neutral_omens | (no subject)

Date: December 25, 1999
Setting: Manor Library
Status: Private - Belial and Gabriel (Complete)
Summary: Belial makes his decision.
Rating:

The yellowing pages and musty smell of old leather reminded him of nothing so much as Aziraphale's bookshop. The memories seemed tarnished now, tainted around the edges with the garish haze of Hellfire, but still he could not help but remember his occasional teas with the other angel fondly. His eyes trailed over the chocolates Aziraphale had left him before settling instead on the glass of brandy at his side.

He flipped the page with shiftless thoughts.

A puff of dust, and a familiar passage: 'But for corruption thou hast made Belial, an angel of hostility. All his dominions are in darkness, and his purpose is to bring about wickedness and guilt.'

Well, he'd certainly been doing well enough on that account.

Gabriel sipped again at his drink, staunchly ignoring the warmth in his stomach that stemmed partially from the alcohol and even more from the intrusive memories of Belial's lips on his skin. He skimmed over the words analyzing the passage from the Dead Sea Scrolls, grew suddenly bored, and turned the page once more. Hundreds of scholars and theologists, believers and disbelievers alike, had spent centuries of man trying to describe Belial, and none of them seemed to have been able to pin him down any more easily than Gabriel could in his befuddled thoughts. They called him Lucifer's Crown, detailed how he was a seducer with a smile like poison for the soul or a fierce warrior with the head of a bull.

Not a single entry mentioned glitter.

He turned to another page, his gaze wandering idly over the faded text as he sifted through the words of others as well as his own reeling consciousness.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A fear in Belial melted at the willingness of Gabriel's kiss. His hands quavered as he explored the angel's face lightly, reverently. With tense fingers he trailed his touch down the column of Gabriel's throat, down his torso, touching whatever skin he might reach.

His hands found Gabriel's hip and he realized that the ache he felt low in his torso was not entirely one born of love.

Pulling the angel with him, Belial sat back, tumbling Gabriel effortlessly down to straddle his lap. Both hands caressed all along the angel's back and sides with slow, comforting strokes. Their lips together made heat seem like a shallow, lifeless thing.

His angel. It was happiness, this feeling that he felt, that he could scarely put meaning to.

Slowly, letting Gabriel adjust to his touch, he brought his hand across the angel's groin, brushing, asking permission without words.

Gabriel arched as Belial's gentle touch drifted low on his body, a hitch in his breath as memories of their last encounter ignited a pulsating fire in his veins. Belial was so close, and his heat so achingly inviting. The angel was drunk with his touch, the dizzying intoxication of the demon's need for him.

The demon's love for him.

He moaned, the small sound absorbed by Belial's lips over his, as the demon worked the clasp on his pants, working them delicately down his hips until his hands found bare skin. Gabriel broke the kiss with a shuddering cry, clasping Belial to him. His torso grazed Belial's as the demon brushed his lips lightly across Gabriel's cheek, purring soft reassurances in his ear.

"Belial," the angel gasped, "Belial..."

Belial shifted to cup Gabriel's erection, and he rolled his hips forward eagerly into the demon's hand, panting against Belial's ear. Wanting him, wanting this, even as much as he wanted the sweet temptation to stop.

With soft, even strokes, Belial seemed to draw forth his deepest desire.

Shuddering with pleasure by proxy, Belial gasped, rigid and constrained by his own clothes. His own body hardly mattered against the shadowed muscles of Gabriel's abdomen and thighs. The way the light played over the angel's body was entrancing.

He lifted Gabriel up with awe at the beauty before him, setting him on the edge of the chair.

Gabriel's hard cock was at the perfect height, and he pressed his lips against it, laving at the heated flesh with the broad of his tongue. His fingers searched wetly between the angel's thighs, sending searing shocks of pleasure through his own body with each new small countour of the Gabriel's sensitive flesh that he discovered.

Belial cupped his hand against Gabriel's groin and, mouth sliding wetly about the angel's erection, sucked. His tongue slid masterfully along the underside of the cock in his mouth then twisted, swirling around the head with smooth, wrapping strokes.

Gabriel slid deeper into his mouth, enough that the head of the angel's cock burgeoned at the back of his throat, his jaw loose and working to pleasure the angel.

Deep in his chest, he moaned.

Being engulfed fully in the soft, wet warmth of Belial's mouth sent shudders up Gabriel's spine, and he clutched desperately at the arms of the chair as a tense desire began to coil itself low in his abdomen. The demon's tongue traced teasing circles around his cock, making him cry out with the pleasure of it.

Timidly, cautiously, like one reaching wonderingly towards an open flame, he pressed a hand to Belial's face, enamored with the haunting sight of his length disappearing past eager lips. Stroked Belial's cheek, brushed a strand of dark hair from his forehead. All the while, Belial's eyes smoldered on his own, pupils expanded until only a faint ring of dark color was left around each. He looked drunk, Gabriel thought. Intoxicated with his own administrations to the angel's body.

And then Belial's low moan reverberated around him, and he shut his eyes tightly against the sight that threatened to finish him.

Gabriel wound his fingers in the hair at the nape of the demon's neck, shoving forward his hips, whimpering, "Please, Belial. Please..."

He shuddered as the demon seemed to take even more of him into his mouth, until the angel could feel the head of his cock rubbing against the back of Belial's throat along with the featherlight touch of Belial's fingers over his inner thigh. He tensed, the demon's name falling from his lips over and over again in a heated mantra. He begged, hating himself for it.

When he came, there were stars behind his eyes.

He threw his head back, his grip on Belial's hair wrenching, as he shuddered, arched, and felt himself spill into the eager suction of the other's mouth.

In the next breath, it had passed, and a wordless weakness overcame him. He slid from the edge of the seat, landing hard on the floor, where he sat, a trembling, gaping mass, something akin to fear in his eyes.

Belial could feel the world crashing down about his ears, all his doubts and denials shivered to powder.

Tongue still coated with Gabriel's spill, he wrapped his arms tightly around the angel, cradling him carefully close.

"Be still, be still," he whispered soothingly against Gabriel's shoulder, sticky lips pressed to the angel's skin. Purring wordless, comforting sounds with heavy-lidded eyes. Could only imagine how strange and utterly terrifying it must be for Gabriel. His voice was raspy from the motion of Gabriel's cock in his throat, and his body stung with the guilty pleasure of it.

"I won't hurt you, I won't break you," he murmured, not sure of his own meaning. "I love you, I love you, I love you. There's nothing wrong with this." Angel flesh shook beneath his touch, limbs tangled in a mess of cloth and muscle. He ran his hands down Gabriel's back, over his shoulders, petting his hair and his chest and holding him so very close.

"Don't be frightened, please, don't," Belial said sweetly, sadness a staccato refrain in his tone.

Belial's touch was suddenly cold, whispers across his skin, and the words he spoke nothing more than the insensible utterance of shadows. His hands lay limp at his sides; he could no longer bear the firm feel of Belial's flesh under his fingers.

His head bowed, came to rest on Belial's shoulder. Seeking forgiveness from the demon even while desperately avoiding his eyes. Frenzied thoughts had come to a stuttering standstill when Belial had finished him, and now the backlash left him breathless.

It was with a vague sense of horror that Gabriel realized just why Belial's kiss was so sticky against his skin.

His grip on the demon's shoulders, he pushed Belial away, meeting the other's dark eyes despite the fear that he knew showed through his own. "I can't," he murmured, and the words seemed as shaken and odd to him as if he were drowning as he spoke them. "I can't."

He trembled with all he had done.

His heart beating a frantic admonition against his rib cage, Gabriel rose, made some attempt to straighten his clothing, and left without daring meet Belial's gaze again.

Belial slumped to the floor, lying with his face obscured by his black hair. Eyes part closed, drained, he could do no more than rub weakly at the drying remnants of Gabriel's pleasure from the corner of his mouth.

The floor was hard and cold and unforgiving, cheek to polished wood, a chill seeping into his skin where it pressed against his body. His torso lie nigh flat, slats of paneling digging into his hip painfully.

His body crawled with the ghost of ecstasy, overshadowed achingly by a haze of despondent sorrow.

He pushed himself to his hands and knees and, for the first time, held himself in confession to his own conscience. Hair drooping about his face in a silken cowl of a condemned supplicant, he gave a sob of release, of relief, of agony. Gabriel wanted him.

John Constantine would be getting a part of his soul back.