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“You shouldn’t be here.”
It’s nothing more than a whisper—a murmur pressed against warm skin which sends an involuntary shiver down Dan’s spine. The unspoken threat hands heavy alongside the words, but it has never been enough to scare him away and he has no intention of running now.
He knows Phil won’t make him, either.
It’s clear he doesn’t belong here—the dark drape of his clothes, the feathers black as night, the lichtenberg lines marring his skin. He stands in stark contrast against the pure white clouds surrounding them. He is the antithesis of holiness.
And yet, he has found hands that hold him gently. Fingers that trace each inch of his body, and lips that kiss even when it burns.
“Would you like me to leave?” he asks, teasing.
Phil’s grip on his waist tightens. The clouds are thick here, shielding them from the view of passersby, but Dan is inclined to believe Phil’s response would be the same regardless. He may risk his existence returning here, but Phil is just as eager to risk his righteousness in being the one to allow him in.
“Don’t.”
A playful grin splits Dan’s face. “Whatever my angel desires.”