i_vanquish_evil | Otherways -

He grins.

"Well, it is a lovely touch. I'm afraid I'm preoccupied with something else, however. Dreadfully sorry."

And perhaps he's lying a little bit because one hand reaches back and inserts itself rather snugly into the back pocket of the pants while the other smooths along his chest.

"Yes, I can see that." And he rolls his shoulders back, letting himself be touched by hands so familiar, it's like they never left.

"You want to finish what Isabel started?" he asks, stroking a hand through reddish-blond hair.

"And what do you want me to call you?" Which may seem an odd question, but somewhere in his brain it makes sense.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

He gives an impish little smile.

"I can't believe you used it."

"Same which - finish or my name?" and there's a wicked little grin on his face.

He starts working on the buttons on ~~Stephen~~ Carl's shirt, then raises his eyes to meet his and raises an eyebrow.

"In a hurry. Bad day. Only thing that came to mind. Probably should thank you for it. But..." he leans in to whisper against those familiar lips again, "in here, with you, I'm Gabriel." And he kisses him, firm and hot.

"And here...I'm Carl."

And it's the first time he's spoken the name aloud but it feels just fine on his lips, as normal as Stephen. Gabriel, however, feels best.

In every way possible.

"Remind me, Gabriel. For God's sake, remind me."

[ooc: and off to Chorale I go to finish this later]

The name - from that face, that voice, even though it's been twinged with an accent a little different from the one before - it's still him.

"Always." He smooths his hands over the fine muscles of chest and abs and sides, pulling him closer to reach his back and shoulders as he leans in to nibble up the line of his neck, tasting the all-too-familiar skin, to his jaw, biting gently at his chin before meeting his lips again. Then he whispers words he hasn't spoken in seventy years... "I love you." And he means them - more than anything he's ever said, ever meant.

"And you're well aware I love you as well." Nine words when three would do...but that's Carl.

And he's as quiet as usual, because Carl's cell was small and in a hallway with many others which meant often that they would have to keep things down. And he's as responsive as usual, a true hedonist...but now it's Gabriel. Every touch upon him is more and everything is perfect and...

"Gabriel, I swear, badly, but that's not the point, but I do swear if you do not take me right now on this bed right this instant, you'll never hear the end of it..."

Half to himself, as he works at removing Carl's pants, "I probably won't anyway, but I'll live."

"However, if you're in that big a hurry, you could help."

Nimble fingers once used to small mechanisms, now used to careful pages and catalgues, flit out, deftly undoing Gabriel's pants and jamming them down his hips in an insant. The shirt is gone, leaving him sweet, familiar skin that he takes the chance to taste first thing, tongue sliding deftly around a nipple before a line of kisses brings him to the other. Arms snake around Gabriel, herding him towards the bed and eventually onto it where they immediately get to work removing the pants the rest of the way.

He thought for a second about just watching him, but that would've been bad. So, he helps - until lips touch his skin and it's all he can do to stand. "God yes." And they're on the bed and the clothes are gone and hands are touching everywhere.

Gabriel rolls them over and kisses his way down Carl's body - tasting every inch of skin along the way, lingering over taut nipples and the smooth lines of well-defined abdominals. It truly has been far too long. Just at the line of Carl's hips, he looks up at him with a wicked grin, "Think you can reach the table while I'm doing this?" And he casts a glance at the table by the bed, before ducking his head and trailing his tongue over the length of Carl's cock, hands resting on the slender man's hips.

"I-I-I-I can reach when you're not, oh God, dis-dammit, Gabriel-tracting me so goddamn well..."

And his hand reaches out, snagging the small tube victoriously before holding it out obediently for Gabriel.

His hands...his hands are perfect and his face, his everything. Everything.

He glances up again. "Hold on to... wait..." He plucks the tube from Carl's hand and places it on the bed - nearby. "I'm not done yet." That wicked grin is back as he moves just a few inches more and licks at the tip before sliding the head between is lips. He's mostly doing this to be an ass, but also because - dear, God it's been forever. He watches Carl's face... and it feels so very good to think of him that way... as he takes him all the way in and pulls back slowly.

"Gabriel, you're a wicked wicked man and if I ever GOD said differently I was a fool and I love you ever so FUCK ever so DAMMIT ever so much..."

And he can't help the slight movement of his hips, nor the hand tangling in Gabriel's hair, Gabriel's hair, nor his eyes as they roll back in his head. But he shakes it off a little to look into Gabriel's eyes, his eyes.

"You've...picked up some tricks in seventy year, haven't you?"

He shudders then and falls back onto the bed, happy to let Gabriel tend to him.

He looks up and twitches his eyebrows in a gesture that seems to mean 'one or two, yeah'. And he loves the fingers in his hair and the hips moving against him and the fact that Carl's nearly incoherent. He grins a bit as he pulls away and just stares at the man laying on his bed.

"Dear God, you are beautiful to look at." And he smooths one hand over Carl's abs as his other hand is occupied elsewhere - one slicked finger sliding in, smoothly, gently.

"And you are allowed to talk. Fuck, yell if you want." And there's another look that says 'if you don't, I'll do my damnedest to make you'.

"Sorry...old habits die...hard. Besides..."

And there's a look that says 'it really would be rather nice if you tried your damndest to make me talk'.

And his body arches as the finger slips in, a little cool, slick, perfect. Perfect perfect perfect. Right.

A soft cry, no more than a whimper, escapes him then as Gabriel's hand on his skin slides to his movements. He rocks back then, onto the finger inside of him, his eyes closed as he bites his lip.

Just about the time he thinks Carl's used to the one, he inserts a second finger, stroking slowly; his other hand still tracing nothing-patterns over his skin, down his leg, distincly staying clear of certain areas - for now.

And he shudders, unable to do much else as he feels those hands on him, those fingers inside of him, Gabriel's breath along his skin. The teasing is horrible and as he almost brushes against Carl, he lets out a choked and silent cry.

And a third finger joins the first two, just long enough to be enough, then he passes a hand over himself, slicking just enough. He settles his free hand on a hip - Carl's hip and presses in - slowly, closing his eyes to feel, remember every sensation, every part of this moment.

One hand still on Carl's hip, the other trails lightly over his leg as he pushes all the way in, as he leans forward, tongue trailing all the way up Carl's body to his neck, his hand following, only up the side and over an arm, out to lock their fingers together.

And his mouth opens, but no sounds comes out as his eyes flutter and his hands fist in the sheets of the bed. Everything. Everything is so perfect and right and he feels as if he's going to explode right now from all of it.

The gentleness of Gabriel's hand as he entwines it with Carl's makes it even more perfect. Stephen's never really made love. Fucking, surely. Sex, whenever possible. But this, this connection, this rightness, this love is something he'd always wanted that he never thought he'd get.

Gabriel. Gabriel in him.

The rest of the world could go to hell.

He starts to move, slowly. The hand resting at Carl's hip slides down his leg to draw it up around his own hip, holding it there.

He licks and nibbles at Carl's neck, up to his ear. "Move with me," he whispers, tugging at an earlobe with his teeth.

He rubs his thumb over Carl's hand, keeping their hands linked. He's not planning to let go any time soon.

It's not a conscious decision on his part. It's only natural, only the way things were and the way things will be again that he rocks in time with Gabriel, that they're utterly in sync, that everything is the way it should be.

With a smile, Carl leans up and nibbles at Michael's neck, along the bitemarks and down the shoulder. Tongue flicking out, he covers the same trail on the way back with little licks and kisses before going a little farther out along the jaw to draw Gabriel into a kiss.

It is right. It's right and perfect and everything it should be. The moving, the nibbling, the kising - all of it.

He kisses back, slow, hot, passionate, full of wanting and need and love. How very much he does love this man.

"Touch me. Everywhere," he tells him, wanting to feel that other hand tracing the scars - everything.

And the first place his hand goes is the scars, the ones one must touch, and he slides around them once before touching. His hand is moved by a thrust and he starts again, skirting around the shoulders, tracing scars and lines of muscle and curves with shaking fingers and blind eyes.

"Everywhere. Everything. Perfect.

"Gabriel..."

He moans at the touch of Carl's hand on the scars. For the first time since he started getting his memories back, there is no pain and no 'nothing' (which is what Isabel's touches there felt like - nothing - alien powers); it's very sensual and he loves it.

He bites at Carl's chin. "Do that again," he mumbles against his jaw. "Only like it when you do it." He kisses along said jaw, to his neck and down his chest to lick at a nipple before moving back up for a firm, deep kiss.

His hand is there again, tracing them, stroking them, across them gently, the semi-rough pads of his fingers soft and firm and warm against the scars.

"I better be the only one doing it, Gabriel. I...don't...ugh...share well."

"No one else can. Hurts like the devil."

And there's another moan, deep and slow. "Damn."

He traces lines over Carl's face with the tip of his nose, to his ear again. "What do you want me to do to you?" as he pushes in, deep, but slow; pulls out and repeats the action - over and over. And if feels so very good and more than right.

"I always liked it slow...always wanted it slow...with you."

And he continues to play at those scars, at others, along Gabriel's skin, relearning the landscape with new eyes and new hands.

"Slow is good. God, how the fuck did I survive seventy years without you?"

And he can feel himself getting close - very close. "Do I need to touch you?" He will - wants to if it's necessary. It's Carl. A little different, but it's him. He can feel it - deep in his soul.

"The same way...guh...you survived...aaah...everything else. Dumb luck."

And he's so close himself, but...

"Touch...me."

And he laughs against Carl's neck. "You are... mmmm... touching me... ahhh... right? Not so... mmmm... lucky."

He does, he slides the hand from Carl's leg - not releasing the other hand - to reach between them and wrap around his cock, stroking smoothly in time with his thrusts. "Mmmm... oh, God... missed this."

"Yes...well...I'm not..mmmm...disple-e-e-eased to...see it...mmmm...returned...either."

And his body is shaking and his hips are rocking and it feels very much like it's been seventy years since he's done this, since he's felt this right and complete and utterly pleasured.

"Gabriel...Gabriel...Gabriel...God...uh...love you..."

And he closes his eyes, sighing and moaning against familiar skin at the sound of those words from him.

He nips at skin, along the neck, over the jaw to meet lips again, where he whispers, "Come with me," and kisses him again. "Please," and it's not begging, it's a request, a desire. He wants it - wants him - loves him - needs him.

"Of course."

And he's so very close, holding on by the barest of threads, holding on for him.

He turns his head to claim Gabriel's mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss.

Carl won't have to hold on much longer - or, you know - at all.

He holds the kiss for a moment, breaking it only when he thrusts in one last time, orgasm shuddering through his body.

The last thrust...and he comes as Gabriel does, mouth opening in a shuddering scream that sounds vaguely like the name of the man inside of him, except that it's a rather frantic scream and thus, not as articulate as Carl would normally be. He throws his weight to wrap his arms around Gabriel and pull him foward, on top of him, kissing him.

It may not be articulate, but he knows what Carl screamed - knows as if it had been whispered, slowly, in his ear - and it sends a tingling shiver down his spine. He braces an arm against the mattress as he's pulled down, controlling the motion a little, but following the kiss, his other hand still nestled between them, around Carl.

He pulls back to touch light kisses to Carl's lips, whispering endearments in some form or another.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you, you utterly infuriatingly irreplacable man? Do you realized the nights I've spent remembering, dreaming, seeing you at night?"

Another kiss, slow and needy and a little scared Gabriel will disappear as his arms wrap tightly around him.

"Only if it's anything like the recurring dreams I've been having for the last seventy years."

He shifts his own arms, wrapping them around him, rolling them over so Carl can kiss him all he wants. "I'm not going anywhere." One hand slides up to hold Carl's head against him as he kisses him again, long, slow, deep, wanting.

He blinks.

"Well...I suppose you win, then, but it was still bloody infuriating from my end. And at least you knew what was going on. I didn't know why I was utterly obsessed with hats and jackets and...tablesaws and monsters and demons and all of that for years. Thought I was mad...and not only that, doomed to be alone the rest of my life."

And he kisses him again, holding on desperately.

"Never leaving you, you know. There's no bloody way to get rid of me now, you realize. Bloody infuriating irreplacable man."

And then he shuts up to kiss Gabriel.

And he has to laugh. The seventy years were hell-ish, but he did have a bit more information. And hearing Carl say he was obsessed with hats and table-saws is amusing.

"How long?" he asks, just as he's kissed. "How long did this go on?"

And he knows about the 'alone'... oh so well.

"I don't want to get rid of you. Unless you annoy the hell out of me - then you're gone," but he's smiling and kissing and dear God, it's amazing.

"I won't."

And it's very small and very scared.

"Please don't say that, Gabriel. Please."

And that hurts worse than anything - that he's scared him. He shakes his head and kisses him - lips, eyes, cheeks, chin. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I won't... never. I couldn't bear it if you left me again." He draws him down for a soft, sweet kiss. "I love you... I never want you to leave." And he kisses him and waits.

"I'm not made of glass, and you're well aware that I enjoy a good duel of words, Gabriel...but not about that. Not so soon."

And he kisses him again before tucking his head under Gabriel's chin.

"I didn't mean it." He yawns. "Won't do it again."

He wraps his arms, tightly, around Carl, savoring the warmth and feel of him so close. "Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

And... they sleep.

Otherways -

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