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Summary
The heavy wood doors to the throne room slammed open and then closed behind them. He felt a prickle of anxiety as Gabriel hauled him towards the raised chair. As Jack was flung into it, the linen around his waist flared and his bare ass slid across the cold obsidian.
He stared up, askance.
The God of the Underworld leaned over him, a hand on each of the armrests, until their faces were nearly touching. Jack’s stomach fluttered for all the wrong reasons. Gabriel smelled like petrichor, rich earth, not decay like Jack had assumed.
“Your turn, then,” Gabriel invited, dark eyes glinting. “Command away.”
(( Or, the one where Gabriel is Hades and Jack is Persephone. ))