The Bone Cup

by L. J. LaBarthe

  All of this tore through his mind in a matter of moments, and then his thoughts scattered to the four winds as Michael’s hands wrapped around his cock. He moaned and rocked into that warm grip, tangling his own hands in the strong feathers of Michael’s wings.

  “Gabriel,” Michael gasped, pulling back from Gabriel’s neck. “I need you, da bao. I desire you.”

  “Then take me,” Gabriel said. “Whatever you want, Mishka. I’m yours.”

  Michael kissed him then, hard and with no finesse, all tongue and teeth, and Gabriel responded in kind. Their kiss grew rough, almost frenzied, and Gabriel whined into it, desperately wanting Michael’s cock inside him, fucking him hard and rough, taking him, claiming him, owning him.

  “Do you truly wish this?” Michael asked and Gabriel realized that he’d transmitted his thoughts to his beloved. He nodded and Michael smiled shyly, his lips tinged with the red of Gabriel’s own blood. “I, too, would like that very much,” Michael said.

  Gabriel tugged him down for another kiss. “Like I said,” he thought to Michael, “whatever you want, it’s yours. I am yours.”

  In reply, Michael ran one hand down Gabriel’s side, then up again. Finally, he broke the kiss and sat back. “Raise your arms above your head,” Michael ordered.

  Gabriel did as he was told. Michael reached up to touch Gabriel’s wrists and Gabriel felt the cool touch of chains. He tugged them experimentally, grinning up at Michael as his lover lowered his hand.

  “Are you all right?” Michael asked.

  “Oh, aye. I’m very all right,” Gabriel said.

  “As you say.” Michael wriggled backwards a little and ducked down to kiss, lick, and nibble his way down Gabriel’s body.

  Gabriel closed his eyes, focusing solely on Michael: the soft kisses that raised gooseflesh in their wake, the tonguing of the hollow at the base of his throat that made him moan, the gentle caress of Michael’s hands over his skin, the fleeting brush of hair as Michael moved his head. Gabriel was awash in a sea of wonderful sensations and his fingers curled over the chains that secured his wrists to the headboard. He writhed eagerly into touch and caress, each kiss and nibble, moaning loudly as he felt Michael’s tongue start to lave his left nipple.

  The moan turned into a wordless cry as Gabriel felt Michael’s hands between his legs, stroking over his inner thighs and brushing teasing touches over his balls. He bucked up into the attention, spreading his legs some more and rocking toward Michael’s hands.

  “Please,” he panted, “please, Mishka.”

  “Please what, Gabriel?” Michael asked.

  It took him a moment to come up with an answer that did not sound like a variation of, “Argle, glarble, barble.” Gabriel was so turned on that thought was difficult, and coherent speech was harder still.

  “Fuck me,” he finally managed to groan out. “Please. Need you in me, Mishka. Now.”

  “Are you certain?” Michael nipped the side of Gabriel’s chest the moment after he’d asked the question and Gabriel whined again.

  “Y-yes! Please!”

  Michael kissed the spot he had nipped and moved, kneeling between Gabriel’s thighs. “You are very hard, da bao,” he observed, running the tip of his index finger up the line of Gabriel’s cock.

  The urge to reply “No shit, Sherlock” was almost impossible to resist, but Gabriel managed it. Instead, he said, “All for you, baby. Because of you.”

  Michael hummed. “I confess that I enjoy that. A very great deal.”

  Gabriel felt rather than heard the whisper of power then as Michael slicked himself, and as Michael gripped his hips, Gabriel raised his legs, wrapping them around Michael’s hips. As Michael slowly pressed into his body, Gabriel arched, letting out a long, keening cry of pleasure. When Michael was buried balls to ass inside him, Gabriel clenched his muscles down around Michael’s cock, hard.

  Michael let out a harsh gasp, and through the lust fogging his vision, Gabriel saw that his lover was trembling. Perhaps Michael was not holding it as together as Gabriel had thought. He flexed his muscles and Michael let out a low moan and began to move.

  His thrusts were slow at first, but they quickly sped up, and soon Michael, breath hissing between his teeth, was pounding into Gabriel and Gabriel was loving every moment of it. He knew he would ache the next day—the best possible ache. He gripped the chains hard and there was the sound of a sharp crack. Dimly, Gabriel realized that the wood of the headboard had broken.

  Michael took hold of Gabriel’s cock and began to stroke him in time with his thrusts. Gabriel yelled and arched, and before he knew it, he was coming, orgasming so hard that he saw stars. Michael growled and Gabriel whimpered, and a moment later, he felt Michael’s orgasm and heard Michael’s own cry of release.

  Gabriel couldn’t stop grinning as Michael, after a few moments and still panting, slowly pulled from his body. As Michael flicked a finger and released the chains around Gabriel’s wrists, Gabriel reached for his lover and pulled him down for a soft, tender kiss.

  “I love you very much, my Michael.”

  “I love you very much also, Gabriel. Did I hurt you?”

  “No. Not even a little. It was awesome, and I feel very, very good. How ’bout you?”

  “I am glad you are happy. I feel good, too. You are certain you are all right?”

  Gabriel broke the kiss and locked his gaze with Michael’s. “Aye. I wouldn’t lie to you, love of my life. Especially not about sex. Double especially when it’s something so intimate like this.”

  “All of our… intercourse”—Michael blushed as he said the word—“is intimate. I do not understand how you are making a distinction.”

  Gabriel cupped Michael’s cheek with one hand. “It’s a thing,” he said. “A me thing. Don’t worry about it.” He had learned long ago that it was easier to brush something off that he didn’t want to explain with that or a similar line.

  “I see,” Michael said in a tone of voice that said he really didn’t see at all. “I confess I do not understand, but if it is, as you say, nothing to fret over, then I will not.”

  “I’m glad.” Gabriel wrapped his arms around Michael and held him tight. “Everything’s turned out for the best, hasn’t it?”

  Michael wriggled a little, getting comfortable on top of him, and Gabriel chuckled.

  “Yes,” Michael said once he was apparently satisfied with his position on top of Gabriel’s body. “Yes, I believe that it has. Purgatory is free, the Grail is safe and pure once again, protected from evil. Hell is as it should be, Heaven as well. And Earth is too. I am sad that the situation with Camael occurred, yet there is nothing that can be done about him. He has been judged by Tzadkiel and executed by Samael.”

  “Aye, that wasn’t the best, was it? I reckon in a day or so we’ll need to go through all the Host and make sure that there ain’t anyone in Heaven, or on Earth, hell, any angelkind who have the same opinions that Camael did.” Gabriel paused a moment. “My heart almost stopped when he went to attack you, though.”

  Michael raised his head and looked at Gabriel. “He would have failed in any case. Even were you not there—and I thank God that you were—Brieus and Sophiel were there. Raphael was there. I could still raise my sword if it was absolutely necessary.”

  “And you would’ve been injured even more.” Gabriel swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. “I can’t bear the idea of it, Michael. The concept of you injured is just… fuck. I am so sorry I put you through that when I was recovering after Azazel stabbed me.”

  Michael gently touched Gabriel’s cheek. “It is all right, da bao. I know you did not intend to worry me, and it was a fight and these things happen. I understand. I did then, also, but as you say, worry borne of love is rarely rational when given voice. As it was when you were fretting over me at the lake in England.”

  Gabriel wrinkled his nose and then he laughed. “Yeah, that was one of my more intense mother-hen moments, wasn’t it?”

  “It
was,” Michael agreed. “It was adorable, however. I like that you fuss over me, even if I resent greatly the restrictions that being injured places upon me. It is good to feel so loved and cherished.”

  “Well, I do. Love and cherish you,” Gabriel said.

  “And that makes me the luckiest being in all of Creation,” Michael said.

  “Makes two of us, then,” Gabriel said. “’Cause I’m the luckiest, too.”

  Michael smiled warmly. “As you say.” Then he frowned. “Gabriel, why is there a large crack in the headboard?”

  Gabriel craned his neck to get a look. He started to laugh as he turned his head back so he could look at his lover. “I got a bit carried away,” he said.

  Michael sighed. “I see.”

  “Hey, don’t get all serious ’bout it. I’ll fix it. Later. You should take it as a compliment,” Gabriel said.

  “Pardon?” Michael’s expression became one of confusion.

  “The sex was so good, I broke the bed,” Gabriel said.

  Michael immediately blushed. “Gabriel!”

  “Michael!” Gabriel mimicked Michael’s tone and inflection perfectly, then hugged Michael tight to him. “You’re adorable.”

  “Hush.” Michael buried his face against Gabriel’s neck. Muffled, he said, “You will fix the bed before we go out.”

  “Aye, okay.” Still amused, Gabriel fell silent, content to listen to the sound of Michael’s breathing and the crash of the waves against the shore of the beach.

  Chapter Twenty

  IN ANSWER to a call that used to go out once every thousand years but now went out every two years—more or less—Gabriel found himself walking down an uneven stone corridor. He smiled to himself at the sense of déjà vu he felt; it hadn’t been so long ago after all that walking this very same path had led him to a meeting that had been the beginning of a whole new life for him.

  This time, however, he was not alone. Michael walked beside him, holding his hand, and Gabriel could hear the sound of lively conversation coming from in front of them.

  “I think we’re the last to arrive,” Gabriel said.

  “So it would seem,” Michael agreed.

  They walked the last few feet of the corridor until it opened up into a round chamber with a table and ten high-backed chairs. Eight of the Brotherhood of Archangels were present, some seated, some standing, and the mood in the chamber was jovial, convivial. Gabriel smiled as eight heads turned and eight pairs of eyes focused on him and Michael.

  “Sorry we’re late,” he said.

  “You aren’t, not really,” Raziel said. He came over to shake Gabriel’s hand and then Michael’s. “It’s good to see you both. It’s been quite hectic of late, hasn’t it?”

  Gabriel laughed at that. “Just a tad, aye.”

  “Hello, Raziel,” Michael said, inclining his head politely.

  “Hey.” Raziel gestured at the table. “Take a seat. Not that we’ve anything really earth-shattering to report, but I figure it’s good to get into the habit of meeting more often. Putting into practice what we discussed earlier, that sort of thing.”

  Uriel, sprawled in a chair near the head of the table where Raziel’s papers and folders were neatly stacked, snorted. “Razzy, you’re the most OCD Archangel alive.”

  “I am not,” Raziel said.

  “Yeah, you really are.” Uriel laughed. “It’s not an insult, you know.”

  Raziel huffed at that. “Whatever. Beer, Gabe?”

  “Cheers.” Gabriel sat down, Michael taking the chair beside him. “Water for Mike, though.”

  “I remembered.” Raziel pulled in drinks with his power from a crate in the shadows at the edge of the chamber.

  “Thank you, Gabriel,” Michael said softly.

  “No worries.” Gabriel leaned back, getting comfortable in his seat and toying with the label on the beer bottle. “So,” he said louder, to get the others’ attention, “how are we all doing, now all of this crap with Purgatory’s been sorted and the Grail made safe?”

  “I believe we are all well,” Samael said. “Life goes on, as it has always done. I believe that Raziel’s theory—the one regarding God and the Devil having an alliance toward a peaceful future—is correct. I also believe that Uriel’s portent of doom that there will be those who will not agree with this future will cause some trouble for a while.”

  “Aye, I reckon the same thing.” Gabriel paused to take a long drink of beer, sighing with gusto at the taste. “Good beer, Raz,” he said.

  “Of course it’s good beer. I only provide the best refreshments,” Raziel said. “Okay, unless Israfel has been cooking. Your beloved is a master chef, Raph.”

  Raphael laughed. “He is indeed. I believe he is baking a cake with Tabbris even now.”

  Michael leaned forward, resting his hands on the surface of the table. “That reminds me, Raphael. Is Tabbris all right? In all the furor in Purgatory and our concern regarding the Holy Grail, I have been remiss in not following up that concern.”

  “Tabbris is fine now.” Raphael looked enormously relieved. “While the Grail was in Purgatory, its absence—and the corruption of parts of it—really had a bad effect on him. It was difficult to figure out what to do to help him. I’m still not entirely certain he could have been helped if Naamah had succeeded.” He shook his head. “I am glad she didn’t. But yes, Tabbris is back to his usual self.”

  “I do not know if that is a blessing or a curse,” Michael deadpanned.

  Everyone laughed.

  “If it’s any consolation, he’s stopped calling you donkey face,” Raphael said.

  Gabriel choked on his beer as he laughed once more. “I forgot he did that!”

  “Tabbris is… unique,” Michael said. “And also exhausting. Even the simple act of inquiring after his health is wearing upon me.”

  “It’s wearing on all of us,” Metatron said.

  “All right, so I can make a note of that,” Raziel said. He picked up a fountain pen and opened one of his notebooks and made a brief notation in it. “Is there anything else we need to address in any sort of official manner?”

  “God is speaking with us again,” Metatron said. “Face to face, so to speak. He confirmed that the reason He did not during this mission was because we had to go it on our own.”

  “Flying the nest and being all grown up,” Haniel said. “I have to say, I don’t like it.”

  “Who does?” Raziel said. “At least He’s talking to us again, though. That’s good news. Anything else official?”

  There was a murmur in the negative, and Raziel lay down his pen. He smiled at the gathered Archangels, and Gabriel found that to be infectious. He took another drink of his beer, watching as Uriel drew a cigar from his silver-chased cigar case and lit it with a small touch of his power. Then Gabriel looked around the table, paying close attention to the faces of his fellows.

  They all looked happy, which in turn made Gabriel happy. There really wasn’t that much difference in their ages; they had been created one after the other, with mere seconds between them. In Heaven, before the dawn of time, however, those seconds had seemed like small eternities. Each Archangel had his rank and his duties, knew his powers and his reason for being made, and each Archangel was content. That was how it had been in the beginning and now, Gabriel saw, looking into the happy faces of his comrades, it was that way again.

  “The next century will be a good one,” Gabriel said. “The first of many, I reckon.”

  “How do you mean, Gabriel?” Michael asked.

  “Well, we all have our duties, right? We know what to do and why. But with this new goal, being that there’s peace everywhere, our duties are going to change a little, and I reckon we’ll all like those changes. Fighting to preserve peace rather than to kill everything is much better motivation. Eventually, we won’t even have to do that. Then we can be as we were meant to be: shepherds and guides for humanity, protectors of Heaven and Purgatory, sharing the guardianship of the last with
Hell. It’ll be good.”

  “I concur,” Raziel said. “I’ve read the books and the prophecies, and many things are made infinitely clearer to me now. I don’t think that this was a new whim of God’s at all. I think this was His ultimate plan; He just had to wait for Lucifer to reach the same conclusions, and Lucifer was very angry for a very long time. But now he has, so the plan can begin to take fruit.”

  “Humanity will start to seek out new horizons,” Remiel said thoughtfully. “They might go to the stars and discover new worlds and galaxies.”

  “They might,” Raziel agreed. “They might take to the seas, too, and find a way to explore the depths that previously have been impossible to visit. The potential is endless, and it’s our job to make sure that potential can be explored without war or death or disaster.”

  “It’s going to be a good time for the Nephilim too,” Remiel said. “They’re still pretty scared of us, which is… well, I’m not going to sugarcoat it. It fucking sucks, is what it is. I hate that they cringe and run from me when I visit the village to see Ish and the boys. I hate that they seem to feel the only thing we Archangels want to do is kill them.”

  “Can we not make an effort to reassure them that they are safe and have nothing to fear from us?” Michael asked in concern.

  “I’m open to suggestions,” Remiel said.

  “Perhaps we could all take a weekend and visit in pairs,” Samael suggested. “Draw up a roster so that each weekend, two of us stay in the village and listen to them, talk to them, eat and drink and pray with them. I think that will help.”

  “That could work, yes,” Remiel agreed. He thought for a minute. “I’ll draw something up now. Raz, you and Uri would want to be together, right? And Gabe, you and Mike?”