Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's "Preacher." Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: Vaguely referencing the theory that Fiore is an angel and Deblanc is actually a demon and are the parents Genesis. Set sometime before their first run in at the Church with Jessie and Cassidy.

Disclaimer:sexual content, adult language, hand job, frottage, angels that have no idea how to properly penis basically anything, human bodies are complicated, religious imagery/definitions/symbolism/discussion.

Undeify

Chapter Two

He closed his eyes. Too hungry to do anything else but try and maintain his self control. Trying to remind himself why it would be a bad idea to rush this. Why he had to proceed cautiously - slowly. Why Fiore deserved more than-

"Come here," he rasped. Not trusting himself to say anymore as the quiet lurch of hesitation from Fiore's side of the room created patterns in the air he could almost taste. Fiore had always been cautious. Careful and cognizant of the rules despite being so very curious. Often fearful in ways that usually contradicted the other when it came to that which he was passionate about.

He smiled, the expression slight but undeniably present when he sensed the angel's shadow looming over him. A steady, reassuring counterpoint to the faint sound of the television filtering through the wall from room #115.

"I- I don't know what to do," Fiore confessed, as he grudgingly opened his eyes. Almost snapping them shut again as Fiore turned in place and sent a flight of shadows curling across the angles of his hips. Buttocks shapely and pronounced as he leaned down and picked a bit of lint from between his toes.

"I confess I'm not much better, my dear," he hummed, coaxing Fiore to sit down on the bed beside him. Bare, beautiful and his in that genuine way only Fiore could be. "But I'd like to try, is that alright?"

Fiore nodded, leaning in as their fingers tangled across the bedspread. Reminding him of the first time. That one desperate little moment all those centuries ago that had born witness to the first time they'd touched. Bodies humming with restless content as he'd broached the space between them the same time Fiore's wings flared outwards. Wingtips brushing down the gnarled hunch of his shoulders like a caress.

It was the first time the concept of forever had actually meant something to him. Something other than the mindlessness of battle and the desolation of that long road that stretched far in front of him. The one without time or destination. From that moment on Fiore had become the answer to every question. And he knew, regardless of where this particular road might take them - as Genesis careened through the human world with all the foolishness of it's rebellious teenage years - that was a truth that would never change.

The first brush of his hand against it seemed to startle both of them equally.

"Are you alright?" he questioned, taking in the slight bow of his partner's back. Like he was caught somewhere between pulling away and wanting to shuffle closer. "Did I hurt you?"

Fiore shook his head emphatically. Shuddering slightly as the tip of the organ slicked itself with a small, doming pearl of fluid.

Fascinating.

He reached forward almost painfully slow this time. Keeping his eyes on Fiore's face as he wrapped his hand gently around the length of it. Marveling at the velvet softness - deceptive and warm as the slight squeeze of his palm wrenched a low, surprised hum from the angel's throat.

He eased Fiore down until he was within easy reach. Letting his hand move, following the tension he was uncovering - bit by bit - as Fiore came apart under his hands. His frame of reference might have been more…lurid than Fiore's but if so, it wasn't by much. He was well aware he had very little in the way of experience. So instead, he let Fiore show him. Guiding him through action and expression. What to do. What to abandon. What to linger on before settling into a comforting rhythm.

"Tell me..." he breathed. Utterly lost to anything else now as Fiore's hips tried to cant upwards. Finding himself pressed half on top of him on the bed. Keeping him flat and cloistered as his hand kept moving. Working him with a dependable, unforgiving pattern as slick started to trickle from the angel's length. Wetting between his fingers and turning the glide easier as Fiore groaned in encouragement. Head tossing back and forth on the pillows as the muscles in his arms and chest delineated. Preening with unconscious instinct as his entire world narrowed down to the sensation of his hand and the organ caught firm underneath.

"It's different," Fiore gasped, making him bite his lip as a frisson of something rippled through him. Something about the words or maybe just how Fiore said them translating like pleasure somehow. "Its so-"

And he was right.

Even he could tell that much.

It wasn't like it had been in Heaven.

"-sharp," Fiore almost mewled. Making a strangled sound - so different from the actual act that it couldn't be mistaken for anything else other than pleasure.

And- yes- he could feel it too.

It was more urgent.

More present.

Physical.

In Heaven it was a fusion of emotion and sensation that rolled outwards and lasted an age. It was ordered bliss. A coming together of souls that could occur regardless of time and place.

But this?

This was almost savage.

And he didn't think he could ever get enough, even if-

He realized belatedly that he was moving too. Using his situation - keeping Fiore down and spread across the mattress - to his own selfish advantage. Hips rolling without his consent against the curve of Fiore's far bonier ones. Eyes half-lidded at the ferocity of the sensation as he tried his best to chase it.

Multi-tasking as Fiore's hand fell on top of his own. Guiding the pace and speed as they panted breathlessly. Choking through a mangled chorus of syllables when Fiore caressed the divot between his knuckles. Almost preening underneath him now as he ground himself into his partner's skin, wholly unable to stop himself from-

"Deblanc..."

It was an instinctual draw.

An unstoppable force.

Something that kept him moving.

Something that kept them both moving.

It was a sin.

A blessing.

A curse.

It was a psalm sung on high when the sun was at it's peak.

Breaking over them like-

"Yes, my dear?"

Fiore arched underneath him. Eyes burning with it. Reminding him of the moments just before the fall - safe in their seclusion while Genesis slept - where Fiore's true form would flare brightly. Blinding him even through closed lids as they shuddered together.

Pure.

Whole.

Sated.

"I- I- don't- I can't-"

"Hush," he gentled. His casual tone gaining a certain breathy quality as he watched a conflicting shudder of need and uncertainty ripple across the angel's face. Soothing the coltish tremblings as he coaxed the desire he found - electric, possible and tightly leashed just under the angel's skin - through the soft of laugh lines and crow's feet. Easing it free until it was unfurling on it's own. Present in the sheen of moisture seeping from his pores and the desperate gap between his lips as Fiore panted for air. "You can, I promise."

Still, he caught on to the urgency. Surprised to find that once again it was a matter of due course. To decide if was better to willingly fall or allow the monster that was desire to quietly devour. The distinction was slight, but to an angel? It was everything.

"Yes, I- oh!" Fiore whispered, lashes fluttering as he added a twist to the next upstroke. Dragging his thumb through the slick of the member's crown before spreading it liberally over the head. His own organ pulsing and insistent under his layers. Demanding attention as Fiore undulated up, inadvertently trying to unseat him in the search for more, more, more.

The reflection he caught of himself in Fiore's blown eyes was all pupil, dilated and almost black. It took him back to the beginning. Their beginning. The hand not occupied fisted around the span of Fiore's palm, feeling the muscles and sinews stretch and tense under his hands as Fiore grasped at him fitfully. Heat radiating from his skin as they leaned as close as their positions would allow. Breathing the same air. Body language exposed and needy and maybe even unintentionally threatening as they tried to make sense of bodies and drives that were still unfamiliar. Still new.

"It was you," Fiore gasped suddenly. Looking up at him through the muddled haze of building pleasure and humid breaths. "In the shower. I was- I was thinking of you."

And oh-

Oh.

That was-

That was the first time he died without having to replace his skin. A little death shared freely between them as Fiore spilled over his hand with an unsteady cry. Pulling him close as the wetness in his trousers pulsed and spread, sticking his underthings to naked skin -tacky and thick against his groin. Unable to form the words he knew a human would utter in the aftermath. But taking comfort in the knowledge that he didn't have to do as Fiore stretched out underneath him, long fingers dipping under his rucked up shirt to trace waving, curious patterns down the small of his back. Soothing them both into something heavy and spacing-warm as the world fell away and the sound of Fiore's heartbeat reminded him it was safe to open his eyes.

If only for a little while.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.