I've been wanting to write them as good angel/bad angel for a while now.
Playing With Fire
One thing’s certain. Little upstart can’t sneak up on him. Jasmine, hyacinth, some such shit heralds all his entrances.
Brian bends closer to his map, tail flicking in warning.
“It’ll never be yours,” Justin says, crowding him indecently.
“It already is.” Gloating, Brian turns but falls back with a curse. Too bright! Snarling, he flies up, dark wings spread, cock level with those rosy lips. “Back for more?”
Justin shakes his head. “Forgot my sandals.”
He takes his time lacing, and when done, flashes a radiant smile and is gone, leaving nothing behind but damned perfume and a single, unsinged feather.