[ Slowly, waveringly, he brings the Archangel's hands to him. He draws them in to himself, setting one at the bottom of his ribcage and the other higher, close to his collarbone; like that, he rolls himself in — across their Communion, deeper into the undeniable allure of their shared aspect. He cannot hide himself from the Archangel, not in Communion.

It is obvious, that Set is intrigued by the conviction; that, like so many others he has accepted for their unshakeable, unwavering desires, he might be able to accept the Archangel, too. Save, that he cannot stomach the idea of being marked for 'salvation'. ]

Archangel.

[ After he places the man's hands to his body, he reaches for him. To card fingers through the blonde of his hair ( ah, he really does have a weakness for blondes i s2g ) and gather the angle of his jaw between his palms. Rolling, sensual and dark, until he can lean over him and blot out the metaphorical light. ]

You do not know enough about me, to account for how much of yourself you would destroy to fill my depths. I am not a god that can be saved by anyone, and your humans will suffer for your infatuation with the idea. Focus on them. If you truly want to feel like you have saved me, we can do this — together.

[ Purify one another's Discord, he means. ( Kick off Archangel's Slut Saga, maybe. ) ]

Would it disappoint you to know that you are not the first person who entertained thoughts like this? I seem to evoke madness in men.