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[sanaarin]

bextus​:

“You are hurting my feelings.” Michael said with a slight pout on the lips, letting Aarin’s blade press against his face, tilting his face against the sharp end, piercing his own skin. “I am Michael, Prince of Heaven.” He looked at Aarin, moving closer to him, not once moving away from the edge of the sword, the cut going deeper. “This is my home.”

He mantains the eye lock with him, letting the blade brush across the other’s skin. Why would an impostor do such thing? Aarin could kill him right then and he wasn’t fighting back, wasn’t drawing his sowrd and a demon for sure wouldn’t survive in the city.

He squinted again. If this was really Michael then what had happened? Was this a test from Father? from Mother?

He slowly lowered the sword but his body was still ready to attack if necessary, it would be dumb to just believe whatever thing and let his guard down. “You act nothing like thim, your wings are not like his. You feel and smell the same but something’s off.”

[sanaarin]

bextus​:

He heard him coming, sword at ready, he turned around fast, stopping the kick and the blade, the holy metal still close to to his face, making a smirk appear on his lips. 

“Tsk, that was slow. I could hear your wings flapping about before you even got close.” His tone is a distorted version of his usual sweetness, it’s soft but somehow wrong. “And really, you shouldn’t attack your elders from behind, it’s not proper etiquette, pretty dove.” He moves his sword, pushing Aarin’s blade away from his face with ease. 

“If you wanted my attention, you just had to ask.”

“Stop talking shit, who are you and what is your business here?” He huffed, moving the sword to change it to his other hand and aim at him once again, stepping closer.

How did he went pass the guards? The Thrones? The Seraphs?

[sanaarin]

@bextus​

The change of energy was noticeable, not as much as if Michael had left the Silver City but the balance wasn't the same, just off enough for Aarin to notice. His reaction was fast, launching himself up in search of his counterpart. He drew his double bladed sword and aimed to kick at the back of the dark haired impostor. "Identify yourself." He tilted his chin up, the sharp end of one of the blades pressed against the one with Michael's face.

[sanaarin]

[sanaarin]

Neto Gomes by Ton Gomes

[sanaarin]

Angel Ithuriel in the heavenly city

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[sanaarin]

nasty don’t read

The night was slow, calm was a better word to use. The doors of his chambers had a thin opening in between where the light of the lamps of the hallway could slither in the room. The young healer got up from the desk and headed towards the tall window that offered part of one of the gardens as view. The guards were on their places, there was not a sound except by the hymn of the Thrones that could be heard in the distance, nearer to the Throne room.

He bit his lower lip, the thoughts that were passing through his head weren't new. A quick glance to the door as his right hand moved to cup his own nape, slender fingers slid along the side of his neck as green eyes moved back to the window. One could see the reflection of his armour on the glass as well as the healer's body, covered in a delicate robe made of holy silk in blue tones with an immitation of the night sky at the bottom that was spread over the wooden floor of  his chambers. His hand continued it's way down over his bare chest, fingertips tracing the lines of his pecks and then the abdomen until they reached the waistband of similar fabric pants that hung just below his hipbones and with both thumbs hooked on it, he pushed it down until it fell by it's own weight and stepped out of the silky fabric.

He looked up at the reflection on the glass through long lashes, letting one hand explore along his thigh, as low as he could reach withouth bending down and then going back up nearer his groin. The other hand caressed along his chest again, shoulders rolled gracefully as he let the robe fall next to the pants using his wings to push it off and let the feathers be the only thing that could cover part of his now bare body. His wings looking a tone tad blue under the light of the nightsky and the little light that managed to sneak in.

Aarin traced with one fingertip over his pelvis and let his hand wander lower, gently cupping himself and curling his fingers around his already half hard shaft. There was a little noise that he didn't stop from coming out and the bit on his lower lip became tighter. His hand adjusted the grip, slowly starting to stroke his cock as his free hand pressed against the cold glass. The archangel leaned forward, his wings spread lightly, feathers puffed with the pleasant feeling. His gaze was somewhat sharp in the distance, allowing himself to fantasy with another body, with someone familiar and with another hands. The thought made him moan under his breath and pick up the pace of the stroking. His wrist added a bit of a twist to the movement, he was completely hard by now. Aarin moved one leg forward, opening his stand a bit more to be more comfortable as his head fell back with his lips lightly parted. The jerking movement sent waves of pleasure through his whole body, making his wings twitch and shiver from time to time, spreading and tensing back again when his hand did something beyond good. His tongue poked out and licked his lips slowly, eyes opening again to give another glance to the horizon, the buildings and the lights around, the stars and smirk at those last ones. "Ah ~" The moan sounded a bit louder in the silence of the room but in no way the noise would go past his door. In the reflection he could see the precum dripping, leaking over his fingers and he added a bit more pressure to the head with his thumb, making himself moan again and his legs tremble. His head tilted down and his eyes shut at the sudden spark of delight. "Ahh...nhn~" He moaned again, the noise turning lower, coming from the bottom of his throat and sounding hoarse. His hand picked up the pace noticeably, his toes curled and his wings shivered more violently this time. He looked up with heavy eyelids and an open mouth, his whole body tensed and his free hand turned into a fist as his hand continued with the fast movement. The archangel groaned and bit his lips hard to avoid making too much noise, his face was flushed, the tips of his ears were red and his breath was uneved and heavy. It was embarassing to hear himself making those noises, he avoided to see his face in the reflection of the glass and he couldn't think much in the last second but that he didn't want the feeling to end but at the same time he wanted to see how much it could improve if he moved his hand faster.   Aarin's voice cracked with the last moan, his wings spreading violently and knocking over a couple of books near. His toes curled as he finally came, staning the glass before him and his stomach. The cum dripped onto the floor and his hand and he slowly moved to sit down on the ground, his heart was racing and he tried to catch his breath with a little hum of delight as he enjoyed the after taste of his orgasm. The archangel sighed, feeling his body relax after it and slowly laid down over his back with his wings spread comfortably. He'd take care of the cleaning later.

[sanaarin]

[sanaarin]

[sanaarin]

[sanaarin]

More training from stunt woman and martial artist, Tara Macken.

[sanaarin]

[sanaarin]

[sanaarin]

bextus​:

A soft sigh of relief left his lips, loosening his grip just a little. He believed Aarin, trusted that he wouldn’t go looking for something in Chuck but he also knew that it was impossible for them not to face the God again. Aarin had to be ready, had to be stronger. Chuck would never take anyone else from him. 

“Zaphkiel?” Michael frowned lightly. Zaph wasn’t one to be too involved with Heaven’s affairs, tending to his duties on Earth more often than not. “No….I trust your judgement.” Michael smiled lightly. Those words were heavy, they were full of responsibility but he trusted Aarin was able to carry that weight, trusted that he wouldn’t take advantage of the power he was giving him. Never again would he carry all of the weight on his own. Never again would his counterpart add to the pressure. Aarin and him stood on equal ground. “If you say he doesn’t deserve punishment, I believe you.”

He still didn't move his hand from Michael's grip. Zaphkiel not only tried to stop him but if it wasn't because of his intervention he wouldn't have been here...probably. Chuck was irrational and impredictable, dangerous and Zaphkiel's quick actions had made the difference.

But he wasn't sure how Michael would take that, the fact that someone like Zaph had to intervene for him to get away with nothing but finger prints. Aarin was ashamed, for his decisions, for his behavior and mostly because he had to be saved.

He smiled, he would deal with those emotions later. "Aren't you going to tell me that I should listen to my elders?"

For now, what Michael's words meant and how big that responsibility was, haven't clicked with the younger archangel. He took it like it was a personal favor, just for being him who was asking for Zaphkiel not to be punished but the consequences of that would face him later for sure, even if wasn’t aware of that now.

[sanaarin]

bextus​:

“Hmm….” Michael takes a moment to ponder his words, he can feel emotions bubbling up, fighting to come out in different words. Anger, frustration, fear….Jealousy. Ugly things that he had never felt in such a way. He pushed it all away, however, knowing he couldn’t just blurt out whatever came to mind. “I understand.” He said, his hand moved to Aarin’s wrist, his grip getting a little tighter than necessary. “But you have nothing to prove to him.” He could smell the foreign divinity, all wrapped around Aarin. With Raphael he had never noticed but with Aarin it was obvious. “Don’t you ever let him touch you again.” Michael said, his voice was soft but there was an edge to it, of anger, of possessiveness, so subtle that it was almost imperceptible. “He is nothing. Do you understand? Nothing.” 

The tightening of the grip was reasuring for him, the firmness that they were together and Michael wouldn't let anyone to take him. Aarin nodded, his wings lowering and reaching one out to brush against Michael's. "Understood my Liege." There's a small reverence as a sign that his words were now law, accepted and would be followed. Aarin's free hand moved to rest around Michael's shoulders.

"Zaphkiel went with me, he wanted me to stop so I hope he doesn't get punished for crossing the portal."

[sanaarin]

@bextus

He smiles at the kiss on the hand, leaving it on Michael's hold and letting his thumb brush over his bottom one. The smile fades and is replaced for an expression of frustration and a bit of shame. He takes a deep breath and pushes his hair back before looking back at Michael, meeting his eyes. " I thought He would be more rational. I wanted to show them who I am."

[sanaarin]

multixdisaster​:

@sanaarin​

     “SEE? That’s the spirit! Don’t worry about them, just worry about YOURSELF.”

“I’d rather worry about Michael.”