"Oh Lord"
Oh Lord won't you save me
Save me from myself
Oh Lord won't you forgive me
For I have lost control
She was out of control. She was lost to this, to him, to the feel of her skin against his, the rough scrape of whiskers and calloused fingers and palms over her in possession;
In reverent need.
But she had a need too, a need for his worship, a need for the pain he brought, a need for the love he doled out only when they were alone. To the world around them he showed only his stoic angry face, the callous bastard that lashed out with words and hands that rent the very sky with his bitter anger and bestial rage. Alone though, in the candle lit sanctuary of his rooms, he was so different, he was open, hers, even as he made her /his/.
It was during these stolen moments that she found herself praying to god. Why the christian god of recent faiths she never knew but to this god nonetheless did she bare her soul, her pleasure and her pain such that she feared the bloodier absolution of the gods of old; her gods truth be told. She begged aloud and silently for rescue, for saving, for the feeling to never end, a thousand years of wanting to culminate and trammel her heart like some caged and wild thing that had never seen the prison bars of a love like this; too late to get way, too late to save herself.
She begged a lot in those stolen hours both aloud and then silent. Aloud to him and his wicked mouth and to god all alone in her strangely silent head. She begged there, sometimes on her knees and sometimes stretched taut like a bowstring, she begged, and sometimes, when the pleasure ran red like the blood he took such delight in spilling over her ivory skin, sometimes she felt like god replied to her in her strangely silent head, that he replied in the thick bleating canticle of her heart thundering in her ears like midnight horses under a harvest moon, a stampede of her life ebbing and flowing; a tide, a tidal wave to wash away everything but this feeling, this prayer, oh lord save me.
Oh Lord won't you tell me
Am I the righteous or the damned?
Oh Lord won't you please hear me
Do I obey or do I command?
She obeys. She always obeys him when he whispers to her, when he bends her and breaks her and makes her feel closer to death than she's ever felt before. She also feels closer to her humanity and her /life/ when he lifts her up and holds her there and pushes himself into her, whispering his filth into her ear, teeth in her throat to maul her senses and set her alight and burn her alive while she obeys and cajoles and opens herself up and wonders if she's damned now; forsaking all others but him as he has his ways and makes her his.
His
...his
...his.
His to have and to hold until death oh lord until death do they part and he's feeding on her now and speeding his taking and she both empties and fills with him and only him, his teeth tearing her wide and her blood spilling in a red rain over her like paint. When she screams for him, that's when he stops and fills all her empty places with his seed, fills her whole empty soul with his prayers and his heart and his very bleeding soul and she tugs at him, holds him against her and prays to their old gods that it should always be so.
Sometimes he paints things over her while she recovers from his ardent feeding on her flesh he paints whorls and images from bygone days, powerful incantations that neither of them are able to make use of but they make her feel powerful nonetheless, they make him feel as if he's her only salvation, whispering words against her skin in the places left bare. She feels like a god when he does this, when she can hold him to her and it's more like love, more like the love of those cheesy romances she's read for decades and in the close heat of the night she's warm finally with him stretched out next to her and her skin covered in little pieces of him.
Warm and safe at last.
Oh oh oh oh oh
(Exorcise the demon)
Oh oh oh oh oh
(Exorcise the demon)
Oh oh oh oh oh
(Exorcise the demon)
Oh oh oh oh oh
(Lord, save my soul)
She's damned and no god can save her soul. She loved him, a thousand years she'd loved him, and she would die loving him.
Her demon, her devil, and god have mercy on her soul (if she believed in a soul.) She believed only in what she knew to be true, the hot hard hold of her brother as he whispered into her ear, against her skin every night, the secrets he carved into her body like one of his paintings, both his muse and his downfall, sinner and saint, his answered prayer and his longed for curse.
"There will never be anyone but you for me Rebekah, never anyone else."
Oh Lord can't you save me
From my twisted little mind
Oh Lord won't you please show me
How to turn the water to wine
Oh Lord won't you show me
Am I the sinner or the saint?
Oh Lord won't you please tell me
Was all my suffering in vain
Oh oh oh oh oh
(Cast the devil away)
Oh oh oh oh oh
(Cast the devil away)
Oh oh oh oh oh
(Cast the devil away)
Oh oh oh oh oh
Oh God have mercy on me
Oh God have mercy on me
Hold me down under holy water
I fear I been laying with the devil
I been laying with the devil
(We will pray)
I been laying with the devil
(We will pray)
I been laying with the devil
(We will pray)
She prayed then. She prayed in her screams and her moans and the silent cries of his name on her lips like a hymn, a canticle of blood and bone and sinews pressed until grinding broken glass shards cut into them to paint this sin with their blood and bone and sinews until they were one and the same; together always, and forever.
She'd been laying with the devil and his disguise was gone and his heart was hers and her heart was his and it was as it was always meant with she as much the devil as he.
Oh Lord please forgive me
For what I'm about to do
Oh Lord won't you believe me
I'll burn in hell for you
Oh Lord won't you teach me
Teach me how to see
Oh Lord tell me you love me
Am I Lillith or am I Eve?