5 comments/ 9964 views/ 24 favorites Stray Ch. 01 By: BloodyRedEclipse The sweltering summer heat slammed into me the second I opened my car door. There was no breeze, despite the shimmering lake that sprawled out around the small, exclusive neighborhood. Even without the breeze, I could smell the rank scent of blood and savaged intestines, mingling with the oily body odor of the seven grossly overweight cops standing idly around a lumpy blue tarp that hid the corpse I'd come to check out from the swarms of flies. They had cordoned off the single road leading to the small strip of obscenely pricy homes, so no rubberneckers were gawking around and fucking up the scents. Rick Walker, the Van Buren County Sheriff, waddled over to me and I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from giggling when the image of a penguin with the head of a pig and a sheriff's badge flashed through my head. There was no love between me and the greasy fuck dressed as a lawman. Walker was on the take from almost every major meth lab in the county and a pedophilia ring. Of course, very few people were privy to that information. Evil called to evil, and I was half daemon. I could smell the sleaze dripping off him. He, of course, was a Southern-fried Baptist and faggy half-daemons born out of wedlock to a witch ranked very low on his list of tolerance. Walker stuck out a sweaty paw to me, which I ignored. In fact, I ignored him completely and shouldered past towards the six others clustered around what was probably the most grisly murder half of them had ever seen. Fairfield Bay was a small town, mostly full of white, middle-aged, and rich empty-nesters. The deputy nodded to me by way of greeting, a perfunctory gesture. I was pretty sure his name started with a 'J'. James, Jordan, Jackass. Something like that, anyway. He was the most tolerable one of the pigs accompanying Walker today, which wasn't saying much, and to be fair, he wasn't as fat and greasy as the others. He didn't know Walker had his hands in every illicit pie in the county, and if he did, he'd probably flip shit. Despite his rank, he still smelled innocent and hopeful. He was like a puppy, no matter what sick shit happened, he still found a reason to keep going. In about twenty more years, he would put a bullet in his skull or a rope around his neck. I could smell that the same way I could smell Walker's nasty disposition. I slid off my sunglasses, revealing my mismatched copper and green eyes, as one of the boys in blue tugged away the dusty tarp. The pigs all looked away, except Walker and myself. Walker didn't because he was a goddamn sociopath, and I had seen much worse than the maimed woman sprawled in a pool of drying blood. The sunbaked dirt had stripped most of the moisture from the blood, and turned into a sticky, iron-scented sludge. The flesh from her collarbones to her pelvis had been gnawed away, her ribs cracked apart, and her heart had been inexpertly dug out and probably consumed. Eating hearts was mostly reserved for imps, but they were very neat and precise about it. A wendigo could have done this kind of damage, but the only thing left of the corpse would have been a few chewed bones. Vampires didn't eat flesh or kill their victims very often. Werewolves, aside from not living anywhere near the Ozarks, didn't eat humans. I knelt on the tarp, carefully avoiding the tacky ooze, and sniffed at the body. One of the pigs gagged, stumbled a few feet away and vomited. Fuckin' rookie. I smiled darkly. I loved fucking with these guys. The best part was that they always came back. I was the best, at least in Arkansas, and it didn't matter how much they hated me. Beneath the violent perfume of death was something else; the sulfuric taint of hellspawn. Unless I was mistaken, and I wasn't, the daemon that did this was a low-level sex daemon. It was probably female, but it was often difficult to tell with them. The weaker ones tended to either be hermaphrodites or could switch genders at will. The stronger ones sacrificed gender-swapping for more power. I stood, brushing dust from my knees. "A lust daemon killed her, probably conjured by her boyfriend's wife." I didn't mention that, until quite recently, the dead woman had been pregnant. Her blood had been laced with pregnancy hormones and abortifacient chemicals. They'd figure it out eventually, and if I told them now they wouldn't work nearly as hard to find who had sent a daemon to kill her. "The hell do'ya know she was screwin' some broad's husband, Kain?" Walker drawled in his nasal travesty of the English language. "You know my methods, Watson," I quipped, watching confusion paint his fat, red face. Illiterate fuck. One of the other pigs made a choking noise that sounded like a stifled laugh, which I took to mean he, too, still read the classics. Or at least jerked off to Robert Downy Jr. and Jude Law. "Positive. You find the boyfriend, you find the lady who's responsible for this." I gestured at the fly-blown corpse. "Now, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I'm out. Peace." I slid my sunglasses back on and strode back to my car. They didn't pay me well enough to stick around in this baking cesspool. As I'd half-expected, the daemon who had snacked on the dead woman was sprawled in my passenger seat, shimmering slightly with the constant power it needed to remain invisible to the humans. At first glance, it appeared to be female, with wild blood-red hair that reached passed her waist and tits to make a porn star jealous. She smiled at me, batting pale lashes over star-studded obsidian eyes, and blew a bubble from the spearmint gum she'd pilfered from the glove box. I sighed and proceeded to ignore her until I was situated in the driver's seat and we were out of sight of the cops. "Hmm, Rafael Kain. You're just as yummy as the incubi say," she simpered, then popped another bubble. She smelled like spent cigarettes and I wondered how fast I'd have to be going to break-check a daemon though the windshield. "Nice to know I'm up to par, Gingersnap," I muttered. I was becoming increasingly less sure that the daemon sitting next to me was, in fact, female. She held herself more like a male, but that could have been because sex daemons fucked just about anything and she'd lost the ability to properly close her legs. "Ooh, Gingersnap! I like that," (s)he giggled, resting a slim, manicured hand on my leg. "Paws off, guttersnipe. I don't fuck sex daemons." I glared at the heavily rutted dirt road. "Mind out of the sewer, Kain. I'm here to talk politics, not lay you." (S)he paused, tapping lightly on the door window. "Big things are happening in Hell. There's talk of over-throwing Lucy." Lucy was the less-than-affectionate pet name for Lucifer, who didn't really give half a fuck about his people. He was a seraph, not a daemon, after all, and he still pined after his first home. "I don't play with other daemons." "This isn't a game, Kain, and we aren't asking. You're a daemon, regardless of what your mother was. What happens in Hell, like it or not, affects you." (S)he fell silent for a moment. "When the rebellion comes, Lucy will lose. Even his fallen have turned against him." "I still don't see what this has to do with me. I'm a stray. I do not mess with daemon politics." I ground out that last bit. I needed a drink, preferably one with a proof strong enough to knock a bull elephant on his ass. "When my master sent me out to the conjurer, I was told to tell you this. Nothing more, nothing less. I'm not powerful enough to know anything more." "Who's your master?" I asked, suddenly curious. Only the archdaemons could control another daemon. There weren't that many to choose from. (S)he laughed. "That's telling, Mr. Kain. I don't give out information like that for free, and you couldn't afford my price." Probably not. I didn't have that much of a soul to bargain with, and I had no intention of trading it for a name. I could probably force the little fucker to tell me, but I wasn't sure who (s)he belonged to. If its master was a member of the fallen, there wasn't enough magic in the world to keep my head from being mounted on a wall. "What's your name?" I was getting sick of trying to figure out what the hell (s)he was. "Zavi," the daemon replied brightly. So it was a male. Nice to know, even if the information was virtually useless. Contrary to popular belief, simply knowing a daemon's name didn't give you any power over it. When you summoned a daemon, you got whoever the master daemons sent you. Hell, ironically enough, was a business. "Why?" "That way when I tell you to get out, I can call you by your name." Zavi laughed. "So you're a pretty and respectful bastard. Y'know, my master might have hinted that they know who killed your mother." That got my attention. I didn't consider myself bitter over the fact that a daemon had slaughtered my mother, but I did have every intention of tracking it down and making the fucker beg for mercy. Spoiler alert; I wouldn't give it. I'd been sixteen and the result of my mother dabbling in magic that, as a white witch, she had no business with. She hadn't told me why she was messing around with daemons again, and she never would. When she came back from her foray into Hell, she more resembled a pile of ground beef than a human. Instead of going into the foster care system, I got myself legally emancipated and started doing odd jobs until I'd turned eighteen and got hired on as a retainer with the local police department. "Why should I trust your master? Why the fuck should I even trust you?" I snapped, shooting a glare toward the daemon. Zavi sighed. "You'll have to trust someone someday, Rafe." "Don't call me Rafe." I hated that the little shit was right. Goddamn lust daemons with their stupid fucking emotions and shit. "Your mom must have had a weird sense of humor, naming you after the archangel." "Don't talk about my mom." If he stuck around long enough for me to get home, I had a pentagram and some blessed salt water with his name on it, his master be damned. Pentagrams, when drawn correctly, could trap a daemon, but ordinary holy water was useless and half the time it came straight from the tap. However, there was a blessing spell that was far older than anything Catholicism had to offer that could really fuck over a daemon. Salt didn't do anything either, but it was irritating when sprayed directly into a daemon's eyes. Or anyone's eyes, really. "You're really defensive, did you know that?" I growled and stepped on the brakes, watching as Zavi was slung against the dashboard with a satisfying smack. We were still in the middle of some shitty dirt road, surrounded by dilapidated former meth labs. "Go back to Hell and tell your master to shove his hints up his ass. I don't give a blue fuck what goes on in Hell, understand?" The redhead was rubbing the back of his neck. I hoped I'd given him whiplash. "My master's a female," he muttered petulantly. "I don't fucking care! Get the fuck out of my car!" "We'll be in touch, Kain," Zavi sighed and disappeared, his exit causing a cracking noise as dimensions were temporarily ripped open. Now the smell of ozone intermingled with sulfur and cigarettes. It would take weeks to get the smell out. I didn't really care why the daemons wanted me. Even if I did want to help them, which I didn't, I wouldn't be much use to them. I knew a scant amount of white magic, enough to ward my house and bless water, but no black magic. Black magic was far more powerful, but it essentially poisoned the user over time, and there was the very good possibility that it would turn on the user instead of the intended victim. It was the only type of magic that could kill or control a daemon. I hissed softly, a little disappointed in myself that I hadn't punched the pesky little fuck in his face, and turned the radio on. A static-maimed rendition of some shitty pop song I'd never heard began to play and I immediately turned it back off. Zavi had fucked with my radio. If he was ever unlucky enough to come near me again, I'd skin him alive. Repeatedly. I managed to make it home without further incident. Home was a fairly nice, sprawling cabin hidden away in the mountains. Despite its proximity to several towns, it was relatively secluded. I had one neighbor, a sweet Latina who was older than dirt and didn't exactly have a green card. If she had a name, she never told me or my mother. She simply went by Mama Z. She was a witch, though I wasn't sure what kind. She occasionally made me food in exchange for getting to see some of my mom's old magic books. I shoved through the door, felt the familiar hum of the wards that had been laid into the very foundations, and tossed my keys onto the kitchen table. I needed a fucking drink and it was probably noon somewhere. There wasn't much in the way of food, I basically lived on off-brand soda and those packets of cheap instant pasta that you just added water to and heated. But I did have a nice liquor cabinet. Since I didn't have any shot glasses, I dumped a few bits of ice from the freezer into a coffee mug and drowned them in bourbon. I sipped contentedly and padded into my living room, where I stopped dead. There was a half-naked guy on my couch. There was a fucking half-naked guy on my couch, lounging around like he owned the place, and reading my dog-eared collection of Robert E. Howard's stories. I hissed softly and drained the coffee mug. The half-naked guy looked up and opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. "Hold on." I turned around and went back to the bottle of booze. I filled the mug again, then decided to just take the whole thing with me. It was going to be a long goddamn day. "Who the fuck are you?" I asked, once I was back from the kitchen. The wards on my house could keep out about just about anything, except for maybe an archdaemon. That didn't exactly bode well for me. At least the guy was pretty. If I was going to get the shit beat out of me, it might as well be by this guy. He was well-muscled, but not disgustingly so, and he had gorgeous eyes. They were translucent blue, almost like ice. His hair was just a little too long and an inky black color. And curling from his right collarbone, over his chest and ending just above his pant-line was a black, swirling tribal-looking tattoo. Or, what looked like a tattoo. It seemed to be part of his lightly tanned skin, like he had been born with it. Half-Naked Tattoo Guy set aside my book and straightened up. "I'm Gabriel," he said, like that should explain everything. I took a long slug from the coffee mug. "Good for you. Why are you in my house?" Pretty boy or not, I was fucking sick of dealing with people today. Was it too much to ask to just be left alone? "You're Rafael Kain, correct?" He ignored my question. "That wasn't an answer," I pointed out. The bourbon was probably making me mouthier than usual. "Neither was that," he countered. "I asked first," I muttered. His lips quirked into a half-smile. "My question was more important." "Who says?" I was trading comebacks with a half-naked guy who had broken into my house. Maybe I'd finally lost my goddamn mind. "I do." Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest. I had the sudden urge to lick the ink over his pecs. No hair there, but there was a neat little treasure trail edging down his abdomen. Yummy. Maybe I should have eaten something this morning. I wondered if he would volunteer, then pushed away the thought. If he was an archdaemon, he could easily be fucking around with my head. He didn't smell like a daemon, but I'd never met an archdaemon, and for all I knew, they could smell like cupcakes and strawberries. "You just answered a question," I said, only slurring a little bit. Gabriel sighed. "I'm supposed to be here to protect you." I stared at him for a minute. "From what?" I'd taken care of myself for over ten years. He looked at me like I had just been licking the windows on a short bus. "From the daemons." "Newsflash, dude, I am a daemon. And I can take care of myself." "They're going to use you to bait Lucifer. Even the weakest of the fallen could get through the wards on your house." It struck me then, through my somewhat addled brain, that the man sitting on my couch was a seraph. Not just any seraph, but one of the elite archangels. Holy shit. "Why would Lucy give a fuck about me?" Gabriel continued to look at me like I was a fucking idiot. "Lucifer is your father." Stray Ch. 02 Lucifer was my father. I was literally the spawn of Satan. Holy fucking shit. I stared at Gabriel, unable to process the information. I was a daemon, or at least half daemon. I wasn't a seraph. "That's not possible. Lucy's an angel. I'm a daemon." "Seraphim cannot be born or breed. They just appear. The fallen seraphim gained the ability to reproduce, but they could only birth daemons. You didn't know this?" He was still looking at me like I was a few candles shy of a menorah. I eyed the whiskey sitting on the coffee table between us. I was going to need a lot more than the half-empty fifth. "Why would I? Being a daemon doesn't come with a history lesson on this shit." Gabriel looked around at the heavily-laden bookshelves that took up most of the available wall space. Most of them were old leather-bound tomes in weird cuneiform writing that had belonged to my mom. There were some in more modern languages, but I'd never cared to dabble much in magic. Simple warding spells and blessings to turn water into daemon pepper spray were the beginning and end to my occult knowledge. Unless, of course, it was the fictional occult, which occupied the rest of the space. Poe, Lovecraft and those who desperately tried to be him, Conan Doyle, Robert E. Howard, some Saki and Stephen King. Most of those had been dog-eared to within an inch of their lives. "Some of those books record Lucifer's fall. When I saw them, I just assumed you knew." "Well, you know what they say about assumptions. Most of those are in Arabic, I think, and I grew up here in Arkansas. The fact that I can even read in any language is astounding." I was actually pretty fluent in Spanish and I could understand some Latin, at least enough to know that the language had deserved to die out. I reached for the bottle again, only to find it gone. The archangel was also missing. After a heartbeat he appeared from the kitchen. "If you dumped that down the sink I'll kick your feathery ass." Even if he didn't exactly have feathers, at least that I could see. The look he gave me was patronizing. "You could try. I should have, but I didn't. I'm not a babysitter, which you evidently need." "You're just a big ball of sunshine and happiness, aren't you." Why the fuck was I insulting and threatening the most gorgeous guy I'd ever met? Maybe I did need to stop drinking. When Gabriel settled himself back on my couch, not deigning to respond, I sighed. "So Lucy's my father." The inked seraph shrugged. "Yours and about a hundred others. Most of them are dead, though. Lucifer's people get a little anxious when he messes around with humans, it upsets the hierarchy. The last time they killed one, he threatened to destroy Hell. He's more powerful than his fallen would like believe." "They've killed all his children?" My stomach turned. "What about their mothers?" "Entire families, on occasion. Sometimes the fallen seraphim would send messages from 'God' back in the days when they executed adulterers and witches. Other times it was outright slaughter. You have a half-sister who is under our protection as well." "I have a sister?" I'd gained a father and a sister in less than half an hour. It was cliché as all shit, but I'd take it. "That's what I just said." Gabriel was giving me that condescending look again. I was torn between the urge to punch him or kiss him. Maybe I'd just do both. "Her name is Dante, ironically enough." "Dante? Like the poet? The male poet?" I was named after an archangel that no one really gave a shit about, so I really didn't have much room to judge. "I assume so. Michael is her guard; she and I have never met. I believe they're in London." "So my sister gets to live in London and I'm stuck in fucking Arkansas?" Theoretically, I could move, but that required money, which I didn't have much of. Books, booze and utilities ate through my pathetic paycheck pretty quickly. It was a damn good thing that weird shit plagued the southern states. "You poor thing," he said dryly, all but rolling those exquisite blue eyes. Then, lithe as a tiger, he stood and headed back into my kitchen. "Hey, where are you going?" I scrambled up off the beaten-to-hell recliner and followed him. I couldn't help but steal a few glances at his perfect ass. I wondered what he'd do if I bit him. "My cherub is here," he replied by way of explanation. He stopped in front of the door just before a light knock sounded from the other side. Opening the door revealed a very short girl, 5" at the most, with an equally short black skirt, made up for by thigh-high leather boots, and a rainbow-striped corset-looking thing. The tribal tattoo Gabriel had was mimicked on both of her slim forearms, and her shaggy platinum hair was streaked with the same blue as both their eyes. Seven sapphire studs lined both ears and she had silver snake bite piercings in her lower lip. "Hiya," she chirped, sticking out a tiny hand to me. I shook it unconsciously, somewhat dumbstruck by the odd little creature. "You look trashy," Gabriel informed her, his lovely lips thinning in almost fatherly disapproval as he shut the door behind her. "Oh, hush, Gabby. This is the style nowadays." She grinned at me. "Gabby's stuck in the seventh century." She giggled. "Cross your legs when you sit, that skirt is too short, those piercings are hideous, leggings aren't pants. It never ends with him. I'm Dory, by the way." "Like the fish?" I couldn't help but ask, and she grinned, showing slightly pointed teeth. I liked her immediately, something that hardly ever happened. "Isidore," Gabriel said, giving her a dark look. There was a warning in his voice. It was sexy as fuck. "Lighten up, Gabby. You know you love me." She winked at me. "I'm half a century younger than he is, and he never lets me forget it." "So you're a cherub?" I'd heard they were Heaven's equivalent of imps, but far less common. "You wouldn't know it by looking at her, but yes," Gabriel muttered, still keeping up his disproving face. He really was fucking adorable. "No one asked you, Gabbs." She poked Gabriel's stomach with a brightly painted fingernail. "But, yeah. I'm a cherub. Think seraph-lite. Our parties are much more fun, y'know. Mikey's cherub Danny threw a rave in the '90s that the greed and gluttony daemons are still talking about. He got John Lennon and that Cobain guy from Nirvana to play. It was glorious." "Uh-huh." I couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. Gabriel cleared his throat. "Isidore." "Oh, all right, you over-sized barn owl. Danny with a 'y' says to tell you that Mikey and Dani with an 'i' are doing good." When the archangel continued to give her a dirty look, she sighed loudly. "Fine. Daniel reports that Michael and Dante are doing well across the pond. Daemons are everywhere, but that's London for you. Happy?" "Ecstatic," Gabriel retorted dryly. "Anything else?" "Well, no, but I wanted to meet Rafe. I'd heard he was cute. I wanted to see for myself." "I'm not some kind of puppy," I pointed out. I wasn't that cute. My mismatched copper and green eyes were distracting, not attracting, and no amount of romanticizing over that kind of oddity would change the facts. My abs were non-existent, I drank way too much, and I didn't eat anything healthy. If I didn't have a daemon-enhanced metabolism I'd probably weigh half a ton. "No, but it'd be fun to see you in a collar." Dory winked at me again, smiling. "Isidore!" Gabriel snapped. "Oh, he knows I'm just teasing. Just because you're a mean old codger doesn't mean everyone is." Dory shook her head. "You got the short end of the stick on this, Rafe. Gabby has a vendetta against fun." "Don't you have somewhere you need to be, Isidore?" Gabriel asked, looking exasperated. "Nope, Anna's orgy isn't until tonight." Dory paused. "Oh, I probably wasn't supposed to tell you that. Um, bye!" The cherub vanished with a resounding crack, leaving the scent of ozone behind. "She's interesting," I said, if only to break the ringing silence. "She's psychotic," Gabriel corrected, trying to sound disapproving, but there was a smile on his lips. I had to fight down the urge to kiss him. I wanted terribly to crush our mouths together, maybe bite him a little and taste his blood. I realized he was giving me a funny look. "Are you okay?" I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. "Fine, just a little buzzed, is all." He probably wouldn't react well to me telling him that I wanted to shove him down on the kitchen floor and rub myself against him like a cat so that he'd smell like me. I hadn't realized that little urge was weird until the first guy I'd ever dated had threatened to break my nose after I got a bit too touchy-feely in public. By 'dated' I mean screwed around with. He'd gone on to renounce his so-called homosexual tendencies after a stint of intensive therapy and then hung himself in the church he volunteered at. "You won't be drinking anymore in my presence." Gabriel had lost that sexy little smile and traded it in for something more along the lines of high-handed douche. I had to fight down the urge to go along with his domineering bullshit. "Now just hold your damn horses, this is my house and I can do what I please, Gabby." I might have sneered just a little on the pet name. I wasn't sure why, usually I was pretty good at stifling my inner jackass. "Don't call me Gabby. I hate that name." "Don't tell me what to do, Gabby." By now we had edged very close to one another and I had to crane my neck up to glare into his fucking gorgeous blue eyes. Warmth radiated from him and I could almost taste his irritation with me. All I wanted to do was rub up against him, mingle our scents, make him lose his fucking mind. I didn't even really care if he fucked me, though that would definitely be fine with me, I just wanted to be as close as physically possible. Gabriel licked his lips. "Stop doing that!" "I'm not doing anything." "Yes, you are. You're driving me crazy!" Gabriel was squirming a little, and he seemed to shimmer in and out of reality, like smoke blown by a fan. The part of me that wasn't a daemon would have been content to piss himself and hide under something, terrified of the utterly inhuman display. However, the part of me that wasn't human was far too stubborn to back down. "Oh, I'm driving you crazy? You're the asshat who broke into my house and insists on telling me what to do!" Okay, maybe yelling and name-calling wouldn't solve anything, but it made me feel better. "I'm only telling you what to do to keep you alive! Are you deaf or just an idiot? Most of Hell wants you dead, you should be grateful I'm here!" "If my father doesn't care if I'm alive, why do you? Why am I so goddamn special?" Gabriel didn't reply, just stared at me for a long moment, his lovely baby blues unreadable. "What makes you think Lucifer doesn't care about you?" "Oh, I don't know, maybe it has something to do with the fact that he never bothered to drop in or even let me know that he was my dad." The archangel's face was still unreadable and sexy as all hell. In a movement that I had no hope of seeing properly, he crushed his mouth to mine. Despite all the fantasies that had been playing through my head, I was too shocked to really do much more than stand there like an idiot, at least for several seconds. By the time I processed what was going on, he was pulling back from the kiss. Gabriel opened his mouth to say something, possibly apologize, but I pressed myself flush against his chest and slid a hand between us, squeezing his stiffening cock through the soft cotton pants, and threaded the other through his silky hair. His pupils dilated and his lips, slightly swollen from the failed attempt at a kiss, parted slightly. I smirked at him and leaned up to lick his bottom lip. "Shut up, Gabby." The seraph grinned at me and captured my errant hands, holding them behind my back, effectively trapping me against him. "Are you going to make me?" Still smirking at him, I let myself slide down his luscious body and onto the old linoleum floor. Gabriel was nice enough to release my arms, which were nowhere near flexible enough for me to break free on my own without dislocating something. I mouthed his tattoo on the way down, nibbling at the flesh just above the gray cotton pants. He muttered something in a language I didn't understand, but I had no intention of stopping to ask for a translation. I was too wrapped up with his salty satin skin to really care. Now that I was on level with my intended prize, I leaned forward and nuzzled the bulge growing in his pants. Gabriel made a soft happy noise that vibrated through his chest and buried both hands in my hair, tugging slightly, which had me echoing the same needy sound and humping at the air. Having my hair pulled never failed to make me beg like a cheap whore. I'd intended on torturing him just a little, but fuck that noise. I freed his hard-on from its cloth prison and immediately licked the tip, my reward being a drop of his tangy pre-cum. He was both longer and thicker than I was, and, surprisingly enough, he was cut. I wasn't sure why that was a surprise to me, but I didn't stop to think about it. I sucked on the bulbous head, lapping at the weeping slit like a puppy before sinking my mouth slowly down the rest of the deliciously thick shaft. I hadn't had a gag reflex since high school. I rolled my eyes up to see his face and found his beautiful baby blues watching me intently. I tried to smirk with my eyes, but I wasn't sure how effectual it was, so I hummed softly and raked my nails gently over his firm abs and down to his balls. Like the rest of him, there wasn't much hair and what was there was well-groomed. Gabriel's hands tightened in my hair and his hips flexed slightly, begging for friction. Still humming tunelessly, I bobbed my head slowly up and down, relishing the way he stretched my throat. He said something in that weird slippery language he'd used before and groaned softly. "Hmmm?" I managed aground his cock. Gabriel's hands tightened in my hair, which made my own erection throb almost painfully and I whined softly. "Stop," he groaned out, breathing heavily. I sat back on my heels, saliva linking my lips to his shaft for a heartbeat. I licked my lips. "What, you don't like it?" His laugh was breathless and in another of those blindingly fast movements he hauled me to my feet and kissed me. This time I had enough damn sense to kiss back and he shoved his tongue between my teeth. I nipped at the intruding muscle, hard enough to draw a little blood and an indignant noise from him. "You're fantastic," he breathed against my lips. "So why'd you make me stop?" I had a fairly good idea, but I wanted him to say it out loud. "I didn't want to cum yet," he murmured. "I want to fuck you first." Electricity jolted down my spine and straight to my cock. I was suddenly very aware that I was wearing way too many clothes. "Well, since you asked so nicely." I licked his kiss-swollen lips before snagging his hand and leading him to my bedroom. This had escalated pretty quickly, but I wasn't about to complain. "Strip," Gabriel ordered, once we'd entered my cluttered little room. I couldn't help rolling my eyes just a little, which was more or less involuntary, but I obeyed nonetheless. Or, I tried to obey, but I'd apparently lost the ability to work the button on my jeans and the archangel had to swat my fumbling hands aside and do it for me. I did manage to get my shirt off without much difficulty. Gabriel gave me a predatory look and pushed me down on the bed. I went willingly and made a whimpering little hungry noise until he followed me down and captured my mouth with his. I managed to keep enough brain power to grope blindly around on the bedside table for the half-used bottle of lube. I knocked over one of the countless books that covered every stable surface, but I decided instantly that it didn't matter because the seraph was working his way down my body, sucking and leaving bite marks in my pale skin. He confiscated the bottle of lube and I vaguely heard the snap of the lid, then promptly lost my mind as the angel swallowed my aching cock until his nose was pressed against the skin on my lower belly. I moaned softly, which turned into a stifled yelp when Gabriel shoved a single slicked finger inside me and curled it, rubbing firmly over my sweet spot. I squirmed, trying to fuck his face but he pinned my hip down with his free hand and sucked harder, adding another finger and scissoring them inside me. I whined, burying my hands in his hair, and begged for mercy as he added a third finger and began to bob his head up and down my shaft, sucking fiercely. He ignored me and continued his excellent impersonation of a vacuum cleaner until I finally lost it and shot down his throat. "Oh, fuck," I panted, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Again I heard him open the lube and watched as he coated his impressive cock between my splayed legs. He hooked my legs over his shoulders and presented the slick plum head of his dick to my stretched hole. I whined as the thick head slowly popped inside and whimpered at the single slow thrust inside. I squirmed under Gabriel's relentless onslaught and buried my face against his neck, chewing gently at the skin there. He hissed and thrust a little harder in retribution, grinding intently against my prostate, which perked up my flagging erection pretty quickly. "Fuck me," I growled against his ear, rolling my hips up at him in a silent plea for him to move faster. He evidently understood and began to speed up, making sure to tap my hot spot with every inward thrust, edging me up to cum again, and in return I clenched my inner muscles around him, making him groan hoarsely and fuck into me harder. Gabriel's hand snaked between our sweat-slick bodies and gripped my shaft, groping roughly as he sped up our rhythm to a breakneck pace and buried his tongue in my mouth, imitating the action going on in much lower regions. I whined into the kiss, desperate for a second release, and the seraph was happy to oblige, grinding our hips together and driving me crazy until I finally shot off between our sticky bodies. He followed me a few heavy thrusts later, emptying himself inside me and resting his forehead against mine for a few minutes while we regained higher thinking ability. The archangel slowly pulled out of me and I winced slightly. I'd be sore later, but I didn't care and all I wanted to do was curl up beside Gabriel and sleep. Good sex always made me sleepy. "We should go clean up," Gabriel murmured drowsily, curling up against my back. "Later," I mumbled back before falling into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.