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Summary
DAY TWO: Monster-Fucking
Trees jut out at strange angles, Spanish moss hangs off branches as long threadlike fingers reaching down to the earth below, and the skittering and hum of insects fill the night around them. Angel holds onto Alastor's hand, just a bit smaller than his own, and tugs him deeper. Deeper and deeper until they find a small clearing, the ground is malleable and damp as it meets the river but it had enough space for what they intended to do.
OR: Angel wants all of Alastor, and he gets it.
Series
