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Gadreel was on his way home from his shift of guarding the Gates of Eden when he catches the scent and freezes mid-step.
Myrrh and frankincense are scents that are well-known in Heaven, but something else has Gadreel’s heart in his throat, his blood heating within seconds. He breathes in deeply, scenting the air, trying to figure out where it comes from before he realizes he’s doing so.
Another waft of scent, and this time he can identify the hint of pomegranate that goes with it. Gadreel bites his lips against the whine in his throat and shivers as he realizes he’s starting to get hard – and wet. It’s not a heat, despite the flush of his cheeks – heats feel different, and he’s not even close to being due.
Gadreel abandons his path home with his nose in the air, scenting constantly. He needs to find out where the scent comes from, needs to breathe it in at the source. He wants to roll around in it like a fledgeling… wants to roll onto his belly and be covered and held and taken.
The path leads him through the settlement and beyond its walls, up a hill and into a small copse of trees. He frowns, remembering having played here as a fledgeling himself. Who would be here that smells so wonderful?
The answer reveals itself as soon as he steps into the trees, following the thick trail of myrrh and frankincense and pomegranate. Six gloriously beautiful wings are spread out to catch the sunlight coming through the trees as the Archangel Michael stands, his face turned up towards the sky and his eyes closed.
Gadreel very much does not whimper. (He does.)
Michael must have sensed him before he made a sound, because he doesn’t tense. His eyes open and he turns to look at Gadreel, though. “Hello, Guardian.”
Gadreel swallows and salutes. “Archangel,” he manages to rasp out in greeting. “I am sorry to have disturbed you.”
His instincts are at war, screaming at him to leave, leave, Archangels are dangerous, and at the same time he wants to come close, bury his nose in Michel’s neck and his wings and try to find out where that delicious scent is strongest. He trembles.
“Don’t be sorry,” Michael tells him calmly. He turns to face Gadreel. “Come here.”
Gadreel is helpless to refuse. He walks closer slowly, tucking his wings tightly against his back as he steps through the trees and underbrush until he’s sharing Michael’s small clearing. The scent is stronger here, and he inhales it, unable to stop.
“Did you follow my scent here, Gadreel of the Gates?” Michael asks gently, as if the answer isn’t obvious. Gadreel nods anyway.
“Yes, Archangel. I… don’t quite know why.”
Michael’s expression shifts a little and turns wry. “That, I’m afraid, is my fault,” he admits softly. “It is a spell meant to find my mate. I did not realize quite how it would affect you.”
Mate. The word rings within Gadreel, even as he stares. This magnificent, powerful, beautiful Archangel is his mate?
“May I kiss you?” Michael asks gently, stepping even closer. His wings brush Gadreel’s, his scent envelops him. Gadreel blinks and nods.
“Please,” he manages to get out before warm hands cup his cheeks and draw him into a slow, soft, sweet kiss.
The world doesn’t end. No bolt of lightning slams into him in punishment – unless you count the arousal that shoots through him head to toe at the first touch of that warm mouth. Gadreel gasps - and then he’s being kissed by an Archangel who clearly knows what he’s doing.
Michael guides him down when Gadreel’s knees decide to give out on him, his wings mantling around them. Myrrh and frankincense and pomegranate envelop Gadreel, and he moans. His body tingles, and his hole feels wet and open and empty.
“Alpha,” he breathes against Michael’s lips. “Did you end the spell?”
“Yes,” Michael promises, sounding breathless. His hands stroke up and down Gadreel’s sides, flutter over his wings. “As soon as I scented you step into the trees. If you say yes to me, it’s your free decision.”
Gadreel knows, deep down, that he won’t say yes to a mating right now, just as he knows that he will probably say yes when he’s able to think clearly again. For now, he wants with a strength that surprises him.
“Take me,” he breathes, watches Michael’s eyes widen and then go nearly black with desire. His back hits the cool grass in the next heartbeat, an aroused Archangel on top of him. Clothes go flying as they strip each other with desperate hunger.
“You are beautiful,” Michael tells him earnestly, stroking Gadreel’s chest and belly, tracing the muscles shaped by a life led as a warrior. Gadreel blushes. He’s had partners before who told him he didn’t look the part of an Omega.
The need burns too hot to spend much time on tender touches, but Michael doesn’t allow Gadreel to turn over and onto his hands and knees. “I want to see you,” the Alpha murmurs into his ear, mouths at the tender skin beneath. “Please?”
“Whatever you want,” Gadreel promises. He cradles Michael between his legs, runs greedy hands along his lithe, muscled body and moans when long fingers slide into his hole. He’s so wet they slip in deep on the first push, meeting no resistance, and Michael’s groan has him clench down in hunger. “Now, Archangel.”
Michael seems to agree, because his fingers slip out again. He also seems to want to kill Gadreel after all, because he brings his soaked fingers up to his mouth and licks them clean, and Gadreel’s heart does something that feels complicated and leaves him breathless.
His legs are pushed further apart, and then he’s filled by Michael’s cock and he can just pant and moan for it, feeling how it fills him, stretches him perfectly. It aches a little, he’s not taken a lover since his last heat, but it only adds to his arousal. His cock leaks onto his belly even before Michael starts to move.
“You feel like wet silk around me,” Michael purrs into his ear. Sharp teeth nip at his throat, far enough away from the scent gland to be safe but oh so good. Gadreel moans again and tilts his head back, offering more of his throat to Michael. “Oh darling, you are perfect for me.”
Gadreel would like to return the compliment, but he has forgotten words in favor of breathless moans. Michael moves above him, inside him, relentless and gentle and yet clearly taking him, claiming him as his. At some point, he realizes he’s whispering soft little pleas between moans and gasps for breath.
Michael kisses him again, closes a hand around his cock, and Gadreel is lost. He comes with a choked-off scream, feels Michael stiffen above him – and then there’s wet heat spilling into him, and a thick, wonderful knot his hole immediately tightens around. Gadreel gives a weak moan and sucks on Michael’s lower lip when the Archangel pulls back from the kiss.
“Stay,” he rumbles when Michael makes as if to shift them onto their sides. “I can take your weight, Archangel.”
Somewhere between then and now, the word has turned from a honorific to a gentle tease. Michael grins and settles on top of him, kisses Gadreel again and again as they catch their breath.
“So… when can we repeat that?”