The sheets were satin, the pillows silk. The hangings around the bed were rich black velvet, and the straps that bound the wrists and ankles of one of the forms upon the mattress were softest leather, black as the Pit, black as the leather of the other figure's wings.
The bound Lilim was a splash of green in the soft, enfolding darkness around him. His skin gleamed with recent exertions, and he simply rested his forehead against his master's stomach.
The Prince stroked his fingers through his Servitor's hair, in an absent motion. His eyes were half-open, gazing into the matte black above them. "Your sister -- brother, now. With a Cherubesque Djinn and Virgin Stock."
Ahinadab nodded carefully, shifting just a little to ease the minor cramps in his arms, where they were bound behind his back. When there was no other response to his nod, either reproving or approving, he dared to murmur, "So it seemed, my Lord."
"The Djinn wasn't, you know," Andrealphus commented, rolling onto his back. One wing scooped the Lilim up as he did so, so that the contact was maintained.
"I hadn't, my Lord," Ahinadab said, frowning slightly.
"And the Virgin Stock wasn't. Wasn't our Stock, at least." The Prince's chuckle was a rich, exquisite thing. His Servitor stiffened a moment, trying to inhale the sound as if it were perfume. He didn't ask for details, and after a moment, Andrealphus continued, "She was an angel. A Kyriotate, I hear, somehow bound into a form. Very interesting notion, that. Something I shall have to look into... Where was I, sweet?"
"Daimonique, with a not-Djinn and a form-bound Kyriotate, Beautiful Prince." Ahinadab brushed his lips against the skin in front of him, tasting the wine of his master's sweat.
"Ah, yes. Thank you. Don't stop." His hands pushed gently against the Lilim's head, and Ahinadab wriggled down a bit lower, kissing and licking past the Impudite Prince's navel. Andrealphus continued, "You've had angels in the past. Of course you have, you're a Knight. I don't give that distinction out lightly. You know what they're like. You know how they think. Don't stop."
Ahinadab made a muffled noise, as acknowledgement seemed expected. He didn't stop.
"And your skill -- mmm, that's good, do that again -- seems to be adequate." The pale throat was suddenly exposed as he arched. "Quite adequate."
Again, Ahinadab hummed response, concentrating on his task. For a time, there was silence, with the little noises of pleasure drowned in the soft velvet hangings.
When they were done, their pose was not much different. The Lilim's cheek rested against the Impudite's navel. The Prince toyed with his Servitor's hair.
"You're going to go to Earth again, sweet," Andrealphus finally said. "There are several angels there. I want you to add some notches to your bedpost." His lips curled into a smile. "There is the most lovely Ofanite down there, and an Elohite who needs better training in respect..."
Ahinadab nodded slightly again, thinking of the opportunities that might unfold in the corporeal realm. It had been some time since he had been there last. More angels on his string -- that would erase the ignominy of being chased from Earth by some Cherub and losing a new-Fallen he'd seduced. He smiled.
His Prince shifted. "You like that idea, sweet?"
"Oh, yes, my Lord," the Lilim murmured.
"Good. Now, roll over, and show me how much you like it..."
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