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A Moth Into A Butterfly	By : TaimaMarie Category: Individual Celebrities > Criss Angel Views: 3069 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know or own Criss Angel. This is a work of fiction. I make no money off it.

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AN: Ero, dingdingding! *huggleshuggleshuggles* No, I didn't get any of the movies. But I'm going shopping on Wednesday, and we'll see what I can find. I reallyreallyreally want Breakfast At Tiffany's. I love cotton candy! It makes me feel light and happy.

Criss threw Marilyn down on the bed. She scooted back against the pillows, her hair spreading out around her head like a halo. Those golden eyes narrowed at him, and she gave him a bedroom smile.

“Marilyn,” he breathed as he reached for her. He pulled the dress over her head in one movement.

She was wearing a lacy thong and a matching bra. Her breasts were barely held in by the material. He wanted instantly to let them loose, to take those rosy nipples into his mouth and roll his tongue over them. He had tasted her collarbone, and now he wanted an even more intimate part of her.

Criss dropped to his knees on the bed next to her. He let the tips of his fingers trail down her skin, milky white, and the veins showing through. He traced the path of one in particular, up her throat before bending his head to delicately suck in the nipple. It instantly hardened in his mouth, and he nipped it, enjoying hearing her gasp, feeling her fingers tangle in his hair.

“Nicholas,” her words melted away in the heat they were creating. He reached for the waistband of her panties, stripped them off her legs. She was naked against him now, hot and soft. He bit her, just where her neck and shoulder met, looking at the dark bruise that was quickly forming.

“Do you want me?” he breathed in her ear, hot and moist. Criss knew it was cheesy, but dammit, he couldn’t just start something if he wasn’t positive she wanted it. He had a pretty good idea, but unless he heard that word, unless he had that affirmation, it wouldn’t feel right.

“I want you so bad!” she moaned. He smirked as he reached down and felt between her legs again. He let a finger dip inside of her while his thumb rubbed her clit. She whimpered and squirmed on the bed.
“Please? Please, now?”

“Of course. I would never tell you no.” he bent to kiss her before he pulled his own shirt off and kicked off his shoes, pulling down his jeans. He left his chains on. Criss arranged himself between her legs, winding them around his waist. Her hips were off the bed, and she was trembling again. He could see her pulse fluttering in her throat.

“I need it.”

“I know. I need it too.” And with that, he was deep, deep inside of her. She was soft, silky, and soaking wet. Marilyn keened low in her throat, bowed her back sharply.

Criss had intended on a slow, steady pace. He had wanted this to last forever. But he knew now that neither one of them could last that long. That wouldn’t happen, couldn’t happen.

They were going fast, breathlessly fast. Marilyn’s hands gripped for his shoulders, those nails sinking ever so slightly into his skin. With a groan, he flipped them over, with the girl on top. She took a second to adjust to this before taking his hands in hers and lacing the fingers together.

“Balance,” she whispered, before lifting herself down and then letting him sink in to the hilt. His grip tightened on her as his eyes rolled back in his head. They moved together, again, and again, and again. Time meant nothing.

At least, time on the clock meant nothing. Time was told in the heat deep inside of her, in the sweat that he could feel rolling down the back of his neck. Time was the way those golden eyes were glowing, and the way he could feel her heart pounding.

Finally, she gasped and froze. He could feel her coming, tensing around him. He groaned and grabbed her hips, thrusting up roughly before spilling into her, white hot and smooth.

Marilyn collapsed down on top of him. Her head found its way right over her heart. He cupped the back of her head. Neither one of them spoke. Of course, there was no need to say anything at all. Soon enough, they were both asleep, tangled up in one another.

**

Criss woke up first. Marilyn was still snugly against him. Gingerly, he unwound her legs from around him. Tiptoeing around the room, he gathered her things. He began to dress her, and she did no more than turn her head on the pillow. Her lips parted and she mumbled something, but he stilled her by stroking her hair.

He lifted the phone and made a hushed call before gathering her shoes and purse. He bent over his bed, now mussed and smelling of sex and her perfume. Criss picked her up bridal style and carefully carried her down the hall. She stirred in her sleep, pressing her face into his chest. Criss bent and nuzzled her hair, which seemed to settle her back down.

The cab was waiting outside the lobby, just as he had asked. He laid her in the backseat, slipping on her shoes. He had read her ID card in her wallet, gave the cabbie directions, paid him extra to make sure she got inside the apartment okay. The last thing he wanted was for her to get mugged or something in her sleepy state.

He watched as the cab drove off, Marilyn safely asleep in the backseat. The concrete was cold against his bare feet, and he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. There was no way he could let her wake up where he was. She would find out the truth, that he wasn’t Nicholas, that he was rich, that he was famous, and he didn’t want to go through that with another girl.

He had thought to leave a note in her purse, a number and where to find him. But Criss knew that was foolish. Marilyn was not the type of girl that he should be staying with. She was the type of girl he slept with once and remembered for the rest of his life.

Feeling dejected and a little empty, he turned to walk back inside.
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A Moth Into A Butterfly