Briony
He’s not like us. He’s like them.
He’s like them.
Them.
I say this repeatedly in my head, over and over as Saint carries me up the stairs to my bed, placing me gently on the edge before finding his seat on the bench of the vanity across from me. Having no clue where Aero is, I can only assume he’s somewhere watching closely, ready to kill both me and Saint if this plan goes south.
“Show me,” Saint mutters once more, pulling the bench forward to the end of my iron bedframe, staring down at me intently as he takes a seat again. “I need to see what I do to you, Briony.”
The slight ache in his innocent voice silently kills me. It’s not that I’ve never imagined Saint in this light. He’s handsome, and extremely attractive compared to all of my other classmates. But it’s the fact that his brother has been the one that’s continuously occupied my mind. His tormented, tortured older brother who’s shown me the light and made me question not only everything, but everyone.
Leaning back on my elbows, I scoot backward until my heels rest on the edge of the bed. I give Saint one last look to gauge his intentions, and when our eyes connect, his innocence shines through.
God, I’m about to end his entire livelihood.
What if Aero is wrong? What if Saint has nothing to do with his father’s business dealings with Alastor Abbott, the church, and the calculated corruption they promote? What if he’s truly the innocent bystander who’s unfortunately locked into this chaos as the primary target for destruction, when in reality, he’s maintained his innocence in this world of greed, corruption, and power?
A slight creak in the old wood of our floorboards from the hallway has my heart skipping a beat. Saint’s eyes divert away from mine, and my heart thuds wildly in my chest at the thought of Aero on standby. I can only imagine what is going through his tormented skull at the moment.
But before Aero entirely pulls Saint’s attention from me, I cover the cut on my upper thigh with the hem of my green plaid skirt and separate my thighs, parting them wide to expose my soiled cotton panties.
Saint’s eyes grow wild with fascination, his jaw going slack at the image before him. He swallows as I bite my lip, praying to whatever God there is that this is the path I’m meant to travel to bring the true evil to light.
“So it’s true. That’s what happens when your body primes itself for sexual endeavors?” he asks breathlessly, still staring at the wetness pooled between my legs.
I almost chuckle at his statement. I’d forgotten the naivety we once shared from an entire childhood of silence when it came to the knowledge of sex. All we know is what we hear from the sexual endeavors of the tainted and sinful. His brother could teach him a thing or two about priming a female body for sex. The man is a walking state of arousal. He could whisper what a dirty fucking slut I am and I’d be coming on command.
“You’re soaking wet,” he states, his eyes finally traveling up to meet mine. “Like, it’s everywhere.”
I nod my head, retaining the knowledge of my wet appearance being caused by his brother, before slowly laying my back against the mattress. Gripping my panties, I take a quick, calming breath, before sliding them down my thighs and removing them, careful to keep my fresh, satanic-looking wound covered in the process.
“I’ve found it happens when I think about you.” I raise onto my elbows again, cocking my head at him. “I get slippery down here. Slippery and wet. I think to ease the pain? Of…”
He tightens his jaw, hands curling into fists on his slacks, showcasing some need for restraint before slowly nodding his head, understanding exactly what I’m referring to without needing to hear me voice it.
“That makes sense,” he agrees, shaking his head slightly, almost in disbelief. “It’s insanely attractive.”
I blush, turning my cheek to my shoulder and roll my lips inward.
“Have you ever…used anything?” His eyes divert to my sex before looking back into my eyes to gauge my reaction. “I mean, anything other than your fingers when you think about me?”
I shake my head no. “Just these.”
I hold two of my fingers up before him and he peers at them dangerously, eyes narrowing and running his tongue over his teeth.
“These two specifically?”
I give him my best guilt-ridden eyes before nodding. Lust-filled, daring eyes peer back at me as he grabs for my hand. With his gaze set on mine, he brings the fingers to his mouth. Placing them on his tongue, he slowly sucks the length of them, his focus never leaving me. My clit instantly throbs with a heartbeat all its own, and chills travel up the length of my arm, directly to my core at the erotic move I wasn’t anticipating him to make.
Dropping my hand, he sits back on the bench again, apparently ready to watch what I do with those wet fingers. Already feeling the cool air of the room hit my dripping center, I release a soft sigh, calming myself to the best of my abilities before parting my thighs wide before him again.
With saucers for eyes, he leans forward in his seat.
“Heaven help me,” he whispers, peering up at me through his lashes, his hooded gaze trailing down to my exposed and dripping center. “You’re beautiful.”
I grind my back teeth at the sweet sentiment, not allowing it to penetrate my newfound steel exterior.
His eyes flutter up to my face again, soft and questioning. He wants to touch, but wonders where that line protecting his purity lies and whether he’s willing to cross it for me.
Propped up with one elbow now, I slide my fingers over my shaved sex, swollen and wet from already being used. My clit hums with arousal, simply at the thought.
“I’ve often wondered what you looked like,” I whisper, using my middle finger to rub circles over my clit. “I mean, I’ve felt it before.” Beneath his slacks, I see his erection. “That day in the kitchen. Along your thigh.”
He sits up taller, his shoulders drawing back, muscles stiffening at my words.
“I’ve imagined feeling it right here.” Dropping my head back against the bed, I push my finger deep inside my pussy, a breathy moan escaping me.
“Oh Briony,” he breathes. “Jesus, I can’t…I can’t.”
I continue fucking myself with my finger, legs spread before him, with one hand still holding that skirt across my thigh as I lift my hips to meet the pleasure that’s taking me hostage.
“Oh, God,” I moan, swirling my finger in the mess that Aero left, feeling entirely aroused and ready to burst.
“I can’t,” he murmurs again.
Awaiting the touch of a hand that can’t control itself anymore, I lie there with my finger deep within my sopping center, dead silence suddenly filling the room.
I prop my head up and see Saint sitting on the edge of his seat with his eyes closed and a pained expression on his face, breathing harshly through his lips. He rubs a hand down his face, but instead of the dark temptation that was previously emitting from his blue eyes, when we connect, there’s a look of disappointment and disgust twisted within him.
“Saint,” I whisper, sitting up abruptly and pulling my skirt down.
Fuck, I’m losing him.
“I-I’m sorry,” I plead.
He shakes his head, refusing to look at me.
Shit.
“I crossed a line, Saint. I shouldn’t have—“
He stands from the bench, heading towards the door of my room, but turns back towards me again, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He drops his hand, looking like he wants to say something, but shakes his head instead.
After a moment, he sighs, the frustration with himself evident. “I’m taking advantage of the fact that you’re scared and lonely, and it’s entirely wrong of me.”
It’s all falling apart.
“I should…I should go,” he says, finally peering at me with remorse.
He will not go through with this. His morals are too strong. Stronger than mine ever were. I was naïve to think I could sway a man so easily with my sexuality. Especially one so deeply intertwined with the church and its teachings.
“No!” I say, standing, reaching out to place my hand on his forearm to stop his pacing. “Please, don’t go. I’m sorry. I’m not in the right headspace either. Maybe we can just…” I sigh, my eyes darting wildly around the room. “Can we just talk? Just…talk?”
I’m grasping at straws here, needing to not fail for myself and Aero.
I look up at Saint’s face when his hand grabs for mine. His mind is clearly running wild with decisions and indecisions. I’ve thrown him into a storm of thoughts, ideas, and images he can’t unsee. He appears to be working out impossible theorems in his head at the moment.
“We can talk,” he whispers, looking down at me and finally nodding.
“Please don’t think differently of me now,” I beg. “I don’t want this to change—“
“Briony, stop.” He grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I’d never think any less of you.”
His kind eyes find mine again, and his other hand cups the side of my face in a gentle caress. A caress that feels comforting and entirely too good. So good, I close my eyes and relish in it, allowing a sigh to escape my lungs. When I open them, I see that seriousness on his face again. That want. That endless craving of lustful need that just doesn’t know where to go.
Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against mine, our eyes studying each other. His gaze falls to my lips before moving in slowly and pressing his lips to mine. The kiss is soft. It’s caring. It’s sensitive and loving. I open my mouth and he takes the cue, meeting my tongue with a gentle swipe of his. A moan flows from my throat into his mouth as we continue the soft, sensual kiss, his hand sliding down to hold my neck. But just as I’m sure we’re making progress again, he pulls away, breathless.
“We’re just trouble when we’re together, aren’t we?” he says, a wicked little glint in his expression.
I laugh softly along with him. If you only knew.
We walk back towards the edge of the bed, swiping my underwear from the floor before he helps me take a seat beside him.
“But I think that can be a good thing,” he continues, seemingly determined. “It gives us something to work on for our ultimate goals. We can find ways to strengthen each other by resisting the urges that throw themselves before us.” He grins, nudging his shoulder playfully into mine, holding out the panties saturated from my arousal and Aero’s cum back to me. “Think of it as the ultimate test.”
Inside I’m crumbling, not knowing how to turn this around, but on the outside, I’m smiling and nodding like a naïve idiot. I peer down at the floor, my mind attempting to work out this puzzle before me.
I ruined this entirely. I couldn’t tempt him the way I thought I could. I was so confident I could make this man sin with me, but I’d misjudged his strength. I reluctantly slip my legs through the soiled cotton, pulling them back in place beneath my skirt, hating that I love vile act.
“You know, I think you’re right—”
“Briony.” His voice interrupts me and I turn to face him.
But his eyes aren’t locked on me. They’re on my leg. My thigh, to be specific. The thigh with fresh blood smeared down it. The thigh with an arrow and the bottom of a crucifix, clearly visible.
“What is that?”
His hard gaze slowly trails from the wound until it finds mine, and I stiffen in place, holding my breath. My nerves are twisting in the pit of my gut as my nerves are set ablaze. He has an odd look about him. One that’s cold, looking entirely deceived.
My lashes flutter. “I-I can explain…”
“What is that, Briony?” His tone is clipped, and it terrifies me.
My bottom lip quivers as I feel the pain of my betrayal. He knows this was a setup. I can feel it in my bones. There’s no way he couldn’t.
“You finally found my masterpiece.”
The voice is deep and familiar and cuts through the silence like a knife, making my heart pang in my chest like a caged animal seeking freedom.
Saint stands immediately, and in a surprising move, pulls me up and off the bed, shoving me behind him. I peer around his arm to see those piercing hazel eyes beneath the black mask, Aero’s shirtless form covered in those endless marks and scars. Mound of muscle that look tense and taut, as if he’s had a hard time restraining himself, are dressed in nothing but the black pants and combat boots he was wearing earlier. His lengthy frame grows on us with every abominable step he takes.
Saint holds me back, his chest heaving in terror at the presence of an unknown man lurking in the corners of my room.
“It’s him,” he whispers to himself.
Aero’s uneven smirk pulls at his lips through the mouth hole of the mask.
“It’s me.” He pauses in place before us. “But who is him? I’m curious to find out.”
He cocks his head to the side before flipping a butterfly knife open in his hand.
My eyes dart nervously between the two of them. The tension is thick as mud and the room feels as if the familiar walls are caging us in.
The two of them, in the same room, finally facing off.
“Truthfully, it doesn’t matter what you’ve been told,” Aero says casually, flipping the sharp blade with a quick wrist, making a smooth motion with the knife. “You wouldn’t believe me for a second if I gave it to you straight.” He sneers, confidence radiating from his cold, dark eyes.
Saint stands tall before me, a hand reaching back, holding me to him protectively.
“It’s beside the point. Truths. Lies. Who we are beneath our masks…” Aero continues, still toying with the knife, flipping the blade with his skilled fingers. “What matters now is that you do what you’re told.”
I swallow thickly, my nerves weakening my knees, knowing exactly where this is going. He found the angle. He solved my puzzle, saving my dignity. Aero is taking back his control.
“What do you want with her? He cut you?!” Saint directs the question at me, keeping his eyes on the masked man before him.
I’m in shock, realizing Saint thinks I’m innocent in this situation. He sees me as acting as a hostage to the demon himself when in reality, this was all my devilish plan.
“What do you want from us?” Saint asks, “My father can give you anything.”
My mouth drops open and Aero stills in place. An eerie shift runs through my bones at the mention of their father. He brings a fist to his jaw, cracking his neck both ways before turning his glare on Saint again.
With little thought, Aero throws his blade at Saint, just barely missing his head and mine as it flies between us. I scream, crouching to the floor, gripping the sides of my head as Saint dodges the knife, the blade sticking into the wall behind us.
“Our father…“ Aero’s dangerously rough tone pierces my ears, and I tremble in its presence. Saint slowly stands straight again, helping me up, still holding me to his back as Aero takes a step towards us. “…who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name,” he continues, and I suck in a breath of oxygen, clawing at the depleting air around me.
“Thy Kingdom come; thy will be done.” He pulls a gun from the back of his pants, causing Saint to stiffen, before scratching the side of his mask-covered head with it, casually approaching us. “On earth as it is in Heaven.”
“What do you want from us?!” Saint demands.
“It’s not about what I want.“ Aero lifts the gun, placing it on Saint’s temple. Saint stills in place, his hand tightening around my wrist, and I can practically smell the fear seeping from his pores. “It’s about what I need.”
“And right now…” Aero’s gun slowly shifts until it’s pointed at me behind him.
He gives me a haunting grin beneath the mask, his eyes twinkling with the hateful revenge he’s been harboring all these years. The pain of his entire childhood, present in the excitement of the fear and control unraveling before him. Cold. Ruthless. Entirely terrifying. I’m losing the man I thought I knew to the darkness that owns him.
“Right now, I need you to fuck her.”
