Sometimes Cal questioned whether heād done the right thing, teaching Oliver to be bad. No, teaching wasnāt the right word. Cal knew as soon as he met Oliver that there was much, much more to the straight-laced English teacher than met the eye. That all he really needed was someone to run a fingers under those laces and loosen them, just so. The potential for acting just a little devilish was in Oliver all along; Cal had just given him the freedom to finally act on it. Moments like these made Cal wonder, though. It was entirely possible that a devilish angel was far more dangerous than the alternative.
Youāre not wrong, Crowley piped up, vaguely helpful. Lucifer, and all that.
The fact that Cal was, more or less, the Lucifer of his and Oliverās equation did not escape him, and in any other situation might have been mildly alarming, but Cal dismissed the thought before it became too much of a distraction. Still, there was something to be said for rising to meet your celestial comrades in the middle rather than dragging them down to Hell with you. The furniture was much more comfortable here, for one. And the pleasures were much more to his taste.
So the answer was no, he hadnāt done the right thing. Demons never did the right thing. But the wrongness of Oliverās forays into mischief were exactly what made them so delicious. There was nothing sweeter than forbidden fruit, after all. Once upon a time, Crowley had made sure of that.
Cal merely raised an eyebrow at the vanishing books. Much more challenging was staying silent and still as Oliver hooked his collar and came tantalizingly close to a kiss. He managed, though, if only because there was a scheme in Oliverās eyes that neither demon nor man had any intention of thwarting. When it came to Oliver, curiosity ā an underrated motivator for committing sins if there ever was one ā got the best of him.
Once again, Cal allowed himself to be moved to the place where Oliver wanted him, sitting down smoothly. He drained his glass and miracled it away without a second thought. Whatever Oliver had planned, Cal knew anything superfluous would only get in the way, and he'd much rather this played out exactly how Oliver envisioned it. Another indulgence, but how could Cal resist? Most people in Cal's life were entirely too predictable, and watching them play out their little games was boring to the point of exhaustion. Oliver, blessedly, was not most people. No one on this Earth managed to surprise Cal the innumerable ways Oliver did. And he did it every day.
Cal's eyes followed Oliver while the rest of him remained perfectly still, never moving even as the angel circled around the sofa. Anticipation made Cal's breathing a little heavier than normal, but he gave nothing else away. A lifetime's worth of practice held the reins of his self-control.
Until Oliver touched him, at least.
A sound caught in Calās throat, halfway between a laugh and a moan. He tilted his head back into Oliver, trying to see him again, his neck stretching into sharp hollows. āAm I missing something, angel?ā Without warning, Cal captured Oliverās wrists, one thumb brushing up and down. āArenāt you proving my point?ā