(no subject)

Draped across the bed, bored out of his mind. Not the kind of situation Gabriel ever imagined he'd be in, at any point in his life, ever, but he could add that to the pile of new experiences he supposed. Yeah sure not all of them could be absolute bangers, life wasn't always going to be interesting, that much he'd learned long before everything fell apart but it felt almost insulting to be in another world, another time, and still be fucking bored. An old saying he'd heard a soul pass on to him once before rattled through his brain: boring people are bored, and he scowled at the memory, petulantly kicking a pillow off the bed.

Maybe he could go call on Cassiel. They could spar, or hunt, or talk, or fuck, or anything else, he didn't know. Anything was better than laying here doing fuck all.

The conspicuous lack of the Machine was as ever, not a concern either. Where was it? Well, outside somewhere of course, doing whatever. At this point he'd grown quite comfortable with its presence and conversely, lack of. Whatever trouble it could get itself into was at this point no longer his concern. ... A pleasant enough idea to hold onto at least. It did nothing for the boredom, other than alleviate some of the annoyance swirling around his head thanks to it.

... He really had to find some way to fill his day before he started taking this growing, foul mood out on someone who didn't deserve it, he hates this.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's a reflexive twitch as Gabriel closes his hand around its gun-holding wrist, but it doesn't flinch or pull away - quite the opposite. It's happy to press the gun against him, to match the movement of his hips. There, finally, it's able to fulfill what he kept whining about.

It doesn't really care about whether anyone hears Gabriel or not. It just doesn't want him to restrain himself, it's more fun if he doesn't. It does not convey this at all, but it does keep a grip on his wrist, not letting him go, if you want your hand back you're going to have to fight me for it.

Well. Not that kind of fighting. But he's going to have to make a stronger argument than that.

It practically perks up at Gabriel telling it to earn it, and then it's tightening its grip on his throat again, as it did before. It considers its options for a moment before it engages its fourth arm and leans over to reach behind him, claws raking lightly across his back. It's more careful with this one than it was with the Feedbacker - it's easier to draw blood with the Knuckleblaster - but that just means the sensation is sharper, which considering everything that's been coming out of Gabriel's mouth in the last five minutes is probably a benefit.

Not getting his wrist back, is he? Tightening its grip on his throat, is it? So that's what it was really after, well he could give it that in spades.

Gabriel went to try and wrench his free arm back from it, squirming against the gun between his legs even as it raked the claws of its forth arm across his back. It'd leave wheals across his skin, he was sure, but frankly that hardly bothered him in the slightest. The angel went to hitch a leg behind one of its, refusing to release V1's gun hand. Would it be easier to concentrate without it there? Sure, but he didn't really want to concentrate all that hard right now anyway, not if it meant losing the feeling of the metal humming against his cunt.

There was a ploy in mind here, even as he twisted with it. Trying to switch up positions, it seemed, with Gabriel intent on flipping V1 beneath him, hand on his neck be damned.

"Of course this would interest you more." And he doesn't even sound disappointed to say it. "If it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you'll get." Doesn't sound disappointed in the slightest, actually.

Gabriel's words aren't incorrect. In a strange parallel of the angel himself, the way V1's wings are fully raised and alight with color, the way its internal systems have kicked in to cool a body experiencing adrenaline-related (positive) stress, betray a jumbling surge of emotions and stimulation it hadn't expected to have.

This is not exactly what it was made to do or be, but it doesn't matter. It's something new and old at once. It's exciting, something fun.

There's all sorts of things going on in its head right now, first and foremost among them being you like this too.

It's a simple truth, as much as it's one that it can't articulate (its hands are very thoroughly occupied and it's got higher-priority goals to focus on): it's something they both want, and so it's worth putting effort into.

It lets him have the position change, even lets him free his hand as they exchange places and now it's V1 underneath him, wings splayed out, still with that challenging tilt to its head as it stares up at him with full focus.

In return, its clawed hand rakes across his back and side with vicious enthusiasm, its freed hand grabbing his thigh and yanking him down closer. It keeps that one hand still on his throat, though that pressure is more of a reminder than an active threat at the moment as it adjusts for the change in position.

It runs the motor in its hand again, pushes the mechanism harder (it will have to run maintenance later, worth it), for a stronger pulse of vibration as it presses the gun into the angel's cunt.

There would be no denying it: he did like this too. The adrenaline rush, thrill of the gun, the hand at his neck, his heart in his ears, how could he not love it? To have someone share in that wild, reckless kind of violent affection was more than just an idle novelty; he'd be prizing this moment.

Its claws scraped across his back, lines of red drawn in its wake, causing Gabriel to gasp in both pain and indescribable pleasure as V1 yanked him downwards against the gun. The angel would practically ride it, waves of gold rippling across brilliant pink wings as pulse after pulse rocked through him. There'd be a momentary pause in the chatter, Gabriel had sunken his teeth into his bottom lip in a bid to distract himself, suddenly deciding he didn't actually want this all to end so soon. Climax now? And have it all be over? Pass.

"Is that the best you've got?" Bleeding, definitely going to bruise at this rate, but the pain simply failed to register in any detrimental way, if the euphoric smile on his face and the breathless tone of his voice was of any indication.

He had to return the favor, he wouldn't just sit there and receive. Exhaling hotly, Gabriel leaned down, daring it to tighten its grip on his neck further as he slipped a hand behind it to find that old scar. In stark contrast to everything else, that touch was still careful, intentional in its motions as he scraped his blunt fingers over the thin steel.

"You're doing so well... Give me everything you have, don't you dare fucking hold back."

Its fingers tighten on Gabriel's throat sharply as he reaches behind it--

SYSTEM WARNING: INSTABILITY TARGETED

CHANCES OF ESTIMATED SURVIVAL IF SPINAL CORD IS SEVERED: CALCULATING...

--its entire body shudders, freezes, the fingers of the Whiplash tightening on the handle of the gun, its eye shuttering, another bolt of adrenalin issuing from its limbic system in anticipation of pain or worse--

QUERY// DO YOU TRUST SOMEONE THAT HAS TRIED TO KILL YOU TWICE?
ANSWER// YES
?

--the moment of tension only lasts a breath, a fleeting second, and then it loosens its grip and relaxes into that touch, that pleasant feeling, cooling fans whining.

It can't shut off the things that help to keep it alive, but it can ignore them. It will ignore them. This is a higher priority, right now, than simple calculations of survival.

This is worth the risk. SHUT UP IN THERE ALREADY.

Back to more interesting things. Gabriel had challenged it, it's hardly going to stop there - it's still pulsing the gun, its clawed hand resting on his hip and digging idly in.

But in the interests of not making the angel think he'd been too hard on it, something he weirdly cares about a lot in this context considering what he'd been talking about earlier (and talking, and talking, boy Gabriel talks a lot, but not like it's using that memory storage for much else), it uses its free hand to grasp Gabriel's arm, giving it a light tap, the way it had tapped his hand before.

Keep going.

It lasted only a second, but it was a reaction that Gabriel did not miss. Of course he'd stop, pulling his hand away from the point to watch the Machine with a clear hint of guilt. Not what he'd intended. It righted itself, but he kept his hand just shy of the point, waiting for instruction.

"I'm... Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." In an instant, all of that energy had been quickly pushed aside, temporarily doused as V1's response took full priority.

Though it was hard (and soon impossible) to maintain that moment of clarity and calm, as it dug its claws into his hip, the pulse of the gun burning through what little amount of self-restraint he happened to have. His hips shook from the effort of trying to just stay still, refusing to make another move until he'd received complete consent.

It was really the tap that sealed it for him, Gabriel letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. At V1's urging, his hand slid back again, as he leaned down to press against the Machine wholly, locking his knees around it at both sides as he rocked into the gun with obvious desperation. Gently, he was sure to keep his hand gentle there, V1 was free to shred him all it liked, Gabriel wasn't about to abuse that little vulnerability it had shown him. Gentle, but firm, massaging the thin metal between his thumb and forefinger as he mumbled to it softly, his face near to its neck.

"I don't want to hurt you. Not like this, not here..." Gabriel wasn't given to lying, and now was no exception; if he was reassuring it, then he meant it.

They're strange words to hear from Gabriel, of all people, who has tried to kill it (who it has tried to kill in return) twice. The only one from which it might be more startling to hear it (if either of them were capable of communicating in that way) would be V2, who was already taken care of permanently. Those little pulses of stimulation crawling pleasantly up its spine only make the whole thing more surreal, as if it's hallucinating.

It's...probably not hallucinating.

It doesn't...want to claw at him if he's not alight with that shared passion for violence. It traces light circles on his hip instead, idly noting how its claws drag across his skin with less friction due to the blood it's drawn from him. Only temporary, but it's a strange sensation.

Its eye shutters again as it awkwardly presses the side of its head to Gabriel's cheek. Giving, trying to give, in return for that allowance, that strange promise of no future violence (it wonders if they will do this again). It has no reference for this -- but it wants to learn. Instead of continuing to choke him, its fingers rub against the thin skin of his throat, the side of his neck, exploratory rather than aggressive as it continues upward in a sort of petting motion. (His hair is so soft. It's almost distracting.)

The motion of how it's pushing the gun between his legs is gentler now, if only slightly; it moves with his rhythm, trying to match the way he rides it, trying to time those pulses to give him the most pleasure, listening to the way his breath stutters to determine it.

Trust him, it was almost just as strange for him to say as it was to hear. It didn't make it any less the truth though. So many thoughts and feelings that had been spiraling around in his head after their second fight, knowing damn well that none of it had been intentional. The Machine hadn't wanted to try and make the angel realize anything, it'd always been a bid for survival. It didn't change the fact that it was what had happened.

He owed... a lot, to it, didn't he?

Mind, the gentler tone this had taken also didn't change how aroused he still was, though with that momentary hitch from earlier, going right back into it again seemed... incorrect. For the moment, anyway, he didn't really want to get the wrong wires crossed here. Later, later they could try again.

For now though, this was perfectly fine. One hand stroked at the thinner metal, and the other was finally pulled away from the gun. This one gripped at its hip as he rutted against the gun, meeting that awkward press of its head with a contented sigh. Metal wasn't nearly as soothing to nuzzle against as flesh, but it hardly dampened the mood for him. Perhaps it was because of who he was presently fucking that made it all the more comfortable for him, unforgiving steel plating be damned.

The hand in his hair prompted him to turn his head a little, as if to allow it more room to wander there. He'd found it enjoyable, when Cassiel tended to it after all. Why not afford V1 the same chance too?

"I know you... were enjoying yourself, before." The pause was necessary; he still needed to catch his breath. In spite of everything, the Machine was still doing one damn good job. "There's always... Next time."

That's a promise. He wants this again.

Oh, he wants to do this again. It considers the idea and finds it's not opposed; annoying freezing-up and system alerts aside, it was fun. This part is still fun too, though more novel than exciting, feeling more like reciprocation for Gabriel's surprisingly tender maintenance of before.

The reverberations of V1's systems travel through its entire body. The result of V1 pressing the side of its head to Gabriel's cheek is a slight rumble where those two disparate surfaces meet. It might be almost an affectionate purr of sorts, if V1 knew what a cat was, or purring was. (It's barely figuring out affection.)

It fiddles with his hair curiously, fingers brushing against the wings. It amuses itself with the thought that it's the closest it's ever gotten to any kind of bird. The faux-birdsong in limbo didn't count, and by the time it was active...there were no birds anywhere, where humans had lived. Gabriel is probably better than a bird, though. Less skittish certainly, it's seen the ones here.

It has another hand free now, and the pace is more relaxed. They're closer together. It runs light fingers down his body - chest to stomach, then lower down still - until it reaches his clit.

It's not going to try figuring out the internal part right now - if Gabriel has to stop and explain things again it thinks he'll probably explode from impatience, which would be funny but not conductive to the task at hand, which is to get him to climax - but the external part will do nicely. It moves its fingers over that nub, the way it had seen him do before, still pushing the gun up against him so he can ride it as it does so.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only