Dark Matters: Forbidden Desire

The touch was an electric burn that Uriel could not extinguish. Astaroth clung to him with a possessiveness that claimed not just Carter’s body, but the very essence of the angel.

"Do you want it inside?" the demon whispered, his voice promising both glory and the Fall in a single breath.

Uriel didn't answer. He didn’t need to. His body—traitorous and thirsty—answered for him. A low, urgent moan escaped his throat as his hips, with a will of their own, pressed downward, seeking more of that friction, more of the heat that was consuming him.

Astaroth smirked, a silent and devastating victory. "That’s what I thought," he murmured. Then, with agonizing slowness, he slid one of his hands between their bodies. His fingers, expert and bold, forced their way through the fabric of Uriel’s trousers until they found him—hard and throbbing, an irrefutable testament to his desire.

"Stop," Uriel managed between moans.

"Stop? Why on earth would I do that?" the demon replied, his hand maintaining a constant, grinding friction against Uriel's crotch.

The first contact was an explosion. Uriel arched his back, his eyes snapping shut as a wave of pleasure rippled through every fiber of his being. Astaroth didn’t move him; he simply held him, feeling the frantic pulse against his palm—absolute power over the celestial being beneath him.

"Feel how you respond to me," Astaroth said, his voice a sweet poison. "Don’t fight it, Uriel. It’s useless. Let me show you the pleasure you’ve denied yourself for years."

His fingers began to move in a slow, deliberate rhythm that stripped Uriel of any remaining control. Every movement was a question, a provocation, a promise of the looming ecstasy. The angel, trapped between Heaven and Hell, between virtue and sin, ceased his struggle.

Instantly, the air in the office became unbreathable, heavy with a tension that threatened to materialize desire into something physical. But just as Astaroth’s lips sought Uriel’s again, the sound of heavy footsteps was intercepted by Uriel’s sharp senses. Suddenly, the resounding bang of the door swinging open shattered the passionate spell.

Uriel broke free with a violent jerk, his breath ragged and Carter’s heart hammering against his ribs like a caged animal. He barely had time to feign checking some files when Dorian’s father—a man of icy gaze and boundless ambition—strode into the office. His eyes scanned the scene: ruffled papers, the assistant with a flushed face, and his son, Dorian, strangely standing with a look that seemed lost yet annoyed.

"Dorian, it’s time," the father said, completely ignoring the tension. "We must visit the healer who performed the miracle. Griselda says the ceremony isn't final yet. It needs a reinforcement to make the bond permanent."

In that instant, Astaroth retreated. Like a shadow merging with the wall, the demon allowed Dorian Thorne’s original consciousness to retake control for a few seconds. The young CEO blinked, staggering slightly as his hands reached for the corner of the desk.

"Final?" Dorian asked, his voice sounding human, fragile, and laden with existential doubt. "Father, is this real? Or will I wake up tomorrow back in that wheelchair, trapped in my own body?"

Uriel, sensing Dorian’s anguish through Carter’s eyes, couldn't help but intervene. The angel felt the conflict between his duty and the compassion he still held for his protégé.

"That won't happen... Dorian. I’m sure of it," Carter interrupted. But as he said it, the angel’s mind was already tracing a different map—a hidden plan to end this farce before the darkness consumed him as well.

Derand, Dorian’s father, looked at Carter with absolute contempt, as if he were a smudge on the furniture, something that didn't fit the decor.

"You should consider your friendships more often, son. The help shouldn't weigh in on family matters," the man declared, taking Dorian by the arm to lead him toward the exit. Before crossing the threshold, Dorian’s body tensed; Astaroth took control for a single second just to turn his head and wink at Uriel with triumphant malice.

"What are you doing?" Uriel questioned himself the moment he saw Astaroth's wink.

Uriel didn't wait. He abandoned Carter’s body, leaving the assistant disoriented in the office, and moved like a flash of invisible light toward the healer’s sanctuary.

Griselda was surrounded by incense and carved bones. Feeling the presence, her eyes turned white.

"Who are you and why have you come?" she hissed. "I smell a spirit scorched by its sins."

Uriel didn't answer. The silence was broken by the arrival of Dorian and his father.

"We have brought the sacrifice you requested," the father announced, pointing to a bundle covered in feathers that emitted sounds from within.

Griselda smiled, a twisted grimace she didn't get to finish because, in that instant, Uriel lunged at her, possessing the healer’s body with a burst of supernatural energy.

Under the angel's control, Griselda straightened up and extended her hands toward Dorian, chanting words in a dead tongue that made the very foundations of the place vibrate. Uriel was looking to rip Astaroth out by the roots.

Derand stood frozen, not knowing what was happening, his confusion quickly turning into dread. "What is she doing now?"

Suddenly, Derand fell to the floor, limp and breathless. The force of the exorcism Uriel sought to perform drained the energy from the room, and the surrounding bodies succumbed.

Astaroth, however, did not fight with brute force. He looked the healer in the eye and knew immediately who was behind those eyelids.

"I thought we had a new and special connection?" Astaroth said with Dorian’s face, knowing Derand was out of the picture for the moment. "You kissed me, Uriel. You dropped the dagger. Why are you doing this?"

"This is impossible!" Uriel replied through Griselda’s throat. "It’s better to cut every bond from the root and send you back to Hell."

"You can't. You have no authority here," the demon mocked. He walked toward the healer’s body and, with terrifying gentleness, stroked her face. "So I’ll propose something else... Forget Heaven; forget that tasteless paradise. Forget Hell. Let’s live as Dorian and Carter. Let’s be free and use our free will as we please. What do you say, angel? Enjoy to the fullest what you’ve craved for years."

Uriel wavered. The proposal was a sweet poison. He was about to respond when Griselda’s will—fueled by her ancestral magic and a stronger Demon King—rebelled. The healer expelled Uriel from her body with a deafening, terrifying scream.

Upon regaining consciousness, Griselda wasted no time. With a flick of her hand, she caused the sacrifice—a young, pure animal—to burst into green flames.

"You don't know what you've done," Astaroth reproached the healer, his voice turning inhuman with rage.

"I know exactly what is happening between Dorian and Carter," Griselda replied, wiping blood from her nose and looking at the demon sternly. "So, if you don't stop this game of seduction with that angel, They..." she paused, her eyes wavering, "will take care of the rest."

Astaroth stopped instantly, his gaze shifting, his aura of confidence faltering for the first time in a long while.

"Who?" he asked, still not seeing what was happening.

Griselda pointed toward the shadows in the corners of the sanctuary, where the smoke from the sacrifice was beginning to form figures.

"They..." she faltered with a respectful dread toward the shadows. "They will take care of it."