After all, it was you who introduced him into the intriguing art of cooking. Out of the Four, he was the one who took to our foods with most enthusiasm.
That quirky, restless brain of his is always on the lookout for new sensations and human cuisine provides just that.
Strife became a constant fixture in your kitchen, often lending a helping hand (or more often - raising complete havoc. But it's a fun kind of havoc and you love him anyway.)
He's also really perceptive.
He was able to tell that between all that cooking and talking about food and encouraging your wary Nephilim friends to try new and exciting tastes – you hardly eat at all.
Tact is an alien concept for this one, so he approached you about it right away.
„What is it, peach?" he asked one day. „Why aren't you eating?"
You were just putting dirty dishes into the sink; the bluntness of his question made your hands quiver a little. Glass clinked on the metal basin.
You draw a deep breath - and said nothing.
Strife stood still, leaning against the kitchen wall with arms folded on his chest.
You could see him from the corner of your eye, but you didn't dare to turn your head and meet his acute golden gaze.
„The more I think about it, the more it makes my head hurt, you know," he said quietly.
„You showed me all those awesome things. Like pizza - Creator, I love pizza now. Can't believe I could go on for so long without it.
Or chocolate. Chocolate is bliss. There are so many different blisses. Which I would never know if it wasn't for you. I thought you loved food."
„I do". It was barely a whisper.
He came close and held you tighly from the behind, closing you in his embrace, hiding his long, crooked nose in your hair.
„Then why?" he muttered with a muffled voice.
You gave out a determined sigh. You might as well get this over with.
„You're so right. Food is awesome. It's a gift for the senses, pretty much the same way sex is.
(His small, knowing chuckle reverberated through your scalp.) And I love it. I love it like you wouldn't believe.
And cooking for you guys, nourishing you guys...kinda makes me forget that I can't have it."
„What? Why can't you?..." Strife leaned over and looked you in the face. His wore a seriously concerned expression.
Telling him this felt almost heartbreaking.
„Because I'm fat" you said flatly.
He parted his lips, but remained silent. Dumbfounded.
„Food doesn't have this effect on the Nephilim, but it makes people fat. It made me disgusting and ugly and..."
„Babe" he cut you off harshly, his eyes gleaming, „Don't you ever use that word in reference to yourself. Okay? Just don't.
Because I've seen many disgusting things and you're definitely not one of them."
„Look at you! So easy for you to say!" You broke out of his embrace, flushed from sudden anger.
„You never gain weight. You're all legs for days and leanness and muscle while I'm getting fatter and fatter every day.
This obnoxious body of mine softer and flabbier and flabbier still, expanding like a tumour. And I have no control over it! I hate it! I hate myself! I - „
Strife just covered your lips with his. You've heard the term „angry sex" before, but no one told you about angry kissing.
If there was such a thing, that was it.
He attacked your mouth with such vehemence that you went out of breath.
You splayed both hands on his wide chest, trying to push him away; you might've as well try to stop a travelling glacier.
Strife was approximately hundred times stronger than you, but he would never use it to his advantage before.
He was never like that before.
It was a deep, immersing kiss. And Strife was a tremendous kisser.
You could keep fighting or you could let go and submerge in the pleasure that flooded your veins.
You closed your eyes and chose the latter.
Million years later you finally parted, you flushed, both panting a little. Your face burned. So did your nether regions.
„Strife..."
„I love you." he said, cupping your face in his hands.
His thick black eyebrows were knitted, that yellow stare that you learned to love so much glistening with worry.
„I love you. And you're beautiful. You're fucking perfect just the way you are, do you hear me?"
„I'm sorry, Strife" you said with a stifled voice. „But it's just not enough."
He held the back of your head and pulled you in so that your foreheads touched.
„Than I'll have to try harder."