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[Visiting churches tends to rank very, very low on the list of things Ana enjoys doing - but there had been a potential lead about her old man here, and her grudge overrides the disgust she has towards entering the holy building. And there's always something funny about a fallen angel just waltzing into a church like this.

Though the only thing that greets her when she does step inside is the sound of her heels clicking against the polished floor; irritation flickering at how it seems that, once again, the lead was completely wrong. There is no holy man or angel in sight, and she heaves a sigh as her eyes drift over to the podium - trailing up to the statue of the oh-so great lord and saviour hanging overtop. Maybe she should trash the place a bit, at least get something out of this.

But... On second thought, she isn't alone, is she? The presence here is an odd one, something familiar yet not, and it's why she doesn't go for her usual tactic of "fight first, questions later."]

And here I thought I had the place to myself.

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[Slim brows raise again in response, before she huffs a little - the sound becoming strained as his tongue trails against her skin. But that does little to dampen her faint amusement, painted lips curving into another smirk.]

I have a feeling that even if I tried, you would enjoy it.

[Considering how he reacted when she kneed him hard between the legs not too long ago - most men would've probably been driven to tears by that, especially since she didn't really bother to be remotely gentle about it. And she's no fool despite how prideful she is; his strength most likely far outclasses hers in general. But it still makes her deathly curious about what it might be like to actually fight him one day...

But for now, that stubborn knee keeps being stubborn for a moment longer, before she finally lets it lower - giving him space once more, while she brings her bloodied hand to her lips. There's no hesitation as she trails her tongue against her stained fingers, tasting his blood with a low hum.]

[ He chuckles at that, muffling his laughter into her stomach. ]

Seems like you’ve got me all figured out.

[ At least, in the ways that matter. Because evidently fighting him is going to turn into something else entirely should they go at it for long enough, but why think of fighting now when she’s finally relented with that shapely leg of hers.

He’s not sure he’s fully recovered from getting kneed by said firm and shapely leg, but he also does not regret it. ]

You, on the other hand…

[ That she can get turned on like this isn’t at all surprising, but what happens if he plumbs the depths of her even further? What depravities might he unleash beyond the confines of this church?

Which is to say, he’s prizing her thighs apart and letting that sultry tongue of his do the talking for a change. ]

[There's a chuckle in return, resisting the urge to squirm when he muffles himself against her skin.]

I'll make a note that kicking you in the dick will have the opposite effect if I get annoyed at you.

[Though annoyance is currently the furthest thing from her mind, at the moment. There is some frustration, but it's something she can push back for the moment - crimson eyes watching him still. She has an idea of he's planning, the hand still in his hair absently playing with the strands.]

And what about me -

[The words end in a sharp gasp when he pushes her thighs apart and makes whatever thought she have vanish immediately - a hand tightening in his hair, as the other grips the side of the pew. Wood might be splintering a little under her hold, but she's not exactly focusing on that.]

[ Lesser men might think twice about giving her the kind of ammo he has, but when has he ever balked from a challenge? Especially from one who enjoys kneeing him in the nethers a little too much…

But that only makes it all the more satisfying when he does get back at her like this, his breath hot on her skin, his lips and tongue tasting her, easing inside of her. Kissing her, really, as his hands grip at her thighs with the same kind of ferocity she’s giving the pew, intent on holding her still so that he can ravish her and ravish her until, maybe, she’ll forgive him for tearing up her clothes.

Or fall apart and beg for him to go a little deeper. Personally, he prefers the latter, and given the ache between his own legs, he’s certainly hoping it happens sooner rather than later. ]

[Her breath comes out in stuttered gasps and choked sounds as he eases inside her, that heat coiling even tighter - even how tightly he grips at her thighs burn through her, the pain melting into pleasure. Even if being held still like this makes her want to jerk back, to regain some semblance of control.

And she does give into that desire, the hand clinging to his hair now trying to tug his head back - shifting to try to move her legs from his grasp. It does feel good, almost too much, and she's unwilling to let herself be overwhelmed just yet.]

Enough of that... [And she does want more than this, but she certainly isn't going to beg. Not yet, anyway.]

[ He merely chuckles in response, making sure his laughter vibrates deep into her core.

But that’s the only time he’ll stop, not even with how much his scalp stings at her vice grip—not at all caring even if she might tear his hair away. Because this is what he’s born to do as a fallen angel, after all—invade sanctuaries, commit sacrilege. Pillage and plunder.

He’s only gentler with her because he knows it’ll bother a spitfire like her, and he’s moaning low in his throat, letting the obscene sounds he’s making against those hot, wet, deliciously intimate parts of her echo loud and clear inside this quiet little church.

But this isn’t enough, no matter what she says, no matter how deeply his tongue can thrust inside of her (deeper than most, it must be said—being inhuman has its perks). She’s tougher than he’s thought upon first meeting her, after all. She isn’t going to break so easily.

So he pulls away, licking at his lips with sheer, smug satisfaction, but he’ll only allow her a brief glimpse of that before he’s turning her on her side, running that hot, wet tongue of his at the junction where her wings meet flesh. ]

[The vibration against her pulls a sharp hiss of his name, a shiver wrecking through her at the sensation. She's not at all surprised that he didn't stop when she asked him to, but it does annoy her just a bit. Not that she's really in a spot to show it, besides giving another sharp tug on his hair.

Though he does a good job at guaranteeing that she doesn't stay annoyed, even if the last coherent part of her is irked at how he becomes gentle. The sounds of her gasps and choked moans mix in with the rest of the obscene sounds that fill the night air, and if she had cared enough she may have been almost embarrassed by just how wet she is. Right now it's hard to focus on anything else besides how his lips move against her and how his tongue thrusts inside her.

But she's given a brief reprieve when he pulls away, gasping as the pleasure ebbs back for a moment, allowing her to regain some focus. Enough so that she squints her eyes at him as he turns her onto her side, about to ask what he's planning down before her eyes widen. The sensation of his tongue against that junction sends a sharp jolt through her, flinching harshly as her breath leaves her in a stuttered cry.

Before she attempts to arch her back away from him, trying to twist out of his grasp when she realizes what he's found. And based on what she knows of him so far, she doesn't foresee this ending well for her.]

W-wait, stop-! [But she still won't beg, of course.]

Heh.

[ That’s the most dignified reply he can muster as he lavishes his attentions on this most deliciously sensitive part of her, the action hearkening back to his early days as a fallen. Oh, to be young and freshly corrupted once again…

But he’s always been a bit of a nasty sort to begin with.

He reaches up to caress her feathers gently, fingering at them, stroking them, his gestures soothing as though to make up for the fact that he’s sucking hard on skin, running his tongue over the edges of her wings, twiddling at her feathers. In the moonlight her wings look so vividly dark against her skin that it makes him wonder if he’ll fall into them and disappear. They’re soft enough that it’s almost tempting for him to try.

With a smirk, he pulls away from her much-abused wing for a moment to glance at her with sheer, smug satisfaction, knowing how close he’d come to making her beg. In fact, he still intends to do just that, but not before savoring the look of her in the throes of her own pretty little dignity getting plucked apart like so many feathers. ]

[That response prompts her to glare sharply over her shoulder, though the force of it quickly falters as he sucks on her skin - her grip tightening around the edge of the pew, the wood slowly starting to splinter under her palm. Harsh tremors work through her as his fingers trail against her feathers, every sensation feeling as if it's been amplified; making her acutely aware of how he caresses her feathers and how his tongue trails against her skin.

The pleasure sears through her, the heat of it almost burning her from the inside - it feels good, almost too good, and she has to choke back the please along with the moans and gasps that escape her. By now the ache between her legs borderlines on painful, the skin of her inner thighs quickly becoming slick - though she stubbornly presses them together, to try to grant herself some relief. Anything so she doesn't cave in.

Then he stops, and she's not sure if she's relieved for the respite or immensely frustrated that he did actually stop. There's a moment where she catches her breath, chest heaving as she gasps - then she glances over and sees that smug look, and decides that, yes, she's leaning towards annoyed.

Which is why she responds by kicking her leg out behind her, fully intending to hit him somewhere; though considering her current state, there's not as much strength in it as usual.]

Asshole. [Not even her snapping is as potent, considering how breathless she sounds.]

[ He takes it in the jaw like a champ, of course. There’s no need to bother with dodging because that means looking away from her, and whyever would he want to do that?

Besides, the kick isn’t enough to crack his smile, even if it’s sent his own skull rattling. ]

I’ll take that as a compliment.

[ All right, so his voice might be a little muffled with that foot lodged partially into his face. Though unlike her, he doesn’t care as much for his dignity, whatever that even is anymore. It’s her fault for not taking advantage of the fact that violence turns him on, after all!

But if she doesn’t pull her foot away, he’ll gently nudge it aside as he looms—leans in, rather—just a bit closer. ]

And maybe another one will get me going again.

[The fact that smile hasn't budged in the slightest only irks her further; enough so that she may be grinding her heel into that annoyingly, smugly handsome face. Not that she thinks it'll actually do anything, but she has to make her annoyance known. She does at least move her foot away at his nudge, a brow raising as he leans in.

Before she decides to bring that same foot down hard against his side. Worked-up and flustered as she is, it certainly won't stop her from trying to make things difficult for him. Of course, experience so far has shown her that he seems to enjoy that...]

Another what? Kick in the face, or calling you a dick? Both sound like things you're into.

[ Does she even realize that she’s making herself look more enticing like this? Flustered and vulnerable and easily riled up… It’s funny how quickly she’s willing to lose control in front of a fallen angel—or at any rate, with someone like him.

Hers is the last place anyone would want to be in.

But—he realizes, as that second kick connects, making him wonder idly if a rib or two has cracked—he might just be in the same position. ]

Oof.

[ You know what? That actually hurt a little. ]

Touchy tonight, aren’t we, babe? It’s your call then, if it makes you feel any better.

[ It probably won’t, but he won’t pass up the chance for another fight to make things interesting.

Besides, it seems like she needs to get a lot out of her system tonight. ]

[It most likely is a bad move to get so riled up in front of him, but she's prideful enough to not see the issue just yet - and it's also due to this pride that she became so irritated in the first place. He did aim for a weak spot after all, and that's enough of a perceived slight to earn her ire.

Even if it did feel good. Even if it felt incredibly good, and she's still feeling the lingering throbs from the abused wing - the ache between her thighs now bordering on painful.

And her scowl eases when she hears that response to her kick, faintly wondering if she did break something. Then not really caring, since if he's anything like her that will heal in no time.

Instead she raises a brow at him, before reaching over, fingers curling around the back of his neck - it would've seemed like a sweet gesture, if it wasn't for how she sharply pulled him closer. Close enough that her lips almost press to his, but not quite.]

I mean, I'm probably going to do both either way. [Because of course she is.] But it's all terribly one-sided if it's left up to me, isn't it?

Oh? So you’d like a compliment too?

[ A chance at getting him to beg and fall apart for her? Ha. She can try, but he’s been playing this game for far longer than she has. And besides, if he’s going to let someone dominate him at all…

First thing: she’s already broken the fundamental rule of domination, which is to withhold that which another craves for. And she has so far been giving in to Belial’s desires despite acting like she isn’t. Even her cute little displays of violence, after all, are rewarding his bad behavior than otherwise.

Well, now. It’s not like he isn’t keen on doing the same to her, anyway.

So as much as he would love to close that meager distance between their lips, he doesn’t. Instead, he grins all the wider, ever like a predator toying with his prey, as his fingers lace through the thick of her hair and tighten. ]

How about: I bet you’ll look real good when I break you apart.

[A compliment hadn't been exactly she was angling for, but she's certainly not so humble enough to shoot down the suggestion. Granted, a lot of what she's been doing so far has basically been very much up to her whims and mood at that particular moment - of course she's interested in seeing how far she can push him, but there's also no rush.

After all, they have all night. Even if she was getting a tad impatient.

So that compliment only gets her own lips to curl into a smirk, the fingers curled around his neck dragging nails down towards his back. She doubts he's anywhere near as sensitive as she is, but that's what exploring is for.]

When you break me apart, huh? I'll be holding you to that.

[It's a dangerous thing to do, to say something like that to someone like him. But it's not as if she made any good, safe decisions so far so why start now? So she bridges that gap between them, the crush of her lips against his harsh and biting.]

[ Well, far be it for him to refuse an offer so freely and enthusiastically given. He meets her kiss with gleeful ferocity, matching her teeth for teeth and tongue for tongue. But he’s a more distracted kisser this time, as he’s taking the time to suck at and savor whatever cut and bruise he’d managed to wring out of her lips, kissing and sucking at swollen flesh for however long before they heal up and he has to open new wounds again.

And distracted as she is, she won’t mind if he reaches for her wings again, will she? His fingers might not feel quite as heated as his mouth, but they serve the purpose well enough as they brush across a wing’s beautifully dark feathers, feeling for—ah. There again—that sensitive area where wings meet flesh, that she’d so prettily given away as her weak spot.

It turns out she’s got plenty of those, and he’s busily baring them all to some outraged god within the confines of a church they’re already in the process of desecrating. ]

[ It's a kiss she meets as aggressively in turn, leaving a wound on his lips for every one he leaves on hers - she's not certain if the blood on her tongue is hers or his, but it invigorates her all the same. The sharp sting of it searing through her, the heat pooling in her abdomen bordering on painful; if she wasn't so prideful, she may have completely given in already. Even now there's the temptation, no matter how much she tries to ignore it.

Then there's the full body wince when his fingers reach for that certain sensitive spot once more, focus broken as a low moan manages to escape her. For a moment all she can do is shudder and gasp, before giving a particular vicious bite to his lips - she doesn't trust her voice at the moment, but she can certainly make her thoughts known in some way.

And even as she finds herself arching into that touch, she still manages to dig her nails into his back, dragging angry red lines around to his chest and further down. Only for the touch to become featherlight, palm just brushing against the front of his pants; she had treated him so roughly before, after all, so she should be nice and take a gentler approach. ]

[ Fallen angels really are a happy accident of the divine, aren’t they? To think she’d be so feisty and yet so devious at the same time? He may be coldhearted, but he’s certainly no cold fish—he’s not immune to her advances.

Far from it, really. Something about the way she’s so rebellious and yet so deliciously uptight about that endearing pride of hers is stirring his desires to rather…peculiar heights. This isn’t mere excitement over seeing another one of his kind. This isn’t even the usual petty delight he gets from toying with others.

What would he even call something like this—? ]

Surrendering already?

[ in a light and jesting tone as he breaks that kiss to lick at his bloodied lips with sheer relish, his fingers tightening in her feathers, as though he might rip them out. He’s half a mind to, just to hear what she might sound like. Furious, probably. Or maybe she’ll surprise him and go for the wounded bird act. The possibilities…

He’s thinking all of that, without even bothering to pull his crotch away from her questing fingers—in fact, he’s pressing himself against her even harder than before, perfectly secure in the knowledge that she at least might be strong enough to rip it out if she’s ever so inclined.

How bloody does she want all this to be, really? ]

Or maybe you’d like me to clip your wings first, just to see how much further you can fall…

You have a funny idea of what surrender is.

[ Is what she sneers back, tongue absently trailing along her lips to lick up the blood as well - only to hiss as his fingers squeeze around her feathers, wings twitching in response. She does wonder for a moment if he will tear at them; of course she would be furious, but as always there's that undercurrent of curiosity. Even she's not entirely sure how bloody she wants this to be, content to follow her everchanging whims as always... Though there's an appeal to seeing blood spilled on hallowed ground.

She really is being too lenient, isn't she? With anyone else she would be outraged at them even thinking of ruining her wings, would crush their hands before they could touch her, but maybe she's just that glad to meet someone like her? Maybe it's something other than that? Well, it's not like she has the mindset to dwell on it at the moment. ]

Then you would owe me for getting blood on my wings, on top of the ripped clothes. [ No, she will absolutely not let that go. And she punctuates her words with a quick, sharp grind of her heel against his crotch - brief and fleeting, before she turns her attention to finally taking those damn pants off. And it's fine if they get torn a little... or a lot, right? Right. ]

Or did you want me to beg and plead for you not to do it?

[ He groans at the rough handling, smiling viciously through his teeth. With a dark chuckle, his hand finally leaves her wings, only to snatch up her chin and force her to look up at him, though he doesn’t really stop her from undressing him the rest of the way. ]

Why can’t I have it both ways, darling? I’m already baring myself to you, body and soul, aren’t I?

[ He punctuates that by kicking his pants—or the remnants of them—off the rest of the way, all the while keeping his gaze on hers.

And he still doesn’t regret ripping her clothes off at all.

But he does step back a little, to let her take him in in his nakedness, bared to both her gaze and that of the creator from which he’d been sprung. ]

Or were you thinking of sinking lower than that?

[ It's a relief when he finally lets go of her wings, at least her pride will remain in tact for now, but she still finds herself far more frustrated when she would like to admit. And her pride once again stops her from giving into that frustration as well.

At least she's given some sort of distraction as he forces her eyes onto him, and there her eyes stay - not even wavering as she quirks a brow. ]

Oh, so you really want to see me cry that badly, babe? Maybe I could put on a good performance for you.

[ Not that she thinks she could, she's not exactly the performing type, but she supposes it's the thought that counts. Or something like that.

And her eyes stay on him even as he steps back - she can certainly appreciate the view, after all - and she shifts herself up onto her elbows. There's no shame in how she's completely bared in front of him like this, and there's a low, amused hum at his words. ]

Depends on what you mean by "sinking lower". [ And she punctuates her words by daintily trailing a foot up his leg and inching higher... Before pulling away, primly crossing one leg over the other as she leans back. ]

Buuuuut I certainly don't mind baring a little more.

[ Much as he’d love to see her cry, he hasn’t really been trying to break her that hard, not when they’re still feeling each other out, and not when she’s clearly trying to make a statement against the Almighty.

Though what exactly that statement entails anymore is beyond him.

He does, however, let out an appreciative little groan as she slides a foot over his leg, loving the boldness of the action—the teasing distance it puts between them. And while he could follow up that statement by pulling the seniority card, he suspects she’d laugh at him anyway.

Not that he’d mind, but…he’d like a little more payoff than that.

So instead, he says: ]

With or without my help?

[ Considering what happened with her clothes earlier, she should be glad he’s giving her a choice this time.

Albeit one that he might quickly renege as he leans over her, placing a hand upon her knee and stroking it. ]

Don’t keep me waiting too long, sweetheart.

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