The illusion was breaking—barely. The Pleasure Garden had vanished in a flash of truth, but its essence clung to the air like smoke. Thick. Sweet. Haunting.
Around them, the walls of the chamber shook. It was like Hell itself was holding its breath. The mossy ground beneath their feet shifted, becoming smooth stone. The walls turned blood-red and pulsed like a living heart, glowing veins of heat running through them.
Then it hit again.
No warning. No slow build-up. Just a sudden, violent shift—like gravity twisted sideways. Asher and Jeremy were yanked off their feet and thrown into another room.
This one was darker. Deeper. Hotter.
They landed hard on a massive bed, covered in plush velvet and sunken deep into the floor. As soon as they hit the mattress, iron bolts slammed shut on the doors. The air was thick with scent—spiced wine, musk, and the sweet tang of sweat after a night of passion. It wrapped around them, heavy and seductive.
Their clothes were gone.
Not slowly. Not seductively.
Just—gone.
Asher gasped, confused and furious, immediately pulling Jeremy close like he was protecting him—only to realize they were both completely naked. Exposed. Their bare skin touched, and the tension that had been building between them for months exploded into silence.
Jeremy's breath hitched. He tried to look away, but couldn't. Asher—gorgeous, glowing, powerful—was right there beside him. His golden skin shimmered in the red light. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. His green eyes burned, wild and hungry.
"Asher..." Jeremy whispered, voice shaking between fear and desire.
Asher turned to look at him. And in that look, Jeremy didn't see a soldier of Heaven—he saw a man barely holding it together.
"This room," Asher said quietly, voice tight, "It's another trap."
Jeremy nodded, his breath unsteady. "I know. But... it feels real."
They were close. Too close. Their legs touched. Their warmth bled into each other, and with every second, it became harder to tell where one ended and the other began.
Jeremy leaned in—just a little—until his lips brushed Asher's jaw.
"We've been fighting this," he said, voice low. "For way too long."
"I have to protect you," Asher growled, but his hand was already gripping Jeremy's waist, shaking. "I can't let this place win."
Jeremy rested his forehead against Asher's, gasping. "Then fight it. But don't lie. You want this."
That broke him.
Asher moved like thunder wrapped in silk, crashing into Jeremy with a kiss that was wild and hungry. There was nothing soft about it—just raw need. Their lips smashed together, tongues tangled, hands gripped and pulled with no shame.
Jeremy moaned, arching into him like he couldn't get close enough. Their bodies tangled—legs locking, hands gripping backs, necks, hips. Every touch sparked, lighting up the air around them.
Asher's power surged without warning.
The bed shook. The room pulsed.
Cracks split through the dark walls, glowing gold as if even Hell couldn't contain their need. White feathers exploded from Asher's back, scattered like fire-touched snow. His wings were trying to come out—half-formed, wild with emotion.
"Asher—" Jeremy gasped between kisses, "your wings—"
"I don't care," Asher growled. "I can't stop."
They rolled, Asher on top now, pinning Jeremy down. Their chests pressed together, slick with sweat. Jeremy clung to him, eyes fluttering from the overwhelming feeling. There was no guilt anymore. No shame. Only skin and heat and the release of something they had both buried for far too long.
Asher's mouth blazed a path down Jeremy's jaw, his throat, his collarbone. He bit—first gentle, then harder. A mark. A claim. A holy being surrendering completely to desire.
Jeremy's nails dug into Asher's back, drawing blood.
"I've wanted you," Jeremy choked out, nearly in tears. "Even before all this. Before Hell. Before the fall."
Asher looked down at him, lips swollen, eyes wide with lust. "Then take me," he said. "Not because Hell demands it—but because we do."
He lowered himself again—and the whole room shifted.
The bed cracked beneath them. Paintings burst into flames. Chains rattled from the ceiling. The room couldn't handle their power. Their desire wasn't normal.
It was too much.
But in the middle of that chaos, Jeremy felt something clear. Real. Even in this cursed place, there was truth between them. Their bodies burned, pressed together—but deeper than that, there was something unbreakable. Not lust. Not sin.
Love.
Eventually, Asher pulled back, panting. His glow slowly faded, but his eyes still burned.
"We can't stay here," he said, breathless. "This room feeds on passion. It'll try again."
Jeremy nodded, still dizzy. "Then we make a deal. When we get out—we do this again. But on our terms."
Asher gently touched his face, brushing his thumb over Jeremy's lips. "Deal."
The scent in the air changed again—less tempting now. More like a warning. The walls groaned.
And somewhere in the darkness, a laugh echoed.
"You made love in my house," the Devil said, voice amused and cruel. "But don't think it will save you. Lust is only the first sin."
Jeremy stood, legs a little shaky, as Asher's wings faded away.
"Let's go get that bastard gatekeeper," he said, eyes fixed on the dark ahead.
The Devil chuckled softly, his voice smooth and dangerous. "We'll see. Next time, I won't be so gentle. Time to get serious, mortals."