Terrible Lovely // vhope

What have you done!!!

“What have you done, Cupid?” I rasp out. I turn toward him, my eyes drifting up his bloody chest.

“I did…I did what I had to do. To stop the never-ending monotony.” He runs a shaky blood-stained hand through his dark hair, making it stick straight in the air. His manic eyes find mine. “To get someone to notice that we’re just part of a vicious cycle that desperately needs ending.”

“You wanted someone to notice?” I reach a pale white hand toward him. He doesn’t flinch when I run my fingertips through the blood speckles, smearing them. “I noticed.”

His breath hitches when I ghost my knuckles up the column of his throat and caress his jaw with my thumb. “You’re certainly here, Death.”

“I certainly am.” I touch his ear and then stroke my fingers through his hair, smoothing it back down like it was before. “What happens now, Cupid?”

His shoulders hunch and he eyes the pile of bodies warily. “I’m not sure. They punish us perhaps.”

“How?”

“Relieve us of our duties indefinitely?” There’s a challenge in his words. Almost as if he already knows the answer but wants me to figure it out.

I ponder his words. “Sounds like a reward.”

Blue eyes snap to mine. “Hmph.”

“No one’s coming,” I say, my gaze locked on his. “What do we do?” I wait for the familiar pull to drag me toward the dead so I can take them where they need to go.

Nothing.

The only thing pulling me is curiosity…and something else. Something strong and familiar. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

Toward him.

“I broke it,” Cupid mutters. “I broke love.” He smirks at me. “And Death.”

I touch his lips because they beg for attention. Parted and puffy. They seem sweet. My mouth waters for a taste.

“Maybe it was broken before,” I utter, pushing my fingers into his mouth to feel him there as well. Slick and warm. I like it. “Maybe you fixed it.”

He bites my fingers. A zing of desire shoots straight to my cock. Fragments of memories flash inside my mind like a kaleidoscope, colorful and brilliant.

“I was…” I frown. “I was a man once.” My fingers slip from his mouth. “I…I feel like there’s more.”

“Tell me, Death,” Cupid sneers. “Were you ever in love?”

An ache, violent and ugly, rips through my chest. Hot tears form in my eyes. I stagger back, trying desperately to catch my breath. “I was.” There’s a hole in my heart filled with anguish and longing. My obligation to my duties somehow dulled the ache—dulled me.

But. Now. I. Feel.

“It hurts,” I choke out. “Love hurts.”

“When love is divided,” he whispers. “When it’s torn or destroyed or crumpled. Love hurts most when it’s forgotten.” His lashes are wet with tears. “Perhaps it feels like death.”

I lean in, eager to taste his lips that are now glistening from the sadness that streaks down his cheeks. It’s soft at first, our kiss. A brush of our lips. His sharp intake of air. My needy groan.

And then I feel the pull.

Strong. Unyielding. Maddening.

To him. To him. To him.