[ He feels, more than sees, how Elio slips up behind him, peering around his shoulder before grabbing his palm. There's something incredibly precious about Elio's apparent refusal to be afraid of Lucifer's world - even now, whilst surrounded by the shells of hell-bound dead. There's something very warm curling in his chest at the thought of it, at the feel of the other man's fingers and he entwines them a bit more, giving him a quick squeeze before releasing his hand altogether. ]
I don't know. Let me see.
[ He hasn't worn his Devil face since killing Cain back in L.A. - he's felt it there, yes, no longer out of reach for him. Self-actualized, if you were to ask his brother. Murderer, it implies, torturer and villain, the way he's never wanted to be. But with Elio, it's not all that he is. He knows it. He feels it. Perhaps that's why it comes naturally now, his form rippling in the dark, pale skin covered in red, in burns and scars and flesh. Spine bursting outwards in sharp ridges, he feels his ugly, leathery wings follow, unfolding behind him.
When he speaks, his voice is gravelly and harsh, as if the burns go deep enough to reach both lungs and vocal chords. They did, once.
Ancient history. ]
Go. [ He holds out his hand, palm upwards, his elongated, claw-like nails gleaming in the dark. The next word is darker, a clear-cut order: ] Return.
[ In response, within seconds, he's got souls literally clinging to his arm, hanging off of it, and he can hear them beg, still, please, my Lord, my King, take me back, help me back but they're still here. They're still...
Why in the world...
He stares at the pile of souls seemingly trying to melt into his bloody arm. ]
[ When Lucifer releases his hand and says, let me see, Elio somehow knows what will happen before it has taken place at all and he steps back, respectfully, to leave the other man room to transform. His body ripples, his skin turning burnt and red and scarred, his shape somehow magnifying until he's more than just Lucifer, he's Lucifer the Devil, Lucifer the Adversary, Lucifer the Torturer, the Murderer, the Fallen. His wings, leathery and bat-like unfold behind him and Elio has to step around one not to lose him of sight. You might think, the glory that is Lucifer's in his most angelic form, in his most human one, would be lost now, but it isn't. Elio remembers the first time the other man used his mojo in front of him, how Elio had gotten half-hard and felt as if gravitating towards him was the only choice he had left.
He feels much the same way now, really, though it's more difficult to hide when you're naked and completely exposed. It's just, Lucifer's naked, too, and it's his whole body, not just his face this time, and Elio suddenly wants to embrace him, hold him in his arms and stroke his shoulders, his chest, every part of him. His breathing goes a little shallow, a little breathy as the Devil orders his subjects home, it feels like all air's stuck in the topmost of his throat.
It's arousal. Elio would recognize this feeling anywhere, it is as far from fear as you might get, if the two aren't somehow weirdly interwoven. He's been aroused by danger before, he'd know, he'd know.
They more or less attack him, the souls, after Lucifer's spoken. Elio automatically steps closer, though he doesn't touch - mostly because he acknowledges that Lucifer won't need his help, this is his territory, Elio's a guest and guests don't make themselves too much at home, even if that's exactly what he wants to do. He wants to be at home, here. With him. Like this as well. The souls are hanging off his arm, clinging to him, soundlessly calling out and Elio shifts a bit from one foot to the other, before finally just reaching out, unable to help himself, and pushing at the nearest of the shadows. His hand goes right through. He quickly withdraws. ]
[ When Elio reaches out and touches one of them, Lucifer grabs his arm lightening-fast, checking his strength just in time. There's a part of him that's shuddering at the thought of his scarred flesh and monstrous fingers touching Elio anywhere but that's a problem for some other time (there'll be another time, there will). ]
Don't touch them. [ His voice is rough, still, and he hates the sound of it in the otherwise quiet of the room. The souls are still here, still trapped. He can do nothing for them like this. ] I doubt they can merge with you or they would've done it, surely, for how desperate they seem. But still.
[ He releases Elio and steps closer. Looks over the horde of souls and out towards the city beyond the windows - and yes, indeed, Rome has been swarmed. The Devil scratches his head in confusion just as the strong sound of wings flapping outside on the balcony resonates through the stillness, followed by a loud Luci! and his brother's footsteps as he unwisely hurries through the small hotel room.
Thus, as he pauses in the doorway, Amenadiel gets more than an eyeful.
Lucifer clears his throat and replies: ]
Brother.
[ With a ripple, he transforms back into his human form. Not like the Devil-King business is doing much of anything at the moment. Peripherally, he's aware of Elio, Elio who hasn't drawn away, who isn't screaming with horror or cowering in fright, never, it seems. Never. Amenadiel growls and flaps one hand in the general direction of Lucifer's crotch, not even bothering with the words themselves (and actually managing to point with some precision despite averting his eyes). Then, he flaps a hand at Elio for good measure.
The souls, meanwhile, aren't drifting towards Amenadiel. They know that this is not a business for God's chosen. ]
[ There's no resistance in him, when Lucifer grabs his arm and he remains pliantly unmoving while the Devil tells him not to touch, that they might overtake him, that it's dangerous and Elio knows, he wants to say, he wants to tell him that he knows it's dangerous and he accepts everything that's implied in that observation.
He doesn't have time to say much of anything, however, because outside, he recognizes the celestial whooshing before the footsteps sound and although it could mean many things, it must in essence mean that one of Lucifer's siblings is here for him. Please don't take him away, Elio has time to think before Amenadiel emerges in the doorway to the bedroom, getting an eyeful of first the Devil's cock and then the Devil's cock in its other form and now, the other angel is waving his hand at Lucifer's crotch first, then at Elio, making Elio smile a little bit and walk over to the closet, pulling out their pajamas bottoms folded away in there, wordlessly putting a pair on himself and holding the other out for Lucifer to take, should he so desire.
It's a request, not an order, though, as is always the case between them. After all, Elio has no idea how hell-bent he is on making his brother uncomfortable. From what little he saw of them together at his mother's summer house, he might actually be very, very hell-bent on it, right? ]
More visitors.
[ A soft commentary, on Amenadiel, on the souls, on them, Lucifer and him, not being alone like they'd no doubt all prefer. In Lucifer's general direction, Elio gives the pajamas a slight shake as encouragement, though his attention's on Amenadiel, fully. You have to suddenly wonder, how far-reaching this problem is, does it go beyond the hotel room, does it go beyond Rome? More importantly, what does it require of the King of Hell? Elio licks his lips and looks down momentarily, feeling a knot of something heavy and hurtful and all too familiar collect in the pit of his stomach. Gone is the arousal, gone is anything but the knowledge of exactly what a farewell will feel like. The same as all the others, presumably, just worse. Oh, much, much worse. ]
[ Elio goes to the closet to heed Amenadiel's unspoken plea - because that's a plea if he ever saw it, brother, you poor sod - and Lucifer accepts the proffered pajama bottoms, taking special care to brush his now all-too-human fingers across Elio's knuckles in the process. Touch. He wants to touch. They marked each other from the inside-out earlier tonight, before they went to sleep, before they were woken up. He can feel it, still, the traces of him. His presence in his body.
It'll fade, though, in time.
Lucifer puts the bottoms on, then stalks over to Amenadiel, gaze hard and determined. Forcefully so, because he can't - he has to focus. It's a bloody catastrophe. Souls. Souls, all over Rome and presumably... ]
This is world-wide, isn't it. It's not just here, it's everywhere.
[ Amenadiel nods. With a sigh, his brother glances towards Elio, then seemingly resigns himself to his presence. Bit late, isn't it, in the game, to despair of human exposure to divinity? To what's beneath it? Look around. The ground is teeming with it.
I flew to Hell, says Amenadiel, Lucifer's eyebrows rising slightly in response. To check. One of your demons - they told me that the loops... He trails off and takes a deep breath. Lucifer holds back an impatient Get to it! only because he isn't actually all that anxious to hear the continuation - it'll mean something, after all, no matter what it is. It'll mean something for them. His gaze flicks over to Elio, then back to his brother who says: The loops don't work as they ought. The people inside them seem to have been... He looks at the souls crowding up the room, his expression dark. Troubled. Hollowed out, they say.
Lucifer stares at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turns towards Elio. Looks at him, wordlessly, feeling hollowed out himself. ]
[ Elio doesn't disturb, doesn't ask questions or make comments, because this is angel business that only peripherally involves him. But he watches, regardless, Lucifer's brother who looks troubled and Lucifer who's showcasing all his forcible strength, because they both know this is a problem that must be solved and who solves problems in Hell? Who else? Elio watches and he listens and he is, somehow, reminded of King Solomon who had to find the right mother for that little baby and threatened to cut it in half, to expose the impostor. Yes, said the fake, cut it in half, let us both have a piece.
Take him, said the true mother, I will rather my child lives than dies.
Take him, take him, take him.
He takes a deep breath as Lucifer turns towards him, just looking at him wordlessly while Elio's stomach drops and his heart sinks and his blood freezes and this is it, this is the time, this is the end. He's known all along, of course, that although Lucifer will long outlive him and thus, in some capacity be his forever, their time together would be relatively short, because forevers aren't for humans to have. Were never Elio's to have. He's grasped for them often enough and always had his hands come back empty. Without sparing Amenadiel another glance, another thought, sorry, you will simply have to live (and he will, because he's as eternal as Lucifer is), he strides forward and more or less throws himself at the other man's front, arms locking around his neck, hoisting himself up on his toes, because Lucifer is so stupidly tall and you can't reach him, he'll always be just out of reach for someone like Elio, won't he?
It's always farewell, with Elio's men. It's always goodbye.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he presses his forehead against the line of Lucifer's jaw, feeling his stubble, feeling the familiar shapes of his features, cheek and lips and nose. Hair tickling his skin. Elio knows all of it and now he'll soon have known it in the past tense. ]
It's okay. [ It's not okay, but it's the first lie he's ever told the other man and it'll also be the last. ] I understand, Lucifer.
[ That, at least, is true enough. He does, he's always understood. They're from different worlds and their paths were only ever meant to cross, not run in parallel. ]
[ Oh no, but Elio isn't supposed to look like that, not because of something Lucifer's done, not because of anything anyone's done. He's supposed to protect him from it, from falling. Looking at the other man, completely at a loss for words, Lucifer catches him like an afterthought when he springs forward and throws his arms around his neck. He curves both arms around Elio's waist and holds him up, let's him cling to his front. Behind them, Amenadiel nods. Turns away. This is a problem with a single solution.
Years ago, Lucifer would've ignored it. He would've left it up to Dad, to anyone really, he would've turned his back on his punishment because doing so felt like fighting, something he's never truly ceased to do. He was created like that, probably. Irony at its finest. He breathes out slowly through his nose while Elio presses his forehead against his jaw and tells him it's okay, that he understands, and maybe he does, maybe he doesn't, but it sure as Hell isn't okay and they both know it.
Breath shuddering out of him, Lucifer buries his nose in Elio's neck and breathes him in, the smell of his curls, his skin, warm from sleep, soft and inviting. Yes, years ago he would've run, he would've left it all to burn but of course, now that he actually wants to do so more than anything, he can't.
Doing so would make liars out of them both.
Like he hasn't changed, like Elio isn't the cause. ]
I'll come back.
[ He kisses the side of Elio's neck. Draws back a little to kiss his cheek, too. ]
Give me a little while to sort things out.
[ Pause. He swallows harshly now because this is actually something he's asking of the other man, something he can't by rights expect or presume. His voice trembles a little on his next words. ]
Please. A little while.
[ Wait, it means. Wait for me.
In humans terms, waiting is the same as dying by degrees. He's aware. He's well aware indeed. ]
[ Lucifer catches him around the waist and holds him up, holds him close and Elio is desperately clinging to him, is hanging off his neck like the other man's an anchor or a rock and the rest of the world a sea at unrest. It feels like it, it feels like the ghosts of people long gone break against them from all sides like waves, although they are as unmoving now as they were a moment ago. It's all implied, somehow. In the way Amenadiel turns away and allows them their privacy. In the way that a couple of hours ago, they were physically inseparable and now, they are not, anymore. Now, they're going to part, once Lucifer is done kissing his neck, his cheek and Elio turns his head in against him, as if trying to catch his lips before they, too, are gone. They smell like each other, but the scent will fade. The feeling of Lucifer's body, his hands, his cock, it'll all fade.
I'll come back, the other man assures him, then begs: please, a little while which is just a way of asking, wait for me but without the question mark, because Lucifer would never presume that Elio would, he knows Elio's history, he knows the fifteen years he spent waiting for Oliver, he knows he'd quite possibly die having to wait fifteen years more.
Regardless, Elio hears the tremor in his voice and draws back to look up at him, eyes stinging, so he has to blink repeatedly, harshly, realizing that he's been wrong all along, the blessing isn't that they're meant for each other, because to his Jewish belief, everyone's a gift for someone. No, the blessing is how they chose to be all that for each other. The blessing is how that choice is still his, everything else aside. Lucifer, true to nature, is giving him that choice back right now. Elio breathes in harshly, it's more a gulp than a real inhalation and he shakes his head hard. His hand slips from around Lucifer's neck to his cheek, cupping his face, thumb running along the rise of his cheekbone.
His beautiful, beautiful Lucifer. And that's when the tears brim over. Elio doesn't release the other man to reach up and wipe them away. ]
That means I'll definitely see you again, right? [ Elio clears his throat, clumsily pressing his face in against the other man's shoulder, sideways, so he can finish his sentence without muffling any of the words. He can't wait indefinitely for someone a second time, but Lucifer doesn't lie and they're worth a little while, they're worth a fucking long shot. ] I'll wait until then.
[ He watches as Elio's eyes brim over, slowly but surely, the faint lights from outside making them seem overly bright, like there's a glittering sheen draped over them. It's not... This is not what he wanted, obviously. Lucifer has said goodbye to Earth many, many times throughout his existence but it's never said goodbye to him, has it? Not like this.
He leans his face into Elio's touch, his fingers warm against his cheekbone, the scents of sex and sweat still clinging to them in fragments. It will feel wrong when he pulls away at some point, like too little, much too little, but he leaves a physical echo behind beneath his skin, Elio, and that will simply have to suffice. Lucifer's dreamt about Hell for many nights, now. He can carry both impressions within himself, surely - the memory of now as well as the memory of when.
Curling his hand gently against the back of Elio's head, he keeps him pressed against his shoulder, feeling his outline against his front, his long limbs, his weight distribution. Beautiful, angelic Elio. It figures, doesn't it, that there's something larger at play now. Deep inside, Lucifer's well aware that it won't be an easy fix, whatever's happened. The timing's too on point.
At Elio's words, at his sobs, Lucifer glares upwards, lips pressed together in a hard line, his jaw tense. You did this, he thinks, tightening his arm around Elio. Keeping him close. You did this to us.
Well, then, he'll fucking well undo it. ]
Thank you, darling.
[ His voice is quiet, calmer than usual. The wetness in his eyes is an underlying implication, translated only partially to his voice. He'll keep them in, yes, he won't give Him the satisfaction. Elio's pain shouldn't be His, either, but when it comes to his Dad, Lucifer's learned not to count his losses. In the other room, Amenadiel is waiting for him, wings out. It can't wait, he knows. This time, he understands. ]
I'll be back. I promise.
[ The weight behind those words is significant, considering the situation, the sheer magnitude of it. With a shuddering breath, just barely keeping his emotions in check, he pulls back to look at him properly, feeling his lips quiver. Sweet Elio. Patient, warm and steady Elio. His gaze drifts from his eyes to his lips, then back again. Then, he leans in and kisses him. ]
[ It's a separation in stages and the first stage is hold, close, Lucifer curving his hand along the back of Elio's head and keeping him balanced, steady against his front for a while longer, thanking him in a voice that Elio could easily pretend isn't shaking a little from emotion, but he won't, because between the two of them, they never pretended such things. They took it all, every shiver of it and ran. Could they run now? You can't run from the divine, can you? From God Himself. If I go up to the heavens, you are there. If I make my bed in the depths, you are there. Elio isn't devout, but he knows his Psalms, he's read them all right to left. They were how he learned his third language.
Lucifer draws back a bit and although Elio wants to cling more, be a baby in his arms, throw away all responsibilities, he relaxes his hold, letting his hand drop from his cheek to his shoulder, just brushing his palm over the slope of it, naked skin, warm, smooth. I promise, Lucifer tells him and who else would he say those words to, Lucifer doesn't make promises he doesn't intend to keep and most other people wouldn't understand the weight of it, the impact, the implications. That even if there is no solution, and who knows, there might not be, Lucifer will make one, find it, if it meant digging it out of his own body with his bare hands. Because Lucifer is like that, Elio knows, Elio has understood his nature from day one, Lucifer does not yield, he's strong and he's stubborn.
That's where they complement each other. So well, so well.
Turning his face up, he welcomes the other man's lips, breathing out hard against him and stroking his fingers softly over the patches of skin he can reach, neck on the left, arm on the right, lips. Warm, soft lips. Elio kisses him back, but only for a moment, because he literally can't bear it - unlike Lucifer he's not made for these kinds of burdens. He kisses him light and soft and gratefully. Then, he pushes both hands against his chest and pulls back, away and no, no, no. ]
I believe you.
[ The way he has from the beginning. They're not at the end, now. They're not at the end. Elio bites his bottom lip, then releases it and smiles, slightly up at him. Shakily. Lucifer is like none of the others. There are goodbyes and then, there is this. ]
[ The kiss is too brief, like everything else about this moment, Elio's lips, the feel of his hands and the way he tries to keep himself strong in the face of this, whatever it is. God's work. Humans have never understood even a magnitude of it, of the consequences, and they've imagined suffering on grand scales all the same. Floods and plagues and genocides. It happened, maybe, in a way - but they've never understood.
Lucifer hasn't, either. Maybe that's why he's still here, in the exact same bloody spot, thinking about ways to create change, to push His plans out of alignment.
He holds onto Elio, feeling desperate and incapable for all of five seconds before he pushes the feeling away. Buries it, deep. I believe you he says, the wetness of his lips, the salt from his eyes, lingering on the tip of Lucifer's tongue. I believe you, he repeats and smiles because even this, he'll give Lucifer, even this. The memory of his happiness along with all the rest.
With a stiff nod, Lucifer finally releases him and steps away. He's wearing too little for this, really, not enough layers. So he sets about getting dressed, quickly but efficiently, grabbing clean clothes from the closet - trousers, white shirt, a suit jacket, no vest - and fixing the cuff links last, like a ritual. In Hell, there's nothing.
He pauses. Forces himself not to cry as he glances back at Elio, holds his gaze for another long, moment. Then, he turns and walks back to the living room where Amenadiel is waiting for him. He unfurls his wings as he walks, pausing to pull one out, about the length of a hand. It's glittering and shining, clearly well-kept, and he sees the look his Brother gives him, the sadness there.
Useless.
Lucifer leaves the feather on the seat of the armchair.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I don't know. Let me see.
[ He hasn't worn his Devil face since killing Cain back in L.A. - he's felt it there, yes, no longer out of reach for him. Self-actualized, if you were to ask his brother. Murderer, it implies, torturer and villain, the way he's never wanted to be. But with Elio, it's not all that he is. He knows it. He feels it. Perhaps that's why it comes naturally now, his form rippling in the dark, pale skin covered in red, in burns and scars and flesh. Spine bursting outwards in sharp ridges, he feels his ugly, leathery wings follow, unfolding behind him.
When he speaks, his voice is gravelly and harsh, as if the burns go deep enough to reach both lungs and vocal chords. They did, once.
Ancient history. ]
Go. [ He holds out his hand, palm upwards, his elongated, claw-like nails gleaming in the dark. The next word is darker, a clear-cut order: ] Return.
[ In response, within seconds, he's got souls literally clinging to his arm, hanging off of it, and he can hear them beg, still, please, my Lord, my King, take me back, help me back but they're still here. They're still...
Why in the world...
He stares at the pile of souls seemingly trying to melt into his bloody arm. ]
no subject
He feels much the same way now, really, though it's more difficult to hide when you're naked and completely exposed. It's just, Lucifer's naked, too, and it's his whole body, not just his face this time, and Elio suddenly wants to embrace him, hold him in his arms and stroke his shoulders, his chest, every part of him. His breathing goes a little shallow, a little breathy as the Devil orders his subjects home, it feels like all air's stuck in the topmost of his throat.
It's arousal. Elio would recognize this feeling anywhere, it is as far from fear as you might get, if the two aren't somehow weirdly interwoven. He's been aroused by danger before, he'd know, he'd know.
They more or less attack him, the souls, after Lucifer's spoken. Elio automatically steps closer, though he doesn't touch - mostly because he acknowledges that Lucifer won't need his help, this is his territory, Elio's a guest and guests don't make themselves too much at home, even if that's exactly what he wants to do. He wants to be at home, here. With him. Like this as well. The souls are hanging off his arm, clinging to him, soundlessly calling out and Elio shifts a bit from one foot to the other, before finally just reaching out, unable to help himself, and pushing at the nearest of the shadows. His hand goes right through. He quickly withdraws. ]
Tell me what to do.
[ I want to be there for you, it means.
I'm your domain, too, it means. ]
no subject
Don't touch them. [ His voice is rough, still, and he hates the sound of it in the otherwise quiet of the room. The souls are still here, still trapped. He can do nothing for them like this. ] I doubt they can merge with you or they would've done it, surely, for how desperate they seem. But still.
[ He releases Elio and steps closer. Looks over the horde of souls and out towards the city beyond the windows - and yes, indeed, Rome has been swarmed. The Devil scratches his head in confusion just as the strong sound of wings flapping outside on the balcony resonates through the stillness, followed by a loud Luci! and his brother's footsteps as he unwisely hurries through the small hotel room.
Thus, as he pauses in the doorway, Amenadiel gets more than an eyeful.
Lucifer clears his throat and replies: ]
Brother.
[ With a ripple, he transforms back into his human form. Not like the Devil-King business is doing much of anything at the moment. Peripherally, he's aware of Elio, Elio who hasn't drawn away, who isn't screaming with horror or cowering in fright, never, it seems. Never. Amenadiel growls and flaps one hand in the general direction of Lucifer's crotch, not even bothering with the words themselves (and actually managing to point with some precision despite averting his eyes). Then, he flaps a hand at Elio for good measure.
The souls, meanwhile, aren't drifting towards Amenadiel. They know that this is not a business for God's chosen. ]
no subject
He doesn't have time to say much of anything, however, because outside, he recognizes the celestial whooshing before the footsteps sound and although it could mean many things, it must in essence mean that one of Lucifer's siblings is here for him. Please don't take him away, Elio has time to think before Amenadiel emerges in the doorway to the bedroom, getting an eyeful of first the Devil's cock and then the Devil's cock in its other form and now, the other angel is waving his hand at Lucifer's crotch first, then at Elio, making Elio smile a little bit and walk over to the closet, pulling out their pajamas bottoms folded away in there, wordlessly putting a pair on himself and holding the other out for Lucifer to take, should he so desire.
It's a request, not an order, though, as is always the case between them. After all, Elio has no idea how hell-bent he is on making his brother uncomfortable. From what little he saw of them together at his mother's summer house, he might actually be very, very hell-bent on it, right? ]
More visitors.
[ A soft commentary, on Amenadiel, on the souls, on them, Lucifer and him, not being alone like they'd no doubt all prefer. In Lucifer's general direction, Elio gives the pajamas a slight shake as encouragement, though his attention's on Amenadiel, fully. You have to suddenly wonder, how far-reaching this problem is, does it go beyond the hotel room, does it go beyond Rome? More importantly, what does it require of the King of Hell? Elio licks his lips and looks down momentarily, feeling a knot of something heavy and hurtful and all too familiar collect in the pit of his stomach. Gone is the arousal, gone is anything but the knowledge of exactly what a farewell will feel like. The same as all the others, presumably, just worse. Oh, much, much worse. ]
no subject
It'll fade, though, in time.
Lucifer puts the bottoms on, then stalks over to Amenadiel, gaze hard and determined. Forcefully so, because he can't - he has to focus. It's a bloody catastrophe. Souls. Souls, all over Rome and presumably... ]
This is world-wide, isn't it. It's not just here, it's everywhere.
[ Amenadiel nods. With a sigh, his brother glances towards Elio, then seemingly resigns himself to his presence. Bit late, isn't it, in the game, to despair of human exposure to divinity? To what's beneath it? Look around. The ground is teeming with it.
I flew to Hell, says Amenadiel, Lucifer's eyebrows rising slightly in response. To check. One of your demons - they told me that the loops... He trails off and takes a deep breath. Lucifer holds back an impatient Get to it! only because he isn't actually all that anxious to hear the continuation - it'll mean something, after all, no matter what it is. It'll mean something for them. His gaze flicks over to Elio, then back to his brother who says: The loops don't work as they ought. The people inside them seem to have been... He looks at the souls crowding up the room, his expression dark. Troubled. Hollowed out, they say.
Lucifer stares at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turns towards Elio. Looks at him, wordlessly, feeling hollowed out himself. ]
no subject
Take him, said the true mother, I will rather my child lives than dies.
Take him, take him, take him.
He takes a deep breath as Lucifer turns towards him, just looking at him wordlessly while Elio's stomach drops and his heart sinks and his blood freezes and this is it, this is the time, this is the end. He's known all along, of course, that although Lucifer will long outlive him and thus, in some capacity be his forever, their time together would be relatively short, because forevers aren't for humans to have. Were never Elio's to have. He's grasped for them often enough and always had his hands come back empty. Without sparing Amenadiel another glance, another thought, sorry, you will simply have to live (and he will, because he's as eternal as Lucifer is), he strides forward and more or less throws himself at the other man's front, arms locking around his neck, hoisting himself up on his toes, because Lucifer is so stupidly tall and you can't reach him, he'll always be just out of reach for someone like Elio, won't he?
It's always farewell, with Elio's men. It's always goodbye.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he presses his forehead against the line of Lucifer's jaw, feeling his stubble, feeling the familiar shapes of his features, cheek and lips and nose. Hair tickling his skin. Elio knows all of it and now he'll soon have known it in the past tense. ]
It's okay. [ It's not okay, but it's the first lie he's ever told the other man and it'll also be the last. ] I understand, Lucifer.
[ That, at least, is true enough. He does, he's always understood. They're from different worlds and their paths were only ever meant to cross, not run in parallel. ]
no subject
Years ago, Lucifer would've ignored it. He would've left it up to Dad, to anyone really, he would've turned his back on his punishment because doing so felt like fighting, something he's never truly ceased to do. He was created like that, probably. Irony at its finest. He breathes out slowly through his nose while Elio presses his forehead against his jaw and tells him it's okay, that he understands, and maybe he does, maybe he doesn't, but it sure as Hell isn't okay and they both know it.
Breath shuddering out of him, Lucifer buries his nose in Elio's neck and breathes him in, the smell of his curls, his skin, warm from sleep, soft and inviting. Yes, years ago he would've run, he would've left it all to burn but of course, now that he actually wants to do so more than anything, he can't.
Doing so would make liars out of them both.
Like he hasn't changed, like Elio isn't the cause. ]
I'll come back.
[ He kisses the side of Elio's neck. Draws back a little to kiss his cheek, too. ]
Give me a little while to sort things out.
[ Pause. He swallows harshly now because this is actually something he's asking of the other man, something he can't by rights expect or presume. His voice trembles a little on his next words. ]
Please. A little while.
[ Wait, it means. Wait for me.
In humans terms, waiting is the same as dying by degrees. He's aware. He's well aware indeed. ]
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I'll come back, the other man assures him, then begs: please, a little while which is just a way of asking, wait for me but without the question mark, because Lucifer would never presume that Elio would, he knows Elio's history, he knows the fifteen years he spent waiting for Oliver, he knows he'd quite possibly die having to wait fifteen years more.
Regardless, Elio hears the tremor in his voice and draws back to look up at him, eyes stinging, so he has to blink repeatedly, harshly, realizing that he's been wrong all along, the blessing isn't that they're meant for each other, because to his Jewish belief, everyone's a gift for someone. No, the blessing is how they chose to be all that for each other. The blessing is how that choice is still his, everything else aside. Lucifer, true to nature, is giving him that choice back right now. Elio breathes in harshly, it's more a gulp than a real inhalation and he shakes his head hard. His hand slips from around Lucifer's neck to his cheek, cupping his face, thumb running along the rise of his cheekbone.
His beautiful, beautiful Lucifer. And that's when the tears brim over. Elio doesn't release the other man to reach up and wipe them away. ]
That means I'll definitely see you again, right? [ Elio clears his throat, clumsily pressing his face in against the other man's shoulder, sideways, so he can finish his sentence without muffling any of the words. He can't wait indefinitely for someone a second time, but Lucifer doesn't lie and they're worth a little while, they're worth a fucking long shot. ] I'll wait until then.
[ This time it's an actual sob, oh. ]
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He leans his face into Elio's touch, his fingers warm against his cheekbone, the scents of sex and sweat still clinging to them in fragments. It will feel wrong when he pulls away at some point, like too little, much too little, but he leaves a physical echo behind beneath his skin, Elio, and that will simply have to suffice. Lucifer's dreamt about Hell for many nights, now. He can carry both impressions within himself, surely - the memory of now as well as the memory of when.
Curling his hand gently against the back of Elio's head, he keeps him pressed against his shoulder, feeling his outline against his front, his long limbs, his weight distribution. Beautiful, angelic Elio. It figures, doesn't it, that there's something larger at play now. Deep inside, Lucifer's well aware that it won't be an easy fix, whatever's happened. The timing's too on point.
At Elio's words, at his sobs, Lucifer glares upwards, lips pressed together in a hard line, his jaw tense. You did this, he thinks, tightening his arm around Elio. Keeping him close. You did this to us.
Well, then, he'll fucking well undo it. ]
Thank you, darling.
[ His voice is quiet, calmer than usual. The wetness in his eyes is an underlying implication, translated only partially to his voice. He'll keep them in, yes, he won't give Him the satisfaction. Elio's pain shouldn't be His, either, but when it comes to his Dad, Lucifer's learned not to count his losses. In the other room, Amenadiel is waiting for him, wings out. It can't wait, he knows. This time, he understands. ]
I'll be back. I promise.
[ The weight behind those words is significant, considering the situation, the sheer magnitude of it. With a shuddering breath, just barely keeping his emotions in check, he pulls back to look at him properly, feeling his lips quiver. Sweet Elio. Patient, warm and steady Elio. His gaze drifts from his eyes to his lips, then back again. Then, he leans in and kisses him. ]
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Lucifer draws back a bit and although Elio wants to cling more, be a baby in his arms, throw away all responsibilities, he relaxes his hold, letting his hand drop from his cheek to his shoulder, just brushing his palm over the slope of it, naked skin, warm, smooth. I promise, Lucifer tells him and who else would he say those words to, Lucifer doesn't make promises he doesn't intend to keep and most other people wouldn't understand the weight of it, the impact, the implications. That even if there is no solution, and who knows, there might not be, Lucifer will make one, find it, if it meant digging it out of his own body with his bare hands. Because Lucifer is like that, Elio knows, Elio has understood his nature from day one, Lucifer does not yield, he's strong and he's stubborn.
That's where they complement each other. So well, so well.
Turning his face up, he welcomes the other man's lips, breathing out hard against him and stroking his fingers softly over the patches of skin he can reach, neck on the left, arm on the right, lips. Warm, soft lips. Elio kisses him back, but only for a moment, because he literally can't bear it - unlike Lucifer he's not made for these kinds of burdens. He kisses him light and soft and gratefully. Then, he pushes both hands against his chest and pulls back, away and no, no, no. ]
I believe you.
[ The way he has from the beginning. They're not at the end, now. They're not at the end. Elio bites his bottom lip, then releases it and smiles, slightly up at him. Shakily. Lucifer is like none of the others. There are goodbyes and then, there is this. ]
I believe you.
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Lucifer hasn't, either. Maybe that's why he's still here, in the exact same bloody spot, thinking about ways to create change, to push His plans out of alignment.
He holds onto Elio, feeling desperate and incapable for all of five seconds before he pushes the feeling away. Buries it, deep. I believe you he says, the wetness of his lips, the salt from his eyes, lingering on the tip of Lucifer's tongue. I believe you, he repeats and smiles because even this, he'll give Lucifer, even this. The memory of his happiness along with all the rest.
With a stiff nod, Lucifer finally releases him and steps away. He's wearing too little for this, really, not enough layers. So he sets about getting dressed, quickly but efficiently, grabbing clean clothes from the closet - trousers, white shirt, a suit jacket, no vest - and fixing the cuff links last, like a ritual. In Hell, there's nothing.
He pauses. Forces himself not to cry as he glances back at Elio, holds his gaze for another long, moment. Then, he turns and walks back to the living room where Amenadiel is waiting for him. He unfurls his wings as he walks, pausing to pull one out, about the length of a hand. It's glittering and shining, clearly well-kept, and he sees the look his Brother gives him, the sadness there.
Useless.
Lucifer leaves the feather on the seat of the armchair.
Then, they go. ]