Ashee writes things

[asheewrites]

Otter date

So… he was a famous actor he had done stunt work for, he had almost put up a restraining order, because he had paid attention to the fact he was constantly drinking bubble tea, he was a high ranking water angel. And he was interested in him.

The last tidbit being a fact that came up when they needed to discuss helping a transgender friend in need.

Levil had tried to be as prickly as possible. Blunt honesty to the point of rudeness, maybe even insult. And still, he had decided it was a good idea to go on a date.

The idea had been less than appealing. Only very few people could get his brain to shut up for a moment. Expressing the wish to take this person away from him almost sent him into a panic.

When Duke refused to get away from him at the first generously given opportunity? It might have been the first time he was sincerely thankful. He hadn’t done anything to endear himself to the boy. Just been his deliberately mean self. Not being liked by him was essential. He was supposed to like Lyman and not be distracted by being nice or even polite to his too-rich boss and landlord.

It might have been a genuine shock. If there was a chance to lose something he genuinely cared about, it usually happened. But… it hadn’t. Not yet. And even if it was only a small sign of trust or – maybe even – loyalty… it certainly had earned the boy Levil’s loyalty.

So teaching Allan how to change another’s body was going to be fine. It was the least he could do. And it wasn’t hard or difficult. And Allan, too, accepted all the edges. So that was… alright. The date. Despite the almost-panic-attack. If Allan truly wanted to go on a date with a stuntman and hacker, while actually offering up a piece of his own mind by showing what he himself liked?

Sure. Why not. There was no harm done. And hey, the restraining order never actually happened.

So here he was, on a Thursday morning, clad in cargo jeans, tank top muscle shirt and glasses… and apparently… they would be petting otters.

He was 15 minutes too early… it was interesting to look at from the outside. ‘Otterly adorable’ as they advertised.

Ah, what a day.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Silly drunk dialogue

Can also be under the influence of other stuff.

"Oh, look at the stars! Ursa Major… so beautiful!" "We're inside. Those are just ceiling lights."

"Please don't leave me!" "I'm just going to the toilette." "Can I come with you?"

"My arm is floppy. I'm like a puppet."

"Can you be my girlfriend?" "I already am." "Oh, lucky me!"

"Let’s go play baseball!" "Your shoulder is dislocated, maybe not right now."

"You look almost as pretty as this moon." "That's a street lamp." "And you're almost as pretty."

"Have you ever thought about penguins? I think we should think more about penguins."

"You have a stupid face and it's my favourite one to stare at."

"I will definitely remember this tomorrow! How could I ever forget?" *doesn't remember anything in the morning*

"Oh, I think we haven't met before." "We have been in a relationship for five years now."

"You should go, otherwise I'm doing something stupid. Like kissing you or falling asleep on the bathroom floor."

"Let's get you home." "Oh, mine or yours?" "Ours." "Oh, wow!"

"I'm totally, absolutely, not at all drunk at all. Like... at all."

"Why are you all laughing? That is not very nice. I haven't even told my joke yet."

"How many drinks did you have?" "Yes, yes I am."

"You are too beautiful for me." *starts crying*

"Why are you undressing?" "Because it's hot! And I'm hot!"

*starts singing a remix of all their favourite songs*

*then starts crying, because their own voice is too beautiful*

[asheewrites]

“Mmmmh” Asmodeus hummed, looking down at Raphael. “… since that is cleared up,” he chuckled, shrugged and settled down on his thighs.

He watched the demon settle and look bemused and… decidedly patient. The reason might be that he is merely staring at Asmodeus. For a constantly expanding stretch of time.

The appreciation for him had not diminished in the slightest. Same long fingers on an expressive hand, currently tapping his chin. The urge to run his own fingers through this beard was still there. Maybe it would feel different now? Even if not… doing it again was terribly tempting.

Or bury his nose in this slightly tousled hair, reflecting sunlight. Or brush it to the side and smell his cologne and-

The long fingers snapped in front of his eyes: “You still with us, angel? Was Her touching you that exciting?” The suggestive eyebrows sold the meaning.

“Oh.” Raphael sat up and paused. He had not been using his muscles, merely making the movement happen by virtue of being… an angel. He did not like it. It felt like the body really wasn’t his own. Yet. It was concerning.

Then he shook his head finally returned the smile: “No. No, that’s not it. Wouldn’t want that. And my body wouldn’t be able to make sense of it right now. I suppose. But I’m… I don’t think what you suggest is usually done. By Her.”

“Well… if it’s not done by Her… it should continue to be my job, shouldn’t it?” he said and leaned a bit closer, looking up through his lashes.

Raphael couldn’t help but flush and feel too warm – a sign his body DID belong to him, but… - and reached towards him to say: “I… yes, yes. It should. Definitely.” Wait. That wasn’t the right thing to say.

Asmodeus brows shot up and his smirk widened: “Well, then…” His clever fingers wandered to the hem of this body-included toga. “… a test drive is in order?”

His own fingers gripped the edge of his shirt, much less suggestively. It was ridiculous how much he wanted to say yes anyway.

[asheewrites]

Annoyed Trek to Earth 2

Asmodeus expression turned from open and attentive to smiling and…mischievous? He had a glint in his eye. It was of slight concern.

Ignoring Raphael’s too open eyes that followed his hands' every movement, the king of the second circle reached out and up to the angels face and  ran his fingertips along the skin until he cradled his entire cheek: “… entertaining is one way to call it.”

The other hand joined the first and he ran his thumbs over the angel’s cheekbones, turning his head from one side to the other, looking at his newly formed face.  

Raphael didn’t quite feel like it was real, heart beating like it wasn’t sure how to do it properly. He also forgot to breath, too, which did not help… anything. His blood surely turned his ears as red as his face. But he couldn’t look away from the smiling demon, his own expression still wide eyed and unsure.

“So cute. You’re almost as warm as my own hands,” he said and Raphael’s blush deepened, because of course that would be another thing.

Asmodeus chuckled: “Alright, scratch the ‘almost’.” His hands moved further into the angels hair, following the strands further down and asked: “Did your hair grow even longer? This almost touches the floor.”

Raphael shrugged with one shoulder and leaned his face into the remaining hand on his cheek: “Yes. I usually braid it to… avoid tangles and be a little more… practical.”

 “Mmmh.” The demon let the overlong strand fall down put his hand on his chest instead, patting the flat surface under the toga: “I suppose this is more… ‘practical’, too?”

When he splayed his hand on the left side, he must have felt Raphael’s heart beating rapidly. Because he raised his brows and looked back up with these blue eyes and lifted his hands off slowly, taking a step back: “Is that… actually okay? Can I still touch-”

“What? Yes! Yes, of course! Please do?” Raphael took a step after him to reach for his hands and put them back against his body. At least he tried to take a step forward. Feet… worked a lot less reliably than hands. And he fell backwards over his own feet, confused by the lack of wing-weight and general new-ness of the body. He landed on his ass. And blinked at the new situation. It hadn’t hurt in the slightest. But it was concerning.

Asmodeus…  decided to join him on the floor, kneeling over the angel and put his hands back were they were before: “… so… that’s what you want?”

Angel hands twitched towards Asmodeus hips but then he leaned back on his elbows and said: “I… well, we established… that. But I think I… it’s probably dangerous if I touch you?”

“Ah, but I haven’t changed, my rules stay the same. You can always touch me, angel, with whichever set of hands or other bits you happen to be using at any given time.” He ruffled the mess of hair.

At that, Raphael pulled his knees further towards himself to get Asmodeus closer before he stopped and said: “I… don’t know? … I’m barely contained angel right now? It’s literally a body I just got… from Her… and…” Asmodeus was kneeling over him because he had specifically requested the touches. And it that had happened. Just like that. It was at least 'normal' to look up to him again. However normal could be defined around this place.

The demon cocked an eyebrow: “And you think it’s something I really never tried before?”

“… oh.” Sixthousand years of experience. Right.

[asheewrites]

Annoyed Trek to Earth

The door clacked open and her ear twitched because the sound was not as smooth as usual. Not an urgent, fast opening and not a smooth slide of the mechanism in the lock. It was off and-

… she probably had spend too much time in those rooms to make such assessments.

She closed the book silently and took a careful look over the edge of the couch. Steps on this floor weren’t a real indicator for anything, but he was indeed alone.

But grumpy, judging by the scowl and the twitching corner of his mouth.

That was new?

Unfortunately, Asmodeus was on the way to the whiskey shelf - something she only knew from snooping. He had not yet resorted to that in her presence and…

“Welcome back home!” Raphael gathered her limbs – mostly feathery ones - and got off the couch.

He turned, annoyance still firmly lodged in his features until he recognized her – very fast, changed while stopped in his step and faced her - and put on his signature smirk: “Raphael, so pleasant to see you.”

Tilting her head, she pursed her lips and took a breath: “That… ah, thank you…”

He looked her  up and down, then grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her in the direction he came from and started walking, somehow maneuvering around her wings: “You’re presentable. And welcome. Now, lets go. I need some air. And company.”

Her feet followed the indicated direction with only a minimal amount of resistance: “I… certainly look less presentable than you?” Currently shorts and one of his shirts were the only pieces of clothing at her disposal.

“You are ideally dressed for being led out of my bedroom and being an angel.” He sing-songed, opened the door and slid an arm around her waist, walking at her side.

Even after the last five weeks, she had to try – and fail – to calm down her heart beat at that “I… not what I meant. You… you look official today.”

His hand slid lower down her waist: “I assure you, I am much more ‘officially’ me the way you are used to seeing me.” He said, carrying a more playful tone. They continued to walk.

“And I do not doubt that,” Raphael said, looking around – this was hell. She was walking through hell, and there were demons – even some sinners – staring at them. With a wide variety of expressions. They also did their hell proud.

She shook her head and continued: “Did you… by any chance… meet with Lucifer?”

When his hand twitched and his smile froze the tiniest bit, she nodded once. Some things did not change, after all.

“… the bastard had the gall to chew me out for ‘not making my quota’, can you even believe that?” Asmodeus hissed through his teeth, less than pleased.

Raphael blinked a few times. Being open about it did change, then. “Really! Well, ‘no’ on so many levels, but… uh… how ‘official’ are you two, then? Right now?” A bit of an awkward question, but… better to know, before this universes Lucifer got angry at her.

The uncomprehending stare that looked back at her might did nothing to help her, after a few more seconds – walking slower, too -, he did answer: “I… am… officially the king of lust in his hell? But you knew that?”

“Uhm. I. You see. At my place. You- you two. Lucifer and you… you were… an item. Actually.” – Asmodeus brows wandered higher up on his forehead – “An exclusive item, actually,”

“Hah!” He barked out. And could apparently not help a laugh. After he calmed down, he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye: “You… you can’t be serious,”

“… ahm… I… I am, though,” it was quite a significant thing, even.

“Aw, angel. I mean… the ‘item’ is… remembering his old charisma? Maybe not entirely impossible, but the ‘exclusive’? Come on.” At least the mirth was back in his eyes. So it really was that ridiculous to him?

“You two never had… a bond?” Was it just a secret here?

Asmodeus snorted: “Oh. Please. Sure, he ‘sought me out’ regularly in hell’s early hours. Once blew smoke in his face after he told me that he was ‘proud I finally stopped with the cigarettes’. He ‘had always said so’ with a smug grin. And then he ran off in a childish tantrum.” He rolled his eyes: “And the tantrum continued, so… I’m glad he isn’t as horrific with politics.”

“Uhm.” It didn’t sound entirely unlike the Lucifer she knew. “… you… took on the majority of politics in my home. Co-Ruler and all.”

“Sounds stressful.” He scrunched up his nose.

“It is. Really. You did a great job, though. Whole of hell was following you due to charisma and politics.”

“Mmmmh,” he made a thoughtful noise, then leaned over, kissed her temple und slipped his hand under the hem of the shirt; “Seems like I made all the right decisions, then.”

She opened and closed her mouth, looked at the hidden hand on her skin and back at him and said: “Ahm… don’t you want to know…?”

His fingers ran along the hem of her shorts and he smiled: “No. Sounds awful. The whole ‘exclusive’ business made me miss out on you, too. Terrible mistake. Don’t want to hear one more word.”

And even though it was just empty words, she did feel terribly flattered… and her face hot: “Also my choice.” He nosed along her neck with a hum. “… and this is for show on the trek through your hell, isn’t it?” She still tilted her head to give better access.

“Two birds, one stone and all that.” He looked over to the portal of his hell. Lust was one of the light sins, earth might actually not be that far. “Enjoy it juuuust fine.”

The doors swung open to show the passage. Actual dirt. It WAS rather earth adjacent. And when they swung closed… and no curious eyes were looking anymore, he did not stop and her neck received a light nibble. It was terribly difficult to concentrate on walking: “Ah… where are we… going, actually?”

“Mmmmh?” He placed one last kiss before he let the disheveled angel recover a little: “Told you, need some air. We can see where the wind tells us to go on earth. That’s your thing, isn’t it?”

“It. Well… it is. Yes.” She looked over at him. “You are stressed out. You don’t need to make sure I’m good.”

With pity in his eyes, he snorted and said: “Angel… don’t overthink it. Just enjoy the time. I’ll also enjoy it more that way.” And he booped her nose. “… you angels don’t have free will since that long, do you?”

“… well… I have it since 13 years.” But with so many more memories.

He ruffled her hair: “That’s not that long. You’ll learn soon enough. Explains the reluctance, anyway. You don’t have to hold back. But… I’ll reassure you as much as you need, promise,”

 And once again, it got way too close to her heart, so she said: “That’s a talent of yours, isn’t it? Saying exactly what a person needs to hear?”

“Well… after 6000 years, you have seen quite a lot, angel… 13 years don’t give you too much complexity. I could feel and do what I wanted the whole time. And… it’s not like I didn’t mean it.”

With the deepest blush yet, she accepted that she was terribly attracted to this… and shrugged: “Alright then. Thank you. And… how far along is it, still? I think a bit of air is good for both of us.” Even if he might get quite some amusement and distraction from the naïve angel already. Ah, it could not be helped.

“Just around the corner, now. One more portal and you can set foot on this universes’ earth. Welcome to a little bit less brimstone.”

She smiled. As much as she was used to being cooped up, it would be very nice to get a nose full of fresh air.

Almost without meaning to, she walked faster, somewhat dragging an amused hell lord with her.

For atmosphere – supposedly – he waited one more second before he snapped his fingers and the two wide doors opened themselves into a nondescript… tundra. From what it looked like, it should not exist, since there were no rock formations or something alike, it was simply… doors. In the middle of nowhere. Metaphysical things, surely: “Fun?” She pointed outside.

“It needs to be hidden somehow, humans can’t see the door.” Asmodeus shrugged. It was nothing special to him.

Glad to finally be able to feel the air around herself, she actually wriggled out of the slight hold her companion had on her and stepped eagerly toward the opening, all steady until she reached the actual limit and stepped into… light.

To turn into some unfeeling, blind, deaf and tasteless being without a sense of smell, only to be aware of everything a second later in a too intense fashion.

Raphael tried to blink the sensation away, which was not possible without eyes. Those… came back in the very next second. And these blinked. And the surroundings smelled of dry, sandy air (mixed with cologne. And musk. and the slightest bit of smoke.) Everything tasted new and coppery. The head felt full, but at least pain free. The last sense was hearing.

“Well, look at that.”  Asmodeus said. The voice could be pinpointed. The source of voice could even be felt, with a sense completely forgotten for the last five weeks.

Turning towards the strong – so very strong – but contained aura was still obligatory.

Asmodeus walked in circles, looking with open and appreciative eyes.

Raphael looked down on Asmodeus, to see this. And that meant… he looked down on himself. Ah. Right.

Looking at the situation, he was back in his original form. Tall. Willowy. White (unnaturally so). Long, braided hair. Currently wingless – he could feel them, though. Thankfully also no halo in sight. And apparently clad in a toga. It came into existence with this body. Might as well happen.

Suddenly irritated, he looked around for the loaned shirt and moved a hand to let the wind bring it up into his hand. He closed it around the fabric. Which was… more difficult than summoning a gust of wind.

With a weak sigh, he returned his attention to Asmodeus, who still circled him without judgement, or at least thinking about it, before he made one. He did stroke his chin. And leaned his head this way and that.

“Is this not your preferred form?” He asked at last, slowly reaching out to take the angel’s hand in his own, thumb grazing lightly across his knuckles.

“I… well… it’s useful in some cases. It’s my default?” Once again, he was too sensitive to his touch. Unfortunately, his complexion certainly allowed for an easier read this time around. “… ‘m a proper angel again. ‘She’ … touched me. It’s very effective, regarding communication.”

He looked a bit miserable, and his hand twitched around Asmodeus’. Everything was a bit too sensitive. And at the same time didn’t feel alive. He could see the point of sometimes forgetting you are an angel… a bit more.

"... at least there is air and it's... a bit entertaining?" Right?

[asheewrites]

What would Dave's reaction be if he left the poor previously freezing, now sleeping Trevor alone to get a kettle of tea water going and came back to find a medium sized (like samoyed dog size) very warm blackish purple gryphon sleeping in his bed?

Dave switched the kettle off as soon as it emitted it's infernal noise, he would never understand how it was necessary, but if needs must...

He hoped his poor too-cold guest did not wake up from it. Sleep would be good for him. He was warm and safe and Dave would be able to wrap himself around him. For convenience's sake. Only that. Surely.

With a slightly guilty conscience, he poured the water over the cinnamon-ginger tea, put a tealight in the warmer and slowly carried in the vicinity of the bed.

Dave was not greeted by words. Perfect. He put it on the nightstand, put a glass next to it and turned to Trevor to lay back down and-

His eyes widened.

What... in the world...

He crouched down to look and almost-poke the small creature on the bed.

He hesitated for once in his life, took a deep breath, looked long enough that he was sure the little dreature was breathing... and then walked off to a corner, taking his phone out: "Miss Shuang? I... need your help. It's about your son."

[asheewrites]

Guilty treatment?

After three days of very educational solitude – Asmodeus had an extensive library - , a soft rustle on even softer sheets alerted Raphael of the fact that she was not alone anymore.

“Mngh” was the next sound. She sat up and looked over the back of the couch, checking what was going on with a questing suspicion.

That was the time when the smell hit her.

And it did send her scrambling over the cushions and over to the bed, staring at the state her dear host was in.

The somewhat burnt – roasted? - smell emanated from various cuts all over his body – legs, arms, chest – a LOT on the chest – face, from what she could see it continued all over him and she shoved her hair back to look properly: “What in the name of- What happened?”

Asmodeus opened one eye and looked up at her with a sigh, voice level: “… right. You’re still here.”

Her eyes flitted “Well. Yes. Sorry. But what-? This looks bad and painful and...” Her hands hovered over the gashes. They were deeper than she would have liked in many cases. And they were arranged in… symbols?

She almost touched a particularly nasty one on his collarbone, when he hissed. A reaction from raising his eyebrows. Another place for a cut. At least his eyes seemed uninjured, if not blood-free. When he had her worried attention, he said: “This summoning was done by actual priests.”

She frowned at his voice, more raspy than usual. But not particularly full of regret? He looked like he should be. This looked like they actually meant harm to him. A few sinews were severed, even. It was not okay. Even if his half-smirk said something else.

The distress expression did not leave her features, when she said: “… did you… … enjoy it? Then?” This had been going on most of the time, right?

He looked almost proud of her, the smirk grew wider, showing a bit of teeth: “I did.”

It would have been a purr if his throat had not been damaged. There were finger-shaped bruises on his throat. And she did not like it. Not one bit. Or understand it.

Raphael stood there and unhappily filed the roasting smell away as a side effect of the priests trying to… punish him? Holy oil, from the looks of it. Burns. Makes sense.

But he enjoyed it. He said. And knows what’s best and putting on angel – or just her own? - standards was not okay and she should leave him alone and let him rest like he obviously wanted. He had forgotten that she occupied his bedroom. Probably too distracted by what’s been going on.

Sne sniffed: “… can I clean your wounds?” The angel said and looked to the side, rubbing her arm unhappily. She wanted to do something, at least.

Asmodeus looked at her for a long moment, then said: “… if that is your newest idea of foreplay, you-“ He tilted his head when her face showed what she thought of that. “… okay, maybe not?”

“I want to clean the cuts, there is nothing… how would you think…“ When he looked at her pointedly, she fell silent, looked to the ceiling in remembrance and thought about the last few… weeks(?) in this place. It coloured her cheeks and ears. And so, he maybe was very much justified in thinking along those lines. She could be disappointed in herself later, though: “… okay, I see how. But no. Chief Angel for healing,” she waved a bit, “It’s something I’m good at. And know how to do. So…?”

“It’s the ‘angel’ part that worries me a little bit, here,” he looked amused, though. A good sign?

“Oh! No, you don’t have to be. I did this before. I mean clean holy cuts and burns on demons. As an angel, I could take away the whole holy effect. Probably because I’m a healer. It’s a bit too dangerous to experiment with. But… it’s like I absorb the holy back into me? It’s a subconscious thing. I didn’t… do anything, so I hope it works here, too.” It could be a thing. She still had wings, so why not that. “From what I’ve been told you have to cleanse the wounds with fire… and wait until it dried a little, before. I know it’s just a tiny inconvenience for you – bet it won’t even scar. Or… or you even want to keep the pain, I don’t know how this works, but it will go away eventually and I don’t think you like to inflict pain on you yourself, so… could I be a bit useful, for once?” She huffed and let her shoulders fall. She was rambling, she knew. And it was probably an insult to ask or… something. And maybe he did like to inflict pain on himself. It… well. At least she’d asked.

After a minute more of staring at the angel and the attached, limply hanging wings, he snorted and said: “You remind me of those naïve, entirely trusting entities we all were in the beginning.” He blinked. “You really don’t have a single bad bone in your body. I don’t think you are even capable of doing something underhanded.”

“… the Asmodeus in my universe said the same thing,” it left the same feeling of inadequacy in her this time around.

“And you are actually distressed about it. You know what? Sure, angel. What’s the worst you could do?” He shrugged and leaned back into the pillows, watching.

And Raphael perked up, and an off to gather two bowls – one filled with warm water -, a sponge, several towels, a first aid kit and a little bag she’d found while looking through the collections.

The last thing was her grabbing a chair and sit comfortably. “May I?” She asked. He’s gotten so used to it that it was barely an eyeroll before he nodded.

And she finally took his hand into hers, taking care of the cut muscles – and sinew – of his thumb, carefully brushing over and then into it. Couldn’t very well have felt it, as burned up as the flesh was, but she wrung the blood out over the second bowl and got fresh water from the first. Just a dab, wringing the sponge out over the second. And continued to clean this first cut, repeating the process for more times before she carefully massaged the area and his hand twitched.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He lifted the hand to his face and looked at it. “That actually worked.” With likely not more than a thought, he knitted the flesh back together and moved his thumb.

“Seems like it. But leave the others be, for a bit, maybe? You’ll get a colossal headache if you miracle them closed whenever I am done. Too much holy in you. Now, can I cut off your shirt? It’s in ribbons anyway.” When Asmodeus shrugged, Raphael did exactly that and then demanded his hand back with a gesture. The other gashes there were more superficial… except for his ring finger? They seemed to have tried to cut it off.

A towel absorbed all excess water and blood… and Raphael started to carefully wrap a bandage around his hand until every surface was covered  - but nothing more, he still could move his hand freely. It was more or less a white glove. She tied it off with a bandage clip.

“And you’ll do this every time?” He flexed his fingers with a bit of a disbelieving frown.

Since he didn’t twitch, she approved and looked back at her patient: “Yes. Unless gauze is better suited. Or they scratched a bone or something like this. From what I see, I wouldn’t put it past your priests.”

When she saw that they actually cut the arteries on his wrist and cauterized them, she also doubted the intelligence of those humans. It did make a bit of a mess when the blood started flowing again, but it was nothing a tight bandage could not stop.

“… so you actually treat demons.” Asmodeus said, still watching. Raphael had almost forgotten.

“Ah… yes, heaven sanctioned and everything. We have an armistice, so no one gets hurt in my proximity. It’s better for everyone if they can go to a place where they don’t need to fear any backstabbing. I don’t want to accuse demons of anything, and I am sure there are very safe spaces, bu-“

“No, you’re right, an injured demon is usually a dead demon, if they meet the wrong person” Asmodeus gave an easy shrug.

“Ah. Well. They can come to my clinic and are protected there. Doctor patient confidentiality and all. Regrettable mistakes happened when they hurt someone of mine. I wasn’t happy and informed the higher ups of some mistreatment of an animalistic demon. I hope to not break that trust again.” She had to use a cotton swab to get to his elbow properly. Those got thrown away immediately.

“And they actually come?” the disbelief in his voice was a bit insulting.

She pouted: “ ‘You’ allowed it, too. And like I said, armistice. And I am good at my job, miracles or no. Made sure I didn’t need them for ‘normal’ wounds, actually.” She rearranged his muscles a tiny bit. Those people really were just nasty…

“No worries, angel. I might even believe you.  It’s just… the Raphael I know would not do that. Or even think of it. Except for special, personal cases.” His arm was less cramped up, when she checked for the proper bandage position.

“Mmmh, then that one might not be my counterpart. Ah well. I should still say hello at one point.” She shrugged and continued. There were crosses cut into his biceps. She started to work on it with another sigh. It was a lot of fiddly work. But it was also something she could lose herself in. The safety of knowing perfectly well what she was doing. She smiled when she straightened out the bandages.

It was almost two hours until she was done with the one arm.

“Aren’t you getting bored?” her patient said, looking at her hands. She had to change the water again.

“It’s a much healthier pain now, isn’t it?” She looked back at him and noticed that he didn’t even have a book. Or phone. Most likely he had enough to do telepathically. “The healing kind. It’s kind of my calling, healing people. I don’t think I can get bored of it.”

One water change later, she switched sides and started at the other arm. Same procedure, but apparently, her patient was resigned to it.

Even if he did always look at her or her hands when she lifted her eyes to check if everything was still fine.

What was it with the priests and crosses? Couldn’t they have drawn an angelic circle or something? Overzealous bastards.

She yawned with the next change of water – and a new towel, before she settled half on the bed and started with his upper body. First, that nasty cut on his collar bone. She patched it up with a huge plaster. No more bandages for now, too impractical. Then she  unhappily followed the choking marks that indicated they almost crushed his Adam’s apple. That one had no holy oil, but she still cleaned his next with warm water and toweled it dry. With a bit of a sigh, she continued downwards. It needed to be done meticulously, since they sometimes simply stabbed him.

When she yawned the next time, he pushed the hair back from her face and she blinked at him: “Mh? What is it?”

“Aren’t you getting tired?” He said, tilting his head at her.

“Ah, I can sleep when I’m done. Or are you annoyed?” She does remove a – harmful, granted, numbing agent, replaced it with fresh pain and then only barely soothed it with clean cloth over it.

“It’s… you are paying a lot of attention,” he said, which was no answer at all.

“Well, this time I did have the privilege to have seen the injured area in an unblemished state, which makes it a bit easier. And I don’t want to cause you undue pain. I really don’t like it.” But if he was annoyed…

“I have a backside as well, you know that, right?” It sounded like he was prodding her.

“I… didn’t think they left you unscathed anywhere, yes?” Raphael shrugged and got more cotton swabs.

“This will take many more hours…” He looked down on himself.

“It will, and I’ll stop if you want me to,” unhappily, but she would.

“And you’re just doing this to… see me whole?”

“Well, I’d seen you fine before. But yes, it distresses me to see you injured.”

He shook his head., letting go of the last strand of hair he still had: “Alright then, if you want to do that.”

---

And so she continued. Well into the next day. And when his toes were bandaged, she finally breathed a sigh of relief: “Alright, Done! I’d recommend... one night of sleep and then the healing will be almost automatic.” She smiled at him and gave a thumbs up. Then she started to shuffle towards the edge on the bed, already planning the safe landing on the floor - there was some distance from the beds surface and she did not completely trust her guess when she was that tired. There would be a bit of poking around and-

She gave up the movement, when something stopped her. A resistance from... her pants?

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, fingers hooked in one of her belt loops. Swaying her hips tugged at his fingers. Didn't let go. Confirmed that it was his fault.

Slightly dazed, she pointed back behind her, tried to turn towards it, too: “Couch? When you arrived, you did want to be alo-AAAugh” She yawned. And shuddered, and blinked, mostly tired.

“Stay here, you silly angel. And get under the blanket.” He said. It sounded very matter of fact. And a bit like an order. Alright.

With a big breath, her fingertips searched for the edge of the blanket, curled around it and lifted it high enough to fit her wings. Sideways. Making sure they would not hit anyone in the face. Slowly, carefully, she manoeuvered the tips of the wings under the blanket and over his very bandaged body. It did go a little against the grain when they slid over him, but they rested on him just fine. Some of the primary featrhers hung over the other side. But he was warm underneath the wing as a whole and it was... reassuring. As usual. With the mess of feathers place, she let the blanket fall and buried herself under it. Warmth and closeness was very welcome - and thankfully ordered. She let the tension bleed out of her.

Asmodeus' hands slowly settled on top of the blanket, wing underneath - she readjusted to stay comfortable with the pressure. Too sensitive, those. Really.

“You don’t have single wary bone in your body.” He shook his head and tousled stray hair on her head. She nuzzled further into his shoulder.

“And you have… two hundred and six. I dunno if wary or... trusting?” It didn't matter, really. Worrying was over. She had done a good job. And this was nice and warm.

Good night.

[asheewrites]

Weird Guilty Notes?

„Ah, fuck!“ The lady breathed, threw her head back and tightened her grip around Asmodeus wrists.

Their hips met in a messy, wet rhythm. Her toes curled and legs shook, while she concentrated on… something. The gag in his mouth? The motion she had to keep up?

“Come on, harder,” The gasp that followed might mean she got what she wanted, still kneeling on top of him and squeezing her eyes closed. “Harder, damn demon”

Which seemed… unnecessary? The demon in question was nothing if not amendable to the demand, though.

He sat up, as if she was not keeping her whole weight on his wrists. Panic crossed her features until he grabbed her hips and easily resumed a harder rhythm, as demanded.

Judging by her noises, she did get quite a bit out of it.

In fact, it was enough to get her to orgasm with a few more thrusts and… she disappeared, leaving an unsatisfied lust demon sitting in his bed.

Raphael frowned and snapped her notebook shut, shoving it into her pants pocket.

A bit of rummaging in the dark produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Under bemused supervision by Asmodeus, she clambered from behind the couch over onto the bed. She handed over the cigarettes and slipped behind him to get rid of the gag. Threw it towards the bin, too. Nasty thing.

“So… that was… a summoning?” She wasn’t sure what to say, simply sat down next to him and offered fire:

Asmodeus looked at her for a long moment, then simply shrugged, bowed forward, lit up the tobacco stick and took a deep breath: “A very inexperienced witch, didn’t state any terms, didn’t quite know how to go about this.”

Raphael nodded sagely, still frowning: “She certainly had a satisfying conclusion of her visit. In… a physical sense.” She scratched her head and took the book back out, flipping through the pages.

Asmodeus watched and smiled: “I’m nothing if not accommodating in that regard, no wanting customers there., as you might imagine.”

“You do have a reputation to uphold,” she nodded and frowned at a particular part of her notes: “But… wasn’t she here to… ‘gather the semen of the hell spawn’ as she so… ‘eloquently’ stated? Isn’t that also… wrong?” Him having been an angel and all.

“Well… I won’t hold that against her, even if she could have known better. But yes, that was her intention.” He cocked an eyebrow and leaned further into her direction. Apparently her notes were of a bit of imterest, he commented, bemused: "… 'ambidextrous when stimulating'… the things you watch out for…”

“Err… yes. You got the rhythm exactly right again, when you changed hands. She didn't seem to want to react that strongly. Or at all. She squirmed away a lot. Not that you let her. Or she was very adamant about it. But. The semen-thing. That's something she did want. And she certainly did not achieve that. And she did rip your shirt.” Raphael huffed and ran a finger along the ruined collar. “You seemed to enjoy the enthusiasm. But when she denied to remove any more clothes than strictly necessary the enjoyment died down? Is that a thing? The more skin the better?” She pulled a pencil from behind her ear and tapped it against the page.

“Clothes can be fun. This time… her attempt was all over the place. The whole 'reluctance' bit could have been a fantasy, but… she was not really into it, per se… she also insisted it was oh-so-bad for her…” He half-shrugged. Did not look entirely happy with it. “… she did want the orgasm, certainly, but I was not entirely comfortable.”

“Uhm… so… how did this even happen?” There were some serious question marks, really.

He took another drag and exhaled the smoke away from her: “A witch with a lot of catholic guilt summoned me, forgot to state her terms, so I reversed the summoning to get her here, she used a rosary to gag me”

“-points for creativity?” Raphael inserted

“Points for… effort, I suppose, it’s not that creative. And then proceeded to curse and insult me while she still very much wanted to fuck me. And who am I to deny that particular desire?” Asmodeus watched her scribble in the little book.

“And what was the whole hellspawn semen thing?”

“It’s an old ritual. Some of my subordinates came up with it, about four hundred years ago. Apparently, a demons sperm could be an ingredient in an alchemical formula to… turn lead to gold or some such nonsense. They had to get the sperm before they orgasmed themselves. So I had to send her back then, to make the ritual 'credible'. Or she might tell others it's a lie, and wouldn't that be a pity”

“… but it very much IS a lie.” The only reason the ritual of summoning a demon for sex had worked was because Asmodeus had reacted on a whim. There was no obligation.

Asmodeus chuckled: “That… is true. But like this, I could give her a little letter of pointers. And so the next human that tries might hate themselves less. And I might actually have fun. A bit of effort has never hurt anyone..”

“You didn’t like it when she ‘pinned’ you to the bed? I mean… not that she was strong enough, but… an attempt was made?” She tapped on the note regarding this.

Another drag of smoke and he nodded: “Sure did like that. I didn’t mind the ripped shirt either, it’s not like I need to buy a new one.” To proof it he snapped his fingers and it mended itself. “Stating your intentions can be sexy, too.”

“They weren’t exactly… good intentions? She spoke of 'smiting'?” It had sounded awful.

“Because you can smite someone with sex? As a human?” He laughed and put out the cigarette.

“I wouldn’t know, can you imagine? It just seemed like she was threatening you a lot. Choking, cutting, maiming, what have you… I mean... not that there was anything to back that up, but still…”

 “... such a pity, isn’t it? All the more interesting!” Asmodeus smirked, wagging his brows.

“What?” She let the book and pencil fall, distressed. “No! There should be no harm in this. Why would you want this?”

He kissed the worried line between her brows: “Why indeed… you really don’t have any idea, do you?”

“I mean… I know the whole kink-business, in theory, but that should not be about genuine harm… and if there is a religious undertone, it might actually do something and that’s not what should happen during sex, so-“

With another laugh, he cut that particular thing short: “Sure, angel… lets leave it at that,” he nudged at her shoulder, let her – including the imbalancing mess of feathers on her back - fall backwards on the bed and turned to crawl over her, inquiring: “Want to gather some more notes from your very own point of view? Comparisons?”

Raphael blinked up, a bit confused: “That won’t be very useful notes, I could not very well have an objective view or think about what you are doi- … why are you smiling like that?”

Asmodeus hand buried into her hair and is thumb gently caressed her cheekbone: “You… are aware that you were perfectly happy to climb into my bed. After all this? And the outcome it all had?”

“Well, you did offer to discuss my notes and see if I understood correctly… or if I drew the wrong conclusions.” She looked a bit concerned about it. Had that been wrong?

“Aaand you are welcome to, truly… now…” He had to laugh, silently, looking down before he found her eyes again: “Okay, last try before I’ll send you back to the couch: This is a very genuine offer to continue where our short-lived visitor stopped. For your and my enthusiastically consenting pleasure. Would you, despite being unable to read a single hint or situation, be interested?”

She stared for a very long moment, before a warm blush spread over her cheeks. Her eyes widened in wonder: “And… and I can touch your horns?”

“You have... the weirdest priorities, angel. Never change. But sure.” Nothing but very amused consent was visible on his face.

Raphael rolled them around with a lot of feathery help to get to the scripted position of ‘continue where they had stopped’, then leaned forward: “Yes. Please.” And closed the gap to kiss him. For once in her life, she welcomed the tobacco wholeheartedly.

She was rather glad there were no conditions for her enjoyment. Her notes were truly useless, in the end. But biting his shoulder proved slight damage to his body did heighten his enjoyment of... physical activities.

It was a wondrously surprising moment for her.

[asheewrites]

Raphael is very eloquent and accepting of the living pictures. Will he also be with the headmaster?

The rooms were significantly less stuffy than the book or the movies made him believe. It was a fairly functional room. A normal office, even if it had a quill on the desk. A quick look around offered a folded up laptop, too.

Alright, then.

It still had a little fireplace. And two armchairs in front of it. Much better than the free standing bookshelves from the games. ‘Severin Prince’ gestured for Raphael to sit in one of the armchairs – definitely better than the shame chair in front of the desk – and  lit the fireplace with a quick flick of his wand.

Which… seemed wrong. But why not. ‘wand magic’. Sure.

He sat down with a sigh and started again: “So. An abrupt arrival is rather unusual on these premises. Please, enlighten me.”

Admittedly, he had been rude, looking about and not actually answering anything. After clearing his throat, he finally answered: “I… apologize for the belated answer. Thank you for the warm welcome to… Sowguards, head master Prince.”

The man in front of him was… an unknown. So… being careful might be a good idea.

“My name is Azarias Israfil,” which was not a lie, technically, “And I’ve arrived with a somewhat special kind of teleportation. It’s not supposed to work here, am I informed right?”

Mr. Princes eyebrow had twitched when he had mentioned his name. Well. It was an angel’s name, which… might be a bad pseudonym. “With very few exceptions… teleportation does not work here, indeed. You are… a wizard then, Mr. Israfil?”

“Ah, I can work magic, indeed.” Raphael nodded. “It seems I arrived wandless through the teleportation, though.” No demonstration needed.

“Mh,” the head master looked at him, level headed and apparently considering. Then said: “Well. You did not actually tell me what or who brought you here. Or, if easier, what you are planning to do here.”

Unfortunately, that was a fair way of inquiry: “It unfortunately was a bit of an accident. And the only thing I actually plan to do is getting home again. Which… is best done outside of the premises.” At least he thought so.

“… alright, then. It might not be any of my business. Where did you study magic, if you don’t mind me asking? Sowguards is very well connected all over the globe. I might be able to help getting you back where you came from.” Which was… respectful… and still very much inconvenient. Well.

“It’s… more of an instinctual thing for me, unfortunately I had no formal education. Could slam doors shut from the other side of the room and it only got better from there, so… didn’t quite get the letter-treatment, was not all too necessary either,” he smiled a bit lopsidedly. Trying his best to look harmless and sensible.

“… which might explain the unusual teleportation, mh? Different education? Instinctual magic?” And wasn’t the raised eyebrow a familiar expression. Too bad it was entirely justified this time around.

Raphael scrunched up his nose. This… was not exactly right at all. And a weird way to give him an out. “I mean… not exactly? This teleportation wasn’t something I particularly wanted or initiated, so that’s a bit… no?”

“Alright. But you can do… wandless magic, correct?” The headmaster leaned forward and poured two cups of steaming tea, handed one over to his guest.

“Well… yes. But apparently, so can you.” Cause that tea had not been steaming a second ago. He blew over the surface of the cup.

“Oh, certainly. Have you just seen the movies and are worried now?” the head master leaned back against the armchair, comfortable with the cup in both hands. The liquid smelled of strong herbs.

“… and played the video games,” he shrugged, with one shoulder.

“Ah. Instructive little things, aren’t they? But no matter. Yes, I can practice wandless magic. And I know where those abilities come from. The question is… do you? And… is that actually your name?”

That… was an awkward question.

[asheewrites]

Would you mind writing about the Raphael meeting Severiel thing? I'm always a sucker for Raphael thoughts and opinion on people.

When the least stressful thing to do after the latest meeting with the Metatron was gardening, of all things, he should have assumed something was wrong. He tried to think back and say ‘yes, there had been something in the air’.

… but who was he kidding, really. This stuff was random. And all he could do to cope with it is keeping a level head.

“For fucks sake.” Which probably meant he had failed step one.

He thunked his head against a… castle wall? Apparently?

Diving into a different universe became somehow more unnerving, now that it didn’t leave him that unsettled anymore.

A quick check of his own self that nothing major had changed about himself. Still a male corporation with long silver hair. Still able to conjure up wind strong enough to lift said hair and regain control over the headache that started to form.

As far as limitations went, it was bearable.

When he opened his eyes, picture frames to the side of him… mumbled?

He turned his head and frowned. Why.

The people within the pictures… moved. And looked at him suspiciously.

After the motions did not repeat itself after two minutes of staring, he straightened his back, smiled gently, nodded towards the pictures – no one else was there to judge – and said: “Hello madams and sirs” – the period clothing seemed to indicate that might be right? - “Can I alleviate any concern?”

“Well! You, young man, were cursing in those hallowed halls!” A portentious female exclaimed and actually walked towards the picture frame, which… was astounding, but miracles can do a lot, maybe it was one? Or technology? The AI got that much better?

“… and I regret doing so, ma’am. I did not intend to intrude and am at a bit of a loss. Could you tell me how I could leave the premises and relieve you of my uncough presence?” That was a positive about the whole universe hopping, he could definitely travel a bit around.

“Hmph!” She emphasized. Sure. “You can’t just go in here! You at least have to speak to the head master! He will see what to do with you!”

It seemed Raphaels presence was deemed undignified and wrong. Which… was a fair assessment. He nodded again: “I shall happily subject myself to their judgement. May I ask for directions?”

“No! But you can follow me.” The lady said and apparently left the picture frame… to appear in the next one. That. Certainly was… “The hallowed halls of Sowguards are not easy to navigate.”

... Sowguards? Something tried to knock at the back of his mind. For some reason, it did not feel good.

“I… who… is the current headmaster?” – it did not hurt to ask, he supposed.

“That would be Professor Severus Snape,” she said primly, skirts waving behind her. Raphael wanted to stop and stare and frown.

At least he hadn't completely forgotten a name. It was just... similar. And... if he looked around with that information, he could remember the layout from some video games he played. It was a bit uncanny.

“I look forward to meeting him,” he bit out. Still reeling a slight bit. Now, would this would be a book or a movie version? Was it related at all? It was a bit insane.

Following her with less urgancy (he knew now where they were going, apparently he had appeared near the kitchens. Which might answer something else), he tried to remember whatever he could about 'Severus Snape' he could. Not that it's a good basis, it might be completely unrelated, but well... not too much upset for the status quo would be a good idea.

She abruptly stopped in her tracks, staring over to ‘the guest’ and seemed disappointed he was not breathing heavily, unlike her: “You… now you… you go straight, then left, then two right… then use the stairs and then you go to the gargoyle.”

“Thank you very much, lady. I wish you a good day”

“Hmpf”

Ah, it was fine. The gargoyle was easy to be found – even with the wrong instructions, she mixed up left and right. And when he whispered ‘lemon sherbert’ to it, the creature did actually blink and look at him, with a frown: “Not been used since ages, mate. What’cha want?”

“Speaking to headmaster Snape, apparently, I wish to leave the premises.” He was… slightly baffled by the stony creature moving and talking, but well, the pictures were a good precursor.

The creature closed its eyes. Ideal to study the wing structure on it’s back: completely nonsensical. After a minute the theoretically unseeing stone slabs ‘unblinked’: “Not the right name, fossils're a bit loopy, but he’ll be there in a minute”

Raphael nodded and straightened his casual wear – jeans and T-Shirt are barely presentable, but he didn’t need to be, not really.

As promised, the man showed up, the gargoyle stepping aside. He was actually dressed in wizard robes. And, wrong name or not, he seemed to be… the movie version.

Which was a little bit uncanny. And a little too close to his own Metatron, face-shape-wise. But… that was… not of import. He might be a completely well-adjusted person, here. The niggling voice that said ‘fat chance’ was… ignorable. Somehow.

The man looked down with the strict expression his movie self had usually worn as well.

“Ah. Good evening. My name is Severin Prince. I am the headmaster and protector of this school. Care to explain what brought you here?” – he gestured towards the now-open doorway behind the gargoyle.

Mh. That was only a conditional threat. Which… maybe was justified. Raphael nodded and took a step inside. A quasi-Metatron in 'Sowguards'. It was… an odd feeling.

[ao3commentoftheday]

character-centric stories you can write in 1K or less

where did they get that shirt they wear in that one scene?

what is their typical morning routine?

what song got stuck in their head when they were in the grocery store just now and how do they feel about that?

what would happen to a houseplant in their care?

they're talking a 5 hour flight in economy class and they paid to choose their seat - which one do they go for?

how do they achieve a fully-assembled piece of IKEA furniture?

how would they deal with a malfunctioning computer?

what gives them ASMR - and is it a pleasant or unpleasant feeling?

what helps them fall asleep at night?

how do they behave when they have a bad cold? allergies? a migraine?

they have accidentally caused a fire - how did they do it and how do they react to it?

they are at the club - is this a good situation for them?

what is their opinion of street performers?

which social media platform(s) they use and which they hate

how do they feel about the idea that the tomato is a fruit?

where do they stand on Pluto, vis a vis its planetary status?

what would they do for a Klondike bar?

what kink did they learn about by accident on the internet, and they don't have it but they get it

who is their celebrity crush?

who is their small-time personal nemesis, separate from any big bad in the show (think neighbour, coworker, mail carrier etc.) and why do they hate them so much?

what is the last greeting card they bought? what occasion, who did they give it to, and what was the message inside?

what have they been putting off forever, even though it will only take 10 minutes?

[asheewrites]

Guilty Excuses 9

Flicking the first page open, he tried to hold it in-between them for an equal-opportunity viewing. Putting an arm around her shoulder didn’t work because the wings obstructed everything by spilling out of the blanket… and all over the place. Holding it in front of her gave him a weird view – and he might want to get his glasses out of hiding one day.

She also immediately tried to get an arm out of the blanket to tap and squint at the very first picture. Raphael proceeded to get the book out of his hand, tilt the book, mumbled ‘this is not an actual right angle… and they recommend to narrow that, too, why…? ... it’s… it’s probably not going to be very scientific?” Asmodeus shook his head, and she nodded and with grave seriousness flipped to the next page – around his arms. Then returned her hand to the warm place inside of the blanket.

So, she got cold since this was the opposite of what you are doing after an orgasm… wanted to be closer to the book and most likely won’t stop touching the pages, as she was doing it again to count the number of legs. The number of feet was correct, but apparently one of the arms had a too leggy quality for her.  This did not seem to become a nice, relaxing endeavor. If he didn’t do something about it.

Luckily, there was a much easier way.

“Un-burrito yourself?”

The angel blinked at him, but slowly did as she was told. “… why?” She asked, when she unfurled the hastily wrapped wing. It stretched a little bit. It was almost obscene, as rarely as you see those out in the wild.

“Keep the blanket around your hips,” which she did, securing it like a towel in front of her. “And now, c’mere,” he waved to the place in front of him.

When she just looked a little puzzled, he grabbed her packaged hips and pulled her from his side to his front – a face full of fluttering wings was collateral damage, he supposed – and bracketed her legs between his. There. Perfectly innocent.

On second thought. He also pulled the bunched up shirt back down over her boobs. A pity to hide them, but he was ready to make little sacrifices.

“Now sort out your wings” – he leaned back as far into the pillows as he could, when she had to unhook one limb from another – “Now stretch them to the side like you would do with arms” – and that made it possible to look over her shoulder, too – “And now put them around my legs, you can rest them on there, too, if you want…”

The humerus-parts apparently stretched to the side, from what he felt, the radius to the front of her and rested partially on his knees. At least with the first pair. Two other pairs and the phalanges spread around them. Feathers basically everywhere. It felt like they had multiplied.

Well, no matter. He sat up, bunched the pillows behind him and leaned back, pulling her against his chest: “… comfortable?”

The wings rubbed against his torso and then she actually leaned back and looked back and up: “… surprisingly… yes”

With the slightest bit more shuffling. He reached under her wings to her front, grabbed the discarded book, handed it to her – terrible angle for him, after all, and put his chin on her shoulder. The whole thing felt a bit like a puzzle… he’s had more baffling body arrangements.

“Then… lets see how unscientific it’s going to be?” So close to her ear, he’d whispered. And she managed to blush and look up from the book to him. And kept staring. Which… means…

… that he should probably just ask. Her reasoning had surprised him more than once. And the kiss-payment-clause certainly was no hardship: “What is this, angel? … are you disturbed? Embarrassed? … aroused? Did I ruffle your wings?” He peppered her neck with tiny kisses. Then nibbled her reddening ear once.

“Mngh,” was the eloquent reply. After ten more seconds without reply, his hands started to slip under her shirt and tease the skin underneath, they just had sex, it was what you’re supposed to do. Pleasant touches or sleep. Especially with an angel. 

An actual answer followed when he triggered the abdominal reflex with her: “Your voice. That’s what ‘it’ is. I wouldn’t call it disturbed? More perturbed? There’s nothing to worry about. You taste of smoke – not even ash -, so… I suppose I have… even more of a thing for your smokey voice. And as a doctor, I was conflicted for a second, but your lungs won’t care, and it’s… kind of delicious? … maybe’s just you. Have no comparison there.” She frowned, rubbed her forehead, took a deep breath and continued, staring to the side: “But… it’s actually about your voice. I feel uncomfortable reacting disproportionately to something you don’t even want to inflict on me. That’s the perturbing thing. Maybe I’m embarrassed about it, too. And… well… yeah. To the last one, too. No ruffled wings necessary.”

Asmodeus bit his lip to keep from laughing. From giggling, too. Because this… was… he shouldn’t laugh, she clearly was distressed. But it was… the opposite? Of a problem? Obviously? He wasn’t going to leave her hanging. And if anything, it was flattering? He certainly did his job very right.

“Sooo… you’d be… fine if I did something I want to inflict on you?” He pressed the due kiss under her ear lobe.

“Well, I told you now and you could, but I won’t know if it’s intentional or just you wanting to say something and we could just rearra-“ She looked down at her herself and blinked. Asmodeus hands moved to cup her breasts with wide-spread fingers and gave them a light squeeze. His palms supported them, getting a feeling of the full weight.  A very pleasant two handfuls. Starting with the thumbs, the fingers on each hand caressed her flesh in tandem. Nice, smooth skin. Supple and firm. He had not found the opportunity to truly appreciate these, yet. So: “The intention is pretty clear in this case, is it not?” He nuzzled his nose against the soft flesh under her jaw. Inuit kiss. There.

“I mean… it… true? Yes?,” her nose wrinkled at that: “But my legs still tingle, you can’t-”

“You initiated the sex three times out of four, Raphael. I’ll be perfectly well behaved. I promise.” He winked at her.

“And I can wriggle and sigh and react all kinds of ways and it’s… fine?” Asmodeus started to consider the orgasms might have scrambled something in her head. That was some mighty metal gymnastics.

“… let me paraphrase: I’ll behave perfectly unbothered until you tell me otherwise.” He wouldn’t want to be cruel, after all. Especially not with the silky feeling of her skin in his hands. He carefully avoided her nipples for now.

She looked almost offended, until he raised his eyebrows and she nodded: “Lets… lets see how unscientific this might get.”

The book flicked open and showed the man on his side, the lower leg bent and on the bed, the upper leg raised and the woman’s head is on the opposite side,  she leans back on her hands and inserted one leg between his, the other behind his the raised one. They meet in the middle. It’s named ‘entwined with each other.’ Ah, sure.

“… She can use his leg to rub her clitoris against. It that the point?” She had tilted her head, apparently actually analyzing this.

He smiled: “Among other things? She needs to keep tension in her body to remain off the ground. The angle is different from ‘standard’ and you get more skin contact at least with the legs”

“… I think we are already more entwined than these two.” He looked down, closed his eyes and did not give her the follow up this deserved. Only squeezed another time. She tilted her head in the other direction: “But I have more limbs than them, so… that’s probably a given?”

Whatever works for you, angel.

The next position… had the woman getting eaten out with the man on all fours and her legs on his back: “The bent of her hips does something? Better because she squeezes her own boobs?” Experimentally, he mimicked the squeeze on her boob shown on the photo… rudimentarily. He appreciated that hers were bigger. She shivered and said: “Mistake. Feels better if someone else does it” and flipped the page

Cockwarming with him on a chair – one leg stretched out, one bent, she between those and taking him between her thighs. “… I don’t really see it?” - “It’s fair for foreplay. And she feels more in control” – “… she could just use a strap on?” – “Raphael, no dunking on the position if you haven’t tried.” He would agree. But that was beside the point. She had been a bit matter of fact with this. Experience? His fingers dented her breasts a little more. She really was pliant with this.

“They are just eating cream and strawberry off each other. That’s not even a position. Please don’t put dairy into your genitals, lady…” She flipped the page without even a comment. Ah, fair.

The lady was handcuffed and- “NOPE.”

Reverse cowgirl, but he sits leaned back on a chair and she leans forward, laying on his legs. “… this absolutely kills any momentum they might find” The angel scratched her head and frowned. “…. Small movement can be very effective. If you recall just a few hours earlier?” Here he finally closed thumb and forefinger around her nipples and very gently rolled them between his fingertips. She certainly wasn’t uninterested. And pressed her legs together. She tilted her head and then nodded while turning the page.

Literally turning on his dick while she sits with crossed legs on him. She looked him in the eyes with a frown when turning the page. What could he say, it COULD be fun.

Man holds onto a pull up bar. She steps up to him, wraps her arms around his neck and then jumps up on his hips after insertion, legs crossed behind his ass, basically doubling the weight on his arms. Her head slowly turned, she stared and said: Do you have… any idea how many people came to me with a broken rump because of this kind of nonsense? Broken. Do you even have an idea how painful this is?” She looked agitated enough so he swallowed the ‘worth it’ and merely squeezed her full breasts again, just smiling.

Cowgirl with him half-sitting up and sucking on her nipples. Raphael did stare at that one for a longer time. “… we almost did that, actually, problem?” She looked down at the squeezing fingers and cupped his hand with one of her own to give a… second hand squeeze. She did shudder the slightest bit, then tapped the photo: “… would that… could we…?” Her cheeks burned. “With pleasure, angel.” He purred, and she swallowed. Her willingness to ask and do things was wildly all over the place.

There were, naturally, a lot. Most notably, she did react to the secretary-fantasy, sex with clothing (“… your counterpart’s sense of dress is always very pleasing. I want to see” “… and fucked?” She resolutely stared at the next page.), she was vehemently against bondage. Okay with blindfolds, surprisingly excited by threesomes being a part of the book (then disappointed when it was always two ladies and one gentleman), she was strangely enthused about a lady doing office-work while he ate her out… cursed every single position with falling risks, got worse with the risk of neck-injuries with headstands while the man is thrusting down. There was annoyance for the same position, only with very slight different angles – even after he reminded her that slight differences in angle made quite the difference – a lot of head tilting with the threesomes, approval for pillows to support endangered knees… a lot of enthusiasm for listening to music via shared headphones and keeping the rhythm of the music. She looked positively excited.

The next very long stare was for the woman on her belly, legs bent, the man penetrated her from behind and she bent upwards to reach for a kiss, which was soon delivered, according to the photo. “They look like they enjoy each other’s company very much.” ”They all do, that’s pretty much the whole point” No, I mean… there… there’s no kisses in the book.” Another thing she was weirdly embarrassed about. “… you know that everyone likes affection, right?” He turned her head to him and gave her a peck on the lips. She chased after him and he let her. Might have been the first time his hands wandered away from a perfectly fine pair of boobs. He reversed this, when they finally separated. She leaned forward with one quick lick of his lower lip before she opened her eyes, returned her gaze to the book and cleared her throat.

As it turned out, the next one was an anal position with her leaning against the wall, him behind, a lot taller, crowding her against the surface and she flipped the book closed with a glassy eyed stare. She swallowed and tapped on the back cover, coughing.

“… so… that was… something you want to try?” That’s why they looked through the book after all. “It’s not bad taste?”

“I… don’t think I want to talk about that one. I…” She squirmed again, then tapped his chest, half turned around: “… actually, you were supposed to tell me what you would like to do! I got distracted! So, spill the beans” She held out the book out to him.

Still chewing her lip, but definitely wanting an answer. Ah well.

[asheewrites]

Guilty Excuses 8

The cute creature rubbed her cheek on his chest and hummed. And then started to frame Asmodeus muscles with a lazy finger and mumbled: “Pectoralis major.. minor… serratus anterior… subclavicus… teres major… subscapularis… corabrachialis…”

He felt the smile she formed against his chest at the same time as he produced his slight goose bumps on the back of his arm.

“… you’re incredibly easy to please, aren’t you?” He flicked a strand of her long hair. A bit of teasing hasn’t harmed anyone.

“Mmmh…  reaffirming there is a body with the right parts in front of me calms me down. And you… you aren’t touched like this that often, it seems. I feel privileged?” She rubbed her cheek against him and traced his veins to the wrist, apparently fascinated that her wrist was smaller than his own.

“It’s not that exciting, is it now?” There were much more interesting abilities and ways to touch he could show off. Glady, even.

He turned his wrist to capture hers, reversing the hold, which ended with her fingers threaded between his, pressing her fingertips into the back of his hand. She had immediately turned her wrist to counteract. Raphael was very much against being captured in any way, it seemed. Feisty.

“I do not know what’s exciting for you, Asmodeus. You’ve had over six thousand very fun years, I am sure.” Breathing in with closed eyes, so relaxed, she shrugged: “I have to accept everything you do to me is exciting”

“Oh? Everything?” She smiled and nodded serenely. “The same way?”

“Mmmhmh. The veery s-“ Her eyebrows went up eyes narrowed she looked over suspiciously: “Err… why?”

“You might be even more easy to please,” the absolutely confused expression alone was worth it. “You are so very basic in your positions and movements. We don’t want to overwhelm you with too many new things, of course.”

He could feel her cheeks warming, mind apparently working: “I- did say my experience is… limited.”

”So, we stay with the classics. And see if you might lose your mind a bit more.” It was actually fun to see an almost uncomfortable squirm fight with an obvious bit of curiosity.

“I… I can’t… my legs and arms are all wobbly, it’s… I…” It was almost refreshing to have someone not immediately assume he would do all the work, because ‘he was the expert, after all’.

“I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, love.” That endearment was highly effective, judging by her hiding her face in his chest once again. Only muffled noises of indignation followed.

But more importantly, not the slightest bit of refusal: “A quick round, mh? Just to see”

He slipped out from under her with one last kiss on top of her head and let her face hide in the generous amount of pillows on As’ bed.

When he heard the angel took a long sniff, he couldn’t help but smirk.

Her body had barely calmed down from her last orgasm, so he placed a pillow under her hips – under her confused watch -, she wriggled her ass in the air experimentally.  

It was not hard to guess that he intended to kneel and take her from behind. Arousal could be easily summoned with the unselfconscious wriggling. He slipped in while his thumbs pressed in at her rump and downwards towards her head in the pillows. A smooth motion and the angel punched out a breath that wanted to be a moan, but her mouth was too wide open and no friction of air happened. A whimper followed.

“You see, in this position I do get deeper inside you,” she canted her hips to ease the access even more and nodded frantically.

“MhMHm,” the high pitched tone sold it. She was still overly sensitive but apparently just on the right side of overstimulated.

Her toes tried to find a hold and curled helplessly into the bedsheets while Asmodeus fucked into her in a steady, staccatos rhythm, accompanied with a slapping sound each time they hips collided and her keening sound grew louder for about two minutes before it abruptly choked and another whimper followed.

He slowly rode her orgasm out for her, pleasing, almost caressing waves of pleasure. She most definitely had her fun.

Raphael being such pudding in his hands was… certainly a bit of fun as well.

When shfinaly had calmed down, he sat back up and sat back against the headboard. And despite her certainly feeling a lot more ‘wobbly’, the angel also sat up, very much wrapping herself in a blanket.

Enough orgasms for now, then.

“… you did enjoy yourself.” He didn’t want to make it a question. Because a climax didn’t usually happen that fast if the other wasn’t at least on board with it.

“… very much so,” was the reluctant affirmation, “… it did feel… more intense, compared to-“

“Oh yes, a second orgasm can be stronger than the first. And like I said, deeper, so…” Seeing the effect was still… well, at least unusual. Horny angel.

“… this was actually only a vaginal orgasm and…” She sighed, and he noted she at least didn’t shy away from knowing the theoretical. “… really didn’t expect that.”

He patted her head: “We learn something new every say, sometimes even about ourselves”

She wrapped herself even more into the blanket.

Asmodeus reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the first book he got his hands on. “365 sex positions. Mh.”

She looked over with curiosity, but twitched back: “NOT right now.” Her whole face was unhappily regretful.

“Not right now, certainly. But you wanna look?” He flicked the book through on random pages.

Pulling her knees closer, she nodded and leaned against him: “… but only if you tell me which ones you actually like. ‘I like them all’ doesn’t count. Just… what do I know, imagine what might be the most fun with me.” She looked to the side and back: “If at all. So. Do show?”

What a ridiculous notion: “We can try them all, then we’ll know for sure.” The pout convinced him that this might not be the right answer. He winked: “I’ll try my best”

[asheewrites]

Guilty Excuses 7

“Want to get some more ‘pining’ out of your system?”

The whole mass of her wings first got raised, then fluffed up and at the same time got pulled closer to her back. It was a very feathery, frazzled look if he ever saw one. When her eyes wandered from his eyes to one side, then another and the consistent blush on her face deepened even more, he wanted to laugh it off, the poor angel found their timid side again.

She bit her lower lip and looked him in the eyes: “I… if it’s not too boring for you?”

Asmodeus did laugh at that.

Raphael perked up. She even seemed to take it as a positive sign. And laughter might even be in this case. Maybe the sex wasn’t the most imaginative, but: “… I doubt you’d be able to blow my mind with whatever you do. But I think you have a wrong idea about sex.”

“Just wanted to make sure! And I really can…?”

“Angel. Yes. But I won’t sign another waiver” The consent was, by now, given somewhat explicitly.

“Thank you,” she pressed a kiss to his forehead let her feathery appendages relax to her side and turned her half-sitting position from his head to his lower regions and...

… leaned over to lick his cock from base to tip. A happy hum at the twitching, slightly surprised interest followed.

Her warm, gentle right hand wrapped around it, she flattened her tongue more and repeated the motion, providing more pressure and adding moisture. She looked very pleased with herself when this ended with a stronger bloodflow and a bit of resulting harness on his part.

The side-view of the whole process was not the most common one. His brows were stuck close to his hairline. Lack of hesitance and plain interest written on her face was… interesting, to say the least? Asmodeus settled with his crooked forefinger pressed against his upper lip, watching the angel.

She didn’t seem to go anywhere fast, closed her eyes with every languid lick, happily humming at any results she observed when returning to ‘start’.

After a few more rounds, he hand wrapped properly around him and followed her tongue, twisting slightly to provide slickness evenly. When her thumb rubbed over the slit on top, he breathed in a bit deeper.

Her eyes flicked to his face and she turned to him while her hand continued, smoothly. It all felt very… technical and thought out, like this.

“-lease give me pointers, will you? My experience is… limited,” she looked apologetic, of all things. The warmth of her tongue returned to his cock a second later, dipping with the tip into the same spot her thumb had teased earlier.

Slow – very slow – and methodical was not exactly his favourite- not be a long shot-,but the care and… joy? On her face made it a bit more exciting than it usually would be. He gestured a bit to free his mouth to say: “Oh you are… doing just fine, really. Do continue at your own leisure…”

She pouted, the tiniest little frown etched on her face.

And he couldn’t help the chuckle, then the deeper breath when she wrapped her lips around the tip. Only to graze it with the backside of her front teeth when pulling her mouth off again. That was a different kind of twitch.

She raised her brows this time: “Really?” She blinked at the fact that this didn’t seem to have been a bad twitch.

Asmodeus shrugged: “Use sparingly” It was an easy thing to say. Raphael nodded in determined wonder and returned to, apparently, the task at hand.

Hand, tongue and lips smoothly changed places, never leaving him unstimulated to coax him to a complete ‘stand’ and she made a delighted sound at the first drop of pre-cum on her tongue. ‘Cute’ should not be a descriptor in this situation. But here they were.

This was probably the slowest, but most appreciated – by her - blow job he had ever received. The next time she had her lips around him and swirled her tongue around the glands, he said: “Why… why don’t you go down a little more?” The husky quality in his voice surprised him, and his hand twitched forward to pet her head, gently, with the barest of pressures… and encouragement.

The petting hand was batted away immediately, the edge of teeth felt on very sensitive flesh added to a fierce look towards him. After a second, her moth relaxed, her eyes closed and took him in deeper than expected, tongue firmly pressed against the shaft.

The deep intake of breath was earned. Just for not knowing what she might do next, her experiences seemed wildly all over the place.

Especially when his not-batted-away hand snug under her wing and caressed the back of her thigh, following the curve upwards.

Alarmed, Raphael stiffened up, raised her head and stared over at him.

“Doooo continue… you were just getting the hang of it. Just a little reward…” he spoke in a low voice, gracing her thigh with blunt fingernails.

There were goosebumps forming over her whole body at the slight contact, it was almost adorable.

Until she glanced back to her own backside, as restricted as her view was with too many feathers. And then proceeded to basically swallow his dick. Or at least around him.

That certainly stopped any movements for a second. She retreated to clear her throat soon enough, lapping at the tip while calming her breathing. It... was a valiant attempt, though?

Taking him in further by increments and swirling her tongue as the new method and she really was… determined.

He gave her time to  find a rhythm and security in the motion, before his fingers slid further up her thigh and - unceremoniously - into her. And she really was into this. Quite obvious in the ease of entry and slickness of her.

She reacted with an exhale and punched out moan, clenching around his fingers. Calming strokes against her clit only made it a longer moan and she became somewhat shaky on her supporting arm.

“You’re doing so well for me… do continue, Raphael…” It did the trick. At least her preferences really were as advertised.

She continued the established motions but synchronized the rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers. And wasn’t that delightful. Her throat vibrated with every tiny hum and moan she couldn’t suppress. It caused a delightful tingle and he might be able to lose himself in that. Especially when her throat tightened with a weak swallow. Delicious, delicious friction.

When her moans became more of a constant, he could have just changed the rhythm to keep her going, but no, let the poor angel enjoy herself. A bit more friction against her clit for half a minute longer and her legs and insides clenched together, a louder moan and need for air abruptly raised her head. Her teeth clacked together and she sucked in a breath through her nose, complexion splotchy and lip bloody from the collision of teeth. Certainly not in control of herself. She tried to calm down, clearly winded and shaky. Rattled from such small attentions. Again. Cute.

He extricated his fingers and ran his hand over her well-rounded bottom. Calm. Everything was fine. She could relax. No need to continue. But…

She was determined. First stared down, then swallowed and sucked and pulled herself off wth teeth the third time she went down his cock and with one eye open, he let himself find release from this overlong little exercise, spilling into her mouth with a sigh.

He watched how swallowed, licked her lips with raised brows and then proceeded to lick him entirely clean of any traces left.

Then Raphael looked up. And started to pout again. No pleasing that one, then.

Well, aside from the obvious, of course: The pout disappeared when he sat up completely, licked the slight cut on her lip and kissed her, deepening the kiss when a hand found his hair.

He snorted and hauled her back when there was a bit of insecurity when he was bound to taste himself.

She wrapped her wings around his shoulders and waist, then. To pull him closer when her arms were too weak. And wasn’t that something.

She kept at that for minutes, sliding her tongue against his and moving her feathers over his skin to get every bit closer that she could. She might enjoy this more than the orgasm he gave her. At least judging by the tiny hair raising and falling any time he ran his fingertips over her nape. Plus the many tiny sighs and hums that had no intended ‘goal’ he could see.

At one point, her legs almost gave in from the kneeling position, so she pushed herself up and him back and… landed with her face on his chest. He even held himself slightly up to not squish her wings.

When removed, he finally fell back into the pillows.

And a very hoarse, defeated voice came from the angel: “I… have so much to learn.” She made a face, no doubt from the sore throat.

“You did admirably well, angel. I’ll happily teach you.” The barely suppressed laughter maybe wasn’t nice.

“No pointers. Mean.” Came the flattened reply. She was easily tired out with sex, apparently. At least right now? As human-alike as she was? He wouldn’t want to do it with his wings present either.

“Had to see the baseline, love.” He said in a sing-song-y voice.

She let out a tiny whimper, and her ears coloured themselves a darker shade.

He kissed the top of her head and drew light patterns on her naked shoulders.

Calling a Raphael cute in his head… had not been on his list of possibilities 24 hours ago. It was not a bad thing, though?

[asheewrites]

Ohhhh Raphael gets to keep the little foxy. Clearly an angel becoming the permanent owner of a demonic hellbeast that can feed on souls is in no way going to be a problem or cause any trouble or worry with anyone who oberthinks things. Are we going to get pics with it wearing cute doggy outfits too?

The physical therapy turned out to be a lot less harmless than he expected. Apparently, some people just... broke their shoulder? With wings? He hadn't thought that actually possible, but here they were.

The worrisome part came from the angel not realising it was a problem. The pain simply was and they thought it was supposed to be like this.

It took a long time to convince and explain every single bit that was wrong. Raphael didn't seem to be the only one not reading the memos.

Or they were simply written in a way the angels didn't understand. Whatever it was, they were stuck in the office for more than a day. Amurel didn't announce anything catastrophic and his home was still closed up, so that was alright...

And the paperwork he had to send up was not going to be great. Especially since it involved reading the bloody memos.

It was a terror.

Especially the arguing afterwards.

It took eight more hours to read through the horrific things.

The end result of this was: This had only happened once. So maybe it was an exception. He put it into the statistics. If it happened three times, he would put himself though the suffering. Maybe that equals out the pain levels. It was documented. Confidential and all. Sure.

Clean up in the clinic, scheduling a re-meet with the angel... and that's it!

Time to prepare more meat and vegetables and head up to Kazu. The creature might be hungry... he was about nine hours late.

When Raphael walked up with the plate, he heard tapping noises on the other side of his home door.

And when he opened it... he saw the critter. In all it's fox-alike glory. It had more eyes than the last time he had seen it. Also a little more agitated. Might be that's where the eyes came from? Was that a thing?

Unlocking his phone, he snapped a picture and... this creature... did not photograph well. Or at all. AH well.

"Kazu! Sorry for the wait, I brought dinner, though," he said and put the plate on the floor. It was four pounds of meat... so a little more than 'normal', but it seemed rather edible. Because it consumed the food at an impressive rate, at least two eyes watching him at all times.

He stared right back - sometimes slowblinking - to be able to draw the creature, at the very least.

Two minutes later, the number of eyes was reduced to a statistically normal level for foxes... and it jumped off in the direction of the bedroom. Huh.

More food to prepare for the next day, then.

The reaction was... subdued, though? When looking around, the only thing it had completely shredded was the pillow it had already 'claimed' - it was bag from the garbage can.

Otherwise, the rooms were... normal. Raphael shrugged and sat down with a tablet, trying to recreate the create he had seen when coming up.

And send them to both people that asked for an update.

'Demon-fox update! It - Kazu - does not photograph, but that's what it looks like. Approximately. The eyes change sometimes.'

Picture attached... done.

Time to make more food.

[asheewrites]

Well now we gotta know what the two big boys have to say about the twiddle foxy friend and who gets to keep custody. Heaven, Hell or Raphael?

Whistling, Raphael went downstairs and was barely through meat-assembly (rabbit today... it had been a well grown critter, one was enough) and in the middle of cutting some carrots for the creature, when his phone already buzzed in his pocket.

Unfortunately, he knew from whom it was, so he had to wash his hands and get the phone out.

It read:

'Hello Raphael,

In case of your guest staying with you, Hell needs to be contacted for permission, not only information, to avoid misunderstandinga about us holding an Agent of theirs hostage. Please contact me when you receive a reply. Until it is clear whether Hell will send someone to pick it up ASAP or allow it to stay in your care, keep it under strict supervision. It is imperativ that you keep it in the clinic, for its own and human safety. Please report negative changes in behaviour immediately. Thank you for your diligence in reporting this as soon as you had assessed the situation. Looking forward to hearing from you.

ꙮ Metatron'

... the manufacturer or the software developer probably hadn't shelled out for a Metatron's Cube as a sign. Why he would sign twice if it were the case was a different question, but well.

This...

He was glad he's washed his rands, because he rubbed his eyes before oinching his nose. This was just... well. It was not pleasant.

There certainly was no hostage-holding if the creature in question could leave at any time. Like any creature should be able to at any time. Not that most animals had a desire for this kind of thing when they were held in a reasonable state. Of course, the order to keep it in the clinic and under strict supervision at all times would turn this into some kind of hostage situation. But... he had contacted hell. He had been diligent and if anyone asked, he had the orders in written form in front of him.

Bloody hell. He just liked imprisoning people, didn't he. Favourite hobby. Kch.

With a little twitch in his brow, he sent back:

'Hello Metatron, I have reached out to hell and will report as soon as a message arrived. The fox will remain safe in my private rooms. Behaviour unchanged. Raphael'

There. Due diligence and all. Maybe he would need to build enrichment for the creature. And if he needed to add a new room to his place. TARDIS-ing his home. Or something. When he figured how that even worked. But angelic abilities could do more ridiculous things. Somehow creating more space where there isn't... the worst thing Raphael could imagine, so... he would see.

For now: Finishing the carrots, starting the celery. Stuffing the whole meal into the fridge upstairs.

And maybe he should look more into enrichment for foxes. If it had no choice but to stay, he should definitely look that up. Sure, the creature might be older than himself, and not actually a fox, but it certainly didn't talk to him.

Puzzle boxes for food it was! He had still some wood laying around... and about ten hours of time. He could make something to get... maybe dried meat hidden in the the next day? Cardbord boxes he would be able to find no find no problem. Maybe he could put balls in the bathtub? But a kiddie pool might be more suitable. He really did need more space...

Well. Off to work he was. After informing the critter - or, more accurately, the thin air of his flat: "Hey, my invisible guest, I have to keep you in here or at least under supervision for the next few days. Not my call, but you don't seem to mind right now. I'll try to make your stay more bearable." Nothing answered. If it had been the right time of year, crickets would have something more to say. So he sighed, but added: "And I'll call you Kazu from now on. Not very demonic, but it's a name, so, Kazu, good night to you!" It probably needed to digest the meat - and vegetables - anyway.

Off he was to the attic and... mh... if he cleared that one up a little more, that might be an option. For now, there was just some cardboard boxes to grab and bring down. And then... a saw to create a puzzle box. It could not be too hard.

...

When it was time to walk downstairs, he wasn't sure if he could simply not do math... or if the measurements were simply out of wack. Fact was: Nothing fit together. Better luck next time, he supposed. The fox would not be harmed by any of that. So he served breakfast: "Kazu! Breakfast's ready!"

Not that he expected a response. The waterbowl was full too... looking at it, and considering normal foxes... it might be nice if it was a well, always providing fresh water. Like with cats? But that was another project.

Downstairs, he greeted his team and received the customary hugs and his usual stack of correspondence. Mostly letters, the advertisements, bills and reports get already sorted by Amurel.

At the table, he found a thank you letter from a patient (with pictures), a report from one of his angels in more critical areas, gathering field experience, other correspondences he would need to pen down in the break and then... a letter with a sticky note.

'Was like this in the post bin, no one brought it there, but there it is. Be careful? Amurel'

Huh. The letter was a sealed piece of paper. 'To Raphael' it said, with a flourish. And, indeed, held no adress. Well. He photographed the seal to maybe figure something out later, if the insides weren't revealing.

So he opened the folded sheet and read the following words, written with flourish in blue, sparkly ink:

'Dearest Raphael,

Congratulations on your new pet! I see no reason as to why you shouldn’t be permitted to keep it, provided you feel confident in your ability to handle it safely. Unfortunately, it sounds as though its previous owner was no suitable fit - I assure you this incident will be investigated and the individual reprimanded accordingly.'

SHIT. A quick glance to the end of the letter confirmed suspicions, it was Asmodeus. SO. He grabbed the phone and composed a quick message:

'Asmodeus, PLEASE do not investigate OR reprimand the guy. They needed help and came here and we helped. And that could happen because demons slowly started to trust us. I did not mean to incriminate them, it was simply an explanation why I did not send the fox down immediately. They guy is probably punished enough for having lost his pet. And feeling in some of his arm. We don't need a rumor that the clinic rats people out. In whatever way there is. It's nice that angels and demons can meet here on neutral ground. Armistice is a good reason. If at all possible, just... leave them be? Please? Since they came here, they at least knew they did something very wrong. Give them a chance to better themselves?'

He really was an idiot for not expecting that. Asmodeus liked animals, for all he knew. And currently he might still make examples out of people. Aaargh.

Well, he still continued reading:

'As for your new friend, do be careful of its pointy bits. It may be foolish to assume without seeing it firsthand but I can’t imagine it would differ too greatly from an Earthly fox; they can be snappy when frightened and are easy to startle. Please expect a courier within the next few days with the following supplies, provided free of charge: 1 bag of DevilKitty Kibblez brand fox chow, 1 medium memory foam pet bed, 3 assorted toys, 1 enchanted safety muzzle, 1 collar and lead. In the mean time, I should think meat, fish, fruits and vegetables would make for a suitable diet. It may beg for souls of the damned, but those should be given sparingly and only as treats for good behavior.

Thank you for reaching out and please let me know should you need any further assistance. We also request pics at your earliest convenience.

Best wishes,

Emperor Pro Tempore and Great King of Hell

Asmodeus

xoxo As 💙'

Fish. He had forgotten about fish. And fruit, to be honest. As for the soul... he tapped his phone in thought.

'Hello again, Asmodeus. I apologize for the sudden message. Morale of patients is something I have to pay close attention to. Usually.

Anyway. I thank you very much for the allowance and the help for a new demonic pet-carer. I hope you understand that souls of the damned might have to be stricken from it's menu. If that is a problem, I obviously can not handle them. Angels and souls of the damned are not too good a mix.

For now, my guest still evades sightings. Pictures will follow when it has acclimatised some more.

Now, is angel blood good or bad for the critter. I don't mind being bitten in fear, but I don't want it to suffer from... holy-poisoning?

I'll get back to you when there is a chance for pictures or I am overwhelmed by fox-entity. Thanks again!

Sincerely yours

Raphael

P.S.: 'Pro Tempore' mh?'

For whom DID he stand in that comes back any time soon? But alright. More pressing was the question if the XOXO was an indictation for a greeting he... wanted? Hugs and kisses? He was used to them, but... usually from his team and not... well... the emperor of hell, he supposed. From what he had seen, it was not an actionable thing, but... why?

Anyway.

'Hello Metatron. I got permission and allowance from hell, no worries anymore. Raphael.'

There. Done. Therapy! Physical, to be exact. Some people were not meant to stretch their own wings in their corporation. They tended to dislocate their shoulders and screw up their whole musculature. Time to warm his hands properly.

[asheewrites]

Can I have a little write about big boy Dave comforting and warming his smol-ish boyfriend after he got too cold in Alaska?

Trevor was a prideful man. For all the complaints he had about the cold, he had finally agreed to go out and explore his village with him. Wrapped in five layers of clothes. But Dave had seen the tells, had watched them happen with concern.

The scratch on his nose when his exposed nose naturally grew colder than the rest and didn't even feel cold, simply had an itch. So he rubbed his gloved hand over it.

He also rubbed over his fingers. Likely the cold-pressure under his fingernails. Again, insidious, because it did not feel cold, but just somewhat painful.

Pulling his jacket closer and putting his hands back into the pockets resolutely worked just fine in european temperatures, but Alaska... wasn't that. He even sneezed!

But each time he asked, Trevor wanted to still see, since 'he wanted to know where his boyfriend lived'.

Dave couldn't help but show him more. Show him the creek with the best salmons, greet a few of his more eccentric villagers - they were very amused by the layered up look of Trevor, it likely did not help - and finally also where he... chopped wood. Here he truly had just wanted to bring him back home, but apparently, watching him chop wood was interesting.

Which he was fine with any other day, really. He knew he looked good (and didn't have the five layers, he is fine with cold).

The problem was that he got lost in motion. Definitely not in thought. It was very meditative? The problem was: He also lost track of his boyfriend.

And after half an hour, the current stack of wood was done, he looked over to Trevor and he sat on the thankfully snow-free bench and this look was not a good thing.

Lodging the axe in the chopping block, he walked over and said: "So, Trevor, I think we have enough. You ready to get inside?"

When he nodded, it was like something dislodged and his teeth started chattering. Trevor suppressed it, but seemed somewhat surprised by the reaction. It wasn't uncommon.

He grumbled when Dave asked to pick him up, but much less than usual. Holding a feather bed in his arms was a bit awkward, but Trevor did not even take his hands out to wrap them around his neck, which told him he really was... cold. The Shivers certainly were alive.

He did not talk at all on the way to the house. Likely his lips were stiff, and cold, how he pressed them together and had to keep himself from licking them. It made sense. They only got colder like that.

His house was... not that warm. Sixteen degree, in the mean. His scientist-friends had bullied him to adapt the celsius scale. With Trevor around, it was probably a good thing.

Still, the relative coolness lacked the wind and the creeping cold from the outside and Trevor let out a controlled breath.

"I... I don't like... the cold" he pressed out against the will of his spasming jaw muscles.

Dave nodded and took over the task of getting the buttons of his jacket open, after asking with his eyes. Trevor's hands were simply too stiff to function properly.

"Unfair" He pressed out, which likely meant his ability to move his fingers.

"Mmmh," Dave nodded. Most say it was. Completely depended on training... and genetics, so it mostly was, too.

He bit the tip of each glove-finger (very carefully) and freed his icy hands. Even Dave twitched when he, without remorse, stuffed them under Dave's shirt with the words: "It's all your fault."

He was forgiven, he really was just cold. The second jacket was a little more difficult to get rid of in this position. But well. He let go for the two seconds it was necessary to get the cold fabric off of him. Second layer of trousers followed. He stepped out of them - somehow around his shoes - and wriggled his slightly warming hands.

Trevor truly was cold. From the inside and out. And not actually ready to give up any more clothes, even if it might have been better.

Dave picked him up again - this time with a slightly better hold on his neck, it was way too cold, still - and carried him to the bed.

"No shoooes" He said before Dave simply buried him in a blanket. Shoes and all. His winter boots were the only thing he was sure to have kept Trevor warm. At least one part of him. The snow would not be a problem.

Dave himself got rid of his shoes, shirt and trousers to join him under the blanket. His teeth audibly chattered now and he breathed out cold air. Despite his misgivings about the shoes - or maybe even because of, judging by the disgruntled expression - Trevor immediately embraced him, hands even reaching under the fabric. His nose buried in the crook of his neck, again, breathing cold air against him. His whole body was cold angles and shivers. Dave did his best to cover bg swathes of his back and sides with his hands - here he really enjoyed having hands this big, holding him close and able to warm him.

The constant shivers of muscles and clattering teeth - they had set in full force when the blanket started to warm up - turned into slow shudders... and finally stillness.

The buttons of Trevors pants were metallic, but even those were finally warmed up. It was bliss, holding him like that, stomach to stomach, legs halfway entertwined.

"Shoes in the bed are disgusting," he grumbled and finally reached down to unclick the closing mechanism and started to toe them off.

"Yeah, but you're more important, I can wash the sheets," which Trevor answered with an annoyed breath of air. Really did not like dirt. But when the shoes tumbled over the edge of the bed, he moved his feet between Dave*s legs. They were... at least not as cold as the rest of him had been.

"You're like a bloody furnace." He didn't seem to mind, though. And the hands finally settled on Dave's waist, re-emerging from the fabric, innocent and reassuring.

"Only in Alaska," cause he needed the heat, then. The wet cold in britain had caught him off guard. But here, he could slowly move his hands from shoulderblade over spine to waist and back up, making sure to avoid any ticklish places.

"...this is nice," he mumbled, sleepily.

"It is..." Dave agreed, faware of the lack of tension and complete trust given. It wasn't the worst outcome to have Trevor sleep in his arms. Even if slightly disgruntled.