Chapter Text
Wretched and Divine
By DemonRomantic
Chapter 1
Sinful pleasures often have divine consequences.
There was a time not so long ago that I believed in the fair judgment between right and wrong. A line which one did not cross. Evil was repaid with evil, and good with good. Life, however, is not so simple, nor is it fair. The Angels who supposedly watch over us, turn a blind eye when things become unfair, and Demons… Demons can be saviors. So many times, I tried to believe in the lies I once did. Close out those horrible nightmares. It wasn’t until I accepted my Demons, quite literally, that I learned truth.
Darkness can be beautiful, and Demons can love.
“Sebastian, come here.” I called, extending my hand outwards toward him.
His handsome face turned to penetrate my very soul with those beautiful burgundy eyes.
“Is that an order, Master?” He smirked, raising an eyebrow.
“No.” I said, but it carried a weight to it.
He crossed my chamber floor until he was back at the side of my bed and set down the candelabra on my nightstand. It offered the only illumination in the room; the curtains having been pulled shut. In the dreamy glow, he looked a phantom.
‘How fitting.’ I thought.
“Is something the matter, my lord?” His voice was quiet, but shook my very core with it’s deep, rich lilt.
“Recite me a poem. The one by Poe.” I asked.
He smiled warmly and sat on the foot of my bed where I pressed my foot against him, just to have some kind of contact. In silence he removed his gloves, one after the other in slow deliberate movements, and placed them neatly beside the candelabra. After placing a gentle hand against my covered knee, he began.
“‘It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea, that a maiden there lived, whom you may know, by the name of Anabelle Lee. And this maiden she lived, with no other thought, then to love and be loved by me…’”
Once he had finished reciting the poem, I sat up and placed my hand against his face. His skin was cold despite the warmth of the manor. Brushing against that icy pallor, I leaned in to press my lips to his. He returned the kiss with controlled hunger at first, which quickly turned to ravenous appetite. I could feel myself being forced back down into the conformities of my mattress and wrapped my arms around him to take him down with me. There we embraced in bodily worship and caressed each other’s faces with hand and mouth alike.
It did not take long for our clothing to become lost to the abyss of the floor somewhere off in that darkness. Closing my eyes, all that I became aware of were the touches against my skin and whispered longings in my ears. To each of those longings I submitted, and made my own demands known. The friction accumulated between us became livid as fire and burst like electricity. Once all had been spent, we lay in an ecstatic glow putting the candlelight to shame. He kissed me softly and repetitively on the forehead, where his lips had come to lie after all was said and done. Neither of us wanted to move, and I don’t think that I could have in that moment. Between the kisses on my head, he also repeated a line from the poem in whispered words. They were the promise of his passion, and the curse of our actions.
“ ‘…We loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Anabelle Lee. With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven coveted her and me.”