It was the middle of the night, you were asleep and Michael found himself there in the silence of the motel room. The only sound he needed to hear to be satisfied was your breathing, the feeling of your heartbeat against his chest. At that moment, maybe even a long time ago, Michael had silently swore to himself that he'd never let anything happen to you, that he'd protect you with everything he had because even as a human, you still held his attention, his obsession.

Michael's thoughts began to drift, drift to how your hand against his skin was like Heaven, like Hell, and everything in between. How it seemed to burn through him, setting his nerves on fire.. He was an Archangel, but he was certain that his purpose in existence.. was you.

His gaze wandered over your body for another moment before he leaned in and wrapped his muscular arm around your waist, his face burying itself in the crook of your neck. Michael's muscles tensed as you were pressed against him, the feeling of your body against him overwhelming his senses. Your scent, your warmth and everything about you doing things to him..