Truncated Destinies

The atmosphere in the office was thick, heavy with a dangerous musky scent, but also with a melancholy that the steel of the dagger could not cut through. Uriel, still catching his breath after the kiss, felt the dead weight of Carter’s feelings crushing his divine will.

"I only wanted him to be happy," Uriel whispered, his voice sounding not like an archangel’s, but like that of a broken man. "Carter loved Dorian with a purity that is rare even in Heaven. That is why I didn't intervene. That is why I stayed in the shadows, guarding a romance that was technically a sin according to my laws. But never... I never imagined my silence would open the door for something like you to devour his existence."

Astaroth took a step back, leaning his hip against the desk. His amber eyes shone with genuine curiosity, like a collector analyzing an ancient artifact."Tell me, Fire of God... How did it happen? How did the Prince of Finance fall from his glass pedestal?"

Uriel closed his eyes, and Carter’s memory projected in his mind like a film tinted with blood and regret.

"It happened right here," Uriel began. "That night, the office was shrouded in darkness. Dorian and Carter had set the contracts aside. There was an absolute surrender, a passion that Dorian directed with that signature authority of his. It was Carter’s first time. It was... perfect."

Two years ago…

The darkness wasn't total. The city lights from below filtered through the massive executive floor windows, tinting everything in a deep, seductive fuchsia. It was a light that didn't reveal; it hinted. The only sounds were the distant hum of traffic and Carter’s short, held breath.

Dorian had him against the glass wall—not with force, but with an inescapable presence. Carter felt the cold of the glass on his back and the heat of Dorian’s body against his chest, a contrast that made him tremble. There were no kisses yet. Only the weight of anticipation.

"I’ve waited for this moment for a long time. Are you sure?" Dorian asked, his voice a deep murmur that vibrated in Carter’s chest.

Carter could only give his approval, the word caught in his throat. It was the first time. The first time he had surrendered to someone like this; the first time desire outweighed fear.

That was all the authorization Dorian needed. The first time their lips touched, it wasn't soft. It was an affirmation. Dorian kissed him with an intensity that stole his breath—a promise of everything yet to come.

His hands, which had previously been idle at his side, now explored Carter’s body with precision, finding every sensitive spot, every place where the skin prickled in their wake.

Carter felt completely stripped—not just of his clothes, which fell to the floor with a whisper, but of his defenses. Dorian guided him, not with words, but with the language of his body. He led him toward the desk—that altar of power where they usually signed the fate of corporations. But that night, the only fate to be forged there was their own.

With a delicacy that contrasted with his previous ferocity, Dorian laid him back on the desk. Carter looked up, seeing Dorian’s silhouette etched against the city’s glow—a demigod of business and desire.

It was then that Dorian’s authority became total. Every movement, every caress, every kiss was charged with a clear purpose: to take him to the edge, to show him a pleasure he had never imagined. He leaned in, his lips brushing Carter’s ear, and his voice was a low, vibrant murmur that felt like an electric shock.

"Do you feel this, Carter?" he asked, his hand sliding slowly down his torso, stopping just above his abdomen. "This table has seen thousands of deals. But tonight... tonight you are the only contract that matters. And you... you are my only acquisition."

Carter surrendered completely. A moan escaped his lips, a sound that seemed foreign in the silence of the office. "Dorian..."

"No," Dorian interrupted, his mouth dropping to gently bite Carter's earlobe. "Tonight, there are no names. There is only this." His hand descended further, enveloping him with a firmness that took Carter's breath away. "Tell me, Carter, have you ever been touched like this? Have you ever felt your body respond only to my voice?"

Carter could only shake his head, his hands gripping the edges of the desk as the world narrowed down to Dorian’s touch. His moans filled the silence of the office, mingling with the distant echo of the city. Dorian took his time, mapping Carter’s body as if it were territory to be conquered.

"You’re going to learn to ask for it," Dorian whispered while his fingers traced circles within him. "You’re going to learn to say exactly what you want, what you need. Because tonight, your pleasure is my pleasure. And I’m going to make you scream until you forget your own name."

"Please..." Carter managed to whisper, his voice broken—a desperate plea.

"Please, what?" Dorian insisted, a cruel and seductive smile on his lips. "Use your words. Show me how much you want it."

Dorian’s authority was absolute—not just over his body, but over his will. And in that surrender, Carter found a freedom he had never known.

Their bodies joined; it was the culmination of everything that had come before. The outside world vanished. There was only the heat of their skin and the rhythm Dorian imposed—a rhythm that was both relentless and incredibly tender. For Carter, it was a baptism of fire and pleasure, an absolute surrender that redefined him completely. In the darkness of the office, under the city lights, Dorian didn't just take his body; he took his soul, and Carter, for the first time, did not want it back.

Present day…

But when Dorian drove away in his car, euphoria betrayed him. Uriel clenched his fists, reliving the crash.

"Dorian was driving when his phone vibrated. It was a notification from Carter telling him he was already at his apartment, that what happened in the office was the best thing in his life. Dorian smiled; he was distracted for just a second to read that message... and a truck slammed into his car. The metal twisted, and with it, his destiny."

Astaroth raised an eyebrow, his smile turning icy.

"You were there, Uriel. You are a Seraphim. Why didn't you stop the truck? Why didn't you heal his spine before the doctors delivered their sentence?"

"I was forbidden," Uriel spat bitterly. "My superiors decreed that it was his lifeline, his trial. But I couldn't allow him to suffer more than necessary. I did everything I could so that Carter would never leave him; I influenced his loyalty so he would stay by his side in the wheelchair, so that love wouldn't die in the tragedy. My only mistake was believing the Thornes' pain would remain human."

Uriel took a step toward the demon, his eyes blazing. "How did you get here, Astaroth? Who opened the door for you?"

"The desperation of the living is the best map for us," Astaroth replied with a shrug. "His parents brought in a woman, the shaman Griselda. She is from a forbidden lineage, one that isn't afraid to get its hands dirty. Griselda ignored every warning of the balance; she wasn't looking for a miracle, she was looking for an engine to make her son walk again. I was the highest bid. And now, Dorian Thorne is the throne on which I sit."

Silence reigned once more, but this time it was broken by Astaroth’s movement. With a speed the human eye couldn't follow, the demon wrapped his arms around Uriel’s waist, pinning the assistant’s body against his own. The silk of Dorian’s suit brushed against Carter’s shirt, and the heat emanating from Astaroth was blistering.

Uriel stiffened, his breathing becoming erratic at the touch of that skin—now healthy, firm, and overflowing with dark energy. His angelic instincts screamed at him to flee, but Carter’s body melted at the contact.

Astaroth buried his face in Uriel’s neck, inhaling the scent of holiness and repressed desire.

"That night in the office... Carter’s first time..." the demon whispered, his voice vibrating directly against the angel's skin. "Carter still yearns for it. And you, Uriel, are dying to know what it feels like to be claimed by someone who isn't afraid to sin."

Astaroth tightened his grip, pressing their pelvises together with possessive firmness.

"Do you want us to live that 'first time' again? But this time, angel... there will be no distractions. No trucks. Only the two of us and the abyss. Do you want it inside?"