blue_bells: (stock :: blue pigments)
[personal profile] blue_bells
I've been intermittently packing house for a week and the day job had consumed my brain.

The writing mojo must return. Surely, a porn-a-thon is the key? (No, my current project is gen, but words are words....)

There are a bunch of people I want to write for in order to say 'thank you' for the last round, so I hope you're all in this time!

Round five is open!

+ Post a list of your five favorite acts/kinks to read about. Check out this list if you need some inspiration. At the bottom of your post, add what fandoms/pairings you're interested in.
+ Read other people's lists; the master list of lists is here.
+ Post comment-fic based off of other people's interests.

= my Fandoms =
Supernatural: Michael/Adam, Sam/Dean/Adam, Michael/Adam/Lucifer, Lucifer/Sam/Gabriel, Castiel/Gabriel, any permutation of Lucifer/Michael/Raphael/Gabriel, Raphael/Balthazar, Raphael/Uriel/Gabriel
X-Men First Class: Any permutation of Emma/Raven/Angel and Hank/Alex/Sean, Azazel/Riptide, Erik/Charles
Suits: Harvey/Mike, any permutation of Donna/Jessica/Rachel
Battlestar Galactica: Kara/Sam/Leoben, Six/Gaius
The Covenant: Any permutation of Caleb/Reid/Tyler/Pogue
Avenger Movie!verse: Thor/Loki, Loki/Tony Starke (Iron Man)

= my Acts =
Adrenaline and crises: So, you just saved the world from a zombie apocalypse? We think you're looking pretty heroic in silhouette against that sunrise with the machine gun on your hip. My machete got a great workout, too. We should celebrate; sexily. (pre-, mid-, or post-crisis sex; speed-freaks or adrenaline junkies; near-death experiences; the shadow of impending death--hours, minutes, or moments; see also Situational engineering)

Alternate Universes: Mafia, prison, college, military, the same rules but with role reversal: you name it, I'll love it. (alternate characterizations and situations; sex between alternates of one character or between different characters; alternates as catalysts for realization of desire; role reversal; darker mirror universe characters; mistaken identity)

Sensory deprivation, overload or enhancement: As humans we only have five senses. How do we compensate when we can't see? Or hear? Or maybe when we feel too much? And if you're being pulled aside by someone not altogether human themselves, are those five senses going to cope? I love it when the senses are challenged in startling ways and the battle for coherency goes quickly downhill.

Marathon: Because it's been something of a running joke in my circle, lately (yo ho, these puns). Make it exhaustive. Make it punishing.

Fingers: Pressed to mouths, tangled in hair, bruised into skin, sunk in deep: fingers, and the specific effect they have on the one being touched, are awesome.

Fills for Others:
For [ profile] emerald_embers: Devil May Cry, Dante/Vergil, R (hairplay, sex injuries, hand fetishism, semi-technophilia)
For [ profile] ienablu: Supernatural, John!Michael/Mary, PG-13 (aggression, shoved against walls, hurt)
For [ profile] ladyknightanka: Supernatural; Lucifer/Sam, Michael/Adam; PG-13 (Human!AU, barely H/C)
For [ profile] nights_fang: Supernatural, Lucifer/Adam, NC-17 (Human!AU, clothing fetish, breathplay, frottage)
For [ profile] thedreamisreal: Supernatural, Sam/Adam/Dean, NC-17 (D/s, tattoos, possession & jealousy, oral fixation)
For [ profile] synnerxx: Supernatural, Michael/Adam, NC-17 (Human!AU cont., power issues, begging, biting)

Gifts from Others:
From [ profile] ienablu: Suits/SPN, Harvey/Mike, PG (Hunter!AU)
From [ profile] super_seme04: Supernatural, Michael/Adam/Lucifer, R: 'Made For' (marathon)
From [ profile] nights_fang: Supernatural, Adam/Michael, NC-17: 'Feel' (bondage, sensory deprivation, fingers)
From [ profile] ladyknightanka: Supernatural, Michael/Adam, PG: 'Do No Evil' (sensory deprivation)
From [ profile] synnerxx: Supernatural, Michael/Adam, NC-17: 'Won't You Touch Me, Touch Me' (fingers)
From [ profile] setos_puppy: Supernatural, Michael/Lucifer/Gabriel, R: 'Dream Brother; My Killer; My Lover' (post-crises, alternate ending, sensory overload, marathon, fingers)
From [ profile] zekkass: Supernatural, Michael/Raphael, R (Mafia!AU, post-crisis moment, handporn)
From [ profile] chaos_dreaming: Supernatural, Michael/Adam, NC-17: 'Cuckholds and Concubines' (Business!AU)

Suits : Harvey/Mike : AU

Date: 2011-10-16 10:29 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"So," Harvey says, conversationally, as he turns onto the highway, "What the hell happened back there?"

Mike is staring out the window, and it takes jostling his shoulder and a sharp Mike to get him to turn towards Harvey. He blinks. "Sorry, what?"

If Harvey wasn't worried before, he is now -- usually Mike is high-energy, fidgety, but now he's contained, almost listless. Harvey fights to keep his tone casual as he says, "I said, what the hell happened back there?"

"Oh. Nothing."

"You let yourself get ambushed--"

"I didn't let myself get am--"

"You let your guard down, got ambushed, got pinned to a wall by two demons, passed out, and then..." And then all the lights had burst, the windows of the warehouse had shattered, and when Harvey had finally gotten out a flashlight and looked around, the horde of demons they had been hunting were all on the ground, unconscious.

Mike had been fine.

"I don't know what happened," Mike says.

Harvey looks at him. "If you're serious about becoming a hunter, you're going to need to learn how to lie better."

A few miles pass silently, then Mike sighs. "I..." he starts, before hesitantly saying, "I heard a voice... in my head..."

Harvey looks sharply at him. "Christo."

Mike's eyes don't flash black. "I don't think it was a demon. I mean," he adds hurriedly, at Harvey's dubious look, "demons don't usually ask your permission beforehand, do they?"

"Not usually," Harvey admits. Mike goes quiet, hands fidgeting in his lap, and Harvey prompts, "So what do you think it was, then?"

Mike smiles self-deprecatingly. "Would you believe me if I said it was an angel?"

Re: Suits : Harvey/Mike : AU

Date: 2011-10-17 03:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I don't know you, but I love you right now. ♥__♥

Re: Suits : Harvey/Mike : AU

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2011-10-17 07:28 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Suits : Harvey/Mike : AU

Date: 2011-10-17 08:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
This is perfection. Words don't suffice to say how completely this melted me with glee. Who are you? We must be friends. :D

Re: Suits : Harvey/Mike : AU

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2011-10-18 01:46 am (UTC) - Expand
From: [identity profile]
It hurts, it hurts to be loved by them.

They're holding him, holding him together and Adam can do nothing but tremble.

He lost his voice hours ago and his head lolls as he rocks between them.

Lucifer's mouth is at his ear and he's saying words that Adam can't even understand, but he answers him in soft, breathless noises and Michael's breath is a gentle, amused curl of heat against his cheek.

It hurts to be loved so completely.

"Adam, Adam, Adam..."

They say his name in languages that are now dust scattered by the wind and they're carefully knitting him back together even as they're pulling him apart.

Lucifer is a slow, all consuming cold that starts at the tip of his toes, but Michael?

Adam moans weakly then mewls and squirms when lips like fire press searing kisses to his skin that are then soothed by a mouth colder than any winter.

Michael fucks him like he's trying to conquer him.

It's like they're back in that room again and Adam is blinded by the effortless, almost arrogant brilliance that is Michael.

Lucifer bites at Adam's ear to make sure that he's not forgotten and Adam would laugh if he could, but instead, he presses back against Lucifer until he can see his breath in small, staccato puffs.

Michael lightly rakes his nails down Adam's chest and Adam makes a desperate sound as five points of fire heat his skin to a nearly impossible temperature.

He's feverish and freezing, but he doesn't want to stop.

They've been going at this for hours, maybe even days, but he doesn't want to stop.

His head lolls back against Lucifer's shoulder and his eyes flutter shut as they wring another orgasm out of him.

Lucifer licks the sweat from his cheek then smacks his lips and makes a low, pleased sound.

Adam will tell him how creepy that is once he remembers what words are.

Michael tugs him down into a kiss that leaves him a sweating, shaking wreck, so they sit up then hold him between them and love him until he feels like he's dying.

Adam is beyond exhaustion as he blindly presses wet, sloppy kisses to Micheal's mouth and Lucifer gently curls his fingers in Adam's hair then turns his head to bite at his lip.

"Perfect, perfect for us," Michael sighs as he watches them.

Adam is so happy that he could cry and he doesn't know if it's sweat or tears that Lucifer licks from his face, but he doesn't care.

'Don't let me go, don't let me go, please don't ever let me go.'

Lucifer croons at a pitch that makes the windows sing and if Michael's grip on him is now tight enough to bruise his bones, Adam doesn't notice.
From: [identity profile]
Oh my God. Oh my God. I think you killed me.

I can retire now. Clearly, I never need to write again and I can die happily knowing there are people like you in the world.

In response to your icon and this entire delicacy: rare pairings, hell-the-fuck-yeah.
From: [identity profile]
Hello stranger, I have no idea who you are, but I have to tell you that this broke me into a gibbering mess of glee.
From: [identity profile]
Oh my goodness, I concur with everyone else. This poetic narration makes sex less a base act than something utterly beautiful. Unf, these three. ♥
From: [identity profile]
Oh hi, lovely person that write lovely, aching, beautiful M/A/L porn that's really too poetic to be called porn. Let me love you?
From: [identity profile]
Michael would've never done this before. Human lust is beneath him. This sin is beneath him. Or rather was beneath him, before he fell into the Cage, nearly went insane with the loss of the voice of the heavenly host and that connection to his Father at the back on his mind, and was brought out back to the world grace turned into flesh, mortal and weak.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, Adam trails his fingers along the scars on Michael's body. Some old and ancient from wars aeons passed. Some from Lucifer in the Cage. Some even from Adam himself, once he started fighting back down there. Those fingers move all the way up to his face, skirting over the silk blindfold. Michael had been alarmed when Adam had made him wear it. He didn't mind his hands being bound, but the blindfold was a different matter. He was already lost without his grace, adjusting very badly to having only the five restrictive senses humans possessed. But Adam had insisted, voice going low and soothing with an authoritative undercurrent; like an order, as he tugged Michael's jeans off leaving the former archangel naked under him.

It had been ages since Michael had been ordered in any tone of voice. Not even Raphael who had an equal standing in Heaven had tried ordering him, once, even though he'd known Raphael would've liked too. (Even one for Michael to stop and rest and think selfishly once instead of blindly following a dead God.) Michael's been yearning to follow someone for so long, that all it took was that voice, and he'd settled in unconsciously, body going slack, as Adam tied silk around his eyes with deft fingers.

Those fingers go into his hair, rubbing a slow massage over his scalp. Michael moans, unable to help himself, arching a little into the touch. It's pleasant, comforting. He can hear a huff somewhere above him, and he's not sure but he thinks it sounds amused.

“You think too much.” Adam's breath is suddenly at his ear, and Michael would yelp and jump in a manner completely alien to his once regal angelic self, if Adam's hips weren't holding him in place. Adam's other hand is trailing over the scars on Michael's chest again, almost a light rake of blunt nails, adding to sensation. Michael thinks that Adam's smiling. He doesn't know how, but he can feel it.

“How many times have I told you not to think. Just feel Michael.” the words are punctuated with Adam flicking a nipple, and this time Michael does arch, hips connecting with Adam, against the rough fabric of Adam's jeans, and sending a surge of electricity up his spine.

Fuck” Adam breathes out, grinding back down against Michael. And despite the roughness of the fabric against him Michael smiles, because he can imagine the face Adam is making right now. He likes the breathless quality Adam's voice has suddenly taken on.

Adam nips his ear for that, and couples it with pinching Michael's nipple, making Michael arch again. This time, Adam's prepared for it, because he presses down into Michael as Michael arches, pulling a moan out of Michael.

“Better,” Adam breathes out softly against Michael's ear, as he begins walking his fingers down Michael's skin, teasingly trailing right above his hips. Michael shivers at the cool breath on his ear, and tries to press up again, to feel more of Adam's hands, but Adam keeps his touch light and almost ticklish making wide arches over his abs, not giving Michael satisfaction.
From: [identity profile]
It's only when Michael settles back onto the bed, that Adam continues his trek downwards stroking lightly along Michael's erection. Michael bites back a groan and doesn't try to buck into Adam this time.

“Good, just keep feeling.” Adam hums, lazily as he rubs the pad of his thumb over the tip of Michael's erection, making Michael gasp.

Briefly he wishes he still had his wings. Wishes they were still tangible. He wonders what it would feel like to have Adam's talented fingers carding through them. Maybe Adam would run his fingers through Michael's feathers like he does with Michael's hair. Or maybe he would tease along the appendages, or his joints, he thinks with a slight pleasant shudder, emphasised by a particularly gentle squeeze on him. Michael wonders if he's imagining how intense this sensation is feeling. Adam's touched him like this before, yet it's never made him become like this. He's sure if his past self or any of his brothers could see him now, they'd be disgusted. Sneer at how Michael was willingly giving himself to a boy he'd thought of as collateral and second best. At how Michael had stooped so low despite his new mortality to this type of pleasure and worship of flesh (because Adam does touch him in an almost reverential way, despite everything). But they aren't human and they haven't dealt with the enigma that is Adam Milligan who can take and give punishment in hell just as good as any angel, can forgive with more warmth than the Father who created him, and can reduce people and former angels to a mere boneless heap of nerves and flesh, singing in pleasure.

Or as Adam would crudely put it: Fuck them

There's a sharp squeeze, almost painful, and before Adam takes his hands away. “You're thinking too much again.” he cautions and Michael whimpers at the loss of those fingers. In his hair and on his skin. The pressure on the bed eases and he knows Adam's getting off.

Michael shifts alarmed, tugging at this binds and trying to get out. He's helpless here if Adam's left him, no grace to use to get himself out, and his all his human strength is useless again Adam's skill at these knots.

There's a dip in one side of the bed immediately, and fingers are back in his hair, rubbing into his temples. Above him he can hear Adam shushing him softly, yet it seems to echo in the dingy room they're in, overlapping him.

“Right here. Not leaving you.” As if to confirm it, Michael feels Adam's chapped lips press against his forehead. Adam's hips come against his again, as he pulls Michael into his lap, this time without the fabric of his jeans in the way. He never even heard the rustle of clothes being removed, but finally having this skin to skin contact is heady and almost dizzying.

Adam's fingers leave his hair. Minutes ache on by, and the only thing Michael can feel is the heat of Adam's thighs bleeding into his own. Then Adam's fingers are trailing up his thighs, around the curve of his ass, slowly around the ring of muscle, and Michael gasps knowing what comes next.

Adam leans forward again, chest pressing against Michael's own, their cocks rubbing against each other, and murmurs against Michael's lips, as he presses one finger inside Michael. “Relax. Open up for me. Come on.” With that he kisses Michael, slow, lazy, teasing Michael's mouth open with his teeth and tongue, and if Michael were standing his knees would be weak.
From: [identity profile]
Michael does without the barest hint of hesitation, Need seeping into the way he immediately presses down into Adam's finger, and wraps his leg around Adam's waist. “More,” he begs, begs, into the kiss shameless and wanton, all his archangel pride forgotten in favour of this heat and electricity and pleasure.

Adam smiles against his lips – Michael imagines it's indulgent, it seems that way – and acquiesces sliding in another finger to join the first, and starting up a rhythm. Slow, and irregular, enough to be unpredictable and leave Michael gasping for what little breath he has left, which Adam seems intent on stealing too, while Adam's fingers search for that bundle of nerves that'll turn Michael into putty.

Adam's skin is slick with sweat, and he's warm, so very warm above Michael, and his lips are soft, and he's so hard against Michael's own erection whenever they touch with Adam's fingers thrusting into him. It's too much sensation to experience at once, with these muted human senses. But he knows Adam isn't done yet, and when Adam find his prostrate, Michael breaks the kiss, head thrown back against the pillow, too breathless to even moan. Adam laughs into the skin of his throat, as he keeps moving his fingers in and out of Michael, still achingly slow, but Michael doesn't mind because he can feel his release already creeping up on him.

Adam probably knows it too, because he takes them both in his hand, and starts stroking Michael in earnest. Fast and quick short strokes, and he's still laughing when Michael thrusts back up into his hand wildly. “You're beautiful like this,” Adam breathes out.

Michael doesn't believe it. Not when he looks at everything in hindsight. Not when his mortality is a mirror to how ugly he truly is. But when Adam says it, he thinks it might be true.

Adam crooks his fingers inside Michael, leaning in and pressing his lips to Michael's temple, and Michael forgets about everything except for Adam.

“Let go, Michael.” The words are whispered so softly, rasped into Michael's hair. It's the lowest he's ever heard Adam's voice go, and it has that undercurrent of authority again, the one that makes Michael sink into a daze and listen. “Come for me.”

Michael does, back arching into a high arch, garbled Enochian falling from his lips, as he does.

By the time he stops panting and comes down from the afterglow, Adam has pulled his fingers away, undone the binds, and the blindfold too. Adam is rubbing his fingers into where the binds have cut into his wrists and marked his skin, kissing them apologetically. Michael offers him a tired smile, watching Adam's lips intently with hooded eyes. Adam smirks when he notices.

“Round two?” he questions, quirking an amused eyebrow. Though, his fingers are already trailing over Michael's hips.

Michael tugs him into a kiss an a reply.

/slinks off to die.


From: [identity profile] - Date: 2011-10-17 05:57 pm (UTC) - Expand


From: [identity profile] - Date: 2011-10-17 06:39 pm (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2011-10-19 12:42 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2011-10-19 05:41 am (UTC) - Expand
From: [identity profile]
A/N: I actually wanted to write something like this (but more Winmillcest-y) as a multichapter story, but you know how I am with all my muses, no? I had fun writing it as a drabble for you, though, and there may yet be more in the future for this broken Adam. Enjoy, my darling! ♥


Adam sits facing a large window, through which sunbeams filter to halo over him. He knows because, when he reaches out a hand, the glass is cool, slick, against his palm, the sun's rays warm across his upturned face.

It's familiar for him to be this way and some may say that he's forgotten again, but change honestly terrifies him these days, even if the alternative, inertia, means no one cares. Sam, Dean and Bobby can abandon him here, can forget to feed him or put him down to bed, forever, till he withers away to dust in the rickety old wheelchair they'd stolen from who-knows-where. This is pleasant.

He doesn't hear wings flutter so much as feel the otherwise still air of his room displace, a sadness that is not his washing over him. He turns his head as far as he can, unable to wheel the chair around, and mouths a name. Michael.

The archangel shines brighter than the sun above, precisely the way he had, so many centuries ago, in the beautiful room, but that was once upon a time, when Adam actually had the ability to consider so much else – nature's panoramas, human faces, good and bad sounds. Now, he only sees that light, only hears angel-song and mankind's strongest emotions. He can't even tell someone when his bladder acts up. That can put things into perspective.

Michael's light bears down on him, arching huge over Adam's fragile human frame, but it isn't scary anymore. He and Lucifer have done their very worst already and Adam no longer bothers trying to be anything but a receptacle for them.

Michael touches his cheek – with a hand that isn't a hand – and Adam leans into him, relishing a reprieve from the constant ache that assails his broken body. Music fills the emptiness left behind. It doesn't broach his ears, but the delightful buoyancy that makes Adam's fingers and toes tingle reminds him of music, nonetheless. It's Michael's way of speaking to him.

The notes are lilting and sweet, welling with vertiginous highs and stomach-dropping lows, thrumming with Adam's blood through his veins. His soul is a harp with torn strings and Michael is slowly, surely, mending him for a final performance.

Adams sighs contentedly and extends a hand. It's invisible to him, ironically enough, yet he knows the exact moment that it passes through Michael, finding purchase in his gossamer wings. Really, it makes sense that he can't see himself – that he is nothing allowed to experience everything, perhaps undeservedly. He's always been Plan B.

“I am so sorry,” Michael trills, his lament rebounding between his own grace and Adam's welcoming soul.

Adam feels his lips quirk without his permission. His brothers are unaware of Michael's presence. If they weren't, he would feel their cacophonous panic, their disgust, much closer to him. Instead, there is only Michael, the beautiful, destructive being who had torn him apart, then pieced him back together again.

It's okay, he thinks, with all his measly mortal might. I forgive you.

And together they sit in the sun.
From: [identity profile]
This just made me tear up. I can picture this and it's so melacholic and just... ♥
From: [identity profile]
Oh, this is beautiful, you handled the narrative challenge of a blind, deaf, and mute storyteller with incredible grace and poetry. This should have been sad, it's abstractly tragic, but there's also a sense of Adam's resignation to his fate, and an unexpected peace that comes with it. Thank you so much for this.
From: [identity profile]
Michael slides his fingers up Adam's stomach, the tips charged with just a bit of Grace to make the sensation that much more intense for Adam. Adam squirms underneath him, responsive as always.

Michael traces Adam's collarbone, touch light and soft as a feather with just a hint of spark. He moves up to Adam's neck and across his jaw, fingers brushing over Adam's mouth. Adam laps at Michael's fingertips and sucks them into his mouth. Michael groans quietly. Adam smirks around his fingers, pleased to get a reaction out of Michael.

He curls his hand around Michael's wrist, tongue sliding down across Michael's palm. He looks up at Michael with hooded eyes. "I bet I can make you come just by touching your hand."

Michael cocks an eyebrow at him. "Really now?"

"Mmhmm." Adam says, leaning up and pushing Michael down on the bed.

He brings Michael's hand back up to his mouth, letting Michael press his fingers against his lips and part them. His tongue glides along the pads of Michael's fingers and Michael shudders, rolling his hips upward, seeking friction. The outline of his cock presses against the zipper of his and he reaches down with his free hand and grinds his palm against it.

Adam glares and bites down on the fingers in his mouth while pulling Michael's hand away from himself. Michael growls in frustration, but it turns into a moan as Adam sucks hard on Michael's first two fingers.

The burst of pleasure makes Michael moan loudly and he's curling his other hand around the back of Adam's neck and pulling his hand free. Adam skims his teeth along Michael's fingers and that undoes Michael.

He pulls Adam down into a fierce kiss, letting him swallow his moans as his orgasm sweeps over him. Adam smirks against his lips and tangles his fingers in Michael's hair, pulling him closer.

"Told you so." He breathes when they break the kiss.
From: [identity profile]
Holy hotness, Batman!

Confident Adam, writhing Michael, utter deliciousness! UNF! GUH! ILU! ♥

Date: 2011-10-18 07:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Why do you have so many delectable pairings and choices. What am I going to do with you, short of writing a billion things. *chin hands and stares*

Date: 2011-10-18 07:35 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I suppose we just have good taste, darling. ;)

And what about you? What would you like the most this round?

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2011-10-18 07:51 am (UTC) - Expand
From: [identity profile]
Gabriel gasped and arched his body. Too long from the Host and too far from family had left his body and Grace aching. When the magnitude of Michael's very being washed over him he shuddered under the force of it. His head lolled back on the bed and his face wet itself with unworthy tears. He whined high and melodic, the strength of his Voice shaking the walls, cracking it through with sheer power.

"Hush, littlest brother." Michael's fingers stroked over his forehead, his blue eyes set deep in Adam Milligan's face. "Let me take care of you."

"It..." Gabriel choked on his words, his tongue feeling too big in his Vessel's mouth. He weakly tried to grope for his older brother. "It hurts. It's too much."

Michael didn't reply verbally, instead a long wave of pleasure soaked pain rolled over Gabriel and he sobbed. They had been at it for hours or days or years, Gabriel had lost count. Michael had found him, broken and empty in the motel where he had been desperately trying to recover from being grazed by his blade.

It had been stupid, so very stupid of him to try and take on his second oldest sibling. He had done it to by Sam and Dean time had it had cost him. Michael had found him, jagged and sharp around the edges, and leaking his Grace to the world. He had taken him and swaddled him like a babe before beginning to heal him.

His sides had been burned into with firm hands. Deep, aching marks for eternity. An imprinted, possibly accidental mark of claim.

He still didn't know why Michael was doing this. Why his brother was trying to build him back up when he had deserted his family so long ago.

A mouth brushed over his, wet and slick, Gabriel opened his own under it. He tasted the traces of ozone, so very faint, and the spark of electricity with the chill of ice. Gabriel's brows creased and he opened his eyes as the pressure of the mouth moved back.

Crystal blue eyes stared down at him from a broken face. A chiding smile curving soft, chapped lips. The olive shirt was still tacky with browned blood and the traces of stubble still lined his cheeks as Gabriel brushed his fingers up to touch.

"Why are you here?"

"Michael asked me to come here."

As Gabriel watched them move he couldn't help but notice the faint similarities between the two vessels his brothers had been forced into. Blonde and angled and soft in the eyes. Michael's was younger, which amused Gabriel to no end, while Lucifer's was falling apart.

"Wouldn't need you here if you didn't skewer me through."
From: [identity profile]
"We all have roles, Gabriel. Reputations to uphold."

Gabriel opened his mouth to reply before he was cut off with another wave of pleasure, this time from Lucifer. It was strong and hot. He arched off the bed with a noise of desperation and shook.

Then it was gone again and Gabriel was left panting and twitching.

"Raphael has gone insane," Michael intoned, his hands journeying down Gabriel's naked body, fixing small, unseen tears in his essence. "He is fighting for the Throne in Father's absence. He wants to get into Purgatory."

"He what--?!" Gabriel tried to sit up, his body moved like lead and burst through with pain as he fell back on the bed.

Lucifer glared at him in annoyance and brushed his ruined hands over Gabriel's body. "Stupid baby, keep still."

Gabriel keened in annoyance but stilled as requested. Lucifer's hands stopped just below the hand prints on his hips. His nails bit into Gabriel's flesh and the world toppled sideways with an agonizingly beautiful tide of pleasure.

When Gabriel regained a sense of the world once more Lucifer was whole. His vessel complete. Gabriel twitched as he felt unfamiliar yet also long missed Grace curl with his own. He touched at the new, blistering mark of hands on his skin. He stared up in awe at his two brothers.

Then his chest hitched in unexpected, long repressed sobs. They weren't fighting anymore. He watched as they looked between each other before climbing onto the mattress more firmly and laying on either side of him. He clutched at them with greedy pulls of his hand, his mouth open and pliant to theirs.

He had wanted this for so long. Hidden from their wars. Begged and pleaded for them to stop. He tried until his family had shattered apart and then he ran. He ran so far away...

"You're home with us now, youngest." Michael assured, pressing his newly unclothed body against Gabriel. Assuring him of his presence. "We will make you better. You will fight with us against the dissenter. You will help us restore Heaven."

"We will find Father again," Lucifer breathed, mouth chilled against his skin. "I will supplicate and do all I can to be with you and our oldest."

Gabriel whimpered in joy and tried to nuzzle into the two of them. They laughed and pressed against him, embracing him between their bodies. Gabriel nipped at Lucifer in playful reprimand.

Power surged out of Lucifer, Gabriel watched it with awed eyes as his brother's long hidden wings stretched over their bodies. He stroked his fingers through them, enjoying the way Lucifer shuddered.

"Ish Lucifael." Gabriel cupped his hand over the stubbled cheek and pressed their foreheads together, mouths meeting as they kissed while crying. He turned between them and hid his face in Michael's neck. "Ish Mik'hael."

Michael smiled and stroked his fingers through Gabriel's hair. "Rest, yakiri."

Slumber settled into Gabriel deeply. Aided by the cocoon of Michael and Lucifer's wings over his body.

Ish means "husband" and yakiri means "darling"
ext_3665: (Raidou & Narumi guiding)
From: [identity profile]
[ooc: Set in the same mafia 'verse as this one and this one, but you don't have to read those to get this. Also, smut didn't really happen, but I hope you like it anyways. :3]

Raphael's who he calls, when his senses return to him. There's blood on his hands, and the mess - he doesn't think about the mess. Instead he holds the cellphone with slick fingers and waits for his brother to pick up.

"Michael," Raphael greets within four rings, and he doesn't sound tired or sleep-bogged at all - Michael doesn't know how he does it. (Anything to avoid thinking about what he's done.)

"I need you here," Michael says, and, "It's a mess."

He hears the rustling of papers and wonders if this is it, if this is the time Raphael will refuse him help. If this time he'll be left with a mess and if the family will abandon him and -

"Stay put, I'll be right there."

Michael breathes relief as the call ends, and he gingerly slides the cellphone into his pocket - his whole outfit is a mess, what was he thinking - and he sinks to his haunches, unwilling to sit in the blood but needing a moment to hide himself. He won't leave the scene, and it's probably for the best if he stays right where he is, so he doesn't track shoeprints everywhere -

He wonders (and not for the first time) if Raphael would be able to control him when he gets like this. If Raphael could prevent the mess before it's created. He chides himself for even thinking of it, not after...not after that last time.

It won't matter if it's family or not when he's lost himself like that.


The lights in the laundromat are too bright, and Michael closes his eyes to them while he waits for the detergents to work their magic on his clothes. He thinks of the harsh lights of the interrogation room, and it's his mood that leads him to picture himself in the hot seat, with two of his brothers (Raphael, Zachariah) working him over. Asking him how many he's killed. Asking him for the details.

Nightmares creep up on him while he waits, and he digs his fingernails into his bare thighs. The pain doesn't ward them off, but it does keep him grounded. Focused. The emotions fear stirs up won't cause him to lose control.

A jacket is draped around his shoulders, and he looks up at Raphael in poorly veiled surprise.

"I'm taking you home as soon as this is done."

"Ah," Michael works his jaw, and looks back at his knees, uncomfortably aware of the implications. His work here is over, and someone else will manage his loose ends.

"It's unlike you to be so doubtful," Raphael comments as he sits next to him. "Was it really so bad?"

"You saw," Michael says.

"You have remarkable skill at managing who is in your range before you let go," Raphael says. "No one in there was someone we would have let live."

"Be quiet, Raphael."

Michael closes his eyes again and he's glad it's Raphael here. He tries to picture Zachariah standing in Raphael's place, or worse: Lucifer. He shivers and pulls the jacket closer to him, not liking what he sees. (Zachariah's disapproving look, Lucifer's sneering amusement...)

He feels fingers in his hair and ducks his head, keenly aware that he still needs a good shower to get rid of all the blood, but Raphael's fingers (they must be Raphael's) hold on, still picking through his hair with a gentle touch.

ext_3665: (Angel)
From: [identity profile]
"Give me your hand." Raphael orders, something unfamiliar in his tone.

"Why?" Michael asks, looking at him again. "What are you doing?" But he holds out his hand as he asks the questions. He's had a chance to wash them clean, scrub at them until the skin is raw and chafing and red, but there's still the scent of blood, and under the fingernails...he knows how hard it is to completely clean himself, and he knows there's no way he'll ever completely succeed.

It scares him more than it should, and he blames his state of mind here and now.

Raphael turns his hand over, dipping his head to lick a finger, gentle.

"Raphael - ?"

Raphael hums quietly as he licks his way down Michael's index (trigger) finger to his palm, and he nips at the web of skin between thumb and finger before licking at the pad of Michael's thumb. He doesn't respond, and Michael doesn't know what - it feels good, it feels too good, almost ticklish, and it's reassuring and he can't say why.

He wants to protest that his hands are still dirty, that it's not right, but - Raphael licks and sucks at his fingers, at the pads of his fingers and Michael can't look away; can't tell him to stop.

"Your other hand," Raphael murmurs, licking a lazy circle around his wrist, done. "Now, Michael."

Michael gives it to him, shivering and wondering if it'd be too obvious for him to put the jacket over his lap. Probably.

Raphael works over his other hand, doesn't even pause. Michael doesn't know what he feels because of it, or why, but -

Raphael finishes with a kiss to one palm and then the other, and then he kisses Michael on the lips, a reassuring gesture.

"I'm going to take you home," he whispers against Michael's lips. "And you're going to learn to trust your family again. You'll lose control again, but it will be on our terms."

Yes, Michael thinks, and a weight has left his shoulders. He nods, kisses Raphael back, lets Raphael hug him. Pure relief: "God, yes. Raphael - "

"Ssh," Raphael murmurs. "It's alright now."
From: [identity profile]
[This started small, honest. It also started as something completely different and better and managed to turn into this.]

"I can assure you, Mr. Hespe-"

Elegant fingers curl around the dark, expensive fabric of the businessman's shoulder in such a casual way that one could only feel more at ease with the movement. Unless of course, one was aware it was a movement that sharp blue eyes follow

"No no, call me Dave."

The fingers slip down, splaying across Dave's shoulders as Adam smiles and manoeuvres him out of the boardroom and into the office right next door that is still in Michael's line of sight.

It's the megawatt smile paired with one too many casual brushes of the hands while pens are passed back and forth that seals the fate of Michael's favourite pen; death by excessive pressure. At least it doesn't land itself in the eyes of his potential new client, surely Adam appreciates that after all the work that he has put into charming Mr. Hesperus -sorry, Dave- into signing a deal with Seraphim over the last two hours. Perhaps the longest two hours of Michaels relatively short life, but there was only so much that he could take watching Adam work his magic and be forced to smile and watch as his (his, damnit) whatever Adam was get groped in front of him.

Alright, so Adam might argue about the groping bit, but Michael knows that Dave did not, at all, need to sit so close to Adam while they were going over the contract. Nor did he have to let his fingers brush across Adam's when the blond handed over a coffee. Or breathe the same air as Adam, now that Michael thought about it.

"Mr. Milton?"

The businessman startled at the sound of his name, quickly hiding his bent and broken pen beneath the desk but apparently not quickly enough if the raised eyebrow and quirk of a grin on Adam's face is any indication. Gods above, Michael hated that grin. Almost as much as he hated how Adam sees the need to put his hand on Dave's shoulder, arm nearly wrapped around the beaming brunet in a display clearly meant to provoke something more out of Michael.

It works.

"What." He tries not to wince at the sharpness of his tone. Adam's smile only grows wider.

"Oh, I just thought you might like to shake hands with our newest partner, Dave." The blond knows exactly what he has been doing to Michael this past hour, exactly. Michael nearly growled, shooting Adam a loaded look (which only elicited more amusement from him) before he stood, one hand hiding a mangled pen with ink stained fingertips behind his back while the other grasped Dave's in a firm (perhaps too firm) handshake.
From: [identity profile]
"I am pleased that we were able to work something out, Mr. Hesperus." Michael gives a curt nod, none of the friendliness that Adam possessed to be found in his smile. He smiled sharp and dangerous and feels far too satisfied when Dave has to fight the instinct to take a step back. Adam just smirks and Michael resolves to leave marks.

"O-oh, um, me too. Your-- that is, Adam is very good at his job…" Dave turns to Adam, almost as if to put the blond between himself and Michael.

"Yes, yes he is. Now Adam, why don't you show Mr. Hesperus here the way out?"

Adam laughs, keeping his arm around Dave's shoulder as he turns him around and steers him towards the door with a languid salute. "Of course, Mr. Milton, I would love to. Anything else."

Blue eyes dart from the fingers at rest on Dave's suit jacket to the smug grin being sent his way and the foolishly hopeful look in Dave's eye before meeting Adam's gaze again. "Don't be too long, we have another meeting soon."

"Of course, Mr. Milton. Wouldn't want to be late for a meeting, now would I?" The brat is nearly purring as he walks Dave out of the office and Michael wonders how sound proof the walls are in his office upstairs.

He hopes that Raphael and Gabriel are still out on a business lunch.



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