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Summary
“Don’t you have better things to attend to?” Smitty sneered, wings ruffling behind him. “Some dead bodies to torture? Perhaps a goon to send off to do your bloodwork?”
John let out a throaty laugh and stalked closer to the cell. He reached a hand through the bars and pushed a thumb on the angel’s jaw, smirk widening when the narrow cell stomped his efforts to jerk away from the touch. Blue eyes stalked down pale skin, stopping just short of plush lips. The demon’s thumb continued to stroke down Smitty’s jawline, pulling away with a gentleness that completely clashed against the rest of the situation.
“Why would I do all that,” John started lowly, glancing down at the angel’s cuffed hands, “when I have you here all to myself?”