Fragments of Love: A ZaintSee Collection

timeless end

The skylight was pink and purple, the hues of the sunset kissing the deep dark waters of the sea. Waves crashed through the shore, the sound something comforting. A mixture of feathers dropped from the ceiling, as if it was raining – though the skies were clear. Between all of this, two bodies entangled in a dance all too sensual for anyone to see.

Breathy moans resounded; gasping breaths followed. Hands grasping desperately at skin, raking fingers and leaving marks. Red welts forming, spool of blood bubbling up, pointed talon like nails digging into flesh, control slipping away. Bright red eyes met flashing icy blue, the crash between the two sending waves of pleasure rolling through them, colors disappearing leaving only a black canvas of their gazes.

"Angel," the sultry whisper against his neck, fangs scratching at the skin. The word used to be spat with disdain, a kind of curse that did not suit the meaning of the word itself. But now it was said with undying desire, and dare he say, even adoration – rolling the 'L' against his throat.

Saint's eyes fluttered behind his closed eyelids, neck extended far back as it could go, body moving against the harsh thrusts that sparked his veins. The wings on his back tingled, the hand running through them were gentle, teasing – different from their bodies erratic movements – and the sensitivity of one's wings were too much that it sent him spiraling into the edge. Followed by one last push, the man underneath him stilled, hand frozen as well, groan rumbling from the depths of his chest.

Saint's eyes slowly opened, lightning shooting through as he met the other's gaze. Talons receding, eyes sinking back to brown; both calmed.

"Angel," the man purred again, and this time his hand moved over his wings, making Saint close his eyes once more, the rolling waves of pleasure back, before it stopped, the hand disappearing. Slipping out of him slowly, he felt the bed move, before his body was pulled over the other's side.

Opening his eyes, he let a small smile grace his features, one that was returned slowly – unusual for anyone to see except for him, only for him. Turning on his side, he let his hand hover the other's wings – magnificent and dark, like the midnight sky, black and mysterious – before sinking into the softness of the feathers that might just rival his own. He watched as the other's eyes rolled to the back of their head, and he felt the overwhelming affection gather in him at the trust.

No one, not one, would ever dare let anyone near their wings – a private part of their person, one that only the most trustworthy could ever dream of coming close, yet even then, it was a rarity for anyone to give that sort of confidence. A sardonic outcome between the two beings.

It was even ironic, Saint mused as he trailed his fingers over each black feather, that the most good, the purest of all Angels had sinned; disgraced himself for the lowest of the low, the most cruel and vile being of the opposing side, that he should – did – consider as the enemy, the incarnate of darkness, the Prince of the Fallen.

"My Prince," Saint whispered fondly, hand leaving his new kind of addiction and towards the other's face, rousing him from falling asleep. They could not stay, even if he wished they could. Even if he wished he could pretend the reality they were in did not exist.

"Angel," Zee groaned, eyes snapping open with a glare. "We've got a few more moments, have we not?"

Saint shook his head and the other huffed, sitting up and getting off the bed in one quick movement. His wings rippled before folding in, until fully disappearing. He bit his lip as he eyed the other changing into his black tunic, silk and fitting for the Prince of darkness.

"Why must you always cut our time short? We've yet to see each other longer than these hidden rendezvous. I told you that you should just come to–"