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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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.

Wasting no time this time, Robin now positioned himself so that he could slide his hands onto Anael's ass and part his cheeks, lowering his head to blow warm breath there, signaling his intention.

...and in the meantime, it was all too easy to focus on the present. Anael forced himself not to squirm at the teasing breath and, since he did not have to hide who he was, he sent a gentle, just as warm and playful little breeze to wrap around Robin for just a second, dying down as gently as it had appeared.

Which, he figured a little belatedly, might be a bit off-putting to the puck, since Anael did not think that he had told him that he didn't just do Love, but also Winds.

Robin didn't know, no, though he'd been around enough magic users that though it was a surprise it didn't alarm him. He let out a breathless little laugh before he bent his head and began to lick Anael open with a talented tongue.

Anael was grateful that it did not delay things unnecessarily, and sighed out a happy little sound at that first touch of Robin's tongue. The muscles in his back shifted again, before he utterly relaxed into it. He gave Robin soft encouragements and loving praise - he truly was gifted with that tongue, a fact Anael was glad to keep benefiting from - and rode the easy pleasure he was being offered.

Robin was accustomed to praise less loving and more obscene, but his ego was happy with it either way, honestly. He licked and delved and fucked Anael with his tongue, gauging his reactions and movements to know which techniques he should repeat.

And Anael was certainly not stingy when it came to responsiveness, so it wasn't long before Robin knew how best to make him moan, or squirm, or gasp, bunch his hands in the bedsheets or call out his name in praise, not to mention some wonderful combinations of the above. Pleasure curled and unfurled inside him, washing hot and teasing through him - teasing, with his cock trapped between himself and the mattress.

It was some time before Robin lifted his head, and then moved up Anael's body, licking and nipping with his teeth on his way up. He dragged his teeth lightly across Anael's shoulderblade, his erection rubbing against the back of Anael's thigh. Then he spoke soft and rough into his ear, his body heavy on top of the angel's. "Is this divine?"

By the time Robin was lying fully on top of Anael, the angel was pushing and rubbing back against him, entirely without shame about how much he wanted Robin, and the drag of teeth on that spot had him gasp. Right on the hells of that gasp came a chuckle, in answer to Robin's question. "Trying to get me to blaspheme, puck?"

He did not actually believe that it would be a blaspheme, but he wouldn't be surprised if Robin did. He also doubted that the puck wanted to start a conversation about whether God was in everything that was done in his Creation; sometimes, Anael did know when to shut up, and he twisted around just enough to catch Robin's lips in a heated kiss.

"I don't care if you blaspheme or not, though I might like to hear you beg," Robin rasped against his mouth when the kiss broke. And he trailed a finger down, down, down Anael's back to slip fluidly inside him.

Anael sighed out a little moan at that first proper breach, and pushed back against Robin's fingers, remaining propped up on his elbows to keep his face turned towards Robin. He gave in to the temptation and stole another heated but brief kiss. "Hmm. Not yet." He might end up begging, who knew. But he was still enjoying this too much. And he had had an eternity to learn patience, and to enjoy what he was being given.

Robin allowed the kiss, giving as much as he took. And then he breached Anael with another finger, stretching him expertly. "That's okay, I can keep this up for a long, long time..."

Anael did nothing to stifle the happy moan that second intrusion tipped from his lips. He could feel a flush rising from his chest, warmth permeating him as his hips worked to make the most of Robin's fingers. "Ah, but would you want to?" Not that that would stop Anael from asking for more when he wanted it, of course. For now, he kissed Robin again, twisting his upper body just enough that he could fold up his arm and touch fingertips to the puck's jaw.

"Oh, you'd be surprised what I want," Robin murmured against Anael's lips, and then shifted in such a way that the angel could no longer reach him, even as he twisted his fingers expertly inside him.

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