Errant Wings (BL)

Vael felt it the moment it happened.

That now-familiar pull in his chest, a quiet tremor in his runes. The air around him shifted, energy rippling across his skin like a wave of heat.

It had become more frequent. More certain.

He's opening it again.

He knew it before he even turned his head.

Knew that if he looked, he would see it—the rift, the fracture between realms, the unnatural opening into a world he had never known.

But tonight, something was different.

Tonight, the portal felt sharper. Stronger.

And for the first time... he could feel him on the other side.

Vael turned.

And there he was.

The angel.

His first thought was that he was beautiful.

Not in the way mortals admired beauty. Not in the way demons lusted after strength.

But in a way that felt impossible.

Like something that shouldn't exist.

Like something he shouldn't be looking at.

The white-haired angel stood framed in the glow of Asphodel, bathed in soft, golden light. His skin gleamed, his wings caught the glow of the stars above. Even from a distance, Vael could see the quiet rise and fall of his chest, the soft curve of his parted lips.

He wasn't speaking.

He wasn't moving.

He was just watching.

And Vael couldn't look away.

His runic markings burned.

His energy wavered around him—a flicker of indigo and crimson, an unspoken conflict unraveling within.

He should have turned away.

Should have let the rift collapse, let the moment pass, let whatever this was die before it could begin.

Instead, he took a step forward.

Through the portal.

Through the barrier no demon had ever crossed before.

Into Asphodel.

The moment his foot touched the cold marble of the Celestial Realm, his breath caught.

The air here was different. Thinner. Lighter. It clung to his skin, pressing against his lungs like something alive.

For the first time in centuries, he felt heavy.

Like he didn't belong.

Like the realm itself was rejecting his existence.

Yet the angel—Azarel—did not move.

Vael studied him, his gaze dragging across the golden-touched feathers of his wings, the strong lines of his exposed chest, the way his silver eyes reflected the soft glow of his home.

He looked so... untouched.

Untouched by war.

Untouched by darkness.

Untouched by anything Vael had ever known.

Vael wasn't sure what made him do it.

Maybe it was the way the angel was staring at him, unblinking, as if trying to understand why he wasn't afraid.

Maybe it was the way his own body ached with something unrecognizable, his fingers twitching with a restless pull he did not understand.

Or maybe... it was just inevitable.

Whatever the reason, he reached out.

His fingertips met warm skin.

Soft. Smoother than anything he had ever touched before.

The angel's breath hitched.

He did not pull away.

Vael's fingers traced slowly, testing, feeling. The curve of his cheekbone, the sharp line of his jaw. His thumb barely brushed the edge of his lips, feeling the heat beneath them.

The angel's pulse pounded beneath his skin.

Vael felt every second of it.

It was not fear.

Not hatred.

Not even resistance.

It was something else.

Something neither of them knew how to name.

Vael's fingers trembled.

This was wrong.

This was a mistake.

This was not something he should have done.

But he did it anyway.

And now... he could not take it back.

Slowly, he pulled away.

The warmth of the angel's skin lingered on his fingertips. It lingered in his bones, in his breath, in the aching space between them.

Vael stared at him one last time.

Azarel still had not moved.

Still had not spoken.

His silver eyes burned with something unspoken.

Something that mirrored the same fire in Vael's own chest.

But there were no words for it.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Vael turned.

The moment his foot stepped back through the portal, he felt the weight of Asphodel lift from his body.

The air returned to his lungs, the pressure around his ribs easing as he crossed back into Kur'thaal.

The moment he was gone, the rift collapsed behind him.

He stood there, motionless, staring at the empty space where it had been.

His runes shuddered, flickering in chaotic hues.

His aura burned like wildfire.

Deep violet. Molten red. A streak of gold he did not understand.

His fingers still tingled with the warmth of celestial skin.

He clenched his jaw.

This was a mistake.

And yet...

Why did it not feel like one?