Saints - Take 3

"I understand." Abbadon seemed to almost scold himself over the past events involving Stella.

Self-loathing was a skill that Abbadon had refined and perfected - turning it into a near artform with the way he held grudges against himself.

"But it shouldn't, Peyton."

He stepped into the tub basin nestled in a wall of stone and the water rose nearly to his knees. His hand extended to Peyton to help her in.

"I love you. That's not a feeling that I'm familiar with and it's not a feeling I want to become more acquainted with with anyone besides you." He pressed his lips to her temple as he sunk down in the bath with her. His hands intertwined in front of her, resting where her thighs met her hips.

"I've always been very superficial. I think that most people are aware that here is a lot of depth to me but it's like there is a mirror just below the surface that keeps anyone from being able to peer any further. I'm trying to change that for you, Peyton. I want to be able to let you in, I want to be able to give you my vunerable side. I'm still learning how to do that though."

The honesty in Abbadon's words rang true. Words were often whispered into Peyton's ear, fearful to acknowledge the emotions he possessed, as they had always come with grim consequences in his distant past. They greeted her with a sense of warmth as he delicately held her body close to his under the pool of water.

"I know that you're trying, and I want you to know that I love you and I am so proud of you for that. I'm going to try to be more patient with you while you attempt to explore sharing your feelings with me. Lord knows I'm not the easiest person in the universe to get along with either.." Peyton murmured, angling her head to see his face more clearly.

The flames from the candles which surrounded them flickered in the night, engulfing the pair in a warm glow. She had never felt more secure in their relationship, or in her extremely tumultuous life than she did in the presence of a hell-spawned demon - an ironic twist of events.

"Do you want to know a secret?" She crooned, wrapping his arms around her more snugly.

"I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. I have never loved so much, nor so fiercely. No one has ever driven me to the point of madness that you do in a single instance. No one has ever made me feel as safe, or brought me so much joy as you have managed in this past year. And despite the fact that we have had severe highs and lows, I wouldn't change the course of events if I had the option."

It was deeply liberating to admit how much she cared for him without fear of repercussion. While she knew it would still make him uncomfortable, he had known for quite some time that she harbored love for him, and that love was not likely to recede any time soon.

Peyton felt as if her soul and his were intertwined in the most complicated manner, and yet it was love in its purest form. Abbadon was slowly allowing himself to bask in her affection with fewer walls than ever before. A huge triumph for Peyton.

For the first time Abbadon didn't shy away from Peyton's confession of affection. He found some way to separate the guilt he felt for every slight he had ever burdened her with and he accepted the fact that maybe he was worthy of some sliver of love. He couldn't be entirely horrible if he managed to make Peyton feel that way.

"There will be many more years, Peyton."

While the words were meant to be happy and optimistic of the future Abbadon's thoughts began to wander back into the familiar dark crevices where he was reminded of the inevitable. It was pointless for him to worry about the few things he had no control over but the lack of control was what drove him to worry.

"Many more happy years."

That time his words didn't have the hint of distress his previous ones held.

He found a sanctuary in this small corner of the world with Peyton. The candle lit room in the formidable home gave the impression that there was nothing outside of their current reality. He didn't need anything outside of current reality though. The quiet, stillness of laying in the water with Peyton held close was the refuge he had never known he sought.

"Mm.." Peyton hummed, as she pressed her lips to his hand.

"Many happy years.. You don't think you'll grow tired of me by then?" She questioned, a sheepish grin dancing about her lips.

"I can be quite the hand full.. I'm moody, and I have a temper that even makes you stop dead in your tracks. I'm an emotional wreck, and I don't handle rejection well. I'm jealous and needy.. If it were up to me, you'd never go to work. In fact, I'd probably keep you confined the bedroom for the rest of our days.."

Peyton's words grew softer, more sultry, as she rattled off the reasons why Abbadon would possibly tire of her. Biting his index finger lightly, her green eyes fluttered up to catch a glimpse of his face.

"Do you think you can handle that? Because I'm probably not going to change too much after twenty six years.." She murmured, her eyes searching his face intently.

"Do you think you can handle me?" Abbadon raised an eyebrow at her while trying to hide the smile breaking through his typically solemn face. Had he not been gifted with immortality it would be questionable to whether or not wrinkles would even be a thing he would develop - there didn't seem to be enough expressions crossing his face to cause them.

If they were to sit and list their negative qualities all night Abbadon was certain he would win. He was private, brooding, and moody enough to give Peyton a run for her money.


"I'm probably not going to change much either. I'm rather set in my ways." He added, mocking Peyton's words.

Abbadon admired the way the warm glow of the candles seemed to illuminate new shades of green in Peyton's eyes everytime the flame flickered. There was a new layer of depth to them he hadn't seen before. His hand moved to her cheek and he broke his gaze only to brush his lips against hers.

One of Peyton's hands rested lightly on Abbadon's chest while the other knotted in his darkened, damp locks. The dim, warm light from the candles surrounding the pair only further illuminated the differences in the two. Peyton, fair skin and blonde hair against Abbadon's healthy tan from the scorching Louisiana heat and the dark tendrils that had grown out considerably over the last few months.

"This is going to turn into a miserably pointless bath if you keep kissing me like that, Mr.Solace.." Peyton mumbled against his lips.

Her commentary was entirely contradictory to her body language. For, despite the fact that she chastised him for his incessant, yet gentle advances, she continued to savor each and every one of them, continuing to reciprocate the raw affection he had begun to shower her with.

Abbadon brushed his lips against Peyton's again, working his way down to her collar bone. His teeth dug into the delicate skin, maybe more aggressive than he needed to be but he craved her. He craved the way she felt against his chest, how soft her body felt under his calloused hands, her scent, everything about her. Water lipped over the edge of bath and fell to the floor as Abbadon desperately pulled Peyton into him.

"I need you, Peyton." He whispered breathlessly in between the kisses he laid on her breasts. The hand she had tangled at his hair only fueled his passion.

"Can I?" Abbadon pulled away. Uncertainty overcame him and he searched Peyton's eyes for answer. Things had been unsteady between them and emotion was an aphrodisiac. He didn't want for her to make mistakes and have any further regrets with him.

Peyton's breathing hitched in excitement as Abbadon had suddenly pulled her close to him in the tub, spilling the contents of their bath water onto the floor. She couldn't quite contain the quiet moan that escaped her as his lips expertly worked over her breasts. The most sensual occurance though, was that he had become quite submissive, asking permission to take her to bed.

She tugged Abbadon's hair, tilting his head back and exposing the skin and stubble that ran along his jawline and down his neck a bit. Her lips worked feverishly, alternating between rough kisses and nipping him. Eventually, she caught his earlobe between her teeth.

"Just fuck me already, won't you?" Peyton insisted breathily.

Pushing against his chest, she rose and began to step over the ledge of the tub, careful not to slip in the large puddle that Abbadon had inadvertently made in his desperate decree for her. She unpinned her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders and onto her breasts as she waited for Abbadon to remove himself from the basin of water, every millisecond felt like an eternity as she longed for his touch.

The flickering candle light contoured around Peyton's body, highlighting her hourglass figure and allowing shadow to settle on her collar bone. There always seemed to be something primal in the way Abbadon looked at her in quiet, private moments - something that went past lust for her.

Water splashed over the edge of the bath as he stepped out behind Peyton, adding to water that had pooled on the stone floor. His hand crossed the width of Peyton's lower back and ushered her towards the bedroom.

Abbadon was nearly ready to oblige to Peyton's request to 'just fuck her' and made his intentions known as he picked her up and tossed her onto the pile of pillows that lay scattered on the canopy bed. The wood creaked under their weight as he crawled on top of her and pinned her wrists above her head, holding them there with one hand as the other reached down between her thighs and rubbed against her clit.

"I want to hear you beg for it." Abbadon purred into her ear before he caught her earlobe between his teeth.

Peyton gasped quietly as Abbadon's fingers rhythmically moved in tandem over her clit. Her eyes closed, breathing hitched, as he took her earlobe between his teeth. The gentle, pleading creature from their bath had turned into a hungry, more primal version of himself as soon as his feet had hit the floor.

Shifting her hips in pleasure beneath him, she freed one wrist to wrap her fingers tightly in his dampened locks, diverting his mouth's attention from that of her neck to her breasts instead. She allowed his mouth to manually work on her chest for a few minutes before giving his head a sharp tug toward her face, her lips hovering over his.

"I want you to fuck me gently, to make love to me. Not our usual dirty sex. And I don't want to hear any complaints from you either." She breathed, taking his lip between her teeth and tugging on it roughly.

While she had never been able to complain about the dirty, rough sex they often had, she liked seeing that softer, more passionate side of him that peeked through while they were submerged in the wash basin. She wanted him to take his time, to allow himself to be vulnerable while they were intimate rather than being a domineering partner in bed. He was too easily able to hide his true self and raw emotion that way.

She wanted that intimacy back, the one she had seen in the glimmering candle light. He had tried to divert back into old habits, but she was relentless about this little lovemaking session. She didn't want to lose this moment, especially since she wasn't sure she would ever have it within her grasp ever again.

"I want you... mind, body, and soul, Abbadon Solace." Peyton moaned in his ear, her thighs tightening around his hand and arm.

Abbadon hands slid from Peyton's wrists to her lower back, pulling her towards him. His lips drew a line down Peyton's stomach pausing only to take gentle bites at her hip bones. He found his way between her legs and freed one hand to slip his fingers inside while his tongue worked against her clit.

It wasn't a secret that intimacy was something Abbadon shied away from. He avoided anything that broke his facade or let anyone see a glimmer of his feelings. He had tried to open up for Peyton though, tonight especially. After everything that had happened he knew that he needed too, but the thought of much he needed to keep guarded was always at the back of his mind.

He wasn't in a postion to deny Peyton making love and he didn't want too. Truth be told, he craved that brand of gentleness with her as well. In fact it was Peyton that had caught him off gaurd with her unusually blunt request of to 'fuck her already' though he now understood she had meant 'make love to her already'.

He quietly wondered if maybe that was a first for them - making love. The thought brought about some warm, sentimental feeling he was unfamiliar with as well as one he presumed to be nervousness.

When Peyton's hands tightened in his hair and she called out his name he moved back up to her lips. The thought of Peyton tasting herself on his lips drove him over the edge and he used a hand to push her knees up towards her chest. He slipped inside of her with a groan escaping his lips and his eyes closing in esctasy.

It had been too long.

Abbadon rocked his body against hers, each thrust more desperate than the last until he hit his peak. His hands pulled her up off the bed and to his chest as he orgasmed. He moaned against her neck while his hips bucked against her. His large frame fell into the pillows he had tossed Peyton onto and he pulled her closer, kissing her forehead, desiring nothing more in the world than her company.

Peyton's legs still trembled in ecstasy as Abbadon pulled her against his chest, and her breathing was ragged as she brushed the hair from her face. She couldn't recall the last time she had ever orgasmed like that. There was something deeply sensual in Abbadon catering to her body. The thought placed behind his actions, each stroke so delicate and tender, each thrust, every kiss, all carefully mapped out.

She began ghosting her fingertips over his chest as she regulated her breathing. There was no better way to end such a stressful evening than the interesting turn of events the night had taken. Not only did she receive verbal confirmation that he was in love with her, but he was so uncertain of himself and his actions that he questioned her whether or not he had her permission to act a certain way. A far cry from the typically domineering, unapologetic man she had known.

Humming quietly to herself, Peyton brushed her lips lightly against Abbadon's.

"I like this.." She murmured, resting her head lightly against his chest.

"This version of us, it's good.. Don't you think?" She inquired, her green eyes peering up at him, awaiting confirmation, approval.

He was not the only one who was on uncertain footing. While she was much more in tune with her own feelings, she knew that often times expressing them had repercussions. Those repercussions often times spanned over a week's time, causing undeniable tension that the entire household had to endure. Bless Ms.Abbott and their groundskeeper. Many fights and long, uncomfortable silences had been witnessed since Peyton's arrival last summer.

Abbadon nuzzled his face into the mess of hair that was nested above Peyton's head. He inhaled the scent of it as let one arm drape over Peyton's side, debating his answer.

It wasn't that he didn't like it. It wasn't that he didn't crave the intimacy and the quiet nights without fighting. It wasn't that he didn't want to be able to feel normal in Peyton's presence - to let his guard down.

It wasn't sustainable.

It hurt to know that as badly as Peyton wanted it, he couldn't give her this all the time. He didn't know how often it would be. Most of all he hated knowing how it would hurt her when he had to pull away which lead him back to the self loathing of knowing how selfish he was for bringing her back in the first place.

"It is good, Peyton." He decided on his words carefully and hoped his feelings on the subject weren't given away in his tone of voice. There wasn't anything else he could tell her though.

He let his eyes fall closed, trying to soak in this moment, memorize how it felt to lay so openly before her after making love, to have Peyton under his arm still trying to catch her breath.

"I love you." He added, hoping that if his previous words had hurt her this would bandage it.

"You better love me, Abbadon Solace. As much as I put up with you..?" Peyton teased, lacing her fingers through his.

She couldn't recount if she had ever truly been in love before him, before this. Granted, she had been engaged years ago, but that was before she had any real world experience. Perhaps it was more of an ill-fated attempt to make a happy life for herself, one with a stand-in family to make up for the less than happy one she had come from.

It took no time at all to fall asleep that night wrapped in Abbadon's arms. Much to her surprise, the next morning he was still sleeping in their bed. She carefully climbed from the large canopy bed and found a button down shirt to dress herself in. Truthfully, she was starving and in dire need of a cup of coffee.

Peyton carefully crept out of the bedroom and down the hallway, easily maneuvering her way toward the familiar kitchen. The sound of pots and pans banging and rattling alerted Peyton that Ms. Abbott was rummaging around her domain, though Peyton could not yet smell whatever concoction she had begun to create.

"Good morning, Ms. Abbott!" Peyton called cheerfully. Rounding the corner, she saw that the kitchen stood empty to anyone but herself. Brows furrowing, she cautiously glanced around the island, wondering if someone, or something, had found shelter from sight behind it. Again, she came up empty-handed.

Shaking her head, she began brewing a pot of coffee, hopping up onto the island's counter while she waited for the hot, liquid sustenance to fill the glass pitcher. After pouring two cups, one bitter black cup for her foul-mannered counterpart and one with hazelnut coffee creamer for herself, Peyton carefully made her way back up the staircase and down the familiar, foreboding hallway toward the bedroom she had not long ago been barred from entering.

Peyton opened the door to see Abbadon stirring from his slumber.

"Hey, babe, do we have a pest problem? I went to go get coffee and heard some pots and pans rattling, but no one was there. I assumed it was Ms. Abbott, but she's not here yet." She murmured, offering the cup of black coffee to him.

Abbadon pushed himself up from the bed with a yawn. He rubbed at his eyes as the sunlight peered in behind Peyton. At first, confused by her absence in what had become their bed. He found it strange how easily he became acustomed to sleeping with her after so long without company.

Though not entirely awake, some primitave part of his brain was enticed by the smell off coffee and moved him towards it. He had heard Peyton's words, but it seemed to take him a moment before they could be translated into something meanigful.

"Did a window get left open? Maybe a bird or a squirrell found it's way in. It wouldn't be the first time." Abbadon had many encounters of things that should be outside, being found inside - nearly always accredited to Ms. Abbott forgetting to close the window above the kitchen sink or a french door at the back porch

"I don't think so, at least I didn't see anything left open." Peyton shook her head, climbing onto the bed in front of him.

The soft glow of the sunlight peered through the curtains on the window to her right, making the typically dungeon-y room feel whimsical. The stacks of books, the large wardrobe, the chest sitting at the foot of the bed, various trinkets lining the mantle of the fireplace, all giving life to what became a foreboding room when the sun nestled itself away for the night.

It reawakened the curiosity as to why Abbadon hadn't wanted her to enter the room for most of her time at the plantation. Perhaps it was the assortment of invaluable antiques which it housed safely away from the rest of the world. Maybe it was his desperate desire to keep himself closed off from emotion. Then again, perhaps it was the safe haven that everyone had but didn't take kindly to when others began to inhabit it.

"You sleep okay?" She questioned, bringing the coffee cup to her lips and indulging in the caramel coloured liquid it held. The warm concoction touched her soul. To say that she was addicted to coffee was an understatement.