Dove Caught in a Burning Bush Ch. 08

He tried to take a step back, but she kept pace, yellow clashing with gold. Crucifel inhaled slowly, steadying herself and letting her voice soften before reaching out to him. "Promi, please."

Promethiel stared at the offered hand for a moment, his own fingers twitching like he wanted to take it more than anything, but he didn't. His shoulders tensed and he winced at the motion. It was a brief flutter of an expression, but it was enough for Crucifel to take proper note of her brother's pained movements.

The prophetess gripped her king's robes at his shoulders, starting to slide them lower before his hands lifted to grip her wrists to stop her.

"If I show you this, I need you to promise me that you won't scream," Promethiel's voice had lost its lightness and she could feel the tremor in his hands as he held her at bay. "I promised you this morning that I would explain, and that includes this, but just...just brace yourself, alright, Darling?"

"Promethiel?" Crucifel felt her blood running cold at such grim words. What could that possibly mean, brace herself for what?

Promethiel released her wrists, letting his lips quirk upward slightly as he undid the front of his robes with a dry chuckle. "You know, Crucifel, if you wanted to see me naked then all you ever had to do was ask."

She was too concerned to glare at him, watching as the tattooed eyes on his shoulders came into view, their pupils were restricted to pinpricks as they blinked frantically at her. He could school his face into as carefree a grin as he wanted, but these eyes were less tamed. They told Crucifel much more than the rest of him cared to.

Her brother placed a pleading finger to his lips in request for silence as the upper part of his robes slid down to settle at his waist, then he slowly turned to show her his back.

Crucifel did, in fact, have to bite back a scream.

Wherever she looked, Pomethiel's skin was either bruised in a sickly rainbow of colors or struck through with golden welts and scabs. Some of them still looked horrifically fresh, dripping thin streams of gilding red as they cracked from the motion of removing the upper half of his robes. At the base of his wings where feather met skin, there were ragged, bald patches. They were positioned just close enough to his back that his robes would easily hide the injury when worn. It made her feel ill to look at, and immediately Crucifel let her palms light with a golden glow.

"Don't," Promethiel hissed, turning and facing her again with a shake of his head. "These are a sign of my penance before the Council, seven hundred and seventy-seven lashes with a scourge imbued with demon's blood, all me. They will fade in time, or not. If I must bear every single scar then so be it. I've paid my dues."

Crucifel let the light in her palms flicker out, but she didn't take her eyes off of him. She had already wept so much today, but it was hard to keep her eyes from going glassy again as she stumbled toward Promethiel, pressing against him with a shudder. An embrace would have been preferred, but she didn't dare risk irritating the tortured flesh of his back.

The prophetess' voice was shaky as she spoke, "Did they ask this of you? Did they make you do this?"

Promethiel leaned into her, resting his chin on her head and finally allowing himself to shudder. "All me," he repeated. "I wanted to make sure that they knew I recognized that my outburst was unacceptable, and that I had taken ownership of it."

"And they let you? That many?!" Crucifel felt herself bristle, citrine eyes narrowing at the thought of The Seven watching her brother beat himself bloody for what must have been hours. There was penance and then there was cruelty. That no one would stop him, let him know when enough was enough, it was awful. How was he still able to even stand, archangel or not?

"They allowed it," Promethiel confirmed, letting a little more of his weight rest against her. "I can explain the rest to you, but if you would help me to my bed first? As it turns out, being struck repeatedly isn't very pleasant when it's not done by your loving hands."

Crucifel sighed heavily but nodded, nestling close to Promethiel's side as she helped him toward the large bed. The silken sheets had been changed at some point, replaced with a fresh set that smelled faintly sweet with laundry soap. That ever fretful part of her couldn't help but wonder if anyone noticed any stains that were left behind on the sheets from her and Promethiel's activities the previous night. But there were more important things to worry about.

The Archangel settled down onto the edge of his bed, humming happily as she pressed a kiss to his forehead, even the wild eyes inked onto his torso seemed to relax at Crucifel's touch. "A few more of those and I might just spontaneously heal on my own."

"I wish you'd let me at least help with the worst of them," Crucifel replied, placing another kiss to Promethiel's jaw before she moved to help him slide the rest of the way out of his robes. "This endeavor of yours was foolish and the Council should never have allowed it."

As she crouched to help the fabric slide free from his hips, a now intimately familiar part of Promethiel's anatomy sprang up to meet her and Crucifel couldn't help but flinch in shock as it flicked her on the chin.

"Even now, with the skin nearly peeled from your back and pain wracking your entire form, you manage to be erect?" She sputtered, flushing crimson as Promethiel snorted with laughter. "I'm surprised you have enough blood left in you to maintain that!"

Her brother laughed again, leaning back slightly and shrugging with impish mirth. "I did tell you that your kisses would revive me, did I not?"

Crucifel shook her head, pressing a hand to her brow as she looked down at Promethiel's exposed shaft with a beleaguered expression. She'd been on the receiving end of it a few times now, but hadn't had the chance to actually look at it closely aside from that first night in the tower. She wasn't well versed with many phalluses outside of textbooks, but he was certainly a fine specimen even in his current ragged state. And, as crass as it was to admit, Crucifel's own body seemed to recognize his, sending heat crawling along her spine.

"You're hopeless," the prophetess sighed, mostly to Promethiel but perhaps just a bit to herself too. "Listen, I know you owe me a very long and thorough--"

She cut herself off as he snickered, staring daggers until he quieted down and she could continue. "Thorough explanation for why this was necessary in the first place, but I think you should rest first."

That desire to cry earlier had mostly faded, not to say that she was any less upset about Promethiel's current state. But right now Crucifel was feeling something else, a sort of angry exhaustion. As bizarre as it was to feel such a protective ire for the sibling that she had no qualms about describing as 'murderous' or 'vulgar' to his face, she couldn't help but want to wrap him up in her wings and vent her disapproval to the angels that had allowed him to lash himself so severely.

Her own news regarding the letter would be able to wait, it wasn't anything that would edandager the kingdom nor threaten the peace in any meaningful way. It was all the more reason to let Promethiel relax and heal before their arrival.

"I'll rest, don't you worry," Promethiel murmured, running his fingers through her snowy hair. "But if you'd stay, I would appreciate it. I sleep better with you here."

The sentiment would have been sweet if she wasn't feeling the heat radiating from his cock just a few inches below her chin. Even then, it wasn't not sweet. Both of them had endured long, arduous days and the thought of sleeping nuzzled up to each other, safe and warm under Promethiel's wings, was appealing.

"Alright," she agreed, leaning forward to kiss the pair of golden scars at his ribs. "I'll stay."

Promethiel closed his eyes, letting out a sigh as he shuddered beneath the touch. The king's golden eyes met hers in the gathering dark, and he puffed an awkward laugh. "I was hoping to give you another night of passion like the last, but I don't think that much movement is going to be good for the healing process."

Crucifel was tempted to swat him with her wings, but fought off the urge. She was feeling wrung out as well, but between everything that had happened that day for both of them and the Council's allowance of such a severe self-inflicted punishment, she couldn't help but feel a lingering sense of irritation.

"I can't argue with that," she replied brushing her lips agains his inner thigh, "but, here, it must be uncomfortable to try and sleep like that, let me..."

Crucifel gathered her courage, feeling her face darken further before she dragged her tongue along the length of his shaft. Promethiel's flesh was warm and firm beneath her tongue, twitching readily at her attention while he groaned.

"Darling, you know I would give anything to feel those sweet lips of yours wrapped around me," Promethiel murmured, petting her head affectionately, "but don't think you have to do this right now, there's always time later."

Crucifel licked another line up his cock in response, pausing to kiss his waistline. "Do you want me to stop, are you in pain?"

"Hm, quite the opposite," Promethiel assured her, scratching gently at her scalp. "I'm loving this."

"Then let me," Crucifel whispered, putting as much certainty into her voice as she could muster.

She had not a clue what she was doing, but tried to follow what his body was telling her. She kissed the crown of his cock, tasting the salinity that a bead of clear precum smeared across her lips before running her tongue curiously around the head to feel the texture where it met the soft flesh beneath. That, apparently, was an exceedingly sensitive place for him because her brother jerked and hissed when she circled it with her tongue.

"Careful," she hummed, pulling back and stroking his length with her hand in an attempt to calm him down. "I don't want you to go re-opening your wounds."

Promethiel nodded, taking her free hand in his own and kissing the back of her knuckles. "Fair enough," he agreed, gold eyes half lidded as he watched her. "You just caught me by surprise there, Love. Would you like some advice?"

"Please," Crucifel chuckled breathlessly, leaning forward to press her lips to his shaft again. "Anything, this is entirely alien to me."

"The head is one of, if not the most sensitive parts, you should be able to fit it in your mouth without much issue," Promethiel advised, curling a strand of her hair around a finger as she stroked him. "Try sucking it gently, nice and slow, let your tongue follow the shape."

Crucifel nodded, taking her time as she swallowed his cockhead into her mouth, using her tongue to trace its contours as she suckled him. Only once before had she taken him into her mouth while her tongue had done most of the work cleaning their combined fluids. Right now there was only the salt of pre and the taste of clean skin, which the worried sister part of her made note of that he had at least bathed his wounds after his flagellation.

She worked her way down, cheeks hollowing as he slid deeper with a groan, until she felt her throat threatening to revolt against her if she tried to go any further. It was a strange sensation, the feel of her brother's flesh filling her mouth. But Crucifel was quickly relaxing into the warmth of his thighs as she began to tentatively bob her head.

"That's it, Lovely," Promethiel murmured with a lazy grin, running a hand through her hair. "That feels divine."

His other hand settled between her shoulders, heating just enough to be hot but not scalding as he kneaded the flesh between her wings. A shudder went down Crucifel's spine, straight into her depths as his fingers pushed at the tensed muscles between her shoulder blades. She hadn't expected a massage, but neither was she complaining when her throat was so thoroughly occupied.

"You're doing very well," Promethiel praised, letting out a sigh as she took him deeper. "Keep going, please."

Crucifel closed her eyes, working her lips up and down his shaft as she fell into a pattern. She still wasn't sure what exactly she was doing, but she trusted that the way his breath hitched and how he would groan meant that she wasn't doing too terribly. She continued until she felt her jaw begin to ache from the unfamiliar usage, pausing for a moment to lick at the swollen tip with dragging flicks of her tongue.

"Are you alright?" she checked in once more, looking up to meet his eyes as a line of saliva fell away between his shaft and her lips.

"It's like the pain is melting away, my Heart," Promethiel cooed, leaning down to kiss her forehead but stopping midway with a grimace. "The worst of it at least."

Crucifel patted his hip before reaching forward to help push him back to sit up straight while she went back to work, sucking contentedly on his head while she stroked his shaft with her fingers below. The archangel groaned, his fingers threading through her pale hair twitching with the desire to push her down onto his cock, but pushing past the urge as he let her go at her own pace.

"Crucifel, Sweetling, you're going to make me explode," Promethiel warned with a shudder, shifting his hips restlessly. "If I don't last much longer, it's far from because you're not doing a good job."

She circled his crown with her tongue as she sucked, taking that almost as a challenge. The soft sounds of her suckling and the careful pressure of her fingers as they traced lines along his shaft made him shiver beneath her, and he began to rock himself against her mouth helplessly. Strangely enough, having her injured brother writhing beneath her touch made the prophetess feel almost powerful.

She was the one controlling their movement, how fast or slow they went, how deep she took his shaft into her mouth. He was entirely at her mercy, and something about that made Crucifel feel more in control than she had ever felt before.

"Crucifel!" Promethiel hissed, arching his back with a sharp wince as thick heat sprayed across her tongue.

That sense of control left her as another two heavy spurts of Promethiel's seed shot across her palette, leaving her with a mouthful of his essence as she looked helplessly up at him, yellow eyes wide with a clear question; 'What do I do now?'

The archangel was still reeling from his orgasm, but recognized her look of muted panic and reached down to tickle her chin. "You can spit it out, or swallow, Love," he suggested, giving her a wobbly smile. "Shall I get a cloth for you?"

Crucifel shook her head, not wanting to make any further messes. The taste of his seed wasn't exactly like a mouthful of honey, but it wasn't awful either. She did feel a little queasy though, the whole experience was still unexplored ground and the idea that her tongue was slippery with his semen was messing with her head. So she swallowed, feeling the warmth slide down her throat as Promethiel watched with wide but undeniably pleased eyes.

"Thank you," he purred, sliding the hand on her head down to brush her lips with his thumb. "That was wonderful."

Crucifel smiled, resting her cheek against his thigh before impishly wiping her mouth off on it. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she murmured, throat slightly hoarse, "now let's get you on your belly, I don't think I could stomach waking up to help peel you off the bed by your scabs."

Promethiel chuckled, giving her a quick kiss as she rose before rolling over onto his stomach himself. "I don't need any help," he assured her. "But why don't you slip out of that robe and get comfortable against the pillows, I'd like to return the favor."

She was prepared to argue with him, but Promethiel made an exaggerated show of swiping his tongue across his teeth and she quickly blushed in understanding. It would be a lie to say that her inner thighs weren't slick with arousal as she peeled off her robe and underclothes, letting them pool beside the bed as she climbed up and settled comfortably against the pillows at his headboard while he pushed her thighs apart, looking at her glistening slit with hungry eyes.

"I swear every inch of you is perfect," Promethiel murmured, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "It's almost unfair."

Crucifel sighed as he pressed his lips to her lower ones, massaging his scalp with her fingers. "Don't overexert yourself, Promi."

"My tongue is one part of me that's perfectly fine," Promethiel mused, pressing his face between her thighs happily. "Just relax, I'll take care of you."

Crucifel continued to play with his hair as she leaned back into the pillows, humming softly as he spread her open with his thumbs and began to trace her folds with long, slow strokes of his tongue. It felt good, she was willing to admit that. Promethiel's mouth felt hot, slick and mind bendingly wonderful as he teased her clit in steady circles with the tip of his tongue.

The room had steadily grown darker as the sun slipped fully below the horizon, and Crucifel bit her lip as she looked out of the window to where the horizon bled its last gleam of soft violet. Stars were fading in to speckle the sky, but she was having a hard time focusing on the beauty as her brother's tongue dragged between her slick folds. She closed her eyes with a soft moan when he tensed the appendage, pushing it against her entrance as his thumb found her swollen bud and began to rub at it.

"Please," she whimpered, arching her back as his tongue pushed in and out of her depths. "Please!"

Promethiel tapped her clit playfully, making her hips jerk with each light touch. "You know I'd never deny you anything, Heart."

Crucifel shuddered beneath his ministrations, whimpering when he switched his mouth with his fingers, sucking her clit as he worked a pair of digits inside her. The prophetess couldn't help but look down at him, catching the tender gleam in a single glowing, golden eye as he smiled at her, face flushed with white strands of his hair haphazardly falling over his forehead. Monstrous or not, and as much as she fought with herself on this fact, she couldn't deny that she loved him so much that it made her chest hurt.

Crucifel released a quivering moan as his fingers rubbed against a sensitive patch on her inner walls, and she tangled her fingers in his hair at the feeling of her insides clenching tighter around his digits.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat as her inner walls spasmed around his fingers. "Please, please don't stop."

Promethiel hummed in agreement, continuing to suckle with her clit as his long fingers curved against her flexing walls until she was whimpering into her shoulder. He paused for a moment, kissing her inner thigh before easing his fingers out of her to lick them clean. "I love you too, Crucifel, more than anything," he breathed, crawling halfway up her body to kiss her, snorting when a soft sound of dismay escaped her at his wet lips.

She pushed her face into his neck, feeling the last of her harsh breaths escape between her teeth as her body finally began to relax against him. "I want to hold you, but I don't want to hurt you."

"Do it anyways," Promethiel murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I'd rather you touch me gently than not at all."

Crucifel nodded, pressing kisses to his forehead before resting her head atop his and crossing her arms over his shoulders. It wasn't the most comfortable position physically, but she felt safe and warm like this, pleased that Promethiel could rest on his stomach and not irritate his ragged back.

"We're going to sleep like this aren't we?" He sighed.

"Probably," Crucifel agreed, nuzzling his hair. "But we are waking early, because I haven't forgotten that talk you owe me."