âYou know, Oliver,â Cal said, half out of his senses, âin another life, youâdâve made a remarkably effective vampire.â
The words were out of Calâs mouth before he could stop them. More evidence of the power Oliver had over him, he supposed, beyond the constant indulgences and cluttered rooms. Once Oliver got him in this state, a loosening of Calâs tightly controlled tongue was inevitable, babbling inanities that under any other circumstances Cal never would have allowed himself to speak. Always saying the right thing was a point of pride for Cal. Strange that these little slip-ups with Oliver didnât mortify him, and never had. Or maybe not so strange.
He was, after all, very distracted.
Hovering on the edge of an ecstasy only Oliver had the power to give him, Cal closed his eyes. All the better to take in the incomparable sensation of Oliverâs mouth on his throat, Oliverâs finger across his lip. The angelâs touch was maddeningly light, but Cal didnât move a muscle, content to receive anything Oliver chose to give him. Cal and Crowley had the imagination that other demons lacked; perhaps that was why they found this very specific brand of torture to be so sweet.
Oliver had a knack for surprising Cal. Whether with a comment that coaxed a laugh out of him or a kiss so perfectly placed it rendered him senseless, Cal had never been able to predict the effect Oliver would have on him â surprising in and of itself, given Aziraphaleâs habits quite possibly made him the most predictable creature in the history of existence. But that had never been true for Oliver. In the times B.O. (Before Oliver), Cal had never known a fundamental truth about himself: that he found no greater pleasure than in surrendering himself to the unexpected. To the moments when Calâs lifetime of burdens lifted and all that existed in the universe was an angel and a demon who loved each other.
He found no greater pleasure than in surrendering himself to Oliver.
Except, of course, when it came to giving Oliver exactly what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. With a rock of desire and another crash of lips, Cal knew Oliver wanted a demon, and he wanted him now.
Just like that, the light touches and playful banter were no longer enough. Quick as a snake, Cal caught Oliver by the neck and thigh and lunged forward. Cal may have slightly shorter than Oliver, but he made up for it with taut, well-toned muscles â all genuine, no miraculous cheating there â that could maneuver them both into new positions in the space of a breath. Using his momentum, he twisted Oliver onto the sofa underneath him. He didnât break the kiss until he was good and ready, breathing heavily and pushing himself up above Oliver, strategically granting his boyfriend the opportunity to admire the view.
Cal knew what he looked like. Modesty be damned, though it wasnât as though demons were capable of the virtue in the first place. But this view was only for Oliver. It was always for Oliver.
Calâs smile was wicked as he finally accepted Oliverâs challenge, slithering down, a slow trail of his finger making Oliverâs buttons disappear one by one. âAs you wish.â