Hey guys! Long time no see! Hope you had a wonderful Christmas this year for those of you who celebrate it. And because you've all been nice boys and girls, your present is this update! :D yay!

Nah for reals though: sorry for taking so damn long with this chapter. Apart from my limited writing time, it was deceptively hard to write the character interactions, but finally I'm to a point where I can say I'm happy with it.
BUT! in my defense, this is twice as long as any other chapter so far xD (I could have split it into two chapters and got them out faster, but you would not have forgiven me another cliff-hanger half way through, be honest!)
So yeah, you get a feature-length episode this time for the holydays :D

Also: I'd like to thank SirenOmega and Lil Miss Morningstar for their support with this fic. (We did it Siren! :D ) More recently the pokes from Sleeping-force's-inside and the albeit cruel "motivation" T_T. And from Dandyline! your messages always put a smile on my face :) and make me want to hurry my ass up with this cos you've been so patient.
The greatest motivation is knowing there are people out there waiting for something you're working on!

So here you go guys, my humble offering, I sincerely hope you enjoy it. Aaaand I'll stop blabbering and let you get on with the reading.


Warning: Yaoi up ahead! (finally, right?) If boy on boy love is not your cup of tea, turn back now!
If it is: have I got a tea-party laid out for you! ;) *offers tray of cupcakes*

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Darksiders franchise.


Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don't just say
And nothing else matters

- Metallica

Chapter 7

Fire. - Azrael's lips felt like fire to Death's perpetually cool flesh. They were soft and supple, just as he had always imagined them, but their touch burned him mercilessly and heat spread like wildfire throughout the nephilim's body. He had secretly fantasized about this for so long and yet had never thought a simple kiss could feel like this. So overwhelming. He stayed there savoring it all for as long as the moment would last.

He only pulled away when it became apparent that Azrael was not moving, indeed, was not even breathing. Death saw with mild amusement the disbelief apparent in the scholar's face, frozen, not able to move or speak. Bewildered ivory eyes still stared at him, seeking to comprehend what had just happened.

With a grin he could not quite help, Death decided he might as well take advantage of the angel's confusion. He wanted another taste, and if the angel wasn't going to protest, well...

But as Death lowered his lips once more to Azrael's, it seemed that with a sharp intake of breath his hapless prey came back belatedly to his senses. Azrael retreated instinctively, heart suddenly beating loudly in his chest, but in half a step his back had already come up against the stone wall of the balcony and he put his hands to Death's chest in the vain hope that he might restrain him. Death of course, was having none of it.

Never breaking the kiss, he casually took each slender hand in his own and pried them gently away from his chest and for the second time that day, Azrael found himself pinned against a wall by the nephilim with his hands held helplessly above his head.

"Death!" Azrael turned away. "What in Heaven's name...mpf!" but Death found his mouth again regardless and nuzzled Azrael's face back up to him, lavishing his lips with hungry kisses, tracing them with his tongue, seeking entrance. He needed little strength to hold the angel still against the wall and through his palms on Azrael's wrists Death was aware of the racing pulse that told him the scholar's heart hammered just as much as his own. Spurred on by the feel of flowing blood, he opened his mouth deepening the kiss, not even caring that the other's lips remained pressed together, immobile.

Was all this because he had dared accuse the Horseman of being afraid? And as retribution he sought to mock the feelings he had for him in the cruelest way possible? Azrael already felt his eyes moist from fighting to ignore the shivers that Death's tongue sent down his spine. Eyes tightly shut in desperation he willed the tears not to fall, lest the Horseman think he was actually crying. He tugged on his arms with all his strength, which was of course not nearly enough and only made the gathering tears worse. Summoning his willpower to cast a spell, any spell, he found he still did not actually want to hurt Death. He searched for something to only push him away, but his mind was so utterly swamped that nothing came to mind. How pitiful a spectacle he must be giving, Azrael thought bitterly, indeed he deserved the Horseman's mockery.

Sensing that Azrael's arms were already tiring of fighting his unrelenting grip, Death let them go and instead cupped the angel's face in both hands ever so delicately, only his fingertips touching the soft skin. A single bony finger gently caught a pooling tear on the outer corner of the angel's eye before it could fall.

The tenderness stunned the angel quiet and he could not help but stare dewy eyed at his assailant. The gentle caress of his cheeks hit a soft spot and he almost lost it right then, almost gave into the building urge to return the kiss. He had grabbed Death's wrists reflexively but conviction failed him and he did not actually try to pry the pleasantly cool hands off his face.

Was this not what he had wanted? Like some miraculously answered prayer, was this not what he had secretly desired for so long? It was inconceivable to him that Death; deadly, feral, unforgiving Death could be so delicate, so loving, to anyone, let alone an angel! And yet here he was driving him crazy with his lips and his touch, with a gentleness he would never have attributed him with. So why was he resisting so?

Because it was Death. This made no sense!

With an effort, eyes shut again in determination, he turned his face down, away from the maddening kisses. His own heartbeat loud in his ears. Unconsciously he shot a hand up to cover Death's mouth. He had to make him stop or he would not form a single coherent thought in his head!

"Wa... wait! What are you doing?!" Azrael gasped for air.

Only silence met him. He looked up harshly at Death to demand that he answer, and instantly felt like an idiot.

Of course he didn't answer: it was his own hand covering the mouth of the nephilim who regarded him now with a flat scolding stare. And the patience with which Death waited for the scholar to notice made him feel all the more foolish. A new wash of embarrassment hit him however when he realized he was actually touching Death's mask-less face and suddenly self conscious, blushing furiously at this touch that seemed to him somehow forbidden, he jerked his hand away. Only to be caught delicately and brought back up to the dark lips again, the look of annoyance gone from the burning amber eyes.

Death placed a soft kiss on the back of Azrael's slender fingers, and while the angel watched mesmerized, brought it up to lie flat on his cheek holding it there with his own pale grey hand. He wanted Azrael to see him, to touch him, to know him. After eons of hiding his face from Creation it had taken a lot to finally let this barrier down and he would not have done it for anyone else. If ever he was going to let himself be this vulnerable with any living soul, it was going to be with this very angel in front of him. He swallowed hard and forced down any lingering nervousness. He wanted to show Azrael that he trusted him this much.

Azrael could not make himself look away even though he had the distinct feeling he was beholding something not meant for Creation to behold. He had the urge to avert his eyes again but Death's fiery orbs held him there hypnotized and he felt himself plunge in the dark intensity of that gaze.

Heavens he was beautiful!

Though Azrael doubted the Heavens would actually agree. Death's was a dark, feral beauty wrought of everything that was feared and shunned by the Light. Indeed, he would have been thought handsome by the standards of most angels, had it not been for the purple-blue tone of the skin of his face and neck that clearly denoted his demonic heritage. That and the jet black unkempt hair and pale corpse-grey of the rest of his body that reminded one too much of the grave, of that which is lifeless and dead, of the Underworld.

Azrael had never feared the Underworld, he was its Steward. If ever an angel could have looked past that to think Death beautiful, it could only have been him. By nature he was a creature of Light, but he was no stranger to what lay beyond it. Such was his charge as Angel of Death. It did not daunt him. In this nephilim, it fascinated him.

Speechless Azrael's eyes ran over the chiseled panes of Death's face that somehow reminded him vaguely of War. Indeed, absently he thought he could see the resemblance of the two brothers. It seemed to him that Death's features were all a narrower, more angular version of his younger brother's. The high cheekbones and hollowed cheeks to which he held his palm, the sharp angular jaw line, but where War's mouth would be set in a perpetual harsh grimace, Death's thin dark lips were simply held with a quiet confidence. Handsome straight brows that seemed to be fixed in an unfailing glower, not unlike the bone mask, shaded the night blue skin around the thin deep set eyes. Those eyes. They alone out of all features were familiar to Azrael. Indeed, he knew them well, better than he should. Those sharp incisive burning eyes of pure malice resolved this beautiful creature before him into the Death he knew.

"Precisely what it looks like" Death finally answered softly, aware of how closely he was being examined, yet strangely at ease with it all "Kissing you."

The husky confident tone sent tingles down the back of Azrael's neck, snapping him out of his daze, reminding him that he had indeed asked a question.

"But why?!" he pressed irritated.

"Because I'm sick and tired of hiding how I feel whenever you're close." Death replied touching his forehead to Azrael's with surprising tenderness. "I won't be held back any longer. I'm done letting everything get in the way of what I want most."

"Want... most...?" Azrael repeated lamely "you...?" He stared into Death's eyes so close to his own. Did he mean...?

- Alright, no twisting out of it now. Just say the words… don't screw this up now -

He could not recall the last time he'd been this nervous. Forehead pressed to Azrael's, burning amber orbs intent on shinning white. One hand holding the archangel's face up to him, the other holding the soft slender hand firmly on his pale blue cheek. Death steeled himself with a muted breath and began.

"For nearly as long as you've loved me, I've felt the same in return. I wish I'd had the courage to act on it sooner. Even knowing my advances would fall on fertile ground, I held back. There were always obstacles; the Balance, the Law, duty, pride, Abaddon... out of all of them I made excuses. Looking back, none of them were worth not trying and passing this up, none of them remain and yet my feelings for you do. I'm not passing up on you anymore" he was speaking hurriedly with nervousness and he took a moment to force his voice steady again. "I love you. I want you. I want to be with you. Whatever lies ahead, whatever Creation has become after all that has happened, I want you to be the one I face it with."

Azrael's head swam with the emotion he heard barely contained in Death's voice, his jaw gone slack, his eyes staring wide. More emotions welled up in his chest than he knew what to do with and he felt his eyes sting anew with the promise of tears at Death's words. Genuine tears of joy he did not think himself still capable of. He could not decide if he was elated beyond belief or distraught by the confession. It had been easy to force his feelings down when he had been convinced they were one-sided. But now... No! So much remained to be considered, he couldn't just dismiss every obstacle as easily as Death did!

He wanted to though.

He wanted to laugh despite the tear running down his cheek. Wanted to jump up boyishly and lock his arms around Death's thick neck and express to him aloud everything he had held inside for thousands of years. Truly, how complicated did love have to be?

Far less, for lesser beings than they.

Azrael's voice of reason answered bitterly. And so instead, what he stammered was:

"B-but... the Council... Death, th-the White City... what... what would they say? What would they do?" Azrael forced past his closing throat.

"What do I care for the Council?!" Death snapped, startling the angel "Do I owe allegiance to the ones who thought nothing of betraying my brother?! The Horsemen serve them unquestioningly yet they clearly think us disposable!" Death growled "The End War has come and gone, Azrael. Heaven wars with Hell with no remorse over the casualties they have wrought and you're the only angel I've seen so far actually giving a damn!" His usual harshness back in his gravelly voice "Who's approbation do you think we need exactly? the White City? Bah! You yourself have estranged yourself from them. To whom do we owe fealty? Who is deserving of our trust? Where do our allegiances lie now if not with ourselves?"

"I…"

"Azrael" Death interrupted speaking slowly, his voice low and husky once more "Stop pretending there are any reasons why this can't happen"

The scholar fell silent, stunned, and Death decided to leave him to ponder this as he placed gentle kisses on the angel's chin, his flushed cheeks and his temples. He laced his fingers through the platinum hair while caressing his cheeks lovingly with both thumbs.

Eyes tightly shut again Azrael felt like his skin was on fire. No it was his entire soul that burned, begged to be let go, every fiber in his being longed to return those tender kisses. It was true. Creation was no longer what they all knew it to be. The game had changed. Their trusts and allegiances were no longer so clear-cut. And who was he to deny Death when he'd just laid bare his feelings so honestly? When he was being showered with more affection than his heart could handle? His chest ached, pounded, brimmed with love, and every caress threatened to make it overflow. Why not? Who is here to say we can't? Who is here to care?

Death stopped to whisper right by his ear in that deep gravelly voice gone soft "Azrael..."

And the throaty whisper just broke him. Whatever Death had intended to say next the angel would never know, for he suddenly turned to find the nephilim's mouth and silenced him by pressing their lips together.

And fire raced anew through Death's entire body.

If he thought kissing Azrael felt good, being kissed back was intoxicating and a low surprised moan in the base of his throat escaped him before he could think to hold it back. Azrael's hands previously poised to keep Death at a distance embraced him instead, and the nephilim instinctively pressed his body to the angel's, fitting snugly curve to curve, leaning his forearms on the wall to either side of Azrael's head.

As the angel parted his lips their tongues met for the first time and Death reeled from the moist sensation. Passionately licking with every kiss, Azrael covered every bit of Death's mouth, teasing the upper lip, gently sucking on the lower. Just as Death had done previously, now the scholar's tongue sought entrance as he pushed on his mouth with an intensity that had seemingly come from nowhere and met with no resistance from the heated nephilim. The desperate need he sensed in Azrael's kiss took him somewhat by surprise. He found that it matched his own and Death felt himself become hungrier. He no longer thought of gentleness, he wanted to posses this sweet enticing mouth completely. One large grey hand cupped the back of the angel's head and the other circled about the slim waist to pull the angel to him even tighter.

And then, it was no longer just his mouth that he wanted.

As the nephilim's hold now made it hard to breathe Azrael had to break the kiss and Death wasted no time in grabbing the angel's entire jaw in one hand to force his head to the side giving him access to the tender skin of his neck. A different kind of thrill coursed through Azrael's mind at the rough treatment and he did not protest in the slightest. With his free hand Death attempted to pry away the high collar of the scholar's robe trailing deep kisses down the thickest line of muscle. With satisfaction he felt the shudders he provoked and the angel's fingers digging into his lower back.

Then his lips and tongue tingled strangely. He pulled back to see light blue glyphs drawn on the skin of the scholar's neck, the same glyphs that graced the wing's feather tips, only smaller and more delicate. Death lightly traced his fingertips over them and found that they tingled pleasantly too.

As best he could describe the sensation Death felt as if he were aware of Azrael's being with a whole new sense that was neither touch nor taste. His own magical attunement perceived the angel's essence emanating from these delicate runes. It was a distant pale echo of how Azrael's willpower had infused into him countless years ago in that dark cave on the Ravaiim homeworld, but it brought the memory back regardless. How Azrael's arcane essence had felt to him as he allowed it to seep into his own. An echo of how it had felt the first time he had caught the angel's affection mingled with desire. Now it only served to let loose his pent up desire held restrained for eons and neither of them were prepared for the avalanche.

Death groaned deep in his throat pressing his pelvis to the angel's eliciting a startled gasp from Azrael. He pressed his lips to the neck again as he tugged roughly at the embroidered robe to reveal the top of the shoulder and the trail of glyphs that continued there. Curiosity and heat took over Death's mind, his hands pulling at Azrael's garments of their own accord. They loosened the front of the robe and ran up the angel's abdomen and chest, hungry for the feel of the soft, warm skin.

He kissed and licked at the angel's shoulder as if he could devour every new rune he discovered and again set to tugging furiously at the slate blue cloth. He managed to free one shoulder from the offending fabric and more glyphs appeared trailing down the arm. He neither noticed how suddenly he had increased his pace or that Azrael's entire body had tensed with alarm. He only cared that this blasted robe was in between him and what he wanted and he felt the overwhelming urge to rip all the clothes from the scholar. He had to see it all, see how much of the angel's skin those runes covered. They were beautiful! And they fed him the angel's essence so that he may drown in it all the more.

Azrael breathed increasingly faster, unresolved arousal and apprehension warred in his head. He did not need to guess where this was going. Whatever he had expected he had not expected it to progress so quickly. Confessing their love and sharing a moment together before they were forced apart was one thing. Sex, felt like an indulgence he neither deserved nor could afford right now. He would not deny he wanted it though. It wasn't the change of pace that scared him, it was that he found himself desperately wanting it to continue. He had to remember himself before he lost it completely!

"Wait, Death..."

"No" the Horseman's tone gruff and flat.

"Death!"

But in response Death's hand suddenly moved to cup the angel's crotch. Azrael's head jerked back in alarm hitting the wall, but if the Horseman noticed he ignored it. He started stroking, slowly but strongly while he kissed open mouthed down the angel's chest.

Every stroke was a wave of pleasure threatening to drown Azrael's mind entirely. Every stroke had him trembling, shuddering despite his best efforts to control his body.

Lord it felt so good! So damn good! The smell of leather on the pale grey skin inundated him. He buried his nails on the back of Death's shoulder drawing him closer in a desperate embrace as heat raced sweetly through his body.

What had he just gotten himself into?

"Death, w-wait... Stop!" he tried to sound firm but failed miserably as the pleasure made his voice tremble.

"No." again the flat refusal.

Death returned to Azrael's mouth, their tongues meeting in delicious warmth. He held the angel's jaw so that he may study his face, hungrily savoring his expression of surrender.

"We can't just... ah!..." Azrael felt as if his mind was wiped blank with every kiss, every forceful stroke of the nephilim's palm on his hardening cock. He found himself moaning into Death's mouth despite himself. "Wait... hmmm... st-stop" but his voice would come out no stronger than a plea. "Death... please, stop..."

"You don't want me to stop" Death cooed huskily. His lips lightly grazing the angel's with every word.

"I do"

"If you wanted me to stop, you'd at least be trying to push me away..."

Only then did he realize he was still clinging to the Horseman as if his life depended on it. He met his amber eyes as he felt color rush to his cheeks again and Death only smirked in return.

He did push him away then, with as much strength as he could muster but of course Death didn't budge. Faster than Azrael could react he did away with both the scholar's hands and pushed him roughly against the wall once more. The playful, smug smile on Death's lips was both enticing and infuriating at the same time. For all it frustrated Azrael to see just how helpless he was if the Horseman chose to overpower him, he could not deny the thrill that coursed through his body at being so handled.

Azrael pressed his forehead to Death's shoulder, trying to keep afloat in the tide of pleasure that assailed him as Death's hand moved with new intensity along the shaft of his erection, following the heated flesh above the cloth. He could not repress the sound that was something in between a gasp and a moan.

Death stifled a groan into Azrael's shoulder and at the deep gravely sound the archangel felt his resolve fray even further. It felt so damn good! He wanted it. He could not deny he wanted it. Wanted Death's touch all over his body, his kisses, his tongue. To be held so tight he'd feel the Horseman's nails in his flesh!

He surprised even himself with the intensity of his arousal. That this nephilim could wake such thoughts, such desires in him. Dare he give into this? It seemed the tiny voice of protest in the back of his head was progressively harder to hear. He decided on a last attempt and gathered his thoughts with an effort.

"Death, is there even time for this?" he pleaded, hoping to knock sense into the nephilim. And instead it was he who was frozen in place by the reply.

"Azrael... there will never be another time..."

Azrael's eyes shot open. He stopped struggling, stopped moving entirely. The realization was a bucket of cold water and he no longer even reacted to Death's touch.

Death pulled away, curious to see what had suddenly affected his angelic partner that he fell completely silent. Then felt as if his own consciousness smacked him neatly on the back of the head.

- Yes, that's a good way to turn someone on... remind them that they're going to die soon. Good job... -

"Azrael, I... that came out wrong, I didn't mean..."

But the angel just swallowed, his eyes staring past the Horseman at the unknowable distance of the open skies.

Death sighed cursing his thoughtless mouth and drew the silent angel in a protective embrace. His own careless words were also a painful reminder of how much he really stood to lose. He kissed the top of the platinum head taking in his scent, suddenly anxious to commit it to memory and wondering how he had only now thought to appreciate it. All those eons of hidden feelings and now...

Fate was a cruel, cruel beast.

"It's alright. We don't have to do this." Death sighed resolutely "This goes no further" (1)

The silence was broken only by the sound of the wind rushing past the library tower.

Then Death felt Azrael's arms tight around his waist again and a deep kiss just below his jaw that sent a shiver down his spine both in pleasure and surprise. Stunned, he dared not say anything as Azrael continued to trail kisses down his neck, a warm palm caressing the taught grey skin of his chest. Had it really taken this to shock the angel into giving in? Should he feel guilty?

"I just don't understand you"

"That would make two of us right now..." Azrael's voice quavered ever so slightly and he promptly felt Death's hand forcing his face up to meet the nephilim's intent blazing eyes.

"Damn it, angel! I'm not going to stop if you carry on like this!"

In response, the surprise in Azrael's eyes hardened into resolve and Death had the impression something had truly snapped inside the archangel. His level gaze dared the Horseman to question his conviction as he trailed his fingers along the leather that held the single shoulder armor. They found the buckle and tugged roughly at it, his eyes never leaving Death's. The thick strap released and the heavy metal pauldron fell with a loud clang to the floor.

Heat flared inside the nephilim that instant.

Forsaking whatever caution he had left, desire suddenly sparked anew at his formerly shy partner undressing him, Death crushed their mouths together in a desperate kiss. He held the angel's face roughly in both hands as he kissed him madly, already feeling the slender hands strong on his hips, tugging at the leather. It was not long at all until he heard the metal armor at his hips fall too. Not wanting to be outdone Death pulled the scholar's indigo sash free letting the embroidered blue fabric of the robe fall open.

Azrael pushed away from the wall so as to deftly shrug his wings out of his garments, which Death was silently grateful for. He had never in all his years thought to ask how angelic clothing accommodated wings, though he strongly suspected magic was involved, but however understanding his winged partner may be, pride was not about to let him admit he had no idea what he was doing when it came to undressing an angel!

As the slate blue robe ruffled to the floor Death looked down, finally able to admire his angel's naked chest unhindered. He appreciated with pleasure Azrael was indeed well muscled but lean, with nicely squared shoulders and long elegant arms. In contrast to his own hard and bulging overworked muscles, Azrael's male musculature was decidedly well formed but supple and his skin lay softly on top of it, not taught and stretched like his own. His eyes ran over following the trail of the sky blue glyphs that decorated his lover's skin. Like shinning magical tattoos a line flowed from each side of the neck down his arms, coming to a stop at each forearm with a large glyph above the wrist. A second line of runes flowed from the shoulder down his back to each wing and then wrapped around his waist to the front and down the narrow hips to disappear past the indigo pants that the angel wore.

"Beautiful..." Death mused more to himself.

He felt the body in his arms tense up, a hesitant look back in his eyes. A new blush spread across the scholar's cheeks, clearly uncomfortable with being observed so openly. Death drew the scholar close seeking his lips again in a passionate kiss. He made a mental note not to pause and give him the opportunity to question his actions. He'd go slow enough not to alarm the angel again, yet never let him have enough time to over-think things. They could both come to their senses later.

The feel of the angel's bare skin on his chest sent excited shivers through Death's entire body. His hands trailed up Azrael's spine to the area between the wings where he was rewarded with a surprised exhalation and a shudder from the angel. So, this area was particularly sensitive huh? Made sense. It wasn't easy to reach in-between such long wings. He let his nails softly run down this skin making the angel arch his back and burry his head on Death's chest. The reaction set the nephilim's flesh on fire again and he roughly brought Azrael's leg up as he picked him up with a single arm around his waist like he weighed nothing. The angel instinctively locked his other leg with the first around Death's hips as he brought their mouths together again and let himself be carried into the room, glad to get off the balcony. (2)

The white sumptuous bed seemed to sigh as Death dropped the angel unceremoniously onto its pillows and swiftly crawled on top. Straddling the scholar he intertwined fingers on both hands and brought them over Azrael's head as he bent to kiss him once again enjoying the feeling of overpowering his prey.

Death lowered his body so that Azrael felt his weight on top of him, turning the angel on even more from the feel of the stronger nephilim holding him down. He moved his hips so that he felt the angel's erection hard against his own, tearing moans from Azrael's throat. Heat raced through him, he felt his own breath quicken as he moved rhythmically, wanting nothing but to ravish the archangel completely. He could think of nothing else. Wanted to think of nothing else. The feel of Azrael's wings enclosing around him like a second more enveloping embrace was unexpected but the soft brush of feathers against the heated skin of his back teased him and sent new shivers racing.

He kissed the angel's neck and down his chest, his fingers running over the ribcage and down his stomach, savoring the smooth flawlessness that was Azrael's skin. He stopped to tease a tan nipple with his tongue, allowing himself the smallest of bites, not sure how much pressure was too much. But his fears were dissipated when he was aware of no pain from the angel with his particular sense that told him these things (3). Azrael arched his back and drew him into a needy embrace and Death could not help but smile at the shudders he felt from the angel.

Death retreated, raising himself up on his knees, reaching behind him to unbuckle his heavy leather boots while Azrael ran his hands across the wide strapping grey chest. He caressed the muscles in the powerful shoulders and down the wiry muscle-bound arms and Death took pleasure in tightening those muscles for the wandering hands to admire all the more. He stared down overbearing, admiring the angel, his angel, studying his enraptured expression. He had to admit it felt good to be appreciated like this, after being feared or disdained for as long as he could remember. It was pleasing and reassuring that his partner clearly liked what he saw.

He also had to wonder at how completely Azrael had abandoned his misgivings. He had thought the angel's previous reticence was in part because he was shy about these things, as he imagined a recluse scholar would be. But the confident touch of his warm hands descending over his sunken stomach reminded him how foolish it was to assume anything about this particular scholar. It seemed sex was no exception to that. And he found he liked it.

He remained motionless allowing the angel to touch him, enjoying the heat he felt running up his body and silently willing him further down. He didn't know how much longer he could bare anymore stalling. His boots fell with a thud one after the other, but if the angel even noticed he gave no indication.

A sigh of pleasure escaped Death as the wandering fingertips grazed tentatively over his hard cock. Even above the cloth the touch was scalding. Or was that his own heat? All he knew now is that he wanted more. Badly. And the angel's touch was infuriatingly soft.

"Azrael..." His voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears.

It wasn't like Death to ever beg, but the look in his eyes told Azrael all he needed to know and he gladly set his hands to work in earnest. He ran the length of Death's erection, one hand stroking the shaft, the other gently pressing the tip with pulsating motion. The gruff moan that followed, the pleasured relief on the nephilim's face as he closed his eyes were reward enough and he too decided that the time for tentative touches had passed.

Not even bothering to ask permission Azrael slid his fingers in-between brown fabric and the pale blue skin. Death's eyes were suddenly back to him, blazing intently. He savored the anxious, expectant look on the nephilim's face. One hand continued to stroke while the other pulled gently, slowly down. Death hissed in air in a long drawn in breath, until his whole length was fully exposed, and Azrael grabbed it greedily in one hand and continued to rub rhythmically up and down.

Azrael looked away from his lover's face down to the thick warm length of flesh he held in his hands. He saw now the fabled endowment of the nephilim race had not been exaggerated, and suddenly felt his appetite peak. The gray blue thick shaft and deeper purple hued tip was an unusual sight to him, but if anything, curiosity made it all the more enticing. He licked the palm of each of his hands in turn, before returning to stroking the cock, to a surprised intake of air from Death.

Oh yes, Azrael definitely knew what he was doing. Death wasn't sure at which point the tables had subtly turned but Azrael was definitely having the better of him in this. Even if it was the nephilim who was on top. He was mildly embarrassed at the gasps that escaped him but couldn't help it. When he looked down and saw Azrael's... his lover's concentrated face like that... He'd wanted this for too long. And now, not even his wildest dreams did this justice. Shocks of sensation shot all the more strong through his whole body and he barely made sense of the flood of sensation that engulfed him. He felt as if it was his whole body in the both angel's wet hands and not just his throbbing erection. He just hoped he wasn't showing just how nervous he was.

It was an effort to stop staring at those able hands long enough to fight with the leather straps of his thigh armor and he silently cursed his past self for thinking to wear so many items today of all days. In between groans and shudders he managed to keep a hold on his thoughts long enough to reach behind him again and pull each of the angel's boots off as well. No buckles here, thankfully. The leather of the scholar's boots so supple it might was well have been cloth and they slid off easily.

Time to take the reins back.

Death bent over to kiss the angel roughly again, his hands purposely going straight to the dark blue pants. With no parsimony whatsoever he pulled Azrael's cock out to stroke him back to full hardness again. The surprised gasp at the lack of delicacy was all he needed to invade the angel's mouth with his tongue, and he smiled with triumph at having thrown Azrael off rhythm.

They stroked each other hurriedly, both their moans filling the air. Like a boat untied from its moorings, Death felt his conscious thoughts drift into a sea of heat and pleasure. Azrael too, he noted, seemed only half sentient now. They did not even kiss anymore, their tongues just warred with each other in unashamed carnality. Then Death took both their throbbing lengths in his larger hand and pumped them together to an even louder moan from the archangel.

The velvety feel of Azrael's dick both in his hand and against his own erection were as close to bliss as he had ever been. The angel threw his head back while Death continued to lap at his open mouth, hungrily studying his every move. The abandoned gasps of pleasure were delicious to his ears and the lewd expression on the angel's face was just too much. He'd stalled long enough.

Without a word he retreated crawling off the bed, releasing his hold on Azrael which earned him a confused pleading look. Death wasted no time in shedding his dark leather pants and tugging the dark blue ones off the scholar. Roughly grabbing both his thighs he dragged Azrael to the edge of the bed in a single tug. And then he knew a moment's hesitation...

How long had it even been since he had last done this?

Eons. His brethren had still been alive. - shit -

This was what he was raring for, yet somehow dreaded at the same time. And it's that he didn't want to hurt Azrael but he knew he would cause some amount of pain. He just hoped he could make it go away quickly.

- It's not as if you've ever concerned yourself with pleasuring others... Do you even know how?- A voice inside him taunted -This is completely different from the boys you used to take! Accepting the ministrations of who ever took your fancy, getting as much pleasure as you could from them, not actually caring if they enjoyed themselves in the exchange...- (4)

He willed the annoying voice to be quiet but could not help his mind straying into memory. Why should he have cared? They were beneath him. All those boys, only seeking to get the favor of a Firstborn. That was the only reason they offered themselves to him. And he took them gladly. Amused himself with their bodies, and discarded them. Those who he thought might not be able to keep the encounter secret, he simply killed when he was done. Oh he'd killed many that way. Some even during the encounter if he could not contain his strength. Either way, no one ever questioned their deaths. No one ever questioned the right of a Firstborn to take a life. No one questioned Death.

His tastes would have been viewed with disdain among his brethren and as a Firstborn he had a reputation to keep. Sex had never been about love for the Nephilim, but more a part of the constant social power struggles. And it had never been gentle, the Nephilim were never a sophisticated race. It was raw, brutish, forceful and quite often public. (5) Death had always kept his affairs private to keep his particular tastes secret. Those with the same inclination that sought him out knew that secrecy was required in exchange for their lives afterward.

Unlike angels, he reflected, gazing idly down now upon the one sprawled right in front of him, skin gleaming with a thin layer of sweat. Azrael would have had the luxury of being open about his relationship with Abaddon- the thought jibed him unbidden. Angels, as long as it broke no laws in their precious Codex, never gave a second thought to same sex relationships, love came before gender. After all, Angels were creatures of light and love when duty was not concerned.

He'd never actually made love to anyone, Death finally realized awkwardly.

But he wanted to make love to Azrael. He wanted to please him, more than he wanted pleasure for himself. For the first time, this wasn't just about selfish carnal desires. Oblivion and Abyss! how he had changed since those days, Death reflected. Eons ago now. A lifetime ago.

"Are you going to take me or not, Horseman?"

Death winced at the use of his title instead of his name, snapping sharply back to the present. But the playful smile on Azrael's lips quickly appeased him. He felt a leg hook behind his hips, pulling him closer as the angel propped himself up on lean arms. Trust Azrael to intuitively say the right thing. The challenge was all Death needed get past his insecurity and kick into drive.

Unhooking the angel's leg he placed it on his own shoulder as he caught Azrael's lips again and pushed him back onto the bed.

"I will " Death snarled suggestively "And then I will break through that damn composure of yours. I'm going to make you scream."

That got the smirk off the angel's face. Death knew a small surge of satisfaction at Azrael's expense before he told himself to concentrate. He wanted this badly but had to go slow. He spit on his own hand and coated the tip of his dick with saliva. His gaze steady on his partner's face.

Azrael's eyes widened at feeling the mushroom tip at his entrance, moist and warm. His building desire tempered suddenly with fear. He wanted it. Wanted Death inside of him, but, so soon? With no preparation? Death had to know it would hurt, right? Yet held down as he was, leg trapped between the Horseman's shoulder and his own chest, there was no way of wriggling out of this. Had he expected the foreplay to end so soon he would not have dared challenge the Horseman. Then again, nothing so far with Death had gone as he had expected.

"Death, wai..." but with a gasp the protestation died in his throat. Death pushed in, and all he could do was stare wordless up at his lover trying to hold the pain at bay.

Death's face was a mask of concentration as he studied the angel's every reaction. He was aware of his pain as he was aware of the pain of any being in proximity. The fact that this was from the one being he had no wish to ever hurt was almost enough to quell his desire with worry. He never imagined this particular sense of his would be so troublesome in bed one day.

- Well it's not like you've ever cared if you hurt your partners, so it figures... -

Brow furrowed and eyes shut tight, Azrael already felt as if his insides were tearing apart and he took shallow, hurried breaths. Death's cock burrowed on slowly, he could feel the throbbing flesh as it made its way inside and he loved the heat of it. But it hurt! Lord did it hurt! He wanted it to stop, but at the same time he didn't. The urge to take him in completely was overpowering. He swam in a sea of conflicting sensations, dimly aware that once again all his thoughts were a muddle. He threw an arm across his face, suddenly anxious to hide it and muffle his choked gasps as he gripped fistfuls of the white bed cover tightly.

What was Death thinking to go ahead and ram it in like this?! Did he not know how large he was?!

Yet, what had he expected exactly? Cute kisses and cuddles? He was bedding a Horseman of the Apocalypse for crying out loud! Nothing should have made him expect gentleness.

And yet he noted as he gathered his senses, biting down on the back of his own wrist, Death wasn't in fact just ramming it in. He'd stopped. As he took a breath to try and relax he felt Death push again a little further. The mixture of desire and pain returned, and again, Death stopped. Eyes closed in concentration, small moans sometimes spilling from his lips.

The temptation to bury himself in his lover's body was too great. Death had never held back this much and he drew on every ounce of self control he possessed not to pound away with abandon into the archangel. The moist warmth welcomed him, overcoming his mind with carnal craving and he almost, almost gave in.

He looked down at Azrael's pleading eyes, the chiseled face exquisite despite the torture. He focused his senses on the angel's pain to take the edge off and was able to remain collected. He kissed the inside of Azrael's ankle lovingly, enjoying the feel of the slender leg in his hand. Death felt the angel's pain dull in response and again he pushed his hips forward. He began again to stroke Azrael's neglected erection and watched him throw his head back, unruly ivory locks splaying out over the sheets as pleasure swept through the angel's body.

Full of self reproach, Azrael wondered when he'd become such a pushover that he could not tolerate a little pain. Death was clearly doing everything possible to spare him, the least he could do was meet him half-way. How could he not? What was a little pain when the one he loved looked at him with such concern and caring in his eyes? He took a breath and forced himself to relax, he knew how to do this, he was just out of practice.

A new wave of pleasure ran up his body as the nephilim sank in deeper, letting out a rugged breath on that deep gravelly voice. And suddenly he didn't want the agonizing wait, he didn't want the gentleness, he wanted Death, the callous Horseman he'd fallen in love with. And he wanted him now! He raised his free leg to surround Death's hips and closing both wings around Death's back, pulled him in suddenly.

Sharp searing pain shot up his spine and through his gut, the tight entrance felt like it burned. He roughly grabbed Death's raven hair at the base of his skull, desperately seeking something to hold onto and crushed their mouths together to force his mind away from the pain. Death's surprised gasp was muffled into Azrael's mouth.

Death struggled with the onrush of pleasure, trying his hardest not to move and let the angel get past the jolt of pain he had no intention to cause in the first place. If he had ever had a tougher test of his self control his lust filled mind was not letting him think of one. But soon enough he sensed the pain gradually subside and he let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.

"Damn it! I swear I don't understand you, angel!" Death snarled against Azrael's lips.

But all annoyance dissipated when he felt his partner lock arms around his neck. He reveled in the feel of Azrael's chest against his own. He buried his face in the crook of the angel's neck taking in his scent, wrapping his own muscular arms around Azrael's shoulders, holding him tight. He decided this was bliss.

He withdrew tentatively, never releasing his hold on the other's slender frame, and thrust into the warm body. A rich moan from the angel was his reward. Heat raced through him and he muffled his voice against Azrael's chest as he moved again and again.

How long had he admired the archangel from afar? How long had he kept his feelings under lock and key? And now the fact that he lay here making love to Azrael was not even the half of it. It was that Azrael embraced him with such need, held him tight with a strength he would not have attributed to the angel. Despite all he'd put Azrael through since arriving here at the Citadel, despite the pain that had now thankfully all but vanished, the angel still embraced him. He wasn't used to being accepted, to being loved unconditionally like this, and the feeling was heady. He would never say out loud to a living soul how in that moment his heart filled with such happiness he felt he could die.

Never loosing rhythm Death cupped Azrael's cheek and sought his lips. A sweet numbness already spreading from his hips, Azrael gave in to the gentle kiss. It felt as if the nephilim poured all his love into it as he continued to penetrate him, all his length sliding in and out easily. Held down like this by his lover's weight, every thrust turned his brain further into mush. The force with which Death pushed on him was always on the very edge between pleasure and pain. Rich and engulfing with the former, but always tinged with the promise of the later. A terrible indulgence overwhelmed him, and he was unable to keep from moaning into Death's open mouth. Soon enough kissing was abandoned again and their tongues just danced together unashamedly, arousing each other even more.

As Azrael's fingernails dug into his back, Death ran hungry hands over the angel's soaked torso, the lean stomach and finally grabbing hold of his thigh. The angel raised his hips to meet the thrust so Death could hit that coveted sweet spot and he cried out in pleasure right by the nephilim's ear.

Again and again Death aimed for the same place and Azrael threw his head back, still grinding his hips, closing his eyes in ecstasy, only to hear that gravelly voice, husky but soft:

"Look at me" it commanded him, and the archangel's eyes shot open before he had decided they should. His unrestrained gasps and moans were almost enough to undo the Horseman right then.

- This face... like this... I'm the only one in Creation who gets to see this face... to hear this voice... - Death gazed down, lost in the archangel's expression of complete surrender.

He wasn't going to last nearly long enough with this sight throwing him off. And he'd be damned if he'd allow himself to cum before his prey did.

Without care or warning he pulled out with a grunt and smiled fiendishly when he saw Azrael's eyes had all the look of an abandoned puppy.

"Dea-?...hmmp!" and suddenly Azrael was face down on the bed, Death's heavy hand on the small of his back and really confused as to how his lover had flipped him over so fast.

He cried out into the white covers when Death entered him again, the second time a far less tight entrance thought still far from delicate. He raised himself up on shaky arms and braced for the coming onslaught. Only to be baffled when he felt himself be picked up from behind.

Death sat back on his heels, bringing Azrael's body back with him to sit across his lap straddling his thighs. The angel's back pressed against the muscular grey chest. Suddenly unstable Azrael threw his wings out behind him and clamped them to either side of Death's shoulders. For all their ivory grace they were deceptively strong.

"Easy" He chuckled and placed a deep kiss on the back of Azrael's neck "I'm not about to drop you".

Thick reassuring arms held the angel tight across the chest, large bony hands running over his soaked skin, stopping to tease each nipple. Then he felt a hand on his thigh, forcing them apart as far as they would go. Another grabbed his jaw, craning his neck back, forcing his back to arch painfully. Completely open, his own body weight pulled him down, sinking onto Death's throbbing erection. He let out a helpless moan as he felt the heat of it deep inside him. The pleasure easily overriding any pain in his aching body.

Slowly at first, Death thrust deep into the angel enjoying the feeling of complete control he had over his winged lover, his current angle ensuring he hit that sweet spot again and again.

He pushed too fingers into Azrael's mouth and played with his tongue, hot and moist. He kissed and licked along the angel's neck as he devoured the sight through narrowed eyes. Azrael's deep breathy voice sounded deliciously in delirium. The moans sent vibrations along his fingers as they were lavished by the wet tongue. Lost to his pleasure the mystic's face was irresistible.

Death bit the top of Azrael's shoulder, reminding himself not to bite as hard as he wished he could, lest he actually hurt his lover's softer skin. The shinning blue glyphs danced their delicate magic on his tongue. Already he felt himself shift into a predatory frenzy.

"You're mine now" he snarled into the angel's ear.

"Yes..." Azrael replied in a daze. He couldn't help it, it was true. Dimly he was aware of his pride protesting somewhere but he would pay no heed to it. "yes.. yes..." he repeated under his breath.

His mind drifted into sweet numbness. Thick indulgent numbness. He felt himself slipping, his body already at its limit. He chanted Death's name in time with every thrust, only half conscious that the words spilled from his mouth at all.

Death felt Azrael tighten around him, instinctively matching the nephilim's rhythm and with a rich growl in the base of his throat Death picked up pace even more. He wouldn't take much more of this himself. Driving into the hot yielding body he held tight across the slim waist just felt too good. The way his experienced partner ground his hips in synergy just felt too good. He needed to end this. Now. Needed to tip Azrael over the edge, needed to hear his voice as he let all inhibition go, he wanted to see his face when he came. Craved to claim the Archangel, finally, as his own.

He took Azrael's throbbing cock in his hand once more as he whispered lustfully in the angel's ear:

"I'm going to make you cum now." It was not a question or a threat. It was a statement. And all Azrael could think to answer was what he had already been repeating over and over.

"Yes..."

And truly he wanted nothing else. He couldn't take it, teetering on the edge as he was. Immobilized as he was, open and vulnerable as he was, it truly didn't feel like his body was his own anymore. It was Death's to do as he pleased. And he loved it.

Death pounded into the helpless angel, mercilessly pumping Azrael's cock in short rapid strokes and the angel willed him to go faster, harder. He dug his nails into Death's thighs as he felt the nephilim's teeth in his skin, muffling heavy grunts into his shoulder. The sound of his name on the angel's deep breathy voice only added fuel to his burning heat.

"So... good... Azrael! fuck!"

He bit the back of Azrael's neck, sheer willpower held him together now. So close. So close now.

And then letting out a ragged cry of pleasure the angel's entire body tensed. Wings involuntarily stretched to their fullest, every feather seemed to shudder. He felt Azrael cum in his hand as he was finally undone, spilling freely onto the bed.

-Mine -

And whatever resolve he was holding onto shattered that instant. He buried his face between the angel's shoulder blades as he felt himself slip irrevocably. Conscious thought fled him and he was only aware that he cursed repeatedly as he poured his everything into Azrael's yielding body.

- Mine. Mine. Mine!-

The angel's orgasmic face was fucking gorgeous! Death forced himself to release his crushing grip on the spent angel before he actually broke something. He knew himself capable of it. He took ragged breaths until he felt back in control. Exhausted, but in control.

Azrael tried and failed to keep his body from shaking. As his mind came back to him, the scholar felt his strength leave him and suddenly his body had all the rigidity of a piece of string. But where he would have toppled, Death's strong arms reacted and held him upright. Steadfast support when he had none.

Still heaving with laborious breaths, Death's chest flush against his back enveloped him in warmth. The large grey hands held him tight across the chest, encasing him, protecting him. Gentle lips kissed the top of his shoulder and the back of his neck again and again as they both came down from the violent high.

He let himself be cradled in the strong arms, and felt Death pull out as he gently brought them both to lie on the bed once more. The burning amber eyes had never held such gentleness as now that he delicately cleared soaked strands of ivory hair from his lover's face. Gone was the beast who had just ravaged his body so utterly.

Azrael looked up with happy exhaustion, weakly tucking the jet black hair behind Death's ear and wondering how this nephilim could be such a contradiction of savagery and caring.

"What just happened?" Azrael's voice was barely a whisper.

"We just made love" the Horseman was not able to keep a content smile from his face as he dotted kisses on Azrael's forehead, temple and cheek lovingly.

"Yes, that's what I mean..."

And Death's deep raspy chuckle was bliss.


AN1: Phew! *wipes away steamy condensation from computer screen* well, that happened :)
I was so nervous about writing this (still nervous about publishing it xD) but I hope the ridiculous length of this chapter somewhat makes up for its tardiness. I much prefer shorter installments, but in this case it was justified.

AN2: Also, I'd like to take the opportunity to reassure all those who were wondering: This story is NOT getting dropped. No matter how long in between updates, I'm not leaving it off unfinished.
This story is already drafted in full, so it's not like I'm searching for ideas from chapter to chapter. It's just that it takes me so damn long to flesh out the draft with the little time that I have now to write :(

AN3: And to all the readers of this story: THANK YOU for sticking with it so long :p Hopefully it was steamy enough to satisfy all my fellow BL fans :D


(1) How many of you were about ready to kill me at this point? yelling "WHAT?! they're NOT going to do it?!" teehee ;P

(2) Aren't we all? we've been on this balcony since last chapter xD

(3) For those that haven't read the book: in the first few chapters (I think it's chapter 3), Death is described as having an acute awareness of beings' physical pain. It's not ever mentioned in the games though.

(4) He doesn't actually mean children. Death referred to all younger nephilim disdainfully as 'boys'. Just so we're clear -_-; The fact that they offered themselves to him just to seek the favor of a Firstborn made them pathetic in his eyes, flesh playthings, and he had no respect for them. You gotta remember this was old Death, pre-battle of Eden. Back when he was an outright asshole.

(5) Think Dothraki wedding celebration for a better mental picture :) I imagine the Nephilim having a lot in common.