Title: Angel of Mine
Author/pseudonym: Sandra Lee
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: M/K (kinda)

Date: 23/8/99
Archive: No
Series/Sequel: No

Disclaimers: Surfer Boy's - Not Mine. Although I'm not sure if he would want these versions - If not I have first dibs =)

Notes: First of all I would like to thank the wonderfully talented Ned and Leny who did the above gorgeous picture that inspired me and then let me use it here. More of their work can be found here -

The Theban Band
RatB - Red and the Black
And as always thanks go to Karen for pretty much everything. Thanks also to Sarah for encouragement and lots of other stuff. They are the ones that demanded I post this =)

Summary: A short dream-like piece inspired by the above photo.

Warnings: Oddness?


Brilliance never before seen, not meant for mortal eyes.

A body appearing without flaw.

Features almost painful to look upon,

An emerald gaze that has me trapped.

He stretches…feline grace and taut muscle.

Wings quivering, skin glistening an unnatural gold.

A sigh escapes him, so low in his throat that it is almost a purr.

I feel the need to fall to my knees in worship, but I resist.

I moisten suddenly dry lips and his gaze sharpens,

He focuses on my tiny movement.

And suddenly I feel like prey.

He stalks towards me, his eyes locked with mine.

The brilliance dims slightly as shadows slowly appear.

I take a step back, but find I cannot move.

The closer he comes the more I fear him.

Gold tarnishes to dull silver and his wings gradually turn black.

I shiver, cold.

His features sharpen into those of a predator.

But his eyes, his eyes hold all his secrets.

I feel myself falling, and at once want him to catch me, and let me fall.

Scars appear, marring the once perfection. His left arm fades, leaving only a ragged stump.

I cringe, feeling unaccountably guilty.

But I remain, transfixed, helpless against his raw sensuality.

Finally he reaches me, an outstretched hand trails across my cheek.

Sharp nails leave raised lines and a small trickle of blood.

His eyes dilate and he smiles.

It isn't a pleasant smile.

I bite down on my lower lip, trying to stifle the surrendering cry lodged in my throat.

Am I damned if I respond?

Is the pleasure I know I will feel in his arms worth being damned?


A thousand times over.

Maybe I will be his salvation, and he mine.

Salvation in each others arms as we block out a cruel world that rejected us.

We are the same, but different.

Two sides of a single coin.


His smiles grows as he witnesses the silent struggle in my eyes.

Nails score a red trail down to my throat.

The final question.

Yes or no.

Loneliness or damnation?

My head falls back in submission and we both groan.

A moment…two, then a slightly cool hand reaches forward and cups my head, bringing it upright.


I nod.

He smiles.

This time sweetly...but the predator isn't far away.

As if we were sharing a single thought, we sway closer together.

Lips finally meeting. A bolt of pure electricity flows through us as if completing a circuit.

No longer able to tell where I finish and he begins.

Agony arching my head back, his lips never leaving mine.

I panic slightly as I feel the muscles in my shoulders change, stretch and extend.

Pain verging on pleasure erupts into my mind.

Something is happening and he won't allow me to move.

I struggle helplessly and all he does is deepens the kiss.

Resistance is futile so I relax and the pain eventually leaves.

I feel strange, weighted down.

Finally he draws back and his eyes smile at me.

I turn my head and gasp.


Of the purest white.

My mind screams that I am unworthy of white. That I have done and said things that I am not proud of.

My heart whispers that he does not deserve blackest of black.

That there is good in him, hidden deep down inside.

He looks at me solemnly as I come to this realisation.

I smile reassuringly and hesitantly he smiles back.

He reaches up and places his hand above my heart.

I mirror his action.

Finally I feel complete.

Untroubled and unburdened.

As I think that, something else changes.

The stark black of his wings fades a little to charcoal grey and I know without looking that the brilliance of my own wings had dimmed slightly.

Neither of us is perfect.

Not right or wrong.

Not black or white.

Shades of grey.

Angel of Light.

Angel of Dark.

I am the light in his darkness.

He is the darkness to focus my light.

I am his..

And he is…


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