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Look Ma, No Hands

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Abaddon found her wrecked, an angel beyond fallen, her grey suit jacket shredded at the shoulder blades, her wide eyes glazed with anguished disbelief. She was bleeding at the base of her skull, a wound that she must have been celestial when she got or it might have been fatal, and now in human meat, it was only half knit. Abaddon touched two fingers to the back of Naomi’s neck, the lacquered polish of her nails a garish reflection against the tacky old blood.

“Naomi,” Abaddon said, “You look like hell.”

Distant irritation shifted somewhere far back in those haunted eyes. “Clever,” she murmured.

“And quiet, too,” Abaddon commented. “Rough fall, sugar?”

“Fall…” Naomi fisted her hands in her hair, and Abaddon could see her nails were dirty and torn. “Shut up.” Naomi snapped suddenly. “Everybody needs to shut up and listen. Nobody will listen.”

“Wow,” said Abaddon. “Someone really did a number on your melon. You hit your head on the way down?”

Naomi’s hand fluttered from her hair to the back of her neck, and her fingers brushed against Abaddon’s. Abaddon quickly pulled her hand away, and Naomi prodded at the wound, curiously.

“Metatron,” Naomi said, to herself or otherwise, Abaddon didn’t know. Naomi frowned now. “I see now. He attempted to scramble my mind.”

“I’ll start looking through cereal boxes for a decoder ring,” Abaddon joked.

Naomi’s gaze sharpened suddenly, snapping its focus on Abaddon. “What are you doing here, destroyer? You’re supposed to be dead.”

Abaddon shrugged. “All of history has its footnotes.” Her red mouth curved up in a smirk. “Like this little armageddon we find ourselves smack in the middle of.”

Naomi glanced up at the sky, where angels were still streaking by like brilliant comets. “Heaven…”

“Is officially on the market,” Abaddon supplied cheerfully. “We have a vacancy. You know, I was just telling Alastair I could use a summer home.”

“Alastair has been dead for five years,” Naomi spat. Her acuity seemed to be improving as her disgust at congress with a demon mounted.

Abaddon took it in stride and shrugged. “Time travel’s a bitch, right? I can’t seem to keep my decades straight.”

“What do you want?” Naomi asked, tense and angry. She was sitting up straighter now, her knotted hair pushed neatly behind her ears, her lips pressed into a familiar, tight line, but her jacket was still torn beyond repair, and Abaddon wondered if she peeked beneath it she’d find deep, jagged scores where wings had been ripped from Naomi. She knew the fallen bore their scars.

“I want to talk,” said Abaddon, stubbornly refusing to match Naomi’s cold, timeless poise. “You and I have a bit in common these days.”

“You and I have nothing in common,” Naomi replied, and if she were a less professional woman, she might have even snarled it.

“Oh honey,” Abaddon laughed. “You have no idea how wrong you are. Locked out of heaven, your whole world lost because of some cock seeing how far he can piss? We should start a book club.”

Abaddon could see two puzzle pieces sliding into place for Naomi as she watched her. “Crowley,” Naomi confirmed. “You’re after the throne.”

“I’ve got the throne,” Abaddon snapped. “Crowley is nothing. But I need friends. You and I are friends, right?”

Naomi scowled, remembering a time, long ago, a clawed hand wrapped around her throat and a tongue, wet and sinful as it claimed her, and the flashing sparks of grace when she came. “We were never friendly.”

Abaddon shuddered. “I fucking hope not. I can’t stand flowers and good deeds.”

“So why on earth would you…” Naomi trailed off, comprehension dawning. “You’re rounding up angels.”

Abaddon inspected her nails, with intentional flourish. “Why not? Enough of you jumped into the pit for Lucifer.”

“That was different.” Even tarnished, Naomi held herself stern and righteous. Abaddon was impressed. She liked to think she wasn’t easily impressed, but Naomi was taking the cake, especially when she went on in a fury, “He was one of us. And I never followed anything into hell, angel or not.”

“Of course you didn’t,” said Abaddon. “You had a cozy setup in the torture labs of God. Tell me, if you asked for an angel to be brought in so you could take it apart, just for fun… would they send one to you?”

“My duty was never about seeking perverse entertainment,” Naomi stiffly replied.

Abaddon sighed loudly. “You don’t know what you’re missing up there on your high horse,” she told Naomi. “Poetry. Invention. I could show you.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Oh, I think you might be,” said Abaddon. “And I think you have nowhere else to go. The entire host has fallen, and you were supposed to be in charge? I think I’m not the only one who could use a friend.”

“I’m sure I have better allies in my corner than a demonic worm.”

Abaddon snorted. “And if I know humans, they won’t be any happier about sharing turf with angels than you all are to be there,” she continued. “You’re hunted, Naomi. By three species at least. I can protect you.”

“I can protect myself.”

Abaddon bent forward until her and Naomi’s brows were touching. “We can protect each other,” she said, and then she kissed Naomi, because she knew better ways to spell out intention with her lips and her tongue right now.

Naomi kissed back instinctively. Perhaps it really was some learned instinct; fighting had always been a preamble to fucking with them, in the past. Except it was different this time, and Abaddon knew it, and when Naomi kissed back Abaddon felt a profound wash of satisfaction, of one more variable in her plans smoothing out.

Naomi’s tongue slipped between Abaddon’s lips, and Abaddon opened her mouth to it, sucked on the tip and then moaned when Naomi rolled her tongue over hers. They were both breathing faster, kisses growing wilder and more frantic when Abaddon looped her arm around Naomi’s waist and crushed them together.

“Yes,” Abaddon hissed between kisses, “I knew you’d say yes. Together, we’ll raise hell and conquer heaven.”

“I never–” Naomi broke off in a moan when Abaddon began to suck at her throat. “I never– oh god, what is this feeling?”

“Mortal lust.” Abaddon licked a stripe up Naomi’s neck, and Naomi shuddered. “Mm. Like mother’s milk to me. You gotta fall before you can fuck, really.” Abaddon cupped Naomi’s breast, and then pinched her nipple tightly between two fingers.

Naomi gasped. “Do that again.” When Abaddon complied, Naomi’s back arched as she cried out. “I never thought- I never thought-”

“You’re just aching for it, aren’t you, baby?” Abaddon pulled their hips flush together, and bit down on Naomi’s earlobe. Naomi ground against Abaddon, and Abaddon huffed in her ear. “I’d wager I could make you come with no hands,” Abaddon’s tongue flicked against Naomi’s ear, “the state you’re in.”

“You can try.” Naomi was panting, practically vibrating with palpable need, and yet somehow still a stern challenge. Abaddon wrapped both her arms around Naomi’s waist and rubbed against her, catlike and slow and setting Naomi’s nerves haywire.

“Oh, I’ll do more than try,” Abaddon promised. She rocked her weight against Naomi and they fell to the ground. Abaddon crawled down Naomi’s length but only managed to unfasten the top button of her trousers before strong hands laced with hers and wrenched her arms to the ground, planted on either side of Naomi.

“I was promised no hands,” said Naomi.

Abaddon growled against Naomi and caught the zipper of her trousers between her teeth. She dragged it down, and continued to nose at Naomi until her pants were rucked around her thighs. Naomi was wet enough to soak through the white lace of her panties and Abaddon licked her through the damp fabric, which made Naomi groan. Abaddon sucked on the lace, and then dragged the material to one side with her teeth. It was messy with red lipstick, and the sight fired heat straight to her groin. She lowered her head again, licked a long line between Naomi’s swollen lips and tasted slippery arousal. She tapped her tongue against Naomi’s clit when she reached it, and Naomi bucked, hands tightening their grip in Abaddon’s. Abaddon swirled her tongue over Naomi’s clit, precisely and insistently, until Naomi was whimpering, her splintered nails digging into Abaddon’s hands, and then Abaddon pursed her lips around her clit and sucked, and Naomi made a wrecked sound, hips canting uncontrollably against Abaddon’s face.

Abaddon licked and sucked, making wet noises that mingled with Naomi’s filthy sighs and turned her limbs to electric jelly. She wanted to put her hands on Naomi, to push the fallen angel into the ground and plunder her, but Naomi’s grip on her was vice tight, absolute. It made Abaddon’s explorations with her mouth that much more reckless, that much more shameless, as she brought Naomi bucking to orgasm, curses on her lips in a handful of languages–German, Enochian, Mandarin–that trickled into wordless, breathless moans as Abaddon lapped her through the last of the tremors.

“That was incredible,” Naomi gasped.

Abaddon moved up Naomi’s body until she could kneel on top of her, knees straddling her waist. Their hands were still entwined, and Abaddon pinned Naomi’s arms above her head, and dipped down to kiss her. Abaddon’s mouth was still slick from Naomi, and Abaddon could taste her, tang and musk. Naomi’s tongue flicked out to taste herself, and Abaddon smiled around their kiss.

“That’s just the beginning,” Abaddon said, and it was true, carnally and otherwise. A new era, a new regime.

And from the way Naomi’s mouth sought hers again, hungry and nowhere near finished, a new sister-in-arms.