there's blood on every bracelet [you can see it, you can taste it]
[yes_iamagirl used with permission from her mun, who made a request on the smut meme. Used for badcompany_muse: Lust.]
She was unattainable.
Regardless of the fact that she was standing there in front of him now, what would have been deemed an invitation for him to reach out and touch on her lips, he couldn’t even begin to know where he deserved to accept the offer. What he had done in order to prove himself worthy of this by any means. She was the one who opened his eyes, all their eyes, that there was something else that they could strive for, urges they could give into without needing to feel guilt or shame. Without her, he wouldn’t have been able to know the rush of pleasure that came with the feeling of blood between his fingers. It was wrong, yes. But it sent a thrill down his spine that few other things could.
There was no denying that he wanted her. This was one of those things, one of those thrills-a motivation to reach out and touch, something he so rarely actually wanted. He indulged others, on occasion-Avnas mainly, but only because she was his-but he rarely ever wanted for himself. This, however-this he wanted. This he wanted so badly he could practically feel the silky smooth skin under his fingers, but he didn’t dare reach out and touch. That wasn’t part of the deal-he wasn’t worthy. And that was the end of it.
This wasn’t the same as it was with Avnas. Avnas was his-her soul was, at least, if not her body. She introduced him to things he hadn’t understood before, and she allowed him to indulge without disapproving. Similar to Lucifer, but something deeper, a connection that he didn’t already have-she was a friend, something he didn’t have many of, and therefore he indulged her in every sense of the world, as she did him. Fidelity for them wasn’t a physical connection-because in their essence, demons are not physical beings-but an emotional one.
Lucifer was a step above all else, the epitome of everything he believed in. The shining lady on the hill whom he had devoted himself to serving. He was below her. He shouldn’t be allowed to touch her in this way. And yet here he was, blood of some long forgotten sacrifice sliding against his skin and she was approaching him as though it wasn’t even there at all. Normally, he didn’t care, but here-this was different. He should be clean for her. He shouldn’t offer himself like this. She wasn’t seeming to care, however. In fact, she was moving towards him, as though there was nothing wrong with his appearance at all. And he was frozen in place, unsure of what he should be doing and his mind going blank as to how everything was supposed to work. Her hand brushed his face, and he lost all thought entirely.
“Please tell me you know how to do this,” she sighed as she moved in closer, forcing his knees to buckling and falling back against the bed, moving into a sitting position on the edge. Her presence overwhelmed his senses, leaving him in a stunned stare. He blinked when she spoke to him, his eyes moving from the swayed of his hips to her face standing over him, and his eyes fell back to the ground again out of respect.
“No, I do-it’s just-” He stopped when she took his hand, guiding it to the curve of her hips, letting his hand slide along the soft material of the shirt to the rough scratch of denim from her jeans. It was a strange sensation, the subtle shift, and he watched as the blood smeared along her clothes and he frowned, pulling his hand away and feeling the drying blood crack along his skin. As it browned, it stiffened his fingers, and he could feel them creak when they bent, but he wasn’t going to touch her like this. He wasn’t clean. It was disrespectful. It wasn’t the way things should be. Her hand lashed out and closed in around his wrist, what little wet blood there was left smearing over her fingers and pushing his hand back, letting her free hand slide to his shoulders.
“I don’t care.”
Everything in his head was screaming that he had no right to touch, no matter how badly he may have wanted to. No matter how badly his figners wanted to curl into skin and pull her in closer. It was a warm tug in the pit of his stomach, temptation begging him to indulge in the sin that was being offered to him. She was offering, after all. Still he hesitated, making no overt moves, and trying to sort out the confusion that was coursing through his system.
“Alloces.”
His eyes came up to meet hers, and she leaned in to kiss him-softly at first. Her hands slid over his face and fingers curling into his hair as she leaned in closer, almost having her body press completely against his. There was a moment of shock where he didn’t know what to do, before he could taste the slight slide of coppery blood against his tongue, and that sent something down his spine. His body seemed to ignite at that point, conflicting thoughts of right and wrong being pushed from his mind as it was all pushed away by desperate need. He leaned into the kiss eagerly, before moving his free hand up to brush the side of her face, his thumb circling the edge of her cheekbone. There was the soft sound of a moan from somewhere between them-he didn’t know who it had come from, but it was enough that his fingers moved from gripping her hip to around her waist, and he was pulling her closer, her body pressed in tight against his before he flipped her down onto the bed, pressing his body in close against hers, and feeling every curve mold against him.
It was aggressive, rough-it was the only way he knew how. But every move had the appropriate touch of reverence, respect. He never forgot who it was he was with, who’s eyes were watching him from the body below him. The body itself was enjoyable, but it was the demon inside that made the experience what it was. It was the way she didn’t care as he smeared blood on her skin or pulled a little too hard. She understood-she always had understood. She was the reason he was what he was, his Alpha and Omega.
And regardless of how she treated him when it was over-she always would be.
1111 words
She was unattainable.
Regardless of the fact that she was standing there in front of him now, what would have been deemed an invitation for him to reach out and touch on her lips, he couldn’t even begin to know where he deserved to accept the offer. What he had done in order to prove himself worthy of this by any means. She was the one who opened his eyes, all their eyes, that there was something else that they could strive for, urges they could give into without needing to feel guilt or shame. Without her, he wouldn’t have been able to know the rush of pleasure that came with the feeling of blood between his fingers. It was wrong, yes. But it sent a thrill down his spine that few other things could.
There was no denying that he wanted her. This was one of those things, one of those thrills-a motivation to reach out and touch, something he so rarely actually wanted. He indulged others, on occasion-Avnas mainly, but only because she was his-but he rarely ever wanted for himself. This, however-this he wanted. This he wanted so badly he could practically feel the silky smooth skin under his fingers, but he didn’t dare reach out and touch. That wasn’t part of the deal-he wasn’t worthy. And that was the end of it.
This wasn’t the same as it was with Avnas. Avnas was his-her soul was, at least, if not her body. She introduced him to things he hadn’t understood before, and she allowed him to indulge without disapproving. Similar to Lucifer, but something deeper, a connection that he didn’t already have-she was a friend, something he didn’t have many of, and therefore he indulged her in every sense of the world, as she did him. Fidelity for them wasn’t a physical connection-because in their essence, demons are not physical beings-but an emotional one.
Lucifer was a step above all else, the epitome of everything he believed in. The shining lady on the hill whom he had devoted himself to serving. He was below her. He shouldn’t be allowed to touch her in this way. And yet here he was, blood of some long forgotten sacrifice sliding against his skin and she was approaching him as though it wasn’t even there at all. Normally, he didn’t care, but here-this was different. He should be clean for her. He shouldn’t offer himself like this. She wasn’t seeming to care, however. In fact, she was moving towards him, as though there was nothing wrong with his appearance at all. And he was frozen in place, unsure of what he should be doing and his mind going blank as to how everything was supposed to work. Her hand brushed his face, and he lost all thought entirely.
“Please tell me you know how to do this,” she sighed as she moved in closer, forcing his knees to buckling and falling back against the bed, moving into a sitting position on the edge. Her presence overwhelmed his senses, leaving him in a stunned stare. He blinked when she spoke to him, his eyes moving from the swayed of his hips to her face standing over him, and his eyes fell back to the ground again out of respect.
“No, I do-it’s just-” He stopped when she took his hand, guiding it to the curve of her hips, letting his hand slide along the soft material of the shirt to the rough scratch of denim from her jeans. It was a strange sensation, the subtle shift, and he watched as the blood smeared along her clothes and he frowned, pulling his hand away and feeling the drying blood crack along his skin. As it browned, it stiffened his fingers, and he could feel them creak when they bent, but he wasn’t going to touch her like this. He wasn’t clean. It was disrespectful. It wasn’t the way things should be. Her hand lashed out and closed in around his wrist, what little wet blood there was left smearing over her fingers and pushing his hand back, letting her free hand slide to his shoulders.
“I don’t care.”
Everything in his head was screaming that he had no right to touch, no matter how badly he may have wanted to. No matter how badly his figners wanted to curl into skin and pull her in closer. It was a warm tug in the pit of his stomach, temptation begging him to indulge in the sin that was being offered to him. She was offering, after all. Still he hesitated, making no overt moves, and trying to sort out the confusion that was coursing through his system.
“Alloces.”
His eyes came up to meet hers, and she leaned in to kiss him-softly at first. Her hands slid over his face and fingers curling into his hair as she leaned in closer, almost having her body press completely against his. There was a moment of shock where he didn’t know what to do, before he could taste the slight slide of coppery blood against his tongue, and that sent something down his spine. His body seemed to ignite at that point, conflicting thoughts of right and wrong being pushed from his mind as it was all pushed away by desperate need. He leaned into the kiss eagerly, before moving his free hand up to brush the side of her face, his thumb circling the edge of her cheekbone. There was the soft sound of a moan from somewhere between them-he didn’t know who it had come from, but it was enough that his fingers moved from gripping her hip to around her waist, and he was pulling her closer, her body pressed in tight against his before he flipped her down onto the bed, pressing his body in close against hers, and feeling every curve mold against him.
It was aggressive, rough-it was the only way he knew how. But every move had the appropriate touch of reverence, respect. He never forgot who it was he was with, who’s eyes were watching him from the body below him. The body itself was enjoyable, but it was the demon inside that made the experience what it was. It was the way she didn’t care as he smeared blood on her skin or pulled a little too hard. She understood-she always had understood. She was the reason he was what he was, his Alpha and Omega.
And regardless of how she treated him when it was over-she always would be.
1111 words