How beautifully she fell, gasping from a physical betrayal far inferior to that which he had subjected her to until now. But she expressed everything, because it seemed her trust was immortal, too, growing back when broken. Inelegant thump to mark her impact. She could have a few strides in her crawl, this was a game, after all, but she wouldn't be allowed to come all the way to her salvation, the door. Enough to let Roan enjoy her swaying behind.<br/><br/>She didn't have limbs that could take her faster than the eye, not since she'd fallen. She was weaker than him, and slower. It was too easy to catch her, and she was all too lovely about being caught. Her stuttering pleas were a good meal for his eager to harm. She played good theater under him, too, dancing a broken choreography to her hitching song. Perhaps she was his gift from heaven, then, for having to carry the weight of its scenes in his head. Here, for you inner eye, you will have one of our left-over citizens as payment. Do with her as you please.<br/><br/>Her jaw jutted on either side when he started his plan to fold her finger, and then her loud complaint. It rendered him impossibly harder to have felt the bone give through his own fingers. It seemed to ignite something in her. He watched from above, fascinated and still, like two moons in the night, while she became victim of her own energies. How beautifully annoyed she was that her re-mortal flesh couldn't measure to his in strength, and how displeased she was with her current bonds under him.<br/><br/>She reached a part of him when she asked for help. Asked for him to be a haven Heaven couldn't be. It didn't seem as though she excluded her agony from this deal, and he gasped at the offered paradise. But she helped herself instead, with her wrath that interrupted the Iris he knew. Something other in her, rising like a star from the sea. He was awed by the show, and his face was frozen in fascination. But then he remembered how she was beautiful, what it depended on, and when she pushed herself up at him in a bow, his cock finally got its day, and he shoved into her as an answer. The abuse had elicited a welcoming from her perverse cunt, anyway, he was just answering that call. A spear right into her angelic virginity.<br/><br/>He moved quickly, because he was sure he'd been born to fuck Iris. "Or what?" he demanded as he thrust on, moving her along the floor toward that threshold she was always trying to crawl for. His hands on hers still held her down, and another flick of his thumb bent another finger incorrectly. If she tried to scream to release some of the agony, he'd lance her harder when her mouth was agape, to choke that sound off. What a perfect toy she'd become, and what a monster he'd turned out to be. "Don't you love me, Iris Fallen, Iris Angel?" he asked as he tried stabbing her to death again, while turning her hands to neglected trees with askew branches.<br/><br/>Once all ten of her phalanges were pointing sickly in directions they shouldn't, he let her go so he could put one hand on her forehead instead, so her head wouldn't move so much, so her pretty black hair couldn't wave. His other hand lifted while his hips were ever diligent - he suspected her angel sap was making it stronger, somehow - and that fist that was closer to Heaven than either of them turned dense before he swung it to her stomach, feeling the dull reverberation through his cock since it was sheathed when the knuckles impacted. He'd bring it down twice more as he looked for his pleasure in her, while seeing what wonders her face might show him.