goodfellow | Anael

Anael

Robin loved museums. All the history, all the memories. Paintings especially. All the painters he'd known over the years, all the subjects, all the models. Sometimes it was a strange sense of melancholy, sitting in a room full of images from the past, from his past, ad feeling consumed by it for just a few moments.

A little masochistic even, sometimes.

He sat on a bench in the National Gallery, looking at a painting of Achilles and Patroclus. It had been so long since he'd seen them. Those souls, the pair of them, sometimes brothers sometimes not, who had appeared over and over again throughout the ages. Achilles and Patroclus were just one of the incarnations. And it had been decades since Robin had watched a version of them die again.

Still, these were some of his favorites. Even if the Trojan War had been a hell of a time.

His gaze lingered on Achilles. The beautiful body, the blonde hair. Something tugged inside him.

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It was a good thing that while Anael had not had a wall to lean back against during the blowjob, there still was one just a few steps behind him. A very good thing, seeing as the sudden assault on his mouth had him stumble backwards (his trousers were still around his knees, after all), although his arms wrapped reflexively around Robin.

This ended with his back slamming against the wall, but it only interrupted the kiss for a brief instant, and Anael immediately renewed it, even as he regained his footing. Renewed the kiss, and gave as good as he got as desire flared inside him again.

Robin loved that scramble to the wall. He slammed up against Anael hard, not breaking the kiss for an instant. And once there, he pressed up against him and grabbed one of Anael's wrists, pinning it above his head to the wall.

At this point his erection was pretty insistently pressing against Anael's leg through his trousers. And even trapped in trousers a puck erection was enough to make a statement.

Robin had been right about Anael, in that he did like to spend hours doing nothing but kissing, before making sweet, tender love. But it was just one of the options the angel liked. He in fact enjoyed all types of sex, as long as one form of love or another fueled them. The combination of that slam against the wall (not enough to hurt, certainly not an angel, but enough to be felt) and of the demanding hunger in Robin's kiss sent a sharp surge of arousal through him, warmth bursting in his chest. He let his hand be pinned; of course, he could have got out of that hold in a heartbeat, but the point rather was that he didn't want to.

He pushed back into the kiss, hips pressing forward against Robin's for a few seconds, meeting desire with desire. When he pulled his hips back, it was to slide his free hand between their bodies, fingers immediately finding the puck's erection to cup him through his trousers. He really did want to find out how Robin would feel inside him, and had to wonder if the fuck would be as merciless as their kissing currently was.

Robin made a little growling sound of pleasure when Anael touched him. Keeping his wrist pinned above his head, Robin moved his mouth to his neck. His other hand splayed out on Anael's abdomen.

"You're wearing - too many clothes, Robin," Anael managed between short breaths, on account of what the puck was doing to his neck. It didn't prevent him from stroking him through his trousers, on the contrary, a constant shift and press of his hand.

"Mmmmm," Robin hummed, and nipped lightly at his skin. "I should warn you, sometimes people find me naked somewhat... intimidating."

"I have stood in the presence of God," Anael pointed out, laughing as he did so. "Nothing about sex could ever feel intimidating." As if to prove his point, his fingers were tracing the length of him through his trousers.

"Oh?" murmured Robin, lips still at his neck. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that the almighty is well endowed." He moved away from him then so that he could push down his trousers and underwear.

"They aren't really - endowed, at all," Anael stated, using the third person neutral given what they were talking about. It wasn't as if God was a specific gender, for all that humanity tended to think of them as a Him.

He watched Robin get rid of his clothes for a few seconds, then moved forward to touch the bared skin; he couldn't exactly do without, not when his skin looked so appealing. A hand found the small of his back, while the other slid up his chest.

"Don't I at least warrant a moment of admiration?" Robin teased, even as he bent his head again to kiss Anael's neck, his curls brushing across the angel's shoulders.

"More than a single moment," Anael promised on a rushed breath of air when Robin's lips found a soft spot on his neck. The hand on the puck's chest slid back down to curl around the length he now would have no trouble believing was infamous.

Robin made a little "mmmmmmm" sound when Anael touched him. "You think you can take it then?" he murmured, and flicked his tongue against the angel's ear. "Do you want to?"

"I want to feel you - all of you - inside me," Anael assured him in a quiet, steady whisper as he stroked him, slow but firm, experienced. Anael had likely not had sex quite as often as Robin had; he did spend a lot of time in Heaven, and business there often distracted him, but this was still hardly his first rodeo, on the contrary. He had managed to toe off his shoes, and his trousers had pooled around his ankles, just waiting for him to step out of them.

Robin didn't like to admit it, but he had had no shortage of sexual fantasies about that other angel over the years. How could he not? Ishiah was a blonde work of divine art, and an utter jackass besides - the hate sex would be the most incredible thing, Robin was sure of it. He hadn't known whether to be happy or disappointed when he'd gone from angel to peri. Not that Robin had seen much of him lately anyway. It had been years.

But still, the thought of fucking an angel now seemed like an important checkmark on his bucket list, and he was actually kind of like, grateful. It made him want to make this particularly good for Anael, too.

"You'll be good and ready by then," he said, gasping a little as Anael's fingers stroked over his erection. He could be patient. He would be. "Why don't you get on the bed. On your stomach."

Anael made a softly annoyed sound, something almost childish in its petulance, because that would mean stopping touching Robin, and he was enjoying that. But it was nothing serious, and he just pushed up to kiss the puck again, enjoying these last few moments of being able to stroke him, twisting his wrist just so on the upstroke as their tongues danced together.

It was nothing serious, or he would have pointed out that Robin could no more hurt him through lack of preparation (well-endowed though he clearly was) than he could by throwing him a punch. This might be a physical body, but it was a lot sturdier than it looked, and very resistant to pain in all its forms.

But that was one of the beautiful things about sex, Anael felt: all options were equally wonderful, and annoyance at the end of one of them could only be brief, chased away as it was by joy at the beginning of another.

"Alright, Robin," he murmured against his lips, and forced himself to pull away, stepping out of his trousers and getting rid of his socks on his way to the bed. He lay down on his stomach, arms crossed in front of him, looking back at the puck over his shoulder with a soft smile. Preparation might not be strictly necessary, but it was always so very, very pleasurable.

The way Anael looked at him actually made Robin a little uncomfortable. It was the affection in his eyes. Okay, love, there was definitely something like that going on, and Robin wasn't used to it. But he was willing to ignore it.

Entirely nude himself, Robin approached him on the bed. Then he climbed up and dragged his fingertips down Anael's naked body.

The muscles in Anael's back shifted in a way that would have had his wings relax, if they had been out, and he sighed out happily, resting his head on his crossed arms and smiling softly as he focused on the strokes of Robin's fingers over his skin.

Tracing fingertips along the muscles of Anael's back actually made Robin think of wings. "Where are they," he murmured, and bent to drag his tongue along one shoulderblade. "Your wings."

"Out of the way," Anael replied, and looked back over his shoulder, amused, curious, and admittedly extremely turned on by such a simple thing as a lick across his back. He supposed that it was on account of its location, and what they were discussing. "Wanna see?"

He did tend to keep them out of the way during sex, even when his lover knew what he was; they were big, and made all manners of things more complicated.

"Fuck yes," Robin laughed, and moved off of him to get out of the way.

Anael grinned at the puck's answer, and waited until he was a safe distance away to roll his shoulders, wings seemingly appearing out of thin air on his back. They were grey-white, and would span a good fourteen feet if he stretched them out, but for now, he kept them tucked in along his back and legs, watching Robin's reaction.

Robin's expression was of genuine admiration. "Gorgeous," he murmured, and climbed onto the bed with him again. He was almost tentative as he reached out and touched one of the wings.

The feathers were soft, but the muscle and tendon underneath were powerful, no mistake there. Unlike Anael's physical body, they looked and felt as strong as they actually were. They were also very rarely touched, and Anael found himself holding his breath until Robin's hand reached one of them, sighing out quietly. The wing shifted slightly under the touch, but not away from it.

Robin stroked his fingers very lightly over them. "You can put them away if they're in your way, for now," he purred. "But I feel like at some point I may be sufficiently motivated to work around them."

"At some point," Anael echoed with a soft smile and, after a few more seconds of utterly enjoying that touch, shed the wings again. They wouldn't be in his way so much as in Robin's, all things considered, but he hoped that Robin may in fact become sufficiently motivated, later.

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