Epilogue Charlie
Suriel’s wings spread around us. I stroke them slowly, savoring the shiver that works through them.
When I ruffle his feathers, he groans and leans towards me.
His kiss is slow, deep, the kind of loving that spreads through my entire body, sending even the hazy memories of pain and hurt running.
My arms wind around his neck, slipping into his hair, but it’s not enough.
I want to feel him, to memorize him, to bask in him. “Angel, please.”
He groans and pulls me onto his lap, his wings wrapping around us like a shield, like a comfort only we share.
The light that comes through them is seeped in rainbow, spreading new patterns across our skin for both of us to touch and taste.
He kisses me again, long and languid, his tongue coaxing mine into something sensual and achingly right - as if he’s committed every possible fantasy between love and raunchy sex to memory and wants to bring them to life.
There’s no fear, no desperation, nothing that can taint this moment or force us into a rhythm that isn’t our own. His hands trace along the sides of my breasts, over my ribs, along the flair of my hips. I love how he savors each moment. I hate my clothing between us. I love and hate his patience.
“Is this forbidden?” I ask, drawing back, worrying about his hesitation.
His fingers trace along my thighs, so light that I shiver as he finally grips the hem of my dress and starts lifting. His fingertips graze my skin, raising goosebumps, until he finally tosses my dress to the side and pulls me flush against him. “Nothing in this garden ever was, my sweet dove.”
“Angel, that’s not-” I start to correct, but he gently nibbles the hollow under my ear and the breath rushes out of me while my back arches.
He licks along my pulse. “Finish your thought. I want every single thought in your head. I want to hear you constantly, to feel you, to spend an eternity seeing this garden through your eyes.”
I shudder. “I want more of you. Nothing else in my head matters. Please, don’t stop.”
He traces the path along my collarbone with his tongue, then again with his lips, before grazing his teeth across my oversensitive skin.
“Everything about you matters. Your thoughts …” He nips the top of my breast so lightly it almost tickles.
“Your feelings.” His tongue drifts further down, teasing my nipple. “Your wants.”
“I want you. More than anything. You’re my paradise,” I moan, surrendering to him, to his reverence, to his worship.
My fingers rake through his hair, pulling him closer.
As much as I want him to move faster, his mouth’s slow appraisal of my body, memorizing every curve, every moan he earns, sets me on fire in the best way.
He’s so gentle, not like I’m fragile, but like I’m precious.
As if I deserve utter devotion and he’s the only man who can give it to me properly.
I roll my hips against him, so eager to feel more of him that I can’t think.
He hums against my hip. “My love, my divine dove, I’m your angel. Command me as you will. Let me serve you.”
“Yes,” I moan.
He gently spreads my legs, his wings still half wrapped around me.
His eyes meet mine as his fingers frame my pussy, then his hand moves up to cup my breast, pinching and rolling my slick nipple while he buries his face between my thighs.
His tongue laps and curls, finding every achy, needy, desperate part of me and soothing it with strokes of ecstasy.
I caress his wings, exploring their downy softness, while the rumbles of his pleasure vibrate across my clit.
He shudders, blushes, and keeps his eyes focused on me as he slows the pace of each long lick.
He brings me all the way to the edge of pleasure before exhaling over me and making me squirm.
Then he does it again, taking his time, trying new patterns, new ways to roll his tongue, working me up until one groan against my clit would be enough to make me cum.
“More. More! Make me cum,” I order.
“Charlie,” he hums, licking back up my body, not stopping until he kisses me slowly, his fingers spreading around my clit in a V, all the way down to where the head of his cock presses against my entrance. He presses his forehead to mine. “You have no idea what you are to me.”
“You’re the only love I need,” I pant against his mouth as he thrusts into me shallowly.
I shudder and wrap one arm around his neck, musing his hair, the other just under his wing.
“The only peace I’ve ever known.” Another thrust, deeper.
“My Suriel. My Angel. Worth blasphemy and belief at the same time.”
He groans against my lips, then kisses me hard while filling me entirely.
A buzzing ecstasy spreads across my skin wherever our bodies touch.
I hook one of my legs around his ass, trying to encourage him, but his pace is so …
perfect. Deep thrusts, then shallow as he grinds into me, deep again, his hips rolling so every muscle of his body tightens, then relaxes. It’s a view I want to savor.
My lips part and my eyes lift to his. They’re that same stunning blue, now warm with love instead of righteous honor.
I arch for him, letting him taste my moan as he increases the pace.
His hands stay firm, guiding me into more pleasure as he adjusts our angle, strokes my thighs, my ass, my back, always bringing me back to him.
“I … I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to leave. I just want-”
“Have everything you desire. Have it all, my perfect dove. I’m included in the deal,” he pants against my lips.
I tangle myself in him as I cum. My head falls back as he growls with me, panting my name in my ear, calling me ‘love’ and ‘sweet dove’ until the words sound like a prayer meant for only us, a scripture only we can quote.
Light blooms from my body, waving over the garden with the kind of pink, orange, yellow light that reminds me of dawn - clean, new, whole. I’ve never felt so free, so perfect, like this moment belongs to us.
Suriel finishes while buried deep inside me and I run my fingers through his hair, my nails massaging his scalp as his wings tremble. When he rolls, he moves me with him, nestling me against his side, covering me with only his feathers.
I stroke his chest, pressing a kiss to his racing heart.
He keeps rubbing my hip, keeping me pressed against him as if he’s anchoring himself to me, to this, to us.
I nuzzle his neck before kissing him there too.
He turns when I try to do it again and catches my mouth in another too warm, too loving kiss.
The kind I would have dissected in my last life, but feels right with him. It feels right now that we’re here.
I keep petting his chest, basking in his warmth, in his even breaths, in the paradise that surrounds us.
Every moment is made better because we’ve finally accepted that we can be everything with each other.
The stars shift above us, into patterns that I can’t entirely make out, but remind me of fireflies nonetheless.
I look at Suriel and find him watching me with the kind of serenity and surrender that only comes with love. Blushing, I trace his jaw. “So … what are we now?”
“Something beyond labels or definition,” he answers. When I keep watching him, he lifts my hand and kisses my palm. “We’re what God always meant us to be - loved, accepted, together.”
“Together sounds nice,” I say, smiling brightly. “Especially if you show me all the wonders of Heaven instead of just talking about them.”
He chuckles and nods. “I promised you everything …” He kisses my scar free arm slowly, following the path that used to be raised with past hurt. “You’ll have it and me forever.”
“Forever together is the best Heaven I can think of,” I hum, kissing him again. “If I get you out of the deal … I can’t say I hate the apocalypse.”
“I think I can convince you paradise is better,” he says with a growing smirk, kissing me hungrily and pulling me back into his arms to prove that Heaven might just be made for us.