[ Elio hoists himself up, out of the water, seating himself with his back to Lucifer and there's a lot of naked, glistening skin there, my, my. Lucifer looks him over, just taking his time, eating up the visual of the other man's slender limbs, his strong back, wide shoulders. Everything about him speaks of elegance and grace which, while not misleading, is only an aspect of the story. Lucifer knows. He's felt that hidden strength of his, all the way inside his very core. Meeting his eyes, he shifts a little, rustling his own towel without actively dislodging it from his lap. Above them, a fine layer of clouds are trailing slowly towards the horizon, casting shadows around them at intervals, breaking up the light.
This beautiful place.
Chewing on his lip for a moment, he absent-mindedly reaches behind himself and scratches at his left shoulder. ]
That's an unfair question, darling. [ He smiles, leaning his head back and looking up. ] I've been here since the dawn of time. How would I pick any favourites?
[ He unfolds one leg and stretches it out in front of him, poking Elio's naked thigh with his toes. Poke, poke. ]
In Hell, all pleasures are absent. Food tastes like ash. Touch is... vacant. [ His smile stiffens, eyes growing distant. ] Coming here, everything is brighter. Warmer, harder, textured. Music actually sounds like music.
[ He sighs. ]
My greatest pleasure, I suppose, is the contrast of it.
[ He feels it. How Lucifer looks and it makes goosebumps break out along his arms, down his spine, where the water droplets are quickly drying in the heat of the afternoon. It makes Elio smile, like a small secret they share. Then, Lucifer's foot extends until he's poking him with his toes and Elio twists slightly at the waist, towel slipping into the water and he doesn't bother to save it, instead grabbing the other man's foot between both his hands, just holding it, firmly, palm running in parallel along the slope of his sole, to the ball of his foot, his toes. He wriggles his big toe between thumb and index finger. Wriggle, wriggle. Wriggle, wriggle.
An unfair question, Lucifer calls it and with the explanation he gives, Elio gets why. It's like asking the night what its favorite thing about the day is, what would the night say except: it's the day! All throughout, Elio's thumb presses along the very middle of the other man's foot, massaging gently, but with enough pressure not to be mistaken for a tickle. ]
It's not the question that's unfair, Lucifer.
[ It's said in a slow, soft voice, no patronization or pitying, just the genuine notion of it. He doesn't hate Hell, he decides, but Lucifer deserves better than what he has been served, he deserved things that feel like something to your touch and foods that taste and flowers that smell - does he like flowers, even? He likes fruits, fruits smell, too. Elio's suddenly overcome with the memory of the combined scents of cock and peach juice.
His cock jerks with some interest. He works a little harder on Lucifer's foot. ]
But if unfair questions give that kind of answer, ask me something unfair, too.
[ Elio's towel goes into the water while he starts in on Lucifer's foot, wriggling his big toe before moving on to a full-out massage. Oh. Oh, that's nice. Lucifer's shoulders immediately drop a notch, tension dissipating gradually, with every rub of Elio's thumb. Mm. He makes a low sound from deep within his chest, something that he'd feel more embarrassed about if Elio hadn't already shown him exactly how unbothered he is by Lucifer's inherent... otherness. For a second, he thinks about Chloe. About that vial of hers, about the way she'd looked at him, telling him that she didn't know whether she could ever accept him.
He's felt monstrous for eons but at that moment, he'd also felt devoid of anything else.
Blinking, he looks down. Shifts closer until they're side by side, him and Elio, unfortunately pulling his foot from the other man's grip in the process. The water ripples against his legs, pleasantly cool. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. ]
Why aren't you scared of me?
[ He looks down at their reflections, both of them distorted by the water. They look so alike, humans and him, but it's all very superficial, like a cruel joke that can't and won't be untold. He could twist his face right now or unfurl his wings and they'd be instantly different, instantly apart.
Elio may have grown up with a different view on the Devil than most but all the same, he didn't grow up with the factual certainty of eternity, of celestial justice and divine retribution. Even though he's seen the absolute worst sides of him, he's still here.
He even brought him to his very own version of Eden. Might've just as well spat in his father's eye, really. ]
[ After a long moment, Lucifer slips his foot out of Elio's grasp and moves over next to him, sitting with his legs in the water, too, his long, lean legs, stronger and more muscular than Elio's, all his biking aside. Elio looks at them, the difference between their lines, the way the shadows color Lucifer slightly darker, how Elio's a slim ghost next to him. He wonders, briefly, what Lucifer sees, but then Lucifer asks that and he doesn't wonder anymore. He knows. Blinking once, he turns his head and looks up at him, looks at the profile of his face, strong nose. So strong. ]
That is an unfair question, you know.
[ Still, it's said with a smile, because Elio gets it. He gets that Lucifer doesn't. That Lucifer has wondered and wrung his brain and he continues not to understand, what it is that's different about Elio's view of him. Why Elio didn't do like Chloe and try to banish him to Hell, where he rightly belongs, by some definition not his own.
A frown. Elio licks his lips and drops his gaze, watching their reflections again. ]
I'm not afraid of the things that make you different from me, because I love the things that make you different from me. [ He can't put it into words more bluntly than that, he can't come closer to the core of it. Even so, he pauses only for a second to breathe in long, hard and elaborates: ] It's not just that your wings turn me on or the way I want to kiss your Devil face, it's - [ Exhale. Lucifer probably doesn't remember, he probably doesn't remember the way Elio had looked at him, then. ] - that the very first time we met, you showed me your mojo and I wanted to be with you. Not just sexually, I wanted to be with you.
[ Inhale. It's a lot of words, but now that he's begun, he can't really stop himself, he has to take them all the way to the end of this thought, this notion. ]
I wanted to be part of your world. It felt like I belonged there.
[ And there it is, the end. Elio stares down at their reflections unseeingly for a few long moments, recalling Lucifer telling him they'd been played, like pawns. He shakes his head slightly, small, hesitant smile finding its way onto his lips, then he leans to the side, lets Lucifer take some of his weight, lets him carry his head as he rests it on his shoulder, perfect height. ]
[ Elio looks up at him, then down. Watches them in the water before telling him that he loves (loves, oh, that word) the things that make you different and though Lucifer isn't exactly surprised, the words still make his spine tingle and his skin prickle, his invisible feathers puffing up. He sighs. Listens, as Elio keeps talking, like he's somehow mojoed the answer out of him and left him with nothing but the urge to spill, to talk and to keep talking. He hasn't, though, has he? That's the magic, right there.
His Father may have blessed Elio but the other man's still choosing to be here. To belong to this world above the world, like Plato's caveman stepping outside, into the light. Humans have, after all, chosen enlightenment since the dawn of time and really, Dad, you made them like that, didn't you? Imagine making something in a certain way, to certain specifications, only to abandon it - them - for doing what they were meant to do. To punish them.
Like Lucifer, who was meant to bring light. And Elio, who's letting himself be enlightened, in turn.
Look at them now, then.
With a rustling sound, his wings expand from his back, blood feathers fully grown out in the bald patches. He folds one wing around Elio's back, the other hanging loosely down his side. Like that, he lets the other man rest his weight against his shoulder, slight as it is, oh, it's nothing, it's nothing at all. He slips his arm around his waist as well, just for emphasis, and holds him close.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
This beautiful place.
Chewing on his lip for a moment, he absent-mindedly reaches behind himself and scratches at his left shoulder. ]
That's an unfair question, darling. [ He smiles, leaning his head back and looking up. ] I've been here since the dawn of time. How would I pick any favourites?
[ He unfolds one leg and stretches it out in front of him, poking Elio's naked thigh with his toes. Poke, poke. ]
In Hell, all pleasures are absent. Food tastes like ash. Touch is... vacant. [ His smile stiffens, eyes growing distant. ] Coming here, everything is brighter. Warmer, harder, textured. Music actually sounds like music.
[ He sighs. ]
My greatest pleasure, I suppose, is the contrast of it.
no subject
An unfair question, Lucifer calls it and with the explanation he gives, Elio gets why. It's like asking the night what its favorite thing about the day is, what would the night say except: it's the day! All throughout, Elio's thumb presses along the very middle of the other man's foot, massaging gently, but with enough pressure not to be mistaken for a tickle. ]
It's not the question that's unfair, Lucifer.
[ It's said in a slow, soft voice, no patronization or pitying, just the genuine notion of it. He doesn't hate Hell, he decides, but Lucifer deserves better than what he has been served, he deserved things that feel like something to your touch and foods that taste and flowers that smell - does he like flowers, even? He likes fruits, fruits smell, too. Elio's suddenly overcome with the memory of the combined scents of cock and peach juice.
His cock jerks with some interest. He works a little harder on Lucifer's foot. ]
But if unfair questions give that kind of answer, ask me something unfair, too.
no subject
He's felt monstrous for eons but at that moment, he'd also felt devoid of anything else.
Blinking, he looks down. Shifts closer until they're side by side, him and Elio, unfortunately pulling his foot from the other man's grip in the process. The water ripples against his legs, pleasantly cool. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. ]
Why aren't you scared of me?
[ He looks down at their reflections, both of them distorted by the water. They look so alike, humans and him, but it's all very superficial, like a cruel joke that can't and won't be untold. He could twist his face right now or unfurl his wings and they'd be instantly different, instantly apart.
Elio may have grown up with a different view on the Devil than most but all the same, he didn't grow up with the factual certainty of eternity, of celestial justice and divine retribution. Even though he's seen the absolute worst sides of him, he's still here.
He even brought him to his very own version of Eden. Might've just as well spat in his father's eye, really. ]
no subject
That is an unfair question, you know.
[ Still, it's said with a smile, because Elio gets it. He gets that Lucifer doesn't. That Lucifer has wondered and wrung his brain and he continues not to understand, what it is that's different about Elio's view of him. Why Elio didn't do like Chloe and try to banish him to Hell, where he rightly belongs, by some definition not his own.
A frown. Elio licks his lips and drops his gaze, watching their reflections again. ]
I'm not afraid of the things that make you different from me, because I love the things that make you different from me. [ He can't put it into words more bluntly than that, he can't come closer to the core of it. Even so, he pauses only for a second to breathe in long, hard and elaborates: ] It's not just that your wings turn me on or the way I want to kiss your Devil face, it's - [ Exhale. Lucifer probably doesn't remember, he probably doesn't remember the way Elio had looked at him, then. ] - that the very first time we met, you showed me your mojo and I wanted to be with you. Not just sexually, I wanted to be with you.
[ Inhale. It's a lot of words, but now that he's begun, he can't really stop himself, he has to take them all the way to the end of this thought, this notion. ]
I wanted to be part of your world. It felt like I belonged there.
[ And there it is, the end. Elio stares down at their reflections unseeingly for a few long moments, recalling Lucifer telling him they'd been played, like pawns. He shakes his head slightly, small, hesitant smile finding its way onto his lips, then he leans to the side, lets Lucifer take some of his weight, lets him carry his head as he rests it on his shoulder, perfect height. ]
no subject
His Father may have blessed Elio but the other man's still choosing to be here. To belong to this world above the world, like Plato's caveman stepping outside, into the light. Humans have, after all, chosen enlightenment since the dawn of time and really, Dad, you made them like that, didn't you? Imagine making something in a certain way, to certain specifications, only to abandon it - them - for doing what they were meant to do. To punish them.
Like Lucifer, who was meant to bring light. And Elio, who's letting himself be enlightened, in turn.
Look at them now, then.
With a rustling sound, his wings expand from his back, blood feathers fully grown out in the bald patches. He folds one wing around Elio's back, the other hanging loosely down his side. Like that, he lets the other man rest his weight against his shoulder, slight as it is, oh, it's nothing, it's nothing at all. He slips his arm around his waist as well, just for emphasis, and holds him close.
Home, he thinks. ]