by Queen Boadicea


John puttered around the kitchen. After great insistence, he had persuaded Finnian to lay off the pizza for one night. Finnian had pointed out that he didn't have human worries like weight gain or tooth decay or indigestion. But John did and he said it was hard on his system to keep eating that stuff and it wasn't any fun eating sensible foods when Finn was noshing down on a chilidog.

Besides, although John didn't say so, it gave him a kick to mother Finn like this. It made him feel like he was taking care of the Angel for a change instead of the other way around.

So Finnian kicked his legs idly as John tossed a salad. The pasta was boiling and would be ready very shortly. When it was, John poured it into a colander and immediately portioned out two portions from the slithery mass. "Pasta should be drained and eaten right away," he explained. "Otherwise it turns into a sticky mess."

"I didn't know that, John Stonebrook," Finnian said absently. All of his attention was on the spaghetti being spooned on his plate. Waving his hand, he gestured for John to keep piling it up. John ignored him and stopped. "Hey, that's too little!" he protested.

"Finn, that's enough for one night. I'd like to save some of this for tomorrow. Just because I like cooking doesn't mean I want to do it every day."

"But I want more," Finnian whined.

John shook his head. "That's something I'm still trying to understand, kid. How is it that an Angel gets hungry? Do Angels in Heaven even need to eat?"

"Nah," Finnian said, ladling a liberal amount of microwaved sauce onto the cooked strands. "But they should. Those other Angels don't know what they're missing. Earth food is great!"

"No arguments there." John chuckled and spooned a smaller amount of the pasta for himself. He forked up a mound of salad on another plate and lightly sprinkled it with Italian dressing. He had a bit of a paunch--understandable in a man of his age--but that didn't mean he had to keep it. If he was going continue acting as a private detective and make some pretense of keeping up with Finnian, then he needed to drop at least ten pounds.

He pushed the bowl of salad towards Finn. The redheaded Angel made a face at him. Finnian wasn't a big fan of vegetables. But he ate them at John's insistence. Not that he needed to. Finn not only enjoyed perfect health; he seemed well nigh indestructible.

Since leaving the force, John had been with Finn for over seven months. They solved cases, nothing major but enough to pay the bills. In that time, Finn had been shot, stabbed, even splashed with acid once.

He was reckless; that's why he got injured in the line of fire so often. Yet he healed perfectly after each and every assault. John had seen the most ghastly wounds heal and close up right in front of his eyes.

Finn was apparently ageless as well. He still looked like a youthful boy somewhere between 16 and 18. It was miraculous and just a little humbling.

John couldn't help remembering that he was merely human, that he would age, get sick and drop dead some day. It was terrifying to think that senility or even Alzheimer's lay in his future. But he wouldn't be facing it alone. There would be a youthful, strong presence in his life with him, someone who would watch over him to the very end. That was a comfort.

Watching Finn shovel pasta into his mouth, it was hard to believe that he was an actual Angel. He had the healthy appetite of an ordinary adolescent--or three--and the same disregard for his personal health. After the pasta, Finn would probably demand several scoops of the Ben & Jerry's ice cream tucked away in the fridge.

Finnian looked up to catch John staring at him. "John Stonebrook? What's wrong? You're not eating your food." He brightened. "Can I have it if you don't want it?"

John raised a sardonic eyebrow and picked up his fork. "Don't even think about it, Finn. You've got your plate and I've got mine. You're not getting seconds, not with that pile in front of you."

Finnian stuck out his tongue at him. "Meanie. So what were you thinking just now?"

"I was thinking about Angels."

"Haven't you asked me everything about them by now?" Finnian asked before slurping up another strand of pasta.

"Maybe. But it's still kinda--" He waved his hands helplessly.

"Wonderful? Awesome? Special?"

"Freaky was the word I was aiming for," John said dryly. He thought with amazement about all the many things Finn had told him about Heaven. The Angel would regale him for hours about the friends he'd left behind, the battles against Demons, his spying on Earth and the many sights and delights of the Upper and Lower Tiers.

The redhead stopped eating to peer at him. "But freaky in a good way, right? I mean, you're not upset that I'm different?"

John snorted. "Different doesn't begin to cover it. But it's a difference I can live with."

Satisfied with John's reassurance, Finnian turned back to his food. At first, he hadn't been sure whether it was right to let John in on such intimate secrets. But, hey, John already knew about his status as an Angel and that Heaven existed. Learning the particulars couldn't make any kind of difference.

Finnian slurped up another string of spaghetti and licked his lips of sauce. "Can I have six scoops of the chocolate ice cream later?"

"Two," John stated firmly.

The rosebud lips turned down in a pout. "Why? Just because you're trying to lose weight doesn't mean I should suffer."

"That's right, kid. Rub it in," John retorted. "You keep that up, you can forget about having sex tonight. By the time you've finished with your ice cream, I'll be sleeping--alone."

"In that case, why wait? Let's clear away the plates; we can do it on the table," Finn demanded. He tongued his lip again slowly as he gave John a smoldering stare. "Would you like to drip ice cream on me and lick it off my titties, John Stonebrook?"

John swallowed, his cock beginning to stir. "Eat your food, Finn."


With the promise of sex, the redhead had finished his meal in record time, even skipping the desired dessert. John wasn't sure if Angels could get sick from eating too fast. But so far Finn showed no signs of discomfort.

John bit his lip and peeked up at Finn from beneath his lashes. He was lying on his back while the redhead straddled him. This was a favorite position for John. He could relax and let the Angel do all the work. Finn took a long time to tire and this way John wasn't too worn out from some of their more energetic sessions.

John palmed the soft buttocks, such a luscious handful. The ass was a tight vise around his prick, milking him with those divine muscles. The stomach quivered with each downward push as Finn moved at a deliriously slow pace.

The redhead pulled up until only John's cockhead was left inside him. Then he pushed just as slowly back down, relishing the delicious sensation of fullness shooting through his ass. "Oh, John Stonebrook," Finnian sighed, nibbling his lip as he rode John's cock. "You're so big inside."

John snorted at the porny talk. The nipple ring invited his touch and he reached up, pulling until the nub was of an exquisite hardness. Finn squealed in the most delicious way whenever they were tugged. "That's it; pull them. Like that…yes! Daddy, oh Daddy!"

"Finn…I…told you…don't call me…that!" he grunted.

"But you like it, don't you, Daddy?" Finnian grinned and then gasped when John dug his heels into the bed and arched, thrusting his aching cock harder into the trembling body above his. "Ooh!"

A knowing smile kinked John's mouth as he let Finn know just how much he loved shoving his pecker into that tight hole. His hand crept up the satiny back and spread over the twitching shoulder blades. A sudden thought, a memory, swept through him.

"Finn, let me see 'em," John gasped.


"Your wings. Want to see 'em."

"My wings?" Finn peered down at John with wide eyes. John allowed himself a small triumph. It wasn't often he surprised the wayward Angel.

"Yeah." He splayed his fingers over the knobby spine. "I want to touch them. I want to feel them again like I did that night." His voice deepened. "Remember?"

Finnian stared down at him. Although he was keenly aware of the cock twitching in his ass, he held himself still while he considered John's request.

He had seen the Guardian Madeline attempt to drive John away when the mortal had come to fetch him. John's daring and obvious worry for him had spurred Finnian to expose his wings and risk Heaven's wrath and the censure of two very annoyed Guardians. John had not only seen his feathery appendages; he had touched them as well, causing Finnian to shiver.

The idea was exciting, Finnian had to admit. But it wasn't something they'd ever done during all the time they'd been sleeping together. Could he introduce it like another happy bit of kink in their sex play? "Are you sure you want this, John Stonebrook?" he whispered.

"Yeah. Yeah, I really do." Now that he had voiced the desire, a mad curiosity sprang up in John. He didn't care if he was violating some rule of Heaven. But he wanted to see those wings. He wanted to handle them while he was fucking the redheaded waif splayed across his thighs.

The muscles in his ass bore down and Finnian heard John gasp, felt him stiffen and blunt nails dig into his back. "Then fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me hard."

This time there was no protest against the unseemly title. John grabbed the willowy waist and began raising and lowering Finn, slamming him down hard so that their hipbones banged together. Finn shrieked and writhed in his grip.

"Daddy Daddy Daddy," Finnian chanted. John was a hot, full presence inside him. His cock seemed bigger than Finnian could remember. The thought of John's excitement at what was going to happen made his own toy jump and throb.

The little Angel was bouncing violently now, his balls banging on John hard enough to make loud smacking sounds each time their thighs were crushed together. The former cop dug his fingers into the hips. He knew he couldn't hurt Finn this way; he just wanted to crush that lithe body to his own, have every inch of Finn's hot little hole sheathed around his dick.

"Ah, fuck. Finn, so damn…good." Shit, he was seeing stars around the edges of his vision. They were all the brighter against the redness of his eyelids when he squeezed them shut. But he forced his eyes open, determined to see the change.

Small fingers tangled in his chest hairs, pulling painfully every time Finn arched away from his body. But John didn't care. The fire was descending to his balls, his whole body tensing as rhythmic shivers jolted through him. Any discomfort was rapidly disappearing, the impending crisis distracting him from anything else.

Almost. A shudder went through the Angel, different from all the others, and John stared at the clenched features.

The wings unfurled, sweeping from behind the shoulder blades to dwarf the straining figures in bed. They fluttered out, the wingspan like that of a condor. White feathers tipped with dove gray cast a deep shadow over John. He felt as if he were in the depths of a Bedouin tent, under an enormous vaulted arch in a church or in the depths of a crystal cave.

Finn stared down at him and John's heart nearly stopped. Clouds were scudding across that turquoise gaze. John was aware of unearthly sounds wafting from a hidden place. It wasn't a guitar, violin, bass drum or any instrument he knew. But it was somehow music and nothing else.

There was love, devastating amorous love that comes only from being wholly connected to the one you care about. There was a terrifying sense of amused approval from--elsewhere. Laughter, bliss and a vast looming presence of an unseen OTHER pressed against the edges of his consciousness.

It was too much. Another moment more of this and he really would die, crushed under the weight of something he wasn't meant to know yet. John ran one hand up Finn's back to rest it on the spine of one wing.

There was another quiver and Heaven--if that's what it was--vanished from Finn's gaze. Seeing what his touch could do, John stroked that place again and again. He grasped a handful of warm feathers and tugged gently, careful not to dislodge any.

Finn mewled and more intense shudders racked his body. The wings beat with each paroxysm, knocking over a chair and sending case folders and notebooks crashing to the floor. Okay, maybe they should have done this in the living room where there was a lot more space.

John shouted as Finn clamped down even harder. Shit, it felt like his cock was about to be ripped off! But Finn didn't stop and neither did he. He grasped the leaking prick and stroked it fast in tandem with the motions of his other hand.

"Oooh, J-Johnnnn Ssssstonebroooook!" Finnian moaned, unable to stop the wild cries he was making. This felt different from anything they'd ever done before. If anything, the feelings were just a little too intense. It was like every nerve in his body was waking up, as if fingernails were being raked over his skin.

They both screamed as the orgasm came ripping through them. A flare of agonizing heat swept across John's chest when his release came, his cock spurting so hard it was like a pain.

The prick in his fist splattered its seed across his chest and over his face. It seemed to go on forever until he thought he would drown in his lover's cum. In a distant part of his mind not occupied with the sticky aftermath of their exertions, John saw the wings had gone, retreated back to whatever place they lay within Finn's tiny body.

Finnian stopped shivering and swayed where he sat above John's thighs. His stomach and toes ached where they'd been clenching from the wonderful spasms. The spunk inside him was the most glorious heat. Sighing, he shifted and let the softened cock drop away from his aching ass. He felt a deep contentment from the afterglow and lightheaded like he could float off John's body right up to Heaven.

"Man. That was really something." John sat up, licking his lips of the creamy cum plastered on his mouth and chin. Then the pain in his chest reasserted itself and he looked down. His eyes widened and he yelped, startling the Angel. "Ow! Finn, look what you did!"

Finn stared. Two bare patches of skin showed through the thick black thatch on John's chest. The Angel looked down at his fists and saw the missing hairs showing through his clenched fingers. He grinned feebly at John. "Oops."

"Oops? That's all you have to say after ripping my hairs out like a bikini wax? Goddamn, Finn, you have no idea how much that hurt!" John emphasized his words with a wince while gingerly rubbing his chest.

"I-I'm sorry, John Stonebrook," Finn said in a small voice. "It was so much stronger than before. It was like every part of me seized up and I guess my hands just followed the rest."

John stopped rubbing and grinned ruefully. "I know what you mean, kid. It was like, wow, the most powerful thing I ever felt."

"I don't suppose we can glue them back on?" Finn asked slyly, sensing John's forgiveness. He pretended to pat the two patches of hair back into place.

John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Just forget it, Finn. Unlike head hair, body hair on men always grows back. It's like the hair drifts off our scalps and plasters itself on our backs."

Finnian giggled at that description and picked up a towel. Knowing how messy things could get, they always kept them close by the bed now. He scrubbed his cum off John's chest and chin, carefully avoiding the sensitive exposed skin. After finishing, he lay down beside his lover, one arm draped across the burly waist.

John squinted on his bed and found a pinfeather, no doubt left over from their recent exertions. He brought it up to his face and peered curiously at it. "Finn, can I ask you something?"

"Um. What?"

"Why are your feathers gray at the tips? I found a feather from you once. It was after you tore into that alley to attack whatever was in there. It was pure white. Then I found another one after that. It looked just like this one." He bent his head and saw Finn was digging his face into his side.

This was weird. The kid acted ashamed. John couldn't recall ever seeing him look like this, not since he had exposed 'little Finn' to a hysterical Emma in a restaurant. "Finn? Are you okay?"

Finn mumbled, "My wings changed. After things I…did with Sin and Malice."

The two demons? He remembered those black-clad nightmares and the palpable aura of menace they carried with them. They'd been after Finn and had been in a twisted deal with Jack, the serial killer who had murdered John's wife and child. "Your wings are changing because of them?"

"Did change. They're not changing any more. It's just…" Finnian bit his lip and squirmed closer. "In Heaven, an Angel's wings are completely white, a symbol of the purity we carry within us. If we get Turned, corrupted by evil, our wings change color and become soiled. That's why my wings are gray at the ends."

The Angel sounded unbearably sad and John cast about in his mind for a way to comfort him. "Maybe it's not so simple as that, Finn. That whole business with Jack and Jeremy showed me that black and white doesn't exist in this world. Maybe in Heaven but not here. In that case, it doesn't matter if your wings are a little sooty at the ends."

A teal eye peeked up at him, eloquent in its disbelief. John tried to explain. "You told me you voluntarily left Heaven to be on Earth even though you had a lover there, someone you were created for." Finn nodded reluctantly. "Going from Heaven to Earth had to be a step down, one you willingly took and that the--Creator allowed, right?"

"Yes." Finnian wasn't sure where John was going with this.

"So maybe you were meant to leave, to color your experiences in Heaven with some of the shades of gray you find here on Earth. Everyone who lives here leads ambiguous lives at best, Finn. We get brushed with the darkness, too, just like you.

"But we don't necessarily become evil. We learn from our experiences, good and bad, and they make us stronger. The new color of your wings is a symbol of that."

"Really?" That was hopeful. Then Finnian remembered his circumstances. "But I'm an Angel, not a human. I have wings that were once white. I'm not supposed to be tainted like this."

"You're a disobedient Angel who flew to Earth," John corrected with a roguish smirk. "So I'm thinking the old rules don't apply down here." He paused. "You know I once killed a man. I'm not going to be kept out of Heaven for that, am I?"

"No," Finnian replied staunchly. "You did that in defense of others. You're a good man, John Stonebrook. If anyone deserves Heaven, it's you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid. So I know whatever happened with those demons, it was to protect Jeremy and you never killed anyone to do it. Right?"


"Then what do a few gray feathers matter?" He hugged Finn close. "I'm sure when the time comes, I'll go sailing up to Heaven and you'll be brought along for the ride." He kissed Finnian on the tip of his nose. "If you're not, then I'd rather go to Hell with you."

"Don't say that. The Beneath is a terrible place." Finnian gave an exaggerated shudder. Then he sat up suddenly.

"What? What is it?" John asked, startled at the abrupt motion.

"I want my ice cream now! Wait here and I'll get it." He jumped off the bed as John reached for him again.

"What the f--? Finn, wait! Forget the ice cream!" Even as he said it, his stomach rumbled and John realized he was hungry again. The crazed sexual activity had left him ravenous.

Finnian grinned at hearing the telltale sound. "Don't worry, John Stonebrook. I'll bring the ice cream here. This time you can lick it off my body!" With a saucy wink and wiggle of his behind, he was gone.

John fell back on the bed, groaning. He wanted nothing more than to lie here in a well-fucked puddle. But Finn would have his way as usual. He only hoped they didn't make too much of a mess of the sheets.


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