The Fallen one sings softly to him, hand gently running forming around his lovers face. That’s when he interrupts.

❝ Are you going to keep singing to me, Clarence or are you goin to do something? ❞

Bill teases a playful glint in his eye. The Destroyer leans in and places his lips against the other’s neck whispering sweet nothings, tender worship of every inch of this human form Bill wore--although no matter what the form it didn’t matter to him. He’s grown accustomed to all of them, his lips trail down adoring every piece of Bill he was allowed to caress and treat so carefully as if he was made of porcelain and he’d shatter him if he was too rough. A fire is burning deep within his grace, a lust, a yearning that which causes him to pull the Godlike creature in to his lap and hold him in his arms.

Abaddon wasn’t accustomed to such kind gentle movements, he hadn’t ever been so calm and at peace for centuries. The stress of his responsibilities in Hell, the constant upkeep of his status, trying with all of his might to keep track of his apprentice in place—it was all so tiring, he was often frustrated as he went through his days alone with no comfort, no one to make him laugh or put his insecurities to rest. But now he had someone, not just any one---Bill, he had Bill and he’d never let him undergo harm for as long as his grace still flourishes.

❝ Ƭαηтυм тє αмσ ❞

He whispers against the other’s skin before his lips meet his collarbone once again, hands tracing over Bill’s human form as if with the mission to make himself familiar with every weakness he had if he in fact had one, every muscle rippling with bliss beneath his skin, his scent and the rhythm of his heart thumping within his chest.

                        ❝ Ɗιмιттє мє cσƖυηт тє ❞ He mutters softly.

   ❝ Ƭє αмαвσ ιη αєтєяηυм… ❞

He trail off interrupting himself to press yet another display of his adoration against the pure energetic being’s chest