"There's no exit|

We're in Jean-Paul Sartre

Hope you don't think

My obsession is awkward."

- Zedd ft. Lady Gaga, Stache

like a sweet meatball has me freezing. I stare at him, completely frozen, but the moment I realize - the moment my head processed the name – that someone has said his name, and not just someone, Hadraniel is my freaking angel, is enough to make my blood boil with anger. My blank stare turns into a heated glare, and from the looks of it, Adrian stops what he's saying – I didn't even realize that he was speaking – when the named escaped his lips, everything had been muted, until now.

Adrian tries to say something – he looks panicky; his whole body is trembling, and the way he stares at me, they are full of terror. Adrian is scared of me. He better be. "What the fuck Dantalion has got to do with this? Are you fucking with him? Do you like him? Do you fucking like him, you filthy angel?" My demonic side is surfacing, emerging from within, and I know I'm just a few seconds away from transforming into my truest form – the demon form. "I will make sure you will forget that fucking name." If something, or someone, is mine, it will remain mine. The last thing I want to happen – scratch that, what I don't want to happen – is me sharing my possessions to anyone. I'm not a nice demon; I have never been a nice demon. What's mine is always mine and will always be mine. It will only be mine. Adrian is mine and will only be mine.

The angel, no a human, in front of me has a shocked expression plastered across his beautiful features. Yet there's also confusion etched on his face – it has me wanting to pin him down and kiss him till he loses his breath, till he stops functioning at all. In a second, I have him pinned on the bed, shocked still drawn on his cute and very angelic face. I raise my arm up, fingers caressing his flushed cheeks.

"You are mine, Hadraniel," I growl low in my throat, leaning down and capturing his lips while my hands begin to roam every part of his body. He's hot and bothered – I'm a demon, so I'm familiar with the actions already. I have been seeing that, feeling that actions, since I became aware of everything. The lust, it's there, surfacing, swimming in his mesmerizing and pretty eyes. Yet there's also that fear. But the moment my lips land on his, he moans against the kiss and I smirk internally to myself. There's this need to possess him, to dominate him until he begs me to stop, or hopefully, to continue further. When I look into his wide eyes, I see the fear, hesitation, and lust there, mixing into one, swirling around the orbs. I want to make him feel good, to mark him as mine.

If a demon marks someone, a person or a demon or whatever entity it is, that thing will always be theirs forever. And I want that already to happen. I want to mark Hadraniel as mine for the purpose of letting everyone that he's mine and nobody should attempt to make a move on him. That will serve Dantalion right. The moment I saw Adrian inside his house, I already knew that he's interested on Adrian as much as me. Demons have been lusting for humans ever since, and it's no surprise to me that Dantalion, or Maki in the mortal world, is interested at my Adrian. If I mark Adrian now, there will be a searing pain, and I'm not sure if that would be a good idea, considering that he's not prepared. I'm pretty he doesn't want also to be marked. He's an angel. But then again, I have the utter control here – I can do whatever I like and want. His protests would mean nothing to me, and he'd forever loathe me. What's new? Angels have been loathing demons, and demons have always been hating angels. But... I'm not really sure if I want Adrian to hate me.

That fucking annoys me.

Had I snatched some random human, I wouldn't even consider if that human would hate me for doing such things, but Adrian... he's different. I don't want him to hate me.

My fingers trail down across his flat abdomen, teasing him, and play with the bands of his shorts. Kissing him feels different this time - I know that there's something brewing inside him. He tastes something salty and sweet at the same time, and also the morning breath is there, but... fuck, I love it. I love the smell, the noises he makes as I bite his lower lip, making him moan out loud. His arms shoot forward, curling around my neck and my fingers begin to slip inside his shorts, in his underwear, and he freezes. I know that I'm waking up something inside him, preferably the thing that gets hard once you feel the lust hugging you tight. When I look at him, his eyes are shut close – I lean down closer and practically hear the pound of his heart against his chest. It's so loud, ringing in my ears. My hand goes lower and lower until it makes contact with the skin – and I'm right, he's already hard. I lean down and suck on his neck, immediately finding his sweet and sensitive spot as my fingers barely touch him down there.

When he opens his eyes, they are dark – they are not the eyes I always see. They are dark, cold, and full of lust. He's also trembling underneath me; his eyes meet mine and I'm surprised that there's anger there. I know that I've offended him somehow by going on top of him and dominating him. But... I sigh, pulling away, rather reluctant. Of course, the last thing I want to happen is him hating me. Demons are supposed to be hated, but why can't I have that with him?

Slate the demon pushes himself up, and I'm a bit offended, disappointed, as a look of uncertainty crosses his face. Glaring daggers at him, with the new found courage I have, my arms shoot forward, as if it has a mind of its own, and curl around his neck, bringing him back on top of me. Slate looks at me, rather surprised, a deer caught in a headlight, his eyes gazing right back at mine.

"Asshole," I mutter out loud, glaring daggers at him. Calling a demon an asshole had never crossed my mind until now, but now that I've said it, I think that it's just a mere word – that word is not covered in sins. It's just a word. A word that could probably offend everyone. "You can't possibly stop!"

"What?" He growls, eyes darkening.

"I said you're an asshole!" I spat, leaning down and kissing him hard on the lips. I know that what I'm doing is very un-angelic, but I can't help it. It's like when he pressed his lips on mine earlier, it's like he woke something inside me, and now that it's awake, it never wants to go back to sleep, or remain hidden. Slate becomes aggressive as he presses his lips harder on mine, and they are burning, and mine is burning, and we're both burning with something – passion, lust, need, I don't even know! His naked chest presses against mine, and it makes me hot and uncomfortable and comfortable and... fuck.

There's this part of me screaming at me, saying that this is wrong, that what we're doing is wrong. But there's another part of me that says I just need to keep going and ignore everything but not his lips and not his body on top of mine. Slate slowly grinds himself, and I'm shocked, mortified, and happy (I don't even know what to feel anymore!) when I find that what lies in his pants is hard, just like I am. I know I am. I know I freaking am.

"God, God, God," I mutter, panic rising slowly. "Why does it feel so good?" Slate hums, kissing my bare throat, and I tip my head up just to give him more access. My breath hitches, as if my lungs and mouth and nose stop functioning – I can't breathe, when the tip of his tongue teases the skin, teases my Adam's apple. Oh Dear Adam, or Even, or God. Oh Heaven and my father, my mother. I can't... I can't think straight at all, knowing that tongue, his powerful and hot tongue, is licking my throat.

Then he suddenly stops, and a groan in disappointment escapes my lips. Slate lifts himself up then glares at me. I'm appalled at what I see in front of me – Slate is no longer in his human form but rather in his truest, demonic form. The horns protruding from his temple, his fangs showing, his darkish red skin, his devilishly perfectly sculpted abs, his black burning eyes trained at me, they are all showing. I don't even know why, but I find it sexy. Very sexy. He very fucking is.

"Slate..." I whisper when he leans down, raising his arm up; around his fingers are red dust, and he points it at me and I'm suddenly transported into a void... then.... Then... where... where the hell am I? And then it's complete blankness.

"Where the Hell happened?" I wake up, finding myself in my dimly-lit room. The curtains are pulled back, letting the shine of the full moon seep through the windows. I find it amazing and I'm in awe while staring at the moon. Looking away outside, my eyes scan the area but find nothing suspicious. Everything is organized, as it has always been.

Raking my brain for any images of what happened, I find nothing – in fact I don't remember anything at all. All I know is that Maki helped me, and that he gave me some liquid in a glass that I had agreed to drink. Then I heard a voice, a voice that I'm familiar with. Without hesitating, I push myself up and run outside of my room – then I find the demon there, sitting down on the couch nonchalantly with a wine in his hand, bringing the rim of the glass to his lips, tipping it down, downing the wine and I watch as his Adam's apple bob up and down as he takes big gulps.

I don't know why I'm relief to see him when he practically threw himself out just to get away from me like I was some sick decease any human could get. He tenses, apparently sensing me and I contemplate whether it's a good thing to walk up there and unintentionally bug him.

As I watch him ignore me, like I'm something invisible, like he can't really see me, I can't help but feel like I'm missing something. Something in the past, just recently, but I can't remember what it is. My eyes focus back on him, and surprisingly, his glass is full with wine again. I remain still, debating whether I should ask him "what's up?" or "how are you?"

"Do you want a drink?" his voice is gruff, blank. There's no emotion, even the tiniest bit, linked with it.

The living room is lit, and I can only make the outline of his figure, silhouetted. Slate turns to face me but I can't see the reaction, or whatever he has, on his face. Perhaps it's a bad thing that I even came here just to check if he's here or not. Maybe I should go back to my bedroom and force myself to sleep.

"Come here," he requests. Commands. And just as the sick pet I am, I oblige, walking up there rather hastily. I know better than to offend or insult the demon. He offers the glass to me and I hesitantly stretch my arm out and wrap my fingers around the cold, which makes me shiver, glass. Our fingers brush and I feel the spark – I know he feels it, too, as he pulls his hand away immediately, glaring in the distance.

"What's wrong?" I ask hesitantly.

"Just drink the damn wine," he snaps, stands up, and then goes to his room, the door shutting behind him close, rather loudly, which makes me flinch. He leaves me alone. I'm confused. What have I done?

Shrugging, I take a sip of the wine and when the liquid drowns my tongue, I make a disgusted face at how horrible the taste is. It tastes crap. "This wine sucks. And the demon is bipolar." I shake my head and take a seat on the couch, enjoying the night view of the city of Brooklyn through the big, floor-length, windows of the unit. "Yeah, the demon is being weird." I say, voice toning down in the end.

Slate is being weird.

So what do you think of this chapter? Let me know! How do you feel about Adrian forgetting what happened, specifically the kiss? Hmmm. I hope you love this chapter as much as I do. I know that I'm being kind of slow when it comes to updating and, well, the progress as well. But... but... but it's near! *grins widely*

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