It seemed strange, and like the most corrupting kind of decadence. She looked at him with so much love when she'd been broken, and he was rejecting her. To think one little piece of heaven should attach herself to him so tightly. It inflated his ego accordingly, and made him want to pull more at her, until she unraveled completely. She'd only sew herself back together, wouldn't she? What a delightful game to play, forever.<br/><br/>He liked to hear her protests when he accused. It was hard to imagine any other response. But she didn't change his mind. If he was stranded somewhere somber, perhaps in a possible underworld now that Heaven was real, he'd also love something that reflected his home. Perhaps that was part of why he found this objectionable. What could he possibly be to a celestial citizen, cast out or not, but a pet. This human experience, for all its artful grime, couldn't hope to compare to the proverbial better place. It was said on her skin, wasn't it? Perfect, while his own was marred with time, and destined for decay. Perhaps their existence was quaint to the angels? They certainly didn't hold any affection toward men.<br/><br/>And then the matter of his art, while he looked her over. She was excruciatingly perfect. The way her stomach became her pelvic hill, and how that hill married outward to her hips and legs, like the carver of her body had been a machine. There were no folds where there aught to be. She let him, she just laid there like he wanted. So pretty in her rags. Roan knelt by her parted feet, and held on to her hipbones. His head descended, as though he meant to kiss her lower lips, but he simply rested his forehead below her belly button, and let his breath slip out to put a moist film over her sex. It was the reverence he owed her. He could worship her beauty and still be angry about it.<br/><br/>She smelled clean, not like some titan carved out of alabaster, she still had her personal scent, but it was free from the outside world and the soap she used. This was an angel's scent, then. He kissed her skin desperately, just above where her protective hairs were, and then turned his head to rest his cheek against her. They must have looked exactly like what they were, then, some lowly human, holding on to a rejected part of heaven.<br/><br/>He wanted it. That piece of his heart was always there, and his body was mortal, so it was looking to use itself up with mortal pastimes. It seemed impossible not to take advantage now, that she'd confessed to a level of affinity between them. It would certainly have been enough if there hadn't been the upheaval of the biggest secrets in history, too. He felt his gravitation toward her, to make her kind and flawless face make flawed expressions, and say sordid things.<br/><br/>"And me, Iris?" he asked her sex before turning his head upward, looking beyond the perfect hills of her breasts to find her face. He crawled up her body. How cruel he was. A perfect villain for an angel. He pushed his still clothed leg up between hers, and rubbed to seep lust into her, as well. She was the giving kind, and they usually reveled in their own distress. He licked his lips and looked her features over. "Do you love me?"<br/><br/>He wanted that too, pulled off her immortal tongue. He couldn't be gentle now that he was bombarded with all the sins. How could he have been expected to be good, when he didn't need to with her? Roan tried to settle. This wasn't some verse in some old book. He didn't need to be either formidable or damnable. But he still felt something torrential inside. He was sure she was unforgivable, somehow, and he was further certain she'd have to pay for it.