Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

10 000 years.

He had been in hell for a small eternity.. Hell, he’d been there for two times longer than he had been up in heaven, serving God.

And now he was ready to leave.

Ready to resurface. To reclaim the world. Reclaim Botania from the hands of the God that created it, that created him.

And so he surged.

And he was greeted by light. Not the light of the God that betrayed him, but the warm caress of the sun, the slight chill of a soft breeze and the refreshing dampness of lakeside grass.

Oh, how divine.

And he’ll make it all his.

(And if he swore it to a small, green ball of moss, no one was close enough to hear him do so)

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It took him a month to conquer the people. Technology had gone beyond what he could have ever expected, and so his feats were broadcasted much beyond the eyes of the people before him.

They had erected a throne of crystal and white marble, decorated of luscious greens. A creation fit for a god.

As he looked down at his people, he couldn’t help but wonder;

‘Where is God?’

He had not been stopped. No one was sent his way. No message. No second banishment.

Was he cowering in fear in front of his own creation?

Was he scared of what Ashkariel had become?

It’s lost in these thoughts that he felt the sky split open.

A large, purple rift tearing the calm blue veil.

‘Ah, here They are.’ he thought to himself, rising up and turning to look at the dimensional fracture.

But he didn’t feel them. God didn’t come for him.

“ASHKARIEL”

And he snapped his head back toward the crowd.

That voice.

It took but a moment of searching to find a man with opalescent eyes looking at him, face severe as if looking at a child to be scolded.

“We need to talk. Come.”

And if he didn’t recognise the person before him at the call of his name, the order spoken to him reminded him.

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The short journey to their destination was made in silence. The streets always fell silent as he made his way through them by foot and today was no exception. That is usually why he preferred flying, but since his.. companion.. couldn’t, he walked.

They arrived at a building. Not new, not old. The man before him took out a set of keys and let them in. They walked up one flight of stairs and another door was unlocked, revealing a modest living space. What would be considered the ‘bare minimum’ in this day and age was unpacked. A kitchen with few tools, a small table with two chairs, a bare living room with a couch, an empty bookcase filled with taped boxes.

That’s when the other spoke again.

“Erm, sit wherever you like.. I’ll make some tea.”

Strange. This voice.. didn’t hold the same authority as the one that summoned him back at his altar.

“Mortal-” he couldn’t finish his thought that the man’s energy shifted for a brief moment. It caught him off guard, and so he kept quiet.

The other seemed to have felt it too, he looked tense as prepared the tea. The kettle whistled, water was poured, bags in, and he turned back, two mismatched mugs in hands.

“Oh.. erm, you can sit at the table if you’d like.”

Right. He hadn’t sat down yet.

He took place awkwardly, having to dematerialise his wings to fit on the chair and in the offered space. The soft clank of the mug being placed in front of him brought his eyes back up to the man who sat down and owned the space easily.

“Who are you?” Ashkariel cut straight to the chase. No use in beating around the bush.

“Ah-” the man looked jittery, “You can call me Cú..”

Ashkariel squinted at him.

“And I’m not the one who summoned you back there. I- we swapped somewhere along the way.”

“We?” he asked, staring.

“I call him Féileacán. He’s… kind of a flatmate? If I can say it that way?”

At those words, the familiar energy made its presence known once more. Cú’s face flashed to relief for a fraction of a second before scrunching up, relaxing, and fixing itself into a familiar authoritative glare.

“You’re back.”

“Is that- Azra-"

“Do not speak that name. I abandoned it a long time ago.” He spoke, cutting Ashkariel off.

There were so many questions buzzing in his head.

“Why are you here?” was the one he chose to ask.

“I’ve been here for much longer than you have, Angeling. The real question is; Why are YOU here?”

And oh what a question. For what he remembered of his… companion. This was many questions in one.

“I’m going to take Botania from God."

Féileacán stayed silent, eyes fixed on him. With calculated movements, he picked up his mug of tea and brought it to his mouth. He pressed the edge of the cup to his lower lip as if testing the temperature through the cheap ceramic. He softly blew the wisp of steam from the top and tipped the cup. He took the tiniest sip before deciding the liquid was still too warm and placing the mug back down.

“You’re staring.” Féileacán stated.

“I am” Ashkariel admitted. There was no use in denying it.

He took his own cup and, eyes glued to the other, gulped down the scorching liquid.

He was met with soft features contorting in a mix of disgust and pain.

“You changed”

“Hell will do that to you”

Silence. 

So he returned the question again.

“Why are you here?”

“I could answer this in many ways”

“You know the answer I want.”

“God is no more”

This was not the answer he expected. Shock painted his face, eyes rounding as they strayed from the figure before him.

God is no more.

“You were gone for a long, long time, Ash. The world changed.” Féileacán continued, “And, while I don’t know if it was for the best, its current form no longer warrants your wrath and vengeance.”

Ash’s eyes snapped back to the other.

“What do you know about anything? You’ve been here for the ten thousand years I was gone. You were here, living among them, as if nothing was wrong”

“SILENCE”

And he felt the energy around him fizzle out, strands of hair slowly going back down, his halo and wings, which had unconsciously rematerialised, were removed once more.

Ah, he still had him wrapped.

Emotions went through the borrowed face of his old companion. Emotions too raw, too human to be his own. But they settled quickly.

“I thought you were dead.”

This was spoken softly. Too softly.

“I might as well be”

Opalescent eyes focused back on green.

“But you aren’t.” His eyes softened a fraction. But for the man he remembered, this was more vulnerability than he saw in centuries.

“Would you humor me, Ash?” He asked.

The fallen angel squinted at him, but let him continue.

“I haven’t found anyone else since Their end. I thought.. I thought I was alone.”

Ashkariel’s eyes widened slightly, shock flashing across his face for a sliver of a moment.

“I would like to see you again.” Féileacán continued.

He blinked slowly, eyes going down to the mug still in his hand, now cold. He toyed with it for a moment.

“I’ll take a splash of milk in mine next time” he said, getting up.

He didn’t see the smirk on Féileacán’s lips.

“Still a child, I see.”

He warped away before any more words could be exchanged.

Chapter Text

He appeared back into the only safe space he knew.

Walking in, he found a head of blond hair adorned with purple horns lounging on a couch, book in hand.

Silently, he made his way around to face the figure. He knelt, slowly, he wrapped his arms around a slender but firm waist, head leaning down to lay on fit, but comfortable thighs.

A hand carded through his hair moments later.

“Long day being a God, Kari?” a sultry voice softly asked.

“Mmm” was his only answer, unsure how to process the events of the day and share them with the incubus.

“That bad uh?” The soft thud of a book closing was heard before he felt a second hand make its way down from his shoulder to the small of his back. “Do you need a distraction?” The question was familiar, and often, he would say yes. But he couldn’t today.

“I have met a ghost of my past.” 

Hands stilled on him.

“Them?” The incubus asked, venom in his voice barely concealed.

“No… Someone else… Someone whose words I can trust when I share them with you; They are no more.”

Still hands twitched back to life. A moment passed before they started their slow path over his hair and back again.

“This.. is good news. Amazing news, isn’t it?” The man tried, words unconvinced, as Ashkariel’s actions were not what he would have expected them to be once his creator was destroyed.

A beat of silence.

“In a way, it is. In another, it isn’t.” 

His arms tightened around the other.

Maybe, just maybe, he expected retaliation. He expected to be called on, to hear Their voice call the name They had given him. He wanted to show Them he had survived, to show Them what he had become. How Their creation changed, twisted itself, challenged Them, all while still bearing the name They gave him. A final act of defiance, to show Botania what Their creation had become under the punishment They inflicted him.

And he expected a fight. He wanted a fight. To prove that he could be the rightful new God of this world.

Hands kept moving in soothing patterns.

“I see.” The incubus breathed out, hands soothing his very soul with every stroke. “Would you tell me about this mysterious person then?” tease was back in his voice.

Ashkariel felt his features relax. When had they become so tight?

“He used to be a guide,” he started slowly, “not a mentor, per say, but someone I could look up to and go to. His name used to be Azrael, but he now goes by Féileacán.”

Speaking his late name brought back flashes of memories. Memories he thought he had buried deep in himself, never to be recovered.

“I learn about you every day.” 

“Zander-”

“Nuh-uh, Zanny.” the other corrected.

“...” Ashkariel looked up to meet fuchsia eyes. “Zanny” he elongated the name to mock him, earning his blond locks a light tug. A smirk made its way on his lips.

“Zanny,” he restarted, “You have been my salvation. For the last hundred years I spent in hell, knowing I could go to you is what saved me. You made me remember what being alive was like. What something other than the shattering of my soul and the burning of hell felt like. My.. haven, if I can call you that.”

Sharp nails softly racked his scalp, massaging it.

“Féileacán was the same when I wasn’t fallen.”

Zander’s face scrunched a little.

“You fucked the guy?”

“ZANDER!” Ashkariel’s head shot up. “Don’t say that!” He gave the demon a playful slap on the thigh.

The incubus laughed, the aura of seriousness around them melting a little bit. “Hey, I don’t know what angels were up to back then! Could have been orgies all day for all I know.

“Blasphemous.” Ashkariel breathed out, tone a mockery of scolding. He laid his head back down and the incubus’s hands started their ministration again.

Comfortable silence settled between them.

Zander broke it.

“Are you going to go back to him?”

Ashkariel paused. He knew the real question, but decided to answer in the only way he knew to be the truth.

“He asked me to go back for tea.”

Zander’s hands stopped again. “Will you be back?”

Ashkariel rose from his position, a small smile on his face. He moved the other’s legs to create a space beside him he could fit into, and lowered the limbs back onto his thighs. He reached to him, arms wrapping around the warm body and pulling it against himself.

“Oh Zanny. I told you. You were my salvation. Without you, I would still be falling.” He stroked short, blond hair. “You are not getting rid of me this easily.” He teased.

A short laugh rumbled in his ear.

“Well, I mean, I’m still an incubus~” he started, “I don’t mind sharing, as long as I get to play sometimes too.”

Ashkariel pulled the other away to look him in the eyes. “You devious, devious creature.” He couldn’t hide his smirk.

“What can I say?” the incubus shrugged, “I’m just like that~”

The angel chuckled lightly. His hand, still in blond locks, pulled the other back to him. He caught the soft, familiar lips with his, starting a slow, almost reverent kiss.

The incubus kissed back, quickly taking control of the exchange, his hands coming up to cradle Ash’s cheeks. Lips danced together. The demon moved, never breaking their link, he straddled the angel’s thighs. A tongue flicked out. A quiet demand.

Tightening his hand in the short locks, the angel accepted the intrusion, meeting it halfway. This was no fight. They knew each other very well by now. 

A hand left his face, fingertips trailing down his neck until they could reach under his coat. The hand splayed there, caressing greedily the firm muscles of his chest, sliding to his ribs, thumb purposefully catching a nipple on the way down. Going down still to his waist, it squeezed before rotating slightly, following the hip bone in a slow and steady drag, barely dipping under the waistband, belt blocking its way further down.

This time, it wasn’t a demand, but a question.

Ashkariel broke the kiss, lips ghosting over the others.

“Not today.” He spoke softly.

“Mmm,” the hand went back up, feeling defined abs, “can we keep kissing?”

“Of course”

And if hands kept exploring, caressing and squeezing, it was in comfortable understanding and sweet intimity.

Chapter Text

Coming back from a tìr, another dusk butterfly was already waiting for them. 

“Again?!” Complained Cú. “We just came back from one that lasted, like, WEEKS”

Féileacán grumbled. “It was only two weeks here. And school is still out for another 3 weeks.” he reminded the other.

“Yeah, but I wish I had spent these two weeks of summer doing something other than try to convince a teenager with a god complex that he needs to pass on.” 

Cú could feel Féileacán smirking inside of him.

The butterfly fluttered toward his face, making sure it was seen before making its way though the door as if it wasn’t there.

Surprisingly, despite being immaterial themselves, they understood his body wasn’t and always took a path he could follow. (Well, sometimes they weren’t really legal, but technically, physically, he could follow).

So he took his keys, phone and wallet. He opened the door, locked it, and started following the glittery trail.

It took him to one of the few green spaces designed by the city to remind the folks that nature existed.

“What a crowd. Is there an event going on around-”

When he raised his head, the sight before him cut thoughts short.

This was.. new.

Erected in the center of the place, a throne of white marble and glass stood above everything, greenery tastefully decorating it. Sitting, a figure clad in black (if he didn’t look at the bare torso), black wings, a halo and long, luscious blond hair.

The butterfly kept moving through the crowd, so Cú followed.

It was guiding them to the front of it. Surely not-

And up the stairs it went, only to dematerialise as it entered the vicinity of the person sitting atop the throne.

And as rare as it happened, a familiar feeling took hold of him, taking hold of his body.

“ASHKARIEL” his voice shouted, now under another’s control. 

Did Féileacán know him?

Cú got lost in his thoughts for a moment. Just long enough for him to realise muscle memory was bringing him back to his apartment.

When had Felly given him the control back?

And.. he was definitely being followed.

‘So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realise I called upon him to follow us home’

‘You did WHAT?’

‘Do not worry. I will talk to him’

‘What? Felly?!’

But the other voice kept silent, as it often did.

Cú squeezed his eyes, took in a breath he hoped the other wouldn’t catch on, and kept walking.

He wasn’t sure how to interact with this.. other being. And Féileacán really did not help him, staying silent until Cú tried to describe their relationship. That’s when Felly finally made good on his words and took the reins back, leaving him to watch from the back of their mind.

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“So, who is he?” Cú asked.

“A lost soul.” Felly replied.

“He seemed very much alive to me”

Cú could feel Féileacán sigh inside of him.

“A lingering regret of my past. I.. don’t know how he came back.”

“You never talk about your past.”

“Because it is irrelevant.”

“Well, the past came back and I kind of want to know what’s about to bite us in the ass.”

Irritation that wasn’t his bubbled inside him.

“He’s an angel. As was I before my form changed millennia ago.”

“So that’s where your ‘Holier than thou’ attitude comes from” his mouth ran faster than his thoughts, and he regretted it immediately when a second wave of irritation went through him, followed by silence.

“Fellyyy, I’m sorry for the joke. Please keep talking!!” He urged, but alas, Féileacán stayed silent.

“Yeah.. that’s on me for being cheeky I guess.” Cú mumbled to himself as he picked up the two empty mugs and moved to wash them.

Chapter Text

It had been a few days of wandering his new realm before he caught sight of somewhat familiar grey hair.

At fifteen thousand years old, one would think that mere days would pass by like seconds, but Ashkariel found that his had started to feel long. 

What would he do now? After centuries of planning his vengeance, being met with emptiness was.. more than underwhelming.

So, calmly, he walked to the other.

They were sitting, hunched over something, but before Ashkariel could even utter a word, they seemed to perk up as if seeing something and turned around, opalescent meeting green.

“Ashkariel?” the softer voice spoke.

“Cú.. How have you been?”

Confusion crossed the man’s face for a split second. Somehow, he looked like his own emotions troubled him. 

“I’ve been good..” He got up, turning around to face the angel, a nameless book or journal in hand. “Would.. Would you like to have tea again?”

Clumsy.

Endearing.

“I would enjoy that, if I’m not imposing.”

“Oh!” The man perked up. “Not at all! You’ve.. actually been on my mind since our first meeting.”

Honest. Unlike..

“Walk. We shall talk at your home.”

So they did. The silence was nothing new to Ashkariel, but to Cú, it seemed uncomfortable.

They arrived at the building, climbed the stairs and entered the apartment that looked somewhat more lived in. The kitchen had dishes drying on a rack, boxes were open, halfway emptied, a blanket and throw pillows on the couch. The coffee table was a new addition to the previously rather bare living room.

Cú took out two identical mugs this time, their soft clank on the marble countertop bringing Ashkariel’s attention back to the man. The kettle was already plugged in and steadily bubbling. The angel kept his eyes on the other, observing him in what seemed like a familiar routine as he moved around his kitchen.

He took in the sight of a well defined back as it stretched slightly to grab a box of tea in a higher cabinet, muscles relaxing as the elevated arm went back down to set the box on the counter.

The kettle whistled.

His host stopped it before it became too loud, pouring the boiling water in the cups before ripping open two packets of tea and immersing the bags in. He picked up both cups and turned around, their gazes meeting.

Cú’s eyes widened a little bit.

“Ah. I don’t have milk..” he said, eyes shying away.

“It’s fine.” Ashkariel answered, reaching out for a mug. 

He was handed one carefully, the other making sure he wouldn’t burn himself either on the ceramic or with a drop of the ‘a bit too flush to the top’ liquid. Fingers brushed slightly, both side a little more calloused than one would assume. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you would take a seat.” Cú started, a small smile growing on his lips.

“... it didn’t cross my mind to do so.”

“You’re a weird one aren’t you? But, so is Felly, soo..” He elongated the syllable, eyes avoiding his and lips forming a pout by the end. “Would you like to sit on the couch today? More comfy” he added with a smile the angel didn’t quite know how to describe or interpret.

Ashkariel turned his gaze to the mentioned furniture, a silent agreement. He let the man lead the way and settle first, taking place beside him as he cleared the coffee table of the papers covering it.

“Sorry about that, didn’t expect someone” he said as a way to occupy silence.

“You don’t have to be so.. conscious.. of me.”

A nervous laugh. “Says the guy that proclaimed himself God in the two weeks I’ve been gone.”

“Cú,” the angel started, “You carry within yourself the soul of..” He didn’t exactly know how to describe what Féileacán was by now, be it as a being or in relationship to himself. “Of a man I once looked up to. Please, be at ease.”

Hearing his words, the man beside him did seem to relax a little, settling more comfortably into the couch and cradling his mug closer. 

Ashkariel tried to do the same, but he was feeling a little bit out of place. 

“Do you mind if I ask you some questions?” He asked.

Cú looked up at him, curiosity clear in his eyes.

So honest.

“Only if I can ask some in return.”

A fair trade. The angel bowed his head in agreement, a faint smirk on his lips.

“May I start?”

“You did ask first.”

“Why- no. How.. is Féileacán’s soul within you?”

“... If I’m being totally honest with you, I have no idea myself.” He admitted, lifting his mug to his face, curling in on himself. “He hasn’t been very vocal about the reason why he chose me of all people. To be fair, he hasn’t told me much about anything at all.”

“Well, let me reassure you, he hasn’t changed much.” Ashkariel answered quickly, tease in his voice as he threw the little jab to his old friend.

Cú started laughing. “Oh I can feel his annoyance.”

Ash squinted at the other. “How.. How does that work?”

“Mm, I mean, we’re kind of just.. stuck in the same body. So I can feel what he feels and he feels what I feel. He used to be a lot more stingy about sharing his feelings though. The only time I could get anything out of him was when I would eat banana cream pie”

The angel stared at the human, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face.

“And now he’s mad I’m sharing all that with you” more laughter bubbled out of Cú. 

He could get used to this.

“I guess I will have to catch him in one of his talkative moods to have my answers then.” Ashkariel surmised.

Cú smiled at him, but his expression shifted quickly as if stuck by a troubling thought.

“How did you survive hell? Wait- no. How did you get out?”

The angel’s face hardened slightly, smile not as genuine as it had been a moment prior.

“I suppose you are not alone asking this?”

“Does it change your willingness to answer if I say no?”

He thought for a bit. Opening up.. was hardly something he had the luxury to do. Beside Zander, no one knew him. Really knew him. They saw the God he claimed to be. They saw his strength. But behind that…

He was Ash. A creature betrayed by its creator. A soul that lived too long and through too many things.

Who else could he confide himself to? Who else would understand? 

And while they might not have been through the same pains and turmoils. Cú and Féileacán were probably the closest thing to kin he could find.

“I will answer both questions, as you answered two of mine.” He started, solemn. “I survived hell to spite God. I suffered ten thousand years, through the feeling of my soul shattering and my body burning to ashes, just to prove to Them that I was stronger than what they thought I was. Stronger than Them.” He placed his untouched cup of tea on the coffee table. “And I got out thanks to someone that reminded me what being alive felt like. That there were other things to feel beside the burning and shattering.”

“You met someone… in hell?”

Ashkariel turned to look at Cú, his confused face was endearing.

“There are beings in hell.”

“... A demon?”

“An incubus, more precisely.”

A beat of silence passed. Cú’s face went through a few expressions before settling on barely restrained amusement.

“Wait.. Soooo..”

“I will not answer that question. I might have inadvertently already said too much.” Ash quickly added, averting his gaze and feeling a light warmth spread on his cheeks.

Still, poorly, restraining his amusement, Cú took his cup to his lips. “Answer enough for me-’ was mumbled before he sipped the warm beverage.

Ashkariel glared at him. He was halfway between wanting to leave and wanting to get back at Cú for his teasing.

He turned toward the other. Waiting for him to lower his cup, he got closer and as soon as Cú pulled the mug from his lips, the angel gently grabbed it from the top, taking it away from the man, not dropping a single drop.

“Jealous?” He asked, bringing the stolen mug to his lips, green eyes locked onto opalescent ones. He took a sip of the still warm liquid, lips brushing over the rim in the exact same spot Cú’s lips had been mere seconds before.

Pink blossomed over the man’s cheeks, spreading quickly to the rest of his face. His eyes darted to Ash’s lips and back up. 

The angel smirked, licking his lips. He reached to the side to place the mug down on the coffee table, keeping their gazes locked. 

“Looks like you’re interested..” He braced a hand on the arm rest, trapping the other between himself and the couch. Leaning down until their lips were a breath apart, he spoke again. “If you.. plurial.. don’t want this.. say it or push mmphh-” his sentence was cut off as Cú closed the gap between them.

The kiss was a shock to both of them, but neither pulled away. One of the man’s hands slowly, carefully made its way up to Ash’s cheek, his other going for his jacket, curling into a fist as it grabbed at the lapel. 

Lips then started to move, gently at first, testing, exploring, unsure of the other’s boundaries. Ashkariel’s hand went to Cú’s nape, fingers threading through pale grey hair until he could cup the back of the man’s head to deepen the kiss.

A light groan escaped him, soft lips parting just enough for the angel to slip his tongue and tease an intrusion without committing. 

Cú groaned again, but this time out of frustration rather than pleasure. Taking better hold of Ash’s face, he squirmed for a short moment, his leg sneaking around his body so he could lay on the couch and pull the angel down with him. 

Ashkariel hummed, shifting to a better position between the man’s legs. The hand previously in soft locks slid along the other’s jaw, thumb anchoring under his chin to push his face up and to the side, forcing him away as Ash trailed open mouthed kisses down, first to his jaw, his neck, finding the rapid pulse under his skin and giving it a lap with the flat of his tongue before continuing his descent as short, breathy moans blessed his ears.

He stopped when he reached the collar of Cú’s shirt, looking up to see the other’s face. Still holding onto his jaw, he turned his face so he could look at him. Opalescent eyes locked on his, lids grown heavy with lust.

“Good?”

“Fantastic.”

Ashkariel smirked. He grabbed both of the other’s hands from their hold on him, gathering them into one and holding them against the arm rest above his head.

“These are going to stay right there.” He ordered. “The word to stop is..” Ah… he didn’t have one coming to mind.

“Linguini?”

“...Fine by me.”

Ash took his hand back, trailing the very tip of his fingers down Cú’s wrist, then forearm, touch feather light. They kept going, slowing their descent as they went over toned biceps and shoulders. Reaching his neck, their drag across the pale skin became somewhat hypnotic. Running from under his chin, along his jaw bone, up to his ear and across his cheek at a deliberately slow pace. 

He could feel the body under him shudder at the sensation, eyes clouding as he focused on just feeling, world fading. 

The angel ran his fingers down along the column of Cú’s throat, feeling him gulp in anticipation. He smirked, taking a mental note as his hand kept going down. When he reached fabric, he started pressing down harder, touch more grounding. His hand strayed to one side until it reached a pectoral and pressed down, fingers splayed. (He was pleasantly surprised to find the muscle to be firm and well developed.)

The whine it earned him was music to his ears.

“Oh?” He questioned, pressing again with a light squeeze.

“Ash-..” Cú groused, looking down at him. But his hands were still firmly planted on the armrest above his head, if twitching a little in their strain not to move.

“Mm?” The angel lowered his head to the other pectoral and, through thin cloth, caught a budding nub with his lips to give it a teasing pinch.

A gasp reached his ears.

He smirked.

Opening his mouth, he let the flat of his tongue press against the fabric, wetting the shirt in that one spot. He played with it for a moment, taking the fabric in his mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh underneath. When the garment was finally soaked, he pressed his lips around the hardened nipple and sucked, wet fabric permitting a relatively good seal. He pulled back slightly, letting just the tip of his tongue flick out as its final touch.

Delicious whines resounded in the space between them. The body under him squirmed under his assault, pressing closer, hips rolling into his, a familiar hardness seeking friction against his body.

“Enjoying yourself, dear?” He waited for a beat or two, then blew on the wet patch, knowing it would create a cold feeling.

And as he expected, the other shuddered under his ministration. 

He leaned back up to look down at the man below him. His arms were still obediently above his head, even though trembling slightly. Face flushed, eyes glazed and heavy lidded, pupils blown wide, pink lips were parted as light pants were leaving them. He could clearly see the hardened buds tenting both dry and wet fabric and defined abdominals peeking where the shirt had ridden up from the man’s continuous writhing.

Oh, he could devour him.

Leaning forward, he gently caressed his cheek, fingers soft until he could cradle his face with one hand. Cú leaned into his touch as if on instinct and looked up to him with still clouded eyes.

Touch starved?

He kept leaning until he could kiss the corner of his lips, a short, chaste thing meant to get his attention. The man turned his head to chase after him, catching his lips for another kiss. The exchange was soft, Ashkariel gently leading them out of the atmosphere he created with soft pecks and careful touches.

“How are you doing?” He asked, breaking them apart.

“I.. ” the other gulped once. “Yeah ok, I was gone there for a moment.”

The angel smirked. “Glad to hear that.”

“Shut it.”

“Oh, that one sounds more like Féileacán.” He teased.

“Shut up!”

Ashkariel started laughing softly, still close to the other. A beat of silence passed as they just looked at each other, fondness warmed Ash’s usually more impassive face while Cú’s cheeks were pink. Still, a small smirk adorned his lips.

“Would you like me to fetch you a new shirt?” 

“Please, it’s starting to feel kind of weird.” The man said, finally moving his hands again to pull the wet shirt away from his skin.