The last smear of crimson caught on her lower lip, a tiny rebellion against perfection. Mikaela leaned closer to the smudged mirror, her breath fogging the glass as she murmured, "Damn cheap stuff. Should've boosted that high-end counter when I had the chance." Outside, the first costumed shrieks of Halloween echoed down the street, a counterpoint to the low thrum of the bass from her neighbor's party.
Her reflection stared back, a vision in hellfire red. The tube top clung like a second skin, the deep plunge between her breasts a stark contrast to the smooth peach skin of her décolletage. She adjusted one long glove, the satin whispering against her forearm. "Okay, horns straight?" she asked the empty room, tilting her head. The cheap plastic points wobbled slightly. "Good enough. Not like anyone's gonna be looking *up* there anyway."
A sharp knock rattled her bedroom door. "Mikaela! You decent?" Her dad's voice, rough with years of cigarettes and engine grease, cut through the bass beat.
"Define decent!" she shot back, turning from the mirror, her short skirt flaring around her thighs. The attached devil tail gave a saucy little flick as she moved. "It's Halloween, Dad. Decent is relative."
He cracked the door open, his weathered face appearing in the gap. His eyes, the same sharp blue as hers, widened slightly, then narrowed into a familiar, disapproving squint. "Jesus, Kaela. That getup? You look like... like..." He floundered, gesturing vaguely at the expanse of cleavage and leg.
"Like a girl who knows what she wants?" she supplied, planting a hand on her hip, the curve of her waist accentuated by the gesture. The cool air from the hallway raised goosebumps on her exposed midriff. "Relax. It's just fabric. And attitude." She saw him struggling, the conflict between his protective instincts and the knowledge of her stubbornness playing out on his face. "What, worried I'll boost more than candy tonight?"
"Kaela," he sighed, the sound heavy with decades of worry lines. "Just... be smart. Don't go near the old Henderson place, that block's been weird lately. And if that Sam kid tries anything—"
"—I'll knee him somewhere expensive," she finished smoothly, grabbing a small, worn leather crossbody purse from her dresser. "Like you taught me. Now, are we done with the Dad Debrief? The good chocolate disappears by nine." She breezed past him, the scent of her cheap, fruity body spray mingling with the lingering aroma of motor oil clinging to his flannel shirt. Her boots clicked decisively on the worn linoleum floor as she headed for the front door.
The cool October air hit her like a slap as she stepped onto the porch, a welcome contrast to the overheated house. Streetlights cast long, distorted shadows across the damp sidewalk, illuminating costumed figures already roaming. The bass from the neighbor's party thumped against her ribs, a physical pulse in the night. She adjusted the strap of her purse, the leather smooth and familiar against her hip. "Alright, Hell," she muttered to herself, a small, determined smile playing on her red lips. "Let's see what kind of trouble you've got on offer." She descended the steps, the stiff plastic horns catching briefly in the breeze before settling. The short skirt rode up slightly with each step, the cool air a faint, surprising kiss on the backs of her thighs above the boots. The attached tail bounced lightly against the curve of her ass.
Halfway down the block, a group of teenagers in slashed zombie makeup stumbled out from between parked cars, laughing raucously. One, a lanky boy in a bloodied lab coat, whistled low. "Whoa, check out Satan's secretary!" His friends snickered, their eyes lingering on her cleavage and the sway of her hips.
Mikaela didn't break stride. She met the lab-coated boy's gaze head-on, her blue eyes sharp and utterly unimpressed. "Original," she drawled, her voice cutting through their laughter. "Did you think that up while you were shoplifting that coat? Looks two sizes too big, just like your ego." She kept walking, the click of her boots on the pavement a steady counterpoint to their sudden, awkward silence. The slight flush of annoyance warmed her cheeks, but the satisfaction of shutting them down sent a small, familiar thrill through her. The cool air felt good on her skin now, carrying the scent of damp leaves and distant bonfires.
Around the corner, a burst of high-pitched giggles cut through the bass-thumping night. A cluster of girls Mikaela's age spilled onto the sidewalk, a flurry of frills and fishnet. They were all variations on a theme: sexy maids. Short black dresses with white aprons, thigh-high stockings, and little lace caps perched atop styled hair. One, a petite blonde with sparkling pink lip gloss, nudged her friend, a taller brunette whose dress was daringly short. "Oh my *god*," the blonde breathed, her eyes wide as they landed on Mikaela. "Look at *her*!"
The brunette maid's gaze swept over Mikaela's devil-red ensemble, lingering on the deep plunge of her tube top, the curve of her waist accentuated by the skirt, and the saucy flick of the tail resting just above her ass. A slow, appreciative smile spread across her face. "Damn, girl," she purred, her voice low and smoky. "Didn't know Hell was recruiting this fine." She stepped slightly forward, the movement making her short skirt sway. "That shade of red is *everything* on your skin."
Mikaela blinked, momentarily thrown. Guys leering? Standard. Zombie doctors whistling? Annoying but expected. This direct, appreciative appraisal from another girl? Uncharted territory. A faint, unfamiliar warmth prickled across her collarbones, different from the annoyance earlier. "Uh, thanks?" she managed, her usual sharpness momentarily dulled. The blonde maid giggled, bouncing slightly on her heels. "Seriously! You look hot enough to melt candy corn right in the bag. Like, villain-of-my-dreams hot." She winked, her pink lips curving into a playful smirk. "You handing out tricks or treats tonight?"
The brunette sidled closer, the scent of her sugary perfume cutting through the autumn air. Her eyes, dark and bold, held Mikaela's. "I vote for tricks," she murmured, her gaze dropping deliberately to Mikaela's mouth. "The messy kind."
Her friend giggled again, a high, fluttering sound. "Ignore Chloe, she's shameless. But seriously," the blonde added, stepping forward to lightly brush a stray lock of hair off Mikaela's shoulder, her gloved fingers lingering a fraction too long on the bare skin near the tube top strap. "That confidence? Killer. You're walking like you own the whole damn block." The unexpected touch sent a jolt through Mikaela's nerves, a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill and everything to do with the warm pressure of that gloved fingertip skating so close to the swell of her breast. Her pulse, usually steady in confrontation, kicked up a notch against her ribs.
Chloe, the brunette, didn't hesitate. "Own it? Honey, she *is* the block," she breathed, closing the small distance between them entirely. Before Mikaela could react, Chloe leaned in, her warm, glossed lips pressing a soft, deliberate kiss against Mikaela's left cheekbone. The scent of vanilla and something darker, like spiced rum, enveloped her. Simultaneously, the blonde—Mikaela caught the name 'Bree' embroidered on her tiny apron—mirrored the action on her right cheek, her kiss feather-light but equally intentional. The dual pressure, the sudden intimacy, made Mikaela's breath hitch. Then came the press of bodies: Chloe's full breast, soft and yielding beneath the thin black fabric of her maid's dress, molded firmly against Mikaela's bare upper arm, while Bree's smaller, perkier curve pressed just as insistently against her other side. The heat radiating from them, the sheer *presence* of their bodies pinning her arms gently, was overwhelming. Mikaela felt the cool air vanish, replaced by a stifling, electric warmth that prickled across her skin and pooled low in her belly. Her own breasts, constrained by the tight red tube top, felt suddenly heavy, sensitive. "See?" Chloe murmured, her lips brushing Mikaela's ear lobe, sending another shiver down her spine. "Total goddess vibes."
"Call us?" Bree whispered against her other ear, her breath warm and sweet. In a swift, practiced motion, Chloe slipped a small, folded square of paper—crisp white against Mikaela's flushed skin—into the shadowed valley of her cleavage. The paper scraped lightly, tantalizingly, against the sensitive inner curve of her breast before disappearing into the warm depths. Bree followed instantly, her fingers brushing the same heated skin as she tucked her own note beside Chloe's. The sensation was startlingly intimate, the slight friction of paper on skin sending a jolt straight to Mikaela's core, making her thighs tense within the confines of her skirt and boots. Her nipples tightened almost painfully against the red fabric.
Chloe's dark eyes locked onto hers, intense and promising. "Seriously. Any time."
A collective groan rose from the other maids clustered nearby. "Oh, for Pete's sake!" one of them exclaimed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Give the poor devil girl some air!"
Another, taller maid with a stern expression, stepped forward decisively. "Alright, Casanovas, that's enough terrorizing the neighborhood." She grabbed Chloe's elbow firmly, pulling her back. "You two are worse than the actual ghouls tonight." Another maid hooked her arm through Bree's, tugging her away from Mikaela's side with surprising strength. The sudden absence of their warmth and pressure left Mikaela feeling strangely exposed, the cool night air rushing back to kiss the skin where their bodies had been moments before. Chloe blew Mikaela a flamboyant kiss over her shoulder, her smile wide and unrepentant. "Dream of me!" she called out, her voice already fading as the group of maids, laughing and protesting, began to herd the two forward down the sidewalk. Brie managed a quick, shy wave before being swallowed by the giggling cluster. Mikaela stood rooted to the spot, the faint scent of vanilla and spiced rum clinging to her skin, the two small squares of paper nestled like secrets against the damp heat of her cleavage, a tangible, unexpected weight that seemed to throb in time with her accelerated heartbeat. The cool air felt suddenly sharp on her flushed cheeks.
High above the flickering streetlights and costumed chaos, Seraphiel soared on silent golden-white wings, her pale peach face tilted downwards in gentle vigilance. "Look at the tiny ghosties!" she murmured, her voice a soft chime lost in the wind, her big blue eyes sparkling with delight as she watched a cluster of children clutching pillowcases shuffle safely across a driveway, shepherded by watchful parents. "And the little pumpkin! So precious." She adored Halloween – the innocence, the laughter, the bright costumes warding off imagined terrors. Her duty was simple: ensure no *real* shadows touched this joyful night. A protective warmth bloomed in her chest as she scanned the streets below, her gaze a guardian's shield. "Stay safe, little ones," she whispered, her halo casting a soft, ethereal glow against the dark velvet sky. "No harm shall find you this eve." Her focus was absolute, a serene sentinel ensuring childhood wonder remained unbroken.
Her gaze drifted casually over a group of giggling teens dressed as sexy maids, then snapped back with startling intensity. Below, bathed in the harsh orange glow of a streetlamp, stood a vision in hellfire red. Seraphiel's breath caught sharply in her throat, a sound like a stifled gasp. Her wide, innocent blue eyes dilated impossibly, drinking in the impossible curves: the impossible swell of D-cup breasts straining against crimson fabric, the impossibly slim waist flaring into impossibly lush hips, the defiant flick of a devil's tail resting atop an impossibly round ass. Every instinct, every divine fiber woven into her being, screamed in sudden, overwhelming dissonance. "Oh... oh *Heavens*," Seraphiel breathed, the words trembling on her full lips, her jaw slackening. The protective warmth vanished, replaced by a searing, unfamiliar heat that flooded her veins, pooling low in her own curvy abdomen. Her pale skin flushed a deep rose gold. The sight below wasn't a threat to innocence; it was a devastating assault on her own celestial composure, a beauty so fierce it felt like a physical blow. Her wings faltered for a heartbeat.
"Who *is* she?" Seraphiel whispered, her voice thick with sudden, desperate yearning, the soft chime replaced by a husky tremor. The question wasn't rhetorical; it was a plea torn from her very core. The Order's directives, the vigilant watch over the little ghosties, the sacred duty – all evaporated like mist under a desert sun. Only the woman remained, bathed in that harsh, revealing light, her hourglass figure radiating a magnetism Seraphiel had never known she lacked until this moment. Her mind, usually a serene lake reflecting divine purpose, churned with chaotic, unfamiliar currents. The succubus energy, dormant yet coiled within her divine protection, surged violently awake, whispering dark, delicious promises. It wasn't protection she craved now; it was *possession*. The need to know that name, to claim that breathtaking form, became an all-consuming fire. Her halo flickered erratically.
Seraphiel descended with the silent grace of falling snow, yet her landing on the cracked sidewalk ten feet behind the devilish figure was jarred by the frantic pounding of her heart against her ribs. The cool night air vanished, replaced by the intoxicating scent of cheap, fruity body spray mingled with something uniquely *her* – warm skin and feminine musk. It hit Seraphiel like a wave, making her knees weaken and her own C-cup breasts feel suddenly heavy, sensitive beneath the thin white fabric of her dress. She smoothed her short blonde hair nervously, her pale fingers trembling. Taking a shaky breath that did nothing to calm the storm inside her, Seraphiel called out, her voice striving for celestial serenity but cracking with raw, undisguised hunger: "Excuse me? Maiden? Might I... might I inquire as to your blessed name?" The halo above her head pulsed with frantic golden light, casting shifting shadows on the pavement.
Mikaela froze mid-step, the click of her long red boots echoing sharply in the sudden bubble of silence that seemed to envelop her. That voice – soft, melodic, yet layered with an intensity that prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Slowly, deliberately, she turned. Her blue eyes widened, taking in the impossible vision before her: the golden-white wings, the hovering halo, the short white dress revealing smooth thighs and curvy hips, the innocent face flushed deep rose gold, the big blue eyes blazing with an unnerving mix of reverence and desperate longing. Mikaela's own breath hitched. The lingering phantom warmth from the maids' kisses evaporated, replaced by a sudden, icy shockwave that raced down her spine. Her pulse hammered against her throat, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden stillness. Her lips parted slightly, the cheap red lipstick catching the pulsing light of the angel's halo. "What the actual *fuck*?" The words escaped her, low and stunned, devoid of her usual sharpness, filled only with pure, primal disbelief. The folded papers in her cleavage felt suddenly irrelevant, forgotten relics of a mundane world that had just ceased to exist.
Seraphiel took a hesitant step closer, the movement fluid yet charged with a tension that vibrated the air between them. Her gaze, wide and luminous, devoured every detail of Mikaela: the defiant tilt of the cheap plastic horns, the defiant plunge of the red tube top showcasing the deep valley between Mikaela's full breasts, the defiant curve of her waist disappearing into the short skirt that barely covered her hips. A small, almost pained sound escaped Seraphiel's full lips. "Your radiance," she breathed, her voice thick with awe that bordered on anguish, "it... it shames the stars." She took another step, closing the distance to mere inches. The scent of ozone and something impossibly clean, like sunlight on snow, washed over Mikaela, mingling dizzyingly with her own cheap body spray. Seraphiel's pale peach skin seemed to glow from within, her halo pulsing faster, casting flickering golden light across Mikaela's stunned face. "I am Seraphiel," she murmured, her voice trembling with the effort of restraint, her big blue eyes fixed unblinkingly on Mikaela's. "Bearer of the Seventh Flame. Sentinel of the Silver Spire." Her gaze dropped to Mikaela's lips, then snapped back up, a flicker of panic crossing her features. "And you... you are...?"
Mikaela swallowed hard, the sound loud in her own ears. Her mind raced, trying to reconcile the celestial being before her with the absurdity of Halloween and the lingering phantom touch of the maids. The angel's proximity was overwhelming, radiating a heat that seemed to seep into her skin, making the satin of her gloves feel suddenly constricting. The angel's intense focus, the raw hunger barely contained beneath the surface of her divine guise, sent a confusing jolt through Mikaela's core – part fear, part something else entirely, a dangerous spark of curiosity. "Mikaela," she managed, her voice rough, scraping against her throat. "Just... Mikaela." She instinctively took a half-step back, her boot heel scraping the pavement, the devil's tail giving a nervous twitch against her skirt. The movement seemed to shatter Seraphiel's fragile composure.
A soft gasp escaped the angel, a sound like shattering crystal. "Mikaela," Seraphiel breathed, savoring each syllable as if it were sacred nectar. "A name forged in starlight." Her gaze dropped to Mikaela's gloved left hand, resting tense at her side. With a reverence that felt both ancient and shockingly intimate, Seraphiel reached out. Her fingers, pale and cool, brushed the satin covering Mikaela's knuckles. The touch sent an electric current up Mikaela's arm, making her flinch slightly, but Seraphiel didn't falter. Gently, almost pleadingly, she lifted Mikaela's hand. Mikaela felt the slight tremor in the angel's grip, saw the desperate devotion burning in those wide blue eyes. Seraphiel bowed her head, her short blonde hair catching the halo's light. Her full lips, soft and impossibly warm, pressed a feather-light, lingering kiss onto the satin covering Mikaela's knuckles. The kiss wasn't just on the fabric; Mikaela felt the heat, the soft pressure, searing through the thin material as if it weren't there, branding her skin beneath. It was a benediction and a claim, sending a shocking wave of warmth flooding through Mikaela's chest, tightening her nipples painfully against the red tube top, and pooling low in her belly with an unfamiliar, liquid heat. Her breath caught, trapped in her throat.
"Bearer of the Seventh Flame?" Mikaela managed, her voice husky, trying to anchor herself in the absurdity. She tugged her hand back, the satin feeling suddenly damp where the angel's lips had touched. "What the hell does that even—"
"Everything," Seraphiel interrupted, her voice thick with fervent conviction. She surged forward, closing the distance Mikaela had tried to create. Her small frame vibrated with intensity, her golden-white wings rustling softly behind her. "It means *nothing* now. Only you. Only Mikaela." Her gaze swept over Mikaela's body again, a visible tremor running through her. "I have watched over innocence, guarded the pure. But *you*..." Her voice dropped to a raw whisper, filled with awe and a terrifying hunger. "Your fire... your defiance... the curve of your hip beneath that scarlet cloth..." She swayed slightly, her pale skin flushed deep rose. "I am undone. Utterly."
Seraphiel lifted her hands, not to touch, but in a gesture of profound, desperate surrender. Her eyes, wide and luminous, locked onto Mikaela's with terrifying intensity. "I am yours," she declared, the words ringing with absolute conviction. "Wholly. Completely. My wings, my halo, this vessel..." Her gaze flickered down her own body, clad in the thin white dress, then back up, blazing. "Do you understand? *Anything*. Anything you desire. Command me. Use me." Her voice dropped to a husky, breathless plea. "Bind me with your gaze. Mark me with your touch. Take your pleasure upon my form, however you wish it. I exist only for your bliss, Mikaela. Crush me beneath your heel, or cradle me in your arms – only grant me the ecstasy of serving your desire." Her halo pulsed erratically, casting frantic golden light over the sharp planes of Mikaela's stunned face and the angel's own expression of fervent, trembling offering. The scent of ozone intensified, mingling with the angel's unique, sun-warmed skin and the cheap cherry body spray clinging to Mikaela, creating a dizzying, intoxicating blend.
Mikaela stared, her mind reeling. The folded notes in her cleavage felt like forgotten ash. This wasn't a drunken frat boy or a flirty maid. This was celestial annihilation packaged in a short, curvy frame radiating desperate heat. The angel's words – "crush me beneath your heel" – echoed, igniting a dangerous spark deep within her, a spark fanned by the raw power shimmering in the air and the sheer, terrifying vulnerability in Seraphiel's eyes. Her own pulse hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the angel's stillness. The cool night air was gone, replaced by a stifling, electric tension that crackled on her exposed skin, making the satin gloves feel like a prison and the tight tube top constrict her breathing. She felt the phantom pressure of Seraphiel's lips on her knuckles, the promise in those trembling words, and a treacherous coil of heat tightened low in her core, an answering hunger she hadn't known she possessed. Her blue eyes, wide with shock, narrowed slightly, the sharpness returning, cutting through the haze of disbelief.
"What… *what* do you mean?" Mikaela demanded, her voice rough, scraping against her throat. She took a deliberate half-step back, her long red boot heel grinding on the pavement, the devil's tail flicking sharply against her skirt. She gestured sharply at Seraphiel's hovering halo, her gloved finger trembling slightly. "Use you? Take pleasure? What the hell does that even look like? Are we talking… like, fetching me coffee?" Sarcasm was her shield, brittle but familiar. Yet beneath it, her breath hitched, waiting. The scent of ozone and sun-warmed skin wrapped around her, dizzying, pulling her forward even as her instincts screamed retreat. "Give me specifics, Wings. Cut the celestial bullshit."
Seraphiel shuddered, a visible tremor running through her small frame. Her pale peach skin flushed deeper rose gold, spreading down her neck beneath the thin white straps of her dress. Her big blue eyes, luminous and desperate, locked onto Mikaela's. A soft whimper escaped her full lips. "Oh, Mikaela," she breathed, the name a prayer and a plea. "Everything. Anything." She took a hesitant step closer, closing the gap Mikaela had created. The heat radiating from her intensified, a palpable wave that washed over Mikaela's exposed collarbones and arms. "I mean…" Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, thick with yearning. "I mean kneeling before you." She sank gracefully onto the damp sidewalk, her knees hitting the concrete with soft thuds, the hem of her short dress riding higher on her smooth thighs. She looked up, her halo casting golden light upwards onto Mikaela's stunned face. "Right here. On the cold ground." Her pale hands lifted, trembling, hovering near Mikaela's booted calves. "Removing these…" Her fingers gestured towards Mikaela's long red boots. "...slowly. Peeling the leather away." Her gaze burned upwards, tracing the curve of Mikaela's legs beneath the short skirt. "Kissing every inch of skin revealed." Her breath hitched. "Your ankles. Your calves. The backs of your knees." Her voice thickened. "Feeling you tremble."
Mikaela sucked in a sharp breath. The image slammed into her: the divine being on her knees on the grimy sidewalk, worshipping her boots, her legs. The cool air suddenly felt icy on her exposed thighs where the skirt had ridden up, contrasting sharply with the searing heat pooling low in her belly. Her nipples tightened painfully against the red tube top, sensitive peaks straining the fabric. She could almost feel the phantom brush of Seraphiel's lips on her skin, the reverence, the utter submission. Her own gloved hand clenched into a fist at her side. "And then?" Mikaela pressed, her voice lower now, huskier than she intended. The sarcasm was gone, replaced by a dangerous curiosity that vibrated through her. She didn't step back. She held her ground, staring down at the kneeling angel, the devil horns on her head feeling suddenly, absurdly heavy. The scent of the angel's arousal – sweet musk mingled with ozone – was thick in the air, intoxicating.
Seraphiel's eyes darkened, the blue deepening almost to violet. Her pale fingers twitched, yearning to touch but holding back. "Then?" Her whisper was ragged, filled with desperate need. "Then… lifting this." Her gaze fixed on the hem of Mikaela's short red skirt. "Sliding my hands beneath." She mimed the motion slowly, reverently. "Finding you… bare beneath?" A needy gasp escaped her. "Hot. Wet." Her own thighs pressed together tightly beneath her dress. "Tasting you." The word was a moan. "Right here." Her pale hand gestured vaguely towards Mikaela's hips. "On this filthy street." Her head tilted back, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat, her halo pulsing erratically. "Feeling your fingers twist in my hair." Her voice cracked. "Pulling me closer. Deeper. Hearing the sounds you make…" She shuddered violently, her wings rustling like disturbed silk. "Until your thighs clamp around my ears." Her gaze burned into Mikaela's, raw and pleading. "Until you scream my name into the night sky." Her pale skin glowed, damp with a sheen of sweat. "Is that… specific enough?"
Mikaela's breath hitched, the cool air suddenly sharp against her flushed cheeks. The angel's words painted vivid, impossible images across her mind: the divine creature kneeling, her lips parting Mikaela's thighs, the wet heat of her tongue against skin no one had touched like that before. The phantom sensation bloomed low in her belly, a liquid pulse that made her shift her weight, the rough seam of her skirt brushing her inner thigh. Her nipples tightened further against the tube top, aching points of sensation. "You talk," Mikaela breathed, her voice thick with disbelief and a treacherous thrill, "like you've done this before." She didn't move away. The scent of ozone and Seraphiel's arousal wrapped around her, dizzying, anchoring her to the moment.
Seraphiel flinched as if struck. Her wide blue eyes filled with sudden tears, luminous pools catching the halo's frantic light. "Never!" The denial was fervent, desperate. "Only… watched." Her pale fingers trembled as they brushed her own lips. "Learned… from dreams." A tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down her flushed cheek. "From the ache." Her gaze dropped to Mikaela's hip, where the skirt clung. "The ache that started the moment I saw you." Her voice dropped to a raw whisper. "The ache that screams *this*… *this* is how I serve." She lifted her chin, a fragile defiance mingling with utter surrender. "Let me serve you, Mikaela." Her pale hand lifted, hovering inches from Mikaela's thigh. "Please." The single word hung in the charged air, trembling with need. "Let me kiss you here." Her fingertip traced the air just above Mikaela's skin where the skirt ended. "Softly. Slowly." Her breath hitched. "Until you tremble."
Mikaela stared down at the kneeling angel, the devil horns suddenly heavy on her brow. The folded notes in her cleavage were forgotten ash. Seraphiel's tears, her trembling hands, the raw honesty in her plea – it shattered the last brittle shield of disbelief. A reckless heat surged through Mikaela, hotter than embarrassment, sharper than fear. It was pure, defiant instinct. Her gloved hand unclenched. Slowly, deliberately, she reached down. Not to push away, but to grasp the hair atop Seraphiel's head. Her fingers tangled in the soft blonde strands beneath the halo, pulling the angel's face closer to the exposed skin of her thigh, just above the top of her red boot. The cool satin of her glove brushed Seraphiel's feverish cheek. "Fine," Mikaela murmured, her voice low and rough, vibrating with a thrill she didn't bother to hide. "Show me." She tightened her grip slightly, guiding Seraphiel's lips towards her skin. "Show me what your dreams taught you." Her thumb brushed the wet trail on Seraphiel's cheek. "And don't you dare stop trembling."
Seraphiel gasped, a sharp, shuddering intake of breath that vibrated against Mikaela's thigh. Her wide blue eyes, still swimming with tears, locked onto Mikaela's with utter devotion. "Yes," she breathed, the word a fervent prayer. "Yes, Mikaela." Then, without hesitation, she leaned forward. Her lips, impossibly soft and startlingly warm, pressed against the smooth peach skin just above Mikaela's boot. It wasn't tentative; it was a fervent, open-mouthed kiss, a claiming touch that sent an electric jolt straight up Mikaela's leg. Seraphiel moaned softly against her skin, the sound muffled but vibrating, sending tingles radiating outward. Her hands, pale and cool, slid up Mikaela's booted calves, fingers tracing the leather seams with reverent pressure before settling just below Mikaela's knees. "So soft," Seraphiel murmured against her skin, her breath hot. "So warm." She pulled back slightly, just enough to flick her tongue out, a slow, deliberate stroke along the same spot she'd kissed. The wet heat was shocking, intimate, making Mikaela's breath catch. Seraphiel looked up, her lips glistening. "May I…?" Her gaze dropped meaningfully to the top edge of Mikaela's boot. "Peel this away? Reveal more… taste more?" Her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on Mikaela's calves. "Please?"
Mikaela's grip tightened in Seraphiel's hair. The sensation was overwhelming – the angel's trembling lips, the wet heat of her tongue, the raw need in her eyes. A deep, unfamiliar ache throbbed between Mikaela's own thighs, a pulsing warmth that echoed the angel's fervor. "Do it," Mikaela commanded, her voice thick, husky, barely recognizable. Her thumb brushed the dampness on Seraphiel's cheek again, smearing the tear. "Slowly." The word came out as a rasp. Seraphiel whimpered, a sound of pure gratitude, and immediately bent her head. Her pale fingers found the top clasp of Mikaela's long red boot. The cool metal felt sharp against Mikaela's skin as Seraphiel's trembling hands worked it open. The leather loosened, and Seraphiel peeled it down with agonizing slowness, her lips following the path of exposed skin immediately. She kissed the ridge of Mikaela's anklebone, then the delicate arch of her foot, her tongue tracing the tendons. Mikaela gasped, her knees threatening to buckle. The cool night air hit the newly exposed skin, contrasting violently with the angel's heated mouth.
Seraphiel's fingers slid higher, pushing the boot lower, her lips moving up Mikaela's calf, worshipping every inch revealed. "Divine," Seraphiel breathed against Mikaela's shin, her breath hot. "You taste… divine." Her fingers crept higher, nearing the sensitive hollow behind Mikaela's knee. "More?"
The sharp, delighted shriek of children echoed suddenly from around the corner, punctuated by the rustle of candy bags and excited shouts of "Trick or treat!" Mikaela froze. The haze of heat, the overwhelming sensation of Seraphiel's lips and hands on her skin, shattered instantly. Reality slammed back: the damp sidewalk beneath her boots, the cheap plastic horns digging into her scalp, the flickering streetlight illuminating Seraphiel kneeling before her, one boot half-peeled down her calf, the angel's lips hovering inches from her exposed knee. They were exposed. Fully. On a public street. On Halloween night. Mikaela's blue eyes widened, darting towards the sound of approaching footsteps and laughter. Panic, cold and sharp, sliced through the lingering heat in her belly. "Shit!" Mikaela hissed, yanking her leg back instinctively. Her boot scraped against the pavement. "Get up!" she commanded, her voice low and urgent, rough with adrenaline. She released Seraphiel's hair, her gloved hand dropping to hastily pull her boot back up. "Now! Someone's coming!"
Seraphiel blinked, dazed, her luminous eyes clouded with confusion and unsated hunger. She remained kneeling, staring up at Mikaela, her lips still parted, damp and flushed. "But… Mikaela…" she whispered, her voice thick with bewildered longing. "Your pleasure… I was…" Her pale hands hovered uselessly in the air where Mikaela's calf had been. The frantic pulse of her halo cast frantic golden light over her flushed, tear-streaked face. The sounds of the children grew louder, footsteps scuffing on the pavement just meters away. Mikaela's heart hammered against her ribs. The ache between her thighs was still there, a persistent throb, but now tangled with the icy grip of exposure. She wanted this. Wanted it fiercely – wanted to shove the angel back down, feel that desperate mouth on her skin again, higher, *everywhere*. The sheer force of that wanting, directed at another girl, at this trembling, divine creature, was terrifying and exhilarating. But the thought of being seen, caught like this… "Angel!" Mikaela snapped, her voice cracking. She grabbed Seraphiel's upper arm, hauling her roughly to her feet. Seraphiel stumbled, her wings flapping awkwardly for balance. "Move! Or I swear to God, I'll leave you here!" Mikaela's gaze darted frantically towards the alley mouth across the street – dark, narrow, promising concealment. Her fingers dug into the thin strap of Seraphiel's dress. "Follow me!"
Mikaela dragged her across the street, the angel stumbling beside her, her bare feet slipping on the damp asphalt. The children's laughter burst onto the sidewalk they'd just vacated, a whirlwind of princesses and pirates clutching pumpkin buckets. Mikaela shoved Seraphiel into the narrow alley's deeper shadows, pressing her back against the cold, rough brick wall. The alley smelled of damp cardboard and stale beer. Mikaela pressed close, her own back to the alley entrance, shielding them from view. Her breath came in sharp gasps, mingling with the angel's ragged panting. Seraphiel trembled violently against the brickwork, her wings crushed awkwardly behind her. "I displeased you," Seraphiel choked out, her voice thick with despair. Tears welled anew, spilling over her flushed cheeks. "I was too slow… too clumsy…" Her gaze dropped to Mikaela's hastily re-fastened boot, then flickered fearfully to Mikaela's face. "I failed you. Please… punish me." Her pale hands lifted, trembling. "Bind me. Hurt me. Use me however you wish… just don't send me away." The desperation in her whisper was absolute. "I exist only for your happiness now. My chastity… my soul… it's yours. Do anything."
Mikaela stared at her, the frantic pulse of her own heart echoing the angel's trembling. The alley's chill seeped into her exposed skin, but where Seraphiel's body pressed against hers, heat radiated. The scent of ozone and angelic arousal was stronger here, trapped in the confined space, mingling with the alley's grime. Mikaela's gaze traced the tear tracks on Seraphiel's pale cheeks, the raw vulnerability in her huge blue eyes, the way her full lips trembled. The angel wasn't lying. She genuinely believed she'd failed. That her only purpose was Mikaela's pleasure, no matter the cost to herself. It was terrifying. It was intoxicating. Mikaela's own need roared back, sharper now, edged with this newfound power. Slowly, deliberately, Mikaela lifted her gloved hand. She didn't wipe away the tears. Instead, her thumb pressed against Seraphiel's lower lip, smearing the dampness. The angel gasped, her lips parting instantly beneath the satin touch. "Shut up," Mikaela murmured, her voice low and dangerous. Her thumb slid lower, tracing the frantic pulse point in Seraphiel's throat. She leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of Seraphiel's ear, her breath hot. "You didn't fail." She felt the angel shudder violently against her. "You just got interrupted." Mikaela's other hand slid down, fingers tangling in the thin fabric of Seraphiel's dress where it rode high on her thigh. Her touch wasn't gentle. "Now," Mikaela breathed, her lips grazing the angel's earlobe, "tell me again… exactly where you wanted to kiss me next."
Seraphiel whimpered, a high, needy sound vibrating against Mikaela's lips. Her hips bucked instinctively against Mikaela's thigh. "H-Here," she gasped, her pale hand fluttering downwards, fingers trembling as they brushed the curve of Mikaela's ass beneath the short red skirt. "Here… Mikaela." Her voice cracked, thick with desperation. "I wanted… to lift this." Her fingers curled into the fabric's edge. "To peel it away… like your boot." She shuddered. "To see… to touch… the skin beneath." Her breath hitched. "To kneel again… press my face…" Her eyes squeezed shut, tears squeezing out. "Against your… softness." Her hips rocked again, grinding against Mikaela's thigh. "To breathe you in… deep." Her pale fingers tightened on Mikaela's skirt. "Please…"
Mikaela's grip tightened on Seraphiel's hipbone beneath the thin dress. The plea, the raw, graphic need vibrating through the angel's body, sent liquid heat pooling low in Mikaela's belly. She shifted, pressing her thigh harder against the slick heat radiating through Seraphiel's dress. "Yeah?" Mikaela growled against her ear, her thumb pressing harder against Seraphiel's lower lip. "And then what?" Her free hand slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of Seraphiel's ass beneath the white fabric. The angel's skin felt impossibly smooth, impossibly hot beneath the thin material. Mikaela squeezed, hard, feeling the firm muscle yield beneath her satin-covered palm. Seraphiel cried out, a sharp, ragged moan muffled against Mikaela's neck as her head dropped forward, burying her face in Mikaela's deep cleavage. Her lips pressed against the swell of Mikaela's breast above the tube top, hot and damp. Her breath hitched, ragged gasps puffing against Mikaela's skin, sending shivers down her spine.
Seraphiel's hips jerked wildly against Mikaela's thigh. "Then…" she gasped, her voice muffled, vibrating against Mikaela's breast. "Then… taste you." Her lips moved, kissing feverishly through the fabric. "With my tongue… deep." She moaned, the sound vibrating directly against Mikaela's nipple, making it peak instantly against the tight red material. "Feel you… clench around me." Her pale hand shot down, grabbing Mikaela's gloved wrist where it gripped her ass, pressing Mikaela's fingers deeper into the yielding flesh. "Make you… scream." Her head lifted slightly, her eyes wide, wild, utterly depraved. "Until you beg me… to stop." Her lips curled into a trembling, desperate smile. "But I won't." She leaned closer, her breath hot on Mikaela's collarbone. "Not until I've swallowed… every drop." Her gaze locked onto Mikaela's, burning with unholy fire. "And licked… your thighs… clean."
Mikaela's breath hitched, sharp and ragged. The graphic promise, delivered in that trembling angelic voice, sent molten lava flooding her veins. "Fuck," she breathed, the word thick, almost a groan. Her grip on Seraphiel's hip tightened painfully. "Do it." She shoved the angel back harder against the brick wall, the rough texture scraping against Seraphiel's thin dress. "Now." Her gloved hand slid from Seraphiel's ass to the hem of her own short red skirt, fingers curling into the fabric. "Lift it," Mikaela commanded, her voice low and rough. "Peel it away." She pressed her thigh harder against Seraphiel's slick heat. "Show me how deep… you want to taste."
Seraphiel whimpered, a high, frantic sound. Her pale hands flew to Mikaela's hips, fingers digging into the curve above Mikaela's ass. "Yes!" she gasped, her eyes wide with frantic devotion. "Hold me!" Before Mikaela could react, Seraphiel surged upwards. Her powerful thighs wrapped instantly around Mikaela's waist, locking tight. Her arms snaked around Mikaela's neck. "Hold me!" she cried again, her voice cracking with desperate need. Mikaela staggered slightly under the sudden weight, her hands instinctively grabbing Seraphiel's thighs beneath the flimsy white dress, feeling the hot, smooth skin and taut muscle beneath her satin gloves. Seraphiel's big C-cup breasts crushed against Mikaela's D-cups, soft flesh yielding against soft flesh, separated only by the thin layers of red tube top and white dress. The friction was electric, sending jolts through Mikaela's already sensitized nipples. "Mikaela!" Seraphiel gasped, her lips hovering inches away. Her breath was hot, sweet, smelling faintly of ozone and desperation. "Kiss me!" Her hips ground down against Mikaela's stomach. "Please!"
Mikaela didn't hesitate. She crushed her lips against Seraphiel's. It wasn't gentle. It was fierce, possessive, a claiming. Seraphiel moaned into Mikaela's mouth, her lips parting instantly, yielding completely. Her tongue surged forward, hot and desperate, tangling with Mikaela's. The kiss was deep, wet, messy. Seraphiel's hips rocked wildly against Mikaela's belly, her softness grinding against Mikaela's hard abdomen muscles. Her hands fisted in Mikaela's brown hair, pulling her closer, deeper into the kiss. Mikaela groaned into Seraphiel's mouth, the sound vibrating against the angel's tongue. One hand slid higher up Seraphiel's thigh beneath the dress, fingers digging into the curve of her ass, pulling her impossibly closer. The other hand tangled in Seraphiel's blonde hair beneath her halo, holding her head steady as Mikaela devoured her, tasting the salt of her tears and the raw, divine desperation on her tongue. Seraphiel's legs tightened like a vise, her breasts pressed flush against Mikaela's, rubbing in frantic, needy circles. Her muffled whimpers vibrated against Mikaela's lips, a symphony of surrender and aching, boundless need.
Suddenly, Seraphiel broke the kiss with a gasp, pulling back just enough to stare into Mikaela's eyes, her own wide and luminous, pupils blown black with lust. Her pale hands fluttered frantically, not towards Mikaela's skirt, but towards the deep plunge of Mikaela's red tube top. Her fingers trembled as they dipped into Mikaela's cleavage, brushing the soft swell of her D-cup breast. Mikaela froze, breath catching as Seraphiel's cool fingertips slid deeper, searching. "What...?" Mikaela started, her voice rough.
"Shh," Seraphiel breathed, her gaze intense, focused. Her fingers emerged, clutching two crumpled slips of paper – the ones the maid-costumed girls had pressed into Mikaela's cleavage earlier, their phone numbers hastily scribbled. Seraphiel didn't even glance at them. With swift, decisive grace, she reached into the cross-shaped cleavage window of her own thin white dress, plunging her hand between her own C-cup breasts. Mikaela watched, mesmerized, as Seraphiel tucked the papers deep into the warm valley of her own cleavage, pressing them snugly against her soft, pale skin. Seraphiel withdrew her hand, smoothing her dress. Her gaze locked back onto Mikaela's, fierce and possessive. "Not stealing," Seraphiel whispered, her voice thick with conviction. "Protecting." Her pale fingers brushed Mikaela's collarbone. "Your treasures belong with me. Safe. Close to my heart." A possessive fire burned in her eyes. "From now on," she declared, her thumb tracing Mikaela's lower lip, smearing her red lipstick, "my cleavage... is your purse. Put anything you wish inside me." She leaned in, her lips brushing Mikaela's ear, her breath hot. "Anything at all."
The raw possessiveness, the unexpected practicality mixed with divine devotion, sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through Mikaela. Her gloved hand slid from Seraphiel's ass to grip her hip hard, pulling their bodies flush again. "My purse, huh?" Mikaela murmured, a dangerous edge in her voice. Her free hand slid boldly over Seraphiel's stomach, fingers dipping teasingly into the top edge of her own cleavage window. She felt the angel shudder violently beneath her touch. "Better be deep enough," Mikaela growled, her fingertips brushing the soft swell of Seraphiel's breast, feeling the frantic beat of her heart beneath. "Got a lotta... things... I wanna stash."
Seraphiel whimpered, her hips bucking against Mikaela's thigh. "Deeper," she gasped, her hands grabbing Mikaela's wrist, guiding her fingers deeper into her cleavage, pressing Mikaela's satin-covered knuckles against the soft, yielding flesh. "Always deeper." Her lips found Mikaela's throat, kissing feverishly. "Fill me," she breathed against Mikaela's pulse point, her tongue flicking out. "Fill me with everything you own." Her teeth grazed Mikaela's skin, a sharp, possessive promise. "I'll keep it safe... inside... forever." Her other hand finally, desperately, found the hem of Mikaela's short red skirt, fingers curling into the fabric. "Now... please..." she begged, her voice cracking. "Let me... taste... what belongs... only to me?"
Mikaela's smirk was sharp, predatory. She pulled her hand from Seraphiel's cleavage, leaving the crumpled papers nestled deep against the angel's skin. Her gloved fingers tangled in Seraphiel's blonde hair beneath the hovering halo, tilting her head back. "Oh, you belong to me," Mikaela murmured, her voice low and rough, scraping against the charged air. "Every flutter of those wings." She traced the frantic pulse in Seraphiel's throat. "Every desperate gasp." Her thumb pressed against the angel's swollen lower lip. "Especially that mouth." She leaned in, her breath hot. "Remember that."
Seraphiel whimpered, her hips grinding helplessly against Mikaela's thigh. "Yours," she gasped, the word thick with devotion and lust. "Only yours, Mikaela. Always." Her blue eyes were wide, pupils blown black, reflecting the dim alley light like dark pools. "Use me. Please."
Later, Mikaela's grip was iron on Seraphiel's wrist as she dragged her away from the alley's damp intimacy. "Dad's home," Mikaela muttered, her boots clicking sharply on the pavement, echoing the frantic beat of her own heart. "Bedroom's off-limits." She cut through a narrow gap between sagging chain-link fences, pulling the stumbling angel towards a detached cinderblock garage tucked behind a row of houses. The air smelled of wet asphalt and stale gasoline. A heavy padlock hung loose on the sliding door. Mikaela shoved it aside with a practiced shoulder, the metal screeching in protest. "Welcome to my sanctuary," she breathed, yanking Seraphiel inside the cavernous darkness. The scent of motor oil, rubber, and dust enveloped them, thick and familiar. Moonlight filtered through grimy high windows, illuminating skeletal motorcycle frames and scattered tools. Mikaela slammed the door shut with her boot heel, plunging them into near-darkness punctuated only by silver moonbeams cutting through the dust motes. She shoved Seraphiel back against the cold metal door, the angel's wings rustling against it with a soft, startled whisper. Mikaela's body pressed flush against hers, pinning her. "Now," Mikaela growled, her lips brushing the shell of Seraphiel's ear, "where were we?"
Seraphiel's answer was a ragged moan as her trembling hands flew to Mikaela's hips, fingers digging into the curve above her ass beneath the short red skirt. "Here," she gasped, her voice cracking. Her pale fingers fumbled desperately with the hem of Mikaela's skirt, bunching the fabric upwards. Cool air kissed Mikaela's exposed thighs above her boots. Seraphiel sank to her knees on the concrete floor, the movement fluid yet urgent, her halo dipping forward. Her breath hitched as her face pressed against Mikaela's stomach, then lower, nuzzling the soft skin of her inner thigh through the thin lace of her panties. The heat of Seraphiel's breath soaked through the fabric, a searing brand. Mikaela gasped, her gloved hand tangling tighter in Seraphiel's hair, holding her close. Seraphiel's lips parted against the damp lace, her tongue tracing a hot, wet line upwards. "Tasting," she murmured, her voice muffled against Mikaela's skin, thick with reverence and desperate need. "Tasting what belongs only to me." Her teeth grazed the delicate skin of Mikaela's inner thigh, a sharp, possessive sting that made Mikaela's knees buckle slightly, her grip on Seraphiel's hair tightening like a vice.
(Spicy Treat Start!)
"Teeth," Mikaela growled, her voice rough, scraping against the dusty garage air. "Use them." She shifted her stance, widening her legs slightly. Seraphiel whimpered in response, a sound of pure devotion. Her lips closed over the thin black lace stretched taut across Mikaela's hip, her teeth catching the delicate elastic edging. Mikaela felt the sharp pressure, the cool slickness of Seraphiel's saliva soaking through the fabric, then the slow, deliberate drag downwards as Seraphiel pulled the panties down with her teeth. The lace scraped against Mikaela's sensitive skin, catching briefly on the curve of her hipbone before yielding. Seraphiel eased them down Mikaela's thighs with agonizing slowness, her breath hot puffs against Mikaela's increasingly exposed skin, her lips brushing Mikaela's inner thighs as she worked the fabric lower. Finally, the panties pooled around Mikaela's boot tops. Seraphiel pulled back slightly, her gaze locked on the glistening apex revealed before her. Her blue eyes were wide, dark pools reflecting the dim moonlight filtering through the grimy windows. "Mine," she breathed, the word a trembling prayer. "All mine." Her tongue darted out, a tentative flick against Mikaela's slick folds. The contact was electric, a jolt of pure sensation that arched Mikaela's back against the cold metal door. Seraphiel moaned, a low, hungry sound vibrating against Mikaela's core. "Sweet," she gasped, her voice thick and awed. "So sweet." Her tongue pressed forward, firmer this time, a long, deliberate lick from Mikaela's entrance upwards. The warmth, the wetness, the shocking intimacy of it stole Mikaela's breath. Seraphiel's hands gripped Mikaela's thighs, holding her steady as she leaned in, burying her face deeper, her tongue delving eagerly into Mikaela's wet heat.
"Oh fuck," Mikaela hissed, her head thudding back against the metal door. Seraphiel's tongue was relentless—probing, swirling, lapping with desperate fervor. It wasn't tentative exploration anymore; it was worship. Seraphiel moaned continuously against Mikaela's skin, the vibrations sending shivers up Mikaela's spine. Her tongue flattened, pressing hard against Mikaela's clit, circling it with firm, focused strokes before plunging back down, delving deep into her entrance. Mikaela gasped, her hips bucking forward involuntarily, grinding against Seraphiel's mouth. "Yes,"
Seraphiel gasped, pulling back just enough to speak, her lips glistening wet. "Like that." Her breath was hot on Mikaela's slick skin. "Move against me." Her thumbs hooked under Mikaela's thighs, spreading her wider. "Let me taste you deeper." Then her mouth was back, hungry and demanding. Her tongue thrust inside Mikaela, deeper than before, a firm, insistent pressure that filled her. Mikaela cried out, the sound echoing off the garage walls, mingling with the frantic rustle of Seraphiel's wings against the door. Seraphiel's tongue fucked her in steady, rhythmic strokes—in deep, pulling back slightly, then plunging in again—while her lips closed around Mikaela's clit, sucking firmly. The dual sensation—the deep, filling pressure and the sharp suction—was overwhelming. Seraphiel's nose pressed against Mikaela's mound, her breaths hot and ragged. Mikaela could feel the angel trembling beneath her hands, utterly lost in the act, her devotion poured into every flick, every thrust, every desperate moan vibrating against Mikaela's skin.
"Harder," Mikaela commanded, her voice ragged, her fingers tightening painfully in Seraphiel's hair. Seraphiel obeyed instantly. Her tongue drove deeper, curling upwards inside Mikaela, pressing against a spot that sent white-hot sparks behind Mikaela's eyelids. Her lips tightened around Mikaela's clit, sucking harder, her teeth grazing the sensitive nub with just the right edge of sharpness. Mikaela's thighs clenched around Seraphiel's head, trapping her, forcing her mouth impossibly closer. Seraphiel whimpered, a sound of pure ecstasy muffled against Mikaela's flesh. Her hands slid up Mikaela's hips, gripping her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh above Mikaela's skirt waistband. Mikaela's breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. She could feel the coil tightening low in her belly, a pressure building with each relentless stroke of Seraphiel's tongue, each demanding suck. Seraphiel's rhythm became frantic, her tongue plunging in and out with desperate speed, her lips and teeth working Mikaela's clit in a frenzy. Mikaela felt herself teetering on the edge, the sensations overwhelming, concentrated heat pooling between her legs where Seraphiel's mouth was fused to her.
"Fuck... yes... right there!" Mikaela gasped, her hips jerking uncontrollably against Seraphiel's face. The angel's responding moan vibrated deep inside her, intensifying the pressure. Seraphiel's fingers dug deeper into Mikaela's waist, anchoring her as Mikaela's legs trembled violently. "Don't stop! Don't you fucking stop!" The command was a desperate plea. Seraphiel's tongue flicked rapidly against that internal spot, a precise, electric flutter that shattered Mikaela's control. The orgasm hit like a physical blow, a sudden, violent clenching deep within her core that radiated outwards in pulsing waves. She cried out, a raw, guttural sound echoing off the garage walls as her hips bucked wildly against Seraphiel's mouth. Clear fluid gushed hotly onto Seraphiel's tongue, flooding her mouth with the taste Mikaela knew the angel craved – sharp, musky, uniquely hers.
Seraphiel choked slightly, then moaned deeply, swallowing convulsively as Mikaela pulsed against her lips. Her hands slid frantically up Mikaela's back beneath her tube top, clutching her close as she drank Mikaela down, her tongue lapping eagerly at the source, prolonging the spasms. "Yours," Seraphiel gasped, pulling back just enough to speak, her lips glistening wetly in the moonlight, strands of Mikaela's essence clinging to her chin. Her voice was thick, awed, utterly wrecked. "All... all yours. Taste like heaven... *my* heaven." She leaned forward again, her tongue sweeping possessively over Mikaela's still-quivering flesh, cleaning her with tender, worshipful strokes, humming with pleasure against Mikaela's sensitive skin. "So much... so perfect..." she murmured, her breath hot against Mikaela's wetness. "Fill me again?"
Mikaela shuddered, the aftershocks still rippling through her as she looked down at the angel's flushed, blissful face. "Get up," Mikaela commanded, her voice husky but firm, tightening her grip in Seraphiel's hair. She pulled her upwards sharply. Seraphiel scrambled to her feet, her movements clumsy with lingering ecstasy, her wings fluttering weakly. Before the angel could regain her balance, Mikaela yanked her forward onto her tiptoes, their bodies crashing together. "*My* turn," Mikaela growled against Seraphiel's lips, her voice a low, possessive rasp. She captured Seraphiel's mouth in a fierce, claiming kiss, tasting herself on the angel's tongue – sharp, musky, mingling with Seraphiel's own sweetness. Seraphiel whimpered into Mikaela's mouth, her hands flying to Mikaela's shoulders, fingers digging into the satin of her gloves as she kissed back with desperate, yielding hunger.
Breaking the kiss only long enough to gasp, Mikaela's gloved hands slid down Seraphiel's trembling sides. Her fingers found the thin straps of the angel's white dress. "Off," Mikaela demanded, her voice rough against Seraphiel's swollen lips. She hooked her thumbs under the straps and shoved the flimsy fabric down in one swift, decisive motion. The dress pooled around Seraphiel's ankles, leaving her pale skin luminous in the dim garage moonlight – smooth curves, full C-cup breasts tipped with flushed pink nipples already pebbled tight, the soft swell of her belly, the dark blonde curls at her apex. Mikaela's gaze raked over her, hot and possessive. "No underwear," Mikaela murmured, a dark chuckle in her throat. "Good girl." She pushed firmly against Seraphiel's shoulders.
Seraphiel stumbled backwards, her bare feet catching on the discarded dress, landing with a soft gasp on the worn leather seat of an old motorcycle repair couch pushed against the wall. Tools clattered faintly nearby. Before she could even register the cool leather against her heated skin, Mikaela was on her, straddling her hips, her knees pressing into the cushions beside Seraphiel's thighs. Mikaela's red tube top brushed against Seraphiel's bare breasts, the satin cool against her flushed skin. Mikaela leaned down, her lips hovering over Seraphiel's. "Now," Mikaela breathed, her voice thick with intent, her blue eyes blazing. "Let's see how happy we can be. I kind of always wondered if this actually feels good."
Seraphiel's hands instantly flew to Mikaela's waist, fingers trembling against the soft skin above the skirt's waistband. "It will," she gasped, her voice thick with desperate promise. "I will make you feel—"
Mikaela cut her off, her gaze locked fiercely onto Seraphiel's. "Shut up and feel." Her gloved hands gripped the hem of her own red tube top, fingers curling into the tight fabric. With a sharp, deliberate tug, she pulled it upwards, peeling the satin away from her flushed skin inch by inch. The cool garage air hit her bare breasts, her D-cups bouncing slightly with the motion, her stiff nipples tightening instantly against the sudden chill. She tossed the crumpled red fabric aside onto the dusty concrete. "Hands," Mikaela commanded sharply, grabbing Seraphiel's wrists and placing them firmly on her bare shoulders. Seraphiel's fingers dug into Mikaela's smooth skin, her touch feverish, reverent.
Mikaela locked her eyes onto Seraphiel's widened blue ones. "Hold tight." Her voice was low, a command wrapped in grit. She shifted her weight forward, pressing her hips down firmly against Seraphiel's hips. Mikaela's bare mound met Seraphiel's wet curls, skin slick against skin. Mikaela inhaled sharply through her teeth—a sharp, sudden intake of breath. "Oh, fuck," she hissed, the friction immediate and electric. "That's… wet." Seraphiel whimpered beneath her, her fingers tightening convulsively on Mikaela's shoulders as Mikaela began a slow, deliberate roll of her hips. Her smooth peach skin slid against Seraphiel's pale peach skin, their centers grinding together. The wet heat was intense, a molten glide that sent sparks shooting up Mikaela's spine. "Move," Mikaela growled, her own hips finding a rhythm, pressing down harder, grinding her clit against the soft, yielding flesh of Seraphiel's mound. "Move *with* me."
"Yes!" Seraphiel gasped, her hips lifting instinctively off the leather seat to meet Mikaela's downward thrust. Her wings fluttered wildly against the couch back, feathers rustling with frantic energy. "Like this?" Her voice was ragged, her gaze locked on Mikaela's face, searching for approval, for pleasure. Her hips rolled upwards, matching Mikaela's rhythm—a slow, deep grind that pressed their swollen folds together, creating a hot, slippery friction that was both yielding and intensely stimulating.
Mikaela felt the slickness pooling between them, the drag of Seraphiel's curls against her sensitive skin, the firm pressure of Seraphiel's hipbone against her own clit with each downward roll. A low moan escaped Mikaela's throat, deeper than before. "Harder," she demanded, her own hands sliding down from Seraphiel's shoulders to grip her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh above Seraphiel's hips, pulling her impossibly closer as she drove her own hips down with more force. Their breaths mingled, hot and rapid, filling the dusty air with the scent of musk and sweat and desperate need. Seraphiel cried out, her head arching back against the leather, exposing the pale column of her throat as Mikaela's relentless rhythm intensified, grinding their slick cores together in a primal, possessive cadence.
"Yesss," Seraphiel gasped, her voice cracking, her hips lifting frantically off the couch to meet Mikaela's downward thrusts. "Is it... is it good? Do you feel it?" Her blue eyes were wide, pleading, desperate for Mikaela's pleasure, her own ecstasy secondary. Mikaela's response was a sharp, ragged laugh against Seraphiel's damp neck. "Shut up," she growled, punctuating each word with a hard, deep grind that forced a choked gasp from the angel. "Stop talking... just..." Mikaela shifted her weight, planting her knees firmly on the worn leather beside Seraphiel's thighs, leveraging herself higher. "Feel *this*." With a sharp intake of breath, Mikaela lifted her hips slightly, then slammed them down hard against Seraphiel's, her wet pussy slapping firmly against Seraphiel's swollen folds with a sharp, wet smack that echoed off the garage walls.
The impact jolted through both of them. Seraphiel screamed, a raw, unfiltered sound torn from her throat as the sudden, intense friction ignited sparks behind her eyelids. Her wings snapped taut against the couch back, feathers rustling violently. Mikaela hissed through clenched teeth, the sharp slap of skin-on-skin sending a shockwave of pure, electric sensation straight to her core – a delicious sting followed by an overwhelming flood of heat. "Fuck!" Mikaela gasped, her voice thick with surprise and intense arousal. She didn't hesitate. Lifting again, she slammed down once more, harder this time, her clit grinding directly against Seraphiel's with brutal precision. The wet slap was louder, sharper. Seraphiel's fingers clawed at Mikaela's bare back, her nails leaving faint red trails on the smooth peach skin as her entire body arched violently off the leather seat, suspended only by Mikaela's grip on her waist and the pressure between their joined bodies.
"Again!" Seraphiel begged, her voice a shattered whisper, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. "Please... Mikaela... slap me... make me yours!" Mikaela's gaze locked onto Seraphiel's desperate, pleading eyes.
A fierce, possessive grin spread across Mikaela's red lips. "Mine," she confirmed, her voice a low, guttural rasp. She lifted her hips high, feeling the cool air kiss her wetness for a split second before driving down with all her weight, her thighs straining. Her pussy slapped down onto Seraphiel's with a wet, echoing crack, grinding deep, forcing their swollen folds apart and together in one brutal, claiming motion. Seraphiel's scream dissolved into a choked, gurgling sob of pure, obliterating ecstasy as her hips bucked wildly, her wings thrashing against the leather.
"Oh God—YES!" Seraphiel gasped, her voice cracking, eyes wide and unfocused. "Harder! Please—slap me harder!" Her hands scrambled frantically over Mikaela's bare back, nails digging crescent moons into the smooth skin. "Make me feel you—all of you!"
Mikaela obliged without hesitation, her rhythm becoming relentless—lift, slam, grind—each downward thrust a wet, stinging impact that sent jolts of white-hot pleasure up her own spine. "Like that?" Mikaela growled, her breath ragged, sweat beading on her brow. "You want it harder, Angel?" She slammed down again, the sharp slap echoing louder, her clit grinding directly against Seraphiel's engorged nub with punishing force. Seraphiel's head snapped back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream, her blue eyes rolling back completely, showing only the whites as her entire body locked rigid beneath Mikaela's weight. A guttural groan ripped from her throat, primal and raw.
Suddenly, Seraphiel's hips arched violently off the couch, her back bowing impossibly. A hot, viscous flood erupted from her—not clear, but shimmering, liquid gold—squirting in thick, pulsing streams that splashed against Mikaela's thighs, her belly, and coated Mikaela's own slick, throbbing pussy in warm, sticky celestial honey. The scent—musky sweetness mingled with ozone and something impossibly divine—filled the dusty garage air. Seraphiel shuddered violently, her wings trembling like leaves in a storm, a continuous, high-pitched whine escaping her parted lips as the golden flood painted Mikaela's skin.
Mikaela gasped, the sudden warmth and shocking texture—thick, clinging, impossibly slick—sending a fresh jolt of raw need through her core. "Fuck," she hissed, grinding her clit harder against Seraphiel's trembling mound, riding the angel's aftershocks, her own skin coated in that shimmering gold. "You... you squirt *gold*?" Seraphiel could only nod frantically, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, her breath coming in ragged, hiccupping gasps. "Y-yours," she choked out, her voice wrecked. "All... yours... please... Mikaela... *please*... don't stop... need to feel you... come..."
Mikaela's fingers dug deeper into Seraphiel's waist, her hips pistoning faster now, chasing the friction against the angel's slick, golden-coated folds. The sensation was overwhelming—wet heat, the abrasive drag of curls, the impossibly smooth slide of Seraphiel's essence mixing with her own arousal, and the deep, rhythmic pressure against her swollen clit. "Gonna... gonna..." Mikaela stammered, her voice thick and strained, her thighs trembling violently. The coil inside her snapped—a blinding, electric surge radiating from her clit outwards in pulsing waves. She cried out, a raw, guttural sound, as her own orgasm tore through her, clear fluid gushing hotly onto Seraphiel's golden-slicked skin, mingling with the divine honey, her hips bucking wildly against the angel's hips.
Seraphiel screamed again, her body locking rigid beneath Mikaela's weight as the fresh flood of Mikaela's release hit her oversensitized flesh, triggering a second, violent eruption of gold. Her wings snapped taut, feathers trembling violently. "M-Mikaela!" she gasped, her voice shredded raw. "I'm... I'm coming *again*... because of you... your pleasure... it's..."
Mikaela leaned down, her sweat-slicked skin sliding against Seraphiel's golden-smeared chest. She silenced the angel with a fierce, possessive kiss, her lips claiming Seraphiel's swollen mouth. Their tongues tangled—Mikaela tasting salt, musk, and the startling, metallic sweetness of Seraphiel's divine honey. "Shut up," Mikaela growled against her lips, her voice thick and ragged. "Stop talking. Just *feel* how wet you are... how fucking wet you make *me*." She deepened the kiss, her hips grinding slow, deep circles against Seraphiel's trembling mound, savoring the slick, sticky friction.
(Spicy Treat End!)
Seraphiel whimpered into Mikaela's mouth, her hands clutching desperately at Mikaela's bare back, her nails digging deeper into the flushed skin. She kissed back with frantic, yielding hunger, her hips lifting weakly to meet Mikaela's grinding pressure. "Y-yes," she gasped when Mikaela finally broke the kiss for air, her blue eyes dazed, pupils blown wide. "Your taste... your fire... it consumes me."
Mikaela's gloved hand slid down her own sweat-slicked belly, fingers tracing through the sticky mess of mingled gold and clear fluid coating her skin. She gathered a thick smear of it onto her fingertips, her gaze locked on Seraphiel's flushed, tear-streaked face. "Consumes you?" Mikaela murmured, a dark, possessive edge in her voice. She pressed her slick fingers hard against Seraphiel's parted lips. "Then taste it. Taste *us*." Seraphiel moaned, her pink tongue darting out instantly, eagerly licking Mikaela's fingers clean—her own divine honey mixed with Mikaela's essence—her eyes fluttering shut in blissful surrender.
The end.