Series: Games Demons Play, #4. Follows the events in "Tease", and all
earlier fics in this series can be found at http://sidewinder72.tripod.com/

Rating: NC-17. Explicit m/m slash.

Bait and Switch
by sidewinder
 

* * * * *
 

"Hi, honey, I'm home!"

Ezekiel turned his head at that irritating, familiar voice and found the
devil sprawled on his motel room bed. It was not a welcome sight, even if
the off-white suit the devil was wearing was a surprisingly good look for
him.

"You like the outfit? It's a shame white's not really my most appropriate
color. So, enjoying the warm weather here, Ezekiel? I should think it'd give
you quite fond memories of home."

The detective turned back to the TV, not granting his uninvited guest more
than the smallest grimace in greeting.

"Well! I see someone's in a mood," the devil sniffed. "Was it something I
said? Something I did? You know good communication *is* the cornerstone to a
solid relationship. I heard that on 'Oprah' yesterday. Or was it 'Sally
Jesse'..."

"Are you just here to annoy me, or is there some actual purpose to this
visit?" Zeke was still seething from the last time he'd seen the devil,
several days ago at the truck stop. He hadn't suffered any more of those
damned erotic dreams since then, thank God, but he'd still had a hard time
keeping the devil off his mind. Half the time Zeke was thinking about how
much he wanted to kill him. The rest of the time he was thinking about how
much he wanted to fuck him. Both lines of thought left him feeling
completely disgusted.

And all the while, he was stuck in Albuquerque on a vague clue from the
devil that he'd find his next quarry here. The newspaper clipping Satan had
given him was nothing but an ad for a local restaurant. Zeke had eaten there
three times now, queried the wait-staff, even followed a few home and
staked-out the place after hours...all to no avail. Everything seemed
perfectly normal, and so far he'd turned up nothing that seemed remotely
related to any demonic activity. There had been no unusual crime reports in
the news--no gruesome deaths, nothing that he'd heard about from asking
around that seemed out of the ordinary.

"C'mon, I'm drawing a big zero on the demon-radar for this town. Your little
clue's turned into a dead-end. How about for once you tell me a bit about
who I'm here to try to capture? Just a name. Would that be so hard?" Zeke
asked.

"Maybe if you were out patrolling the streets instead of holed up watching
the boob tube, you'd be fairing better. I didn't send you back here to
become a couch potato."

"Maybe if you didn't always have to play games with me, I could get this job
done a lot faster."

Satan's answering laughter grated on Stone's nerves, as always. "But you're
so much fun to play with, Ezekiel, why on Earth would I want to stop now?"

Zeke went back to watching the basketball game on the TV, trying his best to
ignore his visitor. He wasn't going to let the devil bait him tonight--and
he sure as Hell wasn't going to acknowledge the part of himself that wanted
to throttle the fallen angel, pin him down against the bed and silence him
with kisses until...

No. No, he was *not* going to think about *that*. Not on his life...or
death. Whatever this was, besides a never-ending nightmare.

Satan let out a weary sigh. "I thought I'd come here and give you a chance
to apologize for your little temper tantrum the other day. But I see you're
intent on sulking and being stubborn. You can't keep denying your feelings,
Ezekiel. Don't you see how it's interfering with your ability to complete
your assigned task?"

"Hey, don't blame me. *You* were the one who started this! On Christmas
Eve...that wasn't me."

"Like Hell it wasn't. I was only offering you what you already wanted. It's
all there, in your soul--rage, anger, desire..." Satan got off the bed, and
kneeled close to Ezekiel. He reached out, his hand lightly brushing through
Zeke's short hair. Zeke wanted to close his eyes and lean into that
inflaming touch, but he forced himself to sit still and calm, to not even
look directly at the creature so close to him.

"...like right now," the devil continued in his rough, seductive voice. "You
want me so badly and yet you resist. Why is it so difficult for you to admit
what you want?" He kept caressing Zeke's hair as he said, "Do you know how
many souls have *begged* me for what I've given you? You couldn't even begin
to imagine. I take such insubordination and ingratitude from you, Ezekiel,
you should be grateful I like you enough to tolerate it."

The devil pulled back his hand and sat down on the floor, waiting and
watching, his gaze so intense Zeke could feel it on him without even turning
his head to face him. Zeke still said nothing, did nothing but sit and stare
at the flickering TV screen.

"Enough of this crap!" the devil spit out. The TV sparked and the screen
went black. "It's all because of your ex-wife, isn't it? When are you going
to get it through your head that you need to let *go* of her?"

"Widow. She's my widow," Zeke corrected.

"Either way, let's be honest, shall we? Let's say you manage to complete
your task and earn your second chance at life. Do you *really* believe that
you're going to be able to go back and find the happiness you once had with
her again?"

"Yes."

"Do you? Honestly? You really think that you'll be able to walk back into
her life after all these years and make as if nothing's happened?"

"Of course not. I can't change what happened...how much time's passed. But
if we love each other enough, we can work things out."

"*If* you love each other enough. I hear some doubt in there, Mr. Stone.
Admit it--you couldn't even work things out after she was raped, how are you
going to work out being a murderer? A man who has spent fifteen years in
Hell while she dealt with not only being *violated*, but also losing the man
she loved, only months later? That's an awful lot to 'work out'. Oh, and
let's not forget your little tryst with Ash, while we're at it...though,
come to think of it, you both gave that little bitch a spin, didn't you?
Well, I suppose that'll give you something you can reminisce about
together..."

Zeke stood up and went to retrieve his coat from the closet. "Where are you
going?" the devil asked.

"I don't have to listen to this. I'm going out to try to do my job, since
you're not being any help." He slipped on his coat, turned around and walked
toward the door. The devil blocked the exit--he just stood there shaking his
head, laughing.

"You can only run from the truth for so long, Mr. Stone."

"Like I should listen to you about the 'truth'. You're the Prince of Lies.
And right now you're in my way, so would you mind?"

Zeke stepped forward. Satan didn't budge. "In your way, or right where you
want me?" he asked with a smug smile.

That was it. Something about that damn smile on top of everything else made
Zeke explode.

He grabbed the devil by the shoulders and slammed him against the door.
Satan's eyes flashed with momentary surprise, but his smile returned
quickly. "That's it, Ezekiel! That's the spirit! Get tough. Get angry! Or
are you just in the mood to play rough tonight?"

The devil's gleeful encouragement actually served to cool Zeke's rage. He
realized he was letting himself be provoked and act out in anger--exactly
what Satan wanted him to do, no doubt. What he had to do instead was remain
calm and not lose control of his temper, no matter what the devil said or
did. He breathed in slowly, gathering up as much of his rage as he could,
and tried to expel it all when he exhaled. The trick partially worked; he
didn't want to strangle Lucifer now...well, maybe a little bit, still. But
being this close, touching him, it brought back all of his thoughts of
passion, and what he wanted to do now more than anything was kiss him.  He
was so close, so very close it would only require the slightest tilt of the
head, and...

No. Yes. Damn, this was crazy! *He* was going crazy.

Zeke blinked his eyes and tried to focus. He couldn't deny his desire--that
insane hunger for the devil's touch that had gone unsatisfied for so long.
The only thing that kept it under control at all was his stubborn will and
his anger. His fingers, dug deep into the devil's shoulders, relaxed
slightly, though he did not entirely let go--the hunger would not let him
relinquish that small contact. Satan didn't push him away, nor make any
effort to free himself from his Zeke's weakened grasp. He just stood there
staring at his servant expectantly--though precisely what he was expecting,
Zeke couldn't guess.

And so Zeke stood, frozen with indecision, the devil in his grasp and pinned
to the wall.

At his mercy.

His cock throbbed painfully at that thought, and at the other thoughts it
quickly led to. Satan begging for *his* touch, now *that* was what Zeke
would love to see happen. To turn the tables and see if he could make the
devil as mad with need as he was, give him a taste of his own wicked ways.
But could he do that? The way the devil was just standing there, not pushing
Zeke away, maybe it was even what *he* wanted Zeke to do...even if he could
never admit to it.

The smile lines around Satan's eyes faded under Zeke's continued scrutiny,
as the detective tightened his grip on his shoulders once more. The devil
said nothing, not as Zeke leaned in closer, close enough to kiss him, his
lips just hovering above his captive's face. Zeke tilted his head, not quite
brushing his lips over the devil's cheek as he did so. He could smell him,
already *taste* him on his lips. His mouth was dry, his cock hard, and he
was determined that there was no way the devil would escape him now without
giving him what he needed first. Yes, *needed*. He'd been aching for it for
too long. He let out his breath, slowly, and caught Satan's almost inaudible
gasp as the warm breath fell on his skin.

Zeke smiled.

"Exactly what do you think you're doing, Ezekiel?"

"Playing a game. I thought you liked games. Except I'm setting the rules for
a change." Zeke brought his mouth to the devil's ear and continued in a
hushed voice, "You're always the one in control, but not this time. I'm
thinking maybe that's what you're dying for--somewhere safe to lose
control." He let his lips brush against the devil's ear as he added,
"Someone safe...like me."

Zeke was answered with laughter, though it sounded rather nervous to his
ears. "You'd presume to know what *I* want?" the devil challenged, though
still he made no move to push Zeke away.

"Am I'm wrong?" Zeke ran his lips over the devil's earlobe, then pulled the
soft flesh between his teeth. A flick of his tongue, then, against the
sensitive skin and he got the answer he was looking for.

A whimper.

Zeke pulled back, slightly, needing a moment to calm himself before going
any further. He could feel the tension and energy in the air around them, so
strong he wasn't sure he really could control it. He was playing with fire,
he knew, challenging the devil like he never had before. But he was
determined to see this through. If he didn't get *some* control over their
relationship and what had been going on between them since Christmas Eve, he
was going to go insane.

He pressed closer against Satan's body, rubbed against him, groin to groin.
He could smell smoke and burning fabric now, as the heat between them
became more than their clothes could take.  Tiny bursts of flame danced over
their bodies, sparks that barely registered on Zeke's already overcharged
senses. His lips still hovered, barely brushing against the devil's ear,
then his neck, back to his cheek, never quite touching as he slowly studied
every inch of his captive's face and challenged him to break free. By the
time Zeke's mouth finally approached the devil's lips, Satan was shaking,
his entire body taut like a spring stretched to its limit, ready to snap.
Zeke met his gray eyes and found rage, desire...and fear.

The fear gave Ezekiel pause, and took some of the edge off his still
simmering anger. "Trust me," Zeke whispered, then he placed just the
lightest kiss on the devil's lips. "Do you trust me?"

-------

"I don't trust anyone."

"Trust me," Zeke insisted. He kissed him again, running his tongue over the
devil's upper lip. God, to taste his mouth again! The dreams had not been
nearly so good as this. Satan moaned against his mouth, the vibration
travelling down from him lips all the way to his toes. Zeke felt the devil's
hands reaching for his sides; in a rush of speed Zeke released Satan's
shoulders, grabbed his hands and slammed them back over his head, against
the door. For a moment the devil's eyes flashed red with anger, but Zeke
insisted, "Trust me," and silenced any further protests with another kiss.

Gradually, the tensed body he held pressed to the wall began to relax, to
yield to his control. Zeke grew more confident and daring, even as he
struggled not to lose himself in the excitement of finally having what his
dreams had taunted him with for so long. There was no worrying about whether
this was right or wrong, now, there was only the pleasure he'd ached for,
and the thrill of this game of dominance. His kisses became hard and
violent--he wanted blood. He wanted to leave *his* mark on the devil's body,
his own tattoos, written with teeth and nails. He bit down on Satan's
shoulder until he broke skin and tasted the rich metallic flavor of blood on
his lips. So the devil *could* bleed...or at least create the illusion that
he did. Zeke licked and swallowed, bittersweet fire rushing down his throat
as he did so.

"Stop..." Satan panted. "You don't...know what you're doing. You can't--"

"Shut up," Zeke hissed, silencing the devil with another kiss. "Leave if you
want me to stop. Go ahead. What's stopping you? Only the fact that you want
this so bad."

The devil glared angrily at him. He said nothing, just glared.

"I thought so," Zeke said. He let go of the devil's hands, grabbed him by
the waist and spun him around. "Now...get on your knees."

Zeke held his breath, waiting to see if he would be obeyed or punished for
the order. After a long pause, the devil responded with the former. His
seething gaze never left Ezekiel's eyes he dropped to the floor, his lips
now mere inches from Zeke's erection.

"Suck me," the servant demanded of his master.

Again a pause, an angry glare, and yet the devil did as he was commanded,
wetting his lips with his tongue and then wrapping them around Zeke's cock.

Zeke nearly came right then and there, just from disbelief of what was
happening. The devil, his eternal tormentor, doing exactly as Zeke ordered
him to do? He felt a giddy rush of triumph, but then wondered if he had
really won this battle at all. Had Satan perhaps tricked Zeke once more into
giving him exactly what he wanted?

But as the devil sucked harder, skillfully taking Zeke down his throat, the
detective decided it didn't really matter. Not at all. Not in the least. He
let the pleasure wash over him, the physical sensations, the sight of the
devil on his knees before him...incredible. He loved every second of it.

Loved it *too* much. After a few short minutes he knew he was going to come
any second, and it was much too early for the game to be finished.

"Stop," Zeke ordered. "Stand up." The devil did as he was told and rose to
his feet. He stood expectantly before Ezekiel, his wet lips very
tempting...his erection glistening with pre-cum even more so. Ezekiel held
back from kissing him, or doing anything else, and pondered aloud, "What am
I going to do with you now...?" He reached out to touch the devil's cheek;
Satan closed his eyes at the caress. Zeke felt him trembling under his
fingertips; he was so wound up and in need of release that Zeke felt certain
just the single right touch would set him off. Zeke wasn't doing much better
himself.

"You'd love me to fuck you right now, wouldn't you?" he asked, running his
left hand down the devil's chest. "Answer me," he demanded, when Satan
didn't immediately respond.

"Yes..." The word came out as a desperate hiss.

Zeke smiled, as he stopped his hand just barely above the devil's groin.
Satan opened his eyes, his earlier defiance replaced now with a begging
look. Begging! It was almost too good to believe. Zeke pushed hard enough
with his hand that the devil flew back and landed on the bed with a heavy
thud. Before he could recover his breath Zeke landed on top of him, pinning
him to the bed under his larger frame.

As he did so, the detective felt the intensity of the devil's power, how
close Satan was to losing his nerve and needing to regain his control. The
bed sheets started to scorch beneath them from the heat, and Zeke suddenly
imagined them burning the entire motel down if they weren't careful. He
forced himself to slow down, to ease up on his grasp, just slightly, just
enough to soothe the devil's near panic. "Trust me..." he said once more, as
he trailed kisses down Satan's throat, over his chest, back up to his mouth.
He kissed him and touched him, possessed him with nothing but gentle
touches, far more gentle than it had ever been in his dreams, or during
their one previous encounter.

And it worked; straining muscles relaxed under his fingertips, heavy
breathing turned into pleading moans. "Please..."

Please? When had the devil ever said "Please?" to him before? "Please what?"
Zeke asked.

"Please...do it. Now! Fuck..."

"Fuck you? Is that what you want?"

"Yes! Yes..."

"Then I'd better give the devil his due," Zeke said. Not that he'd ever done
this before in his life--or death--but now was not the time to get nervous.
He didn't think the devil would mind if things were a little...rough.

Soon Zeke had him on his back, legs raised, waiting, urging him on. He
couldn't hold back any longer; he went on instinct, pushing ahead, pushing
*inside*. Inside the devil, pushing deeper into a heat that was so intense
it burned Zeke to his soul.

Satan moaned and closed his eyes.

"Keep them open," Zeke insisted. "Open your eyes, or I'll stop."

Satan opened his eyes and looked up at Ezekiel, still begging, desperate,
and Zeke watched his every expression as he pushed deeper, until he was
completely inside the devil's body.

Inside his soul.

The feeling was...

Unreal.

It wasn't fucking. It was...

Hell, he didn't know what it was. Nothing for mortal words, barely able to
be understood by mortal thought and feeling. It was all heat, heat, heat
and fire
    and anger
        and pain
            and pride
                and desperation
                    and beauty
                        and tragedy
                            and torture
                                and death
                                    and life
                                        and love--

Love.

Love that *hurt*, that was pain and aching and loneliness and loss and was
so awful, he wanted it to stop, but he couldn't stop it, and he hated it but
it was there.

Love.

It wore his face.

The sensations surrounded him, threatened to consume him, his soul screaming
for release from its faux-human shell under the stress of this joining.
Looking into the devil's eyes could be horror enough--staring into his soul
was more than Zeke's spirit could nearly bear.

And yet he couldn't stop. He just couldn't stop.

Zeke's physical release came as almost an afterthought, something he was
only dimly aware of. He heard a cry, not his own but the devil's, echoing
all around him. The heat became a brilliant white light, brighter than
anything he'd ever seen, except on the day that he'd died.

The light was the last thing he saw.
 

                        * * * * *
 

Damn it, Zeke cursed to himself. He'd blacked out again.

"You know, Ezekiel, you soul could have been completely destroyed by that
little game of yours--blown right out through those fragile eyes, shattered
to a million pieces. What an ugly end that would have been."

Zeke's vision cleared and he found the devil lying next to him, naked,
half-covered with the still-smoldering bed sheets. "I didn't know you liked
to play so close to the edge before," Satan continued, "but I'll keep that
in mind for the future."

Zeke had the worst hangover of his life--at least that was what it felt
like. His throat was raw, every joint and muscle ached, and his ears were
even ringing.

"Foolish Ezekiel," the devil sighed, reaching out to stroke Zeke's hair. "I
know you meant well, and I do dearly appreciate your efforts to please me.
But there's a reason I have to stay in control...if I don't, I could destroy
you entirely. And that would be such a shame."

"Because you love me. Don't try to deny it--I felt it."

"I wonder if you can really understand any of what you felt."

"Enough that I...actually feel some pity for you, now. You're all twisted up
inside. You hate, and you enjoy making others suffer, because everything
that's supposed to make people feel good only makes you feel pain. Love
hurts you the worst."

"Love always hurts. Mortals are just too stubborn and caught up in silly
romantic dreams to see what love really is. A curse. Love makes us betray
our best interests, all in the name of an emotion that's never done any of
us any good." He paused as he trailed his fingers over Ezekiel's face,
tracing his lips, his cheeks. He sighed and shook his head. "And I do so
hate pity, therefore if you say that to me again I'm going to have to hurt
you. Badly. At the moment, I honestly don't feel like doing that."

Zeke smiled, and he didn't resist when the devil slipped closer and kissed
him. Not a hard kiss, only a lingering one that seemed to somehow ease away
the aches and pains in his body, warming without arousing. Pleasant,
comforting, healing...nothing he'd come to expect from the devil.

But the devil was, if anything, always full of surprises.

Afterwards, they held each other in silence. Zeke wished he could make sense
of everything he had seen and felt, everything he was feeling now. "I don't
love you," he said, with some apology in his voice.

"I know. Perhaps you will in time, perhaps you'll simply come to hate me
even more than you already do."

"You've been nothing but a complete bastard to me."

"It's my nature. The devil can't change his ways, dear boy, I've been set in
them for far too long."

"So are you going to give me a decent hint about who I'm supposed to hunt
down next or not?"

Satan picked himself up from where he'd been laying against Zeke's chest and
favored him with a mischievous smile. He ran one hand down Zeke's right arm,
and circled his fingers slowly around a mark on the underside of his elbow.
"This one," he said.

"That's all?"

"That's more than enough. The rules of *this* game haven't changed,
Detective, no matter what else may have happened. You still have to do your
job on your own. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important business to
attend to."

"Someone else to torture?"

"No, 'Touched by an Angel' is on in ten minutes. I have to stay on top of
the opposition's propaganda. Happy hunting, Ezekiel!"

A warm rush of air filled the room, and then the devil was gone. Zeke sat
up, gazed around the room and saw the miserable state it was in: the crack
in the door where he'd nearly pushed the devil through it, the pile of ash
where their clothes had burned away, the dead TV, the bed sheets yellowed
with sulfur-sweat and charred black in places. He decided he'd do best to
make like the devil and vacate the premises as well...though of course, he
had no clothes at the moment to wear.

"Terrific," he sighed.

A few seconds later there was a flash of light--and a pile of familiar worn
and weathered attire fell to the floor in front of him.

"Thanks," he said, glancing down. At least he figured it was the devil's
work. He cast a sheepish glance upward, too, just in case.

He dressed quickly and got ready to hit the streets, studying the mark on
his arm the devil had indicated and hoping it would lead to some useful
trail tonight. He felt strangely optimistic that it would.

But first, he thought he would go grab something to eat. He suddenly had the
worst craving for Devil's food cake.
 
 

End...

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