Masturbation Monday: The Angel and The Cowboy

Technically this is The Devil: Part Two, but this part is all about Butch and the lovingly nicknamed angel, Wingnut. Enjoy. {Also technically, these stories weren’t supposed to be a serial and I was only supposed to write about the Devil, but when there’s so much shoved into your head that’s worth writing, how can I say no?}

Please stop by to read Dr. J.’s The Cowboy

Story Quote Masturbation Monday The Angel and The Cowboy

“Thanks.” I brush myself off while keeping the angel in my line of sight. Trails of smoke are still floating off my clothes and into the still air around us. I do my best to hide the shake in my hands. I’m scared enough to piss myself. Dealing with demons is one thing but angels have no mercy. The simple fact that this one saved my life and those of my customers still has me in shock.

Did you miss part one?

The thunder and lightning only lasted for a few moments but long enough to knock out the power. Then the redheaded bitch threw holy fire at the angel and dragged the devil off to parts unknown. Not thinking, I grabbed the nearest fire extinguisher to try and put out the fire. The woman didn’t have good aim, she missed the angel by at least a foot. Moments later, I found myself outside, my bar burning down.

“You knew that was the devil in your bar, right?” The angel’s voice is kind of bland. As though he asks the question as a formality, not because he really cares about the answer.

“Yes, but he’s never caused any trouble in the past. Even helped out with some troubles I’ve had without being asked.” I cover my face after looking back at the flames consuming my bar. It had been in the family for generations. Tears sting my eyes for a moment, but there’s work to be done.

“I need to gear up. We need to find that red-headed woman before she causes more trouble.” The angel nods. For a moment, I swear he was checking out my ass. The angel walks towards my bar. “You’re going the wrong way, Wingnut.”

“Am I?” He gets closer to the bar and peeks inside. The flames have died down. It’s strange. I’ve seen some weird shit throughout my life and heard weirder shit from others, but this was getting way above my pay grade and I didn’t get paid squat to deal with mystical problems.

“This is beyond my ability to heal. But the bones are good. You will rebuild.” His voice sounds adamant as though he is giving me an order. He wasn’t telling me that I could rebuild, but that I would. No ifs, ands, or buts about it in that tone.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” Unable to hide the sarcasm in my own tone, I wince, wondering if I’m about to be turned into a pillar of salt or smote or something. Nothing happens. The angel turns and walks back, then taps me on the forehead. Instantly, we’ve traveled somewhere else and I almost puke on my boots.

“You really should warn a fella before you teleport him.” The words coming out of my mouth are raspy as I dry heave. I have never been so glad for a night I didn’t have time to eat or sip a beer. The angel wanders back and forth in my small living room as I recover. The vertigo takes a little time to wear off.

Fighting back the nausea, I head to the weapons room. I keep it hidden behind, of all things, a bookcase. I pull back the raggedy rug and then open the hidden door that heads down into the basement. The angel follows me a little closer than I expect.

“Your Safeword is Red.”

I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. Once down the dark steps, I stop to reach for the string on the single bare bulb. The angel runs into me and stops. He doesn’t back off and I can feel the warmth of his flesh sinking into mine. I pull the string. Light fills the small space.

The angel is pressed up against my back. I can feel the cock of the mortal flesh he’s wearing against my body. Unable to shake off my response, my cock hardens as well. I know there’s work to be done, but it’s been too long since I’ve felt the body of another against mine and I hope the angel responds to what I’m about to do.

First, I step off the bottom step. Second, I turn and place my hand on his belly so he doesn’t follow. Third, I lick my lips as I caress his cock through the khakis he’s wearing. And then, I glance up to see the thing I crave; lust in his mortal features. I unzip his pants and unbuckle his belt. When I unbutton them, they fall to his ankles with a soft thud as I bend over and wrap my lips around the head of his cock.

“I saw this on tv once, but it wasn’t two guys and…” his voice trails off as I give him the swirl and flick treatment. I pride myself on my head-giving skills. Stroking his shaft, I continue to work him with my mouth. His hips start to move back and forth as he gives into his sinful desires. And then he grabs my head to hold me still.

Opening my mouth wide, I swallow him down. Wingnut starts moving on his own, speeding up, then slowing back down. A long, continuous moan fills my ears. Salty drops coat my tongue as he falls deeper into depravity with me.

The hold he has on my head becomes punishing and I tap out. It takes a few more hip-thrusts before he realizes I need free, but once he notices, he lets me go. Panting, I grab him by the boring tie he’s wearing and yank him down the last two steps and lead him to the little room off to the side.

I turn and push him, as if we’re in a dance, and he lands hard onto the pillow-covered mattress. I strip off my smoke-scented, singed clothing. Doing so reveals the physical scars of being a hunter of monstrous creatures. It doesn’t stop me, though. I join him on the bed and caress his face.

“Do you want to keep going?” Lowering my fingers, I loosen his tie and start to unbutton his shirt. It takes me a few moments to realize I had dragged him here with his feet trapped in his pants by his shoes. I take my time stripping him, even though there is none to waste really. There’s a devil to catch and a redheaded witch with him.

“This is quite enjoyable. Yes, I’d like to keep­‑” I cut him off with a kiss that would sizzle the socks of a mortal and push him down against the bed. Without looking, I snatch his wrists and shackle them to the headboard.

“Your Safe Word is Red.”

Read Part Three: Masturbation Monday: The Devil

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