The Devil & The Young God.

She smiled at the stranger, an impulse born of manners inked on very young skin, with no regards to limits nor expectations. She was naïve, fault her for it, but he was incredibly gullible, out of being fed his entire life the thought of being superior, of being the center of everybody's world and deserving of everything. No one could say no.

She shook with the thought of not being herself, of her skin changing and burning into something else, it felt ecstatic and the decadent thought of forgetfulness drifted through her blood, pounding against her skull, she shuddered and sighed. She couldn't go back now.

His steps were quiet and slow, a lamb dressed as a predator, little man learning how to speak, his fingertips were cold and jittery, he hid behind closed fists and killer eyes, smooth full lips curled around a cigarette butt.

Their skin was dark, his slanted brown eyes winked with every loaded stare, she dared with green almond shaped diamonds, there was no stopping it now.

Oh, but baby, 저는 영어를 못 해요.

And she thought, that's a good thing.

Nem eu.

Took a guessing game to spot her lies.

It was not necessary to speak, the binding of limbs and the flow of chemicals called for something much heavier, no voices could reach the place she'd take him.

So he followed, his suit as expensive as a trip to the stars, her limbs heavy in boots as mean as the night. They weren't playing. She caressed her own thigh as a reminder.

As the silver doors closed, her breathing grew shallow, the young girl in her head was scared and hugged her insides tight, but she bit her lip and tasted blood, calmed herself down, one, two, three, her demons won the fight.

She looked to her side, and there were things she wasn't supposed to find. His body seemed steady, he was sure of every movement, his smirk a deadly sin, he held himself as a young God - but she moved her eyes to his trembling hands, his moving throat against an anxiety not easy to kill, and she knew he would be a hard pill to crush and swallow down.

The doors opened and she kept her hands tight to her sides, steps sure as death. He followed her into the darkened hall, deep into the end. A red door was opened and like a monster it swallowed them both between blood stained lips.

She knew before he even thought of it, her body ready for everything she didn't want. His hand was cold on her warm skin, it surrounded her wrist and invited her into his arms. She fought back the urge to push, and hold down.

Oh, but baby, I'd rather...

Her body wasn't dainty, it was muscle and strength, and there was a thrill in his eyes with the fact that she was willingly holding onto his arms, as if gravity failed her. He was the center of the universe, his long eyelashes crushed her very mind. His mind was full of you're mine, even if just for one night.

She saw his desire as plain as the moon on the window, playing with the shadows of their bodies, and she bared her teeth behind the mask, burned his heavy eyes with the fire of her mind.

Oh, but baby, won't you play...

He moved close, whispered sweet, dark things into her ear. She frowned, a rehearsed bravado felt like an insult even if it really didn't matter. One wouldn't survive the dance.

She laughed and circled her arms about his neck, moved her hands across his thick, black hair, she was sure he had more weapons up his sleeve, and she was sure no one had ever died because of one.

The flesh of lips touched her ear, the shape of his mouth called for paintings and songs, she tilted her neck and he travelled down, she hoped the coldness of her blood didn't burn his pretty skin. Such a shame. It always did.

His hands were heavy on her body, the intent wasn't clear, only to touch, to pull closer, and she let him. Be someone else, she called to herself, you are someone else.

He sat down on the couch, opened his legs and waited for her, a place between his thighs.

She walked close, heavy lidded eyes reacted to her every move, to every breath she took, and she hated every second of it. She wanted to scream and hurt his pretty face so he'd run. But she didn't. So she bowed to feel the burn of a new layer of skin across her back.

And she burned, and burned, and burned closer to his red cheeks, such expectations for every adventure at twenty five, but he had not seen anything, he had not lived enough. They were both young, and still, there were too many devils in disguise.

He opened his mouth and no sound came out, her hand took his and moved him to the window, where the lights played with the color of his eyes, it glowed and made the darkness of his skin, hair and clothes shine. She could let him fall within a beautiful sight.

Her hands moved across his face and she hated how they both burned, cheeks and lips a vivid red, his eyelids called a hurricane every time he blinked and tickled her palms with eyelashes. She pulled on his hair and ran her fingernails down his neck, until both her hands held his wrists, pushing them behind his back.

He smiled, scared and surprised. She had more doubts.

Oh, but baby, we're both humans in this act...

His body moved closer to the window, and as easy as that the God was gone, his smile was soft, his neck bared for the bite. An honesty she had never been given screamed for fair play. She was no gentle monster, but demons could choose when to stay down.

A sigh left her, everything she was called out to die, and she let it.

The first and the last, she told herself, and it was not a lie.

Her lips touched his and whispered a single word. The rigid muscles against her warned her, so she held his wrists with intent, bruises would paint his skin.

She pulled her sleeve up and showed him her scar, a little different from the one on his chest, she was sure, but his eyes burned the same, she saw the fire die as soon as it started. He had never been a God, and she had never been a young girl.

No blood, no foul. I didn't lie, and I will be gone now. You are free to die on your own.

Her hands left him, and she walked slowly, never taking her eyes off his confused body, she could see him so clearly against the city lights, how he struggled between wanting to run and wanting to fight.

His eyes bore into hers and she let him, only a smile and a shrug for his peace of mind.

Open mouth and no sounds, he stretched his hand as if to touch her from across the room, she laughed, never wanting him to, and ran out.

She had never wanted anyone, she always had to pretend a completely unknown feeling when she was sent to play, and while need was different, it was equally unknown.

But today her chest and stomach ached with something she couldn't confuse with anything else. The want was missing, her skin wasn't alive and her eyes didn't show desire, but a need she didn't know existed bit her flesh.

She smiled and thought she was glad she hadn't killed his pretty smile, glad she hadn't cut his skin to take his scar with her.

She'd remember, and she'd pay.

A boy learning to be a man, playing a young God.

He'd remember, and he'd try to find.

She was never a young girl, she was still the devil in disguise.