lost
* one-shot red-eye good omens angstfic by minwa *
pairing: crowley-aziraphale
rated: R (allusions to sex)
note: this does not in any way really reflect my writing skills. this is weird. this is just pure emotion and elongated sentences, a stream-of-consciousness fic that is completely... short. and it goes too fast. and it isn't happy. Aziraphale musing on his inner demons. *sigh* that was bad...
I can write better than this. er, I think I can.
written under the influence of three seperate versions of "Who Wants To Live Forever?" and that song will make you write the most depressing things.
-
I knew the moment lips touched my skin that I was lost. That it was over, that whatever I had gained in life was loose in that kiss; it was freeing yet it trapped me deep inside something. Desire. Want. Need. Sin.
For this, I weep.
You have gone out, to retrieve some things, to do a little tempting, the usual. With a small grace of your teeth on my cheek you are gone and you promise me so many things upon your return. With a tiny smile I see you go, and my chest aches and burns with longing. And dispair.
I am selfish, underneath it all. I do not wish to Fall.
You don't understand, all that our passion could have done ... your heated blood racing with mine, the climax of release would have released me from the sanctum of God. Yet at that moment I felt that urge to allow you to take me, to drink it in, this sin, this pleasure, which I so crave from you. Craved. Have craved. Have always craved, in the back of my mind, hidden ever-so-well that even I did not notice it there. Until we were almost gone, until I was almost "a bastard enough to like." Until I looked upon the fear in your face, then the absolution of what we thought was the end...
Forever, I have known you. Forever, you and I were together. Are together. Forever will be together? I can't tell.
I'm so glad you stopped last night. You stopped me. Us. Was that your own will? Did you know what would make me Fall? Anything short of pure thoughts, pure love, in the consumation of smoldering adoration would turn me into a creature of darkness. And of this I am afraid. I ahve always been afraid of falling, ever since the hilt-and-grip of the Sword rested in The Adam's hand. And it almost happened, my Fall. Last night.
But you stopped me.
Why? Is it because you know, or did you see my eyes and as they misted with tears they misted with desire and you knew it was not the "Right" ("Wrong"?) thing to do?
Do you love me?
Oh, Crowley, it is a sad creature, the thing of love. For angels are to love everything but never any selfish love -- demons are not supposed to love at all. And I love you, fully, selfishly, without regret. And I do not regret, repent for my love. But I dare not voice it aloud.
I want to keep you close to me. I want not to Fall, I want to stay with you. Even if smothering kisses are all I yield to, will you still stay? Or will you one day give into what is in your demonic basic nature, take me willingly as we are drunk, or when I am upset?
Or will you Sin against your nature and say you love me too, and we fall upon my sheets with tears and hands touching and stroking, your mouth choked against mine as you whisper your love to me and we reach the heaven that I no longer wish to see and you are no longer allowed to tread upon and I wake up in your arms with wings still as white as the day I was Born and you say "this is all I've ever wanted" and then it becomes perfect.
Beautiful, perfect. You have said these to me, once or twice, in reference to my skin, my hair, my demenor. Not always lovingly; most often in jest. But in those eyes that I can see beyond your sunglasses there is honesty. We have become so human, you and I. Feeling and knowing and acting on our own will. I have become less blind to the ways in which things work in the mortal world, in your mind, in my mind, and I am no longer ignorant...
...but no less afraid.
I weep, because of this feeling of fear, pitted in my gut. And I weep because I play the scene over in my head, the one where I tell you, and you push me away. But it has not happened, yet, and there is still a small sliver of hope that shines on my bruised heart. I am no prophet, though -- I am only an angel who is second-guessing my own nature, the very basics of my nature. For a simple emotion, that should not be granted to me, but now is held within me, quivering and trembling, hidden in the shadows of my immortal soul.
I knew the moment your lips touched my skin that I was lost.
But I can only hope that you will come and lead me home.
* one-shot red-eye good omens angstfic by minwa *
pairing: crowley-aziraphale
rated: R (allusions to sex)
note: this does not in any way really reflect my writing skills. this is weird. this is just pure emotion and elongated sentences, a stream-of-consciousness fic that is completely... short. and it goes too fast. and it isn't happy. Aziraphale musing on his inner demons. *sigh* that was bad...
I can write better than this. er, I think I can.
written under the influence of three seperate versions of "Who Wants To Live Forever?" and that song will make you write the most depressing things.
-
I knew the moment lips touched my skin that I was lost. That it was over, that whatever I had gained in life was loose in that kiss; it was freeing yet it trapped me deep inside something. Desire. Want. Need. Sin.
For this, I weep.
You have gone out, to retrieve some things, to do a little tempting, the usual. With a small grace of your teeth on my cheek you are gone and you promise me so many things upon your return. With a tiny smile I see you go, and my chest aches and burns with longing. And dispair.
I am selfish, underneath it all. I do not wish to Fall.
You don't understand, all that our passion could have done ... your heated blood racing with mine, the climax of release would have released me from the sanctum of God. Yet at that moment I felt that urge to allow you to take me, to drink it in, this sin, this pleasure, which I so crave from you. Craved. Have craved. Have always craved, in the back of my mind, hidden ever-so-well that even I did not notice it there. Until we were almost gone, until I was almost "a bastard enough to like." Until I looked upon the fear in your face, then the absolution of what we thought was the end...
Forever, I have known you. Forever, you and I were together. Are together. Forever will be together? I can't tell.
I'm so glad you stopped last night. You stopped me. Us. Was that your own will? Did you know what would make me Fall? Anything short of pure thoughts, pure love, in the consumation of smoldering adoration would turn me into a creature of darkness. And of this I am afraid. I ahve always been afraid of falling, ever since the hilt-and-grip of the Sword rested in The Adam's hand. And it almost happened, my Fall. Last night.
But you stopped me.
Why? Is it because you know, or did you see my eyes and as they misted with tears they misted with desire and you knew it was not the "Right" ("Wrong"?) thing to do?
Do you love me?
Oh, Crowley, it is a sad creature, the thing of love. For angels are to love everything but never any selfish love -- demons are not supposed to love at all. And I love you, fully, selfishly, without regret. And I do not regret, repent for my love. But I dare not voice it aloud.
I want to keep you close to me. I want not to Fall, I want to stay with you. Even if smothering kisses are all I yield to, will you still stay? Or will you one day give into what is in your demonic basic nature, take me willingly as we are drunk, or when I am upset?
Or will you Sin against your nature and say you love me too, and we fall upon my sheets with tears and hands touching and stroking, your mouth choked against mine as you whisper your love to me and we reach the heaven that I no longer wish to see and you are no longer allowed to tread upon and I wake up in your arms with wings still as white as the day I was Born and you say "this is all I've ever wanted" and then it becomes perfect.
Beautiful, perfect. You have said these to me, once or twice, in reference to my skin, my hair, my demenor. Not always lovingly; most often in jest. But in those eyes that I can see beyond your sunglasses there is honesty. We have become so human, you and I. Feeling and knowing and acting on our own will. I have become less blind to the ways in which things work in the mortal world, in your mind, in my mind, and I am no longer ignorant...
...but no less afraid.
I weep, because of this feeling of fear, pitted in my gut. And I weep because I play the scene over in my head, the one where I tell you, and you push me away. But it has not happened, yet, and there is still a small sliver of hope that shines on my bruised heart. I am no prophet, though -- I am only an angel who is second-guessing my own nature, the very basics of my nature. For a simple emotion, that should not be granted to me, but now is held within me, quivering and trembling, hidden in the shadows of my immortal soul.
I knew the moment your lips touched my skin that I was lost.
But I can only hope that you will come and lead me home.