7 comments/ 41027 views/ 5 favorites Death Takes Jericho By: Meanderingpoet Jericho woke disoriented, in a room of starkest white. Curiously she peered up from the white cot on which she lay. The walls, floor and ceiling were all pure and spotless. The room's perfection wasn't marred by even a door. Absently, she wondered where her dingy apartment was. It's probably a dream, she thought. The notion was reassuring, and Jericho stood and stretched. She wasn't surprised to notice she wore a snowy, vaguely Victorian sleeping gown to match the décor of her dream. The silky fabric felt rich and luxurious against her skin, surely nicer than anything she had at home. It was flowing and free, and felt nice to wear. It wasn't a doorway that appeared as much as an absence of light. A figure stepped forward from the abyssal plain. He is tall, Jericho thought absently. The figure was cloaked all in ebon black, and a heavy hood covered its face. He carried a highly polished, but seemingly well-used scythe in his left hand. The gap in the wall closed back into snowy perfection once again. "Hello Jericho," the creature said, bowing its head in formal greeting. "Hi," was all she said, impressed that her imagination was this vivid. It seemed almost to be real. "Jericho, do you know who I am? Have you any idea where you are?" He asked his voice cordial and diplomatic. "Of course. You are death, that's obvious. Halloween was only two weeks ago and at least half a dozen children dressed in the very same costume. And, obviously, I am dreaming," she said confidently, as if there was no doubt. "Hmm," mused Death. "Yes, there is always resistance at first," he sighed. "Listen Jeri, may I call you Jeri? I need not be formal, it may make things easier." Jericho nodded absentmindedly. "Good, now Jeri, you are dead. Do you understand?" he asked. "No," Jeri said, toying with the fabric of her dress, finding the gauzy, silky texture soothing. "I'm not dead, not that it really matters," she said. "Oh?" death piped in slightly intrigued. "Why wouldn't it matter? Wasn't your life good, and full, surely you have no regrets…" "Oh no, no regrets," she affirmed, "at least, not really." Jericho thought of her thankless job as a library assistant, and the dirty, small apartment she could barely afford, and her small, and boring life. "My life is normal, if a little lonely, but I can't complain. I'm healthy, and books keep company as well as people, I guess." Her lips curved slightly into a sad smile. Death's gaze pored over the girl before him. She looks so cheerless, he thought. Very beautiful, though, like a wilting rose in a cracked porcelain vase. Dark hair, held up in a bun with wisps framing a small face with large dark eyes hidden behind spectacles. There is beauty here, indeed, if only veiled. The surprise was in the girl's acceptance, or if not acceptance, lack of fear. "Is dying scary?" Jericho asked. Death's hood kept her from seeing his smile. "No, child, death is just unbeing. There is no heaven, no hell, those are man-made institutions. You just cease to exist, it doesn't hurt. It may be a little cold for a moment, but then you feel nothing. "Nothing…How nice, oblivion," Jericho smiled again her sad, weary smile. She looked like a girl, surely, but her eyes shown with age, and great sorrow. "This is well and good, Mr. Death, but this dream has to end soon, I'm due at the library at seven, Ms. McCormick will be very angry if I am late and don't organize the periodicals before she arrives." Death sighed again. "Let me show you something Jeri, maybe you will believe me." He snapped his fingers, making a crisp sound despite heavy leather gloves. The lights dimmed in the room, and on the far white wall a movie was projected. "That's me!" Jericho gasped in recognition! They both watched as the Jericho in the movie brushed her teeth in a grubby bathroom closet, and walk to her narrow bed, said a hushed prayer, climbed under threadbare blankets, and flicked off her bedside light. "That was last night! Where did you get this? What's going on?" A slight tone of panic began to creep into Jeri's voice. "Be silent, Jericho, watch," Death admonished. The movie then focused on another diminutive, filthy apartment much like Jeri's. The camera seemed to sweep the shabby living quarters and panned on an actor sprawled on an old, sagging couch. Only, it wasn't an actor. "That's Ms. Jenkins, my neighbor! How did you get in her apartment?" Death did not reply, he continued to watch the projected movie. The old woman in a ratty robe lay dozing on her couch in front of an ancient black and white television, a blazing cigarette held loosely betwixt her fingers. Jericho watched with dawning horror as the cigarette fell from her grasp onto a pile of ancient and faded T.V. Guides. Death again snapped his fingers and the film fast-forwarded to a scene of an apartment building caught in flames. Another shot taken in Jericho's room, smoke filled, and the angelic face of Jericho pale in slumber. "I will spare you the gruesome footage of your death, I do not want to disturb you. You didn't suffer, you didn't even wake up. Others were not so lucky; I have to deal with them soon after you. But first we must get you situated." "Why?" Jericho asked, her voice breaking, and a solitary tear leaked from her eye, wetting her lashes. "Why not, Jeri? 'Death Be Not Proud' I'm sure you've heard the poem." Death was pleased to urge a small smile from the poor girl. Before approaching her he had read on her track record, just another hard luck case. She wasn't a bad person, by no means, but life was never fair, and often enough the good ones got the short end of the stick. "So, what happens now?" Jeri asked, wiping the tear away with her hand. If this was really happening she might as well be brave, she thought. "Well, there is the paperwork, and some forms you will need to sign, to make it legal. You're just stating that you accept your demise, and you're not going to sue Death Inc. Believe me, with no paperwork, we'd have lawsuits until kingdom come. So many people don't want to die." Death chuckled abruptly. "What happens if I don't sign anything?" Jericho asked, a hint of shrewdness entering her voice. "No Jeri, you don't want to do that. That's a very, very bad choice to make. Instead of being unmade, you'd retain your soul, but it would become corrupted. You would become what we call ghosts; you would wander the earth in misery. It's wearying, and distressing, it's definitely not what you want. Although, it is your choice. "But…. but," Jericho stammered, her eyes brimming with tears. "There are so many things I haven't done, so many books I haven't read! Oh this is terrible!" Jeri sniffled, and tears spilled down her face as she wept quietly. Oddly enough, Death was touched. He went to Jeri and put his arms carefully around the mortal. "Hush now, my girl, it will be alright. Shhh, shhh, don't worry, it will be okay, I promise. There will be no harm, I will not hurt you." With gloved hand Death stroked Jeri's head and soothed her gently. She clung to him, her small body wracked with sobs that shook her and rocked her body against him. "But there are so many things undone…so many, I had never even a first kiss, no chance at love, or a family of my own, oh this is terrible…" Jeri leaned her forehead against the chest of death, and valiantly swabbed her eyes free of all tears. "Okay then, Mr. Death, we might as well get this over with, no use prolonging the inevitable." Jeri straightened, ever the brave soldier. "Do you tell the truth, Jeri? Are you truly pure? Not even a kiss?" Death asked, disbelief plain in his voice. "A girl as exquisite as you? I find that very hard to believe, especially in this day in age! Surely you are pulling old Death's leg." Jericho shook her head. "Always too busy with school, and then work, and boys never went for me much anyway, they copied homework, but never paid much attention to me. It was always the cheerleaders, or Abby Karcher in eleventh grade who put out to nearly every guy in the graduating class…"Despite her pass at a joke, the heartbreaking sorrow so naked in Jericho's voice proved to death, that she spoke true. The immortal's heart was touched. "Such delicate lips should not be wasted…could I have the pleasure?" Death cleared his throat, "It would cross one "to-do" item off your list, for what it's worth," he offered. "It cannot change things, but if it would bring small happiness to such a radiant flower, can I not oblige?" Death shrugged. "I suppose it would quell some of my misery, a small part. But, Mr. Death, is it against the rules to…" Jericho looked slightly sheepish, the apples of her cheeks reddening lightly. "You know… 'Fraternize' with the clientele?" "Jeri, I'm death, I own the company. I make the rules." Death had to smile, the girl wanting to follow rules, even when doomed to dissolution. "Turn away for moment, Jeri, so I can remove my hood." Jeri's eyes got large with fear. "No, Jeri, not a skeleton, you touched me, I am flesh. Now turn." Jeri did as she was bid. She faced the wall over the cot in which she woke; she fidgeted nervously with the hem of her gown. "You can turn back around now, Jeri, all is as it should be." Jericho gasped at the transformation. With the cloak's hood thrown back, Death was a normal looking man. He was pale, with high cheekbones. A mortal man would look sickly, being as pale as Death, but the immortal pulled it off, looking both handsome and strong, as well as sensitive, and delicately beautiful with his lily-white skin. Away from his face fell long dark chestnut hair, glossy and clean, drawn back into a knot. He was peering at her from warm, unfathomable eyes of deep sepia. At her blatant shock Death smiled, showing white, even teeth. "I am not a horror, no. The hood is for effect, merely. Jeri, you are fortunate, not many see me unmasked, I do this not just for anyone." Death stepped closer to Jeri, their bodies almost touching. She lowered her head, not able to meet his eyes. Gently Death took her face in both his hands, cupped between leather-clad gloves, and tipped her face so their eyes met. "You are the first mortal I have kissed in more then a century, Jericho, you are lucky. The last was a viper of a woman, thought to buy her freedom with her body. No Jeri, it does not work that way, you are dead, and this is only a gift I bestow upon you." Death dipped his head and closed the gap between them, placing his lips mildly upon hers. Surprisingly Death's lips were warm, and firm, but yet ever so gentle. His kiss was tender and sweet, and he seemed so feather-light with his touch that Jericho wondered if Death was afraid to harm her. She found herself lost in the very touch, tears leaked silently from her eyes. Tentatively she placed her hand on Death's neck, pulling herself closer to him. Their kiss grew impassioned, and with care the Lord of Fatality parted Jericho's lips with his tongue. Death explored the warm cavern her mouth, making sparks contract in her lower belly. Jericho felt completely safe, and leaned up, into the kiss, her mouth ambitiously closing on his. After an incalculable amount of time, Death pulled away. They were both breathless and could only look at each other with wonder. "My lady, you have been kissed by Death." His face was solemn, but there was a twinkle in his nut-brown eyes. Jericho touched the pads of her index and middle finger to her lips, and pressed them to Death's. "That was an experience to end life with. In fact, you could say, it was to die for." Jeri laughed softly, touching her hand to Death's cheek. Death clasped his own covered hand to hers relishing the feel of her skin on his. "Death, can I remove your gloves? Please, I mean, I would like, if it were no trouble, to feel your hands on my skin, to hold them. I mean no disrespect, I just..." Jericho looked down shyly. "Jericho, my hands are not for mortal's touch, they would chill you. Even my kiss has stolen from you, precious warmth." Death shook his head. "But, why does it matter? My life is over anyway…" Jericho tugged at the fingers of Death's glove, removing it, and tossing it aside. His hand was pale, his nails cleanly trimmed, it looked like any other hand. Timidly she kissed the palm of his hand, it felt warm and smooth, perhaps Death was mistaken. "You are precious, my child, so full of wonder and grace." Death brushed a strand of hair behind Jericho's ear, and rested his hand naked on her face. Jeri sighed contentedly and leaned into Death's touch. Death freed his other hand from the leather glove and reached to the back of Jeri's head, releasing her hair from it's bun, leaving the wavy tresses to cascade against her back. He ran a trembling hand through the dark cloud of hair. "So beautiful, so very beautiful" he murmured appreciatively. Death placed a kiss upon Jeri's forehead. "I have forgotten how potent a mortal woman's touch can be, especially the pure…Lady, you beguile me. I have sent billions to unbeing, but your radiance shadows the memory of so many, and already you grow pale from my touch." "I…I don't want to die." Jericho said, breaking the embrace. "You must understand, I was raised Christian, I always thought of life after, I do not want my existence to end, I cannot even bear to think of it, it's terrible! I…I want to stay with you." "I cannot give you back your life, sweet lady. Believe me Jericho." Death reached to take her hand. "You are special. No one may have ever told you, but I am immortal, I have wisdom beyond ages, and I know you are exceptional of heart. The world has darkened to lose you. But there is no place for you here. There are rules that must be followed, even if it sorrows me." Death delicately kissed Jeri on her Cupid's bow lips. "You are kind, Death, very kind to me. I believe you; I know you have your job. But still the thought of perishing terrifies my completely." Jericho tried to bury her face in his chest, struggling to get as close to him as possible. "This is a way, fair one, to immortalize you. It would take a sacrifice, Jericho. It is for you to decide. It is not immortality in the way you would think, but you would not perish, I swear." Death offered. "A sacrifice, Death? What more can I sacrifice then my body, my soul?" she asked, muffled into the folds of his cloak. "You are pure, your soul chaste, you would have to taint yourself with Death. You would have to give yourself to me," he said. Jericho shrank back slightly, surprised at the cost. Conflict flittered across her face. "Will…will it hurt?" she asked cautiously, biting her lower lip. "A little, perhaps, but I would make it as painless as I can, and perhaps allow you pleasure as well. It is a hard choice to make, you have to decide for yourself the road you choose to travel. Let me only say I would be blessed, and honored to receive your virtue." "And I will not expire? You promise to me?" Jericho's eyes were trusting, but broken, as if any promises had already been destroyed to her. "By my word I am bound, Jericho." Death bowed formally to her, as if to seal the deal. Jeri nodded thoughtfully. "I accept then, Death. I am yours, to your will." The cold realization, and of acceptance swept over her, but she fought it, and stood proud, without crying. Death had to admire her, a hidden violet in the rocky crevice, so strong in the face of adversity…if this could be considered adversity. "So…what happens next?" Jericho inquired nervously. Wordlessly, Death's lips closed on hers, shocking and delightful. His hands fell to her shoulders, rubbing them gently, enjoying the feel of Jeri's skin on hands too used to the neutral touch of gloves. Jericho gasped into Death's mouth with the contact. No one had ever touched her so…so…possessively, with such power, but also, so tenderly. Her knees felt weak, her head light. She steadied herself with a hand on Death's chest, surprised at how broad and strong it felt, even under the thick cloth of his cloak. Breaking the kiss Jericho took a step away from him. "Is this…right?" she asked. Her hair was slightly mussed from Death running his hands through it, and her diaphanous gown gave her a wild look, except for Jeri's eyes. They were filled with sorrow, and slightly worried. She bit at her lower lip in thought. "Right, Jeri?" Death inquired. "What is right? What does right mean? You are a breathtaking creature, but you also have a clever mind. Who is here to judge you? Only me, Death, and there is no dishonor in that. I am the end gatekeeper; there is nothing I haven't seen. Humanity as a whole should be ashamed. I can see your heart, Jeri, as I see the hearts of all I unmake. You are unusual in the way that your heart is unscratched. There is no mark of deception, or malice. You are unique. So, is this right? Surely there can be no harm; I could not bear to wound you. But, Jericho, you must decide. Your discomfort would spoil any magic produced, and mayhaps a worse fate could occur." "Worse, Death? Worse than Death?" Jericho blinked, and then smiled, a brilliant bloom that lit her face. "A fate worse than Death, after death?" "As striking your smile is to me, this is no matter to be so brazen about." Death turned away so that only his profile showed. "There is something worse than being unmade, worse even then being condemned to walk the earth as an eternal spirit. It is too terrible to even mention. To speak it would chill your very heart with terror, and never would I wish it for you. Just trust me that it is not fate ever to be chosen. There must be no uncertainty in your action. Jeri, you must be brave during all. There may be moment in which you may take fright, but you must remain fearless and steadfast. If you cannot take this route, I think no less of you. Remember, you must want this with your whole heart, no less. I will let you think on this before your decision must be made." And with a grand gesture of his hands, Death glided to the far side of the room. Peculiarly, Jericho felt care for the strange creature called Death. Creature? Wasn't he just a man? she asked herself. She glanced at his tall frame, so much bigger then her own height. His eyes were muddy pools of sorrow; watching her impassively. They were eyes very much like her own, only a few shades lighter. Looking at him so closely, so intimately, made thinking more difficult. Thoughts were replaced by urges. These urges were not completely understood by her, but gathering to create warmth in Jeri's lower belly. Although strange, she didn't find this feeling unpleasant, only the inability to get her mind straight. Turning her back on her watcher made Jeri's mind clear, but there was an element of loss as well. At least I can consider this properly, she thought. Jericho was wrought. She had held her virginity dear, as the one thing she prized that only she could give. There was much pride in it, she thought. There was a brief memory of a boy, blonde with a turned up nose speaking harshly to Jeri because she refused to "make it" with him. Another flash of image, her mother warning her to not get a reputation for herself. A last, and very painful memory urged itself into her mind's eye. It was her old library, dimly lit in its after hours. Jericho and a handsome man sat at a table crawling with books. She was looking surprised as the man held for her a small velvet box with a ring inside. The man seemed to be pleading with her, but Jericho stood, eyes streaming, shaking her head, and left the man, the box, and the ring sitting in the near dark. Had she chosen, these years to be alone? Jericho asked herself. Had she saved herself, for herself only? She felt foolish, and struck with desperate loneliness tear began to caress the sides of her face. "Why do you cry, my angel?" The close whisper of Death flittered into Jericho's, making her jump and shiver. She spun around and stood almost pressed into the heavy dark material of his clothes. "I wanted to let you decide, but your tears made my decision. Not just your tears, but your sorrow." Death Takes Jericho "You decided for me? But…I thought it was my choice…?" Jericho looked confused. "I was thinking." "Yes, and your thoughts brought the deep well of your heart to the surface, easy to be discerned. I will not be the cause of any pain in you, Jericho. I look to your skin, more fair and fine then the silk you wear, and I long to touch it. But to do so, would be to steal the blush from your cheeks, and replace your glow with pallor. Yes, you are dead, but I need not take more from you than your life. I will not take your dignity." Death's eyes burned darkly with resolve, his lips a tight line. To keep from trembling? Jeri wondered. "There is caring in you, Death." Jericho murmured, half surprised, and half like she had known it all her life. Tentatively her hand crept up towards his impassive face. She traced his high cheekbones, followed the fine artistic lines of his eyebrows and softness of his lips. Cupping his warm cheek in her hand she continued. "But I make my own decisions. And with iron resolve, I come to you." "You are sure, beyond doubt. Beyond any doubt?" Death inquired, dubious. Her eyes meeting his in connecting gaze, Jericho took Death's hand and placed it against the bare skin over her heart. "Nothing is certain, save Death, and taxes. And I was never much good at taxes." She said, smiling. There was a look of surprise on Death's face as he felt the soft texture of Jericho's skin. He swallowed, and almost laughed as a feeling of nervousness washed over him. Death, nervous about bedding a mortal girl, it was hilariously laughable! He was death, who made the rich, the powerful, the high and mighty kneel before him, and he was getting butterflies over a mere girl, how uproarious! Death easily lifted Jericho into his arms. Carrying her was no work; she was a small and warm weight against his chest. In the pale wall, another dark portal opened. "Where are we going?" Jericho asked, her voice wavering in battled fright of the shadowy, swirling chasm. "Trust me, lady. We travel only to more…comfortable quarters." Death said as he stepped through the lightless cavern. For a timeless second there was only the deep blackness of a moonless, cloudless, starless night. The murk was palpable and chilling against Jericho's bare skin. And then there was light. A lot of light actually, as they stepped into a room blazing with candles. The room itself was very strange. It was modern, Jericho noticed, with deep blue sheets, a shade away from black on a wondrously large four-post bed. And it was touched of the old world, with candelabras holding dozens of candles and antiques that Jericho guessed were priceless originals. The walls were wood paneled, polished until they reflected the candlelight like mirrors, with original prints of art gracefully littering the walls. Again there were no doors. The pleasing glow of candlelight glittered in Death's chocolate eyes as he looked down at Jeri making them seem to smolder. Jericho noticed that his gaze was hungry and wanting, just hardly restrained. She knew that at this moment, all Death wanted was herself, and a feeling of pride swept over her. Along with her delight came her own need, her need to be consumed in his lust, to give all of herself over to Death, to feed that hunger, and bring him warmth. Smoothly he lowered Jeri onto the bed before him. She sank into the depths of the softly layers sheets and quilt, he head resting gently on down pillows. "Where are we?" she asked, her voice as smooth as the silk she wore. "Would you believe, gentle lady, my private chambers?" Death asked, sitting beside her on the bed, his bed. A thousand questions flashed suddenly through Jericho's mind. She wanted to ask Death if other ladies had spend time there, or elsewhere, she wanted to trust him, but there was so much mystery, so much unsaid. Instead of denying her doubts, Death began to undress. First he removed his stout leather boots, well worn, but shined to an immaculate gleam. It wasn't quite like he was ignoring Jericho, only that he didn't allow a pause for her to question his past. Off his shoulders he pulled the dark and heavy cloak, standing, and putting it over a nearby chair. When he stood in only slacks and matching, seemingly normal dress shirt shirt, as finely made as her own contrasting gown, he gazed down at Jericho and spoke. "Now is the time to clear all thoughts, and doubts. You must travel this road with me, purified from all human questions, filled only with one desire. I warn you once more that once began, you cannot, must not waver." His eyes raked over her skin, seeming to delve into her soul, he would know if she lied, Jericho realized. His intense gaze urged for a response. "I am ready. I am rid of all other desires." Jericho raised her jaw, slightly injured of pride that she could be read so well. "Are you?" Death chortled quietly. "No… not yet you aren't. But, there is still time to guide you, delicate blossom." Jericho looked baffled at this. She thought she was doing a good job. Her features must have looked distressed because Death continued. "It isn't your fault, mind you. You will understand once you really do find one desire, why you are mistaken now." Jericho nodded and gazed up at the man, she felt underdressed, and yet she wasn't sure she wanted Death to strip off his remaining clothes. She was nervous with indecision. But not long did the hesitancy last. Jericho looked up at Death, not as a being to be feared, or respected, but as a man. And then she realized, and for the first time believed, her worth, and beauty as a woman. Standing, looking down at her, Jericho knew that Death was waiting for her to come to him, meaning that he wouldn't push the envelope. She had to take matters into her own hands. Jericho stood, on feet none too stable. She ran her hands through her hair, neatening it as much as she could without a brush, Death quirked an eyebrow at her actions from across the room. She took no mind and she advanced upon him, leaving all thoughts of propriety, and self-consciousness aside. She focused on the man, and that he was only a man. A world of understanding granted Jericho grace she never knew she had, she glided across the floor, as she would have walked before. Closing the gap between them, Jericho twined her arms around Death's neck and mustered all her need, all her desire into one touch of lips. She pulled from her life all her loneliness and solitude, tears, and sadness burned and infused her lips with heat unmatched. Death pulled away in instant shock, purely not expecting this from her. "I desire only one thing." Jericho said calmly, her voice resonant with strength that came from within her. "Only one thing. And only you can give that for which I crave." She leaned up towards him so that her lips nearly brushed his ear as she whispered huskily. "Make love to me, now. I am ready, and I want you." Death looked at her with understanding, not shock, or repulsion as Jericho had feared. He allowed her nimble fingers to find the buttons on his silken dress shirt and meticulously work them through their holes. Seven buttons, she noted vaguely as she undid the last fastener, a strip of pale skin, from neck to stomach showed from beneath the dark shirt, contrasting favorably with Death's light complexion. Without any hesitation Jericho slid her hands under the folds of his shirt, reveling in the soft, and supple texture of his skin. An almost soundless sigh escaped Death's lips at her caress. Emboldened by this, she reached further up and pulled the shirt off of him, and away from his shoulders. Naked to the waist Death was a breathtaking beauty, pale milk skin enhanced with ripples of soft hair, a darker shade of brown, but not quite black at his chest, and a trail leading down over his stomach and leading further into his pants. He was muscular, without being overwrought with muscles; strong without being overbearing, Jericho found it very attractive. She ran her hands down the length of his chest, running her fingers through the down on his upper body, touching where she hadn't dare with anyone else. Death stood with eyes half-lidded, enjoying Jericho's pleasure, and also enjoying the feel of her soft hands on his skin. Where her hands once played, Jericho's lips now traveled traipsing kisses with delicate rosebud lips. Death started and uttered a moan when her mouth closed over one nipple, quite sensitive and only a few shades less pale then his skin tone. He found his hands clasping her face, and pulling her lips up to meet his. Passion overtook them as their lips met and heat seemed to burn at Jericho whilst ice seemed to numb her lips and make them tingle, she clutched at Death as her knees grew weak. Cradling her body to his, never allowing her lips roam from his own, he deposited her upon the bed once again, and crawled down upon her. Their bodies pressed together tightly, and through their kiss it seemed as though Jericho was trying to devour Death with lips that would bruise if he were not completely yielding. Her hands stroked over his entire torso, and ran through his hair softer than satin. There was a fire inside of Jericho that could not be denied, not this time after so long, she felt moisture grow between her thighs. And Death, understanding this, made no move to disrupt her activities, he wasn't passive, but did not allow himself to convey, just yet, the growing hunger that began to feast upon Jericho's own desires. Trying to consume him with her kisses Jericho vaguely became aware of the growing manhood that was pressing into her with their activities. Her hands, like butterflies flittered from his shoulders, down, to explore the fruit of Death's arousal. Frustration brought an unladylike grunt from Jericho's throat as she realized that pinned as she was, she would be denied the satisfaction of her curiosity. Using any and all leverage she had, she worked to roll Death down off her. That accomplished, was no small effort, even if Death didn't fight her off, he was no help, and was content to kiss, and that was all. In his silence he seemed to be amused, and ever indulgent. Once he was off of Jericho, she quickly climbed atop him in a straddling position, bending over to take his right nipple into her mouth, none to gently grazing it with her teeth, causing him to move against her in a way that was more than pleasurable. Her hands danced over the bulge in the lavish pants he wore. They stroked and fondled by turn the mystery she longed to uncover. No longer able to remain a spectator Death moaned his pleasure, and growing need under Jericho's administrations. "My heart, your hands up on me feel so exquisite" he breathed. As quickly, then, as a magician's trick, Death rolled Jericho over so that now he was atop her. His lower body pinned hers, and she could feel his hardness against the growing moisture between her legs. "Now, I will show you pleasure," he murmured before lowering his petal-soft, yet completely masculine lips down up on Jericho's. Her body stirred and writhed beneath his, hips bucking and moving to grind Death's sex with her own. Death trembled and found himself moving with the girl, even though her faint dressing. He parted her lips with is tongue, and explored the honeyed cavern of her mouth, tempting and teasing Jericho's own tongue that responded playfully and passionately. Pale supple hands cupped her breasts, tracing fingers around her areola, dodging in to pinch the budding nipple, causing a low moan to rise from Jericho's lips. "Oh! Oh, my!" she exclaimed in surprise and pleasure at the tingling and hotness that she felt. The filmy silk of her negligee fusing between her legs to her hot wetness drew Death's attention. He kept one hand occupied on Jericho's breast; rubbing and rolling her nipple between his forefinger and thumb whilst his other hand moved down the gentle curve of her hip and cupped the nest of her pussy, slick with her own juice. Death smiled. "You are wet, Jericho, your sweetness has soaked through your garments." Death whispered seductively as he traveled kisses down her cheek, and kissed the tender skin of her neck. At his hand Jericho moan open-mouthed, her hands clutching the back of Death's head, and pulling his lips back to hers. "You will not mind the removal of your pretty dress, Jericho? It is pretty, yes, but what lies shrouded by it is a far more precious jewel." With her nod Death drew a line down the front of her gown with his finger, and the cloth parted. Her skin felt hot against his flesh, and as his touch, her naked body quivered. "Oh! Oh please! Please!" Jericho breathed, her body twisting in pleasure. She pulled her arms out of the gown and tried to sit up. Death chuckled softly into her ear, making her gasp at the sound, and the exquisite feel of his hot breath in the shell of her ear. She struggled to free herself from his confining body. "Please?" Death purred into her ear, "For what do you ask, do you know?" With every velvet word caressing her ear she bucked her hips, even if Jericho wasn't exactly sure what it was she required, her body knew. Death kissed the lobe of her ear, and trailed his soft lips down the side of Jericho's neck, making her tremble. His hand squeezed her naked breast. Jericho started with a gasp. "I know what I want." Jericho said, matter of factly. You…just won't give it to me." She sounded affronted. Death lifted his head up to look into her eyes; he could see that she wasn't ready yet, as much as she thought she was. His mouth went abruptly to her breast, hot and wet on her nipple. Slowly he dragged his tongue across the rosy areola, making it harder and tight. And suddenly he moved on, lower. He kisses a line down her belly, resting his soft face on her stomach, pausing to tell her how divinely beautiful she was. And lower. Jericho cried out softly as she felt her lover's lips brushing closer to the joining of her thighs. He licked a quick line up the slit of her pussy, making Jericho jerk in surprise. He then parted the lips of her vulva with his hands, his mouth hungry to taste her and feast upon the warmth of her tender womanhood. With a delicate testing tongue, Death lapped at her clit, dainty like a kitten tasting cream. "You are delicious, darling one…a simple pleasure…untainted and precious," he said softly, his mouth never leaving its task, working over her love knot at a steadily increasing pace. Before little more time had passed, Jericho was breathing shallow, on the brink of orgasm. Death redoubled his efforts, pushing and probing, lapping up all she had to offer, his strong hands cupping her behind as he lifted her up, closer to his mouth. He raised her depth and womanly core to his lips like a glass of wine, in which he choose to drain in one draught. His hands reached up to stroke her breasts as he stoked her fires below. The play of passion over her face was obvious. And all at once Jericho's body shook and with a throaty moan her body arched as she came. The pleasure she felt was too powerful to articulate. It was a heat, radiating off of her body as if she were the sun, and then a pulsating explosion inside her, colors flashing wildly behind her closed eyes, and then…then...the feeling of release, and...completeness. "Is…is it like this with…all men? She asked coyly, staring down the length of her own body to meet his eyes. Death's laughter rang through the room, a beautiful and darkly melodious sound. "You ain't seen nothing yet, doll," Death drawled with a wink. He stood and prepared again to pleasure his extraordinary pet mortal. With his weight off of her Jericho gathered her naked body to a kneeling position upon the bed. She offered her best, unpracticed 'come hither' glance at him, and tried to look seductive. Death gathered her up in his arms in a strong embrace, holding her and kissing her tousled hair. "No, you must let me…" Jericho started, pulling free of his grasp, pushing his body down on the bed with her strength. She could not tell, but she thought Death might have been hiding a smile. Catlike she rubbed her cheek across the bulge in his expensive pants making his jump as if touched by an electric shock. Her hands troubled over the buttons of his pants. With determination she pulled the remaining button loose and pulled his pants eagerly by the leg. Death lifted his behind up, allowing her slide the slacks off with ease. He did not wear underwear. In his full glory Death lay, his member was pale, but impressive in size, although he wasn't intimidating large, like Jericho feared. "Like what you see, my lady?" Death asked with a smirk curving his lips. She must have been caught staring at his penis dumbfounded. Jericho smiled sheepishly and reached a careful hand towards the erect individual. She touched the very tip of the head, lightly. "It's so smooth" she said, perhaps to her self as she delicately rubber her palm across his shaft. Death sighed in rapture and made no move to stop Jericho's exploration. She caressed his member with both hands, feeling the tender skin, becoming acquainted with the organ. Death closed his eyes and relaxed under her ministrations. His eyes popped open as he suddenly felt Jericho's hot wet mouth enclosed on his cock. Stunned, he felt her slide her mouth slowly down, testing how far she could gorge her mouth with his organ. His hands tangled themselves in her dark hair, pulling her face lower on his pole, making her nose brush against his dark curls. Barely audible moans rose from between Jericho's lips as her mouth raised and lowered on Death's penis. Her tongue lashed out, licking lines of saliva along his shaft and head, making Death suspire in ecstasy. "You are…" Death swallowed and cleared his voice, " a quick study, lady…you learn…swiftly." Jericho hushed him quickly as her rhythm drew steady and moderate in speed, she used her hands at the base to hold his erect cock up and to stroke his balls. It came natural to her, and pride flooded her as she saw Death, Lord of Darkness moving underneath her artful mouth. She wanted him to feel the pleasure he brought her, she wanted to make him feel that rush of joy. Jericho wanted him to come for her. Death began to buck up at her face, his breath became irregular, and she could tell he was close. "Jericho slow down, not yet." Death said with voice trembling with all the lust and need his body possessed. She did not heed his words, and worked harder towards his goal, licking and twirling her tongue around the head of his penis before plunging it deep into her mouth. "No, Jericho, not yet!" and with that Death pulled Jericho away from himself. Her fingers clung to his flesh, raking his hips with her nails as she clung to him. If Death felt pain at the act he gave no sigh. He only tossed her on the bed before him. There were no sweet words for Jericho, only the gaze of Death's eyes as he looked down upon her face. Russet orbs, but darker with his dark desires, there was little soften in his glance and the lusty darkness that slid within his gaze. He had turned predator, on hands and knees he moved around Jericho almost sharkishly. "I'm…sorry Death, I didn't mean t- " his mouth stopped words dead on her lips. He fed from her, mouth hard and uncompromising on hers, his tongue stabbing into her mouth, taking what she would give, and delving deeper to take all of her. There was no fear in Jericho, strangely, only an ever-rising desire. Again, Death parted her legs, but this time did not lower his head. He poised his raging cock above the nest of softly curling hair. "This may pain you. Be steadfast." Death said in a husky, hoarse whisper. He entered Jericho in one swift motion. As he broke through her hymen, his teeth found the sensitive part of her neck, and he bit causing her bittersweet pleasure to rival the pain of her virginity broken. Jericho sounded out in a loud, shaky cry. It burned, inside her, it hurt and she felt broken. Her hand went between her legs, and she saw blood upon her fingertips. Death gave her but a moment to feel her pain. He began a steady rocking motion, gentle, but firm, entering her and pushing his member deeply into her flesh. Before she knew it, Jericho's pain was only a memory, this pleasure at being possessed in such a way, at being truly complete and belonging to someone made her so joyous that tears threatened to spring forth from her tawny eyes. Death's whisper fell to her ears "Move with me," he commanded. Jericho began to pump her body with his, which made the feeling much more intense, to have her body moving with and against his, skin brushing skin. After an indeterminable amount of time, Death pulled out of her. Death Takes Jericho "Did you come, Death?" Jericho asked, feeling slightly let down that she did not enjoy, once again an orgasm. Death shook his head, mahogany waves of hair resettling upon his contrasting ivory skin. "I would care to watch you above me, sweet Jericho." Death said, lying on his back beside her. "If you would be so kind…" Trying not to be uncertain, Jericho climbed astride the pallid man. She poised herself above him, aligning herself with his still very hard cock, and skewered herself upon him. The feeling was quite different. Jericho could swear that she felt him more fully, and deeper as he rubbed against her tender cervix. Death's hands raised up to cup her breasts as she raised and lowered herself on his member, head thrown back, eyes closed in rapture. She moved slowly with relish as ever inch entered her, at her whim. Jericho found it arousing to be in such control of the situation, going at her own speed, enjoying how her body joined with his. Death wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out. Centuries had taught him perfect control, or so he thought. The vixen that rode him with such wild abandon caused him to lose that assurance that he was in complete control. It was foolish to let a mortal girl get to him so much, but as she straddled him, head back, dark hair sweeping over her skin and she moved up on down on his cock, lips half parted in a silent moan, breasts moving with her body, hips swinging freely…it was nearly too much to bear. Death only let the orgasm ripple through him when he felt Jericho spasm in her own orgasm atop him. Her pulsing pussy clutched at his member, and her breathy moans of passion drove his orgasm home. When her body ceased its reaction, Jericho collapsed against Death, her face brushing against his chest, his arms around her. When her body was wracked with shivers, Death pulled the comforter of rich velvet over both their naked forms knowing that it wasn't going to be long now. He could feel her body temperature lowering. "Sleep now, angel. You will wake Immortal." He kissed her, ever so softly on her brow as she curled into him, and fell, in little time to sleep. "May your dreams be sweet for eternity, and may you be ever blessed," Death whispered. There was no perceivable magic then, no burst of light, and no magic fog. But when Death left his bedchambers, there was no hard-luck mortal girl. His bed was rumpled, but solitary. This did not seem to bother him. He created another dark, depthless portal, and walked onto the rooftop in a foreign city. Death knew he had much more work to attend to before his shift was over, but…but this deserved a short break. His eyes went up to the heavens, grazing over the seemingly endless forest of stars, until his eyes lit upon one star, off in the eastern sky, bright and blazing. He nodded to that star, and when the nod seemed not enough, he kissed his fingertips, and raised his fingers to his one immortal star.