{Victoria's P.O.V.}

"I thought we were going away from the main chapel."

"We are. This is an enormous house of worship. Though, this room is empty. It was being used for adoration."

"So is it still here?" I worry. "The host?" My brother's new butler shrugs. His apathy offends me. It does matter.

"Does it matter?" He may be right. I have no sense of what's to come. I admit I changed my stance rather quickly. I'm used to it, though- being indecisive, and in my defence, I hardly know anything about what Sebastian is going to show me.

"So..." I look around where we stand. The light is dim, the candles burning low, almost extinguished as the faithful have departed. The only colour in the darkness comes from a high, round window; rosy hues of blue and gold filter down on us like the shining of the stars. The sky is obstructed by the tower above but this suffices. It's pretty. It's peaceful. "What exactly..." He's gone. That was fast. I spin back around. "Hey! Where'd you go?"

He's already in a distant corner, far from the centre of the room, where I was heading for the light. "Come this way, Victoria."

"It's dark over there." I'm not sure if it was how he said my name or if the blackness surrounding him caused me to react the way I did, but I'm sure of something else: I have to find out way this feeling means. My fear vanishes. I hope my hatred won't, too. I still despise him, but if this is what it takes for me to understand, I'll do it.

"Good. It'll make it better." I walk towards him, turning by back to the gracious beauty of before. He's laying down in one of the pews. Strange. He nods, indicating he wants me to join him.

"How?" I raise an eyebrow, to which he sits up, halfway, informally. He extends his arms, flicking the tips of his fingers, repeating what he said before. "I won't bite. Come here."

I repeat myself just the same. "HOW?" He leans forward and pulls me into his lap. He picks me up easily, and I don't have a chance once he does. What initially feels like a dance move turns into something stronger, and I start to panic. There's nothing to stop that feeling from before. I hope he can't feel it. I sure can. Maybe he'll think I'm sweating. I definitely don't know what it is. I can't believe in doing this, allowing him to touch me. He lays his hands on my waist, and I look down. I'm straddling him, as though he was some sort of animal: a racehorse instead of the inhuman mongrel he really is. I hate him! I hate everything about him, and it's becoming something else I don't understand. It doesn't end anything. It only makes what I'm feeling stronger. This is driving me insane, and I don't use that term lightly.

"Easy, right?" His voice is like music. What's changed? What's happening to me? "Now," he slides his hands lower, and it makes everything worse. Something within me is begging for release. I close my eyes and try to focus on breathing. Again, he holds my face in his hand. The other one remains where it was. "What's wrong? This isn't anything to get worked up over yet."

I rip myself away, turning my face from his. I'm embarrassed, but it might be useful to ask. I burry my face in my shoulderblade, not facing him when I ask it. "Is there a lavatory here?"

"What?" He straightens up, then he genuinely laughs. I turn to glare at him. "Oh. You really are unguarded, aren't you?" He moves his head down, and starts to untie the front part of my dress. I can't speak. I meant what I asked; it's awkward, but what else could it be? It makes little sense, though. I'm pretty dehydrated. I can't remember the last time I drank any water. "That's not what that is. However," it's no use trying to breathe right. I can't breathe or speak as I look down. He's got one of my sleeves pulled down, and the way he's looking at me, at what makes me different from my brother, different from all men, causes me to tremble, rocking forward. He doesn't finish his sentence from before. "So interesting."

"W-what- do you mean? I- I mean it- I think you should let me go-"

"No." He tears down the other portion of my dress, and if I didn't think he was the greatest liar on the planet I'd believe he was serious. His eyes light up- sin itself, a devil in the church. I all but lose what's left of the physical element of before. I might have to find new clothes after this. "You don't understand. It's natural. It's what happens when you're turned on. You're so human. I despise you. All of you. This proves it. You're all disgusting, but you, specifically, are different. You don't even know what your kind does, what women do. This is what you need to understand."

His insults don't cause me to stop. I'm still enveloped in whatever's come out of this, out of me, and his hands are now underneath my clothes. He's touching me, accentuating his remark with an aggressive action, and I hate him for it. I hate how this feels, but I also like it. My breath is gone as his nails scratch me. I wince as he pulls away, out of something I've never considered important- a vestigial structure. I was wrong. So so wrong. He does what he did before, and there's blood this time too. He licks his fingers, and I realise I was wrong again. That only makes it worse. The way it hurts, it causes more of that to come. I can feel it mix with the sting of the blood. Stained. Now he's wrong. I'm not pure. I never was.

"What is this?" I lower my hand, too, running it down his chest, not even sure what I'm doing, or what I'm feeling, but I don't want to fight it. I was so distracted I hadn't even realised he'd unbuttoned his shirt entirely. I must be mental; everyone was right about me. Even so, I need to explore this. If he doesn't show me, someone else will, and I won't be prepared. He traces his finger around my chest. The lightened red colour gleams in the darkness.

"This." He raises his hand to my neck, and for a moment, he seems to be resisting something. His nails scratch me again, hard. His other arm is still supporting me, and he tugs at the fastenings still holding up my skirts. I glance beside us, and see there's still evident marks on what he was wearing. This is real, then. All of it was, is and remains true. "Is." He's successful. The space we're in blocks off what only we can see, but it's clear I'm young. I feel like a little girl. I miss my father. "Lust."

He shoves me backwards, and I slam into the wood of the bench. My back hits that thing people use to kneel when they pray. He then lifts me back up, and I fall against him. His hair tickles my face, as he presses his lips to my throat. It's nice at first, but then it's rougher. His teeth cut me. I like it. Why do I like it? I try to rise, to break away, and I'm somewhat successful. I'm briefly above him, my hair now cascading downward, his pushed back, making him look beautiful. I whisper. I don't know why I'm being so impulsive, though I've never been one to hold back before.

"I hate you." He grins, bearing his teeth, once again stained crimson with my blood.

"No you don't." He pulls my hair and forces me down, raising his head slightly, and my eyes close as he kisses me. It's the only time I've done it, and I'm almost certain I'm doing it wrong. It's actually somewhat disgusting itself. His tongue slides against mine, and I want to pull back, but at the same time, that feeling from before comes back stronger than ever. Now that I'm all but completely naked, it's hard to hide it. The only thing I'm still wearing is a pair of uncomfortable high-cut, translucent socks with these ridiculous black bands which strap around my thighs that I'd put on for a reason I can't exactly remember. He doesn't take them off and I don't think he plans to. He slaps me. I wince again. "See?" He's gentler the second time, like he's stroking a pet, a kitten rather than a girl like me. So much for human. "This isn't all of it. I'll warn you. The next part will hurt. Though, I can tell you like this." He bites my neck again and he's right. I force my hand to his throat, and I don't stop. I want to strangle him.

I jump back. Something poked me. His eyes flash below him, to where I sensed what I did. Again, stupidly, I have to ask. "Is there something in your trousers?"

He tosses his head back and laughs again, and I tighten my grip. It doesn't stop anything. He's stronger than me by a long shot. "Nothing foreign. Yet." I press harder. It only makes it worse. Whatever it is- it's in the right spot to not hurt me. It's almost where his fingers had just been, but he's still wearing his suit.

"This is sex? If it is, why am I the only one without my clothes on?" He's just laughing perpetually now. I let him go. It's not like I was doing much anyway. He takes the chance to push me off him. The stand behind me crashes to the floor, and though I'm facing him, I'm able to kneel on it just the same. I just have to stick my feet under the form in front of it a little. I lean back as far as I can, as he stands, and I close my eyes. I hear what sounds like the unlatching of a belt, and a hand grips my hair.

"Open your eyes." It's a command. It's not a request. It frightens me, but he was right before. I like it. I listen, and I let out a small scream as my legs hit the underside of the row of church-benches behind me. I cover my mouth as I try not to laugh. What the hell is THAT? He notices my reaction, and comments on it. "Right. Even you hate this part of humanity."

He pulls me up by my hair, and I have to quickly adjust my position so my knees don't buckle as I'm still halfway stuck under the pews. "I hate you, remember?" I still try not to laugh but it's not entirely possible. "Everything about you." He's not amused.

"That's fine. I don't blame you. This time we're in agreement." Why does he look like that's untrue? Does he blame me? He looks like he's trying to deny himself something, like he's not uninterested in this at all. He said it was to get what he wanted. I assumed he'd enjoyed very few times he'd done it, or at least, not like this. I thought it was a crime, torture even, but this is far from miserable. "But it's more or less required for what I'm supposed to be showing you, here."

"How?" I start to kneel back down. "Do I have to resume my previous position to do it right? Maybe I'm just not understanding you. If people, or humans, like this so much, then I must just be an idiot or something. Here, let me get back down on my knees." I'm rambling. My thoughts are racing. He shakes his head and smiles, pulling me back up and my eyes close, my hair falls down past my hips -I need to cut it- and his lips meet mine. His one hand is on my back, really really low on it - not quite on my back, but I can't exactly say where it is. It's embarrassing. The other twists in my hair. I move my own hands to his, knotting both into it. It's so black it blends into the darkness around us. The only parts of him I see are the best ones of his brilliant disguise. He may be pretending, but he's done a damn good job of it. He's beautiful, like a God. It's unreal. He could never be a man, though he's still wearing a man's clothes- barely. His shirt is the only thing on anymore. He's fast, impossibly so. Still, he's impecable. I don't want to take it off. I like the idea of having something on him to remind me that he's going to be faking it a little longer, his human facade. He came from divinity- the evil part of it, but a demonic counterpart to an angel nonetheless. He pulls away to speak again.

"Here." He nods toward the hard surface of the wood. It doesn't look to comfortable, and I know he mentioned it would hurt, but he coaxes me to lie on my back. He moves on top of me, and my chagrin overpowers me.

"We shouldn't be doing this here. It's not right."

"I don't care." He shoves his hand between my legs, forcing them apart, and he asks me one thing before he continues. "Do you?"

"I just said I do!"

His retort is kinder. "Are you sure about that? It's imperative that you consent to this." He brushes my hair off my neck as he moves his mouth against me. He does so repeatedly, one of his hands supporting him, the other pulls my leg up. He keeps doing what he was doing to my neck lower and lower, and I turn to look for the jacket coated in my blood once more. It's still here, and it's clear to me it's real. If he did hurt me, I doubt it was intentional.

"I don't understand."

He stops just before he gets to that spot. I look down, and he rises back on top of me, his face once more before mine. "Tell me you hate me now."

"Of course I hate you." I stammer. "So-so what are you going to do? I want to know what you meant. Show me, please. I'm- I'm- I'm begging you. Please, Seb-" he cuts me off by kissing me again then he pulls away and says my name before I can say his.

"Victoria. Give me permission." I swear he looks right over us, straight at the altar. I knew he cared. This time it's me who doesn't.

"I do. I consent. You can do what you want." He moves his mouth to my throat again, and his hands move back to where they'd been before; I open my legs, and close my eyes. I don't feel anything painful. My eyes snap open. He's not doing anything. "Didn't you hear me?" I almost scream. "Do it! Hurt me! I don't care! Just go. I'm ready to understand. Do whatever you want to me!" He presses his lips to mine and once more he calls me by my name. It's more of a thrill than any of my prior delusions, because this time it's not in my head. Its real.

"Victoria. You're nothing like the rest of them." I know what he means. My kind. People. "This won't feel good at first, but trust me it will after a few minutes. "

I reach up and pull him towards me. I hate him so much but that's not important in this moment. This is what we both want. Even if it turns out to be a lie, I believe it now. He does want this. He wants me. "Go for it."

I do scream this time, and he covers my mouth with his hand. "Shhh. You don't want a priest to come in. He wouldn't like this." Tears fleck my cheeks, and it does hurt. I know I'm bleeding. It goes without saying. "You probably don't know what it means to be a virgin, so I'll explain." I've heard that term before, but I never really got the depth behind it. I was ignorant. It doesn't mean I'm innocent, though, blameless. I'm no saint. "It's why you're bleeding, but it won't happen every time. You should thank me." He moves. It's starting to feel somewhat less painful. "Now you can use this to get what you want, too." His nails scratch me and I know he's done the right thing by covering my mouth. If I was able to scream, it would be loud. I hadn't done that since I was last taken away. "Now," he leans closer to me. His voice vibrates against my chest. "I'm going to take my hand off your mouth. When I do" he pushes himself further into me, and my eyes flicker closed. It stopped hurting. "I want you to tell me what it is you want." Now it feels good, better than good, it's extraordinary. It's the best physical sensation I've ever experienced. I can tell he knows what he's done. "As I said before, I've made up my mind to help you."

I'm not sure why I keep being so brash, but it seems permissible, fitting even. He mentioned sex and love being connected. If I didn't understand the former concept, I definitely couldn't begin to comprehend the latter. All I know is I feel like they are the same thing now, and as he lets me go, I say something I know I'll regret.

"I love you." He's as close to me as he can get and I swear I can tell he's felt what I felt, too. He nearly crushes me, and he pulls back, running a hand through his hair. He moves off of me, getting to his feet after siting on the study surface of the bench for a moment. That seemed undeservedly fast amongst everything else he did so quickly. I work to stand myself but halfway up he puts a hand on my shoulder, turning me around, wrapping my hair in his hands. He speaks as he ties it up with a slim golden band bearing a deep blue gemstone. A sapphire. How pertinent.

"That hardly answers my question." He spins me back around and pushes me down, but I resist it. I find it less humorous than before; what I laughed at is less comical. While it's still not exactly appealing, the situation does make it desirable. That's mad. Humans might actually be pretty disgusting after all. I feel like a traitor for even thinking that but it doesn't seem untrue. We are animals, technically. "I'll tell you what I want." He doesn't let me reply as his lips curl into a leer again, frustrated yet impressed by my defiance. This time it's nothing but terrifying. He now holds some sort of power he didn't have before. I have to do what he says. I can't explain why but it seems like I've lost this game in which I thought I'd had a substantial lead. He rubs my shoulders sensually* before he demands something of me that I can no longer refuse.

"I want you to get back down on your knees." I don't understand what else there could possibly be to sex that he hasn't already shown me, but I'm the one who's been in the dark for so long. I'm already enveloped in it- literally. I don't argue, but I've changed my mind. I don't feel the way I did about him anymore. I nod, and I'm only able to speak briefly before I'm unable to do so any longer. He assures me he'll reciprocate, but I have no idea what he means.

"I take back what I said. I can't love you. I hate you. I always will."

He looks at me like I'm the picture of denial itself, and he pulls me forward. It's a good thing he tied up my hair.

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*see attached Family Guy clip for an allusion/justification as to why I'd use such a lame ass line.
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[A/N: Yayyyyy sex. And not only that. Longwinded sex to mirror the concept of longtime satisfaction irl- ain't nobody want 2 1/2 minutes of that shit in reality. So yeah.

Lemme state a few things for the purposes of encouraging safety irl as well...this is *obviously* fictional and the concept of consent clearly means more to me than all the gold in El Dorado, so if it's at all questionable here, just know it's not real.

Also as far as Victoria's development, her indecisiveness, and her oddly rapid transition from hating Sebastian to not hating him so much, I'll try to better explain that as I go on. I don't want to just write it off as her mental state, though I will say personally I have an in-depth understanding of those sort of mood swings; certain issues like bi-polar disorder can be misunderstood but it is a part of it/them. I know for sure. Lol.

Okay, I hope that clears up any issues! And ugh sorry it took so long to actually get to the sex scene. I feel like I've become more repressed as I get older and write more. Some of my uncut crude stuff from when I first made this account was in my mind, kinda cringe-worthy, but it was/is pretty popular.

Maybe I shouldn't overthink it. Sex is sex. It's crude. That's why I'm prude.

Heh. It rhymed.
Aight then thanks for reading!
~ Britt]

{{ONE LAST THING:
I recognise the formatting of my author's notes doesn't always match.
Ah. Oh well. Gotta keep it interesting. And who really cares anyway, other than me? Lol (￣∇￣)}}