[ They just look at each other for a long moment, Elio's thumb brushing over the soft palm of Lucifer's hand, until Lucifer reaches out and curves his free hand over his fingers. Then, he stops. Calmly and gradually halts, until there's just the transfer of heat from skin to skin. It feels good, this way. It feels like a good thing, like a good thing has just happened between them, is happening between them.
Slowly exhaling, Elio feels the proximity increase between them as Lucifer steps closer, not pulling him to his chest, but keeping them connected regardless. Truly connected, in a manner that transcends even physicality. Elio thought that was something he'd only ever share with Oliver, but thinking about it now, in hindsight, maybe physicality was everything he ever shared with him. Maybe this is going to be different, maybe this has been different from the beginning.
Then, I'd like, Lucifer starts out and Elio turns his face upwards to look at him, the gust of wind as the man's wings unfurl playing with the bangs hanging into his face. The breeze also makes the tears dry on his skin, a cool, sticky sensation all down his cheeks that he reaches up with his other hand to rid himself of. He's cried enough now. Enough.
.. to share something with you.
His wings are huge and white and bright, like there's a light inside of them that Elio doesn't wonder much at, because there's a light inside of Lucifer, too, isn't there? Still he pauses, thinks, stares up at the other man wide-eyed in complete wonder for all of five seconds, before withdrawing his hand from Lucifer's and instead reaching up to balance himself with his palm pressed flat against his chest. Warm and steady and strong.
He laughs, a light, brief laughter, slightly awestruck. ]
[ He loved his wings, once, though he can't remember what it felt like. It's been literal eons. No doubt, there was a decent amount of pride involved; he's never been anything but a sinner. These days, he's coming to tolerate them, mostly because hacking them off is getting repetitive and boring, but all the same, he's fairly convinced he'll never look at them with anything but mild distaste. When Elio looks up at him, however, at them, something in him preens - the same something that made him scare the thief, Carmen, into a permanent psychosis because he'd dared to... to...
Well.
They're still his, even these.
His Father forced them upon (gave them to) him.
Elio dries off his face sloppily, looking as splotchy and disheveled as everybody else when they've finished sobbing. Even like this, there's something incredibly lovely about him, about the depth in his eyes. Then, he withdraws his hand and presses it against Lucifer's chest, the warmth of his palm permeating all layers of clothing - shirt, vest - and making him smile a bit wider in response, even before he's heard the reply. At the question, he simply cocks his head sideways and looks towards the open air beyond the windows. The open door, leading out. ]
[ If you wish, Lucifer tells him and there's a moment where Elio thinks, they've come so far from the first time they met and the other man tried his mojo on him twice to force an answer from him, what do you most desire. This is the opposite, the polar opposite, Lucifer only inviting his answer, not demanding it. It feels safer, like it's easier to open up, then, and look up at him and say: ]
I don't think there's anything I'd rather want right now.
[ It's not that his wings are insanely beautiful, although it's that as well, it's that it's another part of him, one Elio knows for a fact that Lucifer has repeatedly cut off and rid himself off, that he's showing him - and not just his wingspan, which must be enormous, but how they work. It's basically the equivalent of seeing a Roman marble statue start running, right? He thinks about the Venus de Milo and wonders if she'll suddenly start holding people, too.
Whether he will.
Slipping his arm around Lucifer's waist, then, and stepping closer yet, close enough that his chest rubs naked and cool from the draft over vest and shirt covering Lucifer's front, Elio embraces him, tightly, just stands like that for a few seconds, cheek against the slope of the other man's shoulder.
[ He smiles, shifting a bit as the other man steps into him, slipping his arm around his waist. Gently, he grabs Elio's other hand and pulls it towards his neck, urging him to hold on. It's not that he has to, necessarily. In terms of weight, carrying Elio is, to Lucifer, pretty much akin to a human carrying a small poodle - better, even, seeing as people generally don't drool or slobber on your designer clothes unless they're, well, really drunk or really high which - if you're having a good time, good for you. The other man's all warm skin and quiet strength against him and he thinks about the look in his eyes before, about the hurt behind them, overflowing. His smile slips.
Well.
He'll give him something he desires, now, if nothing else.
He picks Elio up, one arm against his waist, the other beneath his knees and cradles him to his chest. Holding him tightly, he folds his wings behind himself and walks to the balcony door, stepping outside in the cool nighttime air. Around them, LA is forever pulsing with life, all times of the day and night, no rest for the wicked. He looks out across the rooftops around them, then up, towards the sky. It's beautiful tonight. It'll be alright. ]
Hold on tightly now.
[ He gives Elio a moment to comply, to get himself settled. With a heavy flap, he stretches his wings out to their full span, one tip touching the windows, the other hovering beyond the balcony. The feathers have a golden shine to them even here, away from the living room lights. They carry their own light within them, see, just as he does, and Elio's bound to feel it too, pressed against him as he is, half-naked. Beneath his clothes, he's pulsating heat. ]
[ As he stands there, enjoying the heat of him, immense amounts of heat, not just ordinary body heat, he can tell the difference, he's slept with enough people to know how a person normally feels, Elio senses how Lucifer takes his other hand and guides it to his neck, urging him to grab hold there and he does, willingly, raising his other arm as well and slinging them both around the other man's shoulders as he's being... Oh, picked up, one of Lucifer's hands at his waist, the other holding him beneath his knees and he's mostly just being cradled like that, to Lucifer's chest, like a small child who weighs nothing and is no burden to anyone. He hasn't felt that innocent in years, fifteen of them at the least and it makes him lean his head in against Lucifer's shoulder, glancing up at him as he walks them to the balcony. He's used to feeling small around the other man, he really is, it's not a problem, but this is another kind of small, this isn't insignificant, this is the complete opposite. This is important and valuable and cared for. He breathes in deeply.
Hold on tightly now.
Tightening his hold around Lucifer's neck, Elio just nods, letting the other man feel the jerk of his head against his shoulder. He's ready. He has no idea what he's ready for, what awaits him, but maybe he needs to practice going into things blindly. Maybe this is the safest place imaginable to do just that. He might die, sure. And he might not die.
He might finally live a little.
All around them, Lucifer's feathers, wings stretched out fully now and they're huge, they take up every stretch of balcony and beyond, are shining onto their surroundings with a golden shine, like liquid metal or sunlight through glass. Elio follows the arch and slope of one elegant wing on Lucifer's left side, feeling a sense of suction in the pit of his stomach, like a drop in his guts. Then, if nothing else then to feel it right, he turns his face in flying direction, staring over the rooftops of inner LA, the stars further up.
It reminds him of something, but he doesn't have the time to put his finger on what. ]
[ Elio holds onto him, sweet and pliant and just, how did anyone hurt this man, why would they, what's the bloody point? Then again, Lucifer's seen the worst of humanity, he's heard them scream and beg and excuse themselves, over and over and over. He knows why. He just doesn't understand.
Holding onto Elio a little bit tighter, he feels the wind against his feathers, the way it rustles the fluffier ones along the arches. His long, primary flight feathers, on the other hand, move only insofar as he lets them, arching his wings a little to catch the updraft. Then, he takes them both upwards, soaring towards the sky at neck-break speed. He takes them over Los Angeles faster than Elio would be able to make out any details - it's only once he sees pure darkness beneath them that he comes to a stop, mid-air, wings angled to keep them afloat. They're about eighty feet above sea-level, right above the Pacific Ocean, maybe half a mile out from Santa Monica Pier. The Park itself, located right along the very tip of the coastline, is closed for the night and dark, all hulking shapes and looming shadows thrown against the night sky.
His wings are reflected by the ocean beneath them. The waters are calm tonight, the wind cool but quiet, the sky starry up above. He holds them still, pressing his lips slightly against the side of Elio's head, feeling his hair against his lips.
He hasn't truly flown - not like this - for... too long. He can't remember. It's...
[ And once the other man catches the updraft, they're off. Elio doesn't know what he'd expected, not what he gets. It's fast, they're hurdling through the air so fast the details of the landscape, skyscrapers and rooftops, become blurred and non-sensical, Picasso in motion. Not even the fastest rollercoaster Elio's been on went by this fast, but at least his inclination to throw up isn't triggered by it, their ascend towards the heavens. He just holds his breath and waits for the forwardness to end. The pressure of the wind that makes him blink rapidly, everything falling in and out of focus.
It does end, though, after what feels like mere seconds. He gasps for breath, maybe slightly out of awe, too, and looks around, finding them above the ocean (Pacific, would be his best guess, he has no idea how far Lucifer has taken them, how far he could) - and then, he spots the Park at Santa Monica Pier in the horizon, far, far away, just looming shadows against a backdrop of stars. You never get a night sky like this over a big city. Elio suddenly remembers his summers in B, the skies over their summer house. It was this kind of sky.
He smiles, feels Lucifer's lips against his hair, the nearness of him, the way they're just floating above the waves together. Lucifer's wings are reflected in the water down below. ]
Please keep them.
[ Slowly, Elio turns his head, feeling Lucifer's lips near his temple, brow, he lifts his face up towards him and, trusting the other man to hold him up, leans up as much as he can to press his lips to the corner of Lucifer's mouth, just a small row of soft kisses, until he's at an angle where he can kiss him properly, catching his bottom lip between his two.
He doesn't say, it isn't my decision, the wings are yours, seeing as he thinks at this point they know each other well enough. Lucifer wouldn't have a doubt what he means anyway, his mouth is telling him. About the light and the stars and how no one has ever lifted Elio up like this before. ]
[ Elio's gasping for breath, looking around them, hopefully sensing the clearness of it, the way eternity doesn't have to make you feel small and insignificant. Sometimes, even as a human - surely, you're allowed to take part in it. Surely. He doesn't glance upwards, though there's something spiteful lurking in his chest, something sour and unrepentant. Eons in Hell couldn't quell that side of him, obviously. These wings - his Devil face, stolen - he'll fix it all. He'll get himself back, piece by bloody piece, whether it'll take him forever to do so.
Please keep them says Elio and he wouldn't, not for his sake, as the other man undoubtedly knows. Consequently, he doesn't answer. This, in itself, speaks volumes.
Against him, Elio leans up close and Lucifer balances them both in the air with a few, light strokes of his wings, the waves beneath them crinkling from the resultant gust of air. When the other man kisses him, first a small row of gentle touches against the side of his mouth and then, a proper one, full on the lips, Lucifer returns it easily, eyes falling shut for a few seconds as he basks in the feel of it - of floating, controlled and unburdened, and Elio's taste warm and heavy on his tongue.
He pulls back. Looks towards the shoreline, towards the black outline of the amusement park, the bulk of the ferris wheel. Then, he shuts his eyes tightly, focuses - focuses - and lets his power flow for all of a split-second but it's enough, of course. His wings gleam behind him briefly, the waves glittering white.
The ferris wheel lights up in hues of blue and indigo along with the lights on the rollercoaster and along the pier. Slowly, the wheel begins to turn. It's beautiful, he thinks, and smiles, widely. His eyes are getting wet but he can't let go of Elio to wipe them and wouldn't, either, in any case. Instead, he simply holds him closer and gives him the view, tonight.
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no subject
Slowly exhaling, Elio feels the proximity increase between them as Lucifer steps closer, not pulling him to his chest, but keeping them connected regardless. Truly connected, in a manner that transcends even physicality. Elio thought that was something he'd only ever share with Oliver, but thinking about it now, in hindsight, maybe physicality was everything he ever shared with him. Maybe this is going to be different, maybe this has been different from the beginning.
Then, I'd like, Lucifer starts out and Elio turns his face upwards to look at him, the gust of wind as the man's wings unfurl playing with the bangs hanging into his face. The breeze also makes the tears dry on his skin, a cool, sticky sensation all down his cheeks that he reaches up with his other hand to rid himself of. He's cried enough now. Enough.
.. to share something with you.
His wings are huge and white and bright, like there's a light inside of them that Elio doesn't wonder much at, because there's a light inside of Lucifer, too, isn't there? Still he pauses, thinks, stares up at the other man wide-eyed in complete wonder for all of five seconds, before withdrawing his hand from Lucifer's and instead reaching up to balance himself with his palm pressed flat against his chest. Warm and steady and strong.
He laughs, a light, brief laughter, slightly awestruck. ]
Are you going to take me flying?
no subject
Well.
They're still his, even these.
His Father forced them upon (gave them to) him.
Elio dries off his face sloppily, looking as splotchy and disheveled as everybody else when they've finished sobbing. Even like this, there's something incredibly lovely about him, about the depth in his eyes. Then, he withdraws his hand and presses it against Lucifer's chest, the warmth of his palm permeating all layers of clothing - shirt, vest - and making him smile a bit wider in response, even before he's heard the reply. At the question, he simply cocks his head sideways and looks towards the open air beyond the windows. The open door, leading out. ]
If you wish.
no subject
I don't think there's anything I'd rather want right now.
[ It's not that his wings are insanely beautiful, although it's that as well, it's that it's another part of him, one Elio knows for a fact that Lucifer has repeatedly cut off and rid himself off, that he's showing him - and not just his wingspan, which must be enormous, but how they work. It's basically the equivalent of seeing a Roman marble statue start running, right? He thinks about the Venus de Milo and wonders if she'll suddenly start holding people, too.
Whether he will.
Slipping his arm around Lucifer's waist, then, and stepping closer yet, close enough that his chest rubs naked and cool from the draft over vest and shirt covering Lucifer's front, Elio embraces him, tightly, just stands like that for a few seconds, cheek against the slope of the other man's shoulder.
Elio blinks against the shadows of his jawline. ]
no subject
Well.
He'll give him something he desires, now, if nothing else.
He picks Elio up, one arm against his waist, the other beneath his knees and cradles him to his chest. Holding him tightly, he folds his wings behind himself and walks to the balcony door, stepping outside in the cool nighttime air. Around them, LA is forever pulsing with life, all times of the day and night, no rest for the wicked. He looks out across the rooftops around them, then up, towards the sky. It's beautiful tonight. It'll be alright. ]
Hold on tightly now.
[ He gives Elio a moment to comply, to get himself settled. With a heavy flap, he stretches his wings out to their full span, one tip touching the windows, the other hovering beyond the balcony. The feathers have a golden shine to them even here, away from the living room lights. They carry their own light within them, see, just as he does, and Elio's bound to feel it too, pressed against him as he is, half-naked. Beneath his clothes, he's pulsating heat. ]
no subject
Hold on tightly now.
Tightening his hold around Lucifer's neck, Elio just nods, letting the other man feel the jerk of his head against his shoulder. He's ready. He has no idea what he's ready for, what awaits him, but maybe he needs to practice going into things blindly. Maybe this is the safest place imaginable to do just that. He might die, sure. And he might not die.
He might finally live a little.
All around them, Lucifer's feathers, wings stretched out fully now and they're huge, they take up every stretch of balcony and beyond, are shining onto their surroundings with a golden shine, like liquid metal or sunlight through glass. Elio follows the arch and slope of one elegant wing on Lucifer's left side, feeling a sense of suction in the pit of his stomach, like a drop in his guts. Then, if nothing else then to feel it right, he turns his face in flying direction, staring over the rooftops of inner LA, the stars further up.
It reminds him of something, but he doesn't have the time to put his finger on what. ]
no subject
Holding onto Elio a little bit tighter, he feels the wind against his feathers, the way it rustles the fluffier ones along the arches. His long, primary flight feathers, on the other hand, move only insofar as he lets them, arching his wings a little to catch the updraft. Then, he takes them both upwards, soaring towards the sky at neck-break speed. He takes them over Los Angeles faster than Elio would be able to make out any details - it's only once he sees pure darkness beneath them that he comes to a stop, mid-air, wings angled to keep them afloat. They're about eighty feet above sea-level, right above the Pacific Ocean, maybe half a mile out from Santa Monica Pier. The Park itself, located right along the very tip of the coastline, is closed for the night and dark, all hulking shapes and looming shadows thrown against the night sky.
His wings are reflected by the ocean beneath them. The waters are calm tonight, the wind cool but quiet, the sky starry up above. He holds them still, pressing his lips slightly against the side of Elio's head, feeling his hair against his lips.
He hasn't truly flown - not like this - for... too long. He can't remember. It's...
Right now, it hardly matters what it is. ]
no subject
It does end, though, after what feels like mere seconds. He gasps for breath, maybe slightly out of awe, too, and looks around, finding them above the ocean (Pacific, would be his best guess, he has no idea how far Lucifer has taken them, how far he could) - and then, he spots the Park at Santa Monica Pier in the horizon, far, far away, just looming shadows against a backdrop of stars. You never get a night sky like this over a big city. Elio suddenly remembers his summers in B, the skies over their summer house. It was this kind of sky.
He smiles, feels Lucifer's lips against his hair, the nearness of him, the way they're just floating above the waves together. Lucifer's wings are reflected in the water down below. ]
Please keep them.
[ Slowly, Elio turns his head, feeling Lucifer's lips near his temple, brow, he lifts his face up towards him and, trusting the other man to hold him up, leans up as much as he can to press his lips to the corner of Lucifer's mouth, just a small row of soft kisses, until he's at an angle where he can kiss him properly, catching his bottom lip between his two.
He doesn't say, it isn't my decision, the wings are yours, seeing as he thinks at this point they know each other well enough. Lucifer wouldn't have a doubt what he means anyway, his mouth is telling him. About the light and the stars and how no one has ever lifted Elio up like this before. ]
no subject
Please keep them says Elio and he wouldn't, not for his sake, as the other man undoubtedly knows. Consequently, he doesn't answer. This, in itself, speaks volumes.
Against him, Elio leans up close and Lucifer balances them both in the air with a few, light strokes of his wings, the waves beneath them crinkling from the resultant gust of air. When the other man kisses him, first a small row of gentle touches against the side of his mouth and then, a proper one, full on the lips, Lucifer returns it easily, eyes falling shut for a few seconds as he basks in the feel of it - of floating, controlled and unburdened, and Elio's taste warm and heavy on his tongue.
He pulls back. Looks towards the shoreline, towards the black outline of the amusement park, the bulk of the ferris wheel. Then, he shuts his eyes tightly, focuses - focuses - and lets his power flow for all of a split-second but it's enough, of course. His wings gleam behind him briefly, the waves glittering white.
The ferris wheel lights up in hues of blue and indigo along with the lights on the rollercoaster and along the pier. Slowly, the wheel begins to turn. It's beautiful, he thinks, and smiles, widely. His eyes are getting wet but he can't let go of Elio to wipe them and wouldn't, either, in any case. Instead, he simply holds him closer and gives him the view, tonight.
Gives it to himself, too. ]