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V1 gazes down at the angel underneath them. They listen to him pant quiet gasps. Watch his chest rise and fall in short succession, hands gripping the sheets, head tipped back—fully lost in ecstasy. V1 was satisfied staying upright for a while, holding him by the thighs to thrust eagerly in between—but now they found themselves wanting to hear more, watch more.
Gabriel’s pleasure is mostly hot, heavy breath and scattered moans. Sometimes, V1 is rewarded with a halted gasp when they thrust a little bit harder. He takes them by the waist, fingers scrabbling up and down their back, hands aimless and desperate to put his pleasure somewhere, anywhere.
The machine plants their many hands on either side of his head and bends down close. They stare. Gaze relentlessly blank in burning yellow ultraviolet. Gabriel stares back. His own “face” offers nothing but millennia-old steel and a gilded cross, a symbol of everything he ever was bathed in the harsh glow of V1’s eye. He touches the side of their head and shudders out another moan.
“Machine.”
His helm presses to theirs. Bloody fingers from wounds gained between fighting and foreplay stroke their bottom bevel, smearing fuel into their plating.
V1 shudders. Why, though? It shouldn’t be any different from how they’ve fed off him before. What is it about now that sets off some undefined need in the back of their thoughts? At one point, Gabriel’s second hand strokes under their chin. V1 twitches away from it, wings flitting. He laughs, the sound soft and sweet despite the circumstances.
“I’m sorry.” He removes his hand. “Not there, then.”
Soft. Sweet. Why those descriptors? Classifying the feeling—the need—is difficult, somehow. It’s something about how his fingers caress and push his own blood into their plating, giving it freely. Something about how he whispers for them.
Or maybe it’s just the double-whammy reward of sex and fuel at the same time.
For a while they stay like that. Pressed together, moving in tandem, looking into each other. Despite the angel’s helm, V1 felt eyes on them. Watching. Gabriel is a blank slate like them, and yet he stares in a way V1’s never been looked at before. Unseen eyes on them usually mean threats. Or tests. Hidden dangers or expectation behind one-sided mirrors.
This wasn’t either, though. This was maybe one—maybe many eyes (did he have multitudes, like Virtues did before Hell?) just...looking at them. As if there was much to see in a face as expressionless as theirs. As if Gabriel never had the chance to study from it after the thousands of times he’d looked at them before this.
Part of them wishes he’d stop. They imagine dozens, maybe hundreds of eyes on them, and suddenly it sets off an internal defense response they suppress by bucking their hips. Then Gabriel moans sharply and turns away.
Without a second thought, though, V1 takes his jaw and turns him back toward them again. His unrelenting gaze on theirs. All because of that undefinable thing.
He shudders and thumbs the edge of their optic.
“I need to kiss you.” He pushes out the word in a single breath. “Please.”
V1 pauses. Then, with a few milliseconds of mental input, their optic dims, and their vision goes dark. Sight powered down. The only senses they hang onto are Gabriel’s moans and the slow burn of pleasure between their legs. Gabriel shifts underneath, discarding his helm somewhere. Just as quickly, his mouth descends on V1. Warm lips kiss their bevel, their “cheek,” their jaw, neck, shoulder...then begins again to plant desperate, hungry kisses all over the machine.
Status indicators ping in the darkness inside their head. They’re gaining fuel. V1 then realizes—there’s blood on his lips. His tongue, too. Did they damage something internal, or did they just hit him THAT hard when they fought before? Either way, each kiss gave them more. They throb inside him. They wish they could touch his face in the same way he cradled theirs. Instead, they thumb his throat and buck again.
Gabriel’s keens muffle as he kisses their bottom bevel. His breath is hot, hungry, pressing over and over against the closest thing V1 had to a mouth. It’s not quite “making out” when the other party doesn’t have lips, but something about it makes V1 throb in the same way the rest of Gabriel did. With one last kiss, Gabriel’s lips linger, panting rough against them as his voice rises, moans growing more frequent.
Even blind, V1 feels watched. They imagine his eyes again. Dozens again, no longer covered, looking at them with...what? Expectation? Reverence? Gabriel always said that “beholding him” was a bad idea, but if all they had to do was open their eye—
“V1.”
His arms wrap tightly around their shoulders.
“I’m—ah. I’m going to...” His thighs shake underneath the machine. “Please—!”
Gabriel keens. V1 feels him throb and pulse. One large hand grips the back of their head and holds them in place, keeping their face close to his.
Dozens of eyes.
Maybe hundreds.
They feel him orgasm around them, and the thought of his eyes alone drives their release not long after.