One good Turn...
Ok, so here is the birthday fic I promised Aslynn and with her permission I'm posting it here. I know I don't like changing anything in the Darksiders Universe but I had to tweak some things to make this work. Please don't kill me. (goes and hides under the blankets. Holds up sign.) Happy Birthday!
I Hope you like it.
The Watcher was starting to get on Azrael's nerves. The creature was muttering as he constantly hovered back and forth in one place. If he had legs Azrael was sure the Watcher would have worn a path at least a foot deep into the ground. Azrael turned his gaze back to where War set off to seek the tree of Knowledge. He too was starting to worry, anxiety forming in the pit of his stomach.
"That does it. Go see what's taking the Horseman so long!" The Watcher turned to Azrael from the edge of the bridge, his six eyes blinking in unison, before fluttering over to stare the angel in the face.
"Afraid to go see yourself darkling." Azrael couldn't stop the smug look on his face as the Watcher stuttered, cursing him and all angels in general.
"I'd be careful If I were you feather brain or I'll be sure to mention every little tidbit about this to the Council as well. Hiding Eden where only yourself could access it...doesn't look good on your part." If the Watcher had a mouth he would be grinning at Azrael's discomfort. Chuckling he crossed his arms daring the angel to try and think of a come back.
"And much unlike yourself, I am prepared for any punishment that is to be given to me. But if it will ease your worry, then far be it from me to deny such a request." Turning away before the Watcher could even sputter a reply, Azrael crossed the broken bridge glad to be away from the creature.
He was sure War was taking his time as well, glad to be away from the Watcher for any brief amount of time. He remembered when they first entered Eden, Azrael explaining to them everything that transpired after Abaddon became the Destroyer, even how he was able to hide Eden from everyone. He took in how the Red Rider was shackled to the Watcher, forced on his knees and reprimanded. It sickened him to think that one of the feared Four was to be treated no different than a common monster. It was after all his fault as well that War was in this predicament.
As he made his way along the path to the tree Azrael looked around the area. He watched as the pieces of the once beautiful garden floated about in ruin. Small patches of the garden were still clinging to life, their soil still fertile from a most absence source. He cringed remembering long ago when he fought against a common enemy with the Horsemen, that once tried to breach the gates of Eden.
Yes he remembered how Death had reacted to the news of someone disturbing the resting place of the Nephilim, their remains hidden far underneath Eden's soil. Though he seemed calm to those who did not know him, both Azrael and Abaddon could see the rage burning in those orange eyes. He shuddered at the memory, trying to think of the present matter instead. It was difficult at times knowing that Eden was being held together by the remains of the slaughtered race.
He watched as a leaf fluttered to the ground, its golden hue graying around the curled edges. A strong breeze blew a small pile through the air. He watched as they danced against the dull sky until a strong gust scattering them in different directions. Azrael stopped than, his chest tightening at the state of the once lush gift that would be given to mankind by The Creator. No longer able to stand the sight before him, Azrael rushed to find War. Maybe the Red Rider could take his mind off these thoughts.
He found him, sitting by a large flat rock near a pond created by one of the remaining waterfalls. The Mask of Shadows was by his left side, Chaoseater for once not strapped to his back, lay behind him the blade looking even more menacing when not in combat. But it wasn't that that had Azrael staring in a stupor. No it was in fact that War was minus his red cloak and armor, a look of deep concentration on his usual serious face. His snowy white hair was a mess, falling over broad shoulders, ruffled every now and then by the breeze.
"War?" Said Rider turned his head to stare at the angel. A chill went right through him as the icy gaze seem to scan every inch of his being. "Is everything alright?"
Still nothing, just that stare. A few more minutes past, Azrael felt his wings start to twitch and his palms secured in his sleeves tightened around the fabric. His stomach began to churn, mouth gone dry and even his toes seemed to be effected by the stare. Lowering himself down to the fading grass he was about to speak when War cut him off.
"You knew."
Azrael looked down in shame, knowing what War was referring to. Sighing, he stepped forward, towards the edge of the pond only a few feet away from them. His mind was going a mile a minute, trying to focus on what he could say to the other, not in defense but to at least explain his actions.
"Where to begin, there is much to tell. I'm sure, no, you of all deserve the truth."
"Truth? The truth will not help any of us now. I am sure many will hide it, even the Council, from history to save face from these...mistakes. What I demand to know Azrael, is why someone as yourself fell for such a fool's scheme. Did you honestly believe it would work in Heaven's favor, in yours?"
Azrael looked down at his own reflection on the water's surface. The smile on his face was one of utter defeat and irony, barely recognizing himself anymore. The person staring back at him only a mere shadow of the person he once was.
"You're starting to sound more like Death." Looking back he notice War briefly look away from the comment a grunt of acknowledgment his only answer. Turning around Azrael once more waited for any more accusations but was greeted with more silence.
"You loved him, still do if I'm not mistaken. Can you tell me that somewhere in there the Abaddon you once knew still lives?" War leaned forward one arm resting on a bent knee, his eyes though seemed to be looking beyond the angel.
Azrael stopped to think before he answered. Eyes closed he thought back to when this all began for him. It wasn't when Abaddon perished by Straga or became the Destroyer. No not even when he was convinced to break the seals in the early plot against Hell.
To many it might have seemed like eons but to him it was more of a blink in time. It was in his youth walking late at night around in one of Heaven's unfinished library, nose stuck in an ancient text, Azrael didn't even noticed where he was going or who was calling out to him. A strong hand grasped his wrist pulling him against a warm and firm body. The crash that echoed in the empty level, a beam of marble crumbling where he would have stood, would have normally alerted the other scribes if it wasn't for the late hour.
Scroll clutched to his heaving chest Azrael didn't even hear the question directed towards him. Looking up as the voice was louder this time Azrael felt himself freeze. Staring back at him was one of the most beautiful faces he had ever seen before. Platinum hair pulled back in a tight ponytail a strong face filled with concern. Long ivory wings settled over his body guarding him from any debris that continued to settle around them. It may have been Abaddon's looks that startled him but when the General smiled at him in relief at his safety, it had done Azrael in.
From that time on the two had become close friends. Abaddon would visit him in his study, the two talking or meeting for lunch every now and then. Later in the years, when a strategy would not work out as planed it was Azrael's council he turned to. And when the two were waging battle against the Nephilim's failed attempt at breaching Eden Abaddon was never far from the scholar's side.
It was after that battle, after when the Horsemen left and the dead taken care of that Abaddon sought him out, remembering that Azrael even though most likely exhausted as well from the battle would be documenting all that had happened. It wasn't training and preparation that helped him persevere one of the longest battle in his lifetime but fear. Fear that he would not see Azrael once more, fear the other would not know the truth behind his enjoyment at the others presence in his daily routine. Giving his final orders to the remaining Hellgaurd, Abaddon left with only one certain piece of unfinished business in mind.
Azrael was tending to his own wounds back in the newly finished study of the Crystal Spire. He had left to document all that had transpired when there was a knock on his door, the other not waiting for a response, Abaddon entering the room. Azrael was glad to see the other safe, relief running through him. The same was not for Abaddon.
He was use to seeing what the outcome of battle had on his fellow Hellguard. but to see the same effects on the being before him. To Abaddon it made his blood boil and seethe. The scholar's left hand was daintily wrapped, a large blotch of blood staining the palm. His face had a few bruises and nicks along the right side of his face. A large ugly bruise marked his forehead, covering most of the glyph he was use to seeing. The once brilliant wings were covered in dirt and drooped down low dragging the tips along the tile floor. Azrael was caught off guard at the murderous look on his friend's face. Getting up he couldn't help the wince as his right wing hit the wall, jarring it from it's restful spot.
Before he could even apologize for the wait a warm body embraced him. It was only seconds later that he was cocooned in the large wings, soft as he had imagined. He was use to Abaddon over reacting on behalf of his safety He secretly enjoyed the other constantly by his side. Not sure what had possessed him, Azrael reached out with his good hand running it along the snowy white feather, feeling the strength even in something so fragile. Snapping out of the strange trance he was in, he once more began to apologize only to have a pair of warm and firm lips descend on his own. He tried to struggle but the battle had taken much of his strength and left him weary.
And in all honestly he didn't want it to stop. For so long he had imagined what his dear friend's warmth felt like, dreamed about it as well, since their first encounter long ago. The constant touches, a hand on the shoulder, a whispered breath or lingered stare. It took all of Azrael's patience and self control not to give in to the needs of his body. The General had so many loyal followers, praising him and his selfless deeds. What was he but a mere scholar compared to one of Heaven's greatest champions.
Pulling away for his lungs to claim air, Azrael staggered back sitting on the top of his desk. His injured hand traced his still burning lips. He looked up to Abaddon, a look of rejection on the tired face. Eyes cast down and wings folding behind him, the general muttered an apology moving towards the door. Azrael felt his heart plummet, and ice invade his innards. Abaddon most have mistaken his shock for disgust. But was he really ready for this? Was he willing to risk everything they had shared in the years to take this final step and accept what the other was offering him?
A warm body collided with his armored one. Abaddon turned around, his face coming into contact with bruised flesh. Azrael's eyes stared into his own, a warmth in them he thought he only imagined. Shaky hands wrapped around the armored waist. Weary wings covered them both concealing them from the outside world. Using what little magic he had left, Azrael levitated off the ground pulling them back to sit on the desk.
Abaddon leaned his head back resting it on the lean but strong shoulder. He could feel the lean muscles of the scholar even through the elegant robes he wore. Most thought Azrael as only a paper pusher, easily forgetting that no one in Heaven could match his mystic arcane. The injured hand reached up to his face tracing along his jaw down to his chin, fingertips playing through the tangled goatee. His reached to gently pull the banged hand towards his mouth, placing an open kiss on the injury. He moved his right hand further up lightly grasping the slim wrist. Abaddon turned around in the embrace body settling between Azrael's legs. The scholar blushed feeling the heat even through the armor, his own body reacting to the barest of friction. Being careful of the bruises, Abaddon smiled, cupping the blushing face in his hands. His thumb traced the cheekbone once more careful of the tender flesh.
Azrael covered Abaddon's hand with his own, locking their fingers together. His injured hand moved down resting on the small open space between the body armor and hip plate.(1) Leaning down Azrael was careful when he touched his forehead to Abaddon's. The two just stayed like that for a few more minutes, wrapping the idea of what was happening. Steeling his nerves before his sense's changed his mind, Azrael moved in claiming the dry lips with his own.
That night was the start of something neither of the two could have imagined. It was utter bliss and total madness. Days when conflict and duty would test their relationship. Over the centuries there were whispered rumors and strange glances from jealous rivals. The two never let those ugly lies get between them, but as time went by Abaddon seemed to drift further away from him. His battles with Hell's legions and Heaven's lack in action against them seemed to weigh heavy on his conscious.
Azrael worried what was happening to his lover, Abaddon seemed to be throwing himself deeper into overthrowing Hell. Abaddon was at his wits end at times, thinking that Azrael was siding with the rest of Heaven. The accusations were painful but he understood where Abaddon was coming from. Though not a stranger to battles himself, Azrael did not have the same experience that Abaddon had. The loss of his brother's in arms and the mockery that some of them faced from the higher ranks in society were much like a slap in the face.
The final straw to their relationship was the mess with the Abominations. Abaddon was worried and furious when he learned of Azrael's further involvement in the mission. As much as they loved for each other it seemed that Abaddon, for all his words and actions of understanding, still thought Azrael was foolish to trust the Horsemen and Charred Council. Abaddon tried to reason with him, to make him see that it was only out of concern that he would rather have the other stay safe in Heaven or by his side. Azrael was hurt more by this lack of trust then if they separated. He asked if Abaddon could love him even if were no longer together. That stopped the general in his track, the one real eye wide, mouth barely open and wings stiff. The candlelight gleamed off the gold relic eye patch that replaced his real one when Affliction wounded him. Guilt still haunted him to this day that even his powers could not stop the venom from causing permanent damage. The silence lingered between them, the ticking of a clock the only sound.
At long last Abaddon sighed his body moving to sit down next to his lover. His body seemed to sag, head bowed down and his wings crushed between the chair and his back. Azrael moved closer hand reaching to lift up the somber face. He could see the hurt and pain but also the truth in that beautiful face. Azrael tried to reassure the other, his friend, his lover, his comrade in arms, that even they were not to be together he would never turn the other away if he was ever in need of him.
In their last night together as lover's, the two made a pact, that no matter what, they would always be there for one another, through the good and the bad, they would never let the other fall.
Looking back at that now, Azrael closed his eyes guilt once more consuming him. He had failed Abaddon, failed to reason with him against breaking the seals, against the mad scheme to lure Hell's armies to Earth, but his ultimate failure: all the innocents that were harmed in the process. And War, the Red Rider was used as a scapegoat by the same Council he swore to serve in upholding the balance. Turning to look back at said Rider, Azrael jumped back when the other was standing right behind him.
War had been watching Azrael, the other lost in memories of the past. Letting Azrael come up with his reasons, War stood up his left arm thumping the side of his leg. Lifting it up to his face he traced every inch of the clawed hand with his sight. He flexed the metal fingers feeling Death's arcane magic running through the metal all the way to where it melded with his flesh. The earlier mention of his older brother sent a shiver of...something through his body. He remembered hearing his brother's voice echo in his imprisoned mind, reassuring him of his innocents, stating that nothing in creation would stop him from proving it. War felt the same reassuring grin on his face whenever he remembered those words. From what the tree had showed him there was a slim chance that he would never see the others again. If this was to be the case, he had only one regret. He turned to look at Azrael once more, his legs carrying him to stand right behind the angel.
* Death. In all these times, brother, even when you are not here physically you still find some way to aid me.* Clutching his gauntlet War narrowed his eyes looking past the angel into the graying sky. * I will survive this, no matter what. And then brother, we shall speak of more important matters. Ones that concern the two of us.*
War watched as Azrael jumped back at his close proximity The wide ivory eyes looked off to the side still unsure of what to say. War was getting tired of the silence between them about to try something drastic just to hear the others voice.
"He is War. Believe what you may but Abaddon has his reasons for what he has done, though you may not agree with his choices. We both wanted an end to this madness." Turning to look at the Horseman Azrael was not prepared for the next course of action. War's left hand lashed out grabbing the collar of his robe dragging him close to the infuriated face of the Rider.
"What nonsense are you sprouting out!? Was the fall of the third kingdom also part of your mad scheme? Was my involvement nothing more than just another move as a pawn in this game between Heaven and Hell! Answer me Angel of Death!" War was seething now he was trying hard not to throttle the one angel that not only Death had deemed trustworthy but he as well in any circumstance.
"Of course not. I told you we dare not involve the four but even we did not for see that our plan was known by the enemy or the Council for that matter. Especially not for you to end up like this." Azrael was gripping the metal limb trying to get a little bit of space between the two of them. He was startled that War would touch him, sure that the other was disgusted by his betrayal. Trying to steady his breathing and his racing heart he looked into those gleaming eyes.
"He came to me once in the tower, not as the beast you've seen but fallen none the less. He told me of his choice, his reasons for it."
"And what reasons were they that he would choose damning himself in service to Hell than facing the consequence of his actions?" For a moment War thought he saw a lifting of the grim lips, a humorless smile on the angelic face. War felt his stomach churn at the same reasons he was contemplating earlier by his seat on the grass.
"As I mentioned before, the universe is sick. We thought by luring Hell into a false summoning, that we could for once end this madness. A madness that weighed down even the most dedicated of Heaven. Abaddon could not stall any longer. Heaven refused to listen, to act when Abaddon himself stood before our people. They mocked him, belittled him. In a way, becoming the Destroyer was his way of showing Heaven their faults, to teach them a lesson so to speak. It was his way..."
"...to find peace. Even if it meant becoming all of creations enemy, my enemy. A fitting end for one such as himself. That damn fool." (2) War lowered Azrael to the ground turning away from the angel, his head buzzing with this new information.
Azrael dared not move at the moment, his clothes still clutched in the Horseman's gauntlet. He could feel the arcane magic flowing through the metallic limb, a resemblance to Death's own kind. He looked closely at the markings, the sharp metal knuckles brushing the skin of his throat. The red glow pulsed throughout the armor's spacing leading up to a skull shaped medallion rooted further onto the forearm. His sight traveled up to the muscular arm to where metal met flesh. There was no scar or blemish where the two fused making it look simply that the gauntlet could be easily removed.
Azrael reached up to place his hand on the gauntlet surprised to feel how warm it was. The sudden action caught War's attention, his eyebrow arching upward in a questioning manner. He watched as Azrael's finger's traced the edge, the tips washed in color by the medallion's power as they dipped into the grooves. Azrael shivered as he felt the energy travel from his fingertips all the way up to his arm.
War blinked at the sight unfurling before him. He watched as Azrael's hand traced his gauntlet, could even feel the power throb at the others touch. What he didn't expect to see was the faint glow of light coming from underneath the sleeve of the elegant robe and stop at the left side of his face. It cast the angel's weary face in a soft light, melting away the taunt lines. His hand reached out, fingers tracing the glyph on Azrael's face. He was surprised at how soft and smooth the skin was. The power emanating just from that small area tingled the skin of his fingertips. Pulling back he watched the light blue waves of energy dance between his fingers disappearing after a few seconds.
As the light seemed to fade so did Azrael's nerve. About to move away he was pulled forward, strong arms trapping his wings against his back and a warm body firmly pressed along his own. About to protest his mouth was devoured by dry yet warm lips. To shocked to do anything Azrael just stood there, his thoughts crashing into each other. It was the need for air that forced Azrael to push against the muscular chest breaking the kiss. War watched as Azrael took long deep breath's his hand covering his mouth eyes wide in surprised.(3)
"Have you gone mad yourself? Or is this a means of punishment?" Azrael left his wings twitch from the hand that moved in between the feather's, warmth from the soft caress traveling to every tip.
War mentally sighed not really thinking he would have to explain to the other what he was doing. It did upset him that Azrael would even consider that he would use this opportunity to exact revenge on him. Stepping back he moved them until he once more reached the rock he was found by. Not once did Azrael try and pull away or fight him. He did however get a nervous look and blush when War sat the angel on his lap as he seated himself on the moss covered stone. His normal hand move to rest on the slim hip his thumb brushing along the soft material of the robes.
"This is no means for punishment Azrael nor as you seem to think that madness has claimed my mind." War leaned closer to the angel's face placing a gently kiss on corner of his lips. "Have you considered, Azrael that this may very well be our last days? Even if I should fall, I will see Abaddon defeated in battle. It is the least I can do. As for my actions toward you." At this War did stop to look at the other. He couldn't lie and say that Azrael wasn't attractive. The angel was beautiful in his own ways, from the platinum hair to elegant wing, and quick wit he was a being that even the Creator would be proud of. This was the one angel throughout the eons that he knew he could trust not to mock him in this sort of situation..
"It's Death isn't it." War froze wondering what had given him away. He had always been careful around others besides Fury and Strife when it came to the eldest. Sighing in recognition War didn't know if he could say anything to deny what the other stated.
"Am I that obvious?"
"Obvious is hardly the word I would describe you with. If it is of any consultation, most conversation I have had with Death tend to revolve around you, even by the faintest resemblance of what we were previously discussing." Azrael felt a bit more relaxed at the turn of the conversation. War grunted his gauntlet sliding to rest on the small of Azrael's back shaking his head.
"My brother is difficult to read at time, for as long as I have been by his side when permitted. At our service to the council he took every chance he could to separate himself from us, from me. I can see now why that is. I've seen the disappointment in his eyes, in his voi..." War would have continued if Azrael hadn't slap a hand over his mouth, his eyes bc lazing.
Azrael cursed in his mind at the Rider seated before him and at Death. He knew of Death's feelings for the young rider, the two had spent countless times together and Azrael was use to the Reaper's behavior. When he learned the truth of the separation of War's arm, he could feel the self loathing roll off in waves from Death's nearly stoic body. It was his stubborn pride and own fears that held him at a distance from the others. Death had felt that his younger brethren were better off with out him, old enough to no longer need him as their keeper. A tool only needed when nothing else would do. Azrael did not hold back when repeating this to War, hoping it would clear a few misunderstandings.
He saw the look transform on the Red Rider's face from indifference to horror and anger. War's stomach churned finding out what his brother really thought the others viewed him as. He wanted to deny it but as he thought back he felt his left arm curl tighter around Azrael's back, the fingertips prodding the muscles nearly ripping through the clothing.
It was was during their earlier times when he and the others had just recently joined he Charred Council. It was that one time he went wild, looking for any challenge in some strange realm that(4) could have cost him his sister's life. One moment he watched as Fury's face widen in surprised then replaced with the built of Death's body. He watched in shock as the tip of his blade plunge into his brother's chest the orange eyes burning behind that damn mask. The feel of Harvester's blade was nothing to the words his brother uttered to him that day.
Even after that, Death had taken War to a near by cave where he had constructed a makeshift workbench with a fire burning at the back. Nothing was said as War sat down and Death set to work. It was a few days later when they emerged from the cave did Death turn to him. His brother pinned him to the side of the wall one hand grasping the body armor, the other tearing off his mask. War felt his mouth go dry nearly forgetting what his brother had looked like behind the mask. Death's voice was harsh even lower then normal when he warned War of his actions.
"Never force my hand like that again!"
War leaned forward, resting his head against Azrael's shoulder. What the angel was telling him now was putting things in new perceptive for him. He felt Azrael wrap his arms around his waist the warm finger tips trailing up his back only to stop at the shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath he moved his head away from the armored piece. He moved his hand to cup Azrael's face brushing away a loose strand of hair. About to get up he looked puzzled when Azrael moved him back down. He moved his own hand to cover War's bringing his face closer to the Horseman.
"I may not be the one you truly seek War, but it seems we have both been dealt a heavy hand in this, you more than I. And you are correct that this may be the very last days we see. But I would not mind spending these final moments in your care, if you would have it." Azrael could feel his heart hammer in his chest, not sure what had come over him at first. But since speaking to War and realizing his own past choices that brought him to this very situation he would not turn away from it, leaving the other to bear it alone. Never at that moment had he seen such a beautiful sight as the smile that bloomed on War's face.
War couldn't stop the smile spreading on his face. He moved in capturing the soft lips with his own, savoring the sweet taste of the angel. His gauntlet trailed up the strong back moving between the wings to the golden arch. He moved to where it was anchored on the armored shoulder pads. He lifted them both away from the broad shoulders, careful of the wings, to let it fall to the ground. Azrael leaned back reaching behind him to free his wings from the upper part of the robe. He noticed the look of relief on War's face with the unfamiliar piece of clothing. He let the heavy cloth pool around his waist a sudden wave of apprehensive filling him. That was gone as soon as War's arms drew him against the warm chest, a shiver running through him.
War nuzzled the side of Azrael's face placing a few kisses on the elegant neck moving up toward the ear. He made sure to be careful when he used his gauntlet to push the robe off so that he wouldn't accidentally tear the clothing. Azrael moved his head to the side recapturing War's lips in a hungry kiss, letting the other know that he was not afraid of seeing the other in his own way. The two battled with tongue and teeth, hands hardly staying idle, roaming over heated flesh. Azrael moaned into the eager mouth the heavy weight of the gauntlet a constant reminder of the power in just that one hand. He twisted his body settling it between War's legs, pulling away in surprise at the bulge pressing against his stomach. Looking down his mouth felt like a desert at the shear size pressing against the front of the armored pants. (5) Not even waiting he trailed just a finger along the length adding another at the encouraging moan.
War thrust his hips against the teasing hand, moving back to gain more room on the rock. He leaned back on his elbows, lifting his hips up. He bit his tongue when the hand removed itself from his aching cock, already missing the playful touch. He sucked in a breath when those hands slowly undid the buckle of his belt, fingers pulling at the loops. War groaned as the hand moved the material of his pants slowly over his aching erection, the friction only igniting his desire.
Azrael didn't know what was making him more lightheaded, the act of engaging in these pleasurable actions with one of the Four or that it was he himself causing such desire from the one beneath him. Every inch of exposed skin looked like it was chiseled by a master artist. The lightly tanned skin was firm and warm to the touch, the muscles well defined in every aspect of the Nephilim's form. Azrael was finding it hard to breath, the pants falling from numb hands. His knees felt weak his only saving grace was that he was now leaning against the rock and not falling backwards off it. Once more he reached out grasping the heated flesh in one hand. Every so slowly he moved his hand along the shaft, applying a bit of pressure every now and then as he reached the leaking red tip. Azrael couldn't stop himself, the air around him was suffocating his mind was in a haze. He lowered his head down to the weeping tip licking dry lips in anticipation.
And he was not disappointed. He nibbled around the tip, tongue claiming every bit of pre cum flowing out. The taste was addicting, almost if he was tasting the heated essence of the Nephilim himself, the very mixture that created him. Azrael moved lower trying to take in as much as he could. The moans of pleasure spurred him on, adding his hands to help when he couldn't take anymore in. He stroked the heated length in one hand the other cupping the heavy balls, lightly tugging on the skin.
War watched from hooded eyes as the angel's head bobbed up and down on his cock. There was never really any time for such foreplay when he was with anyone other then Fury or Strife. The two would help him when the need was to great for him or he not could find a suitable partner ...well one that wouldn't try to kill him after or during the sex. Here with Azrael he could trust the other to fulfill both their needs and desire. War frowned for a moment realizing while he was enjoying this he was never one to just sit back while the other did all the work. He sat up grasping the back of Azrael's head, making sure to grip the platinum locks through his fingers. Trying to control his own heavy breathing he pulled the talented mouth off him watching the face fall in on itself. Smiling at the confused face he pulled the eager body on top of his own, rolling his hips against the angel's still clothed one. He devoured ever breathless moan and plea as he felt around the slender hips for the sash keeping the pants from his prize.
Azrael moved War's hand away tearing at the strip of cloth and helping the other remove the offending piece off. He shivered as a gust of wind blew against his back sending a cold chill through him. Taking notice of this War wasted no time in flipping then into a new position. Reaching down he grabbed his red cloak from the ground folding it and placing it as a pillow between Azrael's shoulder blades and head. Careful of the wings he lowered the angel onto the rock. War looked down at the panting creature, a thin sheen of sweat covering the lean body, eyes half opened on a flushed face and that damn glyph pulsing once more, calling to him.
War moved to kneel between the spread legs careful though not to put any pressure on the straining erection. He traced the odd shape rune with his lips feeling the same energy from before. He trailed this lips down nipping the soft skin down to the taunt neck. War could feel the blood flowing beneath the warm skin, pulsing in the angel's veins. He traced the strong column with the tip of his tongue teeth latching onto the Adam's apple. He made sure to mark the area well just in case they did survive this Azrael would have something to remember him by. A clank against his gauntlet caught his attention. The two looked to where the noise sounded from seeing a crystal vessle filled with a green substance. Moving it to the side for later use, War returned to the body beneath his.
Azrael arched his back at the new sensation his body was feeling. Heat was rolling off War's body seeping into his own skin warming his body in a way he never imagined. He nearly came undone when he felt War press their lower bodies together. Azrael hooked his legs around War's waist as they began to thrust against each other. He felt War lift his hips settling him on his lap. He turned his head to the side hearing the sound of crystal breaking. War had used his index finger of his gauntlet to pierce the crystal, the green liquid trickling out.
He watched War pour the liquid onto his other hand rubbing it between his fingers. Azrael tried to relax when he felt the blunt finger circle his entrance. He moved his arms around War's neck when said Rider leaned down to kiss him hoping to distract him from any pain. Azrael was startled out of the kiss when he felt the warm steel around his cock. Any sound or words he might have spoken in protest were muted by War's tongue filling his mouth.
That was all the distraction War needed to push his finger further into the tight ring of muscle. He waited a few seconds before pushing up past the second knuckle in feeling for that certain spot...
"WAR!"
War grinned at the husky scream. Wings spread out reaching further off the rock, the glyphs on Azrael's wings began to glow brightly. The blue light traveled all over his body in waves of energy. If War wasn't already preoccupied in watching for signs of pain he would have noticed more runes appearing where the lights stopped on the angel's body. Instead he pushed in a second finger using a scissoring motion to help stretch the tight passage. As much as he didn't want to cause any pain to the angel War knew that was not avoidable. Just to make sure he added a third finger.
"War, please. I...don't..." Azrael could barely think straight let alone form a coherent sentence. His body was caught between pain and pleasure and they haven't gotten to the good part yet. The constant teasing the other was putting him through was boarder line torturous yet he never would imagined War would take his time to prepare him for what would most likely would be a more painful experience. If he was honest with himself he actually enjoyed the beginning of this odd coupling. Never in all his eons would he have imagined War, Red Rider of the Apocalypse, could be so gentle.
*And I would prefer to keep it that way my angel. *
Azrael looked around wondering where the voice had come form. He felt War lean his forehead onto his own lips descending to claim his once more. The kiss was gently and light just skin on skin just as it had been earlier. He could feel the moan rumble through War's chest against his own. Trying to figure out what was happening he felt his a wet substance poured onto his hand. Not even breaking the kiss Azrael slowly sat up, hand reaching to slather the remaining liquid on War's length. He moved his hand slowly up the shaft teasing the weeping tip once more. He thumbed the slit feeling a different liquid coating his hand. Azrael could feel his own cock throb with need but tried to hold off on pleasuring himself.
War moved the hand away when he felt the hand start to tremble and the one grasping his back was digging nails into his flesh. He reached down grabbing the firm globes in his hands once more careful of the left one. Not taking his eyes off the other, he watched as he felt the tip of his cock pressed against the tight entrance. He thrust further up feeling the head slid in before he was met with resistance. Before he could even tell the other to relax he felt the body above him ease down then up again. Without warning Azrael sank down about half way before stopping to get use to the feeling. The two repeated the same action taking their time until War was fully sheathed inside Azrael. The scholar's breathing was coming out in short gasps, the sensation one he had missed in the centuries. He tightened his grip around War's shoulder when he felt the other start to pull out.
War eased himself out until only the tip was left in before thrusting back in. He felt Azrael lean back War following so that he was once again on the makeshift pillow. The pace was slow and steady, Azrael meeting War thrust for thrust, legs wrapped tightly around the muscular waist.
"Creator' s Azrael...so tight." War moan, cursing everything. It had been longer than a hundred years since he last laid with someone. He could feel the pressure already building threatening to end this too soon. He looked down at the archangel, the other not that far behind him. The angel was beautiful like this, face flushed, hair clinging further down along his neck and shoulders, begging for more. And more was what he would receive. War took hold of Azrael's hand trailing it down the heaving chest. Their joined hands smeared the sweat around the flat stomach circling the bellybutton. Azrael felt his body jerk at the firm touch, his hips snapping down causing War to hit that sweet spot in shorter thrusts.
He cried out War's name when he felt their joined hands cover his neglected shaft. War moved their hands to a faster pace wanting to see the angel come undone. It was close now, the trembling body beneath him begging for release, for completion. War did just that the rhythm picking up with the sound of skin slapping against skin. He continued to pound into the body beneath him, his hand leaving the other to grab at the slim waist.
"Cum for me my angel." The words were whispered into his ear, soft and endearing. Azrael felt his heart constrict feeling the truth behind those words.(6) He felt tears sting the corner of his eyes a few escaping down his cheek. They were caught by a skillful hand the other by warm lips. Azrael couldn't hold back from all the sensation. With a final shout of War's name he felt himself let go, streams of cum erupting from his cock, coating his hand and their chest.
War was once more caught off guard at the sheer beauty this being possessed. Wings closed around him cocooning him in soft feathers and arcane magic that raced along his body. He felt the muscles clamp down on his cock, his own orgasm release into the body beneath him. He felt his body slow down never taking his eyes of the blissful face below his. Azrael moved his face against the metal hand nuzzling the familiar warmth, showering it lazy kisses.
"Continue on like that and we shall never leave here." War flinched at those words seeing the other cast his gaze away. Sighing he embraced the angel trying to come up with something to say. War didn't know how long he laid there, his tired mind trying to assure the other of his intentions.
"Thank you." War looked into the sleepy eyes not sure what the other had to be thanking him for. "This was more than I could have asked for. More than even forgiveness. I guess being in solitude for so long I was blinded by what I wanted to see and not what I should have seen." War nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything else that may insult the intimate moment they just shared.
Time past as they just shared the warm embrace a few kisses and fleeting touches. War wrinkled his nose at the sudden smell they were giving off. Carrying the tired angel in his arms War walked right into the pond, the water reaching up to his waist. He moved them closer to the cascading waterfall helping to wash any dirt from Azrael's wings and body. Clean as they could get the two began to dress again, War helping place the shoulder pads on allowing the golden arch to once more attach itself behind him. Placing his own hood back on War placed a final kiss on those swollen lips. Breaking away he leaned down picking something from behind Chaoseater.
Azrael looked surprised at the hilt of the broken sword, knowing the fallen blade anywhere. War turned to him simply nodding back the way they came. Levitating off the ground Azrael followed the Rider as they made their way back to the entrance...and the Watcher.
"Perhaps," War muttered as they neared their destination. "should all turn out in our favor and our demise is with held, we may seek each other in the future. I would rather not have this as a repeat performance of this magnitude if you find yourself in such solitude that you should become...misguided by another." Azrael didn't know how he stumbled while in the air but he did. War had to grab onto him to steady him. Again the Horseman had surprised him by his words and actions. War just grinned moving to place the Mask of Shadows on his face, hiding the smug look from the Watcher. Azrael felt it then, blooming in his chest trying hard not to draw suspicion from the Council's pet. It seemed all was not lost. For the first time, he felt that he could make up for his past mistakes. And here today it began, with just a single understanding from the one person he thought he wronged the most. Fate seemed to work in very strange ways but he would not question it. Instead he would take the offer given to him and see where it lead to. Who knows, maybe one day he will find a new place among Creation.
~END~
Ok! I hope that answers some of the questions everyone had and that you all enjoy it as well. Again you can also thank Aslynn for the creation of this fic.
1. No idea what that part of the armor is called.
2.I have to admit, even though Abaddon seems like a jerk, I get the feeling even in the comic and the game he was only trying to do the right thing even though, like always, this sort of action tends to back fire. Yes there were consequences for these action, especially from the Council. But I guess he saw it as pay back or more to the point of telling people to wake up and smell the coffee. After eons of dealing with such carnage in the front lines unlike some of Heaven's officials that just sit back and are spectators, how is someone suppose to react. A somewhat good plan but executed poorly. I just wonder who exactly told Lilith of Abaddon's plan. To me I think Corruption (aka Absalom) may have had a hand in this. I mean he was sick of Hell and the demons and then when they tried to take Eden not only did Heaven and Hell join forces to stop them but also the Four Horsemen banded together to aid them. To me that would cause for some serious payback to all of them. What better way then to spread the poison to some of the most influential on each side. And on a plus cause chaos and anarchy among even the Council. And in a way it makes sense when War states that he defeats Abaddon 'not out of Duty' but for a whole different reason. He knows what it's like to have his words and actions doubted when all one's done is been faithful to a certain cause.
3. Is it me or is Azrael always being surprised by these guys :)
4. This was in the comic when the other Riders were sent to fetch War and he nearly killed(?) Fury. Death stepped in the way getting run through with War's sword (I don't remember if he had Chaoseater at that time or not) and then sliced War's arm off.
5. Not sure what the materiel under the armor is called or what type it is.
(6)Angel of Death, in way he's saying that even though it's Death he loves, Azrael still holds a place in his heart as well