FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Devil May Care

Part 12

For DuskCypher

By Draconicon

Another night of raunchy, fast-paced, relentless sex later, Dusk was feeling somewhat better. He knew that he still had to deal with the tigress, this 'Mercy', as Seraph had called her. There was much information that might be gleaned from her, much that had to be explained to understand why she was so powerful, so strong, and why his aura didn't affect her. There were too many questions where she was involved, and they needed to be answered, despite the dangers of meeting with her again.

The fact that she had suggested a meeting in public - despite doing it by note, something left pinned to Seraph's back, and violating his property all the more in the process - was a sign that she didn't want it to get out of control. Angels and demons seemed to have some greater restraint when they were in public.

Of course, she's not exactly an angel, is she?

That was something that Dusk had to keep reminding himself, considering the fact that the tigress was obviously holy, and powerfully so, but there was something different about her. No wings, no nothing that would have signified an angel, and yet, what else was she supposed to be? There wasn't exactly a plethora of different beings in heaven the way that there were in Hell.

He supposed he would just have to figure it out.

The black cat stood outside of Gina's, a café and restaurant, and he looked in through the windows. He had arrived at least ten minutes before their meeting time, but rather than finding an empty booth for himself, he saw that the tigress had arrived even earlier. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she smiled, wiggling her fingers in a wave that was almost flirtatious.

As she gestured for him to come inside and join her, Dusk felt a moment's hesitation. He didn't like that there was someone else playing games with him, and he definitely didn't appreciate being caught off-guard like this, but there was little that he could do to reverse it at this point. His only choice was to either play her game or retreat and try something different later. Considering that retreat would only confirm that she was the stronger at the moment, he decided to go with the much less appealing option.

He walked into the café, brushing aside the waitress that stepped forward to meet him with a wave of Sloth. She stopped in her tracks, the mouse yawning and giving into her lazy urges, going back to her stand and waiting for the next customer since this one could obviously take care of himself.

He sat down on the other side of the booth, shifting his coat slightly to get comfortable, and then pressed his hands together as he might have done at a business meeting, folding his fingers between one another and leaning back against the back of the booth seat.

"So, you wanted to meet."

"Well, more along the lines of meet again. Properly."

She smiled at him, and he could see the lines that were created by stress, the pull of muscles that were under a constant sort of tension. She was used to lying, either to others or to herself, he realized. That was an odd characteristic of an angel.

Unlike at the penthouse, her aura was out in full force here. The holiness poured over just about everything on her side of the table, and there were points in the wood where little green spots were flourishing, almost like the wood was trying to come back to life and branch out a bit.

On his side, where the corruption and the aura of hell touched, the wood darkened and blackened, as if burned and stained. Yet, for all that, it was as strong as the other side, petrified with power right through the core, rigid and stiff. He smiled slightly at the dichotomy between the pair of them, two powerful individuals that could affect the world merely by existing.

Truly, it would have been something to write a paper about if they weren't already at odds with one another and ready to rip one another's heads off. Or at least, he was ready to do that.

He glanced down at the steaming cup of coffee that she nudged over to him with a finger, arching an eyebrow. The tigress smiled.

"A latte, I believe, is your preferred morning drink?"

"I'd prefer something a bit stronger."

"Perhaps a little Irish cream, for a sinner like you?"

"That wouldn't be a bad start."

The tigress surprised him by indulging the request, reaching under the table and pulling out a bottle of that very thing. She added a few drops to the drink, hardly enough to really get the coffee boozy, but better than nothing. She pushed it back to him, and Dusk cautiously took a sip.

Tasty enough...and no poisons...

He let it sit on the table beside him, not out of disinterest, but out of curiosity. She had guessed right with the latte, much as he hated to admit it, and that meant that either she had stolen information from him when they had clashed the day before, or she had been studying him for a while. Considering the sheer violence of their clash, he imagined that it was more the latter than the former. She wouldn't have been able to get much; she had devoted a fair bit of power to keep from being affected by him.

As a waitress brought them a plate of crumpets, the tigress leaned forward. Dressed as she was in that narrow top and that tiny skirt, she was still showing off far more than he could believe was actually allowed for holy beings. He looked up at her eyes rather than down at her breasts, cocking his head to the side.

"So...why did you wish to talk to me?" he asked.

"I thought you might like the company of someone that you couldn't dominate. At least, for a time," she said with a smirk.

"You think that it is appealing to be around those that refuse to do what I say?"

"I think you need a reminder of humility from time to time."

"What use is humility for the devil?"

"Well, one, you aren't the devil _yet. You're still mortal, even if you have a portion of his powers."

That was a reminder he could have dealt without. Yes, he had a mortal body, but that mortal body contained the immortal soul of one of the most powerful figures in the cosmos. Just because he hadn't unlocked all of that power just yet didn't mean anything. Even if he did still have his mortal soul..._

He remembered when he had been given that, remembered the demoness that had handed it over. He still didn't know what her purposes were, what her game was, but he knew that it meant something deeper than she had said. Pride was never so revealing as that, no matter how exhibitionistic a sin it was.

Dusk tapped the plate of crumpets, taking one and nibbling it slowly.

"And the other?" he asked.

"I beat the devil. The old one. He could never defeat me, so don't even think that you could."

He coughed, the crumpet coming up his throat half-chewed and falling into a napkin. He shook his head, trying to get past the sudden shock of that revelation.

"What? What did you say?"

"I defeated Lucifer," the tigress said, shrugging as she nibbled at her own meal. "He was starting to think that a second rebellion was worth attempting. I had to slap him down."

"...Who are you?"

"My name is Mercy. Mercy Christ."

Christ.

Well, that explained a whole hell of a lot. The way that she could beat up angels, the way that she had certain rules just not apply to her, the way that she could just flirt with a demon and not immediately lose her holiness: she was the daughter of God, and that meant that she was endowed with at least as much power as the old Satan had been. And perhaps more, considering how self-indulgent she was.

He tapped the table as he considered what that meant for his long-term plans. There wasn't anything good to be found there, that was for sure. Christ on earth meant that there were other things in motion, and perhaps more than just the fact that she was trying to turn him good. That meant that there was the possibility of an end-times event starting, and he had to start planning with that in mind.

If she's here, that means that there might be an army gathering in heaven. I don't have one of those. I'll have to find one.

"What are you thinking about, Dusk? Me, perhaps?" she asked.

She pulled his attention back to her with word and unwanted foot. He could feel her toes pressing gently against his knee, and then along his thigh. He twitched his tail irritably, sitting up in his seat and narrowing his eyes at her.

"I am not interested in you. Not that way."

"And you think that matters to someone like me?"

"You're on God's side. It should."

"I think that you overestimate the differences between your side and mine."

"Hmmph. There are as many differences between us as there are between good and evil."

"Really? Does that mean that you'd classify yourself as evil then?" she asked, and her foot wormed its way up further, pressing against his mid-thigh and questing for the upper part.

He grabbed her by the ankle, holding her. From this angle, he couldn't push her back, but he could at least keep her from going any higher. The black cat shook his head slowly, taking another sip of his coffee before answering.

"I consider myself free from standards," he said. "Rather than living along the rules of heaven, deciding what makes me good, I'm allowed to decide what is and is not acceptable for myself."

"And then place those rules upon those that you capture?" Mercy asked, seemingly unbothered by his attempt to hold her back. "What makes you different from God, then, aside from the fact that you place your rules rather than his?"

"I make my rules light. As long as I get what I want, they can do whatever they like."

"And that makes you better than him?" She chuckled. "There's every reason for 'good' to exist in the universe. Your evil, your 'freedom,' is little more than selfishness. It is the allowance to do what you want without oversight. And what happens when that self-determination pushes everyone else under your heel?"

"What happens when your constant, inflexible standards demands that everyone live under it anyway, to be determined worthy of a good life?" he countered.

"If you don't have standards, then how can you judge what is and isn't right?"

"If you have to judge what's right in others, what kind of life would you be living in the first place? If others have to be seen as evil for you to be seen as good, what does that say about you?"

"And what does it say about you that you care so little about the rest of the world and so much about your own happiness?"

There was something both infuriating and interesting about the way that he could just debate like this. He had been in too dim a circle for too long, he was starting to realize, and he was having to martial his arguments faster and more cogently than he was used to. Dusk cocked his head to the side, looking the tigress in the eye, and she smiled.

"I'm impressing you. I can tell."

"That isn't quite the word."

"Then at the very least, I have intrigued you."

"That's a bit more accurate."

"You could have this all the time."

"What, by putting myself under your thumb? Thanks, but no thanks."

"Ah, then you are interested."

"Heh. Hardly." He shook his head, gripping her other foot as she brought it between his legs. "I said, I'm not interested."

"A pity. But you will be. Everyone is, eventually."

"Only the straight and bi guys. Not the gay ones."

That lit a fire in her eyes, and she growled slightly at that. She shook her head, finally pulling her feet out from between his legs, putting them back on the ground as far as he could tell. The tigress's tail twitched angrily behind her.

"That is a sin that I wish that you would give up."

"What, the sin of loving men?" He chuckled. "That's hardly a sin. Most people don't even consider it a vice, these days. Old-fashioned bitch."

"It was written as such." She shook her head. "Regardless, you would be much happier if you at least...broadened your horizons. You would feel much happier with the touch of a woman, I assure you."

He was holding his temper better than he expected, particularly with the swelling of Wrath inside of him. That particular sin wanted to be let loose, its power allowed to wreak havoc wherever it went. He held it inside, because he liked this place, and he didn't want to utterly destroy it.

Yet, he could feel his claws tightening on the edge of the table in his effort to keep it from breaking free. Dusk shook his head. At least he had managed to say something to piss her off for a change, instead. She kept talking.

"And I promise you this. You will receive no better offer than to come to me. It will be far better than what will happen if you hold out."

"I don't know. You talk like there's only Heaven and Hell. We both know that there's a third option."

"Yes, I suppose there is, but do either of us really want to involve them? I doubt even you have such low standards as that."

She wasn't entirely wrong, but Dusk knew that there was no definite line there. For all that he had taken the devil's powers and soul, he had never expected to draw the attention of Heaven this quickly, nor to have Christ herself on his tail. He should have planned that out better, but now that they had gotten to this point...

Well, there was little that he could do without pissing her off and putting himself in greater danger. The third side of this little triangle was far more dangerous than either Heaven or Hell, but it was worth remembering that it was there in the first place. The old proverb of the enemy of the enemy being one's friend was not always right, but it was worth remembering as a possibility.

Because one thing was for sure. He was not binding himself to this woman.

The tigress reached out for his hand, and he batted it away with a shake of his head.

"At least bind yourself to merely one of your slaves," she said, taking her hand back and putting it on her lap. "There's far more to be gained with that sort of intimacy than your shallow dalliances."

"You can judge all you like. I'm going to live my life the way that I want; I have the power to do that much, at least."

"All of Heaven is watching us, Dusk. They are waiting to see if I can change you, bring you to the side of good. If not..."

"You're threatening Armageddon, then?"

"I'm merely saying, it's a possibility."

Of course she was only saying that. Christ was not there to start a war. She would just push him and push him until he either gave in to save others or just went along with it. Then, doubtlessly, she'd be on the front lines to take him as a prisoner, and then work her 'wiles' on him from there.

The thought that someone that so many people in the world worshiped was so callow and vile was more than enough to send his rage skyrocketing again.

Hmmph. At least with the devil, you know what you're getting. A deal. A tainted deal, but still a fucking deal. They've just fooled generations of...

Dusk had gone through that diatribe more than once with mere historical evidence, but now that he had personal experience, his rage truly knew no limits. He started to get to his feet, only for Mercy to push her aura at him again. The stifling holy pressure against him slowed him down, pushing him back to his seat.

"I'm not withdrawing my offer, Dusk. You can come to me. Even without promising your soul to the powers of good, I will accept you into my bed. Perhaps a more...intimate touch...will convince you that what I offer is better than anything that your whores can give you."

"...Say that again. If you want to see how angry you can make me, say that again."

"You can have me."

CRACK!

His fingers broke through his side of the table, and he ripped it free of its base. His fingers were half-locked into the wood, punctured through and held in tiny holes. The cat carefully lifted the chunk over his head, and then slid down the chair until he was able to get up from the booth. It took all the willpower that he had to lay the chunk of wood down without breaking it further, and he growled deep in his throat.

"I'm not keen on your offers of conversion therapy," he said, his voice low. "And I'm not going to just give in to threats. Go back to Heaven, if this is all you have."

"You know that I can't do that."

"Whatever 'mercy' you have to offer me, I don't want it."

"You'll doom many."

"I don't care."

"You'll doom yourself."

"Unlikely."

"You are as arrogant as your predecessor. All it would take is a little bit of love, Dusk."

"And that's what you're offering?" He sneered. "I know Lust when I see it, Mercy. And you are filled with more of that than a succubus's bitch."

The holy aura on the other side of the table suddenly swelled with anger, and the black cat smirked.

"Did I touch a nerve?"

"Tread softly. I am still Christ."

"Yes. The name by which people curse, these days."

He turned, shaking his head.

"Dusk."

"Fuck you, Mercy. Or better yet, fuck yourself."

He flipped her off over his shoulder, making his way out the door without another word. The fact that there was a chance to do that, the fact that he had just flipped off the daughter of God herself, made him feel good.

That feeling wasn't going to last, not with everything else that he had to worry about. If Mercy was here, then he really was on his 'last chance' stage already. If Heaven decided to wage war, then he needed to be ready.

He needed an army.

Mercy sat at the ruined table with an eyebrow raised, and not merely from the broken table and display of anger from Dusk.

Hmmm. He managed to escape my aura...

That was unexpected. Perhaps he was getting a better handle on the power of the devil after all. That would make things a little more complicated.

At the same time, there was a part of her that couldn't help but be aroused, amazed, even, at the way that he was trying to stand up to her. That defiance, that independence, was intriguing and enticing. Even though it would need to be broken...

And particularly that insufferable urge for more than one partner.

Mercy twitched her tail as the oblivious mortals came her way, replacing her plate of crumpets with another, giving her a cup of tea to replace the one that had broken from the sudden ripping of the table. She barely noticed them as she stewed.

His fascination with cock and ass only drags him down, keeps him from fulfilling a proper purpose with someone.

And the defiance that gave him...it was arousing, but she was also irritated with him as seeing it as proper. She was offering him something that any other mortal would kill for, and he was throwing it away for his own pleasures. For males. She growled in her throat, rage and lust - no, not lust, but interest, hunger, the holy virtues rather than the sinful vices - warring with one another.

She would teach him, she knew. She would teach him, show him what it meant to truly be of service to someone else, and the pleasure that came from it. Mercy could already imagine him between her legs, putting that sharp tongue to use somewhere else. The more mortal body that she used was certainly sensitive to the idea, and she moaned under her breath as she pressed her thighs together.

She imagined putting his head there, making him forget about the other whores that he had gathered as he licked away. One lick for every whore forgotten. One lap to remind himself of where he belonged.

Mercy planned to train him. She planned to train him well.

Seraph groaned at the sound of another sizzling burst of flame. He'd been hearing those soft pops and hisses ever since he first started waking up, and they were keeping the fallen angel from getting the rest that he needed. He rolled over on the couch, hearing another one popping in, and this time, he smelled smoke with it.

What in the world is going on?

Ever since his beating by Mercy, the fallen angel had been in recovery mode, his soul - or the remnants of it - gradually repairing the body that he inhabited. The feeling of the rough bruises was still there, but the effects that they had on his mobility were repaired. He groaned under his breath, slowly rolling onto his side so that he could get up.

The air was thick with the smell of smoke, though there was thankfully none of it on the ceiling. He slowly pushed himself up -

"Nnngh..."

Only to have to sit down again. The pressure that his own weight put on his damaged legs was more than he expected, and he hissed under his breath as he sat down again, trying to bring his heart rate back down after that surge of pain. Mercy had really done a number on him, utterly defying her name.

If she's down here...

There was no if. She was. Seraph knew that meant that Heaven knew exactly what had happened to him, and that they had decided that he was not worth rescuing.

That didn't bother him as much as he expected, considering the training that he had already received from his master, and what it meant to him to be of service to Dusk. Instead, it made him worry about the future.

The master had already been affected by the previous visit from Mercy. He could see it in the roiling aura that had been present when he had woken up, when his injuries had been seen. Only Mercy Christ could bring out such emotions in the average man. Yet, there had been none of the attraction that he had seen from other mortals in the past. Whether it was the master's sexuality protecting him or the power of the devil, Seraph didn't know, but he knew that the master's rage and Mercy's would grow in tandem to one another. Feelings like that built off of one another, and when they did, they would eventually come to a head with shattering power.

And when that happened, there would be other things that would need to become involved. God himself, perhaps, or others.

The mere thought was enough to send a shiver down his spine, and he prayed with all that he had left that things would not reach that point. He did not know if the world would survive that sort of confrontation. The conflagration that resulted would burn not just through the physical world, but the world of souls, as well. There would be many that would not reach their afterlife, as a result.

Fwoosh.

He heard the sound again, and this time, he was conscious enough to hear it and realize what it was. It sounded like a fire being born and then dying in the same breath. The bull slowly leaned back against the couch, looking over his shoulder.

The dining room table was covered with pink papers and brochures, tanned and crimson pieces of parchment and paper. There were dozens, if not hundreds, of them, and some of them had fallen to the floor below rather than staying in the pile that had been assembled of them. He shook his head as he watched another paper birth itself from unholy fire, joining the pile at the top.

"Nnnngh...What in the...what in the world?"

Obviously, the other slaves that the master kept around weren't there, or they would have already checked out what this was. He would have called for Arnis to help him, but he had a feeling that the bear was busy somewhere else. That meant that he had to deal with this himself. The bull groaned, feeling the impending pain already building up.

But...have to do this...for master...

The fallen angel rested his hand on the arm of the couch, using it for what support he could as he got back to his feet. His legs wanted to collapse, and no surprise. Mercy had taken holy whips to his knees, battering them with lash after lash, and even after a day of rest and healing, he could barely support his own weight with them.

The punishment for a fall was great.

Still, Seraph managed to guide himself along with the side and back of the couch, making his way to the far wall and staying on his feet as he did. He huffed and puffed from the effort, feeling the shakes running up and down his spine and through his legs. His muscles were not happy, and neither were his bones.

But it was better than he had been, and that was encouraging.

As the shudders started his nipples leaking, reminding him of the corruption and transformation that his master had put him through, he dragged himself along the wall. One shoulder ground against it, leaving him grunting from leaning his weight on an arm that had come within millimeters of being dislocated, but it was better than putting his weight on his legs and collapsing again. For all that he had become a fallen angel, he still had a hint of pride, after all.

Seraph reached the table, sitting down on one of the chairs with a grunt of pure relief. The fact that it had only been about twelve feet from couch to table shouldn't have necessitated that, but it was still there.

I can't wait for this to heal. Maybe master can do something to speed it up...

That was, if he hadn't done it already. He shivered at the idea; what if he was going to have to heal closer to a normal pace after what Mercy had done to him? That wasn't something that he had time for, and neither did his master.

No. For now, the papers. What in the world are all of these?

Another FWOOSH, another paper. He caught it as it fell, the heat already fading from it as he brought it to his face. There wasn't much on the front cover of it, only a name - Falling Delights - but as he opened it, his eyes went wide.

There were no less than a dozen fallen angels displayed on the inside in various images, painted and picturesque as could be, but with all of them bound with their arms behind them as their hips thrust forward, their helpless cocks on display. Their dicks were painted with black paint, making them look all the more corrupt and fallen, and he recognized the unholy spells of chastity upon them.

"Oh...my..."

Seraph's cheeks burned nearly as bright as the papers, and he slowly looked over the pile again, his mouth hanging open as he realized that if they were all on the same subject...

This has to be Hell's biggest advertising campaign ever...particularly for just one person...

The bull could hardly believe that the powers of Hell would be advertising all of this for nothing, however. Angels didn't do things out of mere compassion for others, and neither did demons. They had to want something from it.

Yet, as he looked through the first pamphlet, he couldn't find anything that suggested that there was a hidden cost. It seemed like more of a meeting that they wanted, offering many enticements to get Dusk to come down and talk to them. He could see that the one of 'fallen delights' wanted to offer their six best fallen angels for him to come to a meeting, with each of them bound, their bodies filled to bursting with the greatest of lusts for the cat's best possible pleasure.

Just reading through the offers had the bull's cock throbbing under the table, and he blushed as he put it away.

As he looked at the table again, he realized that the number of offers had probably reached somewhere near to six hundred, and if it kept going, that meant that every brothel among the realms of Lust would be pushing for him to come and visit. Each one wanted him, needed him, apparently.

What did Dusk do?

He might have expected more interest from the demons of Wrath, who would want to be there for war, or from the demons of Pride, angling for position and jockeying to get there. But why would the demons of Lust be so determined to get the attention of the new devil over all the others? Why would they be making so many blatant, determined entreaties to get his master down to Hell?

They're desperate for something, but what?

The door to the penthouse opened, and Seraph leaned his head back, trying to see who was coming in. To his relief, it was Arnis rather than the master or the other slaves.

"What the hell you doing up?" the demon asked.

"I heard all the fires."

"Yeah. They've been going off all day."

"Did...any of you look at them?"

"Nah. That's the master's stuff, we don't touch that."

Right. A demon that was sworn to the service of the new Satan, and several slaves that were completely unable to embarrass or disturb their master about something this important. Seraph had the reminder that he occupied a rather unique position under the black cat, and he knew that it was something that he would need to keep in mind going forward.

Rubbing the back of his head, he almost jumped when another FWOOSH caught his attention, another offer popping in on top of the pile. Both demon and fallen angel shook their heads.

"I'm just grabbing a couple things before heading out again," the bear said. "You need anything?"

"...Would you mind terribly grabbing an ice pack? It would help a bit."

"Sure, no problem. You getting better?"

"Somewhat. It will take a while."

"Heh, maybe you should call one of the boss's sluts in, have them serve ya for a bit. Works wonders, I'm told."

"I doubt you'd know from experience."

"Got that right. I'm going for pussy. And I got a date later."

A date with Christ, Seraph was sure. She'd already gotten her hooks deep in Arnis, and unless Dusk chose to sever those - directly - they were going to remain, no matter how the demon felt about being around the daughter of God.

He sighed, taking the ice pack when it was passed to him, and looked back at the pile of offers.

This is going to take all day...

The End

Summary: Dusk goes to meet with Mercy, planning on finding out more about her. The results are...staggering, to say the least.

Tags: M/F, footplay, foot play, tigress, cat, bull, bear, café, flirting, fantasy, modern fantasy, series, magic, fallen angel, demon, brothel, worldbuilding, lore, anger, obsession,