(Untitled)

[chantinellie]

Date: June 20, 2000
Setting: Lobby, Bar
Status: Semi-private (Ellie, Beelzebub, Belial)
Summary: One of Ellie's worst fears is realized, but help is at hand.

Comments

[lordofthesouth]

Belial gave a chuckle, not unsimilar to a purr, rose from his throat in response to Ellie's request. It wasn't one he hadn't heard before, and was certainly delicious.

His hands worked without much guidance from his mind, moving phials of amber and claret liqours about in the cooling unit beneath the counter, retrieving several of the appropriate bottles.

"Single or would you like to take two at a time?" he asked, a hint of eroticism lacing his tone, hand resting on the square top of the Irish cream. It was fun, to be able to play this way with someone who could understand his humor. Lucifer had made him, and though the leash was broken, the darkness waned, he was still what he was, and so was Ellie.

[chantinellie]

"Darling, I've been known to find two inadequate. But that will suffice for now." Ellie smiled slyly. She had been frightened of Belial before she'd met him outside the perilous environment of Hell, but his name was whispered among the succubae like nothing so much as the name of the high school football captain among teenage girls, only with an undercurrent of fear and a lasciviousness to which few cheerleaders ever aspired. It was truly a pity he'd attached himself so tenaciously to the Snob (who could not possibly fathom how he would be envied and held in awe by Ellie's sisters, had they known.) "No skimping on the whipped cream, please. It's my favorite part."

[lordofthesouth]

Belial had never found it particularly difficult to chat with females of any sort, and sexual innuendo was definitely in his ballpark. Not that he had ever had much time to practice with anyone for the past few centuries. There had been Rubicante--and a flashier incubus he couldn't have imagined--but that affair was short-lived and never amounted to anything more than the other demon having a passing interest in his silk drapery and hard liquor collection. And Rubicante had hardly had the proper implements of a female, either.

He pushed the drink across the counter, sans her favorite part, and leaned in, all dark charm and silent grace.

Hand out, he proffered the whipped cream in a line on his finger.

[chantinellie]

Well, never let it be said that Crowley was the only demon around here who could do interesting things with his tongue...

Ellie picked up the drink and took an appreciative sip, then set down the shotglass and leaned forward, lapping up the sweet stuff in one slow, delicate swipe with the tip of her tongue...apart from a small bit she deliberately missed and went back for a moment later, catching hold of Belial's hand as she closed her lips around his fingertip and carefully, deliberately sucked away the last remaining traces, her eyes half-lidded and meeting his the entire time.

[lordofthesouth]

Belial shivered involuntarily, a bemused expression flickering across his features. Ellie was certainly lovely like that, her mouth wrapped about his finger. He could see the swell of her breasts as she leaned over and the sight sent a shiver through his bones.

"You're quite good at that," he murmured, eyes lidded thoughtfully. "Do you like that?"

[chantinellie]

"Mmm. Oh, yes," she murmured huskily. "Familiar as it is, it never grows old..."

[lordofthesouth]

He wasn't quite sure if she were talking about the drink, or if she were talking about sucking on things.

Extracting his hand, he leaned forward until he was nearly whispering in her ear, hiding her face in a veil of sweet-smelling dark hair. "Are you going to be okay?" Belial asked sincerely, knitting his eyebrows in worry. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, and for a moment she seemed incredibly frail to him, though he knew that was hardly the case.

[chantinellie]

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of him, both moved and a little awestruck that one who had served so long as Lucifer's lieutenant still had it in him to be so gentle.

"Of course," she said, smiling slightly. "I've survived worse than Beelzebub." As had they all, all those cast forth from the Silver City so many eons before. Still capable of profound suffering--perhaps that was a part of their punishment--they would never have lasted so long, had they been easily broken. "But it's sweet of you to worry for me."