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tampered2007-02-18 04:10 am
saunturing-down.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-02-18 04:10 am
Log; complete
When; Wrath Day, just as the day is dawning~~
Rating; Um...totally going up to R right now for heavy petting and making out.
Characters; Aziraphale![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wingedly and Crowley saunturing_down, then 2nd_dream_king
Summary; Aziraphale goes off to fight Rosiel and Crowley tries to stop him.
Log;
For one thing, angels weren’t built for these sort of boiling emotions unless they pertained to all the righteous good deeds one was expected to uphold as one of the ranking immortals of the above, though this particular cherub had never been too keen on unveiling the inner wrathful angel in him, at any point in his existence. Even when faced with the upcoming Apocalypse where he would be forced into doing harm to the opposite side, he had managed to keep his passively mild nature in solid tact and without failure. Now, a sin most violently foreign to the angel took hold like an ever inflamed poison seeping into his bloodstream, pounding ferociously throughout the valves of his heart, and clouding his every motion to the point of demonic take over. This is what it felt like to be deliciously possessed.
Striding out from where he had laid upon the bed tangled within the sheets for hours staring up at the ceiling all throughout yesterday’s horrific events, Aziraphale looked everything and nothing like he had been before. With a pair of wide eyes that were so dark a blue that they had nearly turned midnight black, golden curls having grown flecked with dirt brown, and a determined gait to his normally cheerful step that would have any intelligent demon heading straight for the hills. And as the angel reached the front of the apartment door he paused at the opening of the threshold, grinning a wicked smile as he allowed his graying wings to spring forth, taking up much of the limited space around him as the appendages were raised in violent dominance. “Crowley, dear.” He was here, he could sense him.
This day...was so not his day. It had taken him a bit to figure out, but after several hard minutes of searching for a reason to Aziraphale’s strange behavior, Crowley had figured out what exactly was going on. Aziraphale was affected by the sin of Wrath, and g---the person above only knew why he was going after Rosiel. That, after all, was HIS job!
He stiffened as the Angel came out of his bedroom, and he turned, stepping out from behind the corner to face Aziraphale, dark sunglasses hiding glowing yellow eyes. He was shocked at the way the angel looked...like he was becoming a demon or---HELL NO! Despite the fact that his brain was screaming denile (MY ANGEL CANNOT FALL NO DON’T FALL MY ANGEL--!), his face was impassive. He casually lifted his hand, removing the sunglasses and tucking them away for safekeeping, turning his yellowed gaze on the angel.
“You’re not going anywhere, Azzzzzzzzziraphale.” he hissed, black wings extending out to their full length, filling the small apartment.
Dilated, cloudy gaze raking over every single part of the irresistible demon standing before him, while the angel licked his lips rather decidedly and found with a hot, boiling sensation traveling through his limbs that he would be placing all of his wrathful attentions upon only one individual, now. “Am I?” Quick to the chase, he switched gears into action within an instant, willingly snatching a rather large handful of his colleague’s feathers and with a violent tug intending to send him onto the floorboards, exhaling as if he were breathing fire like a lusting dragon. “Do try and stop me.” A wave of his outstretched hand and a window shattered at the brief gesture in a matter of seconds, before the shards of broken glass came whirling upward in a violent storm, sent directly at the opponent. Somehow during all of this, a sickening grin began to permanently take residence upon the angel’s dark expression, eyes glinting in the early morning twilight. How poetic.
Crowley stared as the angel’s gaze raked over him, as palpable as a touch. He barely kept himself from swallowing harshly, but he could almost feel sweat breaking out on his brow as he attempted to keep his face impassive. Damn, but Aziraphale was hot when---
He was surprised by the Angel’s sudden attack, so much so that he yelped as a handful of his feathers were tugged hard, bringing him down flat onto his surprised rear. He grunted, bringing up an arm to block the glass shards a moment later, staring in horror but able to look away at the look of sheer….darkness. It had to be darkness….that had placed itself on Aziraphale’s face. His temper flared, white hot and angry. Hell NO! There was no way he’d go down without a fight! He would keep Aziraphale here if it cost him his life!
“Isssssssssss it a fight you want, angel?” he hissed. “Then it’sssssss a fight you’ll get!” He rocked back harshly, bringing his hands on either side of his ears and pushed off hard, the heels of his boots aimed at the angel’s midriff.
Smug triumph only lasted so long before the ever so slightly demonic angel was sent tumbling onto the hard wooden ground, a wing having upset a vase in the process to promptly smash with a violent noise down next to his form, leaving a pretty nasty cut along the bone of said appendage that he only noticed when attempting to get up, again. “You little—” At a breath’s notice, the seething angel was straddling the demon’s hips with legs on either side and grabbing him by the front of his collar about the neck, dark cobalt gaze flashing most dangerously as his left wing turned to rest in an unnatural position, blood staining it’s way down the pristine feathers. Though now that they were just barely nose to nose, Aziraphale seemed to think better of his plans to maul the demon lying underneath him, a slow smile coupled with a flash of dog teeth telling all such tales. Lips parted, he pushed his mouth forward so that just the very edge of his lower lip grazed the softness of the demon’s warm mouth, followed by a growled “—you will pay for that, my dear” and a tightening of his pale fingers upon the fabric of his counterpart’s collar, dragging him closer so that he could map out every single detail of the immortal’s face, more than obviously drinking in the scent of him like a drug.
Crowley felt a feeble flash of regret as the angel crashed into the vase, the sharp glass cutting his wing and staining the quickly darkening feathers a deep, sinister red. However, all that was forgotten as he was effectively tackled and sat upon and...oh.
Oh shit.
Crowley froze, still as a statue as Aziraphale got oh so close, leaning forward, those hands curling into the collar of his jacket, the Angel’s dark eyes right in front of his face. And then he leaned forward and grazed Crowley’s bottom lip. The demon let out a low hiss, eyes darkening and dilating slightly at that, and the dark promise in the Angel’s words.
But---he was a demon, he didn’t give up that easily. He smirked, a slow curling of his lips.
“Isssssssss that ssssssssso, Angel?” he asked.
The next thing he did was an attack that usually involved breaking the other person’s neck, but in this case…it was quite the opposite. He attempted to hook his hand around the back of Aziraphale’s neck and flip them over, before moving his hands at an almost invisible speed to pin the angel down with his hands on either side of Aziraphale’s head, situating himself in between the angel’s legs and keeping him pinned with his own hips.
Quite to the angel’s misfortune, the very first emotion that prompted this abrupt change in position happened to be that of scathing pain that caused him to groan outright despite himself, an ache traveling upward through his tense shoulder blades as he was trying to stretch out the battered wing in question from behind him without success. But, at the low hissing noise that the demon made toward him, a somewhat mockingly gentle smirk along with raised eyebrows soon followed suit, his impossibly dilated gaze now staring with an unwavering loyalty upon the immortal being that had him pinned. “Yes,” but to what he had been referring to, no one would ever know, for Aziraphale took a moment to jerk his own hips upward to meet Crowley’s in a tantalizingly slow fashion, allowing him to exhale and inhale everything that was the demon he was so captivated by, body and soul. Without too much difficulty, the angel stretched his pale limbs outward even further, heaving a delicate sigh that was more so meant to allure than express boredom, to eventually expose his vulnerable neck. “Take what is yours,” he growled low to indicate his meaning if it were not already clear enough, the angel’s right leg curling around the demon’s waist before jerking his entire body forward on top of him, hips following the same hard motion as before while an open mouthed promise was breathed into his counterpart’s ear.
Crowley hissed the first time Aziraphale pushed his hips upward, and his yellow snake eyes seemed to glow momentarily as the pupils widened; primeval lust shooting through his veins at the sight of the Angel--his Angel—pinned beneath him. His hands tightened on Aziraphale’s wrists as the scent of his Angel seemed to coil around him, this time tinted with just a bit of spice, cinnamon or something darker, deeper, more primitive.
And then Aziraphale tipped his head back, exposing that long, pale, beautiful neck. And as the Angel hooked his leg around Crowley’s, pulling him forward and offering for him to take,, to possess…, arching his hips against the demon’s and creating a delicious friction…
There was only so much one demon could take in a day.
A low growl erupted from his throat as he went in for the kill, so to speak, hips pressing down, pinning, as his hands mirrored the movement on the Angel’s wrists, attempting to keep him effectively pinned. He leaned down, ghosting his lips over the long column of that lovely neck before he drew back his lips, running the sharp points of his canines along Aziraphale’s pulse point and allowing his forked tongue to flick out, tracing the pale skin and sucking….
If there were any noise that had never before touched the vocal chords of the angel’s outward expression, it would have been they way in which he positively snarled at that impossibly heated moment, hips bucking upward violently this time against the slow movements they were making between one another, seemingly taking and never giving. All previous thoughts of making any sort of escape from the halfway destroyed apartment completely left when he felt a canine fang paying particular attention to his pulse point, something that sent his thoughts into a buzzing whirlwind of vicious lust and fueled the pace of his hips to become more desperately ragged, leg still curled about the demon’s almost as if to mirror the concept of keeping him pinned down, so to speak. Two could indeed play at that game.
Squirming just a tad bit from underneath him, Aziraphale opened one darkly clouded eye and watched with cruel amusement as Crowely sucked upon his exposed neck, promptly sending a violent tremble down throughout his spread limbs and a fairly barking loud, desperately growling moan to echo out into the empty hallway outside. Point being, the angel was far from caring whether or not anyone happened in upon them like this, especially since he was presently occupied with turning his head just so and being able to nudge the demon’s mouth open with his warm, panting lips in time with their slow thrusts, allowing for his tongue to properly lick over the aforementioned fangs. A breathless, considerably softer moan into his colleague’s mouth followed as well, the whole prospect of the demon pinning him down by the wrists made the angel positively glow with a light aura about him and an answering hardness that wouldn’t precisely be ignored, almost as if he were slowly coming out of the fog and back to himself, again.
Crowley growled low in his throat, bucking his hips against Aziraphale’s in time with the Angel’s thrusts, matching his pace just right to create a friction that sent sparks up his spine. And then the Angel made that noise, that moan that fueled a strong desire to make it come again, to know that he cause that sound to be wrenched from his Angel’s throat by pleasure…
He complied quite easily with the shift as Aziraphale’s tongue flicked out, tracing his over Crowley’s snake-like fangs in the hottest way possible on earth or any other place, be it Heaven or Hell or somewhere in between. He growled possessively, swallowing the moan that tumbled out of his Angel’s lips, yellow eyes raking over the picture of debauchery that Aziraphale presented. He hissed, sharp teeth nipping over the Angel’s bottom lip in a temptation for more. More friction, more fangs, more spark--
He did, however, notice the shift in the Angel’s aura, though it was a small niggling at the back of his lust-clouded mind that pointed out the fact that Aziraphale wasn’t fighting any more. He was surrendering…at least, that’s what his demon brain interpreted it as…
Rating; Um...totally going up to R right now for heavy petting and making out.
Characters; Aziraphale
wingedly and Crowley saunturing_down, then 2nd_dream_kingSummary; Aziraphale goes off to fight Rosiel and Crowley tries to stop him.
Log;
For one thing, angels weren’t built for these sort of boiling emotions unless they pertained to all the righteous good deeds one was expected to uphold as one of the ranking immortals of the above, though this particular cherub had never been too keen on unveiling the inner wrathful angel in him, at any point in his existence. Even when faced with the upcoming Apocalypse where he would be forced into doing harm to the opposite side, he had managed to keep his passively mild nature in solid tact and without failure. Now, a sin most violently foreign to the angel took hold like an ever inflamed poison seeping into his bloodstream, pounding ferociously throughout the valves of his heart, and clouding his every motion to the point of demonic take over. This is what it felt like to be deliciously possessed.
Striding out from where he had laid upon the bed tangled within the sheets for hours staring up at the ceiling all throughout yesterday’s horrific events, Aziraphale looked everything and nothing like he had been before. With a pair of wide eyes that were so dark a blue that they had nearly turned midnight black, golden curls having grown flecked with dirt brown, and a determined gait to his normally cheerful step that would have any intelligent demon heading straight for the hills. And as the angel reached the front of the apartment door he paused at the opening of the threshold, grinning a wicked smile as he allowed his graying wings to spring forth, taking up much of the limited space around him as the appendages were raised in violent dominance. “Crowley, dear.” He was here, he could sense him.
This day...was so not his day. It had taken him a bit to figure out, but after several hard minutes of searching for a reason to Aziraphale’s strange behavior, Crowley had figured out what exactly was going on. Aziraphale was affected by the sin of Wrath, and g---the person above only knew why he was going after Rosiel. That, after all, was HIS job!
He stiffened as the Angel came out of his bedroom, and he turned, stepping out from behind the corner to face Aziraphale, dark sunglasses hiding glowing yellow eyes. He was shocked at the way the angel looked...like he was becoming a demon or---HELL NO! Despite the fact that his brain was screaming denile (MY ANGEL CANNOT FALL NO DON’T FALL MY ANGEL--!), his face was impassive. He casually lifted his hand, removing the sunglasses and tucking them away for safekeeping, turning his yellowed gaze on the angel.
“You’re not going anywhere, Azzzzzzzzziraphale.” he hissed, black wings extending out to their full length, filling the small apartment.
Dilated, cloudy gaze raking over every single part of the irresistible demon standing before him, while the angel licked his lips rather decidedly and found with a hot, boiling sensation traveling through his limbs that he would be placing all of his wrathful attentions upon only one individual, now. “Am I?” Quick to the chase, he switched gears into action within an instant, willingly snatching a rather large handful of his colleague’s feathers and with a violent tug intending to send him onto the floorboards, exhaling as if he were breathing fire like a lusting dragon. “Do try and stop me.” A wave of his outstretched hand and a window shattered at the brief gesture in a matter of seconds, before the shards of broken glass came whirling upward in a violent storm, sent directly at the opponent. Somehow during all of this, a sickening grin began to permanently take residence upon the angel’s dark expression, eyes glinting in the early morning twilight. How poetic.
Crowley stared as the angel’s gaze raked over him, as palpable as a touch. He barely kept himself from swallowing harshly, but he could almost feel sweat breaking out on his brow as he attempted to keep his face impassive. Damn, but Aziraphale was hot when---
He was surprised by the Angel’s sudden attack, so much so that he yelped as a handful of his feathers were tugged hard, bringing him down flat onto his surprised rear. He grunted, bringing up an arm to block the glass shards a moment later, staring in horror but able to look away at the look of sheer….darkness. It had to be darkness….that had placed itself on Aziraphale’s face. His temper flared, white hot and angry. Hell NO! There was no way he’d go down without a fight! He would keep Aziraphale here if it cost him his life!
“Isssssssssss it a fight you want, angel?” he hissed. “Then it’sssssss a fight you’ll get!” He rocked back harshly, bringing his hands on either side of his ears and pushed off hard, the heels of his boots aimed at the angel’s midriff.
Smug triumph only lasted so long before the ever so slightly demonic angel was sent tumbling onto the hard wooden ground, a wing having upset a vase in the process to promptly smash with a violent noise down next to his form, leaving a pretty nasty cut along the bone of said appendage that he only noticed when attempting to get up, again. “You little—” At a breath’s notice, the seething angel was straddling the demon’s hips with legs on either side and grabbing him by the front of his collar about the neck, dark cobalt gaze flashing most dangerously as his left wing turned to rest in an unnatural position, blood staining it’s way down the pristine feathers. Though now that they were just barely nose to nose, Aziraphale seemed to think better of his plans to maul the demon lying underneath him, a slow smile coupled with a flash of dog teeth telling all such tales. Lips parted, he pushed his mouth forward so that just the very edge of his lower lip grazed the softness of the demon’s warm mouth, followed by a growled “—you will pay for that, my dear” and a tightening of his pale fingers upon the fabric of his counterpart’s collar, dragging him closer so that he could map out every single detail of the immortal’s face, more than obviously drinking in the scent of him like a drug.
Crowley felt a feeble flash of regret as the angel crashed into the vase, the sharp glass cutting his wing and staining the quickly darkening feathers a deep, sinister red. However, all that was forgotten as he was effectively tackled and sat upon and...oh.
Oh shit.
Crowley froze, still as a statue as Aziraphale got oh so close, leaning forward, those hands curling into the collar of his jacket, the Angel’s dark eyes right in front of his face. And then he leaned forward and grazed Crowley’s bottom lip. The demon let out a low hiss, eyes darkening and dilating slightly at that, and the dark promise in the Angel’s words.
But---he was a demon, he didn’t give up that easily. He smirked, a slow curling of his lips.
“Isssssssss that ssssssssso, Angel?” he asked.
The next thing he did was an attack that usually involved breaking the other person’s neck, but in this case…it was quite the opposite. He attempted to hook his hand around the back of Aziraphale’s neck and flip them over, before moving his hands at an almost invisible speed to pin the angel down with his hands on either side of Aziraphale’s head, situating himself in between the angel’s legs and keeping him pinned with his own hips.
Quite to the angel’s misfortune, the very first emotion that prompted this abrupt change in position happened to be that of scathing pain that caused him to groan outright despite himself, an ache traveling upward through his tense shoulder blades as he was trying to stretch out the battered wing in question from behind him without success. But, at the low hissing noise that the demon made toward him, a somewhat mockingly gentle smirk along with raised eyebrows soon followed suit, his impossibly dilated gaze now staring with an unwavering loyalty upon the immortal being that had him pinned. “Yes,” but to what he had been referring to, no one would ever know, for Aziraphale took a moment to jerk his own hips upward to meet Crowley’s in a tantalizingly slow fashion, allowing him to exhale and inhale everything that was the demon he was so captivated by, body and soul. Without too much difficulty, the angel stretched his pale limbs outward even further, heaving a delicate sigh that was more so meant to allure than express boredom, to eventually expose his vulnerable neck. “Take what is yours,” he growled low to indicate his meaning if it were not already clear enough, the angel’s right leg curling around the demon’s waist before jerking his entire body forward on top of him, hips following the same hard motion as before while an open mouthed promise was breathed into his counterpart’s ear.
Crowley hissed the first time Aziraphale pushed his hips upward, and his yellow snake eyes seemed to glow momentarily as the pupils widened; primeval lust shooting through his veins at the sight of the Angel--his Angel—pinned beneath him. His hands tightened on Aziraphale’s wrists as the scent of his Angel seemed to coil around him, this time tinted with just a bit of spice, cinnamon or something darker, deeper, more primitive.
And then Aziraphale tipped his head back, exposing that long, pale, beautiful neck. And as the Angel hooked his leg around Crowley’s, pulling him forward and offering for him to take,, to possess…, arching his hips against the demon’s and creating a delicious friction…
There was only so much one demon could take in a day.
A low growl erupted from his throat as he went in for the kill, so to speak, hips pressing down, pinning, as his hands mirrored the movement on the Angel’s wrists, attempting to keep him effectively pinned. He leaned down, ghosting his lips over the long column of that lovely neck before he drew back his lips, running the sharp points of his canines along Aziraphale’s pulse point and allowing his forked tongue to flick out, tracing the pale skin and sucking….
If there were any noise that had never before touched the vocal chords of the angel’s outward expression, it would have been they way in which he positively snarled at that impossibly heated moment, hips bucking upward violently this time against the slow movements they were making between one another, seemingly taking and never giving. All previous thoughts of making any sort of escape from the halfway destroyed apartment completely left when he felt a canine fang paying particular attention to his pulse point, something that sent his thoughts into a buzzing whirlwind of vicious lust and fueled the pace of his hips to become more desperately ragged, leg still curled about the demon’s almost as if to mirror the concept of keeping him pinned down, so to speak. Two could indeed play at that game.
Squirming just a tad bit from underneath him, Aziraphale opened one darkly clouded eye and watched with cruel amusement as Crowely sucked upon his exposed neck, promptly sending a violent tremble down throughout his spread limbs and a fairly barking loud, desperately growling moan to echo out into the empty hallway outside. Point being, the angel was far from caring whether or not anyone happened in upon them like this, especially since he was presently occupied with turning his head just so and being able to nudge the demon’s mouth open with his warm, panting lips in time with their slow thrusts, allowing for his tongue to properly lick over the aforementioned fangs. A breathless, considerably softer moan into his colleague’s mouth followed as well, the whole prospect of the demon pinning him down by the wrists made the angel positively glow with a light aura about him and an answering hardness that wouldn’t precisely be ignored, almost as if he were slowly coming out of the fog and back to himself, again.
Crowley growled low in his throat, bucking his hips against Aziraphale’s in time with the Angel’s thrusts, matching his pace just right to create a friction that sent sparks up his spine. And then the Angel made that noise, that moan that fueled a strong desire to make it come again, to know that he cause that sound to be wrenched from his Angel’s throat by pleasure…
He complied quite easily with the shift as Aziraphale’s tongue flicked out, tracing his over Crowley’s snake-like fangs in the hottest way possible on earth or any other place, be it Heaven or Hell or somewhere in between. He growled possessively, swallowing the moan that tumbled out of his Angel’s lips, yellow eyes raking over the picture of debauchery that Aziraphale presented. He hissed, sharp teeth nipping over the Angel’s bottom lip in a temptation for more. More friction, more fangs, more spark--
He did, however, notice the shift in the Angel’s aura, though it was a small niggling at the back of his lust-clouded mind that pointed out the fact that Aziraphale wasn’t fighting any more. He was surrendering…at least, that’s what his demon brain interpreted it as…