Fumbling Towards Ecstacy
Bonus Day: Facefucking
Minos is no stranger to all manner of sensory deprivation, but to attempt it without visible sensory organs is a feat in of itself. Fortunately, for obscuring one's vision, all that is needed is simply a larger sheet of cloth.
"Not too tight?"
"Not at all, my dove." Minos assures him through the thick fabric that encompasses almost all of his faceless visage. But it's doing its job; he cannot see at all. Even if his voice is rather muffled by the covering. "Many a skillful hand hath brought rope tricks of all sorts to my city, all requiring knots far tighter than thine own. Perhaps I might show thee-"
"Maybe later." Gabriel blurts, his flustered tone prompting a chuckle from the Judge of Hell.
Even without being able to see the archangel, straddling Minos's thighs as he finishes with the massive knot keeping the makeshift blindfold firmly across his face, he can easily picture his pink tinted wings. But their glow does not penetrate the silky cloth. He is effectively sightless, for the moment.
Gabriel's hands come to rest on the prime soul's shoulders, steady and sure where once before they had trembled with nerves. Minos hears him take a deep breath, and then let it out in a rush.
"Thou'rt remember what we spoke of before?"
"Yes." Gabriel firmly taps upon his cool skin twice for emphasis: the signal they had agreed upon for ‘stop'. "I trust you, Minos."
He feels the weight of those words, particularly as the archangel's hands pull away entirely. Minos holds himself still as Gabriel shifts about on his thighs, knees digging into the mattress as he leans to set something, presumably his helmet, upon the floor. Those hands return, but they are searching, gentle, running along the translucent skin of his chest and making Minos's visible heart skip a beat.
"Minos?" Oh stars, he's never heard Gabriel's voice so clear. For a moment, he's struck breathless by his tenor tone.
"Yes, Angel?"
And then lips oh-so lightly brush against Minos's covered visage, along the thin stretch of exposed flesh.
A faint moan escapes the prime soul at the first gentle kiss, followed swiftly by another, firmer press of his lips. Minos's hands rise instinctively, before he catches himself and lays them upon the small of Gabriel's back.
Oh, to have lips with which to kiss the archangel back. To push him into the mattress and taste him, tease him, devour him. But he had promised Gabriel he would not look. And The Father knew Minos had broken enough promises in his mortal life alone.
Instead, Minos traces the ridges of his spine, pulls him closer, shudders at the first hint of a tongue. Hell's warden has always been a studious learner when it came to the pleasures of the body. Mere moments after that first kiss, he's trailing them along his jaw, across cool, naked skin. He senses a tentative nip, right where his pulse flies, followed by more soft pecks.
It's enough of a distraction that he doesn't register Gabriel's palm sliding down his front, until it wraps gently around his half-hard cock.
"Oooh," He breathes, hips twitching with an aborted thrust. "Prithee, dove--"
The rest of his plea is lost in a sharp gasp as Gabriel's grip tightens. His hand strokes up, thumbing over the thick head of his dick before sliding back down in a rough stroke. All the while, the sinfully sweet touch of his mouth continues to assault his neck with lips, tongue, teeth.
The archangel does not keep him waiting long. Plentiful practice has taught Gabriel a great deal about the finer points of sex; when precum coats Minos's shaft and he shudders with every gentle bite, The Judge of Hell comes to his senses to the shifting of Gabriel's weight.
He shimmies down to the plush carpeting of the royal bedchambers, and Minos stands to follow. His powerful thighs tremble as Gabriel's palms come to rest upon his hips. He cannot see, but it makes him all the more aware of how his hot, panting breath washes over his stiff, sensitive flesh.
Minos hears a thick swallow, followed by a slow, steadying breath. It's all the warning he's given.
The first petal-soft caress of Gabriel's unseen lips upon his cock makes it twitch almost violently. They close, and pull away just enough for the tip of his tongue to gently swipe along the underside of his shaft. As familiar as the King of Lust is with being robbed of his sight during sex, nothing yet has made his senses fixate so narrowly upon Gabriel's exploratory administrations.
More slow licks, from his base to his head. Every heated breath washes over the sensitive skin with a shuddering exhale. Gabriel laves over his tip, dipping into the slit at its crown. And then finally, his mouth comes down on him.
"Oh stars--" He chokes between gasps. "Gabriel...."
A moan rolls across his skin, and Minos's fingers dig into his palm to keep them at his sides, right where he was instructed to. Gabriel explores at his own pace, tongue curiously rubbing at the underside of his cock, while a hint of teeth scrape along his hardened flesh-
"Dove--prithee... " The mighty King of Lust pleads into the darkness that surrounds him. "More... "
A hum, low and deep, is his only answer. Gabriel begins to pull away, lips dragging until Minos's head rests right between then. And then they glide back down, taking the prime soul's cock just a bit further into his mouth. The Judge of Hell meets each slow bob of the archangel's head with minute rolls of his hips. Breathy moans leave him with every pass, a faint whimper of the archangel's name among them.
He hears Gabriel draw in breath through his nose before he presses forward. Minos's cock sinks into the molten heat of his mouth, past his teeth, over the back his tongue, the first signs of resistance-
No, giving way with ease, prompting a faint, surprised noise from Minos, and a somewhat startled, muffled one from Gabriel. Both men freeze, even the very air itself seems to have stilled.
It's then that Minos realizes that Gabriel does not possess a gag reflex.
The Judge of Hell prides himself on his control over his lust, boundless as it is. And yet it still takes every ounce of willpower he possesses to not mindlessly rut forward farther down his throat. But Minos stays stock still, his legs beginning to shake with the effort.
After a long, torturous moment, Gabriel does move, pulling back just enough to withdraw his tip from his throat.
But then his hand leaves Minos's thigh, and immediately after, Lust's ruler detects his fingers encircling his wrist. His breath stills as his hand is guided to brush over seering warmth. Minos hurriedly wraps his palm around it, the heat seeping into his cold skin like stone beneath endless sunlight.
He has touched the archangel's halo many times before now. At first simply out of curiosity, and now more often than not with lustful intent. Just as he secures his grip, he senses Gabriel's other hand falling away from his thigh, jaw going slack around him. The prime soul gives him a moment more to brace himself; the archangel shifts around on his knees, before falling obediently still.
Minos tightens his hold on the other's halo, and then starts thrusting.
It's times like this that he aches to see Gabriel's face. To see those soft lips stretched around his shaft, to watch the curve of his throat swell every time he burrows himself deeper and deeper into that tight, wet heat. He can hear the slick sounds every time he pulls back to the tip, doubly so as he slides back in. Electric euphoria arcs through his body with every plunge. Not even the greatest blessings of Heaven could compare to Gabriel's sharp but shallow gasps, choking moans, and breathy whimpers floating through the darkness.
"Gabriel... " He murmurs. How many eyes did he mention having? Are they pooling with tears now as he fucks his throat with wild abandoned? "Gabriel... !"
The archangel can only manage a brief groan before it's cut off by Minos's dick colliding with the back of his throat once more. The prime soul's thrusts grow rougher, harder, until at last Gabriel's lips kiss at his base at the apex of each one.
It's perfect. Every plunge into the tight, wet warmth of the archangel's mouth makes him see stars. Every outward motion is a shock of cold air on his slickened, hardened flesh. In sharp contrast, the halo he holds begins to burn, growing hotter in his palm to the point of discomfort.
Minos cares not. His hand could char for all he cares, so long as he can keep fucking Gabriel's face, veiled with shadows. So long as he can ruin this angel kneeling before him like an obedient whore. He tightens his grip, beginning to push and pull Gabriel in time with the rhythm of his hips, seeking release with single-minded determination.
His dove surges forward of his own accord, actively fighting the prime soul's own strength. There's a fleeting thought of worry; a tensing throughout his body as he instinctively awaits the signal to stop. But then it's drowned in a torrent of lightning-laced euphoria as his cock is buried deep into the archangel's throat, far as it can go.
And then Gabriel swallows.
Climax hits him with all the subtlety of a runaway tram car. Lights burst across his sightless vision, his cry fills the surrounding emptiness with an ecstasy unmatched. Minos mindlessly ruts against those sinfully talented lips hugging his base, spilling deep into the throat milking him for all he's worth.
The hard light he still holds in his hand finally begins to hurt as the prime soul at last comes down, forcing him to release it. The skin of his palm feels taut, hot even against his perpetually cold skin, but he won't know if there is any visible damage until he regains his vision. In the meantime, there are far more pressing matters to attend to.
Minos withdraws slowly, his heavy pants filling the sudden silence of his bedchambers. Gabriel's join in a moment later, right as the tip clears his lips. But there's a distinct, rough edge to his inhales that makes the prime soul twitch into the starkly empty air, almost icy against his still-sensitive skin.
"Angel?" He asks into the shadows. Only a faint, broken whine, with an upward lilt in tone, answers him. "Art thou alright?"
"Uh... huh... "
Good. Minos runs his thoughts over what might come next out of habit. There are soft, thick blankets to wrap his lover tight in at the foot of his bed, a kettle over the fireplace steeped with tea for soothing a sore throat, and wood with which to stoke the flames and further warm his bedchambers. Anything else Gabriel requires, he can fetch. And perhaps pick up the burn ointment he keeps stocked in the bathroom for such occasions.
Another sound soon rises up over the slowing pace of their breathing and the distant din of the city, one that pulls him from his mental checklist. One that is rhythmic in nature and obscene in practice. Minos would recognize it anywhere.
The slick sounds of one digging eager fingers between delicate folds.
"... art thou touching thyself?" He cannot hide the metaphorical grin in his tone. To his knowledge, Gabriel has never attempted such a thing, at least, in the ruler's company. The noises cease immediately following his inquiry.
"N-no..." Even though his voice is gravely and broken from a well-fucked throat, Gabriel still manages to sound somewhat indignant at the implication, already a bit more like himself, to Minos's relief. It just makes him rumble with a knowing chuckle.
"Then perhaps thou wouldst permit me to assist thee with thine desires?"
"... let me--" Gabriel's words are interrupted with a shuddering inhale, and the sounds, blessedly, continue. "Let me put my helmet back on, first."
