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[Visiting churches tends to rank very, very low on the list of things Ana enjoys doing - but there had been a potential lead about her old man here, and her grudge overrides the disgust she has towards entering the holy building. And there's always something funny about a fallen angel just waltzing into a church like this.

Though the only thing that greets her when she does step inside is the sound of her heels clicking against the polished floor; irritation flickering at how it seems that, once again, the lead was completely wrong. There is no holy man or angel in sight, and she heaves a sigh as her eyes drift over to the podium - trailing up to the statue of the oh-so great lord and saviour hanging overtop. Maybe she should trash the place a bit, at least get something out of this.

But... On second thought, she isn't alone, is she? The presence here is an odd one, something familiar yet not, and it's why she doesn't go for her usual tactic of "fight first, questions later."]

And here I thought I had the place to myself.

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[Her head stays tilted so he still has space, breath hitching before shivering at the nip to her ear - her breath then leaving her in an amused huff, brows raising just a little.]

Of course I can.

[There's a shift of her legs, drawing one of them up, enough so that her knee drags against his inner thigh - slow and purposeful, clearly not an accident. Her free arm reaches to loop around his neck, and she tilts her head enough to brush her lips against his jaw before she nips at the skin.]

Or are you doubting me before we've even started? That's not very fair.

Let’s just say I’m feeling things out.

[ It’s said, of course, with a pointed squeeze once his hand slips underneath her loosened shirt and corset, cupping a breast.

But even that touch is far too fleeting, as his fingers glide free and begin deftly attending to the ties of her corset, eagerly pressing the rest of his body against her—dammit she knows exactly where to strike him, doesn’t she?—and it’s just as well that he’s careful not to crush her underneath him as he chases after his own need.

She’s hot—or perhaps he’s the one feeling hot. At this point he isn’t too sure, but what does it matter? That’s the point of this amusing little mortal fertility ritual that he’s, well, embraced wholeheartedly for thousands of years already. All he knows is that her body is calling to his baser instincts, which is something he should have taken note of sooner. And, more dangerously, he’s starting to crave more of it.

Ah, but he hasn’t forgotten her mouth—close and tantalizing and teasing as it is, the full redness of it beckoning him to nip at a bottom lip. Everything about her is so vivid, so full of life; and while he’s not some cold fish himself, his long years of corruption must certainly make him feel…off. Less human.

Certainly less of an angel.

It’s almost like the difference between a fresh summer breeze and a gunmetal fog. ]

After all, aren’t you curious?

[That gets an amused huff, even if the sound is stuttered at the touch to her breast - and she's only a little frustrated at how fleeting the touch is, considering how her corset is soon quickly loosened. It's easy enough to reveal more of the skin underneath with a shrug of her shoulders, parting the corset further - there's only a moment where she shivers from the chill of the night air, before the heat inside her sears through her once more.

Then there's how he presses against her, the presence of him almost surrounding her completely - burning through her even more. It's almost overwhelming but she still embraces it eagerly, willing to take as much of him in as she can. Of course there's a danger in that, especially considering her ever-present human side, but there's no regret - she chose this and wants this.

So she arches closer, pressing herself almost flush against him as he nips at her lip; humming lowly before she nips at his lip in return, tongue trailing against the bitten skin. When she speaks, it's more like she breathes her words against his lips.]

Of course I'm curious.

[One hand stays intertwined his hair, the other trails down the expanse of his chest - nails dragging along the skin. Probably only a brief, minor sting for him but something that would've caused more damage on a mortal.]

And to satisfy my curiosity, this needs to come off. [And her words are punctuated with a tug on his belt, or one of them at least, once her hand has trailed to it.]

[ He chuckles, feeling the danger in the gestures as she drags her nails down over his skin. Imagine risking hurting the only other person you know to be, well, like you.

She just keeps getting better and better. ]

Be my guest.

[ He’s too busy undressing her to pay much attention to himself for the moment, though a part of the reason is also that he wants her to struggle, to get all those damned belts off of him no matter how impatient he feels. And he certainly feels it now—in the chill of night her body feels far too hot and electric against his own and it’s hard not to think of stoking hellfire within these desecrated walls.

But he doesn’t—not yet, anyway, not when he does his level best to make her efforts a bit trickier as he tips her head back so that he can drag his lips over her throat, biting at the exposed flesh there and marking his trail as his mouth moves lower, down the line of skin revealed by the parting of her clothes, which pointedly puts his pants—but not his belts—out of reach. ]

[Of course, her willingness to hurt him is because he's just like her; she has no reason to hold back, no need to treat him like something fragile. It's liberating, in a way, knowing that anything that could harm a mortal would barely leave a scratch on him.

The first belt is easy enough to remove, before he tilts her head back - breath stuttering as his lips trail along her throat and further down. Usually she wouldn't mind this at all, but it's making things difficult for her. Frustration slowly boils in amongst everything else searing through her, and it doesn't help that Ana has never been a patient person to begin with.]

Seriously...

[It's more of a breathy exhale than anything, but there's still an irritated edge to it.

Now that he's trailed further down, she glances back down at him - brows furrowed, just slightly, a scowl that might have had more effect if she wasn't so flushed. It's still an awkward angle, and it doesn't help he's making it rather difficult to focus. So she decides to retaliate in her own way, shifting her legs once more; though rather than brush against his thigh, she instead lifts her own thigh between his legs. Very gentle, very deliberate, but she also doesn't move it away.]

Naughty girl.

[ Said with nothing but grinning approval at her bold gesture, a hitch in his voice confirming that he’s much more affected than his composure would show. But of course, he wouldn’t expect anything less from a fellow fallen.

But he doesn’t take the bait, doesn’t give in to the temptation to squeeze her thigh between his. If she wanted to kick him between the legs for bad behavior in this moment he wouldn’t even bat an eye. ]

Didn’t you know? The longer the wait, the more satisfying the climax.

[ It sure is bullshit he’d made up on the fly, but he does punctuate it with a firm lick over one partially exposed breast, letting her feel the hunger and heat from within him for herself. ]

I have no idea what you're talking about.

[Truly the picture of faux innocence. Even though hearing that little hitch does get her smirk to widen.

There is a slight inclination to kick him between the legs though, her own frustration gradually growing - hissing at the lick to her breast, that heat coiling tighter inside her as a hand grips tightly at his hair once more. There's also the temptation to squeeze her own thighs together, to grant herself some relief, but she has something else in mind.]

Pretty sure sayings like that don't count if you come up with them yourself...

[Her other hand is still on his belts, and with one now loosened she gives a sharp, vicious tug on it - intending to bring his hips down against her thigh. And whether that works or not, her thigh still rises more to press against him more insistently; a constant, firm touch that does nothing more than that.]

[ That supernatural strength of hers works in her favor this time: the belt comes off, and he comes down. The resulting contact makes him groan this time, a look of ecstasy flickering over his face for a brief moment before it resolves into a cannier smile. ]

But I’m still an angel, Ana. And so are you.

[ He punctuates that emphasis with a nip to her shoulder, some part of him considering how well a wreath of bruises and love bites might look around her throat, never mind their healing factor.

But since she’s getting a little rougher with him already, it won’t hurt to escalate things a bit further on his end, right?

So he reaches around toward the small of her back, snatching the back of her corset and the rest of her clothing that might still be in the way and ripping them off, watching with sheer satisfaction as the remaining laces of her corset unravel and pop free. ]

Know what that means?

[That groan prompts the fake innocence of her smile to turn a little more wicked, but the sharp edges of it soften a little at his words. Her head canting a little as she tries to get his point, the nip to her shoulder sending another pleasant shiver through her.

Before her eyes widen when she feels a hand go to her lower back, not able to hide the flinch; considering her wings are permanently a part of her, it also means her back is a sensitive spot. Which also means it takes her a moment to process what he's actually doing, now fixing a sharp glare at him.]

Hey - ! [Ah, there goes her clothes. There's no shame or embarrassment in being exposed like this, instead there's a simmering irritation - altering outfits like this was such a pain, considering the odd placement of her wings. And she liked this corset!

So she makes her feelings obvious by leaning forward and biting hard on the tip of his ear, huffing against the skin at his question. There's probably an actual answer for that, but she's still a little heated.]

That I shouldn't knee you in the dick for tearing my clothes? Because I'm a little tempted right now.

[ He bursts out laughing at that, his mirth managing to sound sinister even if he means nothing terrible by it this time around. ]

Hey, I did say I like playing rough.

[ Besides, as something of a fashionista himself, he knows full well the value of her clothes, the way they cling to her figure and accentuate it, the way they speak to him of what sort of person she is, even when she’s not in the middle of vandalizing a church…

But they’re still a mark of her inhibitions.

And he’ll get her a new outfit later, geez. ]

So…feel free.

[ To give in to her temptations, that is. What else are they doing all this for, anyway? He even punctuates that with a firm tug to her hair, forcing her to arch against him, so her body can stretch out invitingly against his.

And he makes no move to protect his crotch, of course. A blow from a mortal wouldn’t do much to him anyway, but an angel, on the other hand… ]

And I actually really liked that outfit!

[Sure it was simple, but she knows she looked good in it! So yeah, she's definitely getting him to buy her new clothes later.

Her temper simmers as quickly as it flares up, though - brows raising when he basically invites her to knee him between the legs. Well, if he is as old as she thinks he is, it wouldn't be far-fetched to assume he's into a variety of things. And it's not like it's something she's unfamiliar with either.

Though the thought is cut off as he tugs on her hair, a choked sound - almost a moan but not quite - escaping her as he forces her against him, the sting only adding to the heat rushing through her. Yeah, she can certainly see the appeal.]

Ooooooh, so that's what you're into?

[It's breathy and teasing, but there's no judgement; if anything she is becoming more and more curious. With humans she always had to be so gentle with them, but with him...]

Though didn't you have a thought to finish about us both being angels?

[It's only when he does start to answer that she actually moves, bringing a knee hard between his legs. He practically invited her to do it, so she sees no reason to turn that down - and really, doing that right after asking him something was to see if she can at least surprise him a little.]

So I have—

[ Ah, there it is. She certainly doesn’t disappoint, does she? He does grunt at the impact, his hand tightening in her hair—there are very few people around who can actually hit him hard enough to elicit a reaction, so he’s not exactly as prepared for her assault as she might imagine him to be.

But he doesn’t look bothered by it at all, and even manages a breathy chuckle as the pain of it jolts through his entire body, awakening ancient pain receptors and opening them up to pleasure.

He wonders what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been on his guard regardless—if she might have sent him through the roof if he hadn’t anticipated the blow. The thought makes him lick his lips.

There are also very few things that can truly stand up to rough play with him. Sure, he’d courted the attentions of titans and sundry other eldritch horrors from time to time, but an honest-to-goodness angel…they’d usually been too boring and stuffy by far.

The fact that she isn’t is, paradoxically, some kind of miracle. ]

But, looks like you’ll have to wring it out of me, Ana.

[ His voice is tight, whether from the pain inflicted in his nethers (they’ll recover) or the sick pleasure he derives from it, even he doesn’t know. ]

[Ana watches him with a wry smirk once the hit lands, even as his hands tighten in her hair - just as she thought, he does enjoy it. Unlike him, she's never really been around anything other than mortals or beings of faint supernatural persuasion, and so she had to be gentle. Overly so.

But she really doesn't have to with him, does she?

So in response, the hand in his hair tightens, fingers digging in as she tugs sharply. Her other hand drifts to the junction where his neck meets his shoulder, painted nails digging in; even if they heal quickly, she is curious to see if she can draw blood even for a second. Though it's a bit difficult to actually see at this angle, with her back still arched against him, but she can improvise.]

And leave me in suspense? That's so cruel, Belial.

[The knee between his legs also hasn't moved away just yet, but for now she keeps that still.]

[ It’s hard not to imagine what she might do with a peg, or even just a plain old weapon.

Honestly, it’s beginning to look like he won’t have much left to teach her after this is over with.

Not that he wants it to end. Not when they’re both grabbing each other by the hair and promising more than just a merely desecrated church at this rate. Demolishing it is looking more and more likely, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t still pull one last little prank for dear ol’ Almighty.

But he’ll save that thought for later. He feels his blood dribble down from the little wounds she’d opened up with her deadly fingers, watches one drip onto her bared skin. ]

Heh. One of us has to hold back.

[ He lets go of her hair then, because he is smart enough not to rile people up any more than necessary. But he’ll also shamelessly grind himself just a little bit against her knee as he leans in to lick up that drop of blood and smear it up her skin with his tongue. It might be a little hard to pick out in the moonlight, but it’s the gesture that matters.

And the taste of it, as he licks that faint smear of blood up to her breast and lets his teeth graze over a nipple, promising danger—albeit not of a kind that would draw more blood.

Not unless she wants him to, that is. ]

[She feels the blood pool against her fingers and drip along her skin, letting her fingers trail against his neck to smear it further. The wounds they leave on each other may heal, but at least they can leave this much evidence behind.

And now she can actually get a better look at her handiwork once he lets go of her hair, crimson eyes flickering down at him - another shiver working its way up her spine as he smears that blood against her own skin. It is a little difficult to see, but she can certainly feel it and that's more than enough for now.

The graze of his teeth certainly pulls a stronger reaction from her though; breath hitching in a gasp as fingers tighten briefly in his hair and her knee grinds against him in return, brief and harsh. The promise there is alluring, but she is hoping he'll go a bit further than that - a faint, breathy hum escaping her as she trails her hand up to brush her fingers against his cheek.

It would've almost been a tender gesture if it wasn't for how she was smearing his own blood against his skin.]

And here I thought the point of this wasn't to hold back.

[ He can smell the metallic tang of his own blood on her fingertips, the way it sets his nerves on fire.

It’s almost a shame they aren’t actually fighting it out in the church. But if they’re going to have some grand and epic battle for the hell of it, there are surely better places for that… ]

Not for you, no.

[ Just how much is she capable of, anyway, especially when compared against someone who’s been at this for thousands of years?

Besides… ]

You can’t hurt me anyway.

[ A bold statement, coming from someone whose blood is smeared on both of their bodies, but it’s true enough, if only because she has yet to do anything that’s not turning him on. Indeed, he gives her other breast another lick before scooting lower, pushing back against that knee still stubbornly cocked against him.

There’s a weak spot down there that’s never failed him before, and if the taste of his blood on merely her skin is enough to set his nerves on fire, well… ]

[Slim brows raise again in response, before she huffs a little - the sound becoming strained as his tongue trails against her skin. But that does little to dampen her faint amusement, painted lips curving into another smirk.]

I have a feeling that even if I tried, you would enjoy it.

[Considering how he reacted when she kneed him hard between the legs not too long ago - most men would've probably been driven to tears by that, especially since she didn't really bother to be remotely gentle about it. And she's no fool despite how prideful she is; his strength most likely far outclasses hers in general. But it still makes her deathly curious about what it might be like to actually fight him one day...

But for now, that stubborn knee keeps being stubborn for a moment longer, before she finally lets it lower - giving him space once more, while she brings her bloodied hand to her lips. There's no hesitation as she trails her tongue against her stained fingers, tasting his blood with a low hum.]

[ He chuckles at that, muffling his laughter into her stomach. ]

Seems like you’ve got me all figured out.

[ At least, in the ways that matter. Because evidently fighting him is going to turn into something else entirely should they go at it for long enough, but why think of fighting now when she’s finally relented with that shapely leg of hers.

He’s not sure he’s fully recovered from getting kneed by said firm and shapely leg, but he also does not regret it. ]

You, on the other hand…

[ That she can get turned on like this isn’t at all surprising, but what happens if he plumbs the depths of her even further? What depravities might he unleash beyond the confines of this church?

Which is to say, he’s prizing her thighs apart and letting that sultry tongue of his do the talking for a change. ]

[There's a chuckle in return, resisting the urge to squirm when he muffles himself against her skin.]

I'll make a note that kicking you in the dick will have the opposite effect if I get annoyed at you.

[Though annoyance is currently the furthest thing from her mind, at the moment. There is some frustration, but it's something she can push back for the moment - crimson eyes watching him still. She has an idea of he's planning, the hand still in his hair absently playing with the strands.]

And what about me -

[The words end in a sharp gasp when he pushes her thighs apart and makes whatever thought she have vanish immediately - a hand tightening in his hair, as the other grips the side of the pew. Wood might be splintering a little under her hold, but she's not exactly focusing on that.]

[ Lesser men might think twice about giving her the kind of ammo he has, but when has he ever balked from a challenge? Especially from one who enjoys kneeing him in the nethers a little too much…

But that only makes it all the more satisfying when he does get back at her like this, his breath hot on her skin, his lips and tongue tasting her, easing inside of her. Kissing her, really, as his hands grip at her thighs with the same kind of ferocity she’s giving the pew, intent on holding her still so that he can ravish her and ravish her until, maybe, she’ll forgive him for tearing up her clothes.

Or fall apart and beg for him to go a little deeper. Personally, he prefers the latter, and given the ache between his own legs, he’s certainly hoping it happens sooner rather than later. ]

[Her breath comes out in stuttered gasps and choked sounds as he eases inside her, that heat coiling even tighter - even how tightly he grips at her thighs burn through her, the pain melting into pleasure. Even if being held still like this makes her want to jerk back, to regain some semblance of control.

And she does give into that desire, the hand clinging to his hair now trying to tug his head back - shifting to try to move her legs from his grasp. It does feel good, almost too much, and she's unwilling to let herself be overwhelmed just yet.]

Enough of that... [And she does want more than this, but she certainly isn't going to beg. Not yet, anyway.]

[ He merely chuckles in response, making sure his laughter vibrates deep into her core.

But that’s the only time he’ll stop, not even with how much his scalp stings at her vice grip—not at all caring even if she might tear his hair away. Because this is what he’s born to do as a fallen angel, after all—invade sanctuaries, commit sacrilege. Pillage and plunder.

He’s only gentler with her because he knows it’ll bother a spitfire like her, and he’s moaning low in his throat, letting the obscene sounds he’s making against those hot, wet, deliciously intimate parts of her echo loud and clear inside this quiet little church.

But this isn’t enough, no matter what she says, no matter how deeply his tongue can thrust inside of her (deeper than most, it must be said—being inhuman has its perks). She’s tougher than he’s thought upon first meeting her, after all. She isn’t going to break so easily.

So he pulls away, licking at his lips with sheer, smug satisfaction, but he’ll only allow her a brief glimpse of that before he’s turning her on her side, running that hot, wet tongue of his at the junction where her wings meet flesh. ]

[The vibration against her pulls a sharp hiss of his name, a shiver wrecking through her at the sensation. She's not at all surprised that he didn't stop when she asked him to, but it does annoy her just a bit. Not that she's really in a spot to show it, besides giving another sharp tug on his hair.

Though he does a good job at guaranteeing that she doesn't stay annoyed, even if the last coherent part of her is irked at how he becomes gentle. The sounds of her gasps and choked moans mix in with the rest of the obscene sounds that fill the night air, and if she had cared enough she may have been almost embarrassed by just how wet she is. Right now it's hard to focus on anything else besides how his lips move against her and how his tongue thrusts inside her.

But she's given a brief reprieve when he pulls away, gasping as the pleasure ebbs back for a moment, allowing her to regain some focus. Enough so that she squints her eyes at him as he turns her onto her side, about to ask what he's planning down before her eyes widen. The sensation of his tongue against that junction sends a sharp jolt through her, flinching harshly as her breath leaves her in a stuttered cry.

Before she attempts to arch her back away from him, trying to twist out of his grasp when she realizes what he's found. And based on what she knows of him so far, she doesn't foresee this ending well for her.]

W-wait, stop-! [But she still won't beg, of course.]

Heh.

[ That’s the most dignified reply he can muster as he lavishes his attentions on this most deliciously sensitive part of her, the action hearkening back to his early days as a fallen. Oh, to be young and freshly corrupted once again…

But he’s always been a bit of a nasty sort to begin with.

He reaches up to caress her feathers gently, fingering at them, stroking them, his gestures soothing as though to make up for the fact that he’s sucking hard on skin, running his tongue over the edges of her wings, twiddling at her feathers. In the moonlight her wings look so vividly dark against her skin that it makes him wonder if he’ll fall into them and disappear. They’re soft enough that it’s almost tempting for him to try.

With a smirk, he pulls away from her much-abused wing for a moment to glance at her with sheer, smug satisfaction, knowing how close he’d come to making her beg. In fact, he still intends to do just that, but not before savoring the look of her in the throes of her own pretty little dignity getting plucked apart like so many feathers. ]

[That response prompts her to glare sharply over her shoulder, though the force of it quickly falters as he sucks on her skin - her grip tightening around the edge of the pew, the wood slowly starting to splinter under her palm. Harsh tremors work through her as his fingers trail against her feathers, every sensation feeling as if it's been amplified; making her acutely aware of how he caresses her feathers and how his tongue trails against her skin.

The pleasure sears through her, the heat of it almost burning her from the inside - it feels good, almost too good, and she has to choke back the please along with the moans and gasps that escape her. By now the ache between her legs borderlines on painful, the skin of her inner thighs quickly becoming slick - though she stubbornly presses them together, to try to grant herself some relief. Anything so she doesn't cave in.

Then he stops, and she's not sure if she's relieved for the respite or immensely frustrated that he did actually stop. There's a moment where she catches her breath, chest heaving as she gasps - then she glances over and sees that smug look, and decides that, yes, she's leaning towards annoyed.

Which is why she responds by kicking her leg out behind her, fully intending to hit him somewhere; though considering her current state, there's not as much strength in it as usual.]

Asshole. [Not even her snapping is as potent, considering how breathless she sounds.]

[Closed]

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