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There’s places hidden from view, where sin meets the devil, where blood boils and drips from beating hearts, where angels go to lose their wings. They look like any other, darkened shadows and colorful lights, only alive during the night.
He sits on the bar, and before, he would’ve been weary and disgusted at the sleazy men and tinkling fake laughs of women clinging to their necks, vapidness shining in their eyes. Vampires, the lot of them, ravenous little creatures who only suck and suck, take and take until hey explode like overfed pigeons. Before, he would have pitied them, his chest would have ached for their salvation. Now he sneers and drags his hood closer around his head, so no one can see his platinum hair, so he doesn’t have to see the depravity.
There’s no salvation for them, he knows that now. He huffs a tired laugh, he must have spent too much time with-
Another shadow drops by his side, and without even looking he feels the familiar push and pull.
“Why do you always insist we meet in places like these?”
Yoongi smiles, sharp. “Sin can only be hidden among sinners. Or do you want to sully one of your precious temples?”
Namjoon shakes his head as he drums his fingers on the bar. Yoongi looks good under the fading red lights, as he usually does. Before, he would have looked away, now he basks in the view. Hair so black it catches the lights, darkened clothes and blinding jewels, dripping in gold and silver, flaunting riches and beauty, eyes sharp and of that chilling yellow color. Magnetic.
The men erupt into violent laughter, spilling their drinks around them. He rolls his eyes, but Yoongi looks at them with something between fond and mischief.
“Let’s get out of here.” Namjoon gets up, as Yoongi follows him, the sound his gilded chains make attract the eyes of one of the women, and there’s a small spark in her otherwise void eyes. Greed attracts greed.
The cold night air and faraway neon lights greet them outside. Strident laughter, glass breaking and shouts make up a nighttime melody, the air smells like sweat and asphalt and the bitter taste of absinthe. Namjoon scrunches his nose at it, still sensitive at the inmorality, yet desensitized from it all, after seeing it face to face for such a long time.
Centuries pass, humans die and are born again, but sin smells the same: like blood, like guilt, like perdition.
“Stop with the disdain, you’re going to get us caught.” Yoongi sneers, looking ahead at the street.
“What are you talking about.” Namjoon snaps back.
“You look at them like an angel, walk like an angel, speak like an angel. Can you at least try to blend in a little?”
A man and a woman, seemingly a couple, break into a fight. She screams at him, arms flapping in the air.
“What does an angel even walk like?”
“Like they’ve got a stick up their ass.” Yoongi answers, like the answer is obvious.
Namjoon shakes his head, but looks down so his hood can hide his small smile.
“And what, end up looking like them?” He stares at the couple, where the man has grabbed the woman by her arms and is shaking her. “Pathetic.”
Namjoon tears his eyes off the couple when Yoongi tugs him into a small alley that smells like piss and alcohol.
“What-”
A finger at his lips shuts him up, right before a figure passes them, way too close to the entrance of the alley. It’s hidden in shadows, but there’s a flash of platinum under it. Another angel.
“Look.” Yoongi whispers, with a mischievous smile.
Namjoon’s heart beats fast, but his eyes dart down to look at Yoongi’s pretty cupid’s bow.
Namjoon tears his eyes off his lips a beat after. The angel is hooded, like he is, he must be on some mission to scope out a sinner. He looks like a newborn, irradiating such incompetence Namjoon gets annoyed. Is that what his peers look like to the underworld? And he does walk with his back so straight you could use it to level furniture, like he has-
“See? A stick up his ass.”
He hates that Yoongi shares his thoughts. When he looks back, Yoongi is snickering at the other angel, neck bared for Namjoon to see. Pale, long and veiny, begging for some marks. His eyes catch on the poisonous red of his lips as they travel up, and when he meets his gaze, he finds Yoongi looking right back, golden stare piercing.
Slowly, he smiles, before dragging the pad of his finger teasingly over Namjoon’s plump lip, slicking it up with his own spit. Namjoon feels every breath he takes, how his chest brushes against Yoongi’s because they’re so close.
The kiss doesn't start gentle, Yoongi bites his lip, teasing, and Namjoon yanks him by the waist, fingers digging in. He’s missed the taste of Yoongi’s mouth, how he drags the tip of his tongue along his teeth before licking inside Namjoon’s mouth.
As quick as it begins, Yoongi separates, cheeks more flushed. “Careful. He might see us.” Namjoon doubts it, they’re well hidden in the dark alley, and pressed together from knees to chest they look like any other depraved couple. Yoongi is right, though, and Namjoon should know better, should be more careful, he’s the one who has more to lose after all.
Still, he catches Yoongi’s mouth again, pressing him harder against himself, not minding that the hand that Yoongi had over his mouth gets trapped between them. Yoongi only smiles into their feral kiss, and with his other hand he palms Namjoon through his trousers, making him gasp.
Really, Namjoon should know better than to underestimate him.
“So hard.” Yoongi purrs, caressing harder. “Does it turn you on, that he could catch us?” Namjoon shakes his head, more in annoyance than anything else, Yoongi is a little shit, and he tugs him by the nape for another kiss. Yoongi indulges him for a moment, mouth slack. “I should tell him to come too, have two good soldiers have their way with me.”
“Greedy.” He grunts, but he bites into Yoongi’s lip as he knocks their hips together, trying to tone down the jealousy and possession bubbling in his chest.
“Yes.” Yoongi grins, gums in display as circles the head of Namjoon’s cock through his pants.
When the kiss ends, the other angel has left already, so Namjoon hoists Yoongi up against the dirty wall to suck a mark into his neck, making him let out a moan that fades into a chuckle, the vibrations of his laughter tickle Namjoon’s lips.
“Wanna fuck me here?” Yoongi asks, voice deep.
Namjoon considers it, Yoongi feels so warm and hard against him, he’s ready to get cut up on all of his sharp edges, but.
“This is not the place for everything I want to do to you.” He licks a stripe up Yoongi’s neck, tasting the answering shiver.
Suddenly Yoongi jumps down and tugs him out of the alley, nearly making Namjoon stumble. He sometimes forgets how strong Yoongi actually is, with the way he lets himself be manhandled.
“I know a place close.” He snaps, not even looking back, just pulls Namjoon rougher. The smile that takes over the angel’s face is predatory. Greedy little thing, can’t even wait to get what he wants.
The motel is visible from the distance, dim red lights illuminating the entrance. There’s two prostitutes at the door, a woman and a man, if they can even be called that, looking so young should barely be there, but maybe it’s because they are so skinny, and shivering at the cold of the night, clutching their cigarettes close to their faces for their fading warmth, that it makes them look younger than they really are.
A tug at his hand distracts him. Yoongi doesn’t let go of his it as they go up the stairs, giving Namjoon a great view of his round ass.
The moment the door is closed behind them, Namjoon grabs him by the thighs and slams him into the door. The kiss is harder than all of the previous ones combined, all teeth and bruising grips and Yoongi tugging desperately at Namjoon’s hair. The sound of gasps and the smack of lips together fill the small room.
“C’mon” Yoongi says, tugging at Namjoon’s white clothes.
So Namjoon tosses Yoongi on the bed, quickly getting rid of all the dark clothes until he’s bare. He looks heavenly, on a bed for Namjoon to indulge in, legs open and skin pink on his cheeks, his nipples, the inside of his thighs.
When Yoongi reaches out for Namjoon’s clothes again, he swats at his hand. So much time passes between their meetings, so Namjoon plans on taking his time, he’s not going to let him go until he’s sated his hunger, until he’s shaped him anew for him, just for him.
He starts by pinning his hands against the mattress, warning him with a glare to keep them there.
“Stay put.”
Yoongi’s answering smile doesn’t bode too well for him.
He marks up his canvas with his teeth and tongue, all that alabaster skin ready to be painted over. Red little marks all over his chest, tummy and thighs, and a deep purple mark on his neck. Yoongi squirms all through it, moans going breathy and high, he’d be squeezing his legs together if Namjoon wasn’t between them.
A shiver runs down his spine when he feels Yoongi’s hands fist his platinum blonde hair, but he can’t say he’s surprised, he raises a brow to the shit eating grin Yoongi’s face displays.
“Really?” He just asks, brow still raised. Yoongi just nods, still smirking, and tugs at a little platinum strand.
Namjoon follows the tug languidly, and even dips down to kiss Yoongi deep, but just when Yoongi’s getting comfortable, little body melting into the mattress, he puts a hand on his throat and pushes away, keeping the demon pinned.
“I thought you wanted to get fucked. Is that really how you think you’re going to get it?”
Yoongi licks his lips, cheeks going a deeper pink at the lack of proper breath. He looks like he’s loving this, his yellow eyes glinting with mischief.
His voice sounds strained when he speaks. “Why not? The good soldier needs control?” He gulps, and Namjoon feels it on the palm on his hand. “Need to have everything as you ask for?”
“That’s what I want from my whore, yes.”
The name rolls off his tongue like a curse, like it disgusts him to say, even. Yoongi opens his mouth to answer, but he gets cut off when Namjoon tightens the grip on his throat. He only keeps it up for some seconds, before getting off Yoongi’s body completely.
He takes a moment to take off his clothes, before he sets down on the headboard, surprised that Yoongi kept his posture, laying all pretty with his hands by the sides of his head.
“I don’t think you deserve it yet. Show me how much you want it.”
The demon, amused and unashamed, crawls towards him, and Namjoon lets him have one last dirty kiss before pushing him so hard that Yoongi falls backwards. Yoongi just laughs, before settling on his fours and dropping his chest down, essentially presenting for Namjoon to see.
The pink furled skin makes Namjoon salivate, but he swallows it down for now. “So?”
Yoongi looks back without raising his head, shaggy hair falling into his eyes, before shaking his ass playfully.
“Please, sir. I’m begging,” He slurs his words, the needyness in them entirely plastic. “Come fuck my brains out. Stick your fat cock into me and make me scream.”
Namjoon has to fight off an amused smile, but in the end he just raises an eyebrow again.
“That's all?”
Under the mask of mischief, annoyance crosses Yoongi’s eyes for a moment.
Yoongi gets back up onto his hunches without breaking eye contact, and Namjoon tries really hard not to stare at the hard panels of his wide back. He gets spared when Yoongi lets himself fall into Namjoon’s lap.
He presses his ass down into Namjoon’s crotch, leaning his head back onto his shoulder, and Namjoon gets an irresistible view down the arch of his body and his hard cock. Namjoon doesn’t give him what he wants, he barely runs his nose down his neck, smelling the fresh sweat on him. He’d rather wait, enjoying the feeling of a lapful of wriggly pretty demon, getting increasingly frantic when Namjoon pays him no mind.
“C’mon.” Yoongi whispers, lips pressed right against Namjoon’s ear, his breath tickling him, and he only lets out a chuckle, but he amuses Yoongi, he drags his fingertips down the his chest and tummy, then goes down to tease the inside of his thighs, avoiding his leaking cock entirely.
“That’s all?” He repeats, amusement in his voice, and this time Yoongi doesn’t try to hide his huff of annoyance.
He turns around quickly on his lap, throwing his arms around Namjoon’s neck. It’s easy to see Yoongi’s labored breath, the hint of desperation on his yellow eyes. Namjoon has waited for long, but Yoongi has waited the same time.
“Please.” He says, and this time the plea is not mocking, Yoongi’s deep voice trembles with conviction. “I need you, I- It’s been so long.” The more he says, the more agitated he sounds, pressing their bodies together, rubbing his cock against Namjoon’s white clothes. “Just- Take me.” A shiver runs down Namjoon’s spine, but his next words are the ones that leave him breathless. “Take what’s yours. Take me apart.”
He crushes their mouths together. “Turn around.” He orders, expecting for it to be done while he takes off his shirt. Yoongi’s eyes linger for a moment on his chest, before doing as said. This time when he bends over and presents, it feels like real submission.
Namjoon can’t resist the temptation to smack him, delighting in the surprised sound Yoongi makes, and the jiggle of his ass. So he does on the other side too, so both cheeks are tinged pink, the shape of his fingers vague, but visible.
“Yes.” Yoongi hisses. “Want to feel you after.”
So Namjoon takes, he drags his hands along Yoongi’s body, digging his blunt fingers so hard he leaves read wails across his skin, until he fists one of them in Yoongi’s hair and tugs back, just to hear the crack in his neck and his choked off breath, before letting it drop down.
He feels dizzy, blood rushing through his veins about to burst. That much pent up energy has him on the brink of losing control of this weak human form he’s ocupating right now. His real build is incomprehensibly big and powerful, just its mere presence would destroy not only Yoongi, but also the motel, wiping out the people inside.
Or it would have, if he-
Nevermind. It’s still dangerous.
He slaps Yoongi’s thighs apart, and now his skin burns hotter, feels thinner, it would burn a simple human, and Yoongi isn’t human in any form, but his fingers leave red welts behind anyway.Yoongi hisses in pain but bucks into the touch as he opens his legs. With a sound that sounds more like a growl than anything human, Namjoon grabs them, mindless of the burns he’s sure to leave, and dips down.
The first touch of his tongue has Yoongi gasping, his hips jump, like he’s not sure he wants to lean into the touch, but Namjoon’s fingers dig in deeper so he can’t move.
He licks deep into Yoongi, the taste of him brands into his tongue, settling the part of his brain that has been missing it for so long. Mine mine mine mine, his mind growls.
When he gets a finger in alongside his tongue, one of Yoongi’s hands shoots back to grab his hair, and he stops, making him get up on his knees with a huff. Yoongi’s hand falls uselessly onto the mattress.
“Do I have to restrain you?” He says, but adds another finger as he asks, right as Yoongi opens his mouth to answer. It stays like that, pouty lips open, Yoongi’s eyes closed under a frown. “You are insatiable.” The disdain is obvious in his voice, even if his fingers don’t stop teasing Yoongi’s prostate, he lands another smack for the sake of it. His hand looks startlingly tan against Yoongi’s skin, Namjoon’s skin is turning a deeper bronze color, another sign that he needs to calm down before he turns this whole place into smithereens.
A garbled murmur brings him out of his musings, he takes a fistful of Yoongi’s hair so he’s not speaking into the mattress. “Repeat that.”
“-close. I’m close.” Yoongi’s cheeks are red, but there’s no shame in his gaze, only lust, and deep satisfaction. Namjoon’s laugh comes from deep inside his chest and reverberates around the room, leaving a ringing on its wake.
“Already?” Yoongi shrugs. “You don’t deserve it yet.” With that, he lets the demon’s head drop down with another snap. Yoongi whines when he lets his fingers out, tightening as it that would do something to keep Namjoon inside.
Namjoon snickers as he turns Yoongi around, sets one of his skinny thighs around his hips and the other one on his shoulder, the difference in their body build so obvious it makes him suck in a breath. He stuffs his fingers back into Yoongi, but makes sure to only tease around his prostate. The whinier Yoongi gets, the more amused Namjoon is, and the more he elongates this game.
He loses track of how many times he brings Yoongi close to the brim.
“Fuck!” Yoongi yells in frustration, the umpteenth time Namjoon grabs the base of his cock to stop his orgasm. “I hate you so much.”
“Sure.” Namjoon answers, caressing the leg on his shoulder like one would do to a spooked horse. One never knows how volatile this demon can get.
Like Yoongi doesn’t wait more than a pillow, he hoists him up by the hips, so only his shoulders and head are on the mattress, until he’s mouth level with his ass, and he can licks into it, get him wetter and looser, leaving as much saliva as he can. Yoongi curses and mumbles from under the hand that he has on his face.
“Are you going to let me come anytime soon or what?” Yoongi bites out, but with the blush that creeps down to his chest, and his labored breath, he doesn't look half as menacing as he means.
Namjoon stares him down, a mean smile stretching his lips, before pushing him off the bed. Yoongi crashes on the floor with a loud thump and a string of curses, before he can get up, Namjoon grabs a fistful hair and forces him on his knees, Yoongi goes, like a kitten grabbed by the nape by his mother, throwing up daggers at Namjoon from between his knees.
Pretty. Golden eyes trying so desperately to look menacing, skin pink and red in blotches, Namjoon’s brands all over, his cock twitching and shiny.
He drags a gentle thumb on Yoongi’s bottom lip, before pushing him down to his own hard cock. Yoongi expertly catches the head between his lips, frowning up at him like he’s inconvenienced, but not putting any resistance when Namjoon forces him down until hits his throat. He barely has half of Namjoon’s cock in, but the girth is so wide that if they keep this up for long, Yoongi’s will surely end up with splits on the corners of his mouth. Not that he seems to mind, he’s closed his eyes and hums around it, making himself gag again and again, until there’s so much spit it dribbles down the sides of his mouth and drips into the floor.
Namjoon tugs him up by the hair so that only the head remains inside, and Yoongi, always greedy, swirls his tongue around it, laps at it like a thirsty man who just found a fountain. Namjoon leans his head back with a gasp, and he doesn’t give him more reprise, instead starting a punishing rhythm.
There’s a distant thumping coming from the other room, some high pitched wails and moans, that match perfectly with the sounds of Yoongi gagging and the slurps his mouth makes when he tries to suck even more in.
“C’mon, whore, you can do better.” He says, voice strained. Yoongi sinks his nails into his thighs once before wrapping both hands around what his mouth doesn’t cover, twisting in opposite directions.
Between the all-encompassing pressure and the view of tears on the corner of Yoongi’s golden eyes, it doesn’t take him long until an orgasm is pulling at his insides, so he tosses him back onto the bed, face first. Then he grabs Yoongi’s hands and places them on his ass, so he opens his cheeks for Namjoon to see his reddened and puffy hole, slick with spit still.
It only takes Namjoon a couple more strokes before he comes with a groan, all over Yoongi’s rim, it makes a sizzling noise when it hits the demon’s skin, too hot for him to handle.
“Ah! Fuck!” Yoongi curses, body convulsing.
“It burns?” Namjoon asks as he dips his fingers in the mess, gathering it on them.
“You know it does.” Yoongi’s voice sounds muffled against the sheets.
Namjoon hums and presses two of his fingers inside Yoongi’s hole again, using his come as lube. “What does it feel like.” When Yoongi doesn’t answer, he smacks his thigh again. Now that he’s come he doesn’t feel as stretched thin, his real form again under control, so his skin is paler and doesn’t burn, but the hit still stings on Yoongi’s sensitive thighs.
“Like- like wax.” Yoongi chokes out, tightening his fingers where he’s still holding his cheeks open. Namjoon has started massaging his prostate again, and his voice sounds mellow, like the pleasure softens his edges.
Namjoon hums and extracts his fingers to accumulate the rest of the come around it, only to push three fingers in.
He wants to see how long he can keep this up, before Yoongi snaps and straight up murders him. And it’s not like the fingering just for his amusement, he thinks as he drags a fist down his cock, that’s valiantly chubbing up again at the sight of Yoongi’s veiny knuckles opening his cheeks wider. Even in his fully human form it’s big.
Yoongi is not a human. And yet, trembling under Namjoon’s touch, he looks breakable. The thought makes Namjoon lightheaded, and he fists his cock faster.
He spits into Yoongi’s ass to slick the way for a fourth finger. Not that he really needs it, his hole is sloppy, open wide and soft inside, ready to take anything Namjoon gives him. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Yoongi is a succubus, whose bodies slick up automatically, made to lure sinners in. The fourth finger barely meets resistance, if he wanted, he could fit his thumb in there too, maybe his hand, after a little more stretching.
He jerks himself off faster, humming at the images on his head. Maybe another time, whenever that is.
Now, he drags his spongy head teasingly up and down Yoongi’s ass, catching on his entrance, making him nearly growl in frustration.
“C’mon you angelic piece of shit, you already came, asshole, how much more time are-” His complaints get cut off when Namjoon thrusts hard and fast until he’s balls deep inside. The stretch of his rim is downright obscene, the girth of his cock might as well be as thick as a fist.
Namjoon would like to say he waits, that he stays unmoving until Yoongi’s small body accommodates him.
But that would be a lie.
He fucks out and in immediately, violent, deep thrusts that rock the whole bed, grabbing onto Yoongi’s hips, not to reassure him, but so he doesn’t run away, so he can yank him back onto his cock harder each time.
He likes to think he’s good, he does good. But when he’s with Yoongi he’s another kind of breed. He takes and takes and takes, not even mindful of the wretched creature that shares his bed.
He fucks like a demon, or a monster. Or an angel, maybe. Soldiers of God, unforgiving and heartless.
Not that Yoongi minds, as his moans and praises indicate. He chokes on his saliva each time Namjoon bottoms out, and he’s sure there’s a pool of it on the sheets beneath his chin, eyes rolled back in pleasure, little body slack and at Namjoon’s mercy, all the heat and fight in him gone the moment he’s got the violent fucking he was asking for.
“Na- Nam-” He tries, and Namjoon would coo, but he’s too far gone, he can only let out a smile that stretches his face like a snarl. His skin has taken on the deep bronze, hardened quality that he gets when he’s close to snapping, his back muscles are ripping and he feels tight all over, like he’s wearing a body two sizes too small. “Do- Do it.” Yoongi chokes out, barely raising his head to look back at Namjoon. “Angel. Do it.”
The sight of his pretty face streaked with tears, the deep scratch of his ruined voice distracts him, but then he registers what he said, and laughs, even if it’s breathless and sounds more like a moan at the end.
“Really.” He breathes out, stopping for a moment, dick buried deep in Yoongi’s guts. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” But he does. Angel , he said, and not as a nickname. Yoongi rolls his eyes, shakes his sweaty fringe of his forehead and bends over more, pressing even closer to Namjoon’ if that is possible.
Namjoon rolls his hips, before releasing a shaky breath. “Greedy.” He chuckles, so that the frustrated note of his word gets swallowed up. “Never enough for you.” He really should stop talking, but instead he starts rocking again, and throws himself across his back so he can whisper in his ear. “It could- no, it will hurt you, and you still want it?” Yoongi nods, eyes closed again as if lost in pain and pleasure again. “You’re going to be the ruin of me.”
With that, and ignoring the pang of his chest, he kneels up, and puts one hand over Yoongi’s eyes. “Alright. You asked for it.”
He closes his own eyes, focuses on the storm brewing just under his ribcage, letting the heat expand all through his body, he feels his hairs rise up, his skin harden, every muscle of his getting bigger, as his real angelic form takes over this body.
He doesn’t let go completely, that’d be crazy, but he lets loose a little, until the room fills with blinding white light and a screech that feels like it’s coming from afar. He keeps a hand firmly on Yoongi’s eyes, so that he doesn’t get blinded, he’d like to say, but the reality is he doesn’t want him to see that light is actually-
“Oh fuck.” Yoongi swears, when he feels the cock inside of him grow even bigger in size, and every point where they are joined start to scald. Namjoon doesn’t stop moving, keeps thrusting his engorged cock into Yoongi’s impossibly tight and pliant body, as he answers with a string of hisses and curses. His back muscles burn, he feels as if he’s splitting open.
“Shit. I can feel you.” Yoongi moans, and when Namjoon realizes what he’s talking about, he yanks him up, his back is against his chest. Yoongi hisses in pain when more places of their skin collide, burning him, and damn, if Yoongi looked small before, he now barely reaches Namjoon’s collarbone, when he looks down he’s still hard, leaking and. oh.
There it is. Yoongi’s stomach is bulging out, he can see the bump moving as he thrusts inside him. There’s a broken moan, and in the next moment Yoongi clenches his fingers around Namjoon’s biceps, and comes in long strips up his torso. This is probably not the intention of the usage of this body when the maker made him, but damn if Namjoon’s going to feel bad about it.
Yoongi sags against him, boneless, but that doesn’t stop Namjoon from fucking him. In this form, any kind of demon fluid burns him too, but, ignoring the pinpricks of pain on his fingertips, he draws his fingers through the sticky mess on Yoongi’s stomach to then press them around his rim, using it to slick up the way.
He loses track of time, of space, of any kind of existence outside Yoongi’s pliant body and the mind blowing pleasure of their sin. He fucks him in every position he can think of, without taking his hand off Yoongi’s eyes, on their sides pressed close together, Yoongi splayed over his chest, legs open around Namjoon’s own thighs. He loses track of how many times any of them comes, every time Yoongi spurts he uses the come to slick him up and continues, unrelenting. It could be minutes, hours or eons, but it doesn’t matter.
“Namjoon, Namjoon, Nam-” Yoongi repeats his name over and over, as if to remind himself, or like a prayer, and Namjoon has never felt as heavenly as now. This is where he belongs, fuck heaven and hell and everything in between, there’s no better paradise than buried between Yoongi’s legs.
He can feel another orgasm coming, from deep within his body, so he clutches Yoongi harder against him, pushing his head back so he can bite his neck as he lets go. He feels as if he’s coming by the gallon, like this orgasm takes with him the rest of his energy, and slowly, the incessant ringing around them decreases, he cools down to a manageable simmer, and his muscles shrink down, another ripping sensation on his back makes him grunt.
When he comes back to his senses, he has Yoongi pinned against the mattress, a hand still over his eyes, and his whole body is covered with bruises and burns and fluids, his hole is gaping even with Namjoon’s cock inside, come sliding out in thick rivulets now that it’s an almost normal size again.
When Namjoon turns him around, he’s breathing heavily, and when their eyes meet again, in what feels like days, a whine escapes Yoongi’s lips, and he scratches his arms and chest to get him closer, so he slips inside again and hugs him. He can’t bear the thought of being apart from him right now.
“Again.” He pleads, voice barely a whisper. “Just one more.”
Namjoon doesn’t have the energy nor the desire to deny him, will always give in to every whim of this greedy creature.
So he rocks gently, the sound of it a squelch with all the fluids. He can’t help but love it, the physical proof of their union. He dips down when Yoongi tugs at his hair, to give him a kiss that is as deep as it is tender.
I’m sorry he pours into it.
I wouldn’t have it other way Yoongi pours back, the gentle scratch of his fingertips on his scalp sending shivers down his spine.
Namjoon plants soft kisses down his wet cheeks and neck, lapping all the bruises he left, as his hands run down his chest, down his distended belly, making Yoongi let out a soft laugh when he presses on it.
“I look pregnant.” The comment earns him a harsher thrust and a groan, that he answers with a playful hum. “You’d want that? that’d be a weird creature, a demon and angel hybrid.”
“So, like, a human?” Namjoon’s voice sounds rough to his own ears, but the amusement passes through, because Yoongi snorts, but then a moan cuts him off. “Are you close?”
Yoongi nods and surges up for another kiss. Namjoon grabs his pretty cock, maybe the piece of him that he has touched the least this whole ordeal, and it’s so slick that it takes no effort to jerk him off, soft and constant, until he spurts into his fist, back arched in a bow, a choked out moan on his lips.
Namjoon brings the hand up to his own lips, and it burns a little, like wax, as Yoongi said, but the taste and the soft give of the demon’s body make him come a last time, deep into the mess of fluids that is Yoongi’s body.
Their labored breaths mix between their languid lips, pressed together from ankles to chest, long kisses like they don’t want ever to end.
“Let me see them?” Yoongi asks, weakened, bruised and vulnerable.
Namjoon sighs “It’s not a good idea.” Around his mind circles the same excuses that he always clings to, Yoongi’s safety, the safety of everyone at the motel, but, in reality- Yoongi’s careful fingers interrupt his train of thought, trailing delicately along his collarbones.
“Not all of it, just the- just them.”
With a fortifying breath, he lets his control slip once more, grimaces against the ripping pain of his back to let his wings out, or what’s left of them.
They look skeletal, sick, grey at the roots, a far cry from the big, shiny white beacons of justice they were before. They cast shadows that look like spider webs across the bed.
Yoongi touches one of the remaining feathers with the point of his finger, so delicately it makes Namjoon shiver. The feather trembles and falls, like it was waiting for Yoongi’s careful touch, and it falls directly into the demon’s hand, when it touches his skin, it scorches and burns, turning black and staining Yoongi’s fingers with char.
“For me?” He whispers, fear in his voice.
“I’d give it all for you” Namjoon answers, like the death sentence that it is. It’s not something good, it’s desperate and final, it's an inevitable end.
The raw desperation in Yoongi’s eyes cannot be hidden this time. “Don’t.”
Namjoon can’t help his small sad smile. “Then stop seeking me out. You know what happens.”
“Aren’t you the one who should resist temptation?” Yoongi sneers.
Namjoon hides his poor excuse of wings again, and hides his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck. “You’re way more than just temptation.”
He feels the move of Yoongi’s jaw against his temple, like the demon is trying to find his words and failing, and in the end he just hugs him, clinging to him so it’s not as noticeable he’s shaking. Not that it matters, so is Namjoon. He ignores the sensation of Yoongi’s silent tears against his cheek.
Demon tears burn him too, and they feel like the wax of melting wings.
***
The air that greets him when he comes out is sticky warm and smells like alcohol, but it’s still fresher and less oppressive than the stuffy ambient of the motel room, where he left Yoongi sleeping.
It wasn’t easy, as it never is.
He tugs his hood closer around his face, but something makes him look up. It’s the child like prostitutes, he doesn’t know if it hasn’t been that long, or if they’re always there, like gargoyles stuck to their post in this ancient temple to sin.
He looks at them for a moment, before directing his eyes to the dark sky for a prayer. It won’t do much, as Namjoon is not a guardian angel, but a soldier, and a weakened one at that, but he hopes the maker listens, as he’s still one of His sons. It tires him out even more, so that has to count for something.
It won’t restore his wings, he knows. He’s sinned too much for them to ever be what they were. But he can’t really regret it, which only really adds to the injury.
That’s alright.
There’s no heaven or hell when he’s with Yoongi, and he’ll let his wings burn every time for just five minutes more of sin with him.
***