[ He stays there for a little while, just feeling Elio's warm breath against the top of his head, the leftover impression of his lips. Someone has, the other man concludes, and Lucifer leaves his words to the silence between them, feeling too exhausted with that aspect of it all to take chase. Yes, he does... feel hurt. Physically, his wings ache even now, though he isn't actively using his bodyweight to carry them around and mentally, he just.. He didn't want to make Chloe believe. He never wants to make anyone do anything.
It hurts that he can't even follow his own principles.
Pushing the thought aside, he finally pulls back from the safety of Elio's shoulder and shifts a bit, giving the other man a once-over to make sure he's well out of range of the sharper primaries. Sure, they might have taken a pounding this time around but his feathers aren't nearly as white and fluffy as they look. Well. Not all of them. He takes a second to check the distance between himself and the walls around them, braces himself against the mattress and rolls his shoulders out.
Gasping in pain, he feels them furl upwards in ragged stages, bones creaking wetly, a few bloody feathers coming loose at the motion. He gets them all the way to their full stretch before his upper arms give, muscles shaking, and he drops to the bed more or less face-first with a groan. His wings sort of slap down against the bed on either side of him, limp and caked with dried blood. The long feathers are mostly in tatters, relatively painless save for the way they've been scrunched up and out of alignment. The worst damage runs along the upper parts of the wings, bullets still imbedded in the bone.
They basically look like he ought to amputate them. Perhaps that's the most they deserve, at this point.
He turns his head to the side and looks up at Elio. Resigned. ]
So, as you can see. [ He flaps them pathetically. ] They've looked better.
[ Even in pain, even when gunned down, there's something rather majestic about the process of Lucifer unfurling his wings, the way he owns his surroundings, takes control of himself, his own body. Shoulder feeling naked suddenly without the other man's weight there, Elio watches wordlessly while the other man rolls his shoulders and his wings sprout from his shoulder blades, huge stretches of long, white feathers, bloodied and in tatters, a couple coming off and falling onto the sheets, the rest turned ever-which-way.
They're different limbs from last time Elio saw them, they've been massacred, pretty much, and he wouldn't want Lucifer to fly him anywhere in this state. He doesn't even want him to move as he flaps them pathetically and tells him, they've looked better. Well, they'll look better again. Elio's going to make sure.
He frowns. Glances over his shoulder towards the bathroom and then, back at Lucifer again, meeting his resigned eyes with a softening, sympathetic look. Reaching out slowly and carefully, he places his hand on the other man's shoulder, well out of the way of the abused arch of his left wing. There's blood everywhere and splinters of bone and imbedded bullets. When he withdraws his hand once more, it's only to curl it into a fist.
Still, his voice is soft. There's room for discussion, but he has obviously already made up his mind. ]
Please don't move them unnecessarily, Lucifer.
[ Pushing himself off the bed, trying not to jostle anything around too much, he stands up and looks around, his sock-clad feet padding towards the bathroom as he crosses the floor, though he halts in the doorway, turning around. Awaiting permission, it still isn't his home, Lucifer isn't his to boss around.
Right now, really, he'd much rather cuddle him, anyway. ]
I can remove the bullets, if you want. I might need your biggest pair of tweezers to do it, however. [ He licks his lips, tries to think of what else he might need, alcohol definitely... A deep breath and he looks Lucifer over, at a distance now. No less beautiful, just a bit more bashed. ] If you tell me where I can find them, I'll get you fixed up.
[ Elio touches his shoulder and his muscles un-tense a fraction, his wings drooping a bit further towards the floor and over his back. He watches tiredly as the other man shifts away, pushing himself off the bed with an order - soft, but steady, too, unafraid - not to move them which, yes, good advice actually, he'll take it. He'll just. Stay here, flat. Yes. Yawning, he takes a second to register that Elio's followed up with a question, telling him that he can remove the bullets, provided he's got tweezers big enough to handle the job.
Oh.
Does he really...
Blinking, he re-focuses on the other man's outline - slim limbs, long, graceful lines. He looks beautiful as he stands there, a very well-disguised strength permeating his stance. Something that feels a little bit reassuring, like protection and compassion and care, odd, inexplicable concepts when applied to himself. He shivers a bit, his feathers fluttering. Even though he's half-dressed, he feels almost naked in the face of it.
Sweet, gentle Elio.
Who's definitely not just being sweet and gentle in this very moment, something very unyielding coming through despite the carefulness of his words. The way he's always so respectful, like he knows no other way to be around Lucifer, even when they flirt or joke or disagree.
Wetting his lips, he finally nods. ]
Bathroom cupboard, next to the shower cubicle.
[ He doesn't ask this time - do you want to or are you sure - because honestly, he'd surely be offending him by doing so. Elio's making himself quite plain, here, and the least Lucifer can do in return is to actually listen. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It hurts that he can't even follow his own principles.
Pushing the thought aside, he finally pulls back from the safety of Elio's shoulder and shifts a bit, giving the other man a once-over to make sure he's well out of range of the sharper primaries. Sure, they might have taken a pounding this time around but his feathers aren't nearly as white and fluffy as they look. Well. Not all of them. He takes a second to check the distance between himself and the walls around them, braces himself against the mattress and rolls his shoulders out.
Gasping in pain, he feels them furl upwards in ragged stages, bones creaking wetly, a few bloody feathers coming loose at the motion. He gets them all the way to their full stretch before his upper arms give, muscles shaking, and he drops to the bed more or less face-first with a groan. His wings sort of slap down against the bed on either side of him, limp and caked with dried blood. The long feathers are mostly in tatters, relatively painless save for the way they've been scrunched up and out of alignment. The worst damage runs along the upper parts of the wings, bullets still imbedded in the bone.
They basically look like he ought to amputate them. Perhaps that's the most they deserve, at this point.
He turns his head to the side and looks up at Elio. Resigned. ]
So, as you can see. [ He flaps them pathetically. ] They've looked better.
no subject
They're different limbs from last time Elio saw them, they've been massacred, pretty much, and he wouldn't want Lucifer to fly him anywhere in this state. He doesn't even want him to move as he flaps them pathetically and tells him, they've looked better. Well, they'll look better again. Elio's going to make sure.
He frowns. Glances over his shoulder towards the bathroom and then, back at Lucifer again, meeting his resigned eyes with a softening, sympathetic look. Reaching out slowly and carefully, he places his hand on the other man's shoulder, well out of the way of the abused arch of his left wing. There's blood everywhere and splinters of bone and imbedded bullets. When he withdraws his hand once more, it's only to curl it into a fist.
Still, his voice is soft. There's room for discussion, but he has obviously already made up his mind. ]
Please don't move them unnecessarily, Lucifer.
[ Pushing himself off the bed, trying not to jostle anything around too much, he stands up and looks around, his sock-clad feet padding towards the bathroom as he crosses the floor, though he halts in the doorway, turning around. Awaiting permission, it still isn't his home, Lucifer isn't his to boss around.
Right now, really, he'd much rather cuddle him, anyway. ]
I can remove the bullets, if you want. I might need your biggest pair of tweezers to do it, however. [ He licks his lips, tries to think of what else he might need, alcohol definitely... A deep breath and he looks Lucifer over, at a distance now. No less beautiful, just a bit more bashed. ] If you tell me where I can find them, I'll get you fixed up.
no subject
Oh.
Does he really...
Blinking, he re-focuses on the other man's outline - slim limbs, long, graceful lines. He looks beautiful as he stands there, a very well-disguised strength permeating his stance. Something that feels a little bit reassuring, like protection and compassion and care, odd, inexplicable concepts when applied to himself. He shivers a bit, his feathers fluttering. Even though he's half-dressed, he feels almost naked in the face of it.
Sweet, gentle Elio.
Who's definitely not just being sweet and gentle in this very moment, something very unyielding coming through despite the carefulness of his words. The way he's always so respectful, like he knows no other way to be around Lucifer, even when they flirt or joke or disagree.
Wetting his lips, he finally nods. ]
Bathroom cupboard, next to the shower cubicle.
[ He doesn't ask this time - do you want to or are you sure - because honestly, he'd surely be offending him by doing so. Elio's making himself quite plain, here, and the least Lucifer can do in return is to actually listen. ]