[ It's not the least awkward angle he's tried, but like sex in general and sex with Lucifer in particular, it doesn't matter. It's close and soft and Lucifer holds his head down, presses him gently against his wing and Elio closes his eyes, feeling as much as hearing how the other man comes, hard, spurting cum between their bodies, emptying himself and laying himself totally bare like that, while he gasps and writhes slightly and his wings emit a sudden burst of light that cuts straight through Elio's eyelids, as if illuminating him from within, such a warm, healthy glow that he actually feels himself heating up from it. He remembers the Northern Lights when they were in Canada, he remembers the pier in Los Angeles, he remembers all the times that Lucifer has given him pieces of himself and those pieces are always in the shape of light, because that it what he is like. Light. Glowing and shining and a beautiful necessity, especially down here. Especially here.
Feeling the other man's grip grow slicker from cum now, too, the heat inside him as well as the easiness of the slide pushes Elio over the edge the rest of the way. Moaning harshly, still feeling Lucifer's hand against the back of his head, loving and tender and it means all those things he still can't say, but that Elio waits for only because he knows it'll want out one day, not because it changes anything between them, he thrusts harshly up against the underside of Lucifer's big, spent cock, into his grip, coming all over the other man's stomach that way, leaving himself all over him. The muscles in Elio's thighs are trembling and his back feels cramped, but it's too good to break the spell for. It's too good, it's too -
The light is still playing all over the walls, crawling over the ceiling, reflecting in the windows, in his eyes. Elio slowly stills, remaining where he is while breathing in and out harshly. His hands have flattened against Lucifer's feathers, not even really stroking anymore.
Then, finally, he pushes back, straightening up gradually, his body feeling heavy and relaxed. Elio looks down at Lucifer, at the mess he's made of him, but also the glory he embodies, just like this. Exactly like this. He cocks his head and smiles, running his overheated palms down over Lucifer's chest. His voice is a little bit raw. ]
You lit everything up there for a moment. [ He isn't only talking about the orgasm, though that, too, of course. It's always like this. ] It was perfect.
[ He feels Elio spill against his hand and keeps up the momentum for as long as he can, pulling everything he can from him before they both still, Elio first, then him. Pause. They're breathing heavily and the glow from his wings hasn't dimmed much at all, light bouncing and cascading off the walls as if Elio'd decided to manifest a couple of huge disco balls in his bedroom. No such luck, of course. It's just Lucifer's wings, once more doing inexplicable things. He sighs, leaning his head back as Elio sits up once more, eyes falling shut again. He releases their cocks, his own hypersensitive by how and ambivalent about the sudden lack of stimuli. He dries off his hand in the sheets - white streaks on red silk, that'll be cute - and curves his hands against Elio's narrow hips.
He feels slack all over, basically. His wings, despite the glow, have mostly gone splat against the bed. When Elio touches his chest, it feels like more of the same in the most amazing of ways; like there's very little difference here, now, between their hands, their bodies. His feathers feel loved. There's no other way to describe whatever's happening to them, the way they seem to be singing. ]
That's because you're perfect, Elio.
[ He runs his hands up Elio's back slowly, spreading his palms out and stroking the soft skin there, fingertips pressing an idle rhythm against his skin that he recognises about ten seconds later as the beginnings of the Moonlight Sonata, 1st movement. This time, he doesn't stop, doesn't attempt to correct himself. He simply keeps his eyes closed, breathing evening out slowly but surely, the glow from his wings dimming only gradually.
He thinks about the loops, then. About Elio, playing the piano for him, about running away from it because it felt like too much, like they're turning this place - Hell, his - into something it shouldn't be, something that carries memories along with it, memories of love and life and warmth. But maybe that's just what Elio does and maybe he needs to accept that part of the other man.
Return the favour.
His feathers feel like gold.
Blinking his eyes open, he looks up at Elio, gaze heavy, still, and just a bit heated. When he speaks, however, his voice is quiet. Contemplative, almost. ]
[ There's a normal afterglow and then there's theirs. All the touching, like they're both clinging to the sensations of what went before and just waiting for a chance to go again, once more, with feeling. Lucifer dries his hand off in the sheets and they'll be dirty, but dirty is good, it's hot, and then closes his fingers around Elio's hips, drawing his palms up over his back, spreading out his fingers and... Oh. Playing him, playing him like a baby grand and Elio closes his eyes, too, feels for the pattern of his touch, recognizing it immediately as the Moonlight Sonata.
1st movement. Dum-dum-dum-dum-dum-dum, fingertips striking invisible keys. He smiles, knows.
That's because you're perfect, the Devil tells him and Elio wants to shake his head, he was never good with compliments, but something in the way Lucifer says it, eyes shut and the glow from his wings dimming gradually, casting shade across his face, where his features dip, makes Elio straighten up a little between the other man's hands, prouder in his grip, somehow. He can't explain it, it's like a new degree of acceptance - acceptance of how he's being perceived. Maybe he really is a little bit of that, too, right? Maybe just a little bit, if the Devil says so.
And then, Lucifer opens his eyes again and looks up at him, fire and passion and something they're not yet naming in his gaze and Elio slides his hands up to the other man's shoulders, one hand going up into his hair and just combing through it loosely, softly. They're close this way, face to face. Elio smiles and kisses his cheek, his nose, right on the tip, because it's there. Big nose. Big hands. Big cock. Lucifer's larger than life in so many ways and Elio isn't going to hold it against him, that he ran. Like Hell, they're a work in progress and changing yourself, any one part of you, is a scary endeavor.
Elio knows, he's in it with him, right there on his left side. Many people throughout the years have changed Elio, for better and for worse, but this is the first work he's doing himself. At least he isn't alone anymore. ]
We're learning, Lucifer. [ Kiss, kiss, earlobe, chin. Besides, Lucifer is apologizing. You have to wonder whom the King of Hell ever says sorry to except his queen. ] It's a process that requires a lot of gentleness, from ourselves and each other. So, it's okay, right? It's okay.
[ Drawing back, Elio balances himself against Lucifer's shoulder, looking down at him, warmth in his gaze. Passion, too, heat, but mostly warmth. He'll require at least ten minutes if he's going to get back into the game proper. ]
[ He melts against Elio as the other man leans down and kisses him. Cheek, nose. And then onwards, more kisses, strewn about like tiny flickers of warm light, not unlike the ones still sparkling off the walls. Lucifer watches him, feeling warm to the core again, few if any remnants of Grigori's punishment lingering in his body. The wound in his side has healed over completely. We're learning, says Elio, meaning together and that's a lovely thought. He's been alone for quite a stretch of time, Lucifer. So has Elio, in his own right.
Surely, if nothing else, they've earned some sort of respite.
When Elio draws back, Lucifer looks up at him for a moment, his own gaze softening at what he sees in Elio's, at the warmth and the heat and the gentleness playing in his eyes. With a sigh, he gets up on his elbows, using his wings to balance against the bed as he slips both arms around the other man and pulls him in against his chest, front to front. He bends his neck and kisses the side of his neck, his shoulder, tasting sweat and the last vestiges of sex. Then, he takes them both down to the bed, sideways, tumbling Elio over gently onto the wide stretch of his wing. He tips it upwards, the glittering, golden feathers coming off the bed to spoon the other man lightly.
Then, still holding his tiny queen in his arms, he lowers the other wing and folds it over him, cocooning them both beneath a blanket of feathers, soft from the oil and bright in the darkness. He shuts his eyes and inhales, deeply. Releases his grip on Elio enough to give the other man room to shift as he pleases and thinks thank you and darling, not necessarily in that order, as he lets himself drift off to sleep. ]
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no subject
Feeling the other man's grip grow slicker from cum now, too, the heat inside him as well as the easiness of the slide pushes Elio over the edge the rest of the way. Moaning harshly, still feeling Lucifer's hand against the back of his head, loving and tender and it means all those things he still can't say, but that Elio waits for only because he knows it'll want out one day, not because it changes anything between them, he thrusts harshly up against the underside of Lucifer's big, spent cock, into his grip, coming all over the other man's stomach that way, leaving himself all over him. The muscles in Elio's thighs are trembling and his back feels cramped, but it's too good to break the spell for. It's too good, it's too -
The light is still playing all over the walls, crawling over the ceiling, reflecting in the windows, in his eyes. Elio slowly stills, remaining where he is while breathing in and out harshly. His hands have flattened against Lucifer's feathers, not even really stroking anymore.
Then, finally, he pushes back, straightening up gradually, his body feeling heavy and relaxed. Elio looks down at Lucifer, at the mess he's made of him, but also the glory he embodies, just like this. Exactly like this. He cocks his head and smiles, running his overheated palms down over Lucifer's chest. His voice is a little bit raw. ]
You lit everything up there for a moment. [ He isn't only talking about the orgasm, though that, too, of course. It's always like this. ] It was perfect.
no subject
He feels slack all over, basically. His wings, despite the glow, have mostly gone splat against the bed. When Elio touches his chest, it feels like more of the same in the most amazing of ways; like there's very little difference here, now, between their hands, their bodies. His feathers feel loved. There's no other way to describe whatever's happening to them, the way they seem to be singing. ]
That's because you're perfect, Elio.
[ He runs his hands up Elio's back slowly, spreading his palms out and stroking the soft skin there, fingertips pressing an idle rhythm against his skin that he recognises about ten seconds later as the beginnings of the Moonlight Sonata, 1st movement. This time, he doesn't stop, doesn't attempt to correct himself. He simply keeps his eyes closed, breathing evening out slowly but surely, the glow from his wings dimming only gradually.
He thinks about the loops, then. About Elio, playing the piano for him, about running away from it because it felt like too much, like they're turning this place - Hell, his - into something it shouldn't be, something that carries memories along with it, memories of love and life and warmth. But maybe that's just what Elio does and maybe he needs to accept that part of the other man.
Return the favour.
His feathers feel like gold.
Blinking his eyes open, he looks up at Elio, gaze heavy, still, and just a bit heated. When he speaks, however, his voice is quiet. Contemplative, almost. ]
I'm... sorry. About earlier.
no subject
1st movement. Dum-dum-dum-dum-dum-dum, fingertips striking invisible keys. He smiles, knows.
That's because you're perfect, the Devil tells him and Elio wants to shake his head, he was never good with compliments, but something in the way Lucifer says it, eyes shut and the glow from his wings dimming gradually, casting shade across his face, where his features dip, makes Elio straighten up a little between the other man's hands, prouder in his grip, somehow. He can't explain it, it's like a new degree of acceptance - acceptance of how he's being perceived. Maybe he really is a little bit of that, too, right? Maybe just a little bit, if the Devil says so.
And then, Lucifer opens his eyes again and looks up at him, fire and passion and something they're not yet naming in his gaze and Elio slides his hands up to the other man's shoulders, one hand going up into his hair and just combing through it loosely, softly. They're close this way, face to face. Elio smiles and kisses his cheek, his nose, right on the tip, because it's there. Big nose. Big hands. Big cock. Lucifer's larger than life in so many ways and Elio isn't going to hold it against him, that he ran. Like Hell, they're a work in progress and changing yourself, any one part of you, is a scary endeavor.
Elio knows, he's in it with him, right there on his left side. Many people throughout the years have changed Elio, for better and for worse, but this is the first work he's doing himself. At least he isn't alone anymore. ]
We're learning, Lucifer. [ Kiss, kiss, earlobe, chin. Besides, Lucifer is apologizing. You have to wonder whom the King of Hell ever says sorry to except his queen. ] It's a process that requires a lot of gentleness, from ourselves and each other. So, it's okay, right? It's okay.
[ Drawing back, Elio balances himself against Lucifer's shoulder, looking down at him, warmth in his gaze. Passion, too, heat, but mostly warmth. He'll require at least ten minutes if he's going to get back into the game proper. ]
no subject
Surely, if nothing else, they've earned some sort of respite.
When Elio draws back, Lucifer looks up at him for a moment, his own gaze softening at what he sees in Elio's, at the warmth and the heat and the gentleness playing in his eyes. With a sigh, he gets up on his elbows, using his wings to balance against the bed as he slips both arms around the other man and pulls him in against his chest, front to front. He bends his neck and kisses the side of his neck, his shoulder, tasting sweat and the last vestiges of sex. Then, he takes them both down to the bed, sideways, tumbling Elio over gently onto the wide stretch of his wing. He tips it upwards, the glittering, golden feathers coming off the bed to spoon the other man lightly.
Then, still holding his tiny queen in his arms, he lowers the other wing and folds it over him, cocooning them both beneath a blanket of feathers, soft from the oil and bright in the darkness. He shuts his eyes and inhales, deeply. Releases his grip on Elio enough to give the other man room to shift as he pleases and thinks thank you and darling, not necessarily in that order, as he lets himself drift off to sleep. ]