And I would be the one WHO Sariel and Raguel WHAT Sariel continues to push her brother’s buttons, but now he's pushing back WHERE On the Board Tailoring and Alterations WHEN Friday, September 9, 2016; 11 PM RATING R (for angelcest/light bondage)
Raguel didn’t believe in locked doors. There was precious little in this world that he could not easily replace if stolen, and nothing that could cause him any real harm would be stopped by something so simple as a deadbolt. Anything he wished to keep private, he sealed and warded, protecting it against the prying eyes of mortals, the supernatural, or his brethren. His apartment was likewise protected, although those he wished to have access - such as Genna - never needed a key.
However, he felt no need to protect the space below, which he had shuttered as an accounting practice after his ordeal with the real Erik Lang and re-opened as a tailor shop. Once, early on, an inebriated miscreant had found his way inside, mistakenly believing that there was cash to be found in an accounting business. Raguel had gently dissuaded the man of that belief before literally putting the fear of God into him, and directing him to the nearest Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. So far as he knew, the man had been sober several years and dedicated himself to his church community, all the while telling stories about the CPA who’d turned his life around. Raguel hadn’t had an issue since, except with his sister Sariel, who loved little more in her eternal life than to find new and inventive ways of driving him mad.
She’d done it once before, when they both found themselves in Salem at the height of the trials. He’d been seduced first by her call to stop the paranoia and mindless slaughter, seeing it as a chance to do right by his Father’s creations. There was a certain thrill he had to admit to experiencing by exerting his divine powers on Earth, something he generally avoided out of fear of discovery. But having Sariel at his side strengthened him, the two of them working in concert once again: he to bring judgment, and she to deliver it. The exhilaration of it all was intoxicating in a way he’d never before known, and it was under this influence that he had first succumbed to forbidden passions unearthed in his time with her.
The results had been disastrous. The longer their affair carried on, the more he fell subject to her whims and influence, spiraling down until he no longer recognized himself for the holy being he was. Loving Sariel, and being loved by her in return, had become an all consuming addiction, one that grew harder to break himself of by the day. Finally, he had found the strength to abandon her, hiding himself away in isolation for the better part of a century, warded against discovery or location by any outside party, with a vow to never again let himself be so consumed.
But Sariel’s guile was powerful. It hadn’t taken long after her arrival in Havenwood before he found himself falling into the same traps; a gentle kiss here, a caress and a sympathetic word there. He had convinced himself that this time would be different, that this time he would maintain his control and walk away when it suited him. She knew it was self-delusion, which only made it easier for her to draw him back into her embrace, where she was able to manipulate him to her own ends.
By all measures, she should have been done with him once Genna’s son had been born, fathered by Raguel’s vessel in a brief period of freedom she had orchestrated. The child was what she had needed, along with her brother’s fall when he murdered Erik Lang and reclaimed his body for good. But, like Raguel, she too had an insatiable need for his company, borne of a genuine love for him that ran deeper than anything, except her silent quest for revenge against Michael and the rest of their kin who had stood with him.
Luckily for her, an ongoing affair between two shop owners of middling age in a small town was hardly scandalous nor remarkable - except to the most dogged of gossip hounds. Her late night comings and goings had largely gone without notice, although she still tried to maintain a level of discretion, if only to avoid awkward questions from Gabriel; of course, given the existence of his offspring, she was fairly certain that she still held the moral high ground, should the issue ever arise.
The small brass shopkeeper’s bell chimed as she opened the door, letting in a draft of cool night air as she stepped inside. The shop was dark except for the warm glow of a desk lamp in the back room, where she could hear to rhythmic running of Raguel’s sewing machine. For a long moment, she simply stood in the darkness, treasuring the sound as it throttled up and down, adjusting to the pressure of his foot on the pedal. She let her fingers graze over the fabrics of the garments set up for display in the outer room as she passed by, through the open heavy velvet curtain to the measuring room, and into the workshop in the back. Arms crossed over her chest, she leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, smiling as she watched her brother work.
“No wonder Father always liked you best,” she sighed. “You always had the drive to create, just like Him.”
“Father doesn’t have favorites,” Raguel replied, still studiously focused on the fabric pieces beneath his fingers.
“Of course He does,” Sariel cooed, slowly walking around to stand behind him, her arms draping over his shoulders as the rest of her body molded to his. “Why do you think He asked you to be merciful to Luci?”
“An eternity in Hell is hardly merciful,” Raguel sniffed, repositioning the pieces and adjusting the tension on the bobbin.
“You could have annihilated him,” Sariel pointed out, nipping lightly at his ear. “Or made him sit just outside the Gates, never to be allowed back inside.”
“Annihilation may have been the better kindness,” he admitted, trying his hardest not to give her any physical response. At least, not yet. “But one cannot undo Judgement. What’s done is done.”
“You’re right,” she sighed, playing the part of defeat before she switched gears. “What are you making now?”
“After fulfilling an order for Mister Hughes, I was left with some extra length of this exquisite wool.” He paused in his work for a moment to guide her hand to the pile of charcoal colored fabric on his left. “As there’s not enough to make a proper suit, I decided it would be best used to make something for Ash.”
Unseen by him, though not unnoticed, Sariel raised an eyebrow. “Oh, he’s ‘Ash’ now, is he?”
“Daniel seemed too formal,” Raguel replied.
“Genna insisted?”
“Genna insisted.”
Given the role he had played in Genna’s unfortunate repossession and subsequent impregnation - acts he had sworn to protect her from, and failed - Raguel had felt it best to indulge her requests for the time being. Given the power of names, using her preferred moniker had only seemed right. It also so happened that every time he referred to the infant as “Daniel”, the child had started to wail.
Completing his work for the moment, he pulled his latest project out from sewing machine, holding it proudly up for her to see: a bespoke pair of tiny overalls, perfectly tailored to the baby’s proportions. Sariel couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.
“I swear, that kid is the best dressed baby who isn’t the child of a celebrity,” she giggled, reaching out to take the garment in her hands.
Her fingers ran over the perfect stitches, sensing the love and dedication her brother had infused into them. It overcame her in a way she hadn’t quite expected, a deep warmth growing in her that she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. With it came an unmistakeable ache, one she tried so hard to ignore by pressing her lips to Raguel’s neck, just below his jawline. Relief began to trickle in as she felt him moan at her touch, finally giving in as he spun on his stool to pull her down into his lap, his arms wrapping tightly around her as his lips met hers.
The suddenness and ferocity of his move had surprised her for once, and she felt the small garment slip from her grasp as she melted into his embrace, shrugging out of the thin straps of her dress. One arm, then the other slipped out of them, leaving the fabric free to fall away to her waist. His lips moved to her collarbone as he hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around his hips as he moved them both to the measuring room, lit only by ambient light reflected by the three panel mirror that lined one wall. She let out a giggle as she bounced when he dropped her onto the small velvet sofa that was just offset from the center of the room, and sat up to beckon him closer as he removed his vest so that she might take care of the rest.
This time, however, Raguel did not indulge. Instead, he slipped his tie off over his head, before dropping to his knees to kiss her deeply once again. Her hands began to work at the buttons of his shirt until she felt the silky coolness of his tie around her throat, a move that elicited a moan of surprise when she felt it tighten, the end of it wrapped in his fist like a short leash.
“Naughty boy,” she purred, an excited twinkle in her eye.
She smirked as he pulled her roughly up to her feet, leading her behind the sofa so he could unceremoniously bend her over it. Her hands splayed out, gripping the back support her as he tugged her head back, forcing her back to arch as she balanced on her tip-toes, the fabric of her dress now bunched up at her waist. A glance in the mirrors across from her took her breath away more than the tie ever could; the sight of him, so calmly posed as he held her in a most vulnerable position, made her grow more desperate for him.
There was something dark behind his eyes, something that made her stomach go all aflutter, that had been growing inside him ever since she had engineered his fall. It wasn’t just his ever-present lust for her, but his deepening need for control, the path she knew he needed to reclaiming ownership of his own power. Seeing it in his eyes tonight, even in the near-darkness, sent a shiver down her spine as he finally claimed her, forcing a gasp from both of them.
“What if someone sees?” she asked, waving at the open curtain and the line of sight to the street it left exposed.
“Let them,” Raguel growled into her ear.
His maddeningly slow pace picked up speed as Sariel began to lose herself in the swirl of intensifying pleasure that threatened to drown them both, neither one caring enough to notice whether or not they were actually observed. All that mattered was the increasingly frantic fulfillment of their desires, and the illusions of control over the other they clung to.