[ He can feel the other man undressing him with his eyes which is all well and good, it's like its own little emphasis, and when he calls him love, Lucifer wants to crawl up with him somewhere very small and cramped and secluded, just the two of them, naked and entwined and locked within each other. He pauses for a split-second, then resumes his movements, undoing the last button on his shirt and turning back around to Elio as he pulls it off. He gives it a little twirl just because they're doing this, might as well do it properly.
Then, holding Elio's gaze, he closes the distance between them slowly, prowling more so than walking. He stops only when he's less than a hand's width away from Elio, feeling the heat of his body even through his clothes, his own skin bare and warm and receptive. With an eyebrow waggle, he drops the shirt on the piano, then slams both hands against the lid with just a little bam, just a little, on either side of the other man's body.
Very purposefully, he grinds his hips forwards against Elio's crotch, feeling his hardness against his own, mostly erect cock. The friction is enough to push it the rest of the way to yes please and he tilts his head a little to the side, his voice just borderline growly: ]
Can't all be show, darling. Why don't you - [ Another thrust forward, his breath catching audibly in his throat. ] - get a little hands-on?
[ They've done everything at least once, him and Elio, and properly hundreds of times. It's nothing particularly unusual for them to get creative, either, but contrary to what one might expect, it really has nothing to do with time passing or eternity stretching in front of them. After all, Elio's put his hands on his wings from the get-go, Lucifer brought a buttplug to their first, true date - they've always liked the music, basically. The notion of flow and tonality. Of rhythm.
[ He can see it on Lucifer’s face, when the other man turns back around and gives the shirt a twirl, everything about him exuding music and rhythm, that very special energy he has. Mine, it says. Here, now.
Come.
Or, in this case, stay, because Lucifer starts more or less prowling towards him, covering the space between them without a hurry, but quickly enough that Elio effectively loses his breath, his next inhalation stuck in his throat as the other man halts close enough to be felt, his skin heated and burning, naturally, even with air still between their bodies. Oh. Elio drops his hands to his sides, fingers flexing restlessly. Oh. The shirt goes flying over the lid of the piano, then Lucifer slams his hands against it on either side of Elio’s body, trapping him against the instrument easily and Elio lets himself be trapped, thinks about kissing Lucifer in the elevator to his old penthouse, the other man crowding him just like this. So much has happened since. Lifetimes.
He gasps as Lucifer pushes their crotches together, feeling the always unapologetic hardness of the other man’s cock, growing full and long and impossible to ignore, while Elio’s own is there the next second, too. His hips tremble. Straining. He doesn’t push back against him at first, because Lucifer tells him that and he’s giving himself to him, which is the difference. Back in that elevator, Elio never thought... Never.
Instead, exhaling shakily, he reaches up with both hands, running his palms flat up Lucifer’s chest, abdominal muscles, pecs, nipples, oh. Nipples. He rubs his palm over the left before following up with his thumb, eyes following the full display as it hardens in response. Then, inclining his chin to look up into Lucifer’s face, Elio runs his hands down again, to his waist, around his waist, down over the backside of his pants, grabbing his ass with both of them and pulling him in, grinding up against him as they go. They’re all length and hardness and curve and girth and Elio makes a weak, wanting sound, leaning his forehead against Lucifer’s naked shoulder. ]
My hands are on you, what more do you want? [ He turns his head to the side, licks a fat trail up the side of Lucifer’s neck. ] Mouth?
[ Elio gets there, breathlessly and blushing, as he slides his hands up Lucifer's chest, over his midriff and pecs and - ah. Eyes falling shut for a moment, Lucifer leans into the other man's touch a little, feeling his left nipple hardening, tingling with pleasure. Then, Elio basically grabs his arse and grinds back and they're hard, the two of them, two hards cocks, oh, he can't wait to get his mouth on that one. In a moment. In just a moment.
With a deep hmm, he tilts his head, pressing back against Elio's tongue as the other man licks a trail up the side of his neck. His saliva dries against his skin quickly, a brief tinge of coolness. Everything else feels like heat, warmer, in a way, than the fires that used to smolder down below, before Elio's first Return (he's started capitalizing these things in his mind now, the notion of new ages, in a way, because that's what it's going to feel like going forwards - Return and Departure, spring and the deadness of winter). ]
I want you to get your cock out.
[ He runs his hands down Elio's chest, spreading his palms out against his shirt on either side of his midriff. Holding onto him for a moment, he nods down between their bodies before he finally steps back, releasing him. It's not that he wants to but look, they're both wearing too many fabrics and the thought of Elio's inevitable departure, far off in the future as it may seem, makes the urge in his abdomen and chest feel potent in an almost desperate way.
So, naturally, he pops his trousers open as the next thing, pulling them down and off, his cock resting long and hard against his abdomen as he straightens up. He stares at Elio expectantly, an unapologetically hungry smile on his face. He should probably also get rid of his socks but then again, he could also just wait for Elio to do as he's told and get on his knees. Decisions, decisions.
Almost like an afterthought, he licks the tip of one finger and drags it slowly across his right nipple while he watches, fingering it to hardness because in these matters, a matching set is always in demand. ]
[ Give. Take. Lucifer tilts his head to the side to allow Elio to really work his neck and he does, for a moment, a brief moment, Lucifer might be eternal, but his body can be impatient enough.
The other man holds him by his midriff, looking down between them, the obvious bulges in both their pants and if anything, it gets Elio all the harder, his breathing sounding decidedly funny now. Then, Lucifer wants him to get his cock out and the words by themselves make Elio draw back sharply, even before Lucifer steps back himself and starts undressing the rest of the way. Meaning most of the way, the socks stay on and Elio could probably wish them away, but why would he? It’s nice. Charming, cozy, other similar words. Speaks of intimacy and comfort, who wouldn’t want that in their sex life? In their relationship.
He’s never wished for anything more, he’s realized.
Except, right at this very moment, with Lucifer looking at him hungrily, expectantly, Elio can think of maybe one thing. And not even maybe. He breathes out hard and gets to work on his pants, holding Lucifer’s gaze while his hands work blindly, efficiently, he’s opened his trousers so many times since they began doing this, his fingers know the way. Lucifer’s fingering his other nipple into hardness, something that does strange, wondrous things to Elio’s system. Once his pants fall open around his hips, revealing his hard length underneath, because he stopped wearing underwear some hundred years ago, pretty much, Elio pushes them down, steps out of them and slides them aside with his foot, leaving himself standing there half-dressed, his shirt cutting right at the crotch and not at all hiding his cock.
He reaches down and wraps his fingers, too dry, around the base, hard intake of air there, before leaning back against the piano again, Lucifer’s shirt a ghost out the corner of his eye. His gaze, however, fixes on the other man in front of him. ]
[ Hmm. There goes Elio's trousers, all naked skin underneath as has become his habit down here where time passes too slowly for anyone to truly bother with underwear. Lucifer watches, smile tightening into something more intense, as Elio reveals his long, slim legs and his hard cock, bobbing against his stomach as he steps out of his trousers. When he folds his fingers around the base and leans back against the piano, Lucifer basically wants to rip his hand away and get that but he's nice and polite and also not a complete dick, so he doesn't just... what. Rush into it?
That's not the mood they've cultivated here.
Instead, he steps closer, closer yet, until he's once again close enough to put his hands on either side of Elio's body, caging him in against the piano. Like that, it's easy to lean in and lick a long, wet stripe from the middle of his chest and up to his neck. He latches onto that spot where his pulse point beats and trembles, sucking at the skin gently and pushing up against him, lower body against lower body. Elio's shirt makes for a pleasant bit of contrast, too, so Lucifer decides that unless he takes it off himself, it's going to stay on.
Giving the other man's neck a slight nibble with the very edge of his teeth, he kisses a trail down to his shoulder, licking the skin there briefly before craning his neck to catch his collarbone, pecs. And there, mmm, his right nipple, the skin salty and hot between his lips, as he sucks it into his mouth and gets it hard.
He folds one hand against Elio's side, sliding it up beneath his shirt and flattening his palm over his ribs again, feeling how lovely he is, soft but hard. Smooth. Keeping him in place, caught between Lucifer's larger body and the piano at his back, he gives his nipple a hard suck before shifting over to the other one. Repeat. ]
[ Back to that, Lucifer moving forward until he can cage Elio up against the piano, strong arms on either side of his body, balancing his larger frame against him while he bends his neck and licks a fat stripe from the middle of Elio's chest to his neck, Elio following the movement on impressions alone, spit drying, cooling, making his skin prickle and the pressure of lips, tongue, soft, but insistent. When the other man reaches his neck, he finds his pulse point with ease and sucks on the thin skin there, making Elio tip his head back eagerly, hungrily, showing all throat and Adam's apple, while also blinding himself to the visual, seeing nothing but ceiling and for a second, just a second, imagining the sky beyond it. Even in Hell, it's blue and far-reaching, at least around Elio's palace. In his own little dimension, this pocket that's just Lucifer's and his. Like now.
When the Devil pushes up against his lower body, crotch against crotch, their cocks sliding together in a long drag of hardness, Elio makes a keening sound at the back of his throat and releases his hold, instead reaching up with both arms and slipping them around Lucifer's broad shoulders, holding on, clinging to him, giving himself over, all his weight, all his strength. Lucifer's bigger, taller, sure, he's endlessly stronger, but Elio doesn't lose to him, it was never a matter of that between them. In turn, Lucifer nibbles on his neck with just the edge of his teeth, just making him feel it, the promise of bite and burn. Then, collarbone, pecs, tongue, slick... Elio presses back against the piano, feeling the security, the safeness of having that huge instrument for backrest and Lucifer against his front, keeping him in place, anchored. Keeping him here.
He was always the reason, Elio thinks, hazily. ]
Can you feel it? How I'm getting hard for you?
[ And he is. Lucifer leans down more and sucks his nipple into his mouth, working it with his lips to make it really peak and Elio loses his breath effectively, all shallow pants, head still thrown back, don't look, don't look. His hands, instead, are feeling out the broadness of Lucifer's nape, fingers slipping up into his hair, spreading out, gripping the back of his head and angling him a little, pushing back against him while his mouth searches across Elio's chest for his other nipple, sucking on that as well, hard little twinges of suction while his hand flattens over Elio's ribs beneath his shirt, palm warm and burning, the heat seeping in beyond his skin.
His cock twitches. Elio shifts from foot to foot, spreading his legs wider in invitation. They only ever go down from here, after all. ]
[ The other man stays as he is, trapped in hopefully the best of ways, baring his throat to his advantages and whimpering, clinging to him with both hands. If he weren't busy getting his nipples nice and hard, Lucifer would definitely pull back just to look at him - just to see what a spectacle he makes, all bared and open and in full surrender. It's not that he can't imagine - it's been hundreds upon hundreds of years by now - but he never gets enough of it. Of Elio, giving himself over to him.
Gifting himself, you might say, because he might've been somebody else's gift in the original blue prints but from the beginning, Elio's always chosen what he wanted to give. Been tempted on his own terms.
Lucifer's cock gives a hard twitch as he pushes up against Elio's thigh, the slide of naked skin making him feel light-headed with want. For a moment, all he wants to do is get off, just chase that tight feeling in his abdomen to its natural conclusion but because he's not prepubescent and never has been, thanks, he pushes the thought aside with ease. Instead, he shifts to stand more properly between Elio's spread legs and straightens up. He leaves a trail of soft kisses along Elio's jawline before he captures his mouth again, harder this time, pressing his tongue between his lips and filling him up. Yes, it means. Yes, in the general sense, the widest possible definition of the word.
Then, he breaks the kiss, leaving wetness all over Elio's lips, and goes to his knees in front of him. These days, he'd do it for nobody else, no one in the known universe, and the thought makes him harder for it, it makes everything feel new and bright and beautiful. He puts one hand on Elio's left hip, pressing him back a little against the piano and leans in, chin angled to the side, to lick a fat stripe up along the underside of his cock. The taste and scent of skin and arousal goes straight to his blood and he groans, loudly, shifting closer as he presses the tip of his tongue against the subtle veins on the underside right beneath the head, licking at the softness there, repeatedly. He leaves the head for now, bared and tempting as it is.
It's his lollipop, basically, and he'll eat it exactly as he likes. ]
[ His answer is Lucifer, straightening up, leaving kisses along his jawline and there’s the hint of stubble to it that Elio has come to associate with him, that slight scratch, to his voice, to his skin, to his personality. Then, the other man captures his mouth, kissing him deeply, tongue filling him up and saying, yes. To everything. Yes, I feel you. Yes, I want you. Yes, I’ll have you. Yes. Elio breathes in harshly through his nose, kissing him back greedily until Lucifer withdraws, much too soon, always too soon, Elio could carry him in his body from here and to eternity, leaving traces of wetness all over his lips, tasting like him, so he licks them. Watching him as he drops to his knees, like worship, the only kind you might readily make Lucifer do, this. Elio slips both hands into his hair, getting the strands all disheveled, but lovingly so.
Look at you, it means. Look how lovely you are.
His breath is shuddering out of him as Lucifer leans in, pressing him back against the piano by his left hip, covered halfway in shirt fabric, teasing just the tip of his tongue up the underside of his cock, feeling out the sensitive veins there and Elio’s knees are honestly buckling a bit already. They play this game sometimes, how long can I make you last, which can, on Lucifer’s end, lead to hours of fucking, just pleasuring each other’s bodies, dragging it on and on and when you’re in bed with the Devil, that can continue for a while, because Lucifer can basically last forever. Elio’s built up some remarkable stamina after a hundred years, but he’s still done before dawn, always. Lucifer sometimes comes with the sun of Elio’s little dimension which is fitting. Elio loves it.
Elio loves this. The time the other man is taking, groaning at his taste and wanting him so badly, you can feel it like heat in the air around them. Lucifer is hot enough, in every sense, to light anything on fire, after all. Elio’s just kindle.
Though, the Devil never makes him feel like just anything. He threads his fingers through Lucifer’s hair, desperate little tugs, then brushing the strands back against his head afterwards, soothingly. ]
I think I like the piano best like this - [ Pant, pant, pant, his lungs go. Strain, strain, strain, his hips. ] - your mouth on me, tongue, lips, like I’m the real instrument.
[ Things you can only tell another musician, and the original musician to boot. ]
[ Elio's breathing like the air's getting stuck in his throat, his fingers running through Lucifer's hair with quiet desperation, tugging at the strands and brushing over his scalp in the aftermath, like a sweet little apology. This beautiful man. Lucifer glances up at him at his comment and smiles. Then, he draws back and spits in his hand before he folds his fingers - slick now, not too dry - around Elio's cock. He gives it a small stroke upwards, then down, feeling the softness of the skin, the heat. Oh. ]
You are. You're the realest anything.
[ His words come out breathy, like he's in awe and he is, always, around Elio. It never stops. With another groan, rougher now and half a breath away from becoming a moan, he angles Elio's cock outwards slightly, away from his body and leans in again, licking the same path up along the underside of his cock. This time, he gives it a couple of good, long licks, faster, a less teasingly. The other man's taste settles on his tongue and chases away all remnants of ash and fire and it's another real thing that he gets in Hell somehow; another thing that doesn't taste like nothing.
Realer than anything, yes. Certainly.
Eyes falling shut, he finally opens his mouth and slips the head of Elio's cock between his lips. He fills himself out with it, letting it push his jaws apart, his balls tightening at the feel of it. He takes it in past the glans, until he's got about a few inches of the shaft resting against his tongue as well, the bulge of the head pressing against the back of his mouth. Then, he holds the other man's cock still in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking on it, saliva slipping past his lips and running unhindered down the length of Elio's cock, between the tips of his fingers. ]
Obviously, there's touch, how he feels Lucifer, his lips and tongue against the underside of his cock, licking more insistently now at the veins there, following their tracks upwards towards the head. How Elio's balls feel lead-like and heavy between his thighs at all that stimulation, just edging him closer. Then, the sound of the other man spitting into his hand, Elio's balls actually drawing up at the slick noise of it, followed by more touch, wet fingers closing around the base of him, stroking upwards, angling him out for easier access. Oh. Thirdly, there's sound, Lucifer groaning, halfway moaning, if we're real and there's really no need to hide the fact anyway, as he starts licking at him more insistently and finally opens his mouth over the head of Elio's cock, bare and unprotected, take me, it says. Lucifer takes him in a couple of inches, all of the head, the topmost of the shaft, enough that he's full of him, enough that Elio can sense the swell at the back of his mouth like a soft wall to breach.
Oh.
He moans, loudly, chin falling down towards his chest, because he isn't giving up the most notable of the senses currently in play. Vision. He's a fucking vision, Lucifer. Sucking on Elio's cock and letting his spit run in heavy streams down his length, escaping through his fingers and Elio would be thrusting forward, if he didn't respect Lucifer too much to force himself on him like that. But there's some muscles tightening and releasing in his pelvis, thighs, hips, trying to push, have more, get more of that wet heat, tongue along the underside, suction, hollowed cheeks, oh.
Finally, he can't really stand it anymore, tipping his head back and staring up at the ceiling, the upper edge of the piano digging into his back but he doesn't care and it's firewood anyway, just burn it, burn it all... You're the realest anything, Lucifer said. I love you, he didn't, but so close, so close.
Tugging at Lucifer's hair a bit, near his forehead, trying to angle both him and himself, Elio shifts from foot to foot, breathing shot at this point. He looks down again, the visual feeling like a head-on collision. ]
If you're going to take me in further, look at me. Please, look at me.
[ He can feel the other man straining against him, working hard to be as receptive as possible, not thrusting inwards or trying to take in return, simply letting Lucifer give it to him, getting him wet and slick. He tightens his hand hand a little against the other man's hip, stroking the skin of his groin soothingly with his thumb to compensate for the way he's basically holding him still like that, his strength still far superior to Elio's, Persephone or not.
Though a part of him feels scandalized at the thought - leave Elio to live forever, with the powers to actually create within the limits of his own realm but nothing to defend himself, nothing for his own protection. Rude. But something about it also turns him on more than a little, not the notion of Elio's defenselessness but rather...
Just knowing that he can still hold him, carry him, stop him. Keep him.
Giving Elio's cock another suck, a little harder this time, he draws back, popping the head out of his mouth briefly. He feels Elio's words, his plea, just as much as he hears it - it's in the way he's trying to tug him in the right direction, trying impossibly to bend himself into a shape that'll take them both flying. Then, he crouches down enough to get a proper, long glide to his throat when he stretches it and looks up, finally, meeting Elio's eyes, his own flashing red from the heat building up inside of him. Gaze intent and unwavering, he opens his mouth and angles Elio's cock downwards, letting it push past his lips again and onto his tongue. From there, he swallows it down past the back of his mouth, past his non-existent gag reflex and into the soft confines of his throat.
It goes down easily, like a hand slipping into a glove.
And suddenly, he's so full of him that he can't breathe and still, he maintains eye contact, his toes curling from pleasure, his fingertips against Elio's hip digging into the bone. ]
[ Although their paces are rarely similar, not in bed either, and Elio's aware how they don't belong to the same tier of creation, so he's excused in terms of struggling to keep up every now and then, there are still times when they come together so beautifully that it honestly doesn't matter, that the similarities outweigh the differences, just in that moment. This is one such time, Elio thinks, staring down at Lucifer's face as the other man rearranges himself, finding an angle in which he can easily stretch his throat, make it accommodating and open, and then, still staring up at Elio, eyes flashing red and making Elio's toes curl in his socks, he opens up, takes the head back in where it by now feels like it belongs, over his tongue, to the back of his mouth and pushing past the tight opening to his throat, where no gag reflex keeps guard and it's such a lovely slide, amazing, flawless that Elio whimpers loudly and has to fight to keep his eyes open, staring enraptured down at Lucifer who's taken it all in one go, every inch, to the base and he's still maintaining eye contact and every other kind of contact, too, his mouth pliant and wet and tight, his fingers harsh where they're digging into Elio's hip, keeping him in place.
No thrusting, it means. I'll give what I want.
Elio thinks, what you give is plenty, it's enough to last a lifetime, even mine, even mine.
So Elio relaxes back against the side of the piano, pliantly and receptively, keeps his hips perfectly still and runs his palms to the nape of Lucifer's neck, the other dropping to between his shoulder blades, just feeling the trembling air of him as he holds his breath and fills himself with Elio's cock instead. Oxygen stupid, cock important. Elio pants harshly, the hand at Lucifer's neck following the trail of tightened neck muscles to his throat, even more tightened, full, bulging and he touches soft, shaking fingertips to the feel of himself, inside him. Lucifer is embracing him so thoroughly.
What escapes him is almost a sob, because it's beautiful, but it needs friction, movement, give, take. Please, please. ]
You feel so full, Lucifer. You feel like I belong. [ His voice sounds hoarse and a bit thin, breathy, too much air, short on the fire and he wants to be lit aflame, he wants to burn up and disappear and be part of Lucifer's very DNA - the parts of the Devil that rules volcanoes and fissures in the earth.
Then, every word a quiver: ] So good. You're so good.
[ When Elio reaches down and touches him, panting harshly and trembling against him, Lucifer lets him feel out the heavy weight of his own cock, buried in his throat. He stays as he is, holding his breath (because honestly, it's not like he'll die without it) until he doesn't want to anymore, until Elio's desperation becomes too poignant and impossible to bear. Drawing back sloppily, the sound alone sending shivers down his spine, he lets Elio's cock slide along the width of his tongue until the head pops free from his throat, resting in his mouth instead. He looks up at Elio. Raises one eyebrow very slightly and goes for it once more, swallowing him down to the hilt, until he's got his lips pressed against the other man's groin.
Then, he takes hold of Elio's hips with both hands and pushes his hips forward, pressing the other man down just half a inch more before he pushes him backwards, giving him that small slide that he's clearly asking for, fucking his throat with his cock. Repeat. Oh, that's crazy, it's insane. His cock is weeping between his legs. Blinking up at Elio, he does it again, pulling him back and forth on his tongue, before he releases him and waits for the message to sink in.
Do it, he thinks, mouth open wide and Elio's cock lodged deeply in his throat. Take a little now, allow yourself. Because with Elio, sometimes, you have to show him that the landing will be soft, no matter how far he lets himself tumble, how much he'll willingly float. He's not afraid of choice, his Persephone, but he's understandably afraid of no one caring enough to break his fall when he makes them, of having to blame himself for the pain that follows.
Lucifer gets it, of course, even when he doesn't - can't - put words to the sentiment. He remembers hurtling from heaven, waiting for someone to grab him out of thin air because at the time, he'd really thought he understood the world and the universe and how it all came together.
Him and Elio, they're re-learning. Step by step. ]
[ He stays like that, just seated in Lucifer's throat for longer than is humanly possible, which is how it goes when you're fucking an angel-slash-the-Devil, these things don't limit him the same way it would anyone else. However, at some point even Lucifer gets tired of showing off his breath-holding skills, pulling back, wet and sloppy and drool everywhere and Elio's balls are beginning to draw up almost impossibly, the slide of the other man's mouth making the shaft of his cock feel hot, burning, not to mention the head. Oh, the head. He whimpers, feeling his thighs working to keep him upright, his hands falling away from the other man's neck as he draws back, pops the head into his mouth, then right back at it, swallowing him down again until his big, strong nose is buried in Elio's groin and Elio's trembling, panting, mess. A real one.
That's when Lucifer reaches up with both hands and grabs his hips, like he held him back against the piano before, pulling them back a bit, his whole pelvis, his cock in Lucifer's mouth. The slide is good, making his cock weep precum all over Lucifer's tongue and Elio whines a bit, letting himself be pushed back in again and he gets the cue, the non-verbal consent. Fuck me, it means, fuck my mouth, fuck my throat. Elio feels hazy, like he's seeing everything through a thick fog, so blindly he reaches up and rests his hands on either side of Lucifer's face, feeling his stubble against him palms, cheekbones, contours of his face, lips, he runs his thumb over the corner of his widely gaping mouth, where his cock is sliding past and he feels himself like that as he starts thrusting, small, hard thrusts at first, but gradually he loosens up, gives more, gets more. Lucifer is giving him this, the taking's just the natural outcome of it.
Elio's deep-throated men before, too, men who'd grab him by the back of his head and take, but Lucifer isn't like that, he doesn't want it and he doesn't invite it and Elio only wants to have from him what he'll willingly give, it's all the more precious for it. Like the feathers from his wings when he's preened them, these divine, holy things. His.
He gasps, cock burying back into Lucifer's mouth, Elio staring down at his face between his fingers, holding him. ]
Stop me before I come. I'm not sure I'll be able to by myself.
[ And like that, every word a tremor in and by itself, Elio starts giving more, too, gives more of himself, pushes down smoother, harder, though never roughly, just desperate. He can feel his orgasm beginning to build up in his balls, in the pit of his stomach and he licks his lips, panting wetly now to keep up with his body. Lucifer's body. Lucifer's throat, oh. ]
[ He hums in response to Elio's request and takes him, in and in and in as the other man starts thrusting. Small thrusts to begin with, hard, like he's opening him up with just a hint of forcefulness and that's lovely, that's taking what you're offered and owning it, too. Lucifer gives him the time to settle a pace and breathes whenever he can, whenever the urge gets too uncomfortable to ignore. He moves a little with each thrust in a semblance of taking, of absorbing each thrust with his own body. Elio's panting, licking his lips and looking beautiful all throughout, his pale skin flushed and his pupils blown wide. Even after more than a thousand years, he still looks amazing, falling apart.
Lucifer runs one hand down the inside of Elio's thigh and slips it between his legs. Gently, he folds his fingers around the other man's ballsack, feeling the weight of it against his palm. He's tight, Elio, tight and drawn up. Stop me says Elio and Lucifer's happy to oblige, seeing as his cock is starting to hurt from arousal, like there's no blood left in his brain at all at this point.
Elio's going to come on his cock, he's decided.
Preferably bent over the piano.
Pushing the thought away quickly because those mental images are causing some serious strain to his otherwise impressive stamina, Lucifer folds his fingers around Elio's balls close to the base of his cock. He takes care not to squeeze - because no, indeed - simply turning his hold into a grip that remains, tugging Elio's balls downwards a little bit, away from his body. Drooling heavily at this point, he lets Elio get in a few more thrusts before he pulls back slowly, all the way, until the head pops free from his throat, first, and his mouth, second. It slaps back against Elio's stomach, the head blushing and pink, the blood visibly surging beneath the thin skin along the shaft. There's a string of precum pearling at the slit - Lucifer reaches up with his free hand and runs his thumb over it, smearing it onto the glans, before he draws back, releasing Elio's balls almost reluctantly. ]
For an endless amount of time, seconds or minutes he doesn't care to count, Elio's allowed inside him, just to take up his space within him and fill him out, be his very insides, along with his organs, along with his blood. He's almost losing it near the end, hips snapping forward a couple of times, but then Lucifer slips his fingers from his inner thigh to his balls, closing his hand around his heavy ballsack and pulling his balls away from his body a bit, reining him in and it's torture, but it's also wonderful and you learn, with the Devil, that pleasure can be a bit of both, don't you?
As Lucifer pulls back, Elio's gasping, hard and rough, the other man letting his cock slip out of his throat, then his mouth, the length of it slapping back against Elio's stomach and it's dirty and sensual at the same time, so Elio releases his hold of Lucifer's face and lets his arms fall to his sides, trying desperately and in vain to catch his breath. Lucifer decides to make it impossible as he smears precum all over Elio's glans, his cock jumping at the friction, the way the slit gets its turn now.
Turn around, the Devil tells him, then, and darling and oh, let me have you. And oh, oh, please, too, his voice rough and hoarse from Elio's cock's undeniable presence in the close vicinity of his vocal chords, like the auditive equivalent of a bathroom graffiti: Elio was here. Feeling his buttocks tighten in response, the flex running all the way down his thighs, Elio nods wordlessly and licks his lips some more. Carefully, he turns around, staying in one place and placing his hands on the edge of the piano, fingers spread out over the lid, Lucifer's shirt still lying abandoned off to the side, his own falling down across his buttcheeks like an attempt at modesty when, really.
All is lost. ]
Have me.
[ Or all is won, because as Elio speaks those two words, voice breathy and light, lube appears on the piano bench, just within reach and it's comforting to know that with all that Lucifer takes care of him, and he does, Elio himself and thus his dimension in extension of him takes care of the rest. ]
[ He watches, eyes narrowed slightly, as Elio turns around towards the piano, his long limbs elegant but tight, oh, his buttocks in particular, the tails of his shirt resting over them making him seem somehow more naked. Have me he says, lube appearing a split second later on the piano bench and Lucifer has to swallow his own drool there for a moment, maybe two, maybe three. He sounds both needy and breathless, Elio, and the way he's bent forward makes his arse jut out in a slightly awkward way, vulnerable, yes, vulnerable. With his back to the Devil, Elio's nothing but want. He's the sexiest thing Lucifer's ever known.
Have me.
Shifting closer on his knees, Lucifer growls and grabs Elio's buttocks, kneading them just a little roughly, pulling them apart. His arsehole looks small and pink and extremely edible. When he leans in close, the smell of musk and skin grows heavier. His cock jerks between his thighs and he realises he's just tempted himself beyond endurance which is really the only type of temptation he'll ever admit to - breathing out heavily, he leans in and presses his tongue against the rim, holding the other man open with both hands. He licks him, long, broad strokes of his tongue, the tip dancing across the sensitive nerve endings there, feeling Elio's arsehole flutter in response to the stimulation.
Moaning loudly, he pushes his tongue in, opening the other man quickly and tasting him all over, his senses exploding from it. From him. Releasing one buttock, he folds his fingers around the base of Elio's cock once more, keeping his grip tight as he pulls his ballsack towards himself - aside from staving off his climax, it has the added advantage of keeping the man pulled back and in position, doesn't it, and that's a lovely little hint of dominance that makes Lucifer fuck him harder, pushing his tongue past his opening and into his body. ]
[ Elio can hear him move, naked, sweaty skin against the floorboards, the slide of him as Lucifer shifts up behind him, all growls and want, hands coming up to grab his buttocks, kneading them briefly, hard, and Elio groans, lower, at the back of his throat and like that, they're complementing each other perfectly. Then, Lucifer pulls his buttocks apart and Elio hears that to, in his heavy exhalation that's all but ghosting over the rim of his asshole as the other man pushes his tongue against it, licking at him, fat, broad strokes, tongue tip making Elio see stars, even with his eyes wide open. He whimpers, a thin, shaky sound and feels his knees buckle again, grabbing the piano hard to stay still and upright. His ass feels receptive and open like that, as if Lucifer's pushing all the necessary buttons to make Elio let him in, which he probably is. Millenia of sexual experience, Elio's no different from anything he's had before.
Except, in every way that he is, he senses. Lucifer gives him that willingly, that impression.
There's a moan and in goes the Devil's tongue, really opening him up now and while Lucifer fucks him on that wet muscle, he reaches down with one hand to curl his fingers around the base of Elio's cock, tugging him backwards slightly, forcing him into position (oh) and wafting up a quickly growing climax (oh fuck), because the other man is really breaching him with his mouth now, forcing his tongue past the rim, letting him feel full and slick and wet and warm, his asshole clenching around the intrusion, happily unaware of how much more flesh is going to follow.
Trembling against the piano, Elio moans, with abandon, completely without shame, pushing his ass back in Lucifer's face, giving himself more of that tongue in his hole. His balls feel tight and heavy as lead and there's a single second, while he's busy feeling disoriented and faint, where Elio thinks he might actually come despite all Lucifer's best intentions. A harsh surge of heat in his abdomen, his cock twitching helplessly between Lucifer's fingers. ]
Oh. Lucifer, I'm... [ A small whimper, before Elio bites his lip, then his tongue, mostly accidentally. ] I'm so close, I'm going to come, you're going to push me over the edge.
[ Elio presses back against his face, trembling and moaning, holding absolutely nothing back and that's beautiful, that's the best way to enjoy anything but the Devil's tongue, in particular. Lucifer keeps his hold on the other man's balls, feeling how he's clearly as close to coming as he says, his voice little but a whimper. Lucifer's cock, in turn, is leaking as well and he's starting to think he might be able to come untouched if they just proceed like this, if he keeps Elio on the edge for long enough, licking him open and holding him back.
Some other time, definitely.
For now, he pulls out his tongue and gives Elio's arsehole another quick lick, the muscle there slick and a little bit open, just enough for his finger, maybe, if he were to try. He gets to his feet without wobbling only because he's the actual, literal Devil. ]
We can't have that, can we?
[ He doesn't release Elio's cock, though he loosens his grip a little, rubbing the thin skin around his balls with his fingers briefly. Then, he reaches for the lube with his free hand, gets his fingers nice and slick and slathers up his cock, not bothering with any sort of finesse. ]
Think you can take me or do we need more prep? [ Releasing his by now desperate cock, Lucifer runs one, slick finger in between Elio's buttocks and slips it into him, taking advantage of his slightly loosened rim. His finger sinks in to the last knuckle, no problem. ] Either way's fine by me.
[ He pulls his finger in and out lazily, taking care to avoid the other man's prostate because there's only so much you can really ask of somebody else and at this point, the fact that Elio hasn't already spent himself all over his piano is a sign of great willpower indeed. Lucifer, ditto. Quite frankly. Pursing his lips, he stands crouched in over the other man, one hand around his balls, the other moving slowly back and forth, his palm bumping against his buttocks at every instroke. His cock is literally hurting. ]
[ It’s the only natural conclusion as Lucifer pulls out, the slick sound of his tongue releasing making Elio feel ready to explode. He shifts restlessly from foot to foot, as much as he can with the other man’s hand still gripping his cock, turning his head to the side and bending one arm to rest his cheek on his own forearm, watching as Lucifer slicks up his fingers, his cock, all sloppy and that’s more near explosions in the general area of Elio’s crotch. He wants him so much. He wants to be one with him, be closer to him than his soul, however sacrilegious that might be. When you’re fucking an angel. When the angel you’re fucking is the Devil. No, Lucifer. He just wants Lucifer.
Now.
As the other man leans in over him, pushing one finger into him to the knuckles, easily, because he’s opened him up already, and gives him the choice between taking him like this or taking him later, with more prep, Elio loves him for that. Always with the choices, with the free will which is such a literal thing between them. Elio can choose, and as long as he does, there are no wrongs. Only missed opportunities. Creative alternatives. Roads taken, roads not. He thinks about the first time he took Lucifer’s cock, remembers how overwhelming that was with all the prep in the world, but that was a mental thing. Elio’s body could take it, then, Lucifer said so himself and Elio’s body can take it now, because they’ve done this countless of times and he wants, he wants, he wants.
So, while Lucifer fucks him on his finger, Elio turns his head and looks at him over one shoulder, feeling his whole body waiting. Ready. Their eyes meet and Elio speaks through some heavy breathing. ]
Tell me how much you want to fuck me, and I’ll let you in.
[ The way Elio's resting on the piano, his cheek on his forearm and his lower body taking everything so pliantly, Lucifer's tongue, his mouth and throat, his finger - it's making him feel completely weightless from want, the urgency in his lower body acute and nearly impossible to withstand. Shifting from foot to foot, he moves his finger in and out, twisting it a little, stretching him and lubing him up. ]
I want to fuck you so, so badly. I must have wanted something more, sometime or another, but I honestly don't remember. Feels like a lie, even, as I'm saying it.
[ He pushes his finger in deeper and holds still, releasing Elio's cock and balls and running his hand up his abdomen instead, curving his palm against it beneath his shirt, the fabric wrinkling across his knuckles. He pulls him backwards again, just to watch the way the motion puts his arse further on display, his lower back curving like an s. He keeps his finger buried in him for another second or two, then pulls it out, leaving his arsehole open and glistening with lube and spit. ]
Once I'm inside - [ He steps up behind Elio fully, his hard cock sliding up between his buttocks. Rubbing it over his arsehole and down his crack, he groans at the delicious feel of friction against the head and shaft. ] - ah - once I'm inside, I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll need to conjure up a new piano.
[ He grabs his cock with his free hand and angles it, pushing the head against Elio's arsehole. He's burning hot and it's almost a shock to his system, his balls drawing up harshly, though he manages not to come, focusing on relaxing, on bypassing the urge. ]
Now, Elio. [ Control or not, his voice definitely sounds strained. ] What do we say?
[ He can feel Elio's rim opening around the tip of his cock but he doesn't sink in, doesn't push, simply lets him feel it, lets him wait. ]
[ Listening to Lucifer talk, really just running his mouth, is making Elio feel weightless from wanting him, from wanting him so much that even his finger isn't enough, even his tongue, even the heart of him - it won't do, he needs it to be that enormous, hard length of him, where he's the most impressive show of himself. Cock, cock, cock.
Nodding along in a polite display of active listening, Elio pants harshly, the other man telling him he must have wanted something more at some point, he's lived eons, after all, but he can't remember when and it feels like a lie, even saying it. Elio gasps, twists beneath his finger, going in, out, dragging Elio's lower body with it until he's on full display, bent over, curved at the hips, showing himself off. Then, Lucifer removes his finger, leaving Elio open and waiting, as he steps up behind him fully, close, and Elio can feel his cock head slip down his crack, over his rim and it's so hot, it's burning. He groans.
Lucifer, in turn, continues talking until it's Elio losing all breath. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll need to conjure up a new piano and on Earth, he would've been mortified, to do that to an instrument, but here where he can conjure up a Steinway or a Bösendorfer almost without wasting a thought? Bring it, Lucifer. Break it down. Please.
Please.
Slowly, slowly, the other man starts pushing inward, making Elio acutely sense how his rim stretches and opens up around the tip, the connection between them already so intense, he doesn't need to see the other man's face, his eyes, his lips moving while he keeps talking and Elio would've clasped a hand over his mouth, if he could. Just to give himself a fighting chance. As it is, he gets the last stretch, the wait as Lucifer holds back, doesn't penetrate, simply lets him feel how he could. Elio extends his free arm out across the lid of the piano, curls his fingers and holds on. Oh.
What do we say? ]
Fuck me.
[ Elio says, exhaling long and slow and even to open himself up more, spreading his legs a little, his cock weeping against his stomach and he'll need to touch himself soon, very soon, but they need to get there first, in unison. His voice is shaky and airy and sounds like he's actually high and he does feel out of his head, if square in his body and the contrast between those two opposites is the most beautiful thing, really. ]
[ Elio doesn't ask and Lucifer adores it, the way he simply goes fuck me, clinging onto the piano lid and spreading himself open, breathing out slowly and leaving his arsehole pliant and ready against Lucifer's cock. He smiles, briefly - the blood really is going in one direction only at this point and all he truly feels at this point is a deep-seated sense of want, of wanting Elio's body, of wanting him and everything that he is. He manages one, shaky exhalation, then steadies himself with one hand against the small of Elio's back. When he licks his lips, he can taste his arse, his cock, and when he swallows immediately after, he can sense the weight of him within himself.
Perfection.
Without another word, he glides inside. ]
Aah! Oh, damn...
[ He pushes past the resistance of Elio's arsehole and though he's stretched him and prepped him, he hasn't gone very far in terms of getting him open and he feels every inch of his own cock, disappearing in the other man's body. Inch by inch by inch. Lips parted on an exhalation that won't seem to leave his chest, Lucifer follows the rhythm of Elio's body with the strength of complete habit - he doesn't push too fast but he doesn't hesitate, either, not at all. Fuck me, said Elio, and this far into their co-existence, Lucifer's quite aware of what he wants and needs in bed, at least with regards to the basics.
Other surprises, of course, remain inevitable when you have a literal eternity to get frisky.
In any case, Elio wants it just a little hard, he wants to feel it, the stretch and the burn, and Lucifer's always happy to give him what he desires, isn't he, and so weirdly, inexplicably proud that he knows. That even without his mojo, he knows. He slides in half-way, then pulls out to the very tip and pushes back in, deeper this time, making room for himself. The piano, meanwhile, is creaking a bit on its wheels and Elio's shirt looks the worse for wear so he grabs a fistful of it and pulls it up over his back, exposing his ribs and the fragile-looking line of his spine.
As he sinks in to the base, he bends forward and kisses him between his shoulder-blades, panting harshly as the friction explodes up and down his length. ]
[ He does it in three, in, out, in, out, in. It's not a record, Lucifer's taken him in one before, but it strikes a comfortable medium and makes Elio open up gradually, but hard. Oh, so hard. Elio's panting audibly, his breathing loud in the relative quiet of his palace now, Lucifer's harsh exhalations mixing with his, the slick sound of his cock pushing in, pulling back, rustling of clothes, Elio's predominantly, at this point. Lucifer's socks don't make a sound.
The piano creaks.
His eyes fall shut as the other man finally buries himself to the base, one hand pushing his shirt up over his back, laying him bare, ribs, spine, vulnerable places, leaning in over him, seated in his ass to the hilt, to kiss him between the shoulder blades and more than the stretch, which is prominent, and the burn which is good, Elio loves this moment of utter devotion, worship almost, if Lucifer did that kind of thing. Lucifer makes him feel full and he makes him feel loved and in the kind of eternity that they're meant to share? Elio thinks it's the most important things the other man can possibly give him.
Exhaling long and shakily, he takes a moment just to relish the feeling of his rim stretching wide open around the Devil's cock, huge, unapologetically so, to relish the sense of being blocked out so completely that the other man more or less has him speared against the piano, his larger body like a shield across Elio's back, hands on him, cock in him, they're connected in so many places, it's overwhelming but perfect.
Elio shifts his head a little on his forearm, twisting enough to glance back at Lucifer and oh, he moans low in his throat as he accidentally jostles the angle of the other man's cock in him, pleasure blazing through his hard at work nerve endings. Ah, it's so close, so intimate, the way he can just glimpse his hair, but feel the rest, his lips, nose, contours of his face. His cock, his cock. He sometimes wonders if the people Lucifer can mojo, whom he can give exactly what they want, because they can't help themselves from telling him, get this same experience. They get something good, obviously, but do they get this?
Lucifer's hands are big and strong and Elio arches his back up against him, once more getting Lucifer's cock pushed at an angle that makes his skin break out in a sweat and his balls draw up. Lucifer has dug his way into him, no mojo, just effort, and they deserve this moment, they deserve it. ]
You - [ He licks his lips, spreading his fingers wide over the lid of the piano, chin digging into muscle, he can smell himself. ] - feel incredible. Stay like this, please. As long as you can.
[ It's not longing, Elio is done longing, has been for centuries and centuries, but it's comfort. Home. ]
[ He feels how Elio's body adjusts, opens itself up around him in stages, and the other man's moaning from somewhere deep within his throat, shifting against him. When he arches backwards, Lucifer tightens his hand in his shirt, balancing him a little in the fabric. He's getting a good angle like that, it seems, and Lucifer's nothing if not a giver. Staying still, his cock tightly buried in Elio's arse and so stimulated from all sides that he almost can't breathe for the urge to thrust, he runs his knuckles, still gripping Elio's shirt, up and down the other man's back, feeling the muscles there, how tight they are. Oh, he's working for it, sweet Elio. He's working for it hard.
Shifting, he finally pulls back just a little, a few inches, because he needs that slide so badly and - oh - yes. In. In. He grabs onto Elio's naked hip with his other hand and pulls him back against his own body, holding him still as he starts a slow but even rhythm of in and out, pulling out only about half-way for each thrust. He thinks about maybe angling his hips a little, get Elio's prostate good on each thrust, then... pauses.
Stops.
With his cock buried to the base, he stands there for a moment, his heated gaze suddenly clearing for a second as the idea hits him. He stares straight ahead over Elio's hair, the other man more or less just sitting there on his cock, getting very little movement but oh, oh, what a wonderful idea. He wouldn't have, ages back, but that was then and this is now and oh!
Elio will love it!
Smiling widely, completely satisfied with himself, he shifts again, pushing inwards as he folds his hands around Elio's arms near the wrists, pulling them both gently forward until they're stretched out in front of him, his chin resting fully against the piano lid. Like that, he tips the other man's balance, making him put a little bit more weight on his arse, on Lucifer's cock. He leans down and kisses the back of his head, feeling his hair tickling his lips. ]
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Then, holding Elio's gaze, he closes the distance between them slowly, prowling more so than walking. He stops only when he's less than a hand's width away from Elio, feeling the heat of his body even through his clothes, his own skin bare and warm and receptive. With an eyebrow waggle, he drops the shirt on the piano, then slams both hands against the lid with just a little bam, just a little, on either side of the other man's body.
Very purposefully, he grinds his hips forwards against Elio's crotch, feeling his hardness against his own, mostly erect cock. The friction is enough to push it the rest of the way to yes please and he tilts his head a little to the side, his voice just borderline growly: ]
Can't all be show, darling. Why don't you - [ Another thrust forward, his breath catching audibly in his throat. ] - get a little hands-on?
[ They've done everything at least once, him and Elio, and properly hundreds of times. It's nothing particularly unusual for them to get creative, either, but contrary to what one might expect, it really has nothing to do with time passing or eternity stretching in front of them. After all, Elio's put his hands on his wings from the get-go, Lucifer brought a buttplug to their first, true date - they've always liked the music, basically. The notion of flow and tonality. Of rhythm.
At this point, it feels instinctual. ]
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Come.
Or, in this case, stay, because Lucifer starts more or less prowling towards him, covering the space between them without a hurry, but quickly enough that Elio effectively loses his breath, his next inhalation stuck in his throat as the other man halts close enough to be felt, his skin heated and burning, naturally, even with air still between their bodies. Oh. Elio drops his hands to his sides, fingers flexing restlessly. Oh. The shirt goes flying over the lid of the piano, then Lucifer slams his hands against it on either side of Elio’s body, trapping him against the instrument easily and Elio lets himself be trapped, thinks about kissing Lucifer in the elevator to his old penthouse, the other man crowding him just like this. So much has happened since. Lifetimes.
He gasps as Lucifer pushes their crotches together, feeling the always unapologetic hardness of the other man’s cock, growing full and long and impossible to ignore, while Elio’s own is there the next second, too. His hips tremble. Straining. He doesn’t push back against him at first, because Lucifer tells him that and he’s giving himself to him, which is the difference. Back in that elevator, Elio never thought... Never.
Instead, exhaling shakily, he reaches up with both hands, running his palms flat up Lucifer’s chest, abdominal muscles, pecs, nipples, oh. Nipples. He rubs his palm over the left before following up with his thumb, eyes following the full display as it hardens in response. Then, inclining his chin to look up into Lucifer’s face, Elio runs his hands down again, to his waist, around his waist, down over the backside of his pants, grabbing his ass with both of them and pulling him in, grinding up against him as they go. They’re all length and hardness and curve and girth and Elio makes a weak, wanting sound, leaning his forehead against Lucifer’s naked shoulder. ]
My hands are on you, what more do you want? [ He turns his head to the side, licks a fat trail up the side of Lucifer’s neck. ] Mouth?
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With a deep hmm, he tilts his head, pressing back against Elio's tongue as the other man licks a trail up the side of his neck. His saliva dries against his skin quickly, a brief tinge of coolness. Everything else feels like heat, warmer, in a way, than the fires that used to smolder down below, before Elio's first Return (he's started capitalizing these things in his mind now, the notion of new ages, in a way, because that's what it's going to feel like going forwards - Return and Departure, spring and the deadness of winter). ]
I want you to get your cock out.
[ He runs his hands down Elio's chest, spreading his palms out against his shirt on either side of his midriff. Holding onto him for a moment, he nods down between their bodies before he finally steps back, releasing him. It's not that he wants to but look, they're both wearing too many fabrics and the thought of Elio's inevitable departure, far off in the future as it may seem, makes the urge in his abdomen and chest feel potent in an almost desperate way.
So, naturally, he pops his trousers open as the next thing, pulling them down and off, his cock resting long and hard against his abdomen as he straightens up. He stares at Elio expectantly, an unapologetically hungry smile on his face. He should probably also get rid of his socks but then again, he could also just wait for Elio to do as he's told and get on his knees. Decisions, decisions.
Almost like an afterthought, he licks the tip of one finger and drags it slowly across his right nipple while he watches, fingering it to hardness because in these matters, a matching set is always in demand. ]
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The other man holds him by his midriff, looking down between them, the obvious bulges in both their pants and if anything, it gets Elio all the harder, his breathing sounding decidedly funny now. Then, Lucifer wants him to get his cock out and the words by themselves make Elio draw back sharply, even before Lucifer steps back himself and starts undressing the rest of the way. Meaning most of the way, the socks stay on and Elio could probably wish them away, but why would he? It’s nice. Charming, cozy, other similar words. Speaks of intimacy and comfort, who wouldn’t want that in their sex life? In their relationship.
He’s never wished for anything more, he’s realized.
Except, right at this very moment, with Lucifer looking at him hungrily, expectantly, Elio can think of maybe one thing. And not even maybe. He breathes out hard and gets to work on his pants, holding Lucifer’s gaze while his hands work blindly, efficiently, he’s opened his trousers so many times since they began doing this, his fingers know the way. Lucifer’s fingering his other nipple into hardness, something that does strange, wondrous things to Elio’s system. Once his pants fall open around his hips, revealing his hard length underneath, because he stopped wearing underwear some hundred years ago, pretty much, Elio pushes them down, steps out of them and slides them aside with his foot, leaving himself standing there half-dressed, his shirt cutting right at the crotch and not at all hiding his cock.
He reaches down and wraps his fingers, too dry, around the base, hard intake of air there, before leaning back against the piano again, Lucifer’s shirt a ghost out the corner of his eye. His gaze, however, fixes on the other man in front of him. ]
I think you can get us started now.
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That's not the mood they've cultivated here.
Instead, he steps closer, closer yet, until he's once again close enough to put his hands on either side of Elio's body, caging him in against the piano. Like that, it's easy to lean in and lick a long, wet stripe from the middle of his chest and up to his neck. He latches onto that spot where his pulse point beats and trembles, sucking at the skin gently and pushing up against him, lower body against lower body. Elio's shirt makes for a pleasant bit of contrast, too, so Lucifer decides that unless he takes it off himself, it's going to stay on.
Giving the other man's neck a slight nibble with the very edge of his teeth, he kisses a trail down to his shoulder, licking the skin there briefly before craning his neck to catch his collarbone, pecs. And there, mmm, his right nipple, the skin salty and hot between his lips, as he sucks it into his mouth and gets it hard.
He folds one hand against Elio's side, sliding it up beneath his shirt and flattening his palm over his ribs again, feeling how lovely he is, soft but hard. Smooth. Keeping him in place, caught between Lucifer's larger body and the piano at his back, he gives his nipple a hard suck before shifting over to the other one. Repeat. ]
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When the Devil pushes up against his lower body, crotch against crotch, their cocks sliding together in a long drag of hardness, Elio makes a keening sound at the back of his throat and releases his hold, instead reaching up with both arms and slipping them around Lucifer's broad shoulders, holding on, clinging to him, giving himself over, all his weight, all his strength. Lucifer's bigger, taller, sure, he's endlessly stronger, but Elio doesn't lose to him, it was never a matter of that between them. In turn, Lucifer nibbles on his neck with just the edge of his teeth, just making him feel it, the promise of bite and burn. Then, collarbone, pecs, tongue, slick... Elio presses back against the piano, feeling the security, the safeness of having that huge instrument for backrest and Lucifer against his front, keeping him in place, anchored. Keeping him here.
He was always the reason, Elio thinks, hazily. ]
Can you feel it? How I'm getting hard for you?
[ And he is. Lucifer leans down more and sucks his nipple into his mouth, working it with his lips to make it really peak and Elio loses his breath effectively, all shallow pants, head still thrown back, don't look, don't look. His hands, instead, are feeling out the broadness of Lucifer's nape, fingers slipping up into his hair, spreading out, gripping the back of his head and angling him a little, pushing back against him while his mouth searches across Elio's chest for his other nipple, sucking on that as well, hard little twinges of suction while his hand flattens over Elio's ribs beneath his shirt, palm warm and burning, the heat seeping in beyond his skin.
His cock twitches. Elio shifts from foot to foot, spreading his legs wider in invitation. They only ever go down from here, after all. ]
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Gifting himself, you might say, because he might've been somebody else's gift in the original blue prints but from the beginning, Elio's always chosen what he wanted to give. Been tempted on his own terms.
Lucifer's cock gives a hard twitch as he pushes up against Elio's thigh, the slide of naked skin making him feel light-headed with want. For a moment, all he wants to do is get off, just chase that tight feeling in his abdomen to its natural conclusion but because he's not prepubescent and never has been, thanks, he pushes the thought aside with ease. Instead, he shifts to stand more properly between Elio's spread legs and straightens up. He leaves a trail of soft kisses along Elio's jawline before he captures his mouth again, harder this time, pressing his tongue between his lips and filling him up. Yes, it means. Yes, in the general sense, the widest possible definition of the word.
Then, he breaks the kiss, leaving wetness all over Elio's lips, and goes to his knees in front of him. These days, he'd do it for nobody else, no one in the known universe, and the thought makes him harder for it, it makes everything feel new and bright and beautiful. He puts one hand on Elio's left hip, pressing him back a little against the piano and leans in, chin angled to the side, to lick a fat stripe up along the underside of his cock. The taste and scent of skin and arousal goes straight to his blood and he groans, loudly, shifting closer as he presses the tip of his tongue against the subtle veins on the underside right beneath the head, licking at the softness there, repeatedly. He leaves the head for now, bared and tempting as it is.
It's his lollipop, basically, and he'll eat it exactly as he likes. ]
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Look at you, it means. Look how lovely you are.
His breath is shuddering out of him as Lucifer leans in, pressing him back against the piano by his left hip, covered halfway in shirt fabric, teasing just the tip of his tongue up the underside of his cock, feeling out the sensitive veins there and Elio’s knees are honestly buckling a bit already. They play this game sometimes, how long can I make you last, which can, on Lucifer’s end, lead to hours of fucking, just pleasuring each other’s bodies, dragging it on and on and when you’re in bed with the Devil, that can continue for a while, because Lucifer can basically last forever. Elio’s built up some remarkable stamina after a hundred years, but he’s still done before dawn, always. Lucifer sometimes comes with the sun of Elio’s little dimension which is fitting. Elio loves it.
Elio loves this. The time the other man is taking, groaning at his taste and wanting him so badly, you can feel it like heat in the air around them. Lucifer is hot enough, in every sense, to light anything on fire, after all. Elio’s just kindle.
Though, the Devil never makes him feel like just anything. He threads his fingers through Lucifer’s hair, desperate little tugs, then brushing the strands back against his head afterwards, soothingly. ]
I think I like the piano best like this - [ Pant, pant, pant, his lungs go. Strain, strain, strain, his hips. ] - your mouth on me, tongue, lips, like I’m the real instrument.
[ Things you can only tell another musician, and the original musician to boot. ]
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You are. You're the realest anything.
[ His words come out breathy, like he's in awe and he is, always, around Elio. It never stops. With another groan, rougher now and half a breath away from becoming a moan, he angles Elio's cock outwards slightly, away from his body and leans in again, licking the same path up along the underside of his cock. This time, he gives it a couple of good, long licks, faster, a less teasingly. The other man's taste settles on his tongue and chases away all remnants of ash and fire and it's another real thing that he gets in Hell somehow; another thing that doesn't taste like nothing.
Realer than anything, yes. Certainly.
Eyes falling shut, he finally opens his mouth and slips the head of Elio's cock between his lips. He fills himself out with it, letting it push his jaws apart, his balls tightening at the feel of it. He takes it in past the glans, until he's got about a few inches of the shaft resting against his tongue as well, the bulge of the head pressing against the back of his mouth. Then, he holds the other man's cock still in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking on it, saliva slipping past his lips and running unhindered down the length of Elio's cock, between the tips of his fingers. ]
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Obviously, there's touch, how he feels Lucifer, his lips and tongue against the underside of his cock, licking more insistently now at the veins there, following their tracks upwards towards the head. How Elio's balls feel lead-like and heavy between his thighs at all that stimulation, just edging him closer. Then, the sound of the other man spitting into his hand, Elio's balls actually drawing up at the slick noise of it, followed by more touch, wet fingers closing around the base of him, stroking upwards, angling him out for easier access. Oh. Thirdly, there's sound, Lucifer groaning, halfway moaning, if we're real and there's really no need to hide the fact anyway, as he starts licking at him more insistently and finally opens his mouth over the head of Elio's cock, bare and unprotected, take me, it says. Lucifer takes him in a couple of inches, all of the head, the topmost of the shaft, enough that he's full of him, enough that Elio can sense the swell at the back of his mouth like a soft wall to breach.
Oh.
He moans, loudly, chin falling down towards his chest, because he isn't giving up the most notable of the senses currently in play. Vision. He's a fucking vision, Lucifer. Sucking on Elio's cock and letting his spit run in heavy streams down his length, escaping through his fingers and Elio would be thrusting forward, if he didn't respect Lucifer too much to force himself on him like that. But there's some muscles tightening and releasing in his pelvis, thighs, hips, trying to push, have more, get more of that wet heat, tongue along the underside, suction, hollowed cheeks, oh.
Finally, he can't really stand it anymore, tipping his head back and staring up at the ceiling, the upper edge of the piano digging into his back but he doesn't care and it's firewood anyway, just burn it, burn it all... You're the realest anything, Lucifer said. I love you, he didn't, but so close, so close.
Tugging at Lucifer's hair a bit, near his forehead, trying to angle both him and himself, Elio shifts from foot to foot, breathing shot at this point. He looks down again, the visual feeling like a head-on collision. ]
If you're going to take me in further, look at me. Please, look at me.
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Though a part of him feels scandalized at the thought - leave Elio to live forever, with the powers to actually create within the limits of his own realm but nothing to defend himself, nothing for his own protection. Rude. But something about it also turns him on more than a little, not the notion of Elio's defenselessness but rather...
Just knowing that he can still hold him, carry him, stop him. Keep him.
Giving Elio's cock another suck, a little harder this time, he draws back, popping the head out of his mouth briefly. He feels Elio's words, his plea, just as much as he hears it - it's in the way he's trying to tug him in the right direction, trying impossibly to bend himself into a shape that'll take them both flying. Then, he crouches down enough to get a proper, long glide to his throat when he stretches it and looks up, finally, meeting Elio's eyes, his own flashing red from the heat building up inside of him. Gaze intent and unwavering, he opens his mouth and angles Elio's cock downwards, letting it push past his lips again and onto his tongue. From there, he swallows it down past the back of his mouth, past his non-existent gag reflex and into the soft confines of his throat.
It goes down easily, like a hand slipping into a glove.
And suddenly, he's so full of him that he can't breathe and still, he maintains eye contact, his toes curling from pleasure, his fingertips against Elio's hip digging into the bone. ]
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No thrusting, it means. I'll give what I want.
Elio thinks, what you give is plenty, it's enough to last a lifetime, even mine, even mine.
So Elio relaxes back against the side of the piano, pliantly and receptively, keeps his hips perfectly still and runs his palms to the nape of Lucifer's neck, the other dropping to between his shoulder blades, just feeling the trembling air of him as he holds his breath and fills himself with Elio's cock instead. Oxygen stupid, cock important. Elio pants harshly, the hand at Lucifer's neck following the trail of tightened neck muscles to his throat, even more tightened, full, bulging and he touches soft, shaking fingertips to the feel of himself, inside him. Lucifer is embracing him so thoroughly.
What escapes him is almost a sob, because it's beautiful, but it needs friction, movement, give, take. Please, please. ]
You feel so full, Lucifer. You feel like I belong. [ His voice sounds hoarse and a bit thin, breathy, too much air, short on the fire and he wants to be lit aflame, he wants to burn up and disappear and be part of Lucifer's very DNA - the parts of the Devil that rules volcanoes and fissures in the earth.
Then, every word a quiver: ] So good. You're so good.
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Then, he takes hold of Elio's hips with both hands and pushes his hips forward, pressing the other man down just half a inch more before he pushes him backwards, giving him that small slide that he's clearly asking for, fucking his throat with his cock. Repeat. Oh, that's crazy, it's insane. His cock is weeping between his legs. Blinking up at Elio, he does it again, pulling him back and forth on his tongue, before he releases him and waits for the message to sink in.
Do it, he thinks, mouth open wide and Elio's cock lodged deeply in his throat. Take a little now, allow yourself. Because with Elio, sometimes, you have to show him that the landing will be soft, no matter how far he lets himself tumble, how much he'll willingly float. He's not afraid of choice, his Persephone, but he's understandably afraid of no one caring enough to break his fall when he makes them, of having to blame himself for the pain that follows.
Lucifer gets it, of course, even when he doesn't - can't - put words to the sentiment. He remembers hurtling from heaven, waiting for someone to grab him out of thin air because at the time, he'd really thought he understood the world and the universe and how it all came together.
Him and Elio, they're re-learning. Step by step. ]
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That's when Lucifer reaches up with both hands and grabs his hips, like he held him back against the piano before, pulling them back a bit, his whole pelvis, his cock in Lucifer's mouth. The slide is good, making his cock weep precum all over Lucifer's tongue and Elio whines a bit, letting himself be pushed back in again and he gets the cue, the non-verbal consent. Fuck me, it means, fuck my mouth, fuck my throat. Elio feels hazy, like he's seeing everything through a thick fog, so blindly he reaches up and rests his hands on either side of Lucifer's face, feeling his stubble against him palms, cheekbones, contours of his face, lips, he runs his thumb over the corner of his widely gaping mouth, where his cock is sliding past and he feels himself like that as he starts thrusting, small, hard thrusts at first, but gradually he loosens up, gives more, gets more. Lucifer is giving him this, the taking's just the natural outcome of it.
Elio's deep-throated men before, too, men who'd grab him by the back of his head and take, but Lucifer isn't like that, he doesn't want it and he doesn't invite it and Elio only wants to have from him what he'll willingly give, it's all the more precious for it. Like the feathers from his wings when he's preened them, these divine, holy things. His.
He gasps, cock burying back into Lucifer's mouth, Elio staring down at his face between his fingers, holding him. ]
Stop me before I come. I'm not sure I'll be able to by myself.
[ And like that, every word a tremor in and by itself, Elio starts giving more, too, gives more of himself, pushes down smoother, harder, though never roughly, just desperate. He can feel his orgasm beginning to build up in his balls, in the pit of his stomach and he licks his lips, panting wetly now to keep up with his body. Lucifer's body. Lucifer's throat, oh. ]
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Lucifer runs one hand down the inside of Elio's thigh and slips it between his legs. Gently, he folds his fingers around the other man's ballsack, feeling the weight of it against his palm. He's tight, Elio, tight and drawn up. Stop me says Elio and Lucifer's happy to oblige, seeing as his cock is starting to hurt from arousal, like there's no blood left in his brain at all at this point.
Elio's going to come on his cock, he's decided.
Preferably bent over the piano.
Pushing the thought away quickly because those mental images are causing some serious strain to his otherwise impressive stamina, Lucifer folds his fingers around Elio's balls close to the base of his cock. He takes care not to squeeze - because no, indeed - simply turning his hold into a grip that remains, tugging Elio's balls downwards a little bit, away from his body. Drooling heavily at this point, he lets Elio get in a few more thrusts before he pulls back slowly, all the way, until the head pops free from his throat, first, and his mouth, second. It slaps back against Elio's stomach, the head blushing and pink, the blood visibly surging beneath the thin skin along the shaft. There's a string of precum pearling at the slit - Lucifer reaches up with his free hand and runs his thumb over it, smearing it onto the glans, before he draws back, releasing Elio's balls almost reluctantly. ]
Turn around, darling.
[ His voice sounds well-fucked. ]
Let me have you. Please.
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For an endless amount of time, seconds or minutes he doesn't care to count, Elio's allowed inside him, just to take up his space within him and fill him out, be his very insides, along with his organs, along with his blood. He's almost losing it near the end, hips snapping forward a couple of times, but then Lucifer slips his fingers from his inner thigh to his balls, closing his hand around his heavy ballsack and pulling his balls away from his body a bit, reining him in and it's torture, but it's also wonderful and you learn, with the Devil, that pleasure can be a bit of both, don't you?
As Lucifer pulls back, Elio's gasping, hard and rough, the other man letting his cock slip out of his throat, then his mouth, the length of it slapping back against Elio's stomach and it's dirty and sensual at the same time, so Elio releases his hold of Lucifer's face and lets his arms fall to his sides, trying desperately and in vain to catch his breath. Lucifer decides to make it impossible as he smears precum all over Elio's glans, his cock jumping at the friction, the way the slit gets its turn now.
Turn around, the Devil tells him, then, and darling and oh, let me have you. And oh, oh, please, too, his voice rough and hoarse from Elio's cock's undeniable presence in the close vicinity of his vocal chords, like the auditive equivalent of a bathroom graffiti: Elio was here. Feeling his buttocks tighten in response, the flex running all the way down his thighs, Elio nods wordlessly and licks his lips some more. Carefully, he turns around, staying in one place and placing his hands on the edge of the piano, fingers spread out over the lid, Lucifer's shirt still lying abandoned off to the side, his own falling down across his buttcheeks like an attempt at modesty when, really.
All is lost. ]
Have me.
[ Or all is won, because as Elio speaks those two words, voice breathy and light, lube appears on the piano bench, just within reach and it's comforting to know that with all that Lucifer takes care of him, and he does, Elio himself and thus his dimension in extension of him takes care of the rest. ]
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Have me.
Shifting closer on his knees, Lucifer growls and grabs Elio's buttocks, kneading them just a little roughly, pulling them apart. His arsehole looks small and pink and extremely edible. When he leans in close, the smell of musk and skin grows heavier. His cock jerks between his thighs and he realises he's just tempted himself beyond endurance which is really the only type of temptation he'll ever admit to - breathing out heavily, he leans in and presses his tongue against the rim, holding the other man open with both hands. He licks him, long, broad strokes of his tongue, the tip dancing across the sensitive nerve endings there, feeling Elio's arsehole flutter in response to the stimulation.
Moaning loudly, he pushes his tongue in, opening the other man quickly and tasting him all over, his senses exploding from it. From him. Releasing one buttock, he folds his fingers around the base of Elio's cock once more, keeping his grip tight as he pulls his ballsack towards himself - aside from staving off his climax, it has the added advantage of keeping the man pulled back and in position, doesn't it, and that's a lovely little hint of dominance that makes Lucifer fuck him harder, pushing his tongue past his opening and into his body. ]
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Except, in every way that he is, he senses. Lucifer gives him that willingly, that impression.
There's a moan and in goes the Devil's tongue, really opening him up now and while Lucifer fucks him on that wet muscle, he reaches down with one hand to curl his fingers around the base of Elio's cock, tugging him backwards slightly, forcing him into position (oh) and wafting up a quickly growing climax (oh fuck), because the other man is really breaching him with his mouth now, forcing his tongue past the rim, letting him feel full and slick and wet and warm, his asshole clenching around the intrusion, happily unaware of how much more flesh is going to follow.
Trembling against the piano, Elio moans, with abandon, completely without shame, pushing his ass back in Lucifer's face, giving himself more of that tongue in his hole. His balls feel tight and heavy as lead and there's a single second, while he's busy feeling disoriented and faint, where Elio thinks he might actually come despite all Lucifer's best intentions. A harsh surge of heat in his abdomen, his cock twitching helplessly between Lucifer's fingers. ]
Oh. Lucifer, I'm... [ A small whimper, before Elio bites his lip, then his tongue, mostly accidentally. ] I'm so close, I'm going to come, you're going to push me over the edge.
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Some other time, definitely.
For now, he pulls out his tongue and gives Elio's arsehole another quick lick, the muscle there slick and a little bit open, just enough for his finger, maybe, if he were to try. He gets to his feet without wobbling only because he's the actual, literal Devil. ]
We can't have that, can we?
[ He doesn't release Elio's cock, though he loosens his grip a little, rubbing the thin skin around his balls with his fingers briefly. Then, he reaches for the lube with his free hand, gets his fingers nice and slick and slathers up his cock, not bothering with any sort of finesse. ]
Think you can take me or do we need more prep? [ Releasing his by now desperate cock, Lucifer runs one, slick finger in between Elio's buttocks and slips it into him, taking advantage of his slightly loosened rim. His finger sinks in to the last knuckle, no problem. ] Either way's fine by me.
[ He pulls his finger in and out lazily, taking care to avoid the other man's prostate because there's only so much you can really ask of somebody else and at this point, the fact that Elio hasn't already spent himself all over his piano is a sign of great willpower indeed. Lucifer, ditto. Quite frankly. Pursing his lips, he stands crouched in over the other man, one hand around his balls, the other moving slowly back and forth, his palm bumping against his buttocks at every instroke. His cock is literally hurting. ]
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[ It’s the only natural conclusion as Lucifer pulls out, the slick sound of his tongue releasing making Elio feel ready to explode. He shifts restlessly from foot to foot, as much as he can with the other man’s hand still gripping his cock, turning his head to the side and bending one arm to rest his cheek on his own forearm, watching as Lucifer slicks up his fingers, his cock, all sloppy and that’s more near explosions in the general area of Elio’s crotch. He wants him so much. He wants to be one with him, be closer to him than his soul, however sacrilegious that might be. When you’re fucking an angel. When the angel you’re fucking is the Devil. No, Lucifer. He just wants Lucifer.
Now.
As the other man leans in over him, pushing one finger into him to the knuckles, easily, because he’s opened him up already, and gives him the choice between taking him like this or taking him later, with more prep, Elio loves him for that. Always with the choices, with the free will which is such a literal thing between them. Elio can choose, and as long as he does, there are no wrongs. Only missed opportunities. Creative alternatives. Roads taken, roads not. He thinks about the first time he took Lucifer’s cock, remembers how overwhelming that was with all the prep in the world, but that was a mental thing. Elio’s body could take it, then, Lucifer said so himself and Elio’s body can take it now, because they’ve done this countless of times and he wants, he wants, he wants.
So, while Lucifer fucks him on his finger, Elio turns his head and looks at him over one shoulder, feeling his whole body waiting. Ready. Their eyes meet and Elio speaks through some heavy breathing. ]
Tell me how much you want to fuck me, and I’ll let you in.
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I want to fuck you so, so badly. I must have wanted something more, sometime or another, but I honestly don't remember. Feels like a lie, even, as I'm saying it.
[ He pushes his finger in deeper and holds still, releasing Elio's cock and balls and running his hand up his abdomen instead, curving his palm against it beneath his shirt, the fabric wrinkling across his knuckles. He pulls him backwards again, just to watch the way the motion puts his arse further on display, his lower back curving like an s. He keeps his finger buried in him for another second or two, then pulls it out, leaving his arsehole open and glistening with lube and spit. ]
Once I'm inside - [ He steps up behind Elio fully, his hard cock sliding up between his buttocks. Rubbing it over his arsehole and down his crack, he groans at the delicious feel of friction against the head and shaft. ] - ah - once I'm inside, I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll need to conjure up a new piano.
[ He grabs his cock with his free hand and angles it, pushing the head against Elio's arsehole. He's burning hot and it's almost a shock to his system, his balls drawing up harshly, though he manages not to come, focusing on relaxing, on bypassing the urge. ]
Now, Elio. [ Control or not, his voice definitely sounds strained. ] What do we say?
[ He can feel Elio's rim opening around the tip of his cock but he doesn't sink in, doesn't push, simply lets him feel it, lets him wait. ]
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Nodding along in a polite display of active listening, Elio pants harshly, the other man telling him he must have wanted something more at some point, he's lived eons, after all, but he can't remember when and it feels like a lie, even saying it. Elio gasps, twists beneath his finger, going in, out, dragging Elio's lower body with it until he's on full display, bent over, curved at the hips, showing himself off. Then, Lucifer removes his finger, leaving Elio open and waiting, as he steps up behind him fully, close, and Elio can feel his cock head slip down his crack, over his rim and it's so hot, it's burning. He groans.
Lucifer, in turn, continues talking until it's Elio losing all breath. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll need to conjure up a new piano and on Earth, he would've been mortified, to do that to an instrument, but here where he can conjure up a Steinway or a Bösendorfer almost without wasting a thought? Bring it, Lucifer. Break it down. Please.
Please.
Slowly, slowly, the other man starts pushing inward, making Elio acutely sense how his rim stretches and opens up around the tip, the connection between them already so intense, he doesn't need to see the other man's face, his eyes, his lips moving while he keeps talking and Elio would've clasped a hand over his mouth, if he could. Just to give himself a fighting chance. As it is, he gets the last stretch, the wait as Lucifer holds back, doesn't penetrate, simply lets him feel how he could. Elio extends his free arm out across the lid of the piano, curls his fingers and holds on. Oh.
What do we say? ]
Fuck me.
[ Elio says, exhaling long and slow and even to open himself up more, spreading his legs a little, his cock weeping against his stomach and he'll need to touch himself soon, very soon, but they need to get there first, in unison. His voice is shaky and airy and sounds like he's actually high and he does feel out of his head, if square in his body and the contrast between those two opposites is the most beautiful thing, really. ]
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Perfection.
Without another word, he glides inside. ]
Aah! Oh, damn...
[ He pushes past the resistance of Elio's arsehole and though he's stretched him and prepped him, he hasn't gone very far in terms of getting him open and he feels every inch of his own cock, disappearing in the other man's body. Inch by inch by inch. Lips parted on an exhalation that won't seem to leave his chest, Lucifer follows the rhythm of Elio's body with the strength of complete habit - he doesn't push too fast but he doesn't hesitate, either, not at all. Fuck me, said Elio, and this far into their co-existence, Lucifer's quite aware of what he wants and needs in bed, at least with regards to the basics.
Other surprises, of course, remain inevitable when you have a literal eternity to get frisky.
In any case, Elio wants it just a little hard, he wants to feel it, the stretch and the burn, and Lucifer's always happy to give him what he desires, isn't he, and so weirdly, inexplicably proud that he knows. That even without his mojo, he knows. He slides in half-way, then pulls out to the very tip and pushes back in, deeper this time, making room for himself. The piano, meanwhile, is creaking a bit on its wheels and Elio's shirt looks the worse for wear so he grabs a fistful of it and pulls it up over his back, exposing his ribs and the fragile-looking line of his spine.
As he sinks in to the base, he bends forward and kisses him between his shoulder-blades, panting harshly as the friction explodes up and down his length. ]
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The piano creaks.
His eyes fall shut as the other man finally buries himself to the base, one hand pushing his shirt up over his back, laying him bare, ribs, spine, vulnerable places, leaning in over him, seated in his ass to the hilt, to kiss him between the shoulder blades and more than the stretch, which is prominent, and the burn which is good, Elio loves this moment of utter devotion, worship almost, if Lucifer did that kind of thing. Lucifer makes him feel full and he makes him feel loved and in the kind of eternity that they're meant to share? Elio thinks it's the most important things the other man can possibly give him.
Exhaling long and shakily, he takes a moment just to relish the feeling of his rim stretching wide open around the Devil's cock, huge, unapologetically so, to relish the sense of being blocked out so completely that the other man more or less has him speared against the piano, his larger body like a shield across Elio's back, hands on him, cock in him, they're connected in so many places, it's overwhelming but perfect.
Elio shifts his head a little on his forearm, twisting enough to glance back at Lucifer and oh, he moans low in his throat as he accidentally jostles the angle of the other man's cock in him, pleasure blazing through his hard at work nerve endings. Ah, it's so close, so intimate, the way he can just glimpse his hair, but feel the rest, his lips, nose, contours of his face. His cock, his cock. He sometimes wonders if the people Lucifer can mojo, whom he can give exactly what they want, because they can't help themselves from telling him, get this same experience. They get something good, obviously, but do they get this?
Lucifer's hands are big and strong and Elio arches his back up against him, once more getting Lucifer's cock pushed at an angle that makes his skin break out in a sweat and his balls draw up. Lucifer has dug his way into him, no mojo, just effort, and they deserve this moment, they deserve it. ]
You - [ He licks his lips, spreading his fingers wide over the lid of the piano, chin digging into muscle, he can smell himself. ] - feel incredible. Stay like this, please. As long as you can.
[ It's not longing, Elio is done longing, has been for centuries and centuries, but it's comfort. Home. ]
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Shifting, he finally pulls back just a little, a few inches, because he needs that slide so badly and - oh - yes. In. In. He grabs onto Elio's naked hip with his other hand and pulls him back against his own body, holding him still as he starts a slow but even rhythm of in and out, pulling out only about half-way for each thrust. He thinks about maybe angling his hips a little, get Elio's prostate good on each thrust, then... pauses.
Stops.
With his cock buried to the base, he stands there for a moment, his heated gaze suddenly clearing for a second as the idea hits him. He stares straight ahead over Elio's hair, the other man more or less just sitting there on his cock, getting very little movement but oh, oh, what a wonderful idea. He wouldn't have, ages back, but that was then and this is now and oh!
Elio will love it!
Smiling widely, completely satisfied with himself, he shifts again, pushing inwards as he folds his hands around Elio's arms near the wrists, pulling them both gently forward until they're stretched out in front of him, his chin resting fully against the piano lid. Like that, he tips the other man's balance, making him put a little bit more weight on his arse, on Lucifer's cock. He leans down and kisses the back of his head, feeling his hair tickling his lips. ]
Ready for a little more, darling?
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