datadiving | (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

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.