In Lines Of Love ~ Kimchay

64."Demons? They are everywhere. In the darkness. In the light. Even in you."

"Demons? They are everywhere. In the darkness. In the light. Even in you."

The Questions were the only thing left between them, because all the answers already lay in plain sight taunting there damn existence.

The faint, burning glow of the afternoon sun spilled through the room, draping them in gold as they stood face to face in Anawin's private space. No witnesses. No escape.

Damon's lopsided smile was something that could make realms crumble while Anawin's eyes glistened with feelings he knew were Dangerous or wrong yet so addictive like the apple eve couldn't resist to taste.

He stood in front of him like he owned this world, and him. Every breath Anawin took belonged to him.

"Aren't you going to burn my story anymore?"

His foolish attempt. Yes, it was the one desperate attempt to free this world from the darkness Damon Cillian had unleashed the moment that cursed script touched his hands. Yes, he hated Damon for his vicious intent. Yes, he was a fool for falling for the villain he was sworn to keep away and his demonic powers. And yes....H..he hated himself more for how Damon carved his way under his skin, coiling there unshakeably.

"No" The word slipped past his lips like surrender.

Maybe Damon was evil. Maybe Damon had the power to birth horror and chaos everywhere. Maybe Damon was the monster every nightmare feared. But the thin line between morality and reality had already bled away, drop by drop.

"Little Dove, you are far more evil than me." Damon's eyes roamed with a predator's patience over the hollow of Anawin's unblemished, milky neck. Perfect canvas for his Art. Not art-possession. His hunger was painted in every glance including every shift of his stance, He needed his brush to paint on him or his Daggers to carve the same brallie only he could read.

This mortal's defiance thrilled him, He tried to ran away... the way he fought to kill him, burn him, destroy him....yet always ended with him, in surrender. The night Anawin tried to burn the pages had only made the ink darker, staining it with another name-his Dove's. Damon and Anawin. Bound not by chance, but by something older. Older than time existed.

Nonetheless, Time meant nothing to Damon. He belonged to a place where there's no heaven nor hell. There air was still and doomed souls wandered only to feed his power. But since this mortal entered his story, time had shifted faster when they were close, unbearably slow when apart.

That ache was killing him, rotting him from the inside out even though he never believed that he had a soul.

"How?" Anawin knew this would be his greatest sin if they.....

The fading sunlight licked over Anawin's skin, as if the day itself wanted to taste him before Damon claimed the rest. One step, Damon erased the space between them. Anawin didn't move. Couldn't. The inferno raging inside him was hotter than any cruelty Damon had ever dealt him.

He swallowed hard as Damon's tongue swept over his own lips, The look him was feral and hungry that was tightening in his eyes...

"When is a demon not a demon?" Damon asked as his voice become low and coiled like a threat, eyes glinting eerily.

Anawin stared back in silence while his fingers hovering for shy of a touch. "Oh, when you love it," Damon replied, the words curling off his lips like a wicked sin.

Yet, he caught his hand before it could reach his face, tightening his grip until the bones ached.

Anawin whimpered softly exactly how Damon liked it.

"Tell me, Dove... what can you do for me?" A single tear slid down Anawin's soft cheek, the quiet confession of defeat. Damon won. Again.

"Anything," Anawin breathed while pain lacing every syllable. They been playing this game for long, he didn't know for how much he could endure it more.

"Don't say something you don't mean." Damon's whisper burned against his ear, sharp as the point of his dagger. He released Anawin's wrist, letting the blood rush back, but the ghost of his hold still burned on the skin.

A thousand thoughts tore through Anawin's head-none of them making sense. The air was too heavy, the floor too unsteady, his chest too tight. Shadows were spiraling infront of him.

Then Damon's hand found his slender waist. He wanted to break him, then piece him back together, only to destroy him again. And again. And again. And again. And again-

"Damon...?" Anawin pressed his palms against his chest, trying to steady himself against the solid warmth he felt safe with.

But all he could think was-how could someone so lethal look like a cat staring down its prey? "Would you die for me?" Damon asked, ignoring the human heat seeping through his skin.

"Yes" No hesitation. The word was instinct, not thought.

Damon's hand slid upward, stopping over Anawin's heart. He pressed, feeling the frantic rhythm.....fast, echoing, whispering his name like a chant in a holy place. He wanted to smack himself in view of the fact that there was nothing holy about his damn demonic existence at all.

"That's too easy... Would you-" Anawin tried to speak, but Damon's palm clamped over his mouth, cutting him off. His eyes shut as Damon's fingers pressed firm, owning his breath. Damon paused, his gaze darkening as some thought slid into his mind.

"Would you live for me?" Anawin's eyes snapped open. The question didn't belong here. It was alien to his understanding deeper than any death vow.

Confusion bloomed like poison in his chest.

"Yes," he muffled beneath the hand. Damon's grip tightened, his fingers digging into Anawin's cheek until it hollowed under the pressure. His glare was deadly.

"Careful... Don't say this oath thoughtlessly. Desire becomes surrender. Surrender becomes power. Do you want this?" Because dying for somebody was nothing compared to living for them....breathing their name in every thought, bending your will to theirs, and making them the sole reason for waking up each morning.

Death is a single moment and end. But life... Human life is a constant surrender. To live for someone is to bleed yourself out slowly, willingly, until there's nothing left but the shape they've carved into you.

"I do." The nod was helpless.

This was satisfying for him. A devotee to him. For him.

Always.

Then, Damon threw his head back and laughed with unhinged sound that rattled the air between them.

He'd always believed he could control anyone, anything.

But right now, this boy in this moment had his power in the palm of his hand. If Anawin told him to kneel, Damon knew he would.

"Say it, say it, say it... Pretty, pretty, pretty..." His shadow poured over Anawin like liquid night.

"Please." The word broke him. All rational thought shattered. Damon shoved him back onto the small bed, the frame creaking under the weight of lust.

Anawin was trapped beneath him, exactly where Damon had always wanted him small, fragile, his.

"Gosh, you're so... good, Anawin"