His little doll, moving as per her design, putting clouds of blood in the air behind  them when he pulled her along the floor. He loved her, he knew that, even if he hadn't entirely mapped out in what way, what chamber of his heart, but there is less contracts between angels and men when the angel doesn't have the wrath of her divine siblings to govern you actions. She wasn't some spear-wielding seraph, ready to snuff armies with a flick. She couldn't even speak when he tossed her onto the sheets. Ragdoll, rather.<br/><br/>He almost swallowed his own tongue when she climbed the bedding, like she was trying to flee up a wall. Bare like that, beautiful and addled from his punishment that multiplied inside her, she was almost being rude about how enticing she was. He meant to hurt her for that. It became a little hard to believe her distress when her image invited it so much. It was impossible to stay limp in her presence, as though her remaining angelic power was feeding his libido directly, despite having deposited on her twice. Those traces still adorned her, beautiful face with cool threads, and a running tattoo over her mottling marks around one full breast.<br/><br/>He held her instead of testing her insides with his hard flesh. She moved her head like the pain was finally putting her in the trance she wanted. The slit of his cock was kissing her side, and when she moved it felt like she was reciprocating. What a darling, delicate thing she was becoming. To think he'd been content with their sullen, almost celibate arrangement before. He'd had a buffet of sacrilege waiting for his whims all this time.<br/><br/>But she couldn't move because she was dying. He felt that in her, the panic in the beads that grew on her body, and the finality of some inhales. It let him sleep soundly, holding on to her, hard limb still antagonizing her stomach. He blinked slowly to consciousness when she coughed, but his grip had fortified before that. The male body is possessive by reflex. He was greeted by the pleasant song of her rustling fit. Memories of her damning delights rushed back to draw a monstrous grin in the night.<br/><br/>His teeth mashed together when her fight made his cock sway and beat against her. He held on to her shoulder and groaned, as though she was really making headway in hurting him. The precum pearls that became stains on her skin pointed to the contrary, though. He wore a lazy smile when his limbs unclasped from her, just as she put particular effort into her escape, close to the edge of the bed. It would send her tumbling over.<br/><br/>Beautiful naked Iris, thudding and spinning to a stop. He saw her cunt and the valley between her asscheeks invite him. She wasn't well, not entirely, but she was healing month's worth in just a few hours. Roan followed her, still riding the momentum of having been misunderstood as motivation to causing her all this torment. He laughed to himself and quietly followed her as she crawled toward the door.<br/><br/>"Didn't you want my affection? Didn't you see the good in me?" he asked as he reached down and over her, like a thunderstorm over the land. Roan flipped her around with a quick tug, so she would see the human that had decided she was his. He laid ontop of her, belly of his cock resting on her stomach as he threaded his fingers with hers, keeping her hands under his, by her head, as though they were free lovers in this house, their private garden.<br/><br/>His thumb started bending one of her fingers over his own, and he easily applied enough force to fold it the wrong away. He longed for that crunch. "Tell me how you see me now, Angel." he encouraged as he moved on to her next digit. "Am I still the good man you thought?"