[ Elio climbs up behind, undressed down to his trousers just like Lucifer, and the mattress gives just slightly as he crawls up behind him, his weight small but significant. Lucifer can feel his breathing growing uneven, not quite hitting gasping-territory but something that feels... like urgency, impatience, maybe even...
You never get scared, said his brother once, what feels like ages ago.
Oh, the lies others believe about him.
At the first touch of Elio's hand against his right wing, he suppresses a shiver along with the urge to pull away. One deep breath, two, three - and then, Elio begins, fixing one long feather after the other and with each alignment, he feels just a little less tense. His skin prickles in response, the small coverts along the arches fluffing up slightly. You can always ask, Elio tells him, his voice quiet and his movements steady, careful. Lucifer thinks, again, about Chloe telling him she was alright, that all she saw in him was her partner, even after -- but she'd been lying and he'd been so happy, too.
Lip trembling, he bows his head for a moment, breathes in harshly. Then, he forces himself to quiet down, to clear his mind and push the thoughts of the prior days away. Instead, there's just... the feeling of Elio's fingers, the scent of his body and his naked skin. You can always ask me, he said. ]
Thank you.
[ He lifts his head and looks out of the windows beyond the bedroom, straight into the darkness outside, broken up by the burning city lights. Home. This is home. Elio is...
Shutting his eyes, he relaxes into the other man's attentions. Within long, he's thrumming at him without realising it - a low, dark rumbling from somewhere deep within his chest and throat, something that sounds distinctively non-human. It sounds like quiet, mostly, something very gentle and un-rushed. Like peace.
[ Elio doesn't fail to sense how this is a definite struggle for the other man, how he trembles at his first touch to his wings, how he has to fight not to draw away. Elio can feel it and he accepts that, too. It's extremely vulnerable. He's just lost his best friend, hasn't he, and Elio has put everything on display for him as well, giving him all the more to lose, if they should experience a similar break. They won't, of course, Elio knows, but Lucifer is still sitting with the hurt of it all, you can't expect him to tell the differences between their two situations. Why one didn't work out and the other will. Not now. There's only so much forest you'll see, surrounded by trees on all sides, right?
So, he just focuses on keeping his movements steady, aligning feathers, pulling lightly at them to get them in order, running his fingers through the rows, soft and hard at the same time. Like Lucifer himself. Elio loves that about him. He feels weirdly safe in that exact combination of traits, vulnerability and strength, softness and hardness, like he'd be happy to lay himself out for Lucifer and he wouldn't fear, not for a second.
Does that make you a fool?
He makes a hmm'ing sound at the back of his throat (maybe it does, a happy fool, then), working his way down the middle of Lucifer's wing now, the smaller feathers increasingly softer, increasingly down-like. He's careful with them. After he's righted the worst of the disheveling, Elio reaches up and carefully, gently, runs his palm over where he knows the gland is, getting his fingers all sticky with oil before starting to rub it into the top-row. The light out of them is extraordinary. It's then that he notices Lucifer humming, well, it's not quite a hum, but something similar, vibrations deep in his throat, like purring, maybe, but less... Earthly? Less from here. Elio listen to it for a long time, rubbing oil into the next row of feathers as well, until his fingers are mostly slick-free, and he thinks it means something. He wants it to mean something.
As he reaches up again for his preen gland, fingers going oily in a few rubbing motions, Elio leans in, balancing himself against Lucifer's waist and presses a soft kiss to his lower neck, upper back, between his shoulder blades. Right between his wings. Other than that, he doesn't comment, lets Lucifer keep his secret language to himself and taking away only the knowledge that it exists. That it's in there. That he can make it come out.
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You never get scared, said his brother once, what feels like ages ago.
Oh, the lies others believe about him.
At the first touch of Elio's hand against his right wing, he suppresses a shiver along with the urge to pull away. One deep breath, two, three - and then, Elio begins, fixing one long feather after the other and with each alignment, he feels just a little less tense. His skin prickles in response, the small coverts along the arches fluffing up slightly. You can always ask, Elio tells him, his voice quiet and his movements steady, careful. Lucifer thinks, again, about Chloe telling him she was alright, that all she saw in him was her partner, even after -- but she'd been lying and he'd been so happy, too.
Lip trembling, he bows his head for a moment, breathes in harshly. Then, he forces himself to quiet down, to clear his mind and push the thoughts of the prior days away. Instead, there's just... the feeling of Elio's fingers, the scent of his body and his naked skin. You can always ask me, he said. ]
Thank you.
[ He lifts his head and looks out of the windows beyond the bedroom, straight into the darkness outside, broken up by the burning city lights. Home. This is home. Elio is...
Shutting his eyes, he relaxes into the other man's attentions. Within long, he's thrumming at him without realising it - a low, dark rumbling from somewhere deep within his chest and throat, something that sounds distinctively non-human. It sounds like quiet, mostly, something very gentle and un-rushed. Like peace.
Feels like it, too. ]
no subject
So, he just focuses on keeping his movements steady, aligning feathers, pulling lightly at them to get them in order, running his fingers through the rows, soft and hard at the same time. Like Lucifer himself. Elio loves that about him. He feels weirdly safe in that exact combination of traits, vulnerability and strength, softness and hardness, like he'd be happy to lay himself out for Lucifer and he wouldn't fear, not for a second.
Does that make you a fool?
He makes a hmm'ing sound at the back of his throat (maybe it does, a happy fool, then), working his way down the middle of Lucifer's wing now, the smaller feathers increasingly softer, increasingly down-like. He's careful with them. After he's righted the worst of the disheveling, Elio reaches up and carefully, gently, runs his palm over where he knows the gland is, getting his fingers all sticky with oil before starting to rub it into the top-row. The light out of them is extraordinary. It's then that he notices Lucifer humming, well, it's not quite a hum, but something similar, vibrations deep in his throat, like purring, maybe, but less... Earthly? Less from here. Elio listen to it for a long time, rubbing oil into the next row of feathers as well, until his fingers are mostly slick-free, and he thinks it means something. He wants it to mean something.
As he reaches up again for his preen gland, fingers going oily in a few rubbing motions, Elio leans in, balancing himself against Lucifer's waist and presses a soft kiss to his lower neck, upper back, between his shoulder blades. Right between his wings. Other than that, he doesn't comment, lets Lucifer keep his secret language to himself and taking away only the knowledge that it exists. That it's in there. That he can make it come out.
Isn't that enough? ]