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His blood pools below him, and Gabriel experiences ecstasy.
Friendly sparring between Gabriel and the Ferryman was not uncommon. Wishing to hone her craft, the Ferryman would practice her hand to hand combat against the angel. It was mutually known that she would never truly harm her savior.
Gabriel, in his never ending compassion, gave constructive criticism to his combat partner. He would point out the flaws in her posture, praise what would have hit him had he not teleported out of the way. He knew this tango intimately, knew how she attacked. The Ferryman was always seeking to improve, so having places to hone in on would ease her mind in knowing what kinds of training she should put herself in.
Despite the two calling it a spar, Gabriel never responded with attacks of his own. He only ever dodged and watched. He felt that if he used his power, he could seriously harm the other. The Ferryman wishes he would show his power to her, but that was not something Gabriel was interested in.
Striking him was nerve wracking, but she knew that Gabriel would not allow himself to be hurt. He never did.
Until today.
“G-Gabriel-!” She cried out. “Oh, my Radiance, are you— ah— Allow me to fetch some bandages, I— oh God—“
Today was the first day that she dared spar with him with her oar. The sharp edge of the paddle had sliced his exposed abdomen, and the Ferryman was frozen in complete horror. She had gotten too comfortable striking, too reliant that Gabriel could predict her moves and save himself. She would never be allowed into Heaven now.
Gabriel was hunched over, hand holding the wound as the blood seeped out. He didn’t seem to be fully aware of what was happening. All he knew was the feeling of blood. The sting of the rain as it pelted him. The ecstasy that it brought. In confused delight, he began laughing; to the Ferryman’s horror.
“Gabriel, you must be getting lightheaded from the blood loss— you… The Lord strike me down where I stand! Please, sire—…” She urged Gabriel to head inside her ferry. He would not budge.
He placed a loving hand on her shoulder, and looked her in the eyes. The Ferryman shook. She thought this was her end. She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the demise that awaited her… But the demise never came.
Instead, Gabriel whimpered out a quiet, lewd, “ffuck.”
This was dizzying. This was confusing. Gabriel refused treatment, and now he’s… Whimpering. The Ferryman stared at her savior, unsure of what she should be doing.
“Please,” Gabriel whispered, “do that again.”
She was completely speechless. The Ferryman took a step back, bones chittering against her oar. She wasn’t sure if he heard him right.
“Again," Gabriel repeated himself. "S… st… Stab me again. Please.”
She hesitated. She wasn't sure if this was a test, or some sort of... No, she must be dreaming. Why would Gabriel wish to be hurt so mortally? Yet the longer she hesitated, the harder Gabriel stared at her. He was waiting, longing, expecting. She... She would just be carrying out his will.
Holding her breath, with dizzied thoughts, she plunged the oar into his abdomen.
A rapturous cry of pain and pleasure filled the air. Gabriel held onto the oar, squirming, gasping for air, and never in his life had he felt so warm. The tips of his wings and his halo glowed a bright yellow, illuminating the blood pouring onto the ground below.
A beautiful sight. She never thought she'd see the day where Gabriel was submitting to her; despite the internal conflict of ethics and morals she was having, the Ferryman could not help but indulge the angel further. Pushing the oar farther in, until the blade poked out from the back. The squelching sound of guts and gore was not unfamiliar to her, but this positive connotation to it was quite new.
The angel writhed and screamed, holding onto the oar and shaking profusely. Despite such agony, everything was bliss. He felt freed. He felt so hot.
"Ffuck, please!"
What a strange specimen. The Ferryman decided that angels were resilient enough to handle it. At least, Gabriel was, certainly. She pulled the oar back out, and watched on in slight horror as his intestines and viscera poured onto the ground below. He collapsed onto the ground, breath heavy and burdened, but not burdened by the pain. The pleasure he felt was too much. The blood pooled below his body and his vision began to blur. It would be fine, he thought. He will heal soon.
"Mmmore...."
He never knew when to stop. And nor did the Ferryman.