[ 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?
[ The lube makes Elio's fingers look shiny, golden almost. Pretty, indeed, but nothing compared to the absolute visual of Elio turning his back on Lucifer and leaning against the wall, spreading his legs and bending over, oh, oh. Lucifer stares at him, at the way he bares himself, his buttocks just slightly spread, his balls nice and tight further down between his legs. Rather than stroking himself in any capacity, Lucifer makes the executive decision to simply grab the base of his cock to starve off his climax. That's it.
Then, Elio starts touching himself and Lucifer's cock weeps in response, precum slipping down the shaft. He swallows heavily. Elio has the most beautiful hands - like the rest of him, they're long and slim but also strong-looking in their own way. Working hands, the most elegant sort. When Elio rubs his fingers over his arsehole, the rim glistening from lube, he shifts closer a little on his knees for an even better view (so he's greedy, he's the bloody Devil, it's in the job description). He spends a good long while on it, too, just getting himself nice and slick, and Lucifer's breathing harshly by the end of it, feeling light-headed, like there's no actual blood-flow left in his brain.
No surprises there, really.
He can't help it, though, when Elio starts pushing into himself, working his arsehole open inch by inch. How's the view says the other man, his moan going straight to Lucifer's cock, and really, he can't be expected not to touch, he can't be expected to just watch. If so, better tie him up nicely next time, darling, nothing else is going to cut it. With a deep groan, Lucifer reaches for Elio's buttocks, one hand on each, and pulls them apart, spreading him open the rest of the way. His scent is strong this close up, musky and dark and exciting. ]
It's beautiful.
[ He runs his thumb over Elio's arsehole where it's stretched around his finger. Then, gently, he pushes at Elio's knuckles, urging him deeper. ]
You're fantastic, darling. Just completely breath-taking.
[ Lucifer's response is to lean forward and pull Elio's buttocks apart, watching and touching, apparently, Elio doesn't truly mind, because that would mean not liking how the other man tells him beautiful and fantastic and breath-taking, it would mean not liking how Lucifer runs his thumb along the slightly stretched opening of his ass, it would mean not liking how he urges his finger deeper by pushing at his knuckles, steering him, setting the pace. And Elio likes all of those things, he likes them so much that his cock actually jerks, the bared head leaving precum all over Elio's stomach.
He groans, panting heavily and pushes his finger further into himself, mindlessly hooking it into his ass at an angle that gets his prostate at the next in-stroke. Whimpering, he feels his knees give just a little and spreads wider, shifting his balance a little, holding himself up against the wall, fingers spread wide over the tiles.
Then, he pulls his finger out of his asshole, unable to wait anymore, aligning it with his middle fingers and pushing against the slicked-up rim, slipping inside after a second's resistance. Oh, but it's so good. It's so good. The stretch. How tight he feels, how warm and the friction against all those nerve endings... His balls feel on the verge of exploding, Lucifer so close, the only way he'd be closer would be if he were inside and he will be, they're getting there, slowly. Take your time, he'd told him.
Now, Elio's taking his. ]
Lead my hand.
[ Two fingers working his ass now, he pulls out halfway, letting the back of his hand slide along the soft touch of Lucifer's fingers. The other man doesn't presume anything, he doesn't just take over, he lets Elio decide for himself, what he wants. That's how it goes between them, he always lets him make his own choices. Well, here's his choice. Please fuck him on himself. ]
[ He watches, enraptured, as Elio follows along, pushing his finger deep inside himself, going for his prostate on the next instroke and whimpering as he hits his mark. Lucifer's breath quickens at the way his body stretches to adjust, first to his index finger and then, yes, yes, another. Beautiful. In just a little while it'll be his cock, stretching his arsehole wide open and oh, the heat of him, the tightness... And the sounds he makes, Elio, the way his balls are tightening up...
At the touch of fingers against his hand, not pushing but urging, Lucifer willingly obliges, curving his palm more fully over Elio's hand and leading him, pushing his fingers in, drawing them out, setting a good, steady pace. He groans at the sight of it, at the feel. Elio's muscles are working beneath his hand, all the way up his arm and down into his shoulder. Shifting closer yet, his nose brushing over Elio's wrist as he fucks himself, Lucifer finally reaches for his balls with his free hand and pulls them backwards, not roughly but a steady grip, all the same. Keep him from coming for a little longer, hopefully, if that's what he wants.
It's what Lucifer wants, at least, and he's convinced Elio will let him know if they aren't in sync.
Leaning in closer yet, he can't quite help it - he pauses Elio's hand, holding it still, his fingers buried deep within his arse and noses in between his spread cheeks. Gently, he presses his tongue to his stretched rim and tastes him, the lube little but a slick aftertaste. He tastes darker down here, more like musk and sex and something very distinctively him. Lucifer groans helplessly, licking a longer, wetter trail over Elio's opening and his knuckles, in turn.
His own balls are on the verge of exploding but wings aside, he really only has two working hands and there's no way he's letting go of Elio's balls to deal with his own arousal. He's immortal. Even this, he's bound to survive. ]
[ The way Lucifer closes his fingers, gently, around his hand and starts fucking into him with Elio's own fingers is almost too much, he moves along with every little push the other man's hand gives, sliding his fingers in, pulling them out, feeling how he's stretching open wider now and how easy the glide has become, like he's slicking himself up all the way into his very core. His whimpers are thin and breathy, shuddering out of him for every exhalation he manages, Elio spreading his legs and pushing back against his own hand desperately. Oh, he needs, he needs...
Then, Lucifer's other hand slips down, closing around his balls and drawing them back a little, not roughly, it doesn't hurt, but it makes the orgasm that had been quickly building up subside just as abruptly which, in turn, makes Elio groan. Makes him hook his fingers in, more, more. So when Lucifer pushes his whole face in between his spread buttocks, licking over his stretched rim, keeping his two fingers pressed inside him while he works his asshole with his tongue, Elio is suddenly very, very grateful that he's physically blocking him from coming on the spot. He would have. He definitely would have. ]
Please - [ And they're back to that, Elio's pleases, because with Lucifer he can't pray to God while having sex, that would be plain disturbing, so this is what the other man gets instead, all this helpless begging aimed at himself and Elio knows he can take it, the weight of it, the responsibility it entails. He feels it right now. ] - don't stop.
[ Carefully, he starts pulling out his fingers, leaving his ass completely open to Lucifer's tongue, his rim feeling puffy and responsive now that he's stroked away at it so much. Elio feels open and accessible, the entire feeling of Lucifer being up close to his ass, the intimacy of it, like he's letting him into his innermost, even more than if he were fucking him on his cock, so extremely vulnerable.
Inhaling deeply, he feels his asshole contract in response. Oh. Oh. His voice is trembling. ]
Take me to the edge and then, I'll let you inside.
[ Elio definitely approves and that's lucky, that's very lucky indeed, seeing as Lucifer's about ready to just bury himself. Keeping his hold on Elio's balls as the other man withdraws his fingers, his arsehole still slightly open in their wake, Lucifer exhales roughly and dives in. He presses his tongue against Elio's wet opening before dipping in, feeling his rim sucking him deeper. Working his tongue in as far as he can, he seals his lips over the slick muscle and sucks, wantonly. He's moaning all throughout, every time he gets enough breath. He's given rimjobs before, obviously, there's very little he hasn't done to others in the sexual sense - but this is different, of course, because he's never loved any of them. Suddenly, it occurs to him how incredibly intimate it is, how close they are. How deep they go, like this.
Trembling, he pulls his tongue out, then presses it right back in, setting a sloppy pace, his chin and nose pressed up between Elio's buttocks to get as much depth as possible. He's eating him, after all. Devouring him.
As with everything else concerning Elio, he's intent on doing it properly.
Deciding to Hell with it - hah - he releases Elio's balls carefully and runs his hand backwards along the soft skin behind them. Searching for a few seconds, he finds what he's looking for, that particular spot, and presses his thumb inwards. Going for his prostate, yes, on the outside seeing as the Devil might have a long tongue but he's not in fact a dog or a giraffe and consequently, there are limits.
Take me to the edge said Elio but maybe he'd actually just like to push him over like this, to feel him come around his tongue and let him spurt against his own stomach. Maybe that's just how it's going to be and then, afterwards, Lucifer might just bury his cock in his arse, too, and there'll be nothing - nothing - Elio hasn't given him.
The part of Lucifer that was made to be loved, fully and without reserve, can't help but find that thought completely amazing.
The rest of him is basically just sucking at Elio's arse and trying not to come all over the floor. ]
[ It's more or less an attack, the way Lucifer throws himself into his given task, pushing his tongue into Elio's stretched hole and locking his lips over the rim, sucking while he fucks him, pushing his tongue in as far as it'll go, little jabs of intense pleasure making Elio feel absolutely delirious from it. He's whimpering, halfway sobbing as it builds up, even with the way Lucifer's holding his balls, keeping him in check, it's building.
So, when the other man releases his balls, Elio knows that they're going for the final stretch now, it'll end here, like this, Lucifer's fingers slipping over his perineum until he finds that spot, that one, yes, oh, and presses his thumb inwards, aiming straight for his prostate and hitting it effortlessly, Elio's hips actually jerking sharply forward as it breaks. It breaks. His climax.
He whines, actually wantonly whines, trying to push himself back on Lucifer's face while his cock's spurting cum all over the wall, dripping onto the floor, getting all over his belly, lastly. It doesn't stop, for a long, long, long time it just doesn't stop and Elio's shaking, his legs feeling weird and his ass open and his balls sore, hand bracing himself against the wall. His breathing sounds wet and overwhelmed. Because that's what he is, wet and overwhelmed.
Still, he doesn't apologize like he might have done with anyone else where they'd had something else in mind. Lucifer's fingers are still rubbing over his perineum, making his asshole contract in the aftermath around his tongue. He wanted this. He wanted this and Elio could give it to him.
Pant, pant, inhale, exhale, pant.
Faintly, he remembers Lucifer's words from what feels like an eternity ago. ]
I'm relaxed enough now.
[ His voice sounds raw, hoarse and out of breath. He turns his head to the side a bit, pressing his face in against his outstretched upper arm, just hiding away a little, because it was a lot and he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings except to offer them up. Come inside my body, it means, feel it with me. ]
[ Elio comes, then, whimpering, half-way sobbing, whining like he can't stop and it's beautiful, it might even be the most beautiful Lucifer's ever seen him. He works him through his climax, massaging his prostate and pulling away to watch the way his arsehole flutters and contracts. He senses the shift - the moment when Elio's orgasm dries out and that special, satisfying tiredness settles in his muscles, his muscles very obviously lax and his slim body shaking. Getting to his feet , careful not to slip on the tiles, Lucifer watches the lines of his back and shoulders for a moment, noticing the way he's pressing his face against his upper arm, hiding away. It's not a lot but all the same, he sees it.
His little queen came apart on his tongue.
The thought honestly makes his cock so hard he might, conceivably, hammer up another palace with it just for him.
Shifting, he runs his palm down Elio's back between his shoulderblades, feeling his chest working beneath his hand, his breathing still ragged and raw. With his other, he reaches for the lube without thinking and squeezes some onto his - oh. Oh? Coating his hand, he slicks up his cock quickly, trying very hard not to be flabbergasted at what seems to be the rules in this place. Ashes for him but not, as it were, if he's about to fuck Elio up against the wall?
Feels like some sort of commentary, doesn't it. Either way, he's all for it.
Gently, he slips his hand down Elio's hip and nudges him. ]
Would you prefer it like this? [ He steps up against him, his cock nestled snugly between his buttocks. ] Or facing me?
[ He very purposefully tries not to put his own, selfish wants into the question, though his voice does quiver a tiny amount at the last three words. Gives him away, of course, because he's no better than that but regardless, he leaves it up to Elio. After all, so long as he can have him, the rest is comparatively inconsequential. ]
[ While he comes down from his orgasm, slowly, so slowly, it's like Elio's collecting a kind of (well, barely) semi-awareness of his own body, his own mind, his heart piece by piece, Lucifer's gotten to his feet, slicking up his hand (because apparently the lube won't turn to ash when Elio needs it, he thinks he senses a theme here) and stepping up behind him, his hand on his back, feeling his breathing heave still. And Elio pushes back against him, against his touch and against his cock between his buttocks, huge and hard and he wants him inside so much it's like a physical deficiency that he isn't there already. Like something's missing from this picture. He breathes deep and hard, filling his lungs and turning his head a bit to look at Lucifer over his shoulder. His taller than thou King of Hell, with his even bigger angel wings.
Elio turns around slowly, still bracing himself against the wall as he does so. He feels not just lax, he feels actually weak. Carry me, he wants to say, I can't get there on my own. Stepping up close to Lucifer, though, letting wall be wall behind him to instead slip his arms around the other man's shoulders, because Lucifer can be his new wall, right, what he says out loud is: ]
I want to see you.
[ Elio was young and queer in Rome, he's had enough anal sex up against grimy back alley walls to last him a lifetime. He doesn't want to bring that sense of anonymity into his relationship with Lucifer. With him, he's here to be seen, like he's here to see, to acknowledge and recognize and understand. That's his job. That's the blessing.
That's their very singularly specific beauty, his and Lucifer's. How they do that.
This close, the other man carries Elio's scent, musk and sweat and sex and ass and Elio leans up enough to catch his lips again, kissing him, tongue tracing his bottom lip that tastes like Elio feels. Oh. They're close, too, like this. Close. Behind Lucifer, his wings are still getting pelted by water, shining clean and luminescent white now. He smiles, just a slight curve of his lips, licking away the last traces of his own taste, as he draws back enough to give Lucifer room to maneuver them as he needs. ]
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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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Then, Elio starts touching himself and Lucifer's cock weeps in response, precum slipping down the shaft. He swallows heavily. Elio has the most beautiful hands - like the rest of him, they're long and slim but also strong-looking in their own way. Working hands, the most elegant sort. When Elio rubs his fingers over his arsehole, the rim glistening from lube, he shifts closer a little on his knees for an even better view (so he's greedy, he's the bloody Devil, it's in the job description). He spends a good long while on it, too, just getting himself nice and slick, and Lucifer's breathing harshly by the end of it, feeling light-headed, like there's no actual blood-flow left in his brain.
No surprises there, really.
He can't help it, though, when Elio starts pushing into himself, working his arsehole open inch by inch. How's the view says the other man, his moan going straight to Lucifer's cock, and really, he can't be expected not to touch, he can't be expected to just watch. If so, better tie him up nicely next time, darling, nothing else is going to cut it. With a deep groan, Lucifer reaches for Elio's buttocks, one hand on each, and pulls them apart, spreading him open the rest of the way. His scent is strong this close up, musky and dark and exciting. ]
It's beautiful.
[ He runs his thumb over Elio's arsehole where it's stretched around his finger. Then, gently, he pushes at Elio's knuckles, urging him deeper. ]
You're fantastic, darling. Just completely breath-taking.
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He groans, panting heavily and pushes his finger further into himself, mindlessly hooking it into his ass at an angle that gets his prostate at the next in-stroke. Whimpering, he feels his knees give just a little and spreads wider, shifting his balance a little, holding himself up against the wall, fingers spread wide over the tiles.
Then, he pulls his finger out of his asshole, unable to wait anymore, aligning it with his middle fingers and pushing against the slicked-up rim, slipping inside after a second's resistance. Oh, but it's so good. It's so good. The stretch. How tight he feels, how warm and the friction against all those nerve endings... His balls feel on the verge of exploding, Lucifer so close, the only way he'd be closer would be if he were inside and he will be, they're getting there, slowly. Take your time, he'd told him.
Now, Elio's taking his. ]
Lead my hand.
[ Two fingers working his ass now, he pulls out halfway, letting the back of his hand slide along the soft touch of Lucifer's fingers. The other man doesn't presume anything, he doesn't just take over, he lets Elio decide for himself, what he wants. That's how it goes between them, he always lets him make his own choices. Well, here's his choice. Please fuck him on himself. ]
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At the touch of fingers against his hand, not pushing but urging, Lucifer willingly obliges, curving his palm more fully over Elio's hand and leading him, pushing his fingers in, drawing them out, setting a good, steady pace. He groans at the sight of it, at the feel. Elio's muscles are working beneath his hand, all the way up his arm and down into his shoulder. Shifting closer yet, his nose brushing over Elio's wrist as he fucks himself, Lucifer finally reaches for his balls with his free hand and pulls them backwards, not roughly but a steady grip, all the same. Keep him from coming for a little longer, hopefully, if that's what he wants.
It's what Lucifer wants, at least, and he's convinced Elio will let him know if they aren't in sync.
Leaning in closer yet, he can't quite help it - he pauses Elio's hand, holding it still, his fingers buried deep within his arse and noses in between his spread cheeks. Gently, he presses his tongue to his stretched rim and tastes him, the lube little but a slick aftertaste. He tastes darker down here, more like musk and sex and something very distinctively him. Lucifer groans helplessly, licking a longer, wetter trail over Elio's opening and his knuckles, in turn.
His own balls are on the verge of exploding but wings aside, he really only has two working hands and there's no way he's letting go of Elio's balls to deal with his own arousal. He's immortal. Even this, he's bound to survive. ]
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Then, Lucifer's other hand slips down, closing around his balls and drawing them back a little, not roughly, it doesn't hurt, but it makes the orgasm that had been quickly building up subside just as abruptly which, in turn, makes Elio groan. Makes him hook his fingers in, more, more. So when Lucifer pushes his whole face in between his spread buttocks, licking over his stretched rim, keeping his two fingers pressed inside him while he works his asshole with his tongue, Elio is suddenly very, very grateful that he's physically blocking him from coming on the spot. He would have. He definitely would have. ]
Please - [ And they're back to that, Elio's pleases, because with Lucifer he can't pray to God while having sex, that would be plain disturbing, so this is what the other man gets instead, all this helpless begging aimed at himself and Elio knows he can take it, the weight of it, the responsibility it entails. He feels it right now. ] - don't stop.
[ Carefully, he starts pulling out his fingers, leaving his ass completely open to Lucifer's tongue, his rim feeling puffy and responsive now that he's stroked away at it so much. Elio feels open and accessible, the entire feeling of Lucifer being up close to his ass, the intimacy of it, like he's letting him into his innermost, even more than if he were fucking him on his cock, so extremely vulnerable.
Inhaling deeply, he feels his asshole contract in response. Oh. Oh. His voice is trembling. ]
Take me to the edge and then, I'll let you inside.
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Trembling, he pulls his tongue out, then presses it right back in, setting a sloppy pace, his chin and nose pressed up between Elio's buttocks to get as much depth as possible. He's eating him, after all. Devouring him.
As with everything else concerning Elio, he's intent on doing it properly.
Deciding to Hell with it - hah - he releases Elio's balls carefully and runs his hand backwards along the soft skin behind them. Searching for a few seconds, he finds what he's looking for, that particular spot, and presses his thumb inwards. Going for his prostate, yes, on the outside seeing as the Devil might have a long tongue but he's not in fact a dog or a giraffe and consequently, there are limits.
Take me to the edge said Elio but maybe he'd actually just like to push him over like this, to feel him come around his tongue and let him spurt against his own stomach. Maybe that's just how it's going to be and then, afterwards, Lucifer might just bury his cock in his arse, too, and there'll be nothing - nothing - Elio hasn't given him.
The part of Lucifer that was made to be loved, fully and without reserve, can't help but find that thought completely amazing.
The rest of him is basically just sucking at Elio's arse and trying not to come all over the floor. ]
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So, when the other man releases his balls, Elio knows that they're going for the final stretch now, it'll end here, like this, Lucifer's fingers slipping over his perineum until he finds that spot, that one, yes, oh, and presses his thumb inwards, aiming straight for his prostate and hitting it effortlessly, Elio's hips actually jerking sharply forward as it breaks. It breaks. His climax.
He whines, actually wantonly whines, trying to push himself back on Lucifer's face while his cock's spurting cum all over the wall, dripping onto the floor, getting all over his belly, lastly. It doesn't stop, for a long, long, long time it just doesn't stop and Elio's shaking, his legs feeling weird and his ass open and his balls sore, hand bracing himself against the wall. His breathing sounds wet and overwhelmed. Because that's what he is, wet and overwhelmed.
Still, he doesn't apologize like he might have done with anyone else where they'd had something else in mind. Lucifer's fingers are still rubbing over his perineum, making his asshole contract in the aftermath around his tongue. He wanted this. He wanted this and Elio could give it to him.
Pant, pant, inhale, exhale, pant.
Faintly, he remembers Lucifer's words from what feels like an eternity ago. ]
I'm relaxed enough now.
[ His voice sounds raw, hoarse and out of breath. He turns his head to the side a bit, pressing his face in against his outstretched upper arm, just hiding away a little, because it was a lot and he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings except to offer them up. Come inside my body, it means, feel it with me. ]
If you want.
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His little queen came apart on his tongue.
The thought honestly makes his cock so hard he might, conceivably, hammer up another palace with it just for him.
Shifting, he runs his palm down Elio's back between his shoulderblades, feeling his chest working beneath his hand, his breathing still ragged and raw. With his other, he reaches for the lube without thinking and squeezes some onto his - oh. Oh? Coating his hand, he slicks up his cock quickly, trying very hard not to be flabbergasted at what seems to be the rules in this place. Ashes for him but not, as it were, if he's about to fuck Elio up against the wall?
Feels like some sort of commentary, doesn't it. Either way, he's all for it.
Gently, he slips his hand down Elio's hip and nudges him. ]
Would you prefer it like this? [ He steps up against him, his cock nestled snugly between his buttocks. ] Or facing me?
[ He very purposefully tries not to put his own, selfish wants into the question, though his voice does quiver a tiny amount at the last three words. Gives him away, of course, because he's no better than that but regardless, he leaves it up to Elio. After all, so long as he can have him, the rest is comparatively inconsequential. ]
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Elio turns around slowly, still bracing himself against the wall as he does so. He feels not just lax, he feels actually weak. Carry me, he wants to say, I can't get there on my own. Stepping up close to Lucifer, though, letting wall be wall behind him to instead slip his arms around the other man's shoulders, because Lucifer can be his new wall, right, what he says out loud is: ]
I want to see you.
[ Elio was young and queer in Rome, he's had enough anal sex up against grimy back alley walls to last him a lifetime. He doesn't want to bring that sense of anonymity into his relationship with Lucifer. With him, he's here to be seen, like he's here to see, to acknowledge and recognize and understand. That's his job. That's the blessing.
That's their very singularly specific beauty, his and Lucifer's. How they do that.
This close, the other man carries Elio's scent, musk and sweat and sex and ass and Elio leans up enough to catch his lips again, kissing him, tongue tracing his bottom lip that tastes like Elio feels. Oh. They're close, too, like this. Close. Behind Lucifer, his wings are still getting pelted by water, shining clean and luminescent white now. He smiles, just a slight curve of his lips, licking away the last traces of his own taste, as he draws back enough to give Lucifer room to maneuver them as he needs. ]
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