Angels Must Fall

Written for dark_fest (on LJ) for the prompt: "I want to hurt you just to hear you screaming my name". This turned out way more insane and bloody than I intended... The characters just seemed to bring out the worst in me (and each other). A very warm thank you to my betas, mijeli and cymonie! Any remaining errors and inconsistencies are entirely my fault (for not taking their advice :D).

Angels Must Fall

"The sweat, the hands, the sleepless nights
And the violence of the silent sighs
All of them gather in me..."
Moonspell: For a Taste of Eternity

”You will bring him to me, won’t you, Sevvie? You will bring him to me and make me so happy…”

Lucius sighed out the last word softly, invitingly. Severus looked up into his beautiful face, his cold, cold grey eyes shadowed by long, black lashes. Long, silky strands of platinum hair tickled his neck as Lucius bent down to bite his chin with sharp pearly white perfect teeth. The man was like the stars on a black winter sky, as beautiful, as cold, as unreachable and indifferent. There was no feeling in him whatsoever, save for a desire to bring pain.

“I will let you watch, Sevvie, I know you like that.” Lucius bit harder, sending a shiver of pleasure through Severus’ body.

“I can try, but I really don’t know–” A sharp slap in the face silenced him. It stung even through the haze of desire Lucius always awakened in him.

“Wrong answer.” Lucius’ eyes were suddenly sharp and filled with danger. “I will listen to no buts from you, Sevvie.”

An unbearable sense of loss filled Severus as Lucius got off him, and strode out of the room, robes swirling elegantly behind him. He was alone, alone in the dark. Lucius cast the only light he had ever known, and it abandoned him every time Lucius left him like this. He was the sun, the moon, the stars, everything bright and beautiful there was or ever had been. Severus curled into a tight ball, not making a single sound, while tears streamed from his eyes.

* * * *


Severus awoke to the sound of the door opening. He sat up to see Lucius standing in the doorway, framed by light from the corridor. Reflected in that blond hair, it formed a halo around his head, making Lucius look like an angel. Lucius, Lucifer, the Bringer of Light.

“You haven’t been crying here all alone, have you?” Lucius asked in a voice full of mock concern. Angel of light, angel of death, angel of pain.

He stepped closer to the bed and turned Severus’ face to the light. The young man blinked his tear-swollen eyes, unable to hide the emotion in them.

“You’ve actually cried for me.” Lucius sounded pleased, and intrigued. “I wonder if perhaps I could make you cry some more. I love it when you cry.”

Severus fell through the ice of Lucius’ eyes, into a stormy, raging abyss where there was nothing but pain and pleasure and need. It could last a minute or it could last hours – he never knew. The pain, the teasing, sometimes the savage pleasure of release.

“No,” he whispered through dry lips. “No, Lucius, please...”

Lucius pushed him back down on the bed, breath like fire against his skin. His robes were torn to shreds, thrown out of the way like only those who can afford new ones whenever they want to can do. Lucius was everywhere, hot breath and cold fingers, soft kisses and sharp bites.

“Cry for me, bleed for me, live and die for me,” Lucius hissed into his ear. “For me.”

“Yes,” he whispered against Lucius’ throat. “Yes, yes, yes…”

A cold blade slid over his skin, lightly, like a caress. It cut deeply across his chest, ruby red blood welling up from the cut. Transfixed, Severus watched the liquid flow from him, beautiful, beautiful against his pale skin.

Lucius bent down to stain his lips with it, drawing shapes and patters with his tongue. Severus reached for strands of starlight to pull those bloody lips to his, devouring his own taste from them, kissing, biting. Their erections ground together almost violently.

“No, please don’t. Please, Lucius.”

Their bodies were getting slippery from the blood that stained the sheets. Severus felt dizzy; he was falling, falling into darkness. From far away he heard a softly whispered Healing Charm, one that they both could cast expertly by now. Light returned and Lucius was there, caressing his buttocks with red hands.

A finger breached him, the blood making a feeble lubricant. He lifted his legs up onto Lucius’ shoulders, eager, wanting. Lucius smeared blood on his cock as well, as Severus strained his hips towards it, cock twitching, leaking.

“You want me to fuck you,” Lucius whispered breathlessly. “You want me to fuck you so hard you’ll bleed all over the place again.”

Severus could not form a coherent reply. All he could do was moan and push himself against the cockhead that was now slowly circling his opening. He needed Lucius inside him, needed Lucius to fill the emptiness he had become. For a blissful moment he and Lucius would be the world to each other, and no other could come between them.

Finally Lucius slammed into him hard. A brilliant flash of pain that became pleasure. He met each thrust with equal force and superior hunger. It was so good, so beautiful. Gripping Lucius’ hair in both hands, he pulled with all his strength.

“Oh yes, Sevvie, it’s so good,” Lucius moaned as he came, his words pulling Severus, too, over the edge.

Lucius curled up into his arms, smiled and closed his eyes. Just as Severus was drifting off into sleep, he whispered into the darkness:

“I’ll let you do all this to me, Sevvie, if you bring him to me.”

* * * *

Severus slid his fingers down Lucius' neck, slowly, admiring the pale, soft skin. Unblemished, perfect. What a beautiful canvas it was, almost waiting to be painted on with crimson. Lucius stirred a bit and Severus stilled his hand. The angel did not care for caresses and would surely punish him for uninvited touch.

"Sirius..." Lucius sighed in his sleep, utter bliss sliding over his face. A sharp twinge of pain sliced through Severus' soul like a rusty dagger. Never, never had he heard his own name fall from those lips in such a loving voice. All warmth from his sun was reserved for someone else; all Severus was left with was the blinding light. And the pain.

He let the all-consuming fire of the pain burn itself out as he watched the marble-like skin stretched before him. It did not burn him to ashes as he feared it might. Instead of ash, only ice remained, freezing the blood in his veins. If he were to cut himself now, would it look like he was filled with red sherbet instead of blood, he wondered.

Curious, he reached for the knife they always kept on the nightstand. The first cut felt so good that he almost forgot why he was doing this. The blood was still warm, he noticed as he licked it from his arm. It tasted good but it was not the liquid fire that Lucius was. Longing for the usually denied ecstasy, he gently slid the blade across his sleeping angel's shoulder.

The grey eyes flew open, full of shocked rage. "What–"

Severus closed his ears. It was Lucius' turn to scream in pain. A quick Binding spell rendered Lucius motionless, a beautiful canvas for Severus to paint on. And paint he did, the sharp knife his brush, the rich brownish red of blood the only paint he needed. Obscure shapes and figures bloomed under his hand, each one spelling one thing and one thing only: Severus. Over and over.

Awakening from the trance he had slipped into, Severus became aware of silence in the room. Lucius was no longer cursing him, pleading with him or even begging him for mercy. Severus looked more closely at his masterpiece. The cold heart that never beat for him was visible now. And still. Never would it beat for anyone again. In silent reverence, Severus lowered his head and kissed the stilled organ, finding ecstasy in the salty sweetness. His angel. Finally completely his.