#Warren Worthington III Smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scarletttries · 2 years

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Falling for a Fallen Angel (Warren Worthington/Angel Request)

Pairing: Warren Worthington/Angel (X-Men) x Reader

Rating: Explicit, description of reader's first time having sex, unprotected sex (be sensible in real life), mention of scars.

Word Count: 2.5k

Request: "Can I have a warren worthington x reader where it's their first time and they kiss their scars/wings/mutant marks all over pls make it extra fluffy with caramel!"

Author's Note: Thank you for another sweet request my lovely! I did my best to make this extra fluffy with caramel so I hope you really enjoy it and I appreciate your patience!:)

Falling for a Fallen Angel (Warren Worthington)

Nights at Xavier's mansion were always quiet, the professors out travelling to mutants across the country, or on their way to deliver the latest in mutant diplomacy to the White House. But in the holidays when those with nearby families went back to their real homes, the house was near silent, like the snow falling across the ground absorbed any stray noise from the expansive home. In the past it'd felt too quiet for you, passing your time idly, waiting for your friends to return, but this year was very different; you had your own Christmas angel to keep you entertained.

It had only been a few months since Warren Worthington had moved into the school, converted to the mutant cause after his run in with the Apocalypse, and as the first person to welcome him to the school, ignoring the cautious looks of the other students as you gave him a friendly tour, he had taken an immediate shine to you. It had only taken only a month of him following alongside you to every class, meal and study session until he couldn't hold back his growing feelings anymore. Sat on a soft blanket by the lake, watching you effortlessly manipulate the edge of the water with the movement of your fingers. As your power flowed the curved lines etched into your skin from birth ebbed with waves of blue light, a sight you'd once wished you could hide until the Professor taught you it was just another part of who you are, and that was nothing to ever cover up.

"You're really pretty." Warren sighed out at the sight, before catching himself with a nervous laugh, "I mean the light on you, it's really pretty when you do that. Not that you aren't always pretty, I just.." he paused for a second, spurred on by the shy smile growing across your face, "I just really like it, and I really like you (y/n)."

He hadn't exactly been subtle with the way he felt, but that didn't stop the butterflies in your stomach at his confession, heart beating faster as you leaned forward until the gap between your lip disappeared into a gentle, longing kiss. You could feel the twitch of his lips against yours as he fought back a smile, hand finding yours across the blanket, threatening to never let go.

---

"What are you thinking about (y/n)?" Warren called out from over your shoulder, breaking you out of your spell as you realised you'd been drawing swirling shapes in the lake from your bedroom window as you reminisced.

"I was just thinking about our first kiss actually." You flirted, scooting off the windowsill and onto your feet as the angel crossed the threshold of your room, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Oh yeah, about how sooth and charming I was, bravely making the first move," He smirked, strutting towards you until his arms found your waist, wrapping around them as you corrected him,

"I'm pretty sure I made the first move. You were busy stuttering about how pretty I am." He laughed at your brutal honesty, nodding in defeat as he conceded,

"You're right, sorry, I was thinking about our next kiss." His lips crashed to yours before you could reply, stifling a laugh as he pulled you against the soft wool of the jumper covering his chest. Your arms found his neck as you pulled him closer, letting your lips dance against his before nuzzling your noses together,

"Now that was smooth." You praised, watching his beaming expression as his hands trailed down the outside of your thighs.

"I have my moments." He rebuffed with a wink, bending down quickly and lifting you with ease, his hands guiding your thighs to wrap around his waist. His arms encompassed you as he gave you a twirl, the sound of your shared laughter quickly cancelling out the silence that filled the room before it. You looped your arms around his neck, pulling your lips together as he gradually settled onto the edge of your bed, your weight covering his lap. Your chest leaned against his as the kiss grew hungry, need emanating from you both as you seemed to realise simultaneously that you all but had the house to yourselves for the first time. Usually the place was overrun with kids and teachers, time between training barely giving you time to squeeze in make out sessions before you had to return to your separate rooms. But with the time and space to spend all night together, you knew you wanted to finally feel all of Warren.

His hands seemed to tremble slightly as they shifted slowly up the outer edge your thighs, his thoughts matching yours as he hovered just shy of cupping your bum, waiting for your lead. In response you played softly with the edge of his shirt, lifting the corners slowly, waiting as he raised his arms, letting you remove it entirely. You quickly tossed it on the bed behind you, confident it would be your new favourite pyjama top after tonight. You let your eyes trail along his chest, definitely muscles marked by a constellation of scars, a permanent reminder of the difficult times that had lead him to you. Leather straps held firm around his broad shoulders, a design made just for him to allow his wings to fit comfortably under his clothes, framing his strong arms. He was beautiful, losing yourself in tracing your fingertips over his scars, barely noticing his eyes falling to his lap, his arms crossing over himself in defence.

"I know i'm not great to look at." He sighed out softly, eyes not daring to meet yours. If they had, he would have seen nothing but pure adoration as your fingertips moved to his chin, lightly tipping it upwards until your stares met, your lips finding his with a reassuringly gentle pressure.

"Warren Worthington, you are beautiful, every single part of you." You cooed, your kind words cutting through the insecurity until a smile he couldn't fight crept across his face.

"Yeah?" He beamed back, watching you intently as you lowered your head to his chest, lips mapping a path across his scars, "Every. Single. Part." You echoed, each word punctuated with a sweet kiss that had him sighing gently at the contact. You paused as your lips brushed the edge of his leather harness, glancing at his face once more to gauge his reaction. Warren's eyes fluttered shut, lips parted slightly in his blissful trance, nodding gently for you to continue. Working slowly, allowing for a changing mind in an instance, your fingers loosened the symmetrical buckles, earning a palpable sigh of relief from the angelic man before you. The straps fell from his shoulders with a push, clattering along the ground with a clang that made you jolt against Warren's lap. He groaned at the contact, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest as his wings began to unfold behind him.

The way the light danced on the unfurling feathers had your breath catching in your throat, the radiant white backdrop flecked with iridescent silver, swirling like the reflection of the stars on a swaying ocean. You watched as they spanned almost the width of the room, seeming to go on forever until finally he flexed at their full length, the defined muscles of his chest tensing and relaxing at the unrestricted movement. Without a thought you reached for the feathered expanse around you, trailing your fingertips over his wings for the first time. It was like delving your hand into liquid silk, the satin feel of the blooms softer than anything you'd felt before. You followed the pattern of the feathers outwards, hand pressing into the heavenly extremity, earning a guttural groan from Warren as you combed your fingers through them.

"That feels, really nice, (y/n)." He moaned, his hips starting buck against yours of their own accord, the intimacy of the moment stirring a warmth deep in his core.

"Your wings are so beautiful, I'm sorry you ever felt you had to hide them away. They're incredible, you're incredible Warren." You spoke sincerely, the admiration for his form clear in your awestruck gaze. You watched the easy smile light up his face as his grip on you tightened, and then all at once you were in the air, hovering above your bed as his wings supported you both with ease. His lips moved to yours as you floated in space, like two snowflakes hanging indefinitely on a breeze, threatening never to land on the cold ground below.

"If i'm incredible, it's only because you make me feel that way." Before you could form a coherent thought, let alone a response, he captured your lips in a hungry kiss, bodies slowly drifting back to the bed below, until he lay you down, his chest pressed to yours as his wings began to wrap around your body, their softness enveloping you on all sides. His hands quickly found the hem of your shirt, slowly drawing it up to reveal more of the etched lines that your mutation granted your skin. You sat up, allowing him to pull the fabric away, his loving gaze raking along your chest before his lips found their way there too, grazing each of the precious marks with a kiss as he lowered himself down your stomach.

"I love so many things about you (y/n)," He mused between soft love bites along your flesh, drinking in the content sighs you released with each one, "I love your kindness, and your brains, and your body, and every pretty mark on your skin." He paused at the waistband of your shorts, fingers hovering just along the edge, sending sparks through your core as they brushed lightly over your stomach. His big, blue eyes looked up hopefully, wanting to kiss every part of you, and make you feel as good, as special, as you make him feel everyday. You nodded, a deep sigh coursing through you as his fingers hooked inside the hem, ache building between your legs as any fabric covering them was slowly dragged away. Hunger burned in Warren's eyes as he looked down at you exposed, vulnerable, desperate for his touch and all his for the taking. He pushed your knees slightly apart, drinking in the sight of your centre, the edge of his wings brushing over the inside of your thighs, making you squirm with the delicate sensation. The white feathers settled there, drawing soft circles on the sensitive flesh, as Warren leaned down between them, planting a tentative kiss on your tingling clit. He smiled at the reaction the slight touch drew, your eyes falling shut as your hips bucked off the mattress.

"Do that again?" You breathed out, missing the delighted look in Warren's eyes as his tongue replaced his lips, licking along your sensitive bud and watching closely at the effect he had on you. He could taste your excitement growing, slick building between at your entrance with every suck and swirl of his tongue, the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. He positioned one finger teasingly at your entrance, gathering your excitement on his digit before pushing inside you slowly, watching for your reaction. Every sensation was magnified by his touch, the dance of his tongue in time with the incredible feeling of his finger inside you, the growing wetness and steady rhythm making your core tense of its own accord. The feather-light tickle of his wings inside your thighs had them trembling as he moved, the satin perfection of each brush drawing noises out from you that you'd never made before. It felt incredible and overwhelming and sensitive all at once, as the pressure inside you built to a peak you'd never felt anything like, your whole body seeming to vibrate all at once.

"Warren!" You cried out happily as the pleasure washed over you, feeling yourself tighten and clench around him as he hummed greedily against you, licking up the rush of wetness that came with your release. You felt euphoric, reaching your hands to grasp Warren's face and pulling it flush with yours, unable to fight back the beaming smiles as your lips met again.

"That was amazing." You sighed out, hands all but shaking as you slowly undid the button on jeans, desperate to feel more of him inside you, to help him feel the same incredible release. As you freed him of the fabric straining against his hard desire, his lips moved to your neck, kissing and sucking softly, as he kicked off his pants to leave nothing between the two of you.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, as he looked down at you, needing to know you wanted this just as much as he did.

"I want you Warren, and i want my first time to be with you." You replied sweetly, trailing your fingers over his chest until you reached his manhood, wrapping your palm around him and pumping the length a few times as he nodded in agreement, lips returning to the sea of marks across your chest as he lined himself up with your dripping entrance. "Let me know if it hurts and we can pause or stop." He said warmly, waiting for your agreement before he began to push himself into you. You felt warm and full as his hips bucked against yours, his wings encircling your bodies until you were in a perfect cocoon of soft, glistening feathers. You rolled your hips up against his, moaning as you felt the angle change inside of you, the vibrations of your first orgasm leaving you so sensitive that every movement felt like sparks flying inside of you. Warren's forehead pressed against yours as he thrust his hips, groaning deeply at the feeling of your warm, wet entrance clenching around him, a perfect fit like you were always meant to be this close. His steady thrusts grew faster, his volume increasing as he chased his high, the feeling of being deep inside you more than he could hold himself back from.

"(y/n), I.." He groaned out, his own ecstasy imminent as you nodded your head, anticipating his release as his hips started to twitch erratically,

"it's okay baby, let go, I want to feel you inside me." You moaned out, returning your hands to his wings, your fingers running over the feathers in a blissful sensation that had Warren crying out your name as he let himself spill inside of you. You kept the gentle stroke of your fingers on his wings until he rolled sideways, falling onto the bed beside you, his wing wrapping over you like the most protective blanket you could hope for.

"That was amazing (y/n)." He sighed softly, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead as he cuddled in closer, his nose bumping into yours as your faces drew closer.

"It really was, I love you." You replied back, pulling your own blanket over the both of you as you settled into the cosy comfort of bed together.

"I love you too." He echoed softly, a weight lifted from his scarred shoulders as he allowed himself to relax into you, finally feeling like he's found his safe home; you.

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thegreatwicked · 8 months

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Mending Feathers

Summary: Warren, having escaped the cagefighting underground, seeks refuge in a broken church, feeling crippled and directionless with his damaged wings. During a stormy night, he discovers an unexpected visitor seeking sanctuary in his church. Initially resistant, Warren is taken aback when the visitor reveals the ability to heal and restore his wings. With his ability to fly restored, Warren is free again, but questions arise about the mysterious girl and what lies ahead for him. Grappling with gratitude, Warren contemplates the next chapter of his life and wonders how he can express his thanks. Takes place in an AU in the church Apocalypse finds Warren drinking his sorrows away in, I've also set it in London.

Pairing: Warren Worthington III x OC Ivy

Rating: Explicit; smut, you know why you're here.

Content Warning; descriptions of healing that may be somewhat graphic and painful.

Final note: This is my first story written from a character with an accent, its' Warrens POV and I REALLY tried to get this ounding like him so please be gentle in your critiques of my writing of a British accent!

Staring into the fire, lost in the bloody chaos swirlin' in my mind, like it's the only thing with the answers I need. The storm outside, it's like a mirror to the mess I've turned into; turbulent and wild. Been ages since I busted out of that cage, the night when everything went pear-shaped, and I've been rotting away in here since with wings that won't heal, can't fly, and feel like they're pulling me down each day. Can feel me body slowly dying a piece at a time.

Me wings are in a right state, I'm in a sore state, but it's nothin' compared to what's simmerin' in my head: It's the memories, they're like a nightmare on repeat. All the dodgy things I did to survive in that place, they're gnawing at me like a hungry dog, tearing me apart from the inside, but I can't shake 'em. Can still see their faces, hear their cries, begging me not to finish 'em off. But it was kill or be killed, and I chose to survive.

That was the worst bit seeing the desperation in 'em when they all realized that it was them or me, that's when the light inside 'em all went out. That spark that keeps us all going. Now, their ghostly voices haunt me, remindin' me of what I've done. And for what? Some sick entertainment for the bloody masses. And they have the nerve to call us the freaks. Bloody hypocrites.

The fire crackles and pops like a symphony, and every little snap makes me twitch a tad, giving my mind a short break from the constant chatter inside my head. It’s the only thing keeping me from going mad in this place. But something feels off, and then I hear it; sounds that shouldn’t be there; I’m not alone and I prefer it that way. There's no room for unwelcome guests in my space. Panic creeps in, because I’m not in any state to go brawling but I'm not about to let it paralyze me, I’m too pissed off to do nothing. This is my turf.

I keep to the shadows, strength’s not on my side but I can be quiet as a church mouse, moving up on the intruder, watching as they slide through the busted window. It's a girl, 'round my age, soaked to the bone like a stray dog, looking as miserable as a drowned rat. She lands with a thud and starts scoping out my church, muttering to herself. "Could do worse," she says rubbing her arms like she’s trying to warm up, making me wonder what's worse than this place. As she glances around, maybe she's thinking what I thought when I first stumbled in here, eyeballing the statues of the saints, feeling judged as all hell, looking at the stained glass windows and wondering how they'd shine with sunlight instead of moss and rain. She freezes, her eyes locked on something near the altar, one of my feathers, stained with blood.

She picks it up, staring at it like it's some ghost. "Didn't think angels existed," she mutters, clueless that I'm watching her.

Any sympathy I feel for her is quickly knocked out of my head with the simple logic of 'ain't nothin wrong with her, she can find someplace else.' I can't let her stay. I step out of the shadows, my voice sharp and cutting through the air like a blade.

"Oi! What's your game, then?" My voice echoes off the walls and pillars amplified in a space this grand and sounds ten times larger than it is, making her jump like a startled cat. She looks my way, seemingly taken aback by the fact that she's not alone, but she doesn't even take in my wings.

"Clear off!" I demand, not giving her an inch. She babbles about waiting out the storm, but I won't have any of it. She's got to clear out of my church

"Your church? Last time I checked churches were sanctuary for all." She shoots back with a tone that tells me she's no pushover, the kind of lass who's never afraid of a tussle, I get the feeling tongue as sharp as hers has probably landed her in trouble as often as mine has for me. She's got fire in her, I’ll give her that. I can tell she's got some fire in her, and, of course, she's American, because they tend to think they can roam where they want and do as they please.

“Not this one.”

She seems like she's about to give me a piece of her mind for being a jerk, fair enough, I am a jerk, but then she stops when she notices the state of my wings. Her eyes widen like she's seen a real biblical angel, "Jesus," She mutters to herself, not here, he ain't. "Are you okay?" Her voice goes soft, filled with something that sounds like fear. Her voice goes all gentle and filled with something that sounds like concern, making me feel more exposed than I'd like. Can't have anyone see me in this state; I'm feeling fragile, too weak.

I'm not a welcoming bloke, and I've grown pretty used to being on my own, especially in a place like this. But when I notice someone trespassing in the church during the storm, I can't help but get my feathers ruffled.

The storm ragin’ outside, raining cats and dogs, the lightning flickerin’ through the stained-glass windows, and now I can see her a bit more clearly. She's a looker, with long ginger red hair that's probably a mum's dream to braid and play with. Her lips look like they might be a real treat to kiss. I can't quite make out her eyes, but I feel small and naked under her gaze. Don't like that feeling one bit. It's late, I'm knackered, and I can't be arsed for a fight.

She's fixated on my wrecked wings, looking at me as if I'm some sort of charity case. "Does that hurt?" Bless her heart, she's gorgeous, but dense as a brick.

"Nah, not at all, feels like a tickle," I say, snappin’ back when she takes a step closer, trying to reach out to me like I'm some bloomin' pet or something. "Course it bloody hurts! You got any idea how much it hurts to be draggin’ ‘round a busted piece of your body without a hope in hell of it ever gettin’ better?"

Then she says it; the second daftest thing I’ve heard.

“I can help.”

She just won't back off, will she? Bloody persistent little thing, it’d be inspirin’ if it wasn’t so ruddy annoying. I'd bet my last quid she's the type to take in every stray cat and dog she finds in the rain. All the beauty in the world ain't worth it if she's completely off her rocker. Her tone changes, though, and she goes from being snappy, clever, and full of sass to surprisingly accommodating for a stranger. I’m rolling my eyes, should ‘ave sent her packing when I had the chance. Now, she's like a stray cat I can't seem to shake off.

"Wait a sec, I’m serious, I can help you!"

My temper flares up, gettin’ the better of me, and something inside me just snaps. I can't fathom what kind of magic tricks she thinks she's got in her bag that could possibly fix me. I’m angrier than I should be, but maybe cause I’m just so tired of being broken. How’d you fix this? It’s almost insulting, one things for sure if she gives me some line about prayer or spirit healing I’ll send her packing this time, don’t care how fit she is.

"How d'you reckon you can help me, then, eh?" It ain't her fault I'm in this state, she didn't cripple me, but she's sure as hell payin’ the price for being so damn optimistic. "You got a plaster big enough for this?"

The concern vanishes, and she's got that fiery look in her eyes again, like she's got something to prove. Before I can even process what she's doing, she walks to one of the busted windows and gives it a hard kick, sending glass shattering and letting more of the storm in. Then she snatches up a shard of broken glass, and takes it to her hand as if she's openin’ a parcel from the post.

"Oi! What’n the hell are you doing?!"

Panic shoots through me as I hurry to wrest the glass from her grip before she can do any more harm. I'm in a frenzy, though I don’t know why, all to prevent this complete stranger from harmin’ herself. And the whole time, she's actin’ as if she hasn't just maimed herself right in front of a bloke she's never met before. Like it's just another Tuesday for her, ain’t it?

The glass shatters as it hits the ground, and I've got her hand in mine, trying to get a proper look at her, but then something absolutely mental happens. It's her hand; I'm watching the cut bloody heal right before my eyes. What the hell is going on here?

She's back to banging on about how she can help me, and maybe she can, but my brain's spinning, considering if this could be some sort of trick or if there's even a sliver of hope I could soar once more. Dunno why but I touch her hand, where the gash was an it’s just fine, skin soft and whole.

"I won't hurt you," her voice is warm, like a cozy jumper on a chilly day. This girl, she's a bit loopy, but I'll be damned if she isn't genuine. “Look, just let me help you and I’ll go.”

She won’t hurt me? Now that’s downright precious, as if someone as pint-sized as her could get the jump on me, busted wings or not I’m no slouch in a fight. Still, she inches closer.

"What's your name?" No way I can manage an answer, too busy tryin’ to make sense of what just happened. "I'm Ivy," She keeps closing in, moving like she's trying to corner a spooked animal, maybe that's what I am.

Suddenly, she's right in front of me, eyes fixed on my wings and the scars etched into the rest of my body, I must look a mess. Eventually, and I can’t believe I’m entertaining this nonsense.

"Will it hurt?" My voice is weaker than I’d like, but really? I’m terrified.

"I don’t know, all I have to do is touch you." Her hand's right there, closer to me than anyone's been since my cage days. I jump back for a moment, hit with a surge of panic. She's too close, too kind, too real, it can't be real, can it? Says the bloke with wings, I know.

I mean, we're in a bloody church, the Big Guy's gaff where miracles are supposed to go down, and what kind of tosser would I be if I didn't have a bit of faith in Him, even after the rubbish hand I've been dealt? I swallow down my nerves, what’s the worst that could happen? Best case scenario, she patches me up, and I'm whole again. Worst case, I look like a right idiot, either way, I’m no worse off.

Fuck it, I grab her hand, pulling it against my cheek as if ripping off a metaphorical plaster, and I can feel her other hand gently takin’ hold of my wing. Then, I shut my eyes tight.

It ain’t painless, not by a long shot. It's like an electric shock coursin’ through my entire body. Like being torn apart and pieced back together and there ain't no rhyme or reason to it. Every inch of me is screamin’ to push her away, to tear her hands off me. But then I see her face, focused and intense, and I can’t help but think that she's got this under control.

The pain’s almost unbearable, the kind that shoots up your spine when you pop a dislocated shoulder back into place. One moment, I’m all broken and torn, but the next, I can feel things clickin’ back into place as if some invisible force is yankin’ my body around like a rag doll. Bones creakin’ back into proper position, nerves sparking back to life, skin stretchin’ to cover the gaps, tendons, and muscles knittin’ themselves together, all at once, after months of being in disarray. It's a symphony of agony and renewal, a bluster of snapping and shifting.

I grit my teeth, tryin’ not to scream, but a low, guttural groan tears its way out of my lungs. My back arches involuntarily, and I can feel the sweat pourin’ down my face. Every muscle in my body tenses, and my heart’s racin’, it's a chaotic whirlwind of sensations, a rollercoaster of pain and relief.

I can feel a pulse and crackle of energy in the air, the faint hum of somethin’ ancient and powerful, and it feels like it's crawling under my skin. I reckon I've got no faith in God, but I've got faith in Ivy, and right now, that's enough. It's excruciatin’, and I'm on the verge of passing out from the sheer agony. As the seconds drag on, I can feel my strength ebbin’ away, my body changin’ and mending in ways I didn’t know were possible. I sink to my knees, muscles tremblin’, and Ivy holds onto me like she's afraid I'll slip away, just as everything starts to blur, to meld into a haze of pain and darkness, I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, I'll be whole again when I wake up.

When I finally force my eyes open, I see blurry outlines, and my wings feel... different. It's like I can actually feel it, strong and whole. It's overwhelmin’ the way my body’s speakin’ to me again. Ivy's face hovers above me, an her eyes are full of concern. The room’s lit up in a faint glow but I can’t tell from where or what, the air’s heavy with the scent of rain and something else, something like life and renewal.

"Easy there tiger," I'm sprawled on the cold floor, feeling like I've been hit by a double-decker coach, my limbs heavy as lead, and Ivy's right there, holding me up, the pain all but vanished but I'm still aching all over. "I've got you," she says, helping me sit up.

"Did it work?" I ask, feeling like I've just come out of a rough night at the pub, sick and battered. She gives me a shake of ‘er head and this sympathetic smile like I've just asked the daftest question in the world.

"See for yourself."

I've never been so nervous to look over my shoulder, but sure enough, the blood's gone and I see full feathers, and I push myself up, testin’ the movement cautiously. They respond smoothly, without even a twinge of the previous stiffness and pain. A wave of relief crashes over me, and for the first time in what feels like ages, I feel like I've got my whole body back under my control. No pain. I'm whole. Ivy's healing touch has done what I thought was bleedin' impossible.

Can't believe it, and I was this close to giving this bird the boot. I almost missed out on getting my wings back. She's got this cheeky grin on her face, like she knows she's just pulled off something bloody brilliant, and she plops back down on the floor. She looks absolutely knackered, like she's just run a bleeding marathon. No doubt fixing me up took a toll on her. She did that for me, a complete stranger. I could kiss this girl.

“What’re you waiting for? Try ‘em out.”

I don’t need to be told twice and I jump up my wings carrying me with ease for the first time in months, I’m in the rafters before you can blink and I can feel the smile creeping on my face. I’m flying. I’m weightless again, never thought I’d take to the skies again but here it is.

I’m on top of the world after soaring, even if it’s just in the cathedral hall, feeling the exhilaration of flight once again. My mind’s racing with the possibilities, places I can go, things I can do — I feel free again. And no one’s ever gonna put me in a cage again, not as long as I have breath in my lungs.

I need to go higher, feel the wind on my face, and let the rain drench me. A bit of rain ain't gonna hurt. There's a gap in the rafters where the old roof gave way, it’s my way out. I take a leap, and push myself up through the ceiling, out into the open. Soaring higher and higher, as fast as my wings'll take me.

The rain's pelting my face, soaking me to the bone, clothes sticking to me, but honestly, I don't give a toss. I'm free, that's all that matters. I'm pulling off some mad aerial tricks, spinning and looping through the sky like a bloody circus act. I'm doing every crazy move I know, because I can. The buzz is unreal. I've missed this, more than I knew. Up here, nothin’ can touch me. No one can lay a finger on me. I'm probably giving people a proper shock, might even turn a few doubters into believers if they happen to catch a glimpse of me.

I'm as light as a feather, climbing higher and higher, feeling the adrenaline rush. Time's got a mind of its own up here, and I ain't payin’ it any attention. It's only when I start feeling the cold from the altitude and notice my teeth are chatterin’ and my body shakin’ that I clock it's time to head back down and warm up.

I've got to find that fiery lass and plant a good one on her lips, I don’t care if I get smacked. Might not be the best at saying thanks, but I've got to let her know – thanks for saving my arse.

I make a soft landing inside the church, and the pigeons up in the rafters scatter like they've seen a ghost. Pigeons, the church's most faithful congregation, it seems. The excitement courses through me like electricity, pure joy that's been absent for a while. It feels like the very first time I ever flew.

"Ivy!" I shout, my voice is brimmin’ with enthusiasm. "Ivy, where are you, Love?" But there's nothin’ but silence. My heart drops like a lead weight. She's gone. The church door is still locked, just as I left it, so I glance toward the window she used to come in. It's my best guess – she must have slipped out the same way she came in. But why? Where's she off to? Without much thought, I burst through the ceiling again, eager to catch up with her. Why'd she leave me hanging like this?

"Women," I mumble, feeling a twinge of frustration.

I’m soarin’ through the rain-drenched skies, scannin’ the area for any sign of her. But it's as if she's vanished into thin air. Why the bloody hell would she do this?

I'm on the verge of giving up when I finally spot her, trudging along a dimly lit side street. She looks like she's been dragged through the mud, drenched and downcast. She doesn't even need to face me – I can see the sorrow in her gait. There's somethin’ about how women walk when they're hurtin’ as if they don't care where they're headed, just that it's somewhere far away from their problems.

Hugging herself, arms wrapped ‘round tight, against the cold and the world – it's as if she's saying, "If no one else’ll protect me, I'll do it myself."

I could've left her to it, pretended I didn't give a toss. After all, she was the one offerin’ to help me, wasn’t she? At least that's the story I want to buy. But life’s got this funny way of throwing choices right in your path, makin’ you pick a road, and tonight’s no different.

There I am, watching her pass that dodgy old warehouse when a couple of blokes start tailing her, sneaking out of a dingy alley like rats on the prowl. Another shadow joins in, and then a third. This doesn't feel right at all.

My blood goes icy, and me fists clench at the sight of those blokes, slitherin’ after Ivy like sharks on the prowl for an easy catch. All I can think about is them snatchers, the wankers who cracked me over the head and chucked me in that bleedin' cage. My anger bubbles up as they close in, and Ivy starts legging it. No chance I'm letting that happen on my watch.

I drop down, making a splash as I hit a muddy puddle, throwing my wings wide. You know the saying, make yourself look bigger, and even the dodgy sods tend to scarper. Them blokes take one look at me, and I reckon they either think they're seeing things or that I've brought down the wrath of the gods, 'cause they bugger off faster than they came.

Now I've got Ivy to deal with, and she's looking rather gobsmacked at the sight of me.

"You pester me for a place to crash, and then you just bugger off?" I’ve got to practically shout to be heard over the pounding storm; it’s deafening.

She just stands there, staring at me, like she ain’t got the faintest idea why I'd shown up. "That was the deal, remember?" She don’t seem half as annoyed as I am about her disappearin’ act. Admit I got so caught up in my own head, all I could think about was getting patched up. Completely missed the whole 'let me help you, and I'll go’ part.

"Don't remember making any bloody deal," I tell her, my exasperation making me snap. Women and their dramatic flair, I swear.

"You made it pretty clear you weren't looking for company," I can’t argue with that. At the time, I just wanted to be left alone, but that was also when I thought I'd never fly again.

"Oh, for God's sake!" I groan, she’s milkin’ this for sure. Truth is, I never really intended to kick her out. But I'm a bloke, and us blokes can be stubborn idiots when we're hurting.

She's lookin’ at me like I just accused her of stealing the crown jewels, like she don't have a clue what to say.

"What're you so upset about? Thought you wanted to be alone? It’s not like we’re friends. I don’t even know your name."

Suddenly, I feel about as big as a sodding ant, not sure what to spit out in response. A smarter bloke might come up with some slick line like 'I'm sorry, let's sort this out,' but I'm no Einstein. We're all daft sods, incapable of admitting when we cock things up. Instead, we act like it's their fault for our piss-poor choices.

"Look, you’ve got your wings back so you don’t need me anymore, just go back, I'm fine." I'm an idiot, that much is clear, but even I know that when a bird says 'she’s fine,' she really ain't.

I snatch her arm, and the words "Just come back" feel foreign on my tongue, sour and bitter, but I can't figure out why. Actually, I know why, I’m missin’ the apology part. She's a decent lass, and I've been a right arse to her since she came into my life. Maybe it's my pride getting in the way, who knows? "Look, I'm sorry it ain't exactly the Ritz-" Classic deflection, ignorin’ the real issue at hand, as if that'll help my case. I just want her to stay, and maybe give me a chance to make things right.

She’s quick on the comebacks though, "Yeah, 'cause that's exactly what I'm hung up about, a fancy hotel instead of a safe place to sleep." For some daft reason, her choice of safety over luxury hits me square in the gut. “I’m fine on my own too, the difference is I don’t wanna be.”

"Where're you goin’?" I blurt as she tries to leg it for the umpteenth time.

"I'll take my chances with the storm, your Highness."

Your Highness? That’s a bit much ain’t it? She's got a fiery, sassy attitude, looks like I've royally pissed her off. Can't say I blame her, my attitude hasn't exactly been top-notch.

It's not like my name will miraculously make things better, but calling me ‘Your Highness’ definitely ain't meant to be a compliment. There's a pause, a moment of tension between us where the rains makin’ more conversation than we are.

"Warren," I just sort of blurt it out, as if it’s the magic word that’ll fix this mess "My name's Warren.” Something works though, because she stops, she ain’t lookin’ at me but she’s stopped. “Look, just come back, dry off, and stay for a bit, alright?"

I've got my pride, and she's got hers. You’d be hard-pressed to find two people more stubborn than us. But it doesn’t hold, she just looks over her shoulder at me then wraps that sad little jacket tighter ‘round herself.

"Have a nice life, Warren," There’s sadness in her voice an’ I can see the ocean of hurt hidin’ behind her eyes, maybe even a couple of rain-soaked tears. She's trying her best to hold it together. It hits me, she’s really just gonna leave, off into the night like it’s nothin’. Crazy bird. She’d rather walk of finto a bleedin’ monsoon than come back with me, yeah, I’m an idiot and it’s my fault we’re here, but I’m tryin’ to mend things already. Can’t apologize to the back of someone’s head.

Alright, I've had enough of this stalemate. She's not just going to walk away from me, not after what she's done. Without giving her time to react, I grab her wrist, and lift her up into my arms like she don’t weigh a thing, and in the blink of an eye, we're risin’ up into the skies, not going anywhere now, is she?

She's got her arms wrapped around my neck in a second, clutching me like a boa constrictor. Gone is the smart-mouthed attitude, replaced by that quick and panicked "Oh god, oh god, oh god!" as she’s clingin’ to me for dear life.

Where’d all that sass go, eh? I reckon she might've left it on the ground. I can't resist teasing her a bit when I throw in a cheeky remark once we’ve made it up high enough that the storms beneath us.

"I'll bring us back down if you stick around," She’s noddin’ like she's trying to outdo a bobblehead, steals a look at the ground, then decides it’s a bad idea, and squeezes me tighter. She agrees in a heartbeat, burying her head in my chest, practically begging.

"Ok! Ok! I'll stay, I promise! I'm sorry! Just let me go! — Wait! No, no, no! Don't let me go! Just take me back down! Please!"

It's a bit funny to see how she switches from fierce to frightened as soon as we're up in the air, but then she hits me with that ‘please’ and something churns in my gut. What she doesn't know is that up here in the sky, she's as safe as can be with me.

I ease us back down a bit, and the storm is starting to let up, and the rain’s turning into a gentle mist, but it's still chilly enough that I can see goosebumps on her. I need to get her warm and dry again, so I pick up the pace. It's smooth sailing as I take us back to the church, slippin’ through the rooftop like before. She's still holding onto me, and hasn't quite realized we're back on solid ground again. Poor thing.

"Hey, s’alright, love. Back on terra firma."

It takes a sec but finally, she looks up, her gaze sweeping ‘round the church as if she's just realized we're back inside. Her feet are planted firmly on the ground, and she eases her death grip on me a bit. I can feel where her fingernails diggin’ into my skin, and her hands are tremblin’. It's like she's making herself let go of me, but maybe she doesn't want to, not just yet.

"I've never flown before, not even in a plane," Her voice quivers, and it takes her a moment to get the words out. A pang of guilt hits me as I realize how scared she must have been. Flying's as second nature to me as breathing, and I've never feared it, but I can't blame her for being terrified. I guess I have two things to apologize for now.

The front of the church is where folks gather for worship, and it's open and welcomin’ but the back? Well, that's where the priests get to live all snug and cozy. Church leadership usually has it that way. I take us to the rear of the church nice an slow, where I've got a little setup in one of the parish apartments. It's warm and snug in here, with the cracklin’ heat from the fire I had the sense to light earlier.

She's leanin’ on me, walking with that soggy grace like she’s ahd one too many, and I can see she's waiting for her stomach to stop doing somersaults. She's soaked to the bone, shivering like a leaf but whether that’s from nerves or the cold is hard to tell.

"Hold tight, love, let's get you sorted with something dry." I don't have much to offer, but I rummage around and manage to scrounge up some of my clothes. Just a t-shirt and a pair of joggers, probably going to swallow her whole, but they're warm and dry. She looks at the clothes, then back towards where we came from, a bit dazed. I give my wings a playful flap to get her attention, not as a threat, just teasin’.

"Not thinking of doing a runner on me again, are you?" I’m only half joking. She shakes her head, those eyes of hers are wide like a deer in headlights, clearly rattled from our aerial escapade.

"Alright, then," I give her a nod, offering the clothes. She's a bit hesitant at first but then must recall the perks of being dry and warm, glancing around for some privacy. Not much of that in here, so I turn ‘round to give her some space, throwin’ out my wings just a bit, like a partition. A bloke's gotta be a bit considerate, right?

It’s silent for a few moments, and it's as though I can hear the cogs turning in her head. The quiet gets on my nerves real quick, I hate long silences, makes me worry she might take off any minute, and it makes me realize how much I don’t want her to go. It’s a relief when I can finally hear the sound of her tugging off her wet clothes, seems she's chosen to stick around. Well, time to start talking and clear the air between us.

Cracking your knuckles is a bad habit, I know, but I can’t help it, just something to fill the quiet gaps while I try to figure out what exactly to say.

"Look, I'm sorry," I ain’t usually one for spilling my guts, but there's something about Ivy that makes me want to open up. I genuinely am sorry, sorry for scaring her, sorry for being a prat. She doesn't say anything, though, and I decide to reveal a bit more to this girl who's done more to save my hide than anyone else ever has. "I've been on me own for a long time, and I sort of got used to it, you know? Forgot that there are still some genuine, decent people out there, kind that just want to help."

It feels strange but also liberatin’, talkin’ to her. I can hear her pitching wet clothes on the floor, you know the sound; that wet slop when they hit the ground in a heap, and I'll admit I'm tempted to steal a glance. After all, I'm still a bloke, and that cheeky little devil on my shoulder is throwing up some enticing ideas. However, I can't help but catch the fleeting reflections of her in the glass of the cabinets across from us. Nothing racy, but it looks like she has some tattoos, a bit intriguing, that. I keep talking, laying it all out there, telling her about my life's story, the whole bloody thing.

"I've been fighting for my life all my life, and I can't remember a time when I wasn't in pain, being hurt, or alone. When I thought I lost my wings, I thought that was the end of it for me." I’m fallin’ back into memories and that dark place in my head, an’ its physically weighing me down, like the past don’t wanna see me fly.

Then there’s a hand on my shoulder, cool and gentle, like porcelain, giving me the ok to turn ‘round. Sure enough, the shirt I gave her is way too big, more like a mini-dress, but it’s kinda cute. She looks good in my gear.

"So your response to the first person to be nice to you, was to be an ass?" I shrug, got no real excuse for that.

"Yeah, not my best moment." I start to open up about my long break from flying, the horrors of the cage fighting underground, and my time in captivity. "I did some awful things to survive, Ivy.” The words come out slowly, like they've been stuck in my throat all this time. Funny thing, as I start speaking my peace, them voices that wouldn't shut up earlier, they begin to fade into the background. “I killed mutants, like us. After all that, I figured it was better for me to be alone."

"Because then nobody can hurt you," She's not exactly questioning, more like she understands that feeling all too well. It's got me wondering what Ivy's story is. She said she'd never flown before, not even on a plane, so how’d she end up here in London?

Dunno how it happened, but Ivy's not feeling like a complete stranger anymore. She’s more like a friend, the kind who sticks around even when you’re being a right arse, even when you hurt 'em. Like, she reckons there's more good in me than them broken bits. She's giving me that soulful gaze of hers, like she's got me all figured out. But at the same time, she's givin’ me that look that says she thinks I'm a proper idiot, and honestly, she's probably spot on.

I’m shakin’ my head. This part... it's delicate, touchy even. If this don't get me a smack, then I don't know what will, and let's be honest, I probably deserve it. There's only a step or two between us, and I just need one to reach her. So, as smooth as I can manage, trying not to come off like some sort of creep, I lean in and press a kiss to her lips, soft as a feather. Not the kind of kiss that says 'Let’s get it on,' just a simple one, nothing more than innocent. Her lips are as soft as I imagined, a real treat.

It's just a brief brush of lips, nothin’ that would make the Vicar choke on his tea, and it’s over pretty quick. But when I pull away, she's got this dreamy look on her face, like she's lost in thought, all starry eyed.

"Is that because you scared the Hell out of me?"

"No, well, a bit of that too. It's more 'cause I've been a proper fool since I first set eyes on you, haven't even said a 'thank you'—you -- you've no idea what this means,"

Can't put it into words, can ya? I mean, how do you even describe something like this? It's like givin' sight to a blind bloke or makin' a cripple strut their stuff again, but in a way, ain't that what she's done? I turn ‘round and slowly lift my wings, not to show off or anything, but just so she can get a proper gander at 'em. She saw 'em when they were shattered, hangin' by a thread, slowly fallin' to pieces and takin' me with 'em. Somehow, I reckon if I can show her how powerful they are now, how I love takin' off into the sky, it might finally hit her just what she's achieved. They're massive, near five meters, and I ain't been able to hoist 'em like this in months, not like this. She's mended me, healed me. It's like a proper miracle, somethin' out of a chapter in the Bible itself. "Cheers, love."

"You're welcome," she says, still a bit breathless and looking a bit lost for words.

She’s still wearing that starstruck look and can’t help but think how nice that kis was but I know better than to push my luck with another one. As much as I'd love to but she's givin’ me a slow once-over, and it's got me feelin' a bit self-conscious, mate. Ain't never had anyone eye me up the way she's doin' right now. But I know that look, and it's tellin' me she likes what she sees.

"You gonna change into some dry pants, or is hypothermia to be your idea of a good time?" She’s quick with the sass, must have it on tap, I let out a scoff, can't help myself, and decide to let her in on a little secret.

"You're wearin' the only other ones I've got."

She lets out an "Oh," and her reaction's a mix of surprise and a touch of embarrassment. But it ain't slow in changin' her mood. She promptly shimmies them down her legs and hands 'em back to me, just like that, like she ain’t standing half naked in front of me.

I'm a bit gobsmacked, to be honest. She's just there in my shirt, which don't exactly cover much, but she don't seem to give a toss. She just gives me this little cheeky smirk and turns ‘round, just like I did for her. Got a decent gander at them tattoos I spotted earlier, just peekin' out from under my shirt. But instead of gettin' caught oglin' her backside, I start working on my boots, tryin' not to make it too obvious that I'm stealin' glances at her legs, like I said, the shirt don’t cover much. Can't help it though, they're right at eye level, and it's not a bad view. She does this thing where she uses one foot to rub the top of the other, like she's cold or somethin'. Makes sense though don’t it, toes are always the first things to freeze. Comes off as cute, it does.

I kick the boots near the fire to dry and make fast work of my trousers, feelin' the chill seep into my bones as soon as air hits my skin and I’m steppin' into the joggers, quick as I can. I gotta admit, it's bleedin' nice to feel a bit drier, even if I'm still shiverin' from the rain. The fire's cracklin' away, castin' a warm glow over the room, and I can see her silhouette against the flickerin' light.

"Alright then, love," I clear my throat, trying not to overstep by touching her, not after practically manhandling her earlier and that kiss I just stole. She's lookin’ at me proper now, can practically feel her eyes burning into me.

"See somethin' you like?"

Can’t help but be a bit cheeky, can I? I’m expecting the usual response: a blush, a look-away, or a tell-off, like most birds do. Not Ivy, though, she ain’t most birds. She meets my gaze dead on, sporting a little look that’s pure mischief if I’ve ever seen it, before going toe to toe with me, reaching for the back of my neck and pulling me down, planting one on me. It ain't the kinda kiss that'd make a priest blush, but it feels like a million quid.

"What's that for?"

"Because I didn’t think you’d do it again," Well, she ain't exactly wrong, but if I'd known she was playing that game, I'd have skipped giving her clothes to change into and headed straight for the main event. You don't kiss a bloke like that unless you're lookin' for trouble.

"All you had to do was ask, love," Women, they're all over the place, ain’t they? Here I am thinkin’ she’s just some shy girl but nah, she's the type who'll snog your face off until you forget your own blinking name.

"Are you sure about this? You barely know me," Am I really bein’ the voice of reason here? The bloke is the one pointin’ out how crazy it is to shack up with a stranger? She takes a step back, maybe wonderin’ if I'm havin’ second thoughts. But that ain’t the case at all. I slip my arm around her, stoppin’ her retreat, letting her know I'm more than interested, just a tad wary. "It's just... seems a bit reckless, you know? Hooking up with a bloke you've only just met." As soon as I hear my own words, I kick myself for being such a twit and pray to anyone listenin’ that she don’t get cold feet.

She flashes me a grin, one that's teeming with mischief and a hint of wicked intentions, and it puts me at ease. It's clear that Ivy is doing exactly what she wants to do at this moment. We're just a pair lookin’ a bit of comfort tonight. She’s kissin’ me and each one is hotter than the last, and she knows how to keep a bloke yearning for more, that's for sure. In between those lips of hers, she starts talking to me.

"Your name's Warren, you've got goddamned angel wings and can actually fly." She says before locking lips with me again. "You might come off as a bit of an ass, but you're one hell of a kisser." Is that about right? "You're feeling lonely, and I've got my moments too. And if even half of what you just told me is true, it looks like you could use someone to spoil you a bit."

Blimey, did she just say all that? My blood's runnin' hot, and it feels like my heart's ready to burst out of my chest. She's got my undivided attention now, if she didn't have it before. Ain't even heard this girl so much as swear, but now it's all 'goddamned this' and 'you're a good kisser.' And she wants to spoil me? Bloody hell. Who is this lass anyway? Hang on, you know what? I couldn't give a toss. She can do as she pleases, and I'm not going to complain.

I feel her arms cinched tight around my neck, her voice oozing with confidence as she peppers me with kisses, and my daft brain is stuck on the fact that she reckons I'm a good kisser and wants to treat me, mullin’ over how she'll manage that, as if she hasn't already done more than enough for me.

As if she hasn't already put me back together; complete.

As she's layin' them on me, I'm takin' in more than just her taste, the faint hint of rain on her, mixed with that sweet, addictive flavor that's all her. I can feel the warmth of her soft lips pressin' against mine, and her breath, it's got that soft tickle, like a whispered secret that makes the hairs on my neck stand on end. The sweet scent of her skin mixed with the fresh rain lingerin' in the air gets my senses all stirred up. Her fingers are tangled in my hair, tugging at it just enough to send shivers down my spine, and my heart's drummin' a wild beat, like I'm at a bloody rock concert. Every touch and taste's screamin' at me, and I can't help but want more of it. The way she presses her body against mine, hips fitting perfectly with mine, sends a rush of heat through me.

It's like I'm on bloody fire, and it's all her fault.

Solitude wasn't ever my cup of tea, and who in their right mind would want that anyway? Who wants to miss out on moments like this?

As my knees hit the sofa, I tumble back, my wings instinctively unfoldin' to help me keep my balance. It's a move I've missed, a little habit that ain't been possible for months. Must make for quite the sight. She perches herself on my lap like she belongs there, eager for more. A right stunning bird's got me pinned to the sofa in front of a crackling fire, and I sure as hell didn't reckon this mornin' would lead to this steamy rendezvous. Feelin' that pleasant haze wash over me, the kind that makes you a bit drowsy 'cause you're just so damn relaxed and every touch is pure bliss. Missed this, bein' kissed, and feelin' them gentle caresses. The fire in my gut's roarin', tellin' me a night of wild passion's on the horizon, and sleep ain't even a consideration.

She's all in, her hands tangled up in my hair as our lips, teeth, and tongues doin' this fiery tango. I like a bird who knows what she wants, and Ivy is proving to be nothin' short of electrifyin' and I'm more than happy to fly a little closer to the sun.

That tongue of hers, it’s makin’ my head spin, and got my cock wonderin' what other talents that tongue possesses. My entire body's pulsing with the kinda want that makes you feel like a teenager again.

Her hands are all over me, up my shoulders, around the back of my neck, and just where my wings are. It's a touch I haven't had in ages, and I've bloody well forgotten how good it feels. That spot's a bit sensitive, it's ruffling my feathers in every sense of the word. It's like tugging on strands of hair, sending shivers down your spine.

She's caught me off guard, that's for sure, but I'm not so daft that I forget how to treat a girl. It just takes me a second to get my bearings. It's hard to keep your wits about you when most of your blood's rushing south, if you catch my drift. Her hair feels like silk through my fingers, and while I’m enjoying that mouth of hers, I wanna taste more. She's making these little sounds when I start kissin’ her neck, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Music to my ears, it is.

Every bird's got her soft spots, those secret places that make her jump, whimper, and get all squirmy and hot for you when you kiss or touch her. With her long hair, I'd wager my last quid that hers is on her neck under her ear. A little love bite tells me I've hit the mark. When I give that spot a little nip, she clings onto my hair tighter, and her hips start pressin’ into mine. Kissing is top-notch, but it's clear we're both itching for more. I want her on her back, legs wrapped around me as we lose ourselves in the heat of the moment. Call me chivalrous, but I reckon I owe this girl one hell of a ride tonight.

I want her to see bloody stars and take her so high she won't want to come back down.

Her legs are tremblin’ when I touch her, but I think it's got more to do with how much she's loving it and less about being nervous. I think I'm getting to her, but it's not enough; I need her closer. I want all these clothes between us gone, and every inch of her skin on mine. Though I'd love to rip her damn shirt off and toss it aside, I'm waiting to see if she has a change of heart, plus I don’t exactly have spares. Girls lose their nerve sometimes, you know. I've got quite the tent pitched, and it'd be a shame if I had to take care of it myself.

Ivy's just as eager as I am, giving me a hand as I lift her arms, and the shirt slips off in a flash. She wasn't sportin’ anything beneath it, and I can feel her pebbled skin against mine and I groan. It’s hard to keep me eyes open but when I do I catch a glimpse of black knickers, maybe something silky like satin, with a hint of lace. They look stunning, but they've got to go. Seeing a girl like this is a breath of fresh air: Her hair's all tousled, and her breathing sounds like she's just finished a marathon, mad with want. With each kiss, she's becoming more and more insatiable, and now there's one less thing between us.

Can't really explain it, but I'm still a bit on edge about touching her, daft as it sounds. She's starkers on my lap, her tongue's down my throat, tits pressed into my chest and she's grabbing me, grindin’ into me, making all those noises that drive a bloke mental. She's snagged my lip between her teeth, and them hands of hers are scratchin’ their way down my stomach till she's got at my joggers, rubbing my hips, hips rocking against mine. It's embarrassing, the sounds I'm makin’ but she seems to like 'em just fine.

Can't help but grab her by the backside and pull her right against me, showing her what them kisses are doing to me, I’m hard as bleedin’ steel, can feel my cock leaking beggin’ to be touched. It's been ages since I've had a good shag, and it didn't feel half as good as this.

That tongue of hers, it's gonna be a proper challenge, innit? I mean, ain't no bloke gonna complain about a girl with skills, but the issue is she's too damn good at it. Feels so good it's like walking a tightrope, ya know? Gotta keep my composure and make sure I ain't done before the main event even starts. Gotta slow things down or switch gears, anything to keep control, mate.

Here's the thing about girls when they're into you, they like looking right into your eyes. Can't say for sure why, but I reckon it's 'cause they want to see us at our most vulnerable. Or maybe it's 'cause they're seeing a side of us no one else does. Not even our closest mates get that look. It's all just for them. And that's when I get my chance to turn the tables a bit more in my favor.

She's breathing heavy, pulling back from a kiss, and looking at me like she's lost in a fog, same one I’m stumblin’ my way through. Feels like she might say something for a minute, but I reckon her brain's working about as well as mine is.

Her expression is a treat when I manage to snake a hand between us, slippin’ beneath those black knickers to find she's in a right state, all heated up and practically on fire, drippin’, and desperate as they come. She seizes up, and I can see the shiver that travels from the top of her head down to her toes when I find that little spot between her legs, the one that makes her moan. Her mouth falls open against mine, not kissing me, not uttering a single word. It's as if she can't even form proper sentences. That's the sweet spot, the one most blokes overlook, thinking their cocks are all that's needed to satisfy a woman. But that's not the case; you've got to give attention everywhere. Gotta to take your time with them. Trust me, it's well worth every second when they've got that look in their eyes. You know the one, that wild gaze that says, ‘We're not going anywhere until I've had my fill of you.’

Eyes wide, lips quivering, body shivering, that's when you've found your rhythm and I’ve found hers. Rollin’ her hips against my hand, an’ she's letting out these little moans with each little twirl of my thumb. She feels like silk, hot, wet and soft.

"How's that, love?"

I know I've got her right where I want her, she's falling apart in my lap. Can see her brain short-circuiting on the spot, words are a struggle, but her body's telling me everything I need to know. She manages a nod, though. It's like she's had a few too many, eyes heavy, chest heaving. Her back’s arching and she’s biting down on her lip, I can tell she's getting close. That didn’t take long, I’m either readin’ this girl like a book or it’s just been that long, and anything will set her off, though I’m hopin’ it’s the first one.

Seeing her like this, it's a far cry from the scrappy ginger girl who climbed in through a busted church window and traded barbs with me. She's gripping onto me, burning into my eyes with hers, and I thought I had her then and there, but then I feel those fingers of hers on the back of my neck, making their clever way down near my wings, and I know I'm in trouble. Guess she picked up on my sweet spot. I can feel the tips of her fingers dancing between my shoulder blades, my wings barely touching, a caress so soft that if I didn't know better, I'd think it was just a breeze. But I do know better, and this little minx is doing it on purpose.

The little smirk on her lips is just confirming what I already know. She's trying to hold off, thinks she can outlast me. Well, two can play at this game.

"That’s lovely, darlin’ but I bet you go before I do," It’s hard to keep the stutter out of my breath.

But then there's that look in her eyes again, the one that tells me she ain't gonna make it easy on me, and I believe her. She leans in close like she's gonna whisper something only I can hear, and I can feel her lips and tongue on my ear, and it's bloody hard not to shudder or make a sound.

She’s got something up her sleeve, and when I feel her teeth tugging in my ear she says it, the thing that comes close to making me cummin’ in my damn joggers.

“Warren, please make me cum baby,”

Bloody hell. I'm biting my tongue so hard I’m waitin’ to taste blood. At least, I’m tryin’, until she lands a kiss on me and licks her way into my mouth. Hearin’ her say my name like that, feelin’ her teeth graze my skin, she actually said ‘please’. Called me ‘baby’ like I’m her fella. She’s beggin’ me to get her off, no joke.

Never had a girl get me fired up like this, never wanted anyone half as much as I want her right now. Never growled at a girl out of sheer hunger. But that's exactly what I'm doing. I've got a handful of her hair wrapped around my fist to pull, just enough to get at her neck.

"Asked you a question," It's a bloody challenge to keep my cool and not just dive right in, rip those knickers off and sink my cock into her right here, right now. "How's. That?" I give her a couple of gentle love taps, and she's jerkin’ in my lap, letting out these desperate little whimpers. It's like I've thrown petrol on the fire between us, and she's not the only one who's getting worked up, my cocks so hard it hurts.

I might have the wings of an angel, but I can play the part of a devil just as well.

She's fumbling for the right words, trying to get 'em out, but it's like she's swallowing her nerves and revving up her brain at the same time. No doubt I've got her all riled up. I can hear the desperation in her voice, but she's back to kissin’ me like she means it, like she's starved for it.

Her lips on mine ain't gonna change what I'm waitin’ to hear from her. It's not gonna distract me for long, either. I'll keep her right on the edge if I have to. Slowing down those little circles on her clit till she practically sobs, just need her to tell me and I’ll finish her off.

"G– Good. God, it's good!" There it is. "Warren!" I could get used to hearing her say my name like that, like she's pleading or something. Ask and ye shall receive, then, eh? As promised I start up again on her, working my thumb in circles faster and tighter, it’s tempting to slip in a finger but I’m pretty sure if I do that’ll be the end of it for me. “Fuck!”

Can't explain it. Don't know what it is about hearing Yanks curse, especially the ladies. Even more so when they're letting out those choice words while you've got your hands all over them and they’re getting close, it's a real turn-on. Some might say Americans throw the word ‘fuck’ like we throw out the word ‘bloody’ but in the heat of the moment, it's like a fiery exclamation mark it's like music to my ears, especially when it's Ivy saying it, and I love it. She's ready to fly, not giving a damn about anything else and I'll make sure she gets there, just needs one final nudge...

"Ivy, want you to kiss me, then I want you to come," I tell her, and she does, our teeth clinking together as she kisses me hard, that the last bit of resistance in her breaks, and she comes undone. She's moanin' into our kiss, her hands are clawin’ at me like she can't get enough and writhin' against me.

Could be a spot for some fun here if she’s not too sensitive, gotta be careful, don't wanna mess up the vibe. I’m barely touching her now, occasionally grazing hte inside of her thigh, I can tell by how she's squirming that she's a bit sensitive, most girls are, but I’d bet money I can have her thrashin’ again here soon. There's something about watching a girl lose herself in an orgasm like that and knowing you're the reason, it's a proper power trip. She's looking at me like she's famished, and I slip my hand from her knickers, trying not to startle her. But she gives me a surprise when she snatches my hand and slips my thumb past her lips licking it clean, all the while keeping her eyes locked on mine. My cocks harder than it’s ever been and ready for attention, something about that feeling, having a girl suck on your fingers, let’s just say it leaves little to our imaginations.

She's on me again, layin' kisses down my neck and chest, gettin' lower and lower, then she sinks ot the floor and I'm strugglin' to keep my breathin' steady. I've seen that look before, know what's comin' next, and damn right, I've earned it. Feels like I'm frozen, seeing her look up at me, all that anticipation's gonna do me in. But she's takin' her sweet time, not rushin' for nothin'. I can't even look away, not when she's pullin' at my joggers and my blood's startin' to boil. Next thing I know, she's chuckin' 'em over her shoulder and takin' me in hand, givin' me these slow, soft strokes. My breath's caught in my throat, like I'm breathin', but no air's comin' in or out, just goin' through the motions. It'll catch up in a sec, and bloody hell, it's amazin', never felt better.

My eyes are drooping, and I can't keep my head up anymore, so I lean back and let the it all wash over me. Closing me eyes, takin’ it all in, just feeling everything. Her hands are warm, her lips soft, and her touch is just right. It's absolutely spot-on. Every touch sends a jolt through me, it's ramping me up a bit more, but I've got to say, I'm not in any hurry to take the reins. She said she wants to spoil me, and I'm dying to find out what that's like. Normally, it's a mutual affair, both of you getting into it, but this? It's not the usual back and forth, both of you going at it. This ain't like any other time with any other girl. Ivy, she's taking her time, making sure I feel every bit of what she's got to offer, and If tomorrow I'm a goner, then I'll go out with a smile on my face.

It's like a proper enchantment, the world's gone all soft, and all I can bloody feel is pleasure, not a lick of pain, and I couldn't give two figs about being naked right now, even though we're in a church. My mind's gone off to the races, too far gone to care about being self-conscious, thanks to the magic Ivy's working on me.

When she's finally done teasing me, that mouth of hers swallows my cock whole, and a groan tears itself from my throat, and I couldn't care less if the whole world hears. I'm throwing every bloody curse word I know, but none of them seem powerful enough to describe how damn amazing this feels. It's a sensation I haven't had in ages. And just like that, my eyes snap open, and my hips jerk as if I've lost control over myself. All I want is more, more of what she's giving; hot, wet, and sweet.

I can't help the noises escaping my mouth, growing louder and louder, which might sound a bit pathetic, but honestly, I couldn't give a toss. I just need her not to stop, not with that clever mouth of hers or those wicked lips. My hands are tangled up in her hair, not that I'm trying to pull, but it seems to encourage her, spurring her on.

Takes me a full minute to realize she's slowing down and planting kisses low across my stomach. Finally, I can catch my breath, and some thoughts are making their way through my foggy brain.

"Warren?" She asks in between kisses that seem to whisper, 'I want you,' and devious love bites that scream, 'You're mine.'

I manage to croak out a response, "You're not done, are you?" I sound like I've just run a flaming marathon, all out of breath and barely hanging on. I know it's selfish, but when it's been this long and she feels this good, you can't blame me. She shakes her head and lays another kiss on me, sucking on my skin hard enough to leave marks.

"No, I just need to know something." Her mouth might have stopped, but those hands of hers haven't; they're stroking, touching, keeping me right on the edge.

"Y—yeah, love? What's that?" Can't believe I've managed that much.

"Slow or fast?" My eyes pop open again, and I'm gobsmacked. She's giving me the choice? I don't know, and I don't give a toss, as long as she doesn't stop. But the longer I look at her, it's clear she wants me to pick, and now I'm in a proper bind. Fast is smashing when you're in a rush to get off, but I'm in no hurry, and I want this to last as long as it bleedin' can. Slow? Well, slow takes a load of discipline not to give in as it all builds up.

"Slow." Dunno if the angel or the devil on my shoulder picked that one, but this is one of those times when there's no right or wrong answer.

And a second later, she grins and says, "Good answer," and gets back to it, taking my cock back into her mouth slower this time till I hit the back of her throat. Bleeding amazing. It was a right bloody good answer.

My throat's gonna be raw tomorrow, not that there'll be a cuppa strong enough to sort that out, but that's the last thing on my mind. Licking up and down slow, lapping at the crown of my cock, then sucking hard and slow, flicking her tongue in all the right spots. Her hand’s wrapped ‘round me, stroking and between the two it’s a miracle I’ve not already spilled into her mouth yet. All I can think is 'Not yet, not yet' as Ivy's got me hurtling closer and closer to that mind-blowing finish line. Stupid as it sounds, I'm powerless, couldn't move even if I wanted to. My body's gone and taken over, saying 'Sit down, mate, and enjoy the ride.'

"Ivy! Love, y--you've gotta stop. Ain't gonna last much longer,"

I manage to choke out, but she don’t seem to care, just looking me dead on and moaning as she swallows me again. If anything, she speeds up a bit, the pace still slow and steady, but now there's a sense of urgency to get me there. She's bloody brilliant at this, I was right about that tongue of hers, licking me like a goddamned lolly, I can feel my eyes fluttering shut, and my limbs turning to lead. I'm stuck, just caught in this blissful trance, letting Ivy take charge as she's dead set on seeing me through.

Is this what they call heaven, then?

Y'know, there comes a moment when you've crossed the point of no return, when it's all steam ahead and no brakes, and for me, it was when Ivy shot back her answer. I told her she needed to slow down, so I could take her right, but this girl, this devil in an angel's guise, just gave me this cheeky grin, mouthful of my cock said:

"You will."

Well, that’s the end of it.

My gut tightens and it hits me like a bloody freight train, ripping through my body like a burst dam. Just spillin’ everything I’ve got, can feel her swallowing, and I dunno how she’s doin’ it but she doesn’t miss a drop. No control left, hands in her hair, pulling like a madman, going at it like a wild animal, growling and moaning like I'm barely even human. It’s hard not to grab her hair and fuck her mouth, it's too much, like an electric shock running through every last nerve I've got, sending ‘em into overdrive.

All I’m seein’ are these bloody fairy lights, then black spots start cropping up in my vision, and it's just too damn intense. But Ivy, she, don't, stop. No, she keeps at it, working me, taking everything I've got to offer, she just keeps swallowing.

In the heat of the moment, I'm blurting out her name, begging her not to stop, tellin’ her how damn good it feels, and I might've even told her I love her, though I'm not entirely sure.

I’ve never cum so hard in my life. And she swallowed every bit of it, like I was the treat and not the other way round. Never seen a girl take as much pleasure in a fella like Ivy just has, taking her time with me, leaving me in the aftermath, shuddering all the way down to my toes. I’m a sweaty mess but I’ve never felt more alive and wanted.

After something like that, I figure I'll need a bit of a breather before I'm ready for another round, and believe me I want one. When she's finally had her fill of me, she climbs back into my lap licking her lips like a cat who’s just got the cream, but that look on her face makes me wonder what's going on in her head. Never been one for kissin’ right after a girl's had her fun swallowin’ my cum down like that, but Ivy lays those kisses on my skin, moving slowly up my chest until she reaches my lips, and suddenly, I couldn't care less about what's happened before. I want to kiss her till she's trembling, make her feel a fraction of how good she made me feel.

Her kisses are easy and slow now, and she fits perfectly in my lap, like she belongs there. And I reckon she does.

"Love, that was bleedin' amazing." She grins lazily and kisses me again. "Wish you'd stopped, though. I'll need a few minutes ‘fore the man downstairs is up again."

When a girl lets out that low, sexy laugh, you know she's got something up her sleeve. And Ivy's laugh tells me she’s playing with a fixed deck.

"Wha’s funny?" I ask, trying to get in on the joke. Then, I feel her hands around me wrapping ‘round my cock again and my head falls back a second.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

I'm waiting for the pain that comes from bein’ so damn senstitive after cumming, but it never arrives. I look down between us and it's quite a shock when I realize I'm ready for another round a lot sooner than expected. She did this, I'm sure of it. ‘Fixed deck’ doesn't even begin to cover it. She's rigged the entire bloody game.

"Told you," She says with a grin and a wink before pushing me back against the sofa.

No way, not a bleedin' chance. Except here I am, starin' at the evidence that tells a different story. I'll have to give myself a right bollocking later for nearly scarin' off this rare bird. What kind of tosser was I being? I'm not usually one for believin' in love at first sight, but Ivy here might be makin' me rethink a few things.

Sure enough, I'm ready for more, and once the shock's worn off, I'm all for it. I pull her into a kiss that has her meltin' against me, arms wrapped around my neck. There are a few ways we could do this, but I'm likin' the position we're in. I can see her face, kiss her, and she's right here with me, sharin' the same breath. I wanna see her when she sinks onto my cock. Wanna watch her fall apart again for me. Wanna see those eyes of hers locked onto me because I'm the only thing that's making her feel this good, and I plan to.

I'm up for takin' control now, but she stops me with a hand on my chest and a shake of her head. It seems she's not done havin' her fun yet. Alright, I'll let her take the lead a bit longer. I did say I like a girl who can take charge, didn't I?

"How do you want this, love?" She can have me any way she likes.

"Keep your eyes open." What's that? She wants what? "I want to look at you."

Whatever the lady fancies. She wants to have a good look at me, see when my eyes go wide and bore right into me. Doesn't bother me, but odds are all she'll see is my eyes rolling to the back of my head. A suck off is brilliant and all, but nothing beats the proper deal, and it's been a bit since I've had both in one night. It's usually one or the other. Oh well, if that gets her off, it's fine by me. Fine by me.

I know she’s trying to stand to shimmy those knickers down but it’s too far, and God, I need to feel her squeeze my cock, right now. So I grab her hips, keepin’ her right where she’s at, pulin’l ‘em to the side and tease her for a minute, close enough. Can feel how hot and drippin’ wet she is, one hand wrapped ‘round her waist the other on my cock pumpin’ a few times for good measure before I push in. Lettin’ her sink down nice and slow, giving her as much time as I can to settle from how much I’m stretching her. Holy fucking hell, I’m struggling to not just start driving up into her, it so fucking tight and it’s a struggle to keep my head in straight. It’s harder to keep my eyes open than I thought. Ivys gone a bit limp in my arms, her mouth’s just hanging open and she lets out this sweet little whimper all the while having a staring contest with me as we sit there together for a sec, gettin’ used to one another.

Can feel tremors race all over me as she squeezes my cock, it’s fucking perfect. There’s something so intense about how she’s looking at me and I tell ya, it don’t look like the same bird I met tonight. The longer I look at her the more she looks like an Angel. My chest is heaving again and it takes a solid minute before I can move or speak again.

"Alright, love?"

I'm praying she says yes, tells me she's never felt better, asks me to fuck her nicely. There's a blush coloring those cheeks of hers, just a bit, and it's lovely. She's lovely like this. No barriers between us, as real as it gets. It feels good, lettin’ her see all of me. Can't explain why I want to kiss her fast and hard but fuck her nice and slow, it just feels like the right thing to do.

"Just give me a sec!" She says, nodding, still getting used to the feel, looks like it’s been a bit for her too. "Fuck, you feel good." Well, if that doesn't stroke a bloke's ego, I don't know what will. It's sure as hell stroking mine just fine, my cocks twitching inside her like it’s tryin’ to kickstart this whole thing.

“Been a minute for you, love?” She gives me a nod, ain’t that a shame?

“Yeah, a little bit.” Can't help but chuckle a bit and give her a long and slow kiss and I reach up for one of her nipples and start teasin’ it while I give a lazy thrust.

“That helping?”

She nods against my lips and grins, wrapping her arms around me again. “Yeah, do that again.” She's moaning with each little movement, and I give her a nod and shift her a bit in my arms, setting her down in a way that's a bit comfier for us both. "Go slow."

"You're gorgeous." Like she asked me, I go slow, slipping out just enough with a groan before going back in. It's intense, letting her feel all of me, sending chills down my back, and she's gripping me like a vice. "Sexy as hell." Out again slowly. "Razor-smart." And back in. It's gonna be hard to keep this pace. It's enough to drive a bloke mad. "So fucking hot, and tight for me, yeah?” Each time I say something like that I can feel her clenchting me harder. She likes it. Could tell her all the thoughts runnin’ through my head right now, tell her how I wanna throw her on her hands and knees and fuck her till she screams my name, tell her I know she likes hearing me talk to her like this cause I can feel her squeeze my cock.

Gotta remind myself to slow down, plenty of time for the harder stuff later, right now I’ve got my cock buried in her and it’s killing me to go so slow, pretty sure she can tell cause after a few thrusts she bucks against me and tells me to go faster and thank God for it. I give her a quick thrust and she jolts then melts back against me.

“Like that?” My voice is harsh and I’m gonna news a cuppca tea after this.

“Harder.” Whatever you want, Ivy.

It’s gonna be hard keeping a rhythm like this, I love having her on my lap where I can see her face, see those tits of her bounce each time I rut against her but I can already feel it killin’ my legs. Need a change of position to keep the pace,

“Hold tight,” I wrap my arms ‘round her legs and put her on her back, that red hair of hers is fanned out and now that I’m driving my cock into her properly I watch her eyes roll back and I see she’s got freckles, all over her cheeks, down her neck and across her chest.

As we find a rhythm that satisfies both of our cravings, my eyes flicker between Ivy, lost in her own little nirvana, and the statues of saints and religious paintings watching us – like some voyeuristic audience. It's safe to say this ain't your typical Sunday service. Can't help but let out a chuckle in my chest; it all depends on what you're worshipping, doesn't it? Two thoughts cross my mind. First, I'm probably heading straight to hell for this. Second, and more importantly, I don't give a damn. Maybe I'll get lucky, and it won't count against my soul. Is a church still a church if the only parishioners it sees are pigeons? I've had a right mess of a life from the day my wings popped up, and if eternity's taking a southerly route, might as well savor it – every touch, every kiss, every thrust, every sound. No sense in second-guessing it now.

I've nearly died, been maimed, imprisoned, jeered at, and left broken and alone. In the grand scheme of things, the world tearing itself apart over mutant or human, all that, this feels right. No pain, no judgment, no wrong – just right. Is it dumb luck that brought Ivy to my church, or is it something else? I'm not a man of faith, other than the belief that bad things can and will happen. Maybe I've earned some grace. I don't even realize I've slowed my pace until I feel Ivy clawing at my hips, her look a mix of 'What’s wrong?' and 'Get on with it'. Most blokes think of dirty things when they're with a girl; here I am, having existential thoughts on fate and destiny. What's wrong with me? Ivy takes charge, wrapping her legs around me, pulling me into more of those kisses that warm the cold parts of your soul and make your head spin like a record. The contrast between the sacred surroundings and the intimate act only adds to the thrill of it all.

The room's quiet now, just the rhythm of our breaths, the soft hymn of skin against skin, and the occasional pop of the fire. It's a soundtrack I'm itching to play on repeat in my head for as long as I can remember. Each note is like a tattoo on my brain, proof of the intensity we just shared, something I could get used to.

I probably look a bit spaced out because Ivy's hand reaches up, bringing me back to the present. She's got this concerned look breaking through. "Hey, where'd you go?"

Good question, where did I go? Not where I should be, that's for sure. I should be right here, soaking in every moment with this stunning girl who's got all my attention.

"Nowhere important," I mutter, only half sure about that. There's a nagging voice in my head, tossing questions I don't have the answers to. What happens when the heat cools down, and we've had our fill? Do we part ways, or maybe stick together for a bit? Being alone isn't all it's cracked up to be, and some company wouldn't be half bad, especially if it's Ivy. Feels like I'm some teenager pondering his first crush, wondering if she 'likes' me likes me. Don't have the answers to those questions right now, but what I do know is that I want more of this. More of Ivy; more of her lips, her smile, her touch, and those noises she makes when I hit her sweet spots.

"What's going on up there?" she asks, her gaze drilling into me, like she ain't quite buying my story.

"Wanna know where my head's at?" I shoot back, with a cheeky grin, cooking up a plan to shift focus. "Right here," I say with a sly snap of my hips, snatching her breath in a surprised gasp. I’ve no idea what’s going to happen, but with Ivy in my arms, there's nothing I want more than to dive back into the chaos we've just cooked up together.

"With this gorgeous girl, causing a bit of a stir, doing things that’ll make a vicar blush." I get back to ramping up the pace I lost, and it seems to satisfy Ivy in more ways than one. Existential dilemmas can wait; right now, it's about us, our fire, and the sweet mess we're making. I'm kicking it up a notch, done with the slow and steady rhythm, now I want it harder and faster.

She's clinging to me just like she did up in the air, but this time, there's no fear in her eyes, maybe just a bit of fear that I might hit the brakes. Those lips of hers are on my neck, marking me up good for all to see, moving with me as I rock us nearer to a spectacular finish. We're damn close now, just a breath away.

I'm delving in deeper now, and with each thrust, I can feel her squirming against me. She's desperate to get her lips back on mine, and that suits me just fine. I’m lost in this, I feel as high and untouchable now as I do when I'm soaring through the skies. She's crushin’ me tighter, and the way she's bucking an wrappin’ her legs around me, tells me she's not far off either. She ain't even looking at me anymore, eyes shut tight, hands clenched into fists above her head, like she's trying to savor every bit of how good she feels. She looks bloody amazing like this.

"Ivy," I murmur, and those emerald eyes of hers snap open. I only now realize they're the greenest eyes I've ever seen. "Look at me." She's got that blissed-out look, but she keeps her eyes open, and our fingers intertwine, somehow bringing us even closer. "Alright?" She just nods with a desperate look in her eyes, and I watch them roll back as she tenses up, back arching, lips quivering until I kiss her, swallowing up the sounds she makes. It's a sight, watching her let go. Knowing I did that to her. Still, it doesn't come close to repaying her for what she's done for me. But the night's long, and we're not hurting for time.

She's grinding against me, and I can feel it when it hits her, riding the wave of pleasure, and it's bloody amazing. Can't believe I've managed to last this long. But, bugger it, a few seconds of Ivy losing it is my undoing, and I go over the edge right after her, free-falling into that blissful abyss. Keeping up the pace like a damn jackhammer, I go stiff when I finally hit the mark and bury myself deep. It all crashes over me—hot, tight, and fast. Every nerve's on fire, and I can't hold back the groans, spouting curses and telling her how fuckin’ good she feels. Then, those fairy lights start flickering back into my vision, creating a halo around Ivy.

Fuckin’ hell, it’s a proper knockout. Loads better than the first one, hitting me like a bloody lightning bolt. It's unreal, nothing's come close to this before. No girl's ever taken me over the edge like Ivy is right now, leavin’ me shaking, feeling like I'm about to collapse.

My elbows on the ground are the only things keeping me from going completely arse over tit. I'm gasping for breath, and it feels like I can't suck it in fast enough. My hips start to stutter to a stop, and I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel Ivy's hand on my shoulder blade, stroking my back. My body's turned into a live wire, every touch from her feels like it's pushing me to the edge again. I swear I can feel my wings vibrating, and that's a new one, don't reckon that’s ever happened before.

The tingling of Ivy's fingers over my back adds to the sensory overload, and I collapse against her, burying my face into her neck, and for a few minutes, I don't move, I can’t.

"You okay?" I'm lying here, completely knackered. I give her some muffled reply that probably sounds like gibberish, that she can't quite catch, adding a bit of humor to the situation. "Say what?"

It’s a chore but I manage to lift my head, ”Never been better. You?” She grins and gives me a lazy smirk.

"I'm good for round three." My eyes go wide as saucers, clocking the mischievous glint in her eyes, and I quickly capture her hands before they can venture lower.

"Are you trying to kill me?" She chuckles, “Look, hate to break your heart love, but after the day I’ve had, I really am gonna need a proper breather.”

She gives me a nod and a heavy sigh like she’s a spoiled princess not gettin’ what she wants, and I roll onto my side, let out a deep breath, and lookin’ at the ceiling. Ivy pulls herself up and looks back at me combing a hand through her tangled hair, lookin every bit as temping now as she was a bit ago. Then she looks around and makes a grab for my shirt but I’m not havin’ any of that and I give her a tug round the waist pullin’ her back against me wrapping my arms around her. "Just let me get a few winks before you go waking me up again, yeah?"

Ivy's worn me out; haven't been this knackered in ages, and I definitely need some shut-eye before we dive back into the fun and games. From the sounds of it, I'll need it because Ivy's up for more. It’s only been a few minutes and she's already starting to drift off, I can feel her breath tickling my chest, her legs tangling with mine. It feels good to have her in my arms, my hand stroking her back. She lets out this content, sleepy, little sigh—pretty cute, and she snuggles into me, making herself at home, and it feels nice to have her close. So nice that I feel a twinge of panic for a second.

"Ivy," I say. She gives me a sleepy little 'Mmhmm.' I can't explain why it's so hard to get the words out—well, that's not true. I know exactly why it's hard because she's close, and she said it perfectly earlier: 'People can't hurt you if you don't let 'em in close.' Rip the plaster off, Warren… if I wake up and she's gone again, at least I've spoken my peace. "You gonna be here when I wake up?"

For a second, I wonder if I took too long to get the words out and she fell asleep, but when I feel her laughing and she traces little designs on my chest, I know she's awake.

"D'you want me to be here when you wake up?" It's a simple question but not easy to answer. Ivy's come into what was left of my life and turned it all topsy-turvy. It feels good to have her here with me. Oh, hell with it, what's the worst she can say?

"Yeah, I do."

She plants a sweet little kiss on me that makes me feel warm. "Then I'll be here." I don't even bother trying to hide my relief. She'll be here. She said she'd stay. She'll be here when I wake up.

Yeah, she said that, but why don't I believe her?

I didn't even realize my breathing was picking up until Ivy sits up, planting another kiss on me. Lips brushing mine, making those voices a bit quieter, like she's putting my worries at ease. "I'll be here, promise."

It's a stupid reason to trust someone, just because they ‘promise’. How many billions of promises have been made and broken? But I can feel it in the way Ivy kisses me, an how she’s lookin’ at me. Guess that makes me stupid. If Ivy says she'll be here, then I believe her. That makes it easier to drift off to sleep—the first peaceful night's sleep I've known in a long while.

#i have too many stories #fanfiction is life #original character #alternate universe #x men apocalypse #warren worthington iii #X-men angel #archangel x men #warren Worthington iii x original female character #smut #pov first person #british character #warren worthington smut #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington the third #one shot #warren is angsty #church smut #going to hell for this

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