ext_3665: (Angel)
"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."
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November 2012

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