Alek_Brendan

In a world divided between celestial purity and abyssal darkness, an angel and a demon cross the boundaries of fate.

Azarel, a warrior of Asphodel, was born from the last spark of a dying star—destined to shine, destined to destroy the darkness that threatens his realm. But when he discovers a mysterious relic that connects him to Kur’thaal, the forsaken land of demons, his certainty begins to waver. And when he meets him—the demon with ember eyes and forbidden power—his destiny begins to unravel.

Vael has never believed in mercy. Shaped by war, bound by runes, he fights for survival in a world where weakness means death. But the moment he lays eyes on the angel—beautiful, untouchable, staring at him as if he were something more than a monster—everything changes.

What begins as defiance turns into obsession. What should have been hatred burns into something far more dangerous.

When Azarel throws away everything to save Vael, Heaven turns its back on him, and Hell waits with open arms. Now, bound together by fate, desire, and the weight of their choices, they must navigate a world that would see them both destroyed.

In the war between light and darkness, love was never meant to be an option.

Errant Wings (BL) (BoyxBoy)

The halls of Lilith's sanctum stretched endlessly, each corridor veering into a dozen others—labyrinthine and pulsing with old magic. Most of the doors were sealed with runes Vael couldn't read, carved from the same obsidian stone that made the walls hum under his fingertips.

Something deeper than instinct pulled him forward. A hum in his chest, a pulse beneath his skin, as if part of his soul had unspooled and was guiding him through the dark.

He moved quickly, silently, eyes skimming each chamber. Thousands of rooms. None marked. All silent.

His hand hovered over the door, the tips of his fingers trembling slightly before he pressed it open.

The room beyond was quiet. Dimly lit by a low, floating flame. The walls glowed with a faint violet hue, and the air smelled of dust, incense, and warmth.

And there, on a wide, low bed carved from black stone and lined with soft furs—

Vael's breath caught in his throat. He didn't rush. He couldn't. His feet moved carefully over the polished floor until he was standing at the edge of the bed, his shadow falling across the angel's bare chest.

The soft rise and fall of his breathing was the only sound in the room. His skin was pale and smooth, his collarbones sharp against the gentle curves of his body. The sheets hung low on his hips, revealing his ribs, the faint edges of the runes Vael had drawn onto his back—still hidden now beneath his sleeping form.

Vael lowered himself to his knees beside the bed. One hand hovered—shaking—above Lioren's.

His hand trembled harder as he curled his fingers around Lioren's, cradling them with an impossible gentleness.

"I thought I lost you, angel…" he breathed, his voice catching in his throat. "I thought I was too late."

He leaned in, brushing a strand of golden hair from Lioren's temple.

"You're here. You're really here."

Vael pressed his forehead gently to the back of Lioren's hand, eyes closing.

"I'll never leave you alone again."

His free hand trailed softly along Lioren's arm, reverent, as though each inch of him was sacred. His eyes drifted to Lioren's mouth—those soft, perfect lips slightly parted in sleep—and he bit down the aching urge to kiss them.

"You're safe," he whispered again, as if saying it would make it true.

"I'll guard your dreams. I'll burn this world down before I let anyone touch you again."

He climbed slowly onto the bed, laying beside him—careful not to disturb him. Their fingers still entwined. His body curled gently toward Lioren's, their faces just inches apart.

Watched the rise and fall of that perfect chest.

The faintest flutter of breath on his cheek.

And for the first time since the nightmare began—

The Room with No Name