I only pray to those I trust will listen - Michael [xxx]

He looked down at her hands as she scratched her own fingers. "Please," he said as he grabbed her hands and held them in each of his, so if she scratched it would only hurt him. "Just look at me, Cas," he said, hoping that changing her focus would help her relax again. “Breathe with me,” he said as he looked at her, taking a deep breath in before exhaling slowly, then repeating it until she seemed calmer. He breathed out one last time when she seemed more relaxed, pulling her closer as she leaned into him. "Don’t be," he said. She had no reason to be sorry for that. If anything, he felt sorry for leaving her in the first place. He should’ve known that she wasn’t fine. "I'm just happy you're okay," he whispered, moving his hand up to her hair and gently running his fingers through her brown locks. For a moment he was afraid that Jonathan had showed up from the shadows, but it seemed like they were alone. "I'll keep you safe," he whispered as he just held her in his arms.

He hadn't thought much about the fact that she didn’t wear anything except a cropped top and panties, probably because of the duvet covering half of her body, but now that she seemed calm, he started to feel different about holding her in this way, with her bare skin against his upper body. He always cared for others, but he couldn't help to feel like there was something different about her. Perhaps it was just the hormones from touching an attractive woman that started to affect him. He then moved his hand from her hair down to her shoulder as he looked at her. “Just let me know if there is anything I can do to make you feel better,” he said, wanting her to stay relaxed and in a good state of mind.

Even in her physical reaction to it all - scratching her fingers - wasn’t accepted by the archangel by her side. As he took her hands in his, she feared in that moment that another memory was lurking; ready to swallow them up. It wasn’t the case. Right now, it was simply her being in pieces; nothing else. She had been broken, and although she had used the past month to build herself up once more, in all honesty, she had only managed to build a façade that would keep those around her from seeing the truth; she was crumbling.
He told her to look at him, but for a moment she hesitated. What would he see, if he saw her eyes? Would he see her guard faulter and her mind crumble? No, of course he wouldn’t. She was as strong as an iron horse and as brave as a lioness - right until the darkness hit her and scared her into acknowledging that she was in fact no more than a terrified little girl that had to grow up way too fast.

As she was told to breath with him, she did as instructed. It didn’t take long until the breathing seemed to be under control, which was a pure relief for her. Then, the archangel pulled her closer as she leaned against him, making her feel a smidge safer with him than before. As she had apologized, she was told that being sorry wasn’t necessary. His whisper, as gentle and sweet as it was, made her look down for a moment, while she felt his fingers move through her brown locks of hair. She wanted to tell the truth; she was not okay. She was not fine, and she wouldn’t be fine or okay for a very long time - but she had learned that the truth sometimes brought more suffering and chaos than just remaining silent. Yet another whisper left his lips; a promise she felt horrible for even listening to. She shouldn’t be anyone’s job to keep safe. She shouldn’t be anyone’s responsibility.

His hand moved from her hair to her shoulder, making her look at him with a careful expression on her face. Somehow, she felt like this was all too good to be true. Why was there an archangel in her bed? Why did he look at her that way, making her feel things reserved for only those closest to her, when he was an almost complete stranger to her? ‘’Could you just stay in here?’’ she asked, almost embarrassed to ask in the first place, when she had been so stubborn earlier on the matter? ‘’Please?’’

He just held her close for a few moments of silence. She was falling apart, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t make himself call an angel down to use their ability on her, because it always came with the risk of tearing up their own mind and he didn’t want that. All he could do was stay with her as long as she needed him to. He gently caressed her, moving his fingertips up and down her arm, making the warmth in his heart spread to the rest of his body. He felt peaceful in the moment, not understanding how it was possible with a girl he'd only known for two days.

As she asked him to stay, a faint smile appeared on his lips. “I didn’t intend on leaving,” he said, looking into her brown eyes. He couldn’t go back to bed and leave her alone after what he’d just seen. He glanced at her lips before looking into her eyes again, feeling his heartbeat speed up in his chest. He knew it was wrong for him to feel this way, that if he stared much longer into those eyes, he’d make a move and give in to the temptation - so he looked away from her to the dimly lit hallway instead, trying to distract his mind. Then he removed his arms around her, thinking that he’d probably already held on for too long before he leaned back against the pillow behind him. “Just promise to call someone if you ever feel like that again,” he said and looked back at her, mostly because he knew he probably wouldn’t be here when that time came. Whatever she was going through, it wasn't something he wanted her to go through alone.

Somehow, it felt like a major relief to her that he accepted to stay with her for the rest of the night. As she noticed how his gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, she did the same thing. Simultaneously, their eyes met once more. In what felt like forever, they sat there, looking at each other, as she could sense his heartrate quicken. Then, as she was moments from leaning in and allowing for one little kiss, the archangel moved his gaze to the dimply let hallway; making Cassandra put a hold on her thoughts.
Normally, she wouldn’t be the one to try and kiss someone she had not known for more than a couple of days, but she craved to feel something else than loneliness, sadness and fear. With Michael, she felt like she was as safe as she could be; yet she wanted to feel more. She knew that she felt the same with Bienvido, and that he would have done the same for her as Michael had done - only he would have been way more protective of her. Somehow, Michael respecting her boundaries seemed… Refreshing. She knew that she didn’t love Michael like she cared for Bienvido. It was all just… Confusing for her.

She followed his gaze, as she had feared the vampire had returned. He removed his arm, leaving her to feel painfully alone for some reason. As he leaned back against the pillow behind him, she looked at the hallway again. Before she decided to answer him, she allowed herself to recline in the bed; laying down next to him. Instead of doing saying anything, she placed her head on his upper arm and listened to his heartrate. Then, she finally answered him; ‘’I can’t promise that,’’ she said in a low voice. ‘’I don’t like my problems to be forced upon others,’’ she then admitted. She inhaled quietly, allowing herself to grab a whiff of his scent. It had been so long since this had been possible for her without it being forced upon her. Did she even remember when she had been with a man voluntarily last? Not really… She must have been too drunk back then anyway.

She wanted to just stop talking; she wanted silence to be dominating again, since that was what had been the only time that she had been able to listen to his voice and heartrate. ‘’I hope I didn’t drag you from a good dream?’’ she asked in a low voice before she turned slightly and lifted her leg to get it on top of the duvet, since her body had become slightly heated from the warmth he radiated. Her rather long leg showed a massive scar on the shin from a broken leg, and although she had a tiny ankle chain around the ankle in a beautiful golden metal, it was clear that she had been used to dancing once. Her foot kept a position as if she was ready to go on tiptoe once again. Gently, and ready to move away again if he asked her to, she placed a hand on his naked chest; simply to keep in touch with his heartbeat as that calmed her immensely.

He moved his head to look at her when she placed her head on his upper arm, extending it behind her to make it more comfortable. She couldn’t possibly believe that her friends would see it as being forced upon them, but perhaps she had her reasons. “Don’t think like that… It’s okay to ask for help, to realize that you might need it to get through difficult times,” he said. He was sure she’d do the same thing for her friends, at least that was the impression he had. He also understood not wanting to put your own problems onto others. He always pushed people away when they started to care for him, and it was only in his weakest moments he’d let anyone in on his problems. He tried to tell himself that his circumstances were different, that his life was too dangerous and complicated to let anyone in on, however he’d lie if he said he hadn’t desperately needed the ones that loved him to drag him out of the darkness.  

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to calm his heart rate by thinking of something else than the woman next to him. Her voice broke the silence and he smiled briefly. “No-uh I mostly have bad dreams,” he said, before he looked back at her. “Besides, this… it’s better than a good dream,” he said sincerely as he looked into her eyes, then down at her leg as she exposed it on top of the duvet, feeling how his heartbeat sped up its pace once more. She placed her hand on his chest, making him hold his breath for a few seconds before looking back at the ceiling. He gently caressed her arm on the other side of her while he thought about the dreams he usually had, not being able to recall a single good one. In a weak moment he looked down at her body again before stopping his gaze at her eyes. She surely couldn’t be thinking the same things as him, but then he remembered how she’d looked down at his lips when he’d glanced at hers, making him wonder if she longed to feel more. It had been a long time since he’d been this close to a woman. Despite the fact that he was constantly lonely, he rarely pursued intimacy. He was taught to abstain from sexual immorality, to know how to control his body in holiness and honor, and that passion of lust should be reserved for marriage. But even angels sinned and were forgiven. He moved his hand towards her neck, feeling her soft skin against his. Looking fondly into her eyes before glancing at her lips once more, not thinking clear as he leaned in and kissed her lips tenderly.

She listened to his words as she rested her head on his arm. She chose not to comment on his ideology regarding including friends in hardships. To her, it was rather difficult, as her hardships usually were based on her own idiotic doings, so why should anyone want to assist her in her nights of terror and panic attacks?

As she had asked him about waking him from a good dream, his response made her rather puzzled. Before she managed to ask about what the bad dreams revolved around, he looked at her and said something that made her smile slightly. His sincere tone made her believe him for a moment, before she felt how he caressed her arm. As she had not moved her gaze from him, she noticed rather quickly that he looked down her body. He couldn’t possibly be thinking the same as she, could he? She felt his hand move to her neck before he glanced at her lips once more, before he leaned in and allowed their lips to meet tenderly.

A part of her screamed that she needed to push him away and leave. It would have been the sensible thing to do. Yet, another part of her sighed audibly against his lips as he allowed the kiss to be repaid. The last time she had felt someone’s lips against her, it had been the werewolf she had shared a home with for a long time. This felt different; it felt like her insides writhed to feel more of him - more of his touch. The hand on his chest curled its fingers slightly, just to feel his skin even more. She closed her eyes, and before she knew it, her breathing had quickened as well as her heartrate. Small noises left her throat as their lips parted; almost begging for his lips to join hers once more.

It seemed unreal. She was in her bed, with an archangel. A witch born to use dark magic; a with that had killed her mate; a witch that was destined to live in the shadows… With an archangel. Although he represented the religion that had persecuted her race for decades, right there and then; she felt nothing but safe from harm, and lust for the man next to her. She looked carefully at him, fearful that he might regret whatever he had just started.

He craved her sweetness, deepening the kiss as he moved his body closer to her. His fingers traced down the side of her body, feeling her feminine curves before he stopped at her hip and moved his hand towards her back to pull her closer to him. Her bare skin against his only aided to his lust, sending elated impulses through his body. As their lips parted, he opened his eyes, letting out a deep breath. His heart was racing in his chest and the emotions tempered with his mind. He knew he’d kissed her in the heat of the moment. He knew that she’d made him fall from grace, that this was wrong, and that he shouldn’t have done it. Yet, everything inside of him yearned to taste her lips again, to touch and feel all of her. He looked into her eyes, wondering what she was thinking about, what that careful look meant.

A witch and an archangel were never meant to be, but they were both aware of that. Whatever he had started, it would surely not last. He knew that being in a relationship was probably the last thing on her mind, and he felt the same way. The only thing that held him back was the words of the bible, the religion he was obliged to follow. “I..,” he hesitated and looked a bit down. He didn’t know what she felt about him, if she only wanted him because she was vulnerable and he’d saved her life. It was all so confusing. Eventually he lifted his gaze back to her face, studying her features. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, feeling the urge to give in to his desire, to let his worries at rest. Then he closed his eyes and kissed her again, running his hand up her back underneath her top. He wasn’t thinking, in the moment he just wanted her to love him, to seek some sort of comfort from the cruel world around them.

As the kiss deepened and he moved closer to her, it seemed like everything around them disappeared. All she could sense was him and his lips. She felt his fingers dance down her side before halting at her hip. Then, he pulled her tight; removing any space there had been between them before. This made her lose her breath completely, and as he ended the kiss, and she looked at him with her careful expression, it all seemed of no importance at all. Their races; their origin, it meant nothing. All that held any meaning in that moment was the tension between them that seemed to build itself up and took form of an insatiable beast.

She almost expected him to leave, as he hesitated in his words and looked down. It was a game of cat and mouse; who caved in first? As he eventually lifted his gaze an studied her features, she couldn’t help but feel like she was some exhibition for him to browse at his leisure. It wasn’t the case, but something in his eyes made her feel like that. She couldn’t determine if it was good or bad, per se. Then, he whispered those words that made her toes curl and her stomach churn. She was just about to warn him about using his father’s name in vain, when she felt his lips against hers once more.

The hand followed the curve of her spine as it slid underneath the top. To her, it wasn’t intimate. She was so used to being touched sensually by starving men that the intimacy she desired most wasn’t gain though touch but through lust and desire. Therefor, she allowed her hand to move from his chest to the upper part of the arm which hand rested underneath her top. It wasn’t a rejection nor a signal to continue. It was simply her; reclaiming some control.

Underneath the top, across her collarbone, rested the tape she had replaced hundreds of times. The tape that masked the mark she wanted nothing to do with; the mark that told her who she had been chosen to mate with. A bond she never would fall victim to again; not after Josiah. She knew the feeling of being close to her mate, so she needed not to know the name. Still, some part of her feared that she did not recognize the feeling of her mate being close; making her fear if her attraction to the archangel was based on that fateful bond.

Gently, she moved the hand from his upper arm to his neck. It was easier to tell herself that nothing was going to happen; it didn’t have to end in emotions and intimacy. It would be lying, but it was easier. As she needed to break off the kiss once more to be able to breath, her heart was racing like a horse at a derby. If she succumbed to the carnal desire, she would have faulted in showing that she wasn’t going to fall. She couldn’t let that happen. Therefor, she answered - her voice a bit shaky from her insides churning; ‘’You shouldn’t use your father’s name in vain,’’ as her hand on his neck moved along his jawline, until her fingers caressed his lips gently.

She placed a hand on his arm when he slid it under her shirt, making him run it back down to her lower back. He felt her breath on his lips as the kiss ended, looking into her brown eyes and feeling like he could stare into them for an eternity. He quickly looked away from her as he tried to calm his breathing, trying to shut out the attraction and lust he was feeling. He looked back at her when she started moving her hand from his neck to his jawline. Her comment only aided his mind in returning to reality, however unexpected it was for her to say it. He hadn’t really thought about the use until she mentioned it, but she was right. His father wouldn’t be proud of him for doing this. Perhaps the reason she’d spoken to his conscience was to make him snap out of it. There was a lot of things he shouldn’t do and it wouldn't be the first time he'd pursued pleasures to try and fill the void inside of him, but it didn’t make it any less wrong. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, feeling his worries appearing from the back of his mind again. He wanted to kiss her, to lay her down right there, but he wanted it too much. It was wrong of him to feel like that. “Forgive me,” he said, looking at her with an apologetic look. She seemed to have held back and he believed it meant that she didn’t feel the same about him, although he wasn't sure if that was the real reason.

He sighed silently as he just let himself lay down on his back, creating a distance between them once again. This, it wasn’t meant to be, he just had to remind himself of that. He only came here to save her from Jonathan, that’s why he’d met her in the forest. There was nothing more to it. He looked up at the ceiling, simply because he knew that looking at her would tempt him. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling how his heartbeat slowed down again and time no longer stood still.

For a brief moment, she had felt like what they did was natural. The desire and attraction between two individuals - just like intimacy should be; but she had been wrong, for as soon as she had spoken her words, the archangel moved away from her with a plead of forgiveness and an apologetic look on his face. Had she said something wrong? Was she not attractive enough for him? Was it because she wasn’t pure and innocent?

As he sighed and laid back on the bed - creating what seemed like a searing gorge between them in distance - she felt herself being at a loss. Should she pursue whatever this had been, or should she accept that he had come to his senses, and just turn her back on him with a faint hope of sleeping a couple of hours? A part of her, regardless of how small it was, begged for him to claim her; just to feel what it was like to be with someone out of lust and desire instead of being forced upon her. She closed her eyes for a moment, while he ran his fingers trough his hair. Oh, how she regretted even speaking a single word, as it was surely what had led to him moving away from her.

‘’It’s… Okay. Even angels feel temptation once in a while, I guess…’’ she then said, before she opened her eyes again and looked shortly at him. She pulled the duvet over her once more, covering her body as she suddenly felt painfully bare next to him. Then, she turned around so that her back was facing him, before she took the book she had been trying to read earlier. Despite her cropped top trying to mask her back, it was clear that she had been flogged before - and more than once. Long irregular scars decorated her back; fresh as well as healed and faded ones.

‘’I didn’t mean to stop you,’’ she mumbled, before she opened her book, ready to start reading again. Just like the last time, it didn’t seem to be the right time to read, as the words seemed jumbled to her. One word, however, kept pulsating before her eyes; ‘continue’. She closed her eyes for a moment, as she tried to regain control of her body; a body that sincerely tried its best to turn around and just allow their lips to dance once more.

He listened to her voice saying it was okay, forgiving him for the kiss. It only confirmed his thoughts of her not wanting him, and why should she? She’d never asked for him to kiss her. She’d only done what was sensible. He felt cold and abandoned, so he covered his lower body with the duvet. It was only natural for angels to feel temptation, like any other being, the temptation was for reproductive purposes. “That’s the thing… I usually don’t,” he said thoughtfully as he just stared into the air. He always had to feel a deeper connection before he’d make out with another woman, having rejected countless of women flirting with him in a direct and cheap manner.

He looked to her side after she’d turned away from him, his eyes slowly looking at the scars on her back, only making him feel worse about everything. However, if his gentle touch hadn’t helped, then he suppose it was the right thing to give her space. It seemed like she wanted to read, so he turned onto his side with his chest facing her. He narrowed his eyes, slightly confused as she said she didn’t mean to stop him. After all, she hadn’t exactly proven that she didn’t want that. “It’s okay if you did,” he said calmly. He would understand it, how this might be happening too fast and that she wasn’t ready to let another man get close to her. He knew enough of her history to know that. Then he closed his eyes, figuring that he might as well rest as it looked like she wanted to read rather than talk to him.

As he said that he usually didn’t fall for the temptation of a woman, her eyebrows furrowed a bit. What did he mean? She listened to his movements for a moment, trying to focus on the book, but she couldn’t. She simply couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that maybe - just maybe - the man she had turned her back on didn’t want her to grow distant? She couldn’t resist the temptation of turning around and ask him directly what he meant. She needed to know what he meant - she needed to be sure that she was wrong and that it all was in her head. There wasn’t anything between them, were there?

She closed the book, making it slam with a quiet thud, before she left it on the mattress. She turned around; making sure that the duvet followed her so that she wouldn’t be tempting the archangel with more naked skin. She looked directly at him, as the words left her lips; words that felt blunt and without much sustenance to them but to confirm her thoughts: ‘’What made this the exception then?’’ she asked, as she curled up a bit; pulling her legs up under her.

‘’You know what? Forget it,’’ she said, as she looked at him. She had been so scared of letting anyone close to her, that now that she had felt his skin against hers, she wasn’t going to just let it all go again. She wanted to feel more of him, and she somehow had gotten the idea that he wanted the same. Then, she moved the duvet away from her; revealing the lace panties that hugged her curves just right. With the duvet still covering the lover half of his body, she placed herself on top of him; straddling him. She looked down at him, slightly challenging. She leaned down so that her lips almost touched his earlobe. Then, she whispered in a soft and teasing tone, ready to send shivers down someone’s spine; ‘’I didn’t want you to stop…’’

He opened his eyes when she asked him what it was that made her an exception. He thought about it for a moment, wanting to be truthful in his answer, but before he could say anything, she told him to forget it. He raised an eyebrow as she said this, looking at her with a puzzled expression. Perhaps she changed her mind because she was afraid that he’d admit this deeper connection. The thought scared him as well. He was about to tell her anyway, when she pulled the duvet away and made the world stop around him.

He lowered his gaze down her body, surrendering to his emotions once again. He was breathless when she placed herself on top of him, being overwhelmed with desire and attraction while his heart started to race in his chest. It didn’t take many moments before he got hard underneath his boxers from her straddle. It didn’t make it easier when she leaned down towards his ear, whispering in a way that would drive any man crazy. He placed his hand on her hip, feeling the lace from her panties between her soft skin while the other one moved up her neck as he looked at her face. He then kissed her lips, feeling like he’d missed them for centuries rather than mere minutes. He felt like he belonged here, that nothing he’d told himself before mattered, because it didn’t feel wrong. It felt amazing. His breathing became unsteady as he slowly moved his kisses down to her neck, placing them sporadically. “I never wanted to…” he whispered against her skin. He had only restrained himself earlier, but the desire had never disappeared, and now he certainly didn't feel like resisting it again.

It seemed foolish, the way they had played the cat and the mouse. If they both wanted it, why then hesitate the way they had done? She simply didn’t understand it. Perhaps he had tried to be a gentleman; respecting a woman’s boundaries, but it was completely useless to her, as she was a victim of sinful lust. All she wanted in that moment was his body pressed up against hers.

She felt how his body reacted to her position, growing beneath her. Usually, this was not a reaction she wanted from a man - but this was different. This was consensual.
After her whisper, he kissed her. The kiss seemed hungrier than before; almost insatiable. The hand on her hip made her smile a crooked smile against his lips, while she felt the other hand on her neck. The sporadically placed kisses on her neck was like small jolts surged through her; making her press herself tightly against him - forcing his hardened member to press against her. Did she want to pursue this? Did she want to go all the way, or was that simply the heat of the moment making her all dizzy?

In a nimble movement, the duvet that had acted as a barrier between their crotches was pulled away completely; landing on the floor. Back was the two thin pieces of fabric their underwear consisted of; her lace-panties and his boxers. She knew that she could tell him to stop whenever she might need it. She trusted him - he wouldn’t force her to anything. As his kisses wandered down her neck, she took the opportunity to run her fingers trough his hair; pressing her chest against him ever so slightly. ‘’Tell me then, Michael…,’’ she whispered against his hair; her breathing unsteady from the kisses. ‘’Tell me what you want to do then, if not stop,’’. Her whisper sounded with a slight moan as one of his kisses hit a soft spot.

She pulled the duvet away from them, making his head spin as he felt her bare skin against him. His muscles flexed at the sexual tension that seemed to accumulate with every kiss. He let out a breathy moan against her neck as she pressed herself closer to him, arousing him immensely. He pressed his body against her in a grinding movement, tracing his hands down her back. He continued the kisses down to her collarbone, but then stopping as she started whispering into his hair, only because of the small smile that appeared on his lips. He loved the way she called his name. Her question made his mind wander into many fantasies, but the answer was quite simple. He moved his lips closer to her ear, gently moving a lock of her brown hair behind it. “I want to make love,” he whispered before giving her a tender kiss on her earlobe. He wanted to take in the moment and feel everything at once. He knew that the intimacy wouldn’t last, but when you lived a life filled with loneliness and horror, even an ephemeral moment of pure joy made the world of a difference. Perhaps that was why he managed to ignore his conscience, telling him how wrong and sinful this was.

He ran his hands up her body to the edge of her shirt, then gently grabbing the fabric as he pulled it up above her head and threw it on the floor. He laid his head back, allowing himself to look at the goddess above him. She had him mesmerized, thinking like there was only her. He noticed that she'd covered up her mate's name and figured it had something to do with what happened to her previous one, however he quickly shook the thought of his head. Instead he moved his hand around her neck to pull her down for another kiss, feeling addicted to her taste and forgetting the world around him.

It had been ages since she had done this by choice. For a moment, she feared that she had forgotten how to be attractive, but his breathy moans told her otherwise. It was clear to see that something aroused him; be it her being or her body alone, she couldn’t have cared less. After she had spoken her demand to know what he then wanted, if not to break off the interaction, she felt goosebumps emerge as he whispered against her earlobe. That specific way of saying it had yet to be used with her; making her feel that she might was in over her head. Perhaps it was simply what he called sex; making love, but the L-word still scared her. She craved love; she hungered for it. Yet, Michael was not meant for her, so indulging in such emotions was off-limits for her. Wasn’t it?

She then felt his hands running up her body until they reach the edge of her top. It was quickly removed; revealing a torso she was no longer proud of. Scars told a story of abuse, going back as long as her own time here on the Earth. The most prevalent thing was three massive round scars right beneath her collarbone and mate-mark. She had learned her lesson back then; she was not as strong as the monsters in the shadows. Still, she had survived, with minimal injuries, besides from those wounds she had gotten from claws puncturing her chest. As he laid back and looked at her, she couldn’t help but feel at display. To some, it might not have been a problem, but to her it was a reminder of the fact that she still didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin.

She smiled at him - pushing all of her crowded thoughts aside - as he pulled her down for yet another kiss. How comical it was, truly. A dark witch and an archangel. Had they lost their mind? What would happen if anyone ever found out? As their lips touched once more, everything disappeared, besides from the feeling of his skin against hers and the desire to see if she truly had a chance of being with someone - even if just for a night - without feeling pressured. ‘’How sweet you are,’’ she whispered against his lips, as his answer earlier could be seen as either gentle and loving, or foolish. Making love was reserved for lovers - what were they? They had no label; no identity as a joined force. Nor did they need one. She knew that if she wanted to, she could take charge in this affair; making it go her way. She didn’t need to, however, as he seemed more than willing to allow her to do as she pleased. In a gentle movement, she raised herself a bit from him; allowing her to reach down with one hand and free his member from the boxers by pulling down in the fabric until the shaft was completely free. Then she placed herself on top of him again; once more pressing herself against his now exposed member. Now, it would be as simply as to pull her panties to the side and slip in, if that was what he wanted. She kissed him gently on the next, waiting for him to make the next move.

He knew he was old-fashioned for calling it ‘making love’, but to him it felt wrong to call it otherwise. It would take away the meaning that the act should bear. It wasn’t the same as admitting feelings of love. They both knew that this was a single night of adoring another person. There was nothing else to it. At least that's what he told himself.
He didn’t see her as any less beautiful because of her scars, but it still pained him to imagine how she got them. He wished that he could take away her pain, that her suffering ended right here. The kiss made his thoughts disappear, dragging him into a place of exaltation.

She called it sweet, but to him it was a way of accepting this. A way to make it seem more okay. He feared that he’d feel guilty and regret it, so it was easier to not think about it. “You have no idea,” he whispered against her lips, before the crease of his mouth turned slightly upwards. He looked down at her as she pulled his boxers down, feeling the relief from the fabric before she placed herself on top of him again. He kissed her once on the lips before he with ease flipped her around, so he was above her. He looked fondly into her eyes and kissed her irresistible lips again. His one arm was resting by her side to keep him slightly above her, as the other one gently pulled down her lace panties. “I want you, Cassandra,” he said before he slowly moved inside of her, feeling her warm and wet embrace around his member. He pushed himself deeper into her, looking at her face to make sure she wasn't hurting. He slowly stroked inside of her and clenched the sheet with his fist at the overwhelming feeling. He gave her soft kisses on the neck between his breaths, before he lifted his body a bit higher, feeling the pleasure build up inside of him with each thrust.

She had thought she was ready for this; for intimacy. She thought she had healed from what happened with Jasper, both physically and mentally. She was wrong. As the archangel turned them around, placing himself on top of her, she felt how she grew uneasy. She tried to best to hide it; telling herself that it was nothing but her being silly, but as he removed the last piece of clothing that kept them apart, it was growing more and more clear to her that this was a mistake; she wasn’t ready for anything remotely intimate - and least of all with someone she barely knew. His words seemed distant and like an echo of something she had heard before, far too often. Then, the familiar feeling of something entering her struck her like lightning. The first couple of thrusts, she tried to tell herself she was being silly and that this was okay. Then, as he kissed her softly on the neck, it all grew too much for her. It started out as a whimper - something that could easily be mistaken for muffled moans - until she felt how her lungs almost collapsed and strangled her breathing. All she could see was Jasper; all she could hear was him, as he forced her to take all of him in turn for not killing Tidus.

She placed a hand on his chest and with brute force pushed him off of her. As soon as he had exited her, she moved backwards and away from him. ‘’Don’t…’’ she then said with a clenched jaw as she tried her best not to bust into tears. He had seen her panic enough already - this wasn’t suitable for her. ‘’Get out.’’ She then said, as she pulled up her panties and reached for her top. Her voice was trembling just as her hands as she pulled her top back on. She then looked straight at him, and with the most calm voice she could muster, she repeated herself: ‘’Get. Out.’’. The truth was that she was falling apart once more. Whatever confidence she had had it herself being able to overcome the fate she had suffered with the mafia had crumbled away and revealed that she still wasn’t anything more than a terrified little girl at heart. She left the bed and almost stumbled into the wall as she rushed to grab her silk robe on the way out of the bedroom. Whilst out in the hallway, she pulled on the robe, before she entered the kitchen and forced open one of the kitchen drawers with trembling hands. The drawer was filled with packets of cigarettes and matches, together with some tablets for her anxiety; tablets she had not taken once. She opened a pack of cigarettes and placed one on her lover lip before she tossed the rest of the pack onto the counter. With a match, she lit the cigarette, before she rested up against the counter; staring at the pitcher with whiskey on the dining room table. Tears forced themselves down her cheeks, making her look like some cliché in a Hollywood movie, with her silk robe, lace panties and a cigarette in the corner of her mouth.

He stopped moving as her breathing changed, sounding similar to when he first came in here. He was about to ask her if she was okay, before she forcefully pushed him off her. He looked at her with a confused and hurt expression, before he pulled up his boxers. For a moment he just looked at her, not knowing what to say. Was she afraid of him? Even if she wasn’t, he knew he’d done something wrong and it pained him to think that he’d only made her feel worse. Her sharp words made him stand up on the floor, giving her more space but still not walking out. He wanted to stay until he knew she was okay, and it certainly didn’t look that way. “Cass, I- I’m sorry,” he said with a rare vulnerability in his voice. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, still not getting out of the room. Instead she got up and left, leaving him with the feeling of abandonment and wrongdoing. He looked a bit around the room as he tried to calm his emotions, before he went out after her. “Do you really want me to leave?” he asked as he now stood in the doorway to the kitchen, noticing the tears run down her face. It wasn’t exactly what he thought she needed, but at the same time he didn’t want to bring her more pain and if him being there did that, then it was only for the better that he left.

He had feared this earlier when she’d turned away. That she wasn’t ready to be near a man after what had happened, yet he didn’t understand why she’d still pursued it. He had given her space, but she still pursued it and now it had led to this. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, feeling like he’d made a big mistake by given in to the passion. It was probably God’s way of punishing him, making him remember who he was and couldn’t be. “I made a mistake. It won’t happen again,” he assured her, knowing that he’d try his best to stay away from sin altogether after this incident.

She had heard his plead - his apology, yet she couldn’t even get the words to leave her lips. A part of her wanted to explain and make sure he understood that he had done nothing wrong; she had been the one that insisted on this after all. She felt conflicted, for shouldn’t he have known as an angel that the body and mind needed time to heal from such a trauma? Maybe she was putting too much thought into it. Maybe, angels were just like humans, and with little understanding of others’ feelings and insecurities.
She shook her head, as he asked if she really wanted him to leave. Of course she didn’t - she simply couldn’t handle that form for intimacy. Kissing had been no issue for her, and neither had touching… it was the act itself that had sent her down a spiral of fear, regret and memories she cared not to explain. She was a broken toy, left behind by its owner to erode over time. She was worthless…

The cigarette in the corner of her mouth lit up as she inhaled the smoke. A few moments later, smoke exited her nostrils; making her look like a fire-breathing dragon of some sort. She closed her eyes, wondering if she had any excuse for acting the way she had; she had none. She had tried to test her limits but at the same time, she had caused pain with one she considered a trusted acquaintance - maybe even a friend. ‘’You didn’t,’’ she simply answered, as he said that he didn’t meant for her to be hurt. He had not caused her pain or suffering; not the slightest. If was her own fault for thinking she was ready for anything more than simply allowing fingers to touch and lips to dance. She sighed, before she looked at him, the tears still flowing free. She sniffled slightly before she wiped away the treacherous tears and shook her head a bit. ‘’I am sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like it was okay.’’ She said, before she reached out for the pitcher with whiskey and poured herself a far too large amount. To some, it might look like she had an alcohol problem. Maybe she did.
She sat down at the table once more, looking at the glass in her hand while she inhaled yet another puff of smoke. ‘’I just thought I… Never mind…’’ she then said, as she took a large gulp of her drink, unconcerned if it was ladylike or not.

The same thoughts went through his head, how he was selfish and stupid for kissing her in the first place, for seeking that kind of intimacy with a woman like her. He'd thought it would feel different with him, that he'd heal her wounds in some way. He couldn't have been more wrong. All he could do now was let it stay in the past, believe that this was for the better and look at her differently. The whole situation felt different already, like there was a cliff between them that hadn’t been there before.

He knew he hadn’t hurt her intentionally, but he’d still done something that awoke painful feelings and for that he was deeply sorry. Then she apologized, making him look away for a few seconds before returning his green eyes to her. “It’s in the past, alright. Just forget it ever happened,” he said, perhaps a little cold before he left the kitchen and walked back to the guestroom. He looked at himself in a mirror by a dresser, before pulling the black t-shirt above his head and dressing up in everything except his flannel shirt. He then walked back to the kitchen, looking to her as she sat by the table. “I know what you thought… and it’s okay. It was never meant to happen and I’m sorry it did… You should wait until you find someone better, someone you love and trust, not me,” he said, firmly believing in that. He sighed as he walked over to the kitchen sink and made himself a glass of water, then leaning up against the kitchen counter as he took a sip. He found her smoking and drinking quite unappealing, wanting to take away her whiskey, but it wasn’t in his place, so he just stood there.

“Have you seen anyone? You know… a therapist?” he asked, wanting to know if she’d tried to seek help. He knew he'd feel a lot better if she did. For most people it helped to talk to a professional about their problems and only then would she get the right treatment, if needed.

The cold tone in her voice made her look down at the table. All of a sudden, she felt like a cold gush of wind had surrounded her; chilling her to the bone. If she had hurt him, it had not been her intention, yet sadly she felt like it was what had happened. That, or he was vexed with her for have broken off their intimacy and now decided to be cold and distant with her as the result of her little panic attack. Regardless, she couldn’t be the one to point fingers, as she herself had been quite the tease.

As he left the doorway, she was left with her own thoughts and the silence. ‘’Foolish girl…’’ she sighed at herself before she inhaled even more smoke. It was an ugly habit; smoking. Yet, it calmed her immensely to have the little cigarette between her fingers. The alcohol on the other hand wasn’t just a habit; it was a problem. She had been drinking far too much lately, when she tried to block out the world around her. She had begged for Michael to save her - only for her to screw up and leave it all shattered by her feet. He appeared again, fully dressed. He was ready to leave, no doubt. Why wouldn’t he be? The only thing she had been able to offer him, she had withdrawn in fear. Whatever he had to gain from their relationship, it wasn’t worth seeing her going through such turmoil. His words felt like knives in the chest, forcing her to keep her eyes on the table she sat at to not be weakened enough to explain to him what had happened.

‘’Do you really think it’s because I don’t trust you?’’ she asked; trying to mask her hurt feelings, although it was hard. ‘’It would be crude of me not to trust the man that saved my life. Trust was never the issue.’’ She said, her voice slightly trembling still. For some reason, explaining to him why she had reacted that way felt wrong. Like explaining why she feared her ex - it was so personal. She sighed. ‘’I’m not crazy,’’ she said, as he asked if she had seen someone - therapists - about her issues. She grinded her teeth. ‘’I don’t want to end up like her,’’ she then said to herself, before taking another puff of smoke into her lungs. Her almost amber-colored eyes landed on the pitcher with whiskey, which had been almost full at the end of the evening. Now, it was close to empty.

He took another sip of his water, seeing that his words had made her look down at the table. He didn’t think he was being harsh. She had to believe it to be able to move on. He just shook his head at her question. He knew that she trusted him, it wasn’t that, it was that the next person she was with, should be with someone she both loved and trusted deeply, not with a man she barely knew. At least that was part of what he believed, the other part was that she needed to seek help with her problems. “No, I know you do… I’m just telling you that I wasn’t the right one to do it with,” he said, drowning the water before placing the glass on the table as he turned around to look outside the window. He knew that he should probably leave, however he couldn't make himself go. He wanted to walk over and embrace her, to dry away her tears and tell her that everything was going to be okay, but it would only complicate things. He knew he'd easily fall back into the emotions that he'd felt before and he needed to avoid that.

He narrowed his eyes in confusion as she said she wasn’t crazy. “I never said that,” he said, then turning to face himself towards her again. “But I do think it will help you to talk to someone about it… You clearly have anxiety, that’s what’s leading to these panic attacks,” he said, looking at her with a careful gaze. He didn’t want to say that she was seeing things as well, although that’s what it had sounded like before. He didn’t know who ‘her’ was, but he only thought she’d feel better if she got the right help. Nothing bad could possibly come out of that. “It would mean a lot to me if you’d at least see a friend of mine… She’s a therapist in Gaia and she's previously worked for a women’s shelter... She can help you a lot better than I ever could,” he said, before he took out his phone to find her number, then he found a piece of paper and a pen to write down the number. He put the phone away in his pocket and placed the piece of paper on the kitchen counter. Hoping that she'd give her a call.

It was easy to stand at the other side of the table and not understand a thing. She knew that. Still, she felt like he was just underlining the fact that she was sick, which made her want to curl up and just hide from the world once more. In some way, she knew he was right, but she couldn’t help but fear the doctors, hospitals and institutions she had spent far too much time with as a child, every time her mother relapsed. ‘’If all you have to say is comments about my lack of better judgement, then please just leave me alone.’’ She then said as she looked directly at him; her amber-eyes somehow darkened by the fact that she felt like shit. Then, he looked back at her and spoke the words that made her feel faint and dizzy; anxiety. A diagnosis she had heard presented to her mother countless times. She ground her teeth to prevent herself from sobbing loudly as memories washed over her. Even the smell of the ward her mother had been kept at.

She pushed the glass away from her, even though the drink wasn’t finished. She looked at him as he wrote down something and placed a piece of paper on the counter. There was no way of her to call someone about her problems - least of all some stranger, even though it was a friend of his. She sighed and rubbed her face, before she shook her head. ‘’My mother suffered multiple diagnoses, ranging from anxiety to severe psychosis. She tried to kill me at least fifteen times, herself even more… She was put in an institution when wasn’t able to care for herself any longer. If I go talk to someone about all of this, I’ll end up the same place, no doubt.’’ She said, her voice so brittle as she told something even her closest friends didn’t know about her.

‘’She died as a vegetable; her brain was fried from electro-shock treatments.’’ She said, looking at the pitcher for a moment. ‘’the alcohol blocks out the voices, but only for a while…’’ she then admitted, looking back at the archangel. ‘’My brain is a mess. Sometimes, death seems way for appealing than some therapist asking me if my father ever touched me as a child.’’ She sighed, knowing that whatever attraction he had felt towards her dwindled with every word she spoke. This was what she was; a walking mess. She knew that.

He just shook his head as she told him to leave her alone. Everyone lacked better judgment once in awhile, but he understood that it didn’t help to hear. He listened as she explained that her mother had suffered from mental illnesses and was put in an institution. It made sense that she didn't want to talk to a therapist after seeing that. He doubted that she’d end up in an institution, but perhaps the fear of ending up there was enough to abstain her from talking to a psychologist.

It didn’t make it easier when she explained how her mother died. He nodded quietly, feeling terrible for her childhood. "I'm so sorry," he said with a compassionate expression. He didn’t believe any kids deserved such a fate, to feel unloved by their parents, even if it was because of an illness... and then to lose her mother. It was beyond traumatizing. Then he lowered his gaze to the floor, as he thought about his own experience with hearing voices, but quickly looked up at her next sentence. “Don’t say that,” he said, feeling his heart ache as she said death seemed more appealing than facing a therapist. He wasn’t going to let her die, and regardless of her not wanting it, he did feel responsible for her. “I’m only suggesting this because I care about you and I think it’ll help you feel better... that's all that I want,” he said, walking a few steps closer to her. “But if you don’t want to do that then I understand,” he said, assuring her that he wasn’t going to insist on her seeing anyone. He stopped next to her, wondering why she was telling him all of this, thinking that perhaps it stemmed from the trust she felt. Either way, he was happy that she did, that she shared her thoughts rather than keep them in her mind. “What do you want me to do, Cassandra?” he then asked. If she didn’t want to call the therapist, then he didn’t know how he was supposed to help her. He couldn’t just leave her like this but he couldn't stay either. He wouldn’t be surprised if she refused his help, or told him to leave once again, but he needed to know if there was something he could do.