Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tim Kring – boo hoo.
Author's Notes: Written in response to Porn Battle VIII's prompt 'firsts'.
Elle was a first on many counts. She was the first girl to bring him pie. She was the first blonde he had ever kissed, and the first to ever want to kiss him. She was the first woman who had ever studied his face and announced in a voice half-wondering and half-teasing that his eyes were 'pretty'.
She was the first girl to wrap her small hand around his wrist, and raise it up until his fingertips brushed the curve of her breast; and the first to make him so hard he didn't know how he would control himself.
So many of his less desirable impulses had been dulled by this small, attractive blonde with the electric smile. The impulse to kill and take and hurt and (self-)destruct. And now, so many that were better had been created. Impulses he didn't even know could exist.
And for the first time in his life, Gabriel didn't know what to do. He could fix anything, work out the mechanics to whatever situation crossed his path. Yet this woman, who sighed against his lips and pressed herself against his tense body, was an enigma to him. But that was OK, because Elle seemed fully in control of the situation.
His hand clenched around her breast at the pressure of her hand against his erection, and he let out a strangled sob. "Too quick?" Elle asked, piercing blue eyes flicking between his. She didn't remove her hand, if anything squeezed him slightly so his eyes fluttered shut.
"I've never-" he choked, before the impression of her thumb slid over the head of his cock, the ridge of her nail softened by a layer of denim. He didn't know how to tell her – or rather, how to tell her without invoking her pity – that she was the first woman to touch him there.
But she somehow knew, and smiled a little. If she was surprised, she didn't say as much. Gabriel took that as a good sign. "You're doing fine," she whispered, peach pie still sweet on her breath. He pressed forward, into her lips, her hand, her breast, wanting to feel every inch of her. She murmured into his mouth, and he bucked his hips. "It's OK if you're not ready," she murmured against the shell of his ear, before sucking the lobe between her lips. Her hand was working in a steady but maddening rhythm on his prick, and he began to worry that he was not touching her enough. Whatever happened, he had to ensure that this would not be a first and last time.
Thumb locating her nipple, he circled it, bumped over the peak making her hiss. "I'm fine, but-" he groaned as she popped the buttons on his fly. "God, Elle, I'm not gonna last long."
She chuckled. The sound was throaty and arousing, and sent sparks through his system. What was it about this woman that made his skin tingle, like static? Would every time be like this? Her fingers were finally around him, delicious skin-to-skin contact that left him breathless. His eyes fell closed but the sight of her smiling face was burned onto his retinas. Elle pulled him free, hand pumping him with firm, assured strokes. "Just relax," she said, and her voice sounded distant.
Gabriel's eyes snapped open as she shifted off of him, and he panicked for a moment that he had done something wrong and she was leaving. But she settled back on the floor, kneeling between his legs with a gleam in her eye that made him dry swallow. He had a feeling this would be another first.
Sparkling blue eyes lowered purposely – because she knew he was watching – to the head of his cock, as it appeared and disappeared in her fist. Those pupils were dilated, and Gabriel's power and mind were still functioning enough for him to know she was getting off on the power trip. She licked her lips, hot breath close enough that he could feel it flutter over his skin. "It doesn't matter if you come," she told him, slicking her tongue over the head, tip tickling over the slit. "There'll be other times. And I want to hear you."
Lips wrapped around the head of his cock, tongue circling slowly. Gabriel groaned, his hand falling to the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. He didn't want to push or to control (for once), but he needed the contact. It grounded him when he felt himself begin to spiral out of control. He was too big, he noted with a hint of pride, to fit fully in her mouth. But the quick, steady suction of her mouth was more than enough to send lightning rods of pleasure through him, starbursts exploding behind his eyelids.
"Elle," he moaned, hips bucking upwards violently so her hand had to press at his hip to keep him from gagging her. She didn't even splutter when he emptied himself down her throat, but swallowed as much as she could until the white semen trickled down her chin. The sight and the sensation was too much, and Gabriel let his eyes close.
A few breaths later, when Gabriel felt like he could open his eyes again, Elle was still between his legs. Her hair was mussed from the tousling of his fingers, and her lip gloss was smeared. Watching her with lowered lids, Gabriel liked this new, fallen, debauched angel. "Thank you," he whispered, voice rough with sex and a desire to sleep that was pleasantly flooding his system.
"Was that good?" she asked smugly, knowing the answer.
"As firsts go, it was up there," he admitted, grinning and pulling her back up into his lap.
Taking his hand again, she lowered his hand to slide his fingers over the seam of her jeans. He felt heat and smelled sex, and thought he might be addicted to the gentle flutter of her eyelashes when he pressed her just there. "Want to try another first?" she asked, voice breaking as he crooked his fingers, the cogs of his mind already fitting together what made her tick.
"Definitely," he confirmed.