tagSci-Fi & FantasyAngel: Fallen

Angel: Fallen


It's almost pitch dark when I woke up. Distressed and torn from a deep sleep, I try to get my bearings. My bed. My thumb stuck in the book I was reading before falling asleep. Did this wake me up? My throbbing thumb, was that the reason? It's still dark, the reading light is turned off and I'm sure I didn't do it. The alarm clock has been turned off too.

Power failure.

No light flows into the room from between the gap between the curtains. My pounding heart calms down. Power failure in the whole street.

So, go to sleep again without reading? Or get a candle. Fretting, I turn my head to the door. Do I have candles someplace?

A reddish glow penetrates the room from under the door. Why is that door closed? I never closed it. Reddish... Fire! My apartment is on fire!

I swing my legs out of bed, but just as quickly back in again. Carefully I put a hand near the ground. No heat... Which means the fire is here!. Maybe my living room. Or my kitchen. Did I forget to turn something off? The oven? The television? I hadn't turned them on at all. I had bought a take-away from the Chinese. I had listened to music on my laptop.

Damn it! The Fire Department! Call them, below me they have children! Call and wake up those below me, then get out.

My phone is in the living room. So I swing my legs out of bed and walk to the door.

Had I not seen something on TV about flash-overs? When oxygen suddenly gets to a fire, there is an enormous flame along the ceiling. Therefore one has to open a door while crouching on the floor and to the side of the door, wood gets hot before it burns. Paint even more so. The door-handle is made of metal. That will be boiling hot. It will tear the skin off my hand. From my armchair, doing it's duty as interim storage for clothes, I pluck a sweatshirt to wrap around my hand for protection.

No heat radiates through the gap. Carefully I move my hand over the door. The wood is not hot. It smells like slightly roasted almonds, chestnuts and charcoal. I've never heard about a fire smelling of these things...

Low chuckling sounds in my ears.

No time to get hysterical. Check. In the kitchen, in the living. Call the Fire Department!

The giggling sounds anew. Damn it! That's not me! Someone is here! Burglars!

I stand by the door, wanting to pull it open. Damn it again! I sleep naked. I will not show myself naked at those turds. I pull the sweatshirt in my hand over my head. Todays jeans, quickly I slip into them, cautious I close the zipper since, contraire to the fashion I like my hair. Again I hear the annoying giggle.

From my desk I take, with my right hand, a ruler, better than nothing at all. With my left hand I grab a dictionary.

And how do I open the door now? The ruler in my mouth. Slowly I push the handle down, opening the door only a crack. I take the ruler in my hand again and stand still to the side of the door. Carefully I push it open with my foot. What if they have a gun? Remain to the side, behind the wall. And how can I see what is going on in my living room?

The mirror my godson has made me for Christmas! The ruler back in my mouth, using my right hand I take the mirror off the shelf. Holding it at the gap whilst angling it, it shows me what is happening in the room. The shine is centered around the couch. A man is sitting there, totally at ease, his back against the armrest, legs stretched out on the cushions, my laptop on his lap.

My laptop! He is browsing through my laptop! The old one! Which I use only for my stories.

Quietly I sneak two steps into the living room. Place the mirror on the dresser. Take the ruler out my mouth.

"Hey you! What are you doing here? "


"What? Damn it! Put it down and get out of here! "

"No, Wicked Girl"

No what? What girl? A girl I was a long time ago. 49 now... 'Wicked'?

"Get out, damned!"

"Damned for all eternity?" He looks quizzically at me. The cheek! It seems as if the shine emerges from two places on his forehead, almost covered by his hair.

"That doesn't interest me. Get out, now! "

"You can not condemn me. The curse will reflect back at you. And you do not want to be damned for all eternity. "

"Who the hell are you?"

"Call me Luke."


"Luck is a tiny bit off."

He looks delicious. Could easily get a starring role in one of my stories. Black, shoulder-long hair, sharp-featured face. Black shirt and pants. A muscular, long body. The crotch of my jeans is a tiny bit damp.

"Daaaa...Daggers! Get out! "

He just shakes his head.

"No, wicked girl. Even now you think about sex. I can smell it. As I could smell the fear for your pubic-curls before. And the decision to save those below. Even if you can't stand them. You do know that they call you the Witch and a withered old maid, if they think you cannot hear them? "

"I know. The brats are not as careful as the parents."

He glances briefly at me, chuckles and calmly browses through my files. Giggling once, clicking his tongue.

"Jesusmaryandjoseph! Get out! "At the 'Jesus' he flinched, nearly undetectable but he did.

"Keep the Son of the Old Man out of the game. He has the same opinion as the Old Man on this matter. Both are not pleased. "

"Daa...ggers and dragons! Get out now! "

"No. You're a bad girl. Mocking everything and everyone. Even the end of the world. You are sarcastic. "

"Sarcastically I'm rarely. At most satirical. " I can't believe I am defending myself!

"Satirical! Satire: "caricature. Persiflage. Satirical poem. Criticism. Jibe. " Want more? What does that book you are holding on to, say? Satire: "the art form to criticizes people or events by exaggeration, irony and biting sarcasm, to expose them to ridicule, to flog them with sharp wit."

"My wit isn't that sharp. Sometimes not even good. Ironic, I am sometimes. Only many do not understand it. And I'm not biting. "

"You amuse me, Wicked Girl"

"Well, then I'm happy. Lucifer won't have much which amuses him." Where I took the courage to say this I do not know. Perhaps because he has not dragged me to hell yet? The ruler I also put on the dresser. It wont help me against him anyway, I'm afraid. The same for the dictionary. I put it beside the ruler.

"You think so? Much amuses me. The Old Man sent me away because He always gets a jolt when I laugh. He does not like that. Being jolted. Neither does He like sarcasm."

Okay. I stare at him. Once in a while he glances at me, keeps on reading.

"Well, will the world end at 21.12. 12?"

He laughs out loud. With an even deeper voice as before, he "Ho ho ho's" like Santa Claus. These are alternated with much higher "Hahaaeh" and snoring breaths to get started again. I almost join in the laughter. At the last moment I can stop myself and wrinkle my forehead instead. With three big steps I stand in the middle of the room.

"Stop. That. Now!"

"You dare to command me!?"

He has stopped hooting though, as well as my clothes with being existent . Fine ash forms a ring around my feet. My mouth is wide open. I forget to close it since my body is changing. It stretches out a little bit, my breasts are getting a touch smaller, and a lot firmer, my stomach changes to a tummy, my thighs get slimmer, my buttocks crispier. My pubic hair gets dark again. My appearance has reverted to how I looked in my late 20s, early 30s. And all my clothes in 44 I discarded four years ago definitely. My teeth clatter loud against each other as I close my mouth.

"What did you do? Change it back! "

"Tsk, tsk still commanding. Punishment has to be, Wicked Girl. Or not so wicked girl. Like what I see."

That he likes what he sees, I can see too. A significant bulge appeared in his pants.

"What punishment? You'll make me 70 now or what? Change it back! "


Very dry this 'nope '.

"All the saints in heaven! What do you mean with 'nope'? "

"If I reveal, then I reveal. No way back now. Real you is 20 years younger. That's how I like it. "

I see. The bulge has grown.

The lights on his forehead had increased for a moment. He then ran his hand over the two points and it was the same glow as before.

"Something less cryptic would be great! What do you mean, reveal? '"

"Your I. Who you are. "

"Of course I am me! Who else would I be? "

"Your real self. That's what I reveal when I reveal. "

Slowly, I begin to understand what he means. "If someone does monstrous things you reveal a monster? A witch looks like one and a pig, too? "


"Okay, and then?"

"If the Old Man wants it, I take it with me."

An ice-cold shiver runs down my spine.

"When do you know what he wants?"

"Pretty soon."

"Holy Anthony! Tell me! "

"Of Padua? Do you want that he comes here to tell you what the Old Man wants? Messages are not really his job. Or are you in love? Did you lose something? But there will be a brawl when he comes. We do not like each other very much. "

Completely baffled I just stand there. My jaw dropped again. "He?" Is all I can say, before I close my mouth again.

"The Paduan. Has he to come? " He asks it very patiently. "He doesn't understand humor though. I've never seen him laugh. He takes his all his patronages very seriously. Surely he won't forget he does duty against diabolical powers too. If he comes here now it will end in destruction. Should he come or not? "

Slowly I shake my head.

"Do you know what God said, or not?"

"Yep," absentminded, since he is reading again.

"Well? What did He say? "

"About you?"

"Logical I want to know what He has said about me!"


I nod. Goosebumps are all over my body.

He looks at me, from my toes upwards, on my mound and breasts his gaze lingers before he looks into my eyes.

"You're right. Looks appetizing. It's okay. "

"Means what exactly?"

"Come here. For a kiss I explain it to you. "

"You're nuts!"

Before I finish my sentence I am wrapped in a red light and sitting on his lap.

One arm is around my shoulder and pulls me to his bare chest. Wasn't he was wearing a shirt before? His other hand is holding my hands. Under my butt I feel the bulge of his remarkable manhood. He wraps one of my arms around his neck. Even more of my naked body is in contact with his burning skin. He guides my other hand on his back.

Like a rabbit, surprised by bright lights in the night and absolutely mesmerized by them, I stare into his black eyes.

I can not move, I don't even want to try.

His skin is hot. It smells of roasted almonds, roasted chestnuts and charcoal. I suck the aroma deep in my lungs. His mouth is approaching mine and suddenly he presses his solid lips on my soft ones.

It doesn't last long. Not long enough. Not long enough at all. I take a deep breath the moment he takes his lips from mine.

His slightly parted lips caress my cheek up to my ear. He nibbles on my earlobe. Pulls at it. My hands dig into his back, my breath hastens.

His lips follow the line of my ear, tug at the lobe once again and suddenly his lips hover over my eye. He caresses my eyebrow with his tongue, with his lips my eyelid. Slowly his hand moves from my shoulder down to my side, comes to rest there with his fingertips touching the hairs on my mound. His other hand explores my body from my feet upwards, stroking back and forth until it is below my breast.

Over the tip of my nose his lips have come once again to my mouth. He presses his lips on mine and the tip of his hot tongue taps urgingly against my lips. Seeking admittance, which I grant at once.

He caresses my lips, my teeth. I feel the warmth emanating from his tongue onto my teeth. My tongue seeks his and he embraces it. I moan and press myself closer against him and enjoy the furious dance of our tongues. It seems to last forever.

He moves his hands, one fondles my pubic hair and the other is gently kneading my breast. With his thumb he caresses, without pause, my nipple. He flicks it over my cherry until I moan in his mouth.

With his lips he pulls my tongue out of my mouth and with his teeth he nibbles on it. Pointed, sharp teeth. He lets go of my tongue, sucks it into his mouth and our tongues once again dance around each other. They twirl, lick and stroke over teeth and press against each other. I press my lips firmly against his. My whole body, every inch of my skin, is pressed against his hot skin.

He kisses so damn good.

He breaks the kiss and looks at me triumphantly. A smug grin across his lips.

Breathless and gasping I look at his face. His rod throbs under my buttocks. It has become even bigger than before. With both his hands on my waist he lifts me up. No longer do I sit sidesaddle on his lap, but now I'm astride his legs. My feet crossed behind his hips. My back is comfortably leaning against his bent legs. My pussy is pressed against his spear. Tenderly he plays with my breasts. Panting, I knead his shoulders with my hands and stroke him through his hair.

Again he pulls me against his chest and lowers his mouth to my face. After a quick kiss on my lips, he draws a hot trail on my cheeks and eyes with his tongue whilst he plays with my ear. Stroking and tickling my lobe and the spot just behind my ear.

I want to taste you," he whispers in my ear, "you are mouthwatering. The Old Man and I rarely do agree on anything, but now we do."

Anew his mouth comes down on mine and we share a kiss. With one hand on the back of my head, he turns my head at will, my mouth always beneath his. Once in while he lifts his lips for a moment to let me gasp for some air or blow hot air into my lungs.

He kisses so good. With sharp teeth he nibbles on my lips, on my tongue.

It's good.

Damned good.

Devilishly good.

What am I doing?!

I break away from his mouth.

He smiles sardonically at me.

"Have you had enough? Your scent tells me something else. "

"God does not mind that I write hot stories? He only minds sarcasm? "

Against my resistance he pulls me unto his chest again, searching my ear with his mouth.

"Has He made you in His image," he whispers and I nod hesitantly.

"He has more imagination than you. You are an amateur compared to Him. Although you have a vivid imagination."

"He has no objection against sex?"

"The contrary!"

His mouth is back on my lips and a new hot kiss begins. Our tongues dance again, teeth nibble, hands grope and knead. Hot air is blown into my lungs, my moans sound in his mouth. My bottom dances on his lap, rubbing against his erection.

That is until he breaks the kiss. He looks triumphantly at me again.

"What do you want?"

What does he mean? What do I want?

"I can stay or I can leave. You have to say what you want. "

Like molten wax I lay in his arms. I take a deep breath, "Stay" I utter, almost inaudible.

"Then we should make ourselves a little more comfortable."

I am wrapped in a red flash again and find myself, with wide spread legs, on my bed. A naked Luke is kneeling between my knees. His gaze lingers on my breasts, on my pussy and on my eyes, while he caresses my thighs with both hands, stroking up and down, getting closer to my pussy with every caress.

"A delicious, juicy tidbit you are."

His hands come closer to the center of my pleasure and I move my hips upwards, wanting to direct his hands to a new destination. He just grins and presses my hips back down.

"You may ask one question "

A question? What is a question? What kind of question? With difficulty I concentrate.

"Does the world end on 21. 12. 2012 or not? "

"I thought you had forgotten that question. Wouldn't you rather know what the Old Man meant exactly? "

I rationalize for a moment: He has nothing against sex, apparently He finds me appetizing too and my sarcasm seems to stay within limits that are still okay. I shake my head.

"It is secret. If you tell, I will get you. " He bends over me, puts his hands besides my head and slowly lowers himself upon me. His scepter glides over my shell until the head lies on my stomach and one millimeter after millimeter the rest of his body follows. His skin feels hot against mine. He smirks as I put my legs around his hips and press him harder against my body. My hands glide around his shoulders, rubbing and stroking as he slides his mouth over my face exploring every inch until he has decided on one of my ears. He quietly whispers into it and I almost do not understand, not because its too soft, but because I'm too distracted. He does not keep still. Neither do I. I wriggle under him, sometimes he presses his stomach onto mine, sometimes his chest on my breasts. His hands grasp my head, leaning on his forearms he looks at my face.

All right. Very good. Beautiful. Getting better all the time.

Seeking his mouth, my tongue glides over his neck, his cheeks, his chin. My lips meet no stubble. Finally I find his mouth and caress his lips with my tongue. He does not open his lips to my exploring tongue. He keeps his mouth firmly closed and withdraws his head further and further until I cannot stretch my neck high enough anymore to keep contact with his lips.

At that point he pushes me, with his lips on mine and his tongue suddenly deep in my mouth, back down on the pillow. His hot tongue winds itself around mine and anew we start a dance that we do not want to stop. He moves his loins down, rubbing his scepter over my pussy, pressing his crown jewels against my wet skin and my bud throbs hard in response.

A lightning bolt flashes through my brain.

If he allows a question to be asked, he has to answer truthful. Now a triumphant grin lies around my mouth. He raises his head slightly, looks me in the eyes, his hands holding my head on the pillow.

"You think, you got me in your hands. Others have already thought that. Sent me a goat across the bridge as payment. Have always found them all. Have always taken them with me." Grinning broad, he looks down at me and for the first time I see his teeth.

With both my hands and all my force I push against his shoulders. A predator's grin is smirking down at me. Vampire fangs...

Enormous sharp, pointy teeth. Fangs.

Again a red lightning envelops me and suddenly I am sitting on his lap. My thighs wrapped around his hips. His hands are pulling me to his chest again, and with one he holds my head.

"Where do you think the vampire stories come from?" he asks, grinning slyly.

"From you?" I stammer.

"Yep. I was not always careful if I claimed one. Some have seen me when I struck my teeth into a neck. "

He says no more, but his mouth, his lips and the tips of the tongue and teeth nibble and lick interesting over and around my ear, my shoulder and neck until I arch my head back and offer him my throat. He licks and nibbles the soft skin under my chin, moving to the hollow between my collarbones, whilst his hands play with my breasts, his thumbs rub my nipples, his sharp nails scratch lightly over my skin and his fangs squeeze in my unprotected skin. I pant, fondling his hair and rubbing my pearl on his shaft...

Suddenly I'm lying between his wide-open legs. With his hands he parts my legs and opens up my pussy to his exploring eyes. Using one hand under my butt, he lifts me up. The fingers of his other hand stroke my labia, play with my curls. Playing with them, he rakes hairs to this side and to the other.

Suddenly he raises his upper lip, slowly opens his mouth slightly, parting his teeth and grins satisfied at me, with his predator's fangs.


Slowly my right hand comes off the duvet and glides over my stomach. Careful I exam my mound. Half of my hair is gone. Only a small triangle is still standing. Around my bud all have disappeared and from my labia too.

"What did you do? I like my hair! "I protest, wondering how he has done this.

"I don't."

"What, 'you don't '? It is still my body! "

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