[ 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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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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]