Disclaimer- I don't own anything Twilight, (except copies of the books and DVDs) and I just can't help playing with the characters.
A/N Hello everyone. This is something a little different. I don't expect it will be everyone's cup of tea, but this is the beauty of fanfic, there will be something else around the corner that you'll love. So, with that in mind, if it doesn't float your boat, I'll understand.
Anyone who has read my other notes will know of my control freak tendencies, so I am pleased to tell you this is going to be a mini fic, 7 short chapters in total, they are all written so updates will be regular. (RL Permitting)
Just in case anyone from the grammar squad is reading, this is being posted unbetaed, so accept my apologies upfront for any misplaced commas.
Special thanks go to Keye Cullen for pre reading and NinaღRose for her awesome banner. Written for Rita01TX, because she loves the thought of an Angelward.
Hope you enjoy and I'll see you at the other end.
The divide stretches wide between us. A raging sea of seething, bubbling fire. Brimstone hangs heavy in the smoky air, stinging my eyes. He is unaffected, serene, pure.
For so long, decades most likely I've watched him with an unwavering eye. Studied his form and cataloged it all. I've memorized every line of his carved physique; the angles of his ethereal face, the sharpness of his jaw, his full lips that purse when he is deep in thought and those green eyes which pierce the vast distance between us and make my blackened heart soar. He is perfection. When he turns my way I feel desire flame within me, even if he doesn't notice me.
I want him. Badly.
I have spent years hoping for a chance to corrupt and bring him to my side, but I can't have him. He is the gatekeeper to a realm I dare not enter; trusted and true. I know I hold no appeal to his sight. To him I am invisible.
In my fantasies he is insatiable, an eager lover. Worshiping me with his body, his strong hands caressing my flesh, his mouth exploring hot and hungry, urgently taking what he needs from me. Using my body for his pleasure. Squirming, I press the heel of my palm against my crotch and rub, wishing it was his hand.
"Isa. Come to me." I hear the drawled out, rasping whisper from behind me. I have been called. I know he isn't anywhere close by, only his words projected to my ears. I still my hand and roll my eyes. He is ancient. Leathery and odorous. My body holds no secrets from him, he can smell my arousal even from this far.
Time was I yearned for his grasping, calloused hands on my body. He knows my responses, reads me like a simple picture book, taking his pleasure, often roughly but giving me mine too. Sometimes it lasts for days, leaving me exhausted but sated. My reward? He would pat my head before calling out for the next one. I wasn't special, just a receptacle for his raging need. Now I take little pleasure from the act and it infuriates him. He views it as a slight on his prowess, his skin flushing so dark red he is almost maroon. I have no right to refuse him, this is my lot. To say no would mean condemning myself to the pits, an eternity of burning without the chance to see the gatekeeper's face again. I couldn't bear that. This way at least I have some control left. He may own my body, but he cannot dictate my thoughts.
When his attention wains, I close my eyes and against my tightly stretched lids I imagine it is him taking me, my luminous beauty. Sometimes the vision of his handsome face contorting in ecstasy, mixed with the physical sensations is enough to push me to release. That pleases my dark lover and I get to walk away unscathed.
I have to go to him. He doesn't like to wait. Throwing one last glance at my cherished soldier I turn to leave. As I walk away I hear him mutter under his breath. I don't look back. He is probably mocking me. Displaying his purity like a peacock. So far above me I feel ashamed. The irony is in life I was the pure one, virginal and worthy of his attentions. I screw my eyes tight shut and try not to let the hot tears fall as I bitterly regret my circumstances.
I climb the stairs in his castle. The place is dimly lit and feels so cold. I shiver at the change in temperatures.
"Isa, I am waiting." I cringe at his tone. Sarcasm and lies drip easily from his tongue. He will not have been alone for long. I am one of many. All young and chosen for their purity in the last world. He likes to be our first. Forcing his way in and corrupting us. He is an expert, ensuring he brings us pleasure, so much it is dazzling. Over time I have grown immune, or maybe it is no longer dark arts and wickedness which impress me, perhaps I see more to attract me in the light.
"I'm coming." I answer him as sweetly as I can manage, the bile rising in my throat. He chuckles and it reverberates through this foul crypt.
"Not without me I hope." I sigh, repulsed by his promise. Wishing my life had been lived differently. If I hadn't been in that bar, if the man hadn't been so drunk, if he'd kept his hands to himself, if I'd ignored him instead of rising to the bait, if there hadn't been an abandoned steak knife left by a previous diner, if I had walked away and not held out the blade as he pressed against me, piercing his heart and ending his life. So many ifs, they will torment me for an eternity. Maybe it's part of my punishment to have what I desire kept out of my reach. A millennium to look at perfection but never be allowed to touch.
I round the corner and step into his chamber. I see him immediately, sprawled sideways across his throne facing away from me. One leg dangling over the armrest. His arm is moving at a steady rhythm, pumping his turgid member. He is always ready. There will be no gentle seduction for me. I'm glad of my attraction to the look out, unwittingly he will make this easier for me.
"I smell you child, tell me was it for me you became wet?" I despise him. He sucks in air around his pointed teeth. I flex my jaw and try to sound convincing as I lie.
"Yes, only for you." The small benefit of being here is learning to lie with skill.
"Come, face me." His voice is merely a whisper, dripping with lust. He has no need to shout. No one would dare to question his authority.
I move slowly, my feet moving in a large arc around the high backed chair, giving him a wide berth to keep myself out of grasping distance. My head is bowed, signalling my obedience to him.
"Show me." he demands. I grit my teeth before tugging the drawstring at my throat. My simple garment falls to the floor, revealing my naked body. He draws a big breath in through his nose, nostrils flaring at my scent. Without raising my head, I lift my eyes to watch him.
He is very ugly. So much so, his appearance holds a fascination for me. Red tinged skin, smooth opaque wings, hands or are they claws? His bloated black tongue lolls out to lick his lips in anticipation of the act. This is the foreplay.
He closes the gap between us. The clatter of his cloven hooves on the stone slab floor echoes in this cavernous room. I should be flattered, in terms of power in this realm there is no one higher and yet he will cross the room to inspect me. His gait is ungainly, he looks unstable, but I know this is deceiving. He is lithe and supple when he needs to be, morphing his form to suit the circumstances. This before me is the reality of him.
His chest is quickly pressed against my back as he draws a sharpened fingernail along my arm, a smooth path from my elbow up to my shoulder. It is a little firmer than he needs to be and I whimper. His hot breath is against my neck as he hisses my name.
"Iiiisssssaaaa." I shudder and hope he will think it was a shiver of desire. He slips his hand down to grasp my breast. The coolness in the air here had hardened my nipples and he toys with them, twisting roughly and pulling hard as his other hand snakes round my waist, sliding down to seek out my center. I feel betrayed by my bodies response. Although I don't want to feel anything from his ministrations I can't stop my reaction. My need for release is growing. He knows of course. He moves his hand against me giving me spikes of pleasure and I sag against his muscular frame, my head falling back to his chest.
"I thought I had lost you." He laughs and laps his tongue along my exposed throat.
I freeze and he must have felt it. Hoarsely, a combination of sexual desire and fear I manage to answer him. "Never my lord, I am yours."
Regardless of whether he felt the cringe he continues, relentlessly impaling me on his fingers. "I've seen you looking at him. Desiring him. The outcast. You think he will know your body like I do?" He twists his hands and electricity sparks within me. I groan, struggling to focus on his words, they are disjointed through the haze of lust. "You think he could ever be enough to satisfy you?"
I am riding the edge of my orgasm when he pulls his hands away, deftly spinning me round to face him. I groan at the loss of sensation, a question on my tongue until I see his face. It is blind fury. Teeth exposed, his black eyes glittering with burning flecks of amber. He runs a clawed hand through his dark hair, the action exposing the curved horns he often tries to hide.
"You are MINE!" He roars, his sulfurous breath hot in my face. "Not that pariah's! You can never be his. Do you understand? Or do you need to be taught a lesson?"
Suddenly my head is clear. He means to hurt me. I tremble, knowing how many means of employing lasting pain are at his disposal. I drop to my knees, coiling myself around his muscular legs, playing to his vanity.
"Forgive me Master. I don't mean to anger you." The lies are flowing from my tongue. I don't care if he is angry. I care about escaping without punishment. "I want you, my first and only. Why would I want an angel? He is nothing compared to you. I only look to tempt him."
He pauses and my fate hangs in the balance. I hold my breath while he decides.
He throws his head back and laughs. "Tempt him? You do well, seeking to swell our ranks. He should not be a difficult target for one as ripe as you."
His words confuse me and for a moment I forget my place. "How so?"
"Because he is exiled. Why else do you think he is there, in no man's land? He was cast out. He has been alone for some time, he should be easy to snare."
'Cast out', 'Pariah', his words race around my brain. My dark lord has returned to his pleasure, manipulating my body, positioning me how he wants me and numbly I comply. I am not in the moment, instead I move on autopilot as he drives his body deeper into mine. Growling and clawing at my flesh. I don't notice the pain. I am picturing my angel, could he really be an outcast? Could I encourage him to fall a little further and join me on this side of the divide? Suddenly my heart feels lighter as hope fills me.
A/N Well, what do you think? Angelward and Sinnerella. Leave me a line, I love to hear your thoughts.