Thursday, June 2, 2011

Nothing in Pink

I've been sick. And well.. well. More well than sick, but predictably sick. The irony of being more well than ill is that I spend my well time doing things other than write. Things I hadn't ever thought I would be able to do. So this is good on one hand, but on the other.. I'm not making enough time to write. And now Felix is here, and I am spending even less time writing (but Felix is here! Yay!). The long and the short of it? I'm as sporadic and unpredictable as ever, and you're just going to have to forgive me (or throw rocks at my window and piss on my lawn).

Anyway! Have a smut. It's Nasr & Devon, so mind the noncon tag.

    There was little that was reassuring about the nothingness. Devon might have called it black, and it really was black at first, but then it was void. A blip in his perceptions that was entirely unaccounted for. Even the deep sleep of too much heroin was easier to reconcile than the nothingness that Nasreddin so seemed to enjoy inflicting upon him. It was frightening to wake from, to try and gather his wits only to realize that, for all intents and purposes, he’d been dead. Not that Nasr gave him the time to dwell in that terror.

    Now, for instance, Devon had just enough time to recognize that he was once again aware of himself before he was made to endure the gut wrenching realization that he was being fucked awake. Moreso, Nasr seemed to have been at it for some time.

    Devon’s knees ached from where they dug into a half-dead mattress, and his ass was raw and burning. Nasr bumped from behind again, thrusting impossibly deep, and Devon was all at once grateful he’d been in that state of nothing when the demon had taken to tearing him wide. The one thing that made the void bearable was the knowledge that sometimes he did not want to be around for the shit that was going down.

    “God fucking dammit,” Devon spat into the coarse fibers of the exposed mattress.

    “Nnn” Nasr crooned as he thrust sharply forward, “‘bout time your lazy ass woke up. Thought I was gonna have to put you inna goddamn tower or some shit.”

    Devon leaned forward, his ragged nails catching along the mattress. “Oh, fuck-- Ah! Not so goddamn hard!”

    “Yanno you like me hard, Devy-boy.”

    Nasr’s fingers tightened at Devon’s hips, drawing the man back with another wet squelch and smack of skin. Devon winced as Nasr’s balls came crashing against his own. He braced his brow to the rattling bed, eyed the sides of his nails as Nasr panted against his spine, and scowled as a coil of fury tightened itself about the heavy lump of despair buried deep in his chest.

    “You fucking -ow!- painted my goddamn nails pink?!”

    A looping scale of giggles sounded past Devon’s shoulder. His brow rocked against the bed, mouth in peevish scrawl, gaze slipping up past his shoulder. Nasr puckered his overly large mouth and sucked at the air, his cock sawing back at a burning angle.

    “Pink for my pretty, pretty princess.”

    Devon hissed through his teeth. He sucked a pooling of spittle from the corner of his mouth, and squawked as Nasr drove forward again. Too deep. He felt oddly numbed along the edges of pain near the surface, and decidedly ill from the way things inside were shifting about. His toes curled against the thin fabric of his socks, and he gripped at the bed as he struggled up onto his hands.

    “Thought we wa-ah!- we was gonna go some place nice.”

    “S’a nice place.”

    The jagged ends of Nasr’s nails dug against Devon’s pale skin, raising raw, burning tracks along his nerves. The demon drew back and out with a low rumble, giving Devon a split second of relief. A split second in which muscles twitched and breath shuddered, in which the burning sensation dissipated inward, and his eyes squeezed shut. Then came another sharp stabbing, another painful stretching, the edges numbed from friction, and his stomach churning. Devon groaned thickly and turned his face into the mattress.

    “Real fuckin’ nice,” Nasr growled.


    “Aww. Wassa matter, Devy-wevvy? Ainchu enjoyin’ yourself?”

    “ Hurry up and finish. Wanna go get some fries.”

    “Ain’t jiggly enough, huh fatass?” A fresh burst of sting and heat popped across his nerves, and Devon yalped loudly for the strike of Nasr’s hand.


    “What? Y’want more?” Nasr thrust hard, deep, and lingered with a long, rocking grind.

    “No I don’t fucking want more! I wanna go have a normal goddamn life! How many times we been over this? I don’t wanna fuckin’ well--” he broke off with a loud yalp. Nasr’s hand had left another stinging print on the curve of his ass, this time to the opposite side. A heated interlude between thrusts. “I don’t wanna fuckin’ well wake up with you fuckin’ me all the goddamn time,” he very nearly whined.

    “Then stop fuckin’ sleepin’ when I’m fuckin’ you, Dev-o!” Nasr giggled, cackled, and gave a jarring, sharper thrust.

    Fabric whispered and rustled behind Devon. Something airy brushed along his spine, tickling through the thin fabric of his shirt. His breath roiled about between his sinuses and his lungs, his chest seemingly confused as to whether it should be expanding or collapsing. He choked on the air, swallowed more snot than spit, and fought with the lump that was growing at the root of his tongue.

    He was made to rock harder, and faster. Made to endure the constant pounding of Nasr’s boney hips. Made to bruise and to cry. Though really, it wasn’t so bad. Even with the awful pink nail polish, it wasn’t so bad. He’d endured worse. He wasn’t bleeding from a million little cuts, wasn’t suspended from hooks, didn’t have any bones broken. It was just Nasr, too fast and too hard and too deep. Too goddamn hot. And pink nail polish. And screeking bed frame. And rustling like dried leaves. Whispers of touch at his sides and back.

    “Pretty, pretty princess,” Nasr crowed from behind Devon, voice nearly shrill, breathy from the force and vigor of his rutting.

    “Oh fuck you! Fuck right the fuck off you goddamn asshole I ain’t no goddamn--.” Again Devon was forced to cut himself short. Another twist of his head and cracking open of eye in an attempt to peer behind him had revealed a gauzy pink cloud. It was swaying and jerking about in response to their rocking, brushing now and again against the faded black of Devon’s shirt. “A goddamn tutu? Where the fuck do you even get this shit?!”

    “At the pretty, pretty princess mall!”

    Nasr cackled again. Delighted seeming in the manic dance of sound. His nails dug into the outsides of Devon’s thighs, low near his folded knees, and then pulled upward with a raising of puffy welts and ribbons of brightly colored blood. Devon howled, indignation replaced by the sting and burn of a fresh wave of pain. He tucked his face into his arm, eyes watering.

    “Shoulda bought yourself a goddamn princess while you was there.” Saved him the pain.

    “Naw. I gotchu. Yer the prettiest princess in the whole goddamn land.” Nasr took to cackling again. He punctuated his words with another rude jostling.

    “Oh, fuck. Just fucking finish already!”

    “So fuckin’ hungry fer it, huh Devy, huh? Know you like it. Fuckin’ want my dick inside you all the goddamn time. Princess Faggy Whore.”

    More cackling. More whispers of the tutu. Devon dug his fingers against the jarring mattress, clawing at the rolls of abused fibers. Nasr rocked him harder and drove in deep again. Caught at his hips to haul him up, up, so that he was suspended at an awkward angle. His neck strained, and his chest heaved, and his back ached. His brain informed him of all of these things with a determinedness to avoid the most obvious hurts. The agony that had rubbed his nerves into apathy.

    “Tutus is for ballerinas,” Devon croaked.

    Nasr cackled again. Loud and wild and raucous.

    “Princess Ballerina Faggy Whore.”

    Nasr set Devon’s knees back to the bed. His heat laid itself along Devon’s back, trapping the tutu and provoking another fresh wave of sweat from Devon’s pores. Devon groaned for the close press, and his breath caught when Nasr’s hand left his hip to instead grab and squeeze at Devon’s cock. To paw and pinch with his fingertips, seeming to punish the sluggish stiffening even as it occurred. Devon whimpered through the roof of his mouth.

    “C’mon, Dev,” Nasr whispered heatedly along Devon’s cheek, “yanno you like it. Yanno you want more. C’mon, c’mon.”

    Devon trembled as his heart went dropping lower, the heat knotting in his gut. It speared through his thighs and between his legs, though the swelling of his cock returned some of the feeling from behind. The slick and wet dribbled and oozed across the backs of his balls, where it dripped away or cooled along his skin. The sensation was oddly enticing, and Devon grunted as his cock gave another pulse, stiffening further into Nasr’s twisting grip.

    “Fuckin’ hurts,” Devon rasped in protest. Everything hurt. Even getting hard hurt.. and yet he was still hard. Hard and seeping as Nasr’s gropes and pinches turned to a proper tug and stroke.

    “Yeahyeahyeah,” Nasr hissed in reply, his voice hot against Devon’s ear. “Hurts good. Hurts real good, huh, you sick fuck?” Nasr’s cock drove in deep, his hips tucking flush again. “You like that? Y’want more?”

    “Oh god,” Devon lurched.

    His elbows dug against the bed. His fingers curled. Devon trembled as a fresh wave of sweat swept along his skin. He gasped as Nasr’s fingers curled, grasping, and his wrist flicked for a steady feeding. A more vigorous and rhythmic stroke that had Devon moaning between the soft slips of keening that he didn’t mean to make.

    “Ain’t no god here, Dev,” Nasr rumbled.

    Teeth caught at Devon’s ear, inciting a new wave of fire. Fire that spread down along his throat and the side of his neck; fire that jerked a shiver through his spine. Devon panted, gasping raggedly at the humid air. His knees dug against the bed, then eased a little wider. Facilitated the way he tipped into the working of Nasr’s hand. Though it pressed him tighter about the movement of the man’s cock, the rewarding vigor of Nasr’s stroking was worth it.

    “Fuck,” Devon groaned.

    Nasr groaned wordlessly in response, hot against the back of Devon’s ear. It was a low, rumbling sound that brought with it the arrival of the man’s climax. He swelled, spasming, and jarred his hips flush against Devon’s ass once again. Then came the burning. The part that Devon hated. The copious filling that scalded deep from the inside out. Devon was left wailing, yowling, trembling and shuddering as Nasr’s hand twitched, squeezed, and Devon came in the midst of the demon’s lingering rutting, the constant, seemingly unending tide of heat and fluid swelling. His climax was swift and unremarkable, though the golden bursts of pleasure along the backs of his eyes helped assuage his insulted senses.

    Nasr laughed, breathy and grating, and continued to rock. Slow and slower, until at last he stilled. He remained hard, remained lodged deep within Devon, his weight draped along the slope of Devon’s back. Teeth bit at Devon’s ear again, his shoulder, and Nasr’s tongue found the back of his jaw.

    “There ya go, princess” Nasr drawled.

    Teeth prickled at skin again, tongue lapping a moment later. Nasr finally drew back, leaving Devon feeling slack. Leaving a devastatingly hollow, empty sensation to wash over him. He collapsed more toward the bed, his legs slowly, slowly stretching out. He felt numb in some places, and cramped in others. Stretched in the wrong places, impinged in worse. He sagged into the cooling puddle of his own cum, and hissed through his teeth as a generous trickle seeped from his ass, sticky in its cling.

    “I fucking hate you so fucking much,” Devon muttered, his voice tight as it parted from his lips.

    “Love you too, Pookie.”

    Nasr bent close, planted a wet smack of a kiss to Devon’s cheek, and then bounced the bed generously in his retreat. Devon’s eyes rolled shut, and his body gave another tremble, a fatigued shiver. He listened to Nasr’s languid footsteps in the hall, to the pop of electricity and the subsequent nattering of the television.

    Devon’s heart finally slowed, and his breathing evened out. He hurt all over, hot in some places, cold in others. An hour later, he was listening to a new television program, but he still couldn’t get up. Couldn’t make himself move even as he felt himself begin to stick to the bed. At some point, though he could not say when, he finally fell asleep. It was a pained and fitful sleep, accented with pink nail polish and a crumpled, soiled tutu, but it was the sleep of the living. Sleep with nightmares and snoring and the occasional twitch of limb. Ever so much better than the nothingness.


  1. Even though this was (very incredibly hot) noncon smut, I still found myself chuckling at the parts that described Devon's new nail polish and tutu combination. I salute you, sir. :33

  2. /salute

    They were supposed to be amusing. I am glad. :)

  3. The moment the tutu showed up, I burst out in laughter, oh lord, I'm going to hell for enjoying this as much as I do(quite unfortunate,as I'm such a nice person).

    But, despite being erotica,it's very well written and perfectly paced. My admiration goes out to you,marcus.*curtsies*

  4. Thanks! I'm of the opinion that even erotica should be decently written and well paced. :D I'm so glad you liked it!

  5. I want to start off by saying that I really love their dynamic. Whenever I read a Dev and Nasr piece, it keeps me wondering. I wonder about Nasr's perspective and emotions - how he actually feels about Devon. Does he actually view their interactions as a relationship? Is a monogamist relationship with this human what he wants? Is he even able to feel these things, considering what he is? I wonder what would happen to their relationship if Dev's character shifted, if he simply became Nasr's little lap dog. (I'd have to say, I think Nasr strings Dev along due in large part to the fact that he is resistant.) And most of all, possibly worst of all, I want to romanticize the relationship! I can't help but take it beyond something torturous and nonconsensual. Like, was there more than pure selfishness to Nasr gifting Dev with immortality? ...

    Ah, too many thoughts, my brain is going to explode.
    But, seriously, I love this story line and I really hope to read more updates. :3

  6. Nasr is, I'm afraid, a bit of a cock. It's a demon thing. His motivations are meant to be ambiguous, even as he wraps Devon steadily about his little finger. While I can't condone brain exploding, I think it would make Nasr very happy. Probably much moreso than Devon turning into a lap dog.

    I'm glad you liked the story. :D

  7. Hahaha, I can't help but feel that Nasreddin got jealous that Devon cried out for god at the end of that. He's a wonderfully created character, these two are by far one of my favorite pairings ever. I can't help but feel like I wanna know more about them just to see how they live daily life and whatnot. Like, is Nasr just pretty much always there so when he gets a twitch in his penis, he's like 'OH DEEEV' who is probably either asleep or hiding at this point or does he just poof randomly?

    You must make it easier for me to stalk your brain babies .___.

  8. Oh, goodness, Devon, you are such a mess.

    Lovely as always, Marcus! I have to say, I think your brand of smut is the only I care to read these days. It just reads prettier than most, if that makes any sense. <3

    And, I've actually been wanting to ask this since "Surprise", so, please forgive me if it doesn't really pertain to the sodomy immediately above...

    I was wondering - what, if it's even there, is the connection between the angel Uriel and Devon? I just remember reading that Uriel wept (I presumed) for Devon's condemnation to immortality. And what is the connection between Nasr and Uriel?

    It's just that I love that fly-covered hellion Baal, and I love icky Nasr, too, and their respective counterparts, and was hoping I could find out where everyone stands with one another, since they all seem to come from the same... vein. Particularly Baal and Nasr and Uriel, seeing as they are all, well, not human.

  9. Thank you! Also very pretty.

    There is actually very little connection between Uriel and Devon. Nasr went to Uriel for a favor. I did not elaborate on it in this story. Just put the little summary as a preface so that the short would make a little more sense.

    Really, I only elaborate because I have no intention of writing out all of their story for people. xD

    So. Nasr & Baal are fallen angels, Baal is attempting to get Uriel cast out of heaven, and Devon is some poor sob that Nasr decided would be fun to torment. Nasr and Uriel have done a few dealings over the centuries, and Uriel owed Nasr a favor. Uriel was also conveniently the one who carried the tools to give Nasr exactly what he wanted: a toy that could be repaired.

    And that's a sort of cursory sumuppance for ya.

  10. Ive read all of your Devon and Nasr stories, and I dont ever recall them kissing, like on the lips. I kinda want some of that action. (even just a peck) xD Love your stories, you have so much talent!

  11. This erotica is very well written and the characters pleasingly developed in the art and other stories. Most written "porn" reads so clumsy and silly to me. I see talent spent here for the pleasure of it. A satisfying combination. I adore both of these characters. Devon's human suffering and loneliness and lack of self-awareness are delicious. Nasr's sadistic attentions that draw out more in glimpses than full exposure, Devon's dark desires and hidden nature, are superb. The pink polish, tutu and princess taunting speak volumes of their implications of what is hidden, or can be elicited from Devon's hidden psyche. I swear I'm not a therapist. LOL Well done, indeed.

  12. Why thank you. I do so enjoy the psychological fucked-up-edness of it all.

  13. I very much admire your writing style; the way the descriptions and dialogue flow together so seamlessly makes my stomach tighten and my teeth clamp ever so delicately down onto my lip.

    I'd love to get to actually have a conversation with you, I'm very much interested in learning about your writing style/theme inspirations as well as many other things.

    1. Such wonderful flattery. ♥

      My various contacts are listed here:

      If I do not respond, don't take it personally; It is highly probable that I am not at the computer. I'm veryveryveryveryveryvery(etc) busy. Despite this, I'm always happy to talk when I can, and am good at multitasking on those occasions that I am actually sitting at my desk.

  14. Need to go fuck my sub in a tutu now

    1. Okay, enjoy! Remember to treat them with the predetermined amount of respect!

  15. This is so horribly, disturbingly sick, perverted and depraved... And I fucking love it!!!

    Re-reading this for the nth time. Never fails to get to me. Lovely to see some properly and artistically written non-con that's got both the physical the psychological grit and gore.

    Now, off to make some fan art! (If that's permitted?) Actually, it'd be more like off to keep working on the fan art I started planning and painting the first time I read it, because the picture in my head is just too glorious to not try to give it life.

    Btw, read the stories by M Chandler that you recommended, and they are awesome! Are there more authors like her that you'd recommend?

    With admiration and respect.

    1. I am not one to put restraints on people's creativity. :)

      I am glad that you've enjoyed the stories. I don't actually know of any others' whose work is online at the same caliber of writing, but I admit to being too busy to really go hunting for it. When I find something related and even remotely worth looking at, I usually stick a link up on my links page.

      I'd love to see your painting when you've finished it!


    2. Wonderfull! Your writing and art has seriously inspired me and fueled that maniacal drive to improve make the picture live, damn it!

      You will most definitely get to see the painting once it's done, and I'm glad you'd like to. :)


  16. Is there gonna be any stories were Devon tops Nasr. Or more stories where Devon is a willing partner instead on non-con?

    1. Maybe.. possibly.. maybe.. (I never know when a Devon/Nasr story is going to come tumbling out, or what it will contain.)