longing. It pressed against her throat so hard she almost thought she’d choke on it, dissolve into tears. And she wanted to cry—not because of any particular event, but because of the sheer weight of her feelings. She wanted him. She wanted him to do to her everything he did with the other exorcists, but only to her. And she knew, deep down, it would never happen. She wouldn’t let that bastard break her.

"Don’t you have a bigger towel? This one doesn’t even reach around my waist," Adam’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

Emerging from the bathroom, still damp, his hair clung to his forehead in wild strands. He wrestled with the small towel at his waist, pulling at the fabric, trying and failing to close it properly. Only after he finally managed it did he glance up and notice Lute, sitting on the bed with her legs crossed and her back against the headboard, idly scrolling through her phone.

Now out of her gloves and pants, her arms were black from fingertips to elbows, her legs matching from knees to feet. She raised her gaze, locking it onto him as he stood framed by the doorway.

…

Without a word, she placed her phone on the bare nightstand and shifted, pulling one of her wings out of the way to make room on the narrow, single bed. It looked far too small for either of them, let alone both.

Adam approached, holding the towel steady with one hand, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring down at her. Then, with a small sigh, he let himself fall onto the mattress, the frame creaking under his weight.

The moment he sat down, Lute’s face flushed bright red. Her gaze turned glassy, and her cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. She didn’t hesitate. She reached out with both hands, grabbed his face, and kissed him, pulling him toward her.

Adam quickly wrapped an arm around her waist, his hand sliding down to grasp one of her bare thighs peeking out beneath her tight miniskirt. His fingers dug possessively into her skin, cupping the soft flesh with a firm hold.

Lute, hands planted on his shoulders, shoved him backward. He didn’t resist, allowing himself to fall onto the pillow, pulling her down with him. She ended up straddling his chest, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of him.

Her lips crashed against his, the kiss deep and fervent, heavy with a desperate need that had gone ignored for far too long. As they moved, it became impossible to ignore the shift of the towel at his waist, the clear evidence of his arousal straining against it.

One of Adam’s golden wings unfurled, enclosing her in a space that felt suffocatingly intimate. The feathers pressed against the adjacent wall as if even the room itself was too small for them. His other wing remained folded tight at his side, trembling as her black-and-white feathers mirrored the tension.

"I don’t want…" she whispered between ragged breaths, licking away a strand of their shared saliva before locking her soft, golden eyes with his tired, dull ones. Through the silver curtain of her hair falling forward, she murmured, "I don’t want to be like the others."

…

Adam clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face twitching with some internal conflict. Finally, he muttered through gritted teeth, "You’re all the same."

The words struck Lute like a dagger between her shoulder blades. Her wings shuddered, her body stiffened, and she tried to pull away. But his hand was there, grabbing her and forcing her back down, pinning her to him.

She trembled against him—angry, anguished, tormented by regret. She buried her face against his neck, inhaling the heady scent of his skin, the closeness making her head spin. Her arms wrapped around him, fingers threading through his damp hair as she kissed him again. This time, her kisses were hesitant, uncertain, laced with vulnerability she couldn’t fully hide.

Her chest pressed against his bare torso as their breaths intermingled, heavy and uneven. She wanted to escape, but she also wanted to stay.

It was fine.

It was fine, even though Adam had made it clear he was an absolute bastard.

It was fine, even as the lump in her throat swelled, threatening tears she refused to shed.

It was fine, even as her face burned hot, her emotions threatening to spill over.

It was fine.

...

How long had she stayed like that? Minutes, maybe a good half-hour. By the time Lute pulled herself from her thoughts, Adam had fallen asleep. He’d crashed.

She took a moment to admire him while he slept, his features softened, unguarded, making him look like an ordinary, imperfect man. Then she let herself drift off too, cradled by his arm holding her close and his golden wing half-shielding her from the world.

....

Adam woke the next morning in Lute’s room. Sunlight filtered in through a single large, curtainless window overlooking the courtyard of the barracks. A bright beam cut across the bare, black wooden desk, devoid of any decorations, landing squarely on the angel’s face.

Groaning, he shut his mouth and swiped the back of his hand across the corner of his lips to wipe away a bit of drool. His swollen eyes shifted toward the lone nightstand beside the bed—there was no room for another on the opposite side, where the wall loomed close.

Lute was gone.

In her place, however, sat a neatly folded paper bag giving off a sweet aroma and a large glass filled with black, steaming American coffee.

His wings ached as he stretched, stiff and cramped from the awkward position they’d been in all night. He sat up, the extra blanket someone had draped over him slipping down his torso and pooling at his waist. He was still as naked as when he’d fallen asleep.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he planted his feet on the cold floor. Elbows resting on his knees, he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

Slumped like that, eyes half-closed, he let his thoughts flow unchecked, trying to make sense of the maelstrom inside him.

Her scent lingered on his skin, permeating the still air of the room. It clung to his senses, a subtle reminder of what had happened, of how something had shifted between them.

Something was changing.

The realization stoked his anger, but also something far more unsettling: fear.

He was afraid.

Afraid of what this shift might mean for his carefully constructed Paradise. He had everything he wanted—women, power, respect, the ability to destroy pieces of Lucifer’s world whenever he pleased. And now, he had the opportunity to do even more damage.

Every six months.

The date of the next massacre was still far off, but the hunger for vengeance and violence already simmered under his skin. Thousands of years spent slaughtering demons hadn’t satisfied those urges. If anything, they had only grown, consuming him bit by bit.

And he knew.

One day, they would consume him completely.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Adam downed the coffee, leaving the empty glass and crumpled bag on the nightstand. He got dressed, every movement mechanical, a return to the routine he knew so well.

But something had changed.

Something was different now.

And he couldn’t ignore it.

Chapter Text

Ignoring everything that was happening had been easier than expected; after all, Lute was an obedient soldier, and Adam had the particular gift of hiding every human weakness beneath the tough facade of a complete jerk.
He hadn’t stopped: he kept sleeping with the exorcists but had the sense not to let Lute catch him anymore. Still, the nagging feeling that he was messing up every time he took one, two, or three of them lingered, gnawing at his brain like a worm. What was he doing wrong? It wasn’t like he was dating Lute. He didn’t owe her anything.
He owed her everything.

She stood there, under a pale heavenly sun, watching the exorcists sparring in the training field. With her arms crossed over her chest and an almost martial stance, she observed them closely, throwing disapproving glances or issuing authoritative advice on fighting techniques: attack was the best defense, and every demon destroyed was another notch of glory.
Without her mask, clad in her uniform—a black coat, trousers, knee-high boots, and gloves that reached her elbows—she commanded respect and fear with her suppressed aggression, which she unleashed when needed.
Suddenly, something lightly bumped her right shoulder, causing one of her wings to quiver. She turned and found him there: Adam, towering behind her with his height. He was sipping a drink through his goat mask, pressing another one against her back.

“...?”

“Don’t want it?” asked the First Man, noticing her hesitation.

The Vice Commander, uncrossing her arms and turning to take the drink, gave him the opportunity to step closer until he was beside her, shifting his attention to the training session as he continued slurping his drink through the straw.

“They don’t need all this training; they’re scared shitless,” he muttered disapprovingly.

“It was a fluke that they killed her. It won’t happen again, and they’ll get back on track. These are first-class Exterminators!”

“We can’t let our guard down,” Lute countered, starting to sip her drink as well.

“Ah, damn it, Lute, you’re such a buzzkill with all this seriousness!”

The training field was surrounded by lush trees, their branches swaying gently in the heavenly breeze. The temperature was perfect for an outdoor day—not that it was ever different in this place, the circle where the gates also stood. In the distance, the city rose with its imposing golden buildings resembling those of a pristine Los Angeles, though everything shimmered, everything was perfect.
Slurping annoyingly at the bottom of his drink, Adam lowered his ghostly, mischievous eyes to the figure of the exorcist next to him.

“I’ll be playing a concert in a couple of days,” he said, snapping his fingers to conjure up a flyer bearing the logo of a band—Rock’n Dick—which hovered in front of Lute’s face. “Make sure you come. Even Killer Tits needs to loosen up her bitch face. It’s been a while since you’ve been to one of my shows, hasn’t it...?” He raised his dark eyebrows with flair.

The Vice Commander grabbed the flyer, examining it: Adam had noticed the old poster of one of his concerts she kept hanging in her room. She turned sharply, meeting his sharp smile before he turned himself and headed toward the barracks.

“And wear something different—I’m tired of that uniform,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Of course, she had gone.
If she hadn’t, he would have definitely been pissed. But the truth was, she needed to unwind, and she wanted to see him play again.
He was really good. That guitar of his could slice through demons just as effectively as it could play the same rock music she loved. She went with a couple of other exorcists and, yes, she had chosen something appropriate, comfortable, and thematic: a dark top that left her shoulders bare and draped loosely over her chest, revealing her midriff. Below, she wore a miniskirt that hugged mid-thigh and black boots with white accents that stretched past her knees. Her eyes were lined with dark kohl, highlighting the fairness of her skin and her silver bob-cut hair.

The park was packed with people; she knew it well—it was in a central part of the city. At that moment, thousands of angels and blessed souls must have gathered, ready to enjoy the concert. The stage was enormous, fully equipped with lights, countless speakers, and banners bearing the band’s logo.
The nighttime sky of Paradise glowed like a vibrant aurora borealis, violet hues blending with aqua green and shimmering with white and gold—the dominant colors of every building and object in sight.

Lute, along with her two sisters, stood at the golden barricades that separated the audience area from the stage. Between them lay a short corridor where two angels stood guard to ensure safety—not that it was needed, as almost nothing dangerous ever happened in Paradise, and any misstep was swiftly dealt with by the harshest sentences.
There were so many people that she was constantly jostled, her stern glances striking fear into anyone who dared touch her, despite her often being shorter than most beings around her. Her wings were a real nuisance—nearly impossible to keep from getting crushed in the crowd.

Gripping the metal of the barricade, she leaned into the corridor, scanning for Adam. She spotted him walking toward the backstage with two other members of his band.
The Commander wore his goat mask, giving his expression a grim, demonic look, and stage clothes reminiscent of his battle tunic, complete with the iconic “A” on his chest. The wide high collar was studded, the sleeves were long and loose, and his sweater was cropped in the front, revealing his belt and black jeans, which were ripped in places. On his feet, he wore combat boots. The back of his sweater extended into two long tails partially hidden by his golden wings, which were folded neatly against his torso. He carried his long golden guitar, the same one he used to fight.

“Sir!” Lute called out, waving an arm in the air.

“Ahh, Killer Tits, there you are!” With a sharp grin, Adam slowed his pace, approaching the barricade as the other two band members continued toward the stage stairs. He leaned slightly toward her, gazing slyly with his chin resting on the top of his guitar.

“Are you ready, girls...?” he asked, also addressing the other exorcists, flashing a rock horns gesture that drew a resounding “Yes!” from them, complete with raised fists.

The festive atmosphere and the excitement of the concert seemed to have wiped away any negative thoughts, any memory or turmoil from what had happened a few weeks earlier.

“I want to hear you scream from the stage, alright?” The Commander resumed his walk toward the stairs, under the gaze of all three women. But before reaching them, he stopped and turned back to Lute.

“...and no screwing the drummer!” he said, pointing at her with an expression that was both menacing and amused.

The exorcist froze for a moment, then chuckled, blushing. “Hell no!”

The concert began amidst sudden flashes of light and strobes that pulsed in time with the explosive, energetic rock music—just like Adam as he plucked the guitar, spreading his wings and soaring with great leaps into the air.

*“When the world has screwed you

And crushed you in its fist

When the way you’re treated

Has got you good and pissed

There’s been one solution

Since the world began

Don’t just sit and take it

Stick it to the man!”*

Every movement of his hand on the strings was an electric, luminous explosion; beams of light flared up, illuminating the thousands of souls dancing and jumping. Nearly two hours of concert went by without Lute standing still for a moment. She poured all her energy and aggression into her movements, following the rhythm of the music until the end.
Exhausted, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, brushing her silver hair away from her damp skin, and sipped a couple of gulps through her straw. Her boots clacked along the barricaded corridor as she headed toward the backstage.
Still holding the straw between her lips, she rounded the corner and appeared before the stairs, where, in a recessed area, Adam leaned against a wall, surrounded by three giggling blessed souls, laughing shrilly at his antics. Still wearing the mask that lit up his face with sinister and wild expressions, he gesticulated, arching proudly into sharp smiles, while the women squealed with excitement.

“...?!” He stopped abruptly, his attention drawn to the motionless figure beyond the corner.

For a moment, it felt to Lute as if her heart had stopped in her throat along with her breath; once again, that deep feeling of vertigo—a plunge in her chest that filled her with fear and jealousy. That single, seemingly harmless sight was enough to reopen Pandora’s box of all her repressed emotions.

“Lute…”

The drink slipped from Lute’s hand, splattering onto the ground and spraying liquid everywhere. Adam saw her whirl around, unfurl her white wings, and, bending her knees slightly, take off swiftly into the fading Paradise sky.

“Hey, hey, no, Lute! I’ve had enough of this crap!” he growled, furrowing his brows and lips in frustration before launching himself into flight. He shoved past the blessed souls, bumping into one of them, and then loudly flared open his golden wings, darting after her.

Lute soared higher and higher, cutting through the air aimlessly, but Adam, much faster, caught up to her in no time. He grabbed her from behind like a butterfly in a net. Yes, he took her by surprise, catching her from the back and under her knees, forcing her to curl up against herself. She found herself pinned against his chest, her arms trapped by her own thighs. Her cheeks flushed visibly as she lifted her wide-eyed gaze toward his face, only to find his neck and chin instead. Adam kept his face tilted upward as he continued ascending, lowering it only once they reached a certain height, meeting her face with a look of malevolent resentment.

“Done running away?” he asked, continuing to fly higher, heading toward the top of a tower. “Tch, you can slaughter hundreds of demons with every Extermination, and yet you can’t handle confrontation. And you know what else…?”

Still holding her, giving her no chance to escape, he reached the circular terrace encircling the tip of the golden tower. He slowed his pace, suddenly flaring open his wings.

“…I’m sick of women who run away,” he said, sharper than ever. The expression projected onto his mask flickered, glitching briefly.

He calmly descended, landing softly with the soles of his black boots on the floor. They were, quite literally, atop the highest building in the area, with a panoramic view of the entire city. From there, they could even see the Gates of Paradise and the lush horizon beyond them. The lights of the buildings, houses, and skyscrapers shone brightly, blending with the purplish and greenish hues swirling in the sky above, creating a magnificent display of colors.

With a certain care, Adam allowed her to set her feet on the ground, standing tall before her with his back to the edge, so high that everything below appeared distant and small.

In utter confusion, Lute took a step back; her narrowed eyes and parted lips perfectly expressed the sense of apprehension tightening her chest. But it wasn’t just apprehension.

“Go on,” Adam ordered, making a sharp hand gesture while resting his other hand on his hip.

“…”

“…What am I supposed to say, Adam? That I’m trapped in a situation I can’t get out of…?” After a brief hesitation, Lute began speaking in an aggressive tone. Her face contorted nervously as she tilted her head upward, attempting to confront the much taller man. “You’re tired of women running away, yet you chase them. Lilith, for example—”

“Lilith?!” he thundered, leaning his shoulders in abruptly to get closer to her face. “Don’t you dare say her name!”

“See?! You want me to talk, but you don’t listen. You keep imposing your will on me!” Lute stiffened with fury, clenching her hands into fists and taking a step forward to confront him more boldly. “I don’t know whether to keep smashing into your walls in the hope of getting inside and understanding what’s there—or if there’s really nothing there! …” “…You don’t listen. You’re such a fucking asshole!”

“How dare you, you little bit—” Adam, in the heat of his anger, bent his elbow, raising his arm as if to strike her.

“I hate you!” But Lute’s voice struck him square in the chest, making him stumble back a couple of steps. Stunned, he gave her just enough time to spin around and spread her wings, ready to take off, but he immediately stopped her, grabbing her wrist tightly.

“You don’t mean that!” he challenged, baring his teeth excessively in a sharp snarl, his anger causing his shoulders to quake.

“I don’t…” “…You don’t know a damn thing about what I think!” she shouted, whirling around and literally leaping at him.

The force with which Lute attacked him, grabbing the stiff, studded fabric of his collar, was enough to throw him completely off balance. Stumbling back a couple of steps, he fell, hitting the back of his head against the inner wall of the parapet.
Adam let out a rasping groan, finding himself awkwardly seated with his shoulders against the parapet, his wings poorly splayed, and his hips too far forward to sit comfortably.

“…”

It always ended like this, with them fighting. What was wrong with them?

Lute straddled his bent right thigh—while his left leg stretched out on the ground—and her hands, which had been gripping his shirt collar tightly, clumsily slid up to yank his mask off. She tore it away, tossing it aside, letting it clatter noisily onto the terrace.

“What the hell…!” he grumbled, flailing at the air as his disheveled hair and the sweat beginning to stick it to his skin made him look even more undone.

The Commander’s dark hand darted up to grab her throat, but as soon as he clutched it, her lips were already on his, kissing him. Again. Did they always have to beat each other up before they kissed? There was no sweetness, no understanding—just two walls colliding, assaulting each other with the desire to destroy, but in every touch, they found themselves wanting each other.

That kiss alone was enough to make him shudder, dissolving any violent urges he had toward her into something profoundly different, yet still deeply present and latent.

“…” Adam exhaled all his frustration against Lute’s lips, tilting his face and parting his mouth to delve deeper into her wet heat. A wave of warmth surged from his chest, clouding his golden eyes, dimming their usual intensity with an unfamiliar tenderness. Leaning into her, he released his hands from the ground, trying to wrap them around her bare waist, but Lute’s knee pressed too firmly against the crotch of his pants, forcing a groan out of him.

This was the only way they could talk—pouring all their intensity into violent physical contact. And though he could have easily broken free or retaliated against her blows, he didn’t.

After all, she was plastered against him. He felt her small hands racing frantically and possessively up his neck to clutch his hair. He felt her chest, barely concealed by the soft fabric of her top, pressed forcefully against his own, her hips already grinding against the rough texture of his jeans. He could sense every slight contraction of her muscles, the way she moved against him, alive and desperate, seeking him obsessively—not just with her body, but with her tongue, which kept delving deeper into his mouth. When he tried to respond in kind, he had to be careful not to let her teeth catch him.

Lute’s miniskirt had ridden up far enough to expose the rounded curves of her backside, framed by her panties, and she kissed him with a hunger that felt like she wanted to devour him—probably destroy him, crush him like a scrap of paper.

Damn, Lute was already scorching hot. She panted from the intensity of their scuffle, gasping for the warm air inside his mouth, grinding her need against his thigh.

He felt her want, her excitement, her desire—and damn it, it was all for him. Having her pressed so tightly to him was dangerously testing his self-control, making his head spin. Desire weighed heavily in his stomach, sinking lower and swelling against the taut fabric of his jeans.

“You’re hurting me… Are you seriously trying to break it?!” Adam groaned painfully, trying to push away her knee, which was pressing too hard on his already strained arousal. He managed to do so, half-closing his golden eyes, dilated and emphasized by dark liner, locking them onto her own lust-filled gaze.

“I’m… your Second, your right hand. So why…” she began to whisper, her face still close to his, giving him just enough space to shift her knee away. “…why don’t you trust me?”

“…” What was she saying? That question left him stunned.

“I do trust you,” he managed to reply, his brows arching in curious surprise.

“Then… listen to what I have to say.”

...

Chapter Text

The wind of Paradise seemed to suddenly grow warmer.
It was likely just them overheating—definitely Adam, who felt a rivulet of sweat trickle down his brow in the silence of Lute's request.

"Listen to me," she repeated, gripping his shoulder with one hand to push herself up, her tongue tracing along the rough skin of his jawline, up toward his temple, collecting the sweat beading there. Her other hand slid down his chest, following the curve of his abs, until it reached the buckle of his pants, starting to fiddle with it at a maddeningly slow pace.

She was too slow. Way too slow.
It left him gasping, staring aimlessly at a random spot on the small terrace beyond his outstretched leg, eyes wide, struggling for breath. Every tiny movement she made seemed heightened in his awareness: her wings twitching, her knees firmly planted against the ground, her thighs taut as she ground her suddenly slick, heated core against the denim of his jeans.

He felt her backside tense against his knee, and he couldn’t help but stiffen it, jerking it upward in a short, sharp motion that made her gasp and shudder.
At the sound of her voice, a guttural growl escaped Adam, and his fingers gripped possessively at her hips.

"I... I’m listening to you," he panted.

Meanwhile, she had undone the buckle of his studded belt, her small hand slipping into his pants, wrapping delicately around his stiffened length before pulling it free through the open zipper.

That one motion made him groan, his dilated gaze darting down—fearful?—to take in his own arousal, now firmly in her grasp. Her slender fingers began to stroke it unhurriedly, as if to explore every detail, testing its firmness and lingering at the slick tip of his pre-pleasure.

A burning sensation rose in Adam’s chest: he felt like he was going to explode. His body tensed, and he tried to push her back with his torso to regain control of the situation.

"Stay still, First Dick," she teased, amused. Keeping one hand firmly on his shoulder, she lifted her chin to run her tongue along his ear, making him shiver. "I’m holding the knife by the handle now," she whispered, gripping his rigid shaft more firmly.

A ragged groan escaped Adam as his wings trembled against the wall, and he closed his golden eyes tightly, letting his sweaty forehead rest against her shoulder. He was burning up, exhausted as if fevered... and all this just from holding her against him, feeling her grind on his thigh. Lute was pleasuring herself against his leg... he hadn’t expected this side of her at all—so wanton. Dominant? Perhaps. She was the best slayer, after all, his second-in-command.

How many times had she done this before, engaged in acts far filthier, yet still found herself in Paradise? He had never felt this way. Never this weight on his chest, this knot in his throat. Never had he desired so much to dissolve someone beneath his hands and merge them into himself.

Caught up in these thoughts, he tried to catch a glimpse of her face by shifting his golden eyes toward the sharp angle of her cheek. But her head was nestled against his neck, and the attempt was futile.

"Ah! Sure, you've got the handle in hand..." he retorted through clenched teeth, sarcasm failing him as another hoarse moan escaped when her fingers tightened and quickened their strokes along his shaft.

Lute began to pleasure him with the same increasing intensity she applied to her hips, her backside rolling smoothly as she pressed her pelvis harder against his thigh. Her breath quickened, puffing against his ear, dampening his skin and hair with the heat of her mouth.

"I think..."
"...you’d love being underneath," she teased again, her silver hair swinging sharply in time with their heated motions.

Adam's hand slid from her hip to one soft cheek of her backside, grabbing the fabric of her underwear tightly between her curves. He yanked it forcefully aside, careful not to hinder her movements, fully exposing her now slick, sticky intimacy against the rough texture of his jeans.

"Oh, yeah? And you just like being on top..."
"...Who would’ve thought... so submissive," he muttered with a nervous, sarcastic laugh, struggling to maintain control he had already lost.

Lute’s hand worked him, her movements rhythmic yet firm, the impact of her strokes muffled by the denim at his waist. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck, fingers clutching at his sweater as her movements grew increasingly erratic—too tight, too fast, almost frantic.

With a pained grunt, Adam hesitated, then cautiously wrapped his own hand around hers, slowing her pace and guiding her fingers off his shaft. Taking over, he began to pleasure himself with more controlled strokes, freeing her to clutch his other shoulder as though she had been waiting for the permission.

"Lute..."
"...What are you trying to tell me?" he asked, his breath ragged.

"I’m already telling you. Like this... you understand, don’t you? Can’t you feel it?" she replied breathlessly, her voice high and strained. Bracing her knees against the floor, she pressed her chest firmly against his, the pressure almost painful as her back arched dramatically, lifting her now-shining hips higher.

"I can’t talk... right now," she groaned.

And Adam snapped.
In a surge of frustration and desire, he grabbed one cheek of her backside with a fierce grip, thrusting half his middle finger inside her without hesitation.

Lute let out a sharp cry, grinding harder with her pelvis against his thigh, her pace now matching his urgent movements.
"Fuck, you’re going to drive me insane!" he growled against her skin, his features twisted in raw tension. "I should pin you down and make you beg for forgiveness... for daring to push me this far!"

Dragging his teeth across the sweaty skin of her neck, he plunged his finger deeper, his own pleasure cresting as heat spread through his lower body.

In the silence of their secluded perch, broken only by the city’s distant hum below and the rustle of the wind, their breaths and moans merged into a raw symphony, joined by the rhythmic sounds of their friction.

Lute's climax hit her hard.
"Adam..." she cried out.

His grip on her tightened, his finger curling to feel every quiver of her release as it soaked his jeans. With a muttered curse, Adam followed suit, his own climax bursting forth in hot spurts across the floor and Lute's leg.

"Shit..."
"...Oops!"

But she didn’t seem to notice, collapsing against him, her body radiating warmth as tremors from her orgasm coursed through her. She was like a small, overworked furnace still catching its breath.

Adam withdrew his finger gently, wrapping an arm around her to pull her closer. With his other hand, barely bothering to clean himself, he cupped her chin, tilting her face up to meet his intense gaze.

"..."

Squeezing her cheeks slightly between his fingers, his eyes burned nervously into hers.

"Just trust me," she whispered.

And he kissed her—deeply, forcefully, his tongue immediately claiming hers. Lute’s hands sought his head as she returned the kiss with fervor, giving as much as she could.

It was a long, consuming kiss, breaking only when Adam's desire for her flared again. But dawn was breaking; the pale sun of Paradise bathed the sky in a glowing blush.

It was time to wash up and have breakfast.

Something in the usual routine of Paradise—training sessions and waiting for the six months to pass so they could return to Hell for the extermination—went wrong.
Lucifer’s daughter had been granted permission to ascend, and she wasn’t alone: Vaggie, the traitor cast out of the army, was with her.

Lute didn’t take the presence of the former exterminator in Paradise very well. In fact, she was the most determined to follow Sera’s orders: “Use any means necessary to avoid escalating the situation.” They confronted Vaggie in her hotel room while Charlie was out. Blackmail was deemed the best tactic.

The process went as planned, though not without some complications.

...

Adam landed gracefully on the terrace of the white-and-gold Barracks. Turning to face the building, he lifted the spectral gaze of his goat-like mask to the grand mural on the facade: the Archangel Michael locked in combat with the Red Dragon.

"..."

He exhaled sharply through his nostrils, his jaw clenching as his eyebrows arched in vivid anger. The emotion, however, was dispelled when Lute landed behind him.

She, too, wore her mask, and though she wasn’t one to exude calm or gentleness even without it, the ghostly visage now made her appear genuinely ferocious.

The Vice Commander took a few steps to stand beside the First Man, tilting her face slightly as though trying to catch his gaze.

"...Everything went as planned, didn’t it? So why the face?" she asked, her eyebrows raised, the sharp corners of her lips drawn downward in puzzlement.

Adam huffed again, his chest swelling with pride. He placed his dark knuckles on his hips, framed by the soft fabric of his white tunic, before turning his attention back to the mural dominating the barracks' facade.

"True... we did a great job." He smirked. "Did you see Vagina’s face when I threw her out of the portal? Ha-Ha!"

He recovered immediately, arching his back with exaggerated pride as his booming laugh filled the space.

Stepping closer to Lute, he draped his arm casually across her back, letting his slender, dark hand dangle past her opposite shoulder. Leaning sideways toward her, his lips curled into a sharp, wicked smile as he whispered:
"Tomorrow morning is the Extermination. I’d say we deserve a celebration!"

Lute stiffened at his words, her wings trembling faintly in the air, a reaction that made Adam’s face twist into a mask of pure disapproval.

"You’re not fooling me anymore with that bitchy face," he muttered, lowering his voice and leaning closer until he was just a breath away from her.

Lute’s cheeks flushed scarlet, and Adam laughed heartily.

Adam laughed boisterously in the Common Hall, where nearly everyone had gathered to celebrate. It wasn’t quite a party, but with alcohol flowing freely, the atmosphere buzzed with the violent exhilaration that precedes war. While Hell would have to defend itself, they would attack and destroy as much as possible, starting with the Hazbin Hotel.

"That bitch Vaggie will be the first one I take down!" Lute proclaimed, recounting the events to a small circle of exterminators around her. She gestured animatedly, her sharp expression and clenched fists punctuating the approving comments from her audience. "She’ll learn what it means to betray us!"

Adam, meanwhile, slouched in an armchair, wearing his mask and a shorter tunic for ease of movement. A bit drunk, the flush of intoxication shone faintly on the dark screen of his mask, where golden projections flickered in his likeness. Surrounding him were three exterminators: one perched on the armrest with his hand wrapped around her back, another sitting on the opposite side, and the third draped over the chair’s backrest, leaning forward to rest her hands on his shoulders as she giggled at his jokes.

"Celebrate tonight, damn it. Tomorrow morning, we’re going to have some fun!" the Commander declared, flipping a middle finger into the air before altering his expression to one of exaggerated sanctity. "…But celebrate in moderation—we need to be sharp." He lifted his chin with mock seriousness, only to have the exterminator on the backrest clasp her hands around his masked face, tilting his head back to face upward.

"...?"
Adam found himself looking up at her inverted face, her silver hair swaying in the air and a languid smile playing on her lips.

"Shall we celebrate together, Sir?"

The exterminator on the armrest leaned toward him, her hand resting on his shoulder, adding to the heat he already felt. It was happening again, this time with three of them.

"SIR!"

Lute’s voice cut through the hall, sharp and commanding, bringing an immediate silence. All four of them snapped to attention.

Adam looked up, startled, to see her already furious and standing before him. Before he could react, she grabbed the stiff, studded collar of his sweater and yanked him roughly.

"We need to leave. Now!"

The three exterminators quickly backed off, dismounting the chair, while Adam rose, bewildered, allowing himself to be dragged. Lute’s hand stayed firmly hooked to his sweater as she led the way out of the room, her arm extended behind her.

He stumbled along in silence, bending forward to compensate for the difference in their heights, his wings trailing awkwardly on the floor. His perplexed gaze fixed on her bob-cut hair, bouncing with the forceful rhythm of her steps.

They arrived at the door to the Vice Commander’s quarters, the electronic lock clicking open as the key passed through.

"…Lute, what the hell—" Adam began to ask.

The lights flicked on suddenly, and just as abruptly, he found himself slammed back against the wooden door. The impact was loud, the angel now gripping his sweater at his chest with enough force to wrinkle the fabric.

"Hey!"

Lute was panting heavily, her shoulders trembling with each breath, as she pressed her hands against him, pinning him to the door. Adam stared at her, stunned, his mouth slightly open.

"Enough!" she finally said, her voice sharp before lowering her gaze, the golden light of her eyes dimmed by a strange mixture of embarrassment and anger that made her whole body tremble. "Enough…" she repeated, this time softer, as though trying to steady herself.

She lifted her eyes to him without moving her head, her cheeks flushed a bright red.

"…You need to fuck me too," she whispered breathlessly before springing into action.

Both hands shot to his mask, tearing it off and tossing it aside with a clumsy urgency. She could barely reach his face, even on tiptoes, her arms fully extended as she pressed herself against his firm abdomen. Adam blinked down at her, his true face exposed—flushed from the alcohol, eyes slightly swollen, pupils dilated, his expression a mix of heat and pure disbelief.

When Lute grabbed the hem of his sweater and began tugging it upward, he finally snapped out of his daze.

"Hey, slow down, what’s gotten into you?!" he exclaimed, grabbing her shoulder with one hand and her wrist with the other to stop her. But she didn’t relent.

Grinding her teeth, she pushed against his strength, her frustration boiling over. "Are you seriously asking me to calm down? Really…?" she hissed. "Every time someone touches you, you jump on them and screw them anywhere, and now you’re telling me to slow down?!"

With one sharp pull, she tore the fabric of his sweater near his wings, making Adam growl in irritation. Before he could process what was happening, her hands were already working to undo his belt and pants.

"Take off your shoes," she ordered imperiously.

"Like hell I will!" he thundered, seizing her wrists with a firm grip and snapping his wings open. The motion was so sudden and forceful that it knocked over a few items in the sparsely furnished room.

In one swift, almost inhuman move, he lunged toward the bed, pinning her down against the mattress with his arms—and his massive black-and-white wings—spread wide to trap her beneath him. His knee pressed onto the edge of the bed, positioned between her legs as he leaned over her, his breath coming hard and fast.

"You’re not just ‘someone,’" he growled.

Chapter Text

"...have you changed your mind?!"
Lute took a moment before responding to Adam.
Even though she was pinned down on the mattress, her wrists trapped under the hands of the man looming over her, curved and domineering, she hadn’t lost that defiant expression that defined her. Her tone was still full of hatred and resentment, hissing and insinuating through clenched teeth. But there was more behind the deep anger, the war that lit up her exterminator’s soul: the frustration of loving someone who would never return her feelings the way she wanted. Did she want him to reciprocate? What would happen then? Would they marry and live happily ever after, continuing to destroy demons for eternity?

She had never had anything else but that mission—she was created for that purpose, and even her name had been chosen by Adam.
For hundreds of years, everything had gone as it was supposed to for both of them. But by now, they both knew... something had changed. What had once been respect and admiration, the unity of shared ideals and goals, had transformed into love. It had also become clear that the explosion had occurred the moment she saw him with the exorcist during the last extermination. They understood each other without needing words—or maybe they’d always known. Perhaps that’s why she was one of the few with whom he had never slept, despite their constant close proximity.

The tightening of Adam’s grip on her wrists jolted her violently back to reality. Her fingers curled into a tense, unnatural position, making her arch her back.
It wouldn’t take much—nothing, really—for him to take her forcefully. Without much effort, he could bend her to his every depraved whim. And then what?

"..."; Adam didn’t respond immediately. Breathing heavily, he swallowed dryly and continued staring down at her. His unruly brown hair hung toward her, weighed down by the damp heat radiating from him. He was slightly intoxicated; it showed in the gleam of his eyes and the flush coloring his cheeks. His sweater was in tatters, clinging only by a few remnants near his wings. It was essentially ruined, leaving his back exposed and hanging too loosely around his rounded abdomen.

She blushed too. The butterflies in her stomach told her he was beautiful—especially when he lost control like this, when that arrogant smile of his disappeared, revealing his human weaknesses and uncertainties.

"What’s changed...?" Lute asked again.
"Why do you enjoy putting me in difficult situations?" he finally replied.
"Why is it so hard for you to admit the obvious? What are you... afraid of?" she pressed, adding new questions. This time, she moved. She couldn’t do much—her arms were pinned to the mattress near the wall, her black halo almost brushing the surface. Her knees were bent at the opposite edge of the bed, spread apart due to his leg kneeling on the mattress. She strained against his grip, arching her back and stretching until her chest pressed more firmly against the tight fabric of her black dress. She pushed her hips—between his thighs—against his leg, making him flinch slightly, tense, and grit his teeth under his lips.

"Every..." Adam began to speak, pausing to swallow again and exhale his frustration through his nostrils. "...every woman created for me leaves. What would be different now...? You’re no exception."

Lute clenched her jaw. Sliding off one boot with the edge of the bed, she drew her knee up and abruptly planted her foot against his chest. "I’m not a woman; I’m an angel."

Struck by the response, he released her wrists, straightening his back and raising his eyebrows in puzzled disbelief. What a clever retort.

"...a tempter angel," the Commander countered with sarcastic irritation, suddenly grabbing her dark pants—and the underwear beneath—at her hips and yanking them off. He lifted her hips, pulling her off the mattress, climbing onto it with his other knee as well. The bed creaked under the man’s weight as he forced her back against the wall, folding her slightly against herself, leaving her supported only by her shoulders and the nape of her neck against the furniture.

"For what you just said, I could seriously get pissed off!" But even though she was completely alarmed, she still growled, pressing her right forearm against the wall to keep from hitting her head as she found herself entirely naked from the waist down.

Adam didn’t stop. Her pants, underwear, and boot were haphazardly discarded, and his hands ran up her sides, bunching up the fabric of her dress, leaving her exposed up to her ribcage. She was obscenely spread open in the void, entirely on display before him.

A wave of heat, embarrassment, and anger rose from Lute’s chest. In that position, there was no room left for imagination, not even about the fact that she was already soaking wet. Damn bastard. Again. Always. Such an incredible piece of shit.

"Oh, so sensitive too!" Adam panted, referring to the obvious mental insults she was hurling at him. "...you want me to fuck you, don’t you? I should make you pay for all the trouble you’ve given me these months,"

Chapter Text

“See? I told you you’d like being on the bottom.”

Lute's voice broke the silence that had fallen over the room. The lights had dimmed into a soft, shadowy glow that was easy on their eyes. They lay stretched out on the small bed to rest—though it was mostly Adam who needed it, as the Original Bastard had already burned through his first round of energy. He was sprawled on his back, barely fitting on the single bed, both in width and length, his feet dangling past the edge. He was completely naked, with only the lower half of his body covered by a black satin sheet. One golden wing was tucked close to his side while the other wrapped protectively around Lute's much smaller figure—small only in comparison to his massive size. His dark hand lay limp against her bare hip.

She was curled up on her side, only half-covered, her head resting against his shoulder, a leg draped over his waist. Her fingers absentmindedly toyed with his brown chest hair, twirling the strands and brushing her sharper wings against the golden feathers of his own.

“Ah—Ah… If you start mocking me, you’ll regret it. I’ve never let anyone put me on the bottom, mpf,” Adam shot back, teasing, his swollen eyes fixed on the ceiling. Most of his hair was stuck together with Lute’s fluids, and his mouth still looked reddened from the rough kisses and friction he’d endured.

“...So?” she prodded, clearly trying to annoy him as she flicked a tuft of his chest hair like a spring.

When Adam lowered his gaze to glare at her from beneath his brow, she was already looking up at him, her golden eyes wide and expectant.

“So what..?”

“...So you think I’m special… even though I was created to submit to you, like all those before us,” she mumbled, her cheeks flushing.

“...”

The First Man’s eyebrows drew into an uneven furrow, his forehead creasing with a pained expression. He didn’t want to answer; it was obvious. He grew restless, exhaled loudly through his nose, and turned his eyes back toward the ceiling. Lute, however, kept staring at him.

“...”

Adam’s gaze dropped again to meet hers.

“You…” He started to speak but stopped, his tongue flicking over his lips. Suddenly, his mouth felt parched—a strange dryness of embarrassment but also of apprehension. He was scared. Now? Why?

“Aaah!” he exclaimed irritably, his fingers tightening around her bare side. “You know how to rebel while obeying me,” he finally said with a frustrated huff. “…I mean, I know it sounds ridiculous when I say it like that, but it’s true. You never really judge me for the way I act; even when I piss you off, I can tell it’s not real…”

“And you never do it in front of others. You respect me. You don’t hate me, Lute… The only hatred you carry is the one we share when we rip apart those infernal beasts…”

He was talking about her, about them, but also about someone else. His thoughts drifted, inevitably, to Lilith. Lute couldn’t have known, but she surely suspected.

“It’s like you accept me even when you pretend not to. That’s why I trust you,” he tried to clarify, finding nothing but curious silence from her in return. The sudden quiet left his face burning with embarrassment and frustration.

“…And stop pressing your damn tits against my ribs!” he snapped with a burst of fake bravado.

“…Why not?”

There was Lute’s voice again—finally—but she responded by letting her hand slide down his chest toward his abdomen. Her fingers slipped under the sheet, circling his still-resting member, which twitched and began to stir.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Adam’s jaw tightened. He shot forward, turning toward her, and snatched her up in his other arm, holding her possessively like he’d snap her in two if she moved.

“I told you not to provoke me, you damn brat. Don’t make me regret what I just said!” he growled, curling over her slightly, his cheek still pressed to the pillow. He was trembling—not just with anger but with fear; fear that he’d cracked open a wound in his pride where she could now plunge another dagger.

Lute’s eyes widened. Her hands shot up to cradle his face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“…”

One word, and it left him stunned.

“I won’t betray you, I promise… I’d be an idiot to do that. As a soldier, but also as…”

"Lute..." It was him who finally broke the silence, leaning in closer to her face, parting his lips in an attempt to kiss her.

An attempt that fell short as she began sliding downward; slithering across the mattress, she disappeared beneath the sheet until she was completely hidden, halo included. Only one wing remained outside, fluttering faintly toward the wall.

"I know my place, Adam... I like everything about you. And I'm sure I'll enjoy whatever you do to me in the next hour..." she purred softly, though the tone slithered like a threat.

Adam felt a new heat rush to his head and downward at the same time, mixing with the breath and hands that now encircled his manhood, gradually hardening it. A half-smirk tugged at his lips—satisfied, mischievous—as he pressed a hand against her head, urging her face closer to his groin. When Lute ran her tongue along his growing excitement, his other hand came to rest on his forehead, elbow bent lazily in the air.

Nestling herself between his semi-spread legs, she cradled him at the base, dragging a dense trail of saliva up to the tip, which she then enveloped with her lips, beginning to suck.

That made him tense, a low groan escaping as his hand pressed against her head, though not enough to hinder her movements.

She felt her face slick with saliva and the condensation of her hot breath mingling against his already warm skin. The air was stifling under the sheets, despite how light they were. Strands of silver hair clung to her flushed cheeks.

"I..." … "I never would’ve thought, Lute... that you'd be like this, I mean." The man spoke breathlessly, keeping his eyes shut beneath his palm. He savored the sensation of her mouth as her tongue continued to press firmly against his throbbing length. "...Don’t get me wrong, it’s a compliment," he clarified, curling a few strands of her silver hair between his fingers.

"I’d imagine so... it’s the first time we’ve had a real conversation... without you acting like an asshole," she snorted, voice muffled between his legs, pausing only to swipe her tongue along a strand of saliva before resuming her focus on his tip.

"...You’re starting to insult me a little too much. Don’t push your luck—" But the last vowel dissolved into a deep, guttural groan as Lute took him deep into her throat.

With her lips wrapped tightly around him, she let him glide along her tongue, though her vision blurred at the overwhelming depth. A shiver of pleasure rolled through her, forcing her thighs to press together.

While she reacted, Adam had it far worse, feeling the heat rise up his abdomen, blinding him with an almost terrifying glow.

The exorcist instinctively tried to pull back, but his eyes widened in surprise when he found himself stopped: his hand was forcing her down, holding her in place as he pushed even deeper until her breath caught in her throat, and her nose brushed the dark curls at his groin. Trembling, her gaze rolled back, her eyes welling with tears of discomfort.

For whatever reason, he noticed—or maybe he simply decided that it was enough. He let her go, allowing her to suddenly jerk back, his glistening shaft sliding from her throat as she gasped desperately for air, rising onto her knees. The sheet slid off her shoulders, past her wings, leaving her free to glare at him, disheveled, furious, tear-streaked, with thicker-than-normal saliva dripping from her bottom lip.

She found him like that, wearing an expression of mock nonchalance as he gazed at her.

With a theatrically innocent look, Adam raised both dark hands, palms facing her in surrender. "Sorry, sweetheart. Hey, that’s just how I am, right...?"

"...A piece of shit," she shot back, completely unfiltered now. She planted a hand on his soft abdomen to help herself crawl forward, straddling his waist, her round, flushed breasts exposed and heaving with her breath.

This time Adam didn’t comment, perhaps because he knew he was in the wrong, or maybe because she was already guiding his length toward her intimate heat. Gritting his teeth, he gripped her hips with both hands, bent one knee to brace his foot against the bed, and dragged her down forcefully, thrusting upward at the same time in a sharp, decisive stroke.

He savored the sight of Lute: her sudden arching, as if she hadn’t expected such intensity, the burning sensation caused by the sharp slap of their hips meeting; he relished the sharp squeal that escaped her mouth, the jolt of her wings, her breasts, her silver hair.

He, too, let out a low grunt between his teeth, his shoulders rolling up almost immediately as his wings snapped closed against his ribs. He caught her again with both hands: one gripping her waist firmly, fingers digging into one cheek of her ass, and the other bracing her shoulder. Without ceremony, he pulled her flush against him, pressing her soft chest against his pecs.

"...Sorry," he panted against her mouth, a wicked threat lacing the word.

Lute’s eyes were hazy now, even though she was technically on top. Her hips had begun to move in rhythm with his insistent pace, her small hands clinging to his shoulders, only to quickly clasp behind his neck as he suddenly yanked her into the wall beside the bed.

Lifting her, Adam literally slammed her against the wall, wings spread wide. He wedged his knees beneath her thighs, gripping them with both hands, spreading her legs as wide as his elbows, forcing her feet to leave the mattress and bounce in time with his forceful thrusts.

The bed groaned violently against the floor, creaking louder with every snap of his hips against hers.

He made her body jolt with sharp, resounding thrusts, grinding her shoulders and neck against the wall, while she desperately raked her nails across his shoulder blades, leaving thin trails of scratches that leaked golden rivulets of blood.

Lute moaned loudly, sobbing between ragged breaths, seeking his lips in clumsy, lustful kisses that lasted only long enough to steal air. And Adam? He sweated from the exertion, from the continuous friction of her overheated body against his, wrecked by the need that had been suppressed for far, far too long.

"..." … "I love you."

Morning arrived right on time. A beam of golden light filtered through the room’s single window, which overlooked the inner courtyard. Despite not having slept that many hours, Lute didn’t need any kind of wake-up call. Adam, however, was still asleep, sprawled out face-down on the bed, one wing drooping onto the floor past the edge, his body covered in bruises, scratches, and faint golden marks from superficial bites.

From her standing position, she admired the fruit of their nighttime efforts, smirking with a touch of mischievous satisfaction. But then her gaze traced the masculine muscles of his shoulders and glutes, and she blushed, embarrassed, though the feeling immediately died on her lips behind a pained grimace. She stiffened slightly, resting a palm against her flat abdomen—the center of her soreness. He’d definitely worked harder.

You could tell by the chaos they’d left in the room: besides the scattered clothes, there were golden, black, and white feathers strewn everywhere, even clinging to the farthest objects.

Lute approached the overturned bedside table next to the bed, carefully setting it back upright with both hands, trying not to wake the other angel. In doing so, she noticed a piece of wood broken off from somewhere. Where? Oh—there. The headboard was missing a finial. She placed the wooden piece on the table, spotting Adam’s goat-like mask among the discarded clothes. Picking it up, she inspected it with care: the screen was dark, powered off.

A sudden jolt struck her chest, a deep sense of unease that turned into a knot so dense in her throat that she had to swallow twice just to force it down. Why was she afraid now?

Moving silently on bare feet, she headed toward the bathroom, leaving the mask on the white dresser by the door. Once inside, she immediately sought the sink and her reflection—completely nude—in the mirror.

She looked awful. Her lips were swollen and reddened, as were her eyes, and her curly hair was plastered down with dried remnants of masculine pleasure. Her body, too, was covered in scratches and bites. She had one, in particular, around the nipple of her right breast—golden and precisely in the shape of Adam’s teeth. She touched it with her fingers, blushing at the memory of the exact moment he’d done it. Shuffling her wings closer to her back, she stepped into the angular, glass-walled shower, turning on the stream of lukewarm water right over her head. Despite the water’s perfect temperature, she shivered, starting to scrub at her hair.

Several minutes may have passed. Lute stared blankly at the wall in front of her, her back to the transparent glass of the shower and, thus, to the rest of the bathroom. The water splashed noisily over her body, but she startled at the sudden awareness of Adam’s presence in the room.

Curious, she turned to look, finding him just as naked as she was, walking toward the toilet. He stopped, yawning widely, and began relieving himself—completely unbothered and shameless.

At the sight, the exorcist flushed in embarrassment and irritation, spinning back around to face the wall. She scrubbed her fingers more vigorously through her silvery hair, frowning deeply with her lips pulled into a pout, until the sound of the shower door sliding open made her lift her golden gaze.

Adam stood just inside the entrance, smiling at her—a tired, mischievous smile.
“Good morning. And what a good morning it is.”
The First Man’s voice finally broke the long silence, his eyes shamelessly trailing over Lute’s wet, naked body.

She turned toward him to face him, only to find herself stepping back a couple of paces to make room as he crowded into the small stall—far too cramped for even a single angel, wings included. Lifting her hands, she pressed her palms against his chest, her back brushing against the shower wall as he leaned down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. The water streamed over him now as he stared at her with curious, amused pride.

“...Are you embarrassed?” he teased, making her jolt.

He’d caught her; she was flushed, burning with a ridiculous kind of yearning. She dropped her gaze from his eyes, letting it fall to his chest.

Adam slid his hand up her wet neck, traced the curve of her jaw, and cupped her cheek in a caress that turned into a firm—but not violent—grip, forcing her to lift her face and look directly into his eyes. He smiled, satisfaction tinged with something deeply lecherous.

“...I fucked you in positions you didn’t even know you could bend into, and you’re embarrassed now? Pff, look at yourself!” He puffed his cheeks in mock exasperation before laughing—a sound that sparked deep anger in her.

But her fury lasted only as long as it took for the First Man to grab one of her wrists, spinning her to face the wall. She found herself pressed against it, trapped by his larger, broader frame. Adam leaned into her wings, curving her spine with his chest, his mouth brushing her ear as his hands began to roam over her flat stomach and up to her breasts, squeezing them, pulling small gasps from her lips.

“From now on and forever, let’s make this our good morning.” His warm breath tickled her ear as he ground his hips against her bare backside. “Now let’s get fired up for the Extermination, Killer Tits.” He pinched a nipple roughly between his thumb and forefinger.

Lute whimpered, arching more, pushing her rear against his hardening length. He grabbed himself, sliding his cock between her thighs slick with water, grinding impatiently.

She was too short for him; her legs were far too small. Forced to rise onto the tips of her toes, she groaned as he bent his knees slightly to maintain the frantic, noisy motion—each thrust of his hips brushing the head of his hardness against her pubic bone.

“...A quick one now. I’ll give you more when we’re back, or straight on the battlefield.” Adam added the threat with a low growl that made her shiver. “You’ll have to, sweetheart... if you want to make up for all the others you’ll miss.”

...What? Lute’s golden eyes widened, her body going stiff. He’d said it. He’d actually said it. Only her? Just me? She tried to turn to ask him, but it was too late—he drew his hips back, grabbed her ass, and thrust into her with one sharp motion, making her moan and wiping out any rational thought in favor of a new, violent perversity.

----
 

That day, for the first time, she felt as though Heaven’s sun was burning her skin.

…

 

Chapter Text

The sound of thousands of wings, like the flight of a flock of doves, rose into the golden sky of the Exorcists' Barracks.

"The others are heading outside the Gates, ready for when you open the portal, Sir" said the authoritative figure of Lute, clad in her black uniform and holding a goat-shaped mask under her right arm. She took a step toward Adam, who was positioned in a far less composed manner.

They were in the Command Hall, adorned in golden hues, lit by a soft beam of light streaming through a window. The First Man was staring at that very beam of light with a pensive air, arms crossed over his chest, his back leaning against a desk.

"I'm getting hungry," he remarked.

He was wearing his studded battle tunic in shades of violet, and his mask—similar but distinct from those of the other exorcists—lay beside him on the table.
"Come here," he said, extending an arm toward Lute to beckon her closer.

She hesitated for a moment but then obeyed, her boots tapping against the floor as she approached him and allowed herself to be drawn firmly to his side. She rested her face against his chest and then lifted it, finding Adam gazing down at her with raised eyebrows, a vivid curiosity in his expression.

"I'll motivate them; we'll move quickly. It's time for our revenge. We'll punish Vaggie, teach them a lesson, and destroy that damned Hotel," he said, pausing briefly. "They’ll return to their place as outcasts, and we’ll have the chance to… celebrate again."

Adam delivered the final sentence with a malice that crept into his eyes and lips. He raised a hand, burying it in Lute’s hair, and drew her face closer to his, seeking a quick but wet and lascivious kiss.

She responded to the kiss, blushing with embarrassment as her hands moved to grip his broad shoulders. But the sharp crack of a slap directly to her right cheek made her jolt.

The Gate of Heaven closed behind Lute.
Chaos reigned among the Angels who had learned of the events, chaos filled Sera’s heart, while joy blossomed in Emily’s as she realized redemption could succeed: a sinner, Sirpentius, had appeared right in front of them. Furthermore, the exorcists had gone further; they had attacked the Princess of Hell, prompting Lucifer himself to intervene, which made erasing the massacre unavoidable.

It didn’t take long for the news to spread among the high-ranking angels and reach Lute’s ears. She had just enough time to return to the barracks, leave the exorcists there, and take off again. Despite her severe injuries, her flight carried her far beyond the city to a much wilder area—or as wild as the golden expanse of beauty that enveloped this almost-perfect place could be called... in its hypocrisy.

Blood trickled from her left arm, so cleanly broken that the pale bone was still visible. Her uniform was torn, and it was mostly her golden blood staining it everywhere, mingling with Adam’s blood, which coated the now-dim white halo. She gripped the metal object—a seemingly simple iron circle—so tightly it further cut into the palm of her hand. And she flew, climbed, beating her ruffled-feathered wings until the glittering water of the sea below caught her attention, drawing her gaze to the stretch of empty beach.

...

There she was, that damned woman: a glowing speck, sunbathing on a lounge chair with a wide-brimmed hat and a swimsuit.

Lute narrowed her wings, starting a steep dive. As she approached the right altitude, she shifted into a glide, though the landing proved more complicated than expected. Her boots hit the sand, and she staggered dangerously, nearly falling. But gripping Adam’s halo even tighter, she filled herself again with the pride and hatred now tearing her apart.

A need for revenge had replaced every other emotion. A fear—deep and consuming—that everything they had always fought for, always defended, for which Adam had died, could crumble like a house of cards.

Heaven’s foundations were at risk; hell is not forever.

Her steps sank into the sand as she approached.

"Lilith."

THE END?