I have answered one particular review at great length at the bottom of this page, so that's the reason why the A.N section of this chapter is so long. It's just something that I really wanted to discuss and I couldn't do it in shorter words.
That being said, enjoy the chapter ;)
~3~
At dawn, she has found her place at his side again, and just like last night, it's the first thing Raffe notices as he wakes up. They are on their sides, and like she seems to have subconsciously sought out his nearness, so has he hers, apparently. His arm is slung over her waist, his chin resting atop her head.
He vaguely remembers crawling back in bed with her – god the sound of that – but not back under the blanket. Instead, he stayed as far away from her as the small space allowed until he fell asleep.
While she's still the only one under the blanket, he's most definitely not as far away from her anymore as he was last night, when his rationality had finally caught up with him.
He doesn't allow himself the slip again, and without looking at her, he gets up and silently makes his way to the bathroom.
By the time he comes out again, she's just waking up, propping herself up on her elbows. She looks confused for a moment, looking around the bed, as if remembering his embrace and now wondering if she imagined it. She's adorably sleep-mussed, hair tangled and curly, eyelids heavy, cheeks slack.
Her eyes fall on him in the bathroom door (he remembered to bring fresh clothes with him this time). "Oh," she says. "Morning."
"Rise and shine," he offers with a half-smile.
She rolls her eyes, but her lips are curved upwards until she looks around. "Where is Paige?"
Raffe can hear her, just a few feet away from the cabin, sitting in the same spot as last night. "She's outside. I tried to call her inside last night, but she didn't respond to me."
He had called out to her several times, but had decided to leave her alone after she didn't react. He is sure that the last thing the little girl needs after everything she had to go through, is an angel that looks like a demon approaching her in the night.
She does react, however, as her sister calls out to her.
"Paige? Paige! Have you been out there the whole night? Baby, what –" her voice breaks off as she sees the blood. A look of understanding crosses her face.
She goes to sit beside her little sister and puts an arm around her, not minding the dried blood coating the girls hands.
Raffe decides to let the two of them have this moment for themselves. He goes to check on Beliel, but the bastard is still passed out and secured to the staircase.
He tests the stove in the kitchen, and since it's still working, he heats up two cans of dried noodles for breakfast.
The cabin door opens, and the two sisters enter and quickly make their way to the bathroom.
A moment later, Raffe hears the shower running.
His eyes fall on his wings, laying on the kitchen table, the ends hanging over the edge.
They're dirty and covered in blood, lacking their usual blinding brightness.
Hot rage rolls over him, making his hands coil into tight fists. It's a feeling he's well acquainted with by now. Weeks of mourning, of hatred, have made him raw and brute on the inside. If Beliel dies, he will get off light. Raffe lost everything, everything, because of him. His wings, his sword, his...
"Hmm, chicken flavor. My favorite."
Deeply in thoughts, he hasn't noticed her approaching. She leans against the counter and gives him a half-hearted attempt of a sarcastic smile. It doesn't reach her eyes.
"Everything alright with your sister?"
He takes the pot from the stove and fills two bowls with the instant noodles. Her lips press into a thin line and her eyes cast away.
"No." She takes one of the bowls from him. "A few month ago, she was a vegetarian. She couldn't stand the thought of an animal dying for her." A look of pain crosses her face for a second. "Now she has to kill them with her bare hands and eat their raw flesh in order not to starve."
She blinks rapidly, fighting with tears, and Raffe pretends to search the drawers for spoons. He knows that she doesn't want him to see her cry and he wants to give her a chance to compose herself, if she wants to. And she seems to, because when he turns back to her, her eyes look less glassy.
"We'll find someone who will revoke what's been done to her. And to me."
At his words, her eyes, too, travel to his wings and sympathy fills her face.
"I hope Beliel doesn't die," she whispers, almost to herself. "He doesn't deserve peace."
"I was thinking the same thing," Raffe responds, truthfully. Their eyes meet and Raffe feels the weight of this moment, the silent acknowledgement between them. No judgment for the darkest parts of their minds, the part that craves vengeance in their most desperate times, only understanding. And acceptance.
The memory of her seemingly dead body comes to his mind, the agony in her eyes before she went slack in his arms, and most distinct, her small form laying on the asphalt, pale and fragile, lifeless, and Raffe makes a silent promise to himself.
They will pay.
She has slayed a squirrel with his sword.
He lets the thought roll around in his head, indecisive whether he's upset, bemused, or incredulous. He has no idea how she managed to get his sword to do that for her. She must've taken a liking to this human girl.
She slayed a squirrel for her little sister and skinned it. It's not very well done, but it is done, and all Paige has to do is eat the now unrecognizable chunks of meat that her sister gave her.
"How the hell did you manage to persuade her to slay something as unworthy as a squirrel?"
"Unworthy?"
She looks up from washing the blood of her hands in the bathroom sink to where he's leaning against the doorframe.
"Yes, unworthy. She was made for ultimate respect and glory. Defeating evil in battle. Not for slaying innocent animals."
She grins at him. "She must like me more than you think, then."
"I wonder why that is."
She towels off her hands and leans against the sink, mimicking his pose.
"Must be my charming personality."
Raffe snorts. "You can be charming?"
"Well it's either that or my irresistible good-looks." She gives him a sunny smile.
"Where is Paige now?"
He wishes he hadn't asked, because the smile immediately fades. "She's outside. I think she doesn't want me to… to see."
She doesn't want her sister to see how she eats a bloody, raw piece of meat with her razor teeth and stitched up mouth. Raffe cannot begin to understand how anyone could do this to a helpless little girl. She's just a child. He's impressed that her psyche even manages to stay as intact as it is.
"We'll find a way."
"I know." There is gratitude in her eyes as she looks at him, and she seems to regain her strength.
He takes her hand and squeezes is gently, reassuringly.
And just like that, she slips into his arms.
She's small and warm and soft, so soft, and it's so different from when he's holding her while they're flying or when she's sleeping. The feel of her in his arms always stirs up a turmoil of emotions inside of him, but it's so much more intense when she's actively a part of it, when she's wrapping her arms around his middle and buries her face in his chest. He realizes that she never did this before, not like this, leaning against his strength, burrowing some of it. Allowing him to glimpse a moment of her weakness.
And he can't push her away.
His arms go around her almost on their own, a hand gently stroking her hair, while his head sinks onto her shoulder.
"I missed you so much," she whispers against his heart. "I thought I'd never see you again."
"So did I."
It is suddenly painful to speak. His throat feels dry and his voice sounds hoarse and rough like sandpaper.
Her fingers start tracing his back, following the folds of his shirt slowly.
He draws in a sharp breath at the feeling of her little fingers sliding over his back, and it comes with the scent of her, making him lightheaded. He wants more and he wants closer. And only when his lips brush her skin, on that sweet spot where her shoulder meets her delicate neck, does he realize that he has, in fact, leaned closer.
He feels a shudder run through her and has to suppress one of his own. His thoughts whirl out of control.
Raffe realizes that his lips still touch her skin, and that he should pull away now, but instead, his grip around her tightens. He tilts his head to the side and the motion makes his lips brush over her neck until they come to a rest on the spot just below her ear. Goosebumps erupt over her skin. Desire, so powerful that it nearly overwhelms him, curses through him.
She melts into his frame. He can feel her body against his, his hips pressed into her stomach, her breasts pliant against his ribs.
A low groan, almost inaudible, rumbles from deep within his throat and he presses his lips to her neck, kissing her. She tastes warm and snug somehow, like milk and honey.
A torrent of need rolls over him, and in the sudden onslaught he grabs her hips and pulls her closer, flush against him. He's pressed hard and insistent against the slope of her stomach, and the sudden contact sharpens the ache in his groin to a new height. She gasps as she feels it and his want sparks and coils.
This close, he can feel the erratic thrum of her pulse under his palms, under his lips, and he touches his tongue to the spot on her throat where her jugular vein throbs. Under his tongue, her pulse speeds up.
But for all the want, all the arousal that wrecks him at the moment, it is not until his name drops from her lips in a breathy, little whine, that he succumbs. The sound of it, the way she stretches the middle vowel ever so slightly, Rah-fe, snaps something inside of him, something that seemed to be responsible for his motion control, because his lips slip from her neck to her cheek all on their own. She tilts her head to the side automatically, as if she, too, is directed by some overpowering force, until their lips meet.
And there she is.
She's warm and sweet against his lips, and he stills for a moment, absorbing the sensation. In that moment, he almost seems to regain his self-control, before a now familiar hunger washes over him, heightened by a tenfold, and he surrenders to it.
If he thought their first kiss was desperate, this is nothing short of frantic.
Raffe remembers how he craved to memorize it all, the feel of her, and the taste, knowing that he would never experience it again, and how much more unbearable it made the yearning afterwards, like a starved man that got a bite of a delicious meal before having it taken away from him. Now that he knows what the loss of it feels like, he's all the more desperate to have it.
The first time was insistent lips and the tip of his tongue, darting against her lips, like the opening to Pandora's box. Now, his lips and tongue aren't insistent, they're imperative.
Groaning against her mouth, he opens her lips, his tongue pushing in greedily. He considers himself a great lover, a skilled lover, but with her he forgets all grace and experience. Her tongue shyly meets his and his pants tighten. He needs this.
The part of his mind that isn't overrun by the sensations that her small mouth provides, is occupied with thinking about a place where he can pin her and take her. He vaguely registers that he has leaned her against the doorframe and is running his hands up and down her sides.
His fingers slip under the hem of her shirt, brushing over the bare skin of her hips. She writhes under his touch, and the friction makes him grit his teeth. He catches her lower lip in between his teeth and licks it, and she responds by nipping his tongue. He didn't know it was possible to be this turned on from just kissing. Her hands mimic his and slip under the fabric of his shirt.
Her fingers curiously brush over his abs, sending a surge of hard, sharp arousal from his groin through his body, and Raffe breaks off the kiss with a hiss.
She looks up at him in surprise, unsure if she's done anything wrong. Her eyes are big and doe-like as she studies him, taking in the unfamiliar sight of him winded and lustful. She looks beautiful and desirable with kissed-swollen lips and flustered cheeks and he wants to lean down and run his tongue over her full, red bottom lip, again.
Instead, he leans back as he slowly regains his bearings, realizing the position they're in. He leans against her, pressing her into the door frame with his body, her hands under his shirt, his having rucked up hers to her ribs. He pulls them away like he's burned himself and takes a step back.
She stiffens up and her face falls with rejection and embarrassment, the happy glow in her eyes fading to make room for a shut-down, hollow expression. He has seen that look before, and it's as painful as it was back then.
"I…," he breaks off, clearing his throat. His voice is thick and hoarse, laced with wanting.
He licks his lips. Bad idea. They taste like her, and a new wave of desire washes over him. He allows himself two seconds to regain control over himself.
Then, he speaks up again. "I shouldn't have done that. I wasn't…" able to hold back? … in control? "thinking."
She opens her mouth – her sweet, tempting mouth – to say something, but words appear to fail her. She seems completely shaken. Her own desire is written plainly across her face, from the blown-out pupils, to the way she bites her lips when she looks at him. She wants him, and that thought is enough to almost make him pounce on her again.
"I'll look for Paige," she rasps, turning away from him hastily. He doesn't look after her as he hears the entrance door falling shut.
Raffe leans back against the doorframe, the opposite one, not the one he pressed her against moments earlier, and runs a hand over his face.
He kicks the door shut angrily and leans forward on the sink, avoiding the look in the mirror. He doesn't need to see his blown pupils and mussed hair to remind himself of what he just did. He splashes cold water into his face to clear his head. It doesn't work. Not at all.
Looking down at the bulge in his pants, he decides a cold shower would be adequate. He doubts she will come back anytime soon, but there is no way he can face her like this.
He rips off his shirt and throws it carelessly on the ground. Pulls of boots and socks. He rucks his pants and underwear down, relieved to free his stiffness from the confining clothes, and steps under the shower.
He makes sure to turn the water as cold as possible, but his regulation system quickly adjusts, marring the effect. No cold water in the world could help him right now.
Frustrated, Raffe tips his head down, letting the water spill over his hair and neck. He opens his wings as much as the shower stall allows and thinks about war, Uriel, scorpion-monsters, anything but her and her goddamn lips.
Nothing helps.
Fine.
He'll take care of the problem himself. Not thinking about her. It's not like he hasn't other women to think about. There are plenty of she-angels he did more with than just kiss. He recalls particularly outstanding experiences, memories he always regarded as especially erotic. But the images won't last. Her face pops up in his head again and again, and he's catching himself wondering what would've happened if he had pulled off her blanket back then at the beach house, how she might would've looked, all bare, in the dim light of the fire. He stops angrily, grunting in annoyance. So he can't even jerk off anymore without her messing with his mind?
He feels like slamming his fist through the wall. He needs some kind of release. He's way to close to a path that will lead to is downfall, if he can't control himself, and he won't be able to do that if he doesn't blow off some steam.
Of course, he has thought about her like this. He can't stop those thoughts from wandering into his. He never indulged in it, though. He never allowed himself to let it go that far. Nothing good comes that way. But he needs this now.
Just this once.
He closes his hand around his cock and begins slowly, letting disjointed fragments of memories and fantasies jumble in his head. He thinks about the way that damn dress at the old aery clung to her body, thinks about her smooth, pale thighs and her small, pert breasts. Then he thinks about the night at the beach house and lets that fantasy play out for a bit, her on her back and opening her legs for him, letting him in.
His hand speeds up and he braces the other one on the wall, leaning forward.
He recalls the way she says his name, altering it slightly to fit in with his fantasy, imagining her voice breathy, wanting. In his head, she is writhing and squirming underneath him, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders to bring him closer, deeper. She rolls her hips up against him, nails digging into his back above his wing joints, as he thrusts into her, deep and hard. He wonders how it would feel to be inside her, deep home in her soft warmth.
He groans lowly in the back of his throat and the hand against the wall balls into a fist.
The more aroused he gets, the more freedom he allows his thoughts. The memory of her lips around her index finger – the peanut butter accident as he has named it – pops up, and this time he lingers on it, relishing the image.
Soon, it's not her finger anymore. Her lips frame the head of his cock, cheeks hollowing as she sucks, her pretty face flustered as her eyes meet his.
"Fuck," he groans, his entire body tensing with pleasure. He tightens his hand around his cock, rolling his thumb over the tip. His wings twitch reflexively on his back, but he's too distracted to care. He's so hard it hurts.
In his head, her pink tongue darts out and licks the tip of his dick, before taking his length in her mouth again. He imagines her head bobbing back and forth, imagines stroking her hair back from her face and gathering it in one hand, guiding her motions.
The fantasy switches rapidly, and she's on her back again, this time on a bed, dark curls splaying on the bed sheets. He has no idea what the context of this scene is, where or what this bed is, but he honestly doesn't give a fuck.
He's above her and inside her, and he runs his hands over her breasts, playing with one of her nipples, while he pushes himself into her.
Her head tosses back on the bed, lips opening to release a gasp of his name, and her thighs start trembling as she comes for him.
Raffe draws in a sharp breath, his muscles clenching taunt and a jolt of ecstasy shoots down his spine. He is thrown over the edge abruptly, his teeth clashing as he forces back his sounds of pleasure. His orgasm washes over him almost violently, leaving him with ragged breathing and trembling muscles.
La petite mort, he thinks, remembering the French calling. He finds it quite fitting.
He leans back against the shower wall, bat wings flush against the glass, and lets the water splash onto his body, his now super-sensible cock twitching as it runs over the tip. The water is freezing, but the cold doesn't register on his heated skin.
"Holy hell," he groans, his voice fading under the hiss of the shower.
Holy hell indeed.
He doesn't remember when he last had such an intense orgasm from a hand-job. He's never been this pent up, this turned on by one particular woman. And never by a Daughter of Man at all.
He's had his fun, now he had to stop this before it got out of hand. He could not, would not, make a habit of it.
He wonders how long he took. Not too long, that much is sure – he was simply too pent up for extraordinary stamina - but probably longer than a normal shower would've taken.
He quickly washes the sweat off his body and steps out of the shower, toweling himself off. He throws his clothes back on and pulls his hand through his wet hair, checking himself in the mirror to make sure he looks sorted again.
He locks his desire into a vault inside his head, the place where he keeps all his forbidden thoughts and fantasies of never-can-be, and draws in a breath. It was time to face reality again.
She is fire and he would not burn.
Oh my. This turned out smuttier than I intended. I blame the fact that Raffe is so unbearable hot.
Anyway, I'm sure you don't mind ;) Took me some time to deliver, but it's a super long chapter, so I hope that somewhat makes up for it. I also changed the summary of this story (took out the 'mild' before the smut xD)
I'd like to say, thank you so much for your reviews! I'm very happy that you all seem to like this story so far, even though not much smut has happened yet. Until now. Anyway, I'm not done yet, so reviews are definitely keeping me motivated to write more.
This fandom needs smut. And fluff. Basically, we all need more Raffryn to fill the hole in our lifes until End of Days comes out (Have you guys read the excerpt? o.O)
See you next time ;)
.K
Edit: I received a very interesting review from Mondscheinsonate (cool name, btw) and I just HAD to respond immediately (so I hope you are reading this and if so, let me know)
First of all, let me start by saying that I absolutely despise this seperation of women into the categories 'Virgin' and 'Non-virgin'. As if there were this astronomical difference in those two "types". I think that being shy/curious/confident in bed has not necessarily something to do with how experienced you are. I agree that having experience, no matter how much, does not make you undesirable at all and by no means a 'slut'. I am not going for the "pure, untouched virgin meets big, experienced sex-god" thing with this story and I don't think that I wrote that in between the lines. When I use words like 'innocent' or 'cute' to describe Penryn, I don't mean innocent in a sexual way (like pure or untouched.. because that suggests that non-virgins are somewhat corrupted or 'filthy' and that is complete BS). I mean it as a contrast to what Raffe is used to (that being violent warrior angels with a huge kill count). Susan Ee herself stated in an interview that Raffe basically regards Penryn as an infant compared to himself.
I also don't regard Raffe as super duper experienced. I think he's had plenty more than humans (given he's so much older) but in comparison to angels, he might not be all that experienced, given that he's always on earth and everything. I do think however, that he's a very confident guy, as well - or maybe even especially - when it comes to sexuality. He's rather arrogant and aware of his own attractiveness and appeal to women, and I think that he is probably quite good in bed and knows it.
That being said, I do think that Pen is actually a virgin. There are several scenes in the book that make it pretty clear. In Angelfall, when Raffe starts undressing in the car, she says that she has never seen a men undress before and it's only normal to be curious (so I doubt she's ever had sex or given head...) In the second book, she also gets all nervous and embarrassed when Raffe starts undressing (even though she knows he's not going to make a move on her or something, she's just intimidated by him being naked). After they kiss, she states that she has kissed boys before, but that was more like a nice, pleasant, small thing, while this passionate kiss (or make-out session whatever) was something she'd never experienced before. So, yeah, I do think she is a virgin.
Penryn might be a rather mature, confident, funny and outgoing personality, but I always felt like she was rather inexperienced. I think she's not all that shy, but rather curious, when it comes to kissing/touching etc. She states that herself after all in the first book ('it's only natural to be curious'). She's also unsure of where she's at with Raffe, which is why I think she'd be a lot more passive than he would be.
And when it comes to the fluffy vs. rough sex. I am not sure what type of peope Pen and Raffe are in bed. I think they have a really nice dynamic that could go either way. They'd probably like both, depending on the mood.
I cannot promise you what type of sex their going to have in my story, or how far they'll go. I just write and see where they take me and what I'm feeling at that moment.
What I can promise you is that you will not get a "sweet, untouched virgin is deflowered by the love of her life and has three orgasms during her first time" scene.
And if you want to read about them going at it like rabbits and are impatient/unsure if you're going to get that from this story, I suggest writing your own smut (and putting it on this site , because we all wanna read that!) ;)