Prince of Tricks Page 17

  He took Vasily to see Red Square, telling him about how the country had changed since the beginning of the century—careful not to let on that he’d actually been around at the time—and how much it had been changing just recently with the dissolution of the Soviet Union.

  “The old government had a very tight control over everything and everyone. It’s almost as though all of Russia were treated like Raqia.” The names even sounded alike: Raqia and Rossiya—only a single sibilant differentiating the pronunciation of the two.

  They walked around the walls of the Kremlin with its towers and spires that had always reminded Belphagor of New Year’s yolka trees, their peaks topped with stars of gold-framed ruby glass. He told Vasily how the stars on the towers had replaced the two-headed eagle that was the symbol of the imperial rulers.

  “Two-headed eagle?” Vasily glanced at him. “Sounds like the two-headed Seraph of the House of Arkhangel’sk.”

  “Exactly so,” said Belphagor. “One of many similarities you’ll find in the world of Man. When we have a chance, I want to take you to Leningrad and show you the Winter Palace. It’s as if the city’s designers and architects must have been Fallen. You won’t believe it.”

  “Leningrad.” Vasily’s brows drew together. “How long are you thinking we’ll be in the world of Man?”

  Belphagor shrugged. “You’re rather conspicuous in Raqia. I’m not sure whether it will ever be safe to go back.”

  “Ever?” Vasily stared at him. “I don’t want to stay here forever, Bel. It isn’t home. How would I earn a living? You just told me practically everything about me is illegal.”

  “It’s not that black and white—”

  “Black and white?” Vasily’s eyes kindled as if colloidal gold had seeped into them like the glass in the ruby stars. “I think being the lowest of the low is pretty black and fucking white.”

  Belphagor grabbed his elbow to turn away from the view of a passing guard. “Watch the brimstone.”

  “Brimstone?” Vasily looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “It’s what the Fallen here call demonic radiance. Your eyes are glowing. We don’t want to draw attention—from Men or from Malakim.”

  Vasily’s eyes cooled. “Malakim—you mean that story is true about the archangelic messengers who fell to the world of Man to tell them of the wonders of Heaven?”

  “As true as the Grigori and Nephilim. They’ve made a whole religion out of it, giving the short-lived humans the hope that when they die, they’ll go there to live forever.”

  Vasily’s mouth dropped open. “That’s absurd! Who would believe that?”

  “Millions,” said Belphagor with a sigh. “And if they knew there were demons among them—well, you think we have it bad in Heaven, you should see what they think of us here.”

  “You’re not making me want to stay.”

  “Sorry.” Belphagor almost reached to put an arm around him and pull him close, jerking back his hand before doing exactly what he’d warned Vasily not to. “Come on. Let me show you some more sights. Maybe the place will grow on you. There’s one in particular I want you to see.”

  Hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch him, Belphagor led Vasily to the far side of the kremlin, where the fantastic sculpted onion domes of a cathedral rose beyond the walls like dollops of confection. Instead of stars, each of these was topped with a golden cross, the symbol of the religion the Malakim had fostered, sparkling under the winter sun.

  Vasily gazed up at it. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a cathedral, a place of reverence for the faith co-opted by the Malakim.” He paused. “The Cathedral of St. Vasily.”

  Vasily looked at him with an expression that said he thought Belphagor was teasing him, but when Belphagor didn’t wink or say anything further, he looked back at the church. “A cathedral in the world of Man has my name?”

  “A fair number of them do, I would guess. He’s a popular saint.” He smiled at Vasily’s wrinkled brow. “A lot of demon names come from the names of earthly saints. Which is pretty funny if you think about it. Saints are the holiest of humans in the cult of Heaven, and demons are considered the greatest enemies of the faith.”

  Vasily was studying the cathedral with an odd look. “I don’t even know who gave me my name. Do you think my mother chose it before she abandoned me?” His voice was gravelly with emotion.

  “I don’t know, malchik.” He slipped his hand out of his pocket and gave Vasily’s fingers a quick squeeze, their warmth making him wish they could hold hands and weave their fingers together as they walked. “Let’s go home,” he said. “Or as home as we’re going to get for the time being. It’s freezing out here.”

  As they crossed the snow-covered bricks of the square, a male and female couple walking arm in arm glanced over at them, and the man tipped his hat in their direction. A sort of blue-green aura seemed to travel from his hand to his hat and linger there a moment as he passed by. Belphagor nodded to him.

  “S Novym Godom!” the young man called, and Belphagor returned the greeting. He hadn’t been paying attention to the time of year. They must have arrived in Moscow just after New Year’s Day.

  “Did you see that?” asked Vasily, catching his arm.

  “Radiance,” said Belphagor. “Fellow Fallen. He must have recognized ours.”

  “I thought you said that was dangerous.”

  “Most humans can’t see that sort of radiance, or if they do, they deny it as a trick of the light. The fire in your eyes on the other hand, or wings—”

  “Wings?” Vasily’s eyes lit up, demonstrating a hint of what he’d been warning against.

  Belphagor smiled knowingly. “I forgot to tell you about wings, did I? Yet another detail you may have thought was merely legend. The same element in celestial air that keeps us from aging as swiftly as Men apparently dampens the radiance of the lower orders. Including demons. Not so here.”

  “You mean we all have them? Not just purebreds like the Grigori?”

  “Every one of us, so far as I know. If we stay awhile, perhaps we can find a safe place for you to try yours.”

  “Wow.” Vasily shook his head in amazement. “That might be an actual reason to stay.”

  “It’s one of the reasons most demons fall. They say the Grigori flew straight out of Heaven when they were cast out, and as Powers, when they struck the earth, they landed with such force they created Lake Baikal.” He grinned. “That much, I’d venture to guess, is actually legend.”

  It was dark by the time they arrived back at the apartment, and Dmitri and Lev were already home. Lev had cabbage soup on the stove and black bread baking in the oven. Determining that dinner would be in an hour, Belphagor steered Vasily back to their room and closed the door.

  “Get your clothes off,” he ordered. “I’m freezing and I want your heat.

  Vasily scowled a bit at the order, but revealed a burgeoning erection as he undid his jeans. Nothing made Belphagor harder than seeing how he affected Vasily with a terse word. He stroked himself through his pants as Vasily took off everything, his cock standing like a challenge between them. It was a challenge Belphagor was happy to accept.

  “Go warm up the bed for me. On your back,” he added. “On top of the covers so I can see your cock.”

  Vasily lay down as directed, but instead of joining him, Belphagor sat in a chair at the dining table and turned on the television. Vasily made a low growl in his throat.

  Belphagor turned his head. “You have a problem, boy?”

  Vasily spoke evenly, with obvious effort. “I thought you wanted me to warm you up.”

  “I want you to warm the bed up. I told you, I’m going to use your body heat.” He had to work not to smile at Vasily’s outraged expression as he turned back to the news program he wasn’t remotely paying attention to. “And keep your dick hard. I want the heat from that too.”

  Though he was sure Vasily needed nothing more to keep his dick hard but Belph
agor’s outrageous demands, he heard the soft sound of friction as Vasily’s hand encircled his cock and stroked it obediently. Or perhaps defiantly would be a better word.

  He pretended to watch the program for nearly twenty minutes, listening to Vasily ease off his stroke with a groan every few minutes, obviously struggling not to come, and then slowly start again a few minutes later.

  At last, he rose, leaving the TV on, and casually undressed, his stone-hard cock the only thing giving away his interest in what Vasily was doing. “Off. You’ve warmed it up enough.”

  Vasily’s eyes were furious and flaming as he swung his feet off the bed and got out of Belphagor’s way.

  Belphagor lay down on his back with his hands tucked behind his head. “Ahh, very nice.” He closed his eyes for a moment and could practically hear steam coming out of Vasily’s ears as he stood beside the bed with his cock in his hand. “You can give me that heat too. Kneel on the side of the bed and jerk off on my cock. Make it nice and warm, but don’t get carried away.”

  He knew he was taking a chance with this order. Vasily was furious enough that he might burn him anyway and risk the punishment. After an angry pause, Vasily rested his knees on the mattress and masturbated, already so worked up that it was less than a minute before he moaned with release, holding his cock over Belphagor’s as the hot, firespirit spunk pumped from the inflamed head and bathed Belphagor’s. Belphagor nearly came just from the sensation of the perfectly heated fluid sliding down his shaft.

  “That’s a good boy,” he murmured encouragingly as the last of it pulsed out over him. He sat up on his elbows and motioned to Vasily. His fury waning with his erection, the firespirit leaned close; the poor boy thought he was about to get a kiss. “That’ll make a good lube,” Belphagor said. “Sit on it.”

  Vasily pulled back against Belphagor’s grip on his hair and winced angrily, glaring down at him. Hesitating only a moment, he climbed onto the bed and crouched over Belphagor, taking the hard cock in his hand, sticky with his own semen, and lowered himself onto it. He groaned as he eased himself down the shaft, hard eyes on Belphagor.

  “Bozhe moi,” Belphagor groaned in response. He wanted to keep being mean to him, but he couldn’t stand it any longer, gazing up at the wild, furious thing perched on top of him at his command. “You’re fucking beautiful. Come here.”

  He opened his arms, and Vasily melted forward into them with a sigh, straddling Belphagor with his shins flat against the bed while Belphagor wrapped his arms around him. He wanted to kiss him, but the position was too awkward with their respective heights, so he settled for closing his mouth over one hard, taut nipple and fucking Vasily’s ass, lubricated with the demon’s own jism.

  Vasily moaned and gasped at his ear, his little sounds increasing as Belphagor’s ardor increased, in turn driving Belphagor even further insane with desire. He’d never had such an insatiable appetite for anyone. Certainly, fucking had never been anything less than his favorite activity, but he seemed to have an addiction for the beautiful demon in his arms, wanting to be inside him, to feel his heat around his cock, to breathe in his intoxicating kindling scent—and above all, to use him as hard and as cruelly as he desired to be used.

  Belphagor’s thumb brushed the spiked adornment he’d given Vasily this morning as his hand slipped from the thick locks. Vasily breathed in, just a quick sound that let him know it was tender, and yet he didn’t flinch. Belphagor rubbed the side of his thumb against the metal, remembering the fear in Vasily’s eyes when he’d felt the needle pierce him, not knowing what Belphagor was about, while at the same time giving himself to him in total, willing surrender. Pounding his incensed cock into Vasily, he came with a shout, smothered against the young demon’s hard chest.

  “Oh, my sweet boy,” he groaned when he’d emptied into him. He kissed the warm skin in front of him, and every bit he could reach, making his way down Vasily’s muscled arm. “I’m going to ruin myself on you if I keep fucking you every time you make me hard. I’ll run dry or break my cock in two.”

  Vasily laughed, draped against him, and Belphagor smacked the pert ass perched in the air, still full of him.

  “Don’t laugh at the old man, boy.”

  Vasily laid his head on the pillow beside him. “Nyet, ser,” he promised. “Never.”

  When they emerged from the room later, Belphagor tried to be nonchalant, and if their Grigori hosts had heard anything, they gave no sign during dinner. Vasily seemed a little more relaxed and less insecure, and they had a pleasant chat while they ate.

  Afterward, while Belphagor helped Lev with the dishes, Dmitri and Vasily even had a conversation of sorts. Though Vasily’s grunted answers couldn’t have been putting Dmitri’s mind much at ease, this, at least, was Vasily’s usual demeanor and not the uncomfortable quiet of the previous night.

  The dishes done, Lev made tea and artfully arranged a plate of chocolate biscuits but set them on a tray as if he meant to take them somewhere. He looked Belphagor straight in the eye and said, “If the daybed isn’t soaked with come, there’s an American television program on that we’d like to watch.”

  Belphagor burst out laughing, and Vasily turned an entertainingly ruby shade that was almost radiant.

  Dmitri leaned against the doorframe, amused at Lev’s frankness. “I’m sure it isn’t soaked, love. Remember, he used most of it as lube.” He grinned at Belphagor, who was now turning a bit red himself. “The walls, my friend, are extremely thin.”

  Lev marched into the dining room and set the tray on the table. “I’ll just get another bedspread for good measure.” He went to the bedroom and returned with a somewhat worn but thick and comfortable blanket and tossed it onto the daybed, propping up the extra cushions against the wall. “Voila. Good as new.”

  While Belphagor and Vasily sat with chagrin, Dmitri brought the electric samovar to the dining table and plugged it in to keep the water and the concentrated zavarka warm, switching on the television while Lev poured the tea.

  “They’re showing an old holiday film that’s been translated from English,” said Dmitri. “First time anything American has been on Russian TV. The world of Man is changing.”

  “What’s ‘American’?” Vasily asked, dunking a biscuit in his tea.

  “America is another princedom,” said Belphagor. “Russia’s nemesis across the great sea, Atlantika. They’ve been involved in a covert war for nearly half a century until the recent change of power.”

  “Across the Quiet Sea on the other side, as well,” Dmitri reminded him.

  Vasily chewed his biscuit. “How can it be on both sides of two different seas?”

  “The world of Man is a sphere,” said Belphagor as he stirred sugar into his tea. “Keep going in one direction, and eventually you come right back around to where you started.”

  Vasily’s eyes widened. “Are you putting me on?”

  Belphagor smiled. “Not at all.”

  “Don’t people fall off if they aren’t on top of the sphere?”

  “Gravity keeps everything in place, and the world is so big that it never feels like you’re on a curved surface at all.” He could see Vasily didn’t quite know whether to believe him. “Never mind about the vast earthly globe.” He put his arm around him and drew him against his side, settling back to watch the show as Lev sat beside Dmitri on his right. “It’s getting smaller all the time.”

  The film, Eta Zamechatel’naya Zhizn, turned out to be the most charming thing Belphagor had ever seen, and he had to pretend to have a coughing fit near the end to cover his sniffling when the American banker George Bailey was saved from the brink of ruin by the love of his family and friends.

  They all had a big laugh at the angel, Clarence, assigned as a guardian from Heaven to save George Bailey from killing himself and show him what life would have been like if he’d never been born. It was the kindly old angel’s final chance to earn his wings through a good deed. Apparently, the Americans believed that Men became angels when
they died. The hand of the Malakim was definitely in the mix of this lore.

  They laughed again at the very end when George Bailey’s youngest daughter, Zu-Zu, proudly told her father that every time a bell rang, it meant an angel had gotten his wings. Vasily seemed quiet as they talked about it afterward, his mind no doubt returning to what Belphagor had told him about his wings earlier. He had to find a place to let Vasily experience them.

  He pulled Vasily closer and kissed his warm throat while Lev leaned over to Dmitri and whispered something.

  Belphagor raised his eyebrow, enjoying the pinch of the bar that decorated it. “Telling secrets?”

  Dmitri smiled. “Lev is curious to know what it would be like to be fucked by the two of you while I watch.

  Lev pushed his shoulder. “Dima! I didn’t say that!”

  Belphagor was amused by the flush that scattered over his pale cheeks. “What did you say?”

  “I said I bet the two of you could fuck a demon blind.” Lev grinned sheepishly.

  “I’m sure there’s no need to fuck you blind,” Belphagor replied with a wink. He glanced at Vasily to see that he was watching him warily, but beneath the tight pants, his cock was becoming noticeably engorged. “What do you think, Vasya? Should we satisfy our friend Lev’s curiosity?” He unbuttoned the new jeans and let the white underwear swell through the fly.

  Vasily didn’t answer, but he didn’t stop him.

  Belphagor reached his hand inside the elastic band and released Vasily’s cock, stroking it while he watched Dmitri unbutton Lev’s shirt from behind him and kiss his bared shoulder. “Do you think you can take all of this?” he asked Lev.

  Lev nodded, seeming also to have gone shy and quiet. Dmitri reached around and undid Lev’s fly as well, and the fine, hard cock sprang out in answer.

  “Such a pretty cock,” Belphagor murmured, reaching out to wrap his hand around it, now holding one throbbing demon cock in each hand. He leaned down toward Lev, keeping his hand around Vasily’s, and tasted the offered cock, letting his mouth and tongue tease over it without taking it in. He looked up at Dmitri. “Let’s get him naked.” He said it just sharply enough that he felt both demons shiver and pulse in his hands. Dmitri stripped off Lev’s shirt and long undershirt while Belphagor quickly relieved him of his pants, peeling his underwear down to his thighs. He glanced back at Vasily, who was looking a bit neglected. “Why don’t you take these off him, malchik?”