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. ]
[ There's no particular way they always do it, sex is always something new with Lucifer, something surprising and exciting and something amazing, but there's still a red thread connecting every time and it's present now, too. The care. No matter how they end up doing it, they always do that, right?
Lucifer licks his cock like a lollipop a few times, well, a lollipop or a popsicle, though no popsicles would survive in Hell for long, but then again, Elio doesn't think he'll survive any longer than Lucifer intends, because just the wet friction of his tongue, running in slippery trails up the shaft of his cock is making his hips tremble, his muscles tensing and releasing a few times as he does his very, very best to refrain from thrusting.
Angling Elio's cock outwards, the other man then closes his lips over the tip and sucks.
Elio's shallow breathing becomes a regular pant at this point. Oh, oh, it's so sensitive. It's intense and tight and wet and warm and the noises of it, the hard sounds of suction, the saliva, wet skin against skin. Elio can actually feel absolutely everything on him harden (if it was already hard, it gets harder) and on the third time Lucifer repeats, he's feeling almost mad with the need to push back, give something of himself, take up space, push inwards, but he doesn't, because he takes care as well, doesn't he? Not to mention, he gets the general idea, of course - of the slow buildup, that pacing of himself which Lucifer masters, because he's both old and King. Elio groans low in his throat, curls his fingers into fists, fingertips digging into Lucifer's skin and muscle and slipping over the very base of his wings, the feathers there heavy from moisture. ]
Keep - [ And Lucifer actually draws back to dip the tip of his tongue into the slit, Elio losing his breath for a moment, trembling tangibly, shoulders squaring against the onslaught of pleasure surging through him. A moan, louder now. Lucifer will probably feel it, the goosebumps and the sweat and the heat running just underneath his skin, the other man's hand stroking his thigh, supporting him, touching him just to touch, to hold. ] - keep taking your time.
[ His voice sounds hoarse. Elio slides one hand along the base of Lucifer's right wing, the white of it bleeding through now, sun-like, before he suddenly stops, fingers just brushing through a couple of rows of drenched feathers. Can I, it means, asks. Carefully. I want you to feel good, too. ]
[ He can feel Elio's thigh muscles working beneath his hand, the other man clearly aching for friction, even as he encourages Lucifer to take his time, to give him this unhurried pleasure and it thrills him, still, that even without his mojo, he'll always be allowed to know. How to love him. How to satisfy him.
At the feel of the other man's fingers brushing over his feathers, he shudders a little, gaze still firmly locked on his cock, on the glistening tip. I'll follow says Elio because he doesn't want to presume, he never does, and there's something so incredibly precious about it, something that never fails to make his chest ache. He swallows and leans in again, swirling his tongue over the top of Elio's cock before sucking it back inside his mouth. This time, he takes it in slightly deeper, sucking on it again, a little more persistently.
Then, to answer, he pushes his right wing upwards against Elio's hand because there's really no way whatsoever he'll voice this need, this urge to be touched even in his worst places. He can't. He doesn't want to listen to himself doing that. But Elio asks and he'd be a coward not to answer; after all, the last time anyone touched his feathers, it was him and the memory of his fingertips still lingers in his nervous system, even hundreds of years after. Try as he might, as he did in the beginning, there's really no denying it at this point, the proof is too damning. He wants it. Please, yes, please.
Eyes falling shut, he bobs his head up and down, letting Elio's cock slide back and forth, into his mouth and partway out, keeping his lips tight enough to create a steady flow of friction. He isn't necessarily aiming for getting him off - Elio asked him so nicely to take his time and he will, thanks, gladly - but he can take him towards the edge a little, surely, just to get the privilege of catching him before he tumbles over.
[ The response is physical rather than verbal which is understandable, one) because Lucifer doesn't want to have to say it, that he wants his wings touched, that this part of himself which he used to hate so much needs the attention and affection of anyone, least of all himself and two) because he's swallowing a good portion of Elio's cock, letting it slide deeper now, though not all the way in, mostly upholding the sense of friction with his lips, his tongue and speaking would entail stopping which Elio is eternally grateful to him for not doing. Elio groans more loudly now, hips straining against Lucifer's hold that may be gentle, but it's also firm and like always, Lucifer is quite adept at taking charge, at taking charge considerately, too. Something that Elio loves about him. Another thing, and another and another.
Like he loves the way he just tilts his wing in against Elio's fingers, allowing him to touch him while Lucifer pleasures him and Elio keeps his eyes open against the pelting of the water, staring out at the spray leaving Lucifer's feathers clean, yes, but a soaking mess. He drags his fingertips through the rows of feathers, feeling the unfamiliar heaviness of them, how they're somehow even softer like this. He repeats the motion, once, twice, three times, careful to separate each row from the next, each feather from the next with his thumb, really getting into his plumage. The depths of it.
It's that feeling that helps building up the pleasure from Lucifer's mouth even more, until Elio is slightly crazed from it, working blindly with his fingers and trying helplessly to push forward with his hips, into the heat of the other man's mouth, over his tongue, feel his lips, tight and wet and swollen.
He doesn't know how long it's been at this point. Since the last time they made love. No matter how long, though, it's been too long. Elio gasps, groans, twists a little tiny bit beneath Lucifer's hold. ]
I love the feeling of you. [ Pant. His mouth. His wing. Pant, harder now. Elio's balls feel like they might be drawing up, but not now, not already, give him more time, give him more. Don't stop, he could say, but he won't - he won't ask Lucifer for anything that he doesn't want him to give him. ] Lucifer...
[ His hand flattens over the feathers of Lucifer's wing, following the direction of the feathers downward, just softly stroking him. Just. Softly. Meanwhile his cock is throbbing, aching, amazingly. ]
[ He's getting almost unbearably aroused himself from the feel of Elio's cock pushing into his mouth, slipping out, pushing in, and the touch of his fingers carding through his feathers, oh, carefully, so carefully, but also in a way that says worship and beautiful and Lucifer hasn't felt like that since before his Fall, not truly. He hasn't wanted it, either, too preoccupied with feeling human, with feeling false and flighty and undernourished.
But Elio makes him want to try.
Sucking him more rythmically, he feels the other man straining to push forward, his fingers running through his feathers still soft, still tender, but definitely not overly focused. He keeps going for another moment (a half minute? a minute? It's hard to know in this place) before he pauses, Elio's cock buried in his mouth all the way to the very back, the head less than an inch from pushing into his throat.
Not that either, though, today.
Instead, he pulls off Elio's cock, gripping it with one hand, folding his fingers around the shaft and holding him still. He looks up at him and licks his lips, slowly, carefully, before he says, voice rough around the edges (endlessly exciting, isn't it, that Elio leaves traces inside him when they fuck?): ]
Elio. [ He leans in and kisses his thigh, mouths his way over his hipbone briefly before continuing: ] Can I have you?
[ He moves his free hand between Elio's legs, pressing two, wet fingers against his arsehole, just rubbing over the muscle lightly, feeling it flutter. ]
In here, I mean.
[ His cock visibly jumps at the words alone but he isn't about to indulge before he knows. He's getting used to asking around Elio, is Lucifer, has practiced for a long time by now and the words come naturally enough, the intention, the underlying mutual understanding. That Elio's already given so much of himself, to Lucifer, to others before him, and all things being equal, he really hasn't been given nearly enough in return.
[ By most common definitions, Elio is literally losing his mind as Lucifer starts sucking him more rhythmically, his cock feeling impossibly hard and sensitive, the other man's lips sliding up and down the shaft at an even, steady pace, pushing him forward, but not over. Tongue up against the underside, the tight suction of his mouth, the constant friction. Elio's shaking near the end, his entire body feeling overwrought and responsive.
Then, Lucifer pulls off and wraps his fingers around the shaft instead, keeping him steady and keeping him tethered. Elio's gasping a little, desperately, halting his caressing of the other man's wing to look down at him when he speaks, voice rough, cocksucker voice and there's nothing hotter than Lucifer sounding like that, sounding that affected. Elio breathes in deep, feels raw from the inside and out.
Can he - Oh. Can he? His hard-tried cock jerks between Lucifer's fingers and while it's also because the other man's letting two fingers slip up between his legs, up between his buttocks to rub over his asshole, Elio feeling acutely how his rim flutters and tightens and wants, it's just as much because Lucifer is asking and although they've done this so many times, giving and taking equally, Elio never tires of it. This feeling of choice. Of being given that, of all things.
Trust the Devil to do it, though.
He licks his lips, feels his body say yes, oh please, yes, but still hesitates for a second, thinking of boring, practical things like lube, because despite everything that's come after, his system still remembers his first time with Oliver, what might as well be an eternity later, when a golden soap holder appears out of nowhere on his left, perched on it a bottle of lube, silicone-based by the looks of it, nothing the hard spray of water will wash off. Apparently his castle really wants him to take the Devil's cock today. Apparently Elio really wants to as well. His body certainly agrees, there's no forcing here.
Shifting from one foot to the other, pushing back against Lucifer's fingers as much as he can with his cock caught in the other man's grip, he replies, half-smiling and yet, voice a little bit shaky: ]
I want you to have me exactly there.
[ And saying those words feels like being taken already, really, taken by the hand, led somewhere completely safe and comfortable. ]
[ Elio takes a moment to actually consider his proposition and Lucifer waits, patiently despite his own rather pressing urge to get a move on. Then, in a wordless reply, a bottle of lube appears on the wall next to them, a nice one, even, meaning they won't have to make do with less and why would they? This is Elio's place. His realm. Though Lucifer doesn't know what exactly happened between him and his first lover, the man who cowered and cried in the face of Lucifer's hell-fire, he's fairly certain that making do is something Elio's been forced to do much, much too often.
Lucifer looks towards the bottle on its shiny soap dispenser for a moment, his fingers still pressed up between Elio's buttocks, his other hand still wrapped around his cock. Licking his lips again at Elio's verbal confirmation, tasting the other man clearly still, he finally releases him and sits back on his haunches. He uses his wings to keep his balance, spread out as they are to either side and curved a little to support him (not unlike hands), the feathers in complete and utter disarray. It feels lovely, regardless, being cleaner, here, in Elio's world.
He hates them a little less like this. ]
Lucky for me, you'll have to get yourself good and ready.
[ He smiles hungrily, tilting his head sideways and watching the other man through slightly narrowed eyes. ]
And I get to watch.
[ He spreads his legs a fraction as he sits there, on his knees, and curls his hand around himself. His cock twitches pathetically between his fingers and his balls are practically aching. All the same, he keeps his grip loose. More of an implication, really. Otherwise, he'll end up getting himself off too soon and while the Devil's refractory period is practically zilch, he isn't too keen on breaking the flow.
He wants to have Elio like this, in this mood, with the air between them full of whatever's here now, in the wake of what came before.
It's hard to say why that's so important but it is; Lucifer rarely asks any further questions when it comes to pleasure, when it comes to others and what they're willing to share with him. ]
[ Lucifer releases him, his cock, then slips his fingers from his asshole and looks towards the bottle of lube, clearly thinking the same thing as Elio does, once the initial kick of no, where are you going-worded disappointment has settled. Lucifer can't touch it, it'll turn to ash between his fingers, so Elio has to slick up for him. Getting himself good and ready. His cock jerks at those words, his breath shuddering out of him, though he's smiling, too, just a little bit, because fuck. Fuck, Lucifer, doing this to him. He loves it, every fibre of his being loves it, the sense of exhibition coupled with an even greater sense of intimacy. It's always been the perfect combination for Elio, he's always wanted to feel equal parts seen and loved.
Reaching for the lube, pouring some generously out over his fingers, a thick, golden-colored liquid that sticks and doesn't wash off too easily, Elio turns around and leans on the wall one-handedly, spreading his legs wide and bending over enough to put himself well on display before glancing over his shoulder at the man kneeling behind him. He's on perfect eye-level with his ass this way, Elio's buttocks slightly spread and his asshole fluttering in expectation, little pleasurable contractions. Elio's breathing is pretty much shot already. ]
You get to have front row seats.
[ Leaving his cock to weep, Elio reaches behind himself with his slicked up hand and follows the crack between his buttocks from tailbone and down, feeling the thick slickness of the lube all the way, his fingers finding his asshole easily and rubbing over it, just dipping his fingertips in a bit for each stroking motion, getting himself slowly used to the feeling of inward pressure. At first it's just the tips of two fingers, though he'll need more for Lucifer, right? Much more. His man is very big, very wide. Eyes falling shut, he keeps it slow at first, just rubs along the rim, slicking himself up. Soon, though, less than half a minute later maybe, he can't really stand it anymore, groaning low in his throat and dipping in his index finger, pushing into himself to the second knuckle, his breathing coming out long and hard at the feeling of penetration, slight stretch, a whole lot of nerve endings singing. Oh.
And Lucifer's watching. ]
How's - [ Elio bends his finger slightly, not aiming for his prostate but to ease the inward motion as he pushes further in, pulls out, in. The sense of exposure is making him moan. ] - the view?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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Lucifer licks his cock like a lollipop a few times, well, a lollipop or a popsicle, though no popsicles would survive in Hell for long, but then again, Elio doesn't think he'll survive any longer than Lucifer intends, because just the wet friction of his tongue, running in slippery trails up the shaft of his cock is making his hips tremble, his muscles tensing and releasing a few times as he does his very, very best to refrain from thrusting.
Angling Elio's cock outwards, the other man then closes his lips over the tip and sucks.
Elio's shallow breathing becomes a regular pant at this point. Oh, oh, it's so sensitive. It's intense and tight and wet and warm and the noises of it, the hard sounds of suction, the saliva, wet skin against skin. Elio can actually feel absolutely everything on him harden (if it was already hard, it gets harder) and on the third time Lucifer repeats, he's feeling almost mad with the need to push back, give something of himself, take up space, push inwards, but he doesn't, because he takes care as well, doesn't he? Not to mention, he gets the general idea, of course - of the slow buildup, that pacing of himself which Lucifer masters, because he's both old and King. Elio groans low in his throat, curls his fingers into fists, fingertips digging into Lucifer's skin and muscle and slipping over the very base of his wings, the feathers there heavy from moisture. ]
Keep - [ And Lucifer actually draws back to dip the tip of his tongue into the slit, Elio losing his breath for a moment, trembling tangibly, shoulders squaring against the onslaught of pleasure surging through him. A moan, louder now. Lucifer will probably feel it, the goosebumps and the sweat and the heat running just underneath his skin, the other man's hand stroking his thigh, supporting him, touching him just to touch, to hold. ] - keep taking your time.
[ His voice sounds hoarse. Elio slides one hand along the base of Lucifer's right wing, the white of it bleeding through now, sun-like, before he suddenly stops, fingers just brushing through a couple of rows of drenched feathers. Can I, it means, asks. Carefully. I want you to feel good, too. ]
I'll follow.
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At the feel of the other man's fingers brushing over his feathers, he shudders a little, gaze still firmly locked on his cock, on the glistening tip. I'll follow says Elio because he doesn't want to presume, he never does, and there's something so incredibly precious about it, something that never fails to make his chest ache. He swallows and leans in again, swirling his tongue over the top of Elio's cock before sucking it back inside his mouth. This time, he takes it in slightly deeper, sucking on it again, a little more persistently.
Then, to answer, he pushes his right wing upwards against Elio's hand because there's really no way whatsoever he'll voice this need, this urge to be touched even in his worst places. He can't. He doesn't want to listen to himself doing that. But Elio asks and he'd be a coward not to answer; after all, the last time anyone touched his feathers, it was him and the memory of his fingertips still lingers in his nervous system, even hundreds of years after. Try as he might, as he did in the beginning, there's really no denying it at this point, the proof is too damning. He wants it. Please, yes, please.
Eyes falling shut, he bobs his head up and down, letting Elio's cock slide back and forth, into his mouth and partway out, keeping his lips tight enough to create a steady flow of friction. He isn't necessarily aiming for getting him off - Elio asked him so nicely to take his time and he will, thanks, gladly - but he can take him towards the edge a little, surely, just to get the privilege of catching him before he tumbles over.
Always the privilege, with him. ]
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Like he loves the way he just tilts his wing in against Elio's fingers, allowing him to touch him while Lucifer pleasures him and Elio keeps his eyes open against the pelting of the water, staring out at the spray leaving Lucifer's feathers clean, yes, but a soaking mess. He drags his fingertips through the rows of feathers, feeling the unfamiliar heaviness of them, how they're somehow even softer like this. He repeats the motion, once, twice, three times, careful to separate each row from the next, each feather from the next with his thumb, really getting into his plumage. The depths of it.
It's that feeling that helps building up the pleasure from Lucifer's mouth even more, until Elio is slightly crazed from it, working blindly with his fingers and trying helplessly to push forward with his hips, into the heat of the other man's mouth, over his tongue, feel his lips, tight and wet and swollen.
He doesn't know how long it's been at this point. Since the last time they made love. No matter how long, though, it's been too long. Elio gasps, groans, twists a little tiny bit beneath Lucifer's hold. ]
I love the feeling of you. [ Pant. His mouth. His wing. Pant, harder now. Elio's balls feel like they might be drawing up, but not now, not already, give him more time, give him more. Don't stop, he could say, but he won't - he won't ask Lucifer for anything that he doesn't want him to give him. ] Lucifer...
[ His hand flattens over the feathers of Lucifer's wing, following the direction of the feathers downward, just softly stroking him. Just. Softly. Meanwhile his cock is throbbing, aching, amazingly. ]
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But Elio makes him want to try.
Sucking him more rythmically, he feels the other man straining to push forward, his fingers running through his feathers still soft, still tender, but definitely not overly focused. He keeps going for another moment (a half minute? a minute? It's hard to know in this place) before he pauses, Elio's cock buried in his mouth all the way to the very back, the head less than an inch from pushing into his throat.
Not that either, though, today.
Instead, he pulls off Elio's cock, gripping it with one hand, folding his fingers around the shaft and holding him still. He looks up at him and licks his lips, slowly, carefully, before he says, voice rough around the edges (endlessly exciting, isn't it, that Elio leaves traces inside him when they fuck?): ]
Elio. [ He leans in and kisses his thigh, mouths his way over his hipbone briefly before continuing: ] Can I have you?
[ He moves his free hand between Elio's legs, pressing two, wet fingers against his arsehole, just rubbing over the muscle lightly, feeling it flutter. ]
In here, I mean.
[ His cock visibly jumps at the words alone but he isn't about to indulge before he knows. He's getting used to asking around Elio, is Lucifer, has practiced for a long time by now and the words come naturally enough, the intention, the underlying mutual understanding. That Elio's already given so much of himself, to Lucifer, to others before him, and all things being equal, he really hasn't been given nearly enough in return.
So he will not be robbed of anything else. ]
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Then, Lucifer pulls off and wraps his fingers around the shaft instead, keeping him steady and keeping him tethered. Elio's gasping a little, desperately, halting his caressing of the other man's wing to look down at him when he speaks, voice rough, cocksucker voice and there's nothing hotter than Lucifer sounding like that, sounding that affected. Elio breathes in deep, feels raw from the inside and out.
Can he - Oh. Can he? His hard-tried cock jerks between Lucifer's fingers and while it's also because the other man's letting two fingers slip up between his legs, up between his buttocks to rub over his asshole, Elio feeling acutely how his rim flutters and tightens and wants, it's just as much because Lucifer is asking and although they've done this so many times, giving and taking equally, Elio never tires of it. This feeling of choice. Of being given that, of all things.
Trust the Devil to do it, though.
He licks his lips, feels his body say yes, oh please, yes, but still hesitates for a second, thinking of boring, practical things like lube, because despite everything that's come after, his system still remembers his first time with Oliver, what might as well be an eternity later, when a golden soap holder appears out of nowhere on his left, perched on it a bottle of lube, silicone-based by the looks of it, nothing the hard spray of water will wash off. Apparently his castle really wants him to take the Devil's cock today. Apparently Elio really wants to as well. His body certainly agrees, there's no forcing here.
Shifting from one foot to the other, pushing back against Lucifer's fingers as much as he can with his cock caught in the other man's grip, he replies, half-smiling and yet, voice a little bit shaky: ]
I want you to have me exactly there.
[ And saying those words feels like being taken already, really, taken by the hand, led somewhere completely safe and comfortable. ]
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Lucifer looks towards the bottle on its shiny soap dispenser for a moment, his fingers still pressed up between Elio's buttocks, his other hand still wrapped around his cock. Licking his lips again at Elio's verbal confirmation, tasting the other man clearly still, he finally releases him and sits back on his haunches. He uses his wings to keep his balance, spread out as they are to either side and curved a little to support him (not unlike hands), the feathers in complete and utter disarray. It feels lovely, regardless, being cleaner, here, in Elio's world.
He hates them a little less like this. ]
Lucky for me, you'll have to get yourself good and ready.
[ He smiles hungrily, tilting his head sideways and watching the other man through slightly narrowed eyes. ]
And I get to watch.
[ He spreads his legs a fraction as he sits there, on his knees, and curls his hand around himself. His cock twitches pathetically between his fingers and his balls are practically aching. All the same, he keeps his grip loose. More of an implication, really. Otherwise, he'll end up getting himself off too soon and while the Devil's refractory period is practically zilch, he isn't too keen on breaking the flow.
He wants to have Elio like this, in this mood, with the air between them full of whatever's here now, in the wake of what came before.
It's hard to say why that's so important but it is; Lucifer rarely asks any further questions when it comes to pleasure, when it comes to others and what they're willing to share with him. ]
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Reaching for the lube, pouring some generously out over his fingers, a thick, golden-colored liquid that sticks and doesn't wash off too easily, Elio turns around and leans on the wall one-handedly, spreading his legs wide and bending over enough to put himself well on display before glancing over his shoulder at the man kneeling behind him. He's on perfect eye-level with his ass this way, Elio's buttocks slightly spread and his asshole fluttering in expectation, little pleasurable contractions. Elio's breathing is pretty much shot already. ]
You get to have front row seats.
[ Leaving his cock to weep, Elio reaches behind himself with his slicked up hand and follows the crack between his buttocks from tailbone and down, feeling the thick slickness of the lube all the way, his fingers finding his asshole easily and rubbing over it, just dipping his fingertips in a bit for each stroking motion, getting himself slowly used to the feeling of inward pressure. At first it's just the tips of two fingers, though he'll need more for Lucifer, right? Much more. His man is very big, very wide. Eyes falling shut, he keeps it slow at first, just rubs along the rim, slicking himself up. Soon, though, less than half a minute later maybe, he can't really stand it anymore, groaning low in his throat and dipping in his index finger, pushing into himself to the second knuckle, his breathing coming out long and hard at the feeling of penetration, slight stretch, a whole lot of nerve endings singing. Oh.
And Lucifer's watching. ]
How's - [ Elio bends his finger slightly, not aiming for his prostate but to ease the inward motion as he pushes further in, pulls out, in. The sense of exposure is making him moan. ] - the view?
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