[ 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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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. ]