Dance With Me

This started out as a challenge story from a friend of mine, songfic to the Franz Ferdinand song Michael
This is how it turned out...

God created the Animals first. Then the Humans, hoping that they would be better than the Animals, more.
Then God created we Angels, hoping that we would be better and more than the Humans, and we are.
On average, we’re bigger, stronger, and have a more impressive wingspan. But just as the Humans’ being more and better than the Animals has its drawbacks, so does our being better and more than the Humans.
Our senses are more heightened, emotions and desires more powerful.
Though, also, just as the Animals are better at certain things than the Humans are, so too are the Humans better at certain things than Angels are.

Nightclubs for instance.
Despite the depths of our desires, it was the Humans who created the perfect outlet for them. Buildings full of smoke and mirrors, loud music, places where the alcohol and emotions flow freely, places stuffed full of warm, willing, eager bodies just waiting for some sort of divine intervention.

The place I\'m in now almost has a heartbeat all its own. Perched at the bar, watching the dance floor I can almost get lost in it. The place is called So Heavenly, and I sincerely doubt that the proprietors have any idea how accurate the name is.
Even God has come to visit on occasion, enjoyed a caramel frappe in the corner and kept an eye on the Angels on the dance floor.

This is where I’ll be so heavenly
So come and dance with me, Michael
So sexy, I\'m sexy
So come and dance with me, Michael

At the moment I’d like to pretend that I\'m not watching anyone in particular, but I am.
He’s tall, well-muscled, lean without being gangly. A veritable curtain of black hair, flicking and swaying with his movements. Pants that can only be made of leather, clinging to deliciously angled legs and hanging dangerously low over perfectly curved hips.
His shirt is dark, blue or green, gray perhaps, but not black. Long sleeved but high waisted, leaving a wide band of beautifully tanned skin between pants and shirt. When he twists my way –his movements almost feline- I can see a fine trail of hair connecting the two.

I finally slide from my seat, weaving smoothly through the crowd and letting the press of the bodies grind me against him. I feel more than hear the deep, melting chocolate chuckle as he tilts his head back to rest its comfortable weight against my shoulder. His voice is a warm tickle against my ear, “Was wondering when you were going to get the sand to come over here Gabriel, been watching for over an hour.”
Oh sweet mother of, “Michael. Should’ve known it was you.” I smile and snake an arm around his waist, pressing against that bare skin and drawing him closer, tilting my head down to murmur against his ear in turn, “Only you can be so much of a cocktease while fully clothed.”

He laughs then, an easy, open sound, much like Michael himself. I’ve already decided that I will have him before the night is over, likely more than once, I’ve heard great things about his stamina.
I don’t fear his rejecting my advances, because it’s readily apparent that we’re both after the same thing, and the way he keeps grinding against me only fans the flames of desire starting to flicker higher in the pit of my stomach.

I\'m all that you see, you wanna see
So come and dance with me, Michael
So close now, so close now
So come and dance with me

He chuckles once more, twisting smoothly in my grasp and looping an arm across the back of my neck to press himself closer, his lips claiming mine in a hungry kiss. His tongue is like a living thing as it presses demandingly past my lips, somehow holding my own tongue immobile and sucking firmly on it at the same time.
It’s all I can do not to pounce him here and now in the middle of everyone. I doubt that they would notice. Not until our wings came uncased at least, though that’s dangerously close to happening right now.

Michael is half-kneading at the spot between my shoulder blades, where the bundle of muscle and nerves that support my wings is. Even just the gentlest touches to that spot are exquisite, and to have someone so skilled manipulating it so firmly is all the better, every twitch of his fingers sends a fresh shiver of pleasure skating down my spine to add to the flames.

What’s better is that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that’s why he keeps doing it.
I can’t suppress the low moan as it escapes my throat, and he chuckles again, nibbling my ear, “There,” If anything his voice has dipped further, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
He smiles, drawing back to study my face intently, it only takes a moment to realize that his shirt is blue. It matches his eyes. “I want you to let go Gabriel, don’t hold anything back.”

So come and dance with me
So come and dance with me
Michael, you\'re the boy with all the leather hips
Sticky hair, sticky hips, stubble on my sticky lips

He smiles, nibbling at my ear again, “I know you desire me Gabriel, I can read you like a book. One of the large print ones, with painfully bright pictures.”
“Sorry.” I finally manage to gasp, though my voice fails again when Michael nibbles my throat, almost hard enough to hurt.
What comes next is enough to cause me to sway, a veritable deluge of images; what he wants to do to me, what he wants me to do to him and everything between.
Angels can communicate in pictures, emotions, sensations even, and I\'m quite sure that the blinding lust I\'m feeling at the moment isn’t solely my own.

The images are flicking by too quickly to really see, like single frames of pornography spliced into family films, but my body knows what’s going on, and when the final image –Michael sprawled out across a silver bedspread, wearing nothing but feathers- stays in my mind, fading slowly, I moan again, unresisting as he begins to ease us through the crowd. They slide away from us, something akin to when Moses parted the Red Sea.

Michael, you\'re the only one I\'d ever want
Only one I\'d ever want, only one I\'d ever want
Beautiful boys on a beautiful dancefloor
Michael, you\'re dancing like a beautiful dance whore

Michael leads me on across the dance floor and past the few tables at the far end of the room, all the way up a half-disguised staircase that arches up over the bar.
He smiles, padding down the narrow hallway backwards, still keeping my hands clasped between his own. He shoulders a door open without having to look at it, backing into the room and tugging me after, still utterly unresisting.

Michael purrs and draws me close again, his voice still warm and dark, more so even, now that the cacophony of the club is muffled below us, “No one can find us here if we don’t want to be found Gabriel.”
Another smile as he draws away, peels sinuously out of his shirt and stretches his wings. They seem impossibly huge in the enclosed space. He folds them around me, silently encouraging me to uncase my own, which –after shedding my own shirt- I do, stretching them far enough that the tips of my feathers brush the walls on either side.

Michael, waiting on a silver platter now
And nothing matters now
This is what I am, I am a man
So come and dance with me, Michael

“I want you.” Is all he says, and he doesn’t even say it, just projects it amid another flurry of images and sensations, enough to make me sway slightly, wings and eyelids falling halfway. He laughs softly, “If I’d known you were so easy, I’d have done this eons ago.”
I smile slightly in turn, arching a brow at him, “And if I’d known that you bedded us as well as them, I’d have pounced you long before that.”

He smiles slowly once more, long artist’s fingers caressing the ridge of my left wing. It strikes me suddenly how different –and therefore how alike- the two of us are, dark and light, the artist and the warrior, day and night. We’re like two faces of the same coin.
He laughs softly, apparently having caught the end of that thought, “Aren’t we though?” He asks, fingers still caressing, working gently down through feathers to press against sensitive skin.

So come and dance with me, Michael
So strong now, it\'s strong now
So come and dance with me, Michael

The touch elicits a low moan, wings fluttering slightly against his hold, sheer need already burning under my skin.
Michael purrs, capturing my lips in another hungry kiss, his free hand snaking down my stomach, those nimble artist’s fingers tugging open the button and zip of my pants deftly before dipping past fabric to caress my arousal as gently as he caresses my wing.

“I need you, now.” It wasn’t exactly what I meant to say, but it was just as good, better perhaps, as it spurs an immediate response, Michael steps back, sprawling across the bed, half-dragging me with him.
My wings flutter again, wildly, trying to keep my balance, trying to stay upright, though this fails and I end up half-flung across him, gasping as the sudden contact grinds my arousal against his own.

I\'m all that you see, you wanna see
So come and dance with me, Michael

Even through fabric the pressure is enough to cause our surroundings to fade, dimming slightly. It’s simply Michael and I, wanting and needing, giving as well as receiving. I moan once more as he grinds up against me deliberately. It isn’t solely lust that drives us, since Angels love unconditionally, but lust is the strongest force behind our coupling.

Such coherent thoughts are rapidly slipping from my grasp, dissolving in the wash of sensation that is attempting to drown us both.
I finally manage to speak again, “Pants, off, now.” Again, it wasn’t exactly what I meant to say, but perhaps it’s better, since it gets another immediate response. His hands slide around my hips and down over the curve of my ass, peeling as much of the garment away as he can.

So close now, it\'s close now
So come and dance with me
So come and dance with me
So come and dance with me

As I kick out of my pants completely, he wriggles out of his own, reminding me of a snake shedding its skin. I must still be projecting, because he chuckles as he twists out from beneath me, only to pin me to the mattress in turn, “Nice analogy.”

Nothing stands between us now, nothing further prevents us from consummating this encounter. But Michael pauses, drawing away and swallowing hard, hungry gaze sweeping over me again, I can almost feel the heat of it. “What is it?”
He shakes his head, fingers caressing my arousal once more, “Just want to remember this.”

Michael, you\'re the boy with all the leather hips
Sticky hair, sticky hips, stubble on my sticky lips
Michael, you\'re the only one I\'d ever want
Only one I\'d ever want, only one I\'d ever want

I smile, stretching slowly to let him ogle the play of battle-formed muscle beneath my own pale skin. I feel his reaction before I see it, his fingers tighten against my shaft before his eyes darken further.
I smile again, feeling much more the predator, “Why do you hesitate Artist? We both know what you want.”

I grin then, reversing our positions once more, bearing my hips down against his own, gasping once at the sweet shock of contact, “Or is it that you’re waiting for me to take what I want?”
It feels as if the heat in the room has risen to a fever’s pitch, but I don’t mind it, both of us already shining with sweat.
He growls then –a sound I didn’t know him capable of making- and arches up against me, trying to regain the upper hand.

Beautiful boys on a beautiful dancefloor
Michael, you\'re dancing like a beautiful dance whore
Michael, waiting on a silver platter now
And nothing matters now

He grins a moment later, “Cunning Warrior, very cunning.” After one more arch he ceases to struggle, flopping back and settling his arms above his head, “Take me then, I\'m yours. Or we’ll be at this all night.” The statement is backed by another flicker of images of the two of us in various positions.

It takes me a moment to realize that the final image –myself fully-seated in him, his back arched beautifully, dark hair fanned out across the pillow beneath him, one wing stretched and the other half-crumpled against the mattress- isn’t an image at all, but reality.

Michael, you\'re the only one I\'d ever want
Only one I\'d ever want, only one I\'d ever want
Michael, you\'re the only one I\'d ever want
Only one I\'d ever want, only one I\'d ever want

Realization hits me like a slap to the face, causing me to groan, a shudder curling down my spine.
Michael makes a low-throated sound, as his hips grind down against me, dark eyes fluttering a moment, his expression equal parts pain and pleasure.
I moan again, managing to get ahold of myself a moment later, rolling my hips back slowly, testing more than anything, trying to find the edge of both our limits.

Michael’s are much easier to reach than my own, as he arches against me again a moment later, “Dammit Gabriel, don’t be such a fucking tease!”
I\'m surprised that I\'m capable of coherent speech, let alone coherent thought, “Hm, quite a vocabulary when you’re needy.” I punctuate this with a forward buck. The movement causes us both to gasp.

Beautiful boys on a beautiful dancefloor
Michael, you\'re dancing like a beautiful dance whore

It isn’t long before we’re rolling and arching against each other easily, moving as one being, one mind, the crush of teeth against lips when we kiss stands out in my mind, as does the feel of his feathers against my arms when he closes his wings around me to press me closer still almost trying to fuse our bodies together.
Not that I\'m doing any different.

I honestly don’t know how long we keep going, hours, days, weeks, eternals even, I just know that we keep going, even as the world seems to crumble around us, leaving us back home in the light and warmth, still moving together, unsure of who’s inside whom now, and most of all it doesn’t matter, all that matters is that we’re together as we should have been from the Beginning, the First Day when God created us all.

Michael, waiting on a silver platter now
And nothing matters now, nothing matters now

What I do know, is that we’ll do it again.

Nothing matters, oh yeah

Often.