[ 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.
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no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]