She was perfectly available for all of it, and he savored how intutive torturing her was. Aren't angels supposed to serve humans in some iterations, anyway? It seemed out of place that she'd still be affected by his cock after so many other punishments, but she had a maiden's complaint when he slid out. Wet, another compliment he didn't deserve that proved she'd been made for him. It assured she would be getting more of this in the future, simply by the loveliness of the sound. Roan was learning about her, they were lovers during their first real physical connection, and she readily let him know what kind of person she was. Which was no person at all, he supposed.<br/><br/>Some of her tension melted when he covered her up. He'd even smiled. Monster or not, Roan had a human body, and the onset of fatigue was drawing him toward a calmer interaction. It was because he needed to lull himself to sleep, but also because despite his wholly violent outlets onto her, she was someone he wanted close. It appeared men with abusive tastes were just as still in their sleep as children. Perhaps the ginger hold on her swelling hand was a reminder not to forget who he was when his eyes opened.<br/><br/>He tried to hold on when she removed herself, a stirring akin to any chains holding any captive, but it was reflexive, and didn't really pull him from his dreams. She could make her way out, if that's what she wanted, all the while his seed boiling in her, and her ailments alive to remind her they'd had quite a communication in his room, where their worst sides had come to light, hers in the past, and his in his current heart. Without the beastly mask that shadowed his shough-after face, especially in the morning sun cutting the floor where he slept, it would be hard to guess he'd killed someone hours before.<br/><br/>He rolled against his arm and sat up when ray ere burning him. Roan felt unusually energized, and yawned innocently on his floor. His nudity reminded him of the battlefield his room had been, and he smiled to himself when he stood. Everwhere he looked, there was her ghost, making beautiful faces to compliment his horrid actions. Some of her blood cough was still on the floor by the door, and his sheets were still rumpled. To him, this had been them growing closer.<br/><br/>A slight hardening of his expression when he remembered her silence on the subject all this time. Confidant and liar. He shook his head. Their new relationship was sugared, like any recent, sweeter connection, but that didn't mean her secrecy hadn't kept him in self-doubt when she could have saved him. Roan huffed and left the room, still undressed. He'd brought bodies home from time to time, to taste and send home holding their heels in their hands, and flaunted to Iris on occasion. That kind of exhibitionism seemed petty now, thinking it would have pushed them to become closer. On those mornings following those nights he'd also carelessly walk the distance between his room to the bathroom. He wondered if he'd see her on the way. If he did, he'd bring her along. He wanted to play some more, before breakfast.