[That was enough to get Gabriel growling again, almost comically, but with a certain edge that certain porn films the Winchesters were now in possession of lacked, because really he had just been trying to scare those boys by making them watch something raunchy and depraved- one last parting shot. He could be raunchy and depraved, but, well, it lacked something.
Now that they were both up, he wasted no time in kissing her so forcefully he drove her back down to the other side of the couch. He'd had enough of the bottom- time for him to be on top. There was force, an animal lust, between the kisses and bites and gentle caresses of his tongue against the scarred flesh. He wasn't just forceful in just the right places, he was careful around others. She'd be stuck with bruises all along her chest and neck, but the old scars would never be touched.
He pulled back, shifting position, slightly. The pieces of his wardrobe that were about as much apart of him as his own vessel's skin were shed as quickly as humanly possible, which for an angel was extremely quickly. The jacket fell to the floor with a clatter and if he'd bothered to look down, he'd see the faint silver sheen of his sword, but that was nothing to concern himself with. The flannel shirt followed suit. His vessel had come with its share of scars- people who knew the stories about Loki could attest to where they came from too. Raw skin on his wrists that never healed properly, always hidden by big sleeves, and what looked like a nasty chemical burn on his chest. Odin and his stupid punishments. There were more, of course, but they were all internal and those belonged to Gabriel, alone.
For a moment, he lingered, hovering above her. There was no Greek god, no Adonis, in him. He looked pathetically common, with pathetically common marks, but when he lowered himself back down, pinning her, and claiming every bit of unmarked skin as his own, there was something. You'd think an angel would be at its least angelic during a carnal act, but Gabriel, here and now, was Gabriel. Not Loki with his den of lovers and cheap insults and tricks, but something so much greater. If you blinked too fast or stared too long at a wall, you might have sworn you saw a shadow of wings and then convinced yourself it wasn't real. Thank someone the lights were out or else every fuse in this apartment building might have blown.
Once again, his wandering hands moved, but this time they weren't teasing. Each breast was circled with delicate precision- a fingernail tickling the flesh while he focused his mouth, his tongue, his teeth on her neck and shoulders, only to move down and repeat the process, lingering too long on that space between her breasts before tracing circles again, this time with his tongue instead of a fingernail. His hands stayed poised on her hips, a thumb reaching out to caress her inner thigh, almost as an afterthought, but he was for more focused on her torso to worry about anything below it. The way he lingered on each mark, each scar made it seem as if he was making a silent vow to find whoever gave her them and let them suffer long for it.]
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Date: 2011-02-25 06:41 am (UTC)Now that they were both up, he wasted no time in kissing her so forcefully he drove her back down to the other side of the couch. He'd had enough of the bottom- time for him to be on top. There was force, an animal lust, between the kisses and bites and gentle caresses of his tongue against the scarred flesh. He wasn't just forceful in just the right places, he was careful around others. She'd be stuck with bruises all along her chest and neck, but the old scars would never be touched.
He pulled back, shifting position, slightly. The pieces of his wardrobe that were about as much apart of him as his own vessel's skin were shed as quickly as humanly possible, which for an angel was extremely quickly. The jacket fell to the floor with a clatter and if he'd bothered to look down, he'd see the faint silver sheen of his sword, but that was nothing to concern himself with. The flannel shirt followed suit. His vessel had come with its share of scars- people who knew the stories about Loki could attest to where they came from too. Raw skin on his wrists that never healed properly, always hidden by big sleeves, and what looked like a nasty chemical burn on his chest. Odin and his stupid punishments. There were more, of course, but they were all internal and those belonged to Gabriel, alone.
For a moment, he lingered, hovering above her. There was no Greek god, no Adonis, in him. He looked pathetically common, with pathetically common marks, but when he lowered himself back down, pinning her, and claiming every bit of unmarked skin as his own, there was something. You'd think an angel would be at its least angelic during a carnal act, but Gabriel, here and now, was Gabriel. Not Loki with his den of lovers and cheap insults and tricks, but something so much greater. If you blinked too fast or stared too long at a wall, you might have sworn you saw a shadow of wings and then convinced yourself it wasn't real. Thank someone the lights were out or else every fuse in this apartment building might have blown.
Once again, his wandering hands moved, but this time they weren't teasing. Each breast was circled with delicate precision- a fingernail tickling the flesh while he focused his mouth, his tongue, his teeth on her neck and shoulders, only to move down and repeat the process, lingering too long on that space between her breasts before tracing circles again, this time with his tongue instead of a fingernail. His hands stayed poised on her hips, a thumb reaching out to caress her inner thigh, almost as an afterthought, but he was for more focused on her torso to worry about anything below it. The way he lingered on each mark, each scar made it seem as if he was making a silent vow to find whoever gave her them and let them suffer long for it.]