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Warning! mature scenes ahead.
She had always understood that Michael was evil, even if it was hard to believe. He was the son of satan, after all, the fallen—venomous apple. There were times were she could see sparks in him where it would show, though it was rare. His temper would change in a matter of seconds, or his eyes would gleam in a fiery rage. But, it was rare. He was soft with her, gentle. He was her night in shining armor, with an occasional bad temper, of course.
Though now, with the feeling of warm, sticky blood covering her body, the slither of snakes in her ears and the boiling of her veins, she could finally see the root of his evil. As he penetrated inside of her, her back arching off the floor as a snake curled around her ankle, she could see the boy with the white, demonic face that Cordelia Goode had preached about.
However, it did not scare her, only intrigued and fascinated her. It should have been wrong, it was so wrong, but she couldn't help her bodily reactions. She could feel their souls interlock, his evil pouring into her as her vision went blank. Her ears popped, her veins sizzled and it felt like her bones had been snapped in two. But it only lasted for a blimp of a second, and her body trembled as she came, her mind being reborn.
*Five hours earlier*
She didn't realize how much she had needed sleep until she woke up, drool on her pillow and body dehydrated. She blinked away her sleep, rubbing her face as she adjusted to the candle light. Those damned things, she thought. She was convinced the building had a lifetime supply of them, because no room was ever without them. She smiled to herself, remembering the multiple dreams she had of Michael, and slowly sat up as she took in her room.
As she sat there, she went back to her time with him that night, remembering how he had teased and begged her to give herself to him. He needed...time, he had said. Needed to prepare whatever it was that he had planned. She bit her thumbnail, focused on a candle as she thought. It was exciting, but she was incredibly nervous. He hadn't plainly said it, but she wasn't stupid. He wanted her to sell her soul to him, and she had dreamed of it all night, her mind trying to figure out what he was planning.
He'd surprise her, no doubt; he always seemed to.
Yawning, she stood from her bed, not being able to help the excited smile on her face. Though it wasn't perfect, she had been happier than ever, and she often caught the muscles of her face sore from smiling so much. It was him, of course. She was nothing without him, lifeless.
She made her bed with a hop in her step, humming Clair De Lune as she fluffed her pillows. She was in high anticipation, waiting until she had given him enough time. Which, she didn't know how much that was. But, Michael being Michael, would surely have a way to gain her attention when needed; he always had before.
