Ten kisses for sale - now sold out!
The first ten eight people to comment with a pairing and a prompt get a kiss!drabble. Prompt can be specific ("first kiss, under the mistletoe, with people watching") or completely random ("feather"). If you don't get something within a half hour I will probably post it later tonight instead
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"I hate you."
She wished she had a shotgun. Or a stick .Something to keep him at arm's length.
His hands were up in surrender. "I know."
"You killed us." And she still felt like it was her fault, felt like she'd betrayed them because she used to pray to all the angels in heaven and hell, because it felt more dramatic that way, more blasphemous and more exciting. And she couldn't help feeling like somehow she'd invited this fate on her and Mom, because she was loose-lipped, she didn't care, she didn't believe.
Until angels began dropping from the sky and she began to harbor secret fears that maybe she'd angered someone above after all.
"I killed a lot of people," Lucifer says. He's gangly and funny-looking, like somebody's uncle, and she still doesn't know why he's appeared before her, how she knows it's him or why her feet won't move.
"Thousands," she said. "You killed thousands of people."
"I hated you," he said, a shrug lifting his shoulders. "You people. You were the favored ones, and I couldn't stand to see you getting all the love that should have gone to us."
"Then we hate each other." He was too close for her to effectively stand on guard. All she could do now was stare up at the weathered face, indignant. "So why are you here?"
"I don't know," he says. "Searching for that lost love, perhaps." His hands cupped her jaw.
"Don't touch me." Her eyes blazed, but her chin tilted up. "You're supposed to hate me."
"And you're supposed to hate me, too." He bent down to her, and Jo's heart screamed, so terrified, so enthralled.
"I do hate you." Insistent puffing of her words against his lips. She set her jaw. "You're a killer."
"I'm an angel." Almost there. "You used to pray to me."
"Not to you." His lips brushed hers, a soft, thrilling moment. She was whispering, breathing unevenly into his mouth. "To all the angels."
"All the angels in Heaven and Hell." When she swallowed, he could feel her throat bob. One hand slid back to the nape of her neck. "Don't you know? I heard every prayer."
She threw her arms around his neck, crushed his mouth with a fury she didn't know she had inside her. He was a devil, a monster, everything she should have feared and distrusted -- and, yes, hated -- but just for now he was her angel, the one who heard her whenever she prayed, and who came not to destroy her but to comfort her in the knowledge that someone had listened.
"Thank you," she whispered, dotting his mouth with soft kisses.
"Thank you," she thought he might have answered, just before he disappeared and it all went dark.
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