6 comments/ 12873 views/ 17 favorites At First Sight Ch. 01 By: mellifluent89 Lowest Level of Hell; The Hive Deep within the bowels of the Hive, Hell's facility to house the hordes of nameless demonic warriors, the demon awoke to the usual buzz of the alarm that signaled the Horde's morning meal time. He sat up in his cot, in a room full of other demons, and cracked his neck. Another day. It seemed that no matter how hard he prayed to the Deity the night before, he always awoke the next day. Sighing, he stood up and straightened the thin cotton blanket on his cot into some semblance of order, and donned the same gray shirt and black pants he wore every day. He reached beneath the mattress and tucked the little book that held both Shakespeare's Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet into his pocket, and made his way down the bland, gray hallways of the Hive into the meal hall. Everything in the Hive was gray. Or black. Looking around, he noticed the same groups of demons seated with one another as there always were, snickering, pulling pranks on one another, some were brawling in the corner. There was supposed to be a group of upper level demons, the Watchers, who policed them, but they were seldom at their post. The Watchers preferred to occupy their time torturing human victims in their personal quarters. None of the demons in the Hive had names. There were numbers, however, stitched onto their shirts and pants, which always reeked of either their own refuse or the refuse of the dead demon who had worn those clothes before him. The demon entering the hall was number 6850. His clothes did not smell of refuse, because every night, while all the others were sleeping, he washed his in the basins of the lavatories. He did not want to reek. His dark gray skin was also somewhat clean, which was more than could be said of the others, who rarely took the time to wash— Who will see us, anyway? They asked. 6850 took the time, though, because he enjoyed being clean. No one needed to see him in order for him to feel clean. Making his way across the meal hall to the end of the line for food, he heard the cackling laughter that usually accompanied his presence in any populated area. "What the fucking hell does he think he is? Some Lord, or something? I mean fuck, man, get a grip." The demon who had called out stood up behind him with the swagger of a bully that had never been in an actual fight. This was clearly a demon that had never been to battle. 6850 had. "Hey! Hey, you! How come you're all the time washing everything, huh? Who the fuck do you think is gonna come check? And, what's that shit you're always reading, huh? You think you're better than all of us just 'cause your mommy taught you to read? Well, guess what, sucker? Your mommy's dead, just like all of our mommies, so get a clue, motherfucker!" The demon snorted and glanced back at his friends to make sure they were watching. 6850 said nothing; he simply continued on in the line for his food. The demon, unsatisfied with 6850's reaction—or lack of one—to his taunting, walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. 6850 turned his head to look at the demon, whose shirt read "3200," and said, "Please release me. I haven't done anything to you." 3200 laughed. "'Please release me,'" he mocked, loud enough for his friends at the table to hear. He looked back, once again making sure his friends were watching. "Hear that, guys? I think he's fucking retarded, or something!" He began to speak very slowly to 6850. "Do...you...understand...me...dumbass?" 6850 was getting seriously annoyed with this demon. "I have asked you once, and you didn't pay attention. I am only going to ask you once more. Please release me." "And, what's gonna happen if I don't?" 3200 asked, grinning. 6850 decided that this demon was beyond reasoning with and proceeded to take 3200's throat in his massive hand and squeeze until he was sure he was about to hear a crack. He released the demon, who had a huge hand-shaped bruise on his throat and was coughing uncontrollably as he tried to catch his breath. 3200 scrambled away, near tears. He wasn't permanently damaged, but he probably wouldn't be talking anytime soon. 6850 picked up a tray and made his way to the serving area for his breakfast. "You there! Last in line! Let me see your number!" A voice echoed from the doors of the dining hall. 6850 froze. Surely the Watchers hadn't decided to punish him for what he'd done? He'd seen demons do much, much worse many times before without so much as a harsh word. What could they possibly want of him? 6850 placed his tray back onto the stack and turned around. There were three of them—slender, fiery red-skinned Watchers, dressed in black suits—waiting on him. They motioned him over to where they stood. As he approached them, the one in the front said, "We received word from the Seer that you"—he checked his paper—"number 6850, have been mated to a human woman and will be sent to the earthly plane to claim her. Congratulations. Come with us." They turned and walked out the doors, obviously expecting him to follow. 6850's blood rushed in his ears as he absorbed what they had said. Mated? To a human? There must be some mistake. That simply did not happen. Members of the Horde did not mate. They bred, with the female members kept on the other side of the Hive, twice a year. 6850 felt his skin tingling with shock. He rushed to catch up to the Watchers as they made their way through the Hive, toward the main floor and out the doors. As they exited, the smell of sulfur hit 6850 hard, and he looked around at the lowest level of Hell. It was disgusting. There were cavernous pits of quicksand and sulfur everywhere, dying animals feeding off the rotten carcasses of their predecessors, and flames bursting from the ground in certain spots at random intervals. The thought of leaving to Earth thrilled through him. The Watchers turned to him and said, looking at their paper, "Her name is Emma Walker. You will know her when you see her—you'll feel The Pull. If you spend enough time with her, she should begin to feel it as well. You should mate with her as soon as possible, as she has also been matched with an angel—a Seraph warrior. He will probably want to battle you for her, and you must protect her if you want to mate with her. Good luck." The last sentiment was said without a hint of emotion, but that didn't surprise 6850. Watchers did not care much for the Hordes. Before he could respond, however, he felt a searing pain throughout his skull. He shut his eyes and clutched his temples. As the pain passed, he opened his eyes to find that he was standing on a concrete surface in the dark, watching a woman walk toward some sort of machine. Emma. He knew it was her with every fiber of his being. 6850 shook with the realization that this was his mate. It had really happened. He had prayed and wished for escape from the Hive for centuries, for some kind of meaning in his life, and he had received it. And, it was around five-foot-two with beautiful brown curls that fell just past her shoulders and bounced with every step she took. She was curvy, and as she walked, her hips swayed in a mesmerizing rhythm. She was dressed in a black dress that came to her knees and wrapped snugly around her perfectly flared hips, with a little white sweater over her arms. Her breasts were magnificent. She looked nothing like the female demons, who were dumpy gray entities that couldn't be bothered to move from their beds most days, and he loved her for it. Her creamy, slightly tanned skin reminded him of how delicate she was, as a human. He glanced down at himself and felt ashamed of his haggard appearance. He knew that his short, dark hair wasn't clean. His skin had been recently washed, though, and he didn't smell. He hoped. His Emma deserved better than him. He wasn't even wearing shoes. 6850 looked at her shoes as she reached the machine and opened the door. They were little black heels with bows on the tops. He smiled the first real smile he could ever remember. She was so beautiful. Emma got inside the machine and it moved forward, away from him. He frowned. She was leaving? He mentally willed himself to her home, and found himself outside a set of buildings, with numbers and letters over the doors. He stood behind a big blue box labeled "DUMPSTER" that smelled terrible and waited for her machine. ###### Central Level of Heaven; Seraphim Training Grounds Ethan was a Seraph, a warrior angel. He was trained to wield a fiery sword and battle the demon hordes and lords for his Deity. He was known for his fierceness in battle, and his integrity in his everyday life. He was training his men for battle when the message came from the Seer. "Come on, men! I know you've got more in you than that!" he yelled as the warriors-in-training attempted to shoot fiery arrows into their targets. Most were failing miserably. "If you can't hit them while they're still, imagine how hard it will be when you're aiming at live, vicious, attacking demons! They are massive brutes, and they require more than one arrow to incapacitate! Focus!" Ethan shook his head and sighed. At this rate, they would have to simply walk up to the demons and ask the monsters politely to come along with them, seeing as they couldn't do any real damage to the beasts as it was. "Ethan!" the frantic shout came from behind him, and the great whooshing of wings signaled the arrival of an angel he knew to be his good friend Alecto, the Messenger. He turned good-naturedly; a smile of greeting on his face which faded the second he saw the state Alecto was in. The poor Messenger was disheveled, to say the least—his long blond hair was a tangled mess, his robes had been jerked at an odd angle, as if someone had grabbed him by the collar, and some of the feathers of his great white wings were drifting around him to the ground at his feet. He was also ridiculously and comically out of breath. "What's wrong, Alecto? You look a bit...harried," Ethan said, fighting a grin and trying to be diplomatic. "What's wrong?" Alecto echoed, his voice growing even more frantic. "What's wrong? Well, I have a letter for you from the Seer! That's exactly what's wrong! I've flown all the way from the Upper Level, and she put the message in my hands herself! You've been mated! You must go at once! Although, I don't see what the battlement is going to do without you while you're gone! The upcoming battle will be lost and we will be shamed, Ethan! What are we going to do?" Alecto stopped for a breath, his face flushed and wings fluttering behind him in panic. One of Ethan's ginger brows rose. "It's good to know that you took the liberty of reading my mail, Alecto, but I think perhaps you are mistaken. I am a warrior. We are not mated until the end of our military careers. Our Great Deity does this in order to prevent heartache in the Cherub that we are mated to, should we die in battle, serving him. You know this." Alecto was not dissuaded in the least. "Oh, but it is you who are mistaken, my friend! See, here in the Seer's own handwriting! You have been summoned! And, that's not all! Your mate is human! She's human!" Alecto looked as if his fat, neurotic head might explode in Ethan's opinion; however, he managed to keep that particularly snarky comment to himself and instead snatched the envelope from Alecto. "Let me see that," he quipped, turning so that Alecto had to stretch to attempt to see over Ethan's shoulder to look at the message. Being a good half a foot shorter than his friend, who stood six-foot-six, he was unsuccessful. Ethan read through the letter, written in the elegant script of the Seer herself: Ethan, It has come to my attention that your mate has been selected. Her name is Emma Walker. She is human, and therefore resides on the earthly plane. As such, your mate has also been matched with a demon who will, of course, try to win her affections, as well. It is left to the human to decide whom she will mate with. If the demon mates with her prior to your claiming her, you must return and never seek her out again. Please begin immediately, as the demon most certainly will. Post-Script: Beware The Pull. It is notoriously detrimental to your kind. S In all honesty, Ethan had never seen or heard anything like it, and wasn't entirely sure that the Seer hadn't lost her mind completely. He decided to seek the counsel of Myrna, one of the oldest known warriors in the Seraphim legion, who was still fighting vigorously, though he was a white-haired, wrinkled old man. "Well?" Alecto asked, no doubt expecting Ethan to rage against the injustice of an early end to his military career. "Well, what? I'm going to ask Myrna about it. I'm sure he can tell me if it's ever happened before, or what I can do about it." Ethan left Alecto sputtering as he unfolded his wings and with one great sweep, lifted himself into the air and toward the soldier's quarters, where Myrna was no doubt lecturing the younger Seraphs about their laziness on the battlefield. Well, someone needs to, he thought to himself as he glanced back at his men who were still trying desperately to simply hit a static target with their arrows. When he reached the soldiers' quarters, Ethan could hear Myrna aiming a diatribe at some of the more inexperienced soldiers. "...and, I'll tell you another thing!" he was yelling. "When I was young like you, my only motive was to serve the Deity! We didn't frolic with the Cherubs and spend all our time dining and chatting the way that you all do! That's sure as certain!" Ethan chuckled at the old warrior as he entered the room. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt you, Myrna, but as much as I'm sure the young men are enjoying your tirade, I need a word with you. It's rather urgent." Myrna looked up from his rant and grinned. "Ethan! Now, here's a warrior you all could learn to emulate! What can I do for you, son?" Ethan leaned in closer to Myrna. "It's a bit...private. Could we discuss it outside?" Myrna looked confused, but followed Ethan out to the courtyard. "What's this all about, Ethan?" Myrna's eyes narrowed. "Are you in some kind of trouble?" Ethan made a face. "Not exactly. I've been mated." "That's wonderful, son! Though, we will certainly miss you in the upcoming battle. It's a bit early in your career to be mated, don't you think?" "That's exactly what I think. Also, I'm mated to a human, apparently. The Seer's letter says that I am to compete for her affections with a demon! Is that even possible? A demon from the Horde can mate? They are little more than animals!" Ethan was getting upset, and he let Myrna see it. "I don't understand what I am supposed to do, here." Myrna shook his head. "You are supposed to win her affections. And, some of those demons from the Hordes are quite intelligent. If he's been mated, then you can count on the fact that he's smart enough to know how to get to her and to know that you're coming. He'll do everything he can to take her from you. I know from experience. Go to her. Now." The grave expression on Myrna's face shook Ethan to his core. Myrna didn't say another word, just walked back into the soldiers' quarters without looking back. Ethan closed his eyes and used his powers to search for Emma. When he opened them again, he was outside an apartment building in Knoxville, Tennessee. It was freezing and snow covered the sidewalks, so he manifested a dark suit, trench coat, and gloves for himself. He could feel the pull of her spirit coming from the door marked "A-2." Well, he thought, here goes nothing. At First Sight Ch. 02 Chapter 2: Addiction A/N: I just want to thank everyone who wrote, rated. Without you, this chapter never would have happened. So, for better or for worse, here it is. Sit back and enjoy! -------------------- Josh looked down at the heavenly creature underneath him. She felt stiff in his hands, faint shudders still coursing through her tiny frame. He tried to suppress the grin that threatened to burst to the surface at any second. The encounter had left him high, almost giddy. Everything about what they'd done that afternoon was wrong. Every decision he'd made from the moment he laid eyes on her was completely against anything he would have considered possible in him. Madeline... A pang of guilt ripped through him at the thought of the girl he had waiting for him at home. The blonde haired girl his mother would have, and for all practical purposes, did choose for him. The reality of the expectations and the sacrifices of his relationship were never completely subconscious but they were never burdens before now. Thoughts of white picket fences and fat babies faded into the background as his mysterious angel looked up at him, her brown eyes wide. -------------------- It took Vee only moments to realize she was still clinging to the stranger's neck, her forehead pressed tightly into his chest. Her pussy pulsed around his softening cock. Aftershocks of her otherworldly orgasm. She cringed as the weight of their actions crashed down on her. This wasn't like her, she wasn't a slut, she didn't just pick guys up off the shelf and take them home. Especially not men who were clearly spoken for. Her thoughts fell upon the sweet, trusting blonde haired girl at the café. What would she think if she realized where three-piece-suit went after he paid the check this afternoon? The feeling of his cock sliding out of her vagina and the subsequent trickling of cum did nothing to ebb the growing regret. We didn't use a condom. White hot panic flooded her brain, leaving her breathless. Through all this she failed to notice the look of serene contentment on her lover's face. What if he has something? It's not so terribly unlikely that someone who randomly fucks girls for lunch while the little missus is home with the kiddies -- oh god, are there kiddies?! Her only saving grace was the half empty packet of birth control pills in her medicine cabinet. The remains of her last failed attempt at a monogamous relationship. By now, the stranger had rolled off of her and was beginning to redress. Vee clutched a tangled sheet protectively to her chest. A little late to be modest, don't you think girlie? Don't think your buyer's remorse makes you any less a guilty party. "What did you say?" Vee started at his inquiry. He held his hands up, almost as if approaching a skittish fawn. "Whoa there, sweetie, I didn't mean to freak you out of your little head there. You seemed to be very comfortable in there and anyway I have to get back to work. I seem to have lost track of the time. Can't imagine why..." Growled tall, half dressed and boyishly handsome. Vee stared back at him wordlessly, unresponsive to his meager attempt at an ice breaker. "Look, I know this is weird... believe it or not I've never done this before." Her raised eyebrow spoke volumes of her opinion of him. "Seriously. I'm usually a pretty play-by-the-rules type of guy, but I saw something in you when you walked in today, and I'm sorry but I don't regret what we did. Maybe I should, but more importantly, I know you felt it too." Vee looked away, too perplexed by her own behavior to hold the eye contact. She knew what it felt like to be cheated on, and this was the last position she wanted to put someone in. No matter how hard it was to deny him. -------------------- Josh ran his clammy fingers through his mussed brown hair. His words, usually a matter of surgical precision were lost. The next few moments were crucial. Not seeing her again was not an option. Though he could hardly explain the irrational fixation to himself, he knew he had to convince her to trust him. Even now he yearned to touch her, to wrap her in his arms and sink into oblivion with her. It was completely ridiculous. Josh sat down on the bed, suppressing the rising urge to act on his impulse to replay the last half hour over and over again until they were both too numb to continue. The same chemistry that drew him to her in the café such a short time ago still pulled at him, begging him to sink his growing length into her. He adjusted his pants as inconspicuously as possible. Control yourself. You're crazed. What is she doing to you? The thought was less a concern and more a blissful surrender. Josh carefully took her slender hand in his. "I have to go. I should've left after the café. Technically I'm on my lunch break right now -- or, at least I was thirty minutes ago. They'll be wondering." "Who will? Your girlfriend?" Josh cringed. Somehow in all of the madness he'd forgotten her again. Madeline. "I don't know what to say to you to make you think I'm less of an asshole than you have every right to think I am." He paused to feel out her reaction. She was blank faced. I'm usually pretty good with words, though you wouldn't know it by my performance right now..." "Your performance." Her response was deadpan. Josh realized he was losing her, if she wasn't lost already. His chest constrict painfully at the thought of never being able to see her again. "Ok, let's start over. I'm Josh Benson. I'm director of sales at a small agency downtown. Yes, I have a girlfriend... I don't know how to append to that just yet. Everything in my life up until this afternoon was pretty monotonous, I promise you. I'm not sex fiend, I'm not a cheater -- well... I wasn't a cheater, I..." His voice trailed off. "The only explanation I can offer you right now is that I saw you and I just needed to know you. When I came here I didn't assume that this was going to happen, but I can't say I didn't hope." The girl eyed him suspiciously. Finally after a long moment her hands lowered. Perhaps it was only an inch, but he noticed and it was enough. "I'm Vee. Just Vee." -------------------- Josh left a few moments later. His smile of relief as he walked out of her bedroom didn't go unnoticed. She wondered at his agenda. Sure, he said he was a nine-to-five Pottery Barn type of guy who didn't go picking up strange girls under his doting little something's back... and somehow she believed him. He was too clumsy to be a pro, and Vee knew pros. She eyed the phone number he left on her nightstand. At least he didn't write it on the back of a business card... or a twenty... His parting words echoed in her mind. "I'm leaving this in your hands. Call me, day or night. I have to see you again." Vee tossed the scrap of paper in the trashcan by her desk. She got as far as her kitchen before walking back against her better judgment and pulling it back out again. What are you doing? Are you insane?! Get rid of it! You don't think you're really going to call him are you? What good could come of that? Vee's heart pounded at the thought. Her pussy still hummed with the memory of their meeting. Faintly, she heard her front door opening. She turned toward the sound just as Josh purposefully walked over to the very spot where she stood, still naked except for the shocked expression on her face. "God help me, I couldn't wait." He lifted her up in his arms and though every thought in her normally cluttered brain found the clarity to shriek no, Vee's eyes screwed tight as she surrendered to his crushing kiss. "I got-" Josh started as he took her into her shower, "-as far as..." He pushed her up against the cold tile wall in between kisses as he pulled off his red necktie. "...the car, and then I realized that I couldn't wait. The thought that maybe you might never call me, that I might never see you again—"Vee grabbed him by his belt as a jet of frigid water rained down on them causing both to gasp. "I couldn't risk that. I couldn't risk leaving here not knowing if you were convinced. Not knowing if you felt the same way I do." Vee looked up into his eyes and then down to his soaked pants. "I do." -------------------- This was fuel to Josh's lust crazed fire. He wove his fingers into her wet locks and pulled her toward him hard. He plundered her mouth with devastating kisses as tiny hands fished for the zipper on his ruined trousers in the warming waters. Within seconds he was freed. Vee sank down to her knees and with one desperate motion he was inside her heavenly mouth. It took everything in him to keep upright. Her moans sent waves of pleasure straight to his brain and back. The feel of the now scalding water down his back and the efforts of the fallen angel at his feet were almost too much. If it wasn't for the orgasm they shared less than an hour before, he might have blown it right then and there down her tiny throat. There are worse fates... Josh gently urged her to her feet. He turned her back to his chest and proceeded to pepper her neck with soft kisses as his hands worked their way to her hard nipples. The streams of water rolling down their bodies made her skin feel like liquid silk under his fingertips. He savored every little moan like notes played on a treasured instrument. He let one hand wander down to the apex of her thighs, stopping only when they found her clit, anxious for attention. Vee's arms had since worked their way up his neck and into his hair, pulling and releasing in rhythm with his efforts. He slid a digit carefully up her snatch just as her free hand wrapped itself around his neglected member. He crushed his lips against hers; pawing at any inch of skin he could touch without breaking away from their kiss. She lifted one leg high around his waist and placed his hand under her knee for support. He managed to pull himself away from her reddening lips just long enough to see her snake a dainty hand down between them and onto his pulsing member. He watched in awe as she positioned his purple head at the entrance of her glistening slit, parted slightly from the angle. Josh shut his eyes tight then, wanting to savor the sensation of her maddeningly tight pussy enveloping him. He was not disappointed. They fumbled in this position for what seemed like ages, trying to find a rhythm, but her smallness of frame and his height did nothing to help them in the slick bathtub. Finally, he hoisted her up with him inside her still, both her legs now around him. He tore down the shower curtain of the rail, shooting metal rings in different directions. Lacking the patience to clear a space on the floor of the mess he'd made exiting the tub, he lifted her off of him, and pushed her face first against the sink. The shower still ran, and with the shower curtain now a thing of the past, the steam continued to fill the cramped bathroom. Josh spat into his hand, conscious that the water might have washed some of her natural lubricant away in all of the confusion. He rubbed her spread pussy and quickly realized it hadn't been an issue. His eyes glazed as he slipped his forefinger up her sopping cunt. Both Vee and his cock were growing impatient with their separation. She bucked back against him, reminding him to focus. Not wasting any more precious time, he slammed his aching tool inside her, eliciting a pained mewl from her cherry lips. -------------------- One hand clutched the counter, keeping as much pressure off her pelvis as she could. The other steadied itself against her fogged mirror, providing the backward momentum she needed to keep up with Josh's rhythmic, forceful strokes. Every now and then she'd look backward at him, his eyes screwed tight as he pulled her hips against him. With every thrust it seemed like it was all he could do not to savage her. Finally, when she'd drank in all that she could of his struggle, she whispered, "Just let go..." Josh opened his eyes then. All motion ceased. "Are you sure?" She nodded. "I don't want to hurt you..." Vee laid her head down on the countertop, closing her eyes. "Please, Josh... fuck me like I know you want to..." -------------------- "Please... Josh...... I need it hard... fuck me hard Josh, I can take it... push me over the edge baby, I know you can...." Josh couldn't believe what he was hearing. The words coming out of this angelic mouth literally made him drunk. "Fuck me hard baby.... I need you so badly...." He kissed her back tenderly for a moment and grabbed her hips, pulling all the way out and slamming into her as hard as he could. His wanton angel shrieked and howled with every plunge. His balls slapped against her ass as he plowed his painfully hard dick into her impossibly wet, impossibly tight snatch. Suddenly he felt her entire body tense and shudder, her thighs literally convulsing with the strain of staying upright and the sheer force of her apparent orgasm. Finally, the combination of her loud culmination and the actual feel of her pussy squeezing around his cock in pleasure were too much and shot after shot of cum filled her trembling belly. -------------------- Josh languished in the soapy tub, admiring the mess around them. He admired the porcelain doll whose head was just now resting on his chest. His fingertips drew little figure eights on her hypersensitive clit just for the tiny sounds they made in her. He could hear his cell phone ringing in the other room. It would only be the first of many calls. Vee lifted her face up to his for a chaste little kiss. He smiled as they parted, taking a red lacquered, raisined fingertip to his lips. Let them call. -------------------- At First Sight Ch. 02 Knoxville, Tennessee Emma Walker had just clocked out at the little tanning salon in the Turkey Creek shopping center where she worked. "Bye, ladies!" she called from the door and her boss, Nancy, along with her relief, Katie, waved back. "Be careful!" Nancy called from beneath a pile of lotions to be put on display. "I can't believe you forgot your coat today! It's freezing out there!" "I'm always careful! And, I'll be fine; I'll just run the heat in the car, duh," Emma answered, rolling her eyes at Nancy's overly concerned voice, and pushed the glass door open with her backside, as she had her hands full with a giant soda and to-go box left over from her lunch hour. She sighed. It was her vacation week, starting that minute, and she was looking forward to a week of lying around her apartment eating potato chips, shopping, and yes, reading trashy romance novels. She couldn't wait. Making her way to her little blue Mustang convertible, Emma felt a powerful gust of December wind hit her, blowing her curls into her face. Must be about to storm, she thought, recalling how the forecast had called for snow, and hurried to the car. As she opened the door and got in, she could have sworn she felt someone watching her, but shrugged it off and switched on her CD player to distract herself. The sounds of Ray LaMontagne filled her car, and she relaxed a bit. That man's voice could smooth a silk dress that had been left in a suitcase for three weeks. When she reached her apartment, she fumbled with the key as she balanced both the soda and to-go box in one hand and opened the door with the other. Once she was inside, she closed and locked the door, and prepared to begin her evening rituals of changing into the most comfortable pajama pants and ragged old t-shirt she owned, and feeding her cat Stanley. Before she could even get her cardigan off, however, there was a knock at her door. Without thinking to check the peephole, she opened it to see the most massive, hulking man she'd ever laid eyes on in her life. The second thing she noticed about him was that his ashen skin was nearly gray, he was so pale. He just stood there, his expression unreadable, until she asked, "Can I help you?" He locked eyes with her for an instant before turning his gaze to the ground, stuttered a nearly incoherent apology in the deepest baritone she'd ever heard, and turned around to leave. It was then she saw that he was barefoot. "Oh, my God! Sir, come back! You don't even have any shoes on! You'll freeze out there." He turned around and looked at her in amazement. She stepped across the threshold of her door and took him by the elbow. He allowed her to guide him inside. "Sit down. Your skin is ice cold. Are you hungry? How about some coffee? Or, I could heat you up my leftovers from O'Charley's. It's just from earlier today. That's what I'll do. You just stay right there, sir. What's your name?" she asked the last question as she walked through the doorway to the kitchen, her heels clacking across the tile. 6850 didn't know what to say in answer to her question; he had no name. He thought it best to just remain silent. She was right, though—it was freezing out there. He'd never been so cold in his life. But, when she'd touched him...He was on fire. She, perfect little human that she was, had deigned to touch him, a filthy demon. 6850 sat there in stunned silence as she came back into the room with a white plate of what looked to be chicken with some sort of potato and a yellowish sauce. "Here you go," Emma said, handing him the microwaved chicken fingers and fries. "It's just chicken and fries, but it's something, you know?" 6850 took the plate from her and gingerly picked up a piece of the chicken and sniffed it. It smelled delicious. Within a couple of minutes, he'd eaten all of it. "Wow, um, you must've been hungry." Emma took the now empty Styrofoam plate from him and tossed it in her kitchen trash can. The poor man must have been starving. She came back with a glass of milk. "Look," she said, handing him the milk, which he downed in one gulp, "Where do you live? Do you own any shoes at all?" 6850 didn't know what to say, so he simply didn't say anything. He hadn't planned this far ahead. Hadn't counted on his mate being as caring, innocent, and sweet as she was. To want to help him, a complete stranger. He stood, preparing to leave. He needed more time to adjust, to get used to the idea of having her in his life. "Thank you very much for the...chicken and fries. I'll go now. I shouldn't have bothered you...I'm sorry." He moved toward the door. Emma sighed. There was no way she could let this guy just wander away into the snow, barefoot and hungry, his clothes in tatters. Hopefully, he wasn't a serial killer. "Well, if you don't have anywhere to stay, then you can stay here for the night. It's supposed to snow. You look like you'd like a warm bath and a hot meal—a real one. Does that sound okay? My name is Emma. What's yours?" She realized with embarrassment that her tone suggested she thought he was mentally damaged, or perhaps traumatized. Which, she did, but she didn't want him knowing that. "I don't have a name," he said. "But, a bath sounds wonderful." Emma smiled, hiding her confusion. O-kay. No name. His voice was so deep, though, like she would imagine Frankenstein to sound. Thinking of the movie monster made her wonder why his skin was the pale, ashen color that it was. Some kind of skin condition? Either way, she was going to get him some real clothes to put back on before she let him use her bath. "Well, first we should go get you some shoes and clothes, okay? So that you have something to wear when you're all clean. I'm afraid I don't have anything lying around that would even almost fit you—we'll have to go out. Is that okay? Are you okay with riding in a car with me?" Was he okay with it? He was thrilled. But, all he could manage was a silent nod as she led him out the door and into her car, which was apparently what her machine was called. It was much smaller inside than he would have imagined, though, and he was extremely cramped. Emma had to stifle a giggle at the sight of the huge man trying to arrange himself so that there was room for his legs in the Mustang. "Here," she said, and pulled a lever on the side of the seat to make it slide back. Even so, there was only just enough room for his massive form. "Thank you," he said to his lap. I'm so stupid, he thought. I should have known to do that. She thinks I am a freak. And, why shouldn't she? I am. Sitting so close to her in the car, he caught her scent and it made him instantly hard, aching for her. She smelled like...Emma. Like spices and something else he couldn't place. He loved it. He loved her already. It was all he could do to just stare at his lap and hope that the evidence of his desire remained concealed. "No problem," she said, smiling at him as she pulled out and made her way to a store in town that specialized in men's big and tall sizes. ### An hour and about seventy dollars later, Emma had shoes on the man's feet and a sack of clothes in the backseat as they made their way back to her apartment. She drew a bath for him and lay out a towel, a pair of jeans, boxers, and a t-shirt in her bathroom and left him to it while she started dinner. She couldn't count the times he'd said "thank you" to her. He didn't say much other than that. But, he seemed like a genuinely sweet person, and she could never have lived with herself had she left him out in the cold. When they were shopping, she'd asked him several times what he thought of this piece of clothing or that, and his answer was never more than a nod. A man of few words, she thought. He's really not bad looking. She thought about his short, dark hair and equally dark, fathomless eyes that always seemed to be looking into her soul. He had a nose that was slightly crooked in spots—it had clearly been broken several times. His jaw was squared and strong, and his mouth was just full enough to look kissable, in spite of the hard line it was almost always pressed into. He wasn't jaw-droppingly handsome by anyone's standards, but...he had a way about him that was incredibly endearing. As she poured oil into the frying pan, she found herself lost in thoughts of him. Of his hard, muscled arms around her, holding her, caressing her... He seemed so gentle, despite his hulking body. It was clear that he was capable of doing major damage to anyone stupid enough to get in his way, but it was hard for her to imagine him as anything but the soft-spoken, introverted man she had interacted with. His biceps told a different story, however. I wonder if he's been to prison...nah, no tattoos. Emma stirred in the beef and focused on dinner. 6850 sat in the large bathtub down the hall from where Emma was cooking a meal for him. He couldn't believe how generous and accepting she was. Surely, if I work hard and please her, she will accept me, he thought. His mind was racing with the possibilities and fantasies of having her—in the tub, on her couch, on the inviting canopy bed he'd glimpsed through an open door in the hallway. He imagined her small, perfect hands all over him as they lay across that bed and he held her close. He would be gentle and slow, savoring her. He would kiss and taste every inch of her perfect curves. He could just imagine how sweet she would taste. Imagine how soft those full, pink lips would be when he kissed her. Just thinking about it made him instantly hard and aching. "Emma," he whispered. "If I strive to be as good as she is, then perhaps she could love me." 6850 instantly hated himself for that thought. Of course she couldn't love him. He was a monster. A freakishly ugly demon, and she was a beautiful, delicate, little human. How could she ever love him? It doesn't mean I can't try, he argued with himself. If I show her that I could protect her, then perhaps she would accept me. He resolved to try his very best to please her as he cleaned his hair with the soap she had given him. Once he was done, he stepped out of the tub and pulled the plug to let the water drain like she'd showed him to do. He felt considerably better as he donned his new clothes. Clothes that had never been worn by anyone but him. Human clothes. Emma had taken his old ones to wash them. Looking into her mirror, he saw his reflection for the first time in years. He could not imagine Emma next to him. He was simply too big, too bumbling, too awkward, to be her mate. No, do not think like that, he reassured himself. 6850 shook his head and pushed those thoughts aside. Taking a deep breath, he exited the bathroom, his hair still damp, and his nose filled with the most delicious scent of food he'd ever encountered. Following the smell into the kitchen, he saw Emma, still wearing her pretty black dress, only now she was barefoot and minus the cardigan. She swayed to a slow, steady song coming from a little box next to the stove and hummed along as she stirred a skillet full of delicious vegetables and beef. "...I could hold you forever," she sang. "When you kiss my lips with my mouth so full of questions, it's my worried mind that you quiet. Place your hands on my face, close my eyes and say that love is a poor man's food. Don't prophesize." 6850 stood there, watching her intently. He wanted her so badly. He wanted to take her gently, lovingly, and make her happy. But, he knew better. Emma had just turned to feed Stanley the Cat a piece of beef when she saw the man standing in the doorway, looking awkward and out of place. "Oh!" she exclaimed, holding her hand to her heart. "You scared the life out of me...um, look, we are gonna have to settle on a name for you. You really don't have one?" She grinned at him and stirred the food in the skillet again. "I've never had a name." His dark eyes were deeper than any she'd ever looked into before as he crossed the room and stood before her. His eyes were directed at something slightly below her face. She couldn't tell if it was her chest or dinner. He inhaled deeply. Emma felt as if, logically, she should be wary of this man, but...she couldn't be. She couldn't imagine this giant ever being anything other than gentle with her. But, he was so huge... "How about Goliath? Since you're such a giant," she asked, smiling up at him. "Do you like that name?" Goliath... It seemed to fit. Reality sunk in—his mate had given him a name. Goliath—for that was his name now—was overcome with emotion that he nearly failed to hide. He was proud, so proud, of his sweet mate that she would be so caring as to name him. "I like it," he said, his voice only slightly rough with emotion. He hoped she wouldn't notice that he was overcome with shock and gratitude. A name. He had a name. He was Goliath. He was her Goliath. She had given him a name. "Okay, then, Goliath. Open up that cabinet in front of your face and take down two bowls, please. We are having beef stir-fry for dinner." They ate peacefully on the couch next to each other, Emma chattering away about her life, asking questions that Goliath rarely had answers for. Eventually, she turned on a box in the center of the room that she called a "television" and they watched a play called "Sense and Sensibility" which revolved around the lives of two sisters who were looking for their mates as well. Goliath thought it incredibly boring and would have much preferred to watch Romeo and Juliet, as he had no idea what was going on most of the time, but he liked watching Emma watch it. She truly seemed to enjoy it, and would speak to the screen, although it was obvious that they couldn't hear her, saying things like, "Oh, but Marianne, he doesn't love you!" and then turning to Goliath with, "She is so stupid! Can't she see that the Colonel loves her?" However, by the time the play was over, Emma was fast asleep, lying against the pillows of the couch at an awkward angle. Goliath was overcome by a sense of possessiveness for her, and before he could stop himself, gently picked her up and laid her across his own body until her head was settled against his shoulder and their legs were intertwined, stretched across the couch together. Goliath looked down at their feet. Her pretty, slightly tanned feet were dwarfed by his huge, ashen ones, not to mention they were about a foot away from his—she was so much smaller than him. Her toenails were painted a deep, glittery blue. How he wanted to kiss them. Then, he would kiss her ankles, her pretty little legs. Her sweet, flaring hips. Her tiny waist. Her breasts—oh, God, he would kiss those perfect breasts—rose and fell with every deep, even breath Emma took as she slept. Pulling a quilt that was tossed over the back of the couch over them, he settled in for a night of sweet torture as Emma bent her leg at the knee as she slept, rubbing against his aching cock. Goliath sighed. It would be a long night. Emma came awake to the feel of strong arms around her, but not the arms that she was expecting to feel. These were lean, sinewy, and held her tightly. Opening her eyes in shock, she looked up at the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. He had fiery red hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail at the base of his neck, perfect, creamy skin, and blue eyes that were so...peaceful. He was extremely tall and deceptively slender. Emma could feel the corded muscle and sinew in his arms. He stared into her eyes and smiled at her, and then his face grew serious as he glanced back at a sleeping Goliath on the couch next to them. Her mind still foggy from sleep, Emma started in his arms, attempting to get back to Goliath. He would protect her, if only she could get back into his arms. The red-haired man shook his head at her slightly and carried her toward the door. Emma took a deep breath to scream for Goliath, but the man put a hand over her mouth. "Buddy, if you think that's going to stop me, you've got another thing coming," Emma thought. She screamed for all she was worth. "GOLIATH! GOLIATH, HELP!" Goliath's eyes shot open, and he immediately took in the sight of Emma being carried away by a tall, red-haired man. An angel. Not just any angel, either, but one of the Seraphim. He bore the mark on his left temple, a birthmark in the shape of a star. "Seraph," he said, his voice gravelly from sleep and thick with anger. "Let her go." Ethan closed his eyes as the mammoth demon—apparently named Goliath—approached them with a murderous look, and envisioned a small, empty home deep in the Appalachian Mountains that he sometimes escaped to. He and Emma were instantly there, minus the behemoth. Ethan had been surprised to find his mate sleeping soundly in the arms of the brute, as if nothing were amiss about a demon being inside her home at all. No matter, he thought. She is safe with me, now. His tiny home in the mountains was little more than a cabin, with a living room (which doubled as a bedroom, with a couch that pulled out into a mattress), kitchen, and bathroom. There was also a fireplace, working electricity, and running water. Not to mention a heartily stocked pantry. Ethan sat Emma, who was shaking uncontrollably, in a large armchair while he pulled the bed out, covered it with flannel sheets and laid out several pillows for her. "Come here, darling," he said, opening his arms to her. She stared at him in horror. "W-who are you?" "Come to me, my darling girl, and I will tell you everything," Ethan replied, and lifted her out of the chair. She noticed that he had a light, crisp accent that reminded her of an Englishman, but was just a bit off. As he carried her to the bed, he rubbed his nose against hers. "You are much more beautiful than I ever could have hoped, do you know that?" He smiled at her with what seemed like genuine happiness. "What are you?" Emma was terrified. One moment they'd been in her apartment, and the next they were in this cabin, and she was freezing. She was barefoot, wearing a sleeveless dress with no coat. And there was a snowstorm outside. "I'm c-cold." Ethan frowned. "Of course," he said, and fluttered his hand at the fireplace several feet in front of them. A fire was instantly blazing there. "You asked what I am," he continued as he sat down next to her on the bed, lifted her left foot into his lap, and began rubbing it. "I am an angel. Part of the class of Seraphim warriors, specifically. And, your friend"—he said the word delicately—"is a demon. A nameless, mindless, killing machine from the Horde of demons in the lowest level of Hell. We have both been mated to you by the Seer, who is an authority of Fate in our world, and are now competing for your affections." He switched feet. "I've taken you away from the barbarian in order to let you know what is happening. He most certainly would not have. Oh, and my name is Ethan." Emma sat there, letting everything he'd said sink in. She wanted to laugh, deny it, call him crazy. But, there was the fact that she was God-knows-where, letting some guy who could conjure fire at will massage her feet. She cast him a dubious look. Ethan smiled back at her, delighted at how well she was taking everything. She was strong-willed. And lovely. She was so lovely. Her cheeks were flushed, and her dress had ridden up her thighs to reveal sweet, soft skin the color of coffee with too much cream in it. He itched to run his hand up her perfect little leg to touch those thighs. But, no. He pushed those thoughts away, to save for a time when he knew that they would complete the mating ritual. That was the time to be enchanted by her physical appearance. Not now. He shifted his gaze (with a surprising amount of effort) to her face and, while that was no less beautiful, he noticed it had a look of supreme doubt on it. "Don't you believe me?" he asked. At First Sight Ch. 02 Emma snorted and rolled her eyes with more confidence than she felt. "Well, let's see. You're an angel? A real, honest-to-God, angel? And Goliath, the poor, freezing man I found this evening about to die of hypothermia is a demon? From the fiery pit? You can see how hard that would be to believe." "I see," Ethan said. After a moment, he stood up and removed the jacket of his suit very deliberately, never taking his eyes from Emma's. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he thought about how easily he could get lost in those eyes. Pure, perfect emeralds appraising his bared chest. But, that wasn't what he wanted to show her. He unfolded his wings from the slits in the sensitive skin of his back and reached out to her, bringing her up to her feet before him. As she stood there, eyes wide in wonder with her hands on his chest, he wrapped his great white wings around the both of them, holding her close to him. "Do you believe now?" he asked softly. She nodded wordlessly, her large, green eyes wide in astonishment. She looked around her at the feathered wings. Hesitantly, she lifted her hand. "Can...Can I touch them?" she asked. At his nod, she gingerly ran her fingers across a few of the feathers to the right of her. Ethan hissed and closed his eyes, his breath quickening. She jerked her hand away in fear. "Did I hurt you?" Color crept into Ethan's face. "No, you didn't. I'm sorry about that; I shouldn't have let you touch them like that...with your pretty little..." Ethan coughed. "I mean, my wings and the slits on my back that house them are both very sensitive, full of nerves, and so they...are considered erogenous zones." The last bit of his sentence was murmured shyly as Ethan's face flamed. "I truly do apologize. It won't happen again. Not unless you've chosen me, and we are completing the mating ritual." He couldn't believe he'd let her do that. His body had acted of its own accord when he'd nodded his consent that she touch his wings. Her perfect fingers splayed against the soft feathers...he shivered at the memory of her touch and how good it felt. He'd never felt pleasure like that. Ever. "Oh!" Emma said, pulling Ethan from his reverie. "I'm sorry; I didn't know...What do you mean, if I choose you?" Her dainty eyebrows pulled together in a frown; her full lips turned downward. "Well," Ethan began, "you must choose one of us to complete the mating ritual with. Whomever you choose will be joined with you, and will be obligated to protect you and provide for you, but will also have the benefits of...other things. It's like marriage, only much more traditional. And bonding. There is no such thing as divorce when it comes to mating. Ultimately, it is your choice as to which of the two of us you would rather spend eternity with. Please, choose me." The last sentence escaped him in a whisper. The Pull was much stronger now, and he could barely contain himself from touching her sweet, perfect little body. The way she swayed her hips as she walked back to the bed and sat down made him want to fall to his knees at her feet, babbling his devotion like an idiot. How had the demon withstood sleeping with her in his arms like that? Unless... "Emma, I am going to ask you a question, and you must answer me honestly. Do you understand?" Ethan's panic was growing more intense. "I understand," Emma answered, wary of what he might ask. "Have you made love with the demon? Has he hurt you? Touched you?" Ethan's voice cracked with anger. He would kill that worthless monster if it was the last thing he ever did. Emma frowned. "No," she said. "I've never...done any of that with anyone." It was her turn to blush. Joy blossomed in Ethan's chest. She was a virgin. She'd never been touched. She was completely his to enjoy and love. Smiling, he cupped her face in his hand and leaned toward her to kiss her cheek. Emma didn't know what to do about her situation. As she sat reflecting on what Ethan had said, she felt the caress of his hand on her cheek. An angel is touching me, she thought suddenly in amazement. She glanced up at his touch, and in doing so accidentally diverted his kiss to her lips. His lips were soft and hard at the same time, and he stilled instantly. She inhaled his scent; he smelled masculine, crisp and clean. Like fresh air. Emma's stomach tightened. She wanted him to touch her, and she had no idea why. It was like...some sort of magnetic pull to him. Meanwhile, he'd become so still, she couldn't tell if he was breathing. She moved her lips against his to ask him if he was alright. Standing there with his lips on hers, bracing himself with his hands on the bed on either side of her, Ethan was frozen with pleasure. He was also afraid to move, afraid of what he might do. He knew that any sort of contact like this prior to the mating ritual was frowned upon, but he simply couldn't control himself in her presence. It was meant to be a chaste kiss. But, her heat and scent crept over him, into his soul. She smelled of vanilla and cinnamon. Ethan was just about to stand up again when her lips moved against his. His control snapped and he kissed her thoroughly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to taste her. He shuddered with pleasure as her tongue danced with his, loving the heat of her mouth and the feel of her soft curls in his hands. He kissed his way down her neck, nuzzling her collarbone as he knelt before her in front of the bed, his lips never leaving her. Emma leaned up, away from his mouth, and he gave a short cry of indignation at their separation. She tried to catch her breath, and the thought kept repeating in her mind that she'd just kissed an angel. Her brain simply could not wrap itself around the fact that he was a real, by-the-book angel. She looked back down at him. His wings were still poised behind him, and he was looking up at her with a flushed face full of heated desire, his breathing ragged. Ethan was all but gasping now. Their nearness and their kiss had intensified The Pull even more. He moved his hands up her silky legs to her thighs and kissed them, nuzzling her sweet skin. "Look, Ethan, aren't you supposed to be an angel? Aren't angels supposed to be...virtuous?" Emma frowned. Was he trying to perform the mating ritual? Most importantly, why was she so ready to let him do exactly what he wanted? Her own breathing had quickened, and she was running her hands through his hair, disheveling it. Fiery strands of silk fell into his eyes as he looked up at her, wicked desire in them. "It's The Pull," he gasped, kissing higher up on her thigh, jerking the material of her dress out of his way. "It—it's a force that pulls me to you and you to me. It's far more intense for me than for you or the demon, however, because I am an angel. A holy warrior." There was a pause as Ethan tried to regain control. Failed. "It gets stronger the more time we spend together and, honestly, I can't imagine it being much stronger because I already want to bend you over and fuck you mindless, you sweet little"—He snapped his mouth shut. What had he just said? He obviously needed a moment. Emma gasped. Since when did angels talk like that? And, why did it turn her on so much? It was most definitely The Pull that he'd been talking about. She could feel his soul pulling her closer, and she loved it. Or, rather, her body did. She ran her hands through his hair again and leaned down to touch his wings like she had before. He moaned, a sound that expressed every ounce of frustration, desire, and pleasure he felt in that instant. He'd been prepared to remove himself from the situation, but once again, she'd done something to completely break his control. She continued to caress his left wing, running her fingers against the lay of his feathers in the most erotic way. Waves of pleasure washed over him, and when she reached the slit of skin on his back, she probed gently inside. He gasped. "Ah...oh, God, yes, that's it, sweet Emma..." he moaned, shuddering and writhing under her touch. "Oh, Emma, please...Please, I'll do anything," he begged, still kneeling at her feet, now hunched over in a bowing position to give her better access. He had no idea what he was begging for, only that he wished with his whole soul that she would give it to him. As Emma stroked Ethan's back and leaned forward to kiss him, she closed her eyes. It was then she realized that her passion was misplaced. It wasn't Ethan's face she saw in her mind; it was Goliath's. His sweet, dark eyes and the awkward smile that so rarely graced his lips. I've got to get a hold of myself. This Pull thing is taking over my mind. "We need to stop," she said to Ethan, leaning away as he reached for her once more. Ethan frowned, his mind clearing somewhat now that he didn't have soft, sweet hands on him any longer. "You're absolutely right," he replied, his voice shaky. "We...we do. I'm very, very sorry about all of this. I need to leave you for awhile...will you be alright? There's food in the refrigerator and the television works. Order anything you want from the Pay-Per-View. I'll be back shortly, darling." He spoke in a rush, his face heated with embarrassment. "I'll be fine," Emma said, somewhat relieved to have the reprieve, time alone to think about everything. At her words, Ethan touched her face softly, reverently. He looked straight into her eyes. "I trust you, darling. I trust you to make the right decision," he said, and vanished. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Emma wondered. He trusted her to make the right decision? He meant he trusted her to choose him instead of Goliath. Well, Goliath wasn't a horn dog angel who brought her to remote locations and tried to mind-boggle her into having sex. I thought angels were supposed to be good, safe things. Not...whatever he is. Goliath would never have done that...except, what exactly had Ethan done? He'd seemed ready to be her love-slave, and bowed in front of her feet, that's all. Nothing that she could really complain about. She couldn't imagine Goliath doing that, but she couldn't imagine Ethan protecting her from anything the way Goliath could, either. Ethan was beautiful, yes, but Goliath was...respectful and powerful, interesting and intimidating. Funny, she'd only known the man for a day, and she was already pining for him. She felt like an idiot for feeling this way about him. There was just something about him...something that drew her. "Goliath, I wish you were here," Emma said to the fire. Sighing, she walked into the kitchen and looked in the fridge. Sure enough, there were all sorts of snacky things: strawberries, wine, cheese, etc., but she didn't know if she trusted Ethan enough to eat them. She walked to the front door and opened it, only to be greeted with a gust of snowy wind to her face. She quickly slammed it shut again. "Well, I guess running away is out," she said, and glumly turned to go back to the kitchen. "I can take you away, Emma," she heard a deep voice say from the living room. Goliath! She ran back through the kitchen and, sure enough, there he was dressed in the clothes she'd bought for him. She kept running, straight into him, and wrapped her arms around him in joy. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he held her to his chest, cradling her to him and kissing the top of her head. "Goliath! How did you know where to find me? I'm so glad you're here! You can take me back home, can't you?" she said in a breathless rush, her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. She looked up at him, at his dark eyes and the gentle look on his face, and remembered what Ethan had said. "...Ethan said you were a demon." When Emma rushed to him for comfort, Goliath's heart had soared. His mate missed him. Wanted him. Then, when she told him what the Seraph scum had said to her, it fell into his stomach. She knew. Knew what he was. Why, then, was she still in his arms, holding him? Why was she nuzzling his chest like that, her soft chestnut curls attempting to drive him mad as they teased the skin of his neck? He looked down at her sweet face. She was expectant, wanted an explanation. The least he could do was be honest. He just hoped that he was still as worthy in her eyes when it was over. "He wasn't lying, sweetheart." #### Ethan took himself to the Heavens again, and began looking for Alecto. Alecto, the neurotic, ever-logical friend of his who had to have answers, or at least advice. He passed a couple of Cherubs—-tall, slinky angels whose thin, silvery wings bobbed behind them as they walked—-who ogled him openly. "Have you seen Alecto, the Messenger?" he asked, but they just giggled and continued on their way. Cherubs, he thought. Insipid little creatures. Ethan was secretly glad that he'd been mated with a beautiful, curvy little human instead. The thought of spending eternity with a Cherub...he couldn't stand it. They were so fickle, shallow...they didn't value the things that he did. Intelligence. Morality. Loyalty. And, none of them had the breasts that Emma had. He wished that he'd touched them before, when they were both so lost in The Pull. Seeing the thin, slender frames of the Cherubs made him ache for his Emma's soft, flaring hips. As he approached the Messengers' Hall, he noticed Alecto sitting outside the doors, looking solemn, but much more put together than the last time Ethan had seen him. "Alecto!" he called, waving. "I have so much to tell you!" The Messenger's shining, pale head bobbed up and he grinned. "Have you brought her back with you, then? Are you mated? Is she beautiful? Does she look like a pretty little Cherub? Can I meet her?" His questions kept coming as he walked up to meet Ethan, so many that Ethan had to put his hand up to stop him. "No, I haven't. Not yet, I'm not. Yes, she's amazing. No, she looks nothing like them, and I suppose you will, in time." Ethan smiled. "Now, what I need to know from you is whether the Seer told you how I am to convince her to mate with me. I rescued her from the demon, which had apparently come into her home in the night and was holding her hostage as she slept, but she is safe now in my cabin on Earth. She's waiting on me to come back to her." Alecto smiled back, wrinkling his perfectly straight nose. "How can she be beautiful if she looks nothing like the Cherubs? Anyway, no, the Seer didn't tell me anything other than, 'Get out of here, you annoy me.' But, I think you should simply woo her. Bring her here and show her what a wonderful life she would have with you. Was she relieved to be rid of the demon?" Ethan frowned at the last question. "You know, she seemed to want to stay with him. She yelled for help. As if I was the one abducting her. The monster has probably cast some sort of spell over her. That's alright; the more time she spends with me, the less effect it will have over her. I will make her forget all about him." Alecto cleared his throat. "That reminds me, Ethan," he began. "Have you two, um..." He raised his thin blond eyebrows suggestively. Ethan blushed, much as he hated it. "No, we haven't!" he said irritably. Calming a bit, he added, "The Pull is strong, though. She...she touched my wings. And my back." "Really?" Alecto gasped. "What was it like? Did she...know?" "Of course she knew!" Ethan snapped, then sighed. "And, it was glorious. She must have known, from all the ridiculous moaning and begging I was doing. She probably thinks I'm some sort of...philanderer, or something. I tell you, Alecto, I wasn't myself. I blame The Pull. All I could think about was her body, and the fact that she was touching mine. It was amazing." Alecto was jealous of his friend, but pushed the emotion aside. His turn would come eventually, and he would have a mate of his own that would touch his wings. Until then, watching Ethan's happiness would have to do. "Well, then bring her here and lie with her in your true home. She would love to see your mansion, I'm sure." "I don't want to force too much on her too soon...But, I will bring her here. It's the safest place for her. I need to go back now, but I'll keep you updated, alright? Till then, my friend." With that, Ethan took himself back to the cabin, where he found the demon holding his darling Emma. #### "What do you mean, he wasn't lying? You're a demon? I don't believe that. I don't believe that you could be evil. You're too...good to me." Emma was shaking her head, still in his arms as they stood by the fireplace. Her eyes were filling with tears. She was afraid of him. Goliath felt like the lowest piece of dirt. He held her head gently to his chest. "I'll explain everything, Emma. Where is the Seraph?" Goliath struggled not to notice the way her hips felt against his stomach and focused on her safety. She frowned. "Ethan? He said he had to go away for a minute, but that he'd be right back. So, let's go home, Goliath." Emma was not about to let go of the man holding her. She felt safe again, and wanted the comfort of her home along with the comfort she felt in his arms. "Alright, honey." Goliath was about to will himself back to Emma's cabin when he heard someone crashing through the kitchen. "Demon! Put her down and face me, you worthless monster!" Ethan's face was filled with fury as he yelled at Goliath. He held out his hand and a fiery sword appeared in it. "I will take your head, and then I will take Emma back to the Heavens with me!" Goliath set Emma down, pushing her behind him. Without looking at her he said, "Emma. Stay out of the way. I don't want you to get hurt." Emma nodded, although he couldn't see her, and backed against the wall near the fireplace. To Ethan, he said, his deep, rough voice a deadly calm, "Seraph, I do not wish to kill you. Emma wants to belong to me. She ran to me for safety. Let us go in peace." Ethan's eyes widened. "You lie! She is mine. The Pull compelled her to me. She...I know she wants me. This discussion is over, and now you will die." He stalked over to Goliath, raised his sword and swiped at Goliath's neck. Goliath caught the flaming blade in his palm, twisting it hard and sending Ethan twirling across the room. He smacked into the wall and slid down it, onto the floor. Goliath was on him in two massive strides, holding him by the neck, but Ethan still had the sword in hand and plunged it into Goliath's shoulder. Goliath grunted at the pain, intense and searing, but pulled the sword out again and tossed it away. He slammed Ethan's head into the wall again and again, until the angel's eyes rolled back into his head, then dropped him. As soon as Ethan was released, he snapped to his feet and punched Goliath in the nose, breaking it. Blood poured over his mouth and onto his clothes. Eyes narrowing, Goliath growled, "Emma gave me this, and now you've ruined it." He grabbed Ethan by his ponytail and flung him across the room again, into the opposite wall. Shaking drywall out of his eyes, Ethan stood, his skin glowing a bright golden shade, and said in a voice layered with his Heavenly powers, "Demon! You try my patience!" He held his hands out and sent forward a gleaming manifestation of his powers that knocked Goliath into the wall behind him, his breath leaving him. Coughing, trying to fill his lungs with air again, Goliath stood on shaky legs and looked at Emma. She was shaking as well, staring at him with fear in her eyes. She expects me to protect her, he thought. I can't fail her. I won't. "Why don't you ask her, Seraph?" Goliath wheezed. "Ask her who she wants to leave with." At First Sight Ch. 02 Ethan's brows furrowed and he, too, looked at Emma. He saw how terrified she was, and rushed to comfort her. "Darling, I know how scared you must be," he said, brushing hair from Emma's eyes. "But, please, tell this demon scum that you want him to go so that the two of us can mate, and I can bring you home. You want to go home, don't you?" "Home?" Emma asked faintly, imagining in her shock the little apartment in Knoxville, and Stanley the cat, who was probably wondering where she was. She nodded. Goliath's heart sank for the second time. "Yes, darling, you want to go home to the Heavens, don't you?" Ethan cooed, smoothing her hair. Emma frowned. "No, I want to go home to...my home." Her voice became more firm. "I want Goliath to take me home." She walked over to the demon and reached to place her arms around his neck again. She was too short, however, and he had to pick her up. He kissed her forehead and whispered to her, "Everything will be alright, Emma. We're going home." Ethan stared after her, dumbfounded. "You...You want him? Do you even know anything about him? He is a killer, a mindless monstrosity. Please, think this over, Emma. Spend a week with him and then you can tell me whether I must completely lose hope or not. I won't give up on you that easily, but I can't keep you hostage." Through all of this, Emma just stared. He walked over to where the demon held her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll be waiting for you to summon me, my love. I don't ever want anyone but you." With that, he disappeared. Goliath didn't know what to say. The angel must truly have feelings for her, but that was no excuse to steal her from him. Emma had made her decision. She wanted him. She had willingly come to him and reached those beautiful arms out to him. "Let's go home, Emma." He willed them to her apartment, where he sat her down in the living room, onto the couch that she had been taken from. She got up, walked into her bedroom, and closed the door. Goliath sighed, and sat down on the couch. She was right to be angry with him. He'd allowed her to be taken by some psychotic angel, and now he didn't even know what to say to comfort her. He sat there for a few minutes, watching Stanley rub against his legs, until he remembered that he was covered in blood. He went to the bathroom and washed his face, then took off his shirt and put it into the basket that Emma had told him held the laundry. As he dried his face in front of the sink, he heard Emma call out to him. "Goliath? Where are you?" Her voice was slightly panicked. Goliath went out into the hallway and spotted Emma standing in the living room, holding Stanley. She was dressed in one of the tee shirts she had bought him—it hung off one shoulder, it was so oversized—and a pair of white cotton panties. That was it. No bra. No pants—he could see everything from her silky thighs down her pretty, sleek legs to the tips of her sparkly little toes. Her hair was rumpled and her makeup was gone. Before he could stop himself, he was walking toward her, determined to kiss that sweet, full mouth. Emma looked up from scratching behind Stanley's ears at the sound of movement down the hall and was relieved to see Goliath's calm face looking back at her. Then she noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt. She could see every thickly corded muscle in his chest and arms, and it made her stomach tighten and heat pool between her legs. The man didn't just have a six-pack—he had eight. He had on the jeans she'd bought him, and they hung low on his hips. As he got closer, she could also see the scars that marred his chest. Thick, light-colored welts all over him, as if he'd been beaten with a whip—a cat-of-nine-tails from the looks of it. Some of them reached around his shoulders to his back. "My God, Goliath, what happened to you? To your chest and back?" She whispered, letting Stanley hop to the floor and run off in search of food. She reached up to touch his chest, and when she ran her fingertips along his scars, he stilled her hand. "It was a long time ago." Goliath was hesitant, but he wanted Emma to know how important she was to him. How he loved her. He gently kissed each of her fingertips, slowly, one by one. "Does it hurt?" she asked, shaking from the sensations he was causing in her. This was nothing like being with Ethan. This was more than The Pull. While it was there, there was also the way he looked into her eyes. The way he made her feel. He cared about her. She knew it. And, she realized, she cared about him as well. "Not anymore. Are you hurt?" Although the fact that she was concerned touched him deeply, Goliath didn't want to think about his scars and ran his gaze over her instead. And noticed that, this close, he could see through the thin, white material of the shirt to her breasts. Sweet, perfect globes with taut pink nipples. Begging to be touched. Emma shook her head and leaned into him. "I'm fine. Let's go to sleep, okay?" Goliath scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom, pulling the blankets back and placing her snugly into her giant canopy bed. As much as he wanted to do other things—so many other things—he kissed her forehead and made to leave. "Aren't you staying? Please, stay," Emma's voice broke on the last word, and then she was crying and Goliath was beside her, holding her to his chest, stroking her hair. Emma felt so protected, lying in Goliath's arms. She'd never felt like this before, not with anyone. Looking up, she saw that he was staring at her in his quiet way, a gentle look on his face. He reached down and wiped away her tears. "It's alright," he said in his gruff voice. "I'm here now, and I won't let anyone take you ever again." Emma sighed, settled her arm around him, and felt something in his pocket. It felt like a book. "What is that?" she asked in surprise. "It's nothing," he said hurriedly, but she had already taken it out of his pocket. "Shakespeare's Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet," she read aloud in awe. "Have you read this?" She looked up at him and he looked sheepish, almost ashamed. "Many times," he said with a sigh. "It's the only thing I've ever had to read." Emma smiled. He liked classic literature. How...unexpected. "Which one is your favorite?" Goliath thought about it. He liked the romance of Romeo and Juliet, but he truly loved Prince Hamlet's story. It had action, mystery, and a hint of romance, although it was very tragic. He simply couldn't bring himself to like either Romeo or Juliet in the former play. "Hamlet," he said. "I like the prince's story." "I've always liked Romeo and Juliet, myself," Emma said. "Why isn't it your favorite?" "Romeo had false emotions," Goliath said simply. Emma was surprised by his assessment. "What? Why would you say that? He died for his love!" Goliath waved her claims away with a huge hand. "He was foolish. He was promised to another woman in the beginning of the play, one he supposedly loved as well. I believe he was far too young to know love, and was therefore a victim of his own youthful folly." Emma didn't know what to say to that. It was the most she had heard Goliath say since they had met, a full three sentences. "I hadn't thought of that," was all she could think to say. Goliath smiled. "Don't let my cynical views ruin your love story, Emma." "You haven't ruined it. I just see it from a different perspective now." Emma smiled back, and Goliath was struck by her beauty. She was everything he could have dreamed of if he'd been asked to imagine his perfect mate, and more. She hadn't ridiculed him for reading his plays. That meant more to him than she would ever know. "You are beautiful. I don't deserve you." Goliath put his hand on her face and leaned down to kiss her. He hovered above her lips for a moment. "May I kiss you?" Emma struggled to breathe. How could he make her so hot just by looking at her? She nodded, never taking her eyes off his. As he bent to kiss her, she inhaled his scent. He smelled like a campfire, smoke and pine. Like home. His lips brushed hers, lightly, gently, as if he were afraid of really kissing her. She wasn't having any of that, however, and met him halfway, pushing their mouths together. His lips were soft and hard at the same time, his warm breath on her mouth as they kissed. Moaning, she parted her lips and his tongue swept inside, burning her, possessing her. Her stomach tightened with need, and she ran her fingers through his short, dark hair. Goliath couldn't believe how she was responding to him. He was thrilled to his bones that she was kissing him back, but when she moaned, he lost all control. He thrust his tongue inside her sweet mouth, taking her and tasting her. He ran his hands up over her backside—clad only in those thin, white cotton panties, dear God—and up to her waist as he lifted her onto his lap. They sat up in the bed; he leaned against the headboard and draped her legs around his waist. She nibbled his bottom lip and a strangled moan escaped him. The sheer pleasure of having her in his lap, nearly naked, her sweet hips grinding into his erection was almost too much for him. "Oh, Emma, I don't want to hurt you," he whispered against her mouth. She merely tugged on his hair, causing him to moan a second time. Goliath kissed his way down Emma's soft, tender throat to her collarbone, which he nipped and licked tentatively until he worked up the nerve to reach underneath her shirt to cup her breast. When he ran his callused thumb over her hardened nipple, she moaned—a sweet, delicate sound that had Goliath ready to fall at her feet in reverence. Please, sweet Emma, he thought, I want to please you. She ran her hands over his chest, kissing his neck. When she bit his earlobe, he hissed and pushed her back onto the bed. "I like that," he said gruffly. Emma giggled. "Then, why did you stop me?" Goliath smiled at her, so grateful that he had a mate like Emma. "Because I have plans for you, little Emma." She gasped as he literally ripped the shirt off her and stared at her, lying there looking up at him. Her breasts were bared, the pink nipples taut and ready for his attention. Her tummy was flat, but not too flat—she had such perfect curves, and she was soft all over. Her silky thighs were slightly tanned, which was offset by the white of her cotton panties. He could see already that she was wet for him. "Magnificent," he whispered. Emma was struck by the way Goliath looked at her. Hungry, like he couldn't wait to devour her. She wanted him to. And then, she wanted to devour him. Every muscled inch of him. He leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth, working the other with his fingers, his other hand playing with the waistband of her panties. She moaned at the feeling, and he nuzzled her breast, whispering things in a language she couldn't understand. "Goliath," she breathed, "don't stop." He glanced up at her and saw the passion in her eyes. "I won't ever stop, sweetheart," he said, then realized he was speaking Daemonaak, the language of the Horde. He repeated it in English. Seeing her smile, he kissed his way down her belly to her panties, which he also ripped from her body. He parted her silky thighs, kissing them, and then kissed the part of her he'd been craving. "Goliath!" she all but screeched. "What are you doing?!?" Goliath frowned up at her. "I'm pleasing my mate, Emma. Have you never...?" She shook her head, and Goliath couldn't help but smile again. "Nothing? With no one?" She shook her head again, looking embarrassed. He climbed up her body, loving his woman even more than he had before. "Emma. I won't hurt you, but, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. Tell me," he said. "Tell me if it's alright." Emma looked into his eyes and saw some emotion shining there...love? Surely not. But, it was obvious that he cared for her. And, she wanted him so badly. Her mind and heart raced with her desire for him. "It's alright," she said, caressing his face. He nuzzled her hand for a moment, and then left her to kneel between her thighs again. She parted for him, and he gently licked her core, drawing lazy circles with his tongue. "Goliath," she whispered again, and he loved it. Loved the sound of his name on her lips. A name she'd given to him. He picked up his pace when she started to move her hips to meet his tongue, lapping at the little bud at her center. She cried out, her breath catching, and he felt her body tense. "Goliath! I'm..." she moaned into a pillow as her world flew apart beneath his ministrations. As she settled, Goliath held her in his arms, rocking her gently. "Emma, you look so beautiful when you...when you come." He said softly, kissing her temple. "I love you." He watched as Emma's big, green eyes looked back at him. He wanted her to feel the same way. "Goliath..." Emma started. But, he didn't want to hear her rejection. He wanted to pretend. Pretend that he was noble and good like the angel. That Emma would never be embarrassed by his bumbling, stupid ways. That he was handsome and desirable to her. "No...it's alright. Sleep, baby. I'll be right here." Emma sighed, too sleepy now to argue with him. Before she knew it, she was fast asleep in the arms of her demon protector. Goliath's eyes were sad as he watched her breathing become even, and only then did he allow the single tear to fall. At First Sight Ch. 03 Josh walked Madeline over to the Plexiglas bar. He yawned despite himself and shot a quick apprehensive glance at the back of his girlfriend's head. He'd really intended to show her a good time. He'd spent so much time in the office as of late. It was a natural consequence of rising in the ranks in his sales division and more dubiously to make up for the efficiency his job performance lacked since meeting that little wisp of a girl. Most of his time was spent imagining all of the ways he wanted to take her that they'd missed somehow that first day. He'd fixated pretty heavily on one particular fellatio fantasy, so much so that he started to spend most of his on-the-clock hours plotting out ways to hire her as his personal assistant... provided she even called him first. Allowing himself to be dragged dumbly to the glowing bartop, he tried to engage, he really did, but endless prattle about the banal friends she had talked him into seeing with her, knowing full well that once they actually joined this colorless group he'd only have to endure even more prattle about subjects he gave even less of a shit about... Josh resigned himself but then thought better of it. This was a night for Madeline. God knows he'd been elsewhere ever since that day -- that otherwise normal day of corporate productivity he gloriously and unapologetically murdered in the arms of that girl. Vee. It had been two weeks by then and she had yet to contact him. The only way he knew to get to her was through The Café, the site of their ill-conceived first meeting. Still, despite it all he couldn't bring himself to be truly penitent. Morally, he knew himself to be irredeemably in the wrong, but he rationalized that he'd never felt anything remotely nearing the thrill that came over him when they first made eye contact, much less when she first buried her nails in his neck as their lips absorbed each other in that shabby elevator. He'd spent almost every lunch break since that first sighting sitting in the first table by the door, hoping he'd catch her again, needing to speed coincidence along. It occurred to him that maybe it had never happened at all in the first place. It could very well be one of those things, more likely temporary insanity. Technically, he had no real evidence that she even existed. Nothing save the faint scratches he incurred during their tryst. It was highly possibly that an encounter as perfect as that was really too good to be true. It had also occurred to him in his lusty desperation that he knew of one other place he could find her, but then again laws didn't generally make exceptions for passion. In fact, there were a great many laws made with passion exclusively in mind. No, going back to her apartment was out of the question. Going stalker on her was probably not going to be the aphrodisiac he'd intend it to be. Certainly it would do nothing to improve their current standing. Josh mentally shook himself. Regrettably this wasn't the first time in the last two weeks that his thoughts had taken this sort of turn, but more notable than his daydream stalk-fest was the sheer absence of possibility in his consideration that his muse could very well be a lost cause. It wasn't his vanity that repressed this completely logical reality; rather it was his primal need to see her again. He needed to continue what they'd so explosively started. He could barely get through the day without losing himself in some fantasy of her naked body underneath his. "Jack?" "Josh." He corrected automatically, if not absently. "No, Jack. As in Daniels," followed a shrill and impatient voice over the din of bad techno music. Josh shook himself from his reverie and focused his wandering attentions on the barkeep demanding it. Immediately his eyes went wide with realization, mirroring perfectly the moment of epiphany on the lovely bartender's face. "Well baby, whaddya say? A little bit of old Jack? Come on let's! It'll be like college!" Madeline tugged at his shirt sleeve excitedly. "Uh... yeah... sure. And one for you too sweetie," he nodded towards their scantily clad server. She wore the same gray kilt and combat boots she had on that first day. He'd imagined her in it many times since. This time it was topped with a fishnet tank top and black bra. A welcome amendment. "The name's Vee... and don't mind if I do, sir." Josh smiled to himself as he watched her grab a metal topped bottle of Tennessee whiskey and pour two shot glasses of the amber liquid. She pulled out a larger rocks glass for herself and proceeded to pour about as much in the one glass as she had in the two before, combined. Possibly a third. Before they had a chance to toast, Vee had knocked hers back, her eyes glistening just a bit from the shock of straight Jack burning down her gullet. Josh and Madeline followed suit, albeit less abruptly. Both mitigated their own reactions to the whiskey in as dignified a manner as they could fake. Before he had the wherewithal to stifle his upchuck reflex, Vee was gone. No one behind the bar seemed to notice their absentee comrade or subsequently their would-be freebie. "That's strange. I guess that one's on the house." Madeline shrugged as she pulled him gently towards the direction of her friends. Josh allowed himself to be led but only after discreetly dropping some bills by their empty glasses. At First Sight Ch. 03 During the night, Emma became vaguely aware of a sensation at her thighs. Someone was stroking them. Someone with long, pianist's fingers. Someone who smelled like fresh air. Looking up, she saw Ethan's red hair glinting in the twilight as he drew invisible patterns on her hips and thighs. He was naked and, dear God, he was beautiful. Sinewy cords of muscle wound their way across his abdomen and back. He looked like a Greek god with his hair loose, hanging in his eyes, and his great, white wings poised behind him as he gazed down at her from where he knelt beside her. Dragging her eyes away from the angel at her side, she glanced around to see that she wasn't at home, after all. She was somewhere else, and it was beautiful. She lay on a small, mossy bank next to a silvery stream. There were willows and patches of night-blooming wildflowers surrounding her, curtaining her nakedness as she lay exposed to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but he smiled gently and shook his head. Emma swallowed. She knew that she should be panicked, or at least upset, but there was a thick fog in her mind that she couldn't get through. Ethan stretched out beside her, looking at her lovely body. He was in awe of her, of how perfectly delectable she was—and so innocent! She'd let that wretched creature tongue her without so much as a thought. He could do better than that. He could make her happier; he knew it. After he'd left the two of them, he'd watched their evening and seen how easily corrupted his sweet little mate was. In that moment, he'd decided that making love to her before the ritual would not be sinful. It would merely be an expression of his love. Something good and pure. "Emma, I know that you're a virgin. As am I. That is the way it should be," Ethan started, then took a deep breath. He could do this. Without making a fool of himself. "However, I've decided that I'd like to devote my body to you tonight. I love you. Let me...worship you." The last words were whispered reverently as he grazed his slender fingers over her tummy. Emma was shocked to her core. This was a different side of the angel that had taken her before. He was...hungry. His smoldering gaze and fiery touch made her gasp. "The Pull?" she squeaked out. Perhaps he'd simply given up trying to fight it. He gave her a sexy half grin. "Partly, I suppose. Mostly because you are mine, Emma. You're supposed to be mine. Like I said before," he leaned forward, lowering his voice to a mere whisper, "I want to bend you over and fuck you mindless, you sweet little slut." He chuckled as Emma gasped once again. What had gotten into him? "Did you like that, darling? Hmm? Do you like it when I say dirty things to you? Does it make you wet for me?" His fingers trailed down her tummy to her feminine core, where heat was pooling between her thighs. He dipped a finger inside and when he removed it, it was coated in her slippery wetness. She watched in awe as he touched it to his tongue and closed his eyes as he licked his finger clean. He groaned at the sweet taste of her, then leaned over and kissed her. Emma attempted to fight with the fogginess of her mind once more, but, to her surprise, found herself kissing him back. Their tongues danced and noses rubbed together as he smiled into her mouth. Ethan accidentally bumped into her face in his eagerness. Emma giggled and he laughed softly back at her. "I can't help it; you're so perfect," he whispered. Emma wasn't able to concentrate on anything more than the feeling of Ethan touching her, kissing her. She knew there was something...someone else she was worried about. Wasn't there? She was almost sure of it. Reluctantly, Ethan pulled away. He wanted her so badly. "Could you taste yourself on me, darling? You taste good—like honey," he said. "Let's make love." He was breathing heavier now at the thought of her tight little sheath. He'd always wondered how it would feel when he finally found his mate. Now, he was about to find out. Emma nodded and laid back, thinking that there would be pain her first time. She wondered if Ethan knew that. Fighting with her mind once more, she tried to remember what day it was... "No, baby, like this," Ethan said, leaning against a nearby willow tree. He pulled her to him and placed her in his lap, draping her legs on either side of his waist. She could feel his hard cock sliding against her wet sex. Unconsciously, she began to grind her hips against his erection. Both angel and human let out groans of ecstasy at the slippery friction. As she moved on him, she reached over his shoulder and fingered the joints of his wings. He made a stiff, whimpering noise. "Emma, that's so good. I've never...oh, God." "I know," Emma said, breathless and flushed. "I just feel like I need you to be inside me." "Yes," Ethan breathed, and lifted her hips to place his erection at the base of her core. He was shaking, nervous, and so ready for her perfect body to be wrapped around his that he felt his throat tighten with emotion. "Emma, I love you," he said, voice unsteady. "I wanted this to be perfect for you. It won't hurt, not at all. I swear it. Now, brace yourself with your arms and lower yourself onto me, my darling." Emma did as she was told. As she lowered her pussy onto Ethan's swollen cock, she realized that he was right; there was no pain. Just a perfect, full feeling. She closed her eyes and smiled, savoring it. Wasn't there somewhere she was supposed to be? No... Just here with Ethan. Ethan fisted his hands in the earth beneath them, groaning with pleasure. He looked heavenward and sighed heavily as she stilled. She was so tight, so wet... He was sure that he would lose control and empty himself into her at any moment. Miraculously, he was even able to hold on to his control as she began to move again, riding him slowly, pushing her clit into his pelvis. He lightly touched her nipples, her back, the underside of her breasts as he murmured words of praise. "Yes, darling, ride me," he said, gripping her hips and taking control of the speed. "Tell me you love me like I love you. Say my name. Oh, God...Say my name." Emma's mind was fighting a small war against itself as she opened her mouth. "Oh, Ethan," she breathed. "Yes, sweeting?" he looked down at her, love shining in his eyes. This was it. She was going to say it. "What is it, my love?" He smoothed her curls from her face as she rode him even harder, inching them both closer to climax. Emma's impending orgasm clouded her mind further, and her mouth took on a life of its own. "I love you, Ethan. Oh...I love you," she said, splintering apart as his hands rested on the small of her back. Tears streamed down Ethan's face as he heard the words that completed the mating ritual. ****** Emma woke to distant, booming laughter from the living room. She jolted awake in bed, momentarily panicked, then realized that it must be Goliath...laughing? How strange. She glanced at the clock. Eleven! Jeez, she'd slept late. Her head was thick with memories of a very erotic dream she'd had the night before, involving her angelic kidnapper. She couldn't help but feel guilty about it, as if she'd betrayed her mammoth demon protector, as she groggily got out of bed and, running a hand through her mussed curls, opened the door and peeked down the hallway. Sure enough, there was a giant demon on her couch with...a mixing bowl full of cereal. A mixing bowl. He was watching some sort of hidden camera show, in which people were being scared out of their minds by a man jumping out at them in a grocery store. His eyes crinkled with mirth as he sat with his legs out in front of him and the cereal on his lap, watching. Emma was struck by how domestic the scene was, and how much she liked it. Slowly, she walked into the living room. "Goliath? What are you watching?" she asked. His demeanor instantly changed. "Emma. I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I was hungry, and I just thought...I apologize. I'll turn it off, and put this away." He made to get up, and switched off the television. "Stop!" Emma cried, putting her hands on his massive shoulders. "It's fine! Really! I want you to feel at home here. I mean...we're mates, right?" she smiled, shrugging. Goliath's heart stopped as he sat back down. She wanted him to feel at home. Home. He felt a warmth flooding through him. Would this woman never cease to amaze him? Smiling, he set his bowl of Fruit Loops aside and put his hands on her waist, running them up her back and down over her backside. "How did you sleep, Emma?" Emma blushed at the contact, but also from the memory of her dream. "I slept well...thanks to you." "I'm glad I could help," Goliath grinned again. "You look lovely when you sleep." A thought struck Emma. "You know that...thing you did last night? In...bed?" she was blushing profusely again. "When I made love to you with my mouth? Did you like that?" Goliath asked, genuinely concerned. "Yes," she whispered. Goliath smiled. She liked what he did to her. "Would you like for me to do it again?" She looked into his intense, dark eyes. He was smiling sweetly at her. Emma decided that she liked this new, smiling Goliath. She nodded, determined to put the dream out of her mind. He pulled her down to him and kissed her, sitting her across his lap. As his tongue explored her mouth, his hands grazed her breasts, causing her nipples to tighten into little peaks that he pinched and teased. A strained moan escaped Emma's lips and she licked Goliath's tongue. Goliath moaned deep in his throat. This woman was everything he'd ever dreamed of. Grabbing her tiny waist in his hands, he laid her down on the couch and knelt between her thighs. She hadn't put any more panties on last night. Goliath could hear her quickened breathing. He reveled in it. Loved making her feel this way. Tenderly, he spread her slick folds and dipped his head to taste her. At his touch, a satisfied groan flew from her lips. This was what she needed. This was what she wanted. She wrapped her hands around her breasts and teased her nipples while Goliath lapped at her core, driving her closer to oblivion. She tasted like the sweetest honey. Goliath loved pleasing her, but...this time, he wanted there to be more. After a few minutes, he stopped licking her and looked up her body into her pretty green eyes. What a sight she was, lying there with breasts bared and cheeks flushed from pleasure. "Emma...I want to make love with you. I—I love you. Will you let me?" His brow creased as he asked her the question that, in that moment, his very existence depended on. Through the foggy haze of pleasure, Emma was vaguely aware that Goliath was asking her a question. She wasn't sure what it was, but he looked so concerned that she could hardly say no. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, Goliath." A smile of complete, unadulterated joy spread across Goliath's face. He jerked the tee shirt he was wearing over his head climbed up her body, kicking off his pants. He wanted this so badly. Wanted to bury himself inside her sweet little body and pretend that he was worth something. Tenderly, he pulled Emma's oversized white tee shirt over her head. He ran his hands all over her, massaging her shoulders, breasts, tummy, and the most intimate part of her. She sighed happily, running her delicate hands over his marred chest. Goliath closed his eyes and savored the sensation of her hands on him, astonished that she would let him do this. God, how he loved her. Bracing himself on his elbows, he nestled himself between her thighs. His cock rubbed against her core and her eyes flew open as she gasped. He hissed at the sensation. She was so wet. She looked at him in wonder, lifting her legs to tighten around his waist, giving him better access. They were both breathing heavily, dragging lips and tongues across necks and chests, tasting each other, as Goliath prodded his hard cock into her, inch by inch. He thought he was going to lose his mind, but he didn't want to hurt her. Her hands were splayed across his broad back as she winced at the little pains that came as she stretched to accommodate him. He could tell that going slowly wasn't working, and he was probably going to die from the anticipation of it, anyway. Wrapping a hand around her waist, he looked into her eyes. "Emma, it's going to hurt for a moment. I can't help it. I don't want to hurt you. Just... hold on to me, baby. I love you." With that he plunged deep inside her. They cried out simultaneously, from pain and pleasure. Goliath was instantly ashamed. He should not be thinking of himself. But, God, she felt so good. So tight and wet...she fit him like a second skin. He smoothed her hair and murmured his love to her in his gravelly baritone, all the while trying his very best not to move so as to allow her grow accustom to his size. Emma felt as if she'd been ripped apart. How could something everyone spoke so highly of hurt so badly? It didn't hurt like that last night when she and Ethan...no, she wouldn't think of that. It was just a dream... She fought to catch her breath as Goliath attempted to soothe her. He told her he loved her over and over, but he was so big. She didn't think she'd ever get used to this. Her face was buried in his neck as the tears welled in her eyes. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe Ethan was right. Goliath felt the wetness on his shoulder and felt lower than dirt. What sort of animal was he? He should have known she was too small...just a little human. He should have known that he would hurt her, no matter how much care he took to protect her. "Emma, baby, I'm sorry..." He held her there, apologizing over the lump in his throat and hating himself, for what seemed like forever. Then, Emma felt a spark of pleasure as she shifted beneath him. She let out a tiny gasp and moved again. It was still there. "Goliath...it feels good," she whispered in surprise as she continued to move in that way, the way that made her belly feel full, and warm, and tingly. Goliath had never heard such beautiful words. He moved slowly out of her, then quickly filled her again. Groaning in pleasure, he found a rhythm that suited the both of them as he slid in and out of her tight, wet sheath. Goliath continued kissing her neck and shoulder as he pounded into her, and Emma felt small moans of pleasure escaping her lips. Goliath's hands roamed over her hips and waist, holding her to him, and found herself meeting his thrusts with equally passionate ones of her own. "Goliath...yes, yes. It feels so good," she whispered into his ear. Goliath felt Emma's whispered words of approval in his ear as he fought to keep his control, to not hurt her. He knew how delicate she was, and no matter how strong the urge was to pound into her sweet body with all his force, he had to keep himself in check. He would not become the worthless scum that the angel had called him. He wouldn't. Her little pleasure sounds were driving him insane with lust, but he loved his Emma, and he would be sure that she felt nothing but pleasure in his arms. Leaning up on his elbows, rather awkwardly, as the couch wasn't quite wide enough to accommodate him, he looked down into her eyes. "Baby? Tell me what you want me to do. I want to make you happy," he said, cupping her face in his giant hands. Emma blushed, looked down. "I want...you know," she whispered. Goliath did know, or at least he thought he did. And he was more than happy to oblige. "You want to come, baby? Of course you do. Here," he said, gripping and slightly lifting her backside underneath him. "Move with me, Emma, and you'll come." Emma did as he asked, meeting his slow, methodical thrusts halfway. Soon, she felt the familiar stirrings of an orgasm as her belly tightened. "Faster," she whispered, almost in a frenzy. This sort of pleasure was completely incomparable to when she only touched herself with her fingers. Goliath's cock was bumping into a part of her inside that sent sparks of pleasure through her limbs as she reached the height of her orgasm. "Oh...Goliath...Yes, that's it, I'm going to come," she whimpered. As the waves of pleasure crested around her, the spasms of her orgasm ignited his and she heard Goliath's perfect, gravelly voice in her ears, "Oh, God, Emma...Baby, I love you so much, I--" his voice broke off into a shout of pleasure as he jetted his hot seed into her womb. At First Sight Ch. 03 Josh grabbed her by the ankles, sliding her on her back in one quick, violent motion. He thrust into her roughly. The intermitted time dried her enough to render the invasion almost painful. The pain only fueled her already unstable desire. She tried to sit up and push him away, wanting to prolong their little power struggle but he pushed her back, holding her in place. She moaned pitifully as he cupped and squeezed her free breast, alternately smashing it down into her ribs whenever she struggled to free herself and gently caressing her nipple when she finally relinquished. He lifted her legs as high as they would go, the discomfort of the angle and his frenzied rhythm sent her over. Josh rested her ankles on his shoulders, using her thighs as leverage for his quickening thrusts. "Oh my god.... So deep...." Her entire body all but spasmed around him, her back arched unnaturally as moans of unmitigated rapture echoed in the small concrete room. His orgasm followed close behind, punctuated by bursts of warmth in her trembling belly.