Work Text:
Angel stood over Eel, blonde hair veiled by the ever bleeding smoke, coming from the nearby incense sticks. Her eyes were sharp, brows furrowed, lips thin. A lock of hair fell in front of her eyes and she huffed, getting her hands off of Eel's thighs, leaving red crescent in their wake as she fixed her imperfect hair. Her chest expanded, her black bralette moving accordingly, as she moved her hips again, grunting as she pushed deeper into the city's slipperiest gangster, getting a deep moan out of him, his back arching back.
Her red nails found their way to Eel's hips, holding onto them, breaking the first layer of skin.
Eel laid under Angel, a cowlick swinging back and forth as she found her rhythm, fast and rough. His heart pounded as his hands clawed at the soft, silk sheets. The room smelled of cheap perfume and sandalwood, heavy and sweet. Angel moved her hands slightly higher, the contact between the two lowlifes emitting a profound and vulgar sound.
“Look at you,” she said in-between thrusts, her breath ragged. “Such a good man, on display.”
She lowered her upper body, lips tickling Eel's ear. “Just for me.”
Her breath was warm on Eel's skin as his eyes started to water, words unable to form past the initial neuron activation. He was handing himself over to the woman he loved on a silver platter and he adored it. He tried, so, so hard, to keep focus on Angel’s eyes, grey as the skies usually were in Mammoth City, but his body betrayed him, causing them to roll back into his skull.
“You were so talkative just a few minutes ago, Pat.” She smiles, kissing his collarbone, leaving red marks on his battered skin.
‘And you can't seem to shut up,’ is what he wishes he could bark back, but all his vocal cords let out we're small ah’s and oh's. Very adequate in this context.
“Are you close yet?”
He was, he truly, truly was. He could practically see the promised stars and nebulas entering his vision, his muscles tensing, fingers curling in an almost painful manner. His mouth fell agape as his spine bent inwards, his core getting filled with Angel's warmth.
He fell down without a word, eyes fluttering, only letting a dissatisfied groan as Angel slipped away from him. She placed a kiss on his forehead, fingers leaving an absence of touch on his skin.
“Angel,” he finally spoke, his speech slurred and tired. “I think you're my only friend.”
She giggled, getting off the bed to clean herself off. She stood in the doorway, holding onto the wooden frame as she looked over her shoulder. “I think that's sad, Mr. O'Brian.”