11-27-2009, 05:44 PM
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She did not fight his affection, and for this Samael was grateful. She’d always allowed him a hug and a nuzzle, but he’d always wanted more. Even as a child, when her arms went about his body, embracing his form and pulling him close he’d desired so much more from her. It made his heart ache, feeling like something was broken inside of him and slowly decaying. Yet the gaping wound was reopened every time he touched her, tearing away the crusted scab and allowing thick, black blood to flow forth again and again. He wanted to hold her close, free of all dark desire and able to love her just as she wanted him to love her, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to rid of the desire than ran so warmly through his veins at the simple sight and presence of her. He didn’t wish to feel so wrong, and yet, when he’d told her how he loved her he knew just how wrong he was from the look in her eye.
Never once had he felt so disgusting as when Kaena looked at him in horror and revulsion. Samael never thought of the difference between right and wrong—he acted on instinct and the way he’d been raised, murdering for no other reason than to kill. He wasn’t supposed to be a monster. He was a demon prince from hell, beautiful with radiant wings of jet black, and now he was nothing more than a boy with an immoral fetish. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, sensing some sort of discord within the female. There was something wrong, and he couldn’t quite place it. Hand lifting to rest his palm against the curve of her neck, he pulled back so he could met her gaze, crimson eyes searching. He didn’t wish to break from their close embrace, yet he had to know what was going through her head. If something was wrong, he wished to make it right in any way that he could.
table by alli
She did not fight his affection, and for this Samael was grateful. She’d always allowed him a hug and a nuzzle, but he’d always wanted more. Even as a child, when her arms went about his body, embracing his form and pulling him close he’d desired so much more from her. It made his heart ache, feeling like something was broken inside of him and slowly decaying. Yet the gaping wound was reopened every time he touched her, tearing away the crusted scab and allowing thick, black blood to flow forth again and again. He wanted to hold her close, free of all dark desire and able to love her just as she wanted him to love her, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to rid of the desire than ran so warmly through his veins at the simple sight and presence of her. He didn’t wish to feel so wrong, and yet, when he’d told her how he loved her he knew just how wrong he was from the look in her eye.
Never once had he felt so disgusting as when Kaena looked at him in horror and revulsion. Samael never thought of the difference between right and wrong—he acted on instinct and the way he’d been raised, murdering for no other reason than to kill. He wasn’t supposed to be a monster. He was a demon prince from hell, beautiful with radiant wings of jet black, and now he was nothing more than a boy with an immoral fetish. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, sensing some sort of discord within the female. There was something wrong, and he couldn’t quite place it. Hand lifting to rest his palm against the curve of her neck, he pulled back so he could met her gaze, crimson eyes searching. He didn’t wish to break from their close embrace, yet he had to know what was going through her head. If something was wrong, he wished to make it right in any way that he could.