[ He doesn't have time to catch his breath. Once Lucifer's made sure he's completely spent, he tumbles them over in a surprisingly controlled reverse of their previous positions, Elio on his back on the mattress, Lucifer leaning in over him, curling his legs around him, his whole body, holding him close while he starts thrusting harder, faster, more desperately than before. Obviously chasing his own climax. Elio takes it. Elio stares into the side of his face, as he leans his forehead against his shoulder, breathes with him, hard and fast, gasping, biting into the very air to have this, have him.
When he comes, Elio feels the pulsing of his cock, feels how his asshole is throbbing hotly, sore and how it's perfect, just like this, a little bit tender. He's slipped his arms around the other man's shoulders, stroking his neck, one hand in his hair, too. He cradles his head. Once it's subsided, once there are only trembles and deep inhalations left, he stretches his neck enough to kiss his temple, his cheek, his nose, the corner of his mouth.
The tears in his eyelashes are obstructing his vision a bit and no matter how hard he blinks, they only stick more. Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, Elio reaches up to wipe the wetness away with the back of his hand. He has to draw back a little to do so, although he only releases his hold on Lucifer with one arm.
He doesn't apologize for crying. He knows Lucifer will understand.
Instead he slowly finds a lull in his own breathing again, looking at the close-up silhouette of Lucifer's face and thinking stupid things like, never leave, I'll never be whole again, I love you and saying none of them, because they're still just his feelings. It's still his little mess to navigate, while they enjoy themselves this way, drifting to and fro. Magnetic fields in the flesh.
So, Elio runs his fingers idly through the other man's hair and waits for the moment of withdrawal, knowing it'll come. ]
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When he comes, Elio feels the pulsing of his cock, feels how his asshole is throbbing hotly, sore and how it's perfect, just like this, a little bit tender. He's slipped his arms around the other man's shoulders, stroking his neck, one hand in his hair, too. He cradles his head. Once it's subsided, once there are only trembles and deep inhalations left, he stretches his neck enough to kiss his temple, his cheek, his nose, the corner of his mouth.
The tears in his eyelashes are obstructing his vision a bit and no matter how hard he blinks, they only stick more. Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, Elio reaches up to wipe the wetness away with the back of his hand. He has to draw back a little to do so, although he only releases his hold on Lucifer with one arm.
He doesn't apologize for crying. He knows Lucifer will understand.
Instead he slowly finds a lull in his own breathing again, looking at the close-up silhouette of Lucifer's face and thinking stupid things like, never leave, I'll never be whole again, I love you and saying none of them, because they're still just his feelings. It's still his little mess to navigate, while they enjoy themselves this way, drifting to and fro. Magnetic fields in the flesh.
So, Elio runs his fingers idly through the other man's hair and waits for the moment of withdrawal, knowing it'll come. ]