… solipsubmissive …

This is a continuation.  You might wish to follow this link to the beginning:  soiled, Part 1   

Pain, with its striated layers of sensation, was something completely foreign to Chloe. She’d thought herself prepared, and, with no basis for comparison, had even fancied herself eager, so the cry Daños ripped from her soul was wholly unexpected. Her fingers found purchase in his upper back and flexed, fingernails digging into the taut sinews that strained with the force of his need. He grunted and relaxed his jaw, releasing her neck from the cruel pressure of his teeth.  He arched up and away from her body, then rolled to the side.

Terrified, unable to react quickly enough to let go, Chloe felt her nails rake across his shoulder blades, skin curling beneath the sharp crescents in long diagonal furrows. Too late, she snatched her hands away and scrambled to a sitting positon, her chest heaving with labored breaths.

Daños closed his eyes, soaked in the burning pain from the wounds, processed and savored it. Pain, even his own, fed the sadist within, and he growled low in his throat, allowed the momentary pleasure to sluice through his veins. No different than a drug, a taste was never enough.

Chloe watched him warily, wondering if she should run, try to get away before he opened his eyes. She felt his skin beneath her nails and shuddered, taken aback by her instinctive, violent response to his sadism.  Slowly, she curled her feet beneath her body and rose to a crouched position, both hands braced on the mattress in preparation for flight.

***

When Chloe’s scream reached the observation cloud, it took every ounce of self-control Michael possessed to remain in Heaven. There was nothing he could do except watch, fists clenching convulsively at his sides, the violation of the innocent former angel.

She’d chosen her path.

***

Slowly, Daños opened his eyes, saw here there, crouched like an animal.  The previously untouched flesh of her neck was bruised from his teeth, colors already exploding as the blood rushed to the injured area, colors he knew wouldn’t reach their peak for another couple days. Panting, he reached out, stopped a moment when she cringed, then completed the movement to trace his finger over the indentations. “So pretty, angel.” His heartbeat matched his breath.

Chloe brought her eyes to his, rewarding him once more with the reflected pain.  Not just pain, though. Bewildered confusion. His smile spread slowly. Soon, that look would be replaced, either with the blank stare of shock or a heady expression of terror.  Either worked for him, though he more strongly craved her fear.  “Mm.  We’ve marked one another, though you drew first blood.  Still think you can save me?”

She closed her eyes, drew a slow breath in through her mouth, but Daños had no intention of allowing her the luxury of preparation. He didn’t want a martyr, didn’t want her selfless offering of endurance, after which she could look at him and point to evidence of his goodness. No, she needed to be dissuaded, to have her innocent belief in silver linings and happy endings ruthlessly ripped away.

Daños wasn’t in this for salvation. He’d long since given up any expectation of absolution, had embraced the depths of his depravity.  When you spend enough time skirting the edges of Hell, it becomes an accepted eventual destination.  It never occurred to him that anyone else cared, that others might fight for his redemption.  Even when presented with evidence, he scoffed.

Chloe heard his question, knew he intended to thwart her in this.  The stubborn streak that had resulted in her fall from Heaven chose that moment to assert itself.   She leaned into his hand, shifted forward onto her knees, and met his eyes, her own narrowed.  Her nostrils flared. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, the suddenly charged atmosphere making his skin prickle with anticipation.  He turned his hand so it spanned her throat, his thumb pressing insistently on her trachea.  Undaunted, she advanced one arm and one leg, beginning to crawl toward him across the bed.  “Don’t you know, Daños?  It wasn’t my choice to save you.” 

His hand tightened on her throat and he straightened, kneeling up on the bed and bringing her with him.  Her eyes widened as her ability to draw breath abruptly decreased.  “No?  Someone else made that choice, angel?”

She tried to nod, then struggled to speak, yelping when he tightened his hand even more.  Fear descended again, chasing away the momentary ire, melting her stubborn resolve.  She brought both hands to his wrist, mute appeal in her eyes.

Abruptly, he dropped her back to the bed.  She drew heaving gulps of air into her lungs, then looked up at him.  “It wasn’t my choice, until it was taken away from me.  That is when i made my choice.”  Her voice was low, trembling a little, as she worked through her fear. 

Daños watched, his face impassive, trying to decide if  her little show of bravado was born of true courage or of sublime stupidity.   Her next words almost made him smile.

“i’ll not allow you to remove that choice.”

And, somewhere in the vicinity of his heart, Daños felt the first stirrings of reluctant pride.

part 16