Despite the mix of emotions inside him -- hope and love and fear and worry and need and everything -- Michael found a smile tugging at his lips. Apparently even a kiss couldn't completely take Raphael's thoughts away from such matters.
He was made a bit confused by the comment about himself, though. Was that why Raphael had found the mere thought of being close to him so repulsing at first? Michael himself didn't think he was being violent when he fought -- well, so the occasional punch and such, done in anger, could perhaps be called violence. However, his main duty, the reason he was called a warrior -- and not just any warrior, either, but the leader of the Heavenly Hosts -- was slaying demons who posed a threat to humans or fellow angels, (or just got on the way, but then again, most demons who saw him chose to either escape or attack, so a demon getting on his way was practically an invitation to fight). It was a natural part of him, fulfilling his duty, no more wrong or hard to accept than Raphael's healing. They were not two opposite things, just two sides of the same coin. Fighting, healing -- in the end, they both worked towards the same goal.
As Raphael leant up to come closer to him, Michael kissed him again, the hand that had previously been just caressing the coppery locks now sinking into them, enjoying the silky feeling. His heart stirred, unable to stay still anymore. Something further south stirred as well, and he tried to ignore it, desperately hoping Raphael wouldn't notice anything. If the lovely healer noticed, he'd most probably forget not standing violence and kick him to the next week.
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He was made a bit confused by the comment about himself, though. Was that why Raphael had found the mere thought of being close to him so repulsing at first? Michael himself didn't think he was being violent when he fought -- well, so the occasional punch and such, done in anger, could perhaps be called violence. However, his main duty, the reason he was called a warrior -- and not just any warrior, either, but the leader of the Heavenly Hosts -- was slaying demons who posed a threat to humans or fellow angels, (or just got on the way, but then again, most demons who saw him chose to either escape or attack, so a demon getting on his way was practically an invitation to fight). It was a natural part of him, fulfilling his duty, no more wrong or hard to accept than Raphael's healing. They were not two opposite things, just two sides of the same coin. Fighting, healing -- in the end, they both worked towards the same goal.
As Raphael leant up to come closer to him, Michael kissed him again, the hand that had previously been just caressing the coppery locks now sinking into them, enjoying the silky feeling. His heart stirred, unable to stay still anymore. Something further south stirred as well, and he tried to ignore it, desperately hoping Raphael wouldn't notice anything. If the lovely healer noticed, he'd most probably forget not standing violence and kick him to the next week.