She was infallibly human when her head was caught, and reacted to the impact to their quaint meal as any person would. Looking at him like he was her world and its end at the same time, he had no trouble fastening her hand to the wood of the table. She sprawled to action, but he'd already prepared for that. What was the point of doing this much, if he'd let her ruin it. Her confession while bleeding was gorgeous, and he sighed in admiration while she suffered.<br/><br/>"A demon." he echoed, transforming her information to a story through his tongue. "Pity." he tried the word and decided what it would be. He leaned down and kissed her recently shrieking mouth. "It's just like you, isn't it, Iris?" He cupped the side of her jaw to look at her while his other hand caught her still free wrist. "You seem to favor inferior things to your glorious birthright." He stroked her cheek with his, affectionately but yes, like an animal.<br/><br/>"Did you love this demon too?" He wasn't jealous, his face was not green - he rather wore the likeness of someone who mourned with her. "Did it hurt you, Iris, to attach to something and then have your world cast you out for it? It's rather beautiful, isn't it. I suppose any fallen has a pretty heartbreak to tell." He kissed her again. And then he exploded into a smooth motion that saw him snatching another knife hammer it into her last palm.<br/><br/>He moaned into the ceiling, sitting above her, proud of his work. His state would be no secret, as he was sitting on her with soft pants. He was sure the hardness paid her no compliment she'd care to keep. He slipped off her and stood on the floor. His fixed beauty, unable to scramble away, because that wasn't the game he meant to play now. He pulled his shirt off, and his hair was a big storm around his head when he tossed the article to the side, forgotten like her rights. He started to leave her legs bare, too. Eventually her shirt was pushed up to half her stomach, and she was freed from anything that might obstruct view of the cunt he'd already deflowered.<br/><br/>It was easy to keep her legs apart. If she'd been an angel still, would they had clasped shut and broken whatever limb he'd try to keep them open with? Roan leaned over her and parted his recently fed mouth. "Don't close your legs or I'll kill you." he said just as his spit crashed against the hill of her sex. He smeared it downward, massaging her always new folds, sticking her with his longest finger. "Now, do you see what I've done here?" he asked, waving for her two pierced hands. "I suppose he wasn't real either? Not the son of your instance?" The old book in vain.<br/><br/>Roan held on to her thighs when he put his lips to hers, and tongued his spit deeper into her virginity. It was appropriate to worship angels, no matter how distance from their first perch. He only intended to do it in his own way. Surely they'd have a specific flavor.