Song: "Bedroom Hymns" by Florence + The Machine
She is nervous. He is nervous. For once, words have no place between them. Hands are lost in each others hair. Lips meet. Breath is heavy. Clothes start to scatter across the floor.
They continue to move closer and closer to the bedroom. To his bedroom. To his dark altar. She is still nervous. He is still nervous, yet he has done this a thousand times before. He knows this is different. He feels it. He feels her.
She knows what she is about to do. He knows what she is about to do. Their breath remains heavy. She is going to give herself to the devil.
She takes to the middle of his bed. She faces him. She has entered his altar. Their eyes meet.
This is as good a place to fall as any
We'll build our altar here
Make me your Maria
I'm already on my knees
You had Jesus on your breath
And I caught him in mine
Sweating our confessions
The undone and the divine
He looks divine to her. He is divine. He stands in front of her as a man, not as an angel. She knows this is no place for his wings. As she soaks him in, as they continue to communicate through silence, her thoughts become more and more unholy. She increasingly wants to be unholy. Holy water could not help her now.
Her eyes continue to travel across his body. His eyes stay locked on hers. His eyes are sinful. Wicked. She has seen all of him before, but this feels different. She knows this is different. He closes the distance between them. The heat between them becomes unbearable. His breathing is becoming more erratic.
'Cause this is his body
This is his blood
Such selfish prayers
And I can't get enough
God and Jesus do not reach her lips. Instead, "Lucifer," does. Her fingers dig into his back. He starts to bleed. He's vulnerable. The most vulnerable he has ever been. He doesn't feel her nails. He's too focused on hearing his name come out of her mouth.
She continues to worship him. He continues to worship her. She is breathless and frantic. He continues to lose control. They twist into his sheets. He has never felt this before. Neither has she.
I'm not here looking for absolution
Because I found myself an old solution
I'm not here looking for absolution
Because I found myself an old solution
At moments, he slows down. He looks at her with wonderment. For once, this act is not just about pleasure or desire. He swears he could stay there like this forever. And if he could, he would.
The sounds he makes are ungodly. All she can focus on is her name on his lips. "Chloe," he exhales.
At other moments, he speeds up. "All mine," he says. He is possessive. He wants her to be his and only his. Ruined for anyone else. She is. "All yours," she responds. "All mine," she says. She is equally as possessive. "All yours, always yours," he responds.
His husky voice finally asks her what she desires. "Don't stop," she says. She can't get enough. Maybe Heaven isn't for her, she thinks. Not without him.
This is his body
This is his love
Such selfish prayers,
I can't get enough
She wakes up the next morning to his fingers playing with her hair. Her head is on his chest. They are covered by his dark satin sheets. She turns her head to look at him. He smiles softly.
"Hi," she says innocently. She bites her lip. His smile returns. He has never felt more mortal in his life. He wonders if it is possible for his heart to explode. Can humans die from love? He feels like he might. "Hi," he replies.
Their bodies start to intertwine again. They know their time together alone is limited. They know they need to get to work. The alarm goes off. They both groan.