21: Kiss
So many men had longed to kiss the full, red rose lips of Kirsty Cotton. The Prince of Hell was no exception. Only difference was, unlike her human admirers, his kisses would be far from sweet; they'd be much more brutal and forceful, one that would leave a bruise around the rims of her mouth. And instead of it being a symbol of love and affection, his kiss would mean he had made his mark on her, that he was making her his property.
From the surface this would appear to be so. Deep down, his buried all too human feelings thought the contrary. His humanity fought mightily with his demonic darkness, dueling between the other like a White and Dark Knight over their Princess. Deep down he knew that he longed to kiss her softly, and tenderly, and not leave a bruise. He didn't wish to leave his mark on her, make her his property. Oh no.
He wanted to kiss her for all the right reasons...as a symbol of his dark love for her. And he would only make her the exception...
One day that moment did come to pass. He had kissed her. The pinned Cenobite had actually kissed Kirsty Cotton.
When that fated moment had arrived, and they had shared their very first kiss, it had been moments after Kirsty unsealed the schism for the last time. Not long after Trevor's death. It had been a real mixture of wild passion, dominance, anger...and sweet tenderness. His icy lips had ravaged her full ruby ones as he dragged her into his embrace. Blood welled between their mouths as their eager teeth bit through each others' lips. She had returned the kiss, kissing him with the right amount of sweetness and heated passion to rival his.
Kirsty was pleasantly surprised. She had never thought it possible for the Pinned One to kiss her. The protuberances of pins embedded in his head would most likely have made it impossible aside from the possibly horrid taste he would leave in her mouth. Though the pins had scraped along her tender flesh, they hadn't interfered too much. In fact, she found that the tickling and scraping from the tips arousing. She had always thought that his lips would taste like a corpse's, like death itself. But no. She was wrong. He tasted exquisite, like a fine red wine. He was a wondrous, exuberant kisser, and she wanted more...