Michael/Lucifer slash
Yes, the biblical characters
...and yes, that's part of a shakespeare quote at the end, lol.
It was sin, it was all sin
Sharp gasps and heavy breathing and it was wrong
wrong
wrong.
The archangel's mind thrashed around in a haze of unclean thoughts and he fought for a grip of his senses. He forced his azure eyes open, battling every iota of his being as his flesh screamed "more!" Brilliant, piercing blue beneath his eyelids was met by another set of eyes. Michael stood firmly still as he looked into the eyes of his Tempter.
Lucifer.
The grin that spread across the slight blonde's face was not at all malicious, as one might have pictured for the harbinger of darkness. It was a smirk, but it carried a sort of affection that Michael had nearly forgotten. Lucifer's eyes were not unkind—they were pale yellow orbs that seemed to take everything in fully and all at once. Michael's head was dizzy as right and wrong fought desperately, and finally faded to gray.
"Are you alright?" the smaller of the two asked. His voice was like a chorus of bells.
Michael shook his head furiously. He couldn't speak.
Lucifer snickered as his radiant grin widened. Deft, nimble fingers skirted the seraphim's thigh, causing him to let out a rather unholy whimper. The two were entwined, leaning against a cement wall, and the holier of the two could not bring himself to pull away. He wanted more.
"Had you forgotten me, dear lover?" The Morning Star's lips were at the archangel's ear now, uttering in low tones. "What good is heaven without a little temptation to liven things up?" Lucifer's tongue traced Michael's ear, sending a sick shudder down his spine. The artful tracing fingers grew more firm in their caressing. Michael tried desperately to call a verse to mind, to focus his thoughts on his holy God. His thoughts could go no further than the warmth between his legs. Most high, indeed…
Michael had always silently sympathized with his former friend, his fellow angel. Lucifer had been wild, impulsive, inquisitive—all the things a good angel never ought to be. He dared to challenge set rules ( 'Why torment ourselves with celibacy?' 'Why must You be loved, not I?') and was punished for it. Michael admired him. Lucifer had had the courage to voice what Michael himself had been thinking.
Lucifer's mouth trailed down the other's jaw, finally meeting eager lips. Temptation had won, parting lips and tasting tongue. Michael, Angel of Battle, had lost. He returned the fallen angel's kisses with fever and desire. Lucifer smiled into his kisses, enjoying the taste of a liberated man. Roaming hands slid over hot flesh, evoking low moans and silent prayers. They leaned together against the cold cement wall, reveling in the beauty of their sin.
Michael was impatiently guiding the other's hands—down here, Lucifer, help me—when all at once the Prince of Darkness broke their tight entwinement and moved away. His smile held an undertone of malice as he ruffled the archangel's hair in a gesture of endearment. Michael gazed on in a cloud thick with lust and confusion.
"I must go, my holy other half. I have a host of fallen angels to attend to and a legion of lovers to please. I've given you a taste,"—and with this, he gently kissed the other's swollen lips—"and the choice remains yours. You were always my favorite, after all. I grieve every day that you never followed me into damnation. I am here now in hopes that this memory may burn so deeply into you that you might consider making a home of hell, with me."
With that he was gone, in blink of an eye in the way that angels do. Michael stared, unseeing, at the spot where his wicked other half had been. He sighed deeply.
Michael would follow him and make a heaven out of hell.
