[ And because it does, Elio points out the obvious, his voice soft and amused, though not in a point and laugh way, but in a way that denotes, I see your weaknesses and they don't make me love you any less. In fact, he'd guess, his fingers scratching in between the new feathers of the mostly bald patch on Lucifer's wing says about the same thing, so he's really being redundant, but there you have it. Redundant love. If such a thing exists.
It doesn't. ]
Except the two of you.
[ Slowly, hand careful and precise in its movements, he starts fanning out his scratching to the surrounding areas around the bald spot, curving his fingers a little to dig in between unbroken and healthy feathers, combing through them hard enough that Lucifer will feel his fingertips against the underlying skin. It's the same he does when he scratches any back, isn't it, towards the end of one particularly good, deep round of massaging, extending his ministrations to the rest, too. Like that, Elio moves towards the next bald spot further up Lucifer's wing, one he has to bend over a little bit for in order to reach. As such, his voice sounds a little breathy when he speaks again, adding, because he doesn't want Lucifer to think his feelings aren't understandable, valid. ]
Only, grudges are unreasonable. [ A pause. A shrug. He scratches on the new bald patch in a way that can only be described as lovingly. Give him more of that noise! Elio craves it, the one from deep down the other man's throat, not unlike his purring thing he did, back then, when Elio had fixed his wings for him. After everything with Chloe. After his initial love declaration. ] And you're not being unreasonable, you've been hurt.
[ This time, the pause is because Elio realizes that Lucifer is being hurt through him, in this case. That he could be. His hand stills momentarily. ]
[ His mind's sort of drifting into a pleasant state of non-concern, the touch of Elio's fingers making his entire spine prickle, his feathers fluffing up at intervals whenever he catches a particularly juicy spot. He doesn't miss Elio saying except the two of you which makes him frown a little, like a part of him is trying to get argumentative about it whilst most of him can't be bothered because oh, the scratching, the - oh. Yes. He licks his lips. He's five seconds and a massive humiliation away from drooling on his own sleeve.
Then, Elio apologises and that's wrong, that doesn't sound right at all. Quirking one eyebrow, he cracks his left eye open to stare at him. His iris has gone blood red with all that attention to his wings, the pure, unfiltered physical pleasure of it. The hellfire, currently not visible, came later, once Hell had properly seeped into his very core and left it a festering, withered mess; the red gleam came tied to the white of the wings. Call him albino and get slapped, though. Really.
That would, after all, be offensive to actual albinos. ]
You have nothing to be sorry for, Elio.
[ He stares at the other man, unblinkingly. Re-positions his wing a little, pushing Elio's hands towards a spot close to the alula. ]
He shouldn't have involved you in this. In any of it. [ He shuts his eye again and breathes in. A deep, long inhalation. ] But I promise you, I'll find out why.
[ The words aren't taunting, they're conclusive. I believe you, they mean.
Elio lets the slight tilt of Lucifer's wing push his hand in the direction of another bald patch near the upper arch of the wing, evidently the place most accessible to the other man as he'd plucked himself, because he's been harsh on it, the spot relatively sizable. Noticeable. Elio scratches gently in between the new feathers there, fingertips wriggling and tickling across the thin layer of skin underneath. While his fingers move of their own accord, Elio holds Lucifer's gaze, blood-red and intense, with eyes that are endlessly more human, blinking and softening and a little bit sad. It's a moment of connect, two species regarding each other from a safe distance away, and Elio most of all wants to push Lucifer's wing out of his lap, get up and hurl himself at him, clinging to his front, arms around his neck, mouth eating him in whatever way he'd be allowed.
Instead, Lucifer closes his eye again and inhales, long, deep.
Looking down at the feathers spread out across his thighs, Elio tells him: ]
Just bring me along for the ride.
[ Don't make it a you show. Elio knows how Lucifer is, how he gets all wrapped up in his own feelings and opinions of things, how he goes a little blind to others sometimes. Also to Elio, though Elio's not insecure enough to overlook how he's probably let closer than most. As it is, he doesn't want Lucifer to think abandoning him in order to chase this new mystery's even an option. If they're connected, they're connected, stay in touch! In every sense of the word. Stay close. Don't go silent.
[ A half-smile at Elio's initial comment, the underlying meaning - I know you never lie, I'm holding you to it - very clear to him despite the indirectness of the statement. It's not that he has a problem with irony or implications, in particular, but Lucifer's brain is hard-wired to think about betrayals, about backstabbings and power grabs, about maintaining control - of Hell, of himself, of his own life and choices. Sometimes, he forgets. That all people - beings - aren't necessarily like that.
With Elio, however, he doesn't forget.
It's just a given, the way he knows that he won't be betrayed, that the other man doesn't work like that, not towards him and probably not towards anyone else, either. He's too sweet. He's too sincere.
Bring me along he adds and Lucifer, eyes closed, simply hums in response. Pulls his wing out of Elio's grip, finally, and curls it around his shoulders instead, covering him in a blanket of feathers, feeling the contours of his body against his own. I will, he wants to say, but he never lies and his Father's intentions are rarely so preoccupied with tiny humans and their tiny, short-lived desires. He knows this particular war too well, though he wishes he didn't.
And he'll do what's necessary.
His wing tightens around Elio's shoulders as he keeps his eyes closed, turning his face into the sunlight streaming through the windows. For a moment, at least, they can pretend to be warm. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It doesn't. ]
Except the two of you.
[ Slowly, hand careful and precise in its movements, he starts fanning out his scratching to the surrounding areas around the bald spot, curving his fingers a little to dig in between unbroken and healthy feathers, combing through them hard enough that Lucifer will feel his fingertips against the underlying skin. It's the same he does when he scratches any back, isn't it, towards the end of one particularly good, deep round of massaging, extending his ministrations to the rest, too. Like that, Elio moves towards the next bald spot further up Lucifer's wing, one he has to bend over a little bit for in order to reach. As such, his voice sounds a little breathy when he speaks again, adding, because he doesn't want Lucifer to think his feelings aren't understandable, valid. ]
Only, grudges are unreasonable. [ A pause. A shrug. He scratches on the new bald patch in a way that can only be described as lovingly. Give him more of that noise! Elio craves it, the one from deep down the other man's throat, not unlike his purring thing he did, back then, when Elio had fixed his wings for him. After everything with Chloe. After his initial love declaration. ] And you're not being unreasonable, you've been hurt.
[ This time, the pause is because Elio realizes that Lucifer is being hurt through him, in this case. That he could be. His hand stills momentarily. ]
I'm sorry.
no subject
Then, Elio apologises and that's wrong, that doesn't sound right at all. Quirking one eyebrow, he cracks his left eye open to stare at him. His iris has gone blood red with all that attention to his wings, the pure, unfiltered physical pleasure of it. The hellfire, currently not visible, came later, once Hell had properly seeped into his very core and left it a festering, withered mess; the red gleam came tied to the white of the wings. Call him albino and get slapped, though. Really.
That would, after all, be offensive to actual albinos. ]
You have nothing to be sorry for, Elio.
[ He stares at the other man, unblinkingly. Re-positions his wing a little, pushing Elio's hands towards a spot close to the alula. ]
He shouldn't have involved you in this. In any of it. [ He shuts his eye again and breathes in. A deep, long inhalation. ] But I promise you, I'll find out why.
no subject
[ The words aren't taunting, they're conclusive. I believe you, they mean.
Elio lets the slight tilt of Lucifer's wing push his hand in the direction of another bald patch near the upper arch of the wing, evidently the place most accessible to the other man as he'd plucked himself, because he's been harsh on it, the spot relatively sizable. Noticeable. Elio scratches gently in between the new feathers there, fingertips wriggling and tickling across the thin layer of skin underneath. While his fingers move of their own accord, Elio holds Lucifer's gaze, blood-red and intense, with eyes that are endlessly more human, blinking and softening and a little bit sad. It's a moment of connect, two species regarding each other from a safe distance away, and Elio most of all wants to push Lucifer's wing out of his lap, get up and hurl himself at him, clinging to his front, arms around his neck, mouth eating him in whatever way he'd be allowed.
Instead, Lucifer closes his eye again and inhales, long, deep.
Looking down at the feathers spread out across his thighs, Elio tells him: ]
Just bring me along for the ride.
[ Don't make it a you show. Elio knows how Lucifer is, how he gets all wrapped up in his own feelings and opinions of things, how he goes a little blind to others sometimes. Also to Elio, though Elio's not insecure enough to overlook how he's probably let closer than most. As it is, he doesn't want Lucifer to think abandoning him in order to chase this new mystery's even an option. If they're connected, they're connected, stay in touch! In every sense of the word. Stay close. Don't go silent.
Don't go. ]
no subject
With Elio, however, he doesn't forget.
It's just a given, the way he knows that he won't be betrayed, that the other man doesn't work like that, not towards him and probably not towards anyone else, either. He's too sweet. He's too sincere.
Bring me along he adds and Lucifer, eyes closed, simply hums in response. Pulls his wing out of Elio's grip, finally, and curls it around his shoulders instead, covering him in a blanket of feathers, feeling the contours of his body against his own. I will, he wants to say, but he never lies and his Father's intentions are rarely so preoccupied with tiny humans and their tiny, short-lived desires. He knows this particular war too well, though he wishes he didn't.
And he'll do what's necessary.
His wing tightens around Elio's shoulders as he keeps his eyes closed, turning his face into the sunlight streaming through the windows. For a moment, at least, they can pretend to be warm. ]