Unnatural Instinct: Fallen

20.

I know what you're trying to do.

'It won't work,' I say. 'You will still desire him, no matter if you expend yourself.'

You kiss me again. 'I have to try something. Besides,' you look up at me with your glistening eyes, 'I want to.'

You kiss my chin, my cheek, then my mouth, your lips soft and cool against mine. I don't stop you. I won't admit it but I desire it just as much as you do.

We move onto the bed. With my wings, I can't lie on my back, so we rest on our sides together. You're shivering again. Your skin is puckered with goose bumps and your lips have turned white. Again, I pull you close, folding my wings back around you.

I gently run my fingers through your hair as you kiss my breastbone, then both of my nipples. You drag off my pants and I do the same. Sliding up your shirt, I press my mouth around your breast.

You gasp as I suck you. Raising your hip, you wrap your thigh around my waist and pull me closer still so that our groins press against each other. You groan at the feel of it. Then my lips are back against yours. You reach down to touch me, lightly dragging the tips of your fingers along my hardened length. I pull back at a sudden throb.

'Joel,' you murmur urgently into the corner of my jaw.

You pull your leg over my hip further, opening yourself wider to me. The tip of my penis lightly brushes against your warm, wet flesh. It's so exquisite that I have to bite down on my lip in order to control myself. Slowly, I ease inside you.

'Joel,' you gasp, nibbling at my chin.

For several moments we just lie there together, fused, united. I drag my fingers through your hair, enjoying the look on your face: your eyes are closed, your face is flushed, your lips are pursed and uplifted towards mine. I give a little nudge and you clutch onto me with a cry. Lines of pleasure deepen around the corners of your mouth. At a deeper thrust you whimper.

'Slow and easy,' I say.

'Slow and easy,' you whisper, smiling up at me with your eyes still closed.

I kiss your mouth again, dragging my tongue across your bottom lip as I push deep inside you. With a groan, you arch back your neck. I feel your channel contract a little around me. I'm in as deep as I can go now, the tip of my penis pressed up against a soft wall of flesh. Pressing my face into your extended throat, I wrap my arms around you and roll you onto your back.

Slow and easy doesn't last long. I take queues from the expressions on your face and the way you tighten your grip around my arms as to how fast and deep I should go. I enjoy the thought that I can so readily take your pain away, though it makes my own body burn. My penis is like a torch. It feels hot. It feels swollen and raw. I told you before I sometimes feel pain, and this is one of those times. Any moment now I'm going to erupt inside you—but I control myself.

I refuse to give in to my urges. I refuse to give in to the pain. If I do, you will suffer for it. And I cannot, will not, allow that to happen.

You're close now. I can see it clearly in your face and in the way you press your groin hard against mine. Fisting my hands into the mattress, I raise myself on my knees and thrust into you as deep as I can, fulfilling your need. Except for a little gurgle and a forceful jerk, you reach the end in silence. Inside your body, it's a different story. Your womanhood tugs at me hard and rhythmically, urging me to release inside you. But I don't; instead, I press my lips against your long elegant neck and delight in your breathy moan.

With a smile, you sag into the mattress. Despite the cold, sweat stains the collar of your t-shirt and your hair is damp. Finally, you open your gleaming eyes and we kiss deeply.

'Thank you,' you say breathlessly against my lips. 'Even if it doesn't work. Thank you.'

My body is still throbbing and in desperate need of release but I roll back onto my side still locked inside you. You don't speak, only stroke the nape of my neck as I curl my wings back around you and hold you tightly.

You fight sleep for a while, jerking awake every time you sink too deeply into rest. Every now and then I hear you murmur my name as you tighten your arm around my waist. But eventually you give in. Soon, your breathing turns long and deep and your eyelashes flutter against my throat as you dream.

I make sure that you are deeply asleep before I slowly unfold my wings and carefully slide myself out of you. You don't wake, only roll onto your back. This is the second time I have 'helped' you, and I cannot go another day without easing my own pain.

On quiet feet I walk around the bed and approach the window. I take in the view briefly. I see no evidence of my brothers and the shadows are empty of demons tonight. I look down at myself. I'm hard and swollen and sticky, my usually white skin turned scarlet. Below, my testicles are just as hard and tucked up high against my pelvis. I touch them with a wince. Releasing a breath, I grab my penis and smooth my hand over myself. I've never actually masturbated before, nor have I ever had sex until I met you. These are all new experiences.

It doesn't take long. The force of my release takes me by surprise. I grab onto the window frame as my whole body bucks. Then my essence pours out of me. It's not white like a man's. It's not red like my master's. It's not even a fluid. It's more like a cloud—smoke; dark smoke that disperses quickly in the breeze. Angel semen is poison. It's poison to you. It's poison to humanity. That's why I couldn't tell you the truth of why I couldn't finish inside you. It would frighten you.

If you've ever wondered how demons come into being, this is it—what we did together. Despite the innocence of our union, there can only be one result. Angel semen is not meant to mix with a woman's eggs. It defies nature. It's against God. It was my intention to beget as many of my spawn on your kind as I could during the Great Reckoning, but that's changed now.

I look once more at the view before spinning around at the sound of your squeal. I quickly scan the room but see no enemies. My eyes fall back to you. You're still asleep, that much is clear, but you're not alone.

Your legs are pushed up high and spread wide. Your hands are raised up by your head and are indenting into the mattress, as though someone is pinning you down. I can see the fight in your face: your distress versus your unwilling pleasure.

You're with my master.

Even as I watch, I can see what he's doing. Between your legs, the skin of your soft, wet opening slowly peels back, as though allowing entrance to something. Steadily your opening grows wider until I can see the dark emptiness within. It looks painful and yet pleasure flits across your face.

Moaning, you thrash your head from side to side as your body jerks. Beneath your shirt, your breasts bounce against your chest. Your hips buck. The force of your violent movements bangs the bed's headboard against the wall. You squeal again but my master doesn't stop.

He won't stop.

I crawl into bed with you. Like before there's nothing I can do but wait for him to be done with you. I'm sorry. I wish I could do more. You're still thrashing and jerking as I pull you into my arms. Crushing you to my chest, I pin your arms to your sides and wrap my leg around your legs in an attempt to keep you still.

It somewhat works but it does nothing to ease your terror.

'I'm sorry,' I repeat. 'It'll all be over soon. Know that I am here with you. Know that I won't let you go.'