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The tension between them peaked to its climax when DeBlanc reached for Fiore and cupped his face with his palms.
The touch sent a light shiver through Fiore's whole being. So new. So strange.
The angel's skin, pale, luminous, seemed so delicate, DeBlanc could only touch it with his fingertips, gently and cautiously, even though he knew what angel skin was actually like. Too many times he'd seen it resist vicious attacks. Too many times he'd heard it crack under his dagger.
They both knew it was going to happen all along.
They both knew it was going to happen now.
DeBlanc would let Fiore find comfort and shelter in his words, as they talked, and talked, and talked.
He would sneakily pierce the liberatingly cool blade through Fiore's back between his shoulders as he was being led into the dungeon to be interrogated.
DeBlanc would lull Fiore to sleep with his voice (Is there anything more peaceful than a sleeping angel?) or gaze into Fiore's glistening blue eyes silently for hours that felt like minutes and minutes that felt like hours.
But they both knew it was going to happen next. It was inevitable.
- We shouldn't do that, - mouthed Fiore, so quietly DeBlanc could barely hear him, a prostrate expression on his beautiful face.
- We absolutely should not, - the demon agreed, taking a long pause, - You say one single word - I'll be gone in no time. I'll do whatever you want me to, - DeBlanc's voice was soft and reassuring, - Just ask, my dear.
- No, - the angel brearhed out, even quieter, - don't go.
The moment that he did, DeBlanc leaned in and ever so gently and carefully pressed his lips upon Fiore's, his palms steady, but soft on the angel's face, as if he was holding a butterfly, with it's thin, vulnerable wings, so beautiful, and so easy to destroy. He felt like his cold, scaly palms were so out of place on these cheeks of marble and petals, like his grey mouth wasn't worthy of kissing these innocent lips.
DeBlanc jerked back, away from the angel's face, as a flick of light seemed to ignite right in front of him. Fiore looked up for a split second as guilt bloomed upon his fine features. He already missed the demon's touch, and it was torture knowing that his own body caused that to be gone. DeBlanc looked up, too. It was Fiore's halo. It was now glowing a bit brighter.
-Sorry.
Not letting the angel finish the entirely unnecessary apology, DeBlanc leaned in at such speed that Fiore was now on his back upon the aethereal featherbed, the demon overhanging on top of him, blocking the Holy Glow radiating from the endless blue void above their heads.
DeBlanc touched Fiore's mouth with his own again, connecting their lips just as slowly and uncertainly as the first time. Fiore didn't move a bit and was just there, leaning on his elbows, his eyes shut and his lashes trembling slightly, he waited. He waited, so DeBlanc went on, and he was kissing his celestial lover's warm, powdery skin, his sharp cheekbones, his thin mouth, his impeccably carved nose and his shut eyelids. And as he did, he felt like something was filling him up from the inside. Even though Fiore didn't make a move, DeBlanc felt something. Music. It was music. A peculiar earthy melody, a song of flowers and leaves, sculpted from the purest springwaters. It was getting louder and louder, enchanting, hypnotising DeBlanc. His caress still slow and tender, the demon's cautious hands were mapping the angel's features, hugging the gentle curve of his neck, tracing the graceful lines of his white, sharp shoulders. DeBlanc felt a heavy, unbearable almost, bittersweet strain forge his body, the music filling up his ears and his head, making him want more and more. The demon's palms slid down, even lower, and then under Fiore's white raiment, DeBlanc was now fighting layers and layers of weightless cloth, the song pounding at his heart ever louder, goading him, until he finally won.
An aureole of blindingly blue, glacial light was the only thing to be found there, as the magical melody got so loud that all of the sounds of evesdrop and rustle of summer leaves all mashed into one resulting in a high-pitched cry, endless, inescapable, the light torturing DeBlanc's eyes, his head, his whole body, as though a thousand needles were all at once being driven into him. He tried to cover his eyes with his palm, but the implacable light seemed to pierce right through the demon's flesh, making the cold blood underneath his thick scaly skin boil. So DeBlanc screamed. The light was devouring him, destroying and desintegrating him...
Fiore reached for DeBlanc and embraced him, leading the demon's head to his chest, holding him. The angel's hot fingers traced around DeBlanc's face, blindfold. Fiore placed his narrow, delicate palm upon the demon's eyes.
DeBlanc let out several panicked, ragged breaths. The light wasn't hurting him anymore. It was now warm and soft, and enshrouded his whole body, carressing it in the most unimaginable ways, every single inch of it. The light blue glowing aureole that was Fiore's body wasn't burning DeBlanc's hands anymore, now it felt like a warm fount, holy and healing in it's entity as he immersed his arms deeper into it, reaching for the angel's pith, desperate to become one with it. There was no name for this light, for the sensations that it brought, for the ways that it felt upon DeBlanc, except for - Fiore. It was Fiore all around DeBlanc, and upon his skin, and all the way in his head, filling the demon up with his precense, with his care and emotion, in the way that a body could never express.
And the song, the beautiful song, DeBlanc could hear it clear now: his ear pressed against Fiore's fluttering chest, it was coming from within, from the very middle of... Of Fiore.
"I love you" - the angel uttered. But his voice was different, it was the softest of whispers reverberating in a million canions, a thunderstorm within a raindrop, a defenseless flower dithering in the wind.
"I love you" - whispered the demon, echoing the angel.
DeBlanc was now all chained with this sweet and heavy tension, when suddenly Fiore incurved back, his arms still gripping DeBlanc tight, his palm upon the demon's eyes, an ambrosial sound of inearthy delight escaping his lips, which soon became one with the deafening groan of the demon, who was now released, the sweet shackles falling apart all at once, the forbidden sensation spilling inside of him, and beyond, his hands clutching desperately at the angel.
They relaxed, Fiore's palms upon DeBlanc's face, DeBlanc's arms wrapped around Fiore tightly, they locked their eyes again. They were still laying there, DeBlanc between Fiore's thighs on top of him, neither willing to let go...
And there was thunder. Thunder so dense and loud the walls started shaking, and something went through both of their bodies, pinning them together for a moment. Just when DeBlanc felt a spasm in his chest it all went dark and he heard Fiore cry out, his body cramped, an oblong black trace crossing the glowing core of his. The quartz walls quaked from side to side once again, and then the Holy Glow came back, uneasy and twitching, flickering for a moment before its pervasive glory was back.
DeBlanc held Fiore close, pressing his wounded chest to his own, his fingertips caressing Fiore's face, as the angel opened his eyes, full of fear and confusion.
An invisible force stormed across the room behind DeBlanc's back, it was making a bizarre sound, resembling a bird's chirrup or a clatter of pebbles in the waves.
What was never meant to be, came to be. It was born. It's here.