So there it was: a descent. Sometimes, very rarely and very secretly, a feeling suspiciously close to guilt followed Oliverâs less-than-holy displays. Cal was a corrupting influence, no doubt about that, but occasionally he worried that his influence might stretch too far. That Oliver would lose something Cal held so dear just by virtue of being around him. The touch of a Price was a tarnishing one, after all. It was only a matter of exposure.
This, however, was not one of those times.
Cal opened his arms to receive Oliver, eyes never leaving the long lines of his body as he gracefully lowered himself to straddle Calâs lap. This was a descent that left no room for anything but the thrill of anticipation. Who had time to philosophize when the most beautiful sight Cal had ever seen was right in front of him? And this part, it never got old â the moment Oliver set aside his propriety and claimed what was his. It was his confidence that did it, that left Cal both weak and electrified all at once. Oliver had the tendency to get in his own way in everyday life -â their living situation was proof enough of that â but not now. Not when they were the only two beings in the whole of the universe, celestial or otherwise.
Temptation brought them both alive. And Cal loved nothing more than giving his angel exactly what he wanted.
Oliver closed the distance between them again, and Cal pushed into the kiss hungrily. A shock of cold air filled the space between his back and the sofa, sending a shiver up his spine that he then channeled eagerly into Oliverâs mouth. Cal grabbed Oliverâs thighs tightly, urgently, drawing the other manâs burgeoning hardness as close to his own as he could manage. The angel knew him too well â the clothes he had certainly decided not to miracle away were a frustration, but of the variety that only heightened Calâs desire. He had already made himself a gift to Oliver because he knew what the sight of his body awakened in him. This was Oliverâs way of returning the favor. Removing Oliverâs clothes the old-fashioned way, button by button, layer by layer, was precisely the kind of foreplay Cal craved.
A groan rose in his throat at the graze to his nipple and escaped as a covetous grunt when Oliver broke the kiss with a prolonged bite. At the last moment, Calâs tongue followed Oliverâs retreat and flicked out, lightly but possessively swiping the tip of his upper lip. Eve didnât know what she missed in not getting that sort of treatment in the Garden, lest the religion that followed her turned out far more pagan than just a few borrowed holidays. With the help of his snakelike tongue, Cal was more than happy to remind Oliver how lucky he was. How lucky they both were.
Fingers breached his waistband, toying with him, burning him with every feather-light touch. Cal felt drunk on Oliver, a headiness suffusing him that wine could never begin to approach and through which rational thought couldnât hope to break. For that reason alone, it took him a beat longer than usual to fully understand the words coming out of his devious boyfriendâs mouth.
Cal blinked, his lips parting uncomprehendingly. Then he snorted and let his head fall back on the couch, exposing his throat. âYou would ask me that at a time like this,â he murmured at the ceiling, and laughed again
He shot Oliver a look of begrudging admiration, dulled only slightly by the overwhelming mixture of love and lust he felt for Oliver in spite of his schemes. Or perhaps because of them. âWhich one of us is the demon again?â