Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

A Dangling Golden Thread (Naochan and Zombies Galore)

Jorja moaned louder as he complied with her request and started to really fuck her into the wall. She placed her hand on the wall and rested her head against it so he would accidentally fuck her too hard that she hit her head. When he asked her to beg, or more like demanded, she blushed, having never done something like that. And she thought that it was her who needed her more than she needed him. She had only gone through three months without sex. But, she obeyed all the same. "Mmmm...I need you deep inside of me, you cock pounding away at my pussy," she whispered, feeling that that kind of sounded lame.
 
The fact she complied with his Razael's lust driven demand was enough for the fallen angel, feeling his climax coming. He let out a long moan as he came, feeling organ twitch within Jorja, buried hilt deep in her. His come filled her, dripped down her thighs, but still it came, thick white rivulets escaping from her greedy snatch. "Oh, dear, I don't even know your name," the fallen angel confessed. "But you are good."

He took the woman's chin in his hand and tilted her head back, mouth hungrily seeking her's, giving a breathtakingly passionate kiss as thanks, member still inside of her. He parted the kiss after a few minutes, wiping the mixed saliva and sex juice from her lips.
 
Jorja looked up at him, panting lightly. She was covered with her sweat. She'd never been fucked so good. She licked her lips as she watched him, swallowing lightly. "Jorja," she whispered after a moment, when she finally caught her breath. "My name is Jorja," she said and tilted her head to the side a little bit, slightly dazed, but feeling really good. "How long have you been in the pit for?" she had to ask, because if it had been a long time, then maybe she could show him around the little town she lived in. But of course, if he wanted nothing to do with her after this, that was fine too. He was a demon after all.
 
"I have been in the Pit for far too long, Jorja," Razael replied as he caressed the small woman's cheek. His gentle stroking changed and he took hold of the young woman's waist, hands slipping on her sweaty skin, slowly removing his rapidly deflating member from her soft sex. The demon let the woman down, so that she was no longer pressed against the wall, his alabaster wings folding in on themselves. There was no salty sweat on his skin, no sign of exertion, just a sheen of Jorja's fluid over his organ.

"My name, by the way, is Razael." He left out the titles, ones Jorja may or may not have read of. The Morningstar's Flagbearer was chief among them, followed swiftly by Slaughterer of Cherubim and Defiler of Truth. Lore had described the demon as one of those with the most sweet of tongues and the most vile of intentions. The last time he had broken through from the Pit, a propos of an older and perhaps more devious summoner than Jorja, he had reveled in the blood of those he had been sent to end. Not to mention the concessions he wrenched from the man.
 
"Can humans see you? You can't very well go out naked and with wings. I don't know when the last time you were out," Jorja said as she went to get her lab coat and wrap it around herself so that she wasn't naked anymore. Though, she could feel his juices run down her thighs slowly. She glanced at his wings for a moment. She could put pants on him, sure, but she wasn't sure about what she would do about a shirt for him. "I mean...I really don't mind showing you around, you know. I didn't actually succeed in what I was doing, but I need a break anyway...That is if you want me too of course. In the end I can't really force you do to anything."
 
"I am seen by those who I wish to see me," the demon responded succinctly. After a moment's pause he began to undergo something of a transformation, his wings folding down into each other with no natural joint to accomplish it, until they seemed to disappear entirely. His form shrank down from its commanding height to something more manageable, an easy six feet tall, and his skinned darkened to an anonymous tan. He did not grow any hair, though his eyes did take on a more human color with an innocent brown, but he definitely looked more human, passable with something to hide his eyes. "Show me what there is to see. Tell me of your world, Jorja. I wish to learn."
 
"You still need clothes," Jorja reminded with a nod of his head. "I don't own any men sizes," she said and looked over his body for a moment. Even though she was completely satisfied with their earlier fun, she wouldn't mind strapping him down to the bed and have her way with him. "I am going to shower and redress first. Uhm...you can look around here if you want too," she nodded at him as she turned to go to the bathroom. She turned on the hot water and dropped her coat to the ground. She got in and washed herself completely. When she was clean, she grabbed a nearby towel and dried herself off. She went into her bedroom through the other door and went to her closest to dress in a pair of jeans that cupped firm round cheeks and a shirt that showed some cleavage without being too slutty. She went back to her lab room,.
 
The demon stood where Jorja had left him, still nude, though he was curiously surveying the surrounding. When Jorja returned he gave a smile, "I think you forgot pants." He paused, looking at what the young woman had put on, internally remarking on how clothing served to enhance what was there already through the power of suggestion. "Perhaps I shall wear a labcoat?"
 
"For now. Maybe we can stop at a store and get you some clothes. How long will you stay?" she asked curiously as she went to her lab closet and pulled out a large labcoat for him to wear. She knew he would look silly in it, but it would have to do for now. She handed it to him to put on. "Do you eat or drink anything? Because I don't know about you, but I am hungry," she nodded at him.
 
"I am free to stay here as long as I wish or until someone attempts to banish me," Razael replied as he slowly buttoned-up the labcoat, wriggling his toes experimentally. He looked in the mirror--it did not appear strange to him. The last time he had escaped from the Pit clothing had been just as ridiculous, fashion an aesthetic that largely escaped him. "I do not need to eat or drink, though I do rather enjoy it."
 
She glanced down at his feet. Pity he couldn't just will clothes onto him. "Well, let's go get your proper clothes and shoes and then we can eat," she said, nodding his head. She didn't have to spend too much on him. Cheap things would do for now. He didn't seem to mind the lap coat. She held out her hand for him and tilted her head to the side a bit.
 
The demon took Jorja's hand in his, that warm soft hand that seemed to radiate energy, positivity. That was something that Razael did, something to reward the woman for playing the role of good host. To acclimate her to his presence, not that she didn't already seem to enjoy having him around. "Lead the way, beautiful. I will follow. Tell me--what is this town called? Does it lie within a nation? Who rules it and how is it ruled?"
 
"We are in the United States of America. It's a democracy," Jorja explained, grabbing her keys and her purse on the way out of the door. "It's sectioned into fifty states. We are currently in California," she said, nodding her head at him. She went to her car in front of her house and unlocked it. She went to the driver's side, expecting him to get in the passenger side. "I don't know if you have seen this thing before, but it's how we travel. Much faster than driving," she explained, leaning over to open his door for the inside.
 
"A democracy?" The demon asked, hand going up to scratch the side of his face. One of the side benefits of being an angel, or rather a former angel, was his grasp of languages. His own tongue was the one that the Logos had instilled in him when he was created, and next to it English was so much chaff before wheat, as was Latin. "People power?"

When Jorja opened the door he stepped into the car, though not before spending a certain amount of time fiddling with the handle and watching the lock mechanism in action. This was all quite interesting. He skimmed through his memories of the Plan, the draft that had been created by the Logos and worked on by the angels, and internally laughed. This was still fairly earn on in the species' development before the first of several great die-offs. His role as an angel had little do with the Plan, however, instead focusing on a less... Savory aspect of development. He closed the door after him and fiddled with the seat belt, looking around himself before he found the clip and put the head of the harness in to a refreshing click.
 
"People vote for two people out of four or six. The president and a vice president," Jorja explained, watching him with a small smile for a moment. "But the president doesn't have complete power either. A group of men and women are split up between what is called the House and the Senate. They all talk and decide if what the president wants to do is good or bad," she explained lightly, not really wanting to get into her government. It was still not perfect, as much as they wanted. "Every state as a major. He's like a president, but not so much." She shook her head a little bit as she drove to the nearest store. Target. They would find something decent here at reasonable prices. She parked her car and got out. She waited for him to get out as well before she locked it. "We'll get clothes here and then we'll go eat something," she said, taking his hand again and leading him into the very bright store.
 
Razael carefully nodded through Jorja's explanation of her government, completely absorbing what she had to say. His eyes drank in the wealth of cars in the parking lot laid out before him, squeezing her hand cheerfully as she lead him into the big box store. Once they stepped more than a few feet inside he stopped, standing there all but naked except for his labcoat, move wide open. Something had clearly gone wrong in the Logos' plans. This was not meant to happen. The entire store was a shrine to Mammon, he could feel the other demon's mark all over this.

It was in that moment when he was basking in the radiance of the other demon's work, one who had escaped and run rampant long ago, that one of the red shirted employees approached him. "I'm sorry, sir, but we have a no shirt, no shoes policy. You'll have to leave." It was a simpering fellow, one who did not appear to mean any harm, just trying to get through the day.

The stare that the demon leveled at the fellow was astounding. His eyes shifted from the facade of innocent brown to that white nothing, his voice took on some undercurrent of infernal power. "No, I don't," his words were an almost physical blow. The red shirted fellow turned as if in a daze and all but stumbled away, leaving them cheerfully alone. "Are all the employees of this store so very rude?"
 
Jorja was about to say something before Razael, but he beat her to it. She looked up at him and shrugged her shoulders. "Personally, I wouldn't want to work here with so many people coming and going," she said, walking with him quickly to the men section of the store so that he could try on a few pair of pants and shirts. "Most of them aren't exactly happy though," she said, going to the wall of folded jeans. She glanced back at him before grabbing a few different sizes that she thought would fit him. "You can change in one of the stalls in there," she said, nodding over to the fitting room. "Pick the one that fits you the best. Then we can get you some boxers or briefs to wear under it."
 
The demon needed, keeping Jorja's opinion in mind. As they walked over to the fitting room he asked, "Why aren't they happy here? I mean, it's reeks of Mammon, and a fine job he did here, too, but are they not taken care of by Target?" Laden down with clothing he entered the stall, quickly taking on and off jeans and shirts until he found some that fit snuggly, showing off his ass to fine effect. He walked out of the stall and whirled around for Jorja to see, jeans tightly hugging his rear and black t-shirt showing off the finely defined muscles of his chest. "Good?"
 
Jorja bit her lip and nodded her head. "Very good," she said, going over to him to pull the tags so that he didn't have to get undressed. She went to go get some boxers and socks. She pulled out a pair of each and handed them to him. "Put this," she held up the boxers. "Under your pants. You'll feel a little better with them on." She held up the socks. "These go on your feet. And this job kind of stinks. They don't get paid enough. And people that shop here aren't always pleasant."
 
"Uh huh, uh huh," Razael muttered as he put the socks on his feet. He shoved the boxers down the front of his jeans, creating an odd and uncomfortable bulge on his crotch. A piece of it still hung out, which the demon hurriedly shoved down. "Did I get it right?"
 
"Almost," she said, glancing around before she pushed him into the stall. She blushed lightly as she unzipped his pants and tugged down his boxers so that they were smooth around his very nice legs. She had to control herself not to grope and stroke. When they were smoothed down, she buttoned up his pants and zipped them. "There. Feel better?"
 
"Not... Not really," the demon said, twisting his hips and getting the impression something was off. He slowly removed his jeans and watched the boxers fall to the floor before he picked them up and carefully looked at them. They were like very small pants, in his estimation, and he drew a connection between them and Jorja's underwear. He put his legs through the boxers and put them on appropriately, feeling much better about the situation. Razael put the jeans back on, smoothing out the boxers as meticulously as Jorja had, buttoning and zipping his pants. "I think that will work best."

He leaned forward, closing the space between himself and Jorja, before kissing her on the lips, his tongue greeting her's. "Thank you for dressing me appropriately," he told her, leaning his forehead against the green eyed woman's. "What else do I need?" He glanced down at Jorja's feet, "Do I need shoes?"
 
Jorja watched him curiously as he fixed himself. When he closed the distance between the two of them, she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him back. "Yes," she said, nodding her head at him. "You heard the employee. No shirt no shoes no service. Everywhere is the same," she said softly, looking up into his eyes and smiled lightly. "We can get shoes here too," she said, kissing him one more time before sliding away from him. She grabbed her coat and draped it over her arm. She held onto the tags and the opened bags of boxers and socks. "Come on," she said, turning around. On her way she grabbed a bag of briefs, in case he might like those more.
 
"Really? Interesting. Is that a recent development?" Razael asked, a propos of the no shoes, no shirt, no service policy. He gazed around the store, arm wrapped around Jorja's waist as she lead him through the store. So far none of the other red-shirted employees had noticed his lack of shoes, and most of the people seemed to be keeping to themselves, holding clothing, chattering amongst each other. There seemed to be much less of a sense of community than when he last visited Earth, of course, that was a while ago, before the population density was so high. When they closed on the shoe section Razael seemed to gravitate towards the skate shoes, Vans in particular, looking the most comfortable of them all. He held a box containing a pair of black Vans, women's size seven, "How do I tell my size?"
 
"Well, that is a women's shoe. Women generally have smaller feet that me," she said, setting those shoes down on the shelf. "Men have those kind too," she explained, walking over to the men's section with him. On the ground was different sized feet. "Put your right foot on the print that is a little bit bigger than your own," she said. It went from size seven, all the way to size fifteen. "Whatever number it is, is your size."
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom