[ Once the door falls shut behind Elio (remnants of luminescent blue blossoming all over the doorframe and along the sides of the rocky walls), Lucifer takes flight. He felt it immediately, the challenge emitted from near the throne itself - Hell, calling to him, specifically, the ground trembling.
Whilst he'd been away in L.A. and later, traversing the world with Elio, Hell had lost some of its shape and structure, leaving cracks in the walls and the ground, huge chasms going down into absolute and total blackness. The ground beneath the throne had been coming apart, molten lava sizzling and smoking where the foundation had split. It had been... not unlike the first thousand years, really. The initial years. And his demons, too, had reverted back to something that used to be, to chaos and mayhem, fighting amongst themselves and taking souls apart without any rhyme or reason.
He'd had to re-establish order, of a sort. He'd had to be thorough about it.
But even now, there are those who'll challenge him at the first sign of instability. It's some primal kind of anxiety, presumably, something about striking first because Lucifer did leave them, he did, and as a direct consequence, they - and their home - fell apart at the seams.
So, at the sight of Dromos seated by the foot of the throne, one foot resting provocatively on its rocky foundation, Lucifer doesn't pause to ask questions, doesn't reach for diplomacy of any sort because he knows what they need, even if he wishes he didn't. They're his, after all. Instead, he goes straight for the demon's throat, grabbing him mid-flight and flinging him against the nearest cliffside. Dromos laughs in his face, his black eyes wide and crazed, bloody spittle running down his chin. Hell doesn't need a Queen! he rasps, his sharp teeth glinting. The boy will ruin everything! He'll turn you into a fucking wimp and shit his nasty colours all over the place, disgusting, disgusting! Take him away!
Lucifer deals with him. When he's done, he leaves him sitting by the cliffside, his legs broken, half his face in ruins, and when he heals up, he'll probably behave himself for another hundred years or so. Lucifer pushes him completely and utterly from his mind. Gone. Be gone. The demon winces and whimpers, curling in on himself, incapable of slinking back any further but around him, the others have drawn away and that's really all Lucifer cares about. He notes Maze amongst them, watching him from between the shadows, her half-face expressionless.
He goes to meet Elio by his father's door, blood staining his clothes and hands, realising only when he lands that he really... ought to shower, first. Change his clothes. He turns away, about to take flight again, feeling suddenly exactly as dirty as he looks. ]
[ He leaves his father's loop easily, nothing attempting to hold him back and he thinks, as he steps out into the hallway beyond, that maybe Lucifer did wish him luck, in his own way, maybe the colors are just all the luck they get for now. The colors and the grass that has spread all over the hallway, still not overtaking the ground completely, but fighting a brave battle in circular patches. Tuffs of it springing forth here and there around his feet. It feels like a carpet beneath the soles of his shoes, old trainers, jeans, t-shirt. Bracelet. He doesn't look much Queen of anything, but then again, this is not the Greek pantheon, he isn't Persephone, their stories simply reflect each other.
Looking up, he catches sight of Lucifer's back, wings out, huge and ash-grey at this point, about to retreat and Elio quickly closes the door behind himself, cutting off his father's groaning, to hurry after him, pushing one hand flat and soft against the arch of one wing. Wait, it means, where are you going? ]
Stay.
[ He notices the blood stains in his clothes before the other man has turned around towards him fully, stepping back enough to leave his wings clean pass, but once they're face to face, his hands are looking pretty beaten up and bloody, too. Elio's gaze softens, he imagines he'd also have liked to change into something clean, something as clean as a conscience, before meeting his lover slash new partner on the job.
But the job is this, obviously. It's blood and cracked foundations and people crying as they try to escape themselves. Elio's seen that now. He's seen that and he isn't afraid of it. Stay, he repeats, more softly this time, shaking his head, knowing some things remain, they can't change that, not yet at least, maybe never, though eternity is a long time, so who really knows, but just because the conditions are what they are, doesn't mean they can't suck and it can't hurt and Lucifer hates not presenting himself at his absolute best. Elio knows. Stepping up to him, he slings his arm around his neck and pulls him down, embracing him tightly.
They're probably still being watched. This is Elio's quiet, but evident fuck you to the eyes that see. He's feeling a little tired himself now, to be honest. It isn't only intimacy for Lucifer's sake. ]
Do you want to talk about it?
[ Any answer acceptable, it means. Otherwise I have other things we can talk about, it means. Leave it to me. ]
[ He isn't fast enough. He senses Elio's presence in the hallway before he feels him, physically, that slight, gentle touch against his wing making him come to a complete stop. His shoulders are tense, his stance rigid, as the other man slips around him to bring them face to face. At the way his gaze softens, Lucifer suddenly wants to look away but he doesn't, obviously, it's not like it would undo what he's done. What he keeps doing, what he has to do for the rest of bloody eternity. Instead, he looks at Elio, gaze a little bit distant, a little bit cold.
When the other man slings his arm around his neck and pulls him into a hug, however, he can't help but let himself fall into him just a little bit, leaning his chin against the side of his head briefly before slipping his arm around his waist in response. He manages not to flinch at the bloody stains he's leaving on the other man's clothes. ]
No.
[ He brushes his lips over the side of Elio's head to soften the refusal a little before stepping back. Folding his wings away, he wipes his hand sloppily against his trousers. His own knuckles are bleeding still because in this version of Hell, in this version wherein Elio enriches it and makes it bloom, the Devil does indeed take damage. It's not something he can afford to hide from anyone. Hiding would be akin to admitting weakness.
Instead, he takes Elio's hand and leads them onwards, past the doors, the hallway snaking off in a myriad of different directions. He goes by intuition. There's something more for them to see, he senses, wondering if it's got to do with another loop. ]
[ Lucifer melts into his hold, allows himself, allows them both the proximity, the nearness. His head presses in against the side of Elio's face, weighs on his shoulder and Elio carries him for a short moment in time, carries the Devil when he's a bit too heavy for himself. Elio will take that, he'll take that vulnerability and run with it, because in these types of situations, being vulnerable is something that will inevitably get you a little bit hurt, a little bit damaged and Lucifer doesn't deserve that, however much it can't be avoided.
No, Lucifer tells him, but it's a soft refusal, not one to be doubted, but it's followed up by a brush of lips against his cheek and Elio will take that as well, accept that for an answer, letting Lucifer step back and take his hand, before he is being led off along one of the hallways, extending in all directions, it's a maze down here, he'll take a while to learn the ropes, right? Like this, not knowing where he's going and having only the other man's hand to tell him the way, he does feel like Cinderella again, the way that once Michel had made him feel, but Michel is bound for the other side of one of those doors and Elio will be there to greet him. It's not a happy thought.
Inevitable, but not happy. Like so many things. He looks down at Lucifer's knuckles, bruised and beaten, and thinks, inevitable. When the Devil will bleed around his Queen.
Then, he glances sideways up at Lucifer, lets him set the pace this time, lets him lead the way, Elio doesn't know where they're going, only that someplace else now is calling and it isn't in groans and creaking bed springs. ]
Someone pressed play, I guess. All color came back, the loop started running again. [ Eyes seeking out the hallway further ahead, he shakes his head. ] My father saw me, but somehow also saw right through me. It was like I could as well not have been there while the loop repeated itself.
[ A small shrug. It isn't truly sad, but it had been disheartening, of course it had. He's not going to deny that, he's not going to hide it either. There's literally no part of him he doesn't want Lucifer to see, not the part that gets a little teary-eyed at the way his father had been his father and someone else simultaneously. Someone gone, someone lost. ]
[ He listens, brow furrowing at Elio's words. All color came back, he says - meaning, the world re-established itself within the loop, at least in part. Judging by his father's reaction to his presence, either Elio isn't fully capable of interacting with souls or the balance is shaky, at best. Going by how Hell is basically folding itself into a bloody pretzel to accommodate Elio's presence, to suck up absolutely all traces of it, he doubts it's the first option. He glances upwards, watching the ash fall through the air like snow.
Feels, maybe, a sort of kinship with the sky above, with the darkness surrounding them, something beyond the mere notion of suffering for the sake of punishment.
He can't remember feeling anything like that before.
For good measure, he squeezes Elio's hand as they continue onwards. It's a gentle squeeze, in lieu of the things he can't figure out how to say. He's well aware that Elio, visiting his father in Hell, watching his soul exist between times and places, must be a strange experience indeed but it's this thing with fathers, isn't it, that's hard to verbalize. For him. Perhaps for Elio, too - after all, there's something very telling about the fact that the very first hell loop calling for him was that particular one. No doubt, it'll call for him again. And again.
Taking them down a narrow hallway, then another, he suddenly feels an immense pull towards something to his left. He comes to an abrupt halt, his hand still entwined with Elio's, and turns. Stares, eyebrows actually raised in surprise. ]
Well, I'll be...
[ By the wall, seemingly at random, a new door has appeared. It's a French door, painted white and wooden, the brass handle glittering faintly in the dark. The glass panels are frosty, impossible to see through. Beneath it, curved into the smallest possible ball, sits the lower demon Tiharire, staring forlornly up at the door. At Lucifer's words, however, it blinks, cringes backwards against the wall and starts trembling all over. My King, it says, sounding on the verge of tears, I'm veryveryvery sorry but I don't know - I don't know why I'm here.
The fact that it's been literally tied to the doorknob with a pink bow apparently hasn't registered. ]
[ Lucifer doesn't say anything, but he gives Elio's hand a squeeze. I'm listening, it means, I understand and Elio knows, because he's seen the other man rage against his father, against God who didn't respond or even give any indication that He was hearing him. Being invisible to your main parental figure? Yes, it's something Lucifer would know about better than most. His father let him fall and then, He let him suffer the consequences in silence and in solitude for eons. Elio, at least, can still see his father inside his loop. He can visit, the door isn't locked, there's no ban. Between their two removed father figures, Lucifer's and Elio's, being lost and being all but gone simply aren't the same thing.
Following the other man down the maze of hallways, Elio does notice the doors, each of them individually, he tries remembering the route they're walking from there to here, like wandering through Rome at midnight from vigil to vigil, and as they draw nearer to one particular door in the rocky wall, Elio thinks he might be noticing it before Lucifer does. It beckons to him, prettily white and wooden, a French door, like the backdoor to Michel's country house terrace. Tied to the doorknob, a demon is sitting near the doorframe, looking confused and somewhat misplaced, the pink ribbon bearing splotches of gray ash. It seems a strangely soft contrast to the demon's extremities that are all showing tendon and muscle in patches where the skin's all but torn off. One leg's bared to the bone.
I'll be - Lucifer says and the demon starts babbling in terror, I don't know, it says, like Elio's father did first, I don't know. Elio, in turn, releases Lucifer's hand and walks over to it, slowly, carefully, trying not to frighten it more, he unties the ribbon and sort of holds it loosely between his fingers, aware how it must look. Like he's walking the poor creature on a leash.
My Queen, please don't, pleasepleaseplease don't, it tells him. Well, "he", probably, judging by the voice. It's shielding itself from view with one arm and Elio frowns, bending over and grabbing the demon's wrist. There's a bracelet marking in the exact same place Elio's wearing his bracelet, edged into its flesh in a replica of liquid silver. It even shines a little.
He looks up at Lucifer, releasing the demon's arm. It tries to pull away, but only gets so far with Elio grabbing the other end of the silky band. ]
[ Lucifer huffs out a breath, about to berate the demon for being particularly pitiful when Elio ties up the bow and holds the ribbon between his fingers, lease-like. Then, he leans in and grabs its wrist, revealing a marking on its arm. The bracelet? Oh, but of course Elio would have his own demons looking out for him in Hell - like Lucifer has his, like they were made for him. To serve him.
Or, as it were, one demon. A sad one, at that. ]
My condolences.
[ He gives Tiharire a distasteful glare. The demon cowers, pulling on the silk band a little uselessly. ]
This one definitely isn't top-tier. I'm sure you can exchange him for someone better if you wish.
[ Gaze slipping away from the demon, Lucifer gives the door another look. True, the loop doors sometimes gain a small sense of individuality, like signs, particular types of windows, bars or no bars, that sort of thing. But he's never seen a door quite like this - it's like something entirely new, masquerading as something familiar. Tilting his head, he reaches for the door handle, half-expecting it to disintegrate between his fingers the way Elio's grass does whenever he touches it. As it is, however, the handle holds.
Without further ado, he pushes the door open.
And stares.
True, he's seen a lot in Hell. A lot beyond it, too. But even the feel of whatever this is - a... pocket dimension within the realm? Something else, completely inexplicable? It's different. It's completely, utterly different. Stepping aside, almost without thinking, he leaves it for Elio to take the first step inside, feeling somehow certain that it isn't supposed to be him.
For once, there's a place in Hell that doesn't bear his name. ]
I don't. He's fine. [ A pause, to the demon: ] You're fine.
[ The demon stares up at him, mouth open.
Since Lucifer doesn't give him a name, Elio decides to call his new... oh, servant doesn't sit well with him, he'll call him his companion, Russo until they've become properly acquainted with each other. Who knows, maybe it'll stick. The leash surely is red enough to warrant it. Pink. Cute. Smiling down at the demon, he listens for Lucifer as he approaches the door, the click of the door handle, the slight whoosh as it opens. A celestial whoosh, not as pronounced as angel wings, though, but recognizable at this point. Elio knows when he meets divinity, considering his new position, maybe that comes with the job.
Nothing much happens, there's just silence. Elio frowns and turns around, finding Lucifer staring inside the seemingly new dimension waiting on the other side. He's stepped aside, apparently waiting for Elio to take the first step, because it's very obvious even from a distance that this is his domain. It's light inside, the walls white and the ceilings high. Quickly, Elio hands the demon its own leash and tells it, stay here, stand guard, please before walking over to the door, past Lucifer, to peek inside.
It's a bedroom. But not just any bedroom, it's enormous, through the tall windows there's sun pouring in, a sharp morning light. The bed, positioned in the middle of the room, is round and at least a double king's, pristinely made. The bed linen is deep red satin, reminding Elio of Lucifer's bed back in L.A. On one side a huge walk-in closet takes up the wall. Elio breathes out, long, soft. ]
It's a whole... [ House, he wants to say, but stops himself. Finally stepping inside, he feels the bracelet around his wrist heat up. Like a phone when charging, he glances down at it. The silver's looking brighter, like it's got an inner glow. The light inside the room is not out of Hell, naturally, but convincing enough. He stops once inside - to either side, other rooms are opening up, doors ajar, like a whole chain of little temples devoted to him. Cinderella, Elio thinks, this is my castle.
Turning around, he waits for Lucifer to join him, smiling widely. ] It's a home, Lucifer.
[ Out of the corner of his eyes, he notes how the demon glances around, movements fast and panicky - stand guard, said Elio and now, seeing as the demon's undeniably marked for him, it's going to have to do its duty or perish trying. It's one of the lower demons, very low, low enough that the Lilim tend to regard it as something they've scraped off the floor. Curious, for Hell to choose this one as Elio's guardian. Lucifer isn't sure whether to be thoroughly confused or just plain and simply unimpressed.
So, he follows Elio inside and lets the door fall shut behind him. This, on the other hand, is bloody well impressive from top to bottom. It looks like a luxury villa, a castle. French, of course, why wouldn't it be? It's a home says Elio, looking around, rooms opening up to either side of them. The bedroom itself is lovely, too, not just beautiful. He can feel Elio all over it, in the lines of the walls and the sunlight pouring in through the windows.
Raising one hand, he makes a move to swap the layers away as he would in a loop, willing the walls to crumble, to bare the ashen contours of Hell underneath but instead, all he feels is... well. Air. Against his fingers. Nothing.
Oh. ]
Yours.
[ It comes out as an awed whisper. He's never wanted to share Hell with anyone, though he's tried to palm it off on Amenadiel more than once. He's wanted it off his hands, yes, he's wanted to forget about it entirely, to be without. But this?
This, he would have never guessed. ]
It's yours.
[ He steps around Elio and walks to look out of the windows. Outside, a huge field stretches out across the plains, as far as the eye can see. Flowers. Covered in flowers. Staying absolutely still, he watches this world that seems achingly familiar, a little piece of Heaven, locked away in the midst of Hell. What an impossible thought. ]
[ Elio watches as Lucifer enters, closing the door behind them and leaving them alone together in this place out of time, this place out of place before he wafts his hand at the air once, Elio imagining that he's trying the strength of the very fabric of the realm they're finding themselves in now, but he doesn't ask. Allows Lucifer to run through his usual motions as he wishes. Nothing happens, however, it seems to hold fast, even against the Devil. Yours, Lucifer tells him, sounding awe-struck and then, walking around him to the windows, looking out. Elio follows, quietly, placing himself next to the other man, pushing his palm flat in between his shoulder blades, like a show of gratitude.
It's yours, Lucifer marvels.
Looking at it, the light and the walls and the ceilings meters and meters above his head with old chandeliers hanging from them that will look like gold and diamonds and patina at night, Elio knows he's right, but he still thinks, it's Lucifer's Hell that gave him this. Elio's Heaven. Maybe, judging from the look on Lucifer's face, not only his alone.
Outside, a wheat field's stretching as far as you can see, flowers sprouting amongst the ears, poppies and cornflowers, glimpses of blue and red. The same deep red as the bed linen on the bed. Elio runs his hand up to the back of the other man's neck, rubbing his thumb over the ridge of vertebrae, then to the side, following the slope of his shoulder softly, holding on only enough to balance himself as he leans to the side and presses a kiss to the corner of Lucifer's mouth. It means, this is a brave new world, I don't know what to do with it, but I have you, I have you, said in lesser words and more touch.
What Elio does say in words, easing down on flat foot again and glancing around the room once more, is: ]
I want you to be here. [ Looking back up at Lucifer's strong profile, he doesn't say stay, because the Devil has a job that needs done, one that undoubtedly necessitates long days and even longer nights elsewhere, the throne, the loops, corners of Hell Elio hasn't seen yet. He says be, because being is something you do in moments, in intervals, in periods of time and then, you return to action. There's still life and then, there's motion, right?
When the other man can manage, Elio wants him to enjoy this with him, breathe here, rest here, feel here. ] With me.
[ Elio moves up behind him, running his hand up the back of his neck, then over the slope of his shoulder. Almost unconsciously, Lucifer leans into the touch a little, though he shifts to balance them both when the other man leans up and kisses the corner of his mouth. His eyes fall shut for a couple of seconds, his shoulders losing some of the tension that keeps building up at every new twist and turn of whatever this is, Elio, here, in Hell, and this place, whatever it means.
The loops, overgrown in shades of luminescent blue, re-gaining colour at Elio's presence.
Yes, whatever that means. ]
You're in luck then, aren't you?
[ Said with a half-smile as he kisses Elio's forehead briefly, feeling his curls ticking his nose. ]
Nowhere I'd rather be.
[ Distantly, he wonders about Hell - about how time passes out there, as compared to here. He's not readily counting on Tiharire to do anything of value if he's suddenly needed, after all, though Maze would certainly be capable of making her way past him if necessary. If Lucifer's required beyond the obvious problem of souls escaping Hell, which, honestly, at its core, Hell can be quite uneventful. And come to think of it, the souls haven't left for a good while now, not since Elio arrived with him, since Lucifer sent them back inside their loops. It's like the barrier's holding better now as if simply by way of their combined presence here, they've fixed some sort of basic, fundamental instability.
The doctor would have a field day with all this metaphorical twaddle.
Lucifer looks out of the window once more, gaze locked at the blue sky beyond and wondering at how endless it seems. ]
[ You're in luck, then, Lucifer tells him and Elio wants to nod furiously, wants to tell him, yes, yes, I am, but the other man proceeds to kiss his forehead, briefly but soft, so he keeps his head very still, so as not to bump into him, nose and mouth and chin. Nowhere I'd rather be. It's an admittance, because there are places the Devil ought to be, he has a throne, for example, he has servants, too, and there are places he's wanted to be before, decades spent on Earth, where things have color and texture, and if neither takes precedence over Elio, here, now? Indeed, he's lucky.
Of course, Hell is not colorless and textureless any longer, it's all changing, but into what and why, neither of them know. Elio can certainly understand if Lucifer is tired, if Lucifer is a little bit wary, if Lucifer turns to stare back out at the endless sky outside, thinking it's impossible that Hell should have its own little patch of pleasure and pulsing life. Indeed, it would maybe be impossible, if Lucifer was here by himself still. Because Hell is Lucifer's 9th limb, aside from legs and arms and head, aside from his wings and aside from his cock. Being a part of him, it would never produce a thing like Elio's castle for him alone, because Lucifer doesn't believe, wrongly so, that he deserves a place of beauty and a place of rest.
That much Elio understands, but he's fairly sure Lucifer isn't there yet and therefore, therefore he's lucky that the other man wants to stay and enjoy it with him. Enjoy himself, right? Yes.
Half-turning, Elio looks back towards the door on the left side, ajar and beckoning with its sliver that shows glimpses of porcelain white and gold, so he leaves Lucifer to it, to getting a little lost in all that they're being given, together, and walks over to it, pushing it open completely. Beyond it, bright white tiles stretch almost as far as you can see, the room the size of a stable, pretty much. It will echo when he walks inside, he can tell. Acoustics beautiful. At the end, a huge shower stall, like a small appendix of a room on its own. ]
Bathroom. [ He says softly, to catch Lucifer's attention again, glancing back towards him, his bloodied knuckles and blood-spattered sleeves, their equally ash-filled hair, nodding at the doorway in front of him. ] Let's go, love. Shower.
[ With that, he starts in on his clothes, shrugging out of his jacket, leaving it on the floor, along with his t-shirt, while he toes out of his shoes, socks, fingers beginning to work on his jeans. It's all impatiently fast and fumbling.
[ Elio slips away and Lucifer keeps his attention on the outsides for a moment, the blue sky. It's empty, presumably; no one watching from above, no one trying to meddle in their affairs, not that his Father hasn't already meddled enough. Look at them. Look at this.
Bathroom says Elio from over on the left, and follows up with love. Oh. Lucifer blinks and looks towards him, noticing the open door and the bathroom beyond it - huge, it seems, all white porcelain with golden details. Suddenly, he feels the blood on his hands, like sticky, dried-up dirt caked on his skin. His clothes look abhorrent. Casting one last glance out of the window, he turns his back on it, pushing aside all the implications for now, the thought of cause and effect. There'll be time for navel gazing later, won't there, when he's back on his throne. With a sigh, he leans back against the window sill for a moment, simply watching as Elio shrugs out of his clothes until he's down to his jeans, always efficient when he sets his eyes on something, always enthused. Beautiful, sweet Elio.
He thinks about the two of them in Elio's Eden, about Rome. About watching the sky light up before they'd left for their little journey, cut short as it was, as it was probably bound to be. And just like that, he feels completely and utterly restricted, being clothed still, being not-naked. It's been years. It's been hundreds of years.
Deciding that yes, moping can be bloody well postponed, Lucifer finally just pulls his clothes off. It doesn't take him very long because he isn't being particularly careful - they've been properly trashed, anyway. Good thing he can conjure up something else. Or... well. He pauses, waves his hand and nope. Nothing. Okay fine, he'll just walk back to his throne butt-naked and do the magic from his own realm, it's fine, he's not shy.
Guess Dromos is going to wish he'd ripped his eyes out.
Leaving his clothes in a dirty pile on the floor, Lucifer finally straightens up and follows Elio into the huge bathroom, gosh, who needs that much space if you aren't planning on having orgies every night? And sorry, no orgies in Hell, not unless you have a thing for various hell beasts and aren't too attached to any of your organs. Lucifer smiles and looks around, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror and stops. Stares. ]
Dearie me.
[ He runs one hand over his blood-streaked cheek a bit uselessly. Tries scraping some of it off with his nail which only serves to make his finger even more disgusting. ]
I'm sorry. I really should've washed up before I came for you. I mean, look at this mess.
[ The jeans are easily dropped, the briefs underneath going the same way. While he rids himself of the last of his clothes, Elio watches Lucifer kick into gear as well, dropping his clothing much less carefully that he would normally, probably because he isn't getting dressed in Gucci and Prada down here, but in Hell-shaped things. They probably fade away as easily as they emerge, they're talking thin air, right? Elio smiles at him as he waves a hand at the room in general again, nothing happening this time either, it really is Elio's, isn't it, in here, and there's something beautiful about that, Elio thinks, being able to invite him in this physically. Once his clothes form a big pile on the floor that he sidesteps in order to make his way to the bathroom, Elio gives Lucifer one last look-over, takes in his naked chest, broad, strong, shoulders, upper arms, hipbones and thighs. A deep breath, filling his lungs, and his cock is beginning to take an interest, too. Oh.
This is their new normal. This is what they'd normally do in any reality, this reality as well. He straightens up fully and enters the bathroom, expecting that Lucifer won't be far behind.
He isn't.
However, he stops by the mirror as he catches sight of himself, exclaiming in disbelief and scraping uselessly at his blood-streaked cheek with one finger. Look at this mess, he says, apologizing that he didn't wash up before he came for Elio, because he still thinks Elio doesn't see right through every layer of him, doesn't see him behind the carnage and the chaos and the otherness. Elio's gaze softens and he walks over to him carefully, quietly, catching his chin, stubble, between thumb and index finger before turning his head towards him. Face to face, he cups Lucifer's cheek in one hand, stroking his thumb across his cheekbone, also spattered in the very evidence that Lucifer has returned to fulfill his task. They're both here to fulfill, aren't they, but also to be fulfilled, Elio wants the two to just be sides of a whole. ]
I like you this way. I like you carrying the proof of your power.
[ Like your wings, he means, like your Devil face, but he doesn't say it, just leans up and catches Lucifer's lips with his own, running his tongue gently along the slope of his bottom lip, asking for entrance by way of parting his own lips slightly, inviting Lucifer in, the way he's invited him in here, room by room, his very own realm, his very own house, his very own home.
Though, it's never going to be more of a home than when they're standing this close, he thinks, Lucifer's scent strong in his nostrils, the undertones of sweat and blood and man. King. The faint coppery aftertaste as Elio's tongue slips over the softest part of the other man's lip.
[ He turns his head willingly as Elio catches his chin between his fingers and just like that, they're face to face, the Devil and his little human, the air between them quiet and calm. At the other man's words, Lucifer's own gaze softens as well. Years ago, it would have undoubtedly provoked him, the idea that anyone could like him like this, in this place of all places, bloodstained and ashen. I like you this way. It resonates within him, as if during his time with Elio, the other man has managed to carve out a little place for himself inside his chest, somewhere for his words to find purchase, to linger, to settle.
He curls his arm around Elio's waist as he leans up for a kiss, feeling him probe his bottom lip with his tongue slowly, asking. Though Lucifer's loathe to leave the other man smushed with his own grime, he can't help but pull him closer just a bit, feeling the long, naked lines of his body against his own. Thighs. Cock, half-hard, familiar. The flat planes of his upper body. Sighing, he finally parts his lips and invites him in, slipping his own tongue inside as well. Inhabiting him, in turn.
Oh, but it's been so long. So long. Eyes falling shut again, he shifts, feeling himself harden at the taste and smell of the other man, the well-known warmth lingering on his tongue, his lips, the back of his throat. He groans into the kiss and starts walking them both backwards, towards the gigantic shower stall at the back of the room (tiny little Elio in his massive, massive shower - even with Lucifer around, there'll practically be enough space for a pony - you really have to wonder).
Breaking the kiss, he pants against Elio's lips as he pushes him gently up against the wall somewhere far to the right of the multiple showerheads. He lifts him up enough for them to be at eye-level, mostly to avoid looming down over him because whether or not Elio likes his power, he'd rather like to not feel... powerful. Not right here, not right now.
[ Lucifer lets him in, lets himself in simultaneously and they're pushing their tongues up against each other, they're filling the cavities of each other's mouths and it's home, more than any other realm Hell could create for him. Elio slips his hands up into Lucifer's hair, tightens his grip on him slightly and pushes back, giving himself over completely, because although the bracelet doesn't seem to have given him super strength, he would still like to consider himself a perfect match for the other man. With all his power. With everything, wings and Devilness and bruised knuckles, all of it. Elio wants to fit in with all of it.
With his arm around Elio's waist, Lucifer starts reversing them towards the shower stall and Elio clings on pliantly, following his every move, feeling the cool tiles beneath his naked soles. It's been three days since Rome, but three days in a human timeframe, who knows how long that is in terms of Hell? Elio doesn't. Elio doesn't know, but it could be forever and as Lucifer draws back, panting against his lips, he thinks it might have been.
Lucifer's gone without him practically forever.
Truly, Elio's the lucky one, he hasn't had to wait thousands of years. Between then and now, there and here.
As the other man lifts him up against the back of the shower stall until they're on eye-level, Elio staring into his face, open and panting and hard, oh, he lets one hand slip down along Lucifer's shoulder, holding himself up against his body while he locks his ankles behind Lucifer's thighs, suddenly pressed so much more closely up against him, front to front, crotch to crotch. He breathes out, long and slow, lets his eyes caress Lucifer's features, bridge of nose, Cupid's bow, cleft chin. Then, he whispers, hoarsely: ]
You lift me up.
[ Just that, before he kisses him.
While it's a factual statement, he's currently sitting very comfortably between Lucifer's hands, his fingers gripping Elio's thighs, balancing him against the wall, it's all of it. It's all of it, growing grass and giving color and getting castles like this. It's the taste of Lucifer on his tongue, the heat of him against his lips, knowing he's said his last goodbye. That's what it is. ]
[ They're pressed together very nicely like this, crotch to crotch and chest to chest, Elio's ankles locked around his thighs, his voice little but warm breath against Lucifer's face. Oh, but that's really all he's ever wanted to do, isn't it, with Elio? Lift him. Keep him from falling, too, and maybe at a later date, he'll have to take a better look at their current circumstances and figure out whether or not he's actually succeeded. Breathing growing steadfastly rougher, Lucifer leans into the kiss, making it deeper this time, maybe a tad on the greedy side. There's heat unfurling in the pit of belly, something that's been overlooked for long enough now and suddenly, he's so aroused that he can't think about anything else and Elio tastes like a small piece of Heaven all by himself and --
Whoosh!
Usually, he wouldn't necessarily notice. But right now, his wings flapping out to either side, a corresponding gust of wind making Elio's curls sway, are quite simply impossible to ignore. For one, they leave clouds of ash hanging in the air around them, falling to the tiled floor, no longer pretty and pristine. Also, as usual, they take up the entire stupid room though the stall is actually huge enough to accommodate them quite readily and waitabloodyfuckingminute -
Drawing out of the kiss, he gapes at Elio for all of five full seconds. He doesn't let go of him, doesn't step back or remove himself because, well, it's Elio and he's naked and why would he ever? But he does ask because really, this is - this is - ]
You - did you make this shower purposefully big enough for my wings?
[ His voice comes out a little rough around the edges. He is, after all, still fully hard and wings or not, he is definitely feeling the thirst at this point. ]
[ Oh, it's greedy and a little bit desperate and Elio melts into it, into the hold of Lucifer's hands, big and strong, his front broad and warm, his cock hard and huge and he keens into the other man's mouth, pushing against his tongue and sucking on it until there's the telltale whoosh, the celestial one and Lucifer's wings have flared out to either side, leaving a whole snowstorm of ash flying through the air and falling to the floor, leaving everything grayer for it. Elio stares at Lucifer's face, at the slow realization playing out there as he doesn't have to move to avoid banging into anything.
The realization that he fits in here. In every conceivable way.
Himself, Elio's smiling just a little bit teasingly, because really.
It was honestly the first thing Elio thought when he saw the room, that Lucifer would be able to have his wings out, no problem, he could shower, wash off, they could fuck under the spray and he wouldn't have to tuck them away. Important observations, all of them. A very important functional aspect of this room and any room that Elio is to call home, right?
Lucifer needs to not restrict himself to be here. He needs to be able to show it all.
Tightening his hold on Lucifer's shoulders, Elio slowly shakes his head, though. Purposefully, is the wrong word. He hasn't thought, give me a bathroom where I can fuck Lucifer's wings, but maybe more importantly, he's thought that he'd like a place where they wouldn't have to hide. Anything. Anything at all. ]
No. But obviously this place is fully in tune with what I want anyway.
[ Elio leans forward enough that their lips slip over each other, their noses bump a little until he fixes the angle and there, there, when he extends his arm and reaches out, he can run his fingers through the feathers on Lucifer's right arch, just softly stroking his fingertips down over the underside of his wing. He breathes out hard against Lucifer's mouth, a wet, hard exhalation. ]
[ Semantics, he'd say, but at the same time, a part of him - the same part that'll readily admit to Amenadiel being the book-smart one - understands that Elio cares about subtlety, even with regards to the logics and mechanics of Hell. It goes with how the other man's careful to his very core. From the way he plays the piano to the way he reaches behind Lucifer's shoulder now and strokes the underside of his wing near the arch, his exhalations damp against Lucifer's lips.
The sensation of having his feathers touched again, after so many years without... He shuts his eyes because he can't help it, leaning the side of his face against Elio's cheek for a moment, his skin prickling and his feathers fluffing out a little. He shifts closer, his cock rubbing up against Elio's, a long, hot slide of hard flesh on flesh and he's basically seconds away from taking them both in hand and getting them off (to a start, mind), when he realises that Elio's touching his ash-stained feathers and they haven't been washed in forever and it's pretty much the nastiest they've been in a long, long time.
He draws away abruptly, as if doused by icy water. Drawing his wings back for good measure, he sets Elio down as carefully as he can manage before drawing back towards the showerheads, glancing up at them furtively. ]
Too bad it didn't just wipe them clean for you.
[ A quick, angry nod over his shoulder. ]
I should definitely --
[ He reaches for the gold-shimmering valve on the wall. It promptly disintegrates between his fingers, drizzling ash all over the tiles. More ash. Also, what? He stares. Blinks. Draws his hand away and watches the valve re-appear, good as new.
Like the grass, apparently.
Oh.
He gives Elio a small, apologetic smile - wondering, peripherally, how his cock is still hard in the face of all this stupidity - and shrugs. With all four limbs. Ugh. ]
[ And because Lucifer craves touch the same way most creatures do, Elio knows, the other man leans his face in against Elio's cheek at the brush of his feathers, ash sticking to Elio's fingers, sure, but likewise does the sensation of soft barbs and when Lucifer shifts closer, pushing their cocks up against each other, Elio actually makes a small, hungry sound at the back of his throat, angling his hips upwards to get more of that hard slide, skin on skin, both of them hot and a little bit slick where they're rubbing together. It's perfect, it's beautiful and it's very brief, because Lucifer remembers himself before they get really started, remembers that he hates being filthy and that he's finicky about these things and he draws back abruptly, Elio only surprised at how gently he's being put down in the face of all that irritation.
Aimed at his wings, of course, not at Elio, that's the difference.
Watching the other man as he throws a glance upwards at the showerheads above and then, reaches for the valve, Elio feels slightly restless and tense, cock standing hard between his thighs, residual arousal still prickling beneath his skin, like his nerve endings are screaming for more touch, more heat, more - but he doesn't rush him, he doesn't hurry them along, the two of them, because it's like this when they have sex, they follow the flow. Currently, the flow is how very dedicated Lucifer is to washing off for him and Elio thinks it's a sweet gesture. It's a gift, honestly, it means, I want to be clean for you, because you're clean to me.
Except, the valve disintegrates between Lucifer's fingers, more ash on the floor and Lucifer is shrugging angrily, even as the smile he gives Elio is apologetic, all four limbs, arms and wings, and once the valve reappears, Elio is quick to reach for it, turn on the water of the rainfall showerhead with a soft, don't worry about it. It's a wide spray of water cascading down over them, already warm, because apparently you don't have to wait for anything to turn hot in Hell. After a second of blinking water out of his eyes, reaching up to push his quickly soaking bangs out of his face, Elio steps forward wordlessly and places himself chest to chest with Lucifer again, though smaller now, he's in perfect height to kiss his jaw, the side of his neck, licking up trickles of water that run down over his skin. Droplets only cooling slowly. ]
[ Elio turns on the water like there's nothing more to it and Lucifer pushes the implications out of his mind for now, leaving them with all the the other questions he needs to contemplate once he's back on his own. Right now, he simply stands there, a little slouched over, as Elio draws closer to him once again, sliding up against his chest. All that naked skin. Mm. He curls his left arm around the other man and pulls him closer, forgetting himself and his wings at the sight of the other man's wet hair sticking to his brow, his curls flattening against the onslaught of the rainfall. He groans, leaning into the touch of his mouth, tongue. He'd curl up with his voice, too, if he could. If that were possible.
Honors, says Elio, turning Lucifer's sarcasm into something that feels as genuine as his kisses and his choices and the grass that blooms where he walks in Hell.
Beautiful.
Lucifer cranes his neck down and mouths at the side of Elio's neck, tasting him and the water (which, apparently, doesn't turn to dust on his tongue like this, go figure, what are the rules down here?). He runs his other hand up the back of Elio's neck, threading his fingers through his hair gently. It's as if they were never apart, isn't it, despite how long it's been, despite how much Lucifer missed by leaving. Time-span wise, in terms of the human existence, three days is too long. It's simply how these things go.
Breathing muffled against the other man's skin, Lucifer finally just lets his wings go, succumbing to instinct. They fold out part-way on either side of him, momentarily caging them both within a wall of white and grey. Then, reluctantly, he lets go of Elio and steps back a foot or two before folding his wings around himself like some sort of freakish feather burrito, affording them as much of the spray as possible. The longest flight feathers are dragging over the tiles like this, crossed in front of his feet, and he raises them just a fraction above the floor to avoid whatever's about to go down the drain.
Then, still staring at Elio and blinking water out of his eyes, Lucifer shakes them. Just. Flapflapflapflap and there's water flying everywhere and Elio's not just getting sprayed, he's getting soaked. Oh, but it's nice. It's actually really, really nice. He turns around in a stupid little circle, the feathers running down his arse and thighs spreading out, getting in on the festivities.
Still doing this with a full erection, by the way. He's nothing if not multi-talented. ]
[ There's a long moment, a long, beautiful, achingly simple moment when they're just letting their mouths talk without words, mouthing against each other's necks, skin, licking, feeling, tasting. Recognizing. Elio's hands are pressed flat against Lucifer's chest, caught between them like this, and he pushes back against him, taking everything he's afforded for as long as he can have it. It isn't long enough by far, but such seems the terms these days, don't they? Many partings, no goodbyes. No more goodbyes. Elio breathes in harshly, swallowing water and caring very, very little.
Then, Lucifer releases him, obviously very reluctant about doing it, too, and steps back, his wings curving around him, wrapping him up like a blanket from either side and Elio watches while the other man lets the water do the work, running down the hundreds of rows of feathers, big and white and doubly bright like this, their own glow as well as the droplets of water that catch the light. He loses his breath a little at the sight, it isn't the pure sign of divinity, because let's be real, he's walking around a house in Hell made specifically for him, adhering to his every whim, it's that the divinity is Lucifer's and he's letting it show, he isn't hiding it away or chopping it off or ridding himself off it in some way. He's letting Elio see.
That's the beauty of it.
Their eyes stay locked on each other as Lucifer finally unfurls his wings again and start flapping them, just flapflapflapflap and Elio's getting drenched from the water hurling about the stall, he feels himself gasp for breath, forcing his eyes open to keep staring at the other man, angel, very much an angel right now, nothing less than that, while he turns around in a circle and gets himself properly wet. Elio's mouth feels dry. It feels dry and his cock feels so hard it hurts and while Lucifer's managing to keep his erection through this entire display, Elio only barely manages not to come. Oh. Oh.
As soon as Lucifer has turned back around, Elio stops giving a damn about the water flying everywhere, he isn't going to take another round, he wouldn't survive, surely, and moves forward, more or less throwing himself at Lucifer's front, hands grabbing his shoulders, arms coming around his neck, keeping Elio up on his toes as he presses his mouth open and wanting to the other man's, muttering against his lips: ]
Fuck. [ Just that. Sometimes he can't be bothered to be all that eloquent. ] Fuck, fuck, fuck, I want you so much.
[ He turns back around to the sight of a very wet, very visibly aroused Elio and has a moment's pause to wonder at how the man seemingly finds him attractive even like this, looking like half-a-bird, definitely fully drowned. Oh, but it feels lovely - not just Elio's appreciative eyes on him but the cleanliness, the dirt and ash washing down the drain. The blood's coming off, too, gradually.
He's just about to go for another round of flap-and-spin when Elio more or less throws himself at him, grabbing onto him and kissing him, hard, wanting, up on his tip-toes. Lucifer manages not to stumble backwards mostly because Elio weighs exactly nothing to him, though his wings do swerve a little in the air upon impact, keeping him firmly rooted to the spot. He holds onto the other man, both arms slung around his waist this time, his wings arching backwards slightly, taking up the space behind them. For a few seconds, he just kisses him back, licking into his mouth and tasting his breath and his wetness.
Then, completely on impulse, he walks them backwards again, pushing Elio up against the wall beneath the showerhead and dropping to his knees. His wings fan out on either side of him, the water cascading off the feathers, beating down upon his shoulder and back and when he looks up at Elio, he has to blink to make him out properly. He smiles. Watches him, all glistening and lovely, as he wraps his hand around his hard cock near the base. He leans in and nuzzles the shaft with his nose before licking a long, fat strip up the underside to the head. He tastes mostly of wet skin and salt, though there's an undercurrent that's strictly Elio, only him, and yes, truly, he's missed him, he's missed everything about him.
[ Lucifer catches him, catches on and kisses him back, all tongue and heat and depth, taking Elio's taste and serving it back to him, along with his own, that unique marker of dark and heat and soft that's the Devil's own curious blend. As he starts walking him backwards, up against the end wall of the stall, between the two showerheads above them, Elio sinks down on flat feet, follows his lead unquestioningly, arms tightening around his shoulders for balance and hold, this, it means, is mine, give it to me, give it, please. Always with the please between them, because even after all that's happened, Elio isn't one to presume. He presumes nothing, maybe that's why Lucifer can keep making him so completely and utterly happy, because he gives him so much more than he ever expects. Or maybe, probably it's because Lucifer is fantastic and tastes fantastic and feels fantastic between his fingers like here, now.
Either way.
Either way, they end up against the wall, Elio's back pressing up against the tiles and he's watching the water cascading down over Lucifer's wings as the other man gets on his knees in front of him, the feathers glinting in the spray of water, diamond-like and it's so pretty, so, so pretty. He looks down as Lucifer grabs hold of his cock by the base of it, big fingers curled around it while he nuzzles the shaft with his nose, big nose, hawk-like, fitting and subsequently, he loses his breath as Lucifer's tongue comes out, licking a fat trail up the underside, from the bottom of the shaft to the transition to head. Elio carefully finds his balance, feet well apart, wall taking all his weight as he watches the glittering effect of saliva now leading the way. Go ahead, go ahead, go ahead, he wants to whisper, but can't get the words over his lips. Too dry, everything's too dry, except his whole body, drenched in water and droplets in his eyes and Lucifer's spit on his cock.
Shakily, Elio reaches up and runs one hand through Lucifer's hair, fingers slightly bent and fingertips dragging over his scalp. He's making it all curl up like this. He loves it, wings for backdrop, too. Around his wrist, the bracelet catches the light, wetly silver. His breathing sounds staccato and gradually quickening.
Go ahead, right? But all he tells the other man, fingers playing with the hair at his nape, following the curve of his skull downwards, before Elio bends over a little bit to slide his palm down along his neck, following spine, resting between shoulder blades, between wings, is a muttered, please.
[ Of course, Elio finds his feet - literally, figuratively - quickly enough, balancing against the wall and curling his fingers in Lucifer's hair, dragging them through the strands. Lucifer tilts his head into the touch like a cat, licking Elio's cock from top to base again, then back up. He wonders whether he might be able to get him off simply by doing this, how long it would take. Half an hour? An hour? More? Oh, Big Ben likes the sound of that, twitching between his thighs and making him shift a little on his knees in response. Some other time, though. Not today.
Today, he senses that please from Elio keenly, from the way it sounds to the way it feels when he runs his palm down along his neck, over his spine and between his shoulder-blades. His wings rise a little as a physical response, the musculature in his upper back tightening and releasing. The feathers are heavy like this, dripping wet. He lets them drop to the floor again, resting against the tiles, their white colour coming through brighter and brighter as the grime clears away.
He angles Elio's cock outwards a little, leans in and sucks the tip into his mouth. He runs his other hand up Elio's thigh, pressing him back against the wall slightly, holding him. Then, he sucks, cheeks hollowing. Elio's cock tastes sharper like this, more blatantly him and Lucifer can't quite get enough; he gives it another handful of sucks, releasing the pressure and rebuilding it right after, before he draws back again, popping the head out and pressing his tongue flatly against the slit.
Groaning, he dips the tip of his tongue inside, just a little, just to coax out whatever drops of precum he can get, stroking Elio's thigh throughout, his grip steady but without any semblance of roughness. ]
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no subject
Whilst he'd been away in L.A. and later, traversing the world with Elio, Hell had lost some of its shape and structure, leaving cracks in the walls and the ground, huge chasms going down into absolute and total blackness. The ground beneath the throne had been coming apart, molten lava sizzling and smoking where the foundation had split. It had been... not unlike the first thousand years, really. The initial years. And his demons, too, had reverted back to something that used to be, to chaos and mayhem, fighting amongst themselves and taking souls apart without any rhyme or reason.
He'd had to re-establish order, of a sort. He'd had to be thorough about it.
But even now, there are those who'll challenge him at the first sign of instability. It's some primal kind of anxiety, presumably, something about striking first because Lucifer did leave them, he did, and as a direct consequence, they - and their home - fell apart at the seams.
So, at the sight of Dromos seated by the foot of the throne, one foot resting provocatively on its rocky foundation, Lucifer doesn't pause to ask questions, doesn't reach for diplomacy of any sort because he knows what they need, even if he wishes he didn't. They're his, after all. Instead, he goes straight for the demon's throat, grabbing him mid-flight and flinging him against the nearest cliffside. Dromos laughs in his face, his black eyes wide and crazed, bloody spittle running down his chin. Hell doesn't need a Queen! he rasps, his sharp teeth glinting. The boy will ruin everything! He'll turn you into a fucking wimp and shit his nasty colours all over the place, disgusting, disgusting! Take him away!
Lucifer deals with him. When he's done, he leaves him sitting by the cliffside, his legs broken, half his face in ruins, and when he heals up, he'll probably behave himself for another hundred years or so. Lucifer pushes him completely and utterly from his mind. Gone. Be gone. The demon winces and whimpers, curling in on himself, incapable of slinking back any further but around him, the others have drawn away and that's really all Lucifer cares about. He notes Maze amongst them, watching him from between the shadows, her half-face expressionless.
He goes to meet Elio by his father's door, blood staining his clothes and hands, realising only when he lands that he really... ought to shower, first. Change his clothes. He turns away, about to take flight again, feeling suddenly exactly as dirty as he looks. ]
no subject
Looking up, he catches sight of Lucifer's back, wings out, huge and ash-grey at this point, about to retreat and Elio quickly closes the door behind himself, cutting off his father's groaning, to hurry after him, pushing one hand flat and soft against the arch of one wing. Wait, it means, where are you going? ]
Stay.
[ He notices the blood stains in his clothes before the other man has turned around towards him fully, stepping back enough to leave his wings clean pass, but once they're face to face, his hands are looking pretty beaten up and bloody, too. Elio's gaze softens, he imagines he'd also have liked to change into something clean, something as clean as a conscience, before meeting his lover slash new partner on the job.
But the job is this, obviously. It's blood and cracked foundations and people crying as they try to escape themselves. Elio's seen that now. He's seen that and he isn't afraid of it. Stay, he repeats, more softly this time, shaking his head, knowing some things remain, they can't change that, not yet at least, maybe never, though eternity is a long time, so who really knows, but just because the conditions are what they are, doesn't mean they can't suck and it can't hurt and Lucifer hates not presenting himself at his absolute best. Elio knows. Stepping up to him, he slings his arm around his neck and pulls him down, embracing him tightly.
They're probably still being watched. This is Elio's quiet, but evident fuck you to the eyes that see. He's feeling a little tired himself now, to be honest. It isn't only intimacy for Lucifer's sake. ]
Do you want to talk about it?
[ Any answer acceptable, it means. Otherwise I have other things we can talk about, it means. Leave it to me. ]
no subject
When the other man slings his arm around his neck and pulls him into a hug, however, he can't help but let himself fall into him just a little bit, leaning his chin against the side of his head briefly before slipping his arm around his waist in response. He manages not to flinch at the bloody stains he's leaving on the other man's clothes. ]
No.
[ He brushes his lips over the side of Elio's head to soften the refusal a little before stepping back. Folding his wings away, he wipes his hand sloppily against his trousers. His own knuckles are bleeding still because in this version of Hell, in this version wherein Elio enriches it and makes it bloom, the Devil does indeed take damage. It's not something he can afford to hide from anyone. Hiding would be akin to admitting weakness.
Instead, he takes Elio's hand and leads them onwards, past the doors, the hallway snaking off in a myriad of different directions. He goes by intuition. There's something more for them to see, he senses, wondering if it's got to do with another loop. ]
What happened in there? Did anything?
no subject
No, Lucifer tells him, but it's a soft refusal, not one to be doubted, but it's followed up by a brush of lips against his cheek and Elio will take that as well, accept that for an answer, letting Lucifer step back and take his hand, before he is being led off along one of the hallways, extending in all directions, it's a maze down here, he'll take a while to learn the ropes, right? Like this, not knowing where he's going and having only the other man's hand to tell him the way, he does feel like Cinderella again, the way that once Michel had made him feel, but Michel is bound for the other side of one of those doors and Elio will be there to greet him. It's not a happy thought.
Inevitable, but not happy. Like so many things. He looks down at Lucifer's knuckles, bruised and beaten, and thinks, inevitable. When the Devil will bleed around his Queen.
Then, he glances sideways up at Lucifer, lets him set the pace this time, lets him lead the way, Elio doesn't know where they're going, only that someplace else now is calling and it isn't in groans and creaking bed springs. ]
Someone pressed play, I guess. All color came back, the loop started running again. [ Eyes seeking out the hallway further ahead, he shakes his head. ] My father saw me, but somehow also saw right through me. It was like I could as well not have been there while the loop repeated itself.
[ A small shrug. It isn't truly sad, but it had been disheartening, of course it had. He's not going to deny that, he's not going to hide it either. There's literally no part of him he doesn't want Lucifer to see, not the part that gets a little teary-eyed at the way his father had been his father and someone else simultaneously. Someone gone, someone lost. ]
no subject
Feels, maybe, a sort of kinship with the sky above, with the darkness surrounding them, something beyond the mere notion of suffering for the sake of punishment.
He can't remember feeling anything like that before.
For good measure, he squeezes Elio's hand as they continue onwards. It's a gentle squeeze, in lieu of the things he can't figure out how to say. He's well aware that Elio, visiting his father in Hell, watching his soul exist between times and places, must be a strange experience indeed but it's this thing with fathers, isn't it, that's hard to verbalize. For him. Perhaps for Elio, too - after all, there's something very telling about the fact that the very first hell loop calling for him was that particular one. No doubt, it'll call for him again. And again.
Taking them down a narrow hallway, then another, he suddenly feels an immense pull towards something to his left. He comes to an abrupt halt, his hand still entwined with Elio's, and turns. Stares, eyebrows actually raised in surprise. ]
Well, I'll be...
[ By the wall, seemingly at random, a new door has appeared. It's a French door, painted white and wooden, the brass handle glittering faintly in the dark. The glass panels are frosty, impossible to see through. Beneath it, curved into the smallest possible ball, sits the lower demon Tiharire, staring forlornly up at the door. At Lucifer's words, however, it blinks, cringes backwards against the wall and starts trembling all over. My King, it says, sounding on the verge of tears, I'm veryveryvery sorry but I don't know - I don't know why I'm here.
The fact that it's been literally tied to the doorknob with a pink bow apparently hasn't registered. ]
no subject
Following the other man down the maze of hallways, Elio does notice the doors, each of them individually, he tries remembering the route they're walking from there to here, like wandering through Rome at midnight from vigil to vigil, and as they draw nearer to one particular door in the rocky wall, Elio thinks he might be noticing it before Lucifer does. It beckons to him, prettily white and wooden, a French door, like the backdoor to Michel's country house terrace. Tied to the doorknob, a demon is sitting near the doorframe, looking confused and somewhat misplaced, the pink ribbon bearing splotches of gray ash. It seems a strangely soft contrast to the demon's extremities that are all showing tendon and muscle in patches where the skin's all but torn off. One leg's bared to the bone.
I'll be - Lucifer says and the demon starts babbling in terror, I don't know, it says, like Elio's father did first, I don't know. Elio, in turn, releases Lucifer's hand and walks over to it, slowly, carefully, trying not to frighten it more, he unties the ribbon and sort of holds it loosely between his fingers, aware how it must look. Like he's walking the poor creature on a leash.
My Queen, please don't, pleasepleaseplease don't, it tells him. Well, "he", probably, judging by the voice. It's shielding itself from view with one arm and Elio frowns, bending over and grabbing the demon's wrist. There's a bracelet marking in the exact same place Elio's wearing his bracelet, edged into its flesh in a replica of liquid silver. It even shines a little.
He looks up at Lucifer, releasing the demon's arm. It tries to pull away, but only gets so far with Elio grabbing the other end of the silky band. ]
I think he belongs with me.
no subject
Or, as it were, one demon. A sad one, at that. ]
My condolences.
[ He gives Tiharire a distasteful glare. The demon cowers, pulling on the silk band a little uselessly. ]
This one definitely isn't top-tier. I'm sure you can exchange him for someone better if you wish.
[ Gaze slipping away from the demon, Lucifer gives the door another look. True, the loop doors sometimes gain a small sense of individuality, like signs, particular types of windows, bars or no bars, that sort of thing. But he's never seen a door quite like this - it's like something entirely new, masquerading as something familiar. Tilting his head, he reaches for the door handle, half-expecting it to disintegrate between his fingers the way Elio's grass does whenever he touches it. As it is, however, the handle holds.
Without further ado, he pushes the door open.
And stares.
True, he's seen a lot in Hell. A lot beyond it, too. But even the feel of whatever this is - a... pocket dimension within the realm? Something else, completely inexplicable? It's different. It's completely, utterly different. Stepping aside, almost without thinking, he leaves it for Elio to take the first step inside, feeling somehow certain that it isn't supposed to be him.
For once, there's a place in Hell that doesn't bear his name. ]
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[ The demon stares up at him, mouth open.
Since Lucifer doesn't give him a name, Elio decides to call his new... oh, servant doesn't sit well with him, he'll call him his companion, Russo until they've become properly acquainted with each other. Who knows, maybe it'll stick. The leash surely is red enough to warrant it. Pink. Cute. Smiling down at the demon, he listens for Lucifer as he approaches the door, the click of the door handle, the slight whoosh as it opens. A celestial whoosh, not as pronounced as angel wings, though, but recognizable at this point. Elio knows when he meets divinity, considering his new position, maybe that comes with the job.
Nothing much happens, there's just silence. Elio frowns and turns around, finding Lucifer staring inside the seemingly new dimension waiting on the other side. He's stepped aside, apparently waiting for Elio to take the first step, because it's very obvious even from a distance that this is his domain. It's light inside, the walls white and the ceilings high. Quickly, Elio hands the demon its own leash and tells it, stay here, stand guard, please before walking over to the door, past Lucifer, to peek inside.
It's a bedroom. But not just any bedroom, it's enormous, through the tall windows there's sun pouring in, a sharp morning light. The bed, positioned in the middle of the room, is round and at least a double king's, pristinely made. The bed linen is deep red satin, reminding Elio of Lucifer's bed back in L.A. On one side a huge walk-in closet takes up the wall. Elio breathes out, long, soft. ]
It's a whole... [ House, he wants to say, but stops himself. Finally stepping inside, he feels the bracelet around his wrist heat up. Like a phone when charging, he glances down at it. The silver's looking brighter, like it's got an inner glow. The light inside the room is not out of Hell, naturally, but convincing enough. He stops once inside - to either side, other rooms are opening up, doors ajar, like a whole chain of little temples devoted to him. Cinderella, Elio thinks, this is my castle.
Turning around, he waits for Lucifer to join him, smiling widely. ] It's a home, Lucifer.
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So, he follows Elio inside and lets the door fall shut behind him. This, on the other hand, is bloody well impressive from top to bottom. It looks like a luxury villa, a castle. French, of course, why wouldn't it be? It's a home says Elio, looking around, rooms opening up to either side of them. The bedroom itself is lovely, too, not just beautiful. He can feel Elio all over it, in the lines of the walls and the sunlight pouring in through the windows.
Raising one hand, he makes a move to swap the layers away as he would in a loop, willing the walls to crumble, to bare the ashen contours of Hell underneath but instead, all he feels is... well. Air. Against his fingers. Nothing.
Oh. ]
Yours.
[ It comes out as an awed whisper. He's never wanted to share Hell with anyone, though he's tried to palm it off on Amenadiel more than once. He's wanted it off his hands, yes, he's wanted to forget about it entirely, to be without. But this?
This, he would have never guessed. ]
It's yours.
[ He steps around Elio and walks to look out of the windows. Outside, a huge field stretches out across the plains, as far as the eye can see. Flowers. Covered in flowers. Staying absolutely still, he watches this world that seems achingly familiar, a little piece of Heaven, locked away in the midst of Hell. What an impossible thought. ]
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It's yours, Lucifer marvels.
Looking at it, the light and the walls and the ceilings meters and meters above his head with old chandeliers hanging from them that will look like gold and diamonds and patina at night, Elio knows he's right, but he still thinks, it's Lucifer's Hell that gave him this. Elio's Heaven. Maybe, judging from the look on Lucifer's face, not only his alone.
Outside, a wheat field's stretching as far as you can see, flowers sprouting amongst the ears, poppies and cornflowers, glimpses of blue and red. The same deep red as the bed linen on the bed. Elio runs his hand up to the back of the other man's neck, rubbing his thumb over the ridge of vertebrae, then to the side, following the slope of his shoulder softly, holding on only enough to balance himself as he leans to the side and presses a kiss to the corner of Lucifer's mouth. It means, this is a brave new world, I don't know what to do with it, but I have you, I have you, said in lesser words and more touch.
What Elio does say in words, easing down on flat foot again and glancing around the room once more, is: ]
I want you to be here. [ Looking back up at Lucifer's strong profile, he doesn't say stay, because the Devil has a job that needs done, one that undoubtedly necessitates long days and even longer nights elsewhere, the throne, the loops, corners of Hell Elio hasn't seen yet. He says be, because being is something you do in moments, in intervals, in periods of time and then, you return to action. There's still life and then, there's motion, right?
When the other man can manage, Elio wants him to enjoy this with him, breathe here, rest here, feel here. ] With me.
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The loops, overgrown in shades of luminescent blue, re-gaining colour at Elio's presence.
Yes, whatever that means. ]
You're in luck then, aren't you?
[ Said with a half-smile as he kisses Elio's forehead briefly, feeling his curls ticking his nose. ]
Nowhere I'd rather be.
[ Distantly, he wonders about Hell - about how time passes out there, as compared to here. He's not readily counting on Tiharire to do anything of value if he's suddenly needed, after all, though Maze would certainly be capable of making her way past him if necessary. If Lucifer's required beyond the obvious problem of souls escaping Hell, which, honestly, at its core, Hell can be quite uneventful. And come to think of it, the souls haven't left for a good while now, not since Elio arrived with him, since Lucifer sent them back inside their loops. It's like the barrier's holding better now as if simply by way of their combined presence here, they've fixed some sort of basic, fundamental instability.
The doctor would have a field day with all this metaphorical twaddle.
Lucifer looks out of the window once more, gaze locked at the blue sky beyond and wondering at how endless it seems. ]
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Of course, Hell is not colorless and textureless any longer, it's all changing, but into what and why, neither of them know. Elio can certainly understand if Lucifer is tired, if Lucifer is a little bit wary, if Lucifer turns to stare back out at the endless sky outside, thinking it's impossible that Hell should have its own little patch of pleasure and pulsing life. Indeed, it would maybe be impossible, if Lucifer was here by himself still. Because Hell is Lucifer's 9th limb, aside from legs and arms and head, aside from his wings and aside from his cock. Being a part of him, it would never produce a thing like Elio's castle for him alone, because Lucifer doesn't believe, wrongly so, that he deserves a place of beauty and a place of rest.
That much Elio understands, but he's fairly sure Lucifer isn't there yet and therefore, therefore he's lucky that the other man wants to stay and enjoy it with him. Enjoy himself, right? Yes.
Half-turning, Elio looks back towards the door on the left side, ajar and beckoning with its sliver that shows glimpses of porcelain white and gold, so he leaves Lucifer to it, to getting a little lost in all that they're being given, together, and walks over to it, pushing it open completely. Beyond it, bright white tiles stretch almost as far as you can see, the room the size of a stable, pretty much. It will echo when he walks inside, he can tell. Acoustics beautiful. At the end, a huge shower stall, like a small appendix of a room on its own. ]
Bathroom. [ He says softly, to catch Lucifer's attention again, glancing back towards him, his bloodied knuckles and blood-spattered sleeves, their equally ash-filled hair, nodding at the doorway in front of him. ] Let's go, love. Shower.
[ With that, he starts in on his clothes, shrugging out of his jacket, leaving it on the floor, along with his t-shirt, while he toes out of his shoes, socks, fingers beginning to work on his jeans. It's all impatiently fast and fumbling.
They need this. ]
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Bathroom says Elio from over on the left, and follows up with love. Oh. Lucifer blinks and looks towards him, noticing the open door and the bathroom beyond it - huge, it seems, all white porcelain with golden details. Suddenly, he feels the blood on his hands, like sticky, dried-up dirt caked on his skin. His clothes look abhorrent. Casting one last glance out of the window, he turns his back on it, pushing aside all the implications for now, the thought of cause and effect. There'll be time for navel gazing later, won't there, when he's back on his throne. With a sigh, he leans back against the window sill for a moment, simply watching as Elio shrugs out of his clothes until he's down to his jeans, always efficient when he sets his eyes on something, always enthused. Beautiful, sweet Elio.
He thinks about the two of them in Elio's Eden, about Rome. About watching the sky light up before they'd left for their little journey, cut short as it was, as it was probably bound to be. And just like that, he feels completely and utterly restricted, being clothed still, being not-naked. It's been years. It's been hundreds of years.
Deciding that yes, moping can be bloody well postponed, Lucifer finally just pulls his clothes off. It doesn't take him very long because he isn't being particularly careful - they've been properly trashed, anyway. Good thing he can conjure up something else. Or... well. He pauses, waves his hand and nope. Nothing. Okay fine, he'll just walk back to his throne butt-naked and do the magic from his own realm, it's fine, he's not shy.
Guess Dromos is going to wish he'd ripped his eyes out.
Leaving his clothes in a dirty pile on the floor, Lucifer finally straightens up and follows Elio into the huge bathroom, gosh, who needs that much space if you aren't planning on having orgies every night? And sorry, no orgies in Hell, not unless you have a thing for various hell beasts and aren't too attached to any of your organs. Lucifer smiles and looks around, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror and stops. Stares. ]
Dearie me.
[ He runs one hand over his blood-streaked cheek a bit uselessly. Tries scraping some of it off with his nail which only serves to make his finger even more disgusting. ]
I'm sorry. I really should've washed up before I came for you. I mean, look at this mess.
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This is their new normal. This is what they'd normally do in any reality, this reality as well. He straightens up fully and enters the bathroom, expecting that Lucifer won't be far behind.
He isn't.
However, he stops by the mirror as he catches sight of himself, exclaiming in disbelief and scraping uselessly at his blood-streaked cheek with one finger. Look at this mess, he says, apologizing that he didn't wash up before he came for Elio, because he still thinks Elio doesn't see right through every layer of him, doesn't see him behind the carnage and the chaos and the otherness. Elio's gaze softens and he walks over to him carefully, quietly, catching his chin, stubble, between thumb and index finger before turning his head towards him. Face to face, he cups Lucifer's cheek in one hand, stroking his thumb across his cheekbone, also spattered in the very evidence that Lucifer has returned to fulfill his task. They're both here to fulfill, aren't they, but also to be fulfilled, Elio wants the two to just be sides of a whole. ]
I like you this way. I like you carrying the proof of your power.
[ Like your wings, he means, like your Devil face, but he doesn't say it, just leans up and catches Lucifer's lips with his own, running his tongue gently along the slope of his bottom lip, asking for entrance by way of parting his own lips slightly, inviting Lucifer in, the way he's invited him in here, room by room, his very own realm, his very own house, his very own home.
Though, it's never going to be more of a home than when they're standing this close, he thinks, Lucifer's scent strong in his nostrils, the undertones of sweat and blood and man. King. The faint coppery aftertaste as Elio's tongue slips over the softest part of the other man's lip.
Another breath, deeper, harder. ]
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He curls his arm around Elio's waist as he leans up for a kiss, feeling him probe his bottom lip with his tongue slowly, asking. Though Lucifer's loathe to leave the other man smushed with his own grime, he can't help but pull him closer just a bit, feeling the long, naked lines of his body against his own. Thighs. Cock, half-hard, familiar. The flat planes of his upper body. Sighing, he finally parts his lips and invites him in, slipping his own tongue inside as well. Inhabiting him, in turn.
Oh, but it's been so long. So long. Eyes falling shut again, he shifts, feeling himself harden at the taste and smell of the other man, the well-known warmth lingering on his tongue, his lips, the back of his throat. He groans into the kiss and starts walking them both backwards, towards the gigantic shower stall at the back of the room (tiny little Elio in his massive, massive shower - even with Lucifer around, there'll practically be enough space for a pony - you really have to wonder).
Breaking the kiss, he pants against Elio's lips as he pushes him gently up against the wall somewhere far to the right of the multiple showerheads. He lifts him up enough for them to be at eye-level, mostly to avoid looming down over him because whether or not Elio likes his power, he'd rather like to not feel... powerful. Not right here, not right now.
Postponed. ]
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With his arm around Elio's waist, Lucifer starts reversing them towards the shower stall and Elio clings on pliantly, following his every move, feeling the cool tiles beneath his naked soles. It's been three days since Rome, but three days in a human timeframe, who knows how long that is in terms of Hell? Elio doesn't. Elio doesn't know, but it could be forever and as Lucifer draws back, panting against his lips, he thinks it might have been.
Lucifer's gone without him practically forever.
Truly, Elio's the lucky one, he hasn't had to wait thousands of years. Between then and now, there and here.
As the other man lifts him up against the back of the shower stall until they're on eye-level, Elio staring into his face, open and panting and hard, oh, he lets one hand slip down along Lucifer's shoulder, holding himself up against his body while he locks his ankles behind Lucifer's thighs, suddenly pressed so much more closely up against him, front to front, crotch to crotch. He breathes out, long and slow, lets his eyes caress Lucifer's features, bridge of nose, Cupid's bow, cleft chin. Then, he whispers, hoarsely: ]
You lift me up.
[ Just that, before he kisses him.
While it's a factual statement, he's currently sitting very comfortably between Lucifer's hands, his fingers gripping Elio's thighs, balancing him against the wall, it's all of it. It's all of it, growing grass and giving color and getting castles like this. It's the taste of Lucifer on his tongue, the heat of him against his lips, knowing he's said his last goodbye. That's what it is. ]
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Whoosh!
Usually, he wouldn't necessarily notice. But right now, his wings flapping out to either side, a corresponding gust of wind making Elio's curls sway, are quite simply impossible to ignore. For one, they leave clouds of ash hanging in the air around them, falling to the tiled floor, no longer pretty and pristine. Also, as usual, they take up the entire stupid room though the stall is actually huge enough to accommodate them quite readily and waitabloodyfuckingminute -
Drawing out of the kiss, he gapes at Elio for all of five full seconds. He doesn't let go of him, doesn't step back or remove himself because, well, it's Elio and he's naked and why would he ever? But he does ask because really, this is - this is - ]
You - did you make this shower purposefully big enough for my wings?
[ His voice comes out a little rough around the edges. He is, after all, still fully hard and wings or not, he is definitely feeling the thirst at this point. ]
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The realization that he fits in here. In every conceivable way.
Himself, Elio's smiling just a little bit teasingly, because really.
It was honestly the first thing Elio thought when he saw the room, that Lucifer would be able to have his wings out, no problem, he could shower, wash off, they could fuck under the spray and he wouldn't have to tuck them away. Important observations, all of them. A very important functional aspect of this room and any room that Elio is to call home, right?
Lucifer needs to not restrict himself to be here. He needs to be able to show it all.
Tightening his hold on Lucifer's shoulders, Elio slowly shakes his head, though. Purposefully, is the wrong word. He hasn't thought, give me a bathroom where I can fuck Lucifer's wings, but maybe more importantly, he's thought that he'd like a place where they wouldn't have to hide. Anything. Anything at all. ]
No. But obviously this place is fully in tune with what I want anyway.
[ Elio leans forward enough that their lips slip over each other, their noses bump a little until he fixes the angle and there, there, when he extends his arm and reaches out, he can run his fingers through the feathers on Lucifer's right arch, just softly stroking his fingertips down over the underside of his wing. He breathes out hard against Lucifer's mouth, a wet, hard exhalation. ]
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The sensation of having his feathers touched again, after so many years without... He shuts his eyes because he can't help it, leaning the side of his face against Elio's cheek for a moment, his skin prickling and his feathers fluffing out a little. He shifts closer, his cock rubbing up against Elio's, a long, hot slide of hard flesh on flesh and he's basically seconds away from taking them both in hand and getting them off (to a start, mind), when he realises that Elio's touching his ash-stained feathers and they haven't been washed in forever and it's pretty much the nastiest they've been in a long, long time.
He draws away abruptly, as if doused by icy water. Drawing his wings back for good measure, he sets Elio down as carefully as he can manage before drawing back towards the showerheads, glancing up at them furtively. ]
Too bad it didn't just wipe them clean for you.
[ A quick, angry nod over his shoulder. ]
I should definitely --
[ He reaches for the gold-shimmering valve on the wall. It promptly disintegrates between his fingers, drizzling ash all over the tiles. More ash. Also, what? He stares. Blinks. Draws his hand away and watches the valve re-appear, good as new.
Like the grass, apparently.
Oh.
He gives Elio a small, apologetic smile - wondering, peripherally, how his cock is still hard in the face of all this stupidity - and shrugs. With all four limbs. Ugh. ]
Guess you'll have to do the honors, darling.
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Aimed at his wings, of course, not at Elio, that's the difference.
Watching the other man as he throws a glance upwards at the showerheads above and then, reaches for the valve, Elio feels slightly restless and tense, cock standing hard between his thighs, residual arousal still prickling beneath his skin, like his nerve endings are screaming for more touch, more heat, more - but he doesn't rush him, he doesn't hurry them along, the two of them, because it's like this when they have sex, they follow the flow. Currently, the flow is how very dedicated Lucifer is to washing off for him and Elio thinks it's a sweet gesture. It's a gift, honestly, it means, I want to be clean for you, because you're clean to me.
Except, the valve disintegrates between Lucifer's fingers, more ash on the floor and Lucifer is shrugging angrily, even as the smile he gives Elio is apologetic, all four limbs, arms and wings, and once the valve reappears, Elio is quick to reach for it, turn on the water of the rainfall showerhead with a soft, don't worry about it. It's a wide spray of water cascading down over them, already warm, because apparently you don't have to wait for anything to turn hot in Hell. After a second of blinking water out of his eyes, reaching up to push his quickly soaking bangs out of his face, Elio steps forward wordlessly and places himself chest to chest with Lucifer again, though smaller now, he's in perfect height to kiss his jaw, the side of his neck, licking up trickles of water that run down over his skin. Droplets only cooling slowly. ]
I'll do the honors.
[ It's a mutter. You're the honors, it means. ]
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Honors, says Elio, turning Lucifer's sarcasm into something that feels as genuine as his kisses and his choices and the grass that blooms where he walks in Hell.
Beautiful.
Lucifer cranes his neck down and mouths at the side of Elio's neck, tasting him and the water (which, apparently, doesn't turn to dust on his tongue like this, go figure, what are the rules down here?). He runs his other hand up the back of Elio's neck, threading his fingers through his hair gently. It's as if they were never apart, isn't it, despite how long it's been, despite how much Lucifer missed by leaving. Time-span wise, in terms of the human existence, three days is too long. It's simply how these things go.
Breathing muffled against the other man's skin, Lucifer finally just lets his wings go, succumbing to instinct. They fold out part-way on either side of him, momentarily caging them both within a wall of white and grey. Then, reluctantly, he lets go of Elio and steps back a foot or two before folding his wings around himself like some sort of freakish feather burrito, affording them as much of the spray as possible. The longest flight feathers are dragging over the tiles like this, crossed in front of his feet, and he raises them just a fraction above the floor to avoid whatever's about to go down the drain.
Then, still staring at Elio and blinking water out of his eyes, Lucifer shakes them. Just. Flapflapflapflap and there's water flying everywhere and Elio's not just getting sprayed, he's getting soaked. Oh, but it's nice. It's actually really, really nice. He turns around in a stupid little circle, the feathers running down his arse and thighs spreading out, getting in on the festivities.
Still doing this with a full erection, by the way. He's nothing if not multi-talented. ]
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Then, Lucifer releases him, obviously very reluctant about doing it, too, and steps back, his wings curving around him, wrapping him up like a blanket from either side and Elio watches while the other man lets the water do the work, running down the hundreds of rows of feathers, big and white and doubly bright like this, their own glow as well as the droplets of water that catch the light. He loses his breath a little at the sight, it isn't the pure sign of divinity, because let's be real, he's walking around a house in Hell made specifically for him, adhering to his every whim, it's that the divinity is Lucifer's and he's letting it show, he isn't hiding it away or chopping it off or ridding himself off it in some way. He's letting Elio see.
That's the beauty of it.
Their eyes stay locked on each other as Lucifer finally unfurls his wings again and start flapping them, just flapflapflapflap and Elio's getting drenched from the water hurling about the stall, he feels himself gasp for breath, forcing his eyes open to keep staring at the other man, angel, very much an angel right now, nothing less than that, while he turns around in a circle and gets himself properly wet. Elio's mouth feels dry. It feels dry and his cock feels so hard it hurts and while Lucifer's managing to keep his erection through this entire display, Elio only barely manages not to come. Oh. Oh.
As soon as Lucifer has turned back around, Elio stops giving a damn about the water flying everywhere, he isn't going to take another round, he wouldn't survive, surely, and moves forward, more or less throwing himself at Lucifer's front, hands grabbing his shoulders, arms coming around his neck, keeping Elio up on his toes as he presses his mouth open and wanting to the other man's, muttering against his lips: ]
Fuck. [ Just that. Sometimes he can't be bothered to be all that eloquent. ] Fuck, fuck, fuck, I want you so much.
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He's just about to go for another round of flap-and-spin when Elio more or less throws himself at him, grabbing onto him and kissing him, hard, wanting, up on his tip-toes. Lucifer manages not to stumble backwards mostly because Elio weighs exactly nothing to him, though his wings do swerve a little in the air upon impact, keeping him firmly rooted to the spot. He holds onto the other man, both arms slung around his waist this time, his wings arching backwards slightly, taking up the space behind them. For a few seconds, he just kisses him back, licking into his mouth and tasting his breath and his wetness.
Then, completely on impulse, he walks them backwards again, pushing Elio up against the wall beneath the showerhead and dropping to his knees. His wings fan out on either side of him, the water cascading off the feathers, beating down upon his shoulder and back and when he looks up at Elio, he has to blink to make him out properly. He smiles. Watches him, all glistening and lovely, as he wraps his hand around his hard cock near the base. He leans in and nuzzles the shaft with his nose before licking a long, fat strip up the underside to the head. He tastes mostly of wet skin and salt, though there's an undercurrent that's strictly Elio, only him, and yes, truly, he's missed him, he's missed everything about him.
This, especially. ]
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Either way.
Either way, they end up against the wall, Elio's back pressing up against the tiles and he's watching the water cascading down over Lucifer's wings as the other man gets on his knees in front of him, the feathers glinting in the spray of water, diamond-like and it's so pretty, so, so pretty. He looks down as Lucifer grabs hold of his cock by the base of it, big fingers curled around it while he nuzzles the shaft with his nose, big nose, hawk-like, fitting and subsequently, he loses his breath as Lucifer's tongue comes out, licking a fat trail up the underside, from the bottom of the shaft to the transition to head. Elio carefully finds his balance, feet well apart, wall taking all his weight as he watches the glittering effect of saliva now leading the way. Go ahead, go ahead, go ahead, he wants to whisper, but can't get the words over his lips. Too dry, everything's too dry, except his whole body, drenched in water and droplets in his eyes and Lucifer's spit on his cock.
Shakily, Elio reaches up and runs one hand through Lucifer's hair, fingers slightly bent and fingertips dragging over his scalp. He's making it all curl up like this. He loves it, wings for backdrop, too. Around his wrist, the bracelet catches the light, wetly silver. His breathing sounds staccato and gradually quickening.
Go ahead, right? But all he tells the other man, fingers playing with the hair at his nape, following the curve of his skull downwards, before Elio bends over a little bit to slide his palm down along his neck, following spine, resting between shoulder blades, between wings, is a muttered, please.
He isn't pushing, he's begging. ]
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Today, he senses that please from Elio keenly, from the way it sounds to the way it feels when he runs his palm down along his neck, over his spine and between his shoulder-blades. His wings rise a little as a physical response, the musculature in his upper back tightening and releasing. The feathers are heavy like this, dripping wet. He lets them drop to the floor again, resting against the tiles, their white colour coming through brighter and brighter as the grime clears away.
He angles Elio's cock outwards a little, leans in and sucks the tip into his mouth. He runs his other hand up Elio's thigh, pressing him back against the wall slightly, holding him. Then, he sucks, cheeks hollowing. Elio's cock tastes sharper like this, more blatantly him and Lucifer can't quite get enough; he gives it another handful of sucks, releasing the pressure and rebuilding it right after, before he draws back again, popping the head out and pressing his tongue flatly against the slit.
Groaning, he dips the tip of his tongue inside, just a little, just to coax out whatever drops of precum he can get, stroking Elio's thigh throughout, his grip steady but without any semblance of roughness. ]
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