Adored (original) (raw)

A more-or-less short tale (god, I'm so long-winded XD) about Zahariel's trials, set a short time after Transfiguration.

Adored
Author: jenova
Rating: PG
Warnings: none, really.

Trying to be an angel was strange, and largely unrewarding so far. Most of the true angels he had met so far did not trust him, and many openly expressed their dislike. Luciel, and the Watchers and Archangels who had helped in his rescue, vouched for him, but Luciel was the only one of any real influence. Apparently, however, his interest in humans marked him as mildly eccentric, and therefore, not worth listening to.

Basically, Zahariel was unwelcome, and that fact had been made very clear to him.

Still, remaining a typical demon was no longer an option, once he had killed the _ul_-Yvrn. He could not simply return to the fold and resume his old life, staying carefully out of ever-shifting clan politics and going his own way. If any demons of the Wyvern clan (or any clan, for that matter) found him now, without the protection of his new allies, it would be back to Nathiilad-ha for him, for an eon of torture, until the goodness was wrung out of him like blood from a rag.

Several days of torment had been enough to strip away his self-assurance and create a cocoon of doubt that he was having difficulty unwinding. He had been forced to submit, in the most primal way, to older, greater demons who saw him as either a plaything or food, if not both. It had been obvious that his continued existence, long and drawn out as it might be, would be at the whim of those who relished his pain. Could a truly good being have withstood such treatment? Would it have secretly -- and not so secretly -- enjoyed some of the torture, feeling sick all the while? Of course, he was old enough to know that the answers to these questions were yes -- eventually. He had seen angels broken in his time, but it was always a lengthy process. He imagined that his own fall would have come much sooner, and that was not a good feeling.

It was hard, given all this, to relax, to believe Luciel when he said that he was safe and no longer was constrained to demon nature. Infernal ways were all he had known for seven hundred years, after all, and in a time of stress and turmoil, they were what he fell back on.

For example, he clearly remembered baring his throat to Luciel after the angels had brought him to their haven. The ancient draconic sign of submission had been reinforced by his recent ordeal, and in his shock and disorientation, he had made his nonverbal appeal to the strongest of his new "captors". The younger angels clearly hadn't understood his odd, animalistic behavior, but Luciel did, and had tsk'd softly.

"There is no need for that here, my friend," he had said, gently pulling Zahariel's chin down and kissing his brow in benediction. Both the kiss and the word "friend" would have stopped his heart, if he were a physical being. Instead, he could only display his shock with a disbelieving and awed stare.

Even now, it was still hard to believe that a glorious elder angel would call him "friend". That such a creature would tolerate his presence, let alone speak to him softly and try to convince him that he could be something just as shining and bright has he himself was. He had chosen his new name of Zahariel in homage to his savior, but even so... he still felt far, far away from light or splendor.

As if he had heard the dark thoughts and felt the need to chase them away, Luciel appeared at the mouth of the cave where the demon had isolated himself. They were spirits; here on the Physical Plane, he could have arrived instantly next to Zahariel if he had wanted to, but he chose to give the other a few moments to compose himself for company. It was these small considerations, tiny details, that made the greatest impression on Zahariel.

It was the little things that had made him fall in love, again.

Falling in love with bright, sweet Julia had led to his undoing, literally. Demons weren't supposed to love. For that matter, he wasn't sure if angels were, either. Some of the ones he had met didn't seem very compassionate.

But Luciel loved. That, he was certain of. The Power found things in the world to smile at; he found light in the darkest places. He had found Zahariel in the abysmal pits of Nathiilad-ha.

For that, Zahariel would willingly worship him, but Luciel, of course, wanted no such thing. He tried to encourage the demon to be an independent, confident entity, subject to no one's whims, and he was trying to live up to that, but... His first instinct was to try to please Luciel, which created a bit of a contradiction, since what the angel wanted was for him to do things for himself.

"I'm not your Thane or your master," he had said, with one of his soft smiles. "Simply your friend."

Demons didn't have friends, so to Zahariel, this was just as wondrous a change as his freedom, and still worthy of adulation. He didn't know if he could suppress this devotion any time soon, but fortunately, Luciel was always patient.

He finally looked up at the angel, who now stood in front of him. He was still kneeling from his meditations; now he bent and touched his forehead to the cool stone floor, the curves of his horns brushing the fringed hem of Luciel's robes.

"Please, Zahariel, do not abase yourself," Luciel said quietly, kneeling down himself to pick the demon up.

He raised his head, meeting Luciel's eyes, and felt himself getting lost in that silver regard. One might have thought silver eyes would have no hold over him, the Silver Wyvern, with shining hair and horns and claws of his own, but it wasn't the color of Luciel's eyes that snared him, lovely as it was. It was the depth of millennia, countless years of not just existence, but contentment and care -- two more things demons were generally unfamiliar with. Those eyes declared that Zahariel, too, could be a creature of light, as his chosen name promised.

Although he could break free from that arresting gaze, Zahariel could not find his balance. Shaking slightly, he clung to Luciel's arms for a long moment. He was torn between the desire to fall at the angel's feet, and simple desire. Which was... well, that was improper, was it not? Angels did not feel the animal-needs that demons did; it was one of the things that set them apart. But he felt considerably more demon than angel right now, particularly in contrast to Luciel's unruffled calm.

He wondered if Luciel had any inkling of his feelings, but it was hard to imagine the angel not noticing something that felt so very obvious. But he continued to hold Zahariel steady, wearing the same serene smile. It was comforting, beautiful, confusing, and maddening. Overwhelming.

Unable to hold himself back any longer in the face of such unquestioning acceptance, Zahariel did what he would never have dared to do to his little mortal beloved. Hesitantly, he leaned in and kissed Luciel on the lips, that wonderful custom demons had learned from humans so many thousands of years ago.

He honestly expected the angel to turn away, so he couldn't quite withhold a surprised sound of pleasure as Luciel kissed him back. With a sudden flare of intermingled hope and passion, Zahariel grasped the front of Luciel's robes and began searching blindly for the ties as they kissed, wanting, more than anything else, to simply press skin-to-skin against the angel's corporeal form. A physical comfort, rather than the purely spiritual panacea he had been given so far. Luciel was surprisingly tolerant of this, although he made no move to assist the demon other than to shrug his arms and legs out of his garments once they had been undone. It was only when they were both fully unclothed, and Zahariel clung to him in an almost desperate embrace, that the angel pulled back slightly. He cupped Zahariel's face in his hands and looked at him searchingly.

Suddenly wondering if this had been some sort of test -- and if he had failed -- the demon stared back, trying to ignore the increasing ache of arousal. Even if he had not deliberately sought union with Luciel, there was no possible way to hide the fact that he wanted it. Would Luciel now come to his senses, and realize he was simply wasting his efforts to "tame" this demon?

But the angel's voice was gentle when he finally spoke. "This is not how we do things," he said with a small smile that nonetheless left Zahariel feeling a bit chastened. "This is not how angels choose to share with each other."

The implications of the second statement left Zahariel blinking in confusion. He hadn't thought angels engaged in any such activity. But if not sex, then what? "I do not understand, ahir," he said in a near-whisper, speaking for the first time since the angel had arrived.

Luciel smiled reassuringly, and ran his hands across Zahariel's shoulders and down his arms, causing the demon to shiver. "I will show you, if you wish," he said softly, drawing Zahariel closer again. "Open your aura to me."

"...What?" Zahariel understood the words, but not what they actually meant. How could you...?

He suddenly felt a heavy, almost crushing pressure, and it took him a moment to realize that it was entirely spiritual in nature; physically, Luciel still held him gently. The angel murmured, "Push back, and open to me."

The pressure was not violent, Zahariel understood, simply incredibly intense. With a little trepidation, he focused his own aura, and concentrated on pulling the first layer of it back, leaving it open to outside contact. It was an incredibly risky thing to do; someone with ill intent could strike into an unlocked aura and severely injure, or even destroy, a spiritual entity. It was giving free access to one's entire self.

That, he realized, was probably the point. It was an enormous act of trust to open to someone this way. He certainly trusted Luciel, and if the angel would betray him... he might have been better off dead anyway. But did Luciel trust him so much...?

He gasped, too breathless to scream, as he felt the answer. For a tiny span of time, their auras overlapped, allowing him to feel the entirety of Luciel's being, and likewise letting the angel feel every nuance of his. It was a moment of agony and ecstasy twined together, as if a raw nerve had been caressed in the most tender manner possible. The only sensation he could remotely correlate it to was orgasm, but this was so far beyond simple physicality that it defied comparison.

Overcome, he collapsed against Luciel, shaking. The angel spent several silent moments stroking Zahariel's long silver hair, waiting for him to compose himself again. "Should I not have done that?" he murmured, sounding a little concerned.

Zahariel couldn't tell if Luciel was addressing him or speaking to himself, but he stammered an answer anyway. "No...! I mean... yes, you..." He looked up at the angel, who was regarding him with curiosity. "I cannot tell you that you should have done anything, ahir, but..." He bowed his head, embarrassed. How to explain how honored he felt to have the Power's trust, and how moved he was that Luciel would share such a thing with him?

The angel seemed to understand, though. "But you are happy." It was a statement of fact, rather than a question.

Zahariel nodded, although "happy" was too simple a word for his state of mind right now. In truth, he was feeling more worshipful than ever, but he didn't think Luciel would exactly approve. "...Thank you, ahir," he said quietly, hoping his voice, if not his words, could convey the depth of his gratitude, because it was a truly priceless gift he had been given.

For the first time since his arrival, Luciel actually grinned, the expression giving his handsome face a more lively cast. "I would ask that you repay me by living up to your name, but I think you will achieve that regardless." He kissed the top of Zahariel's lowered head, much like he had done on that fateful day in the past, and rose, pulling the demon up with him.

Zahariel let himself be pulled, lost in thought for several moments. Luciel's gift had been many-fold... not only trust and love, but the hope that that gift had inspired. Three things that most demons would never feel; three things to act as fuel for his own light. He might never be an angel in truth, he understood, but he could be one in deed, and that had never seemed more possible than it did at that moment.

He looked up at Luciel, who was meticulously putting on his robes. He could have easily magicked them into place, but he seemed to enjoy the physical activity. Smiling a little at this bit of eccentricity, Zahariel picked up his own garment, a simple white robe, and shrugged into it before kneeling at Luciel's feet again.

"Zahariel...?" The angel looked at him with a little surprise. "There is no need..."

"I just wanted to make it known, ahir," he said softly, gazing up at his savior, "that whatever I am able to achieve is only possible because of you."

.end.

A few notes...
* It took many years for Zahariel to outgrow his overpowering devotion to Luciel. For a while, Luce was the center of his universe. Nowadays, their relationship is much more relaxed, but Zahariel still considers Luce his superior.

* Their relationship is a bit difficult to define in customary human ways, especially when the two of them have somewhat different ways to define it, themselves. Zahariel is undeniably devoted solely to Luciel... Luciel simply doesn't think in those terms, although he does care for Zahariel very much. Which isn't to say Luciel "sleeps around" -- this kind of sharing is not casual -- but the two of them are not locked into some sort of monogamous structure, and they're both aware of and at peace with that. The best way to describe them might be very close friends with benefits, I suppose. ;)

• Tags:luciel, zahariel