Gabriel's Inferno

Julia scowled. She felt fine. She felt slightly less inhibited but still in command of her faculties. She thought.  “What did you write in the card?



The one you left on my porch?”



Gabriel stiffened. “So you didn’t read it?”



“I was upset.”



He shrugged. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you didn’t.” He turned on his heel and disappeared.



Julia sipped her espresso slowly, trying to guess what he’d written. It must have been something sufficiently intimate for him to be so out of sorts.



She wondered if the pieces of the card were still in the flowerbed in front of her building and if she would be able to piece them together.



A few minutes later, Gabriel returned with a single piece of chocolate cake and one fork. “Dessert?” He moved his chair so that he was sitting closer to her — too close, actually.



“Julianne,” his voice sang in her ear, “I know you’re partial to chocolate.



I bought this to please you.”



He held the fork under her nose, just so she could pick up the scent.



She licked her lips involuntarily. It smelled divine. She reached out to take the fork from him, but he snatched it out from underneath her hand. “No.



You need to let me feed you.”



“I’m not a child.”



“Then stop acting like one. Trust me. Please.”



Julia turned her face and shook her head, resisting the urge to watch as he brought the fork up to his own mouth and darted his tongue out to catch some of the frosting.



“Mmmmmm. You know, the act of feeding someone is the ultimate act of care and affection…sharing yourself with someone else through food.” He held another mouthful of cake under her nose. “Think about it.



We are fed in the Eucharist, by our mothers when we are infants, by our parents as children, by friends at dinner parties, by a lover when we feast on one another’s bodies…and on occasion, on one another’s souls. Don’t you want  me to feed you? You don’t want to feast on my body, but at least feast on my cake.”



Gabriel chuckled. When Julia didn’t answer, he turned his full attention to his dessert. She scowled. If he thought this disgusting display of food porn was going to get her attention and maybe make her a little hot and bothered until she was putty in his hands…



…he was right.



The sight of Gabriel eating chocolate cake was perhaps the most erotic thing she’d ever witnessed. He savored every morsel, licking his lips and laving his tongue suggestively across the fork after every bite. He closed his eyes and groaned from time to time, making feral, throaty noises that were achingly familiar. He moved slowly and sinuously toward the plate, the tendons in his arms clearly visible, extending forward and moving backward, his eyes burning into hers with every gentle and obvious rhythm.



Before he’d even come to the last bite, Julia felt the room begin to grow stiflingly warm. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing labored, and she felt little beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead. And lower down…



What is he doing to me? It feels just like….



“Last chance, Julia.” He made the fork dance before her eyes.



She tried to resist. She tried to turn away, but somehow when she opened her mouth to refuse, he slid the fork past her lips and into her mouth.



“Mmmmmm,” he hummed, smiling widely and showing all of his white, perfect teeth. “That’s my good little kitten.”



Julia blushed more deeply and ran her fingers across her lips, gathering up the last of the crumbs. He was right, the cake was delicious.



“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it? See how nice it is to be cared for?” he whispered. “See how nice it is to be cared for…by me?”



She was beginning to wonder if she even had a chance at resisting seduction. All thoughts of what he said about her virtue miraculously flew out of her head.



Gabriel reached out and grasped her wrist, drawing her fingers to his mouth. “You left some chocolate behind,” he purred, looking up at her through his eyelashes. “May I?”



Julia inhaled sharply. She didn’t quite know what he was going to do, so she said nothing.



He grinned wickedly at her silent acquiescence before drawing her fingers into his mouth, one by one, sucking them slowly and swirling his tongue unhurriedly around the tips.



Julia bit her lip to suppress a moan as her skin exploded into flames.



Holy fuck, Gabriel.  When he finished, she closed her eyes and wiped the sweat from her forehead.



Gabriel regarded her silently for what seemed like an age. “You’re exhausted,” he announced suddenly, blowing the candles out. “Time for bed.”



She opened her eyes as he bent over her. “What about our conversation?”



“We’ve done enough talking for today. Our conversation is going to be a long one, and we should approach it when both of our heads are clear.”



“Please, Gabriel. Don’t do this.” Her voice grew low and desperate.



“One night. Spend the night with me, and if you want to leave tomorrow, I won’t stop you.”



He picked her up carefully and pulled her tightly to his chest.



Julia said nothing, the last of her self-control ebbing out of her. She was spent. He’d worn her down and her resistance was decimated. Perhaps it was the champagne. Perhaps it was the drama of the day and their explosive encounter in his office. No matter the explanation, she couldn’t resist him anymore. Her heart was already beating a fevered pace, her insides melting at the heat that floated across her body. And further down, near her womb, came the not so subtle fluttering of desire.



He will consume me, body and soul.



In her dreams, it was always Gabriel to whom she gave her virginity.



But not like this. Not with such hopelessness in the pit of her stomach and whatever illegible emotion that flashed in his eyes.



He carried her down the hall to his bedroom and tenderly placed her in the center of his large, medieval bed. He lit a few candles and placed them around the room, on the night stands, the dresser, and the credenza underneath the painting of Dante and Beatrice. Then he turned out all the lights and disappeared into the bathroom.



Julia took this opportunity to examine his black-and-white photographs. But they were gone. The walls were bare, with the exception of the Holiday reproduction and six hooks and bits of wire that testified to the previous presence of the now absent pictures.



Why did he remove them? And when?



Julia was glad they were gone. She was afraid of how they might look in the flickering candlelight, their images glowing raw and Satanic in the semi-darkness, depicting her soon to be sealed fate. Naked, nameless, faceless, soulless. She only hoped the most aggressive one, the sixth photo, would not be what he had in mind for her first time.



Is that what he would want? Is that what he would demand? Tearing her clothes off, shoving her onto her stomach, pushing into her from behind…not even looking into her eyes as he took her virginity, no kisses, no love-making, nothing but aggression and domination. Julia only knew of his sexual predilections from the photographs, and the fact that he’d described what he did to women as fucking.



Her breathing began to speed as panic washed over her. She heard an old voice in her head taunting her about fucking like animals.



Gabriel returned wearing a hunter green t-shirt and a pair of Black Watch tartan pajama bottoms. He deposited a glass of water on the nightstand next to one of the candles, pulled the covers back, and lifted Julia so that he could place her under the sheets.



She flinched, but he pretended not to notice and reclined on his side by her legs, drawing them close to his chest. He undid her sneakers and pulled off her socks,tenderly caressing the soles of her feet and her toes, making her moan in spite of herself.



“Relax, Julianne. Don’t fight it. This is supposed to be nice.” He murmured from time to time, more to himself than to her, and at one point Julia thought she heard him say la sua immagine. But she couldn’t be sure.



His voice was low, like a whisper or a prayer.



She silently wondered if he was referring to her or to Beatrice, and which debauched gods he was addressing. Just as silently, she begged them to aid in her escape, instead.



Please don’t let him consume me.



“I seem to recall that you liked my Magdalen College boxer shorts.



They’re in the top drawer, if you’d care to borrow them. They don’t fit me anymore.”



Julia sniffled. “Your pictures…the ones you used to have on the wall.



Is that what you want?”



Gabriel’s hands stilled against her feet. “What are you talking about?”



Her eyes darted nervously to where the sixth photograph had hung and back to Gabriel. His face morphed rapidly from surprise into horror.



“Of course not! What do you take me for?” His voice was a tragic, offended whisper. “You’re here, you’re tired. I don’t want to run the risk of losing you again before we talk.” He smiled minutely. “I want to make you a breakfast tray with parsley and orange sections, not take your virginity.



And certainly not like that.” He seemed disgusted. “I’m not a barbarian.”



When she didn’t respond, he slipped her feet under the covers. He tucked her in as if she were a child and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face.



“Let’s try to forgive one another, shall we? We’ve both been hurt, and we’ve both wasted so many years. Let’s not waste any more time jumping to conclusions.”



He stood up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It’s quite possible you won’t want me tomorrow, anyway,” he muttered. Then he stood to attention and gave her a small smile. “Call me if you need anything.”



While Julia tossed and turned alone, she heard Gabriel playing the stereo, softly but fluidly. She didn’t recognize the music, but with the sounds of arpeggios imitating waterfalls she eventually fell into a light sleep.



Later that night, Gabriel was lying on his back in the guest bed, his arm crooked over his face. He was hovering in between wakefulness and dreaming when he felt a slight shift at his left. A warm body moved toward him, gently tugging at the covers.



The body crawled in beside him and molded itself to his side. He felt long, soft curls whisper across his now naked chest. He heard a small, contented sigh as an arm slid across the ridges of his abdominal muscles, eventually resting on top of them. Gabriel pressed a gentle kiss to the forehead that was placed above his tattoo and slid his arm around the shoulders and down to the lower back, hesitantly moving his fingers under the t-shirt until they came in contact with soft, smooth skin. And dimples just above the waistband of a pair of boxers that were far too large.



The warm body sighed again and pressed soft lips to the stubble at his neck. “I tried to stay away…” Julia’s voice was hesitant, “…but I couldn’t.”



“I tried not to lick chocolate off your fingers. But I couldn’t.” Gabriel’s voice was playful but there was a note of underlying sadness.



She hummed unconsciously at his remark. “Why did you remove the photographs in your bedroom?”