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The private chambers of the head of the Oak family had always been neat and tidy. His living quarters served as an echo of his inner mind, where order reigned supreme. The deep mahogany bed frame stood cold and strict at the center of the room, the sheets on its mattress folded crisply into place.
A white-gloved finger dragged along the length of one of the many bookcases bordering the bedroom’s walls. It flicked upward and faced its owner’s gaze. Spotless, as usual.
The halovian turned his attention next to his wrist. He pulled back the thick fabric of his sleeve to reveal an elegant and practical wristwatch, a gift from his sister. The seconds hand glided smoothly along its path as the time slipped away. Mr. Gallagher was late. As usual.
Just then, a hard series of knocks sounded through the space as the bloodhound made his presence known. Sunday swiftly strode to the heavy door and readied himself. With his feet tucked neatly together and an arm resting against his back, he swung open the entrance with grace.
“Mr. Gallagher.” The halovian stated matter-of-factly. He paused as his eyes scanned the condition of the bloodhound before him. His appearance was crude and his attire was sloppy. Stains spotted across his half-buttoned shirt just below his loose necktie and stubbled beard. A mischievous smirk stretched across the man’s face as he awaited Sunday’s appraisal. “You’re late.”
“What, no hello?” Gallagher laughed gruffly, his voice low and playful. “Mr. Sunday, you forget your manners.”
The halovian rolled his eyes. “My apologies, Mr. Gallagher. Please, come in.” In one fluid motion, he stepped to the side and gestured inside the chamber.
The bloodhound obliged, and sauntered into the room leisurely. He turned back once he reached the center, marked by the sharp chandelier that hung just overhead. Gallagher had always found it a bit too unnerving for his taste. His gaze fell on the head of the Oak family as he locked the door to ensure their privacy.
“So, Mr. Sunday,” Gallagher began, a sly drawl creeping up his throat. Sunday approached him slowly as he spoke. The bloodhound let his words hang in the air until his master stood before him, eye to eye. “What have you called me for today? For business…” Gallagher lifted a scarred hand and brushed his thumb along Sunday’s sharp jawline. “...Or pleasure?”
Sunday’s hand shot up and grabbed Gallagher’s wrist harshly. He sighed and dropped the bloodhound’s hand. “Don’t be naive.”
Gallagher put his hands in the air teasingly. “Sorry, birdie. Am I not allowed to touch?”
“It’s not that, just…” The halovian pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. After a moment, he collected himself and regained his composure. He pointed sternly to the bed.
“Sit there. And wait.”
“So, pleasure, I take it?”
Sunday sighed again, exasperated. “Just do as I say.”
The bloodhound smirked and followed the order, moving to the foot of the bed. As soon as he sat, the meticulously tucked sheets came undone in one of the corners. His presence immediately disturbed the clean, straight, and narrowly followed order of the room. It was obvious that he was an anomaly, a disruption to the head of the Oak family’s zealously lived doctrine.
It was beyond reason why someone like Sunday would be attracted to someone like Mr. Gallagher, and equally vice versa. But it was the reality they had both come to accept and, admittedly, indulge in.
With this, Sunday strode into the adjoining room for reasons unannounced. Gallagher leaned back onto the bed and rested on his elbows as he waited for his birdie to return. Moments later, Sunday had reappeared at the foot of his bed with his outer jacket removed and something curious held in his hands. He held it out to Gallagher. “Put this on.”
The bloodhound gave him a puzzled look as he took the items into his hands. Once he had realized what he was holding, a chuckle escaped his lips. Sunday never did fail to surprise him. “Whatever you say, birdie.”
The halovian stood solemnly as he watched his bloodhound wrap the collar around his neck and latch on the black leather leash to the front clasp. The hound sat upright once he was finished, and gestured to his neck with flair.
“So, what do you think?”
Sunday removed his gloves and ran a bare fingertip up the length of the leash. His eyes lingered momentarily on Gallagher’s neck, admiring the way his skin buckled around the collar, pinched in from the pressure.
Finally, he gave his answer. “It suits you. Now…” In one swift motion, Sunday wrapped the leash around his hand and pulled hard toward himself. In a flash, Sunday’s face was now only inches from Gallagher’s. “Will you obey me? Like a good hound?”
A devilish smile slashed across the bloodhound’s face as he held Sunday’s firm gaze. His birdie was adorable like this, he thought.
“No promises.”
Without another word, the hound’s strong hands flew to the halovian’s delicate neck and pulled him close to erase the short distance that had separated them. The kiss was deep, sloppy, and hungry. His tongue battled with Sunday’s for dominance as their breaths and saliva mixed into a cocktail that only Sunday and Gallagher held the recipe to. The taste had become a familiar one over the months since they had first succumbed to their desires. And everytime their lips had touched since, they would be reminded of its intoxicating, irresistible essence.
Sunday returned his partner’s fervor and held tight to the leash wrapped around his hand. The bloodhound’s hands slid from the smooth, unblemished skin of Sunday’s neck down his chest. His fingers fumbled for a moment on his garments until Sunday broke their embrace to help him. Soon enough, his clothes and much of Gallagher’s lay limply on the floor beside the bed.
The master returned to his hound and pulled the leash taut once more as he gave his next command. “Now, hound… watch me.”
Sunday took a few slow steps backward, giving enough space so that Gallagher had a full view of his body. All he wore now were the thin lace panties that Gallagher had once gifted him. Moonlight from the artificial sky of the Golden Hour streaked through the windows and balcony doors and danced along Sunday’s skin as he found his position on the floor in the center of the room.
He slid down onto his knees, careful to maintain eye contact with his hound. He wanted Gallagher to pay very close attention to his next moves. Sure enough, Gallagher was dumbstruck by the sight before him. He hadn’t said a peep, so unlike him. Sunday liked him like this, finally acting like the obedient hound he should be.
Now certain that he had maintained Gallagher’s full attention, he slowly leaned back on one hand and spread his knees apart. The dark indigo wings that he usually tucked around his waist now stretched out behind him from his lower back. The lateral moonlight cast harsh shadows on his bare body as he trailed his fingers down the length of his torso. Finally, his hand found the elastic of his too-small panties, and an eager bump just below the fabric.
“Hound.”
At the call, Gallagher’s eyes met his master’s own, though not without difficulty. It was as if his gaze was magnetically attuned to the space just below Sunday’s hand.
“Sit still.”
Without waiting for his response, Sunday sunk his fingers below the elastic of his panties and split his fingers on either side of the base of his shaft. He pushed the lace down and freed his hardening cock from its cruel confinement. The halovian let out a whimpering gasp as the cool air struck him, made cooler by the moisture already leaking from the tip. Incredibly sensitive, his back arched skyward as his fingers grazed his length. He placed a solitary finger on the source of the moisture and slowly lifted his hand, stretching a singular thread of his precum for Gallagher to see.
Sunday cleared his throat, as the arm behind him began to tremble. “Hound.” His voice wavered when he spoke, just barely holding onto any command of his composure. The halovian had been so wrapped up in his sensations that he hadn’t noticed when Gallagher had unzipped his trousers and began stroking himself. Had he noticed, he would have told him once again to sit still. The mere fact that he hadn’t noticed was evidence enough that he was beginning to lose himself to his desire.
Gallagher looked down at Sunday from the edge of the bed as he continued to pump his fist on his length. His gaze was ravenous and lustful. The moment Sunday gave him permission, he would ravage him without a moment’s hesitation.
“Yes, birdie?”
Sunday hadn’t realized that he had stopped talking before he gave his command. His voice revealed itself to be even shakier and weaker than before. “W-what… do you see… before you?”
The hound huffed and pumped faster on his cock. What did he see? Wasn’t it obvious? His voice crept out of his mouth from deep in his chest.
“ An angel .”
Sunday inhaled sharply as the intensity of Gallagher’s words and gaze caused his dick to twitch. It ached for attention, but more than this. It needed to be touched, not just admired. And no matter how much Sunday wanted to maintain authority over it, and over Gallagher, he realized it was a lost cause. When it came down to it, Sunday knew he was no more than a mere beast, a slave to his own flesh.
Before he had even thought the words, Sunday heard his own voice call across the room to Gallagher. “C-Come… closer…”
The bloodhound obeyed once more and slid down to the cold floor. He crawled in his master’s direction, his leash dragging along the floor below him. After a few strides, he was between Sunday’s thighs, his lips only a few inches from Sunday’s length.
“How close, birdie?” The corner of his mouth perked up in a mischievous smirk. He adored seeing Sunday in this state. In the moments right before he loses control and becomes putty in the hands of a bloodhound like him. Gallagher knew it wouldn’t be long now, Sunday was clearly barely holding on.
Sunday could barely handle the sight of Gallagher’s smug smile, close enough to him that he could feel the hound’s ragged breaths graze heat on the base of his length. A wildfire tore through his body as Gallagher’s gaze burned right through him.
Control, composure, and order were Sunday’s indefensible truths. Whether or not he wished for them, it was the reality he lived, day in and day out. But when he was with Gallagher, all bets were off. This hound tore through Sunday’s foundation as if it were made of paper.
And this feeling, this fire that rippled through his form, spelled disaster for everything Sunday knew. But it was this exact feeling that he craved so deeply.
Burn it all, he thought.
“Ruin me,” he commanded.
The hound pounced on its prey.
Gallagher scooped Sunday up in his arms and flipped him over, shoving his bare chest onto the cold tile floor. His wings fluttered in surprise at the sudden change, but he did not protest. The hound held him in place with a single splayed hand spread between his shoulder blades. With his other hand, he roughly handled Sunday’s length, gathering up as much wetness as he could. The bird gasped a whine as his most sensitive area was manhandled with such disregard.
The hound positioned his wetted finger against the opening of his master’s pretty hole. As he sunk one finger in, Sunday vocalized a nasally moan. Gallagher’s dick twitched at the sound, and at the feeling of Sunday’s throbbing heat around his finger. He pushed his finger further until it had completely disappeared inside of him. He pulled, and his finger glided out with ease. Gallagher smirked, knowing the prep wouldn’t take long. Sunday was being a perfect master, stretching easily for his pet.
After a few thrusts of his lone finger, Gallagher snuck a second finger in with little resistance. He could feel Sunday relax around him as he bucked his hips backward, toward Gallagher.
“Feeling greedy, are we now?” Gallagher growled. “Fine.”
With this, he pulled both of his fingers away, leaving Sunday’s hole empty and grasping for more. Gallagher leaned down, placing both hands on either side of Sunday’s torso, and growled deep into the halovian’s ear.
“Sing for me, birdie.”
He thrust deep into him, eliciting a sharp gasp from the man beneath him. Feeling no resistance, he bucked his hips backward and forth again, each time more forceful than the last.
Gallagher scraped his teeth along Sunday’s exposed shoulder; the sensation sent shivers along Sunday’s spine. Then, suddenly, the hound bit down on the tender muscle that stretched from Sunday’s neck to his shoulder. The bird yelped as the sudden pain sharpened his senses and adrenaline rushed into his system. The bite wasn’t hard enough to break the skin, but certainly enough to bruise. He arched his back deeper on instinct, eager for more.
Gallagher’s breath blew hot and wet against his shoulder. “ Fuck birdie… you feel so fucking good…”
Sunday had lost any capacity for speech the moment Gallagher had flipped him over. All he was good for now was to be a nice tight hole for Gallagher to use. His moans were loud, nasal, and unmistakably lewd. If someone were to pass by his chambers at this moment, there would be no question about what was happening in the Oak Family Head’s personal chambers. Naturally, Gallagher couldn’t give two shits if they got caught like this, but it reminded him…
“So, angel, what was with the performance just now? You like being watched, I take it?” His words fell out of his mouth between his slow, hard thrusts.
Sunday gave only a loud moan in response.
“You couldn’t even get very far, could you?” Gallagher picked up his pace, reminded of the sight of Sunday’s nude form, bathed in moonlight. He pictured that string of precum that Sunday had shown off to him. Being watched, or even just the idea of someone watching him, for such a short time, had brought him to the point of leaking. “ Fuck… ”
Unable to restrain himself, Gallagher thrust inside him faster as he chased after his lust. He straightened himself and held firmly to each side of Sunday’s waist. His fingers dug into his muscle hard enough to leave even more purple and blue marks on Sunday’s unblemished skin. The hound held him in place and lost himself in the pleasure of fucking this angel like a common animal. The room filled with the carnal sounds of skin slapping against skin, heavy breaths, and the cries of passion.
Gallagher could guess that Sunday viewed him as a little more than a sin, a defilement, the beast who comes to wreak havoc in his holy temple. He didn’t take offense, though. Even if he didn’t agree with the notion of any one person being considered “holy,” he would never deny the privilege of being the sole person allowed to see the Oak Family Head in such a state as this.
It was in this very state where his angelic beauty shone brightest. And it was Gallagher’s alone to devour.
The hound ran his hands up Sunday’s bare spine, admiring the way it arched so perfectly as he plowed the man against the hard tile. His hand lingered near the base of his lower wings, and he felt Sunday clench around him suddenly. Gallagher gasped as his focus rushed to the mind-numbing tightness that surrounded his cock. It was bordering on pain.
“E-easy, birdie…” He grumbled as he replaced his hands on Sunday’s waist. The man below him breathed slowly and relaxed his muscles in response. Once he seemed comfortable, Gallagher moved inside him once again, and kept his hands firmly on Sunday’s waist.
Only a few moments later, an especially needy whine could be heard from below him. Sunday reached blindly behind him, grasping for something. Concerned, Gallagher pulled out and reached for Sunday’s hand.
“What’s wrong, angel?” He asked sincerely.
Sunday gasped as the hound exited him, leaving him empty and cold. He found his words as he fumbled with Gallagher’s hand, guiding it back to the base of his wings. “Please… more…”
Gallagher huffed a laugh. “You like that, sweetheart?” He gladly obliged and began rubbing the base of the halovian’s right wing. The feathers there were small and soft, and the caress caused the bird’s entire body to shiver. Sunday cooed, satisfied.
While the hound enjoyed watching Sunday quiver with pleasure, his own cock sat twitching and leaking between his hips. Keeping one hand on the wing, Gallagher poked his tip at Sunday’s entrance once more before saying, “Stay relaxed for me, birdie.”
He entered in one smooth glide, and found that the shivers running through Sunday’s body could also be felt through the walls surrounding his cock. The muscles contracted and contorted in a rhythmic pattern; it was something unlike anything Gallagher had ever felt. And judging by the sound coming from Sunday’s throat, it was a new pleasure for him as well.
Gallagher’s mind spun as he struggled to process the sheer, unadulterated pleasure of the sensation. And just as he was finding his rhythm once more, Sunday interrupted him again.
“Wait.” He croaked. Then, he lifted his arm and pointed a finger to the side, in the direction of the balcony doors. “There.”
They both stood, and stumbled in that direction. To Gallagher’s surprise, Sunday opened the door and walked out onto the rough concrete and nearly fell against the metal railing. When he had pointed towards the balcony, Gallagher had assumed he meant that he wanted to be fucked against the door itself, not out in the open like this. Though, considering the little show he had put on earlier, it wasn’t entirely surprising.
Sunday turned to face the hound with his arms stretched out along the railing he leaned back against. For the first time in a while, Gallagher was able to see his face clearly, and it was a sight to behold. His left cheek was red from where it was pushed against the tile just moments ago, and a lustful glaze had settled over his eyes. He reached toward Gallagher and pulled at the leash.
Gallagher breathed a chuckle as Sunday pulled him close. “You sure you wanna be out here, angel?” His hands crawled around Sunday’s waist and up his back as he brought his lips to Sunday’s ear. “All of Penacony can see you.” He punctuated the statement with a bite.
Sunday’s knees trembled as he let out a pathetic whimper. He nodded quickly and breathed a yes to Gallagher’s question. His balcony was far up enough that nearly no one would likely notice them, but they were visible nonetheless. The eyes of all of Penacony lie beneath them, walking the streets and gazing at the stars. What might they think if they spotted the holy head of the Oak Family indulging in such lustful defilement?
Gallagher flipped him around so that his bare chest was pushed against the cold wrought iron railing. The hound’s rough hand slapped Sunday’s ass cheek hard enough to leave a glowing pink mark. The spank rang out loud in the cool evening air, but even louder was the moan that flew from Sunday’s throat.
The hound spread Sunday’s cheeks wide as he prepared to enter him once more. The Oak Family Head gazed upon the citizens of Penacony, as small as ants from his penthouse balcony.
Let them watch , he thought. Behold .
Gallagher pushed inside him once more and let out a grunt of his own in time with Sunday’s whine. Tears welled in the halovian’s eyes as his already sensitive nipples rubbed against the railing with each thrust from behind, making the tips sore, raw, and overstimulated. Gallagher’s hips slammed against Sunday as he filled him, emptied him, and filled him again. Sunday dripped arousal from his neglected cock as it bounced with each impact. A small pool of it puddled on the balcony floor below.
After a few hard thrusts, the hound’s hands slid up Sunday’s back again, and he began to massage the area surrounding his wings, where his skin gave way to indigo feathers. Just as before, the peculiar and stimulating sensation engulfed them both as Sunday’s body reacted on its own. His wings twitched, stretched, and trembled at the stimulation. The halovian’s eyes rolled back in his head as his pleasure took him further than he’d ever gone before. From the core of his chest to the furthest extremities, the halovian felt absolutely nothing except pure ecstasy. Every beat of his heart pumped a viscous yet featherlight sensation through his entire being.
They were utterly engulfed and enraptured in this singularly transcendent moment.
He felt as if he had been lifted to a different plane of existence, to a reality that held nothing, no one, other than himself and Gallagher. They existed outside of time, their pleasure stretched to every corner of the universe, spreading like floodwaters onto parched land. This ecstasy was more vast and incomprehensible than any Aeon.
Is this… what godhood feels like?
“Fuck, birdie…” Gallagher grunted. “You made a mess.”
Sunday looked down slowly, his brain still clouded and hazy. Sure enough, he could see the mess he had made. Thin ropes of cum stuck to the bars of the railing, slowly giving way as gravity pulled them down. There was a lot of cum, more than Sunday usually expelled, and he hadn’t even realized that he had orgasmed.
Gallagher’s voice strained as he struggled to maintain control of himself. “Sunday… f-fuck… ”
After only a few more thrusts, Gallagher removed himself from Sunday and turned his birdie around to face him. Then, he guided Sunday down to his knees in front of him.
Sunday slid down and sat lazily on his knees, obviously still under the influence of the hormones coursing through his body, thick and heavy. His eyelids were drooped and his face flushed in his dazed state. He opened his mouth instinctually, without needing to be asked.
Gallagher pumped his fist on his cock fast as he chased after his peak. His eyes locked with Sunday’s, and despite himself, his heart fluttered. His birdie really was pretty like this.
“F-fuck… ah! ”
Gallagher gasped as he reached orgasm, shooting thick white ropes of cum across Sunday’s pale skin. He watched in his own daze as Sunday sat perfectly still, just for him, barely flinching as semen painted his holy visage. By the time he was done, not a single area of Sunday’s face had been spared. Cum pooled on his tongue, stuck to his eyelashes, and a drop fell from the halovian’s upper wing onto his lower one.
Now this… This was a sight worthy of worship.