Ink

He pulled me down into the snow with him, wrapping his wings around us so I might as well have been on a feather bed in a parka.

I didn't know how I felt about the gray owl feathers either. They always squished my face, making me sneeze.

Schubert's quartet peaked. Samael spooned me against his chest, arms wrapped round me like a mummy. Samael lay like a corpse for a moment, apparently getting in the zone. I grimaced as he stiffened. He laughed roughly at my unease.

"That's just wrong," I informed him.

"Rigor mortis, sunshine. Angel lust-"

"Don't go there. No jokes about 'little deaths,' either. Or embalming fluids. I can't do this if you're a creep."

He sighed in disappointment. Delicately, he eased open my sweater and cradled the rosary in one hand. He slipped the other one between my legs and I gasped. Our legs twined together as I rested my head on his bicep, taking quick breaths. Those, I definitely approved of.

"Did you think this would keep me away?"

"Eh?" I sighed, closing my thighs around his hand. "Oh. The rosary. Not really. But you're always supposed to be prepared."

That Cheshire cat grin again. "Prepared for what, worm?"

I curled my lip in disapproval. "The imperilment of your soul. I don't think a cross would help you, Sam." I scooted away from him, his fingers still inside me. He scowled, hooking his index and pulling me toward him.

I cried out. "Didn't church ever tell you to 'leave space for Jesus!'"

"I could call Yeshua if you wished," he mused, thumbing circles into me. "But I don't think he'd be very eager. He seems to be tender on Arietta as of late, fucking like Buddhist rabbits and all."

"I'm joking about abstinence, not a threesome with the Messiah." I moaned, grinding into his palm. "Oh God. You're the Devil.'

He twitched his wings so I rolled into his lap, my legs splayed across his waist. He looked like he'd won the lottery. "So you don't fancy Trinities, maggot?"

My eyes bulged. "I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that and that you didn't just undergo rigor mortis."

"I'm Death. It's not my fault." His muscles bunched in anger, rock-hard abs brushing my chest. I should have pissed him off more often. Clearly, this was a sore point.

I remembered Granna's advice about men's fragile egos and pushed no further. Brooding, he straightened his back so I slid definitively downwards.

"Oh. Oh my god," I gasped, feeling his arousal. He twitched beneath me, impatient. The hormone flood again. I ached below, saw stars, and was pretty sure falling off cliffs caused less anxiety.

Rigor mortis my ass.

Under it, to be more precise.

"That is your fault, worm. I was perfectly content with my alcohol before you traipsed over here and ruined my night. Now fix it before I devour you." He liberated me of my shirt and ran his fingers over my bra. My nips spang to attention, and he caught them under the fabric.

"What am I supposed to do?" I whimpered.

He had forgotten I was there. Gingerly, he undid my bra, letting it slide off my shoulders like rain. He stared at me, eyes drunk, and that tongue I was so torn over flicked out in anticipation. It could steal ice cream in a heartbeat, and I'd had nightmares about how he used in in Eden it for weeks.

Nightmares. Yeah. Right.

He traced my back, running kisses down my chest. His lips lingered on the scar I'd hidden under cartoon Band Aids for a fortnight, those big ones for kids with skinned knees. It wasn't like anyone could see the mark, considering it was under my shirt, but I'd worn the Bandaids over it like a 'Nam vet with PTSD who refused to remove his fatigues.

Sam sucked hard, incisors skimming one peak. I gasped, and he dug his hands into my hips, thrusting me down on him. The sudden heat unbound me. I lost it and started grinding against him like a monkey at the zoo, pant fabric creating torturous friction, even against his stupid sweatpants. His lips razed up my neck to my mouth, sucking and biting mine until they were swollen.

He moaned. I yelped. He told me to shut up.

"You're too loud," Sam snapped. "You're ruining it."

"What about you? You're making lightning strike in a snowstorm."

It was true. Thunder rumbled in time with his groans.

"It's the music of love," he said tartly. "If love has anything to do with this. Apparently, you don't even want me."

"Don't even say that stupid word, you idiot. It sounds horrible coming from your mouth- oh dear god, your mouth. That thing in it. Ugh. Yes."

"Screw Jesus," he sang. "Demons do it better."

"What are you doing?" I moaned.

He flicked his tongue into me. "I don't know. But you seem to like it." His eyes lidded and his pupils dilated, until the blackness swallowed their whites. The serpent throbbed below.

"Stupid snake," I said woozily. "I think I'm going to faint."

He panted. "But we just- no. I won't allow that."

"It's so mean to me, Sam."

"What is?"

"The snake."

"What snake, you little idiot!-" I clasped my hands around it. "Oh," he said woozily. Mind numb, he took his claws.

And ripped my jeans to shreds.

"What the frack!" I demanded. "Those were my favorite jeans! First my bra, then-"

He shoved his thumb in my mouth and shut me up. I swallowed automatically. Sam gagged, and liberated himself. He guided my hands downwards, craving their touch. I obliged, and he freed me of the fabric blocking the snake's desired outcome. It prepared to strike.

I tried valiantly to drive it back, but it was in desperate need of defanging. He groaned, jackhammering into me with thrusts that could break through steel. Nervous, the prayers from Sunday school slipped from my lips: "Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray-"

Samael looked traumatized. The serpent, however, was quite happy. "Please tell me you didn't just invoke my brother."

"I'm sorry!" I said, confused. "You know this freaks me out, okay?"

"Even making love you're a shrew."

"Oh shut up you stupid demon."

I was sick of his hysterics. Sick of everything. I bent down to silence him, swallowed the pant snake and cowed him into silence. His strangled cry came from above as I tasted him with my lips. He knotted his hands through my hair and slipped into my throat. He cried out, near emptying himself.

"Damn you, stupid girl," he rasped.

"What is it, Samael!" I said, at wit's end. His seed dripped from my plush pink lips as I looked up. He touched me like I was broken glass.

His eyes shined, and he tasted me. I mewed beneath him like a newborn, flooding with things I could never voice. He claimed them all and speared my darkness unto him, the king of the shadow side.

"Fools, Havah. We are fools." His tongue flicked against me like a secret.

The snow stopped and he slipped on top of me. A mournful wind blew through. His eyes were splinters of ice, but I, I was weightless, and the wind carried us away. I flew with the Lord of Hosts, and hounds bayed at our heels. He laughed wretchedly.

"I don't care what you are," I whispered. His wings spread my legs apart. I cried out as he slipped into me, slowly as if not to break me.

"Does it hurt?" he murmured as he took me. I ran my hands over the place where his wings met his shoulder blades.

"No. Yes. In so many ways." I gasped. "If you stop, I'll die."

His eyes had no light in them. They stripped me to the bone. I closed mine and drowned in him. In and out he snaked. Toying with me. He crushed my breasts against his pecs and his jutting hip bones dug into me. He tried to make love slowly, delicate and excruciating, but sweat pooled at his brow and he lost himself. Sam groaned, grinding into me as he ravaged my neck with his lips.

"Please," he cried hoarsely, fangs skimming the skin under my my jaw. "Let me have all of you, Havah. I miss my heart. I miss it."

His moans rose with the thunder and he throbbed within me. I cupped the back of his head and guided him to the crook of my neck. Shaking, he brushed back my hair, fangs slipping out like a cobra's. I tilted my head to the side, exposing the curve of my neck. I licked his fingers, waiting.

Samael shuddered. "Shanah. My rose," he whispered.

"I think I love you," I murmured against his palm. "You bastard."

Do something once, and you are a fool. Twice, and you're damned. He struck me above and below, raking one hand down my spine as the other cradled my cheek. I arched under him, opening inside, and what should have hurt felt like a blessing. I wondered if this automatically excommunicated me, and if Original Sin was too much for Confession to redeem.

I felt his quakes inside like I was the battleground.

"You are," he murmured. "Oh Havah."

He slipped below my heel to taste where we met. The wind spiked. His dreams rode them like sand. Each grain a piece of my life, spiraling into the hourglass of his heart.

I saw Time in his eyes and went mad.