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Your breath hitches as you dial your lover’s number, heart in your throat. You had tried so hard, so very hard just to end up failing so miserably, so laughably. You could see it now, how delusional you’d been. It was only a matter of time until your true nature showed itself in all its disgusting, pitiful glory. Your hands shook uncontrollably as you wait for him to answer and you were painfully aware of what a fucking pathetic mess you were as you said,
“S-Simeon, something happened. I, um, are you busy right now?”
In your left hand, you hold your bedsheets in a vice-like grip, trying desperately to remain still.
“Is there something wrong, my love? Are you hurt?” he spoke so softly, so tenderly.
Through your mind’s eye, you could picture the light frown on his face, the way his lips slightly open and both of his hands grip the phone as he springs up from his bed, voice laden with worry. Your heart aches with guilt, shame flooding through your veins like an infection; violent, merciless. You shouldn’t have called him. You should have dealt with this alone, doors locked and mouth shut, but you wanted to be good for him. You longed to be oh-so-good for him, so strong, so resistant. But you wouldn’t, couldn’t do it without him, because even after all these months, all the trials and hardships passed, you were still weak.
“No, no! I’m not hurt, it’s just, um,” you stutter, and, for a moment, the shame gets too overwhelming, too solid. I shouldn’t have called him. Yet, here you are, trembling like a fucking leaf before the weight of the consequences of your own actions. You breathe in, wiping the sweat off her forehead, and steel yourself for what you’re about to do. “I-I need you here. Please, Simeon. I, I can’t do this alone,”
And his usually soft voice holds a nervous edge to it when he says,
“I’ll be there in five minutes, my love. But, please, tell me what happened. Are you perhaps sick?”
Your body almost convulses with shame. You couldn’t bear it. And you couldn’t even say you were surprised things had turned out this way. But you had known. Oh, you had always known exactly how weak-willed and sinful you were. And yet, you clung onto him like a leech, hoping that, with him by your side, you could be good. That for him, you could be better. What a fool. What would he think of you when he discovered the truth? He would probably hold you through the night, the angel that he is, and leave you in the morning to look for someone better, someone that wasn’t filthy. Stained. And he would be right to do so. After all, just like all the foolish love that'd come before you and all the foolish love that would come after, it had to come to an end.
“No, I, ah, um…” you try. “S-Simeon, I did something bad, something very bad. Please, please, don’t hate me for it.” you beg, in spite of yourself and your sense of morality. Foolish until the very end. “I, um. I d-drank something at Asmo’s party, but I didn’t know! I swear I didn’t know, please—”
Simeon interrupted your frantic apologies, already having an idea of what might’ve happened.
“Breathe, my love, breathe. It’s alright. Of course I won’t hate you, you don’t have to apologize. Breathe with me. In. Out.” he instructed, trying to soothe you. “I’ll be there in five minutes, alright? We’ll talk then. For now, take a cold shower and try to be still. I’ll be there shortly.”
You grab your bedsheets even harder, unsure if you could even handle getting up and showering without pushing your fingers into herself in the hopes of achieving the ever-so-alluring nirvana.
Weak.
"O-okay, okay. Thank you, Simeon.” you murmur guiltily, turning off the call. You look down at yourself, disgusted, as your shaky fingers tentatively unbutton your shirt. It slides right off of you into the ground. You sigh. One down. No casualties. Yet.
You keep your eyes trained on the bookshelf in front of you as you take off the rest of your clothes, avoiding the nightstand mirror on the other side of the bed at all costs. You were sure that, if you looked at yourself right now, you would lose it completely. And you couldn’t lose it completely, not when your god-sent fucking angel lover was coming over.
Finally naked, you slowly walk towards the bathroom. The way your thighs rub against each other, almost touching that sweet, sweet spot in the center of your legs makes your entire being ache with need. You were so desperate, so wet. You set the shower to the lowest temperature you think your frail human body can handle and let it wash it all away, sighing deeply. The relief, although it only served to slightly dull the painful throb between your legs, was instantaneous. You steel yourself once more. You would get through it unscathed. For him. And him only.
• • •
You weren't a virgin when you first met him. No. You, having engaged in numerous lascivious activities with many different (and sometimes, multiple) lovers in the past, were, in fact, nowhere near a virgin. But, as you grew closer and things got serious between you, you stopped having sex altogether, even with yourself. He was an angel and angels weren’t allowed to engage in sinful acts. And you... well. You wanted to be good for him, worthy of him, and for that, you had to relinquish the death-grip your strongest sin had on you — the sin of Lust.
Every time things got too heated or your hands seemed to travel way too much downwards, he’d stop it altogether.
“I’m sorry,” he’d say breathlessly, looking down as if he had anything to be ashamed of. “We can’t, I— I can’t.” And you would always look away, guiltily, and nod.
It was excruciating at first, but you’d learned to live with it. Or at least you thought you had. You’d had to take freezing cold showers every day for the past three months and had at least three obscenely lustful dreams a week from which you’d wake up panting, your core spasming with tenderness and the need to be touched, but. You’d managed.
“I feel so bad for you, darling~” Asmo had said once. “I can feel how needy you are and how much you are trying to stop, but it’s so painful, isn’t it?” He caressed your face, smiling in a pitiful way. “You don’t have to suffer like this, you know? You can always come to me and I’ll take care of it for you~” You’d almost given in. You were so close, so close he could almost taste the yes on your sultry lips, hear your moans under him as he took you roughly, just the way he knew you liked it. . . until he felt you take a deep breath and turn away from him.
“No, thank you.”
And he was left stunned, hand hanging mid-air. All these weeks of abstinence on a body that was so used to being pleased and played with. You were so ready for him! And he knew you wanted it, badly. He watched you leave with a mist of surprise and pity. You hadn’t done it, hadn’t given in and that, for you, felt like its own kind of heaven.
• • •
When Simeon arrived, exactly five minutes later, you were leaning over the headboard, hands locked tight over your stomach, trying for the millionth time to control your labored breathing. You wore a loose black t-shirt and a white skirt. You couldn’t bear to even think about putting pants on, not in this state, so, as much as your purity-addled brain told you wearing a skirt was cheating the system and that it’d be easier like this to romp yourself on any hard surface like the madwoman you knew you were, for the first time in months, you paid it no mind, because, fuck, you needed to have something. It was getting so hard and you were so tired. You needed this, you convinced yourself. Yes, you needed this.
“My love,” he greeted, locking the door behind him as he comes in. You sigh, still slightly shaky although relieved.
“Hi,” you murmur, still not looking him in the eye. You see, out of the corner of your eye, him sitting down on the bed, not touching you just yet. “I, um. I can’t sit down right now.” you blush fiercely.
So filthy.
“That’s alright, love,” he says, blushing slightly as he notices the wet tracks on your thighs. This is. . . a lot. Is that normal? he muses to himself, not daring to ask it out loud. He wouldn’t want you to feel even more embarrassed and retract more into yourself when he’d come to help you through it. “Can you talk about what happened?”
You feel the sharp sting of tears prickling at you, but try to quash the tears as you raise your head to meet his eyes. He deserves to know the truth.
“I drank, um, s-something at Asmo’s party and it had, ah,” you moan, suddenly buckling because of a specially sharp pang in your core. You blush even more, looking away from Simeon, who had gone red once again. No, no, what is happening? Is it getting worse? Fuck, fuck! You try to stifle your moans as the feeling builds. Your pussy was throbbing even more viciously and you could feel the already significant pool in your panties growing even wider. You breathe in and out, grabbing your midsection even tighter. Simeon almost looks away, shame burning in his chest as his own desire spikes, but stops himself. This is not about him or his dick. He needs to be strong for you right now.
“Ahh, ah, mmhm, I drank something and, ah, I didn’t know i-it had an aphrodisiac in it,” you manage, right hand going up to comb your hair in a nervous, self-pacifying gesture. You had to say it now, or you’d lose the courage soon. “It was a demon’s aphrodisiac, mhm, s-so I thought it just was stronger on humans. B-But I talked to Asmo and, and he said it only intensified to an extreme what is already, ah, t-there,” you say, blushing furiously and, if you hadn’t been looking at the floor so intently, you’d have seen the way the angel’s face became a matching shade. “So if my feelings w-weren’t so intense, this probably wouldn’t be so strong.”
You pause, trying to contain your shameless moans and not think about how good it would feel if you could just rub the bud of nerves screaming to be touched in between your legs, how much better you would feel with your beautiful angel’s cock ramming deep, deep, so deep, yes, fuck, please, more, more! in your pulsating wet pussy, so ready for h— you snap back into yourself seconds later, only to find your right hand already against your thigh. Your pussy throbs sharply once more as if sensing its relief was near. It aches so much, so fucking much, but you only drag your hand back up to your mid-section, almost ashen with panic. You’d almost started masturbating in front of Simeon. This couldn’t be happening, no. You wheeze, unable to believe yourself, disgusted, so disgusted, so filthy. The air starts to get thin, no no no no no this isn’t happening this isn’t happening your very lungs feel like lead, impermeable and unyielding, you couldn’t seem to breathe, nonononoNO!
Simeon notices your panicked state, taking you gently into his arms, careful not to make any sudden moves and scare you further.
“Oh, my love, come here. It’s alright, you’ll be alright, angel. Breathe, breathe.” he instructs softly, guiding you to the bed, finally touching you for the first time tonight. You think you have never felt something so wonderful and so violent at the same time. Angel. He called you his angel. You, this fickle, foul little thing. You sob sharply into his white coat, not able to bear the vicious, unrelenting stabs racking through your body; the wretched shame, guilt, arousal, anger and sadness all merging into one.
• • •
After your sobs start calming down a little, you begrudgingly get out of his embrace. Your pounding, tender pussy didn’t care for your too-heavy heart and the acute feeling of humiliation coursing through you and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you were to start suddenly grabbing at his dick and begging him to fuck you. Simeon’s gentle hand wipes your tears and you raise your eyes to meet his soft gaze.
Pity, you think. Pity is what you see in his eyes, and that realization hurts more than you imagined. Having a foolish heart is the most brutal torment one could ever endure.
“I’m sorry, dear,” he gives your temple the lightest of kisses, not wanting to strengthen the already powerful effect of the aphrodisiac. “But I can’t. I can’t risk—”
“It’s okay! That’s okay, I, I didn’t call you for that,” you swallow heavily at his words and what was left unsaid.
You’re not worth Falling for.
You already knew that, but the confirmation still hurt all the same. You swallow thickly, concentrating on speaking instead of focusing on your grief-stricken heart or your needy cunt.
“I just wanted you here with me to— ah, ahh, mmh!” another wave of want hits you cruelly, this one so ruthless you double over on the bed, gripping the bed sheets as if your life depends on it. You are suddenly acutely aware of how close your pussy is to the bed, if you could just. . .
You feel Simeon lift you, waiting for you to continue and you let out a strangled, frustrated groan, trying once more to just get this over with. “I j-just, it’s just easier to control myself when I’m around you, ah!” You pant as a particularly sharp pang travels down your body to your vagina. He looks at you, concerned, “I've been t-trying so hard, but I don’t think— ahhh, I c-can anymore. I, I’m so sorry, Simeon, it’s just so, mhm, strong now and it f-feels so,” You are unable to finish your sentence, mouth busy trying to suppress a very loud and needy moan from coming out. You bite your lip and your body starts quivering even harder. Simeon frowns, confused.
“My dear,” he says, lifting your chin, forcing you to look at him dead in the eyes. You just mmmh in return, way too flustered to speak. “Are you saying you have been denying yourself all this time?” You nod once. His frown grows deeper, incredulity painted across his features. “How much time has it been, months?” You nod again. You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out is a soft, pliant ah. He waits for you to gather yourself, dumbfounded.
“It, hm, y-yes. I just thought you w-wouldn’t approve if I, ah, if I t-touched myself,” you say, going straight to the point while the little voice inside your head screams You filthy, dirty whore! Shut up, you disgusting cunt! He already thinks you’re dirty, look at how whorish you’re behaving! but, with the incredibly intense and distracting heat between your legs, it’s getting more and more distant by the second. Your right hand grips your skirt, tempting you to go lower still. Your index and middle finger practically itch to be pushed inside your pussy, to explore its walls and bask in its wetness. Your resolve is breaking. How quick. “I-Isn’t masturbating, mmhm, f-fuck, a sin?”
His face becomes almost an angry red but his expression is compassionate as he says,
“Yes and no,” he sighs. I wish this was easier. I wish I could give you what you want, what you need. “I can’t say I am not proud of you, my love. You did very, very well, but it’s not healthy to neglect your body like this.”
You feel as if your brain has finally fried. You can’t comprehend what’s happening right now. Did he just tell you that masturbating is healthy? Are you hallucinating?
“Huh?” you grunt. He looks at you with a tender expression in his eyes and his voice becomes even softer.
“I am an angel, my love. I can’t engage in sins of the flesh. But you are human and you have needs. It’s not a sin to take care of the body you live in,” you look at him disbelieving, “In moderation, of course.” he adds, pointedly.
It’s all just too much for you. You try to mull over his words the best you can through the heat compelling you to fuck yourself into oblivion and try to think of what to do next. Should you just masturbate. . . in front of him? You paralyze, shaking, and even your left hand, which was oh-so-close to your dripping, throbbing cunt freezes in place. You can’t do it. You want to, need to! But. . . You look down as you clamp your hands back to your midsection. You can’t do this.
Simeon looks at you, swallowing thickly for a few moments until he finally decides. He grabs you by the shoulders, forcing you to go up on your knees. You look back at him inquisitively, but as you open your mouth to ask, he places you on top of his thigh. It’s all so sudden and your overly wet pussy slides just so nicely, so good across his toned, firm thighs that you can’t help but let out a sharp, loud moan. You promptly shut your eyes, mouth hanging open as you grab onto his coat, hiding your face on the crook of his neck as you try to suppress the urge to move your hips.
“S-Simeon, I-I-I can’t,” you moan brokenly as he grabs you once again and plants a careful kiss on your mouth.
“Yes, my love, you can. Come on, don’t hold it in,” he guides your hips firmly and moves his thigh upwards towards your pussy and you can’t help it anymore. Your body moves of its own accord, pressing down wildly against him while one of your hands grabs onto your breast underneath the shirt. The pleasure is blinding, building impossibly higher. You grab Simeon’s head and kiss him passionately, pulling on his hair a bit more roughly than he’s used to and he moans. Your hips stutter at the sound, rubbing harder and harder to the point where the pain-pleasure becomes almost unbearable.
“Aa-ah! Simeon, fuck! Yesyesyes, mmh-ah, fuck!”
Simeon bites your neck lightly and your breath hitches, tears falling freely onto your cheeks as you chase your release. It’s so close, so close, you let out a loud moan as you near your end and it’s almost there, you can feel it, taste it. Your hips move desperately against his thigh and it’s so much, too much, you shake your head frantically, eyes clamped shut in anticipation of your climax, until you feel Simeon move under you, thigh no longer pressing against you. You open your eyes, letting out a confused moan, head still foggy with lust. Looking at your partner, you let out a betrayed moan.
“S-Simeon, why, p-please, I need…”, he shakes his head and your heart sinks. Is he not gonna let you finish? How can he be so cruel? You begin begging once again, “p-please, please!” but he only looks you in the eyes and says, voice heavy with the weight of his forbidden desire,
“Do it with your fingers, love. I want to see.”