[ 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. ]
[ Elio lets him, simply stands still and leans into his touches, thanking him for taking him to Hell, which, really, there's something incredibly bizarre about it, even though it makes his chest feel warmer. It's the notion, he thinks, of someone actually wanting to be here, in Hell, with him but then again, no one's ever been allowed a whole bloody palace before (or whatever this place is, he'll need a look-around one day when Elio isn't quite so exhausted) so maybe he can't truly compare. Not even Lucifer.
Perhaps especially not him.
He soaps up Elio's back, letting the water do its work on his skin, buttocks and thighs, though he does, briefly, push him forward a little bit by the small of his back because the spray isn't (as of yet) designed specifically to clean off anal sex-related residue. He strokes Elio's shoulders a couple of times, just feeling him beneath his hands, slender, strong, long lines and smooth skin. Then, he releases him. ]
Thank you for coming.
[ Pause. ]
In all manners of speaking, of course.
[ Said with a speedy eyebrow-waggle as he puts enough distance between them to get himself cleaned off as well, quick movements, efficient. Far from being exhausted, he feels... invigorated. Ready to face whatever's happened outside this realm, ready to take a look inside the hell loop Elio's been modifying. His father's. Frowning at the thought, Lucifer steps out of the spray, grabs Elio by the waist and moves him - just, lifting him half a foot off the floor - outside the stall, as much out of range of the water as he can manage because honestly, it's pretty rude to flap off in somebody's face.
Then, he spreads his wings and shakes off the water, quick, hard movements of both wings simultaneously, water cascading off the feathers and onto the tiles, the floor, the ceiling. Repeat, three times, and that's as good as it'll get. He puts them away, still wet, which, ugh. But needs must. He's fairly certain he'll keep them hidden for a while now - the throne doesn't have to be occupied, so long as he's present, so long as the barrier holds.
So long as Elio's here, too, to help him keep the balance. ]
[ Unlike Michel, that first time he bathed and dried Elio like a child, Lucifer doesn't make him nervous when he looks at him, at his body, Elio doesn't feel insecure about his cut cock, completely spent now, give him twenty-four hours to recover, please, or the way his asshole's sticky from a heavy mixture of lube and cum, maybe a little blood, it's difficult to avoid, really, when you're as big as Lucifer and let go quite so thoroughly near the end. Elio smiles while the other man washes him off, the spray doing most of the work, although Lucifer bends him over slightly to clean out between his buttocks, gently touching his shoulders, before releasing him. It's the gaze the other man has, which is self-contradictory considering the fire he carries in there, a little bit of Hell, travel size, it makes Elio feel seen rather than judged and seeing as he has spent most of his life under scrutiny, there's freedom to the way Lucifer and in extension, his realm, just lets Elio be, have, take up space. He values it, greatly. ]
It was a pleasure.
[ He says, half-laughing as Lucifer corporally moves him from one spot in the bathroom to another, like he weighs nothing and of course he doesn't, not to him, glancing around to see the tiles move fast beneath his feet, feeling weightless and light-headed and happy. Once he's put down some feet outside the stall, he grabs the towels that have materialized near the sink, starting to dry off, keeping his eyes on Lucifer while doing so, framed in on all sides by the huge shower stall, wings spread and huge and wet. ]
All manners of speaking.
[ He shakes off like a bird in a bird bath. Normally Elio wouldn't make this comparison, because Lucifer isn't a bird, obviously, but he's tired and worn out and he wants to sleep. So, bird it is. Which is awkward, because Elio's pretty sure that if his cock could manage anything right now, he'd be hard again. He shakes his head at himself, grabbing a clean towel and holding his arms out for the other man as he puts his wings away. ]
[ Elio's dried himself off in the meantime, looking very warm and soft against all the white and gold of the bathroom. Lucifer steps out of the shower stall, only just refraining from shaking his head - the water's practically everywhere and his hair feels incredibly heavy. At Elio's words, he smiles, surprised. ]
Yes, of course. Yes.
[ He pads over to him and holds out his hands, giving him free range to go wild with that lovely towel of his. His gaze, meanwhile, tracks from Elio's familiar features to what's beyond the bathroom door - the bed, out of view, and the windows to the fields beyond. The white panels and tall walls, palace-like, yes, but also like... a French villa, yes, something that they could've found in Paris in the most expensive arrondissements. It's been a long while since Lucifer last visited Paris. He would've liked to take Elio there, if they'd... well. If they'd had the chance, you might say.
Seems like they'll have to built their sand castles down here instead.
A part of him still resents the idea of Elio, stuck down here for eternity, creating light and beauty because this place is so totally, thoroughly devoid of it on its own. Away from his family, friends... Away from a mortal existence, too, with a clear start and stop. This is obviously not as horrible as it could be - if Elio can create this, he might possibly, given time, be capable of creating anything - but it's still not Earth. It's not Heaven, either.
And it never will be.
His voice is quiet now, a little bit raw around the edges: ]
Do you... do you think you'll regret coming here?
[ There's obviously no way for Elio to know, no promises he can make that wouldn't be potential lies and Lucifer corrects himself quickly, hating his own weakness: ]
[ Lucifer moves across the tiles, all dripping and wet, his hair in his eyes and sticking to his forehead. He holds his hands out, you're allowed, it says along with his actual words and Elio steps up to him, raising both hands and wrapping the towel around the top of his head, though he has to get on his toes to reach, beginning to dry his hair off first, soft swipes down across his face, eyes out of sight, prominent nose, tender lips. Once he's stopped the worst dripping from his hair, Elio continues on to his shoulders, round rubbing motions of the towel, front and what he can reach of his back without turning him around.
Do you think you'll regret coming here, Lucifer asks, sounding like a young child asking their playmate, staying for the night, whether they think they'll get homesick. Elio looks up at him, open face, features understanding, while he dries off his abdomen, top of his thighs, crotch, gently. To reach the bottom parts of his legs, Elio crouches down at his feet and dries him off there as well, looking up at him, along the long expanses of his naked body, looking warm and a little bit flustered in the golden light. He's so beautiful. Elio's always been entranced by beautiful things. ]
It's not an unfair question. [ Elio shakes his head slowly, drying off Lucifer's feet, big feet, fitting. ] We can both have our doubts about this arrangement, how it'll work. Do I think I'll get homesick? Yes. Do I think I'll sometimes question what kind of life I left behind? Yes. Do I think I'll regret coming here to be with you? No. Those things aren't mutually exclusive, Lucifer.
[ A pause. He remains seated by the other man's feet, just looking up at him, the way you would marvel at a marble statue on a pedestal, except Lucifer is not a pedestal man, he's anything but and Elio gets that. He gets it. Carrying on, his voice softens: ]
I can feel all those things. Just like you can. The doubt as well as the certainty.
[ Slowly, he rises to his feet again, stepping around the other man to dry off his back, motions stil soft and gentle, no hurry. Once he's done, he stops by Lucifer's left shoulder, leaning up to kiss his upper arm where it curves into the slope of shoulder proper. It's a hard part of his body. While simultaneously being a very soft part. Elio likes that contrast. That complexity. He recognizes it in himself. No, he doesn't think he'll regret it, not even once. He may doubt and question and wonder, but regret? Never.
Does that mean he's actually in Heaven, here? He smiles, dropping the towel. Honestly, he thinks it might. ]
[ Lucifer leans into him a little because he doesn't want to help himself. It's so nice, the feel of Elio drying him off with as much care as he does all other things, his touch gentle, unassuming, the kind that doesn't demand. He tilts his head sideways a little and shuts his eyes as the other man works his way down his body, breathing deeply, taking in his touch as well as his words. Humans are so ridiculously complicated, aren't they, what they feel, how they feel it. To Lucifer, there's very little difference between questioning your choices and regretting them but of course, in his existence, what difference there might be has never mattered before. The cost was always too great, in the end.
He opens his eyes and looks straight ahead as Elio kisses his upper arm near the slope of his shoulder, his lips warm. Soft. Yes, to humans, there is always death and consequently, a limit to the price they'll eventually have to pay, inevitably, no matter what life they've led. They can afford all these relativities. Can Elio, now, in this place? When an eternity has passed, will those fine details truly matter to him?
Should they?
Breathing out harshly, he turns around as Elio drops the towel. Then, without further ado, he picks him up again because the other man might've taken the lead on drying them off but he must still be exhausted, all things considered. Orgasms. Leaving Earth. Seeing his father's hell loop. Lots of heavy weight for one, little human mind. So, Lucifer carries him, bridal style, into the bedroom, leaving the towels and the steamed-up mirrors behind for now. The bed is huge, far bigger than Elio who'll look too small on it, really. Too small. But he'll be comfortable. Maybe that's what truly matters.
Lucifer pulls back the covers and puts him down, gently. Pulls the covers up to his waist, leaving him to arrange them as he wishes, if he wants. He thinks about staying, about sleeping, maybe forever - maybe he wouldn't even have to leave, maybe time doesn't pass out there. But then, of course, Elio would've left for naught and that'll never be - so Lucifer leans in and kisses his temple, nuzzling his hair very briefly before straightening up.
Then, he turns away, gaze fixed on the other side once again. ]
[ The only response he gets is Lucifer turning around towards him and picking him up, easily, because Elio will always be feathers between his arms and he's going to venture the guess that the feathers he caries on his back weigh more, even. He carries him, like a bride over the threshold of a newly purchased house, to the bed, Elio watching the tall walls of his castle or whatever word he'll end up using about this place, home, presumably, at some point, shake a little for each step the other man takes, the movements jostling Elio a bit in his arms. He leans his forehead against Lucifer's upper arm, strong and steady, thinking that it really is the myth of Persephone in an Abrahamic and little less heteronormative packaging, the two of them. The Lord of the Underworld and his bride. His queen. Yet, Elio wasn't abducted, he wasn't forced, no matter how much Lucifer might worry himself with these thoughts. Elio chose to come here by himself. Lucifer only gave him that choice.
And what a choice.
Looking up at the high ceilings above his head, basking in a light that's slightly warmer now than when they arrived, as if hours have passed, although Elio's reasonably convinced they haven't been at it for that long, he thinks about his father's loop of regret, he thinks about the books he threw out, already wondering what to put there instead. It feels extremely significant, not only because Elio is getting the feeling this will be an integral part of his function down here, but because. It's his father. It's his father. And this is Lucifer, tugging him in, pulling the covers up to his waist, Elio burying into them the rest of the way. He's exhausted. If he's going to help Lucifer or his father or anyone else, he needs rest. He isn't more celestial than that.
Eyes falling slowly shut, he feels Lucifer's lips against his temple, a hint of stubble where his chin is pressing against his skin and Elio smiles when the other man nuzzles into his hair. He feels so immensely loved, even as Lucifer straightens up and turns away, about to leave.
Michel was wrong, about Lucifer, about Lucifer's feelings for him. As he'll discover when he gets here. For some reason, it isn't a frightening thought, how Elio just senses vividly that it's what's going to happen. He won't be there to close the other man's eyes on Earth, but maybe he'll be here to close his eyes in Hell.
Maybe that's going to be a good thing for everyone involved. ]
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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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Perhaps especially not him.
He soaps up Elio's back, letting the water do its work on his skin, buttocks and thighs, though he does, briefly, push him forward a little bit by the small of his back because the spray isn't (as of yet) designed specifically to clean off anal sex-related residue. He strokes Elio's shoulders a couple of times, just feeling him beneath his hands, slender, strong, long lines and smooth skin. Then, he releases him. ]
Thank you for coming.
[ Pause. ]
In all manners of speaking, of course.
[ Said with a speedy eyebrow-waggle as he puts enough distance between them to get himself cleaned off as well, quick movements, efficient. Far from being exhausted, he feels... invigorated. Ready to face whatever's happened outside this realm, ready to take a look inside the hell loop Elio's been modifying. His father's. Frowning at the thought, Lucifer steps out of the spray, grabs Elio by the waist and moves him - just, lifting him half a foot off the floor - outside the stall, as much out of range of the water as he can manage because honestly, it's pretty rude to flap off in somebody's face.
Then, he spreads his wings and shakes off the water, quick, hard movements of both wings simultaneously, water cascading off the feathers and onto the tiles, the floor, the ceiling. Repeat, three times, and that's as good as it'll get. He puts them away, still wet, which, ugh. But needs must. He's fairly certain he'll keep them hidden for a while now - the throne doesn't have to be occupied, so long as he's present, so long as the barrier holds.
So long as Elio's here, too, to help him keep the balance. ]
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It was a pleasure.
[ He says, half-laughing as Lucifer corporally moves him from one spot in the bathroom to another, like he weighs nothing and of course he doesn't, not to him, glancing around to see the tiles move fast beneath his feet, feeling weightless and light-headed and happy. Once he's put down some feet outside the stall, he grabs the towels that have materialized near the sink, starting to dry off, keeping his eyes on Lucifer while doing so, framed in on all sides by the huge shower stall, wings spread and huge and wet. ]
All manners of speaking.
[ He shakes off like a bird in a bird bath. Normally Elio wouldn't make this comparison, because Lucifer isn't a bird, obviously, but he's tired and worn out and he wants to sleep. So, bird it is. Which is awkward, because Elio's pretty sure that if his cock could manage anything right now, he'd be hard again. He shakes his head at himself, grabbing a clean towel and holding his arms out for the other man as he puts his wings away. ]
Come here. I'll dry you off.
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Yes, of course. Yes.
[ He pads over to him and holds out his hands, giving him free range to go wild with that lovely towel of his. His gaze, meanwhile, tracks from Elio's familiar features to what's beyond the bathroom door - the bed, out of view, and the windows to the fields beyond. The white panels and tall walls, palace-like, yes, but also like... a French villa, yes, something that they could've found in Paris in the most expensive arrondissements. It's been a long while since Lucifer last visited Paris. He would've liked to take Elio there, if they'd... well. If they'd had the chance, you might say.
Seems like they'll have to built their sand castles down here instead.
A part of him still resents the idea of Elio, stuck down here for eternity, creating light and beauty because this place is so totally, thoroughly devoid of it on its own. Away from his family, friends... Away from a mortal existence, too, with a clear start and stop. This is obviously not as horrible as it could be - if Elio can create this, he might possibly, given time, be capable of creating anything - but it's still not Earth. It's not Heaven, either.
And it never will be.
His voice is quiet now, a little bit raw around the edges: ]
Do you... do you think you'll regret coming here?
[ There's obviously no way for Elio to know, no promises he can make that wouldn't be potential lies and Lucifer corrects himself quickly, hating his own weakness: ]
Never mind, that's an unfair question.
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Do you think you'll regret coming here, Lucifer asks, sounding like a young child asking their playmate, staying for the night, whether they think they'll get homesick. Elio looks up at him, open face, features understanding, while he dries off his abdomen, top of his thighs, crotch, gently. To reach the bottom parts of his legs, Elio crouches down at his feet and dries him off there as well, looking up at him, along the long expanses of his naked body, looking warm and a little bit flustered in the golden light. He's so beautiful. Elio's always been entranced by beautiful things. ]
It's not an unfair question. [ Elio shakes his head slowly, drying off Lucifer's feet, big feet, fitting. ] We can both have our doubts about this arrangement, how it'll work. Do I think I'll get homesick? Yes. Do I think I'll sometimes question what kind of life I left behind? Yes. Do I think I'll regret coming here to be with you? No. Those things aren't mutually exclusive, Lucifer.
[ A pause. He remains seated by the other man's feet, just looking up at him, the way you would marvel at a marble statue on a pedestal, except Lucifer is not a pedestal man, he's anything but and Elio gets that. He gets it. Carrying on, his voice softens: ]
I can feel all those things. Just like you can. The doubt as well as the certainty.
[ Slowly, he rises to his feet again, stepping around the other man to dry off his back, motions stil soft and gentle, no hurry. Once he's done, he stops by Lucifer's left shoulder, leaning up to kiss his upper arm where it curves into the slope of shoulder proper. It's a hard part of his body. While simultaneously being a very soft part. Elio likes that contrast. That complexity. He recognizes it in himself. No, he doesn't think he'll regret it, not even once. He may doubt and question and wonder, but regret? Never.
Does that mean he's actually in Heaven, here? He smiles, dropping the towel. Honestly, he thinks it might. ]
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He opens his eyes and looks straight ahead as Elio kisses his upper arm near the slope of his shoulder, his lips warm. Soft. Yes, to humans, there is always death and consequently, a limit to the price they'll eventually have to pay, inevitably, no matter what life they've led. They can afford all these relativities. Can Elio, now, in this place? When an eternity has passed, will those fine details truly matter to him?
Should they?
Breathing out harshly, he turns around as Elio drops the towel. Then, without further ado, he picks him up again because the other man might've taken the lead on drying them off but he must still be exhausted, all things considered. Orgasms. Leaving Earth. Seeing his father's hell loop. Lots of heavy weight for one, little human mind. So, Lucifer carries him, bridal style, into the bedroom, leaving the towels and the steamed-up mirrors behind for now. The bed is huge, far bigger than Elio who'll look too small on it, really. Too small. But he'll be comfortable. Maybe that's what truly matters.
Lucifer pulls back the covers and puts him down, gently. Pulls the covers up to his waist, leaving him to arrange them as he wishes, if he wants. He thinks about staying, about sleeping, maybe forever - maybe he wouldn't even have to leave, maybe time doesn't pass out there. But then, of course, Elio would've left for naught and that'll never be - so Lucifer leans in and kisses his temple, nuzzling his hair very briefly before straightening up.
Then, he turns away, gaze fixed on the other side once again. ]
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And what a choice.
Looking up at the high ceilings above his head, basking in a light that's slightly warmer now than when they arrived, as if hours have passed, although Elio's reasonably convinced they haven't been at it for that long, he thinks about his father's loop of regret, he thinks about the books he threw out, already wondering what to put there instead. It feels extremely significant, not only because Elio is getting the feeling this will be an integral part of his function down here, but because. It's his father. It's his father. And this is Lucifer, tugging him in, pulling the covers up to his waist, Elio burying into them the rest of the way. He's exhausted. If he's going to help Lucifer or his father or anyone else, he needs rest. He isn't more celestial than that.
Eyes falling slowly shut, he feels Lucifer's lips against his temple, a hint of stubble where his chin is pressing against his skin and Elio smiles when the other man nuzzles into his hair. He feels so immensely loved, even as Lucifer straightens up and turns away, about to leave.
Michel was wrong, about Lucifer, about Lucifer's feelings for him. As he'll discover when he gets here. For some reason, it isn't a frightening thought, how Elio just senses vividly that it's what's going to happen. He won't be there to close the other man's eyes on Earth, but maybe he'll be here to close his eyes in Hell.
Maybe that's going to be a good thing for everyone involved. ]