Everything about this moment feels right, from the eagerly returned kiss to the near vows being exchanged. The angel has never loved before but if this was what it was like, he suddenly gained a greater understanding of his brother. Especially when he abandoned his duties for several decades to stay by the side of a human.
"I've nothing greater to give you than my rank and heart." His voice is a whisper, and slightly giddy from emotion and alcohol. His eyes drift up to Galahad's and the growing smile is affectionate and a bit drunken, both from booze and feelings. "As I will treasure you."
It's the touch on his cheek, the flood of passion and devotion he's feeling amid the drunkenness that has him laying Galahad back on the bed. The first kiss pressed to the center of chest and the next to his lip. The kiss as ardent as the touch of his hand trailing up the knight's side. The intoxication is no longer just the overindulgence in drink. Affectionate touch and declarations of love only adding to the feeling. Beelzebub feels dizzy with it but it doesn't stop the passion nor heat building in the kiss.
There's little for Galahad to do (or that he wants to do) but give himself over to the passionate and adoring kiss the angel presses to his lips. The knight wraps his arms around his lover to draw him closer in turn, his eyes slipping blissfully shut. His hands card lovingly through the softness of the angel's hair as it falls against his chest and cheeks in a cascade of lightly-scented waves, curling the strands between his fingers as he opens himself completely, trustingly, to all of the passion and sense of connection on offer.
If time suddenly decided to freeze here and now, Galahad isn't sure he'd mind. Much would in his life would be sacrificed if it did, but there's such such a feeling of completeness and happiness in speaking and demonstrating his love and having it returned in this way that he feels sure that this must be a kind of Heaven on Earth in itself. Such a thought might be blasphemous, but he isn't stopping to think about that right now.
When they finally part the knight's breaths are coming a little shorter, but the smile on his face is nothing short of shining. He touches Beelzebub's chest gently where the necklace around his neck one hung, and then brings his hand up to rest against the angel's neck.
"I don't know what I've done to deserve this," he admits quietly, as mounting emotion makes his chest tighten slightly. "You're more than I could have ever hoped for."
The way his lover returns the kiss leaves the angel moaning and breathless. It's not so much lust as the fact every touch is pushing his emotions farther, past anything he thought he could feel. The pull is welcome, leaning in and being drawn nearly on top of Galahad brings a whole other rush, possessive and loving all at once.
It's the light in Galahad's face as they break away from each other that further takes Beelzebub's breath. Instinctively, his hand comes to the golden curls.but it soon slips away as he takes Galahad's hand that just drifted between chest and necklace. A gentle kiss pressed to the fingers before he releases it.
"This is how we fell." The angel is coming to an important realization. "My brother for his lost son, our devotion to our brothers and sisters." He pauses to try and calm his ragged breathing. "We loved more than God, more than he intended for us. We fell because we love others."
He presses a light, quick kiss to the knight's lips, fingers gently stroking the curve of his jaw. Though, his own drunken thoughts cause a quiet laugh to break into his smile. "You invited me into your life, and... I don't want to be anywhere else."
Each time they come together like this or share their feelings with one another, the angel always manages to make Galahad feel lucky-- special in a way part of him wonders if he truly deserves. It's easy for the happiness he feels at being close to blot out any feelings of doubt though, each gentle touch or kiss his lover has for him taking away ever more scraps of the world around them.
Until there's nothing left but this moment, and the feeling of being held, cherished, and celebrated.
His fingers trail softly through the angel's hair as Beelzebub touches his face, eventually coming down to run lightly over the soft down at the base of one of the other man's wings. He doesn't go further than that, instead circling his arms around the angel's chest to simply hold him close in the warmth and safety of his arms. He can feel the other man's presence all around him now, down to the subtle heat radiating from the necklace Beelzebub had gifted him. It's comfortable, to the extent that Galahad feels sure he could happily fall asleep here just like this if it came to that.
"That's one thing I've always felt," he murmurs, letting his words trail off into a comfortable silence as he chooses his next ones carefully. "That whatever the divine may say on it, love is divine in and of itself. It is its own good and its own end." It's why he holds Beelzebub here now and keeps drawing him closer as their days together continue on, even if the closeness between can't cross the bounds of the pure. His God has mandates who and how people may love, but this is the one uncertainty Galahad has always held onto and the lone place where his faith has harbored the smallest of cracks (cracks where love and affection can, and now have, slipped through). "If love is why you fell, then I think you fell righteously."
Beelzebub is happily engaged in thier closeness until the touch finds the place where wings and body meet. In a moment like this, wallowing in passion, the reaction is instantaneous. A shiver runs through his entire body and the feathers on his wings fluff at first contact to the down. As it continues though Beelzebub has to lean, nearly collapse onto Galahad. The single hand drifting through the feathers is near overwhelmingly arousing. In the wake of the caress all the angel can do is sigh with pleased contentment. It was one of those spots that got to the angel and sent waves of shivers and pleasure through him. He starts kissing wherever he's fallen against the knight, be it chest or neck, it'san irresistibleresponse, particularly when inebriated.
He needs to recover from that one touch, shaking out his wings and all the ruffled feathers before he can pull himself back up.
He listens and feels that there is truth to it. He was made to love, literally made of it in a very realistic way. How could he have been created wrong? Drunk though, he's more mischievous in his seriousness. "I'm divine, but if love is also divine..."
Beelzebub smirks in the pause. "... then you make me more divine."
He was going to say more divine than God but even in drunken haze he knows that might be a bad choice to say to someone with faith.
The combination of Beelzebub's feathers fluffing out and brushing his skin, the angel wavering and nearly losing his balance, and the kisses the other man presses against his chest pulls a sigh from the knight and then a few laughs that bubble up when some of the sensations trigger a tickle reflex. Galahad shifts a bit, and then sits up to help Beelzebub move so the angel doesn't have to suspend himself over him anymore. Once they're settled, he carefully helps Beelzebub's wings find enough space to stretch out however he might like them to be so nothing gets a bent or bumped in the midst of the angel's tipsy shifting.
The mischievous comment earns a good-natured chuckle from the knight. He's not sure if the angel is telling a joke or trying to flirt with him, but whatever's happening it's terribly endearing.
"Aye?" Beelzebub's mischievousness is contagious. Galahad can't help but egg the drunk angel on playfully to see what other ramblings the other man might get into while like this. "How divine are you now, then?"
Beelzebub is happy to move up away from the edge of the bed where he had been half sitting, half laying. However, moving is a drunken debacle, though a humorous one. Drunk, a little dizzy, and still getting shivers from his feathers he almost falls on Galahad more than once, drifting into deep, giggling laughter.
They do eventually make it to a normal laying position on the bed, Beelzebub propped up on a pile of pillows Galahad fumbled to get under him when the laughter was too much for the angel to help. More chuckles erupt, both from the image and a bit of shivering pleasure, as Galahad helps get his wings sorted. In truth, most of the bed is covered in wings, but since they are flat on the bed, the human's weight wouldn't injure them if they were laid on.
The encouragement of mischief for the drunken angel is seductive. When his lover asks the question he sits up partially and grabs both of his forearms, pulling the knight on top of him as he lays back onto the pillows. "I'm the tenth created after the universe began."
It made him eleventh angel, but Lucifer came before the universe. He tugs on Galahad's arms until he's close enough for a kiss, against laughter that interrupts it. Then the pride and ego comes clear as his swagger. "Divine enough that God worries what I'm doing."
There are a few 'oofs' and more laughter as Beelzebub grabs at him, with Galahad bracing himself against the other man's chest to prevent them from bumping foreheads. He settles after a moment though, folding his arms on the angel's chest and leaning into the kiss Beelzebub offers him-- only for said kiss to be interrupted by more laughter.
The knight can't help the very slightly pouty expression that draws his eyebrows together as the angel pulls away, but his smile returns quickly enough at Beelzebub's cocky statement. It does make him wonder for a moment what the angel might think of the God from his world, but at the same time he isn't sure whether now is the right time to bring up such a serious question. Similarly, those words also make him worry suddenly about whether they mean the angel's divinity marks him as one of the first of many preferable targets in their war. If the knight's being honest with himself, he has to assume that much has to be the truth.
The idea is one he can't quite brush off as easily as the idea of the angel taking issue with his own world's version of God. The smile remains fixed on his face, but it takes on a slightly distracted quality as he diverts his gaze to one of the other man's scars, slowly running his fingers over it in a pensive, thoughtful way.
Rather than speak his thoughts, however, he decides to change the subject to something he's been wondering about in the back of his mind for some time now. Better to save the weightiest topics for when they're both of clearer mind and Galahad isn't a few hours from the time when he usually falls asleep.
"Cariad," he starts, slowly. "In your world, is the divine also holy? Or are you not that anymore since the fall?" He's aware that the question might be hurtful, but he genuinely doesn't know how to ask it in a way other than this.
Like all of the court of Lucifer, Beelzebub is a major target for God and the Seraphim. However, he's so used to it that it isn't even worth thinking about. He relaxes with his hands folded together on Galahad's back. They don't stay still long though and his hands slowly start tracing a random pattern of gentle, affectionate trails across the knight's back.
The hands pause in their movement when the question come from the quiet. He's not exactly sure how to address it. The angel falls silent as he wrestles with how to answer.
"We were created holy and divine." It's a start but the quiet comes again before he finally shrugs. "I don't know. Falling didn't make us less angels, but some of our power, our souls, were torn out and we were cursed with the sins and other issues. My drunkenness is part of my curse."
It was a non-answer in a way and Beelzebub didn't want to leave it so vaguely answered. He manages to get a hold of the wine bottle that had been left on the night stand and takes a drink before adding. "If we're unholy it's God's curses on us. We didn't choose to be cursed."
Galahad nods along with that explanation. It answers something that's starting to prod at him more as he and the angel become more involved with one another. Answer in hand, the knight shifts a little to lay at Beelzebub's side, one arm curling comfortably around the angel as they cuddle. He's quiet for some time after that, thinking about the ramifications of what the other man's just told him.
"Even if it wasn't his intention, he's made you more like humanity," Galahad notes. He can see why something like that might be considered a fallen state for an angel, or an otherwise potentially undesirable thing for a divine being. Still, there is a small silver lining that he thinks he sees in all of it: "If you are unholy because of the sinfulness imposed upon you, then at least you aren't alone even in those moments another of your people isn't near you. Find any human, and they'd be able to commiserate over living a life where one is imperfect."
Beelzebub shakes his head. "Man is like us. Lucifer is thier father."
As Galahad goes on Beelzebub starts to frown at the description. He's not quite sure why it upsets him at first just that it doesn't sit well. When the words come they are harsh and hurt. "Man will never understand. We remember what it's like to be of heaven. God tore huge chunks out of us, disfigured and broke us. Tore out wings, eyes, and hope. That was not enough destruction to levy upon us so he cursed us with sins and locked us away in a prison where we burn alive, have burned for billions of years. Undying with our flesh searing off. Where even the air scorches to the point we can barely stay alive."
By the time he's done the angel is flushed and his breath is coming fast, tears threatening in his eyes. The emotions that welled up thinking about his own torture were thier own sort of agony. "We're cast out because Lucifer refused to murder an angel, something the seraphim still in heaven did willingly. Unholy and heavenly are not opposites."
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"I've nothing greater to give you than my rank and heart." His voice is a whisper, and slightly giddy from emotion and alcohol. His eyes drift up to Galahad's and the growing smile is affectionate and a bit drunken, both from booze and feelings. "As I will treasure you."
It's the touch on his cheek, the flood of passion and devotion he's feeling amid the drunkenness that has him laying Galahad back on the bed. The first kiss pressed to the center of chest and the next to his lip. The kiss as ardent as the touch of his hand trailing up the knight's side. The intoxication is no longer just the overindulgence in drink. Affectionate touch and declarations of love only adding to the feeling. Beelzebub feels dizzy with it but it doesn't stop the passion nor heat building in the kiss.
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If time suddenly decided to freeze here and now, Galahad isn't sure he'd mind. Much would in his life would be sacrificed if it did, but there's such such a feeling of completeness and happiness in speaking and demonstrating his love and having it returned in this way that he feels sure that this must be a kind of Heaven on Earth in itself. Such a thought might be blasphemous, but he isn't stopping to think about that right now.
When they finally part the knight's breaths are coming a little shorter, but the smile on his face is nothing short of shining. He touches Beelzebub's chest gently where the necklace around his neck one hung, and then brings his hand up to rest against the angel's neck.
"I don't know what I've done to deserve this," he admits quietly, as mounting emotion makes his chest tighten slightly. "You're more than I could have ever hoped for."
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It's the light in Galahad's face as they break away from each other that further takes Beelzebub's breath. Instinctively, his hand comes to the golden curls.but it soon slips away as he takes Galahad's hand that just drifted between chest and necklace. A gentle kiss pressed to the fingers before he releases it.
"This is how we fell." The angel is coming to an important realization. "My brother for his lost son, our devotion to our brothers and sisters." He pauses to try and calm his ragged breathing. "We loved more than God, more than he intended for us. We fell because we love others."
He presses a light, quick kiss to the knight's lips, fingers gently stroking the curve of his jaw. Though, his own drunken thoughts cause a quiet laugh to break into his smile. "You invited me into your life, and... I don't want to be anywhere else."
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Until there's nothing left but this moment, and the feeling of being held, cherished, and celebrated.
His fingers trail softly through the angel's hair as Beelzebub touches his face, eventually coming down to run lightly over the soft down at the base of one of the other man's wings. He doesn't go further than that, instead circling his arms around the angel's chest to simply hold him close in the warmth and safety of his arms. He can feel the other man's presence all around him now, down to the subtle heat radiating from the necklace Beelzebub had gifted him. It's comfortable, to the extent that Galahad feels sure he could happily fall asleep here just like this if it came to that.
"That's one thing I've always felt," he murmurs, letting his words trail off into a comfortable silence as he chooses his next ones carefully. "That whatever the divine may say on it, love is divine in and of itself. It is its own good and its own end." It's why he holds Beelzebub here now and keeps drawing him closer as their days together continue on, even if the closeness between can't cross the bounds of the pure. His God has mandates who and how people may love, but this is the one uncertainty Galahad has always held onto and the lone place where his faith has harbored the smallest of cracks (cracks where love and affection can, and now have, slipped through). "If love is why you fell, then I think you fell righteously."
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He needs to recover from that one touch, shaking out his wings and all the ruffled feathers before he can pull himself back up.
He listens and feels that there is truth to it. He was made to love, literally made of it in a very realistic way. How could he have been created wrong? Drunk though, he's more mischievous in his seriousness. "I'm divine, but if love is also divine..."
Beelzebub smirks in the pause. "... then you make me more divine."
He was going to say more divine than God but even in drunken haze he knows that might be a bad choice to say to someone with faith.
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The mischievous comment earns a good-natured chuckle from the knight. He's not sure if the angel is telling a joke or trying to flirt with him, but whatever's happening it's terribly endearing.
"Aye?" Beelzebub's mischievousness is contagious. Galahad can't help but egg the drunk angel on playfully to see what other ramblings the other man might get into while like this. "How divine are you now, then?"
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They do eventually make it to a normal laying position on the bed, Beelzebub propped up on a pile of pillows Galahad fumbled to get under him when the laughter was too much for the angel to help. More chuckles erupt, both from the image and a bit of shivering pleasure, as Galahad helps get his wings sorted. In truth, most of the bed is covered in wings, but since they are flat on the bed, the human's weight wouldn't injure them if they were laid on.
The encouragement of mischief for the drunken angel is seductive. When his lover asks the question he sits up partially and grabs both of his forearms, pulling the knight on top of him as he lays back onto the pillows. "I'm the tenth created after the universe began."
It made him eleventh angel, but Lucifer came before the universe. He tugs on Galahad's arms until he's close enough for a kiss, against laughter that interrupts it. Then the pride and ego comes clear as his swagger. "Divine enough that God worries what I'm doing."
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The knight can't help the very slightly pouty expression that draws his eyebrows together as the angel pulls away, but his smile returns quickly enough at Beelzebub's cocky statement. It does make him wonder for a moment what the angel might think of the God from his world, but at the same time he isn't sure whether now is the right time to bring up such a serious question. Similarly, those words also make him worry suddenly about whether they mean the angel's divinity marks him as one of the first of many preferable targets in their war. If the knight's being honest with himself, he has to assume that much has to be the truth.
The idea is one he can't quite brush off as easily as the idea of the angel taking issue with his own world's version of God. The smile remains fixed on his face, but it takes on a slightly distracted quality as he diverts his gaze to one of the other man's scars, slowly running his fingers over it in a pensive, thoughtful way.
Rather than speak his thoughts, however, he decides to change the subject to something he's been wondering about in the back of his mind for some time now. Better to save the weightiest topics for when they're both of clearer mind and Galahad isn't a few hours from the time when he usually falls asleep.
"Cariad," he starts, slowly. "In your world, is the divine also holy? Or are you not that anymore since the fall?" He's aware that the question might be hurtful, but he genuinely doesn't know how to ask it in a way other than this.
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The hands pause in their movement when the question come from the quiet. He's not exactly sure how to address it. The angel falls silent as he wrestles with how to answer.
"We were created holy and divine." It's a start but the quiet comes again before he finally shrugs. "I don't know. Falling didn't make us less angels, but some of our power, our souls, were torn out and we were cursed with the sins and other issues. My drunkenness is part of my curse."
It was a non-answer in a way and Beelzebub didn't want to leave it so vaguely answered. He manages to get a hold of the wine bottle that had been left on the night stand and takes a drink before adding. "If we're unholy it's God's curses on us. We didn't choose to be cursed."
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"Even if it wasn't his intention, he's made you more like humanity," Galahad notes. He can see why something like that might be considered a fallen state for an angel, or an otherwise potentially undesirable thing for a divine being. Still, there is a small silver lining that he thinks he sees in all of it: "If you are unholy because of the sinfulness imposed upon you, then at least you aren't alone even in those moments another of your people isn't near you. Find any human, and they'd be able to commiserate over living a life where one is imperfect."
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As Galahad goes on Beelzebub starts to frown at the description. He's not quite sure why it upsets him at first just that it doesn't sit well. When the words come they are harsh and hurt. "Man will never understand. We remember what it's like to be of heaven. God tore huge chunks out of us, disfigured and broke us. Tore out wings, eyes, and hope. That was not enough destruction to levy upon us so he cursed us with sins and locked us away in a prison where we burn alive, have burned for billions of years. Undying with our flesh searing off. Where even the air scorches to the point we can barely stay alive."
By the time he's done the angel is flushed and his breath is coming fast, tears threatening in his eyes. The emotions that welled up thinking about his own torture were thier own sort of agony. "We're cast out because Lucifer refused to murder an angel, something the seraphim still in heaven did willingly. Unholy and heavenly are not opposites."