There's more preceding this that's yet to be typed up, and more to come after that is as yet not even written, but is forthcoming. This story, as all my angel stories, will eventually tie into Morning star falling, though perhaps not to the detail, but the point is that this ties in. Also, this vaguely goes into "For Michael's Wings" - why else would Micahel be in Enoch to meet Gabriel?
Michael moaned, holding Belial tightly to himself as the fellow Seraph pressed his lips to his throat. Belial's hands were hot and heavy at Michael's skin, molding him like butter. The gold-eyed angel Belial ran his hands along Michael's full and beautiful wings, and Michael trembled, his lips quivering when Belial stilled them with a kiss that seemed to make the world fall around Michael.
Michael woke with a start, shuddering, rubbing his hands over his biceps, and reaching back to check again. As usual, he came to the mournful realization that his wings were truly gone, torn away by Samael just before he fell…
Belial's nameless falcon landed carefully on Michael's shoulder, running its beak soothingly through Michael's brilliantly scarlet hair. Michael cringed at the touch, but could not deny that it soothed even as it scared him. Michael cupped his face in his hands. He missed Belial… But the dream was a memory from a time before the war, and that was done now. Belial had fallen, and Michael had not.
Moreover, Michael was the champion of Israel, practically an idol in Heaven, and loathed in Hell. There was no way he could… There was no going back. No chance that he could ever feel Belial's hands soothing him, or his kiss… No chance they could ever love as they had before the fall.
Oh, damn Lucifer! Damn Him for His pride, for starting a war to rend the Heavens! If He had but bowed when presented with the babe Adam, then existence would have gone on, and Michael would still have his full wings and Belial…
Absently, he petted Belial's falcon, the heavy sinful weight at his shoulder, and he decided it was too heavy to bear any longer… If God refused him any aid, any solace… Then so be it. He was an idol in Heaven, yet that was sin. Moreover, Michael knew it a sin to idol worship, but he did not stop those who viewed him so. He was already a hypocrite… at least now he could be afforded a momentary comfort.
Michael rose, and began writing a note to Belial. He gave it to the Falcon, who took flight and vanished in a flash of golden flame. Michael winced, and sat, waiting, unsure what to do next.
He jumped when the falcon reappeared moments later with another flash of flame and a caw. The bird dropped a note in his waiting hands and perched on his shoulder as he read Belial's familiar, flourished writing.
"My Dearest Micah,
So nice of you to write at last. I knew you must have missed me as I missed you. I would cherish another meeting with you, but not in Heaven – I am hardly a fool. Likewise, you cannot meet me in Hell, so let us meet in a place as much beholden to my Master as yours – Earth. Come to Enoch, my Micah, and now. I will wait for you, but no longer than an earthly hour.
Belial"
Micah held the incriminating note tightly, thinking as he petted the falcon. He could still stop it. He could destroy the note and forget Belial. He could.
The note he burned into nothingness as he stood.
A few moments later saw him wandering Enoch, skittish, cloaked like most of the other angels here, so no one would recognize him and know of his transgression.
It was easy to find Belial, who toyed with another falcon in front of the Forum Legis Talionis, standing boldly in his Fallen Angel form, his great wings bloodstained in various patches, his halo dark and crooked. Michael rushed over, grabbing Belial's shoulder and attempting to lead him away. Belial grabbed Michael and tugged him back, pulling the Seraph's hood down and kissing him deeply right in front of the Forum.
Michael tried to fight a moment, glancing about worriedly, but he never could help himself when it came to dealing with Belial, especially when the Fallen Seraph slid his hands down Michael's back like he used to, pressing Michael against him. Michael sank into the kiss and returned it desperately – he had missed Belial too long.
Finally Belial drew away and pressed Michael tightly to himself, and Michael quaked, trying to reach and throw his hood back up before anyone else saw.
Belial chuckled, running his fingers through Michael's blood-red hair as he murmured, "Don't worry, my Micah… I cast an illusion on you as soon as I saw you, so no one would recognize you… Remember, I now am an angel of confusion… No one knows who we are, or will recognize us later. After all, I wouldn't want you regretting this…."
Michael shuddered at the feel of Belial's warm body, his hands, his soft, persuasive words… He pressed the side of his face to Belial's chest, murmuring, "They won't know me?"
"Would I lie to you my Micah?"
Michael persisted, "They won't know me? You swear it?"
Belial sighed softly and nodded. "Yes, my Micah. No one will know you, save God and Lucifer Themselves. I swear it."
Michael relaxed slightly, still tense with fear and anxiety. "Let's go… Somewhere private… I just want to talk, nothing more Belial!" Michael finished sharply, thrusting away to glare at Belial.
Belial chuckled and nodded. "We'll see, my Micah. I'd love to have a nice talk with you, after all… I know a charming place. Lillith herself designed it, just for little rendezvous of such a nature…" Belial ran his fingers threw Michael's hair once more as he led Michael with a strong arm at the Seraph's back, and Michael tried hard to remain composed. He didn't like how he seemed to fall apart around Belial. Well, a part of him loved Belial's influence, but a part of him loyal to God and ashamed of his actions loathed it.
Belial led the short way to a grand looking building several stories tall, the façade at least of which was elegant marble, with few, elaborate windows, and many niches whereon sat statues in such a variety of poses, creatures. The arabesque creations made Michael wince and look away shamefully. Belial led the way into the great, open arched entrance, revealing an interior which mocked the yet undreamt of Sistine chapel.
Belial waved to the hostess: a naked, beautiful, blonde female, Ardat Lili, one of Lillith's closest friends and servants. Ardat Lili smiled, recognizing Belial as he lifted his guise, but Michael remained shrouded. "Belial," she purred, "Let me have the pleasure of guiding you and this mysterious stranger to one of our best rooms…"
She lead them to an elevator that was lifted and lowered by Lillith's magic, and took them to the top. With another smirk, she murmured, "This way, my dears…" and lead them down a lushly carpeted hall, choosing the last door and pulling a key out of thin air, which she gave to Belial. "Enjoy," she purred, bowing before she left.
Belial grinned at Michael as he opened the door and they entered, and Michael could not close and bolt the door fast enough… "She did not know me? She knew you…" Michael accused.
Belial laughed, cupping Michael's face. "Oh, my Micah, will you not trust me? She knew a handsome, unfamiliar devil with ebon hair and sable skin."
Michael swallowed and nodded. "Okay."
"Well, my Micah, you wished to talk? What is it you wanted to say? I trust Heaven has been… Paradise?" Belial said with a smirk, scathing.
Michael straightened defensively. "Shut up."
Belial chuckled. "Oh, perhaps it hasn't… Imagine that, Heaven, less than absolutely perfect."
"Shut up!" Michael yelled.
"Azezel mentioned once… How painful it was for him in Heaven, because he couldn't let on that he was unhappy… To be unhappy in Heaven is almost a sin in itself, huh? Like telling God it's not good enough… He's much happier in Hell, where he doesn't have to pretend… You were never good at hiding, Michael. When you walked up, I knew you immediately. You're lucky I've always been better at concealment…" Belial's words were casual, said as he looked over his nails absently.
"Shut up, Belial. I shouldn't have need to be good at concealment. Is Hell so open? Then why cultivate such a skill?" Michael retorted.
Belial shrugged. "For my work on earth… And because I knew I would need it for your sake… So you would feel safe, visiting me."
There was nothing Michael could say to that; he looked down at his sandaled feet, still leaning against the door. Belial smiled softly, comfortingly. "Oh Micah, I'm sorry. I've forgotten how to treat you… Acting like you're trash… You're not… I apologize – I'm just making things harder for you, and that's the last I want," Belial murmured, stepping forward and taking Michael's hands in his.
When Michael looked up, his fiery eyes were haunted. "You can't tell anyone about this. Anyone at all! Swear it!" Michael whispered desperately.
Belial laid a brush of a kiss on Michael's forehead and nodded. "I swear it. I will not tell a soul. Or a Fallen, or demon, or any other such, either."
Michael sighed. "I shouldn't be here… with you…" He mumbled, his voice breaking miserably.
Belial's face grew sad. "It doesn't have to be like that. Lucifer didn't fall just for pride, you know. He is giving us the freedom to exist as we please, in addition to giving these humans choice, and so much more. We all still love God, Him more than any other among us, more than any in Heaven or anywhere. But it's not right. Heaven isn't perfect, no matter how much we'd all like it to be. You can join us, live freely, and still love God. We can even give you your wings back…"
Michael listened tiredly through Belial's speech, yet at the mention of his wings, he looked up at Belial. "My wings?" he scarcely more than whispered.
Belial nodded. "Samael still has them. They are well kept. If you joined us, we could have them reattached. We could even make you a whole new set, even grander, and you could have those. Lucifer would do it, to help you be happy, if you just went back with me…" Belial tactfully decided not to mention that Samael often went about wearing a pair of Michael's wings in addition to his own…
Michael shook with desire and temptation, throwing himself into Belial's arms and crying with desire, weakness. Belial made it sound so easy! So simple, so right! But it couldn't be – to defy his own maker… It couldn't be…
Belial held Michael gently, filling his tired body with warmth, his heavy hands sliding over Michael's back, carefully stroking the scars where Michael's wings had been torn away. "Oh, my Micah… My poor, miserable Micah… You don't have to endure such pain…" Belial whispered.
"I can't fall… Angels can't have redemption, like the humans… I can't fall."
"What kind of God would deny us redemption? All we want is a fair God, who does not manipulate us and make us feel guilty about what we are. Lucifer is not a God, per se, but He is such a ruler. Eternity is a long time to suffer… And if we will not have redemption, come the Apocalypse, then we simply wink out of existence… No more pain. Wouldn't it be better to be free as long as you exist, even if that means one day you will end? I would rather that, than to suffer without end…"
It was all so tempting… So very tempting… But that's what Devils were known for, and Belial was a Devil as well as a Fallen Angel. All of the original Fallen were. "Belial, please say no more about it," Michael said with a cringe, grabbing Belial's bare, muscular shoulders.
Belial sighed and nodded. "Very well. You always know what to do if you change your mind. Will you at least consider?"
Michael was silent.
Belial sighed again. "Very well then, my wrathful Micah. We have time and time." Belial gently lifted the Seraph's face and kissed him. Michael wrapped his arms around Belial's neck, returning it with frantic need once more. He couldn't help himself… He could not go back with Belial, but he couldn't just leave like this… Even worse than when he came…
When at last the kiss broke, the two could only look at each other, holding each other. Belial's concerned, gold eyes bored into Michael's own fiery eyes, which were intense with mixtures of extremes – shame juxtaposed with desire, fear with want that became need. Only Belial and the Almighty ever saw Michael's fiery eyes in such a cowardly panic. Only Belial made Michael feel weak and soft and truly beautiful.
Carefully did Belial ease Michael over into the next room where a grand bed awaited them, the room scented sweet without being too sweet. Michael could not help but cling to Belial, shuddering when he saw the bed. "No, Belial, I said I just wanted to talk, I don't want – "
"Shh, my Micah. I know. Now, let us lie down together and sleep peacefully. I know your sleep has been plagued of late. Perhaps your rest will be better here." Belial soothed, and Michael lay himself down reluctantly, but once Belial joined him, Michael clung once more to Belial readily.
"I just wish everything was back to how it was before… I just… I want this to not be wrong!" Michael cried into Belial's shoulder.
Belial petted Michael slowly, pressing heat into the tired and sore Seraph. "I know… But as long as you're in Heaven, you can't have what you want…" Belial murmured, gently easing persuasion into his words. Michael was too worn to even notice the trick, but Belial truly loved Michael: too much so to force him, just nudge a little in the right direction…
"I don't want to go to Hell, Belial… I just wish none of this had happened… And we were both still in Heaven, singing praises and loving each other…"
Belial sighed and nodded. "Don't you think many of us would like that? But how can we go back when we know nothing would be changed? Are you really free in Heaven? At least in Hell, we do as we please. I am allowed to visit a love lost in war, even encouraged."
"Please, no more…" Michael shook, and Belial sighed again.
"Of course…" Belial murmured. He singed away the cloth of Michael's shroud and tugged it away, and Michael made no protest but a faint blush. Belial only finished this so they lay flesh to flesh, and did not make another advance, merely holding Michael to himself, stroking sadly the rough black scars where Michael's beautiful wings had been torn away…
Michael jolted as he felt Belial's hands at his scars – they were his weakness. Well, his other weakness. Eventually, he calmed, as Belial did not tease or ask idle, painful questions, but used his power like balm to soothe the ever-present sting. Michael dropped into a peaceful sleep at last.
He was sweating… Belial was with him, holding him, pressing kisses to his chest; oh, he couldn't help but love that… He had to be dreaming again, another damn, teasing, horrible dream… Oh, but what harm was another dream?
His eyes slid open slowly, and he looked into the gold intensity of Belial's eyes and quailed. Belial's hands over his chest, those eyes, that expression… It was too intense. His dreams he told himself were enough, but in truth they were but faded remnants. This was the all-consuming, wonderful sensation of reality.
"Oh, God…" Michael whispered faintly, water collecting at his eyes. He tried, but he couldn't tell Belial no. Belial saw he was awake, heard him speak, and paused.
"Micah… If you can tell me honestly that you don't want this… I will stop. But I hate to see you suffering as you have. I want to help," Belial murmured, those brilliant eyes drawn in concern.
Michael shook his head slowly. "I don't want to want this… But I do, Belial. I'm damned!" Michael's body shook as he cried with want. "I'm already damned for wanting it like I do…" He reached up and cupped Belial's face, and Belial leaned down and kissed Michael thoroughly. As before, Michael was helpless beneath Belial.
Belial's hands seemed to mold to Michael's body even more perfectly than Michael remembered, his fingers fitting neatly in every crevasse. Michael moaned, arching gladly into Belial's hands, his body remembering what to do, though it had been so long… too long… so long since it had been explored, so long since he'd been treated as if he, the great, wrathful Micah, was delicate and wonderful.
Belial's lips worked wonders at Michael's soft, ruddy nipples, and Michael realized he'd forgotten how sensitive his chest was, panting as Belial sucked gently at the stiffened tissue, his gold skin warming to match Belial's for heat.
As always before, Michael was too caught up to notice Belial lining up until he felt the other gently pressing against his hole and sliding in. He shuddered, wrapping his arms tightly around Belial's neck, his teeth clenched in a mixture of pain and ecstasy, glee and shame, eyes shut tight as his world narrowed to that single point of dizzying sensation.
Belial hushed him softly, soothing him with his heavy hands as always, and Michael nodded acceptance, cringing when Belial stopped and Michael was filled entirely. Michael groaned into Belial's neck, his nails digging deep into the Fallen Seraph's transient flesh, enjoying a pleasure as transient and altogether wonderful.
It was the knowledge that it was fleeting that made it so sweet for Michael, despite all else. He savored the experience, logging it to memory as he never had before, praying to make the memory suffice so this would truly be the last time, his breath catching and growing quick and shallow as Belial began his careful thrusts.
Belial made it last longer than it ever had before, drawing it out, denying them both just as they were about to crest their peaks, pulling from Michael's body and taunting him lovingly again with his fantastic hands.
By the end of it, Michael was sobbing openly, dripping with need, begging in broken words and tones for release. Likewise was Belial worn and leaking, therefore he stroked his Micah's sweet face, brushing scarlet locks aside and laying a kiss on Michael's impish nose before he entered a final time, and with a single, well-aimed thrust, both climaxed, their bodies seeming to waver and meld for an instant till they finished and Belial pulled away, and both relaxed onto the bed once more.
Michael's eyes were shut, his body shaking, his rich, ruby lips parted and quivering, every inch of his golden skin slick with sweat. Belial observed him with exhaustion, always admiring his Micah just after he released… Blindly did Michael reach out, his hand seeking and finding Belial, and he snugged himself against the Fallen Seraph, stroking the other's bloody and torn wings enviously. Could he really get his wings back from Samael?
No, this had to be it. This had to be the last time he saw Belial. But as long as he was there… He could make it last, he could enjoy his limited time…
Michael sighed, letting Belial's warmth surround and lull him one last time, and Belial enveloped his love in arms and warmth and love, laying a soft kiss on Michael's beautiful, swollen, sweet lips.
