The Devil Made Me Do It: Cain, Part 1.4 by TheBaldestOfThemAll

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Asmodeus closed his eyes as the clippers assaulted his forehead. The beast that buzzed was hot, angry, and hungry for a taste of Asmodeus’s hair. Its teeth tortured the demon and his God-hewn hairline. Virile and well-endowed with a supernatural strength, his hair was invincible—that is, until it finally met its defeat at the hands of the merciless huntsman.

"Mmm…" Asmodeus growled as the first of his Pride fell to the floor at Cain’s feet. He brought a hand up to his head, caressing the damage the clippers dealt down the middle. He convulsed at the sensation of sweaty, bald-headed skin beneath the millimeter-long stubble against his fingertips. F***. He could hardly believe that after an eternity of having hair, baldness would be the Fate he’d succumb to. It was called Fate for a reason because even at the first touch, he knew there was no way he’d ever go back.

The demon played with himself through his pinstripe pants before undoing them and his dress shoes. As he struggled out of them, his serpent slithered out. Completely hard, dripping with precum, and with a hunger for destruction, the demon had a monster of his own that made Cain’s Goliath look like David.

The huntsman looked at Asmodeus vicefully as the demon put his uncut cock into a vise. Precum dripped out onto his hair as he manhandled it and masturbated.

Cain rubbed the demon’s head, caressing it with his calloused hands and kissing it. He rubbed his cock against the stubble.

"F***…" the two hunks sighed together. The sensation of stubble against Cain’s cock wasn’t like anything the huntsman had ever felt before. The roughness. The sweaty skin beneath the stubble that dared to be scraped off. He needed more. He thrusted the demon closer to his cock, commanding him to suck.

As the demon sucked the man off, his heart throbbed out of anticipation, waiting for the clippers to take more and more of his hair off. Drops of sweat dripped down his forehead as he fought back the urge to cum right then and there. He hadn’t even been shaved smooth yet, and already, he was hooked. He craved the clippers.

The clippers came back with a vengeance and ravaged the rest of his hair. They struggled against the thickness, but conquered it nevertheless. With every vibration, more and more of his hair came off, revealing skin that’d only ever seen darkness until now. Asmodeus pleased Cain a little too well as he sucked, and the stallion of a man bucked, thrusting the clippers into the side of his beard. He gripped the demon by his chiseled jawline, thumbing the cleft of his chin, and buzzed off the sides of his f***ed up beard, hewing it into a handsome goatee fit for the actual Devil himself.

With a final click, Cain turned the clippers off. The room had become completely quiet. The air was filled with nothing but the heavy breaths of the two hunks and the buzzing of the neon sign outside as it flickered on and off in its hellish red. He looked at the remnants of his hair on the floor at Cain’s feet.

The dark hellfire had been extinguished, reduced to ashes of the magnificence that used to be.

The Prince of Hell had finally been decrowned.
It was a far fall from grace, not just for Asmodeus, but for Cain too. To succumb to a demon’s temptation went against everything he was taught. It’s strange. A few months ago, the two would’ve been Hell-bent on mutual destruction, adversaries at one another’s throats. But you know how hunters *really* are. How human they are. How horny. Asmodeus was all business, but pleasure… now that was something both he and Cain were good at giving to one another. Demons have needs too, after all, so this was a deal that benefited the both of them.

At least you could say they were still at each other’s throats. Cain was twelve inches down the demon’s. Balls-f***ing-deep.

As he sucked, Asmodeus stroked his stubbly head. The sensation of roughness between his fingers wasn’t like anything he’d ever experienced for himself. For all of his eternity, he’d been bound by silk, strong in its own way, but this was something else. Sandpaper. It felt so rugged, so strong, and yet, he knew that all it took was a few strokes of a well-stropped razor to subdue it.

Asmodeus pulled himself away from Cain, leaving the man’s big balls throbbing. He headed toward the vanity.

He could hardly recognize himself. He eyed his reflection intensely as he rubbed his head, rough with all the stubble beneath his fingertips, but round. F***. It felt so, so good. He ran a finger along where his hairline used to be, along the V. The gray-whiteness of his stubbly bald head against the tan of his face was severe, but something about it made him so hard. He made his way down where his sideburns and the sides of his beard used to be, to his chiseled cheekbones and jawline. He moved his hands down to his stubbly chest, to his nipples, and started to play with them.

He’d always been handsome, but now, without any hair and only a goatee, he’d become even hotter. There was a sort of severity to the manly-man’s handsomeness now. A brutality. He was so goddamn sexy. He played with his cock, getting precum all over his hands. He wiped the precum onto the stubble on his head. His breaths became heavier and heavier as he watched Cain approach him in the mirror. In the huntsman’s left hand was something that gleamed sinisterly in the dim light. He had his right hand behind his back.

"I reckon you remember our steely old friend here," Cain said, smiling sadistically. He wrapped his burly arms around his shoulders, brandishing the demonic blade of Damascus no less than a foot away from his face. "He’s a beaut, ain’t he?" Asmodeus could feel Cain’s hot breath against his nape. His cock pressing against his ass and dripping with precum. He pushed the demon aside assertively and turned on the faucet, anointing it with soap and hot, unholy water.

"You really like playing with hellfire, don’t you?" Through the demon’s bravado was that bit of vulnerability that Cain hardly ever heard from him. There were few blades in the world that could instill fear into demons, but this one was different because they knew its touch all too well.

"Damn right I do," the huntsman smirked. He gazed at the blade. "Gotta get as close a shave as I can, and this one cuts real damn close." He looked at the demon wickedly, caressing the scar on his chest that he’d given him in battle, before the first deal. "But you remember that, right?" He kissed his chest, feeling the stubbly skin against his lips, and ran his tongue along the length of the scar. The demon’s pecs convulsed at his touch.

"F***… you’re twisted," Asmodeus laughed as the the bearded huntsman pressed his lips against his skin, against his scar.

"Well, what can I say? You always bring out the worst out in me, Asmodeus," Cain smiled. He made out with the demon wolfishly, running his fingers through the stubble before bringing him down to his cock.

Asmodeus surrendered at Cain’s feet, ready to give him complete dominion over what little was left of his hair. F***. He’d wanted this for so long, to have his head shaved bald by a mercilessly manly man like Cain, and now, he’d finally have it.

As he took Cain’s throbbing cock into his mouth, the huntsman took the can of Barbasol and started to lather his head. The undeniably manly scent of shaving cream filled the hot, salty air surrounding them as the huntsman worked to cover every last bit of stubble with white. He convulsed at the huntsman’s rugged touch, at the sensuality of the shaving cream on his head.

"You know what I’ve thought about every time I’ve jacked off this month?" Cain asked, cock in hand. With his other hand, he brandished the blade and met its gaze.

"What’s that?" Asmodeus scowled and jacked off as Cain brought the blade closer and closer to his head. This blade, it had a hatred for the living, but for demons, it was absolutely bloodthirsty. The call of the void filled Cain’s head with whispers, and his eyes became darker like that void. Violent.

"Shaving you. How bald you’re—mmphmm—gonna be by the time I’m done with you," Cain struggled, gritting his teeth together as he wrangled with its compulsions and his cock. "All the things I’m gonna do to your bald head."

The two well-muscled hunks were sweaty, head-to-toe. Their hearts throbbed as adrenaline rushed through their bodies. They were harder than they'd ever been before—so hard that it hurt.

As commandeering as the demonic Damascus was, Cain’s primal Lust overpowered it to the point that he’d bent the blade to his will.

"Yeah, Cain? What are you going to do to do my bald head?" Asmodeus provoked. He was so hard at the thought. He growled as the hot steel took its first lick against the skin of his head, from the top of his crown, down to where the V of his hairline used to be, leaving nothing but a gray shadow in its wake. That first taste of baldness, the way the blade licks it... it does something to a man, and it sure as Hell did something to the demon.

"You know what I want," Cain coerced.

A drop of sweat rolled down from the top of his crown, down the middle of his head, to the curve of the V as he jacked himself off. It caught the eye of the huntsman who was thirsty like he’d never been before. The demon smirked. He pulled himself away from the huntsman and tilted his head down, inches away from the huntsman’s face. It was so close that Cain could feel its heat. He got a whiff of its manly scent—Barbasol and whatever was left of the sandalwood, overpowered by a strong saltiness and Asmodeus’s own masculinity. He licked his dry lips. The way the skin glistened, the drops of sweat rolling down the perfect roundness of his head, beckoned him to come closer. He was so *f***ing* thirsty, and now, he was only one inch away from getting a taste of the demon’s baldness for himself. Finally, he brought his lips to the demon’s bald head, to the exposed gray shadow down the middle, and took his first lick.

"Mmm… f*** yeah Cain. F*** yeahhh—mmphmm—just like that," Asmodeus convulsed as Cain caressed his head with his tongue. Between every stroke of the blade that left him balder and balder, the stroke of the huntsman’s tongue followed. He sucked away at the top of the demon’s head thirstily as he shaved him, licking away every last drop of his bald head sweat and savoring the taste of masculinity that lingered in his mouth. Asmodeus jacked off and rubbed his big balls as Cain continued to shave the back and sides of his head and torment it with his tongue. Cain lathered the demon’s head with shaving cream again, this time shaving against the grain. Every stroke of the blade left his cock and balls throbbing, and it took the strength of a legion to fight off the urge to come.

What made him throb the most was how sensitive the skin of his bald head was. Even as an incubus, this wasn’t like anything he’d ever experienced before. The hot, sweaty air that surrounded them. Every drop of sweat that dripped down to his forehead. The callousness of Cain’s hands against his head. The heat of the huntsman’s breath and the way his tongue tasted him. The way his beard teased his baldness. Every stroke of the blade that aroused the follicles of his hair down to the root and tormented them. Every sensation sent convulsions throughout his body. F***. His baldness was as sensitive as his cock.

No. Not even his cock could be this sensitive.

This experience… it awakened something deeper within the demon that had been dormant for the Devil knows how long—a beast to be reckoned with. With few men able to bring it out of him, it’d been a while since the beast had been aroused from his sleep, but the thought scared the Hell out of Asmodeus. He hated the feeling of losing control of himself, and that’s exactly what would happen if he stopped wrangling with the beast. Asmodeus scowled as Cain shaved his head, his breaths hot and heavy and his well-muscled body slick with sweat. With every scrape of the blade, the bald, reawakened beast became more and more irrepressible as the power of Lust incarnate started to possess Asmodeus and consume him. The temptation to succumb to his primal nature and to feel the rawness of its power in his veins after so long was just too damn irresistible for the demon to fight against.

With a finality, Cain scraped away the last of the shaving cream from Asmodeus’s scalp where a sideburn used to be, and with that, the last of his inhibitions. He took his jockstrap off the floor and manhandled his own cock and balls with it before using it to wipe the demonic hunk’s bald head. Where there used to be the thickness of Asmodeus’s magnificent mane, now there was nothing but baldness—the starkness of the gray the only memento of what used to be. Cain carnally ran a hand over the demon’s head. Slick and hot to the touch.

Cain pulled the demon closer to himself and brought his lips to his baldness, kissing the top of his bald head. He teased the head that used to have hair of its own with his beard. The huntsman moved behind the demon, pressing the hardness of his cock against his ass, and started to kiss his traps. He kissed the demon’s nape and gave it a lick before moving up to his occipital ridge. He pressed his nose against the back of his bald head and dragged it up to his crown, sniffing and getting a strong whiff of his masculinity.

"F***, you smell so manly," Cain inhaled deeply. He started to suck on the sensitive skin of his head. "You taste like a man, too," he said between breaths, gasping. "You taste so *f***ing* good."

With his eyes closed, Cain and the bald-headed, beastly hunk made out passionately and savored the taste of masculinity that lingered in the huntsman’s mouth with one another. His beard reeked of baldness. The huntsman caressed the beast’s crown with a calloused hand, moving down his back and feeling the monstrous muscles contract. The beast growled lowly at the huntsman’s touch. His sweaty skin felt hotter, like the fires of Hell burned on within him.

Cain had that same damn feeling again—the feeling he’d gotten whenever there was a darkness to be dealt with. That thrumming in the air that he could feel in his muscles. The atmosphere was hot like it’d been, and heavy, but now a sort of power penetrated it. The air buzzed with something sinister that made the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck erect. The tattoo of the ophanim’s eye on the back of his neck opened itself up with a vigilance and blazed brightly like a white-hot fire. There was a predator in the room with him, and now, the huntsman had become his prey. Cain didn’t want to open his eyes as he made out with the demon, not just because he didn’t want this moment of passion with the shaven-head, demonic hunk of his every desire to end, but because he knew what sort of unholy reckoning awaited him.

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