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Between Heaven and Hell	By : Ambrosia Category: 1 through F > Constantine Views: 1881 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Constantine, only these Original Characters. I make no money whatsoever from writing or publishing this story on this website (or any other for that matter).

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Between Heaven and Hell
Anthriel sighed, content for the moment to enjoy the quiet before the dawn. The calm before the storm. The room was white-washed walls, furniture sparse and utilitarian but well kept. The bedroom he rested in was comfortable enough, sporting a queen-sized bed and luxurious cotton sheets. It was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself.
He stretched, savoring the tranquility surrounding him, in the feel of Egyptian cotton and soft skin sliding against his own. Reaching a hand out to stroke the back of the devilish beauty beside him, he marveled at the feel of her. She was a brunette, sharp contrast to his pale blonde hair, cropped close to his head. Her hair spilled out in loose curls over her arm, thrown over her face as if to block out the light coming through his window. The skin of her lush body was pale, soft and sinfully smooth nearly everywhere, a delight to the touch, smooth or not.
Delicately, he traced the marks on her back, healed and healing lacerations which crisscrossed over her shoulders and down either side of her spine. He never asked why she bore them or why they were made, until tonight. Every time he saw her again, she had new markings. He gently traced a finger over the freshest, still bright red, extending a tendril of power to heal the laceration further. Given enough time, he’d have them nothing more than pale lines crossing her skin if not gone entirely. That is, if she stopped acquiring new ones.
When he’d seen her last night, it was the most recent of many and it was bad this time. Blood had seeped through her shirt and threatened to drip down the inside of her leather jacket. It tore at him, the pain she had endured simply moving. He could see it in the way she moved when nothing in her face showed it, not until they were alone. She trembled with the effort to hide her pain. Most who saw her would think it was because of the chilled air of L.A winter.
He saw her on the street, dressed in her leather jacket and white shirt beneath. Her legs were encased in a leather skirt bisected vertically with a gleam of metal which drew the eye up her shapely hips to the junction of her thighs. Ankle boots completed the look. Her hair, the dark mass of casual curls, was disheveled as though she’d pulled it down and shaken it loose for a lover’s touch, falling below her shoulders.
She leaned against a light-pole in the light misting rain, as though waiting for someone. He recognized her from a distance, familiar with her after several months of meeting in Papa Midnight’s bar. She spotted him and stiffly stood free of the pole. She’d been waiting for him.
Closer, he took in her posture, recognizing the stance as pain and her expression as guarded. He knew why she’d been waiting for him. Why she was usually waiting for him on this street, where he walked to go home from church.
Looking into her eyes, he saw the unspoken question there, silently giving his own answer. Given their circumstances and the lack of neutral territory, it was potentially dangerous to meet on the street. If another half-angel – or worse, a half-demon – found them and took issue they might find themselves in serious trouble. Without a word, he turned toward home, silently welcoming her presence.
He led her up to his apartment on the top floor of an old, but well-kept building. The security door downstairs locked with both mundane and magical spells, keeping most things out and leaving him in peace. It was simple tricks, like sigils drawn with breath on glass, which protected them. To his knowledge, he was the only half-anything to occupy the otherwise mortal dwelling.
“Anthriel,” she’d whispered once they were behind closed doors, eyes dark behind the red gleam, “hold me.” He’d done as she asked without hesitation or question, sweeping her into his arms, enveloping her in his quiet strength. She’d wept into his shoulder then, wrapping her arms around him, clutching him to her as if he were her only anchor in the world. Perhaps he was. His heart ached for her.
He ran a hand through her hair, stroking the dark mass as he whispered soothingly to her. She turned her head into his lips, nuzzling his collarbone in the process. “Djoi,” he whispered as she kissed his clavicle, “What happened?”
She pulled back to look into his eyes, which glowed golden-green with the intensity of his concern. “’Riel,” her eyes held such pain, pain and terrible longing. “Please, don’t ask. Not now.” She leaned closer, momentarily catching his lips with her own, pressing her supple body into his firm one as she held him. She cradled his head in her hand and drew him closer. “Take me.” She never asked him to make love to her, though the passion between them couldn’t be anything else. Neither ever named it for what it was between them. Part of the problem was neither of them dared assume the others emotions…and neither dared release hope.
As he caught her wrist in his hand, he gazed at her, concern and tenderness tempering the passion in his eyes. He laid a kiss on her palm and her eyes half-closed, never daring to look away completely. She couldn’t close her eyes to shut him out if she wanted to. He trailed soft kisses down her wrist and arm to her elbow, his other hand gently pulling her out of her shirt, leaving the bloodstained thing on the floor.
He held her in his arms as he turned them, lifting her by her hips off the floor to carry her into his bedroom. She circled his shoulders with her arms, caressing his cheeks as she looked down into his eyes. He gently laid her on his bed, turning her over so she lay on her stomach.
Her back, as he suspected, was a mass of harsh lines of bloody flesh stretching left to right over her shoulders and upper back. The wounds were deep. They would need stitches…if the two of them had been mortal.
Anthriel straddled her thighs, kneeling over her. Not quite touching her skin, he traced his palms up her lower back from her hips, moving over the hot wounds to her shoulders. She shivered beneath him, a mixture of pain and pleasure running through her. In the wake of his gesture, heat slowly seeped into the wounds, but it felt pleasant.
She lifted herself up on one elbow, half turning to look at him. She whispered, “Please.” She needn’t ask. He stretched himself out beside her, cupping her cheek in his palm, caressing with his thumb. He looked into her tortured scarlet-touched eyes with his gold ones and kissed her.
Their lips touched gently, tenderly brushing one another. He captured her lips with his own, tongue teasing her lower lip, enticing a sweet sigh from his devilish lover. The breath caught in his throat as their kiss deepened, became more urgent. He cradled her head in his hands as he leaned back into the mattress, guiding more than pulling her with him.
Soft breasts pressed into his chest as she leaned into him, her shapely legs straddling his own. The leather skirt hiked up over her hips as she did so and he moved to slide it over her body when she caught his hands with a smirk. She caught the zipper in the front and it rasped down the full length. With a small flourish, she whipped it off of her hips. He arched an eyebrow at her and her smile widened. Any man might’ve found it inappropriately – or perhaps appropriately – wanton. Cheap and easy. To Anthriel, she was just his ‘Joy.’
He trailed his hands up her sides as she filled her hands with his torso, gently caressing his chest, savoring the heat of his skin beneath her palms. His hands slid along her ribcage with a ghost-lite touch. She arched her back with a smile of pleasure. He cupped her breasts and kneaded them when she sighed in contentment. She began rocking her hips against his as she moved back and forth slowly, his already hard member thick and pulsating beneath her.
He released a moan as she ground herself more firmly against him, letting her clit press insistently to his shaft through his slacks. Uncaring what condition she would leave them in, he allowed her to unbutton and unzip them, easing them down over his thighs. He blinked at her, wondering why she didn’t tear them from him. She smiled tenderly as he sprang free, straining against his belly, a touch of moisture already seeping from his tip.
Still concerned for her wellbeing, he couldn’t help his smile as she caressed his length with both hands, moving down and up alternately, sending spiraling sensation deep to his core. He thrust slowly into her hands, releasing her breasts with a gentle kneading and a subtle – but effective, if her soft moan and furrowed brow were an indication – brush over her nipples.
They smiled at one another, pain and purpose momentarily forgotten in a shared moment of pleasurable foreplay. Tenderness welled in her eyes as she looked down at him, brushing a lock of dark hair out of her face with the back of her hand, the better to see him.
Sensually, she brushed her hand over his chest and nipple, following with the inside of her wrist and forearm, caressing him with the whole of her arm as she leaned down over him, nipples brushing his chest and sending an ache of pleasure through her.
He captured her face in his hands and kissed her with a tender passion, delving into her mouth with his tongue and pulling her closer so she leaned against him. The feel of her soft breasts pressing into his chest felt divine. She arched into him, sliding a hand between them to guide him into her hot channel. They held their breath for a moment as he poised at her slick entrance. Their eyes held each other in an aching moment where desire and fulfilment were one. They moaned in unison as he slid into her slowly, steadily, eyes hooded in pleasure as their gaze held.
She winced as his arms slid around her back to hold her to him, the sting permeating her features and tainting their pleasure. His eyes widened for a moment, startled at her pain and immediate apology in his face until he shifted his grip to her hips and she nodded, arching downward to meet his thrust.
He set the pace, insistent and demanding, his strokes firm and implacably stronger, faster. Beginning slowly and moving them to delicious heights. She reared back, giving him access to her breasts once more, shuddering at the pleasure as he kneaded her in time with his thrusts.
Her hips slammed into his as he guided her slick sheath over him, faster until she felt only the pleasure of his body touching her own, inside her and enveloping her in his arms. The heat in her body built steadily; skin tingling with sharp pinpricks all over her back and focusing in the wounds. She fell forward onto him and he wrapped his arms around her back. Responding in kind, her nails pressed into the back of his shoulders at the exquisite ecstasy which she could feel like a rising wave about to crash ashore.
Her breaths grew deeper, fighting for control of the pleasure spiraling through her body. She felt alive, nerves glowing with bright pleasure which emanated from her core and down her legs, up her torso and down her arms. Between breaths she whispered, “Anthriel!” then gasped.
Her body rocked above his, stiffening in the wake of forceful pleasure which sent her nails digging into his shoulders, raking down his back. An ecstatic roar ripped itself from her throat, ending in a high soft keening sound. The jolt of pain reverberated down his body, twisting inside him to bring an unexpected height of pleasure which threw him over the edge of control. Fingers digging into her hips helplessly, he groaned aloud as he came inside her, pulsing in time to the pleasurable spasms of his body as he continued to thrust. They gazed into each other’s eyes, wonder and pleasure etching their features. She sighed in contentment as she felt him fill her and spill out onto the bed beneath them, a soft smile making her beautiful.
He nuzzled her neck and shoulder, placing an openmouthed kiss at the juncture, sending a fresh spasm through her – and himself. His hand ran through her hair, holding it out of her eyes as she looked down at him with her contented smile.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked.
He smiled up at her. “No, Joy. You could never hurt me that way. Not while you’re...in my arms,” he finished suggestively.
Her smile widened and she gasped as he ran a hand up her back, expecting pain and feeling only the delight of his hand. She laughed in relief and bent her head to kiss him again. Tongues caressing for a few moments, he nearly lost himself in her again and wasn’t sure he wanted to find himself. He leaned his forehead against her own and rolled them over, smiling down into her eyes.
Sharing in her contentment, he lay to her side and pulled her to him, turning her so he was spooning against her backside, letting her know with the length of his body that she was well protected. Lacing her fingers through his, they slept.
Anthriel again traced his fingers over Djoi’s back, more a loving gesture than exploratory one. He sat up and rolled his shoulder, fingers tracing the faint lines where his Joy had scored him. It was always like that with her, in the end. She’d dig into him with her claws, the sensation a delightful jolt he never seemed to expect as he neared his climax. When they both woke up, the marks will have healed.
She turned over and smiled when she saw it was him leaning over her while she slept. Cradling his cheek in her hand, she drew him down for another kiss. And so they began again. Their dual natures ever a part of them, the friction between heaven and hell had never felt sweeter.
(A/N: Thank you darkangelaryannrhod for inspiring me to write more of this story! This is the third and final edit of this chapter, second one is coming soon! Your reviews and ratings are welcome. Enjoy!)
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Between Heaven and Hell