[ 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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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. ]