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Vladislaus backed Gabriel into the bedroom, their feet sliding together in vague coordination as their fumbling hands quickly removed their shirts. His own was sodden and cool with his sweat and blood; Gabriel's sweet and fresh, like the smell of flowers against his fingers. The maddening creature could still best Vlad on the field, even after all these months of training. But here, in his room, he still had the upper hand.
Vlad bore down on Gabriel's mouth, tangling one hand in his long hair, the other trailing down his back, feeling the smooth glide of muscle beneath perfect skin. He moved the kiss to Gabriel's neck, biting his jaw and chin on the way down.
The noises Gabriel made were like music, guiding them to towards the bed in an ancient rhythm he was still teaching his elusive swordmaster. To think, one who had taught him so much had so much to learn.
Gabriel tipped his head, ducking into the curve of Vlad's shoulder. Vlad tilted his chin, baring his neck and shoulder as Gabriel traced his lips against his skin. He sighed at the soft touch, then hissed as Gabriel found his wound. A shallow mark, more painful than incapacitating, but a harsh lesson from the swordmaster on keeping his guard. Gabriel's lips slid over the smooth edges of the wound, and Vlad had to hold himself very still to keep from pulling away as the pain flared. It was bright for a moment, like a flash of lightning under his skin, then Gabriel's cool breath soothed the mark. Like lightning, the pain sputtered and died, leaving only a white-hot scar behind.
Vlad turned his head, kissing Gabriel lightly on the temple before lifting his face to his own. He caught a glimpse of the wound, now healed and numbed, then stared into the face of the one who hurt then healed him. Gabriel's lips were smudged red, his dark eyes bright with contrition and desire. The swordmaster did not like to hurt his student, but they both understood it was sometimes necessary.
Vlad ran his thumb over the swollen lips, wiping away the stain. He brought his hand to his own mouth and copied the movement, his lips parted so that he could lick away the traces. The taste of his own blood was strange, crackling with the power held within the beautiful creature before him. Gabriel's eyes followed the movement, the bobbing of his throat as he swallowed, and the last of his contrition was lost in his desire.
Gabriel's mouth was light against Vlad's, not hesitant but relishing, taking the time to savor the simple touch. Before he could press it further, Vlad smoothed his hands down Gabriel's back, and in a husky whisper against his lips pleaded, "Please, let me see."
Gabriel rested his forehead against Vlad's for a moment, as if waiting. Then he backed away, slowly, Vlad's arms falling from his shoulders. He stopped when his legs hit the edge of the bed. His gaze dropped from Vlad's face, and he curled in on himself, wrapping his arms across his chest.
The very air around them shivered. Gabriel's long hair fell around his face, obscuring it. He gave a low noise, like a hummed note lost in the wind, and then he threw out his arms as wide as he possibly could. White flashed out around him, and suddenly Vlad was staring at the great feathered wings, powerful and delicate, rising up behind Gabriel's back. They stretched, shivered, then folded and fell into a soft protective blanket around him, impossibly white and luminous.
There was nothing in heaven or hell as beautiful as his Angel. His. Sent to him from God Himself, to protect His faithful servant, to help him protect the lands threatened by invasion. To teach him, to reward him.
To be HIS.
"Gabriel..." Vlad stepped forward slowly, each movement as careful as crossing an iced river. Gabriel waited, his wings stretching and relaxing, as though he were caught between staying and taking flight. When Vlad stepped into his arms, the soft feathers flowed around him, cupping his back as Gabriel's hands smoothed down his chest. Vlad reached up to twine his fingers in Gabriel's grasp, holding them over his heart.
The Left Hand of God... and now his. He gave a quick prayer of thanks to heaven before leaning close, claiming Gabriel's lips.
Nothing could make him give this up. Nothing.