Tuesday - Angels & Demons

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Hey guys! I'm just pinch hitting for today (don't mean to step on your toes, justapieceofme, but we needed something up!) so I'm stealing a good idea from the original month of comment porn.

So the theme for today is Angels & Demons. This can be literal, utilizing characters that are actually (or have been made into actual) angels and demons. It can be a step sideways, where a character has wings, or horns and a tail. Have something more metaphorical? Go for it!

When leaving prompts, please remember to be kind to your friendly neighborhood Code Monkeys and format your prompts appropriately!

Examples:
RPS, winged!Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, fingertips

Supernatural/Leverage, demon!Dean Winchester/Eliot Spencer, a dark alley



Nothing piquing your interest? Please check out the list of Lonely Prompts! (And remember boys and girls, this weekend will be the first Lonely Prompts contest, so stay tuned!)

Comments

[havenward.livejournal.com]

RPS, winged!Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, fingertips

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Christian's never really been an especially tactile kinda guy - and he's not big on the whole cuddling thing. That's not to say he actively hates it but... it's just not really him.

Now, Steve, on the other hand, is the complete opposite - any opportunity and he'll have his hands on Chris... There's nothing, nothing, he loves more than having Chris in his arms; in bed asleep, or just curled up on the couch watching a movie... his arms tight around him, Chris pressed warm and steady against him. He'll skim his fingers absently over any patch of skin he can find; trailing down his arm and brushing over the edge of his wings

And Chris, well, he really doesn't mind Steve touching him; a shiver and a moan escaping him as Steve's attention leaves the movie and turns to him, absent strokes of fingertips over feathers become a more knowing caress until Chris climbing onto his lap, fingers cupping his face as he kisses and rocks against him, wings beating the air in aroused frenzy

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Supernatural/Leverage, demon!Dean Winchester/Eliot Spencer, a dark alley

A Few Good Men

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Again with the overly large comment fic on steroids...*headdesk* It's on my lj..

http://hawk-dancing.livejournal.com/22670.html#cutid1

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

SQUEE! Erm, sorry...

Leverage, Eliot/Nate, fallen angels

Re: Fallen angels, Leverage, Eliot/Nate

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

I hope this is okay *bites nails nervously*


Sometimes Nathan thinks he started Falling long ago, back when his son was lying in a hospital bed, dying, and there was nothing Nathan could do – no one he could turn to, human or celestial. He knows God exists – has stood in front of Him and heard His voice personally – but he thinks he lost a little faith in the almighty powers of Him when his little boy was dying and he was refused help because of the Ineffable Plan.

But in certain moments – like now, with Eliot’s wings wrapped around them both and Eliot’s mouth on his – Nathan knows that he didn’t start truly Falling until he held out his hand in greeting and Eliot’s warm, strong hand wrapped around it. He had looked into blue eyes the colour of the sky, and he had looked at lips shaped like temptation, and he had Fallen; hopelessly and helplessly in love.

Nathan knows he can’t even bring himself to regret a single moment of it, not with Eliot pressed against him like this, because how could this ever be wrong?

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Parker, guardian angel

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Yeah, bunnied myself...*headdesk*
--

“Parker, look out!”

Time seemed to slow as the rookie panicked, the gun he held pointed in the air going off, shooting out the plate glass ceiling of the night club he and Parker were currently canvassing for their latest job.

Time still thick and liquid, Eliot grabbed a hold of Parker, twisting and tucking the thief under his own body as time sped up and the deadly glass rained down on them, ready to tear them to bloody ribbons if not for the dove gray wings now spread over both of them.

Only when the loud tinkling of falling glass fell into silence did Eliot begin to relax the tight line he held over Parker. He knew without looking that the guards had taken cover in the hallway, leaving only the two of them trapped in the middle of the empty dance floor. A quick twist of his mind and the doors to the hall slammed shut and locked, giving them the few moments of privacy they would need to make their escape.

Standing up and shaking the pulverized glass from his hair (and his wings, though those were pretty much invisible to the human world) Eliot made sure none of the shards were lurking under the blue tshirt to bite him before turning to Parker and doing the same.

“You all right?”

The blond was glassy-eyed and dazed - in shock, but otherwise unharmed. “I…what happened?” The shrill voice was already an octave above that she used when she was excited about something, and heading into hysterical; if they were going to make it out before the cops broke down the door, they had to go - now.

“Come on, “ Eliot told her, holding out a hand to get her moving, coaxing, “I’ll buy you some ice cream.”

Eliot had just caught her hand and turned when she called out - “I see you!” - as if him denying it would actually excuse and make unreal what she had just seen.

Eliot turned, the tension falling from his shoulders as he smiled, nodding. “I know.”

The angel had known Parker was one of the few who could see him for what he was long ago. Now she knew it, too.

Her hand in his tightened until he stopped and turned back, where she pressed a kiss against his cheek, smiling that girlish giggle that always managed to make him smile. “My room, tonight,” she told him, leaning in close to whisper, “Get all that glass out of those pretty feathers. And other places. Thank my own personal guardian angel for saving me.”

Eliot could only chuckle, body tightening in anticipation, just as they ducked out into the sunshine out back, cops spilling into the front of the club in a clueless flood of law enforcement personnel.

Trust Parker to thank of sex as a perfectly good way of thanking an angel for saving her life. He liked the way her mind worked.

End

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Nate, redemption

Leverage, Eliot/Nate, Redemption

[noteveryday.livejournal.com]

(sorry, I know it's not exactly in the spirit of today's theme, but it came to me anyway..)


"You're not a bad guy. Not anymore." Nate had told him once. It had been a lie then, standing by the side of the stolen truck full of stolen money, watching a smiling man in a wheelchair that Eliot had only narrowly missed being years before.
The others hadn't been listening, but Eliot knew for his own good that he had to set him straight.
He hurt people. He'd told them as much on several occasions, that was what he did. He pounded people into crippled piles of flesh, or worse, for money. He Killed people. Not like the others. He could never be like the others; they simply took, inconvenienced, and slipped away. For Greed... But they never hurt anyone.
The means justified the end.
Eliot beat and maimed. And he had to admit, he enjoyed it as much as the others enjoyed what they did.

It had been a late-night talk, after some inane movie Hardison had convinced them all to watch. Nate cornered him; Apparently about some comment Eliot had let slip during the movie. Something, that had let Nate on to the inner workings of Eliot's mind, something he had regretted saying.
"You're not a bad Person." Nate had insisted.
Eliot had laughed. Nate wouldn't even smile.
"I've seen your files. I know the jobs you took. I'm fully aware of exactly what kind of person you are Eliot, and whether you like that idea or not it remains a fact." Eliot had looked away then. He knew he shouldn't have, because that was the moment Nate knew. Nate had stepped closer, brushed the hair from his eyes and whispered that soft assurance in his ear. "Just as much as you being a good person. No matter how hard you try to fight it." Nate's lips had brushed his ear just so, and for that moment, he really wanted to believe him.

"You're not a bad guy." Nate Always reminded him. Always, in the dim hours of the morning, while he was curled in the older man's arms, his head rising and falling with each of Nate's smooth breaths and listening to the calming beating rhythm of Nate's heart. Thin light would filter through the half pulled shades, the smells of sweat and sex filling the air from the night before.
And always he would chuckle, smiling where Nate couldn't see, and deny it.
It had always been a sad, empty feeling before, despite the warmth of the bed and covers and Nate all nestled close to him. But now... he was actually starting to believe him.

Soaring pride and nerve racking doubt. Every job that went well, Nate's words echoed in his head. A calming, consuming mantra that he owed the older man the world for. Cheers and kisses behind closed doors in celebration.
And the smell of liquor. Always in the background, eating away at the tentative peace he'd.. no.. They had slowly built together. He watched the hypnotic swirl of amber in that crystal glass as Nate raised it to his lips yet again, cursing and envying it. Nate's slim fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle again, pouring another glass, another wasted promise.
Nathan Ford, His love and his life, had been the one to save him from himself.
He knew it was about time he returned the favor.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Merlin, demon!Arthur/Merlin, possession

Probably not what you were expecting....

[kick-flaw.livejournal.com]

And it got totally out of control, so here's a link. ~1K.

http://community.livejournal.com/merlinxarthur/691682.html

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, a reluctant guardian angel

Re: A reluctant guardian angel, Merlin, Merlin/Arthur

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

The first time he feels it, Merlin’s already in the throne-room before he can think, apparently just in time to throw up a shield crackling with energy between Arthur sitting on his throne and a man that turns out to be a highly-paid assassin from Mordred.

The second time he’s walking back through the courtyard when he feels the tug from somewhere behind his ribcage. Arthur had been leaning against the heavy table in his chambers, and he had smirked when Merlin had taken in the complete lack of danger.

“Just testing,” Arthur says, and Merlin narrows his eyes and forgoes punching the smug git square in his face for grabbing Arthur and throwing him to the bed with a growl. They’re older, now, than they were when Merlin first tried this, and he doesn’t even need to use magic to help as long as he catches Arthur off guard.

The third time he’s ‘summoned’ by Arthur, Merlin’s in the middle of his bath. It’s really rather embarrassing to find himself in the middle of the council chamber – surrounded by the royal council, no less – stark naked and dripping wet because Arthur couldn’t remember how many weights of grain were in the stores in the village of Meadeshead.

Of course, the fourth time actually happened to be important. The day Arthur went out hunting and didn’t get into some form of trouble, Merlin just knew he was going to keel over and die of shock. As it was, he nearly died from blood loss from the chunk taken out of his leg by an over-enthusiastic wild boar’s tusk that had been about to gouge Arthur’s thigh before Merlin landed on top of him.

Arthur had been particularly apologetic about that, Merlin remembered with a fond smile.

After that he was never yanked to Arthur’s side for the little things – but he had stopped a dagger from being stabbed into Arthur’s chest and he’d been whisked from the castle to the countryside just in time to provide a soft landing when Arthur’s horse was spooked by a grass snake and threw him.

So when Merlin was just getting ready for bed one evening and felt the pull, he didn’t even think before instinctively following it and ending up in Arthur’s bedchamber.

Where there was a distinctive lack of assassins brandishing weapons, poisonous creatures or enemy sorcerers with balls of energy just waiting to be hurled.

He turned to Arthur, an insult already to be spoken, when he stopped and took in the utterly breath-taking picture of Arthur standing stark-naked and very aroused in front of him with a grin that reminded Merlin of the first time he had kissed Arthur.

“Oh,” Merlin says, and reaches for his King.

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/the team, angels of the flesh

[kavidawn.livejournal.com]

Eliot had been raised to believe in God. And he did. He believed in Heaven. He believed in Hell. He had seen enough bad in the world to even believe in demons. But angels, angels just didn’t exist. Because angels protected and guided and supported. Angels came for you. And here, now, on the brink of unconsciousness that would most likely lead to death, there were no bright lights or soft voices. There was only pain.

And then there were hands, helping him up, supporting his weight. He was being half carried and there were voices and another hand, gentle on his face, brushing his hair back out of his eyes. He heard his name but he couldn’t make his eyes open to see who was calling to him. But he knew. He knew because he may have never met the divine kind of angels, the ones with wings and promises, but he had met the other kind. Angels of the flesh. And they certainly weren’t holy but they brought good to the world in their own special way.

Then all those things began to fade away and instead of fighting it, this time Eliot welcomed the darkness. Because he knew that his team, his angels, were waiting for him on the other side.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Being Human, George/Mitchell, things that go bump in the night

Things That go Bump in the Night

[ang-the-adverse.livejournal.com]

Annie replaced her bookmark in her book and re-wrapped her fingers around her mug.

It was cold.

She had only stopped reading because the electricity was down again and she *couldn't* read, but she desperately wanted the book back. It was like a companion. A very scary, disturbing companion. But a companion just the same. Now it had left her all alone in this house with these *thoughts* left in her head.

Damn Mitchell.

"It'll be fun. Reading horror books now isn't like before, now it's like comedy."

But if anything that made it worse, like these things *could* exist.

She desperately wanted to go back to the book and see if these shadows could be got rid of. That was how books ended right? With the evil monster-thing destroyed? But . . . y'know, only if they're evil. Not like her and George and Mitchell.

There was a THUD from downstairs. Annies eyes widened just a fraction, and she curled furthur in on herself in her chair.

She wondered if the increased paranormal activity in their house might be like a beacon for others. Could evil things be brought here? Like fish on a line, reeled in by the existing not-quite-life forms.

Or maybe now the house had filled it's quota? Maybe if another *something* turned up it would just say, "No, thank you. I've allready got a ghost, a vampire and a werewolf, try number sixteen."

She hoped so.

There was a creak.

She squeaked a little into her hand which was curled around her hand.

This was silly. She's a ghost for christ's sake! Nothing should be able to hurt her! She scanned the room for George's cricket bat.

She found it, relieved, and wrapped her slightly shaking hands around the handle.

She started making her way down from her attic room.

There was another creak and she allmost fell down the last two steps, but simply *appeared* at the bottom.

She was getting good at it.

The noises were coming from Mitchells room.

She removed one hand from the bat and held firmly on to the doorknob for a moment, gathering the courage to go in.

She pushed it open fast.

The sight that met her eyes was the most reassuring that she could have ever hoped for; Mitchell and George, wrapped up in each other, with clothes all over the room. (but not, notably, all over *them*)

"Oh, thank god. I thought it was monsters."

She recieved a glassy-eyed raised eyebrow from Mitchell (they had their heads at the foot of the bed) and a,

"You *thought*?" gasped from George before she replied,

"Yes . . . well . . . I feel a lot better now . . . I'll just . . . yes."

And shut the door with yet another creak.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Doctor Who, Donna/Ten, demons not aliens

Possessed

[sagaluthien.livejournal.com]

Obs! Not betad
---

Donna thought she had learned to expect the unusual when they arrived to a new place, but this seemed to be normal and she wondered what they did there.

The Doctor didn't want to say anything, and probably he had his reasons as usual. He let her go first to explore. From the abandoned street they came to a square where suddenly it was swarming with people. Donna found it hard to get through without colliding with any of them.

She woke up not sure what had happen. Looking around recognize the Tardis and the Doctor, she questioned what had happen.

"An unfortunate thing. I didn't expect it. I'm sorry." he said.

"What? I do not remember anything. You have to explain things." Donna begged him.

"I had to erase the memory of the stop, because if not you would be affected of the people." He tried to explain.

"Were they people? Not aliens?"

"Technically they where more people, but actually most of them was demons and not aliens."

"Demons?"

"Yes, you got possessed by one..." the Doctor push some buttons and the Tardis movement changed. "If I had not fix you it could led to some bad things."

Donna was silent for a moment and then she said, "I probably say thank you."

The Doctor nodded and a smile showed for a second.

***The End***

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Heroes, angel!Mohinder/demon!Sylar, temptation

the slow decline of love (Heroes, Sylar/Mohinder, temptation)

[speccygeekgrrl.livejournal.com]

(not exactly to prompt, hope it satisfies anyway...)

"It's not like I'm handing you an apple," Gabriel said impatiently, his hand still extended. "Come on, Mohinder. I'm an archangel. I just want you to step out of Heaven with me for a little while so I can show you these leopards. They reminded me of you."

"Aren't you supposed to stay up here when you're not on business? I know I'm not allowed down..." Among the host of angels, Mohinder was the most radiant, in Gabriel's sight. He knew that what he wanted might cast them both from God's favor, but why should humans be the only ones to know affection besides that of the Almighty?

Let God see. He would, anyway. As Mohinder took his hand and Gabriel pulled him into the descent to earth, he remembered the gates of Eden, standing with his sword of fire, watching the first two humans stagger off together. History would repeat itself, even among those who should know better.

They alit in a copse, leopards lounging around unruffled by their appearance. Mohinder didn't look past Gabriel to the cats, but kept his dark eyes on the favored angel.

For what might have been the last time, Gabriel stretched his magnificent wings to their full length, and enclosed Mohinder in his embrace.

It was his shock when Mohinder (innocent, Heaven-bound Mohinder, an angel who had never known the dust and stink and glory of earth) leaned closer, rose to his toetips, and pressed his pure lips to the ones that had been promising nothing but temptation. "If you fall," he said, voice ringing and echoing like a bell between them, "I'll fall with you, Gabriel."

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

SPN, Sam/Dean, the demon inside

[saavikam77.livejournal.com]

Ooohhh... lookie what *I* found! ^_~

* * *

Sometimes when they're together, Dean wonders. Not that he really has the brain power when he and Sam are tangled together in the bed, sweating and writhing and trading endearments and bodily fluids, but part of him just can't help it. The way Sam's lips curl back from his teeth as he sucks in a breath, the way his eyes go so dark they almost seem to go black, the guttural growl he looses when he finally comes, more feral animal than human.

Is this the demon inside him? Is Yellow Eyes's legacy baring itself, naked and free? And will the demon inside Sam suddenly snap and decide to kill Dean, tear him to shreds, choke him to death?

But then Sam thrusts into him, slamming over his prostate until Dean sees stars, and he's coming so hard that any worry about the demon in his brother is lost completely. For a long time there's nothing but bliss, a euphoria so high that Dean doesn't ever want to come down. It's beautiful, perfection... nirvana.

Recovering his senses after a long while, his body loose and sated, Dean blinks at his brother. No demon could possibly show him this side of heaven.

* * *

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Matt/Mohinder, our better angels

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel/Sam, broken angel

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Sometimes he knew that he was broken, doubt had wormed its way in under his faith and corrupted it. Corrupted him.

He didn't know how to fix it.

Worse, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Especially not when they held him, three bodies rocking together in some rhythm that didn't make sense, but moved him past all the jagged edges of his brokenness and showed him a side to bliss he had never known.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Heroes, angel!Mohinder/anyone, a heavenly gift

Heroes. angel!Mohinder/Simone, a heavenly gift (yeah, idk where the pairing came from)

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

He is waiting for her when she opens her eyes.

Isaac's apartment is different. Lighter. Brighter. The clutter has been cleared and the tabletops scrubbed until they shines. "How long have I been asleep?" she asks.

The man in front of her, his skin radiant, smiles. "You're not asleep, Simone."

And it's true.

She can feel it.

There is no click of revelation, but the knowledge unravels within her chest. She nods. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

"You were shot."

"By Isaac." There's no anger. No hurt. Just acceptance. "Will they be okay?"

"They'll be fine," he promises.

She feels like she ought to know this man. "Who are you?"

His dark eyes meet hers and she thinks they're older than they look. He reaches for her hand – his skin is so warm – and helps her to her feet. "You could call me an angel."

"Is that what you are?"

"It's as close as anything else." The answer is vague but she can't press him further. He holds onto her hand still and the contact is warm and comforting. "My name is Mohinder."

She doesn't introduce herself; he already knows her name.

"What happens now?" Straight to business. She was never one to walk on eggshells when she was alive and she won't allow her death to change that.

He smiles, this beautiful creature, and leans in close to brush his lips against her cheek, a chaste kiss that steals her breath away. The contact makes her tingle and the heat of his breath on her skin is dizzying. "Whatever you want," he promises.

And Simone decides in that moment that the afterlife can't be too bad.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Heroes, devil!Sylar/anyone, your secret desire

all I really want

[speccygeekgrrl.livejournal.com]

Today was fucking weird.

Being suspended wasn't a big deal, that happens a lot. Being held hostage and having my life threatened by a very tall man with eyebrows that probably belong on a Muppet, that's a new one.

Microwaving in front of people. Killing someone.

Having someone find me who understands exactly how I feel. That might have been the weirdest part. Stealing my mother's car and taking off with the guy, that was just par for the course.

So it's half past midnight, and I'm watching him walk around the motel room we just checked into, and half the time he looks like the edgy psycho who tortured a black-ops agent in my living room. The other half of the time... he looks like I do, when I stare myself down in the mirror. Angry. Lost. Alone.

When I come out of the bathroom, he's right there, leaning against the wall with his arms and ankles crossed. His eyes are as dark as the starless sky.

"What do you want more than anything, Luke?" Self-consciously, I mirror his pose against the bathroom door, but I can't meet his eyes for longer than a glance at a time.

"I got what I want. I'm free." I shrug, and he shakes his head.

"Liar. What do you really want? Think about it."

I lick my lips nervously. He's looking at me more intently than anyone ever has. "I want." There's no way I can say this, but he lifts his eyebrows, expectant and encouraging. "I want someone to understand me."

Until his hand molds to my cheek, I don't even realize I've closed my eyes. "Close enough to the truth." He's so close that my breath bounces back at me, toothpaste-fresh, and then he smiles. "We'll see how long it takes you to really figure it out," he purrs, and kisses my forehead before he disappears into the bathroom.

Today was fucking weird, but burying my head under a motel pillow and admitting that I think I want him more than anything? That's just par for the course, I guess.

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Smallville, Lex/Clark, angels and aliens

[misura.livejournal.com]

It felt wrong, sometimes, to always be the one tempting and never the one being tempted - Clark talked to Lex about doing what was right, and making a difference for the better, and using his power for good, but Lex never replied in kind.

They talked of ordinary things whenever they met on neutral ground (which was wherever they decided it to be, really - Metropolis was big enough for the both of them, somehow, and if the city belonged to Lex, then Lex, in turn, belonged to the city just as much) yet even when they disagreed, it seemed to Clark that Lex was not so much trying to persuade Clark as he was trying to explain himself, trying to make Clark understand him.

Lex never offered him power or wealth, and the sex had always come free of strings, simply because they both knew the other wanted it as much as they wanted it themselves - if not always at quite the same time. It didn't feel right, somehow.

It left Clark worrying that Lex was just waiting for the day when he'd make Clark an offer he couldn't refuse.

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Knight Rider (new series)/The Mentalist, Michael/Patrick, guardian angels

[flariariia.livejournal.com]

Star Trek, Data/Borg Queen, sin

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Heroes, devil!Adam/Mohinder, I could give you the world.

a bit of a faust scenario

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

You've been waiting for me.

I know because I've seen you there, sitting hunched over your desk like some sort of workaholic Igor. Typing away formulas and hypotheses into the dead of night, waiting for the inspiration to come. Waiting for the Eureka moment.

What you want is not this. You want to save the world. I know. Once upon a time, so did I. Times long gone now, friend. Long gone. I'll never catch that star.

But you. What star couldn't you catch?

You want to save the world? I could give you the world to save.

As for what I ask in return...

Nothing of consequence. Merely the touch of your skin against mine. Merely the feeling of warmth as you open up to me, your eyes begging for more, your fingers curled into fists as the heat curls through you like smoke, as I take you higher and further than you've ever been, and the knowledge that by the time we are done and you have tasted both heaven and hell that your soul will belong entirely to me...

But never mind all that for now. Do we have a deal?

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Chuck, Casey/Chuck, signs that an exorcism may be required

Fic: Chuck, Casey/Chuck, signs that an exorcism may be required; PG

[aravistarkheena.livejournal.com]

Prompt: Chuck, Casey/Chuck, signs that an exorcism may be required
Rating: PG
Warnings: None

Could follow this (http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/10643.html?thread=1268371#t1268371).



Sarah glanced up from a cup of frozen yogurt to find Chuck discreetly jogging over to her. He hadn’t yet realized that slinking was actually far more obvious than simply walking up to a person and Sarah couldn’t help but find it adorable.

She smiled as he sat down at the table next to her. He distractedly shook his head no when she offered him a bite of yogurt with the wave of a hand.

“Casey and I had a little heart to heart last night in the court yard,” Chuck whispered urgently.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him.

“And?” she asked and licked her spoon.

“And I’m pretty sure that’s a sign an exorcism might be required. Do you know an old priest and a young priest by any chance?” he asked and glanced nervously over his shoulder.

“It could also be a sign that you’re growing on him,” she teased and smiled at him.

“If I’m growing on him than that’s definitely a sign that we need an exorcism,” Chuck said and Sarah laughed.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, winged!Chris/Steve, flutter

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Steve snuffles and snorts in his sleep at the touch of something brushing, soft and tickling across his shoulder. It trails up and down his arm, across over his collar-bone then his chest, teasing at one of his nipples.

He grunts and rolls over onto his side, reaching around and batting at the whatever it is as it follows him, stroking down his back. He wriggles forward, starting to wake up as a strong arm snakes around his waist, pulling him back against a warm chest; Christian's lips pressed against his throat.

He relaxes, melts back in Christian's arms and starts to slide back into sleep again, only to groan and tense as Christian's fingers dart upwards to tweak his nipples and that soft fluttering is back, dancing over his cock and balls and he's rocking into the touch, his cock growing hard.

Christian's lips are at his ear, toying with the ring piercing the lobe, urging him to open his eyes and look.

He does so, choked moan bubbling past parted lips as h looks down to see the tips of Christian's wings stroking along the length of the underside of his cock, wrapping around his balls. His breath catches in his throat and he's instantly rock hard, tensing against Christian and coming hard.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, winged!Chris/Steve, quiet

RPS, winged!Chris/Steve, quiet

[echoing-dream.livejournal.com]

(Hope I'm not treading on anyone's toes here...)

RPS, winged!Chris/Steve, quiet

It's too quiet in the house, all the lights shut out already, even though Steve knows Chris is still awake. That never bodes well. Chris hates the quiet, always feels the need to fill the space whenever Steve isn't around, keeps him from loosing himself inside his own head.

He twists the key in the lock, barely remembering to slam the door closed behind him as he begins his quiet search for Chris. One tour of the house yields nothing, and Steve's beginning to wonder if he imagined Chris's truck in the drive when the kitchen door creaks in the breeze, spilling light onto the steps outside.

Chris is hunched up, arms around his knees, wings curled protectively around himself, though they instinctively furl up and disappear as Steve approaches. He sits a few feet away from Christian, pulling a battered pack of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket and lighting one up slowly, eyes focused on the glowing tip as he inhales deep. He waits until the smoke is twining around his head before leaning over and offering the cigarette to Chris, their hands brushing lightly as Christian accepts it without speaking. His skin is freezing, but Steve knows that Chris has to do everything in his own sweet time, he knows better than to hurry.

Instead, he judges that it's safe enough to move closer, to sit close enough that he knows Chris can feel some of the heat that's coming off him, and he gets a weak smile of thanks as Chris passes the end of the cigarette back, filter still warm from his lips.

They sit still for a long while, and Steve's beginning to see why Chris hates the quiet so much, when a soft rustling distracts him. It takes a lot of effort not to move, and still a little more not to flinch as feathers move tentatively against his back, slowly wrapping around him until they can gaze over his shoulder.

Chris shuffles closer and draws the other wing in until the two of them are shrouded by the feathers. His head drops to Steve's shoulder and Steve reaches up to stroke the tip of the wing that isn't wrapped around him, feathers ruffling as he smoothes them down. Chris presses closer and Steve reaches up, turning Chris's head just a little so he can kiss him gently, tasting salt tears on Chris's lips as the wings tighten around him, drawing him closer.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

I HATE YOU! just so we're clear, like ;)

RPS, vampire!Steve/Christian, once bitten

[havenward.livejournal.com]

::smishes you to bits::

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

RPS, succubus!Steve/Christian, faithful

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

There are different levels of faithful, a fact most mortals can not begin to comprehend.

His Steven is more devoted and faithful than any church-bound couple can be, even as he writhes on the floor, at times barely visible for the flesh that surrounds him. His eyes open, seek Christian out and all that devotion is there to be read in their blue depths.

He moans, and the scent of him lifts on the air. Sweat, sex, desire...Christian growls, feeling the need rise...to taste the dark, rich flavor of his blood, to lick the sex offerings of these men who worship at his altar from his skin before pressing Steven to his back and taking in the gift he holds for Christian, for his master.

He steps from the wall and the men fall away, vanish from his sight though they may fall but feet away. Nothing exists in this moment but his mate, his boy, his Steven.

Those eyes are impossibly blue, impossibly wide, filled up with need, desire, devotion and it is so beautiful it is nearly painful. Christian tangles a hand in his messy, sweaty hair, pulling his mouth up and closing his own over it, sucking in the taste of come and when his teeth scrape over Steven's tongue, the sharp tang of copper teases him, awakens the craving.

Steven is pliant and loose in his hands, moaning as Christian's tongue finds the tender spot where throat and shoulder meet, biting down for the flood of heat, the rush of taste...and it isn't enough, not nearly enough...he leaves bloody kisses down Steven's chest as he presses him back to the floor, swirls his tongue over straining cock and swallows him deep.

And as he releases the cock ring, a deeper taste fills him, earthier, stronger, the life force that sustains him. As Steven fades into unconscious, his eyes closing softly, Christian knows that this is his faithfulness, that he will always need Steven, always come to Steven...until the day he must let Steven go.