Azrael

Only Fools Walk Where Angels Fear To Tread

He can hardly prevent that even momentary chuckle that slips from his lips in the wake of those girlish shrieks, his arms moving to catch her all the same, a part of the man taking an amusement of sorts to so render that normally composed woman with her biting tongue and spirited words into little more than a truly typical girl. The breath of relief that passes her lips the moment she finds herself within his arms is hardly missed and yet he suspects any fear that might have, even momentarily, accosted her was not as entirely terrifying as her screams seemed to suggest. Her annoyance at him, falsified as he is assured it is, seems to do little more then stir that simper of amusement to his own features once more before his lips lower to steal that single kiss. He can hardly deny that almost sweet taste to her lips, the man so determinedly casting aside those concerns that so often plagued him within that moment. The warmth and too- the press of her form against him so seeming to summon an entirely different sought of want within the man. One no amount of misguided morals nor fear over their conflicting species was wholly capable of preventing. He was tired of fighting against this, tired of pretending he hardly cared for the woman within his arms when the opposite was so bluntly true to any whom cared to observe them for any length of time. What the Council did not know would hardly hurt them and as such Azrael so found within himself, for perhaps the first time, a complete lack of concern for anything or anyone other than the woman now nestled within his arms.

He liked her. Attempting to deny it any longer was a fools game, the man assured half the supernatural world already knew of his affections for her and it was he alone whom was so caught between attempting to appease an organisation that cared truly little for him, in the end and so trying to (hopelessly badly) show the woman but a slither of those emotions he held for her. Feelings, in any sense, were hardly within his skill set. He was simply not used to any true display of emotion, Azrael entirely aware in most instances of how utterly poorly his temperament appeared to others and too- how desperately skilled he was in keeping others away from himself. It was easier, after all, if the only being he so had to worry for was himself and yet, somehow, so inexplicably and against his desires that raven-haired witch had made herself.....important to him. He cared for her and, truly, he cared for her opinions of himself. This evening, perhaps, the first true attempt the Hunter had made to express something of his intent. This perhaps, the most outward display of affection the normally stoic man had offered her.

It was easy to allow his hands to run along those smooth plains of her skin, fingers so deftly reaching for that clip that held her bra in place, the man removing it with the distinct ease that came from so many years of practice of just that motion, allowing it to fall softly from her figure though his hands returned still to her waist- hardly sliding any higher yet. Azrael, perhaps, befit of an entirely uncharacteristic patience when it so came to this. The sudden shyness that so seems to afflict her is hardly unnoticed, an almost lopsided simper touching his features now as she pulls but slightly away from him, the man letting her move freely, stepping forward once more only when she seemed all the more comfortable once more.

Her figure was exquisite, those words uttered from his lips to assure her of just that mere moments later, so seeking to assuage whatever fears she might have that he might have found her wanting in any fashion as his lips returned to her own. Those kisses, this time, so moving from her lips to caress that skin of her neck, the woman's held tilting softly to the side to allow him access to just that. His own motion entirely slow, avoiding her every opportunity to stop him. Those words that slip suddenly from her lips see a halt to his own motion all the same, something almost akin to a chuckle humming within his throat as his gaze glances now towards her own. Was he supposed to be a saint?

"It's my day off."

That hand that pressed against his bare chest was hardly missed, the man halting but slightly once more, searching her features for any hint she so intended for him to stop, after all he held no desire to force anything upon her in the slightest, Azrael so wholly oblivious to those worries that turned within her, the man mistaking them in that moment, for simple inexperience. He allowed his own hand to lift then, intertwining his fingers within her own, tugging her softly against him once more. His actions now far more assured than perhaps any that had come before, the Hunter so entirely determined in that moment to show Serafina exactly how he felt. For all his abrupt attitude, difficult temperament and impatient character there was little about that man now that was anything save for patient, each caress a gentle exploration of her entirely exquisite form, that embrace of the water adding but an entirely new level of sensation the Hunter had little concern in exploring. If there was perhaps any perk to his long existence it was surely that he had held ample time to practice this. Azrael entirely content to so take his time to find just where and how she so desired to be touched, the man content to so increase his attention upon just those areas before, at last, casting aside the last of both their undergarments, Serafina lifted with ease and so encourage to wrap her legs about his waist. Azrael entirely capable of holding her in place before so setting about assuring they both found that pleasurable high.

He is left breathless in the wake of it, even with his own level of fitness and entirely immortal status he is hardly immune to that pounding of his heart or unsteady breath. He had, somehow, found his way to that shallower water, the raven haired witch within his arms still. Azrael content to lean back upon that shore, leaving her to rest upon his chest as he so attempted to still his breath. His lip quirking just so in a sudden moment of amusement. Azrael attempting to hold back that chuckle.

"Sera? How attached were you to that bra? I've just realized it might have....sunk."