[ 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. ]
[ Happily, Elio's on the same page. He looks at Lucifer over his shoulder briefly, his pupils blown wide and Lucifer suddenly wants to kiss the bridge of his nose. He doesn't, though. Instead, he lets him see as he turns around and catches him when he leans forward, his arms slung around Lucifer's neck. Close, he thinks, feeling slightly mad with it. So close. When Elio leans in and kisses him, he lets him take what he wants, eyes falling shut for a moment at the sweet feel of his tongue working over his lips, at the way he's taking himself back one swipe at a time. His breath shudders out of him, heavy and ragged.
Then, as Elio draws back, Lucifer runs his hands down his waist and grabs him near the buttocks, lifting him up against the wall and urging his legs around his waist. His cock is caught between their bodies and when he looks down, he sees the traces of Elio's climax washing away in the spray. With a groan, he runs his lube-slicked fingers through the residue on Elio's front, just a quick couple of swipes, before he reaches down behind Elio's balls, finding his slick, relaxed arsehole a little further up. ]
I thought about this, you know.
[ He pushes two fingertips - lube and Elio's own traces of cum - into him, feeling him stretch around the intrusion. He fingers him briefly like that, just fingertips and nothing more. Then, he pulls out and angles his cock, quickly, urgently now, pressing the head up against Elio's rim. ]
For two hundred years, I thought about you. Being inside you.
[ He groans at the sudden onslaught of stimulation against the sensitive head of his cock and presses inwards, slowly but insistently. Before long, he feels it - that pop of pressure as his cock goes in, Elio's body stretching to accommodate. For a second, it's so immensely, incredibly tight that he can't breathe, that he has to stop, and he does, waiting, letting his own body acclimatize. ]
[ Lucifer pushes him up against the wall with ease, Elio knowing he weighs nothing to him, mere air between his hands, gripping him by the buttocks and lifting him up. Although he urges Elio's legs around his waist, Elio has already half-completed the motion, locking his ankles behind his ass and pulling himself up against the other man's front, arms around his shoulders, neck, hands carding through the hair at the nape of it. Slow, gentle strokes of his fingers. To accommodate all this intense emotion between them, this sense of close and want and need, Lucifer running his already slick fingers through the residual cum on Elio's front, before reaching back and pushing his fingers into him, just working him open again with his fingertips and Elio thinks about his own proof of pleasure slicking him up, making him ready and his poor cock actually gives an interested jerk between them. Elio breathes out harshly and pushes his forehead against the side of Lucifer's head. Oh. Please.
I thought about this, Lucifer tells him, for two hundred years, being inside you, and Elio's heart shatters a little, he thinks about Lucifer being down here alone for hundreds of years and before Elio, for millennia. Alone. Lucifer wasn't meant to be alone, the way Elio wasn't, they just ended up like that and tried finding their way out, fighting their way out, too, maybe. Desperately.
So while Lucifer angles his cock against the rim of Elio's asshole, pushing in steadily, slowly, but with intent, Elio feeling the oversensitive nerve endings around his opening take every slide of friction, his cock jerking a little more in response, he pushes his forehead against Lucifer's temple, breathes against him heavily. He's so big. He takes up everything, but he doesn't take. Elio has never known anyone who took less, who gave and gave and gave like this.
It's what makes Lucifer so amazing. So utterly pure and he wouldn't agree, of course, but he isn't feeling himself like this, slowly sinking down over the head of his cock, everything stretching and giving and giving. Elio is. Elio knows. When he passes the rim, that telltale pop leaving Elio trembling, he mutters, voice rough, darker than usually: ]
You're inside now. [ Pant, pant. His fingers run through Lucifer's hair at the back of his head. When he stares past his face, his wings frame him in. Elio can't quite breathe right. ] I'll take you from here. Let me take you.
[ It's pure, unadulterated intensity as Elio presses their foreheads together and Lucifer breathes him in, his scent maximizing the taste of him still lingering on his tongue. Cock. Arse. Lips. He groans again, louder and rougher, feeling Elio moving against him as he sinks down and oh, oh, that's - that's -- ]
Yes. You can take me.
[ He leans his head into Elio's fingers, his eyes shut and his entire lower body aflame in the best of ways, pleasure surging into his abdomen, into his balls, at the feel of the other man's body around his cock. His wings are curved around them, the long flight feathers pressing against the wall, keeping him balanced. He holds Elio singlehandedly, running his other hand up his side, feeling the contours of his ribs, the thin skin stretching over them. Vulnerable. He's slight and sweet and stronger than he looks, Elio, but he's first and foremost open to him.
Open and thus, vulnerable. The most one can really be.
Lucifer rocks up into him, small, unhurried movements, finding a good angle and rhythm after a couple of thrusts. He leaves Elio to respond as he pleases, to take him as he chooses because there's nothing else to do from here; they're past all possible borders. Elio's in Hell, with him, and Lucifer's in whatever this is, whatever this means, and on a purely physical level, they can't honestly get any closer than they are.
This is the finish line and everything beyond that is new.
He runs his hand up into Elio's hair, cradling his fingers between the strands and pulling him in for another kiss, open-mouthed and wet, the muscles in his lower body trembling as he works himself in, out, in, gentle movements, warming up. Once more, he wonders what it would be like, just doing this for hours - with no thoughts to climaxes or crescendos.
Granted, he probably couldn't hold out for that long, considering how his balls are currently on the verge of bursting but the fantasy's real enough. ]
[ Sinking down over Lucifer's cock, the Devil's, huge, is like opening up to something the size of a baseball bat and about as hard, all space in him feeling suddenly occupied, his rim stretched to its limit and all nerve endings singing, still sensitive from his orgasm. Elio breathes out, helps himself along and feels how the other man slowly seats himself in him to the base, until they're connected completely and utterly. It's beautiful. It feels beautiful. He groans, feeling how Lucifer is running his hand up his side, over ribs and paper-thin skin and he feels so open to him, it's almost impossible to bear - or it would be, didn't he trust the other man to carry him safely to the other side, the way he has from the beginning, the way they've developed together. Touching desperately, sinking into each other, giving and taking. That way.
Wide-eyed, he stares into Lucifer's face as he begins moving, small, gentle movements, just rocking into him little by little, honoring the way he's everything currently, everything Elio's body knows, everything it wants to know. Elio can feel his own cock respond, beginning to harden again and he doesn't think he's ever gotten hard so quickly after such an intense climax before. It's like he can't stand the thought of falling behind, not staying by Lucifer's side the rest of the way. Like his body knows this need of his. So, Elio helps it along, grabbing the other man by the shoulders and straightening up, finding the angle that best pushes Lucifer's girth over his prostate, just right, just right.
His cock jerks again against his stomach. Elio's gaze feels glassy. He's hardly breathing, the intensity of it is too real.
When Lucifer pulls him in for another kiss, he responds readily, pushing his whole ass back against his cock and parting his lips for him, taking his tongue, giving him his own, feeling the wet slide and the heat of their combined depths. Around them, Lucifer's wings have curved up, like walls of feathers on either side and Elio kisses the other man back more greedily now, open-mouthed and wanting, sucking on his tongue while feeling his cock pounding hard between their bodies. Lucifer's cock still only claiming his space ever so gently. The contrast stark.
[ It builds up too quickly - perhaps inevitably, what with how long he's been aroused by this point. He sets a faster pace, working himself inside the other man, letting him have it. Elio's getting hard again which is really quite impressive so to reward him, Lucifer frees one hand, slick, still, and wet from the spray, and curls it around his cock. He breaks the kiss, panting harshly against Elio's lips for a second before he buries his head against his shoulder and the side of his neck. Mouthing at him, lips wet and ever-so-slightly swollen, he follows the natural movement of Elio's body in response to his thrusts, letting his cock slide back and forth in his grip.
He can sense Elio angling himself on his cock and groans, his lips sliding over his skin as he speaks: ]
That's good, darling, take what you need.
[ Meanwhile, Lucifer takes what he needs, each slide of his cock into Elio's tight arse making his balls tighten to the point of pain. He doesn't work particularly fast, but his thrusts are steady, the rhythm focussed, as he drives himself in, the pleasure in his belly spiking with increasing clarity. He doesn't lift his face from Elio's shoulder, diving into the shadows now that he's got him. They're face to face, they're deeply embedded in one another; he can afford just a moment like this, in the darkness, with Elio's scent and taste flooding his senses and his body clamped around his cock so tightly that it seems impossible.
The next moan is deeper, heavier, something a little odd about it, like he's got a lung or two in excess. Sweat beading on his forehead and shoulders, washing away before it can truly settle, he keeps going, keeps working himself towards the edge, letting Elio's body take him further - further --
There.
Shuddering, his orgasm hits him and drags him under, his cock pulsing deep inside Elio's arse and his muscles releasing. He thrusts upwards a few more time, roughly now, a bit thoughtlessly and sorry about that, but his mind is drowning and he really must - oh, the heat of him, the tightness, it's --
He manages by some miracle to keep his hand tight around Elio's cock throughout. It's probably luck more than anything else because his brain certainly isn't even remotely online any longer. His feathers are puffing up all along the arches, the thin skin underneath them hotter than the rest of him, like parts of him are burning up and he wouldn't be surprised, really, if he ends up a pile of ashes, next. ]
[ Quickly, Lucifer's thrusts gain speed and force, Elio feeling his entire body just accommodate, take him, embrace him, swallow him up. As the other man breaks their kiss, he curls the fingers of his free hand around Elio's hard cock, letting each upwards motion of their hips push his length into his grip, the friction making Elio want to scream, pretty much. Scream and scream and scream, it's so intense. Combined with the tight, borderline painful throbbing of his asshole, stretching around Lucifer's girth, he thinks he's definitely exploding, he's dying, he's going to die.
Take what you need and darling, Lucifer tells him, head burying in between his shoulder and neck, lips moving wet and swollen over his skin and Elio stares straight ahead, across the top of his head, hair, curling slightly, soft between Elio's fingers where he grips it, both hands burying in now, caressing and tugging in equal measure. Oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh.
Lucifer moans, loud and animalistic and free and Elio smiles, kind of hazed, grabbing onto him, angling his own ass for maximum slide of Lucifer's cock over his prostate and it's in that moment he feels the other man come, feels him give himself over and Elio clings, sobbing soundlessly, keeping his eyes open all throughout forcibly, as he feels him pulse in his ass, as he feels him shudder forcefully against him, between his arms, overheated and shaking and thrusting harder, harder, harder a few times, Elio whimpering on the last one. His own orgasm tears him down, more than anything, it drags him under and his entire body all but convulses, his cock spurting cum between Lucifer's tight fingers. He can only take it. He can only take him, so he does, crying, vision blackening at the edges, black spots dancing in front of his eyes and there's a brief moment, when he's afraid he's going to faint, it's that overwhelming.
Still, he doesn't faint. He comes for a little bit longer, microseconds, but who's counting, and then, he collapses, literally just slumps in against Lucifer, seeing nothing, although his eyes are still open, his breathing ragged and desperate, his face wet and not only from the spray.
He feels like someone turned him inside out. Like he's showing all his innermost on his bared expanses of skin, that his heart is beating outside his chest.
Elio thinks, you're what I need. His fingers tighten in Lucifer's hair, shaking, like he couldn't let go even if he wanted to and he really isn't too sure. ]
[ Elio comes a moment after him, whimpering against him, his arsehole clenching around his cock. Lucifer holds him up, face still buried against his shoulder, his muscles trembling. He breathes in slowly, deeply, the other man's scent still firmly lodged in him, like he's left a permanent mark in his actual cell structure. Slowly, he straightens up a little, enough to look at Elio better, Elio who's slumped against him, his cheeks streaked from tears and his skin soft, a little cool from the water. He twists his neck and kisses his temple, tasting skin and sweat and hair. Then, gently, he reaches down to ease himself out of Elio's body, his cock half-hard at most and slippery from lube, still.
He looks the other man over for a moment. He's sweet like this, so impossibly sweet. Gaze softening, Lucifer lets him hold onto his hair as he wishes and takes him in his arms properly, briefly, mostly to spin them around, leaving Lucifer with his back to the wall. Then, he sets Elio down on his feet, letting him lean against the front of his own body. The water is still beating down upon them from the rainfall showerhead. He glares up at at it, thinking softer and for him and - yes, it does soften a little, the downpour. His search for a soap dispenser is successful as well; it materializes on the wall quite readily and when he holds out his hand, a glittery, golden soap is automatically poured onto his palm. Where it stays.
Good.
He washes Elio off first, gently, standing behind him, his wings folded in front of them both, the other man nearly concealed by feathers. Working the soap over his chest and shoulders and stomach, Lucifer doesn't linger long by his cock - it's got to be rather too sensitive at this point. He leans in and nuzzles his neck beneath his ear, giving him a couple of kisses before saying, voice low and quiet: ]
Turn around for me?
[ He'll get him nicely clean, yes, and then he'll drop him off in bed. He looks pretty much asleep on his feet. ]
[ He's more or less present in his body until Lucifer moves to pull out, the twinge of pain as his stretched asshole gives and releases him waking Elio up a little bit, a frown on his face. It softens into something more welcoming, though, as the other man kisses his temple and pulls him into his arms properly, spinning them around until Lucifer's standing with his back against the wall and Elio's safe, sound, satisfied against his front, eyes drooping a bit and his body feeling impossibly lax. Tired. He's never had an orgasm, or well, orgasms in the plural, like this. It feels fitting for Hell somehow, that it carves out a place in creation where these things can happen, where there's time and space for it, for allowing yourself everything you need. It feels even more fitting that it's Lucifer who's the happy giver. Elio would tell Lucifer this, if he didn't already think his body has said everything there was to say. If he didn't think Lucifer can gather as much from the way he stays leaned against him, letting himself be surrounded on all sides by wings and feathers and water above, Hellfire some levels below. The contrasts are beautiful.
Unmoving, he watches, while Lucifer turns down the waterflow and materializes a soap dispenser, all of it intended for Elio, of course, or it wouldn't work. It'd be ash. Then, Lucifer corporally moves him in order to gain better access, beginning to clean him up, washing him gently, soaping him in and Elio feels loved and cared for between his hands, the softness of his touch, how he avoids his spent cock and doesn't linger on his most erogenous zones, knowing full well how he's hypersensitive right now, reminding him of the first time Michel took him to bed. A slight from for a second, but Elio leaves the memory at that, unchallenged. It was beautiful, then, like this is, now and the only difference is that Michel took him into a world where hurt and parting were conditions, whereas Lucifer has taken him into a world where they're not.
The difference lies in the way Lucifer asks him to turn around and he does so, not because Lucifer says he wants to make him happy, but because he has already, without any saying necessary.
That's the blessing.
Standing with his back to the other man, he looks at him over his shoulder, the kisses of his lips still lingering beneath his ear. When he speaks, his voice sounds groggy at best. ] Thank you for bringing me here. [ Here means Hell, of course, but here also means to this state of being, to this specific place close to Lucifer's body, between his hands, shrouded by his wings. To safety. ]
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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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Then, as Elio draws back, Lucifer runs his hands down his waist and grabs him near the buttocks, lifting him up against the wall and urging his legs around his waist. His cock is caught between their bodies and when he looks down, he sees the traces of Elio's climax washing away in the spray. With a groan, he runs his lube-slicked fingers through the residue on Elio's front, just a quick couple of swipes, before he reaches down behind Elio's balls, finding his slick, relaxed arsehole a little further up. ]
I thought about this, you know.
[ He pushes two fingertips - lube and Elio's own traces of cum - into him, feeling him stretch around the intrusion. He fingers him briefly like that, just fingertips and nothing more. Then, he pulls out and angles his cock, quickly, urgently now, pressing the head up against Elio's rim. ]
For two hundred years, I thought about you. Being inside you.
[ He groans at the sudden onslaught of stimulation against the sensitive head of his cock and presses inwards, slowly but insistently. Before long, he feels it - that pop of pressure as his cock goes in, Elio's body stretching to accommodate. For a second, it's so immensely, incredibly tight that he can't breathe, that he has to stop, and he does, waiting, letting his own body acclimatize. ]
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I thought about this, Lucifer tells him, for two hundred years, being inside you, and Elio's heart shatters a little, he thinks about Lucifer being down here alone for hundreds of years and before Elio, for millennia. Alone. Lucifer wasn't meant to be alone, the way Elio wasn't, they just ended up like that and tried finding their way out, fighting their way out, too, maybe. Desperately.
So while Lucifer angles his cock against the rim of Elio's asshole, pushing in steadily, slowly, but with intent, Elio feeling the oversensitive nerve endings around his opening take every slide of friction, his cock jerking a little more in response, he pushes his forehead against Lucifer's temple, breathes against him heavily. He's so big. He takes up everything, but he doesn't take. Elio has never known anyone who took less, who gave and gave and gave like this.
It's what makes Lucifer so amazing. So utterly pure and he wouldn't agree, of course, but he isn't feeling himself like this, slowly sinking down over the head of his cock, everything stretching and giving and giving. Elio is. Elio knows. When he passes the rim, that telltale pop leaving Elio trembling, he mutters, voice rough, darker than usually: ]
You're inside now. [ Pant, pant. His fingers run through Lucifer's hair at the back of his head. When he stares past his face, his wings frame him in. Elio can't quite breathe right. ] I'll take you from here. Let me take you.
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Yes. You can take me.
[ He leans his head into Elio's fingers, his eyes shut and his entire lower body aflame in the best of ways, pleasure surging into his abdomen, into his balls, at the feel of the other man's body around his cock. His wings are curved around them, the long flight feathers pressing against the wall, keeping him balanced. He holds Elio singlehandedly, running his other hand up his side, feeling the contours of his ribs, the thin skin stretching over them. Vulnerable. He's slight and sweet and stronger than he looks, Elio, but he's first and foremost open to him.
Open and thus, vulnerable. The most one can really be.
Lucifer rocks up into him, small, unhurried movements, finding a good angle and rhythm after a couple of thrusts. He leaves Elio to respond as he pleases, to take him as he chooses because there's nothing else to do from here; they're past all possible borders. Elio's in Hell, with him, and Lucifer's in whatever this is, whatever this means, and on a purely physical level, they can't honestly get any closer than they are.
This is the finish line and everything beyond that is new.
He runs his hand up into Elio's hair, cradling his fingers between the strands and pulling him in for another kiss, open-mouthed and wet, the muscles in his lower body trembling as he works himself in, out, in, gentle movements, warming up. Once more, he wonders what it would be like, just doing this for hours - with no thoughts to climaxes or crescendos.
Granted, he probably couldn't hold out for that long, considering how his balls are currently on the verge of bursting but the fantasy's real enough. ]
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Wide-eyed, he stares into Lucifer's face as he begins moving, small, gentle movements, just rocking into him little by little, honoring the way he's everything currently, everything Elio's body knows, everything it wants to know. Elio can feel his own cock respond, beginning to harden again and he doesn't think he's ever gotten hard so quickly after such an intense climax before. It's like he can't stand the thought of falling behind, not staying by Lucifer's side the rest of the way. Like his body knows this need of his. So, Elio helps it along, grabbing the other man by the shoulders and straightening up, finding the angle that best pushes Lucifer's girth over his prostate, just right, just right.
His cock jerks again against his stomach. Elio's gaze feels glassy. He's hardly breathing, the intensity of it is too real.
When Lucifer pulls him in for another kiss, he responds readily, pushing his whole ass back against his cock and parting his lips for him, taking his tongue, giving him his own, feeling the wet slide and the heat of their combined depths. Around them, Lucifer's wings have curved up, like walls of feathers on either side and Elio kisses the other man back more greedily now, open-mouthed and wanting, sucking on his tongue while feeling his cock pounding hard between their bodies. Lucifer's cock still only claiming his space ever so gently. The contrast stark.
Beautiful. ]
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He can sense Elio angling himself on his cock and groans, his lips sliding over his skin as he speaks: ]
That's good, darling, take what you need.
[ Meanwhile, Lucifer takes what he needs, each slide of his cock into Elio's tight arse making his balls tighten to the point of pain. He doesn't work particularly fast, but his thrusts are steady, the rhythm focussed, as he drives himself in, the pleasure in his belly spiking with increasing clarity. He doesn't lift his face from Elio's shoulder, diving into the shadows now that he's got him. They're face to face, they're deeply embedded in one another; he can afford just a moment like this, in the darkness, with Elio's scent and taste flooding his senses and his body clamped around his cock so tightly that it seems impossible.
The next moan is deeper, heavier, something a little odd about it, like he's got a lung or two in excess. Sweat beading on his forehead and shoulders, washing away before it can truly settle, he keeps going, keeps working himself towards the edge, letting Elio's body take him further - further --
There.
Shuddering, his orgasm hits him and drags him under, his cock pulsing deep inside Elio's arse and his muscles releasing. He thrusts upwards a few more time, roughly now, a bit thoughtlessly and sorry about that, but his mind is drowning and he really must - oh, the heat of him, the tightness, it's --
He manages by some miracle to keep his hand tight around Elio's cock throughout. It's probably luck more than anything else because his brain certainly isn't even remotely online any longer. His feathers are puffing up all along the arches, the thin skin underneath them hotter than the rest of him, like parts of him are burning up and he wouldn't be surprised, really, if he ends up a pile of ashes, next. ]
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Take what you need and darling, Lucifer tells him, head burying in between his shoulder and neck, lips moving wet and swollen over his skin and Elio stares straight ahead, across the top of his head, hair, curling slightly, soft between Elio's fingers where he grips it, both hands burying in now, caressing and tugging in equal measure. Oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh.
Lucifer moans, loud and animalistic and free and Elio smiles, kind of hazed, grabbing onto him, angling his own ass for maximum slide of Lucifer's cock over his prostate and it's in that moment he feels the other man come, feels him give himself over and Elio clings, sobbing soundlessly, keeping his eyes open all throughout forcibly, as he feels him pulse in his ass, as he feels him shudder forcefully against him, between his arms, overheated and shaking and thrusting harder, harder, harder a few times, Elio whimpering on the last one. His own orgasm tears him down, more than anything, it drags him under and his entire body all but convulses, his cock spurting cum between Lucifer's tight fingers. He can only take it. He can only take him, so he does, crying, vision blackening at the edges, black spots dancing in front of his eyes and there's a brief moment, when he's afraid he's going to faint, it's that overwhelming.
Still, he doesn't faint. He comes for a little bit longer, microseconds, but who's counting, and then, he collapses, literally just slumps in against Lucifer, seeing nothing, although his eyes are still open, his breathing ragged and desperate, his face wet and not only from the spray.
He feels like someone turned him inside out. Like he's showing all his innermost on his bared expanses of skin, that his heart is beating outside his chest.
Elio thinks, you're what I need. His fingers tighten in Lucifer's hair, shaking, like he couldn't let go even if he wanted to and he really isn't too sure. ]
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He looks the other man over for a moment. He's sweet like this, so impossibly sweet. Gaze softening, Lucifer lets him hold onto his hair as he wishes and takes him in his arms properly, briefly, mostly to spin them around, leaving Lucifer with his back to the wall. Then, he sets Elio down on his feet, letting him lean against the front of his own body. The water is still beating down upon them from the rainfall showerhead. He glares up at at it, thinking softer and for him and - yes, it does soften a little, the downpour. His search for a soap dispenser is successful as well; it materializes on the wall quite readily and when he holds out his hand, a glittery, golden soap is automatically poured onto his palm. Where it stays.
Good.
He washes Elio off first, gently, standing behind him, his wings folded in front of them both, the other man nearly concealed by feathers. Working the soap over his chest and shoulders and stomach, Lucifer doesn't linger long by his cock - it's got to be rather too sensitive at this point. He leans in and nuzzles his neck beneath his ear, giving him a couple of kisses before saying, voice low and quiet: ]
Turn around for me?
[ He'll get him nicely clean, yes, and then he'll drop him off in bed. He looks pretty much asleep on his feet. ]
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Unmoving, he watches, while Lucifer turns down the waterflow and materializes a soap dispenser, all of it intended for Elio, of course, or it wouldn't work. It'd be ash. Then, Lucifer corporally moves him in order to gain better access, beginning to clean him up, washing him gently, soaping him in and Elio feels loved and cared for between his hands, the softness of his touch, how he avoids his spent cock and doesn't linger on his most erogenous zones, knowing full well how he's hypersensitive right now, reminding him of the first time Michel took him to bed. A slight from for a second, but Elio leaves the memory at that, unchallenged. It was beautiful, then, like this is, now and the only difference is that Michel took him into a world where hurt and parting were conditions, whereas Lucifer has taken him into a world where they're not.
The difference lies in the way Lucifer asks him to turn around and he does so, not because Lucifer says he wants to make him happy, but because he has already, without any saying necessary.
That's the blessing.
Standing with his back to the other man, he looks at him over his shoulder, the kisses of his lips still lingering beneath his ear. When he speaks, his voice sounds groggy at best. ] Thank you for bringing me here. [ Here means Hell, of course, but here also means to this state of being, to this specific place close to Lucifer's body, between his hands, shrouded by his wings. To safety. ]
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