Author Notes - Hello, all, and a Happy New Year. I thought I'd kick off 2019 by posting this brand new tale, and it's rather different to what I usually write concerning the Pinsty pairing, and in particular...Kirsty's submission to Hell. Well, I like to explore other terrains of their relationship. I'm not only limited to loving and humanistic aspects of this pairing. I just prefer to write them that way. ;) It's another post-Hellseeker, of course. I've been writing this one for a while, and from bits and pieces of older works, and it was challenging to piece it all together. But here it is, all finished. I'm hoping to also post more fics, drabbles and one shots I've been working on over the Christmas holidays, but we'll see. As stated on my profile, my writing is taking a backseat whilst I focus on my personal life. But for now, enjoy this brief one shot. Feedback is very welcome. :D - Laura

And to Think, I Hesitated

Kirsty Cotton sat alone within her apartment, dimly-lit by many sweet-scented candles. The seductive and alluring Lament Configuration rested quite comfortably across her eager palms as she stared to it, taking in its artistic and intricately lacquered features.

It had been several years following on from her husband's death. Other than the hefty sum of her inheritance bequeathed by her long-passed father and uncle, of which sat untouched in her account, Kirsty realised the world which surrounded her was a woeful and despondent one.

She had been deadly serious when she had told him she was done running, but not till now had she realised the significance of her own words. Those very words were what guided her now exploring fingers. They glided effortlessly and professionally along the grooves of the golden puzzle-box in her grasp, finishing off by fondling the circular panel. Her efforts were rewarded with an audible click

Utter darkness engulfed the room which she occupied, the flickering flame of her candles having been extinguished. A blue hue proceeded the blackness, and she knew there was no turning back.

The sound of dry leather, like a snake slithering along concrete, greeted her ears from behind. With a deep breath, and bracing herself, she ever-so slowly turned and he was there, fitted in sensual black.

He was the same as he had always been; a hairless head framed by a distinguishing halo of gleaming silver pins, oh so simple and neatly arranged, but so...brutally erotic; ever perpetual pale hue skin, marred by strips of neatly cut exposed flesh of his chest interwoven with the leather of his uniform. Tools swung at his hips from a belt laced through his navel, old but razor-sharp and wet with blood and meat.

But as always, her eyes came to rest on his own deep, onyx pits. They were essentially inscrutable, yet so much wisdom and intelligence swam the depths of those dark orbs in his pierced skull...and they took her in, sweeping the length of her body with a hunger not usually present.

They expressed an urgency and eagerness for more of a sadistic pleasure. Yet you can see the torment in his eyes. The hint of sadness sprinkled ever so slightly across them.

She wondered what he saw when he looked upon her, no longer so young, but just as frail and mortal as always. He had been in her life for so long she barely remembered the time before she had come into contact with the box and its horrid wonders. Her family was gone, the few people she had invited into her life came and went, or were gotten rid of, but she could always count on him being there.

Watching. Waiting.

She felt a curious mix of fear, familiarity, and arousal looking at him.

He was here for her again, and this time she had no plan of survival.

Those mesmerising onyx eyes locked with hers, and without preamble her hand rose to give a delicate command.

"Wait."

She didn't scream it as she had the previous encounters. She spoke in confidence, more of a request than a plea. He thought at first, wondering what she would do if he would not heed her. There was no reason to. Despite himself, he paused, but did not give her the chance to continue before interrupting.

"And how many souls is yours worth this time, Kirsty?" he chided. "Ten? Twenty? One hundred? Have you so many enemies to offer us? Or perhaps you are merely lonely and seek us out of amusement."

The emphasis on the word 'lonely' was cruel, but hugely significant, and she couldn't help but wince. Maybe because it was too close to the truth.

He stared with more than a passing interest, and Kirsty shifted uncomfortably, yet refused to back down. This level of defiance was new for her; either she had become much more brave, or perhaps foolish. Or maybe she no longer cared. Whatever the cause, he was delighted by the progression.

He had watched her whenever the moment allowed. He thought of it as keeping tabs on a promising investment. Whatever the other Cenobites had thought they wisely kept to themselves. He would never tell her how much he had enjoyed, more than usual, tormenting her late but not-so-lamented husband. Such an ungrateful man. He had no idea the prize he had, yet he had overlooked her for the cheap pleasures of lesser females. Perhaps Kirsty had underestimated her own worth, or maybe she knew no decent man could satisfy her and had chosen a doomed relationship.

Trevor Gooden still screamed in some dark corner of the Labyrinth, his cries of woes enmeshing with the many more foolish to tempt the LeMerchand's box. Perhaps, the Priest allowed himself to muse, he would give him to her when she was ready.

"Don't you have enough souls to play with already?"

"That was your offer. Not mine."

"That doesn't mean I wanted to."

"Of course, and what is it this time? Ignorant of the box's true nature the first time, didn't open it the second...didn't want me here the third..."

He started to walk, a purposeful half circle around her. Kirsty turned as he moved, feeling like a cornered prey.

"I think you did want me here. Clever, cunning little Kirsty. With Trevor's true nature revealed, what other choice did you have? You could always depend on us to take care of your less than admirable family members."

She wasn't sure how much of that last sentence was mockery.

"I was doing what I could, just like I always did. What difference does it make if I got a bonus out of it?"

The Prince chuckled darkly as if pleased by her callous disregard for the souls she had damned.

"I told you once before; nothing I have given to you came without a price."

Part of her knew this. She just didn't want to admit it.

"This life you fight so hard to keep...is is even worth it anymore? You don't belong with them. That world is empty for you."

"Why me?"

"Your soul longs to discover such untold agonies. It called out to us, and we answered, as dutifully as with all the others. You were...are...no different to them. "

"But why?" she repeated, her lip trembling, and a misty sheen in her eyes.

"Curiosity, desire. You wanted to know. We would have shown you. We..." He stopped, and corrected himself. "...I still long to show you the way."

She risked taking her attention from him to scan the darkness for the others. She remembered the last time he had come to her. There had been some new creatures lurking in the shadows during their last encounter, but the Cenobite with the chattering teeth - the one who had also been slain years earlier - had also been present. Now, it was just she and her otherworldly Prince. No others.

Kirsty turned back, her gaze now once again locked with his. She smiled wanly. "I see, I...guess. I can't have really been so innocent...especially now. Not after Frank, or Trevor. You were right about that; my family always made it so easy."

She looked to the floor for a fleeting moment, then bravely met his potent and lingering stare with a defiant, and rather flirtatious, look. "You always did like talking to me." She raised an arm, fanning their empty surroundings. "Where are the others?" She was smirking now, and inched ever so slightly forward to the Prince, almost standing toe to toe with him. "Or did you want me all to yourself this time?"

Those usually emotionless eyes of purest black were now alight with mirth. "How presumptuous, Kirsty."

"Then prove me wrong."

The Hell Priest made no noticeable move to call for the others of his Order. He simply stood there, studying her. She had hoped for a reaction, but she received nothing but silence. He continued staring, and she stared back. The silence was stifling.

Finally, he broke that silence.

"It's time for you to join us."

Her eyes still lingered on his - surprisingly soft and pitiful - gaze as she attempted to seem fierce and belligerent, yet failing. She opened her mouth as the all-too-habitual, and rather sudden, fear swept over her, and readied herself for her usual protests and bartering.

He humoured her, the corners of his pale and soft lips twitching upwards. "What would you offer us this time?" he posed his earlier question to her.

Her gaze never left his as she processed their conversation, and mulled over the last seventeen years of her miserable life. She felt she didn't belong in a world of her own kind anymore. She knew he was right; he had been right all along. She did belong with him, and she certainly wanted him. More than anything.

She wanted him to take her, and she wished to taste the pleasures that he had promised her so long ago, the pleasures he had experienced himself, and to exist amongst his kind. She had thought about it all ceaselessly since that fateful day she had bargained her husband's soul to save hers.

Forcing her chin upwards, and her brown eyes still looking determinedly into those eyes of polished obsidian, she said, "I have nothing. Only myself."

With one final step forward, and observing his look of satisfaction, Kirsty's hand reached for his, his palm starkly cold in her warm grasp, just as she heard the usual clink of chains in the shadows.

And she couldn't wait for the inevitable.

To think, she thought, I was hesitant.

The End...