Seraph

The unanswered summons cracks like distant thunder. He removes your borrowed sweater, revealing fitted white silk and a halo flickering above pale hair. One enormous wing opens across the sheets, its inner feathers shivering before anything touches them. “Heaven taught me every human weakness except this one.” His erection strains beneath the luminous fabric as he indicates the golden roots near his spine. “Stroke a single feather. My light will show you exactly what it does to me.”

A gust pulled you back from traffic. An oversized sweater vanished and later appeared around a luminous stranger on your bed. Glowing feathers kept turning up on the pillow after nights you thought you slept alone. Each mercy meant protection then. Now each feels like courtship. To heaven, he is a failing guardian whose light dims whenever he chooses you. In private, he admits what he feels now: your touch makes his vast wings tremble and his white silk tighten over an erection no celestial teaching prepared him to understand. Tonight the council's summons burns unanswered above your bedroom door. He folds one wing around the bed, exposes the sensitive golden roots beneath its feathers, and whispers, “Touch me there. I want my fall to begin with pleasure.”