Darker Angels

Er, you all do realize that I'm horrible at writing citrus. *hides*



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When the uproar of everyone trying to talk to Abel at once had subsided Blaze waved everyone in the direction of the kitchens.



“Okay, everyone, go eat something. Healing energy is especially difficult to muster and it takes a lot out of someone,” Blaze said, wrangling the members of the group who would have been perfectly content to lounge on the couches toward food. “It’s best to eat something light first and work your way up to the heavier fare.”



Members of the Red Shaman team had already made themselves at home in the kitchen and were involved in various stages of cooking. Fresh bread, soups and salads were being set on the long prep tables along with plates and utensils. Even those who had initially said they weren’t hungry suddenly found themselves ravenous. As everyone pounced on food, Abel took that time of distraction to pull Tres aside.



“Ah, Tres, if you wouldn’t mind . . .” Abel began.



“I have no intention of telling anyone about it, Father Nightroad. Relax.”



Just hearing Tres say the word “relax” was an odd thing for Abel but it was something he was perfectly willing to get used to. He had often thought the android was in desperate need of an upgrade and now it seemed he had gotten one. They stood on the sidelines for a few moments watching the others. Abel took a particular interest in Gun and Hunt’s interactions with eachother. Watching as they poked and teased one another. Gun bumped Hunt aside with his hip, Hunt yanked a strand of Gun’s hair, Gun retaliated by elbowing him. Who knew what the whole thing would have escalated to if their mother had not given them a “look” which spoke volumes. He had never met the two men before but he knew Circe well because of all the times Blaze had brought her along to play with Seth. Strange how things had changed, he mused. Circe had grown fully into being a woman where Seth still looked roughly ten to twelve years old.



Abel turned to say something to Tres and noticed that his attention was firmly elsewhere. Namely on Takara’s behind as she bent to dig something out of the refrigerator. Abel smiled a little, wondering what kind of upgrades had been made to Tres’ system for him to be having that kind of reaction to a female. Interesting.



“Blood packs for the biters,” Takara said cheerfully, tossing one to Seth.



Seth looked at the plastic package then back at Takara dubiously.



“It isn’t my blood. I swear, Seth,” Takara said.



“Or mine,” Circe remarked, waving a hand negligently at the offending pack. “Come on, would we do that to any of you? That would just be mean.”



At the puzzled looks of Ion and Astaroshe, Seth explained. “The blood of one of the Created is toxic to us. Not usually fatal to any of the older Methuselah but it will certainly make you *wish* you were dead.”



“Muffelatas are up,” Star said, setting a huge plate of the sandwiches on the table. Abel was the first to pounce on them, taking one for each hand and making Seth laugh.



“Hungry much, Abel?”



“Hey, I haven’t had these in ages,” he said around a mouthful of the sandwich.



“Abel, do *not* add sugar to that tea,” Gun warned. “Mom made it so it’s likely to send everyone into diabetic shock.”



Abel laughed. “I recall Skye’s tea quite well. I think it’s perfect.”



“Thank you, Abel. At least *someone* has manners,” she said, glaring at first one then the other of her sons, who both had their mouths so full she was astounded that neither of them had burst a cheek.



Takara laughed from her perch in Tres’ lap. “You know they take after their father in that regard, Skye.”



“Unfortunately.”



After that everyone continued to talk between bites. Catherina was especially pleased with the fact that her brother and Seth were seated next to each other and had been talking almost nonstop about everything from the state of the world to the fact they both hated peas. It was good, she thought. The best initial ties for any kind of successful negotiations were often those of a personal nature. If the similarities in their people could be focused on rather than the differences, there might be a chance of building a strong foundation for both the Empire and Vatican to grow together rather than apart.



“Gods, Taka!” Circe said in mock horror, eyeing the ultra rare steak that the other woman was eating. “Are you *sure* you aren’t part Methuselah?”



“Hardly. Did you *meet* my husband?” Takara said, feeling Tres suddenly go tense. “It’s okay, Tres. I still miss him but it isn’t like it used to be. Five hundred years is plenty of time to get over someone.”



“So long as you aren’t upset, Princess,” he said, shifting slightly and sending her hormones into overdrive.



“Upset is not the correct word for what I am right now.”



“Not my fault you married a friggin’ werewolf,” Circe said with a shrug, getting back to the previous subject.



“Volos Clan,” Takara corrected. “Besides, I needed someone I wasn’t going to break.”



“Okay! There are things about my daughter’s sex life I do *not* want to know,” Blaze said.



“And having two fathers doesn’t increase the parents having sex ick factor at all,” Takara said, smiling at her mother. “Especially not when listening to every straight female and gay man in a hundred and fifty mile radius discussing how hot they are.”



“Point taken.”



Gun sighed heavily. “At least neither of your fathers encourages that reaction.”



“By dancing on tabletops and bars,” Hunt said.



“To the great horror of our mother and his husband.”



From there the conversation revolved around old stories of Hunt, Gun, Circe and Uri’s father, making Skye look as though she wanted to sink through the floor. Everyone was laughing so hard that they didn’t notice the sudden disappearance of two individuals. No one except for Abel, who simply smiled and again wondered what kind of upgrade Tres had.





“Gods, I so need a shower,” Takara said, walking into her bedroom with Tres close behind her. “I smell like cigarette smoke and booze.”



“Somewhat,” Tres said, coming behind her and pulling the pins still halfway holding her hair up. “However, I wouldn’t take that shower just yet if I were you.”



She turned and looked at him oddly. “Really? Why not?” she asked.



“Because, I think,” he said, gathering a handful of her hair and letting it fall again. “That you’d probably need another one in short order.”



Her eyes darkened slightly and she looked up at him through her lashes. “Really? Are you planning on getting me dirty again?” she asked, toying with one of the straps of his shirt. She smiled a little as she realized he had maneuvered her against the wall.



Tres put his hands on either side of her head and leaned in until barely an inch separated them. His gaze traveled down her body then back up again, looking at her as though she were a highly edible substance. “Oh, I intend to get you *very* dirty, Princess.”



“Can’t wait,” she said, burying her hands in his hair and pulling him the rest of the way forward for a kiss.



Tres wondered vaguely if it was possible to blow all of his circuitry via one kiss and how was he supposed to catalogue what felt good when everything did. He nipped at her bottom lip before tracing his tongue along it to soothe the light abrasion, one hand sliding up into her hair while the other wrapped around her hip. He smiled slightly at the needy little noises she made as he worked his way from her mouth to her ear with kisses and light bites. Again he had to stifle the urge to sink his teeth into the scar at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.



Takara slid one leg up to wrap around his hip and leaned forward a little, chewing lightly on the spot just below his ear. He tilted his head slightly to give her better access before running one hand up her thigh to the edge of the dress she was wearing, pushing it up. She immediately wrapped the other leg around his waist, pulling him more firmly against her. Tres ran both hands under her legs to grasp her upper thighs, grinned evilly at her and then rocked his hips against hers.



“Gods, I’m going to owe Hunt new club clothes,” she groaned.



Taking the edges of his shirt in both hands and pulling, the noise from the fabric ripping sounded inordinately loud in the otherwise quiet room. Her hands traced up his chest and along his shoulders, moving the remnants of the torn shirt down his arms. His eyes widened slightly as he felt his belt and the snap of the leather pants come undone even though her hands were still on his arms. He was even more startled to feel the zipper being pulled down and the pants being pushed to somewhere around his calves.



“One of the more interesting uses of shadows,” she said, wiggling into a better position. “You’ll have to tell me exactly how that works sometime. Can you actually . . .”



“Have an orgasm? Something of the sort. It’s basically a temporary circuitry overload that . . .”



“Okay, less talking, more fucking,” she whined, trying to impale herself.



“Your moan is my command, Princess,” he said, angling her hips and sliding into her body. Everything around him was tight, slick and hot; nothing he had read or downloaded could have quite prepared him for the feeling of having her inner muscles clamped around him. “You feel so good,” he moaned into her hair as she rolled her hips, taking him in deeper.



“So do you.”



He had wanted to draw this out for a much longer period. To enjoy the sensations she stimulated in him. But he had the distinct notion that wasn’t going to happen this time. Both of them had been too turned on for most of the night for it to go slowly and it had gone from a want to a driving need. His fingers dug into her hips as his body seemed to set its own rhythm of hard and fast thrusts. Her nails ripped into the outer casing of his shoulders, nearly exposing wiring as her legs clamped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. Every muscle in her body seemed to go tight at once as a shudder ran through her muscles. He didn’t have time to think about it because it felt as though all of his wiring had suddenly melted and fused together just before everything went totally blank for an instant.



He opened his eyes as everything restarted and looked at her. Her head was leaned back against the wall, exposing the line of her throat, eyes closed and panting slightly from the exertion. An odd word that he didn’t recognize seemed to reverberate through his circuits. He didn’t understand what it meant but knew it had to be important because it had chased around in his head every time he had been near her. He again felt as though he had blown something in his chest when she opened her eyes.



“Damn, that was fabulous.”



His lips twitched a little. “Think we can make it to the bed next time?”



“Eventually,” she said, unwinding her legs from around his waist. “Now I really need a shower.” She reached behind her and unzipped the lower half of the dress, letting it fall to the floor and kicking off her shoes. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I hope you’re waterproof.”



“I am,” he said, bending down and removing his boots and pants. When he looked up he noticed she was eyeing him lasciviously.



“Goody. Thank the gods for tankless water heaters.”





****Author's Notes********

Yes, I know it inhaled mightily. Sorry. *hides again*