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The principalities of the circle of the Hearth functioned well under the archangel Arlecchino. Lyney knew his place, knew his job. Saving lost souls was just one part of his work, and the other… well, demons were an issue that he came across willingly. They started to get too rowdy, he showed up, solved the problem. Easy.
The Duke of Hell was never supposed to be his problem.
Alas, things had a way of making themselves his problem. Yet again, Lyney found himself at a well-known demon bar called Meropide, late at night, skin mostly covered but for a flash of thigh at the top of his stockings, a little midriff if he stretched his arms up. No use giving himself away that easily, and the way his skin glowed was nothing short of a beacon. He ordered a drink, sipping carefully as he flipped a card over his fingers mindlessly, and cast his gaze around the bar.
Demons, mostly. Lower-level. No one who scared him, at least. And no one who would even dare approach him, alone at the bar.
Until someone did. Long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and hungry eyes sat themselves down next to him and leaned in close. Too close. He could smell demon on the air, like smoke.
“What are you drinking, gorgeous?” the demon asked, lips curling into a smile that made Lyney's own want to sneer. But he didn't, too well practiced for that.
“I'm not quite finished with my first,” he replied, sugary-sweet. This demon clearly had no idea what he was. Good, for the better. “But thank you.”
“I'll top it off for you,” the demon said, leaning closer before being forcibly removed, yanked backwards by the collar of his shirt. Ah, there he was.
The Duke was a powerful man, a powerful demon, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested. And he held the man away from Lyney like he weighed nothing, and if it was anyone else, Lyney may have let his eyes linger. Trace over his biceps, appreciate the way the veins in his forearms lined the muscle there… but he didn't.
“Oh, there you are, Your Grace!”
He batted his eyelashes up at him, in the way he knew annoyed him the most.
“Didn't know you'd be here tonight, I would have worn something nicer.”
As if he wasn't always dressed in his finest, tight crop top and little shorts with stockings that nearly met the bottom hem. He couldn't help but show off, it was just part of who he was. Wriothesley tossed the demon aside, letting him scramble to stay on his feet and dash away, and sighed heavily.
“Mister Lyney. What are you doing in my bar?”
Wriothesley’s voice sounded tired, which didn't surprise Lyney at all. For all the trouble that Dougier and his gang had been for the angels, he was sure, it had been worse for Wriothesley who had to actively deal with him. And now here Lyney was, trying to help the Duke of hell clean up his mess. Of fucking course.
“It's just so tiring to try to get a meeting the old fashioned way,” he crooned, knocking back the rest of his drink in a hurry and setting the glass back on the bar with a resolute clink, “and my drink is empty.”
Wriothesley's annoyed look was worth the burn in his throat from drinking so much demonic alcohol in one move.
“Stop that,” he frowned, reaching for the glass too late to achieve anything but brush his fingers against Lyney's as he pulled it from his grasp. “You know you're not supposed to drink this stuff. And you know where my office is, you didn't need to come start trouble just to get my attention.”
Lyney flourished under Wriothesley's annoyance. It was only ever this, pushing his buttons, that made him feel alive. One of these days, he'd need to inspect that, and the way that the only thing he could do to bother Wriothesley was not take care of himself. Today was not that day, however. He had bigger plans.
“It only burns a little. I could bring you some holy water, if you wanted to drink with me,” he offered, reaching out and up to fuss with Wriothesley's tie, “and I didn't come to ‘start trouble,’ it's not my fault your people don't know how to behave.”
Wriothesley removed himself from Lyney's grasp easily and pulled him to his feet.
“If you want to drink something so badly, I'll make you tea in my office. Come on.” He sounded resigned. He always ended up folding to Lyney's desires like this, and losing was a good look on him. At least, Lyney thought so. Or maybe he just liked having the upper hand.
“Aw, but I was having fun. Sure you don't want to dance before we go?” he asked, trying to shimmy out of Wriothesley's strong grasp on his wrist. No dice. The demon had quite a grip. Lyney pretended he wasn't thinking about how Wriothesley's fingers wrapped all the way around his wrist and then some as he followed him down the hall and through the Employees Only door to the office.
For a demon's office, Wriothesley's place was very neat. The desk in the middle of the room was kept clean save for a few documents he'd clearly just been working on, and there were only a few knick knacks lying around on shelves. It was dark, as was to be expected, but not so much so that Lyney had to strain his eyes to see. The little wings on his head fluttered as he let them pop back into existence, along with just one of the sets on his back, extending from his shoulder blades.
“Ahhh, that's better,” he said, stretching them out exaggeratedly and knocking over a picture frame on the shelf closest to him with a very careful flick of feathers. Wriothesley's jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything, just let go of his wrist and fixed the picture before heading to his kettle and putting it on the stove.
“Now, why were you sitting at my bar instead of just barging through my door like you usually do?” he asked, turning around to raise an eyebrow at Lyney.
“Oh, how'd you know I was here?” Lyney said by way of answer, plopping into Wriothesley's chair and draping his wings over the side of it.
“You short out my security cameras,” Wriothesley answered drily, pointing at the screens off to the side of the room, one of which pointed directly at the seat that Lyney had been sitting in. “Seriously, what do you want?”
“Is it so hard to believe I might just have stopped by for a drink?”
From the look on the Duke’s face, it was.
“Fine. I was supposed to be checking in, seeing how everyone was faring. Father’s busy, you know, and if you hadn't handled Dougier, we would have had to.” Lyney sat up, raising an eyebrow at Wriothesley. “And she knows how much you hate it when we step in.”
Wriothesley sighed, turning back to the kettle now that he was reassured Lyney was here for business, and not to try to steal more documents from his bookshelves. Not that it didn't cross his mind to do it anyway, just to piss him off.
“It's under control. Meropide is my domain, mister Lyney, you'd do well to remember it.”
“Maybe if you kept your domain in your domain instead of allowing rogue demons to poison humans’ minds with pure fear in order to drag them to his side, we wouldn't have to forget that Meropide is your territory,” Lyney sang, fluttering his wings and letting a few errant feathers descend to the floor. They fizzled out of existence as they touched the ground. Shame, it would have been fun to leave a mess for Wriothesley to clean up.
“I know you don't trust me, Lyney, but I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to stay out of my business, leave demons to the demons. Why is that so difficult?”
“It's difficult because the demons aren't—”
The kettle whistled loudly, interrupting Lyney as his voice raised. For a moment, he could only think of the similarities between him and the damn thing. Heat rising until it spilled out in a shriek. Wriothesley always pulled the worst from him.
“Fine. I'll tell Father everything's fine, and get out of your hair.”
He hated the way Wriothesley got under his skin. Sure, he was a demon, but most demons Lyney brushed off easily. This one, though, somehow… he wormed his way under Lyney's mask with his easy way of speaking and casual strength, the way he ran the underground simultaneously with a literal iron fist and with enough freedom that the demons didn't get antsy. It was a huge improvement from how it had been before, Father always said, but Lyney hated him nonetheless. Anyone who took his siblings too far from him was dead to him in his books, and though it had been all a trap to draw him out, it had worked. And he would never recover from his wounded pride, no matter how handsome the Duke was or how many times they ended up begrudgingly drinking tea together because Arlecchino had sent him on another mission to Meropide.
“I made enough water for two,” Wriothesley replied, turning around and fixing Lyney with an incomprehensible stare as he got to his feet and ruffled his feathers, “so now you'll just have to stay and drink with me.”
Lyney's eyebrow raised of its own accord.
“You want me to stick around, Your Grace? Not getting soft on me, are you?”
Wriothesley sighed shortly, carrying two teacups to his desk and sitting down in his just-vacated chair.
“Drink your damn tea, Lyney, it'll do you some good.”
Lyney plopped down on his thigh, primly crossing a leg over the other while perched delicately in his lap, and reached for the teacup Wriothesley had clearly meant for himself.
“Fine. I will.”
The first sip bloomed warm in his throat, but not warm like the alcohol. Warm like Wriothesley had made… an angelic blend, something celestial.To counteract the alcohol, Lyney realized, making a little surprised sound.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, genuine, turning to Wriothesley to blink at him.
“I don't recall,” the man responded, ears pink as he reached for the other teacup and took a sip. Lyney puffed up, thrilled.
“You have angel tea in your collection? That you got out just for me? This must have been nearly impossible for you to get a hold of and you're drinking it like it's the most casual thing in the world? Now, don't try to tell me that's a coincidence,” he said, reaching out to curl a piece of Wriothesley's hair around his finger.
“It's been in my collection for years, and yes, I got it out because someone thought drinking at my bar would be a good idea. Now will you just be quiet and drink your tea?” he grumbled, along with something that sounded suspiciously like “and I have more than one chair.”
Lyney laughed, clear like a wind chime on a sunny day, and tapped Wriothesley on the cheek with his little wing as he took another sip of his tea. It wasn't often that he actually drank celestial drinks, preferring human ones for the clear way they tasted, but this tea was good. And even though it was surely burning Wriothesley's mouth, he was sipping it gently as well, pretending to be unbothered by the smaller man perched on his leg. Lyney couldn't help but feel warm from the inside, glowing softly pink instead of his usual gold, his halo a little more physical than light from the influence of the tea. They drank in silence until Lyney put his cup down, sliding off Wriothesley's leg to his feet.
“I'm sure I'm burning holes in your video cameras,” he joked lightly, taking a glimpse at the screens. Sure enough, he was nothing more than a white blur in front of Wriothesley. “I should go. Unless you needed something from me, of course. The Hearth is happy to help.”
Wriothesley sighed, looking a little disappointed, and shook his head.
“There will be no further need for your services this time, Mister Lyney. Meropide is far beyond the jurisdiction of the Hearth, and try not to forget it. Or, well, tell your Father. Unless you were acting alone.”
“Hoping I'd come just to see you?” Lyney teased, flipping his favorite card in his hands. He was surprised to see a little bit more pink grace the tips of the Duke's pointed ears.
“Hoping you'd stop poking your nose in where it doesn't belong, but I suppose that's asking too much of you, Angel.” Wriothesley gave him an easy smile and stood up, waving a casual hand towards the door. “Want me to walk you out?”
They both knew it was a silly question. The Duke was going to take Lyney to the front door regardless of what he said, just to make sure he didn't get into anything. So Lyney looped his arm through Wriothesley's, leaning against him just to feel the chill radiating from his skin fight against Lyney's warm glow.
“Lead the way, Your Grace.”
Lyney liked this part of their game. The part where he pushed Wriothesley's buttons back, with casual touches that bordered on too much. Through his many missions with the Duke, he'd found that all it took was a little brush of their shoulders, a touch of his hand, and Wriothesley would set his jaw, brow furrowed. And Lyney liked that, made him feel like maybe he was repaying him for the trouble he'd caused their family all those months ago.
And if he liked getting to lean close to the Duke and ever-so-casually put his hands on him, well, that was beside the point, wasn't it?
———
It was weeks before he saw Wriothesley again, and this time in his own time. The Duke found him on his bar’s dance floor, this time, sandwiched between two humans too drunk to realize how he glowed. Even in all black, nothing could hide the way his skin lit up under the lights. But instead of dragging him off the dance floor and into his office, Wriothesley just inserted himself into the dance, pulling Lyney from the strangers and into a corner of the dance floor. Lyney, pleasantly buzzed on demonic liquor, let him. It wasn't often that he had the freedom to have his way, not often that he could just let go and be himself. Away from the eyes of Heaven, he was free to place his hands on Wriothesley's chest, sway with him, tuck one knee between Wriothesley's and press their bodies together.
“What's wrong, Angel? Not going to barge into my office this time, either?” Wriothesley murmured in his ear, bending down and pressing his lips to his hair.
“Funny that you think I only come here for you,” Lyney responded, laughter bubbling out of his chest, “maybe I just like the drinks.”
“And yet here you are,” he mused, tucking Lyney's hair behind his ear, “dancing with me.”
“Don't flatter yourself, Your Grace. I was perfectly happy dancing with…” he realized suddenly that he didn't know the names of the people who he'd been dancing with before, “them.”
Wriothesley's laugh rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against Lyney's smaller frame, they were so close together. That laugh sank down into his bones, warming him from the inside.
“Alright, alright. You win. I'll leave you to your new friends after this, how about that?” Wriothesley pulled his hands back from where they'd been rested on Lyney's waist, fingertips brushing behind the small of his back. Lyney scowled and grabbed them again, pulling them back to his waist.
“Oh? Is that right?” Wriothesley's usually-calm voice carried a hint of amusement, the kind reserved for when Lyney did something particularly damning. And pulling his hands back onto his waist, well, Heaven wouldn't love that one, would they?
“You're flattering yourself again,” he huffed, grinding closer to Wriothesley, “you just happen to be a better dance partner.”
This was another thing that Lyney hated about Wriothesley. How easily he outshone anyone else Lyney tried to spend time with. Nobody kept pace with him like Wriothesley. Nobody challenged him the way he did.
And boy, did Wriothesley keep pace with him, their hips swaying together as Lyney pressed against his chest. Wriothesley's laugh warmed him more than the alcohol had, and he found it significantly more addicting. So he fiddled with his tie, looking up at Wriothesley, and let himself glow a little more.
“Aren't you going to tell me to behave?” he asked, pouting softly.
“What good would that do?” Wriothesley countered, and he was right. “You've never behaved for me before, why would you start now?”
“Oh, is big bad Duke upset that I won't be a good boy for him?” Lyney pouted exaggeratedly, batting his eyelashes up at Wriothesley to watch his jaw tighten and his eyes narrow.
“Yes,” he said, and that was clearly true, too, but perhaps not in the way Lyney had imagined. “My life would be so much easier if you did.”
Lyney frowned, pressing up onto his toes as the music changed to something slower, more sensual. Nothing he couldn't handle.
“You don't like your life easy, though, do you? You like me better like this.”
Lyney's breath fanned warm over Wriothesley's face as he spoke, their lips close enough to touch. He wanted to close the gap, knew Wriothesley did too, but there was a line neither of them had crossed, just barely holding on. Wriothesley did like him like this. An easy Lyney was a Lyney bored, and he knew that very well. The fact that Lyney challenged him, stood up to him, pushed back… all of that was indicative of the fact that Lyney liked him. Trusted him, maybe even. At the very least, he knew full well that he had Lyney's attention, and that in itself was a blessing and a curse.
“Oh, Angel, I like you any way you are,” Wriothesley breathed back, his fingers tightening around his waist. It seemed Wriothesley was in the business of honesty, today. Lyney pulled back a little, blinking at him.
“What's gotten into you today?” he asked, tilting his head and inspecting Wriothesley suspiciously. “You’re being awfully nice to me.”
Wriothesley laughed, but it was a wry thing, entertained.
“Is it so much to believe that I may have simply been happy to see you, Angel? Things get interesting with you around.”
Lyney frowned.
“There's nothing interesting happening, if that's what you're implying. I'm here on my day off—”
Wriothesley interrupted him with a finger to his mouth.
“Not that kind of interesting, pretty thing. I, unlike you, am not constantly digging for information.”
He replaced his finger with his thumb, swiping the rough pad of it across the swell of his lower lip. Maybe it was just the alcohol, or maybe it was his demonic powers, or maybe Lyney just really, really wanted him to slip it inside his mouth, but he swayed slightly in place. The hand on his face shifted to cup his cheek gently, the other one his waist holding him steady. Lyney's instincts screamed at him to let his wings out, to hide his face. As it was, he just glowed, pink tinting gold, and tilted his chin up defiantly.
“I'm not here for information, I just said.”
Wriothesley chuckled.
“Then what are you here for, Angel?” he asked softly, head tilted, eyes trained on Lyney's lips.
“Oh, you—” he huffed, annoyed, and pushed forward to press his lips to Wriothesley's. He was prepared for the way Wriothesley tasted, of smoke and tea and demon, and entirely, woefully unprepared for the way all of his wings burst free the moment their lips touched. The smaller ones that covered their faces, three sets on his shoulders that folded nicely across his back, the set that sprouted from his lower back and curled around his hips to cover them, even the pair on his ankles that served no purpose at all. He gasped and wrenched away, looking down at himself, and Wriothesley did too, eyes blacked over in the way they did when he actually had to rely on his demonic powers and not just his strength. The rest of the club, eyes drawn to the flash of white light, stared at them for just an instant before Wriothesley growled deep in his chest and scooped Lyney close to his chest, and by the time Lyney had blinked, they were in his office.
“What did you just do?” he asked, shocked, and Wriothesley laughed out loud.
“What did I just do? What did you just do?”
His little wings fluttered over his cheeks, hiding them from Wriothesley’s gaze.
“Well I didn't do it on purpose,” he grumbled, glow so strong it reflected off of the walls behind him and tinged the tips of Wriothesley's hair.
“Oh, you kissed me by accident?” An eyebrow went up at that, and his arms crossed.
“No, not—” Wriothesley's mouth was on his before he could finish his sentence, kissing the breath from his lungs as he reached his arms up to twine them around his neck and cling to him. Wriothesley, his brain chanted, Wriothesley Wriothesley Wriothesley.
Lynette was going to kill him. Arlecchino was going to resurrect him and kill him again. He couldn't bring himself to care. The whole world fuzzed out to nothing as he pressed up to his toes, kissing Wriothesley like his life depended on it. He was cool to the touch, just a little, and so strong around him. Lyney's smaller frame fit perfectly in his arms and he just… settled.
It was sweet and calm until it wasn't. Wriothesley's sharp teeth nipped at the swell of his bottom lip and he gasped, mouth opening for Wriothesley's forked tongue to push its way inside. He was gentle, not at all like the other demons Lyney had fooled around with to get information out of, but persistent, committed wholly to the kiss. Like he didn't care if they went further, like he would cherish Lyney no matter what they did. Lyney didn't want to let that thought linger, but it did, in the same way Wriothesley's cool touch lingered on his waist, up his sides, and then, shockingly, to the juncture where his little wings met his head.
“Wri!” he gasped, his eyes flying open in surprise at how it felt.
“Too much, Angel?” the demon murmured, slowing but not stilling his fingers where they massaged gentle circles into the place where blond hair met white feathers.
“Not enough,” he all but growled in response, jumping up and wrapping his legs around his waist, clinging to his neck as he kissed him again. Wriothesley just chuckled, switching from the pads of his fingers to scratching with blunted nails, and Lyney moaned quietly into his mouth. He kept his eyes shut, if only to avoid seeing the satisfied expression he knew was on Wriothesley's face.
“Angel, the— the door isn't locked,” he protested against his lips as Lyney scrambled for the buttons on his shirt.
“Don't care,” Lyney huffed, trying to pry his shirt from his shoulders with little success.
“I do,” Wriothesley said seriously, pulling back and putting a hand over Lyney's to state seriously into his eyes, “this is just for me to see.”
“Then—” Lyney refused to let those words sink in, refused to let him make him blush pink all over again, “—do that thing you did before and take me home.”
It seemed Wriothesley needed no further prompting, scooping his arms around Lyney's waist and in an instant, they were in a surprisingly cozy looking bedroom that Lyney had, for all his snooping, never found. There was a soft-looking bed, some bookshelves of knick knacks, and more than a few picture frames on the walls of Wriothesley with various different friends of his. Lyney would find it precious, if he wasn't too busy kissing the breath out of Wriothesley's lungs. Wriothesley was no better, tugging Lyney closer still and taking a few steps closer to the bed before pausing, pulling back, and looking seriously at Lyney.
The soft, disappointed whine he let out and the way he scrabbled at the back of his neck to pull him back closer seemed to answer whatever question Wriothesley had. He connected their lips again, lowering Lyney to the bed without breaking the kiss, and Lyney immediately grabbed for his shirt again, trying to wrench it over his head.
“Patience, Angel, we'll get there,” Wriothesley chuckled, but pulled his shirt out from where it tucked into his pants and tossed it carelessly behind him. If Lyney had found him annoyingly handsome before, it was nothing to his ire at how stupidly sexy the man was, all soft muscle and body hair with scars littering his torso. Lyney yanked him down by the back of his neck to trace the middle scar on his throat with his tongue, tasting his slightly smokey demonic aftertaste as he dragged his tongue over his skin. It was immensely satisfying, hearing and feeling the way Wriothesley's breath hitched and his heartbeat pounded. At least Lyney knew he wasn't the only one affected.
“Get over here,” he growled, biting down on his collarbone, “I've waited long enough,” and Wriothesley followed without complaint, easing himself down over Lyney's small form and pressing his body down into the bed. Lyney preened, pleased as punch as he felt the way Wriothesley pinned him down without even trying. Slowly, their kisses became more heated, Wriothesley's fingers creeping up under the hem of Lyney's shirt, and he was forced to pull back just to let the other man pull the shirt up over his head. Chest bare, the golden tattoos on Lyney's skin shone with otherworldly light, and Wriothesley couldn't seem to stop himself from staring. His fingers traced them, the laurel design following the line under his pectorals, eyes wide, practically transfixed.
“You're so beautiful,” he murmured softly, and Lyney flushed pink all over, his little wings covering his face.
“Don't get sappy on me now, Your Grace,” he responded, but his voice wavered a little too much for it to be genuine. He liked the way it felt, being touched and gentled like this. Wriothesley's hands were rough but his touch was soft, following the lines of the marks, dragging down his chest, gripping around his waist.
“Can you move these, Angel?” was his next question, one hand brushing at the little wing in front of his face. Lyney nodded and folded them back, and he swooped in immediately to kiss him again, pulling Lyney into his lap. And, oh, this was better, wasn't it? To let his wings react to every gentle touch, slide his curious hands from Wriothesley's hair down to his chest, let his fingers roam over his arms and back up to grip at his hair. Wriothesley, too, was exploring every plane of his body, gliding his hands down his sides and urging his hips forward over one of his thighs. Straddling his leg like this, Lyney couldn't help but gasp a little, letting that wicked tongue back into his mouth to explore there too. He'd never felt so thoroughly seen before, and Wriothesley's stunning eyes weren't even open.
At the first rock of his hips against Wriothesley's thigh, he knew there was no going back. He'd never felt that much from that little, tingles running down his spine, and oh, it was so good, the way it felt to roll against him. Again, and again, Wriothesley's hands urged him on. He let out a soft moan when Wriothesley squeezed at his ass, and the other sucked in a harsh breath at the sound.
“Angel, you're killing me,” he rumbled, tucking his face into his neck to bite gently at the delicate skin there, and Lyney moaned again, throwing his head back to give him better access. It seemed impossible that months ago when they'd first met, all Lyney had wanted was to actually kill Wriothesley, when this was an option on the table instead. Why had they waited so damn long to do this?
“I'm not sorry,” he gasped out, digging his fingers into his dark, thick hair and clinging to it as he ground down on his thigh, “you deserve it for making me wait.”
“Me make you wait, pretty thing?” Wriothesley practically growled, but laughed moments after, “that's pretty rich, don't you think?”
“Less antagonizing, more kissing,” he pouted, rolling his hips pointedly. As if Wriothesley would be able to forget, his cock hard and pressed up against his knee, but he was certainly talking too much.
“Your wish, my command, Angel.”
And he meant it, too, immediately going back to worshiping his body with his lips and tongue and teeth, biting at his neck, licking down his chest. He couldn't reach as far like this, but his hands found the juncture of his wings and shoulders and stroked there until Lyney thought he might go insane, whining and tugging at his hair.
“Wriothesley, Wri please,” he wheedled, hips stuttering. It was no longer enough, just rocking his hips against him, no, he needed more, and he wasn't above begging for it if he had to.
“Feels good, huh?” Wriothesley had that insufferable look of satisfaction on his face again, and Lyney leaned down to kiss it off of him, moaning into his mouth if only just to shut him up. And it worked, the demon kissing him back enthusiastically while continuing massaging at his wings. It was so much stimulus all at once, but Lyney found he couldn't get enough.
But it seemed Wriothesley was no longer in the mood to tease, trailing his hands down his body and back to the top of his shorts, fingers unbuttoning the waistband with a surety Lyney didn't quite think he'd be able to replicate. He groaned softly, shimmying back off of his thigh to work his shorts down, and then reached for Wriothesley to scramble for the button of his pants. He only just got it popped and unzipped before Wriothesley grabbed his thighs and pulled him towards himself.
“Funny you think I'm done with you already,” he murmured, a positively ravenous expression on his face. Lyney's heart raced as a thrill ran through his body. Wriothesley had clearly been holding back for too long, and he was done with it now.
“Oh yeah?” Lyney responded, the tease in his voice undercut by how breathless he was, “do your worst, foul demon.”
Wriothesley rightfully took his words as permission, grabbing Lyney's boxers and tugging them down. He gasped slightly as cold air hit him, and gasped even louder when Wriothesley pulled him back into his lap and then laid back against the pillows.
“Can't have you crushing your pretty little wings, now can we Angel?” he smirked, before shifting under Lyney's kneeling form and licking slowly over his cunt, as if savoring it. Lyney cried out softly in surprise, gripping Wriothesley's hair to ground himself, and bit his lip as the demon’s split tongue dragged up both sides of his cock. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it sure as hell wasn't this.
Wriothesley was as methodical as he was spontaneous, keeping Lyney well on his toes alternating between slow strokes up and down his cock, gentle but quick flicks back and forth, and pressing into him with his shockingly long tongue. It wasn't long before he was shivering and moaning, clutching Wriothesley's horns for stability and kicking his feet a little where he knelt.
“Wri,Wri please,” he gasped, rocking his hips a little as he was brought right to the edge and then denied release again by Wriothesley switching up on him, and Wriothesley moaned against him, the vibration nearly sending him over the edge right then and there. Lyney wasn't a stranger to sex, but being so thoroughly doted on was unfamiliar at best, and he found himself biting back tears as he begged for release.
Seemingly taking pity on him, Wriothesley pulled his cock into his mouth and sucked, working the underside with his tongue as he did, and Lyney nearly screamed as he doubled over and shuddered through quite possibly the strongest orgasm he'd ever had. He didn't stop until Lyney was twitching and struggling to pull away, the overstimulation almost too much for his sensitivity, and only then did he release the death grip he had on his thighs to let him go.
“You- bastard,” he panted, wiping tears off of his face, and Wriothesley just laughed. His face was a mess, his whole chin wet from where Lyney ground on him, but he didn't seem to care.
“Oh, don't act like you didn't enjoy that,” Wriothesley teased, breathing just as heavily. He looked incredibly pleased with himself, and Lyney shoved both hands against his face as he laughed. Then, with no warning, he grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them down to the bed on either side of his head, flipping their positions with one easy movement.
“I'm not done with you yet, Angel,” he smiled, dangerous, “so speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
Lyney just blinked at him, eyes wide, mouth open slightly.
“As if,” he breathed, wrapping his legs around Wriothesley's waist and trying to tug him closer. The demon chuckled, pleased as punch, and bent down to kiss him. Lyney could taste himself on his lips, and he groaned softly, trying to pull Wriothesley's hips down towards him with very little success. As inhuman as angels were, their strength lay in flight and endurance. He was no match for Wriothesley.
“Impatient,” he chided softly, backing up and letting go of his wrists, and Lyney unlocked his ankles in the hopes that he'd get up and take his pants off. Which he did, thank the heavens, stepping out of his heavy boots and dark pants and leaving just his boxers in place. Lyney rolled and crawled forward, grabbing his hips and pulling Wriothesley forward to mouth at his cock over the cloth of his boxers. “Knew you'd be big,” he muttered against him, relishing in the way Wriothesley shivered from the vibration. Payback.
When he pulled the boxers down, he dragged his eyes up to stare at him, holding eye contact as he peeled the tight boxers down and his cock bobbed out, heavy and hot. Using touch alone, Lyney leaned in and licked a stripe up the base of his cock, and then made a very startled noise. Metal. Bars of metal, a ball on each end, studding the underside of Wriothesley's cock. Focused as he'd been on maintaining eye contact, he hadn't even noticed.
“You— this is—” he spluttered, looking between his cock and Wriothesley's smug face.
“Surprised, Angel?” he asked, smiling in a way that implied he wasn't at all. He'd clearly expected this outcome, and Lyney fumed.
“I'm going to rip these out with my teeth,” he hissed, all empty threat and false anger. He wanted Wriothesley inside him, and he wanted it, like, hours ago. He'd take now as a close second.
Lyney didn't let him respond, just sucked the head of his cock into his mouth and moaned softly as the taste of Wriothesley's precum spread across his tongue, bitter but heady, and bobbed his head down a little ways. The piercings added a bit of texture to his tongue that he found driving him insane, and he moaned softly as he took as much of Wriothesley into his mouth as he could. Which was, in all honesty, not very much. Was it necessary that he be so big?
Large hands fell to the top of his head, carefully avoiding the halo that glimmered in the low light, and buried themselves in his hair. Not to push Lyney down, nor to pull him off, just to hold. Lyney found himself grateful for the touch, a little grounding. He dug his fingers into Wriothesley's thighs, appreciative, and sucked like he'd never get another chance. And perhaps it was true, Wriothesley pulling him gently back after a few minutes, flushed and dark-eyed once more.
“Up, Angel. I'm not waiting anymore.” His voice was low and serious, and for once, Lyney didn't talk back, just pushed to his feet in front of Wriothesley and stretched up to his toes to knock his nose against Wriothesley's.
“How do you want me, then, Your Grace?” he breathed, smiling slightly against his lips. The Duke’s self restraint was commendable, the way his fingers twitched at his sides but didn't push Lyney down immediately to ravish him.
“In my lap.” His word was final. Lyney wouldn't dream of arguing.
They found themselves back on the bed, tangled together, Lyney straddling Wriothesley's hips with his wings splayed out to keep them from dragging over the sheets. He pressed against his cock, grinding against him slowly, gasping as the piercings dragged over his clit. They were going to change him, he could just tell. But then Wriothesley pulled back a little, lining up with him and pressing halfway in with one simple movement. Lyney's lavender eyes flashed white, so quick he thought Wriothesley might have missed it, and he tossed his head back with a groan.
“Oh, heavens,” he gasped, rocking his hips a little and feeling Wriothesley sink a little deeper. “You— ngh.”
“I what, Angel?” His face was tight, his muscles clearly clenched with the effort of not slamming into him, but Wriothesley was still in the mood to tease.
“You suck,” Lyney pressed out, and then took a deep breath and sank the rest of the way down onto his cock in one movement as payback before Wriothesley could make some comment about how technically they both had.
And it worked. Wriothesley said nothing, but his head fell forward against Lyney's chest and he wheezed out a weak breath as his fingers squeezed, so hard it might bruise, around his hips. Lyney would take the win, starting to grind slowly up and back, whining softly as his clit dragged over Wriothesley’s hair. Pressed together like this, every slow grind of his hips pushed them together closer, and he wanted nothing more.
Time passed hazily then, either minutes or hours crawling by as Lyney rode Wriothesley, only stopping when his thighs were simply too weak to hold him up. Slumped against his chest, he panted, fingers pressing symmetrical bruises into both of the Duke's shoulders.
“Oh, Angel. Too tired to keep going?” Wriothesley's voice was low and soft, lips brushing his ear as he spoke. Lyney nodded, then yelped as Wriothesley lifted him easily and turned him over, dropping him facedown on the bed. He adjusted him carefully, bent knees under him, hips up enough for Wriothesley to hold onto and line up his cock again, wings splayed out to either side of Wriothesley's knees. He pet a gentle hand over them, just once, reverently.
“Keep those pretty wings safe, hm?” he hummed, then grabbed Lyney's halo and pulled, wrenching him upright as he slammed into him again.
Lyney couldn't even scream, mouth open in a silent cry as he felt pleasure, white-hot like lava, rush down his spine from the touch to his halo. No one had ever, not ever, touched him there, and he could see why now. Every place that Wriothesley touched felt like flame, like a live wire, an exposed nerve. His eyes snapped open, fully white, and he scrambled for a hold on the sheets, on Wriothesley's thighs, anything to ground him from the absolutely overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through him. He realized, too late, that he was babbling Wriothesley's name over and over as he fucked into him, the piercings dragging over his g-spot with every thrust, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The white glow emanating from his body was swallowed by the darkness surrounding Wriothesley, who pushed his face against his ear and bit down on the juncture of his wing.
“Oh, God,” Lyney cried out desperately, but Wriothesley just chuckled.
“No God down here, Angel. You may as well just say my name.”
And then, without warning, he dragged his tongue up the curve of Lyney's halo, and the angel broke. Sobbing tears of pure gold, sticky down his cheeks, he came harder than he ever had before. Wriothesley followed, pressing deep inside him and holding around his chest to keep him upright, but Lyney couldn't have noticed if he tried, so awash with pleasure. He whimpered and sobbed, fingers clutching at Wriothesley's wrists, as his hips stuttered and his cunt clenched around Wriothesley's cock as if to milk every last bit of pleasure out of the demon. Wriothesley's thrusts, too, became desperate and sloppy as he rode out his own orgasm with Lyney.
It was a long moment before he came back to himself, panting and leaning weakly against Wriothesley's chest.
“Wri?” he croaked softly, voice crackly and dry.
“Right here, Lyney.” His voice came from right next to his ear, and Lyney realized that he was wrapped around him in a hug, large arms crossed over his chest to hold him to him. Lyney's wings were a little damp, sweaty and mussed from being pressed to Wriothesley's body, but he didn't care. He was too tired, satiated in a way he'd never felt before.
“Alright, fine,” he whispered, voice hoarse, “I'll admit it.”
“Admit what?” Wriothesley pressed a kiss to the side of his head, just under his wing.
“You're not so bad at that,” he responded, smiling to himself and reaching up to wipe some of the tears from his face. Wriothesley caught his wrist, wiping his cheeks with his own tender thumbs.
“Glowing praise,” the Duke laughed, kissing under the corner of his eye where a little shimmer of tears sat. “‘Not so bad at sex’, according to the prettiest angel in Heaven. I'll put that in my review booklet.”
“Don't you dare,” Lyney twisted to glare at him, but it was half-hearted at best. Slowly, he shifted in his lap to face him, hugging around his waist and tucking his face into his neck to gently mouth at his skin.
“We shouldn't have done this,” he continued at a whisper.
“Do you regret it, Angel?” Wriothesley's voice was grave and serious.
“No.” He didn't. Not at all. Wriothesley's arms were strong around his back and he felt so secure, chest against his chest, their heartbeats synced. What that meant for him, he didn't know. What the future held for them was a mystery as well. But there, tucked safely against his chest, Lyney felt safe. And safety was something he wasn't often afforded, so he simply basked in the afterglow, blinking once-again-lavender eyes up at Wriothesley.
“Do you?” he asked, a little nervousness tingeing his words.
“Oh, Angel, how could I?” Wriothesley's voice rumbled in his chest, settling into Lyney's bones. “The only thing I could ever regret would be letting you go.”
There, chest to chest and face to face, there was no way Lyney could do anything but believe him.