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Gallagher was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the little bird caught on. But what if, from the beginning, his target was never his sister?
The yellow flame from the lighter vanished with a flick of his hand, and the twisted shadow of Death engulfed the Halovian’s body just as quickly. Before he could turn to face the abomination, its sharp blade had plunged itself into his chest. The last thing he saw was the pair of glinting orange eyes and triumphantly bared fangs.
Death does not exist in dreams. It is merely a doorway to another world.
When Sunday opened his eyes again with a sharp intake of breath, he was met with boundless darkness, staircases leading to nowhere and murky water beneath the walkways. His hand reflexively flew to his chest, where he had been previously impaled, only to feel…nothing. His white suit was as pristine as it always was, and his chest whole and unharmed. He lifted his gaze to finally notice the taller figure in front of him. Just as he opened his mouth to demand answers, he felt that blood-curdling presence behind him again. A shadow. He was still engulfed by the oppressing shadow cast by that thing . Without wasting a beat, he quickly turned to face the monster. Yet by doing so, he turned his back to the bloodhound. A mistake.
Instantly, the jaws of the predator clamped down, fangs sinking into its delectable prey. He felt a pair of sturdy arms pull him into a tight hold. He jerks in response.
“Unhand me!” he hisses.
“Shh…” came the whispery response. Gallagher lifts a thumb to swipe against Sunday’s bottom lip, his warm breath fanning against a wing, “Not so loud, it’s got a short temper.”
His golden gaze immediately shoots back to the creature still hovering ominously above them, its pointed claw raised and swaying sinisterly in the air, as if always ready to strike. He bites his tongue and composes himself. He quickly realizes that he is unable to summon the voice of Harmony, or any of his powers for that matter, in this dimension. But one thing he is sure of, he is still alive.
“Where have you brought me?”
“Somewhere you won’t be escaping from.” Gallagher easily grips both of his wrists with a hand as the other reaches up to loosen and pull off his tie. Stripped of the power of Harmony, he could easily subdue and manipulate said man however he wanted. He expertly binds Sunday’s delicate wrists behind his back with the maroon fabric.
Sunday let out a humorless chuckle, golden irises fixed calmly on him.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Gallagher smirks as he turns the other man around to face him, “I’m not worried about you at all. I just prefer not being scratched by my little prey, you know?” He says as he leans in to bite down on the wing that had been fluttering to avoid him. The pretty white feathers looked so tempting, always immaculate and meticulously groomed, never a stray feather in sight. His hands roamed the dignified body beneath him, pressing and groping. The prey that the stray dog had been staring at for so long was finally caught with its wings folded. The hunger and excitement burned and spread rampantly in his belly, he could hardly contain it. He needed to savor this moment.
“Damned dog…do not touch me.” Sunday tries to avoid him, to no avail. The large, calloused hands find their way under his clothes, rubbing hungrily against his abdomen and stops momentarily on his ribs.
“So small and fragile,” Gallagher swipes his tongue against the sensitive root of the wing, earning a ragged gasp from the other, “I need to be careful not to break you too soon.”
Sunday still looks at him as if looking at something lowly and disgusting.
“You, the filthy lot of you…” Sunday thinks back to Aventurine, Acheron, and the finale they orchestrated, so flagrant it allowed the man before him to slip through the cracks and stab him in the back. “...Scurrying like vermin in the shadows…” he gritted.
“Relax, sweetheart,” Gallagher laughed, “It was the Family who invited said ‘vermin’ into the household. You host a grandiose Charmony Festival, yet are still unforthcoming of your plots. Your arrogance will bring about your undoing.”
“That is still no reason for you to be wreaking havoc in Penacony.” Sunday says coldly, “Be it the Watchmaker’s lapdog, or follower of the Enigmata, the Light of Harmony will not be hindered by your schemes. The Festival must proceed.”
“I don’t think you’ve realized just how dire your situation is, Mr. Sunday,” Gallagher pulls back and looks lazily down at him through half-lidded eyes, “Look around you, why do you think I brought you here?”
Sunday only glares at him. So he continues.
“A bunch of hypocrites, that’s what the Family is. You point your fingers like righteous bastards, despite your corruption. You distort history to your advantage, and betray the dream that was Penacony.” His voice becomes gruff as he rips the expensive fabric open. Sunday widens his eyes as the buttons fly askew and disappear into the dimness. He had noticed the growing bulge that had been grinding against him, but was still utterly shocked that the hound would go to such lengths to degrade him.
“You wish to defile me.”
“Far more than that, angel. How would the Family react when they see the esteemed Head of the Oak Family fallen, used, and utterly destroyed?” without waiting for a response, he leans down and captures a pink nipple between his lips, lapping against the bud and biting roughly. He flinches at the pain and the scratchiness of the man’s stubble against his skin. He struggles beneath the heavy weight, kicking and writhing, but is held down firmly. The tooth marks redden around his nipple.
“Despicable wretch…ngh…!” he writhes as Gallagher plays with his other nipple, pinching until it becomes stiff and sensitive. He gives it two flicks and laughs.
“Save your breath. I’ll have you screaming for me by the end of this.”
The delicate figure in his arms begins to tremble, from anger, or perhaps fear. Either way, it only fueled the growing eagerness within him. He couldn’t wait to see those pretty golden eyes that were currently glaring daggers at him to become clouded with lust and pleasure.
“!!” Sunday lets out a surprised noise as two fingers were shoved into his mouth without warning. Pushing deep into the back of his mouth, the fingers swirled around his tongue, rendering him unable to speak. Then, just as abruptly, the fingers were pulled out, taking with them a string of saliva.
The remainder of his clothes were quickly discarded and he was thrown unceremoniously onto the ground. He grunted from the impact of the cold hard floor meeting his face and felt his hips being angled upwards by rough hands, fully exposing his backside to Gallagher. He tried with difficulty to get away from the impending violation, with his hands still restricted behind his back. But he instantly froze when a hand gripped the back of his neck tightly and the two fingers coated with his own saliva brushed against his puckered hole. He bit his lip hard, nearly breaking the skin as he desperately suppressed a scream as a single, large finger pushed inside him. The pain from the intrusion was beyond excruciating as his tight ring of muscles was stretched this way for the first time.
“Don’t be shy now,” came the voice from behind, “let me hear you sing.”
He bites down even harder, drawing blood this time. He would not grant this old dog any further satisfaction if he could help it.
Another finger slipped in, wriggling and scissoring within him.
“How does it feel?”
“Disgusting.” he rasps.
For several more moments, the fingers curled and bullied inside him, until his entrance became slick and pliable. He was panting slightly now when the digits were pulled out and he heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled and a zipper being tugged down.
His right leg was lifted as he was half turned towards Gallagher again, he was pulled closer and something heavy, warm, and much more massive than fingers prodded against his hole.
“No!” Sunday began to thrash again. But compared to Gallagher’s superior body weight, his frenzied protests hardly did much to help him escape. The grip on his thigh tightens as his leg is pushed back into him, spreading him even wider.
“Settle down,” Gallagher warns as the monster above them sweeps its appendages menacingly, “Don’t make me pin your hands to the floor.”
Slowly, he pushes into the inexperienced hole, licking his lips when he hears quiet whimpers from the beautiful being beneath him. Under the dim light, Sunday's pale naked back looked especially divine with the golden halo hovering behind his head. Paired with the particularly lewd view of the twisting body and the lush hole suckling at his barely penetrated dick, it took all of the restraint in him for Gallagher not to split open this holy being right then and there. With a relieved grunt he plunges himself entirely in with one thrust. Sunday lets out a muffled cry as he clenched and spasmed uncomfortably around the intrusion.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Gallagher breathed as he pulled out before fiercely slamming himself back in, “I’ll ravage you until you can’t see straight, sweet thing.”
With one hand next to Sunday’s head and the other holding his leg in place, Gallagher has him completely confined as he pistons his enormous cock in and out of his reddening hole.
Filthy…this is filthy…! Sunday indignantly folds his wings over his eyes, as if trying to block out and hide from this utter debauchery. In his rapidly deteriorating thoughts, he tries to steady his breath and stay conscious.
“Oh Triple-Faced Soul, please blot out my sins and purify all unrighteousness…” he begins to chant desperately. With every snap of his hip, the melodious voice wavers, and every time he hits the deepest spot, the other all but moans out the prayer. A smirk is plastered all over Gallagher’s face as he lets the little bird sing futilely. He took his time admiring the pink flush under the wings still covering his face, and his pristine, milky skin reddening wherever Gallagher touched him. And when the prayer was almost complete, he leaned down to catch the last word with a kiss. The desolate area fell into quietness, save for the smacking of skin and muffled protests from Sunday. He groaned lowly into Sunday’s mouth as he chased his slick tongue, invasive and explorative. Before long, he felt a sharp pain on his bottom lip. The feisty little bird had bitten him, drawing him back to reality.
“Don’t k-kiss me, filthy dog…” he panted weakly.
Gallagher straightened up again and looked at him lazily. He swiped his tongue over the puncture, tasting the metallic flavor of blood. A momentary pause. He reaches down and harshly grabs a wing, yanking it from Sunday’s face and forcing him to look into his own eyes. He feels the smaller man clench tighter onto him as he grips the wing harder, uncaring about the crumpled feathers and pained expression.
“L-let go…ngh…”
He pushes in with deliberate force and stirs his hard length in the deepest recesses of the overstretched heat. He relished in the way those pretty eyes widened, then rolled back slightly to become half-lidded.
“Yeah, that’s good, baby,” he says, “take it deep, feel it stretch your pretty little hole.”
Gallagher’s cock looked grotesquely enormous like this, grinding impossibly deeper and deeper into the overstretched hole and creating an obvious bulge in Sunday’s lower abdomen. He reached down to cup his hand around the protrusion. “Look at how tightly you’re clenching onto me,” he applied some pressure, earning a louder whimper, “You like that, huh?”
“Shut up…I d-don—” he slurs, delirious, his pink tongue slipping out of wet, swollen lips.
“Seems like I still haven’t fucked you hard enough, if you’re still saying that.” he gives another thrust, “not to worry, we have plenty of time here. You’re going to turn into a mindless little slut for me.”
He flipped Sunday onto his back and lifted the slim legs so his feet pointed towards the air. He returned to the vigorous pace, slamming into that tight little ass. Sunday could only bounce helplessly beneath him, his elegant body manhandled, unable to escape as he was mercilessly impaled and held down.
“Ah..ahh…!” his little moans grew louder as something intense and scalding hot started to build up within him. It hits him like a bag of bricks, he comes with his back arched and eyes rolled back, his own release spilling onto his belly and sullying his tender skin. The cock inside him stops moving. He lays panting, head lulled to the side, still twitching from his orgasm. When he finally manages to come to, he says weakly, “Take…take it out…”
He tries to move his hips away, but a large hand strikes his ass from the side, and keeps him put.
“What are you talking about?” Gallagher drawls, “I haven’t even released yet, selfish angel.”
He takes another handful of feathers, and rubs them roughly between the pads of his fingers, feeling the soft texture. Sunday shakes his head, beads of pearls whelming at the corners of his eyes.
“W-wait!” he shakes from sensitivity and overstimulation, “Please…I can’t…”
“Oh, sweet thing,” the man leaned over him and whispered, “I. Don’t. Care. This is supposed to be your punishment, I’ll remind you.”
He leaned back up, dug his nails into the soft flesh, and kept fucking.
The cock slid in and out, over and over, without a single moment of respite, punching the breath out of Sunday in quick, clipped, gasps of “ah, ah, ah.” The Halovian was too blissed out to notice a hand reaching towards his halo before it was already too late. Gallagher gripped the rim and gave an experimental rub, eliciting a surprised jolt from Sunday.
“Sensitive here, aren’t we?” he smiled as he adjusted his grip to hold the halo firmly in his fist.
All the sensations in his body suddenly seemed to increase tenfold, he squirmed in the man’s embrace as he gave a pleading look, “Not so rough…”
But that only served to rile up the old dog even more.
“I wonder,” Gallagher says as he picks up his pace, breaths becoming more ragged as he nears his release, “What would happen if an angel loses his halo?”
Sunday’s expression twists into something akin to fear, “Don’t!”
But the man only laughed. He grips the ring, closing in his fingers, tighter…tighter…
“Stop!” Sunday screams, struggling with all his might, only for the big cock to stuff him tighter and fuck him back into place. It all became too much to bear, beyond anything Sunday has ever deemed possible. He sobs desperately as his prostate is hit and abused again and again, until there’s a sickening ‘crack’ that seems to resonate throughout the entire dimension. His mouth is open, but there is no sound that comes out. He almost passes out as he feels something being snatched away from him. Dismay, defeat, and utter despair runs amok in him. There’s no running away, he can’t fight back. He trembles weakly and goes limp while the other man chases his own high.
Gallagher growled as he came like a freight train, shoving himself as deep as he could, shooting ropes of warm seed inside the angel(?)’s creamy hole. He stayed inside Sunday for as long as he could, feeling his cock pulse inside the spasming body beneath him. When he finally pulls out, he couldn’t help but groan of satisfaction at the scene before him–
Sunday, eyes glazed-over, twitching from aftershocks of his orgasm; Warm, milky cum oozing out of his gaping ass; and halo, no longer illuminated, in pieces on the floor.
“Sunday…Sunday…” he sighs in satisfaction, “After all your self-righteous trials and judgments in the name of the Harmony, this is what you deserve.”
He runs his calloused fingers along the pale abs, the delicate collarbones, and then the bloody wings. He looked good fallen, Gallagher thought. Mangled, overflowing with seed, and oh-so-beautiful.
“Welcome to Penacony, Mr. Sunday.”