The sun was bright in my eyes when I woke up. I muttered and rolled my face into the pillow. My body was loose, dull. The hot, faintly sticky feeling you get when you've been sick and the fever has finally broken. Good, but hollowed out, empty and weak. A door creaked and I made myself lie perfectly still again. I readied a spell, waiting. Something moved inside of my skin, behind my eyes and I felt a hand slide over mine, slim fingers curling through mine.
“One of the soldiers. They check on you every half hour, since our little Baron rose for the day. You've slept through the others.” Lasciel's voice was sweet, faintly accented inside my mind. I could see her in my minds eye, if I thought about it. The last image of her, dark hair blowing in the wind, the sun burning down on us and her eyes, brilliant green and clever.
Footsteps crossed the floor, carpeting muffling them. They came over to the bed and I could feel the person leaning over, getting a good look without touching me or the bed itself. I opened my eyes and the man forced his face into a smile. It was probably meant to be disarming, but I could see the wariness in his eyes. Not fear. No one that jumpy would survive in Marcone's organization for long. But caution. He straightened up and took a step back from the bed.
“Sir. I have some medicine here for you, if you would. And there are clothes in the bathroom over to the right, if you want to get dressed.” Soft, respectful, no sudden movements. Like you do when you're dealing with someone who might snap at any second. I found myself smiling. I felt limp, wrung out. And this guy was afraid I might go psycho on him any second.
“How about some food?” I rolled over and sat up. “And then I want to go to Marcone.”
~
I was just finishing up what the flunkies had brought me to eat when Marcone came back. He'd been outside, there was a light, quickly melting dusting of snowflakes in his hair. I chewed my last bite of steak and set the knife and fork down. Martin folded the newspaper he'd been reading to me and gathered up my tray. He nodded to Marcone and left. I waited until I heard the soft click of the lock being engaged and then I slid out of the bed.
“Harry?”
“Just a sec.” I padded into the bathroom and took care of things. By the time I'd washed up and come back out into the bedroom Marcone had stripped out of his suit jacket and tie and was sitting in a chair by one of the windows.
“Where'd you go?” I dropped into the chair across from him, the soft fabric of the pajama pants I'd found delightful against my oversensitive skin. The rougher cloth of the chair back felt good too, in a different way. It was almost like feeling everything for the first time. It was all better, more there in a way I couldn't quite define. I could smell winter of Marcone's hair, his skin. Deeper than that, I could smell blood.
“Harry? Is it you or Lasciel right now?”
“It's me, Marcone. Harry Dresden. Or the bits that are left, anyhow.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Lasciel's here, of course. But I'm driving.” For the moment.
“There was a very limited number of people who might have turned me over to the Denarians.” I put my hands on his knees and moved off of the chair to crouch on the floor between his legs. The fabric was deliciously textured beneath my palms, as though I could feel every single thread, each warp and weft. Tension sang through the muscles there and I leaned my face in close, breathing deep. His eyes were on mine as I tasted the air, tasted his scent. The blood was faint and beside it the smell of metal, cold and sharp.
“Harry, I don't-” Marcone broke off, his breath sharp. I'd bitten him through the thin fabric of his shirt, drawn the tiniest hint of his flesh into my mouth, warm and salty under the clean taste of the fabric. “The collar-”
“Gone. It's just the three of us John.” The metal button of his fly was cool and smooth beneath my fingers, another contrast. Every tooth of the zipper grated against my hearing as I pulled it down. He was soft, unaroused. I licked my lips and shifted backwards so I could bend to place a kiss on the delicate skin as I took him into my hand. He twitched, growing interested and I laughed a little, softly.
I took him into my mouth. He was softer than silk, and I tucked him against my cheek, rolling my tongue around him, feeling him grow as I did, lengthening, harder and harder until he filled me, until the thick, rounded head was resting on the back of my tongue. I pulled back, let him slip out of my mouth until I only had the head, grasping the rest of him with one hand. He was salty, nearly tart as I dipped the tip of my tongue into the slit and then licked the contours of him, learning the feel of him inside of me. His hands gripped the back of my head, stopped me from leaning forward, taking the length of him in again. I let him pull my head back, my fingers still wrapped around him, squeezing gently, rhythmically.
“Harry. I'm not asking you to-” I twisted my fingers and his eyes narrowed. It was interesting, to watch him shut parts of himself down, gather himself together. “You need to stop.”
“No, I don't.” I pushed out with a tiny effort of will and he went stiff, held nearly perfectly still. “Stop interrupting, John.” His hands were still in my hair, but loose. A caress now, rather than an attempt at control.
I bent back to my task. I went slow, taking him in a little at a time, running the rounded edges of my teeth over the head, drawing a gasp and a slow pulse from him, precome oozing out over my tongue, coating my throat as I swallowed around him. He fought against the hold I had on him, I could feel the brush of his will against mine, like fur through the bars of a cage.
Cold clenched around me, like iron and I whimpered. Cold hands made of shadow, impossible to fight and Nicodemus' quiet voice slipping through my mind, his hands against my face as he dug his fingers into my jaw- No It was like having someone take hold of you and turn you away from a horrible sight. Lasciel was suddenly there, feathers inside of my skin and she turned my 'face' from the memory, brought me back to the warmth of the bedroom, to Marcone fighting himself, fighting my hold on him.
I let go, let the spell break, and his hands were hard in my hair again, but it was too late, I pushed forward, swallowed him whole until he bumped the back of my throat. I shifted angles and then I had the entirety of him, full and wide, a delicious weight in my mouth. I swallowed, breathing hard through my nose, the scent of him, the taste filling me until I had to close my eyes against it. He was under my hands, in my mouth, everywhere at once. He pulled at my hair and I worked my throat and him, my tongue against the underside of him, tip tracing the veins there. His breathless curses filled my ears, nearly drowned out by the thudding of his pulse, mine, our hearts racing together.
My breath came hard, harder, until I had to pull back, just enough and then I took him in again, nearly as deep and cupped his balls in one slick palm, twisted gently and closed my lips around him, suckling. His fingers twisted in my hair and tears rolled out of my eyes as he came, tingling sensations coming in waves from my scalp, tiny hints of pain and the feel of him, the taste, heavy and thick inside of me. I swallowed, tried to take it all in at once, but there was too much and I could feel the hot sticky line of it on my chin.
I milked him for it, until he grew soft in my mouth again. Only then did I finally let him withdraw, making certain to lick him clean as I did. I watched him watch me as I smiled and rolled my tongue around my lips, as I wiped carefully at my chin, my chest where a few drops had fallen and then licked my fingers, taking them in one at a time until I had it all.
Marcone's broad hand wrapped around mine, drew it up to his mouth where he brushed his lips across my knuckles. His face unreadable, his eyes dark. I felt Lasciel's amusement, heard delighted laughter echoing from somewhere far back inside of me. So. Sweet.
Re: Fill: Bad Angel V 3/? (I *lied*, clearly. It won't freaking end!)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fill: Bad Angel V 3/? (I *lied*, clearly. It won't freaking end!)
“One of the soldiers. They check on you every half hour, since our little Baron rose for the day. You've slept through the others.” Lasciel's voice was sweet, faintly accented inside my mind. I could see her in my minds eye, if I thought about it. The last image of her, dark hair blowing in the wind, the sun burning down on us and her eyes, brilliant green and clever.
Footsteps crossed the floor, carpeting muffling them. They came over to the bed and I could feel the person leaning over, getting a good look without touching me or the bed itself. I opened my eyes and the man forced his face into a smile. It was probably meant to be disarming, but I could see the wariness in his eyes. Not fear. No one that jumpy would survive in Marcone's organization for long. But caution. He straightened up and took a step back from the bed.
“Sir. I have some medicine here for you, if you would. And there are clothes in the bathroom over to the right, if you want to get dressed.” Soft, respectful, no sudden movements. Like you do when you're dealing with someone who might snap at any second. I found myself smiling. I felt limp, wrung out. And this guy was afraid I might go psycho on him any second.
“How about some food?” I rolled over and sat up. “And then I want to go to Marcone.”
~
I was just finishing up what the flunkies had brought me to eat when Marcone came back. He'd been outside, there was a light, quickly melting dusting of snowflakes in his hair. I chewed my last bite of steak and set the knife and fork down. Martin folded the newspaper he'd been reading to me and gathered up my tray. He nodded to Marcone and left. I waited until I heard the soft click of the lock being engaged and then I slid out of the bed.
“Harry?”
“Just a sec.” I padded into the bathroom and took care of things. By the time I'd washed up and come back out into the bedroom Marcone had stripped out of his suit jacket and tie and was sitting in a chair by one of the windows.
“Where'd you go?” I dropped into the chair across from him, the soft fabric of the pajama pants I'd found delightful against my oversensitive skin. The rougher cloth of the chair back felt good too, in a different way. It was almost like feeling everything for the first time. It was all better, more there in a way I couldn't quite define. I could smell winter of Marcone's hair, his skin. Deeper than that, I could smell blood.
“Harry? Is it you or Lasciel right now?”
“It's me, Marcone. Harry Dresden. Or the bits that are left, anyhow.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Lasciel's here, of course. But I'm driving.” For the moment.
“There was a very limited number of people who might have turned me over to the Denarians.” I put my hands on his knees and moved off of the chair to crouch on the floor between his legs. The fabric was deliciously textured beneath my palms, as though I could feel every single thread, each warp and weft. Tension sang through the muscles there and I leaned my face in close, breathing deep. His eyes were on mine as I tasted the air, tasted his scent. The blood was faint and beside it the smell of metal, cold and sharp.
“Harry, I don't-” Marcone broke off, his breath sharp. I'd bitten him through the thin fabric of his shirt, drawn the tiniest hint of his flesh into my mouth, warm and salty under the clean taste of the fabric. “The collar-”
“Gone. It's just the three of us John.” The metal button of his fly was cool and smooth beneath my fingers, another contrast. Every tooth of the zipper grated against my hearing as I pulled it down. He was soft, unaroused. I licked my lips and shifted backwards so I could bend to place a kiss on the delicate skin as I took him into my hand. He twitched, growing interested and I laughed a little, softly.
I took him into my mouth. He was softer than silk, and I tucked him against my cheek, rolling my tongue around him, feeling him grow as I did, lengthening, harder and harder until he filled me, until the thick, rounded head was resting on the back of my tongue. I pulled back, let him slip out of my mouth until I only had the head, grasping the rest of him with one hand. He was salty, nearly tart as I dipped the tip of my tongue into the slit and then licked the contours of him, learning the feel of him inside of me. His hands gripped the back of my head, stopped me from leaning forward, taking the length of him in again. I let him pull my head back, my fingers still wrapped around him, squeezing gently, rhythmically.
“Harry. I'm not asking you to-” I twisted my fingers and his eyes narrowed. It was interesting, to watch him shut parts of himself down, gather himself together. “You need to stop.”
“No, I don't.” I pushed out with a tiny effort of will and he went stiff, held nearly perfectly still. “Stop interrupting, John.” His hands were still in my hair, but loose. A caress now, rather than an attempt at control.
I bent back to my task. I went slow, taking him in a little at a time, running the rounded edges of my teeth over the head, drawing a gasp and a slow pulse from him, precome oozing out over my tongue, coating my throat as I swallowed around him. He fought against the hold I had on him, I could feel the brush of his will against mine, like fur through the bars of a cage.
Cold clenched around me, like iron and I whimpered. Cold hands made of shadow, impossible to fight and Nicodemus' quiet voice slipping through my mind, his hands against my face as he dug his fingers into my jaw- No It was like having someone take hold of you and turn you away from a horrible sight. Lasciel was suddenly there, feathers inside of my skin and she turned my 'face' from the memory, brought me back to the warmth of the bedroom, to Marcone fighting himself, fighting my hold on him.
I let go, let the spell break, and his hands were hard in my hair again, but it was too late, I pushed forward, swallowed him whole until he bumped the back of my throat. I shifted angles and then I had the entirety of him, full and wide, a delicious weight in my mouth. I swallowed, breathing hard through my nose, the scent of him, the taste filling me until I had to close my eyes against it. He was under my hands, in my mouth, everywhere at once. He pulled at my hair and I worked my throat and him, my tongue against the underside of him, tip tracing the veins there. His breathless curses filled my ears, nearly drowned out by the thudding of his pulse, mine, our hearts racing together.
My breath came hard, harder, until I had to pull back, just enough and then I took him in again, nearly as deep and cupped his balls in one slick palm, twisted gently and closed my lips around him, suckling. His fingers twisted in my hair and tears rolled out of my eyes as he came, tingling sensations coming in waves from my scalp, tiny hints of pain and the feel of him, the taste, heavy and thick inside of me. I swallowed, tried to take it all in at once, but there was too much and I could feel the hot sticky line of it on my chin.
I milked him for it, until he grew soft in my mouth again. Only then did I finally let him withdraw, making certain to lick him clean as I did. I watched him watch me as I smiled and rolled my tongue around my lips, as I wiped carefully at my chin, my chest where a few drops had fallen and then licked my fingers, taking them in one at a time until I had it all.
Marcone's broad hand wrapped around mine, drew it up to his mouth where he brushed his lips across my knuckles. His face unreadable, his eyes dark. I felt Lasciel's amusement, heard delighted laughter echoing from somewhere far back inside of me. So. Sweet.
Re: Fill: Bad Angel V 3/? (I *lied*, clearly. It won't freaking end!)
(Anonymous) 2011-03-06 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Bad Angel V 3/? (I *lied*, clearly. It won't freaking end!)
:D
Re: Fill: Bad Angel V 3/? (I *lied*, clearly. It won't freaking end!)
(Anonymous) 2011-03-06 11:32 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Bad Angel V 3/? (I *lied*, clearly. It won't freaking end!)
OP Here
(Anonymous) 2011-03-07 12:28 am (UTC)(link)8D
Re: OP Here
They are so much trouble!
But at least the sex is good!
Re: Fill: Bad Angel V 3/? (I *lied*, clearly. It won't freaking end!)
(Anonymous) 2011-03-07 01:05 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Bad Angel V 3/? (I *lied*, clearly. It won't freaking end!)
how she and Dresden will manage to live together.
Like a house on fire.
Other peoples' houses, of course.