Fumbling Towards Ecstacy
Needless to say I hope I write more of these two interacting in the future!
Day 7: Virginity
"You really haven't done this before, have you?"
"Celibacy was considered a virtue among angels." Christ, it almost sounds like he's reciting this from a script. "As such, these sorts of... sinful acts were punishable by death."
"Well, lucky for you, I've been around the block a few times."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Mirage catches him muttering under his breath, but there's a different kind of heat to his words, one that she can easily pick up on.
For reasons even she's not entirely sure of, Gabriel had wanted to do this. Be it to sate a long-suppressed sense of curiosity, for a brief taste of catharsis, or even to spite The Father whom he had lost long ago, she'll probably never know.
But this is where it's brought them: in her bedroom as the early afternoon light pours through the window, an archangel lying stiff on her bed and arms at his side like a soldier at attention. It makes her keenly aware of how much smaller she is, kneeling between his open thighs.
Mirage's optic tilts just a hair to the side as her hand reaches up to stroke down the middle of his broad chest, between the twin golden scars. She watches the rhythm of his lungs, steady and smooth, suddenly stutter with a silent gasp.
How different from her past experiences he is. His body is firm, yet supple, nothing like unyielding steel. More scars litter the skin here, marring the onyx stretch of flesh.
(Some of which he'd bore as fresh wounds when she found him lying in the middle of the street not four weeks ago now.)
"I'm really not sure what to do." Gabriel admits, shattering the momentary silence.
"That's the least surprising thing I've heard today." Mirage mutters, tone bordering on sarcasm, but it's mostly out of a long-ingrained habit. "Soooo... what do you know about sex?"
Man, just this idle talk is enough to make him squirm a little. And even then, there's not much room to afford that, what with the way his knees fall right over the foot of her bed.
"Only that it was forbidden by The Father under many different circumstances." He swallows audibly, his half-there halo aglow with faint tinges of pink at the edges. "And that it was a sacred act of vulnerability."
"Those sound like very conflicting sources."
"I—yes, but... " Gabriel falls silent, and shakes his head. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter, now."
"Well, there's lots more to learn, anyway." Mirage grasps the edges of her t-shirt and hauls it up and over her head, leaving her in just her shorts. There's a bulge stark against the fabric already. "So. Are we gonna do this, or not?"
There's little hesitation left in the archangel's answering nod.
Mirage scoots herself forward until her knees nearly brush along the hem of his skirt. She coaxes the thigh pressing against the wall to bend, just enough until his foot is flat against the mattress. It gives her a nice view up his skirt, which she takes in for a moment until he nudges her with his knee.
"Getting impatient?" She teases, reaching for his belt and finding the latch in moments.
"No—yes, I've—I've been tempted before, but-"
"Jesus, okay. For both our sake's, let's forget about eons of self-righteous dogma." She retorts as one of his only remaining layers of clothing slides to the floor, forgotten.
And she finds that there's only two strings and a simple bowknot keeping his loincloth around his hips, which comes free in a hurry as she tugs one end loose. Goddamn, first the crop-top cuirass and armored miniskirt, and now this? She'd love to meet the armourer who designed this particular ensemble.
Mirage doesn't miss the way Gabriel's helm hurriedly glances away as she removes his final barrier of modesty. Her posture and the summer-stark sun allows her to get a good look at his pussy. He's astonishingly wet already, lips glistening, and his half-hooded clit already swollen.
Her hand massages his inner thigh in a way she hopes comes off as soothing. Just judging from the way he jolts beneath her in answer, she wouldn't be surprised if he just leapt right off the bed in a fit of nerves at first contact. But apparently, the administrations are enough of a distraction that he doesn't pay much attention to her other hand making its way to his folds.
As Mirage strokes the length of them in a curious motion, he makes an aborted attempt at concealing the effect it has on him. Just the sound alone is enough to make her acutely aware of how tight her shorts have become, the imprint of her erection pressing starkly against the stiff fabric. She pushes her focus back to Gabriel, watching his hips jerk as her touch brushes against his clit.
"Damn, you really are a virgin."
"Wh-what is that supposed to-" Any further sort of coherent chatter from him is cut off with a sharp gasp as one of her fingers slips into him. The digit is soaked immediately and he spreads so easily for the second. She buries her hand into his cunt, palm digging into the sensitive nub at the top. The sound Gabriel releases sends a perverse sort of satisfaction pulsing through her wires.
He's incredibly sensitive to her touch, opening up astonishingly quickly. Mirage moves her hands in practiced motions, slipping the third in right as his moans break free from behind gritted teeth. Gabriel tenses, and she slows until he relaxes back into the blankets. She rewards him with a rough thrust, and relishes in his muted cry.
Just when his hips start to roll fervently into her fingers, she pulls her hand away, ignoring his needy whimper. Mirage shoves her shorts down her hips and around her thighs in two swift pushes, her silicone cock springing free of its confines. Mirage tugs at his legs, guiding his thighs up and around her waist securely.
"Ready?" She asks, and is promptly caught off guard by his eager nod. A throb travels down her dick, and quickly, she navigates herself to the rim of his pussy and presses in. For just a moment, there's resistance, but then he parts.
Gabriel's spine arches upwards in a perfect curve as she steadily slides inside him, spearing herself onto him with such ease. He feels hot in a way that she can barely describe. It isn't just how utterly wet he is, how tight his cunt squeezes her dick. It's something else.
(It's a faint thrumming, originating from somewhere deep in his body. Rhythmic and steady—his heartbeat?—and calling out to a part of her that hungers—)
"Mirage?" he quietly chokes out, tone bordering on a whine. And she blinks herself out of her feedback-induced trance. Mirage pulls her back to the present moment right as his cunt suddenly throbs around her.
"Okay--okay, yeah." She pants, gripping his hips with her hands and gently digging her thumbs into the flesh there. "I gotcha."
Mirage pulls back, and then glides back in. A goddamn mewl escapes him. From there, falling into a steady rhythm is easy enough. It's really something, seeing one of God's supposed favorites fall so easily to one of the most taboo sins among their kind. Particularly when he begins tentatively pushing his hips back up into her own, at first in slow, exploratory movements. Gradually, he begins meeting her thrusts in turn, and oh--
"Fuck," she breathes. "You feel so-"
Mirage snaps her hips forward, and his answering moan, sounding like it was punched out of his chest, is its own reward. She curls over him, listening to his panting and the desperate keen that pours from him as she pounds the daylights out of him.
"Mmmm-Ma-Machi-" His hand suddenly slaps over the lower half of his faceplate, biting off the word with a soft whine.
(Strange, how desperately he calls out for the one who killed him, but Mirage isn't about to deny him his fantasy.)
Her optic glitches, static arcing across her vision as she draws closer to euphoria. She fucks him harder, seeking her own release with single-minded determination. It's really been awhile...
"Harder, please... !" Gabriel calls, clearly lost in his own head. He's close, too. She slips her free hand between them, finds that fleshy little bud right upon the top of his cunt, and rolls it with her thumb over and over-
His pussy clamps down around her dick like a vice, and a shout that's likely going to be heard far across the complex rises from his powerful lungs. Mirage burrows herself into pulsating warmth, rutting inside him desperately, over and over until release at last slams into her like a runaway truck.
Her video feed cuts away into blistering static. Ecstasy pulses over her in crashing waves, lighting up her pleasure center like a Christmas tree. The sound that escapes her voicebox crackles like it's about to tear the component in half.
She comes down to multiple error boxes buzzing across her eye like a swarm of lazy flies. It takes a few seconds for her to clear them, and slowly, her system starts to recalibrate itself. Mirage regains enough confidence in her mobility to pull herself out, and then collapse atop his broad chest, heaving desperately for oxygen.
Gabriel's heart races under her audials as he catches his breath. Sweat slowly dries to her plating where she's settled atop his ridiculously tall form. Christ, she's gonna need a shower now; the both of them.
But that's gonna have to happen later, because she feels calm, relaxed; by the way Gabriel seems to ease into the bed below them, so does he. His arm lazily comes up, a hand tentatively settling upon her spine. She allows herself the comforting touch, if just for a moment.
Mirage is only two minutes into her afterglow when she catches the faintest gasp from him. It wouldn't be worrisome if his body didn't suddenly tense beneath her.
She follows his gaze, and freezes in turn as she beholds the sight of her nightstand lamp glitching out. It's not the only object whose matter is suddenly breaking apart. Her portable speaker sitting by her laptop, one of her posters, the box containing all her records. Static dances over their surfaces, littered with flashing colors and becoming semi-transparent.
For five seconds, the pair of them watch these small bits of reality plunge into an uncertain flux.
Then, just as quickly as it started, it stops.
Gabriel's body sinks into the mattress and Mirage sinks into his half embrace, matching sighs of relief floating from them both. Silence prevails for another thirty seconds.
"Well, now what?" Gabriel asks, uncertainty creeping into his tone. Mirage sits up a bit and pushes away the leftover fear; she's had a lot of practice with that lately.
"Good question. For starts, you could give me ten minutes to step out for a smoke, and I'll be ready for round two. Or," She hums, thinking, and can't keep the metaphorical smile out of her voice. "We can go take a quick shower, and then finally start Evangelion."
Gabriel groans under his breath, and she follows up with a smack to his shoulder.
"Come on, I promise you'll love it!"
"You said that about the last movie we watched."
"Look mister, I'm gonna watch my favorite anime one more time before I die come Hell or high water, and you are gonna sit through the first ten episodes at least."
"And if I don't like it?"
"Then I won't make you watch the rest, but I will spend every remaining moment we have left reminding you of what you are missing out on."
Silence follows, and she feels the exasperation coming through the weight of his gaze on her.
"You're not giving me a choice, are you?"
"Nope."
A long-suffering sigh, and then he pushes himself up onto his elbows. Mirage can barely contain her glee when he nods in reluctant agreement.
"Very well."
