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From: perigryn.removethis@earthlink.net (Rosemerry)
Subject: Fear & Desire Pt 3 (M/F, sci fi, virgin)
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	The rush of wings came from behind her. She'd barely turned
when he was almost upon her. She gave a little shriek at the great
gray thing bearing down, and backed up a step. He cupped the wings
with a hollow boom of air and was immediately thumping to his feet
on the concrete. The wings flickered back to their folded
positions and the angel laughed again.

	"You're better!" Cassie said. "Or anyway, you can fly now." Her
heart slowing a little, she thought about the first time she'd
realized he was hurt, and how much she'd wanted his freedom. Now
he had it. She couldn't ask him to stay, she told herself firmly.
"I'm, I'm glad." Cursing her hesitation, she looked away.

	The sun was well and truly up, although her balcony faced the
west. She was in the shadow of the building. It was probably
nearly ten o'clock, if she'd awakened as late as she thought. The
breakfast hour was passed, and she didn't miss it, but having the
day off would mean she'd spend it at odds in her apartment,
listening to the fretful voices of her parents in her head. Alone.	
	"Come, merciful child of earth," said the warm, light tenor of
the angel near her. He'd stepped close, his body shining in the
pale shade. "Seek the wind." He held out his hand. Cassie took it,
not wanting to let herself understand what he'd just said. The
angel didn't give her time to think, which was a blessing. He took
her hand, drawing her across his body, and caught her around the
waist with his other arm. She felt his legs heave, his manhood
slide against her--felt that clearly, in the chaos of terrified
sensation--and her feet had lost the pavement.

	Cassie fairly screamed, flung her free arm around his neck.
Suddenly he was everything that kept her from death, and she clung
for dear life. The building was gone, everything was gone but the
merciless drop below and the fragile hot construction of flesh and
light bones that she held to. His whole body surged against her
over and over with the flapping of his wings. Their sounds were
all around her, slicing down the wind and slapping up, as loud as
if he were a living sail. She felt his laugh against her breasts,
a sound of pure joy.

	"Put me down, put me back!" she cried. The angel made no
response, other than to swoop. Gravity shifted sickeningly, for a
moment she was on top of him, then her arms clinched tighter as
she slung underneath again. It became clear he wasn't planning to
stop. She felt his chest heaving, felt his arms tremble as he
clung to her waist, but he wasn't going to stop. She clung with
arms and legs, waiting to be killed.

	"Look," he said, his voice loud over the wind, vibrating
against her ear. He sounded labored. "Look, earth's daughter."

	She sniffled her terrified tears back and turned her head a
little. One eye came free of his shoulder and neck, and she saw
they were over a completely different part of the city. The
buildings were unfamiliar to her. People walked briskly down the
sidewalk, little more than moving dots at this height. "They don't
look up," she said shakily. Her grip on his neck and hips never
slackened.

	The angel's wings shook the air harder as he lifted them up,
higher, moving over the city at a rapid pace. There was a park, a
playground. Only a few children swung desultorily on its swings at
the hour, but the ducks in the pond took notice of the great
winged shape moving overhead and scattered, panicked. Their shadow
slipped smoothly over the grass, small as an airplane's shadow far
away.

	Cassie's fear didn't lessen. No matter how long he flew, she
would remain terrified, she knew. It was wearing her out. But
through it, or past it, she was learning to think for herself. She
couldn't pay attention to her social programming in a situation as
crazy as this, and the angel had never had any. The voices of her
parents, and of Practical and her wimpy counterpart, were left
behind, blown away from her by the wind that seared her skin with
its chill. And as the angel soared with her over the city she
began to touch him.

	Her fingers first became aware of the line of his shoulders
underneath his skin. His bones were so light, hard-edged beneath
their thin, flexing cover of powerfully hot skin. She didn't
release her left hand's hold on her right wrist, or let herself
relax in his arms, but her hand slid down the backbone. At the
same time she lifted her head a fraction, letting her mouth come
in contact with his shoulder instead of her eyes. His skin was
sweet, dusted lightly with a pungent sweat. Cassie smiled against
his shoulder, feeling his body twitch against her in reaction.

	She took a firm grip on his neck with her left hand, entirely
freeing her right. He was holding her, after all, and her knees
were still clamped around his. She wouldn't fall. He wouldn't let
her. So her hand slid down his back, resting lightly on the
working muscles that drove the great wings. As her fingers slid
into feathers, she heard his breathing shudder and the wingbeats
faltered. Then they were plunging downward, the wings motionless
in the air.

	She shrieked again and opened her eyes, turning her head,
snatching back her hand to grip the other in a panicky clutch. The
building came at them, nearly smashing them to bits, but he had
somehow swept around it on a rush of wind. On the other side, his
wings still extended and still, there was a lift. Gravity tugged
at her as they rose, circling slowly around on one side of a worn,
elderly building with round little windows. She watched the bricks
descending slowly, until suddenly it was potted trees and
artificial flowers,in among hothouse ivy and tended grass.
Someone's roof garden was below them, then the angel's wings
clapped twice and gave their hollow boom, he released her and they
fell together onto the grass.

	She rolled twice, jumbled and bruised, and came to a halt,
collecting herself. A quick look showed her an empty garden, with
the roof door that led to it closed if not locked. Good; she
wouldn't be hauled off to the police for being here, especially
being here naked. She turned her head.

	The angel looked as if his last act had been to land her on
this grassy space. He lay unnaturally on his back, his wings
spread in two enormous gray arcs on the ground. Their feathers
trembled slightly, and he was breathing hard, the only indication
that he still lived. His mouth was slack and open, his head turned
to the side, his hair everywhere. She crawled over to him, put
both hands on his sweaty chest. "Are you all right?" she asked
frantically.

	He nodded slightly, both alive and awake, to her great relief.
Cassie looked around more carefully. There was a pool, now covered
up for the season, and the potted trees were mostly palms, likely
to survive the winter in this balmy part of the world. The flowers
weren't real, the deck chairs were folded away and the grass was
altogether too green. Someone was maintaining this area for its
wealthy owner, who probably lived in the entire upper floor of the
building, but it wasn't actually in use right now.

	"Angel," she said frankly, "you scared hell out of me." There
wasn't a peep from her parents' mental voices, despite the
forbidden word. They were probably still in the wind somewhere
between here and her apartment.

	The angel was laughing at her, his eyes open now, taking on the
green of the grass he lay in. He pushed at her to move back, and
sat up, the wings flipping to a modified version of their folded
position, over his head. It didn't look comfortable.

	Cassie did her best to turn off her brain. Then she settled
back in the grass, flicked her hair out of her eyes, and reached
up to draw him down over her. His wings creaked as they flipped
back down to a resting place, and the heel of his hand landed on
her hair, tugging her head aside. His kiss landed on the corner of
her mouth. His lips were as heated as the rest of him, silky. She
flushed deeply, but didn't let herself realize it. Fear had been
sliced out of her by the knife of the wind, leaving only desire.

	His chest was slick and smooth under her fingers, the nubs of
his nipples as hard as hers, in miniature. He kissed her more
properly. She hadn't known to open her lips, it happened on its
own, letting his tongue slip in. This made him soften against her,
molding his body to hers, except for the one part that hardened,
which she was hyperaware of, happening against her hip.

	Cassie found out about the wings by accident, too. Her hands
wanted to touch and smooth his skin everywhere. Eventually they
naturally gravitated to his back, and when she ruffled up the
little feathers that led to his wings, he gasped, stiffening
against her. She looked into his face, concerned, and at last
understood the meaning of this reaction. Deliberately, she did it
again, feeling the silky, dusty softness of the numberless tiny
feathers under her fingers. The angel gave a sound halfway between
a growl and a moan and put his head down beside her neck. His back
arched, reminding her of a cat she had once petted. Cassie felt a
sweeping rush of something, moving from her groin up through her
body to spread hotly in her chest, a sweet sense of her own power
to make him feel whatever it was that caused that sound.

	She kissed him this time, boldly touching her mouth to his.
Somehow things were happening all over her body that she wasn't in
control of. Her own back strained her up against him, pressed her
breasts against his chest. Her right knee came up, her toes
digging into the grass, while her left, the one he was half-
resting on, was down, welcoming him. And she felt the place
between her legs, the one she'd never been as aware of as she was
right now, slickening itself with a feeling of heat and wanting
she'd not felt since watching evil movies in high school.

	Her hands slid down the luxuriance of his wings, feathers
springy and strong under her hands. The angel moaned softly,
burying his face against her neck, his mouth working on her skin.
She felt a shiver go through her, and strained his body closer
against hers. He put his hand on her breast again, this time not
cupping but stroking. His fingers pinched her nipple. It was
extraordinary, as if her nipples were connected by wires of
pleasure to her groin. It was Cassie's turn to moan.

	It had never occurred to her that her body would know what to
do, without any instruction on her part. But her hands guided his
head, her fingers buried themselves in the cool, silky strands of
his hair, setting his face against her breast until her nipple was
taken into his mouth. Cassie let her voice express her pleasure
again, the wind taking it, scattering it over the empty garden.

	His body shifted, moving more over her. His hipbone ground a
little painfully against hers, catching a bruised place from her
unceremonious dumping onto this rooftop. She didn't care. Her
attention was on the way his manhood seemed hard and seeking, yet
springy, its root flexible so that it slid over her hip and
nestled in her pubic hair without hurting him, although his body
was pressed as closely against hers as could possibly be.

	Cassie wanted it, knew suddenly where it should go, her body
seeming to hollow itself out in readiness. Her legs were even
opening, her knee canting off at an angle. She raked her fingers
down his back for the reward of his gasp, riffling her thumbs
through the little feathers. He moved his mouth from one nipple to
the other, bracing himself on his elbows, and suckled there. She
let her head fall back to the grass, little sounds coaxed out of
her with every motion of his tongue on the sensitive spot. His
wings extended over her, their quivering feathertips pointing over
her head. She stroked them with both hands.

	His hand swept hungrily down her body, sliding over her
ribcage. Cassie caught her breath in astonishment, as her entire
body seemed to leap for his touch. She never would have thought
pleasure so universal, so that every inch of her skin surface
longed for the heat and smoothness of his skin.

	His fingers slipped between her legs. Cassie rejected the
impulse to close them, block him out. Instead she merely tensed in
something between anticipation and nervousness.

	There was no pain. The lips there welcomed his touch, and she
felt the astonishing heat, coming not from outside but from
within, spreading over her lips and coating her upper thighs as
his hand explored her. Pleasure followed his fingers. She was so
deep there, she could have swallowed his whole hand, though it was
too big around. She shuddered as his thumb grazed the sensitive
spot under its hood, and suddenly wanted the finish of this thing
with twice her urgency.

	"My angel," she whispered, not wanting to hear again that
rough, deepened sound to her voice. Her whole body felt that way.
She knew how it would sound when she spoke aloud.

	He slid his finger into her, simultaneously pulling on her
nipple with his lips. Cassie tilted her hips, wanting to drive his
finger more deeply in. Her breast slipped from his mouth, and she
threw both arms around his neck. Wings rustled as she kissed him,
marveling at the taste of her own skin on his lips and tongue.
"Please," she said when he drew back, his gray eyes burning in his
face. "Now, please."

	He nodded to her, his mobile lips curling in a smile. His knee
slid between hers, bearing his weight as he hovered over her.
Cassie knew without knowing what came next, and her body was tense
and frightened as she made herself open her legs widely. It felt
wanton, improper to do, but she did. She was resolved. The
springiness of his masculinity, its heavy, blunt flop, made sense
to her now as it slipped deliciously against her soaking lips. He
leaned aside, one hand holding him up. The other caught her hand
and drew it down. Cassie realized where he was going and bit her
lip, but let him move her fingers to it.

	Hot, as the rest of him was hot, and smooth. It had grown
astonishingly, she thought, from when she had first seen it. Its
dimensions frightened her; was this meant to go inside her? She
stroked, cautiously, feeling the way the skin seemed to move
sleekly over the solid core underneath. Perhaps it was boned, like
the rest of him, although she wasn't sure how that could be when
its shape had changed so. Either way, suddenly she didn't know if
she could go through with this.

	Her touch had made him quiver. He crouched over her, taking her
hand from him. He lifted it up, kissed the knuckles once, and
rested it firmly on his shoulder. Then while Cassie gripped him
there with panicky strength, he did it. She gasped and closed her
eyes tight while he entered her a little, waited a moment and
pushed forward, waited, and again. It hurt more than a little, but
she didn't stop him. When he began to move, sliding himself in and
out of her, the pain diminished, fading away slowly until the
experience wasn't unpleasant anymore.

	Cassie let herself relax after that, shaken by the pain she'd
felt. He kept moving, tenderly, over her, his back arching up like
an animal's. His wings were outspread around her, their leading
edges braced against the ground delicately. His breathing was
coming more swiftly, his hair falling all around her face and
dripping into his eyes. She set it back and he smiled at her,
kissing her wrist while he moved, thrusting into her again and
again.

	She felt a dreamy sense of that power again, the ability to
make him feel pleasure. She reached around his chest, under the
supporting arms, and ran her fingers over the strong base of his
wings. He gave a soft sound and the motion of his hips speeded up,
rocking against her. She found her own body moving with his. The
friction was what delighted him, she realized, giving him the same
pleasure she'd felt when he rubbed her. The brief pain had stunned
the pleasure out of her, but she sensed that if he kept this up
long enough, it would come back.

	He wouldn't, though. He was going too fast, driving himself
into her on his own timetable. She simply held him, let him have
his way with her, moved with him, stroking over and over again the
feathers of his wings, the muscles of his back. Once her hand
dared to slip down, feel the tensing and releasing that was moving
him into her. Cassie listened with wonder to his voice, raised in
passion near her ear. She was bringing this out of him, taking him
to this height. It felt wonderful.

	The angel met her eyes, his shining and glittering with
eagerness. She couldn't bear the unguarded look of his face, and
kissed him so that she could close her eyes. His mouth was loose
with pleasure, and he moaned right into her kiss, vibrating her
lips with the sound. Sudden pleasure leapt up in her, warming her
nerves, all of them. He threw his head back, his ash-colored hair
flaring everywhere, and she heard the rattling rustle of his wings
as they tensed and shuddered.

	Inside her, he seemed to do the same thing, twitching and
jerking. His voice was the piercing wildness of an eagle's call.
She felt him stop, trembling as he pressed himself as far into her
as he could, his supporting hands digging their fingers into the
turf.She made a short, gutteral sound, heated by another flash of
dull, faraway pleasure. Mostly she was overjoyed by his ecstasy.
This was what he'd wanted, and she'd been able, despite her
inexperience, to give it to him. It was all she could have asked.

	Breathing again, he relaxed down onto her, crushing her for a
moment before he slipped off. His wings folded themselves
langorously, and he dropped his head onto her shoulder, panting.
He slipped out of her, and she felt that most of her lower body
was wet, and he was, too, dampening her outer thigh. Cassie felt
unreal, felt the way a person does when a change has been made but
not yet understood. To her horror she realized tears were sliding
down her temples. Her hand was caught under his shoulders, and she
couldn't wipe them away.

	For a while they lay there. His breathing slowed, but he didn't
look up. Cassie's tears dried slowly, and she became aware of a
dull ache where he had used her so thoroughly. She shifted,
turning onto her side and moving into his arms, where he held her
and she wept a little more, quietly.

	The angel caught her tears on the ball of his thumb and wiped
them away, saying nothing. She was afraid to look at his face, but
she clung to him warmly. Once she had done crying, his hands
stroked her reassuringly, and his wing curled over her like a
blanket of feathers, keeping out the chill. Cassie snuggled into
him and thought of sleep, now that his desires had been satisfied
and she could count on nothing but caresses of tenderness now.

	For a time, that was all he gave her. She even dozed a little
bit, forgetting that she was in a strange place, on grass that
didn't belong to her. But finally she became aware the the slow
sweeps of his palm were gaining a little in firmness; sliding over
her body with a more interested touch. He stroked her shoulder,
her arm, slid his palm over her breast, nudging the nipple with
the base of his fingers as his hand moved back up. His fingers
trailed over her neck, tilting her head back so he could lay
minute kisses under her chin.

	Cassie's body answered these caresses, writhing very slowly in
his arms. Her breathing came a little faster. She realized
suddenly that there was more pleasure to be had here, and all the
danger had gone out of it.

	The angel's kisses moved over her neck, sending little ripples
of sensation through her. His touch slipped down her spine,
rubbing slow circles at its base. She tried to do as he did, touch
him where she was touched, hoping to discover what he liked. He
smiled and moved against her, humming softly against the place
where her neck and shoulder came together. Cassie sighed, caressed
by his mouth, his fingers, his wingtips. Warm and slow-moving,
pleasure rippled through her like an underground river, flooding
to every part of her. Her nipples were hard again, though she was
anything but cold this time.

	The angel mouthed them as he had done before, this time biting
down on them so gently there was no pain, only an exquisite sting
of pleasure. Cassie whimpered. Her fingers forgot what they were
doing and slipped into his hair, holding his head against her. He
curled his tongue around her nipple. She arched against him,
pressing herself against his heat. His moving hand slipped over
her hip, dropping again to the sticky wetness between her legs.
She opened them without hesitation this time, wincing slightly at
the bruised feeling. His fingers entered her again, drawing their
joined fluids out to burn her lips. His thumb pressed lightly on
her clitoris. She gasped, her hips jerked against his hand, and
she gave herself up to his touch.

	His fingers worked on her, pleasure multiplying there,
concentrated like honey where his thumb was keeping up a firm
pressure. He pressed her down against the grass with his chest,
which she was grateful for, keeping her involuntary wriggling to a
minimum. She clung to him, unable to believe what was happening to
her. Had he felt this way? It was no wonder he hadn't been able to
wait for her. The rest of her thought processes dissolved. Her
fingers clawed at his shoulderblades, and she pressed her forehead
against his collarbone, bracing it while his fingers drove against
her, moving faster still.

	A breathless moment passed. Her body was taken by a whipcrack
of pleasure that shuddered and contracted her inner muscles,
quivered her thighs, broke a cry from her throat. She shook while
it settled back out of her, her legs closing automatically against
his hand. He held her, easing her down onto the grass again,
tucking her against his warm side, gentling her with his hands.

	"Angel," she murmured into his shoulder. "Mmmm..."

	She half-woke some time later, mid-air. Her feet were dangling
in the cold, and that was what woke her. Her arms were loosely
around his neck, but he held her tightly against himself. She
wasn't afraid, only burrowed her face against him away from the
wind. She was asleep again before they reached her building.

	The landing was better this time, although he must have been
exhausted. Cassie opened her eyes when he put her onto her bed,
drew the blanket over her, and settled down on his chest beside
her. The last thing she saw was his wing next to her face, when he
drew the joint down and unwound the bandage from it. He dropped it
over the side and settled down to sleep.

	Slept out, she awakened late that evening, alone. The screen
door was still open to the sky, glass everywhere, and the bandage
still lay on the floor bedside; but that was almost the only thing
to tell her it had ever happened. The angel had flown.

	The last relatively good day was over.


12 MONTHS LATER

	Cassie stepped into the elevator on low-heeled shoes, her
briefcase in her hand. She regarded the figure in the elevator
mirror with some satisfaction. The business suit was smart, even
after a long day; the managerial nametag was still ruler-straight
on her breast. She reached up and pulled her hairpin out, letting
the no-nonsense style down, so that her honey-colored hair fell
about her shoulders. Winking a blue eye at herself, she stepped
off onto her floor.

	The door opened without a key. "Welcome home," a female voice
called from the bedroom. Cassie dropped purse, briefcase, coat,
earrings in a path to the bedroom door, stepping over things
scattered about the floor.

	"Diane," she said, smiling. "How is he?"

	"Big as life and twice as troublesome," the younger girl
answered cheerfully. She stood up with the baby over her shoulder
and handed him to his mother.

	Receiving his light weight, Cassie had to smile. She and her
baby engaged in meaningless babble for a few minutes. The baby's
wide gray eyes looked at her happily as he told her, in gibberish,
everything that had happened while she was gone.

	"Still doesn't weigh enough, ma'am," Diane said reproachfully.

	"Look at him, he's growing plenty," she countered. "He's just got light
bones. Haven't you, cutie? Let's go see the sky."

	"I'll just go on, ma'am," Diane said, pointing to the door.
"I've got homework to do yet."

	"Thanks again, Diane... see you tomorrow." She and the baby
went out on the balcony. She moved the sliding glass door aside,
thinking as she always did of a time when she couldn't even open
it without fear. Now the lessons childbirth and motherhood had
taught her were written on her face in lines of confidence. Beside
the door was the framed letter from her father, disowning her in
tones of righteous indignance. The frame was gold.

	"What do you see, baby?" she asked absently, leaning against
the railing. She kept her son on the opposite hip, in from the
edge, automatically. It'd be worse later, when the two lumps of
tissue along his back split and the feathers began to grow.
Teething would have nothing on it.

	Cassie shaded her eyes. The sky was so blue today. The baby
crowed at the wind, his bits of gold hair blowing across his round
face. She looked up into the cloud-scattered sky, remembering a storm.
The angel had come on the last relatively good day.

	There was a speck in the blue, growing rapidly. The baby,
recognizing the signs he'd seen every day since his birth, crowed.
The gray wings of his father, the child of heaven, the messenger,
became visible as a faroff shape in the sky, coming closer, and
Cassie smiled in anticipation.

	All the days since had been absolutely wonderful.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Rosemerry
perigryn@earthlink.net

Each star now knows your name
I've wished upon them all
Each answer is the same:
"Not 'til the heavens fall."

http://home.earthlink.net/~perigryn/




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