"See her come down, through the clouds
I feel like a fool
I ain't got nothing left to give
Nothing to lose

So come on Love, draw your swords
Shoot me to the ground
You are mine, I am yours
Lets not fuck around"

- Angus & Julia Stone, "Draw Your Swords"

Unfortunately, Death the Kid reached the conclusion fairly early on that children were cruel.

He was five years old, clad in brand new, custom tailored school clothes, back pack in hand and more than ready to tackle his first day of kindergarten.

What he didn't expect was for his passion symmetry, a behavior Lord Death had labeled "cute" and otherwise thought normal, to come under fire.

That was also the day Death the Kid not only realized he was far from normal, but people expected him to be nothing more than his father's successor.

The moment Kid realized the cruelty of other children was when he was busy stacking blocks in the corner of the school room. He had a very precise system to building, everything needing to be equal on both sides like his father's school and his house.

It was really nothing more than the usual types of fixations children developed around his age, one that goes away in a year only to become an embarrassing story parents find amusing to tell in front of their child's friends.

That was all Kid's initial fixation on symmetry was, until a rotund boy stomped by and successfully initiated an avalanche of Kid's blocks.

"Hey! You ruined the symmetry!" he cried, scrambling to gather all the fallen blocks to start all over again.

But the pudgy child, with his morning snack still smeared around his mouth, did nothing more than laugh. "Freak!"

Later that day whilst the children were outside, Kid joined a group of children playing in the sandbox. Like the blocks, he quickly went to work building a castle as even and perfect as possible. When a child would pass by to borrow a pail Kid had set aside, he gave them a look that said, "Would you like to play with me?"

Kid had had very little socialization with children his own age until then. While he had no problem playing by himself, many a time he thought of what it would be like have a partner to stack blocks with and pretend with. Technically speaking there was in fact one child he had spent more than once in the company of. Granted, he had been one at the time, but according to the photograph of that particular birthday, he had experienced a pleasant infantile playdate. His companion in the picture, which accompanied a photograph of his parents on his bedside table, was a round cheeked, red haired girl clad in a striped romper dress, tucked in her mother's arms and wearing a party hat that matched the one adorning his head. Kid never did quite remember her name, his Father having said it once and assumed his son would remember. But apparently she was someone important, if the way Lord Death had referred to her as "Lilith's Offspring" was as important as it sounded to the five year old reaper.

Surely Kid had been on kind terms with the cherub faced girl.

But these children, when they saw the pleading look in Kid's eyes, they didn't understand. They snickered and went back to their own play.

Kid didn't see the sense of the children building up their own castles only to knock them down into lumpy sand. In his distraction trying to figure out what was so fun about destroying things, the pail he was holding slipped from his grip and took out a fair chunk of his sand castle.

The symmetry was ruined.

His lip quivered and tears began to well up in his eyes. It had been his best sand castle yet. It had been perfectly even. And he ruined it.

Kid failed to notice that he had begun to berate himself out loud for breaking apart his castle.

The other children, however, did.

Kid only realized he was scolding himself when he heard the other children hooting and hollering.

"He's weird!"

"He's not human!"

And then the worst comment of all; "My mommy said we gotta be nice to him 'cuz he's a reaper. That's why his mommy's dead 'cuz he isn't human."

If Death the Kid ever consulted with a shrink in an effort to explore his extremely obsessive behavior, this would be the moment identified as the shift from simple childhood fixation to mental disorder.

With that, the other children vacated the sandbox, laughing and staring at Kid with critical eyes.

In a weak voice only he could hear, Kid cried, "Don't leave! Please!"

When Lord Death picked his son up from school that afternoon, he noticed a definite change in the boy. He was quiet on the walk back to the manor, whereas he usually spoke a mile a minute about any new knowledge or experience he had gathered in a day to his father.

When the pair finally walked through the double doors of their home, Kid ran straight to his room without so much as a word to his father.

In fact, the only thing Kid had said to Lord Death after being picked was, "I don't like school."

In his room, Kid sat alone in his bed. On the carpeted floor the photograph from his first birthday, the only friend he ever made, laid discarded in heap of broken glass. The fit of anger that resulted in its destruction would erase any conscious recollection Kid would have of the cherub faced girl who had been his first companion. The house keeper of Gallows Manor ended up throwing the mess away, unaware that the photo inside the destroyed frame was still in fine shape.

Without the photographic evidence, Kid would never recall ever having made a friend. And so the memory of the infant Emily Valentine was all but erased from his memory.

Conversely, Kid diligently stared at the older photograph that had sat by the one now broken and lost on the floor.

He had never met his mother, Eileen Bones, but the beauty she radiated in photographic form was familiar all the more. Lord Death told Kid she was in heaven and that she loved him very much.

In the photograph, Eileen sat in Lord Death's throne, a warm smile plastered on her face and Lord Death's hand on her shoulder. Her blonde hair, the fullness of it framing her cheeks, radiated like a halo in the light, beautiful yet foreshadowing at once. It was one of the very few photographs taken of Lord Death in his human form. The only difference between Kid and his father in their appearances was Kid's nose. It was straight, lacking the bump of Lord Death's.

Kid had his mother's nose.

And he killed her.

He was alone and not like everyone else. He had his place in the world and they had theirs, and he had foolishly tried to cross into their normalcy.

He was to be his father's successor and nothing more.

If that was so, then he had to be just what everyone wanted him to be, a perfect Grim Reaper. Symmetrical.

A stray tear from Kid' eyes plopped onto the picture frame glass. "I can't do it on my own."

That was the first night Kid threw a tantrum about the three half Lines of Sanzu in his hair.

Downstairs, Lord Death was on the phone with Kid's kindergarten teacher. She quietly told him that during the last half of the school day, Kid isolated himself in a corner and refused to participate in anymore activities. Instead, the boy busied himself with reading the same book over, and over, and over again.

Kid refused to go to school the next day, barricading himself in his room and throwing a fit when Lord Death even mention the word "school".

He did the same the next day, and the next day, and the next day.

Lord Death finally settled on hiring a private tutor for his son.

Kid

The strangest thing I've come to acknowledge in this present situation is that my thoughts and actions have split into two.

In the heat of the moment, this innate nature within me woken only recently in my chest drives me without heavy conscious thought.

It's when these moments pass for an awkward pause that I find myself confused with the intense heat and an erection that needs serious attention.

Eventually I'll be able to merge my thoughts and natural instincts. But right now, sitting on the edge of my bed with a condom between my fingers for the first time, I'm awkward and ignorant again.

Emily drags her hand to my hip and silently presses herself against my back. "You want help with that?" she says in a low whisper, more than successful in sending a shiver down my spine.

Yes, this is real.

And we've passed the point of no return.

Maybe the key to letting flawless sexual instinct drive me is simply to not think, but do. It's difficult for me to accept, this being a dual deflowering and too fragile not to let logic go to waste.

It just might be the time for me to "go with the flow" or what not. Stop second guessing myself. Emily, as much as I am driven to protect her, is more than capable of being self reliant. I certainly don't want to mess this up nor do I want to hurt her in any way possible.

But again, I'm genetically programmed for this. I have Emily's soul wavelengths, the type that can make her twitch and seize in ecstasy, at my finger tips.

Dammit, just go with it.

I hand Emily the condom with a swallow. "I suppose."

I lay down, arms folded behind my head to watch Emily tear the package open. She pulls the latex circle out, making a face as she rubs it between her fingers. "…slippery?"

She shrugs before biting her lip, eyes glancing back up at me with what could almost be identified as nervousness.

Her fingers are hooking the waistband of my briefs.

I don't want to think about whether she's going to size me up to any prior experience.

Why, why am I thinking about that awful guy? He hurt her. That's enough. I've had it. I'm going to stop thinking.

But still, a man's pride in his penis is no laughing ma-

"O-oh!"

Sure enough, there's my member, tall and proud, the head an angry red from everything pent up so long inside me and leaking a droplet or two of semen. And there're my briefs, hanging from Emily's fingers whilst her eyes are trained on me.

"You're…um…" Emily clears her throat, red coloring her cheeks, tongue twisting the metal studs in her lip in contemplation. "…symmetrical."

Secretly, I find nothing more arousing than seeing Emily become all types of flustered. And she complimented my symmetry?

If I were human I'd be spent.

But good things come to those who wait. Patience is a virtue. It will all be worth it in a moment.

I can't help hissing when she rolls the condom on. Those hands of hers, they're simply too well designed for this. The softness of her palms combined with the calloused spots developed from years of wielding Kenji is just too good.

But her hands are really not much compared to the rest of her. Everything is just how I imagined. Aside from the fullness and symmetry of her breasts, which I could spend all day focused upon, she's lean with pin-up curves and the long legs to match. I should be used to this type of thing, seeing as Liz and Patti take to walking around the halls in nothing more than a flimsy shirt and underpants. This, however, is completely different. This is Emily, the girl of many a dream and the center of a many a thought.

And she's looking at me with a hint of a smile and entrustment in her eyes.

But as I try to say something, about how much I'd like to see her smile more, a thought crosses my mind without any indication.

"But oh, my dear, sweet, little reaper boy, you'll never believe how badly Emily just wants you totouchher! Shereallygets off on the thought of your hands all over her, kissing and thrusting with everything you've got."

"Kid, what's wrong?"

Emily's hand caresses my shoulder. She leans over me, the tips of her breasts flush against my chest and brows furrowed with trepidation.

But still my thoughts continue on, drawing me into a state where sounds and sights are muted for this runaway memory.

"The girl's just too damn proud for her own good, thinking it's so wrong to just get on her knees andbegyou for it. You want Emily just like that, right?"

I don't want to think about this. It's making my chest seize and my mouth dry up.

"All needy and compliant, just a shivering mess with a single touch. The smell of sex filling the room and the heat of aroused flesh. Symmetrical and yours to take."

No, that's the last thing I desire. Emily isn't mine to take. All I want is for her to stay here with me. She never will be an object I can shelf or a creature I can cage. Even with a bond to her soul wavelengths, I can't control her.

Yet I'm supposed to control the circle of life and death.

That's right, is it not?

Then why are we doing this? Is there any point beyond my own selfish desire?

Can I really make people stay with me?

"Hey, you alright?" Emily's hand strokes my cheeks, pulling me out of my incessant thoughts and back into real time. "You looked freaked out for a sec."

A stray lock of her hair falls in my face, tickling my nose. "Fine, I was simply just…" I grimace, a brief surge of guilt welling up inside me. The snugness of the condom isn't making matters any better either.

"Nervous?"

I wait a beat before nodding. Dammit, it sickens me to lie, but what else am I supposed to tell her? All I know is that I cannot bear the thought of her breaking away from me, alone and sacrificing herself for the sake of much pain.

For a moment Emily looks like she doesn't take me at face value. The expression fades soon after it appears, her hand coiling itself into mine, only a trace of it still apparent when she leans over to kiss my forehead.

The scent of her perfume is still oh so strong on her skin.

Emily gives my hand a slight squeeze. "Do you…uh…wanna lead?"

That's right. This is the supposed to happen; the awkward moment before copulation films tend to overlook. The pregnant pause where I realize that yes, I am the only Grim Reaper in the room and that in my distraction I've let Emily's soul wavelengths go loose.

The heat flowing through my veins comes back in waves, stronger and stronger with each pulse.

As fervent arousal repossesses my conscious thought, Emily props herself up against my pillows, arms at her sides, breasts and curves tantalizingly voluptuous, and knees just slightly parted.

In my daze, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties.

Something akin to a jolt of electricity runs down my spine as she trains her gaze on me, slowly pulling the garment past the swell of her hips, those soft, pale hips only marked by the slight discoloration of a healed wound on one thigh.

I run my tongue across my teeth.

The wall of reservations, of awkward pauses and uncertainty, finally begins to break apart from the pressure. In its destruction, my newly lascivious mind can no longer interfere with naturally born impulse as it becomes apparent that Emily is simply going way too slow for my liking.

An audible breath hitches in Emily throat as I move my hands along hers and tug. In compliance, she parts her thighs further so I can slide the garment past her knees, calves, ankles, and finally place them somewhere else on the bed.

The musky smell that has been teasing me in amounts that were never enough all night suddenly floods my senses upon the uncovering of its source.

It's still shadowed and hard to make out as I place my hand on her knee.

Emily smacks her lips. "Don't you dare say anything funny," she mutters, the threat completely empty. Her opposite leg falls from its propped up position, angling out with a slight bend.

I push just slightly against her knee, and like that it's finally revealed.

That mysterious, strange part of the female anatomy that was so wet, so soft to the touch is right there. I could never fully visualize it, even with the help of diagrams or the crude pictures I've stumbled upon in Black Star's bedroom. None of those references even come close to capturing what I see, finally in reality.

And I think of the different names it's been given, none of which feel right to call it now: "vagina", "pussy", "cunt", and others derogatory terms.

Instead I think along the lines of "alluring", "provocative", "complex", and "secretive".

I have no idea why Emily would assume I would have anything amusing to say about such a part of her anatomy. Looking at it from this angle it's a quaint sight, likened to staring at Modernist art to decipher the meaning of all the bits and pieces. My hand brushes the inside of her thigh. The muscles are just barely suppressing the urge to tense up. There's something feral pumping inside of me, a high like no other I can think of based on the sights and the smells alone.

Father was absolutely right about the "insatiability" factor…

"Can we speed this along pl-aaaaaaaahhhh."

Really, I would rather not listen to Emily's snarkiness in this particular moment. It's a far different experience watching my fingers poke and prod around the soft, glistening skin. She goes rigid with a breathy gasp as I trail the tip of my finger over a raised bud, the name of which I can't remember at the moment. Is that what makes you shiver with honesty?

Emily, her muscles visibly constricting and relaxing under my touch, looks as if she's just grasped the concept of breathing.

Will I even fit? She is, to my knowledge, a virgin in this sense at least. This might be a problem, especially considering how Liz once mentioned how virgin girls sometimes "bleed a little" their first time. It's bound to hurt, and despite the sensations I can give Emily by manipulating her wavelengths, I have no power over physical pain. Even if it's just for a fraction of a second, I cannot bear the thought of causing her any type of pain.

But can love truly exist without any type of hurt?

"Kid…"

I glance upwards. Despite the aggravated tone of voice, Emily's expression is soft.

"Yes, alright," I assure, bringing myself back up from between her legs to drape myself across her form. My hand trails across her cheek in the gentlest of gestures.

Gods I don't want to cause her any kind of pain.

I take a deep breath as I bring my hand to my shaft to guide myself in place. To think it's this easy to penetrate someone's body, to join two fleshes together as one, to bring a union between souls, if I dwell too long on it I'm sure to bring about a headache.

Emily sighs with a similar inhale, her eyes flickering up at me as she places her arms against my back. As filled to the brim with lust and sexual energy as I am, nothing can help the brief moment of hesitation that runs down my spine. I'm stiff until I notice Emily's fingers kneading soothing circles into my back and her lips flush against my ear.

"Go on."

It's all the encouragement I need.

Emily

If you must ask, it's a lot of pressure.

I can't help but hold my breath as he pushes himself deeper and deeper at this agonizingly slow pace. Closing my eyes helps me concentrate on keeping my lower half relaxed. If I were to clench up, as my reflexes so want to because this feeling is so foreign, God knows if he'd be able to pull himself out.

Kid's back is tense. He's trying so hard not to let himself just force his way through my flesh. Even in this state of arousal I can distinguish the unpleasant from the pleasurable.

And right now my body is trying to stretch to accommodate what's being pushed inside of me. It makes me quake with the release of a breath.

"Are you alright?" Kid's fingers trace my cheek. I've let my face go stiff in concentration. God I probably look so ugly right now…

"Yeah…" I mutter, because I know what's coming.

Deeper, deeper, and deeper until something stretched to the point of straining is forced to make more room. It's like the brief second of burning pain from a paper cut, making me choke on the air I've been holding in my lungs. The sound echoes off the walls and in this moment it's almost too much to handle. It's gone. Gone forever unless I decide to become one of those born again Christians and take some vow of celibacy. Not likely though.

Kid's still both above and inside me, his eyes widening in sudden realization. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He takes my face in his hand and brings our foreheads together. His skin is hot and dewy with sweat, but the contact doesn't burn in the slightest. This is the Kid who was all frayed nerves and stuttering words, because his hand is just slightly shaking against my cheek as if he's suddenly sick with himself. The way he's whispering infinite apologies in my ear and holding me as if I'm made of glass is pretty endearing in an unhealthy kind of way. "Is…is it too much?"

Is it?

Am I or am I not thinking about that one dream I had about what, only a week ago? Where sex was this sinister symbol for how much I want to do good for people, to serve them the way they deserve?

"No one is impervious to the pleasures of the flesh."

I'm human too, right?

"No," I breathe, digging my fingers deeper into Kid's naked back. "You really don't recognize yourself anymore." "Don't move."

Kid's face scrunches up as he nods.

That flash of pain's become a series of throbbing contractions in my hips. Combined with the pressure, I'm happy to just stay like this for a minute or two like conjoined fetuses or dual parasites.

Parasites.

But Kid isn't a parasite. He's not some unwelcome invader in my body. This isn't another nightmarish dream. As intense as the weight of everything leading up to this moment in time, in a reality I've more often than not wished to be the result of some head trauma, I feel this strange sense of satisfaction. I've kept myself so isolated from people these two months because it's the only way I can repent and avoid any further crimes against humanity. I'm martyring myself, as ironic as it sounds considering the enemy, for the sake of protecting people from what I've allowed to slip through my fingers. But humans aren't meant to live alone.

And Kid will never give up on me, even if it means dying. That's why we're doing this; because I want to protect the world? And love? Love too, right?

I'd think about this further, but the pain has diminished enough to get to the actual "sex" part.

"Go ahead."

"What?"

I sigh, my fingers brushing through Kid's bangs, those wonderful lines of Sanzu he hates so fucking much. The hand still on his back slides to the side of his hip, the jutting bone in my palm. Really funny how I didn't notice he's been shivering in restraint this whole time. "I said go."

The change is fucking immediate.

Forget "on your marks, get set, go". Kid's out of the gate and he's fucking off.

The first thrust doesn't bring any of the discomfort I expected. No, because he's mastering my soul wavelengths. That heat inside me, the heat that's been simmering on a low burn, it's coming at me in waves. My back arches and a gasp escapes my mouth in this knee jerk reaction.

I would close my eyes and let that one thrust lull me off into some distant state of mind, God knows I'll be there eventually, but Kid's eyes are tight on me.

Another thrust; deeper this time and just slightly faster, but definitely hotter. It's too much to keep tabs on the passing of time.

"Emily. Emily. Emily. Emily. Emily."

He's saying my name, no, calling my name. And he looks so beautiful like this, all dewy skin and hooded eyes for me, who still doesn't deserve it in the least.

There's a coy smirk pulling at his mouth because he knows how mastered he is. He's in his zone, doing what comes naturally. Imagine if everything came to us as easily as having sex? Whether you're great at it or a complete mess the first time doesn't matter since you know what to do without even thinking.

I think and therefore I do.

I over think everything.

"Emily, oh my Emily."

His pace increases alongside the swell of heat traveling from the bottom of my stomach to my groin. It's like a gallon of water to a seemingly endless thirst. He's kissing me like he has no thoughts in his head.

That's the solution. Don't think until this is over. One thing at a time.

"You're…ah…you're perfect."

No, don't think about how wrong or foolish he is. As long as he believes it there's nothing I can do.

Kid pulls our mouths apart, panting all the while, and moves his hands up to tweak my breasts. Hot, so fucking hot I think I'll melt. And he's getting faster and more precise with every buck of his hips, hitting all the places that are making my limbs quake.

I glance he pulls out, there's a smudge of red at the base of the condom. It's out of sight following another thrust, which makes me twitch, but sure enough it's back again when he pulls out to the tip.

But I can't say anything. Kid has kissed me so senselessly that my tongue is an anchor in my lower jaw. And I can't even dwell on the thought of little flecks of blood spotting the bed sheets, looking ironically similar to connect the dots coloring pages.

"Emily…Is it good?" He breathes in my ear, his hand gently pushing my face in his direction. "Am I…am I making you feel good? Tell me."

And here I am; a sprawled out pile of limp limbs, with vines for hair and a heavy tongue in my mouth. I could say I've just come back from Vietnam and no one could tell any better. Then there's Kid, who with all the intense amount of stamina he's putting into cocking his hips back and forth, looks totally in control.

I'm incapable of letting anything out of my mouth besides these throaty groans until he angles himself just like that.

"Yes!" My eyes are spinning. Kid makes something between a grunt and a hiss as I claw my hand into the flesh of his ass because I'm desperate to open up and push his entire being inside me. I want my ribs to crack open like a jaw to consume him whole. And I can barely tell what half the words coming out of my mouth are; it's like listening to a tape bleed through the tracks.

But he speaks so clearly in my ear.

"Emily…you're doing so good."

There's something penetrating the inside of my chest. White hot. Bright light. Binding.

This heat is more like a fever. All these different, powerful sensations are spreading through my body, and it's just like hallucinating. His face is the only thing I see clearly, regardless of whether my eyes are open or not. Everything else in my sight is a bleeding mass of colors, like my eyes are running off of ecstasy and motor oil.

Deeper. Further. Harder. Hotter.

"You're almost there…almost there."

There are hungry lips against mine; gentle hands with nimble fingers setting my skin aflame by their touch. My mouth hangs half open, nothing but nonsense babbling and breaths I can't hold on to pouring out. I am strung up by the strings, his every touch and whisper a mastery over me.

But it's because of me. I give that sort of trust to grant me what I want. He's more like me than I am.

I must be repeating his name out loud, since Kid says, "I'm here…and I'll never leave you."

And with that it all slows down.

The things I've wanted to say, everything that was caught in my throat, I have the voice to say them again.

"Please…I…I need you!"

Against a background of white noise, this heat from within swallowing me whole, I implode.

I'm sobbing as he swallows the sharp noises pouring out of my mouth. And both of our bodies are convulsing from these intense currents. This is the union of two souls, about as elite and sacred as the joining of life and knowledge. Nothing can hurt me and I'm incapable of causing others pain. I'm sure of myself. And she doesn't exist inside of me.

You hear a lot of things about losing your virginity. Most of them come from shitty teen magazines or fetish porn, neither of which pique my interest, so don't even try. But I'm positive there's nothing out there to put what's flowing through my body into words.

Except maybe the French. How ironic, they call orgasms "little deaths". Really, how much more fitting can you get?

But it's tiring all of my energy, draining it away in what feels like a huge relief. I guess doing this with Kid is like the moments after a grenade goes off, and boy do I know what that feels like. Your head spins until you're so dizzy you can't see straight. Your ears ring with dead sound and your arms and legs are just dangling things of meat and bone.

But I'm smiling. I'm smiling and crying at the same time. The feeling is ebbing away, to both my disappointment and my relief. And Kid's still here, still inside of me, talking softly to me and holding my head straight.

It's funny, even though he's practically a man now, that I can still see the face of the infant in that picture my father kept on our mantel. As my vision starts to fade, there's a look of recognition in his eyes, like he's finally placed his finger on something he thought to have forgotten. God, if only I could move my arm, because I'd stroke his cheek and tell him that it's okay.

We're going to be okay.

Instead, I sleep.

Kid

"Take second best
Put me to the test
Things on your chest
You need to confess"

…five more minutes.

"I will deliver
You know I'm a forgiver"

"Mmmmng," Emily groans, stirring away from snuggling into the crook of my arm to draw the blankets over her head.

Who in the hell is calling…?

"Reach out and touch faith"

I wipe the overwhelming grogginess from my face as I hit the button on my iPhone and put it to my ear. "Hello?"

"I really hate to wake you up Kid, but I need you and Emily to come down to the school within an hour." How pleasant, it's Professor Stein, calling at the very inconvenient feeling hour of nine forty two in the morning. Perhaps Soul and Black Star have the right idea sleeping in the middle of lessons, because this is just too much to stay conscious for.

"That is, unless you find the theft of BREW or last night's attack at your party to be unimportant, then by all means go back to sleep."

Damn!

How could I have let all of that slip my mind?

Out of the corner of my eyes, Emily's naked back curves with a morning stretch.

Oh. Yes. That's right.

In the rush of last night's memories, my phone begins to fumble out of my grip. "Yes Professor! I mean no Professor. We'll be there as soon as possible!" I leap from the bed and with all the grace of a newborn fawn, trip about the room to get to my closet.

"And Kid?"

I pull a freshly pressed suit off of the rack. "Yes?"

On the other end of the line I hear the tell tale sound of Stein blowing cigarette smoke out of his mouth. "Let Emily know I want to see her specifically."

I'm about to lay into him, considering that the last time he wanted to see her is still quite fresh and bitter in my mind, but he's hung up before I can even think of any response.

"Stein, wasn't it?"

I turn back on my heel, the suit draped over my forearm, and damn, she is simply a different breed of beautiful. Emily seems to have no issue with her semi-nudity, my blankets neatly folded around her waist as she smooths her hair into place.

Which reminds me, I have no underwear on.

"Yes," I say as I make my way over to my bureau for something to cover myself with. All the while I keep sneaking glances at the still very nude girl in my bed. "He wants us at the DWMA sooner than later."

Emily rolls her shoulders with a satisfying sigh. "Don't be so surprised, last night was more of I party than I could handle."

At those words, I turn around to her, still stepping into a pair of boxer briefs. In the pit of my stomach, that infuriating pang of worry begins to reform. What we did last night is something neither of us can take back. What I gave to her is something that can never be taken away. If she regrets it…

"Hey, so did it work?"

There's a creak in my spine as I stand up straight. Emily's eyes are wide, her hands rubbing the cold from her upper arms. "Can you amplify my soul wavelengths now?"

Heat pours into my face. Nonetheless, I make my way back over to the edge of the bed. "Well, considering that you passed out as soon as it was over, there's no way it didn't. It requires a lot of energy from humans," I affirm, taking one of her hands in mine. "How do you feel?"

Emily glances down at our laced fingers and begins to knead her thumb into my skin. "Tired, for sure. A little bit sore but an ibuprofen can't fix." When she looks back up at me, there's a smile on her face. That's a relief in more ways than one. Once the possession of lust had passed, and present clarity sank back into my head, I began to worry if I had been too rough with her. But to my relief, no bruises had formed. However, as I had expected, there was a streak of blood between her thighs, (but miraculously none on my bed sheets). As far as I can tell she appears to be just fine. "Can you show me?"

It's an embedded, natural ability by now for me to control the soul wavelengths of another. Still, this will be the first time I have ever attempted it fully on someone I've mated with. I slip my hand from Emily's palm. "Certainly. Close your eyes."

As soon as she does so, I throw myself into a meditative concentration. There it is, the red string tying our two separate souls together. Without a moment of hesitation, I tug it.

The effect is immediate. Emily's eyes shoot open, her body shaking with the surge of energy as her amplified soul wavelengths. It blows the hair from her shoulders as a breathy gasp sounds from her throat.

Fair enough of an example. I release the red string and the environment around us dies down. Emily gives a sigh, one of self assurance and relief. "Well shit man."

What a typical sounding response from her. I certainly can't say I didn't miss it.

"See, it works," I say, leaning in to fix a few strands of stray hair out of her face. "It'll be significantly more powerful if you're in danger or in the middle of a fight, but so long as you-"

Air escapes my lungs as Emily lunges at me, wrapping her arms tight around my back, her breasts soft against my bare chest. She plants her lips against the corner of my mouth, holding me closer and closer.

The open mouthed kiss I receive in suit means more than any "thank you" ever has.

Unknown location in the southwestern United States

5:25 A.M.

The man known to his followers as Noah sat heavy in the stone chair.

From a barely lit corner of the stone walled room, a brutish voice called, "Boss, she's wide awake."

"Excellent, bring me to her," Noah smirked as he slipped BREW into his pocket. As arose from his throne, he once again noticed the slight limp in Cain's gait.

"Is your leg feeling any better?" he asked as they made their way down a dark corridor.

Cain smirked. "Giriko did a pretty good job fixing the metal joint in. Still a pain in my ass though."

As calm as Cain tried to keep his voice, Noah nonetheless could hear the quake of nerves in his words. Cain's research had proven its reliability in the past, so much so that it was almost gospel truth.

However, the burnt up remains of his pant leg told a completely different story.

It should never have been possible. Two of the same infected blood should never have been able to injure each other. How useful could this little mob thug be if his research was wrong?

Everything had gone just as it should. BREW was in their possession and Gopher followed according to plan. Now the DWMA and Emily Valentine would have no choice but to come after them. And when that happened, they would raise the stakes by taking another bargaining chip, the type that would drive their dear girl right where they want her. But as detailed and precise Cain had been in his collective knowledge of Emily, the sudden fault in his research could become a major problem later on.

The two men made their way down to the basement. The old, ancient jail cells still reeked of the delightful smell of death. Blood still stained the floors where number thirteen, the demon meteor hammer, had been tortured for her insubordination.

As the leader, she suffered the worst out of the twenty five.

Her desire for freedom, her resistance, made her a true martyr. Even when their tortures became even more sadistic, she continued to denounce them. Because she knew her kind was superior. They had no obligation to service their false oppressors. And she continued to cry out against them as they tore limb from limb from her body.

Cain thought thirteen had the right idea.

The basement was dimly lit by red black light. And in its center stood a vast tube, hooked up to a mess of wires and machines. In turn, these machines were all connected to the newly stolen BREW.

From above the tube, the Book of Eibon hung from the ceiling, emitting a holy red light from its open pages.

Inside the tube, a girl floated in the manmade embryonic fluid.

Red hair billowed out around her head like a holy halo. Her eyes, finally open after weeks and weeks of growth, glowed bronze in the room's darkness.

Cain and Noah walked closer to their new, godly entity.

"This is the final step towards creating our perfect world," Noah spoke, tugging the brim of his cap.

Cain pressed his hand against the glass, feeling the vibrations of awoken life course through his arm. "Your time has come."

The girl's mouth twitched into smile as she spoke, "So it has, father." She then placed her own hand against her encasing, matching that of Cain's. "And I look forward to meeting mother face to face very soon."

Author's Note:

Another two month hiatus courtesy of college, where you write an essay a week and wear flannel.

I will finish this story even if it kills me oh my God.

I have a serious problem where I write stuff that's too long so yeah, I set myself up for disaster on this one.

As of now, I haven't proofread ANY of this because look how long it is. I'll fix it later. Right now, just enjoy about 4,000 words of gratuitous teenage sex. You're welcome.

Playlist

My Sweet Prince by Placebo

Draw Your Swords by Angus & Julia Stone

Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley

I Know Places by Lykke Li

Help, I'm Alive by Metric

Nicole