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Description
It didn't take much, a touch here, a noise akin to a child-like giggle there, even the smile that only I could see under the stretched skin of hi "masked" face.  He had a way with me, a way that no one else had.  An unnerving control…

I am known for my unreliability, I never had a need for relationships.  Despite the constant urge I felt, the desire to put things to my mercy and make them plead and beg.  To make them feel the torment I was born to suffer forever.  To let them cry, until there were only tears and their silent, limp corpses.  It never made my suffering quit, but I'd have been damned if I had to suffer alone.

None of them could understand what it was like to carry this burden, this physical and psychological burden I had on my shoulders.  I didn't even have a choice, since every sick person I obediently placed my judgment upon forced their twisted and sinful lives into my subconscious just by entering this cursed town.

Like some Satan-spawned, twisted version of the world's Christian Christ, I was destined to amble along day by day, adding weights of sin to my burdensome curse.  While the ungrateful bastards I passed judgment on wallowed and cowered like selfish children, never to be truly grateful for the gift of freedom I had given to them, this gift;  to realize their errors and take on their troubles.

I've even had to go so far as kill myself for a stranger's sake.

So how does one find solace in this twisted cycle?  I had thought that making others feel the weight of my torment by violent assault would temporarily lift the pain.  And, like a drug, the desire to choose death as judgment in my fellow suffering monsters consumed me.

Until I found him.

Being two creatures of the same world made us automatic acquaintances, and acquaintance meaning; I knew him because he was part of this world we inhabited, I knew he was called Valtiel, and that was all that seemed important if it even was important at all.  Every monster knew of each other.  However, there was a specific reason that had drawn me to consider adding him to the list of victims I had acquired.  And I never considered specific creatures for the list, no; I just took what was in my path.  But he had a different appeal.

The cult and their worshiping had caused me to learn a few things, specifically about the ancient God said to rule this town.  This God was said to have created many lesser Gods to act in its stead, the most prominent of these Gods:  The Red God and The Yellow God.
We were manifestations; we changed for every person we were called to direct through this hellish world.  Our appearance, our motives, even our memories were altered to suit the unfortunate victims of the town.  Despite the constant flux in our world and in ourselves, I was always drawn to him.  While I may not have pursued him immediately, I had a deep settled desire to catch him still.

Because of our duties and the works we performed, some began to speculate we were the embodiments of those lesser Gods, that we were created for this world to be two sides of the same coin.  The logic was that while I was meant to punish and pass judgment, Valtiel was meant to protect and even nurture life out of the dead.  He was sainted, the compared him to Lobsel Vith, the Yellow God.  I, a damned and cursed being, was compared Xuchilbara, the Red God.  As he and I were important to the balance and these two Gods were so revered, the connection was a possibility.  Though, there was admittedly no solid evidence to the claim.

While this remained theory, it seemed so convincing that I found myself beginning to believe it.  I suppose the idea of hosting the likeliness of a God felt good to me, made me feel important, made the burden feel that it meant something.  Though, instead of a wholly positive effect, I started to change again.  I began to desire even more to place judgment on others, to punish, to do what I believed was my God given duty.  I desired so much the free will to do as I pleased, that somehow I gained it here and there, even appearing where I was never needed.  All of these desires grew, including my desire to have him, my prize.

Until it was no longer a desire, but a hunger…

I was obsessed; my curious want had grown into a desperate need.  And so I pursued him, my other half, the other God.  Though he had been more humble than I had and I never recall him grasping the idea that he could have been Lobsel Vith.

To my surprise he conceded to me, and without a thought, I had ravaged him until we were both gasping for air and our lungs and bodies ached.  I did not plan to kill him, he was important, he was special, he wasn't like the other monsters and him and I shared a purpose.  It didn't strike me until sometime after that I had missed something important.  I never took my prize, he gave it to me, with a calm and willing smile, he gave it to me. I wasn't satisfied anymore, not that I ever was before, but I had thought I had achieved the goal I had sought for so long.  I would make him pay, I felt he had made a fool out of me, and this did not agree with the fearsome reputation I had for myself.  Yet, when I confronted him about it, he was still just compliant, welcoming even.  He was giving me permission to take what my being so desperately craved, I could take it and it took all of my willpower to not grasp the offer.

If I took it, then he was in control.

I couldn't believe it! With one simple "Yes", that damn monster had complete control over me.  I was no longer allowed the privilege of taking, because whichever option I picked, he would win.

I don't know how long I had stood there, utterly speechless when I felt something gently touch my face, the face underneath my gruesome helmet.  I noticed then that the much smaller male before me had reached out under my helmet to gently caress my disfigured cheek, in an action that I realized later was meant to show he wanted me to have it, that he was sharing the control with me.  And perhaps for a moment I felt comforted, but just a moment as my pride kicked in and the dark thoughts flooded my mind.

Before he could react, he was against the wall, body pressing painful into the concrete, the hand that had been touching me, was grasped at the wrist and his arm twisted around his back.  He was pinned, and in pain.

I was in charge, I would have control.

He was smaller and weaker, not built for any sort of combat, useless against my stronger form.  In the state of mind I was in, I truly believed and planned to break him, to make him beg for mercy, to hear him crying out for me to stop the pain and stop the torment.  Then, only when he no longer was willing, would I forcibly take my prize.

He let out a pitiful whimper, from which the sound brought a wicked grin, painful on my scarred face but I was unable to control it.  His knees had begun to shake lightly, though unfortunately for him, collapsing to them was impossible if he wanted his arm to remain in its socket.  Another whimper, the sound sent excited pulses through my blood as my adrenaline raged.  I twisted his arm back further and I could see a faint grimace under his featureless face.

In his trembling, a pained groan escaped his throat as I continued to increase the pain he was in, shifting the position inch by inch, determined to break him.  He hadn't broken, he whined and shook but never once fought my actions, nor begged for it all to stop.

I grew impatient and, though using my voice for speech had always been painful, I decided to verbally up the abuse.  He needed to understand the circumstance he was in.

"You are not in control, do you understand? I will not let you play with me…you're not my master and you will not let my prize of owning you go to someone else—"

His breathing labored and he shivered, I continued.

"It is mine, you understand that? It has always been mine, it will be mine—"

I pulled again on the limb, a faint popping sound coming from the shoulder, it wasn't dislocated yet.  He had time to reconsider, I leaned in letting the new pain he was feeling and the tears that I am sure were building in his long gone eyes as emphasis for all I had to say.

"You're mine." I hissed.

He let out a choked gasp, another small pop, the searing pain shaking his small form.  As I expected, he finally replied, though I was not expecting the reply itself at all.

"….A-always."

For moments that seemed like hours, that single most absolutely sincere word sunk into my very being.  It took root very unnoticeably in an emotional organ that I was unaware I had, I didn't even know what it was.  In my dumbfounded state I had released him and was staring at the wall as he momentarily nursed his injured arm.  I couldn't move, I was stuck there, and as I thought I was about to regain my composure his head rose to look up at me.  No eyes, and yet I could feel the gaze of the smaller creature slumped to its knees on the floor in front of me.

I'd never been looked at that way before; I didn't know what it meant, what it was.  I do know that it held my gaze and rooted me even more to where I stood.  I felt a pain in my chest, an ache I had never felt, as if I was suddenly aware I was missing a vital piece.  Below my chest, where I had thought something that had never been important to me once was, I now felt hollow.

Finally, using the wall as support, he stood slowly, keeping his paralyzing gaze locked on mine.  I wasn't allowed to move, and somehow he continued to hold my attention.   He stepped toward me, his legs gave out in weakness and he stumbled forward, gripping my shoulders to stop him from sinking to the ground again.  His breathing was shaky and I could see his now weak shoulder was bruised.  And while I had a strange desire to use my arms for reasons I didn't know, they remained stubbornly useless at my sides.

Lifting his head again, he straightened, clinging to me to keep balance.  Then, using his week arm to keep the best support he could, he used his free hand to tilt my helmet up exposing the lower half of my disfigured face.  And then…

It was a sensation I'd never felt before, he was lucky I was so paralyzed or I would have cried out and doubled over injuring him more.  The moment the gap between us closed, I was sent reeling, my chest burning intensely with a sudden pain.  It felt like something was trying to burst out, pushing at my stubborn ribs and searing inside of me, my ears were ringing and for a moment I was seeing spots.

Again it took me a moment to realize that he had parted and was now backed against the wall, gaze full of concern.  I realized that, at some point, I had backed him there in returned affections and was now forced to stabilize myself with my hands on the wall, boxing him in, helmet leveled up by the concrete and pressing painfully against my head.

I was not an innocent by any means; my uncontrollable perversion had led to many
unceremonious and nonconsensual sodomizing of other monsters. I was not an innocent no matter what way you looked at it.

But, that kiss, that simple kiss ignited something so painful in me that I had reacted turning it into one far more passionate for a few short, shockingly wonderful moments.

That- my first kiss- was nothing short of incomparable.

I didn't want to accept it at first, because that meant I would lose my obsessive need for control.  I would have him, he would be mine, but I would never be allowed to take him as mine.  However, through one kiss, I was his.  That's all it took for him to win me over and, with a little effort, he was able to convince me to accept it, convince me to share a second, third and fourth time with him.  Each better than before, because he was mine.
Despite the knowledge that I will never lose my burden, he makes it bearable.  It doesn't take him much to send me over the edge for him, and he knows of it somewhat, he's a rather devious monster and calculating too.  It's rather terrifying and wonderful all the same; he and he alone can give me chills.

I'd never tell him how truly obsessed with him I am, he doesn't know that just his presence in the same room with me drives me crazy.  And knowing that he's only mind, to touch to hold, please and love.

I can't tell him, it's the last thing I have over him, if he learns the extent of his manipulation I will be consumed by him.

I've heard of Angels from the living that pass through here, they are described as beautiful, frightening and awe inspiring all at once…

Description
It didn't take much, a touch here, a noise akin to a child-like giggle there, even the smile that only I could see under the stretched skin of hi "masked" face.  He had a way with me, a way that no one else had.  An unnerving control…

I am known for my unreliability, I never had a need for relationships.  Despite the constant urge I felt, the desire to put things to my mercy and make them plead and beg.  To make them feel the torment I was born to suffer forever.  To let them cry, until there were only tears and their silent, limp corpses.  It never made my suffering quit, but I'd have been damned if I had to suffer alone.

None of them could understand what it was like to carry this burden, this physical and psychological burden I had on my shoulders.  I didn't even have a choice, since every sick person I obediently placed my judgment upon forced their twisted and sinful lives into my subconscious just by entering this cursed town.

Like some Satan-spawned, twisted version of the world's Christian Christ, I was destined to amble along day by day, adding weights of sin to my burdensome curse.  While the ungrateful bastards I passed judgment on wallowed and cowered like selfish children, never to be truly grateful for the gift of freedom I had given to them, this gift;  to realize their errors and take on their troubles.

I've even had to go so far as kill myself for a stranger's sake.

So how does one find solace in this twisted cycle?  I had thought that making others feel the weight of my torment by violent assault would temporarily lift the pain.  And, like a drug, the desire to choose death as judgment in my fellow suffering monsters consumed me.

Until I found him.

Being two creatures of the same world made us automatic acquaintances, and acquaintance meaning; I knew him because he was part of this world we inhabited, I knew he was called Valtiel, and that was all that seemed important if it even was important at all.  Every monster knew of each other.  However, there was a specific reason that had drawn me to consider adding him to the list of victims I had acquired.  And I never considered specific creatures for the list, no; I just took what was in my path.  But he had a different appeal.

The cult and their worshiping had caused me to learn a few things, specifically about the ancient God said to rule this town.  This God was said to have created many lesser Gods to act in its stead, the most prominent of these Gods:  The Red God and The Yellow God.
We were manifestations; we changed for every person we were called to direct through this hellish world.  Our appearance, our motives, even our memories were altered to suit the unfortunate victims of the town.  Despite the constant flux in our world and in ourselves, I was always drawn to him.  While I may not have pursued him immediately, I had a deep settled desire to catch him still.

Because of our duties and the works we performed, some began to speculate we were the embodiments of those lesser Gods, that we were created for this world to be two sides of the same coin.  The logic was that while I was meant to punish and pass judgment, Valtiel was meant to protect and even nurture life out of the dead.  He was sainted, the compared him to Lobsel Vith, the Yellow God.  I, a damned and cursed being, was compared Xuchilbara, the Red God.  As he and I were important to the balance and these two Gods were so revered, the connection was a possibility.  Though, there was admittedly no solid evidence to the claim.

While this remained theory, it seemed so convincing that I found myself beginning to believe it.  I suppose the idea of hosting the likeliness of a God felt good to me, made me feel important, made the burden feel that it meant something.  Though, instead of a wholly positive effect, I started to change again.  I began to desire even more to place judgment on others, to punish, to do what I believed was my God given duty.  I desired so much the free will to do as I pleased, that somehow I gained it here and there, even appearing where I was never needed.  All of these desires grew, including my desire to have him, my prize.

Until it was no longer a desire, but a hunger…

I was obsessed; my curious want had grown into a desperate need.  And so I pursued him, my other half, the other God.  Though he had been more humble than I had and I never recall him grasping the idea that he could have been Lobsel Vith.

To my surprise he conceded to me, and without a thought, I had ravaged him until we were both gasping for air and our lungs and bodies ached.  I did not plan to kill him, he was important, he was special, he wasn't like the other monsters and him and I shared a purpose.  It didn't strike me until sometime after that I had missed something important.  I never took my prize, he gave it to me, with a calm and willing smile, he gave it to me. I wasn't satisfied anymore, not that I ever was before, but I had thought I had achieved the goal I had sought for so long.  I would make him pay, I felt he had made a fool out of me, and this did not agree with the fearsome reputation I had for myself.  Yet, when I confronted him about it, he was still just compliant, welcoming even.  He was giving me permission to take what my being so desperately craved, I could take it and it took all of my willpower to not grasp the offer.

If I took it, then he was in control.

I couldn't believe it! With one simple "Yes", that damn monster had complete control over me.  I was no longer allowed the privilege of taking, because whichever option I picked, he would win.

I don't know how long I had stood there, utterly speechless when I felt something gently touch my face, the face underneath my gruesome helmet.  I noticed then that the much smaller male before me had reached out under my helmet to gently caress my disfigured cheek, in an action that I realized later was meant to show he wanted me to have it, that he was sharing the control with me.  And perhaps for a moment I felt comforted, but just a moment as my pride kicked in and the dark thoughts flooded my mind.

Before he could react, he was against the wall, body pressing painful into the concrete, the hand that had been touching me, was grasped at the wrist and his arm twisted around his back.  He was pinned, and in pain.

I was in charge, I would have control.

He was smaller and weaker, not built for any sort of combat, useless against my stronger form.  In the state of mind I was in, I truly believed and planned to break him, to make him beg for mercy, to hear him crying out for me to stop the pain and stop the torment.  Then, only when he no longer was willing, would I forcibly take my prize.

He let out a pitiful whimper, from which the sound brought a wicked grin, painful on my scarred face but I was unable to control it.  His knees had begun to shake lightly, though unfortunately for him, collapsing to them was impossible if he wanted his arm to remain in its socket.  Another whimper, the sound sent excited pulses through my blood as my adrenaline raged.  I twisted his arm back further and I could see a faint grimace under his featureless face.

In his trembling, a pained groan escaped his throat as I continued to increase the pain he was in, shifting the position inch by inch, determined to break him.  He hadn't broken, he whined and shook but never once fought my actions, nor begged for it all to stop.

I grew impatient and, though using my voice for speech had always been painful, I decided to verbally up the abuse.  He needed to understand the circumstance he was in.

"You are not in control, do you understand? I will not let you play with me…you're not my master and you will not let my prize of owning you go to someone else—"

His breathing labored and he shivered, I continued.

"It is mine, you understand that? It has always been mine, it will be mine—"

I pulled again on the limb, a faint popping sound coming from the shoulder, it wasn't dislocated yet.  He had time to reconsider, I leaned in letting the new pain he was feeling and the tears that I am sure were building in his long gone eyes as emphasis for all I had to say.

"You're mine." I hissed.

He let out a choked gasp, another small pop, the searing pain shaking his small form.  As I expected, he finally replied, though I was not expecting the reply itself at all.

"….A-always."

For moments that seemed like hours, that single most absolutely sincere word sunk into my very being.  It took root very unnoticeably in an emotional organ that I was unaware I had, I didn't even know what it was.  In my dumbfounded state I had released him and was staring at the wall as he momentarily nursed his injured arm.  I couldn't move, I was stuck there, and as I thought I was about to regain my composure his head rose to look up at me.  No eyes, and yet I could feel the gaze of the smaller creature slumped to its knees on the floor in front of me.

I'd never been looked at that way before; I didn't know what it meant, what it was.  I do know that it held my gaze and rooted me even more to where I stood.  I felt a pain in my chest, an ache I had never felt, as if I was suddenly aware I was missing a vital piece.  Below my chest, where I had thought something that had never been important to me once was, I now felt hollow.

Finally, using the wall as support, he stood slowly, keeping his paralyzing gaze locked on mine.  I wasn't allowed to move, and somehow he continued to hold my attention.   He stepped toward me, his legs gave out in weakness and he stumbled forward, gripping my shoulders to stop him from sinking to the ground again.  His breathing was shaky and I could see his now weak shoulder was bruised.  And while I had a strange desire to use my arms for reasons I didn't know, they remained stubbornly useless at my sides.

Lifting his head again, he straightened, clinging to me to keep balance.  Then, using his week arm to keep the best support he could, he used his free hand to tilt my helmet up exposing the lower half of my disfigured face.  And then…

It was a sensation I'd never felt before, he was lucky I was so paralyzed or I would have cried out and doubled over injuring him more.  The moment the gap between us closed, I was sent reeling, my chest burning intensely with a sudden pain.  It felt like something was trying to burst out, pushing at my stubborn ribs and searing inside of me, my ears were ringing and for a moment I was seeing spots.

Again it took me a moment to realize that he had parted and was now backed against the wall, gaze full of concern.  I realized that, at some point, I had backed him there in returned affections and was now forced to stabilize myself with my hands on the wall, boxing him in, helmet leveled up by the concrete and pressing painfully against my head.

I was not an innocent by any means; my uncontrollable perversion had led to many
unceremonious and nonconsensual sodomizing of other monsters. I was not an innocent no matter what way you looked at it.

But, that kiss, that simple kiss ignited something so painful in me that I had reacted turning it into one far more passionate for a few short, shockingly wonderful moments.

That- my first kiss- was nothing short of incomparable.

I didn't want to accept it at first, because that meant I would lose my obsessive need for control.  I would have him, he would be mine, but I would never be allowed to take him as mine.  However, through one kiss, I was his.  That's all it took for him to win me over and, with a little effort, he was able to convince me to accept it, convince me to share a second, third and fourth time with him.  Each better than before, because he was mine.
Despite the knowledge that I will never lose my burden, he makes it bearable.  It doesn't take him much to send me over the edge for him, and he knows of it somewhat, he's a rather devious monster and calculating too.  It's rather terrifying and wonderful all the same; he and he alone can give me chills.

I'd never tell him how truly obsessed with him I am, he doesn't know that just his presence in the same room with me drives me crazy.  And knowing that he's only mind, to touch to hold, please and love.

I can't tell him, it's the last thing I have over him, if he learns the extent of his manipulation I will be consumed by him.

I've heard of Angels from the living that pass through here, they are described as beautiful, frightening and awe inspiring all at once…