He lay over Mrs. Senator's body, her naked cooling flesh slick with blood and sweat and tears. His nails were caked in it, his still hard cock washed clean with it as he shoved into her once more, though her body remained as unresponsive as it had been since she'd taken her last breath nearly five minutes before. She still tasted sweet, though, still smelled like roses, and Michael had been right: the wrinkled flesh between her breasts had been the most delectable part of her.
And she was just as beautiful as he'd imagined. He hadn't extinguished the light in the small room of the hotel's underused basement when he'd first brought them here, leaving the cloth over his eyes as he allowed instead Mr. Senator to witness every loving thing Michael visited upon the mind and flesh of the man's wife. The man had screamed through the dirty rag taped inside the cavern of his mouth, his arms pulling so furiously against the piano wire binding his wrists that he'd nearly cut both hands from his body. Michael could see it, but he could smell the blood, and hear the fine drip of it on the cold concrete where the man sat.
He hadn't extinguished the light purposefully, but when he'd felt the heat of her flesh giving way under his, the lights had flickered. When he heard her screams as he bit into her fat little cunt, the lights had dimmed a bit more, and when he felt her neck snap beneath his gentle touch, the lights had gone out completely. No windows to allow in a speck of light that would burn Michael, and so Michael had ripped away the cloth barring his vision and beheld perfection.
No one was perfect in life. Even itty bitty babies were tainted and needed purification from their sins. Only in death was the true beauty revealed.
Mr. Senator had screamed again when the lights had gone out. Stupid fool. Didn't he know that Michael could see, and that was all that mattered?
"I am the light of the world," Michael whispered, lifting himself from the hardening body beneath him. His cock, hard and red and streaked with fluid, bobbed from the opening in his pants as he walked toward Mr. Senator. "I alone purify the darkness."
The spurts of light around Mr. Senator, let off as the man struggled, his clothing brushing the concrete floor beneath him, the soft amber glow of his breath in the cold air, were beacons for Michael, moving outward from the man's body to verify the entire room in Michael's vision.
"I see the demons on you," Michael said, kneeling down in front Mr. Senator. He reached a hand out, running his fingers down the spiked back of a green little demon resting on the man's shoulder; the demon licked his fingertip with a spiked, poisonous tongue. "I alone will rid the world of your evil."
Mr. Senator's eyes were wide, so very wide in his skull as Michael pulled a strip of piano wire from the small compartment in the sleeve of his trench coat and wrapped its cool length around the man's neck. The man's tongue darted wildly outside of his mouth as Michael applied pressure, whispering the Catholic Benediction in slow, loving tones as the amber glow of Mr. Senator's breath became even more rapid, even more inconsistent and weak as the demons on his shoulder and wide belly and balding head leaped and twisted in their furious dance that Michael was taking another from within their folds and vindicating Mr. Senator's soul to heaven.
Blood warmed his fingers as the piano wire cut through flesh, snagging on vertebrae. Michael stood, performed the sign of the cross over the recently dead, and tied the cloth back around his eyes. He did not take the wire as he left, for he had no fingerprints with which to track him and even if he did, the Lord would hide him from evil eyes. He walked up the stairs, fingers trailing along the rough plaster wall in such a way that he left red streaks of blood hailing his passing as he made his way to the exit, the air here colder on his flesh than it had been down below. He tucked his dick back into his pants when he reached the street, and headed home.
"If he asks me what day of the week it is, I'll be sorely tempted to answer 'orange'." ~Chang WuFei,