The slam of the front door made Lynsael jump up from the couch. It’d been three hours since Blaine left in search of a new guitarist. Three hours, and Lynsael hadn't accomplished much. But by the look on the man's face, things were looking better.
“Any luck?” Lynsael asked.
Blaine peeled his coat away from around his shoulders. “Sort of. Thank god my buddy down at the tattoo shop knows a guy looking for a band.”
“So everything is okay now?” Lynsael strode close to Blaine.
“Well,” Blaine sighed. “Tomorrow we're going to have to practice for a few hours and go over the set with the guy.”
“At least you found someone.” Lynsael attempted to wrap himself around Blaine as the man's face softened. He leaned close, needing to feel those lips on his, but Blaine slid away from him. Lynsael suckled in his lower lip, not sure why the man didn't want to kiss him.
“What about you, did you find out anything about the statue?” Blaine sighed, as he meandered into the living room, kicking off his canvas shoes by the side of the wall, and crashing down on the couch.
“No, I...haven't.” Lynsael followed him. Of course, now that Blaine had something more important to focus on, he wouldn't have the time to help Lynsael.
“I'm sorry I can't help you with this right now, Lyn. It's just that the band is really—“
“More important?” Lynsael sighed.
Blaine closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the couch. He nodded, lips drawn into a fine line.
Lynsael scooted closer and cupped Blaine's cheek in his hand. “It's okay. I know the band is important to you.”
Blaine's eyes popped open. He turned towards Lynsael. “But y-you're important to me too, Lyn.”
Lynsael's heart thumped, threatening to lodge itself into his throat. After so long, was Blaine feeling the same as he did? He thought it was a miracle against his better judgment.
Words stuck on his tongue as he stared into Blaine's serious brown eyes. His lips began to tremble, and as he opened his mouth to let the words tumble out, Blaine leaned into him, stealing his lips instead.
Lynsael melted under the sudden needy caress. He wrapped his arms around Blaine, pulling him even closer; his naked chest pressed against Blaine's rough work shirt. The bitter scent of grease and sweat wafted from the man, but he didn't care. If he couldn't voice those words, he could kiss Blaine with just as much passion.
His hands traveled down Blaine's back and held on. He kissed deeply, enjoying Blaine's taste. But moments into the embrace, Blaine pulled away and yawned.
Leaning back into the couch, Blaine stretched his arms high over his head. “Tired.”
“Did you try to watch television at all?” Blaine asked, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.
“A little bit,” Lynsael said. “But there wasn't anything on.”
“Oh.” Blaine left the remote on his lap. His eyes strayed towards the statue. “Ar-Are you just as lost about what happened as I am?”
Lynsael sucked in his lower lip, again. He should have known more. Should have understood what had happened, but everything about the situation led to more confusion. He didn't want to think of it. Instead, he leaned against Blaine's warm shoulder.
Blaine smiled. Staring out at the black television screen, his eyes slowly shut.
“Blaine?” Lynsael whispered.
In hopes he could persuade Blaine into the bedroom, Lynsael grasped hold of his hand, and slid off the couch to his feet. He lowered his eyes, trying to coax him through a lustful gaze, wishing he could enchant Blaine with his eyes.
“What do you have on your mind?” Blaine stood, an innocent smile on his lips, letting Lynsael tug at his arm.
Lynsael remained quiet as they passed through the bedroom door, and towards the bed. He snatched up the bottle of lube on his way by, and then pushed Blaine on the bed, watching as he tumbled down to his ass, catching himself with his hands. What a wonderful position to land in.
Slowly, Lynsael knelt over Blaine, his skin tingling with desire, and he grasped at the bottom of Blaine's shirt, yanking it up and over his head. Once Lynsael had thrown it to the floor, he slid his fingers across Blaine's broad chest and up to his nipples. He leaned in to lick one, watching it pebble.
Strands of dark hair slipped over Lynsael's shoulders as he drifted against Blaine's taut stomach. He caressed the soft hair that continued under Blaine's slacks, before grasping the button that held them up and wrenching them loose. Blaine moved his hips, helping Lynsael to ease them around his ass and down to his knees.
Lynsael licked his lips at the sight of Blaine's cock, already dripping with pre come. His own cock quivered, painfully rigid. Without a word, he took Blaine's length into his mouth, tasting that bitter, yet arousing, release on his tongue.
Blaine writhed underneath him; his hips twitched. He tried to thrust into Lynsael's mouth, but Lynsael pulled away, and tightened his grasp on the base of Blaine's shaft. “Naughty.” Lynsael smiled.
“Lyn, I...” Blaine hissed.
A grin broke through Lynsael's lips. He needed to see Blaine like this, with his hands gripping the sheets and his face so needy to Lynsael's wanton desires.
He continued to circle Blaine's cock with his tongue, before taking his length into his mouth again, sucking and rocking faster. A hand in his hair, and Lynsael looked to see Blaine's arm reached out, watching Lynsael's ministrations.
“Lyn…” Blaine hissed as Lynsael traveled a hand to his balls, and rolled them in his hand.
The ache in Lynsael's own rigid cock grew. He needed Blaine inside; wanted to feel his length thrusting deep. He grabbed the bottle of lube from the bed and he flicked his thumb across the lid, trying to pop it open. A rustle on the bed, and Blaine had propped himself on his elbows, watching as Lynsael fought with the lid.
“Come here.” Blaine smiled and reached for Lynsael, who eased himself on top of Blaine, straddling his hips.
Their lips pressed tight against each others; mouths opened and tongues darted in. Lynsael felt Blaine's rigid cock thump on his inner thigh, and the bottle slipped from his hand. Blaine embraced Lynsael and rolled to his side, pinning Lynsael in place. Though his right wing began to ache, he didn't care, the heat from Blaine's taut body had his thoughts spinning, and he could stay just like that.
Blaine's smooth hand darted between them and grasped his hard prick. A moan escaped him as Blaine began to stroke. He felt the heat of Blaine's cock thrust against his, and he flicked his eyes open to see Blaine's fingers wrapped around them both.
The thought enticed him, and he started to move his hips in sultry time; Blaine's grip gliding across his rigid length. He felt Blaine's racing heart beat through his skin, and he laid his head into Blaine's shoulder in shear defeat.
Blaine dotted his neck with kisses, and Lynsael heard the same chorus of moans protrude from Blaine's lips, his heavy breath wafted through Lynsael's hair as he began to suckle on Lynsael's neck.
With their bodies pressed tight, the scent of musky sweat and desire, and the wanton moans of both men, Lynsael could barely keep it together. Another thrust, and he felt the hot, stickiness of Blaine's release dot his stomach.
Lynsael tightened his arm around Blaine as he felt Blaine's cock slip from his grasp. He rocked his hips, the need seizing his stomach, and down his thighs. As Blaine stroked faster, the ache in his balls increased until the warmth of his come mixed with Blaine's on both of their stomachs.
With a huff of satisfaction, Blaine pressed his lips to Lynsael, and then clutched his sides tight and rolled to his back with Lynsael in his arms. His hands traveled to cup Lynsael's ass, and there was another twinge of anticipation rolling through Lynsael's spine.
But, before Lynsael could reach for the cool bottle of lube that had rolled against his knee, Blaine's eyes opened wide in shock.
Blaine broke their kiss, and reached down beside them. In his fingers, another lost feather. He held it up for Lynsael. “Maybe we should take a look at what's going on.”
Lynsael snapped up. They both scanned the bed around them, and noticed several feathers scattered across the mattress.
“This,” Lynsael picked up a couple of feathers, his voice shaky. “can't be happening.” He pulled away, and gathered up every feather that had fallen across the bed. “I-I'm losing my wings.”
“They are a little shorter today,” Blaine said as he sat up.
“Do you know what this means?”
Blaine sat stock-still, and quieted. Lynsael hated the silence, if they would have begun to investigate on the first day, Blaine would have known instead of sitting there with a blank stare on his face.
“I'm turning human,” Lynsael gasped.
“Isn't that what you wanted?” Blaine asked suddenly, the question made Lynsael freeze.
It was something he had thought of a lot. To become human and live with Blaine. Would could it be like? From the time that the little boy was born into his mother's arms, he'd watched Blaine grow, and dreamed of the day he could walk beside him, and love him.
Still, the thought of living in the mortal world scared him. There were things out there beyond the comfort of the apartment that he'd only watched from the Palace. Things about human's that he'd struggled to comprehend.
Blaine sighed a heavily, and pulled Lynsael close to him. He settled into the warmth of Blaine's chest; he felt his worry dissolve.
“Lyn, it'll be okay,” Blaine said and Lynsael buried his head against Blaine's chest. Blaine pulled back Lynsael's hair behind his ear; his hand trailed down the small of Lynsael's back, and he tightened his arm around him. “What kind of trouble did you get yourself into, anyway?”
“You don't wanna know,” Lynsael breathed into the man's skin.
“Was it that bad?”
Lynsael nodded. “You know, I go on and on about purity and maintaining virtue, but I've lost mine a long time ago. I... he was a friend, a fellow angel, who angered me, and I—“
“You killed him?”
“That's a really harsh way of saying it,” Lynsael huffed. The memory ran through his thoughts; he'd always hated that term but what else could it be called? “But...I just couldn't believe he'd blamed me for—”
Blaine sat up promptly and scooted away to the edge of the bed. “I can't believe it. I mean, you're so gentle.”
“Blaine, it was an accident. It just happened.” Lynsael crawled towards Blaine, but the horrified look in his face made him stop.
“Murder doesn't just happen, Lyn.”
“So now you're going to blame me too?” Lynsael slid off of the bed and hovered over Blaine.
“I'll have you know that there was a very good explanation for why I did what I did.”
“Really? Then what is it, Lyn?”
He couldn't find the words. What he had done hadn't quite been the accident that he'd claimed, but he'd never meant for it to happen either. For a moment, his reasoning shattered. There was no excuse for what he'd done, even if it led to him being here with the man he'd always dreamed of.
“I-I-don't,” Lynsael struggled with his emotion, feeling as if he didn't deserve to be here at all.
“It's really hard to explain.”
“Fine,” Blaine huffed. He gathered up his comforter and scooted off the bed on to his feet. “Don't tell me. At least I know why I've had such shitty luck, my guardian angel is corrupt.”
“That's not—” Lynsael tried, but it was too late. Blaine had already disappeared out of the bedroom door.