They face each other for the first time in ten years. "It's been too long," Angel says.
"That's the trouble with adopting human form; humans imagine a year is a long time," he replies.
Angels, however, think decades past are only yesterdays. She wishes she still thought like an angel.
She can feel him looking into her mind; she'd like to resist, but it's no use. He's come to take her back and she knows she won't be able to stop him.
He looks through her skin into her beating heart. A helpless sigh falls from her mouth. She doesn't want to say goodbye to her human life yet, she still has so much to do. But the truth is she hasn't got much to hold onto. No family, no lover. She hasn't even got that many human friends. It's been a lonely existence being a female Cleric.
"So, you're here for me?" She sighs.
He inclines his head in forgiveness but doesn't reply.
"Why me -- why now?"
"I think you ask the wrong questions, Angel," His voice is like boots on a gravel drive, crunching out the words. He reaches out, his bone-white hand moves across the space between them, "I think you know why. Ask me something else."
"Will you be with me on the other side? I've missed you as you were, but not as you are now."
"You would prefer me as a human?" He laughs, "Of course, you would; I remember our times before your confirmation, we were good together."
Without regard to her stunned face, he lets his cloak fall to the ground, laying down his scythe. He rises a foot taller than before; muscle, ligaments, organs, and skin build around his bones. She doesn't blink, she's seen him do this before. He's just as she remembers him, tall, powerful, and handsome.
"Hello Mary," he says in a softer - more human voice.
"No one's called me that since --"
"Glastonbury festival 2011. If my memory serves me. You spent a lot of time dancing on my shoulders, and we spent a lot of time fucking too. We missed seeing Beyonce?" His crooked grin was like a warm breath on her neck.
"Why can't you leave me alone? I'm doing good work here, humans like me."
"Sorry," again his head drops in sorrow, "There is an imbalance, there are too many angels on Earth at the moment."
"But why me? Is there something the Master needs from me? -- Or is it you that has some needs?"
He smiles, his new blue eyes pierce her resistance. "Yes, the Master has singled you out, he knows you have done well, he knows everything, but that's all I know, I don't know what he has in store for you, I only serve." He slides his hand down his body and cups his balls, knowing her eyes will follow. His cock twitches in response to her stare. "You are beautiful; you fascinate, and you attract."
She loves that confidence about him, but she wouldn't tell him that. A metaphysical fissure opens her heart, and her body shivers. He is beyond the beauty of any man. "Should I be flattered by your compliments?"
"I hope so, otherwise you'll wound my ego" His laughter tormenting her.
"Really? You have an ego, isn't that a human emotion?"
He steps towards her, his arousal plain to see. Without conscious choice, her eyes rake his perfection, her heart rising into her throat blocking her airway, and making her lightheaded. She stumbles into his chest.
She's too scared to look up into his soft blue eyes because she knows if she does, she will completely unravel. She also refuses to look down on his naked body for the very same reason. "What do you want from me? Apart from my soul."
"I want you to orgasm on my cock, as you used to."
An unwanted moan escapes from her throat as adrenaline pumps into her veins sending tremors through her body. "I don't want you to want me." She groans, trying to make her words angry and hurtful, but the flutter in her voice belies her own excitement.
"You still have a free will Mary, don't try and pretend it's all about me." He slides one hand around her waist, pulling her into him, the other hand lifts the front of her dress.
"Holy fuck -- please stop," she groans, as her hips uncontrollably press against the steel of him through the warm wet cotton of her panties.
"Would you really like me to stop?"
Mary shakes her head, her breath coming in short bursts.
"Maybe you would prefer my tongue there instead."
Like a hot knife through butter, his sweet voice overlayed with lust slices open her resistance; sending lost images tumbling through a labyrinthine journey until they rest behind her damp eyes.
"Why did you leave me after Glastonbury?" A tear slowly runs down the side of her nose.