Fallen

For my muse...

Where do we begin tales of the unbelievable? In the beginning, with the believable, I suppose.

He met her on the Internet, the preferred communication of the new world, connecting all corners of the planet, all manners of being.

They had a lot in common and shared a juvenile, silly and depraved a sense of humor. They both liked similar books and food. In her opinion, your passion for those two things where indications of the state of your soul, being the two most important place you could consume from, your mouth and you mind.

They chatted for a while, had lots of cyber sex. He liked the way her lids closed half way when she came. She liked the way his breath sounded over the microphone. She would close her eyes and pretend he was there.

Eventually, they got to the point where it was time to meet. He was excited, she was excited, too, but reluctant. He worried that she wasn’t as available as she said. She wasn’t attached, but she was keeping a secret, and she didn’t want to hurt him.

But she wanted him so bad.

Then it happened, she flew to him and they met.

He asked if he should pick her up from the airport, she told him not to worry about it.

“It’s taken care of”

“Are you sure?” He asked.

Honestly, he had a little scenario all planned out in his minds eye. Picking her up at the airport, watching her get off the plane, smothering her with kisses and big hugs. His plan was already starting to fall apart, before it even began. He felt the first twitters of panic begin in his stomach.

“Lets just pick a place and time to meet. I’ll be there.”

He was uneasy with her mystery, but let it go. He was using the bad judgment we all use when we are eager for something. They set up the specifics, and both counted the days till they would meet.

He tried on seven outfits the morning she was supposed to arrive, and felt like a girl. He giggled at himself; he was excited.

She splashed on perfume she hadn’t used in a very long time. It was the scent she liked for sex. It was sweet and spicy, laced with Bergamot and Vanilla and something else. That “something” else was a scent that no one else but she could recognize. It was the smell of her lust, musty and heady and sweetly rank the way decaying autumn leaves are.

He walked into the bar at the specified time. It was small and not very trendy, but it was quite. Not necessarily a place to impress, but a place to talk and get to know someone. He was really nervous. It was so strange meeting someone after you have developed a relationship on the Internet. Sometimes the chemistry that was so strong over a cyber connection just seemed to disappear in person. He hoped that wasn’t the case, he wanted her so bad. Not just for sex, but truly wanted her. He wanted to have her, possess her, and incorporate her into himself. He tried not to think about it, it scared him.

There she was, standing right inside the door. She was taller than he expected, and somehow her presence was bigger than he could have imagined. She just drank up the room around her. Her smile was big and warm and very, very inviting. His heart literally melted when he saw that smile. But the panic in his belly flared up, instinctually, and he dismissed it as nerves.

When she saw him she couldn’t help but to smile, inviting him to her. Her mind gushed all at once that he was lean and strong and handsome. But it was his eyes, deep and real, that made the panic in her belly flare. She lusted for him so badly it made her groin ache. She licked her lips, took a breath to calm the beast that rolled inside her, smiled and walked to him.

“Well, hello there, stranger” she cooed at him. Her voice made the panic swell in both of their bellies. It occurred to them both at the same instant that this was for real. That was very scary to them both, but for different reasons.

“Well, hello there” he responded. He reached out and hugged her, pulling her close to him. All at once he was slapped with her smell. It was warm and subtle, but the effect was like a blow. It made him drunk and light headed, and as much as he wanted too, he couldn’t concentrate of what she felt like.

Upon his embrace, her body tensed and her eyes closed and rolled back into her head. He was warm, so warm. She was but inches from his neck. She imagined that she could hear his heart beat, feel the blood rushing in his body, pulsing with each beat of his strong and true heart. She couldn’t stop herself from nuzzling his neck more and laying her moist mouth onto its nape, giving a little soft kiss.

Her kiss cleared his senses immediately. His fuzzy drunkenness was replaced by an ache so bad that he caught himself clenching his fists at her back, stopping himself from grabbing onto her and forcing his possession right now. Panic flooded over him almost as violently as his lust. What the hell was she doing to him?

She could sense his thoughts as if he had said them. She couldn’t let him go now, now that he was so close, his neck but two inches from her face, warm and real.

“Lets not stay here,” She whispered into his ear, her breath and suggestion giving him an erection. He knew she could feel it, but didn’t care.

“Where do you want to go?” he managed to get out, needing to clear his throat. He was having a problem thinking about anything else but being inside of her. He wasn’t good at multi-tasking.

“Ummmm…” she practically groaned. “Anywhere, I don’t care, I just need to be with you.” She whispered again. Her breath on his ear and neck where driving him crazy, impairing his judgment. “Can we go to your house? Is anyone there?”

He assumed that at some point they where going to make it back to his place, so he made arrangements with his roommate.

“Yeah.” he consented. “Yeah, we can go there.” His voice was eager and unfocused; all he could feel was her body and her breath. Small whiffs of her scent kept assaulting his senses. It drown out the panic growing in his belly, born from that vestigial place that recognized the lion in the brush when your five senses couldn’t perceive him, but the fine hairs on the back of your neck knew he was there.

“Where is your car?” She spoke a little louder now, and he turned his head to look her in the eyes. They were like none he had ever seen before, heavy lidded, darkly lined and so intense they almost glowed. He could barely respond under her gaze. It demanded all of him.

“Umm, out here.” He said, nudging at the door with his head, refusing to move any body part that was touching her. He was afraid that if he let go, even for a second, the spell would be broken.

She grinned at his obvious unwillingness to move.

“Not that I’m not enjoying standing here, being held by you…” she began. “But I would like it a whole lot better if we where alone and naked.”

Her words burned into him like raw fire. They hurt his ears to hear. He didn’t know if he could make it all the way to his house.

She let go of him, and took his hand in hers. The minute she released him, his panic took over and he suddenly realized that his hands where sore from being tensed so hard.

But her hands where soft and small and the logical part of his brain said

Look at her, she couldn't hurt you. And you want her...so bad. Go! You fool! Move!

And so he did, listening to the part of him that produced explanations for footsteps while walking at night and strange shapes projected on to darkened walls at bedtime.

The ride to his house was tense. He kept wanting to look over at her, to touch her, feel her. But she distracted him to the point of danger, not being able to drive and think about her at the same time. She sensed this, and they steered the conversation to her flight and his day, the kind of chitchat old friends have. But as soon as they where inside the house, it was like electricity shot off of them both. They where here and alone, and they both knew what they came to do.

“Show me your room.” She demanded, hidden inside a request. She watched him in front of her, pulling her gently to his door. His back pulled his shirt tight, and she could see the muscles that ran across his back, from the ends of his collarbone. The urge to pounce was so strong; she had to close her eyes to abate it. As soon as she closed them, she saw herself tearing the shirt off, sucking and biting those muscles from behind, her fingers digging into his chest. She decided open eyes where safer than closed.

Once inside his room there was only a moment of awkward waiting. He had her by the hand to lead her to the room, but once inside he turned to face her. The impression of intensity that he had about her gaze before was paled by what stared out of her face now. He had never seen someone look with such need before. He could sense her lust for sex, but for something else, too. Something he had never seen on anyone’s face before, but that he had hidden from his own gaze many times. It was the sheer need to consume.

When he matched his gaze with hers, something broke between them. Any sense of reserve they had dissipated instantly by the sheer need to be inside of each other. He yanked the arm he still held to himself, crushing her with his embrace. He immediately bit down on her neck, as hard as he thought he could get away with, and simultaneously felt teeth dig into him. Their teeth clung to that place in the nape of the neck where the tendons attach it to the shoulder.

But, panic overwhelmed him suddenly; when he felt her teeth breach his skin, dig into his flesh. On one hand it felt good to be hurt, to be plied with her teeth out of passion, but on the other it was painful. A part of him felt violated by her unexpected penetration, an the panic that has been building, that he had been diligently ignoring to this point, spilled over him like a flood, drowning out anything but complete fear.

“What the…” He shouted as he pushed her away. But the sentence was stopped cold when he saw her face, downcast eye, blood at the corner of her lips.

The sight of it made him more afraid than he had ever been in his life, and his anger swelled to meet his fear, dwarfing it, so he wouldn’t have to feel it.

“You bit me, you Bitch! What the Hell!!” He screamed at her indignantly.

She kept perfectly still, keeping her eyes downcast. He reached up and touched his neck. He could feel the slick blood flowing over the skin, the lacerations stinging with the touch of his sweaty and salty hands. He looked at his fingers and was flabbergasted at the blood, slick and wet, coating them.

He looked at her again, waiting for something, anything, for her to move.

She realized when he shoved her away that she had been far to eager. She had been impatient and sloppy. But now that she had tasted what was so sweet and heady, she had to finish.

What he didn’t realize was that his anger was only feeding her, gorging her with the need to be with him. She could literally taste how much she wanted his cock in her while she put her teeth into him. The panic she had felt since there decision to meet was suddenly dampened. She knew what she must do now, and she couldn’t make herself stop.

She looked up, after he felt the blood on his fingers and looked at his neck. She heard an audible gasp and knew he had seen her eyes. They where full now, the way her body was full of lust and need, and they glowed with it, feline and wet. She looked him directly in the eyes now.

“What the hell are you?” he managed to whisper between his panic and awe, knowing he sounded like a cliché, but not caring out of need for an answer.

“Fallen.” She managed out of smirking lips and bared teeth.

She pounced then, with force that I do not have the ability to explain. She pushed him onto the bed that stood perpendicular behind him, and sat on top of him. He was terrified and angry, but her force, her need, her control all made his already swollen penis flood with blood. It was pushing up against his jeans, screaming in its demanding, illogical voice to be let out.

He embraced her; he couldn’t stop himself, and ran his hands into the place at the bottom of her back, feeling its perfect arch. He could feel the muscles straining, holding back. She threw her head back at the feel of his touch, the inference of his consent, which is what she wanted all of the time.

When she threw her head back, she exposed her long neck to him, laying it bare, exposing the top of her chest before it was swallowed by the neckline of her shirt.

Seeing the bare skin, open in invitation, made him crave her skin in his mouth, the feel of her neck tight under his tongue. He hugged her to him; hands splayed across her back and began to feed at her neck. He licked and kissed it, nipping at its corners, worshipping its white perfection.

Sounds escaped her mouth that he has never heard a human make before. If pressed to explain, he would have said they where a cross between a moan and a growl. The sounds vibrated against her throat as she made them, so he could actually taste them.

She pressed her hips into him, rubbing against him through his jeans, squeezing his erection against his waistband, making him wince in pain and need.

“Take it out for me” she whimpered, demanding and begging at the same time. He pushed back on the bed, to get enough room to lift is hips to unbutton his pants and slide them off. She stayed kneeling on the corner of the bed, watching him.

As soon as his cock was out, she pushed him back on the bed. She leaned forward, over him, prowling and crawling up his body. Her face was now above his, close, as she watched his need and anticipation. It feed her hunger to the point that she had to concentrate to keep her hungry, rolling beast within her skin, abating its need to eat. She nuzzled his neck and sniffed at him, like an animal accessing a kill. She smelled deeply at his neck and slowly traveled down his chest, stopping to sniff at his navel.

He felt her chin rub against the large purple head of his cock and he almost lost his mind from the need to feel her lips on it. She saw his body tense under her accidental but planned touch and moved her face to his cock.

She deliberate rubbed his cock against her face, moistening and opening her lips. She rubbed them of his cock, not sucking, just rubbing, up and down its generous length. He was paralyzed with sensation, and could do nothing but lay there, clenching at the blanket beneath him.

All at once, she took it, brining into her wet and warm mouth, smothering it with saliva, tongue and firm suction. She took it into the back of her throat and held it there, contracting her soft upper palette against it, rubbing the full length of it with her tongue. She pulled it out then, slowly and let it rest at the tip of her lips before she opened up to him and did it all again.

She suckled him until she could feel the tension is his balls, mounting to explosion, his body rigid and struggling to fuck her mouth with need to be in her.

She hopped up to her knees and began to undo her pants, lifting one leg at a time, removing them with speed and efficiency. He lay there, watching her expose her long, creamy thighs, and her cleanly shaven, plump pussy. Flashes of lip hung down from the crack of her pussy, and he wanted nothing more but to suck on them while fucking her, as impossible as that was. At that thought, he sat up on his elbows, out of need to be close to her.

She leaned over him again, this time pant less. Her face was at his. She leaned in and kissed him, sucking on his lower lip, watching him watch her.

“I want you to fuck me from behind,” she said. “Will you do that for me?”

“Yes.” His response was barley audible.

“I want you to fuck me…worship me.” She said between kisses, gentle tugs at his lips. “But don’t be nice to me.”

She knew her words could be construed at contradictory.

“Do you understand what I mean?” she asked, looking directly into his face, trying to sense if he did.

He did, he wanted badly to do exactly what she was requesting. He wanted to put his cock as far into her as humanly possible, keep it there; force it there. He wanted to pull and push at her, bit her, tear at her.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to do that to me?” she asked. Her lips curled into a wicked little grin, knowing the answer, seeing it in his glaring stare, his flared nostrils and forced breaths.

“Yes” This time, his response was not a whisper, but a word, almost spat between clenched teeth. It was affirmation of the ferocity he was about to take her with.

She looked into his face a little longer, a barely detectible space between their noses.

“Good. Then do it.”

He felt himself let go with the permission to do with her as he wanted. To control and possess this thing that was obviously stronger, manipulative and barley controlled. She was giving her consent to being possessed, and that inflamed him almost more than any physical stimulus ever could.

He pushed her up and seized her hips, flipping her over and pinning her down. He forced his knee between hers and spread her legs open. He pushed her head into the bed, so that only her ass was in the air. He grabbed at her arm and yanked them up onto her back, holding them with one hand.

Then he put himself inside of her. Her plump wetness swallowed him whole, consumed him with a ferocity and completeness that he didn’t know was possible.

He jammed his cock into her, again and again, making a slapping noise every time his groin hit her ass cheeks.

He grabbed at her hips, clawed at her back. He pulled the pin out that was binding her hair back and fisted it, yanking at it every time he drove himself into her.

It was like he was trying to climb into her, trying to force his whole being into her through his penis.

He pummeled his cock into her again and again and listened to her gasp for breath between her intermittent moans and growls. No matter how hard he fucked her, she just responded with obvious sound of pleasure mixed with small, but notable, gasps of pain.

Finally he felt her pussy swell around him. It softened and then contracted, surrounding his cock with wetness and a firmed softness.

He rode into her, forcing his cock into her orgasm and felt his cum shoot out of him, deep inside of her, pulling her body up by her hair as he came. She was next to him now, her back against his chest, bucking against him with his orgasm. His cock was only at the lips of her vagina, but still in, rubbing in and out, soaked with mixture of there cum.

He had a though then. He knew that she let herself be taken. He knew that she had tasted from him tonight, a little taste, but had not drunk when she bit into his neck. She wanted to drink, maybe even needed to drink from him. He still wasn’t sure exactly what she was. He knew intuitively that she wanted his blood as much as his semen. He also knew that taking the semen was divine, but the taking of blood wouldn’t be. She could have forced him, drunk from him without his consent. Instead she let him have her. She had given, instead of taken. Maybe for the first time ever.

He ran his hands over the front of her, feeling her firm, unbound breast as his orgasm finished racking his body. Her shirt was still on, and he slowly unbuttoned it as his cock emptied and began to contract, wanting to see her all now that he possessed her.

When the last button was unfastened he leaned her forward to remove the shirt. She consented, but reluctantly. When he began to slide it off her shoulders she stopped him, removing his hands from her, and began to remove it herself.

She was in front of him, kneeling on the bed, her back to him. She slipped off the shirt and across her whole back was a tattoo. A crucifix ran the whole length of the spine, the t-shaped crossing from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. On the cross was an Angel with her face, only one hand still bound to the cross. Her hands and feet where bloodied, obliviously from tearing herself off the cross. She was struggling with her torn body to pull the other hand off. Her face was forlorn, but indigent. When asked to describe the image of She as the angel, he said: “She's a fallen angel, almost suspended. Her wings are tattered and the feathers are not aligned, showing that even the most divine creatures are not perfect. That brings her closer to me. She is clad in torn innocence, nothing is showing; yet she's not fully clothed. There is no halo; she's almost human. She is my soft side, she is my reminder never to become hardened or cold.”