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Chapter 14

Fallen for You

After being knocked unconscious by Elohael, Artesda awoke several times on the floor, and each time, Izra and Elohael were still making love. Artesda wanted to die, being forced to lie there dazed and pained, bound with rope, listening with a grimace as they baaed, kissed, squelched, and grunted. What was worse, the bed was even shaking in its frame one time, so vigorous was their lovemaking. Artesda turned his head, and knowing he shouldn't, he looked at the lovers out of bitter curiosity. He was furious to see Izra in Elohael's lap, riding Elohael's massive erection, as Elohael sat up behind him, stroking his fat sheep penis until it squirted white liquid in his fist. Izra sagged against Elohael, and something burned in Artesda's chest like fire when Elohael stroked Izra's mane back from his forehead and kissed it. Izra smiled when he felt the kiss - then turned around and kissed Elohael on the mouth!

Artesda felt his heart crumbling. What made Elohael better than him? More worthy than him? Before he became Fallen, Elohael had been famous in Heaven for the number of sheep he slaughtered during the war against Vaine. Now he was making love to Izra, who had fallen for him completely, it seemed. It didn't make sense.

Perhaps if I hadn't raped Izra's mouth, Artesda thought unhappily and stared at the ceiling. A snore broke the silence, and when he looked back at the bed, it was to find Elohael had fallen asleep. His muscular back was so the room and his side rising and falling gently. Artesda bristled when Izra kissed the sleeping angel on the cheek, then he put on Elohael's shirt like a nightshirt and came to Artesda, squatting guiltily beside him.

Izra smelled like sex, like musky sweat and body fluids. But his wool smelled sweet as ever, so sweet Artesda couldn't stand it. He glared at Izra and was silently satisfied when his anger seemed to sting the ram.

Izra's face darkened. "What right do you have to be jealous, you rapist!" he whispered bitterly. "Now listen to me, because I'm the only thing standing between you and certain death --"

"I love you!" Artesda blurted with an angry heave of his chest. "Yet you have no pity for me, no shame! You would rip my heart out and feast on it if you could!"

"Oh, don't be dramatic!" Izra returned wearily. He closed his eyes and sighed, suddenly looking very tired. When he looked down at Artesda again, his dark eyes were indeed pitying. "What you feel is not love," he said gently. "It is guilt."

Artesda glowered and felt like a sullen child when he retorted, "Don't tell me how I feel!" He made a furious noise. "Perhaps I could have handled this better if it weren't one of my brothers you fell for --!"

Izra blinked in surprise. "I have n-not f-fallen for . . ." he stammered himself silent.

"Yes, you have," Artesda sneered. "I see the doe-eyed looks you give him. What is the real difference between him and me? He has slaughtered your siblings as well, if not more than I! Can you even begin to comprehend how old he is --?"

"Shut up, Artesda!" Izra snapped.

Artesda took a furious breath and fell silent. He was relieved, if not satisfied to see the guilt and reluctance on Izra's face. That sweet face. Those soft lips. If only Izra would let him kiss those lips -

"Elohael has no qualms about killing you ," Izra said heavily, "if you don't agree to leave here peacefully."

"And I suppose he expects me not to divulge his location," sneered Artesda. "I will do no such thing! The miserable wretch deserves little more than the quick removal of his head!"

Izra sighed again. "I thought you'd say that."

"What is it that makes him more worthy than I?" Artesda begged and felt a burst of frustration when Izra did not answer but simply looked at him miserably. "Tell me! His cock is bigger than mine, is that it? Oh, Izra, I can make love to you just as well, such sweet love - If you just let me --!"

"Stop this, for the sake of the gods," Izra begged, massaging his eyes.

Artesda fell silent, waiting miserably.

"I just . . . like him, alright?" Izra said, waving a paw. "Not that I owe you an explanation, but he feels the way I feel about the war and Araton and everything. He just wants to exist in peace . . . and so do I," Izra said softly and gazed off, as if he was only just realizing.

Artesda's face darkened. That Izra was so willing to be with Elohael and not him was both baffling and infuriating. If his paws weren't bound, he would grab Izra and shake him . . . then perhaps kiss him . . . touch him . . . show him that he was superior to his loathed brother in every way.

"I would become Fallen for you," Artesda said softly, earnestly. Izra blinked in surprise, and Artesda thought he seemed touched, but his dark eyes did not relent. "I would," Artesda insisted. "Just ask me to, I'll forsake everything, turn my back on Heaven and walk at your side --"

Izra laughed dryly.

"Do not laugh at me," Artesda said sullenly.

"You just called Elohael a miserable wretch for becoming Fallen," Izra pointed out, "yet you are willing to become Fallen yourself, oh prince of Heaven?"

Artesda angrily averted his eyes.

"You don't hate Elohael because he's Fallen," Artesda heard Izra say in a soft, scolding voice. "You just hate him because he fucked my brains out and you never had a chance."

Artesda set his teeth. His muscular body tensed, and without warning, he sprang upright, looping his bound wrists over Izra's head and locking him in his embrace. Forcefully brought nose to nose, Izra stared at Artesda in shock and wiggled to get free. He gasped when he felt Artesda's penis slap upright against him.

"Art-tesda!" Izra whispered frantically.

Tightening his bound arms, Artesda lifted Izra and brought him down over the thick pulse of his hungry erection. He sighed as Izra's warm, hot, squirming walls enfolded him. Izra was paralyzed in his grasp, but as Artesda flexed his back to plunge deeper, the ram frowned against the pleasure, closed his eyes, and bowed his head, gasping in bafflement as he was filled. Artesda snapped his hips, forcing Izra to bounce in his lap, helpless in his arms and gasping in ecstasy. "Oh, oh, Artesda," he whispered in a daze of pleasure.

Artesda's eyes softened as he looked at the ram and he buried tender kisses in his neck. "Say my name again," he whispered between kisses. "Say my name . . ."

Izra shivered and frowned. "Artesda . . ."

Artesda's heart skipped a beat and his kisses, his thrusting became frantic, until Izra - rocking hard now in his lap - started to bleat. Artesda pulled back, his eyes wide. "Izra - shh! Shh!"

Izra frowned helplessly. "I . . . I can't help it. I'm going to . . ." He opened his mouth to bleat again, and frantic lest Elohael wake, Artesda closed his mouth over his in a desperate kiss. He felt Izra's body tense, then the wet, hot slap of Izra's fluids on his belly when the little ram climaxed. Izra's cries were muffled through their kiss, and Artesda, reveling in the tight clenching of the ram's anus, tightened his arms around him and drove himself deeper, harder.

Elohael seemed to hear them nonetheless. He grunted and shifted on the bed as he came awake.

Alarmed, Artesda tightened his arms again, pulling Izra off his penis with a soft suck. Izra winced as the thick phallus pulled free, and Artesda, eyes soft, kissed Izra warm on the mouth a final time. Then he released the ram, pulling his arms over Izra's head and scrambling up. He heard Izra fall over, heard the creak of the bed as Elohael lunged up in a rage.

"If you ever touch him again --!" Elohael shouted, as behind him, Izra cried, "Elohael, no! Don't hurt him!"

As Artesda ran out into the sunlight, his own sword whizzed past him, and he grunted when its gleaming blade grazed his arm in a splash of blood.

"If I ever see you again, I will have your head!" Elohael bellowed -- with such wild fury, Artesda knew it was the last time he would ever see Izra again.

Sadness darkened Artesda's eyes he kept running. He saw his own sword plunge with a twang into the side of a tree. It winked golden there, waiting for him, and he pulled it loose and kept running with it clutched fast in his fist. He thought for certain Elohael would pursue, but when he looked back, the great angel was standing in the mouth of the cave, glaring, chest heaving, as Izra hugged him tight from behind and begged him not to follow.

"Just let him go!" Izra cried.

Artesda staggered to a stop and stood waiting, sword in paw as he faced the cave. For a second, it seemed Elohael would push Izra aside and pursue. The older angel was now without a weapon, though. And what was more, he was naked. Elohael was still incredibly powerful - far more powerful than Artesda could ever hope to be - but without armor, it would also be easy for Artesda to hurt him. He just had to keep his wits about him, not allow himself to become disarmed like last time.

Artesda stood waiting for the raging angel to lunge. Elohael glared at Artesda with shuddering breaths, while Izra stood beside him, wrapped in a sheet and rubbing his broad chest.

"Come back in the cave with me, Elohael," Izra coaxed, peering up at his furious lover.

"He touched you!" Elohael growled, as if it were warrant enough for Artesda's immediate dismembering.

"I know, I know," soothed Izra. "Artesda won't tell anyone that he saw you . . . He wouldn't put my life in danger." So saying, Izra smiled sadly at Artesda.

Elohael blinked, and nodding reluctantly, he smoothed his large paw up the back of Izra's neck in an absent gesture of affection. Then glaring a last time at Artesda, he kissed Izra on the forehead and turned inside the cave.

Izra just stood there, clutching the sheet to his chest and looking forlorn. Artesda silently wished for his lost wing, that he might swoop Izra into his arms and carry him away into the sky. He wanted to beg Izra to come with him, to flee with him and forget the world, but one look in Izra's apologetic eyes and Artesda knew there was no persuading the ram.

"I love you," Artesda said, breathless from his run . . . breathless from heartache. "Or . . ." he smiled sadly. "I could have loved you. Fiercely."

Izra blinked sadly and nodded, and Artesda was surprised to see the tears that rose in his eyes.

"Why do you weep?" Artesda asked softly.

Izra sniffed and said to the dirt, "Because I pity you - hate you as I do, I pity you." He raised his face and looked Artesda in the eye. "But I feel nothing else."

Artesda nodded, trying with a brave face to accept that he had been rejected. And why would Izra have chosen him? He was the brutal savage who slaughtered Izra's siblings in the night, who cut off Izra's wing and forced him to sex acts that demeaned and violated him. By all rights, Izra should have been furious enough that he was demanding Artesda's head, and yet Izra had protected Artesda from Elohael.

"You hate me . . ." Artesda frowned, ". . . but you are letting me go?"

"My father teaches forgiveness," Izra said quietly.

"My father does not," Artesda muttered, as if he was only just realizing. He stared at the ground, thinking miserably of all the vengeance and hate his father had ordered him to carry out against his own brothers - brothers whose greatest sin was to disagree with their father's countrywide spree of murder and rape.

Artesda realized in that moment that he was the one who deserved no mercy, not Elohael and his daughter Storm. He had done nothing if not imitate his father's brutality, imposing himself and his will on everyone and everything in the name of Heaven. And each time he was confronted, each time he was challenged, he simply brushed it off, refusing to see the truth. He had no one to blame but himself for his own blindness. He had spent many centuries in stubborn denial, and that denial had done a great deal of harm.

"What will you do now?" Izra asked with a worried frown.

Artesda hesitated. He couldn't tell if Izra was worried for him or worried about what he might do. "I will find the Purest One," he said defiantly and felt a flinch of hurt when Izra's disapproving eyes confirmed the ram's true concerns all along. All Izra cared about was Daphne! But could Artesda really blame him? He felt foolish for hoping otherwise.

"Can't you just leave her alone?" Izra said wearily.

"No," Artesda said coldly. "What else can I do? Where else will I go? Without you," his golden eyes flickered bitterly, "and without the Summoning . . . I have nothing left."

"You have yourself," Izra said quietly.

Artesda dropped his eyes: to him that still meant he had nothing. "I will never forget you," he said, eyes wistful and soft when they lifted to Izra's face again. He had the memory of Izra. That was something, at least. "Goodbye, Izra."

Izra smiled sadly but did not respond: there was nothing more to say.

Artesda looked at the handsome ram with narrowed eyes, straining to fix an image in his mind. Then he sheathed his sword and marched into the trees.