[ Elio smiles, a tiny sun all in his own right, and shrugs out of his blood-painted t-shirt. Lucifer allows himself to indulge, watching the way his muscles ripple across his upper body - lean, yes, but strong, stronger than anyone could possibly imagine. He can feel a pinch of heat gathering in his groin, too - Big Ben's always on time, of course - but disregards it for now, seeing as his own back and shoulders feel almost numb from exhaustion. Once he's healed up a bit, he can fantasize. He can think about what they did a few days prior, by text.
He hasn't really had the time to do so, before now. But Cain is gone, the storm has passed. What's left, well, they'll have to see, won't they. All of them. Dan, without Charlotte. Him, without Chloe. Chloe, without the world she thought she knew.
Elio lies down in the space next to him and they're face to face like this, the sunlight reflecting off his wings and onto his beautiful features. Lucifer looks at him, looks and looks until he simply doesn't, closing his eyes and humming in pleasure as the other man cups the side of his face. He leans into the touch again and as he curls his arm gently around Elio's waist, his wing descends, covering Elio from shoulder to knee, torn feathers fanning out. Like that, he breathes him in for a long moment, eyes closed, before he says: ]
You must play your pretty cadenza for me sometime. [ He looks at him through lidded eyes, a half-smile on his face: ] I'd like to dream about it.
[ In return for him touching Lucifer's face, Lucifer reaches out and curls his arm around his waist, keeping him close, breathing him in with his eyes shut. They just lie like that, together, for a long moment, Elio keeping his own eyes open and taking in all Lucifer's familiar features. He knows them by heart at this point, he knows them so well that he can dream them up in all possible and impossible scenarios. He's stared and stared and stared at him, and what he hasn't seen, he's heard rumored and what he hasn't heard rumored, well, it doesn't matter, does it? They all talk about the Devil, there's only the truth left to discover now.
Lucifer's wing descends over him, feathers fanning out and it's a very big duvet, softer than anything he's ever slept in before and lighter, too. Lucifer has never weighed anything. He doesn't burden people. He doesn't lay anything of himself over on them to carry. It's why it's so unfair, whatever she's done, his Detective. He's never done anything but save her.
Who wouldn't rather be saved? Who wouldn't?
Letting his hand sink, it comes to a rest on Lucifer's chest, above his heart, Elio shifts in place to really indulge in the luxurious feel of the other man's wing. I'd like to dream about it, he says, talking about Léon's cadenza that has somehow, by detours which it has taken it half a century to travel, become Elio's now. Elio makes a soft sound, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. ]
I'll give you a very intimate concert before bedtime, then. Tomorrow.
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He hasn't really had the time to do so, before now. But Cain is gone, the storm has passed. What's left, well, they'll have to see, won't they. All of them. Dan, without Charlotte. Him, without Chloe. Chloe, without the world she thought she knew.
Elio lies down in the space next to him and they're face to face like this, the sunlight reflecting off his wings and onto his beautiful features. Lucifer looks at him, looks and looks until he simply doesn't, closing his eyes and humming in pleasure as the other man cups the side of his face. He leans into the touch again and as he curls his arm gently around Elio's waist, his wing descends, covering Elio from shoulder to knee, torn feathers fanning out. Like that, he breathes him in for a long moment, eyes closed, before he says: ]
You must play your pretty cadenza for me sometime. [ He looks at him through lidded eyes, a half-smile on his face: ] I'd like to dream about it.
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Lucifer's wing descends over him, feathers fanning out and it's a very big duvet, softer than anything he's ever slept in before and lighter, too. Lucifer has never weighed anything. He doesn't burden people. He doesn't lay anything of himself over on them to carry. It's why it's so unfair, whatever she's done, his Detective. He's never done anything but save her.
Who wouldn't rather be saved? Who wouldn't?
Letting his hand sink, it comes to a rest on Lucifer's chest, above his heart, Elio shifts in place to really indulge in the luxurious feel of the other man's wing. I'd like to dream about it, he says, talking about Léon's cadenza that has somehow, by detours which it has taken it half a century to travel, become Elio's now. Elio makes a soft sound, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. ]
I'll give you a very intimate concert before bedtime, then. Tomorrow.