Rated: M
Pairing: Uriel/Alastair
The sex was more of a small war, really.
They always fought, neither trying to kill the other but certainly trying to do some harm. And, of course, neither ever just submitted to being the bottom in the relationship. If you could even call it a relationship. Today, Alastair's top. He's top more often than not, actually, much to Uriel's distaste and pleasure. Pleasure, because in any other relationship, he would have preferred to be bottom, but his pride took a blow every time the demon won in their little sex-battles. Not that anyone else would ever know. Both of their reputations would be ruined if anyone else knew.
It's what humans call 'hate sex'.
And it works for them.
Alastair pounds into the larger body under him. He's vaguely surprised they're in this position, because they usually just do it up against a wall or something. But he doesn't really care about that now, because he's getting close. Uriel grip on his shoulder tightens and the skin rips under the angel's nails. Alastair's grip on Uriel's hips is probably leaving some kind of indent, it's so far past bruising force. The thought alone makes him grin and he thrusts harder, nearly shattering Uriel's vessel's hip bone.
Abruptly, one of Uriel's hands dislodge from his shoulder and dig their way into his short hair. Nails dig into his scalp and Uriel tugs him hair hard. He has a brief moment to wonder if it's a bad thing that this angel knows that particular sweet-spot, but it's over fast as his orgasm rushes through him. He gives a hoarse shout, and Uriel follows quickly, milking the rest of Alastair's orgasm out of him. The demon collapses onto the angel, only to find an empty bed underneath him. He relaxes and smirks into the pillows.