#;shuffled

This felt good. It shouldn't, but it was so lovely. The way Will caressed him and licked at his neck was sending sweet shocks up up his spine. He could feel every twitch of his lips against his skin and the hum of his voice-- He was enjoying his meal and that brought a twisted sense of pride to Emile's stomach. Body shifting, his lips fell apart and a small shudder rolled through his shoulders. The venom was seeping in and making his body fuzzy and warm and each small touch from Will felt sweeter.

He should've known better when he couldn't keep still. His breathing was coming out heavy and trembling while his face warmed, his shoulders taking on a shake he couldn't stop. The feeding was usually nice by itself, but this was different. Emile choked softly and before his hazy thoughts could catch up with what his body was doing, he was clinging to Will's shoulders and leaning in to the mouth on his neck. Something hot and beautiful snapped in his belly and his breath caught, his eyes squeezing closed. Swallowing, he purred, his hands rubbing along Will's arms as his face warmed and a pleased, wobbly sort of smile pulled across his lips. It took him a second of cuddling up to the man to remember where they were and what they were doing.

Oh.

The reality of the situation sobered him even with the venom flowing through his veins. Emile's stomach dropped and his body lit like a flame, red and shaky. A heavy guilt replaced the soft feeling that had spread through his body and his eyes quickly started to burn. Shame. Oh God, the shame-- He'd- Had he really? Emile choked again and the moment he felt Will start to pull away, he scrambled away from his grip. Snatching the shirt he'd dropped, he held it white-knuckled in his hands, the fabric draped over his lap.

"Emile-" Will barely got his name out before the cowboy was stumbling to his feet and heading towards the door. "Emile! Are you alright? Where are you-"

Flashing the man a small, nervous smile, he stuttered but couldn't force the words from his mouth. He scrubbed quick at his wet eyes and excused himself without a word, skittering quickly to his own room across the hall. Making sure the door was shut behind him, he stumbled to the bed to sit down and before he could get a thought in edgewise, his tears were overflowing down his cheeks. That was a line crossed, a very bold and unmistakable line that he let himself walk all over. There was a difference in allowing himself a fantasy here and there about a handsome man and his pretty blue eyes, but that? That wasn't acceptable. He'd already been getting dangerously close to that sort of unforgivable devious behavior when he'd kept that shirt if Will's that ended up in his laundry. Glancing back at his pillow where he'd hidden if under, he wrung his hands in his lap and swallowed hard. His feelings for Will, and he had a lot of them, were his problem to deal with and his only.

Emile cursed under his breath and sniffed, burying his face in his palms.

Emile frowned, drumming his fingers gently atop the wrapped gift in his lap. One of the ladies in town had traded him a very soft, cream colored fabric on one of his trips into town and every spare moment he got that wasn't out hunting or spent with Remiel was put sitting in his room sticking his fingers with sewing needles. Leather working and textiles had been a hobby of his since he was a boy, both his mother and his father encouraging homesteading habits in both him and his sister. Other than the denim he bought for work, the majority of his clothes were all hand stitched, especially when he found himself having to layer up after his turning. And when he felt the delicate cloth in his hands, he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it.

Getting up, Emile placed the package on the kitchen table and pulled a piece of scrap paper from one of his drawers to scrawl a quick note on top.

Remiel,

I'm heading out tonight, so in case I miss you, please enjoy this as a thank you for all you've done for me.

Emile

Grabbing his coat and hat, Emile scratched the side of his jaw and hesitated at the door. He wanted to wait for him, to see the angel's face as he opened the blouse he'd sewn. He wanted to see it on him, to admire the way the billowing fabric hung from his body. There was quite a loud part of him that wanted to spend more of his time in that craft-- He promised himself he'd go out hunting tonight, but after finally finishing that piece he wondered if there wasn't a better way to spend his time.

The promise was not only to himself, but to his parents. What if the rumors led him to the monsters that killed them? And what would happen if he just decided to stay home and play housewife instead? He'd never forgive himself if he missed his chance, not ever. Furrowing his brow, Emile squeezed his hands at his sides and huffed. He had a million years ahead of him to dedicate to anything he wanted to do, but the longer his family's killer was on the the loose the less likely he ever was to find them. It had to be done; he had to go.

Adjusting his coat, he tapped his side for his gun and set his jaw. He'd be back before sunrise. He hoped.

Emile rubbed at his lips, his thoughts drifting back to his lapse in judgment. He hadn't seen Remiel since then and it almost made him anxious. There was an annoying whisper in the back of his head insisting he was at fault, that his friend had caught him in the act and now wanted nothing to do with him. No, it did make him anxious and guilty. How would he explain it off? "I was lonely and you're very beautiful?" Emile scoffed at himself and blushed, his movement turning into tiny embarrassed stomps as he approached the barn.

It was too early for the other boys yet, so he took a minute just to breathe in the morning air. Leaning against the back corner of the building, Emile scratched at his jaw and glanced over the pasture. Stupid. There was someone in his life who was happy to talk to him, happy to be near him, who didn't he was a freak, and he could've ruined it by his lack of self control. What sort of friend locked himself away and used the other as a prop for lewd daydreams? Not a good one.

And yet. It'd been very nice. It was so easy to be attracted to him. He wondered if it was the same for all angels? Remiel in particular had these high set cheeks and large eyes full of curiosity and wonder. He had soft-looking flaxen hair and the warmest grin Emile had ever seen on another person. He was tall and long and very graceful-- Emile had never seen a ballet, but he imagined that's what the men would look like. Strong, but delicate. And his hands; they'd been so soft on his skin and gentle to him the first time they'd met. It was just... too easy to feel them brushing down his chest.

Emile's breath hitched, a small shiver touching his neck. Angel. Remember, he's an angel! The cowboy puffed out his cheeks and tapped his foot. Slow, he drew an easy hand down his stomach and tapped his thumb atop his belt buckle. It'd be and hour or so before anyone was out here to join him. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he traced that same finger down his zipper and shuddered.

"To hell with it." Emile breathed out and started reaching for his belt with shaky hands. Filling his lungs again, his body froze when he noticed a familiar scent hanging in the air. Bound books and citrus-- Red faced, he quickly brought his hands up to fold over his chest and swallowed. Inconspicuous.

"..." Chewing the inside of his cheek, he cleared his throat. "You're uh.. You're not hidin' on me, are you?"

Emile's breaths were coming out deep and hard, his cheeks red as his chin tilted back. Pink lips fell apart and a soft whine slipped through as he rut against his palm. This was such a bad idea, but he'd been so restless all day and now he couldn't sleep either. It was either this or roll around until it was time to start chores again.

Biting his bottom lip, he slowed down his strokes to pull through his mind. His thoughts drifted and swirled, conjuring up the usuals first: strong tanned arms and calloused fingers running down his skin. Emile groaned, bucking his hips up. It was simple, but it usually did the trick. It was what he'd wanted since he figured out what his attraction to men was. Another cowboy with broad shoulders that smelled like hay and pipe tobacco; a man dedicated to his work and had a gruff laugh. -- But... the sound that played in his head this time around was nowhere near so. It was bright like bells, ringing and clear.

Emile's breath hitched, his heart fluttering. He tried to think of a a bearded jaw along his neck, but what he felt was soft, but angular. Plush lips grazed his pulse and the softest hands he'd ever felt was pushing up his shirt, dragging along his skin. It took him a second and a choked whimper to make sense of it. Remiel. He had his hands down his bedclothes and he was thinking of indecent, decadent touch coming from an angel.

"Forgive me." Emile closed his eyes and breathed out, his voice little more than air. This was blasphemy; there was no way in hell this wasn't against some sort of rules. He should have stopped there and let himself calm back down, but he could feel the tension in his belly and he wanted what little relief he could get. Moaning, he bucked again and shivered. He thought of the softest, most inviting gaze he'd ever seen and curious hands running down his thighs. He wanted open kisses from honey lips, the smell of citrus in the air around him. He wondered if he tasted that way too. Was his mouth like a bright, sweet orange? Unmistakable and a rare treat that he could no longer indulge in. When they parted, would he begin to crave the taste of tangerine? Would it torture him?

"Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me!" He whimpered. Panting, he furrowed his brow, his hips grinding up into his palm. That wide grin was beaming at him and there was a warm, wet tongue behind those teeth that drew down his freckled chest. Long fingers touched him, really touched him like no one ever dared to. He thought about being stroked with those hands, the face behind them touched with the same gentle wonder he caught often in the angel's eyes. Emile jerked again and whined, "Fuck! I-If you touch me like that, I-" He babbled, his thoughts on parted lips and a hot mouth. "Remiel!" He choked on the name, "Fuck! Forgive me!" A bubble of desperation burst from his chest in a cry, breathing hard as he moaned out. "Remiel. Remiel, Remiel-" The name was uttered like a prayer as the tension snapped and his whole body felt like sweet, hot static.

Emile stroked it through to the end and collapsed back onto the bed. Immediately he pulled the covers over his head and cursed under his breath. Cursing again, he pulled at the curls on his temples as he tried to stop the way his heart was banging in his ears. Oh, no. Oh no, no, no. "Fuck. Forgive me." He whispered, "I'm sorry. Shit."

How could he face him after that? He wasn't a stranger of finding himself physically to people he probably shouldn't. He was surrounded by men every day and he definitely shouldn't be imagining getting pinned down in the barn by a sweaty cowboy-- But he was used to that at least. This was different. Remiel was an angel. How more off limits and wrong could he get?

If he wasn't damned already, he was sure that would send him hell bound.

So, unlike Link, he's not an incubus. He's not attached to Asmodeus, so it wouldn't make sense for him to be. What he is specifically was never named, most demons are just.. demons. That and Satan doesn't take on fledglings often, so he tends to just call them "children".

Emile still feeds on blood. His hunger is more intense, it takes more to satisfy him. However, there are.. some things that seem to charge him as well. Unfortunately, it means putting himself in or near situations he usually tries to avoid. Discord; arguments and confusion from other people will undeniably give him a rush in his chest. Fear and anger will do the same thing. Emile would much rather just,,, get his meals from biting necks than starting fights or making chaos.

He does... however sometimes indulge by biting sober people. The fear and surprise before they melt into his arms is like a little treat hTKCJFJCJVH

Emile can share feelings and memories through touch; Sam's limited omniscience is something he shares with his cambions and fledglings. Emile also grows nearly immune to flame and overheating, fire bends at his will.

Eventually, he'll be able to tap into the "power of suggestion" as well. If he presents an idea to someone, they'll feel inclined to follow through with it. It works easier if it's something they'd want to do, especially subconsciously.