The Crystal Lake

by L. J. LaBarthe

“I had no idea we owned balsamic vinegar.” Gabriel watched as Michael splashed some onto each steak and followed it up with some honey. The smells became even more delicious, and Gabriel licked his lips. “How much longer ’til we can eat?”

  “Five minutes. Would you please set the table?”

  “Aye, okay.” Gabriel got up and fetched plates and cutlery, set the table, and then returned to the fridge, pulling out two cans of soda. He grabbed two glasses and placed them all on the table as Michael drained the vegetables and put the corn onto a small plate.

  “Would you take this over, please?” Michael handed Gabriel the plate.

  “Okay.” Gabriel was amused. He couldn’t help it. It seemed that he and Michael had fallen into a comfortable domesticity. He took the large bowl of mashed potatoes that Michael handed him next, followed by the butter and salt and pepper shakers.

  “Sit down,” Michael said, bringing the frying pan over to the table. As Gabriel sat, Michael served up the steaks and poured the pan juices over them. Then he returned to the kitchen and put the dishes into the sink to soak.

  Gabriel waited for Michael to join him and then dished up the mashed potatoes and corn, spooning on generous dollops of butter and sprinkling salt and pepper. Michael smiled at him and Gabriel smiled back, suddenly feeling that he had never been happier.

  “Smells good,” Gabriel said as he picked up his knife and fork.

  “I trust that it will taste good too,” Michael said.

  “I’m sure of it, me.” Gabriel started eating, making a happy noise around his mouthful. As he swallowed, he said, “Aye, it tastes bloody fantastic.”

  “Language,” Michael said. “I am glad it pleases you.”

  Gabriel set down his fork for a moment and took Michael’s hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You please me, solnyshko. In every and all ways.”

  “You are very kind, da bao.”

  Gabriel let go of Michael’s hand and picked up his fork once more and began eating again. He was so hungry that he’d cleaned his plate in record time and was idly wondering if maybe he could have seconds when Michael stood up.

  “Mishka?”

  “I am getting more mashed potatoes,” Michael said. “I fear that I am still a little hungry and raspberries and cream will not satisfy it.”

  Gabriel was pleased. “I was just wondering if there was more. Thanks, baby.”

  “It is no trouble,” Michael said as he went back into the kitchen.

  AFTER THE meal, Gabriel took Michael’s hand in his own and led the way out of the house and down to the beach. The night was pleasant, not too cold and not too warm. With his power, Gabriel pulled a beach blanket to him from inside the house and laid it down on the sand. He sat down, tugging Michael with him, and lay on his back, looking up at the stars as Michael rested his head on Gabriel’s shoulder.

  “I hope Raz has success in the past,” Gabriel said.

  “Indeed.” Michael sighed heavily. “And yet, there is still so much to do in the present. While he is gone, we must go and see those others of the magic users whom we have not spoken with since Raphael was kidnapped. I do not think the dryad queen would have mentioned them if it was not important.”

  Gabriel grunted. “I forgot about that,” he admitted. “We should really do that first thing, before we go back to Yerevan.”

  “I agree.” Michael shifted to straddle Gabriel’s body. “Would you do something for me now?”

  “Anything you want,” Gabriel said.

  “Would you make love to me?” Michael blushed as he said it.

  Gabriel smiled. “Happily.” He pulled Michael down and kissed him, winding his arms tightly around Michael’s body.

  The kiss was slow and loving, tender and passionate. They were both still tired, Gabriel knew, so he took his time, keeping his touches languid as he pushed Michael’s shirt from his shoulders. Tonight was not the night for frenzied passion; it was the night for slow, loving touches, passion building by degrees, not burning them from within with their desperate need for each other.

  The need and desire was no less than it had been, but now it was tempered with a slow exploration of each other’s bodies. As they undressed, Gabriel rolled Michael onto his back and kissed his way down Michael’s body, paying attention to each curve and line, each ab and oblique. He kissed each silvery scar on Michael’s body, caressed his soft skin. Beneath him, Michael writhed and arched, his own hands buried in Gabriel’s wings, caressing the strong, soft feathers and downy fuzz that covered cartilage and bone.

  Gabriel kissed along the line of Michael’s pelvic bone and then wound his tongue around the head of Michael’s cock. Michael hissed and his hips bucked in reaction, one of his hands sliding up to tangle in Gabriel’s hair. Gabriel hummed, his hands between Michael’s legs, stroking his thighs and over his balls, fondling them as he teased the crown of Michael’s cock with his tongue. He didn’t want Michael to come—at least, not yet.

  As he licked a slow, wet path up the underside of Michael’s cock, he felt Michael’s hands move to his shoulders, felt a brush of power, and then found himself on his back, beneath Michael’s body as he used his power and his muscles to reverse their positions on the beach blanket.

  “Michael,” Gabriel groaned, looking up at his lover. A human wouldn’t see the details in such low light as moonlight, but Gabriel, his vision enhanced by his power, by what he was—an Archangel in the prime of his life and abilities—saw everything.

  He saw the absolute love and devotion in Michael’s warm brown eyes, saw the tenderness in the small smile that tugged at the corner of Michael’s lips. He felt the adoration in each touch of Michael’s hands, the calluses on Michael’s fingers a tiny roughness against Gabriel’s skin. And he saw the desire, the lust, in the flush of arousal in Michael’s golden olive skin and in his hard, leaking cock.

  Gabriel wanted Michael so much then that he felt he would burn with it. “Michael,” he said again. “Please, solnyshko.”

  “Please what, Gabriel?” Michael asked. His voice was low and rough, echoing the want and need that Gabriel himself was feeling.

  “Fuck me.”

  “Language.” But there was a whisper of power and Michael shifted, kneeling between Gabriel’s thighs.

  Gabriel raised his legs and wrapped them around Michael’s hips, locking his ankles together and moaning loudly as he felt Michael slowly press his hard cock into his body. He arched at the slow, relentless penetration, reveling in the burn, in the heat and hardness that filled and stretched him.

  “Gabriel,” Michael panted as he leaned down, one hand on either side of Gabriel’s head. “Da bao.”

  Gabriel didn’t reply; he reached up with one hand, curling it around the back of Michael’s neck, and pulled him down for a deep kiss.

  Michael moaned into Gabriel’s mouth as he began to move, thrusting slow and deep, his movements almost a rocking motion. Gabriel tightened his grip with his thighs and calves, moving the hand not curled around the back of Michael’s neck down to one of Michael’s wing joints. He found those places that were most sensitive to touch and rubbed, and Michael’s rhythm faltered as his hips stuttered and he groaned raggedly into the kiss.

  “Gabriel,” Michael groaned, his wings unfurling. “Oh, Gabriel.”

  “I love it when you say my name like that.” Gabriel moved his other hand to Michael’s wing, and Michael pushed his wing into Gabriel’s hand, a silent plea for more. Gabriel was more than happy to oblige as Michael gave voice to another ragged, hungry groan, a sound that skipped Gabriel’s ears entirely and went straight to his cock.

  As he stroked and caressed and rubbed those magnificent wings, Gabriel clenched down on Michael’s cock when his lover was balls-deep within him. He heard Michael hiss and then felt Michael’s hand snaking between their bodies to wrap around his own cock. Michael began to stroke him, and Gabriel lost all coherent thought. All he knew was Michael’s hand on him, Michael’s cock inside him, Michael’s mo
uth, Michael’s wings, Michael’s voice. The scent of Michael filled Gabriel’s nostrils, sex and sand and sweat, and Gabriel groaned loudly, so turned on.

  “Gabriel. My Gabriel. My love, my life. My bondmate. My eternity.”

  Gabriel’s heart was full of emotion as Michael’s mental voice, rough with a myriad of loving sensations, filled his mind.

  “I love you, Michael. I love you with everything that I am. I’m yours, forever.”

  Michael whimpered and kissed Gabriel, harder this time, hungrily, almost desperately. His thrusts and strokes were speeding up, and Gabriel knew that his lover was right on the edge of orgasm. He wasn’t far behind. A few moments later, Michael broke the kiss and arched, his back as taut as a bow-string, as he yelled wordlessly and came.

  Feeling Michael’s orgasm, knowing that it was he who did this to Michael was more than enough to send Gabriel off the precipice, and he came with a loud shout, arching as well. He felt come, hot and sticky, between them, and as he flopped back, feeling boneless and pleasantly weary, Gabriel wrapped his arms around Michael and held him tight.

  “I love you, Gabriel,” Michael murmured against Gabriel’s skin.

  “And I love you, Michael.”

  “I am very blessed,” Michael said.

  Gabriel chuckled. “So am I. And you know what?”

  “No, what?”

  “Soon we’ll have to wash so we don’t stay sticky.”

  Michael chuckled softly. “That is true. Did you wish to bathe in the sea or in the house?”

  Gabriel hummed. “House. We’re well tired now; if we swim, it’ll wear us out even more. Let’s go indoors, have a long, hot bath, then have a lie down on our bed.”

  Michael kissed Gabriel’s shoulder. “I confess that I like the sound of that a very great deal.”

  “Aye, I do too.”

  Michael moved them then straight to the bedroom, and Gabriel made a noise of surprise. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he said.

  Michael slowly pulled out of Gabriel’s body. “Apologies. I simply did not wish to wait.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Gabriel sat up and ran his hands through his hair. “You know, we didn’t bite each other this time.”

  Michael canted his head to one side. “We did not,” he agreed.

  “There’s always next time,” Gabriel said.

  Right on cue, Michael blushed. “As you say,” he said.

  Gabriel laughed. “Oh, Mishka, you’re adorable.”

  “I am not,” Michael said as he climbed off the bed. “Come, let us bathe.”

  “Okay.” Gabriel crawled off the bed, stood up, and followed his one true love into the bathroom.

  Chapter Seven

  GABRIEL MOVED himself and Michael to a secluded glade in the foothills of Mount Fuji. There he sent out his thought to Camael, and a few moments later, the angel joined them.

  “My lords?” Camael bowed to Gabriel and Michael as he addressed them.

  “Camael, with Shateiel back in the past, I’m afraid you’re going to have to help out and pick up some of the slack,” Gabriel said. “Who’re the two who’ve been helping you out with the search for singing trees?”

  “Yes, my lord.” Camael pursed his lips. “Vel, angel of Wednesday, and Asaf, leader of the hymns sung at night in Heaven.”

  “Good. Call them here to join us, yeah?”

  “Yes, sir.” Camael turned away and Gabriel could feel the force of his mind reaching out, the featherlight touch of his power as he called the two angels to join them. Several moments later, Vel and Asaf were there, in their armor and looking at Gabriel and Michael with a little apprehension on their faces.

  “You’re not in trouble,” Gabriel said. “We just need some help, is all.”

  “Oh.” Vel, a sunny-faced male with a shock of fiery auburn hair and freckles dusted over his nose and cheeks, grinned back at Gabriel. “I had a horrible feeling for a minute there. I thought you might be ordering us to go swimming in swamps or something.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “At ease, soldier. None of that for you.”

  “Thank you, sir, I appreciate it.”

  “What would you have us do?” Asaf was a solemn-faced male with dark hair and beard and warm eyes. His form, Gabriel recognized, was from northeastern Israel. There were always little nuances to humanity, Gabriel mused to himself. Little clues that most would miss that informed Archangels of the regions that the rest of angelkind took their humanoid shapes from.

  “We’re going to visit a few places and check up on a few individuals with abilities beyond the regular magic users,” Gabriel said. “We don’t need to check on Lyudmila, ’cause we know how she is. Same with Eleanora. But there are seven others we need to visit.”

  “You will be discreet and obey us utterly,” Michael ordered. “These people we are visiting are good people, and we are ensuring that they are safe and not in Naamah’s clutches. We will not alarm them unnecessarily by speaking of what is going on, although if one of them brings the matter up during our visit, you will remain silent and leave it to Gabriel or myself to answer any questions they might have. They have helped us before, and it behooves us to make certain of their safety and ensure that they are protected from evil.”

  Gabriel shot his lover a quick look and saw that Michael had dressed in ceremonial armor, the bright red wool cloak he wore fastened to the shoulders of his boiled leather brigandine, which he wore over lamellar, and a thick, dark brown wool gambeson. He looked magnificent. Gabriel suddenly felt a little underdressed—unusually, he was the only one of the group not in armor.

  Gabriel decided he would fix that before they did anything else. He concentrated and blurred into his own formal armor, burnished chain mail with a steel cuirass covering his chest, the top of his shoulders, and part of his neck and over his back. The center of the cuirass was inlaid with white and blue enamel depicting his coat of arms. With his heavy broadsword sheathed at his hip, Gabriel felt much better.

  “Forgive me,” Michael said in an undertone for Gabriel’s ears only. “I thought you would change to your armor when we arrived here.”

  “I should have,” Gabriel said. “I didn’t think to. Did we go for formal instead of regular for a reason?”

  Michael wrinkled his nose. “A foolish whimsy, I fear. The younger angels and lesser ranks need to remember who and what we are. That is all.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “Okay. I got no problem with that.”

  “Are these two of your Seraphim trustworthy?”

  “Aye,” Gabriel said. “They’re good souls. They rarely ask questions and they get the job done.”

  “As you say. Where shall we begin then?” Michael asked.

  “St. Kilda Island, I reckon. Might as well go there before the day gets colder up north.”

  “As you say,” Michael said again. “If you do not object, I will issue orders for the first few locations. I wish to see how these three work together.”

  Gabriel gestured grandly. “Of course, Michael. My troops are your troops.”

  Michael turned to the three angels, who stood a little way away looking at them in cautious curiosity. “We will go to St. Kilda,” Michael said. “Take the coordinates from your General.”

  They saluted him smartly, Gabriel was pleased to see, and chorused a sharp, “Yes, sir.”

  “We go?” Michael asked.

  “We go,” Gabriel agreed and vanished, confident his lover would follow.

  St. Kilda was colder than Gabriel had thought it would be. When they arrived, there was a persistent driving rain that hammered at them. There was also sleet and frost that smelled of snow. Gabriel gritted his teeth and put his head down as he stumbled through the weather to the door of the hidden hermitage.

  “Brother Frank,” Gabriel called as he knocked on the door, pitching his voice to be heard above the driving rain. “It’s me, Archangel Gabriel.”

  It took several moments for the ancient man to open the door. His milky-white eyes were watery,
but he was smiling. “Gabriel. It is so good to have you visit, holy one.”

  “I have Saint Michael with me, Frank,” Gabriel said. “And the angels Camael, Vel, and Asaf.”

  “You honor me. Please, come in.” Frank stepped aside to let the angels into his home.

  With five large angelic bodies, Frank’s tiny hermitage seemed even smaller. There was a fire burning merrily on the hearth, and Frank tottered over to it and sank down onto a pile of blankets and sheepskins.

  “We would not trouble you for long,” Michael said as he moved to kneel in front of the elderly man. “We merely wished to see that you are well.”

  “You are exceedingly kind, Saint Michael,” Frank said. He pressed his palms together, a wooden rosary tangled between his fingers. “I am blessed by your visit.”

  Michael smiled warmly and took Frank’s hands between his own. “It is we who are blessed, holy brother. I am glad to see you are well. I wish we had met earlier and under happier circumstances.”

  “Is there another crisis afoot?” Frank shook his head. “I confess I haven’t left my rooms for a few days. The weather has been very bad.”

  “I fear that it will remain so for a little while longer. Is there anything we can get for you? Or do for you?” Michael’s voice was kind and gentle.

  The monk hesitated. “I wouldn’t wish to trouble you….”

  “I assure you, good brother, it is no trouble at all.”

  “Thank you, holy one. They are simple things, menial to one such as you,” Frank said.

  “Speak,” Michael said. “Disclose your needs to us and see them met.”

  “I am running low on wood for the fire,” Frank admitted. “And I fear for my flock. The sheep will be very cold in this weather. And I need a little food. Some flour, milk, eggs. Fresh water.”

  Michael nodded. “We will take care of it. It is no trouble.”

  Gabriel gestured to Vel and Asaf. “Take care of the sheep, you two.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.” They saluted him and bowed to Frank, then left the hermitage, going back out into the harsh cold.