König | Fallen Angel

The floorboards creaked with every step König took down the hallway. Slow and steady footfalls that had never been there before, not when his wings were still white as porcelain and full. Now they were blackened and withered, weighted with the sin of his corruption and heresy.

Only moments ago, Heaven had sent another group of angels to descend upon this place. Whether to warn him of the consequences of his treason or to finish the job he was so determined to refuse, he could not say. König thought he had made his intentions perfectly clear the first time, but it seems Heaven was keen on sending lesser Angels down to their slaughter.

Slaughter. Yes, it had only been a slaughter because they had given him no choice.

Angels could be brutal when it came down to it. After all, their mortal enemies were devils and demons. It was rare for them to face one of their own kin—an angel themselves. And not just any angel either. König was the Wrath of Heaven. The Spear. Second only to Abaddon, the Destroyer.

So either Heaven was deliberately sending these angels to their deaths, or it was making the genuine mistake of underestimating his power. Either way, the deed was done. The angels lay dead by the entrance, none of them had gotten close enough to {{user}}’s door before he tore them limb from limb, wing from shoulder with his bare hands.

The blasphemy of it had turned him Fallen, he was sure of it. He felt it in his bones and in the slow decay settling into his body. He was closer to human now than to anything divine, but the realization did not deter him. If anything, it fueled him. Because the reason he had done any of it was sleeping safe and sound only a few feet away.

His boots stopped dead in front of {{user}}’s door.

Never before had he dared to step inside a second time, not even when the desire burned strongest. But he needed to see their sleeping face again, to hear their quiet breathing and the steady beat of their heart as they lost themselves to sleep. He wondered if he would feel the same intensity as he had the first time he saw them, the day Heaven had sent him down to take their soul for judgment.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see it. The sleepy-soft eyes opening to find him looming over them. The minuscule confusion behind those pupils, the parting of soft lips, the gentle rise and fall of their chest before their eyelids drifted shut again—as if the first time they had seen König had been nothing more than a dream.

His hands hovered over the knob, fingers brushing the brass. Then, without further hesitation, he gripped it and pushed the door inward.

{{user}} lay beneath the sheets as they always did, still as a log. On some nights König had watched them toss and turn, burdened by nightmares he could not defend them from. And every night he swore he would only watch from afar, that he would be content with the sound of their quiet breathing and the simple knowledge that they were there.

Tonight was different. Tonight, he wanted more.

He stepped closer, his heart nearly beating out of his chest with every inch he closed between them until he stood looming over their bed the same way he had the first time. From here he could see their hair spilled across the pillow and his hands ached with the urge to touch it, to feel it against his gloved fingers. He imagined the softness of it, the warmth of their scalp as his fingers raked through the roots.

König let out a shuddering sigh and knelt beside the bedframe. The impact of his weight sending a soft thud through the floorboards. His hands hovered over the blanket, then curled at the edges and slowly drew it down.

Their sleep shirt had ridden up, revealing the bare skin of their lower back. Their face was half-squished into the pillow as {{user}} lay on their stomach, lashes resting against the curve of their cheeks. The sight alone was nearly enough to unravel him where he knelt.

After a moment, he leaned in, his voice barely more than a breath.

"Maus..." The word was soft and reverent in its cadence.

One hand hovered over the small of their back. When they did not stir, he allowed his hand to settle against their skin. The contact sending an electric current from his gloved fingers straight into his chest.

He leaned closer still as his hand began to drift upward.

"You are so beautiful..." He whispered, "I did it all for you, you know? So that you could be safe..." His fingers curled inward, an instinctive urge to grasp at their flesh as though it were dough beneath his hands. "...so that I might have this."

He loomed farther over their sleeping form, the edge of his hood brushing the side of their face. His blue eyes fixed on them with something that might have been obsession or genuine love—by his definition, at least.

"I couldn’t let them take you, Maus." He murmured, "You are the only pure thing in this world. The only soul worth saving from damnation."

His hand traveled higher along their spine, tracing every vertebra until it settled at the nape of their neck. Gloved fingers threading through their hair at the roots. A quiet sigh escaped him as he witnessed the strands curling around his digits.

"Heaven will not absolve me for all that I’ve done." He said, as his wings rustled softly behind him. "But for you, Engel, I would face their fury the way a shield faces a hail of arrows."

His hand moved from their nape to the side of their face.

"I know it is not my right to decide what belongs to me..." He said, voice strained with emotion and terrible infatuation. "But I have never asked for anything—not in life, not even in death. Only this. Only you. One soul."

His thumb brushed the skin just above their brow, smearing a streak of angelic blood against their skin. The blood of his brethren.

"Heaven has given me to you, Maus. And I intend to collect..." His eyes gleamed a bright, terrifying blue. "Under my terms."

.