A chapter will be added every two to three days. The full story is also available on FictionPress, along with the second series.

To see the full cover art, go to Procrastinisha's account on DeviantArt.

1 - Azazel - A Deadly Purpose

Azazel tapped long, tapered fingernails on the table before him. A bowl-shaped depression had been smoothly moulded into the workings, and was filled with an insubstantial water that doubled back on itself, twisting and writhing repeatedly like a snake. A light, opaque smoke was rising from the surface. Azazel supported his head on his left fist as he gazed languidly at the image, sharp and clear as crystal, that was dancing on the water. He could not express adequately in words how sick he was of observing the human race every day as they fell lower and lower into depravity.

He sighed, flicking shoulder-length auburn locks from eyes of peridot green, shot through with yellow like the clean-cut surface of a most high-quality gem. It tore at his golden heart to see Theos' mortal creation bite at each other like so many rabid dogs.

Azazel stood up abruptly. Gorgeous, downy wings, like those of a milvus milvus, unfurled and stretched to fill almost the whole span of the room. He preened; no other Angel had wings as beautiful as the ones he bore. He had taken a liking to the bird, with it's deadly, feathered grace, and had influenced himself accordingly. He allowed the faintest sneer to curl his lips; the other Archangels had been appalled, all of them white-winged, all of them the same. Theos himself had been merely amused.

Theos. Azazel gave an internal sigh. He slowly walked to the window and looked out upon Heaven, one of Theos' most impressive works, wrought from silver and gold and all else the mortal-gone-immortal souls that flooded through the gates cared to dream up. The buildings were twisted with coils of ivy and other delicate plants, all reminiscent of the world that the souls had left behind – though not a drop of blood to be seen.

Theos. Though Azazel worshipped him with a fervour that was quite extraordinary, and though Azazel was one of Theos' creations, he could not help but have his adoration tainted by bitterness and question. He had spent the last few decades watching the steady rise of the humans, and all the slaughter and hatred that came with it. Why, he wondered, did Theos not send out a Holy Missionary to end the suffering? His hands clenched on the windowsill. The last, biggest Holy Mission that had been initiated had been somewhere around the time of Noah and the Ark; all those following had been quite inconsequential. He snorted. Either inconsequential or he hadn't been there was what he meant.

Azazel himself had never been selected by Theos himself as a Holy Missionary to carry His Word – he had never had the chance to listen to Theos' divine Voice. He couldn't help but allow a certain degree of anger to rise up from the pit of his stomach when he thought of every other Archangel and two-bit messenger that had been sent away with something, some great Holy Purpose, and yet he had always been overlooked.

Theos. Thanks to Theos he was resigned to be this way merely due to his existence, he and Samael another. Samael, alright, perhaps he was merely getting what he deserved – his pairing to Lilith had been questionable at best, she being the Queen of Demons – but what had Azazel ever done but diligently wait for the chance to serve his Lord, his God, and had been completely turned over in the search for someone 'better'?

Azazel gave a sigh as he felt a tingle in the base of his gut. He turned from the window and started down the corridor towards to Hall, he amongst many others. Angels poured from all sides, some flying, some walking, some throwing him suspicious looks. He returned their looks with savage glares. The red-haired Archangel knew full well why all the others scorned him.

Because he was bad.

Bad. Who has ever heard of a bad Angel? An Archangel, at that? Azazel had heard the whispers – evil in Heaven. But he was not evil, this he knew. God, Theos, had created him with a purpose; to test those for their faith. He and Samael were not the harbingers, they never were. They were the ones that stood behind Abraham and held him back, they were the ones that impregnated Eve with Cain, they were the Serpent in the Garden.

A smile crept up upon his features slowly. It was a perfectly pleasant smile, but one that made the surrounding Angels give him an even wider berth all the same. Who needed Holy Missions, anyway? He had the leeway to meddle as he so chose. His whole creation was a Holy Mission in itself. Azazel gave a trilling laugh as he strode along in his own little world – so consumed by his own thoughts, in fact, that he nearly travelled past his destination. He looked watched in confusion as Angels turned right down numerous hallways or carried on, but none turned left to accompany him. Azazel would've thought that they'd all felt Theos' call too. He shrugged and turned, huge golden doors thrown open as he passed through and into the glorious, roofless Hall, ceilinged by swirling clouds, completely empty of any other Angel besides him.

And there, at the head of all that empty space, sat God.

X

Azazel fell to his knees instantly, crisp white robe bunching around his knees. He let his red hair fall over his face and obscure his eyes. He hid his confusion under a blank mask of skin the colour of fresh milk, but a few scant shades off his robe, with slightly pinker cheeks. Azazel waited for several minutes, wondering perhaps if he had arrived too early.

Eventually, he looked up at the handful of steps leading to the platform that Theos' golden throne was elevated on, quite a way away but before him nonetheless. Azazel felt insignificant before such a powerful divine presence, and in such a large, empty room!

"Stand , Azazel."

Azazel gasped at the rich, heady thrum of Theos' voice as it reverberated around the massive Hall. Loud and authoritative, Azazel rose immediately. He lifted his eyes, but never up to Theos' face, not quite. He suddenly found himself with an abnormal interest in the other man's feet.

A warm chuckle, and then: "Come here."

Azazel shivered; other Archangels, such as Gabriel, had always been so offhand about their meetings with the Lord – as offhand as an Archangel could be, of course, there was always that certain degree of reverence – but how could anyone be offhand about this? The flush of furious heat inspired by that voice was amazing... it warmed the auburn angel from head to toe. And he walked.

This time, Theos did not let the silence stretch.

"Do you know why you are here, Azazel?" he asked quietly.

"No," Azazel said, shaking his head. He stood to Theos' left-hand side. "Master, where are all the other Angels?"

A small, vague smile lifted the corners of Theos' mouth. "What other Angels, Azazel?"

Azazel blinked, feeling for all the world like he had completely lost the power of speech. Hearing Theos speak his name sent a warm flush trailing up the back of his spine, and he knew not why. It took him several long moments to regain his poise, the smile never leaving Theos' face, Theos' eyes never breaking contact. Azazel could've fallen into those golden depths and swam in them forever. He tore his eyes away, cheeks colouring lightly.

"There must be others... surely you could not have summoned me for a private audience..."

One blonde brow arched. "Why not?"

Azazel managed to stop himself from spluttering. That was most definitely not appropriate in the face of his Divine Maker. He did, however, put on a most amazing 'shocked' expression – one for the textbooks. His voice dropped to an awed whisper. "You... I'm alone? My Lord, you have never summoned me before, not on my own, I didn't think... I..."

"I have something important for you to do, Azazel," he said. His smile vanished, replaced with quite a stern expression. Theos spoke in firm but gentle tones. "The reason I have never summoned you before is because I was saving this job for you... and you specifically. I think that now is the time. I know how you despair that I do nothing for my people, my Human creation... so I will give them you.

"The carnage that occurs on Earth unnerves me, Azazel," he said, his façade disappearing to reveal an inside tormented by pure emotion, but only briefly, "but I cannot do anything to stop it. I gave Man the option of free will when I created him; he chose through his own free will to eat the fruit that I forbade him to eat because his quest for knowledge was greater than his love for me... and perhaps with my greatest mortal creation came my greatest mortal flaw. It is too late now. I cannot prevent men from killing each other – I can only bring them salvation once they have done so. But how? How am I to do this? Only the souls of the righteous pass into Heaven, and the soul of a soldier – whether he has killed ten men or ten thousand – is stained with blood that can never be washed clean. Yet I cannot deny my sons the chance to experience eternal life in my arms. It seems I have reached an impasse with myself.

"Azazel, you will bring them to me. I can sense what you are about to say, but you are terribly misguided. Whether the people of Earth celebrate me as their God or another figurehead altogether matters not. Every religion is a means to an end. Everyone ends up in the same place, and everyone finds peace; does it really matter how they do it? No. You must try your best to always remember that.

"I repent that the circumstances of your creation will forever prevent you from doing as other Angels might. Perhaps the purpose that I bestow upon you is even greater. Azazel... you will be my Angel of Death."

X

'Azazel' chapters are written by Thing One - 'Theos' chapters are written by Thing Two. Procrastinisha is two people. :)

2 - Theos: Flowers and Fireflies [Thing One]

Theos was sat in a chair, within his personal chambers. He was feeling listless; he caught his reflection in his reflective glass and was stunned by the amount of apathy on his features. Theos was not naïve, he was aware that, by human standards, he was a sight to behold and he was slightly proud of that fact.

He stood and turned to his scrying bowl. He had insisted that each and every one of his angels had one, should they need to get in touch or inform him of anything. These bowls were also used to show any creature, living or dead, in the universe. Theos however, often used them for examining his greatest achievement yet biggest failure - humans. Theos sighed as he thought about all of the wasted potential these humans had, when Theos watched them, he could only see violence and murder. Men, women and children, all bitter and hateful, all sadistic - for whatever reason all had what was referred to as taedium vitae, a loathing of life. This was not what he had expected of any of his creatures, and at that moment Theos decided to stop mulling over his thoughts and put an end to this.

He sent out a pulse of energy, summoning his most unique, yet loyal and temperamental of angels….Azazel.

Azazel was an angel of exclusive traits. With wings that matched the appearance of a Red Kite and hair the colour of a glowing flame, he did not match the appearance of a stereotypical angel - a fact Theos would use to his advantage. Azazel would be given a special task, the job of testing humans for and helping them gain the right to enter through the gates of heaven. He was to be Theos' Angel of Death.

X

A few minutes later Theos was seated on his throne within the Hall of Ages. This hall represented time and had no ceiling to show how Theos and the angels were exempt from time. Theos used this hall to conduct important meetings with his angels. Theos listened and heard the slow subtle beating of wings and the tapping of feet as angels passed the door, the sound of thousands travelling towards their destinations. He paid specificattention to the sound, listening carefully for the giveaway sound of Azazel's Red Kite wings, whose sound varied slightly to the average angel's wings. More seconds passed before he heard the tell-tale flapping of Azazel, slowing slightly as they approached his door. Theos smirked when he realised Azazel was hesitating. He heard him take a deep breath and Theos straightened his face - it would do no good for any of his angels to see him as anything other than calm and collected, the very personification of wisdom and power.

Azazel came in, and fell to his knees.

Theos was a maelstrom of various emotions; here was Azazel, a proud empowered angel, falling to his knees in front of a male he seldom saw. Theos felt honoured by Azazel's blatant display of adoration, yet Theos had become accustomed to this and had never felt such a pleasant emotion before. He decided he liked it.

Now to address the other emotions flooding through his body, these were not as enjoyable as the first. He attempted to identify and control them. He was feeling; confusion, curiosity, honour, love and….was that lust? Theos' panic now overshadowed all else. Lust was not acceptable. He was God for the love of….well, himself! Lust for divine beings was considered strictly taboo. Lust was a cardinal sin. He couldn't even understand it. All of the rest of his antagonising emotions, even the love, could be considered expected. Theos loved all of his creatures after all.

He took a second to compose himself.

"Stand, Azazel," Theos internally despaired. His voice had come out gruffer than usual and he hoped Azazel hadn't noticed.

Theos watched as Azazel stood. Azazel was the essence of grace and poise, his posture perfect. Bar his head. Theos was consumed by fond amusement when it appeared that Azazel was unable to meet his gaze - instead choosing to examine his toes. Theos laughed softly.

Theos' voice was considerably softer as he spoke again. "Come here," Theos allowed himself a secret little smile when Azazel shivered.

As Azazel walked closer, Theos took the time to examine him. He felt slightly ashamed that he had never summoned Azazel before, if only casually. Theos had missed much with his distance. He first noticed Azazel's wings; they were a mimic of one of his more extravagant (and deadly) earthbound creations. The 'Red Kite' as the humans called it

Theos enjoyed Azazel's individuality, he found it refreshing, like a sip of ice cold water to a parched human. Theos continued to examine Azazel, and as he did, he was drawn to Azazel's eyes. They were a brilliant pale green... peridot he believed it was called, a beautiful green crystal. Theos decided then and there that this beautiful greenish hue was to be his newfound colour of preference. Of course, as a God, he was not supposed to have a favourite anything - yet he decided to make an exception on this one matter. Finally Theos took in Azazel's molten red hair and snow and cherries complexion. They were well suited to each other. Both his blush and his hair were a thousand different shades of unidentifiable red. The hair was every colour from ginger to burgundy and the cheeks looked as though they had been dusted oh so lightly with powder from the very surface of Mars. All in all Azazel was breathtaking.

Theos brushed off his thoughts as he noticed Azazel had finally reached his throne and was stood at the foot of it. Theos spoke with a tone of urgency.

"Do you know why you are here Azazel?" Theos' voice was the epitome of sombre and dismal.

"No," Azazel shook his head, emphasising his point. Azazel began to speak again, his tone polite and with an almost, quite impressively, hidden reverence. "Master, where are all the other angels?" Theos reigned in his amusement.

"What other angels Azazel?" Theos watched Azazel's face carefully. He seemed to be blushing over something. Theos wanted him to say it out loud.

"There must be other... surely you could not have summoned me for a private audience..."

Theos did not like that. It made it sound as though Azazel thought himself to be less important than some of the other angels were. He knew, out of all his angels, Azazel was least likely to have self esteem issues, he figured he was just reading too deeply into it. Theos raised his brow as he spoke again.

"Why not?"

Azazel's voice was now naught but a whisper.

"You... I'm alone? My Lord you have never summoned me before, not on my own, I didn't think... I..."Azazel trailed off looking slightly embarrassed.

Theos determined that now would be the best time for him to introduce his proposition. "I have something important for you to do Azazel," Theos made his expression serious. It was crucial that Azazel knew just how important this task was. "The reason I have never summoned you before is because I was saving this job for you... and you specifically."

Theos knew that he was stretching the truth. Whilst this job was indeed made for Azazel, and the idea had been playing around in his head for a while, it was just that - an idea. It was only earlier that day that Theos had decided to allow his plan to come to fruition. So indeed Azazel could not have been put on any other long term tasks, yet he still could have been summoned alone if he was required, yet he wasn't required so he wasn't summoned.

He spoke again "I think that now is the time. I know how you despair that I do nothing for my people, my human creation... so I will give them you.

"The carnage that occurs on Earth unnerves me Azazel," Theos confided "but I cannot do anything to stop it. I gave man the option of freewill when I created him. He chose, through his own free will, to eat the fruit that I forbade him to eat - because his quest for knowledge was greater than his love for me..." Theos paused for thought before continuing "And perhaps with my greatest mortal creation, came my greatest mortal flaw. It is too late now. I cannot prevent man from killing each other. I can only grant them salvation once they have done so. But how? How can I do this? Only the souls of the righteous pass into heaven, and the soul of a soldier, whether he has killed ten men or ten thousand, is stained with blood that can never be washed clean. Yet I cannot deny my sons the chance to experience eternal life in my arms. It seems I have reached an impasse with myself.

"Azazel, you will bring them to me. I can sense what you are about to say but you are terribly misguided. Whether the people of Earth celebrate me as their God or as another figurehead altogether matters not. Every religion is a means to an end. Everyone ends up in the same place and everyone finds peace; does it really matter how they do it? No. You must always try your best to remember that.

"I repent that the circumstances of your creation will forever prevent you from doing as other angels might. Perhaps the purpose that I bestow upon you is even greater. Azazel, you will be my Angel of Death." Theos allowed for that to sink in before elaborating "As an Angel of Death you will be assisting the souls of the dead in atoning for their sins so that they may be granted an honest passage into Heaven - one that they deserve," Theos was certain Azazel would want to do it. He knew Azazel had an amazing sense of morality and would only want those who were good to their very core to be allowed entrance into the gates of Theos' Golden Kingdom. Azazel felt that any other alternative was blasphemous. Theos decided that he needed to relieve Azazel of these extremist thoughts. Theos put his plans out of his head as it seemed that the angel in front of him was ready to speak. Azazel spoke only a few words, yet they carried such weight.

"I thank you my Lord for choosing me." And then Azazel spoke the two words that would make it official in the eyes of all divine beings. "I accept."

The corners of Theos' lips turned upwards, in what could be considered a smile. "Well done, Azazel" he commended. Azazel' cheeks flushed the vibrant colour of ripe tomatoes.

X

As Azazel retreated, Theos thought back to his need to show Azazel that humanity wasn't completely disgraceful; they just needed a small amount of divine guidance to help their race flourish. Theos decided he would take Azazel to the Somnia Humanitatis; the building that showcased the dreams and potential of humans. It had a garden outside that Theos intended to usurp to talk to Azazel. Satisfied with his plan, Theos stopped the first angel that walked past the doors of his hall, Gabriel the angel was called, and sent him with a message to Azazel; asking him to meet Theos at the entrance of the museum-esque.

X

The next day was sunny and bright. Few knew that the weather in heaven was directly connected to Theos' mood. It rained less than once every millennium, within heaven. Theos and Azazel met directly outside the building, after they exchanged basic small talk they ventured into the building.

The Somnia Humanitatis was the ideal place to take Azazel because it would explain how humans could be such amazing creatures, if they simply applied themselves and were given the opportunity. After taking a quick tour of the more impressive pieces, Theos and Azazel sat outside together in the exquisite gardens. Theos decided that he would give Azazel a physical demonstration about humanity and their spiritual potential

"Azazel," Theos began "I wish to show you something that should make your new job infinitesimally easier, as it should agree with your strong morals." Theos plucked a small fly out of what seemed to be thin air. "See this fly, Azazel. This fly represents a human when they first die." Theos gently tapped the fly and as they watched the fly began to glow a brilliant gold. "This fly now represents humanity after you have done your part; it is hope for the future. The common fly became a thing of beauty, a..." Theos trailed off; he saw the flame like colour of Azazel's hair and quickly continued. "A firefly if you will." Theos stood and began to walk towards one of the flowerbeds that littered the gardens. Theos pulled out a white flower and placed it in Azazel's palm. "Azazel, this is a lily. It symbolises purity. Keep it with you to remember that. I must leave now. Goodbye." Theos seemed to fade; leaving Azazel sat on the bench staring at the lily in his hand, wondering at Theos' abruptness. The firefly landed gently on the lily. Hope and purity - side by side.

Tbc.

3 – Azazel – The Work of a God

Azazel stared down at the firefly in his hand long after Theos had gone. A firefly... he liked it. The sweet little bug's abdomen radiated a light of its own, though Azazel could not see how. It was as if someone had lit a candle up its arse. His lips pulled up in an unsure smile.

All of his senses felt pleasantly warm. Why he felt like this, he did not rightly know... though he was intensely honoured to have Theos devise a whole new creation, just for him.

No. The rational part of his mind immediately intercepted his line of thought and choked it relentlessly. Azazel, surprisingly, was all about humility, even if he didn't act like it in front of the other angels. Not for you. No doubt he does this for every Angel... you are not so special. You didn't even get an audience with him until the last minute.

Thoroughly chastened, he felt his good mood deflate, and Azazel seriously considered crushing the poor insect or casting it and the flower away, but he didn't. Instead, he took some time and thought about it. Theos had used the firefly as a way of depicting humans after enlightenment had been brought to them upon their deaths – that they were dull and full of blackness until he did his work and they entered Heaven, to be enveloped by the golden glow of the Lord – but there was really no reason why they could not appreciate some small beauty in their lives right now, was there?

Azazel grinned, his green eyes dancing with vibrancy and life as he stood up and began his work, gently transferring the lily flower from one hand to the bench on which but moments before he had sat. Being very careful not to harm the insect (though no real mortal harm would come upon it other than it would just fade away) he wandered around the gardens with an almost childish glee alive in his every action. Though he was awkward at the start he soon got the hang of rounding up every fly that he could find whilst keeping the glorified of their kin safely in the palm of his left hand. One by one he suffused them with Theos' holy glow, entertaining himself with the notion that they were individual humans and he was bringing them all enlightenment in Theos' arms.

Alas, that was not to be the reality of it - but how could he have known?

Herding all of his glowing beauties in his arms most carefully, he walked them cautiously to the very precipice of Heaven, to the confused, cautious (and in some cases, pitying) looks of other Angels, where he let them go in a sudden rush, specks of Holy light in the approaching darkness.

Pleased with his efforts, he watched them float down for a while, then walked back through the Golden Gates and returned to his scrying bowl. He was in such a euphoria of pure pleasure; as far as he was concerned, he had done God's work, something that his whole existence he had been deprived of – it did not even occur to him that the fireflies may have been something exclusive, just for him. They seemed so wonderful that he just wanted to share. He also didn't notice sharp, accusing blue eyes watching him from behind a golden pillar, narrowed in suspicion and cold with dislike.

X

Azazel was bent over his scrying bowl, nose practically touching the water as he observed the fireflies and their progress throughout the world. At first he had despaired as they had dropped dead one by one like so many autumn leaves; he had even considered pulling them out altogether, until he noticed that some survived and some didn't, depending on the temperature of the place that they were in. All things considered, this pleased him.

He heard the rapid approach of tapping feet, and was about to dismiss it when the door opened. Azazel looked up, confused, and was equal parts horrified and equal parts joyous to see Theos enter in all his radiant blond glory, Gabriel scurrying in after him.

His happy feelings were instantly squashed. Theos did not look happy.

Instead he looked upset, drawn. He was not smiling – as Azazel had only ever seen him do – in that secretive, vague way that he so often did. Theos looked profoundly saddened by something, but Azazel's initial mental race to remember what he possibly could have done wrong was quickly overridden.

"M-My Lord!" he cried, "What are you doing here, in these chambers? I could have come to you, if you had called me... I am not worthy to receive you...!"

"Silence, Azazel." Yes, Theos definitely sounded... tired. "Gabriel, please leave us."

A head of sandy-brown curls bobbed in reverence, but standing behind Theos, Gabriel shot Azazel a look full to the very brim with distaste. All Azazel could do was keep his face neutral; petty squabbles were not the kinds of things to be brought up before God. Theos, white-robe-clad, wandered over and perched on the edge of an opposite table. For one moment, Azazel thought, he looked very human.

"Azazel, why do you think that I made those fireflies for you?" he asked slowly, softly.

For you, Azazel thought with an odd flush of pleasure.

"To... aid me in my understanding of the human race before and after salvation, and to... allow me to see what I can do and how I can help them?"

Azazel phrased the sentence as a cautious question, in case he had misunderstood what Theos had been trying to tell him, or what he had asked.

"Yes, Azazel, that is correct. But I made them for you, do you understand? They were made for educational, and maybe... yes, maybe even personal reasons, nothing more. Only God has the power to create life, and only He has the power to bestow it upon His creations. You gave to them something that I never intended to give. Even now the creatures have changed from mere glowing flies to a species all of their own, different, unique." He drew himself up, an angry fire lighting in his golden-beige eyes. He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Are you God, Azazel?"

Azazel could see from his tense stance and clenched jaw just how much it was costing him to keep his temper, and an involuntary bolt of fear shot up his spine. When Theos got angry, bad things happened. The earth broke open and molten tears scarred the landscape; mountains exploded with jets of liquid fire; the seas rose and waves hurled themselves mercilessly against the shore in punishment, a hundred times their average size. Azazel instantly lowered his eyes and let his hair fall forward shroud his face in a rippling curtain of copper.

"No, My Lord," he gasped. Theos' angry and disappointed tone made his blood run cold, even as a hard blush coloured his porcelain cheeks, highlighting his fine bone structure in a totally inappropriate way, given the times. Theos leaned back.

"I didn't think so. Do not do it again."

And with that, he rose to leave. He paused, one hand on the fine marble handle of the golden door. He looked towards Azazel, who kept his eyes downcast, peeking up at him just a little through his hair. Theos looked as if he very dearly wanted to say something, a soft, affectionate light filling his eyes and warming them like smooth cloudy honey, but he held his tongue.

Closing the door with a soft click, he left.

X

Azazel looked down in despair at his shaking hands. He let his breathe go in one long sigh and closed his eyes as the pinkness receded from his delicate cheeks.

You fool, he yelled in his head, as Theos should have done. You longed so hard for a meeting with the Lord and when you got one, it didn't take you two days to royally mess it up!

Azazel realised with a jolt that he was not scared, nor had he been. At least, not truly. Even in the face of Theos' potential wrath he had not been frightened – the shakes that he got, the blushes and the humility were all a product of shame, not something that Azazel had ever really felt before. He was ashamed that he had taken such liberties where there were none, believing that he had been doing God's work – ah, but don't so many believe they are doing the work of their God as they massacre and rape? - and yet... he had felt so at home around Theos, so at ease. Theos made him feel warm and happy. Theos made him feel safe. Theos made him feel love, and loved, like he had never loved or been loved before.

The scary part was, he wasn't sure it was entirely angelic.

Tbc.

4 - Theos - A Little Birdy Told Me

Theos sat in his personal chambers, assessing his earlier actions.

It had been only a few minutes since he had chewed Azazel out over his reckless and irresponsible actions, and now he was feeling increasingly annoyed - not only at Azazel, but also at himself. He was feeling a way he should not have felt. His emotions were haywire. Once again Theos was left perplexed by himself, especially by the anger he was feeling. It was almost understandable in a way, but Theos had always been quick to forgive, so why was he still feeling this red-hot heat flooding through his body?

Was it even possible that the heat was not from the anger?

Theos felt like laughing after his preposterous thought, of course it was from the anger - any other answer was inconceivable in his eyes. The annoyance Theos felt was prolonged by the fact that some of those poor insects had died. Theos' compassion must have been the reason he was so furious.

That was a plausible answer.

Theos paused for a second, reflecting, before he put his head in his hands and groaned quietly. He knew in the deepest division of his heart that he was simply explaining away his emotions. In truth Theos had no answer as to why he was feeling such bizarre things. Not only anger, but betrayal as well. Other beings - earthbound ones in particular - had done far worse than Azazel. They purposefully defied the rules he set for them to live by. In oppose to his trusted angel, Azazel, who had not been aware of the wrongs he was committing by allowing a new creature to roam the Earth without first testing it to make sure that it would not upset the natural balance, they were far worse.

This reminded the blond deity of yet another important fact. The fireflies were still loose and the little blue and green planet was completely at the mercy of those glowing bugs. The things he thought were strange yes, considering their small size and disarming appearance, but not untrue. Theos shuddered as he remembered some of the other creatures that had not been checked completely for problems.

Theos could not help but feel sorry for those poor dinosaurs. They were a mistake, yet he had allowed them to continue, to gauge their abilities. As they were of course one of his first creations, not brought forth from dust but rather pure imagination, he wanted to test his own abilities as well as theirs. He'd had to organise a full scale destruction operation to rid the planet of them and their gluttonous ways, obliterating the entire species because they'd become such a menace. He did not want to be forced into doing something so horrid ever again – yet at the rate the human race was going, Theos would be forced into taking drastic actions soon. The insects were made of a split second thought, just like the dinosaurs - so they could excrete venom from their toes for all Theos knew.

He turned to his scrying bowl and as he examined the fireflies. Watching as they seemed to provide light and hope for humans, he smiled. They would, of course, need large periods of surveillance before he could give them the all clear, yet they were doing very well.

For the time being they were safe for those around them and would not attack unless provoked, a mechanism that Theos had implanted in all of his creatures, and so Theos could go back to his mental plague. The fact was that he was confused beyond belief about what he was doing and what would now be the best course of action. He reviewed how he had come to this point.

X

He had been sat in his meeting room after conducting a quick briefing for a group of angels. It was nothing important – just them doing a quick sweep of the planets, in order to determine any problems whilst they were still in the early stages. As they were dismissed Theos got ready to leave when a young angel, Gabriel, ran in. He lacked a fair deal of the grace that other angels seemed to have, albeit unknowingly, as he stumbled his way in. Theos could not help but compare him to Azazel in his head. There was nothing particularly striking about this angel, who, unlike Azazel, was plain and had nothing to capture Theos' interest - no fiery hair or peridot eyes, just sandy curls and washed-out blues. Not even his words could stick; they were running through his head and turning his brain to mush as they did so. Then one word stood out - fireflies. His new invention. He decided to pay attention now.

"He set them free, that ridiculous one. Ababel I believe is his name. He had no right to do so." And so Gabriel went on and on in his ridiculously pompous voice, and Theos' anger escalated.

X

And the rest, as they say, is history. As he looked back on his thoughts from then he realised that he was more worried that Azazel had been harmed in his attempts to create more fireflies, rather than what Azazel intended to do with those same fireflies. And that was very, very stupid.

Theos now felt the ludicrous need to find Azazel and apologize for his harsh words, a ridiculous notion. He was GOD - he need not apologize to anybody! However, he decided to show a little Goodwill. He decided to plant the lily, which had such a meaning to him and Azazel, on the terrain of Earth. He hoped that this would be a large enough gesture for his Azazel to forgive him.

Theos sat smiling for a minute, before realising what exactly he had thought. A growl escaped his throat; it was infused with self loathing and annoyance. Azazel did not belong to him. He may have been his creation but Theos had placed values like free will into all of his subjects. Not one of them was explicitly his – Azazel included – and he refused to treat any single one of them like objects. No matter how much he found that with Azazel he wanted to. They were too important to be shown anything less than the respect they deserved.

He placed the lily and its clones on the Earth; in the forests, towns, in the gardens and in as many holy places as he could find.

After all, it was not often that a human got to view a flower blessed by God - so why not put it everywhere?

Tbc.

5 – Azazel – From Dead Things Do Flowers Grow

The air was still, and cool.

No sound broke the silence – no horses whinnies, no footfalls, no shouts. As dawn turned to day turned to dusk not a single thing moved, as the setting sun threw into profile the shadow of a sitting angel.

Azazel breathed in deeply. The sharp air was pleasantly fresh. The grass between his massaging fingers felt soft and wet. He could smell damp wood and earth and pine.

Clad in pure white robes and his new red sash, he sat upon lush green rolling hills, flanked by purple-topped mountains. A small wooden farmhouse stood in the direction he was facing, resolute. The sun left a faint golden glow on his pale skin, setting his copper hair a-flame with vibrancy. The lone figure stood up, his robes and hair and elegant kite's feathers rippling gently in the slow, lazy breeze. Anyone watching him would have thought him at peace, but inside he was not so. His mouth was turned down slightly at the corners and his eyes were saddened immeasurably. He started to walk towards the house.

He placed one hand upon the dampened door frame, the door itself torn off of it's hinges. The force of his emotions and the tearing of the fabric of his beautiful heart made tears well up, unstoppable, in his peridot eyes; he quickly turned them away. Azazel was not surprised at how quickly the poor little shack was turning back to nature.

Tilting his head slightly, Azazel took his left hand from the frame of the rotting door to cup the stem of a perfect white lily and bring it carefully to his lips, as soft as the petals themselves. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, the fragrance serving to significantly calm him down. That didn't stop tears, each one clear as a crystal, from slowly trailing their way down his face. He opened his eyes just a tiny bit and released the lily, his eyes following the main vine that had wound its way all around the meagre wooden walls of the house. Lilies – there were gorgeous white lilies everywhere.

And on and surrounding them were hundreds of dancing fireflies.

Azazel allowed a vague smile to grace his lips; this was clearly not of nature's doing. The little bugs crawled into the centre of the lilies and lit them up like so many lanterns in the approaching twilight. But there was no light strong enough, not on Earth nor in Heaven nor both combined, that could have blinded him to the sight that lay before him.

Blood stained the door and the table and the walls... it had soaked deep into the wood and the soil. Before him, three bodies lay strewn where they had been defiled, thrown haphazardly like forgotten dolls. Their blind, staring eyes watched him and every move he made, almost accusing – why couldn't you have done something to stop this? Why couldn't He have done something to stop this?

The one closest to him was the man. A single red bloodstain marred the front of his shirt, his arms flung out wide, his body draped over – and his head cracked on – the steps. He knew the little boy was somewhere, probably murdered in his crib, if he had one. The mother, she lay in the opposite direction to her dead husband, bruised and brutalized, dried blood on her lips. Her skirts were bunched up around her waist, her legs exposed, blood crusting on them, too. The top of her dress had been ripped open, baring her breasts. Green eyes stared at the ceiling from which they would never move again.

Azazel gave a hard swallow and looked away. Those eyes reminded him of his own.

But the worst – no, the worst was yet to come. The true act of savagery lay with the daughter.

Hesitantly, he walked over to her. She had cowered under the table and watched those soldiers rape her mother – and then they had dragged her out and killed her too. Tears, so like his own, were staining her bloodied cheeks, but he forced himself to look. His elegant fingers brushed a few strands of blood-encrusted hair from her temple. Her hands were still desperately clutching a ragged brown teddy-bear, and despite all of the gore, he half expected her to wake up at any moment and give laughter where there was none. This air was meant to be filled with cries of childish joy!

Reaching up to his left, he plucked a lily from its stem and laid it on her little chest that would never breathe again.

His glorious wings spread – oh! how he wanted so to hold her in his arms, coax her spirit back into her stiffening body and take the pain away! oh! how he wanted to bring her mother and father back, and her baby brother too, and sent the soldiers on another path, a path with no people on it!

He gasped, the tears truly pouring now, dropping onto her clothes and face where they left no mark. Azazel did not think that he could bear seeing the baby son.

X

After a while, he ducked outside. The silent spell had been broken, dusk's chorus finally mustering up the courage to begin singing again; he heard the chirrups of tentative grasshoppers and the furious drilling of a thousand cicadas, as if they were venting their fury through their vibrating little bodies. The air that had once been cool and clean was now marred with the stench of death and the aroma of brutality and hate, stronger than any perfume.

The mother and the father had taken the son away already. Honestly, their souls had been happy to go. The euphoria that he had seen on their faces, perhaps the euphoria of knowing that there was something better, something more, after the horror of their last few moments gave him a swell of delighted pride, and just this once, he did not feel guilty about it. But the girl had wanted to stay. She had wanted to look around for a while, and he had decided to indulge her. He had been waiting for her since mid-morning, and she was still not done, still clutching her ragged teddy-bear.

Only evil had come to this place last night.

Azazel didn't turn when he heard soft footsteps, but he recognised her presence long before she actively made herself known to him. Hesitantly, gingerly, she walked up to the angel's side as he overlooked the trees and the valley from where they were standing. Emboldened, she sidled up to him, and he wrapped one arm around his shoulders as his wings opened and stretched to surround her in the comfort of his warm feathers. He would never let her be scared again.

"Are you ready to go now?" he asked, smiling down at her, peridot eyes warm even as liquid sorrow continued to drip from his eyes. She watched him for a few brief moments, a vague, silvery shadow, not nearly as solid as he. Then she slowly nodded.

"Yes, I think I am ready to go now," she whispered quietly, clutching her teddy as if she were worried that she wouldn't be able to take it with her.

He turned so that his left wing drew her to him slightly. She gasped as he reached into the left-side of her chest, as if she expected pain, but none came. A soft golden glow seeped from the cracks in between the fingers of Azazel's clenched hand, still inside her ghostly chest that he could almost see through.

Suddenly, she gasped and through back her head to the sky as her whole form dissolved around his hand. He could feel her confusion and her fear buzzing in the air around him as her soul strived to stay close to his warm, comforting presence.

He opened his hand, and out, intuitively reaching for the Heavens, flew a single golden firefly.

X

Azazel sighed. He was back before his desk and his scrying bowl, staring at his shaking hands like he had after his visit from Theos. As he gazed into the smoking liquid, he lamented the failure of humanity and the depravity that it as a race had fallen into. And every day it was only falling further.

Since starting his newly-assigned role as an 'Angel of Death' for Theos, Azazel had seen many bad things done to humans by other humans, and he couldn't wrap his divine mind around why any creature of a certain species should feel such a desire to hurt another. Azazel didn't understand humanity's total lack of kinship. He would even hazard to say that the greatest danger humans faced were other humans themselves. Azazel was also confused because this never seemed to bother any of the angels, not even the select few (and besides him there were only about three) that had to experience the same. They weren't as moved by it as him, certainly not moved anywhere close to tears, as he was nearly every time. He couldn't understand humans, he couldn't understand angels...

He decided to stop thinking about it. It never made him happy, and he never came up with an solution to his endless questions... questions that, for once, Theos could not answer.

X

Peering around the massive golden doors and seeing that Theos was alone, Azazel strode in. The Hall was the same as it had always been; ceiling-less, vast, and with Theos at its head, usually alone. He gently closed the door behind him as best he could.

Azazel set himself down at Theos' feet, slightly off to his right, and stared inquisitively up at him. He never really did feet comfortable standing up at Theos' eye-level. It always made him blush.

To his embarrassment, he couldn't hold back a small and satisfied purr as Theos gently ran his fingers through his fiery hair. He'd grown accustomed to the feeling and decided that he liked it. Azazel was very familiar with Theos now, surprising though it was. Sometimes he came here just to find Theos and nothing else, for some company, some comfort, considering none of the other Angels really liked him... but Theos didn't seem to mind. That was good, as the first time Azazel had been babbling madly just to stop Theos from sending him away for being a time-waster. Azazel had seen him do that before.

He was busy wondering if it would be okay for Azazel to touch him back, maybe lean against his leg a little or if that would be audacious, when the great gold doors opened.

"My Lord, I-" Gabriel started, face flushed, but he stopped immediately upon seeing Azazel. His eyes narrowed considerably. Azazel shot up, causing Theos to pull his hand back sharply. The atmosphere had turned rather icy and he was quite desperate to leave.

"Sit, Azazel," Theos commanded as Azazel made to start down the steps. Incredulous, Azazel turned big round green eyes on Theos, but he didn't elaborate and said nothing. After a while he arched one brow with an amused smile and gestured with a sweep of his hand for Azazel to sit back down, so he did, making himself comfortable on the floor.

"Not there," Theos said slowly, rising out of his own chair. "I think we'll go somewhere more comfortable... perhaps, Azazel, to your room? Oh, yes, Gabriel, what is it that you have to say?"

"I..." Gabriel shot a look at Azazel, who was flushing quite marvellously, standing up behind Theos. "Nothing, My Lord," he mumbled. "Nothing that cannot wait. I can see that you are busy."

"Yes, we are."

If Gabriel was offended by the use of the word 'we' then he didn't show it, but the look that he threw Azazel was colder than ice. Azazel shivered.

"I want to know..." Theos started rather loudly. "...your opinions on Biology. I want to give humans something to test them, and maybe distract them from killing each other for just a little while. Of course, these things will be very very small, so they'll have to waste time finding a way to actually see them first... but I want to give them something to do. What good is a species if it just has everything handed to it? Where's the fun in cutting open a plant: "Oh, hm, yes, well, it seems to be made up of... well, plant... hm, there's a lot of plant here, isn't there? yes..." How boring!"

Theos chatted merrily away until they came to the door to Azazel's little personal space. Theos opened the door for him and waved him in, but as soon as the door closed and Azazel had sat down his expression turned from happy and lightly conversational to sombre and concerned.

"Now, Azazel, tell me what's troubling you."

Tbc.

6 – Theos – Guilty Pleasures

Azazel met Theos' gaze and held it for a few seconds. His cheeks did not redden as they normally did when they met Theos' timeless eyes; instead they seemed paler, as though all the blood had left his face.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Azazel said, his voice was calm, yet his eyes betrayed him - showing the emotions he could not afford to voice. Theos however was not in the slightest bit taken in by Azazel's near perfect ruse and simply crossed his arms over his chest in a stubborn gesture.

"Truly Azazel, when I ask a question I expect an honest answer. I am perfectly aware that you are lying to me and I expect it to stop this instant. Now I wish for you to tell me exactly what has happened and why it has affected you in such a way that you would be willing to tell falsehoods and mistruths to your Lord God."

Theos was perfectly aware of the effect his words would have. Azazel would not be able to stand having Theos thinking badly of him. If Theos' hypothesis was correct Azazel would be singing like a canary in no time at all – the same canary he had placed on the Earth himself, mere centuries ago.

Azazel dropped Theos' gaze. The floor had never looked so interesting. If he had looked up he would have seen the smirk that had adorned Theos' face.

Hook...

Theos began to speak again. "I notice that your discomfort intensified somewhat when Gabriel entered the room," he began.

...Line...

"I'd rather hear it from you yourself, Azazel... but of course, I suppose I could just ask him what has transpired to provoke your reaction."

…And sinker.

Azazel's head snapped up. His cheeks were ever so slightly flushed and Theos could sense rather than see the uncertainty that shrouded the angel and the determination it became.

Azazel opened his mouth to begin.

X

The subsequent conversation was a blur.

The next thing they were both consciously aware of was Azazel, wrapped in Theos' comforting embrace, as he sobbed quietly.

"It's so horrible, my Lord. The things they do to each other, their horrid, murderous crimes. Could you not stop them?"

Theos' answering sigh was regretful. "I once decided to give all of my creatures' freewill. Humans are one of the few that have decided to exploit it. I cannot take that which has already been given, nor can I ignore the plight of those who are victimised. The fact remains, I can no longer influence those who have abandoned me, nor can I offer anything more than salvation to those who do."

Theos was examining Azazel carefully. His saddened beige eyes drank in the tear stains that had made their mark upon his pallid face. Azazel's face was the picture of grief, his green eyes were miserable. Right then and there, Theos decided that as long as he was around (which was eternity after all) he would not allow Azazel to feel such pain again.

Theos turned Azazel's head into his chest and rubbed his back with gentle soothing moments. It unnerved him that he was so proficient at comforting when he had never done such a thing before. Azazel's head rose and his eyes, emphasised by the gloss of his tears, seemed to be an oasis of colour. His lips were a perfect 'cupid's bow', as he had heard it being described. Pink from his troubled biting and soft - they looked as though they would be perfect for kissing

Perfect for kissing Theos.

Such a taboo thought, yet it was welcome with an air of near relief. It was almost as though Theos had allowed some vast internal barrier, that even he wasn't aware of, to fall and the effort to hold it wasn't necessary anymore. Regaining it would be impossible. An exhilarating sensation, filled with adrenaline, flooded his body, and made him reckless.

Now Theos was no longer able to control his own body's reactions, both against his will and his sense of righteousness, Theos' head moved infinitesimally closer to Azazel's. As the distance closed so did both of their eyes. As their lips locked, although with the most gentle of pressure, a bolt of electricity swept through both of them, seeming to originate in their lips. Immediately their kiss became more heated, Theos' hands grasped at Azazel's clothes, using them to pull him closer. Azazel's own hands were tangled in Theos' shoulder-length hair, his nails scraped lightly at Theos' scalp, causing shudders in them both. The fingers of Theos' left hand grasped in Azazel's fiery locks, pulling out the black ribbon that held them together. Theos' tongue brushed against Azazel's lips, requesting permission for entrance - Azazel gave it gratefully. And thus a passionate battle for dominance ensued; their tongues warred languidly against each other. However, this battle did not last long. Azazel was able to, even in the heights of passion, recognise his Lord (regardless of how close they were) and as such yielded to Theos. Theos' tongue explored Azazel's mouth. He relished in the sweet taste that accompanied his strawberry scented breath, a fruit that Azazel had taken a liking to on Earth.

They broke away briefly for air but neither Theos' lips nor his tongue would be stifled and they continued to explore the beauty that was Azazel. His lips travelled to Azazel's jaw plucking sweet kisses along the contours. Theos took delight in the way that Azazel squirmed for him.

Theos let out a low groan. This, it seemed, was all that it took to bring clarity back to Azazel's mind. With a gasp of shock, Azazel wrenched himself away from Theos – who let out a moan of disgruntlement, almost like a small child having their new toy taken away from them. Azazel tore from the room with a swiftness and rapidity he did not even know he possessed.

Then the blond God realised exactly where he was and what he was doing. Previously his body had merely been on autopilot, satisfying the carnal needs it knew would not be fulfilled should Theos have been able to control and regulate its movements.

And so, it was with both a heavy heart and a touch of relief that Theos watched Azazel go. Yet the pain in his chest seemed to increase with every step Azazel took away from him as he realised that he did not look back.

Theos looked down at his hands; Azazel's black ribbon was still within them. He carefully brought it to his heart and held it there for a second.

Theos stood slowly. His footsteps were heavy as he left the room; his eyes took one last sweep around in an attempt it to commit to and cement in the irreplaceable memories. He turned his back on the room, no longer able to stand the sight of it; and as he did he put the mistake, for that was all that the incident could be considered, out of his mind.

X

Gabriel was a sandy haired angel who Theos did not really see much of (though he should have), so he was forced to suffer through a few minutes of boring small talk. He felt obliged to suffer through it as, indirectly of course, Gabriel was the reason that he and Azazel went to the chambers were they performed the unspeakable, yet so pleasurable, act. Though of course Gabriel didn't have to know that.

He then decided that, if he had to exchange words with Gabriel, he would make sure that at the very least the conversation was not horrendously boring. Killing two birds with one stone, he was going to make the conversation more interesting and, at the same time, find out what it was that Gabriel wanted to say to him earlier. This should also prevent him from attempting to strike a conversation with Theos again for a while – at least over angelic matters.

"So, Gabriel..." Theos began "What was it that you wanted to talk to me about earlier in the Hall of Ages?"

Gabriel looked pleased that Theos remembered. In Gabriel's not so humble opinion the reason Theos had not listened first was that he had not wanted to seem abrupt or rude to Azazel.

"Well, Master, it's about Azazel." Theos' eyes narrowed at Gabriel's tone, yet Gabriel took it all in his stride. "I am worried for him; I feel that his job as an Angel of Death is harming his already fragile mental state, if I may say so. I thought that perhaps the job should be given to a different angel, one who forms a smaller emotional connection with those he helps."

Theos could not help but think about Azazel sobbing in his arms over what he had seen. His heart broke at the mere memory of it, stifling a shudder, he excused himself from the conversation.

Now Theos was faced with a dilemma; he could not, as a ruler, take Azazel away from a post that needed him, yet he could not simply allow him to stay there as it would be morally wrong and Theos would not be able to live with the guilt if he did keep Azazel at his post, and accidentally caused the angel to suffer a mental breakdown. Azazel's mind was too brilliantly unique for Theos to let him go.

Theos made a choice. He would now go to the garden - the one place he was certain Azazel would be - in order to offer him the choice over his own fate. If Azazel felt he could do it, well then Theos would be nought but a fool to stand in his way.

7 – Azazel – Saligia Luxuria

The air was aromatic with the heady fragrance of lilies. Creeping honeysuckle and wisteria fought for space, thick grape-like bunches of violet flowers hanging down from the arches upon which they crept to gently brush the angel's copper head as he passed by. The plants hungrily consumed the pressure of his laboured breathing. The stone tiles devoured the feel of his hesitant footsteps.

He barely registered it, but the place where he had set the lily down that Theos had given him – and it seemed so long ago – had now been overtaken by a massive plant covered in lilies, a little like a lily rosebush. It had wound itself around the golden bench. He carelessly set himself down upon the edge right next to it, palms clasped serenely in his lap. His head was bowed, wild red tresses still loose and falling around his face, and his lips were swollen from kissing, slightly parted, breathing heavily still. A soft blush had set itself across his face, slowly fading. Dark red lashes curled and brushed his cheeks, eyes barely open, nothing but small slivers of green against his porcelain skin. Wings lazily opened, draping themselves across the bench that he sat on, the tip of the right one gently brushing the ground to display the mortal pattern that they bore.

In that moment, Azazel looked for all the world like an angel freshly ravished, fervently praying for his salvation.

But Azazel did not pray, for he knew that unlike so many others, his prayers would not fall on deaf ears – and he certainly couldn't have Theos know how desperately he was willing him to stay away. He didn't think that he could bear seeing Theos now, didn't think he could bear seeing shame and disappointment and regret, the same emotions that had burned a blush onto his cheeks, reflected back at him in those honey eyes he loved so much.

Azazel shivered once, hands clasped together in a pious gesture. He made no move to protect himself from the deepening chill in the air. Considering that the weather in Heaven was a direct reflection of Theos' mood, Azazel was quite worried about what exactly that chill meant.

He knew what had transpired had been a mistake, so him ending it was only Azazel doing what he knew to be necessary. As much as he would have liked to continue kissing Theos (and he would have liked to a lot) he was well aware what the fallout of that would be. Theos was clearly not in control of his own actions at that time, so Azazel had done nothing other than save them even more regret than they were both undoubtedly feeling now. Hopefully they would be able to repair whatever kind of god-angel relationship they had previously had and forget that this had ever happened.

Somehow, Azazel doubted it.

How long he sat there on the bench by himself, he did not know, only his heart started racing madly with joy and trepidation as soon as he heard footsteps on the tiles.

"I really hate you," Gabriel said, staring down at him with dispassionate blue eyes.

Azazel's eyes snapped wide open and he looked up slowly in surprise.

A nasty smile was spreading over Gabriel's perfect face, full of scorn. "I know exactly what you were doing with Theos in your room." He leaned casually against the arch leading into the garden, crushing honeysuckle heads mercilessly against his shoulder.

"So tell me, why is it that some mistake like you not only gets to be an Archangel, but also carries Theos' favour, and gets to journey to Earth so very often?" He chuckled softly, coldly. "One would almost think that you were the Messenger..." he mumbled, almost to himself.

Azazel's mouth was wide open in disbelief and confusion. "No! Gabriel, I'm not going for Messenger... I know you are, I'm not -"

"I know you're not," he snapped. "You never could be. Don't kid yourself, and don't insult me by putting yourself on my level. It doesn't matter how hard or how often you let Theos fuck you," he sneered as Azazel cringed against the vulgar words. "You'll never really matter in the grand scheme of things. You're defective. Bad. Wrong. Theos just feels bad for you because he messed you up in transit."

Azazel straightened his back up, still staring stupidly in disbelief. Normally he would've responded with one of various smart remarks, maybe even two, but he couldn't seem to get his mouth to work. Gabriel shrugged and looked away with the airs of someone who had just found something repulsive on the bottom of their shoe. When he looked back, his eyes were full of freezing blue fire, enough to burn Azazel right down to the core. The red-haired Archangel was sincerely grateful that looks could not kill.

"You should stop while you're at it, Azazel," he snarled, spitting his name like a curse. His voice dropped to a whisper. "You are leading our God to Sin... and let it be the Death of you!"

X

Gabriel was gone. He seemed to have suddenly remembered pressing business elsewhere and promptly took his leave. Azazel bared his teeth and clenched his fists, his whole body tense and angry. Each of Gabriel's remarks cut him to the bone. The seed of doubt had been planted, and in neurotic brains, the smallest of these seeds do flourish – even as the crust around Azazel's heart thickened.

Azazel had just about finished wrestling with his emotions when he heard footsteps again.

"Go away!" he roared, clenching his fists again. The footsteps abruptly stopped, but didn't retreat. "Leave me!"

"Azazel?" Theos' deep bass questioned after a few silent seconds. All of the tension and the air seemed to leave Azazel's body in one huge, long sigh. He straightened himself out, letting his wings once again unfold from their curled up position, quivering with rage.

"My Lord," he said stiffly, refusing to meet Theos' eyes.

Theos walked over and sat down next to him, forced close by the lily plant.

"Do you enjoy your job, Azazel? I know you haven't been in it very long, but... do you like it so far?"

Azazel looked at him like he had just asked whether fish could fly and trees could get up and walk.

"Of course not. I hate it. But I do what is necessary."

"So... you would like to stay in your job? You don't think that it's too much for you?"

"No." Azazel's response was stiff and abrupt, even as he seethed inside; for now he knew exactly why Gabriel had made such a hasty exit. He knew Theos been on his way!

Theos seemed to relax and stay tense at the same time. "Ah."

There was nothing companionable about the silence this time, not like there had been before.

"Talk to me," Theos said softly, leaning forward and trying to catch Azazel's eyes, which were resolutely turned away from him.

"No." Again, Azazel was so distant, so blunt. "There is nothing to talk about. Stay away from me."

Theos recoiled as though Azazel had slapped him, then stood up abruptly, the atmosphere darkening with his suddenly thunderous mood.

"How dare you," he said softly, dangerously - "I am your Lord, Your God, and you think you can talk to me like this? Do you think you can say-"

"Yes!" Azazel lurched to his feet. "Yes, I do!" he hollered in Theos' face. "You're very quick to pull the 'God' argument out of the bag, aren't you, My Lord? Don't treat me like an equal and then tell me I'm not!" he cried. Theos had stopped, dumbfounded, but Azazel was working his fiery self into a rage and there was no stopping him as all of his emotions spilled out into his furiously heated words. "Is that why you were kissing me? Were you kissing me because you liked me or were you kissing me because you could, because you made me? Because you have that right? Because I'm not allowed to fight back? How dare you think that you can do those things to me, and then just turn around and try to... Just because you aren't compassionate towards your own creations, just because no other angel is doesn't mean I'm not..." he snarled at him through gritted teeth, wings open and angrily twitching. "Yes sir, no sir... would you like me to massage your feet, sir? How about kiss your arse, sir? Should I lick your boots? How about I bring you an Azazel to play with sir, to amuse you with his petty feats and his pretty kisses? But no! Don't treat him like an equal, like he's worth something, he might get the wrong idea! This is what is best... you don't know... you'll regret this and then I'll be -"

Azazel's tirade was quite suddenly cut off as Theos' lips came down on his, hard, one hand tangling in his hair and anchoring their faces together in a punishing kiss that was just a touch violent. His wings fluttered softly with pleasure as all of his anger translated into hot passion. Azazel didn't even try to push him away as Theos' other hand snaked around his waist and pulled them flush together, Azazel's hands trapped against his broad heaving chest.

"Don't tell me I don't know, Azazel, and don't tell me I'll regret it. If this is a mistake, then it's mine to make... and one I'll make willingly if it means a night with you, you beautiful angelic fool."

Azazel's breath came in short, strawberry-flavoured gasps. Panic threatened to overwhelm him as the words if it means a night with you registered in his lust-addled brain, but his thoughts were quickly driven away by Theos' mouth reclaiming his own. The kiss was dominant, but this time, Azazel fought back, nails scraping along Theos' scalp and clutching at the back of his robe trying to pull them together tighter. Theos' low growl sent something shocking and primal racing deep down to the bottom of his gut, something that wouldn't have been there if Theos had made him right, but oh, he was glad it was.

Theos thrust his tongue into Azazel's mouth and he gave a sensual moan, trying to climb him like a spider monkey. The taller man tasted wonderful, a lot like melted bitter chocolate and mint, dark and luxurious yet strangely fresh – completely Theos.

They pulled away from each other, fighting for air, missing the comfort of each other even though they were still clinging together for dear life. Theos rested his forehead against Azazel's and bit the Archangel's bottom lip, pulling on it and sucking it into his mouth. Azazel jerked with surprise.

"Where does a God learn tricks like that?" he whispered breathily. Theos smiled.

"I made humans, remember?" he murmured. "I've learned a lot from them, though this pleasure is so good I may have to outlaw it so that we can save it just for ourselves."

"Only if we get to do it right now," Azazel insisted, getting rather fidgety as he clasped his hands at the nape of his lover's neck.

"That's a bit of a switch."

"Shut up," Azazel insisted, and kissed him again.

X

Azazel gave a small, surprised 'oof' as Theos pushed him backwards onto the king-sized four-poster bed that dominated the room. Pale green sheets bunched up under his hands as he admired Theos' fine form, even with his clothes on.

"Won't someone hear us?" he asked softly, feeling suddenly quite sick with nerves. Theos smiled and shook his head.

"No. No angels come back here. This is my private room, though as I'm sure you can imagine I don't frequent it often."

"But-" One finger across Azazel's pink sculpted lips stopped him.

"Shhh," Theos purred. Azazel quite happily complied.

He hummed softly as Theos tilted his head up with a finger crooked under his chin. Their soft kisses quickly turned hungry, and Azazel gave a noise of frustration as Theos pulled away.

Two firm hands on his shoulders pushed his robe down to pool around his hips. Azazel gasped, biting his bottom lip, head still pushed upwards as the air caressed his skin. One large hand belonging to Theos travelled lazily down the planes of his well-defined chest to linger around his hip before delving beneath the robe. Azazel gasped.

"Mmmhm, what do we have here?" he asked playfully, fingers wrapping around Azazel's stiffening flesh. He flicked the tip with his thumb and laughed as Azazel's hips jerked, hands massaging the sheets. Red hair tumbled down pale shoulders and Theos bent forward to bury his face in it, drinking in Azazel's intoxicating fragrance, both hands slowly touching in places that had never been touched before. Exploring slowly.

Azazel's gasps were coming quicker now, and he had almost reached full hardness as Theos pulled him from base to tip and back again. He mouthed one rosy nip, and Azazel's hand reached up and cradled the back of his head and held him there.

Theos took a step back, ducking out of his lover's hold. He unclasped the brooch that held his robe in place at the shoulder and casually let it drop, watching Azazel's pupils dilate wildly and his breath quicken. Darkened green eyes drank in Theos' perfection hungrily, from his broad shoulders to his exquisite musculature and hard, bare chest.

Azazel would have to remember that Theos didn't use underwear.

He stood out erect from a nest of golden curls, just a few shades darker than the ones on his head. Azazel reached out his arms and, pulling Theos to him, nuzzled his lower stomach around his navel. His hands rested just above his buttocks from behind. Theos' member poked him under the chin and, almost without thinking, he opened his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the head.

Theos' pained groan made him jerk back with surprise, but one strong hand caught his shoulders and urged him forward. Honey eyes watched him intently.

Though repulsion almost stopped him – he was about to take another man's genitals in his mouth – along with a good dash of common sense, he decided that he might as well. Actually, Theos decided for him by insistently pushing his hips forward until Azazel's lips were at the tip of him. He dropped his jaw and took the head into his mouth, murmuring at the surprisingly clean taste. It was smoother than he expected. His tongue started to target various bundles of nerves as one hand cupped and fondled the rest of him, the other pulling Theos ever closer, but Azazel was careful not to take too much.

He played with him for a while, sucking softly, bringing Theos to the brink and back again until he pinched one sensitive nipple and growled.

"Don't be such a torturous bitch, Azazel," he growled huskily, gathering him up and chucking him onto the main body of the bed, where he bounced softly. Theos climbed on top of him, one hand on either side of his head, blocking him in. He rubbed his chin and close-cropped beard across Azazel's chest lightly, kissing his skin as he went until he got to his mouth. Their bodies rubbed together lazily, and two fingers walked their way down Azazel's body until, quite suddenly, Theos hoisted Azazel's legs up high and rubbed those fingers against his perineum. Sheets wound around the red-haired angel's hand like a silken fist whilst his tapered nails played along Theos' strong broad back.

He pressed his forehead to Theos', their noses touching, eyes closed. "Theos," he whimpered softly as the blond man's fingers played around his entrance.

"It won't hurt," he whispered, "Not much."

Azazel's brow lifted and a nervous smile crept onto his face, but Theos missed it, as he was busy rummaging around in a chest of drawers beside them. He pulled out a clear crystal vial of clear liquid, about the size of Azazel's thumb.

"Why do you have that?"

Was that a blush he saw? "I... liked the smell. It reminds me of you."

With that, he popped the small cap and the smell of lilies wafted out from the little vial. He poured some of the oil onto his hands and slicked up his fingers and, despite his need Azazel felt a hard ball of worry settle in his gut.

One finger circled his entrance and then slowly pushed. Theos bent his head and suckled and nibbled on one of Azazel's nips. The feeling of a finger inside him was... odd, to say the least, slightly uncomfortable but overall not painful. He could feel Theos curling his finger but didn't know why – Theos added another finger. He stroked the walls of his insides, soft and warm. Azazel was starting to feel a little awkward-

"Oh!" he gasped as Theos tentatively brushed something inside him that sent little bolts of pleasure running up his spine. He bit his bottom lip. "Mmmm..."

"Again?"

"Yes," Azazel moaned. "Please."

His fingers feathered across his prostate again – he was careful not to push it too hard – and Azazel gave a soft 'uh'. A wicked filthy smile pulled up the corners of Theos mouth, and he continuously stimulated him until he had Azazel writhing against the bed covers.

He used some more of the lily oil to cover his penis, gazing down passionately at his debauched lover. Azazel's body was flushed, hands knotted in the covers, lashes brushing his cheeks as he wriggled, wanting something more. The feeling of Theos pulling his fingers out left him empty.

"Hmm," he mumbled, frowning slightly, throwing his head back, red hair fanning out over the pillows like a flame. His wings fluttered nervously, falling over the edge of the bed they were so large spread out. His eyes clenched shut as the pressure and the pain of Theos entering him intensified the more Theos pushed. He bore down as much as possible, taking long, deep breaths, but he had completely lost his erection. Theos wrapped a strong, safe arm around his chest and underneath him, capturing his kiss-bruised lips whilst the other hand played him to hardness again. Azazel turned his head to the side, more than a little relieved that Theos was all the way in, as Theos trailed warm kisses down his neck. He cried out softly as Theos sucked on the tender flesh of his throat, marking, claiming. The feeling of him, all the way inside... it made him feel strangely full, and not entirely pleasurable, but he could tell that Theos liked it by his hot moans and grunts, which he supposed was good enough. Theos drew back his hips and sank back in with a groan.

Theos raised himself up and skilfully manoeuvred one one of the numerous pillows under Azazel's hips, then gave another long, drawn-out thrust.

"Unnnhh," he moaned incoherently. Whatever Theos had been doing before with his fingers was intensified ten-fold. "Ah!"

Theos lowered himself down and took his mouth, eating up Azazel's mewls and cries. Azazel's long legs wrapped around his strong hips and pulled him closer. Azazel's feathered brushed against Theos' bare skin, raising goosebumps there and making him shiver.

"Theos," he whispered. "You're going to sl-oh!-w. I'm not made of glass. I want more." he commanded with a determined glare.

Theos grinned. "I think you'll regret saying that."

"Good," he gasped as Theos snapped their hips together. "Make me regret it."

Theos purred and, spreading wide open his legs, slowly increased speed. Azazel sneered at him, a look that clearly said is that all you got?

Until Theos really sped up.

He kept up a punishing pace, leaving Azazel gasping for air as if he'd been winded – he could feel more than see sweat running from every open pore as Theos thrust against him. He changed pace from wild and fast to tortuously slow, until he felt Azazel respond around him.

Azazel clenched violently, head thrown back as stars danced behind his eyes. He screamed soundlessly, his orgasm grasping him too hard to make any sound above a few ragged gasps. Liquid ecstasy rushed through his veins as all the pressure in his lower stomach released in a flood of pleasure so strong it took everything to stay conscious. Although Azazel thought Theos would stop, Theos kept taking him, flipping him over so that his rear end was in the air and his shoulders pressed flush to the bed. Theos held one arm firmly pinned to his back between his wings, massaging the sensitive junction between feathers and back, and took him, all of his earlier sweetness gone – Azazel was getting exactly what he'd asked for. Theos was practically snarling, which was really kind of scary.

"Can you come again, lover?" Theos asked, growling wordlessly into his ear.

"Uh-huh" Azazel mumbled against the pillows, his penis already at half-mast again between his legs. He gasped.

Theos reached down to grab him roughly, jerking him hard.

"Oh! Oh! Oh Dear Lord – ohhhhh," he cried and suddenly fell silent, gasping for air as he came, splattering the soft sheets below him with his release. It only took a couple more thrusts before Theos joined him, flooding Azazel's insides with the searing heat of his come.

X

"'Oh Dear Lord'?" Theos asked with an affectionate smirk on his face. Azazel groaned and nuzzled into his armpit. They had moved over to the other side of the bed, the side that Azazel had not soiled. Azazel was resting in the crook of Theos' arm, the smaller man cushioned by Theos' side, head resting against his chest. Azazel's wings enfolded them both in glorious downy softness.

"Shut up," he snapped again.

They fell asleep in each other's embrace – and neither of them could have been happier.