The Gift She Gives Ch. 08

"You never told me that your job included getting vaginal fluid on your sh-shirt." Great, now she was going to cry.

Mr. Hughes put his elbows on the table in front of him and rested his forehead in his hands, eyes closed for several moments, "Vesper, I am a fallen angel who owns a sex spa, is it that difficult to understand that I might have something to do with the care of the clients that visit us? That I might happen to be in this particular business because of the pleasure it not only brings our guests, but myself as well?"

Of all the stupid responses to her tears, to her devastation that he was touching someone sexually, what he had just said took the proverbial cake and shoved it down her throat choking her to death, "Oh, well then I guess that makes it okay then. As long as you find pleasure in 'stretching' your clients for their appointments, I guess that's just fine."

Vesper had hissed out the words, her eyes glaring daggers at him as she stood up fully erect. He was looking at her now, his eyes going dark again, there, this she was used to. Now he was angry, now his true colors were definitely showing. God damn her for thinking he was someone that she could love. It would take her ages to re-cement that wall around her heart she'd built to protect herself from him.

"Vesper." Mr. Hughes stood up, the servant had started out to them with their meals and he'd shaken him off quickly, "Please, sit down. Let's talk about this."

She scoffed and shook her head, "I think I'm done. I know you think I'm being childish but this," she waved her hand at the ground in front of her, "this is all quite enough. I told you the life I wanted, and that life does not contain a man who makes a woman cum all over his shirt right before he has a meal with the woman who loves him."

Mr. Hughes tensed, "You love me?"

Vesper groaned, her head shaking tightly, "You are so bloody thick."

Turning around, she stomped away and walked into the dining room. She saw the servant who had taken her plate standing just inside and she took her meal from him and made her way upstairs. Foolish, foolish Vesper. Plopping down on the floor on the far side of the bed, she put the plate down and lifted the dome. Bailey was already by her, his arms wrapped around her bare foot as Barnum sniffed the edge of her hot plate of food. Vesper frowned, she didn't have any silverware.

Stupid, stupid. Using her fingers, she tore off a piece of chicken and smeared it with the cauliflower puree before putting it in her mouth. Chewing, she leaned back against the wall under the window. He had told her to trust him, and she had. Why was she so bothered by the fact that he had come to her straight from another woman? Vesper's gut tightened, that was a stupid question. In a normal human world, the one she'd lived in for 87 years, a man going to his beloved straight from the bed of another woman would have been more than fair reason to be angry. She had every right to be mad, every right. So why, when he had looked at her with those light, light gray eyes, had she felt guilty for her reaction?

Vesper put another piece of meat in her mouth and chewed some more. Closing her eyes, she thought about what had just happened. If she were human, she would expect to be courted, she would expect that all of his attention would be on her, on making her want to be with him. She would not expect him to run a sex spa, she would not expect him to commit sex acts with other women. He had told her that he didn't want her touching anyone else. Therefore, what made it okay for him to touch other women? Shouldn't it be a two-way street? Shouldn't she be able to expect the same behavior from him that he expected of her? She supposed that she should understand that this was apparently a normal part of his job here at the spa. But she didn't understand, she couldn't. She had slowly, and quite unexpectedly, felt her heart wrap around the idea of Mr. Hughes. And now here he was, making her feel that she could never be enough for him.

That was the thought that made her realize what she was upset about. She wasn't enough. He had told her that he enjoyed his work. Which, she supposed, if he were a chef or a police officer or a doctor, she would want to hear. She would want to know that he enjoyed what he did for living. But Mr. Hughes owned a sex spa, and he enjoyed it. He enjoyed touching the clients, 'stretching' them for their appointments, and he found pleasure in his work. That's what did it for Vesper. The fact that he found pleasure performing sex acts with someone other than her. If he wanted her, if he wanted her to love him, how could he ever expect her to be okay with that? How could he dare?

Vesper felt her blood heat up and pump more forcefully through her arteries and she ate the rest of her meal in a flourish. Once she was done, she picked up the plate and the dome and walked both over to set them on her dresser. After using the restroom, she steeled her shoulders, walked over to her bedroom door, and opened it wide. Walking out into the hallway, she saw Deandra coming from a room near the end, a room she knew belonged to Mr. Hughes.

"Can I help you, Vesper?" The servant asked as she approached, her hands around a basket of laundry.

"Is Mr. Hughes in his room? I'd like to speak with him." Vesper found herself asking.

Deandra shook her head, "No, he asked me to fetch a basket of laundry from his room, I think he was headed to the roof when I saw him."

Vesper nodded back, "Thank you, I will look for him there."

Without another word, she walked away from the servant and approached the staircase that would take her to the roof. Her foot falls were determined, she had many things that she wanted to say to the angel, things that she needed him to know. After such a difficult start at the spa, it was impossible to believe that she wanted something more from him, that she wanted to feel so much for him, that she wanted him to feel the same for her, but she did. She wanted him to love her. She wanted him to want her. She wanted his hands to only touch her, which was probably the stupidest thing that she could want. He couldn't touch her. He couldn't hold her hand or her breast, he couldn't arouse her with his fingers, He couldn't give her the simplest of hugs. How could she possibly ask him to not touch someone else? But that's what she wanted, and that's what she was going to ask him to do for her.

Pushing open the door to the roof, she walked out onto the concrete platform and looked towards the canopy in the center. From her distance away, she could feel, feel? She could feel the deep timber of his voice as he stood under the canopy, near the railing, with his face tipped up towards the clouds. Shuddering, she made her way towards him, her ears listening closely to the melodious sound of his voice as he singing. She was so intent on that voice, on those foreign words, that at first she didn't even realize that he was naked from the waist up. Her violet eyes took in his tattooed upper body at the same time as they came to rest on his shoulder blades. Where once the wings had been, there were now only two short stubs, with the red, newly healed ends. Her gut tightened, her breath caught in her throat and her eyes filled with tears in the same moments that her body was overwhelmed by the notes of the song that he sang and her lower body starting to pulsate violently and she felt moisture escape and drip from her suddenly very needy pussy.

Vesper knew that she cried out, but she wasn't sure if it was from the pain of seeing him so injured or if it was from the orgasm that rocked her body as he sang a particularly intense note. Whatever it was, it made her fall to her knees, And she bent forward, panting, her hand immediately going to her pussy to rub the rapidly swelling clit. She had never heard anything like what he was singing, and it aroused her to the point of pain, and she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Tears spilled from her eyes, the violet irises of which filled with agony at what he must have done to himself, the pain he had inflicted in order to remove his wings. What had made him do it? Why would he have disfigured himself in such a way? Had someone done this to him? But the injury looked recent, he hadn't lost his wings when he fell from grace. She somehow knew that it had been Mr. Hughes who had removed his own wings. Something, or someone, had made the man make the horrific decision to become less than perfect.

At first, Mr. Hughes was so wrapped up in the angel song that he was singing, that he hadn't even realized that Vesper had approached. It was only after he heard her cry out more than once that he finally stopped his song and turned to look in her direction. His eyes widened, and darkened to see her down on the ground, her eyes on him, her face red and tear stained, and her hands between her legs, frantically rubbing at her pussy. Frowning, he walked towards her, but stopped far enough away to not cause her pain.

"Vesper?" he asked, his voice broken, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, seeing her aroused this way was making his own body respond.

"Don't stop singing, please don't stop." Vesper panted, her eyes pleading with him to do as she had asked.

She needed to know about his wings, she needed to know about the tattoos, she even needed to know what he was singing that made her feel so incredibly desperate, but what she needed more than anything was for him to continue singing. He hesitated though, and she found herself whimpering hard, one finger pushing up inside of her pussy, sliding roughly against the wetness inside.

"Do not penetrate yourself." Mr. Hughes barked the order when he realized what she had done.

"I can't, I need something... I need you." Vesper gasped, but removed her finger, his eyes had darkened quite a bit and she knew he was close to being angry with her.

"You need me to finish my song?"

Vesper nodded frantically, "I need you to finish your song."

Mr. Hughes frowned, but turned away from her and looked back at the sky. He closed his eyes and focused a moment before opening his mouth and letting the ancient sounding words of the angels spring forth in his deep, smooth timber. It caused millions of new sensations to spark inside of her body, and Vesper renewed the forceful rub of her fingers over her clit. She saw him tense, she knew that he could tell that what he was doing affected her, but he did not stop singing. In fact, his voice rang out for nearly 30 minutes before he finally let the words fade and then come to a stop, his back had been to her the whole time.

When Mr. Hughes finally turned around and looked down at Vesper, he saw that her skirt have been hiked up and that she was on her feet, squatting near the ground, her hand now slowly rubbing over the bright pink, shining fold of her delicious looking cunt. She had finally cum the way she needed to, her breathing was rapid and shallow, and her eyes were clouded with spent desire as she looked up at him from her position. He wanted to go to her, to put his hands on her waist, to pick her up, and shove her down onto the mattress in the center of the canopy, and he wanted to fuck her with such a great force, that her cries of passion and completion could be heard in Heaven. So that every angel, so that every god, could know that she belonged to him and him alone. Instead, he put his hands behind his back and frowned down at her.

"Perhaps I should have told you that my work here involved physical prep of a sexual nature. I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable, Vesper. That was never my intention." His apology rang true, but it did not placate Vesper's anger, nor did it deter her from her original reason for coming to the roof. Now, she had so much more to talk about.

"I am sure that you did not mean to hurt me." Vesper nodded as she stood and let her skirts billow down around her ankles.

"What just happened? I did not expect you to come up here the way that you did." Mr. Hughes watched her walk over to the mattress and sit down gently on top of it.

"I didn't know that that was going to happen either. When I heard you singing, my whole body started to shake, and I felt like I was beginning to burn up inside, but not in pain, in pleasure. I had no control over my body, I had to touch myself. You had to finish your song." Vesper shook her head, new tears fell from her eyes as she looked at him.

"There are probably a great many things that one of us can do that affects the other. I am an angel, and you, an ayperi."

"What happened to your wings?" Vesper changed the subject, but she had been reminded of what she had seen on his back when he spoke about being an angel.

"I cut them off." He responded simply, and she knew there was no simple explanation for him doing so.

"Why?"

He frowned and looked away.

"Why?" She repeated her question.

"Vesper, my answer will only anger you."

"I want it anyway. You want me to trust you, you want me, I don't know what you want from me, but if you want me then you need to be honest with me."

He sighed, and moved his hands to fist them at his sides as he looked at her face, "I do not deserve the wings of an angel. There is nothing angelic about me. I hurt people, my entire life I have spent hurting people, that is not good. That is not angelic."

"It wasn't your decision, the way that you were used. You were designed for His purpose, and not all purposes are easy, or fair, but none of that was your decision. You can't blame yourself for what you were told to do."

Mr. Hughes scoffed at her and turned his head to the left, "We all have to live with our own demons, Vesper. Mine are a great deal darker than yours. I have killed countless beings, nonhumans, humans, I killed everyone that I was asked to. It never ended. There always seemed to be someone else that he wanted us to kill, to control. You grew up thinking that angels were good, that when you died and went to heaven that you would hear the angels sing, that you would live among them in the clouds, that it would be beautiful, that it would be peaceful. You have no idea the horror that those angels have had to bear witness to, have had to create, to design the perfect heaven. If you did you would be completely disgusted at the idea of spending eternity in such a place."

His words were mixed with anger and repulsion and sadness and despair. So very much despair. Vesper had never wanted so much to comfort someone. She wanted to wrap him in her arms, she wanted to allow him to cry out his pain, she wanted to soothe him like a child, and she wanted to remind him that he was flesh, and that just like everyone else, his life was not entirely his own to direct. His god had been a vengeful god, and he had suffered. But why now? He had been on earth for so long, why had he chosen now to cut off his wings?

"You cut your wings off after Anya left." Her heart fell to the ground and she felt it shatter into a million pieces. The light siren. Again.

"Yes."

"Because you were involved with the killing of her species, weren't you?" All the puzzle pieces fell into place.

He nodded, "I did not expect her."

"So because you and the rest of God's army of angels practically annihilated an entire species of nonhumans, you left heaven, you opened a sex spa, and when you realized that you weren't even successful at your job, you cut off your wings." Vesper's voice shook with emotion and she clenched her fists in front of her stomach.

"I do not expect you to understand."

"Why, because I'm not an angel? Because I've never hurt someone the way you have? Because when I touch someone, it heals them? You don't think that I can understand the misery that you've been through? There were countless soldiers who I could have saved, but I was too scared of being found out for who I am that I let them die. God gave me the gift to heal, and I let them die. But you don't see me cutting off my wings, you don't see me hurting myself in the middle of what was obviously a colossal temper tantrum." Vesper knew that she had taken it too far by the way his ears were red and his jaw the same color, but he never made a step towards her, even knowing that it would cause her pain if he did. And she was pretty sure by the look in his eyes that he wouldn't have minded causing her a little bit of pain right now.

"I think maybe it is time that you went back to your room." His words were hissed, their meaning very clear.

"Absolutely not, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not letting you shut me out, not ever again." Vesper shook her head as she glared at him with her wide eyes.

"What else could we possibly say to each other right now? Don't you think that we have said more than enough?" His body was shaking slightly because of the way his muscles were so rigid.

"I want to know about the tattoos." Vesper kept her voice calm as she looked at his chest.

"Because you don't hate me enough already?" He sighed.

"I couldn't hate you more, so now is pretty much the perfect time to lay all your cards on the table." Vesper seethed.

"The writing is Aramaic."

"The language of Jesus."

Mr. Hughes nodded, "It is a list of names."

"Whose names?"

"It is a list of names of all the men and women that I have fucked. Well, not all of them. When I run out of space, names will start to fade and new ones will take their place." Mr. Hughes told her in a sad voice, and watched as her eyes took in the information and fell to the large expanse of writing on his body.

"Men and women?" Her lower lip was shaking.

"Yes."

"But you don't have a penis."

"Any time I penetrate someone, it is a sex act. When I insert a hand, or a finger inside of someone, it is considered a sex act, and the name is added. They burn going on, the pain is there to remind me that I am not following the orders of my god. They are my penitence."

"My name will never be on your body." Vesper shook her head.

"No."

"I don't know what to do. You are nothing like the man that I dreamed of. You are nothing like a man at all."

"Vesper, I love you."

Vesper shook her head, "How can you possibly love me? I want a house with a white picket fence, rose bushes, a cat, maybe a dog, a man who loves me and only me, who has sex with only me, and children. What about what I want makes you want me?"

She could hear him take a deep, steadying breath, and then he finally spoke, "Can't you meet me halfway? Isn't there some way that we can be together the way that I need us to be together, and that some of your needs are met too?"

"I don't possibly see how. The spa, your work here, the fact that you can't even be intimate with me. How exactly do we meet halfway?"

"I can fuck you." His frown was deep, And his voice was filled with frustration.

"How?" Vesper waved her arms out to each side of her.

"Would you trust me to show you?"

Vesper shivered as her pussy immediately twitched at the idea that he could be intimate with her, but he couldn't be. And even if he could, he wouldn't touch her anyway. And now she knew why. He was injured, he was severely injured, both physically from cutting off his wings, and mentally from the damage of his past. She couldn't even imagine what would happen to her if she were touch him, would she be aroused like she had been in the past, or would his personality present in an entirely different fashion?

But he couldn't have sex with her even if she wanted him to, and as she stood there looking up at him, their eyes locked, she knew a large part of her wanted him to. Maybe if he had been able to, they would know whether or not the feelings they had for each other were even real. Here he was saying that he could do the impossible, and as much as she wanted to believe him, as much as her pussy needed to believe him, she knew that it wasn't real.