Lust

Warning: rape, somnophilia, unhealthy obsession, intoxication, corruption 

AU: Possession

 

 

The night air is cold at this time of the year with the passing rain. Droplets of rainwater falling on the ground making a steady noise filling up the silence that otherwise envelopes the scene. The rain has stopped but the cloud is still covering the bright moon; still heavy with unshed water. It is simply the calm in between the storm.

He stood next to the wide bed, as still as a shadow, silently looking towards the one lying in it. A young man with dark hair and lightly tanned skin, and eyes bright like burning embers. One that roused such interest in him - an oddity in his already out of the norm life.

The moment he saw the other he already knew - this man is one of the 'blessed ones'. His antithesis. The ones saddled with the fate of eradicating his kinds in the angels' stead. How? There's a little detail to them that only the demons can see.

They all bear golden ring within their eyes. The mark of the angel's halo.

"You should keep away from them. It's for your own good."

Says the one who still carries the same mark in his eyes, albeit broken. Like he'll give a care over whatever Avarice says.

He moves to sit at the edge of the mattress, the material dipping under his weight. As if on reflex, the man turned towards him though remain asleep. Reaching out to brush aside dark fringes away from closed eyes, fingertips trailing down along the other's jawline and over the pair of puncture wounds on the side of the man's exposed neck.

He can still taste the man's blood on his tongue. Sweet, like a finely aged wine. The aftereffects strong enough to leave him staggering on his feet; the acute feeling of intoxication, and the surge of power through his stagnant veins. Then the sun no longer burns his skin like it used to.

Regardless, he still preferred night time.

The skin under his hand is delightfully warm.

(He remembered the heady fragrance of tuberose that suddenly floats in the air, replacing the stale scent of vampire blood around him. A faint sound behind him explains the change. Then he turns around and saw the man - eyes bright with alarm, lips slightly apart with wordless shock, silver blade glinting under the pale moonlight.

He remembered the heat from the other's skin as he held the man close, chest heaving in panic. The fragrance is much stronger with the proximity, the spicy undernote more noticeable. Breathing in, committing it to memory.

The feeling of his fangs sinking into soft flesh, the sweet flavour that floods his mouth. The pained sounds that gradually turns into breathless moans.

He almost went overboard.

He shouldn’t have let the man go then.)

 

A soft sigh escaped those lips as the man leaned into his lingering touch. A flightless angel. Dragging his fingers down the line of the man's collar bone, dipping into his open shirt, slowly popping open the buttons.

"..-Mm."

Wonder how he'll react to being corrupted?

"..-Nnh-" Back arching, chest pushing into his hand. Hands twisting into the sheets, his grip hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Even like this he's still fighting it.

Climbing onto the bed, shifting to sit in between the man's legs. Running his hand over a naked thigh; he can feel the energy coursing through the other's vessels. Like molten fire. The little gasps coming from the other man urged him further. Hooking his hand under one knee, flexing the leg at the hip. The hitch in the other's breath did not escape his notice.

Despite the resistance, he's still affected after all. He's already considerably wet from the touching. Ah, shouldn't kept him waiting for any longer then. Though he just can't help wanting to tease the man more.

The shocked gasp and the answering jolt of the other's body as he pushes a finger into the velvet heat is just as addicting.

Let me hear more of your voice.

Working another finger in, flicking his wrist, eliciting more of those little sounds. Voice breathy and climbing in pitch with the passing seconds. Each of them like a prayer dedicated to him and him only. Body trembling under his ministrations. Such a good little angel.

That should be enough. Guess he's getting quite impatient too.

A faint whine follows through as if lamenting the loss of his fingers. Don't worry, I'll fill you up again.

And he thrusts into the tight heat, feeling the other arching into it, hip tilting upwards to meet him in the middle.

"--Aah!"

Everything about this man is addicting. The way he sounds, the way he feels around him. The other's skin burns under his palm, red dusting over his cheeks and his upper chest. Head thrown back with his neck exposed; inviting.

Don't mind if I do.

He bends down to trail his lips along the neckline while practically driving in deeper into the man beneath him. The strangled moan betrayed nothing. This whole room is filled up with his scent and noises. Wonder if there's someone outside close enough to catch it.

They can listen, they can watch, but they're not touching him.

Tongue flicking out to lick the damp skin along the stretch of the other's neck, pausing to suck on his fluttering pulse. The responding cries gradually becomes more desperate with the increasing pace. He's close.

Biting down into the presented part, the other's body trembled with impending release. His hold on the other hard enough to bruise the soft skin; marking the man. His venom trickles into the priest's veins with every bite, binding the man to him.

A flash of lightning. Thunder rolling in the dark skies.

It passes with the intensity of a violent storm leaving silence in its wake.

He looks down onto the man lying under him - dark hair mussed up, colours high on his cheeks, lips parted with soft pants. Red blood dripping from the wounds staining the white sheets and the white of his own essence painting his reddened skin. Such an obscene picture.

Ah, the once pure angel has been tainted.

(Though he had a feeling if the man actually has wings, they wouldn't be white.)

(Black feathers with gold edges; fluttering under his touch.)

Reaching out to trace the other's lips. This man is everything that he wasn't.

How beautiful.

 

After all, aren't opposites supposed to complete each other?