[ He can smell Elio's arousal when the other man runs his sticky fingers down the side of his face, caressing his jaw, his cheek and chin. Eyes falling shut, he obliges at Elio's request - because it was one, quite clearly, he's always unfailingly careful - and leans in, meeting the kiss. Pressing closer, he slips his tongue gently into Elio's mouth, feeling him out, filling him up. He shifts and angles his jaw to go deeper, to make him feel it. Then, shifting on his knees for balance, he releases Elio's left thigh and folds his fingers around his cock instead. His grip isn't slick at all but there's residual dampness left from Elio's fingers and it'll do in a pinch, it'll do until he gets his mouth on him in a second.
Groaning, he strokes the other man's cock slowly, taking care to press his thumb over the bared head and nudging the slit a little, coaxing a little wetness from it to spread around. He moves his hand down, then up, repeating the motion of his thumb, making it a nice and languid sort of blowjob, the kind that would take a little while to get things properly going.
Breathing harshly through his nose, Lucifer draws out of the kiss, the taste of champagne lingering in traces on his tonguetip. Watching Elio's face through hooded eyes, he smiles and frees his other hand. His fingers on Elio's cock pauses somewhere mid-shaft while he reaches for the flute on the table. He brings it to his lips and sips it, a smile spreading on his face at the taste which he recognises even without glancing at the bottle. It's a very particular bottle, 1990 vintage brand of Dom Perignon. He gives Elio's cock another couple of lazy strokes and says, still looking at the flute: ]
This was the first bottle of alcohol that I bought for my private collection.
[ He takes another sip. Then, still holding the liquid on his tongue, he sucks one of Elio's nipples into his mouth, wetting it, leaving droplets running down his chest. ]
[ For a little while, they kiss and it's beautiful. Lucifer's equal parts gentle with him and firm, pushing his tongue in at an angle where Elio feels it all the way down his spine, goosebumps rising on his naked arms and stomach. He meets his advances with everything he has, tongue, fingers slipping into his hair and grabbing hold - and when the other man releases his thigh in order to curl his fingers around Elio's cock instead, he arches his back a bit into it, just pushes back against the feeling of his strong, big hand, palm supporting the weight of his shaft, thumb running over the head, smearing out his own wetness. Oh. Oh.
Lucifer draws out of the kiss, harshly breathing and Elio's not breathing any less hard, mouth open and shallowly panting, watching him as he reaches for the flute Elio's prepared for him, because he knew, didn't he, he knows what Lucifer likes and although he's a man of a broad taste in general, something about that thought sparks a sense of pride in Elio, too. They can be proud together. They can want to meet each other's deepest desires, right? And with Elio, Lucifer has no unfair advantage either.
Sipping his champagne, the other man smiles, halting his stroking mid-shaft and Elio has to temper himself, to not wriggle about, push for more friction, plead for more touch. He trusts the other man, after all, trusts him with his pleasure and most things beyond that, too, at this point, he can wait the five seconds it takes Lucifer to savor his drink and tell him a nostalgic tidbit of info that feels like an offering, a gift of love. Until the stroking resumes.
They both want it on these terms, obviously.
Elio inhales, deeply, moves with it. Then, Lucifer takes another sip, before leaning in and catching one of Elio's nipples between his lips, wetting it with both his tongue and the champagne on it, leaving little trifling trails of alcohol to run down his chest. For no other reason than the visual, the sensation of it, all temperate wetness and tongue tip against the hardening nub, Elio feels drunk from it. He groans, lightly. ]
Ah... Do you still have it? [ His voice sounds a little bit hoarse. He runs his fingers repeatedly through the other man's hair. ] Or has it served its purpose?
[ With someone else, like this, he means. On someone else's chest. It's not a jealous question. ]
[ Elio runs his fingers through Lucifer's hair, his voice sounding a little hoarse, a little breathless. It goes straight to Lucifer's cock and he hums, deeply, before he draws back from Elio's nipple, glancing up at him. ]
I drank it. [ A minuscule shrug, his wings moving languidly with his shoulders and upper arms. ] In one go, actually. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about.
[ Aside from that (or perhaps, more importantly), he'd been ravenous. Starving for contrasts. He remembers that first, initial sense of delight at the notion of taste and flavour after eons stuck in Hell with nothing but grays and blues and blacks. The feeling of bubbles on his lips, in his throat. And then, a slight - very slight - tint of disappointment, knowing that he couldn't get properly drunk off it. All the same, it had been wonderful. All his firsts, following long stretches in Hell, were.
Pushing the memory aside, he goes for another sip, before placing the flute back on the table. He'd stopped stroking Elio's cock there for a moment, lost in thought as he'd been, and now he simply reaches down and curls his fingers around the base, holding it steady. It's heavy and warm between his fingers. Leaning in, he gives Elio's other nipple the same treatment, locking his lips around it and sucking, champagne dripping from his lips. The taste of the brut mixes with Elio's natural scent and he feels like he's getting a little drunk on him, the thought making something heavy curl in his stomach. All that gift nonsense aside, the man remains Elio, first, and Elio is Lucifer's favourite human, he's known that for quite a while. Surely, then, they can both have this, removed from whatever plans were made around it. Surely, it doesn't have to be repaid.
Lucifer never lies to anyone but himself.
Shuddering, eyes falling shut again, he licks a fat trail down Elio's chest, following the droplets of champagne downwards. He shifts to give himself space and bends his head, nuzzling the head of Elio's cock with his nose gently before placing a light but lingering kiss to the bared head. ]
[ He remembers what Lucifer told him about Hell, he remembers the lack of taste, lack of touch and he can understand why the other man would save that experience for himself, in one go, sharing it with no one, like he shares Hell with no one, presumably. Elio hates that thought, he hates the thought of Lucifer alone. Even without him, even with someone else, it's preferable to that.
Reaching out with his free hand as Lucifer places the flute back on the table, Elio follows the arch of his wing, settling against his shoulder at the movement, with his fingers and strokes the feathers absent-mindedly, a tiny bit preoccupied with the way Lucifer's sucking his other nipple into his champagne-filled mouth, showering it in the golden liquid, too, sucking on him, coaxing him into full hardness. His cock jerks and he gasps, pushing into the feeling of his mouth, even more so as he starts licking his way down his chest, following the trails of champagne downwards, down, down, oh.
Then, Lucifer's nuzzling the head of his cock with his nose, the strong line of it and Elio's staring down at his head, at his own glistening chest for backdrop and he wants to be swallowed up by him, he wants to simply disappear into him. Stay there, never leave, never go, never part. The kiss that follows feels heavy and meaningful and Elio tips his head back a little, shows plenty of neck, keeping his eyes on the other man's broad shoulders, still clothed, still hidden away. He runs both hands down over the slope of them, one on either side.
There's a particular sense of heat gathering in his groin, it isn't just arousal, it's something desperate and hungry and Elio sinks into the overwhelming presence of it, of Lucifer, relaxing back into the armchair and spreading his legs further, welcoming him in. He's away from home, currently, so Elio wants to be his temporary home. His home away from home. The way that his mother's summer house and Lucifer have become synonymous now. ]
Drink me. [ Canting his hips up just a little bit, slipping the bared head of his cock over Lucifer's lips again, just following the outline of them, the soft curve of bottom lip, he cocks his head a little. ] Drink me, too.
[ There's something about Elio's approach to his wings - to touching them like they're just there, like they're nothing but another set of limbs, as freakish as that should've been to him by rights - that makes Lucifer shiver, his feathers rustling a little in response, like they're talking back to him, to the feel of his fingertips. He probably wouldn't cut them off in a heartbeat anymore; not when Elio's spent his time pulling bullets out of them, setting them right, making him feel like they're more than just his father's manipulation. They still are, obviously. They always will be.
But all the same.
All the same.
Drink me says Elio and cants his hips upwards, his cock sliding over Lucifer's lips and painting them with precum. That's hot. That's really very hot. Groaning more loudly now, Lucifer glances up at him. With his head leaned back, baring the long, slender slope of his neck and his legs spread open, Elio's put his body completely and utterly on parade. It might very possibly be one of the most arousing sights Lucifer's ever had and honestly, he's had a lot. Breathing in slowly, raggedly, he bends his neck again and opens his mouth, sliding Elio's cock inside along the length of his tongue. He doesn't stop before it hits the back of his mouth, the angle awful for deep-throating, more's the pity. Ah well.
He closes his lips tightly around the shaft, keeps his grip around the base steady - and sucks, slowly and deliberately, cheeks hollowing for a few seconds before he releases the pressure. Repeat. Repeat. Just to keep things interesting, he flattens his palm against Elio's abdomen, pushing down and holding him still.
The taste of him is strong and wild on his tongue and he swallows whatever he gets, as greedily as he drank from the flute minutes before. Lovely. Absolutely lovely. ]
[ And Lucifer does, drink him. He slides his cock inside his mouth along the slope of his tongue and it's a stark contrast of wet and warm and friction which almost makes Elio lose his breath entirely. He doesn't push for more, he's already asked for plenty, hasn't he, but he basks in the feeling of it, the depths of him, the other man taking him in all the way to the back of his mouth before he locks his lips around the shaft and sucks, keeping him still with one palm spread out over his abdomen. Lucifer's strong, Elio couldn't move even if he'd wanted to, but he doesn't. Oh, he doesn't want to at all.
He wants to stay here, literally forever if it were possible, but he isn't made for forevers, Elio. Lucifer is and he doesn't envy him that, but Elio isn't and one day, their time will come to an end.
Something which shouldn't concern him now, but it does, a little bit, because right now is beautiful and lovely and perfect and it's such a human thing, wanting perfect things to last, when in reality their perfection will wear off with time. Unless you're an angel, like Lucifer and perfect by design.
Very few things in this world are. They're perfect by context, this context right here, Lucifer sucking on his cock and making his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back, shifting his upper body now that he's being held still navel-down. Elio runs his hands up the sides of Lucifer's neck, feels the smoothness of his skin, the heat of him, his pulse beating, thud, thud, thud.
Drawing in a shaky, long breath, he does try to move his hips as the other man sucks on his cock again, just building up the pressure once more, releasing, building up. It's maddening. He moans. ]
You're driving me to distraction. [ He sounds hoarse and a bit hurried, like he's trying hard to get every word out before the next harsh intake of breath. ] And I'm letting myself be driven by you, Lucifer.
[ They've both got agency in this. Yes, Lucifer's mouth is pure, utter agency. ]
[ Elio runs his hands up the side of his neck and shifts minutely, though he isn't putting up any resistance beneath his hold. Lucifer can feel how he wants to rock his hips, to get friction along the length of his cock, and though he isn't planning on letting the other man control his own blowjob tonight - there's a time and a place for everything - he loves the other man's initiative, loves to chase it and embrace it. It's new, to Lucifer, this idea of being offered something freely and accepting it; since the dawn of his own beginnings, gifts have always been about trade. You get the ability to light up the skies, that's what you do in return, you light it up and you watch the darkness flicker and burn, even if, ultimately, you get very little back. After all, space is vastly empty, isn't it, despite Lucifer's efforts? Of life, love, of dreams and depths.
His Father had a love of this planet, primarily, and all the rest could as well have been circumstantial.
Lucifer doesn't really think about it because it doesn't matter anymore. Regardless, when he starts bobbing his head up and down, Elio's cock slipping back and forth between his lips, in and out, there's something in the pit of his stomach that stays. Later, it says. Later. And he leaves it for that, accordingly.
He doesn't remove his hand from Elio's abdomen, though he spreads his fingers a little just to feel him more clearly, feel his muscles working and his skin growing damper and damper. Setting a sloppy rhythm around the other man's cock, Lucifer frees his other hand again and pushes two fingers into his mouth alongside the girth of Elio's cock, slicking them up thoroughly for a moment. Then, he reaches between Elio's spread legs and runs both fingertips over his perineum, all the way back to his arsehole, easily accessible like this, on show like the rest of his body. He spends only a few seconds probing the tight muscle there, slicking the rim up and feeling it flutter against his fingertips before he pushes his index finger inside. He buries it to the last knuckle and holds still, working Elio's cock with his mouth at the same, lazy pace.
His own cock is so hard beneath his trousers that it's starting to feel painful but what do you know, both his hands are preoccupied so he'll simply have to accept the way the expensive material has started clinging to him, damp from his own arousal. Not a hardship. He'll certainly live. ]
[ The hand on his abdomen stays, anchor-like, weighing him down, feeling him out, how Elio responds to him, growing damper from sweat, muscles working as his hips tremble, his cock throbbing between Lucifer's lips as the other man starts bobbing his head. Taking him in, slipping him out, in and out, oh, it's so good, meeting him right in the middle where he won't have to crawl to get what he needs and he doesn't get to run the whole party off-course on his own either. Lucifer's there, Lucifer's steering and Elio follows willingly. Devotedly.
Dropping his chin enough to be able to look down at the sight before him, Lucifer on his knees, sucking on him, giving him all the friction he currently can't take himself, Elio hears himself gasp and groan a bit, little sounds, brief expressions of utter enjoyment, the way his body keeps surprising him when Lucifer hits a particular good angle, a really responsive spot. Hands in the other man's hair, he isn't pushing at his head, but holding on for dear life, more like. Oh, he's good, he's amazing...
And Elio never feels nervous with him, never doubts himself, never doubts Lucifer and it's possibly the best feeling of them all.
When Lucifer pushes two fingers into his mouth along the length of Elio's cock, he already knows what's coming. Besides him, yes? Besides him, he's going to come soon. He licks his lips and gives up on trying to open himself up more for the other man, he evidently thinks he's quite open enough, because he slips his wet fingers down over Elio's perineum, all the way to his asshole and fingers his rim for a brief moment, before simply pushing one finger inside. ]
Oh. [ Elio arches his back and pushes against him more forcefully now, against his mouth, against his hand, trying for more, more, more. Whimpering. ] Lucifer, you feel - [ Pant, pant. ] - like everything. Everywhere, you're...
[ His fingers twist in Lucifer's hair, just clinging to him helplessly, giving himself over to it. Soon, soon. More. Elio was always too greedy, but never too greedy for the Devil. ]
[ When Elio does that little whimper of his, arching his back and twisting his hair between his fingers, Lucifer smiles around his mouthful, as much as he's able to. Adorable. He's honestly a complete delight in the bed, is Elio, getting him off feels like a reward all in itself even without knowing that he's actively fulfilling his deepest, dirtiest desires. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn't.
Regardless, it feels like another puzzle piece, falling into place.
As he feels Elio's arsehole relaxing a little around his finger, he pulls out halfway, thrusts it in again, pulls it out. Then, he adds a second and while he's being careful, he's not particularly worried about Elio's ability to adjust. To most things, this included. He pushes both fingers deep, feeling him stretch around the girth. Then, he pauses with Elio's cock all the way into his mouth, tightens his lips around it and searches with his fingertips for all of half a second before finding what he's after.
Pressing in, he massages Elio's prostate and sucks his cock again, harder, insistently. He rubs his fingers back and forth, small thrusts, because he's here to take a drink, isn't he, and he'll make sure to do so. Properly. Working him without pause, he stops sucking just to bop his head once, twice, and pause. Suction. Repeat as required. He thinks about Elio watching him from above that dance floor, looking like an angel gazing down upon a field of pure depravity and the thought makes something that might've been loneliness close up in his chest, an ancient ache dimming for the first time. He's not alone, here.
[ One thing is that Lucifer's good with his fingers, and he is, he has millennia of experience to draw upon, another is that Elio is good at adjusting, relaxing his asshole when needed, tightening when he wants the slide, the stretch. Together, he thinks, throwing his head back, panting harshly as Lucifer adds a second finger to the first, giving him minimal time to adjust and lots of fullness to compensate, they're pretty much perfect, aren't they? Together, they're something very special and incomparable. Elio loves that, he loves him, he loves him so much that sometimes it hurts and it'll hurt more, eventually, he's aware.
Sucking on his cock, hard, insistent suction that makes Elio's toes curl and his muscles tighten, tremble, Lucifer hooks his fingers into him slightly and rubs over his prostate, not just once or twice as some kind of point made, but a constant stimulation. Milking him, more or less. Elio's writhing beneath his ministrations now, wordlessly, sounds somewhere between moans and whimpers tearing from his throat and his whole upper body's pushed back into the armchair as his hips try to work forward, try to bury into, try to have more of that heat, the tightness, the wetness. His fingertips scrape over Lucifer's scalp, hard.
He's stopped thinking about sex with Lucifer as the best sex he's ever had, after a couple of times, it just becomes a redundant observation. It's always the best, it's always the most beautiful, sensitive, invested, giving, taking sex with him. Elio knows that, too. How he's ever so lucky, really. He's had the very opposite, once.
When it breaks over him, it's like running into a wall. Bam, orgasm! He gasps, groans and feels his balls draw up harshly, his hips pushing up slightly against Lucifer's hold, though he doesn't get far. He only feels himself, filled, and engulfed at the same time and it's too much. As he spends himself, it feels like forever. The only forever Elio will ever have, right?
He comes down only slowly, trembling, sweaty, too hot and too chilled all over. His asshole keeps clenching around Lucifer's fingers a couple of seconds longer. It feels intensely present. ]
[ He can feel Elio's body taking him closer and closer to the edge and Lucifer doesn't let up, simply gives him nudge after nudge after nudge, figuratively and literally, what with how he's currently hooking his fingers into his arse, getting his prostate with utmost efficiency. As he tastes precum on his tongue, he looks up at Elio, keeping his other hand spread over his abdomen, holding him down, making him take it. It's a brilliant look on him, the way he's gone all flushed and desperate, his long limbs straining and his head thrown back, fingers lodged in Lucifer's hair like he knows he's going to fall. Knows he's going to be held up, too.
Lucifer wants to give him that feeling again and again, ad infinitum.
Swallowing, he feels the way Elio's muscles start tightening up around his fingers and beneath his palm. He breathes in, prepares - and there, yes, yes. Groaning roughly, he swallows more, keeps at it, while Elio comes. His cock pulses between his lips and his arsehole clenches madly around his fingers, sucking him in and filling him up. Look at them both, mirroring each other. Look how easy it is.
He waits until he can sense Elio's muscles growing laxer before he pulls off his cock with a wet pop, his lips glistening and puffy and his jaw aching a little in the best and most curious of ways. He looks up at the other man, a soft expression stealing across his face, as he rubs his belly a couple of times before pulling out his fingers. He does it slowly, more carefully than when he went in, going by the feel of Elio's body. After a few seconds, his fingers come loose and he sits back on his heels, still crouching, locking his fingers slowly in front of his knees.
Like that, he stares up at Elio, every inch the Devil not-quite-on his knees in the darkness, his eyes glittering with traces of red. He licks his lips, strings of cum clinging to them. His wings are folded out slightly for balance, taking up eight feet of the floor to both sides. The other man looks ravished like this with his big curls and his spread legs, spent cock resting against his thigh. For just a moment, he thinks, they have once more stepped out of time and place, left themselves in a different world altogether.
[ What he comes down to is the sight of Lucifer, crouching at his feet and looking up at him, lips puffy, glistening wetly, saliva and spit in not quite equal measure, and his eyes bearing traces of red. Elio loses his breath for a moment, straightening up in the chair, letting his leg ease off the armrest until he's sitting up more, not because it frightens him, at this point? He'd have run a long time ago. No, it's not fear, it's an almost physical sense of want, like he hadn't just had his cock pulsing and coming on Lucifer's tongue. Like he hadn't just been filled by his fingers, his presence. It's not another kind of want, just because he could only get it up again with some effort now, it's the same want but in another potency altogether. So, he breathes out long and slow, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, wrists loosely crossed in front of himself, hands still feeling the tresses of Lucifer's hair, though he's not buried in them currently. Elio looks at him, looks him up and down with his wings taking up all that space and the differences between them seemingly taking up so little, in comparison. Smiling, he gestures limply with one hand, lazy fingers drawing patterns in the air. ]
You're really overdressed for what I want to do to you right now.
[ Until a second ago, Elio hadn't actually decided how he was going to reciprocate. He just had an idea of wanting to taste and wanting to be let close, but honestly, that could entail a lot of different activities, they have a pretty wide repertory, Lucifer and him. But as Lucifer sits there in the darkness, looking ever the crouching Devil with his not-victim, he realizes that he wants Lucifer to have something from him, a first and Elio honestly don't have many of those left, but those he does have? Lucifer can have, every single one he wants. Elio offers gladly, take them. And with the slight scent of musk and sweat hanging in the air from Lucifer's very talented fingering skills, Elio thinks he'll have more of that, the darkness. Thank you.
He lets his gaze run up and down Lucifer's body, bent legs and contorted upper body, hands, arms. Heavy slope of neck. Beautiful face. Elio cocks his head a little, purses his lips. ]
[ Elio meets his gaze, the distance between them feeling so minimal that it might as well not be there at all. He looks utterly un-intimidated as he re-settles himself on the chair, closing his legs up just a little and leaning forward. Like that, they look at each other, one Devil and one little human, the heat between them feeling huge and lovely and promising. Elio tells him he's overdressed, asks him to take it off and it's the for me that does it - Lucifer's cock actually jerks in response and he shifts, wincing a little, his trousers straining to accommodate the motion. He smacks his lips, tasting cock and skin and sweat, glancing once at the champagne and feeling quite reluctant to wash it all away.
So he doesn't.
Instead, he gets to his feet in one fluent motion, one eyebrow quirked at Elio through the shadows. ]
If that's what you desire.
[ With that, he steps backwards a little and undoes the buttons on his shirt, one at a time, fingers nimb but not fast. The material slowly parts around his chest and he pulls it free from his trousers with a quick snap of his wrist and slips it off his shoulders. Through the wings. Because that's how it goes.
Letting the shirt drop down his waist, still locked around his elbows, he turns around slowly to give Elio a nice and generous view of his back as he releases it the rest of the way, the white fabric slipping to the ground in a very expensive little heap. He pushes it aside with one foot, nudging it out of the way before he turns the rest of the way, back towards Elio. He keeps his wings from smacking things by raising them slightly, though he feels the tip of one slip across Elio's armchair and over his lap.
The feel of his hot skin makes his spine tingle and his breath stumbles.
Easily, he sits down in a crouch and undoes his laces, pulling his shoes and socks off quickly before straightening up.
Like this, he's wearing only his trousers, the bulge between his legs not just evident but obvious, the material fighting an impressive battle around it. He gives Elio a sharp smile, hungry still, insatiably so. Without further ado, he drops his trousers, steps out of them and bares himself, fully and unbothered, his cock standing hard and firm against his belly. ]
[ If that's what you desire, Lucifer says, complying. Getting to his feet and starting with his shirt, one little button at a time. Elio watches him through slightly narrowed eyes, thinking it's what he desires, to see the other man bare himself layer by layer, until he's down to his own skin and nothing else. His spent cock actually gives a small jerk at that, just residual arousal making itself known and Elio leans back in his seat, legs not quite primly collected, his cock flaccid now against his thigh. Still, he's visibly enjoying the view.
Lucifer who lets the shirt fall around his shoulders, dangling from the crook of his elbows and he turns around, showing his back, wings huge and beautiful and so brightly white they could as well have been a source of illumination themselves, the tip of one dragging over Elio's lap, causing another residual jerk of arousal from his poor cock. Stop doing that, he could tell the other man, I'm done for, but he doesn't say anything of the kind. He's not done, not close. Unlike the shirt that drops to the floor and gets nudged aside by one foot.
Lucifer gets out of his shoes, socks, so easily and elegantly that it must speak of many, many times practicing - not to mention, a confidence that few mortals can match. No nerves, no awkwardness, just that natural pride in his own appearances. Elio doesn't envy it, because he's learning the same from him, isn't he? He watches and he learns. Then, the pants go and they go down, another heap on the floor, not that Elio's looking at the floor, of course. If you've seen Lucifer's cock, you'll know why and you'll forgive him. It stands hard and huge against his stomach and Elio watches the long, strong lines of it for a moment, the slight outline of veins, the bared head. He's hard for him. Lucifer's really very hard for him. He breathes out slowly.
Hard to say no to, isn't it? Lucifer wants to know. Elio looks up, meets his eyes. ]
You look incredible, Lucifer. [ Getting up from the armchair, he stretches languidly, rolls one shoulder before moving across the floor to where the other man's doing another spin for him. He stays out of collision course of his wings, but steps closer once he's done his dance. ] You're not someone anyone would want to say no to. I don't want to say no.
[ Hand splayed out against Lucifer's midriff for balance, he leans up on his toes to get on proper eye level with him. There's the glimpse of white and feathers beyond his shoulder. He doesn't care about saying no to angels in general, but saying no to Lucifer specifically should be a sin. ]
[ Though he says so outright, it's the feel of Elio's admiration that makes Lucifer's feathers puff a little, quite embarrassingly. Lucifer struts a bit, his resultant smile making his eyes crinkle as Elio steps up to him, getting on his toes and raising his face invitingly. His hand feels soft and warm against his stomach.
Leaning down, Lucifer curls one arm around Elio's waist and kisses him, a slow sort of kiss. He runs his tongue along Elio's lower lip before pulling at it very, very gently with his teeth, the heat in his body growing exponentially for every second's worth of the other man's naked body pressed against his. He pulls him closer a little, just enough to rub his hard cock against his lower abdomen, the sudden burst of friction making him moan against Elio's lips. He can taste the champagne, still, on Elio. Himself, he probably just tastes like cock - and what a glorious cock it is, too.
Smile gentling into something slightly softer, Lucifer presses his tongue into Elio's mouth, giving him a taste of himself, of the cum still coating the insides of his mouth. That's what you get for not deep-throating, obviously; particularly if, like Lucifer, you aren't trying to swallow it all as fast and as painlessly as possible. Though he's never been a huge fan of man-on-man sex - because men, for the most part, happen to be quite gross, if you ask him - he rather likes the texture of cum, the way it sort of sticks to you somewhat, like it refuses to go down gently.
His cock gives a happy little jerk against Elio's stomach and he thinks that he might just come like this, pressed up against him and soaking up his scent, smell, his heat, if they were to stand here for long enough. ]
[ When Elio leans up, Lucifer leans down as is the natural order of their relation, on so many levels, right, and they meet somewhere in the middle, the kiss soft and languid, slow, just Lucifer's tongue along the slope of his bottom lip, hint of teeth and Elio takes his tongue, strokes it with his own, kissing him back deeply. One hand sneaks up along the firm broadness of Lucifer's nape, fingers keeping him close, down, down, down on Elio's level. He tastes like cock and cum, two of Elio's absolute favorite things, and he drinks him up. Having just been drunk? It's only fair. Elio keeps kissing him for a few seconds longer, letting him push the hardness of his cock up against his abdomen, feeling how long and thick it feels, how warm and slightly damp at the head, precum doing its work. And he feels him moan against him, too, finally drawing back, still holding him by the back of his neck, staring open and loving up into his face. He looks comfortable, he looks safe. Elio wants to hold onto that feeling for as long as possible, until it's his choice no longer.
For now, he lets his hand drop and grabs Lucifer's, just interlacing their fingers slowly and starts dragging him along for the bedroom, right through the doors on the other end of the room. It's a very big suite, not quite the wedding one, but same size category. Lucifer needs to fit in here, after all, he needs to fit his wings, he needs to fit his cock and all his confidence. Elio looks at him over his shoulder, smiling widely. ]
Come on. [ Spinning around, he walks backwards for a few steps, just in order to face the other man straight on as he says: ] I want to rim you and since I haven't actually done that before, I'd prefer to do it in the most comfortable place possible.
[ He spins back around again. It's meant as a suggestion, of course, something Lucifer can easily say no to, if he doesn't want it. Elio would be happy to return the blowjob instead, stroke him to his climax, fuck him. They don't force things upon each other, between the two of them.
As they move past the table with the champagne, Elio grabs the huge bottle of Dom Perignon out of its ice bucket on a whim, thinking they might take that extravagance to the extreme tonight. Then, he heads for the bedroom, pulling Lucifer along, stepping inside the room before releasing his hand, mostly to walk around the bed and place the champagne on his nightstand.
They'll have to drink from the bottle. It's pretty bohême, but Elio definitely knows people who'd approved. ]
[ Before he drags him off to the bedroom (adorable, honestly, oh), Elio looks up at him with something so precious and unmatched in his gaze that Lucifer momentarily loses his breath. There's a light inside of him, calling out to whatever's hiding behind his eyes at that very moment, something that feels ancient enough that he doesn't want to examine it any further. Safe to say, he's out of breath when Elio urges him towards the bedroom beyond the doors, looking over his shoulder at him before spinning around and walking backwards in that way he has, the way that shows how young he used to be, the traces. Humans do that, he's found. Bear traces.
Lucifer does too, of course, in his own way.
Then, Elio proceeds to tell him that he'd like to rim him and everything else he says after that sort of disappears in a buzz of arousal that very nearly makes his ears ring. What. He what. He. Oh. Oh. It's not that Lucifer doesn't know about rimming - please - but just like Elio hasn't done it before, Lucifer hasn't... well. It's just. You don't so often find anyone who carries that one, deep, burning desire to lick the Devil's arse, do you.
Swallowing heavily, he follows along, walking without any traces of stiffness despite the enormous stiffness between his legs. His cock does bounce a bit against his abdomen, though, as he walks. Stupid-looking. Cocks are stupid-looking.
Or so he's been told, anyway, by various predominantly female lovers throughout time and well, presumably, they'd be unbiased enough to know.
The fact that Elio's grabbing the champagne only registers peripherally, like something relatively unimportant. Good, good, alcohol but also, rimming, oh, he's - is he really - ]
I've wondered.
[ He gives Elio a smaller smile this time as he crawls onto the bed, lying down gently on his stomach and trying not to absolutely squash Big Ben because stupid-looking or not, that's just not right. He looks over his shoulder at Elio, voice quiet on this next admission: ]
[ The bottle casts a shadow across the bed, just a long stretch of shade across the white linen and Elio follows the trail of it, where it grows across bedspreads and duvets and sheets. Over Lucifer, too, because Lucifer is crawling onto the bed and lying down on his stomach, careful with his cock because it's huge and hard, and he's this absolutely beautiful spread of limbs, buttocks, thighs, back, wings... Elio just watches him a long moment, watches the lines of him, parallels and curves and things that come together, perfectly. He feels his mouth watering, like he's looking at food and by some definition, maybe, he is going to eat him now. He's going to eat him out. By the end of it, he's going to be hard again, he's pretty sure.
I've wondered, Lucifer tells him, smiling slightly over his shoulder, what it feels like. And it makes Elio pause, just for a second, because the pieces have to fit. The Devil, who has tried everything and done everyone, has never had his ass licked. You could question that, of course, and someone else might have, but Elio isn't someone else, he isn't anyone else, and he doesn't question it, he gets it. Either no one's had the great desire to do it or Lucifer hasn't felt comfortable enough with anyone to let them and Elio understands the latter, because he's the same. He'll be working blind, he doesn't know what it feels like either. It isn't exactly a safe sex practice and he's never had a partner where he didn't have to at least consider a condom. Well, before.
Now there's Lucifer.
Elio smiles back at him and slips up behind him on the bed, crawling in between his legs and running his hands up along the backside of his thighs, just flattened and fingers spread out, no tickling. They're both warm to the touch, Lucifer even more so than Elio and Elio relishes the contrast, burning his fingers a little, maybe. Some would say. Elio says: ]
You tell me.
[ His hands have reached the other man's buttocks and Elio positions himself comfortably before leaning in over his back, feathers, spreading him open gently, looking down at him, the cleft between his cheeks, his asshole, the puckered skin, the rim of it. Elio's cock's definitely twitching now, risen from the dead, oh. So fast.
Swallowing hard, he bends his neck and licks a fat trail from Lucifer's tailbone and down between his buttocks, feather tips tickling his nose, his forehead and Lucifer tastes like sweat and skin and man. Tastes like the dusk Elio wanted, the darkness. The scent of salt and musk is heavy at this point and Elio loves it, so much that he groans, running his tongue flatly over the rim of the other man's asshole. Just one long, wet swipe. Followed by a flick of his tongue tip, playing over his opening. ]
[ He watches out of the corner of his eye as Elio crawls onto the bed between his legs, shifting a bit to give him better room. At the first touch of warm palms against his thighs, he has to swallow again, harder now, expectation making his body feel curiously jittery. He stops trying to crane his head enough to look and puts his chin on one forearm instead, staring at the wall behind the bed, the shadows tracking across it. Beyond the open balcony doors, Rome is pulsing still, the sounds of drunken shouts and laughter echoing up from below.
You tell me says Elio and spreads him open, his muscles tightening up a fraction at the sudden feeling of exposure. He groans and breathes out, a little faster than before, and then there's Elio's warm breath, burning hot it seems, and his tongue, oh, against his tailbone and downdowndown - ]
Aah! Oh --
[ He actually twitches beneath the other man as he feels that wet-hot-wet pressure of his tongue over the rim of his arsehole. It feels almost obscenely wet and he can't believe he's never - oh, fuck, that tip of his tongue, right there...
Voice sounding decidedly gruff and stuck somewhere in a register he doesn't normally frequent, Lucifer manages not one but two full sentences which is almost a prodigal achievement at this point: ]
Darling, you're too much for me. You're going to bloody kill me.
[ Said on a harsh exhalation as he twists his hips downwards, pressing his cock against the mattress and regretting it, instantly. Hold back. Hold back - ah. There. Disaster averted. He's breathing faster now, audibly so, and he can feel his long flight feathers fanning out across his buttocks and thighs as if to say, yes, please, the road is clear, go ahead and for once, he really can't disagree. ]
[ It's like its own world, between Lucifer's buttocks, like Elio has entered a whole other realm, everything smells like musk and body and he can't get enough of it, breathing heavily as he draws back to glance down at the rim of Lucifer's asshole again, seeing it shimmer with spit and twitch ever so slightly now. You're going to kill me, the other man says and at one and the same time, Elio wants it to be as true as he wants it never to come true, ever. He wants Lucifer to stay alive, eternally, live far beyond Elio's own life span, so they can meet again in Hell, right? He wants to meet him again. When all this is said and done.
Surely, that must be the gift. God isn't crueler than that, except Lucifer would say Elio hasn't seen the worst of him yet, wouldn't he? He'd say pawns and played.
Elio says blessing. ]
I want to drink you up.
[ His voice is breathy and hoarse when he leans down once more and rolls his tongue up a bit, just slowly dragging the very tip along the raised edges of the rim, feeling the puckered skin, feeling the muscles react to him as he licks over it. The taste is dark and full and he's half-hard at this point, it's a miracle, scale of the Red Sea. Lucifer's so hot, Elio's fingers are digging into his buttocks, keeping him spread and open and down, because he's squirming beneath his mouth and Elio needs him to still just a little bit to feel out all the right spots. Languidly, he starts lapping his tongue wetly over his entrance, just sloppily eating him up, tongue tip dipping into his opening on every other lick. Lucifer's feathers are all but walling him in.
Maybe that's where that otherworldly air comes from. Maybe it really does belong to somewhere else, this moment.
Oh, but how would it feel, just boring his tongue into him, penetrating him that way, just fucking him with the long, very wriggly slope of it? How would he sound, taste, feel? Elio is panting a bit as he cocks his head for another angle, dipping his tongue in just a bit deeper on the next swipe.
This is the feel of a gift, evidently. His, his, his. Giving and receiving, equally. ]
[ Oh, fucking Hell, this is - this is -- Lucifer squirms a little as Elio gets to work properly, running the tip of his tongue around the rim before positively lapping at it, oh, all over it. The nerve endings in his arsehole are basically composing a hymn to Elio right this fucking moment and Lucifer himself, well, he's trying not to drool into his pillow. He can feel the other man holding him down a little, just keeping him in place and he allows it, mostly because shifting around too much would mean friction which would mean instant orgasm and as is also true for, say, instant coffee, most instant things are equal parts embarrassing and unsatisfying.
So, in other words, he keeps himself in check.
All that tension, however, needs to go somewhere and in Lucifer's case, if it can't go to his cock, it goes to his wings. They rise up on both sides of him, not quite at an arch but certainly enough for the tips to criss-cross over the back of Elio's thighs. Elio, meanwhile, digs his tongue in at an angle that says deeper and oh, he really is going to kill him, is he actually going to -- ]
I - oh, you can - you should --
[ Apparently, the time for full sentences and average coherency has passed. Lucifer blinks, his curls sticking to his brow as he pushes his head against his forearm. He can't find the words for what he wants Elio to do, except - ]
Come inside.
[ It comes out as a hoarse whisper, his lips stuck against his own skin. And Elio holds him open, still, keeps him bared and fluttering and it could've been dangerous if they weren't them, if they weren't exactly them.
[ The thing about rimming, and there are many things, the smell of it, the wet glide of drool and the puffy, responsive skin of Lucifer's asshole, but the quintessential thing about rimming, Elio thinks, as he accepts the other man's invitation and finally just pushes his tongue all the way in (oh, he's so warm, he's burning hot, tight and hot and engulfing around the length of him) is how intimate it is. How close. Elio loves it, he craves it, he wants it so much he's hard again and it hasn't been ten minutes since he came. Lucifer's good, Lucifer's so good and there's a whole world out there that doesn't know, they don't know and they wouldn't believe and that's why Elio's the first person to do this to him. Because their faith in each other, and he thinks it's about time they use that word specifically, they've progressed, after all, has become unfaltering. It doesn't even stumble when it comes to showing off the parts of them considered dirtiest, darkest.
Elio can have even this.
Hungrily, he bores into him with his tongue, just sticks it in as far as it'll go, feeling the tight rim of his asshole loosening gradually around the girth of it. Out the corner of his eye, the lights are catching in the champagne, throwing long rays of gold across the bed, challenged only by Lucifer's wings, arched above him and behind him and all around him and Elio draws back, pulls his tongue out with a wet noise, looking up at the bottle of Dom Perignon and remembering his own, I want to drink you up. Lucifer can't get drunk... presumably, unlike humans... The idea won't leave him, so Elio looks up at Lucifer, through the narrow pass between his wings and decides to share. They're sharing everything else right now anyway. ]
I really do want to drink you up, you know.
[ His lips feel puffy, like Lucifer's asshole. His tongue still burning. ]
I want to drink champagne out of you, get drunk off of you. [ Releasing the other man's one buttock, Elio stretches to grab the bottle off the nightstand. ] Please tell me if I would kill you.
[ When Elio's tongue actually slips inside him, Lucifer makes a noise at the back of his throat caught somewhere between a groan and a whine, screwing his eyes shut and panting heavily against his arm. Oh. Oh. He can feel his sphincter having to give just a little in response, the slick, wet sensation of Elio's tongue slipping against it, around it, beyond it, both incredible and... terrifying, in a way that he can't quite understand. Usually, sex is always a matter of repetition - good, great or even marvellous repetition but repetition all the same. He's never felt... well.
It's just... so intimate.
Shoulders heaving somewhat, he can't help but push back a little against Elio's mouth as the other man fucks him, just pressing his tongue inside as far as it'll go. Consequently, the resultant friction goes straight to his balls and he chokes down a moan, feeling strangely overwrought, like Elio's inside him on so many levels that he can't even understand what's happening. He feels him. All the way to his core, he feels him. He keeps wanting to reach backwards, to touch him -
The other man draws away. Suddenly, he's almost painfully empty, his arsehole clenching a bit in the wake of Elio's tongue. He frowns, forcing himself to concentrate. What, he wants to - he wants -
Oh.
His cock twitches against the bed. He blinks a couple of times, then glances over his shoulder at Elio, twisting a little to make eye contact. Is he serious? He is. He just grabbed the bottle.
Swallowing, Lucifer licks his lips. Turns slowly back onto his stomach, draws a deep breath and replies: ]
You'll kill me if you don't, I think.
[ He doesn't say please though there's a tint to his voice that projects it anyhow. With his vulnerability around Elio, he's actually quite uncertain as to what'll happen in terms of ingesting alcohol... through his arse. Will it do anything? Will he get drunk? It's an exciting idea and it's crazy, isn't it, that Elio manages to do this to him, to take him where he's never gone before on multiple levels. He's immortal. He's been around since before the literal dawn of time.
Because he doesn't know how to say any of that, he curls one wing around Elio's side and buttocks, sort of wrapping him up from behind, the longer feathers sliding gently over his naked skin, thighs, balls. Lines and circles. Beautiful Elio who gives him everything. ]
[ He won't kill him, Lucifer confirms. He'll kill him if he doesn't, rather, and Elio feels a tight knot of something gathering in his throat, something that exists simultaneously with his arousal, his hard-on in his overwrought body. Something very tender and very vulnerable, but if Lucifer can be vulnerable around him and not die from it, Elio can be vulnerable around him and not die, either. He wants it to be that way between them, he wants them to own each other so thoroughly that when they have to give each other up at some point, it'll be a quarter of their being, not a half, they're more on their own than just that, but definitely a quarter piece. A quarter piece.
The other man curls his wing around him, just holding him gently in that feathery grip and Elio turns his head briefly to press a kiss to the upper edge of Lucifer's wing, feeling the soft brush of feathers. He smells sweet and a little dusty, something else entirely than his crack that's all musk and darkness. But of course, Lucifer embodies both extremes. That's one of the things Elio loves so much about him, loves to bits and pieces.
Loves in bits and pieces.
Then, he nods once and leans down over the other man's backside again, one hand next to the rise of his buttocks, the other holding the champagne bottle, kind of weighing it. It's still mostly full, they've got alcohol enough to make it interesting. Leaning down, Elio kisses Lucifer's tailbone, before pressing the mouth of the bottle against the very same spot, beginning to pour down over his ass, most of it trickling between his buttocks that Elio spreads apart with one hand, watches the liquid shine him up. Pool over the rim of his asshole, before slowly sinking into him. He wonders what it feels like, that feeling of seeping, does the fizz tickle, does it sting, the alcohol? Slowly, he lets the bottle sink lower and lower down his ass crack, until he's more or less pouring directly into him, steadily, unhurried.
A couple of seconds more, though, and he can't wait any longer, discarding the bottle, uncaring about whether they're wetting the bed, and whispers alla nostra salute (to your health, to you, to you, to you, Lucifer) in a hoarse, needy voice as he spreads Lucifer's buttocks apart with both hands now, pressing his face in between. Elio's getting high from the smell, that dry champagne-scent and Lucifer's own. He locks his lips over the rim of his asshole, pushing his tongue inside to lick at that squelch of alcohol and then, just sucks. Drinking him up. ]
[ He feels that kiss against his wing - soft, light, un-presumptuous - almost more keenly than the rest, his nervous system sparkling in delight, spine tingling and feathers fluffing up. If he didn't wish to reveal himself to that extent, well, then he shouldn't have them out during sex, that's plain. Sex with Elio, in particular, seems to reduce him to nothing but innards and blood and bone and something too raw to be named. He swallows again, heavily. Then, Elio presses his lips to his tailbone, followed by the mouth of the bottle and seconds later, Elio's spreading his buttocks apart and there's wetness, curiously dry, sparkling, against his over-sensitive rim.
Groaning loudly, he twitches beneath it, his arsehole fluttering in response to this new stimulation and then, then, Elio's pressing the bottle more fully against his arsehole, the liquid pouring down between his spread thighs, over his balls. He feels it going in, too, his body still a little open. It sizzles within him, an odd but brilliant sort of heat and a bloody amazing contrast to the soft wetness of Elio's mouth. About to say something, anything, and feeling quite incapable of coming up with the necessary verbal prowess, he's interrupted by Elio who gets there first, telling him to you and dedicating what feels like overly much to whatever he is, in comparison. The rebel. The fallen angel. The King of Hell.
Lost, yes. But somehow, Elio's managed to find him anyway.
He knows what comes next, of course, but all the same, when Elio puts his lips to him again, to the rim of his arsehole, and pushes his tongue inside him, he moans out loud, forehead pressed against his forearm. He does it again and again until it's nothing but a hoarse whimper, every stroke of Elio's tongue against his arsehole making his muscles quiver and his balls tighten. And then, almost suddenly, he comes.
Hard, overwhelmingly so, and with a touch of delirium (is that the alcohol, actually affecting him? Is it? Is it?), he spends himself all over the sheets, spurting and spurting. He's gasping uncontrollably, feeling his arsehole contracting wetly around Elio's tongue, and there's white noise in his head, white noise and nothing else.
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Groaning, he strokes the other man's cock slowly, taking care to press his thumb over the bared head and nudging the slit a little, coaxing a little wetness from it to spread around. He moves his hand down, then up, repeating the motion of his thumb, making it a nice and languid sort of blowjob, the kind that would take a little while to get things properly going.
Breathing harshly through his nose, Lucifer draws out of the kiss, the taste of champagne lingering in traces on his tonguetip. Watching Elio's face through hooded eyes, he smiles and frees his other hand. His fingers on Elio's cock pauses somewhere mid-shaft while he reaches for the flute on the table. He brings it to his lips and sips it, a smile spreading on his face at the taste which he recognises even without glancing at the bottle. It's a very particular bottle, 1990 vintage brand of Dom Perignon. He gives Elio's cock another couple of lazy strokes and says, still looking at the flute: ]
This was the first bottle of alcohol that I bought for my private collection.
[ He takes another sip. Then, still holding the liquid on his tongue, he sucks one of Elio's nipples into his mouth, wetting it, leaving droplets running down his chest. ]
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Lucifer draws out of the kiss, harshly breathing and Elio's not breathing any less hard, mouth open and shallowly panting, watching him as he reaches for the flute Elio's prepared for him, because he knew, didn't he, he knows what Lucifer likes and although he's a man of a broad taste in general, something about that thought sparks a sense of pride in Elio, too. They can be proud together. They can want to meet each other's deepest desires, right? And with Elio, Lucifer has no unfair advantage either.
Sipping his champagne, the other man smiles, halting his stroking mid-shaft and Elio has to temper himself, to not wriggle about, push for more friction, plead for more touch. He trusts the other man, after all, trusts him with his pleasure and most things beyond that, too, at this point, he can wait the five seconds it takes Lucifer to savor his drink and tell him a nostalgic tidbit of info that feels like an offering, a gift of love. Until the stroking resumes.
They both want it on these terms, obviously.
Elio inhales, deeply, moves with it. Then, Lucifer takes another sip, before leaning in and catching one of Elio's nipples between his lips, wetting it with both his tongue and the champagne on it, leaving little trifling trails of alcohol to run down his chest. For no other reason than the visual, the sensation of it, all temperate wetness and tongue tip against the hardening nub, Elio feels drunk from it. He groans, lightly. ]
Ah... Do you still have it? [ His voice sounds a little bit hoarse. He runs his fingers repeatedly through the other man's hair. ] Or has it served its purpose?
[ With someone else, like this, he means. On someone else's chest. It's not a jealous question. ]
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I drank it. [ A minuscule shrug, his wings moving languidly with his shoulders and upper arms. ] In one go, actually. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about.
[ Aside from that (or perhaps, more importantly), he'd been ravenous. Starving for contrasts. He remembers that first, initial sense of delight at the notion of taste and flavour after eons stuck in Hell with nothing but grays and blues and blacks. The feeling of bubbles on his lips, in his throat. And then, a slight - very slight - tint of disappointment, knowing that he couldn't get properly drunk off it. All the same, it had been wonderful. All his firsts, following long stretches in Hell, were.
Pushing the memory aside, he goes for another sip, before placing the flute back on the table. He'd stopped stroking Elio's cock there for a moment, lost in thought as he'd been, and now he simply reaches down and curls his fingers around the base, holding it steady. It's heavy and warm between his fingers. Leaning in, he gives Elio's other nipple the same treatment, locking his lips around it and sucking, champagne dripping from his lips. The taste of the brut mixes with Elio's natural scent and he feels like he's getting a little drunk on him, the thought making something heavy curl in his stomach. All that gift nonsense aside, the man remains Elio, first, and Elio is Lucifer's favourite human, he's known that for quite a while. Surely, then, they can both have this, removed from whatever plans were made around it. Surely, it doesn't have to be repaid.
Lucifer never lies to anyone but himself.
Shuddering, eyes falling shut again, he licks a fat trail down Elio's chest, following the droplets of champagne downwards. He shifts to give himself space and bends his head, nuzzling the head of Elio's cock with his nose gently before placing a light but lingering kiss to the bared head. ]
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Reaching out with his free hand as Lucifer places the flute back on the table, Elio follows the arch of his wing, settling against his shoulder at the movement, with his fingers and strokes the feathers absent-mindedly, a tiny bit preoccupied with the way Lucifer's sucking his other nipple into his champagne-filled mouth, showering it in the golden liquid, too, sucking on him, coaxing him into full hardness. His cock jerks and he gasps, pushing into the feeling of his mouth, even more so as he starts licking his way down his chest, following the trails of champagne downwards, down, down, oh.
Then, Lucifer's nuzzling the head of his cock with his nose, the strong line of it and Elio's staring down at his head, at his own glistening chest for backdrop and he wants to be swallowed up by him, he wants to simply disappear into him. Stay there, never leave, never go, never part. The kiss that follows feels heavy and meaningful and Elio tips his head back a little, shows plenty of neck, keeping his eyes on the other man's broad shoulders, still clothed, still hidden away. He runs both hands down over the slope of them, one on either side.
There's a particular sense of heat gathering in his groin, it isn't just arousal, it's something desperate and hungry and Elio sinks into the overwhelming presence of it, of Lucifer, relaxing back into the armchair and spreading his legs further, welcoming him in. He's away from home, currently, so Elio wants to be his temporary home. His home away from home. The way that his mother's summer house and Lucifer have become synonymous now. ]
Drink me. [ Canting his hips up just a little bit, slipping the bared head of his cock over Lucifer's lips again, just following the outline of them, the soft curve of bottom lip, he cocks his head a little. ] Drink me, too.
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But all the same.
All the same.
Drink me says Elio and cants his hips upwards, his cock sliding over Lucifer's lips and painting them with precum. That's hot. That's really very hot. Groaning more loudly now, Lucifer glances up at him. With his head leaned back, baring the long, slender slope of his neck and his legs spread open, Elio's put his body completely and utterly on parade. It might very possibly be one of the most arousing sights Lucifer's ever had and honestly, he's had a lot. Breathing in slowly, raggedly, he bends his neck again and opens his mouth, sliding Elio's cock inside along the length of his tongue. He doesn't stop before it hits the back of his mouth, the angle awful for deep-throating, more's the pity. Ah well.
He closes his lips tightly around the shaft, keeps his grip around the base steady - and sucks, slowly and deliberately, cheeks hollowing for a few seconds before he releases the pressure. Repeat. Repeat. Just to keep things interesting, he flattens his palm against Elio's abdomen, pushing down and holding him still.
The taste of him is strong and wild on his tongue and he swallows whatever he gets, as greedily as he drank from the flute minutes before. Lovely. Absolutely lovely. ]
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He wants to stay here, literally forever if it were possible, but he isn't made for forevers, Elio. Lucifer is and he doesn't envy him that, but Elio isn't and one day, their time will come to an end.
Something which shouldn't concern him now, but it does, a little bit, because right now is beautiful and lovely and perfect and it's such a human thing, wanting perfect things to last, when in reality their perfection will wear off with time. Unless you're an angel, like Lucifer and perfect by design.
Very few things in this world are. They're perfect by context, this context right here, Lucifer sucking on his cock and making his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back, shifting his upper body now that he's being held still navel-down. Elio runs his hands up the sides of Lucifer's neck, feels the smoothness of his skin, the heat of him, his pulse beating, thud, thud, thud.
Drawing in a shaky, long breath, he does try to move his hips as the other man sucks on his cock again, just building up the pressure once more, releasing, building up. It's maddening. He moans. ]
You're driving me to distraction. [ He sounds hoarse and a bit hurried, like he's trying hard to get every word out before the next harsh intake of breath. ] And I'm letting myself be driven by you, Lucifer.
[ They've both got agency in this. Yes, Lucifer's mouth is pure, utter agency. ]
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His Father had a love of this planet, primarily, and all the rest could as well have been circumstantial.
Lucifer doesn't really think about it because it doesn't matter anymore. Regardless, when he starts bobbing his head up and down, Elio's cock slipping back and forth between his lips, in and out, there's something in the pit of his stomach that stays. Later, it says. Later. And he leaves it for that, accordingly.
He doesn't remove his hand from Elio's abdomen, though he spreads his fingers a little just to feel him more clearly, feel his muscles working and his skin growing damper and damper. Setting a sloppy rhythm around the other man's cock, Lucifer frees his other hand again and pushes two fingers into his mouth alongside the girth of Elio's cock, slicking them up thoroughly for a moment. Then, he reaches between Elio's spread legs and runs both fingertips over his perineum, all the way back to his arsehole, easily accessible like this, on show like the rest of his body. He spends only a few seconds probing the tight muscle there, slicking the rim up and feeling it flutter against his fingertips before he pushes his index finger inside. He buries it to the last knuckle and holds still, working Elio's cock with his mouth at the same, lazy pace.
His own cock is so hard beneath his trousers that it's starting to feel painful but what do you know, both his hands are preoccupied so he'll simply have to accept the way the expensive material has started clinging to him, damp from his own arousal. Not a hardship. He'll certainly live. ]
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Dropping his chin enough to be able to look down at the sight before him, Lucifer on his knees, sucking on him, giving him all the friction he currently can't take himself, Elio hears himself gasp and groan a bit, little sounds, brief expressions of utter enjoyment, the way his body keeps surprising him when Lucifer hits a particular good angle, a really responsive spot. Hands in the other man's hair, he isn't pushing at his head, but holding on for dear life, more like. Oh, he's good, he's amazing...
And Elio never feels nervous with him, never doubts himself, never doubts Lucifer and it's possibly the best feeling of them all.
When Lucifer pushes two fingers into his mouth along the length of Elio's cock, he already knows what's coming. Besides him, yes? Besides him, he's going to come soon. He licks his lips and gives up on trying to open himself up more for the other man, he evidently thinks he's quite open enough, because he slips his wet fingers down over Elio's perineum, all the way to his asshole and fingers his rim for a brief moment, before simply pushing one finger inside. ]
Oh. [ Elio arches his back and pushes against him more forcefully now, against his mouth, against his hand, trying for more, more, more. Whimpering. ] Lucifer, you feel - [ Pant, pant. ] - like everything. Everywhere, you're...
[ His fingers twist in Lucifer's hair, just clinging to him helplessly, giving himself over to it. Soon, soon. More. Elio was always too greedy, but never too greedy for the Devil. ]
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Regardless, it feels like another puzzle piece, falling into place.
As he feels Elio's arsehole relaxing a little around his finger, he pulls out halfway, thrusts it in again, pulls it out. Then, he adds a second and while he's being careful, he's not particularly worried about Elio's ability to adjust. To most things, this included. He pushes both fingers deep, feeling him stretch around the girth. Then, he pauses with Elio's cock all the way into his mouth, tightens his lips around it and searches with his fingertips for all of half a second before finding what he's after.
Pressing in, he massages Elio's prostate and sucks his cock again, harder, insistently. He rubs his fingers back and forth, small thrusts, because he's here to take a drink, isn't he, and he'll make sure to do so. Properly. Working him without pause, he stops sucking just to bop his head once, twice, and pause. Suction. Repeat as required. He thinks about Elio watching him from above that dance floor, looking like an angel gazing down upon a field of pure depravity and the thought makes something that might've been loneliness close up in his chest, an ancient ache dimming for the first time. He's not alone, here.
They're not alone. ]
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Sucking on his cock, hard, insistent suction that makes Elio's toes curl and his muscles tighten, tremble, Lucifer hooks his fingers into him slightly and rubs over his prostate, not just once or twice as some kind of point made, but a constant stimulation. Milking him, more or less. Elio's writhing beneath his ministrations now, wordlessly, sounds somewhere between moans and whimpers tearing from his throat and his whole upper body's pushed back into the armchair as his hips try to work forward, try to bury into, try to have more of that heat, the tightness, the wetness. His fingertips scrape over Lucifer's scalp, hard.
He's stopped thinking about sex with Lucifer as the best sex he's ever had, after a couple of times, it just becomes a redundant observation. It's always the best, it's always the most beautiful, sensitive, invested, giving, taking sex with him. Elio knows that, too. How he's ever so lucky, really. He's had the very opposite, once.
When it breaks over him, it's like running into a wall. Bam, orgasm! He gasps, groans and feels his balls draw up harshly, his hips pushing up slightly against Lucifer's hold, though he doesn't get far. He only feels himself, filled, and engulfed at the same time and it's too much. As he spends himself, it feels like forever. The only forever Elio will ever have, right?
He comes down only slowly, trembling, sweaty, too hot and too chilled all over. His asshole keeps clenching around Lucifer's fingers a couple of seconds longer. It feels intensely present. ]
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Lucifer wants to give him that feeling again and again, ad infinitum.
Swallowing, he feels the way Elio's muscles start tightening up around his fingers and beneath his palm. He breathes in, prepares - and there, yes, yes. Groaning roughly, he swallows more, keeps at it, while Elio comes. His cock pulses between his lips and his arsehole clenches madly around his fingers, sucking him in and filling him up. Look at them both, mirroring each other. Look how easy it is.
He waits until he can sense Elio's muscles growing laxer before he pulls off his cock with a wet pop, his lips glistening and puffy and his jaw aching a little in the best and most curious of ways. He looks up at the other man, a soft expression stealing across his face, as he rubs his belly a couple of times before pulling out his fingers. He does it slowly, more carefully than when he went in, going by the feel of Elio's body. After a few seconds, his fingers come loose and he sits back on his heels, still crouching, locking his fingers slowly in front of his knees.
Like that, he stares up at Elio, every inch the Devil not-quite-on his knees in the darkness, his eyes glittering with traces of red. He licks his lips, strings of cum clinging to them. His wings are folded out slightly for balance, taking up eight feet of the floor to both sides. The other man looks ravished like this with his big curls and his spread legs, spent cock resting against his thigh. For just a moment, he thinks, they have once more stepped out of time and place, left themselves in a different world altogether.
Something uniquely theirs. ]
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You're really overdressed for what I want to do to you right now.
[ Until a second ago, Elio hadn't actually decided how he was going to reciprocate. He just had an idea of wanting to taste and wanting to be let close, but honestly, that could entail a lot of different activities, they have a pretty wide repertory, Lucifer and him. But as Lucifer sits there in the darkness, looking ever the crouching Devil with his not-victim, he realizes that he wants Lucifer to have something from him, a first and Elio honestly don't have many of those left, but those he does have? Lucifer can have, every single one he wants. Elio offers gladly, take them. And with the slight scent of musk and sweat hanging in the air from Lucifer's very talented fingering skills, Elio thinks he'll have more of that, the darkness. Thank you.
He lets his gaze run up and down Lucifer's body, bent legs and contorted upper body, hands, arms. Heavy slope of neck. Beautiful face. Elio cocks his head a little, purses his lips. ]
Are you going to take it off for me?
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So he doesn't.
Instead, he gets to his feet in one fluent motion, one eyebrow quirked at Elio through the shadows. ]
If that's what you desire.
[ With that, he steps backwards a little and undoes the buttons on his shirt, one at a time, fingers nimb but not fast. The material slowly parts around his chest and he pulls it free from his trousers with a quick snap of his wrist and slips it off his shoulders. Through the wings. Because that's how it goes.
Letting the shirt drop down his waist, still locked around his elbows, he turns around slowly to give Elio a nice and generous view of his back as he releases it the rest of the way, the white fabric slipping to the ground in a very expensive little heap. He pushes it aside with one foot, nudging it out of the way before he turns the rest of the way, back towards Elio. He keeps his wings from smacking things by raising them slightly, though he feels the tip of one slip across Elio's armchair and over his lap.
The feel of his hot skin makes his spine tingle and his breath stumbles.
Easily, he sits down in a crouch and undoes his laces, pulling his shoes and socks off quickly before straightening up.
Like this, he's wearing only his trousers, the bulge between his legs not just evident but obvious, the material fighting an impressive battle around it. He gives Elio a sharp smile, hungry still, insatiably so. Without further ado, he drops his trousers, steps out of them and bares himself, fully and unbothered, his cock standing hard and firm against his belly. ]
Hard to say no to, isn't it?
[ He does another spin for him, slowly. ]
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Lucifer who lets the shirt fall around his shoulders, dangling from the crook of his elbows and he turns around, showing his back, wings huge and beautiful and so brightly white they could as well have been a source of illumination themselves, the tip of one dragging over Elio's lap, causing another residual jerk of arousal from his poor cock. Stop doing that, he could tell the other man, I'm done for, but he doesn't say anything of the kind. He's not done, not close. Unlike the shirt that drops to the floor and gets nudged aside by one foot.
Lucifer gets out of his shoes, socks, so easily and elegantly that it must speak of many, many times practicing - not to mention, a confidence that few mortals can match. No nerves, no awkwardness, just that natural pride in his own appearances. Elio doesn't envy it, because he's learning the same from him, isn't he? He watches and he learns. Then, the pants go and they go down, another heap on the floor, not that Elio's looking at the floor, of course. If you've seen Lucifer's cock, you'll know why and you'll forgive him. It stands hard and huge against his stomach and Elio watches the long, strong lines of it for a moment, the slight outline of veins, the bared head. He's hard for him. Lucifer's really very hard for him. He breathes out slowly.
Hard to say no to, isn't it? Lucifer wants to know. Elio looks up, meets his eyes. ]
You look incredible, Lucifer. [ Getting up from the armchair, he stretches languidly, rolls one shoulder before moving across the floor to where the other man's doing another spin for him. He stays out of collision course of his wings, but steps closer once he's done his dance. ] You're not someone anyone would want to say no to. I don't want to say no.
[ Hand splayed out against Lucifer's midriff for balance, he leans up on his toes to get on proper eye level with him. There's the glimpse of white and feathers beyond his shoulder. He doesn't care about saying no to angels in general, but saying no to Lucifer specifically should be a sin. ]
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Leaning down, Lucifer curls one arm around Elio's waist and kisses him, a slow sort of kiss. He runs his tongue along Elio's lower lip before pulling at it very, very gently with his teeth, the heat in his body growing exponentially for every second's worth of the other man's naked body pressed against his. He pulls him closer a little, just enough to rub his hard cock against his lower abdomen, the sudden burst of friction making him moan against Elio's lips. He can taste the champagne, still, on Elio. Himself, he probably just tastes like cock - and what a glorious cock it is, too.
Smile gentling into something slightly softer, Lucifer presses his tongue into Elio's mouth, giving him a taste of himself, of the cum still coating the insides of his mouth. That's what you get for not deep-throating, obviously; particularly if, like Lucifer, you aren't trying to swallow it all as fast and as painlessly as possible. Though he's never been a huge fan of man-on-man sex - because men, for the most part, happen to be quite gross, if you ask him - he rather likes the texture of cum, the way it sort of sticks to you somewhat, like it refuses to go down gently.
His cock gives a happy little jerk against Elio's stomach and he thinks that he might just come like this, pressed up against him and soaking up his scent, smell, his heat, if they were to stand here for long enough. ]
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For now, he lets his hand drop and grabs Lucifer's, just interlacing their fingers slowly and starts dragging him along for the bedroom, right through the doors on the other end of the room. It's a very big suite, not quite the wedding one, but same size category. Lucifer needs to fit in here, after all, he needs to fit his wings, he needs to fit his cock and all his confidence. Elio looks at him over his shoulder, smiling widely. ]
Come on. [ Spinning around, he walks backwards for a few steps, just in order to face the other man straight on as he says: ] I want to rim you and since I haven't actually done that before, I'd prefer to do it in the most comfortable place possible.
[ He spins back around again. It's meant as a suggestion, of course, something Lucifer can easily say no to, if he doesn't want it. Elio would be happy to return the blowjob instead, stroke him to his climax, fuck him. They don't force things upon each other, between the two of them.
As they move past the table with the champagne, Elio grabs the huge bottle of Dom Perignon out of its ice bucket on a whim, thinking they might take that extravagance to the extreme tonight. Then, he heads for the bedroom, pulling Lucifer along, stepping inside the room before releasing his hand, mostly to walk around the bed and place the champagne on his nightstand.
They'll have to drink from the bottle. It's pretty bohême, but Elio definitely knows people who'd approved. ]
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Lucifer does too, of course, in his own way.
Then, Elio proceeds to tell him that he'd like to rim him and everything else he says after that sort of disappears in a buzz of arousal that very nearly makes his ears ring. What. He what. He. Oh. Oh. It's not that Lucifer doesn't know about rimming - please - but just like Elio hasn't done it before, Lucifer hasn't... well. It's just. You don't so often find anyone who carries that one, deep, burning desire to lick the Devil's arse, do you.
Swallowing heavily, he follows along, walking without any traces of stiffness despite the enormous stiffness between his legs. His cock does bounce a bit against his abdomen, though, as he walks. Stupid-looking. Cocks are stupid-looking.
Or so he's been told, anyway, by various predominantly female lovers throughout time and well, presumably, they'd be unbiased enough to know.
The fact that Elio's grabbing the champagne only registers peripherally, like something relatively unimportant. Good, good, alcohol but also, rimming, oh, he's - is he really - ]
I've wondered.
[ He gives Elio a smaller smile this time as he crawls onto the bed, lying down gently on his stomach and trying not to absolutely squash Big Ben because stupid-looking or not, that's just not right. He looks over his shoulder at Elio, voice quiet on this next admission: ]
What it feels like.
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I've wondered, Lucifer tells him, smiling slightly over his shoulder, what it feels like. And it makes Elio pause, just for a second, because the pieces have to fit. The Devil, who has tried everything and done everyone, has never had his ass licked. You could question that, of course, and someone else might have, but Elio isn't someone else, he isn't anyone else, and he doesn't question it, he gets it. Either no one's had the great desire to do it or Lucifer hasn't felt comfortable enough with anyone to let them and Elio understands the latter, because he's the same. He'll be working blind, he doesn't know what it feels like either. It isn't exactly a safe sex practice and he's never had a partner where he didn't have to at least consider a condom. Well, before.
Now there's Lucifer.
Elio smiles back at him and slips up behind him on the bed, crawling in between his legs and running his hands up along the backside of his thighs, just flattened and fingers spread out, no tickling. They're both warm to the touch, Lucifer even more so than Elio and Elio relishes the contrast, burning his fingers a little, maybe. Some would say. Elio says: ]
You tell me.
[ His hands have reached the other man's buttocks and Elio positions himself comfortably before leaning in over his back, feathers, spreading him open gently, looking down at him, the cleft between his cheeks, his asshole, the puckered skin, the rim of it. Elio's cock's definitely twitching now, risen from the dead, oh. So fast.
Swallowing hard, he bends his neck and licks a fat trail from Lucifer's tailbone and down between his buttocks, feather tips tickling his nose, his forehead and Lucifer tastes like sweat and skin and man. Tastes like the dusk Elio wanted, the darkness. The scent of salt and musk is heavy at this point and Elio loves it, so much that he groans, running his tongue flatly over the rim of the other man's asshole. Just one long, wet swipe. Followed by a flick of his tongue tip, playing over his opening. ]
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You tell me says Elio and spreads him open, his muscles tightening up a fraction at the sudden feeling of exposure. He groans and breathes out, a little faster than before, and then there's Elio's warm breath, burning hot it seems, and his tongue, oh, against his tailbone and downdowndown - ]
Aah! Oh --
[ He actually twitches beneath the other man as he feels that wet-hot-wet pressure of his tongue over the rim of his arsehole. It feels almost obscenely wet and he can't believe he's never - oh, fuck, that tip of his tongue, right there...
Voice sounding decidedly gruff and stuck somewhere in a register he doesn't normally frequent, Lucifer manages not one but two full sentences which is almost a prodigal achievement at this point: ]
Darling, you're too much for me. You're going to bloody kill me.
[ Said on a harsh exhalation as he twists his hips downwards, pressing his cock against the mattress and regretting it, instantly. Hold back. Hold back - ah. There. Disaster averted. He's breathing faster now, audibly so, and he can feel his long flight feathers fanning out across his buttocks and thighs as if to say, yes, please, the road is clear, go ahead and for once, he really can't disagree. ]
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Surely, that must be the gift. God isn't crueler than that, except Lucifer would say Elio hasn't seen the worst of him yet, wouldn't he? He'd say pawns and played.
Elio says blessing. ]
I want to drink you up.
[ His voice is breathy and hoarse when he leans down once more and rolls his tongue up a bit, just slowly dragging the very tip along the raised edges of the rim, feeling the puckered skin, feeling the muscles react to him as he licks over it. The taste is dark and full and he's half-hard at this point, it's a miracle, scale of the Red Sea. Lucifer's so hot, Elio's fingers are digging into his buttocks, keeping him spread and open and down, because he's squirming beneath his mouth and Elio needs him to still just a little bit to feel out all the right spots. Languidly, he starts lapping his tongue wetly over his entrance, just sloppily eating him up, tongue tip dipping into his opening on every other lick. Lucifer's feathers are all but walling him in.
Maybe that's where that otherworldly air comes from. Maybe it really does belong to somewhere else, this moment.
Oh, but how would it feel, just boring his tongue into him, penetrating him that way, just fucking him with the long, very wriggly slope of it? How would he sound, taste, feel? Elio is panting a bit as he cocks his head for another angle, dipping his tongue in just a bit deeper on the next swipe.
This is the feel of a gift, evidently. His, his, his. Giving and receiving, equally. ]
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So, in other words, he keeps himself in check.
All that tension, however, needs to go somewhere and in Lucifer's case, if it can't go to his cock, it goes to his wings. They rise up on both sides of him, not quite at an arch but certainly enough for the tips to criss-cross over the back of Elio's thighs. Elio, meanwhile, digs his tongue in at an angle that says deeper and oh, he really is going to kill him, is he actually going to -- ]
I - oh, you can - you should --
[ Apparently, the time for full sentences and average coherency has passed. Lucifer blinks, his curls sticking to his brow as he pushes his head against his forearm. He can't find the words for what he wants Elio to do, except - ]
Come inside.
[ It comes out as a hoarse whisper, his lips stuck against his own skin. And Elio holds him open, still, keeps him bared and fluttering and it could've been dangerous if they weren't them, if they weren't exactly them.
But they are.
They are. ]
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Elio can have even this.
Hungrily, he bores into him with his tongue, just sticks it in as far as it'll go, feeling the tight rim of his asshole loosening gradually around the girth of it. Out the corner of his eye, the lights are catching in the champagne, throwing long rays of gold across the bed, challenged only by Lucifer's wings, arched above him and behind him and all around him and Elio draws back, pulls his tongue out with a wet noise, looking up at the bottle of Dom Perignon and remembering his own, I want to drink you up. Lucifer can't get drunk... presumably, unlike humans... The idea won't leave him, so Elio looks up at Lucifer, through the narrow pass between his wings and decides to share. They're sharing everything else right now anyway. ]
I really do want to drink you up, you know.
[ His lips feel puffy, like Lucifer's asshole. His tongue still burning. ]
I want to drink champagne out of you, get drunk off of you. [ Releasing the other man's one buttock, Elio stretches to grab the bottle off the nightstand. ] Please tell me if I would kill you.
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It's just... so intimate.
Shoulders heaving somewhat, he can't help but push back a little against Elio's mouth as the other man fucks him, just pressing his tongue inside as far as it'll go. Consequently, the resultant friction goes straight to his balls and he chokes down a moan, feeling strangely overwrought, like Elio's inside him on so many levels that he can't even understand what's happening. He feels him. All the way to his core, he feels him. He keeps wanting to reach backwards, to touch him -
The other man draws away. Suddenly, he's almost painfully empty, his arsehole clenching a bit in the wake of Elio's tongue. He frowns, forcing himself to concentrate. What, he wants to - he wants -
Oh.
His cock twitches against the bed. He blinks a couple of times, then glances over his shoulder at Elio, twisting a little to make eye contact. Is he serious? He is. He just grabbed the bottle.
Swallowing, Lucifer licks his lips. Turns slowly back onto his stomach, draws a deep breath and replies: ]
You'll kill me if you don't, I think.
[ He doesn't say please though there's a tint to his voice that projects it anyhow. With his vulnerability around Elio, he's actually quite uncertain as to what'll happen in terms of ingesting alcohol... through his arse. Will it do anything? Will he get drunk? It's an exciting idea and it's crazy, isn't it, that Elio manages to do this to him, to take him where he's never gone before on multiple levels. He's immortal. He's been around since before the literal dawn of time.
Because he doesn't know how to say any of that, he curls one wing around Elio's side and buttocks, sort of wrapping him up from behind, the longer feathers sliding gently over his naked skin, thighs, balls. Lines and circles. Beautiful Elio who gives him everything. ]
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The other man curls his wing around him, just holding him gently in that feathery grip and Elio turns his head briefly to press a kiss to the upper edge of Lucifer's wing, feeling the soft brush of feathers. He smells sweet and a little dusty, something else entirely than his crack that's all musk and darkness. But of course, Lucifer embodies both extremes. That's one of the things Elio loves so much about him, loves to bits and pieces.
Loves in bits and pieces.
Then, he nods once and leans down over the other man's backside again, one hand next to the rise of his buttocks, the other holding the champagne bottle, kind of weighing it. It's still mostly full, they've got alcohol enough to make it interesting. Leaning down, Elio kisses Lucifer's tailbone, before pressing the mouth of the bottle against the very same spot, beginning to pour down over his ass, most of it trickling between his buttocks that Elio spreads apart with one hand, watches the liquid shine him up. Pool over the rim of his asshole, before slowly sinking into him. He wonders what it feels like, that feeling of seeping, does the fizz tickle, does it sting, the alcohol? Slowly, he lets the bottle sink lower and lower down his ass crack, until he's more or less pouring directly into him, steadily, unhurried.
A couple of seconds more, though, and he can't wait any longer, discarding the bottle, uncaring about whether they're wetting the bed, and whispers alla nostra salute (to your health, to you, to you, to you, Lucifer) in a hoarse, needy voice as he spreads Lucifer's buttocks apart with both hands now, pressing his face in between. Elio's getting high from the smell, that dry champagne-scent and Lucifer's own. He locks his lips over the rim of his asshole, pushing his tongue inside to lick at that squelch of alcohol and then, just sucks. Drinking him up. ]
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Groaning loudly, he twitches beneath it, his arsehole fluttering in response to this new stimulation and then, then, Elio's pressing the bottle more fully against his arsehole, the liquid pouring down between his spread thighs, over his balls. He feels it going in, too, his body still a little open. It sizzles within him, an odd but brilliant sort of heat and a bloody amazing contrast to the soft wetness of Elio's mouth. About to say something, anything, and feeling quite incapable of coming up with the necessary verbal prowess, he's interrupted by Elio who gets there first, telling him to you and dedicating what feels like overly much to whatever he is, in comparison. The rebel. The fallen angel. The King of Hell.
Lost, yes. But somehow, Elio's managed to find him anyway.
He knows what comes next, of course, but all the same, when Elio puts his lips to him again, to the rim of his arsehole, and pushes his tongue inside him, he moans out loud, forehead pressed against his forearm. He does it again and again until it's nothing but a hoarse whimper, every stroke of Elio's tongue against his arsehole making his muscles quiver and his balls tighten. And then, almost suddenly, he comes.
Hard, overwhelmingly so, and with a touch of delirium (is that the alcohol, actually affecting him? Is it? Is it?), he spends himself all over the sheets, spurting and spurting. He's gasping uncontrollably, feeling his arsehole contracting wetly around Elio's tongue, and there's white noise in his head, white noise and nothing else.
Something hazy, transparent and sacrosanct. ]
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