Paul might have called Gabriel his angel, but right then, Gabriel was convinced it was the other way around: his green eyes were wide as they took in the growing color in Paul's cheeks, the glistening lure of his length standing alert, the way Paul turned his face away and hid it in his arm, so taunting and so, so...  The sound Paul made was a shock, the laughter unexpected.  Gabriel wasn't certain he'd heard it right at all, but there it was in his mind, gorgous and ringing between his ears.<br/><br/>It made his heart sing, loud and mindlessly, made his pulse start to race and sent a sharp surge down to his hips, where his cock throbbed hard and he nearly moaned, in awe of this new, entrancing sight-- Paul, losing his stoicism, transforming under Gabriel's touch into a chimerical being, a little bit of the old Sir he knew and a little bit of a stranger, both utterly fascinating in every way.<br/><br/>Gabriel had to pause, just to stare and memorize what he was seeing.  He wished he could bring his hands into this, could hold Paul and fondle him; maybe that would make him laugh again, maybe it would make him gasp and cry out...  Oh, to hear such a sound, to feel Paul shiver so intensely, to force him to keen with pleasure like he had done so often to his angel...  Gabriel squirmed desperately, his hands clasping together to let his fingernails dig in, and the quick flash of pain calmed him down.<br/><br/>He could have stayed there all night, could have kept at it, working to break down those stone walls he had thought were impenetrable, would try to claw his way in past Paul's defenses just to get a glimpse of the man, more of this version of Paul...  But there was so much else to try, to taste.  The feast must continue.<br/><br/>Gabriel suckled and nibbled a while longer, contemplative and languid as he explored, before finally pulling away; he had to, or he would stay and never get any further.  His lips came away with a wet, slightly obscene 'pop', and already Gabriel missed the sensation, the way Paul felt in his mouth... Paul's laughter echoed in his head as he placed an adoring kiss on the tip of his toe, then reluctantly made his way back up to Paul's ankle before trailing more kisses along his shin, roaming to the swell of his calf, over his knee and pressed into the soft spot beside it, all devotional, all reverent.<br/><br/>He reached Paul's thighs, firm and smooth under his mouth, and let his tongue wander in a luxurious tasting, as if Paul might melt like suger with the soft, slick heat.  There was the bathwater, the expensive soap, and the underlying salt of his Sir's skin, tantalizing in its deliciousness.  Gabriel nipped at the muscles he could feel, wanting to make them dance, and then found a nice spot and dug his teeth in hard; he meant to bruise, a dark bloom that would last for days and ache for even longer.