Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
Michael was flying along Kyle Canyon, a cool and forested area part of the Spring Mountain range. He inhaled the mountain air as the early morning sunlight bathed it's warm glow around him. Both he and Alex decided to change up their training for the next two days. Most of Alex's training had been in Vega or the desert. It was time they went to the mountains close to Vega.
Without warning he felt he was losing altitude and try as he might could not control his flying. A language he hasn't heard in centuries began ringing in his ears. He felt something was pulling him to a small forested area in the mountain. Still unable to control himself the strange force finally released him in the middle of a clearing. He got up to try go fly again but couldn't. He stood in the middle of the clearing, thoughtful, his midnight wings flapping behind him.
"Alex, come in," he called over the comm link.
"Yup, I'm here, by the way couldn't you have slowed down. I lost you there suddenly. You know how I hate playing catch up."
"Alex meet me at this signal and be careful," Michael instructed.
"Wait is something wrong? Are you ok," Alex's voice crackled over the comm link concerned.
As Alex was talking Michael began walking out of the clearing. When he reached one side of the tree line he couldn't move forward. An idea was already forming in his head, he walked backward and found he could move again. He opened his wings and tried flying again but somehow it was as if he couldn't will his wings to move. He reached over to touch them and found nothing wrong with them physically, again he tried flight, again he was unsuccessful. He folded them back and they disappeared behind him.
"At least that still works," he thought. He could only think of two things that was causing this. Both were extremely unsavory circumstances. Recalling the strange chanting he heard right before he fell, he somehow hoped he was wrong. He began walking around testing his theory. His efforts were interrupted by Alex's arrival.
"Hey, what happened?" Alex had come upon the clearing in a sprint.
"STOP!" Michael commanded.
Alex heard the tension in his voice. He was alarmed for seldom did the angel display any emotion.
"What is it? Tell me!" He asked, on edge.
Michael didn't answer. He gestured for Alex not to move, in a full sprint he took off towards the line of trees. He reached the edge of the tree line and to Alex's dismay, he saw Michael get slammed into something and fall into an ungraceful heap on the ground.
Alex felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but the frustrated expression Michael wore stopped him.
"Michael! What the fuck!" Alex ran towards him again.
"Stay right there, behind that line of trees. I know what it is doing to me. I do not want anything to happen to you," he stated firmly.
"Alex, somehow I am bound to this clearing here. I tried but I am unable to get pass any of these trees, flying is out of the question too."
"That's not good. Who... What! is doing this?"
"There is a ritual. Seals and inscriptions passed on through the lost Book of Moses, carved to make five points on these trees."
"But your an Archangel, and anyway you said those things weren't real, it should be nothing to you."
"It should be. Most of the world know about the alleged 2 lost Books of Moses, the sixth and the seventh. They supposedly have the rituals and seals to call upon spirits, angels, to tap into the power of the elements. Since it was published in Germany in the late 1800s so called witches and warlocks have used them. However, they do not truly contain the power they promise."
"But, unfortunately in this case it's not those spells.There is another lost book, not truly lost but hidden and the only book that holds the real seals and inscriptions guarded through the centuries. Someone found it and is using it to do this." Michael rued the day when his Father allowed Moses to indulge his obsession to record these things, it was one thing to record the history and plight of his people but this shouldn't have been.
"Thanks for the history lesson, I hate to say I told you so. You could have ridden in the jeep with me," Alex muttered impatiently. "So how do we get you out. Whoever made this will only be up to no good. So before they come let's get you out of here. Do you have any idea?"
"We have to find the seals. There should be five. They could be inscriptions or diagrams in a circle." Michael began walking towards what he could determine as the center. Then started walking towards the edge. " Alex look over there."
Alex walked towards the north of the circle where Michael pointed. "They would be at the bottom as close to the roots as possible". Alex found a circle with inscriptions on them. "Ok I found one, now what?"
"Take your short sword, fresh blood must be drawn across the blade first then cut across the inscription. You must draw blood for each seal for only fresh blood will work."
"Fresh blood? How am I ...?"
Michael regarded him with a raised eyebrow as if to say, "Are you really asking me that?"
Alex gave a huff then made a small cut with his short sword across his forearm. With blood across the blade, he slashed the inscription across on the tree.
A coyote started howling, and a strong breeze started blowing from nowhere.
Thinking that breaking one seal would unbound him, Michael tried escaping again but still to no avail. Alex turned towards him puzzled. Michael tilted his head towards the sound listening, brows furrowed as he briskly walked towards the next seal. "Find the next one here. Hurry Alex because whoever did this has been alerted to our efforts."
"Easy for you to say, you're not the one cutting yourself to ribbons."
He moved to the east side of the grove. Alex found another seal and repeated the same procedure. As soon as he was done a shriek filled the air. It seemed to come a couple of miles back but it filled the forest nevertheless. Alex couldn't tell which animal it came from. For somebody who had fought foul things like eight balls he couldn't deny the fact that he was seriously worried right now.
Again another attempt to escape the clearing was met with futility. Alex quickly moved to the next set of tress Michael indicated and found the third seal. He repeated the process. He looked towards Michael for the next seal.
Without warning Michael bent forward clutching his chest in great distress as he sank to the ground on his knees. Alarmed Alex ran towards him.
"Michael ! Shit ! What the hell is happening!" He yelled as he scanned the clearing, his gun armed and ready.
Michael was in great pain, the only pain he could compare it to was when he cut off his wings when he fell and it was getting worse by the minute. It was getting harder and harder to breath and he was getting weaker. He gathered himself with all the energy he could muster.
" Michael ! What ...". Alex was about to disobey his orders and just drag Michael out of there.
" STOP!" Michael barked sensing what Alex was about to do, " Alex ! Leave ! GO! NOW! It's coming! AAGHH...he gritted out before he fell to the ground unconscious.
For what seemed an interminable period he remained rooted to the ground. He stood there, shocked to see Michael fall, as his senses were slowly becoming overwhelmed.
A strange smell began to permeate the air. It smelled of the earth, and heat. The air became stifling. Around him things were becoming hazy. And his ears. Alex winced at a high pitched ringing that was assaulting him. He wasn't a fool. He knew, he had to get way from this clearing. A force that was able to take down Michael was coming.
Willing himself to move he forced himself out of the stupor that was threatening to overcome him.
Come on Alex, you better move it or you're not going to be any good to Michael. Alex mentally berated himself for his inaction.
He ran. With relief he noticed he felt better the farther he was from the clearing. He saw a copse of bushes around a boulder, Alex sank heavily against it . He had ran uphill away from the clearing where Michael fell. From where he was he felt he was far enough to be safe but he still needed to be close enough to see what would happen.
He saw the Archangel's inert body. Alex found it hard to stop himself and just run there and get Michael out of that stupid circle. He knew it would be foolish but he couldn't help hating himself for being utterly helpless right now.
Moments passed and nothing seemed to be happening. Suddenly Alex saw a dark cloaked figure walk up to Michael. Alex couldn't even see where the figure came from. It was as if one moment there was nothing there, then the next there was something! The figure lifted its hooded head as if sniffing the air .
Alex suddenly felt a familiar sensation on his skin. The tattoos were shifting. There was no doubt in Alex's mind that somehow he was being shielded from this figure by his tattoos.
The figure started speaking in a strange language. Alex saw the figure just kick Michael heavily in the gut. Angel or no angel, a kick in the gut was still a kick and Alex winced.
Alex saw everything from his hiding place. Michael started to stir, he was attempting to get up. It seemed to Alex, Michael could barely stand as he only managed to get up on his knees before clutched his chest in pain. The figure muttered something and three other cloaked figures materialized.
Two picked him up and dragged him by his arms to a kneeling position in front of the figure. The third stood back. A thick leather clad arm came out of the from the first cloaked figure and hit the Archangel across his face. Michael's head and torso swung violently to one side, blood sprayed across the ground.
All this time not a sound came out of the Archangel . Michael just lifted his head and spat out some blood, his face not betraying any emotion as he looked up at his tormentor.
"You gotta hand it to him, still the smug bastard no matter what," Alex thought, although he couldn't deny how worried he was wondering how much the Archangel can take in his weakened condition again the desire to run over there with guns blazing was very strong.
Michael's tormentor spoke again. The two took Michael on each side and had him stand in front of him, while the other stood back. The one who spoke started punching him in the gut. Michael doubled over, after a command the two minions threw him down to the ground.
Michael was face down on the ground, he slowly tried to get up, coughing hard as he moved. Alex couldn't believe that he actually still had enough in him to get on his feet. The figure seemed to just stand there as if daring the Archangel to stand. The minions started to move forward, but were stayed by a sharp command from the first one.
Michael wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand as he regarded the hooded figure, then spoke. Alex caught a familiar name, a name that filled him with dread. It was a name from the old texts that Michael had him study and judging from what Michael told him about his kind, this guy was bad news.
AZAZEL.
Michael stood unmoving his gaze never faltered. Everything hurt. The binding spell earlier hit him so hard he fell unconscious and was weakened. The beatings that followed as soon as he woke up didn't help either. But he was first and foremost a warrior, pain will not defeat him. For now, it seemed that Alex was safe and that was the most important thing.
"Mikayel ," the figure drawled out his name in their language. "How does it feel to be so weak? Bound by these seals. Seals you tried to break. I anticipated this therefore I already had another barrier in place. I know you have help but strangely enough I can't seem to find your aide," hard edged, deep yet mellifluous voice continued in a foreign language.
"Azazel, I should've known from the smell. How are you here, your form ?" The strength in Michael's voice belied the pain he was feeling and the cold fear that started to creep from his gut, for if Azazel was here then the others could not be far behind. If the fallen had escaped their confines then... Michael did not even want to fathom that thought.
"I have my ways," as he continued speaking in Lishepus, their angelic language .
The figure to Alex's surprise laughed. Amazingly a deep rich laugh. He tugged at his hood. As it fell, his breath caught. The creature, angel or whatever he is, was truly beautiful. Dark blond curls that fell to the nape of his neck shone in the sunlight. Smooth, olive skin wrapped the outlines of a formidable musculature. The angel had a face that seemed to rival the sculptures in House Riesen, Alex had to consciously tell himself to stop gaping. This was Azazel the leader of the Fallen angels whom Michael had driven away to suffer in purgatory ages ago.
Michael restrained himself from startling. He hasn't forgotten Azazel's beauty and to be hit full force of it was something he never thought would happen again.
"You stole the seals and perverted them into this abomination to serve your dark purposes,"
"Mikayel, we are so noble now, I see." Azazel grinned. "And why not! All this is a better use for them than just gathering dust. "
Before anything further can be said, Michael had swiftly moved to pick up his swords from the ground and leaped towards Azazel. As he was about to make a fatal strike Azazel managed to block him with his own sword at the last second. The minions moved forward swords out. Michael faced them too without missing a beat. Again Alex was just amazed by the pure ferocity and grace of Michael's movements. As far as Alex could tell it didn't seem as he had just been beaten up minutes ago.
Heaven wrought steel sang as the angels fought each other. It was four against one, but even then, Michael was able to stab one of the hooded figures with a fatal blow to his gut. The minion fell.
Alex was going crazy. "Fuck this," he started to stand with the intent of running to the clearing.
"No!" a voice spoke in his head. Suddenly a wave of dizziness hit him his vision blurred. The world tilted.
"Stay here, this is not your fight".The voice said again. Alex felt the uncontrollable urge to close his eyes then darkness claimed him.
"Well, we can't have that," Azazel said as he saw the damage Michael had done. He held out his hand and began chanting in some foreign language.
Michael felt the "wing ripping" pain again. In a desperate attempt Michael threw his sword at Azazel. The sudden movement took the fallen almost by surprise. With impossible speed he caught the sword by the hilt as it was inches away from his face.
Michael fell to the ground, writhing in pain. The remaining hooded figures picked him by his arms and dragged him towards the trees.
The Archangel's vision swirled as he felt himself being dragged on the ground. He felt rough hands remove his coat and rip his shirt. He could see blurry outlines of his cloaked captors. In pain and his senses askew, he struggled to get up from the ground.
He willed his wings to come out, but nothing happened, the magical binding was too much. His captors came forward he could barely discern the flanged mace on their hands.
Then they struck. The first blow hit him on the back, the blow knocked him to the ground. The sharp edges of the diamond shaped head of the club tore his skin on impact. He tried to resist them. But he found it was hard to move anything, his arms , his legs, all of him. It was like swimming in quick sand. Repeated blows hit him on the back, side and torso, each landing with a sickening thud with the accompanying sensation of torn skin. Through his clouded senses he could feel the intense anger behind each blow fueling their impact. Slowly consciousness escaped him.
xxxXXXXXxxx
Little by little awareness rippled through his senses. Michael felt the pain. His entire body seemed to be screaming at him. Sharp, shooting sensations that felt like a thousand daggers were ripping through his muscles, wracked his entire body. It hurt, it hurt so much he felt his head would burst. HIs entire body shook violently as waves upon waves of the sharp, ripping, burning hurt coursed through him. It took all of his will not to cry out as the rare cold sweat broke on his brow. It hurt to even breath. He steeled himself with deep meditative breaths willing control over the pain, willing his body to heal.
Welcome to the wonderful world of being fully corporeal, he thought, despite himself.
All he wanted to do right now was just curl within himself with his wings wrapped around him. To rest. He realized even that he couldn't do. Before he even fully opened his eyes, he knew he was bound. His arms were stretched out over his head by chains that were secured to two trees. His legs spread apart were also bound in chains secured to iron stakes on the ground.
Michael looked down on his body. Various bruises covered him. Broken ribs, he thought bitterly. From what he could see there was dried blood along with lacerations, some deeper than others. Some of the injuries to his relief were healing, but they were healing slower than usual for him.
While unconscious he had literally been half kneeling mid air, his upper body leaning to one side held up by the chains. He slowly moved his muscles as he gingerly stood up. Only his years of meditation and training prevented him from giving in to the searing pain that moved through him once again.
Michael managed to examine his bounds. All of the shackles were inscribed with binding seals. Out of frustration he tugged at the chains on his wrists. The futile action brought in a fresh wave of the ripping pain.
He closed his eyes and sighed. He thought of all the things that had gone wrong in the universe that brought him to this point . He looked around him, he determined that Alex remained undiscovered at the very least he had that to hope on. He saw Azazel sitting on top of a large boulder, framed by the orange rays of the setting sun behind him. Azazel was watching him closely. One of the hooded figures stood by.
"Don't worry these things are not empyrean," he said in a deep languid voice as he waved the mace in front of him.
" I believe they're from hell, effective but not as deadly," he stated matter of factly as he jumped off the boulder with an easy grace. He walked over to the bound archangel.
"Here let me." Azazel extended a hand on Michael's chest. Michael recoiled at the touch but could not really get too far because of the chains. Azazel placed both hands on him. A warmth enveloped Michael's torso. He found he could breath better.
"It might not be like Raphael's healing. But it will do. My associates were a little bit enthusiastic earlier. I don't want you to die...yet." Honeyed tones with a beguiling smile taunted Michael.
Michael did not even respond. A murderous expression on his face as rage pierced Azazel through his blue, green eyes.
He turned to the cloaked figure next to him.
"Amezyarak, make sure I am not disturbed," he commanded.
"But Azazel, you must not....!"
" I'm well aware of that." Azazel interrupted in a tone that brooked no argument. Amezyarak was about to say something else but instead he turned, opened his wings and flew into the receding sunlight.
Azazel looked at the Archangel that had thrown him and his brethren in a prison within purgatory. A prison of desolation and darkness. Their sin, according to their Father was fornicating with humans and having children with them. His hate for him had endured through the multiple millennia he had languished in his prison.
Azazel thought about the events that brought him here. The humans have a saying fortune favors the prepared mind. In the chaos that followed after God's disappearance a window of opportunity opened that allowed him to break the celestial chains that bound him. Sariel, another fallen wise in the ways of purgatory joined him. His two lieutenants Amezyarak and Haran steeped in the magic arts had been devising the magicks for escape and was just waiting for the right opportunity and thus all four of them were able to claw out of purgatory.
He found the Guardian of the Holy Texts, the one who the guarded the secret seals of Moses and Solomon. The Guardian had sympathized with Gabriel's cause that the humans were to blame for their state. Azazel capitalized on the guardian's sympathies to procure the seals. And since then they have spent years mastering the seals and have used it to conceal themselves. While the other three with him had been content to just remain concealed, Azazel had other plans.
The desire for revenge thrummed in his blood, like another living being inside of him that must be satisfied and now he was here, with the Archangel corporeal cut off from God' s grace and bound by the seals of Moses' lost text.
Even chained on all fours he was very aware that Michael did not look at all helpless. He stood tall, his injuries did nothing to mask the power within his lean, muscled build. His body was taut with vicious anger that radiated off each single pore of his being, he was a predator. A large cat that will easily pounce on him once unbound. Like any wild animal, more dangerous when injured.
The satisfaction of seeing Mikayel like this, made Azazel's blood sing in ecstasy. Mikayel ...wounded...bound, in pain.
He knew he must bring into completion what he fully intended, but then seeing him like this....Azazel licked his lips ever so slowly.
Michael's gaze followed Azazel's every movement, unyielding, fierce. Azazel slowly removed his cloak and underneath it, was a reddish brown leather cuirass molded closely to his muscled form, it had ornate metal clasps on top of his shoulders and on his sides. He wore but a simple white tunic underneath. His arms were bare save for the strips of brown leather that crisscrossed to form intricate vambraces covering his hands up to his elbows. Around his waist was a leather skirt formed by long strips of leather reaching just above his knees, metal studs adorned each strip.
Broad muscled legs peeked through where the skirt ended and his long boots began. He was simply extraordinary. Michael hates that he still regarded him as such. Hated the fact that he was under his mercy. He swore under his breath.
"Such words" Azazel mocked. "What would Father ever say."
Michael ignored his words. "You seem to have the same taste in clothing as my sister," Michael smirked at him. "So now you kill me, while bound to these seals. Truly your cowardice knows no end."
Without any preamble Azazel took the mace from his belt and raised it to hit Michael. Azazel stopped for the Archangel did not even flinch in the face of his fury and impending assault.
In an exasperated grunt, he threw the mace to the side and instead drew his sword. He stepped behind Michael. So close that Michael could feel his breath, ghosting on the skin of his neck. He could smell the scent of leather mixed with his own very male scent. Things were stirring within Michael that shouldn't be.
Azazel took his sword and slowly traced it across his back several times, wounds reopened and bled anew. Michael inwardly winced as he felt the sting of a thousand paper cuts from the slashes the empyrean blade made.
Azazel admired the trickles of blood making their way down his muscled back. He sucked and bit Michael's shoulder. The Archangel shuddered, Azazel was pleased as he knew how he was fighting for control. He liked him like this. He slowly dragged his tongue from the top of his back making his way down licking his blood. The heat from his firm tongue on his sore sensitive skin was pushing him to the very brink madness.
"Uggh...No ..NO ...UGHH ..No...." His muscled arms straining against the chains.
"Fuck revenge or not? What am I to do with you ?" Azazel muttered.
"My dear, Mikayel," his voice gruff and low as he pressed against Michael's back. His right hand trailed on his arms while the other slowly made its way down to his chest, grasping his nipples. Michael bit back a moan as he squeezed his eyes shut trying to mentally control his entire body from shaking, trying to hate Azazel's touch.
All the while Azazel whispered in Lishepus in his ear. Michael concentrated on his breathing as his body betrayed his mind's resolve to stop Azazel. He remembered a time long ago, when he and Azazel would visit earth to become corporeal so they could indulge in each other's flesh. Even through the decades they couldn't seem to have enough of each other. He didn't realize how deep his feelings for him was until jealousy burned through him when he saw his dalliance with the human women. His hurt deepened when he saw how he consorted with them to disobey their Father.
"You betrayed me to them, to him ," Michael coldly stated. "You were mine and I was yours Azazel, Father's wrath at what you had done was only matched by my anger, my hurt at your betrayal." The last words were barely a whisper as the anguish in his heart awoke.
"Beloved, knowing your frightful temper I shouldn't have, I was foolish, impetuous," He stepped in front of Michael and placed a hand on his cheek. Regret and sorrow darkened his handsome face.
"My anger at Father for making these creatures more than us, blinded me. The Star of the Morning fed my hate. When I visited them and saw the human women bathing at the great river Nile. I thought what better revenge than to despoil their bodies to ravage them, to have them carry and bear my fruit. Because of my hate for them I lost you." His luminous hazel eyes looked deep into Michael's.
"Hatred? No, it was lust!" Michael spat out. Azazel looked at him, his eyes filled with pain.
Lust. Envy. Pride. Azazel thought. The secret pride of having the sole attention of the Prince of the Seraphs more than doubled when the Star of the Morning himself showed him regard. Though he was the leader of the Watchers, the angels who watched over the humans, he was still a mere satellite that orbited the brilliant suns that were Michael and Lucifer. And so he was tempted. And so he was blinded as Lucifer used the Watchers in an attempt to overthrow Heaven.
But still in his heart he always believed he never deserved the punishment he received. He laughed a loud and derisive laugh. "Do you know what I went through after you threw me and our brethren into that pit ? I thought you cared for me and in my weakness you cast me out like I was nothing. The bone chilling darkness, the despair, the stench! You and Father threw us into the void. We were left without His presence, I was left without you !!!"
"You should have just killed me that day, but instead I died a slow death everyday in there," anger and fury boiled so much, he hit the Archangel square in the gut, Michael couldn't help but double over from the force, a sharp exhale escaped his lips as waves of pain coursed through his broken body.
Enraged Michael lunged forward despite the pain with a low growl, he stretched the chains but they held. The effort caused the shackles to dig deeper into his already raw skin.
Azazel instinctively backed away from Michael's naked fury. The impact hit him with a strange mixture of fear and to a certain degree, excitement. The desire that roiled in his groins filling him.
"Tsk...tsk...why must you do that, my love. Why hurt yourself more." He admonished.
Michael just huffed. " I do not regret what I have done," Michael said without any trace of doubt. "If you didn't know a part of me died that day. When Father decreed that I slaughter the humans because their love for him was replaced, I did not hesitate. Because I was angry at them, the reason for your Fall."
Azazel realized his pain was as deep as his, the fiery liquid inside him finally spilled over and without any word Azazel leaned forward and grabbed Michael's head with one hand and started kissing him.
He was met with unyielding lips at first. Azazel was undaunted, soon his efforts paid off. Michael gave in and responded , their tongues wrestled, the kiss deepened with a fierce hunger that burned through both of them. Their arousal rubbing against each other wanting to be released. Both their wings exploded into their full glory behind them and as they kissed their wings reached out and joined each other enveloping them in the musky, sweet smell of feathers.
"Azazel" Michael moaned. The way he said his name in a throaty baritone, almost made Azazel come to tears.
"Let me go." Michael breathed in between the kisses.
"No, my beloved," Azazel's voice low and dangerous.
With great effort the fallen angel stopped and moved away from the bound Archangel he began to slowly circle his captive. His corporeal form did not take away from the magnificence of him. A body built for strength and speed. A lean and muscled torso with sinewy limbs. His strong, defined solid back held his massive midnight black wings that shimmered in the moonlight, he missed them so.
Michael tracked him like prey. His face unreadable as his eyes glinted.
Azazel held Michaels's eyes as he stepped back and began stripping off his armor slowly, deliberately. He stood as tall as the Archangel but as Michael was lean almost feline. Azazel was built with thick, broad muscles like a bear, the ideal form that ancient Greeks celebrated in their art. His wings were golden brown. Though the colors seem to shift to from light to dark brown in certain spots and almost gold as the moonlight touched the silken feathers. His midsection muscles formed the most beautiful V in front of his groins. His cock thick and long with arousal.
Michael studied him. He saw his once flawless olive skin were marked with several thick, healed, long, rope like scars that crisscrossed his back, some reached his trunk. For Michael they were a reminder of what Azazel went through In purgatory. He almost felt sorry for him.
Azazel quietly stood in front of him. The ache that he tried to stave off began to overcome the Archangel. He ached at the sight of him like this. Ached so much he couldn't help but move towards him, straining his chains again.
He knelt in front of Michael and undid his pants and cupped his entire manhood, he inhaled his scent. He had never forgotten the smell of him of his arousal, an essence that was truly his, it was like coming home for him. The simple gesture just made Michael shudder.
"I want to see all of you." Azazel grinned, almost like a little kid with a new toy. He stood up and with his sword, made short work of his pants, the shredded material left on the ground.
Azazel drew his sword and ran it on his arm lightly so the blade can be edged with fresh blood and in one swift move he cut the chain that bound his right arm .Michael immediately drew his wrist to his chest to rub the ache.
"Now be very good," Azazel knelt before him again.
Michael watched, his breath hitched as Azazel took the tip of his cock into his mouth, his tongue flicking at the opening of his tip, as his strong hands grasped Michael's hips. Azazel swallowed his entire cock. Michael moaned softly, his eyes closed as he leaned his hips into Azazel's mouth.
Azazel felt Michael's delicious weight in his mouth, his arousal growing , the thickness of him yet so responsive to the undulating pressures of his mouth. Azazel hummed in pleasure. He remembers how his beloved Archangel wanted to take his time, wanted to be worshipped. It will be different this time. He sucked harder and faster. His tongue was everywhere. Michael squirmed as his teeth grazed him.
Azazel's wicked ministrations made Michael thrust harder and harder into his mouth. His fingers burrowed into the golden curls then found his way onto Azazel's back.
Michaels free hand dug into that sensitive spot in the middle of his back, where the base of the wings almost meet. Muscled, scarred skin, soft feathers, strong ligaments ...they all felt so good under Michael's hand. His strong fingers deliberately stroking, then raking his scars then his feathers. As Azazel suddenly increased his pace, Michael' s breath had quickened. Michael responded by kneading harder while grasping, almost pulling the soft but strong base feathers.
The Archangel's firm hand on his upper back stroking, massaging felt insane for Azazel. He almost lost his rhythm because of the sheer agony and pleasure of his strong touch right there in that perfect spot between his wings.
Their wings beat around them as if to keep up with the increasing crescendo. They hit the peak and the now unchecked force released as Michael exploded into Azazel's mouth. Azazel swallowed as both their wings reached up one more time until they spasmed violently in climax.
Michael, with eyes half closed shuddered then exhaled and murmured words in their language that thrilled Azazel. Azazel rose up, a sly smile on his handsome face as he wiped the come on the side of his lips. As their breathing evened out, their wings closed behind them with a soft rustling sound.
With his free hand, Michael pulled him roughly towards him. They kissed hard and open mouthed, their tongue wrestling each other and drinking each other's still present need.
Azazel let go and walked towards his cloak producing a vial of oil. " Fortune favors the prepared," he sneered at Michael.
"Mikayel ," the way his name rolled off his tongue in their language just made Michael hard again. Azazel circled him. Michael stayed unmoving, but every fiber of his being seem to crackle with electricity.
Strong hands grasp him from the back traveling up his chest as the fallen angel sucked and bit down hard on the sensitive skin at the base of Michael's perfect neck. His hands then moved so slowly on his muscled back where the obsidian feathers began up to the downy feathers of his underwing. His fingers traced the injuries on Michael's back. Michael growled as his body arched towards him.
"You are mine,Mikayel in my darkest moments I only thought of you, of us touching ,of me taking you, me inside of you ." Azazel breathed into his ear.
Michael's thoughts were a maelstrom of emotions:duty, guilt and yes, lust. Sex with humans sated him for a while, but humans craved a certain gentleness from him, Michael had missed the wild abandon only sex with another angel could bring. And as much as he loathe to admit it, he missed Azazel.
"This is unnecessary," he sighed as he tugged the chain on his left arm.
"My Archangel, mine," Azazel purred as he cut the chain on the remaining arm. Though both his arms were unbound his legs were still spread far apart by the chains on his ankles, a cold reminder of what Azazel is capable. Azazel took the oil in his hands grasping Michael from behind he moved his slicked fingers in between the well formed muscles of his buttocks. Michael groaned, his legs gave way.
Azazel moistened himself with the oil carelessly then grasped Michael's hips tightly, as he was so painfully hard already. But the Archangel had other ideas. Michael turned and managed to wrestle Azazel and flip him on the ground in front of him.
"Must everything be a battle with you? Mikayel?" Azazel's voice husky and low, as the Archangel now loomed over him, almost straddling him.
Michael just grunted. His injured body had protested at the effort. But his body's adrenaline fueled by the impetus of the moment blunted away the pain.
Azazel moved in between Michael's legs and brutally pushed Michael onto the grass. Michael grabbed both his hands reacting to the roughness. Azazel moved forward and started kissing Michael hard, sucking his tongue and lips. Azazel began trailing kisses down his chest, sucking his nipples in a way that made Michael almost scream.
He continued all the way down to the taut muscles of his torso. Azazel took his hard, throbbing cock and plunged deep into Michael in one savage movement. There was no gentleness, just pure unadulterated desire to possess. With each thrust he poured all his anger, his regret, all the pain, all the passion. Azazel's hand stroked Michael's cock with each thrust as Michael braced himself against the ground, silently thankful that Azazel freed his hands.
With each thrust the manacles dug deeper into Michael's already raw skin weakened by the spell, blinding sharp pain magnified each time, Michael never allowed himself to wince.
"It's too much for you? Have coupling with humans made you soft ," Azazel mocked.
"Beg me to stop and I will Oh! Great Archangel," he taunted again, as he with great control paused mid thrust , an open challenge in his eyes.
Michael glared at him. Azazel's exquisitely classic face, the strong broad neck, the heat from his olive skin all of it seem to just tease him, even his golden brown wings flapped lazily behind him.
The sweet torture of it drove him to the edge. He truly could kill Azazel right now but he was too far gone. His need, his hunger that Azazel awoke overpowered his will.
"Fuck you Azazel, stop and I'll tear you apart ," Michael said as he dug his fingers deeper into the muscled hips so hard, as desire and self loathing blurred. He would have broken bones if his lover was human.
Azazel sneered as Michael shifted his speech to such crude modern colloquialism. Somehow this was Michael's version of begging, it thrilled him to his very core driving him to quicken his pace, and if possible thrust harder. He just wants Michael to come, lose all control and just stop being Michael.
Both their gazes burned with naked intensity, challenging, desiring, their eyes never wavered from each other, mouths partly open panting, moaning. Michael proving to Azazel, perhaps also to himself that he could take the sheer force of everything he could give, giving in to the pleasure, the pain while Azazel pounded him senseless. Their wings violently flapped around them with no discernible rhythm. Desperately tearing through the air around them in wild discordance.
For Azazel, when the dam finally broke, he screamed as he bucked violently one more time as he filled Michael with white liquid heat. Azazel shooting inside of him made Michael come all over Azazel's hand as called out his name in a strangled moan. With a great shudder he fell on top of Michael, who himself had collapsed on the grass.
Michael felt all of it, the rawness of it all as Azazel took him. Lesser beings would have been broken. He missed this as he missed his home and yet deep inside was a guilt awakened. Guilt for Azazel's Fall, guilt for The Flood, guilt for his need right here, right now. All the emotions from all those years laid bare, the hurt, the jealousy, made their coupling so brutal but each of them still wanted more, craved for it, for in the end it satisfied a longing no matter how wrong.
Both were panting from their efforts, sweaty and sticky with cum. Michael grabbed his torn up pants to clean themselves. His back on the ground a welcome respite as the soreness of his body returned reminding him of his injuries.
Azazel raised himself on his hands and knees and looked down on Michael as his wings beat lazily around around them as if fanning them. He enjoyed the sight of Michael spent, like this not even putting his wings away as they lay all spread out on the ground like a decadent, feathered black iridescent carpet. They stayed like this, powerful bodies, slicked with sweat gleaming on their skin. Azazel's blond curls falling around his face like honey as his sweat slowly fell onto Michael's face, Michael passed his tongue over his lips, licking Azazel's fallen sweat, his own sweat covering his chest as it heaved in unison with his lover.
Michael placed bent one arm under his head while the long tapering fingers of his other hand traced a thick coiled scar on Azazel 's torso. Hazel eyes held blue green ones. All was still around them, even the crickets stopped their incessant noise, the night that surrounded them seemed darker and the moonlight around them brighter.
Their achingly beautiful forms, frozen figures in some Renaissance master's painting as lesser creatures held their breath waiting to see what would happen next.
Behind a copse of bushes, a silent witness also held his breath, one question burned through his entire being, "What the hell is going on Michael?"
TBC
Lishepus = The language of the angels specially created for "Dominion". Hopefully they'll have more of it in Season 2.