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A Coffin of a Lover
“Different?” he asked, voice strained.
I closed my eyes, running my tongue up his thumb, sucking. I nipped the top. He groaned.
“Pyrrhic, you said?” I asked ruefully, dragging my lips up his index finger.
“You're teasing me.”
“Genius. Your turn-ons are weird.”
“Damn your feminine wiles.”
“You really like damning things, don't you?”
He pulled me down into the snow with him, wrapping his wings around us so I might as well have been on a feather bed in a parka.
Schubert's quartet peaked. He spooned me against his chest, arms wrapped round me like a mummy. Samael lay like a corpse for a moment, apparently getting in the zone. I grimaced as he stiffened. He laughed roughly at my unease.
“That's just wrong,” I informed him.
“Angel lust-”
“Don
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