Salrael walked in through the door without bothering to open it. The man sitting on the couch looked up from his phone for a moment, and then went back to his phone as if glowing angelic figures weren't worth his attention. As indeed Salrael wasn't, except when they wanted to be.

They wandered idly through the apartment, ignoring most of the dross filling it. After a moment they found the bedroom, where indeed there was a woman lying on the bed, doing something on a computer propped up on her knees. The woman, too, gave Salrael a single glance before returning to the computer.

They observed the two for a few minutes, long enough to satisfy themself that the two could stay happily separate all evening, and then set to action. Salrael was not impatient - couldn't be, really - but they likewise had no tolerance for wasting time when they could be at work. They pulled a pinch of incense from the air, and sprinkled it onto the bedroom table lamp. The light bulb flickered and swayed and a thick, rich, cinnamony smoke began to fill the apartment.

The woman sniffed the air. Her nipples were already visibly hardening under her shirt. The man entered the bedroom. The front of his pants were tenting.

"Hey," said the man.

"Hey," said the woman.

Then they fell on each other, kissing and groping and clawing. Salrael settled back to watch.

A few minutes later, they wanted to scream in frustration. Heterosexual missionary. Salrael had nothing against that on principle - it was the most popular position for a reason. But when out of their minds with divine lust, a couple should be doing something more than just driving away, having resolutely adequate sex. Salrael had little interest in most things humans thought, but they could tell, with professional certainty, that both humans were enjoying it, mostly. They had a duty - a literal sacred duty - to observe and gather all the information they could on the humans before they started helping, to ensure that their aid was rightly tailored, but the urge to wade in and just show these mortals by example what actual good sex could be was nearly overwhelming. But their divine purpose kept them strong.

After a while the woman came, and then the man - at least that was something they wouldn't have to fix - and they separated and lay there, cuddling and cooling. Well. It wasn't the worst starting point Salrael had ever had to work with, but it wasn't terribly great, either.

"What's your deepest, hottest fantasy?" Salrael asked. The humans looked over at them, completely unperturbed by the angelic figure in the corner of the room watching them fuck.

"Rape," said the woman immediately, without any self-consciousness. "I want to be held down and fucked while I scream and fight futilely. I want to be made to come over and over again against my will. I want that."

The man did not react to this revelation in any way, except to wait until she finished, and then said: "Total submission. I want to be controlled by a woman so gorgeous, so powerful, that I can't resist her. I want to be used as a sex toy, for her pleasure. I want to come, but know that it's in passing, a side effect of serving her."

If there had been a point - the humans, having answered their question, were already ignoring them and lying back down - Salrael might have sighed dramatically. This old story. Two people, who may or may not be well-fitted to each other, but both subs, and neither switchy enough to make really good sex work consistently. It made Salrael's heart ache. But they were an old hand at this, and were already getting ideas as to how to make this work out.

Half an hour later, they were in the apartment parking lot, getting their hands dirty. They'd ripped up a big square of the asphalt and were pulling heaping fistfuls of dirt out from underneath. The soil was filthy, soaking in oil and other runoff, and Salrael spent more time filtering out slime into a disgusting pile of inorganic offal to the side then they did actually shaping clay. But this was going to be a sex toy, and it needed to be clean.

The shape they were sculpting was calculatedly androgynous, slim hips and stylized clay abs and a modest swell in the chest that could be plausibly read as "breasts" or "pecs" as preference dictated. It had two pairs of arms - not out of any direct requirement from the humans, but helpful for a toy for two people at once, and it let them continue the ambiguity with one bulky thick upper pair and one slim dainty lower pair. The genitals could have been a problem - although Salrael was an expert, and certainly had made things work for completely straight couples in the past - but the man had a little flex in him and while the human cultural equation of "dominance" with "penis" was stupid and arbitrary and often an irritating obstacle for Salrael, they also weren't above using it to their advantage when the opportunity arose. A massive pounding hammer of a cock it was.

Of course, the cock couldn't be made out of baked clay like the rest of the body - not if it was going to be pleasant to suck and be fucked by - but for all their cleanliness issues parking lots had other resources for the enterprising. Salrael pried a wheel off a car and set to shredding the rubber. After a minute they had enough to begin mixing it into the earth, rolling and shaping it until they had a firm but yielding material perfect for the business end of the toy. While they were at it, they ripped off another tire and made some more for the fingers.

When it was finished, it was, in all honestly, still not much to look at. The rubberized dick and fingers gave it a piebald appearance, and the face wasn't so much "androgynous" as "generic". Salrael had never really gotten much knack for faces. The fact that it had two empty pits for eyes certainly didn't help. But, as Salrael knew as well as anyone, looks were very important but hardly everything. The two humans were going to quickly stop giving the slightest fuck what it looked like.

They pulled a slip of paper from the air, and inscribed the Name upon it. They slid it into the figure's mouth and then stepped quickly back as the golem came alive. Divine fire burned around it. Its clay body baked in an instant. Then the fire died down, until only two glowing flames flickered in its empty sockets. Its dick, Salrael noted with approval, was now hugely erect.

They led it back up into the apartment building, passers-by in the stairs and halls politely stepping aside for the angel and their huge, horny golem. They entered the apartment - the two humans had separated back to different rooms again, Salrael saw with a twinge of disappointment - and they brought it over to the man.

"This is your owner," declared Salrael, without preamble. "She controls you completely. You cannot disobey, nor would you want to. In return - well, she owes you nothing, but to obey is pleasure. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said the man, his eyes wide and practically shining with desire.

"Good," said Salrael. "She cannot speak. You will speak for her, knowing that whatever is hottest, whatever sets you aflame with need, is what your owner commands you to say for her."

They set off immediately for the bedroom, two obedient - in very different senses - pairs of footsteps following them. The woman looked up when Salrael entered.

"This man is overcome by lust for you," Salrael said, with a gesture at the golem. "When you want to be fucked, he needs to take you. And he will not stop until he is satisfied: which will always satisfy you, but will take no notice of anything you say or plead or beg."

"Yes," mumbled the woman, overwhelmed with desire just as the man was.

"Good. Show me."

Salrael retreated to the corner of the room again as the golem advanced, suddenly huge and menacing, upon the woman.

"Oh god - what? Who are you? What are you doing?" said the woman, already so deep in-scene that she sounded genuinely panicked. If she wasn't unbuttoning her pants as she spoke, an observer might have genuinely wondered. Salrael had no doubts, of course; they knew perfectly well that this was what the woman desperately wanted.

"My owner wants you," snarled the man. The golem's delicate soft lower right hand was already wrapped around his cock, stroking as he spoke for it. "My owner takes as she pleases. You belong to her now, just like I do."

"No, wait, please, stop!" said the woman, as one of the golem's left hands pulled her pants and underwear off with impressive, inhuman precision, while the other bigger left hand grabbed her by the throat. "Please, I - euuuuuuugh!" The golem's sledgehammer cock had entered her and driven even the fantasy out of her head for a moment.

"Shut up, bitch," panted the man. The one hand was still stroking while the last had put two fingers inside the man's ass, and he was losing focus a bit too. "You're just fuckmeat now, a toy for my owner to use. And she is going to use you."

"Please!" begged the woman. "Anything, I'll do any- just stop, please, oh god, please!"

"I said, hnnnh, shut up!" gasped the man, and the golem's hand that could have crumbled concrete slapped her with exactly the right force to merely sting pleasurably. The woman screamed - the slap had already pushed her over the edge and the golem instantly slowed from its furious pounding to a slower, measured rolling of its hips precisely aimed to draw out the orgasm as pleasurably as possible without going too far into painful overstimulation. The hands around and inside the man sped up for just a moment and then he came too, all over the woman.

The golem carefully finished them off, riding their pleasure down lower and lower until they were fully spent, exhausted and trembling on the bed, and then stomped off immediately to clean itself in the bathroom. The two humans lay wrapped around each other for a long, long moment.

"That was incredible," the woman eventually said, her voice shaky and weak.

"That was incredible," agreed the man.

Salrael nodded at them once, in satisfaction, and then left. Their work was complete; there was nothing left to do here, so they moved on. They'd gifted the humans the best sex of their mortal existences, and with more to come, as often as they chose to partake. It was satisfying, watching them enjoy their gift; satisfying, too, knowing that Salrael had fulfilled their divine mission once more.

It wouldn't last, of course. In a few weeks or months at the outside, the pleasure would erode their merely-human wills and they'd forget about jobs, friends, family, sleeping, eating, breathing. But an orgiastic death like that was far better than whatever pointless mortality would eventually overcome them anyways - lightning strike, or smallpox, or whatever - and that after only a few more decades of resolutely imperfect sex. No, Salrael knew they were better off this way.

And it could be worse - one of those tedious other angels always hunting Salrael might find the humans, destroy the golem, deliver one of their endless sanctimonious speeches about "free will" and "human dignity" and "monomonaically sex-obsessed fallen angels" and all that nonsense. No, far better that they not be found. But it was unlikely. The humans would most probably be able to have the perfect, mind-destroying sex they deserved, until their mortal frames gave out.

Salrael smiled, and set off to find their next beneficiaries.