[ 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. ]
[ As always, Lucifer complies. He stays still and lets Elio have the bite, the stretch, the solidity, that hard column of flesh and skin and whatever it holds of love, comfort, give, give. Breathing harshly, he soaks it all up, finally ready to release him as Lucifer pulls back again, giving himself the slide, giving himself the friction, his one hand caressing Elio's back and the other grabbing his hip, yanking him backwards onto his cock more fully, letting him feel the take more than the give, just that one moment. Elio trembles, moaning loudly as the other man starts a slow, even pace of in and out, giving himself Elio's insides like a tunnel, like a sleeve and giving Elio, in turn, the sense of being not just needed, but indispensable.
He's never been indispensable to anyone in his life before.
Then, Lucifer halts completely, for a long moment, leaving Elio just sitting there on his cock, feeling full and still and restless, move, move, his balls are lead-like and all but crawling up between his thighs. Making a small sound and about to turn his head a little, the other man bends in over him, taking hold of his arms by the wrists and stretching them out in front of him on the lid, leaving Elio's chin to rest uncomfortably, but who cares, on the wooden surface. Elio blinks, feels the Devil kiss his hair, so close to him his shadow's got company or competition. Slowly, he's being tipped backwards, more of his weight against Lucifer's front, more of his weight pulling him down over his cock. He gasps. Curls his hands into fists against the lid of the piano, nails digging into his own palms. Oh. Oh. Yes.
Ready for a little more, Lucifer wants to know, then, and as always between them, any such inquiries are to acquire consent, there's nothing the other man would ever do without Elio's full willingness to engage. It's rarely been an issue, with Lucifer, Elio will try most things at least once and a good percentage of those things twice, if not more, but he loves that he always gets the choice. And not just that he does, but that anything else would be unthinkable. For the angel who went to war for the sake of free will. He smiles, a bit shakily, granted, but wide enough that Lucifer might even see it, and inclines his head to the side a little. Feels Lucifer's nose brush along the curve of his skull, amidst all his hair.
There are so many things it could be, this little more and maybe he should be concerned with all the possibilities, but he isn't. He's never concerned in bed with Lucifer, Lucifer will care for him.
Think, to be cared for. Just for good measure, he tightens his asshole a bit around the girth of Lucifer's cock, feels it stretch, open him up. If only he could be more open, more and more and more... When he speaks, his voice is raw and husky: ]
Does it have to be little?
[ It means yes. It means do it, whatever. It means, do what you want with me, I'm yours.
[ He laughs, a low sound and mostly air against the back of Elio's head. He can feel the other man tighten around his cock, gripping him tighter, like he can't quite get enough of being full and stretched. He can't, by the way. Elio's a size queen like few he's ever met and it's absolutely wonderful. Tightening his grip on the other man's wrists, he takes a second to close his eyes and feel the heat around his cock, the pleasure surging down his shaft and straight to his balls whenever he moves his hips even the slightest. Oh, it's so good. And in a moment... in a moment...
There's just the briefest, briefest moment of hesitation when he thinks about changing, the way he's done hundreds of times over the past years. Once he realised that he could, once he dared to truly believe that he'd achieved that kind of control over himself, it became almost second nature but there'll always be a part of him, however diminished, that can't quite stand it.
To shift.
With a long, outdrawn breath against Elio's neck, he lets it roll over him, feeling his hands grow just a bit larger, his spine breaking through the skin of his back without causing any damage or pain. His wings burst from his shoulders, huge and blood-red, covered in feathers, the talons longer now, sharper. They come to a rest on either side of Elio's head, huge and dark, the tips pointing slightly inwards towards him.
His cock, meanwhile - oh, yes, fantastic - his cock, well, it grows. It widens just enough that he can feel Elio's arsehole, his inner walls, stretching with it, the heat intensifying and the tightness absolutely mindblowing. He gasps, his voice a dark growl, and keeps himself firmly buried in Elio's body, letting the other man feel every last second of the change. The piano wails underneath the extra bodyweight and he lets it.
Lets Elio take it, too, because he knows he can. ]
The first give-away is how Lucifer's breath changes, how he seems to expel something from himself which Elio feels then, as something tangible in his body, with how close they are currently, he feels every little change acutely. The next give-away is his hands, closed over Elio's wrists, like shields, like shackles, and they're growing bigger, growing red, and Elio stares at his left one with huge eyes, unblinkingly, seeing how they go from human hands to his Devil ones, claws curving over his knuckles, scraping against the piano lid and leaving thin scratches. Elio will definitely need a new piano after this, won't he? He'll make himself a better one next time, too.
Lucifer is showing him how.
Elio pants breathlessly, trying to catch himself beforehand, knowing what will come and prepare for it, but even his vast imagination has to give up trying to map out the difference between the wonders of Lucifer's ordinary cock (that is never ordinary, of course) and the wonders of his cock, bigger, thicker, wider, growing in his asshole and hollowing him out from the inside, making his very flesh yield to it. He whimpers, loudly, a long, outdrawn, keening sound that rings in the silence, his muscles actually contracting violently, from the rim of his asshole to his thighs to his arms, shaking beneath Lucifer's fingers and palms. He can't, oh, he can't... ]
Fuck, Lucifer...
[ It's small and thin and Elio so rarely swears, but the overwhelming stretch of Lucifer's cock like this, stretching him open, all but ripping him up, the head large and round and pressing straight past his prostate is making him lose it completely, his body feeling tiny and pliant and giving and he always wanted to be all that, giving and accommodating and small, right? To meet and be met. Feet fighting for purchase against the floor, socks sliding over the floorboards futilely, he whines and presses back, taking more, taking.
Around him, Lucifer's wings are curving, but they're not his bat wings, they're feathered and red and beautiful and Elio carefully dislodges one hand from Lucifer's grip to reach out, fighting to touch the arch of the nearest one. So him, this is so him. ]
[ His mind, for a long, blessed moment, goes blank as his cock grows to its full size, Devil-version, Elio whimpering against him and pressing back, telling him without words that he wants he, he likes it, and Lucifer is starting to think that maybe, to some extent, despite the angry redness of his skin and the claws on his wings, so does he. He's breathing harshly, heavily, against the back of Elio's neck, feeling almost overstimulated, his cock aching for friction, to move, move, move. But instead, he stays for a moment, feeling Elio searching for his wing and moving it, almost instinctually, into his grip. The feathers, in this form, are red, orange and black - fire, he thinks, like his Devil form has adjusted to contain all the basics of Hell, of this dimension that he's chosen to become a part of, to rule and to own and to nourish. Chosen.
Yes, that's how it is, now.
Letting Elio grab whatever he likes of the feathers, he nibbles along the line of his jaw before he simply puts his hand - free, now that Elio's dislodged his grip - against the side of his head and turns it enough to catch his lips. He kisses him, shifting his hips to pull out a bit, then in, rocking into Elio's body slowly. He pushes his tongue past the other man's lips and tastes him, letting him taste himself in turn, holding onto his other wrist and keeping him flat against the piano. He's so lovely like this, too, when he gives himself over, when he takes it and loves it.
When he loves...
Lucifer starts fucking him, setting a slow but even rhythm of in and out, his cock gliding back and forth easier as Elio's body adjusts to the larger girth. He takes care to hit his prostate at every instroke because he wants him to feel it, to feel the pleasure of it and drown in it. Even down here where pleasure means nothing to everybody else, he wants Elio's very existence to be formed and shaped by it, he wants that for him and distantly, yes, he's aware of the irony. Of the Devil, who fought and Fell for free will and choice, wanting something for someone else, fighting to make it happen.
He snaps his hips forward, kissing Elio all throughout and thinking that regardless of his own principles or whatever that might even mean at this point, this - this - cannot be wrong. ]
[ They stay still together for a moment, Lucifer only moving enough to push his wing into Elio's grip, allowing his fingers to feel out his feathers, new ones, firebird-like, that kind of color scheme, but Elio always knew Lucifer wasn't meant to fall, he was meant to rise. He's sighing impatiently at the standstill, though, the way his body's blowing wide around the other man's enlargened girth and pretty much leaving him unable to do anything in response but let it be known, how his cock's weeping, bobbing heavily and hard against his abdomen. He groans, shifts. Lucifer nibbles along his jawline, leaving his sweaty skin spitslick and overheated. Elio swallows, carts his fingers through the red and orange and black of the other man's wing, caressing him. Meanwhile, Lucifer turns his head carefully towards himself and catches his lips, kissing him deep on the mouth, pushing his tongue into him, penetrating him there as well. Eyes falling shut, Elio breathes hard into the kiss, lets himself be overtaken at this end, too, feeling his whole body hardening from it, trembling, wanting. His slit is dripping with precum at this point, he feels it against his own skin. Oh.
So close. Oh.
Then, finally, finally, comes the thrusting, Lucifer carving his way into him slowly, evenly, going straight for his prostate while keeping him on his tongue, letting him taste himself, ass and cock and the dark undercurrent that's Lucifer's own. Elio feels faint at this point, like his body's doing overtime, like he should have come hours ago, honestly, but he meets every forward snap of the other man's hips with pliant acceptance, like his ass is embracing him and all of Elio, really, would embrace all of Lucifer, any day. He moans, loudly, into Lucifer's mouth, feeling his thigh muscles tighten and his balls draw up, knowing he can't give him more now, this is the last of it, this is the time.
Leaning in over the piano more, to gain a better angle, all up on his toes, he feels the first tremors of contraction around Lucifer's cock, like hard squeezing, someone shaking someone's something... He can't think anymore, there's just the pleasure, his body opening and closing and that cliff's edge that he's standing on the verge of, balancing, waiting. ]
Make yourself come in me. Be rough, I can take you.
[ Panting, he's breaking away from the kiss, whispering hoarsely against Lucifer's lips. ]
[ The kiss is slow and dirty, wet like they might both be drowning somehow and when he pushes his cock into Elio's arse, his movements growing steadfastly deeper and faster, he feels like there's nothing but Elio here, that in this very moment, they flow together with seemingly no beginnings or endings. He's surrounded by him - his cock in his body, his very self by the realm that Elio's conjured up by his presence alone, this place that locks itself down in his absence because it's Elio and without Elio, it simply isn't.
Make yourself come in me says Elio, whispering against his lips and sounding stretched beyond all sense and reason and Lucifer, in turn, moans and snaps his hips forward. The piano rocks beneath them, the legs groaning from exertion and at his next instroke, he senses it, how the structure begins to disintegrate. Instinctually and lightening-fast, he folds both wings around Elio's body, sheltering him, his cock buried to the hilt in his body. Another thrust. Another. Another.
The piano comes apart first. The legs give in and the soundboard tilts, breaking beneath his wings, the wood splintering against his feathers. He keeps Elio curled up close against him, hidden away from his own world, too, and he fucks him hard and fast, pressing his face against the side of his neck. The pleasure isn't even truly pleasure anymore - it's just the urge to fall, yes, to tumble down with Elio stretched and open and lovely against his body. He's got one arm wrapped around the other man's small waist, keeping him balanced against his own body, the rest of his body lying against his wingspan as he goes - deeper - oh, oh, oh -- ]
Elio! Ah, fuck --
[ His climax is long, feels almost endless in its sheer intensity and his cock pulses harshly in Elio's body as he spends himself deep within him, load after load, distantly amused at how much there seems to be. Well. The Devil's definitely breeding his Queen, isn't he? Heh. Eyes shut, he feels rather than sees how the broken remains of the piano cracks beneath his wings and oh, isn't this the best way to wreck a piano, possibly the only proper way?
[ It happens in an instant, possibly all of it, but he notices it ranked by size, the piano (biggest) creaking and trembling beneath their combined weight and the sheer force of Lucifer's thrusts. There's a moment when he actually panics, starving off his own orgasm another second, two, until he realizes - it's all his, here. This piano will disappear as soon as they're done with it, he'll make a new one, better, bigger, sturdier. Lucifer, too, is his. Elio rules this realm, truly. Maybe that's what makes this particular orgasm blow his mind, that feeling of complete empowerment, or it's because Lucifer's wings (bigger) come up around him, wrapping him in their feathers, shielding him from the piano that crumbles and breaks and splinters beneath them. Letting himself be held and letting himself be fucked, he listens to Lucifer moaning, saying his name and only seconds before the Devil, Elio comes, sobbing quietly as his asshole contracts hard around the huge girth of Lucifer's cock, his own cock spurting cum all over Lucifer's wings and he doesn't know whether he finds it sacriligeous or fitting, maybe a bit of both. How he's staining him, leaving himself all over his body while Lucifer, in turn, is leaving himself in load upon load upon load inside him. They're marking each other, aren't they? They're marking each other not just for the moment, but for life and life, for them, is a prolonged affair.
It has to be this big. It can't be any different.
Somewhere halfway through his climax, his body goes slack and he's only half-aware of Lucifer fucking him through his own orgasm, only half-aware of the placement of his arm and his face, how he stays close even this way, their socked feet running in parallel on the floor, piano wrecked in front of them. Elio's never run in parallel with anyone before. He loves it, he thinks.
Lucifer keeps sheltering him from the broken wood they're halfway leaning on and halfway lifting off. After a long while, Elio hasn't kept count, he regains some kind of presence again and the Devil's done filling him with his seed, too, and they're just lying there, on top of the mess they've made. Of Elio's little piece of Heaven in Hell, of each other, Elio's asshole is still wide open around Lucifer's slowly softening cock, feeling sore and had. He'll be open for a while to come after this. Definitely won't be able to sit on anything even resembling a piano bench. Elio smiles and snuggles in against Lucifer with a content sigh.
It was beautiful. I'll drop you, let you fall and catch you again, right? Humming softly, he kisses Lucifer's jawline, still angrily red and the skin scarred, then his lips, lightly, then his nose. He tries to move as little as possible to do it, because everything hurts and that is beautiful, too. To be hurting and to be held.
The wood of the piano groans and creaks beneath them. ]
This is the best I've heard that piano sound until now.
[ Elio sounds a bit like it, actually, the piano. Half-dead. Well-fucked. ]
[ They come to a rest after some little time, he can't pretend to know how much because his brain has, conveniently, gone right out of his dick along with those loads of cum. Oh. Elio's arsehole has stopped clenching around him now, though feeling that had been the last straw, just getting milked when he was already coming, the other man's stretched muscles working around him, taking him even further...
In any case.
He's got no brain left and that's good, that's bloody amazing because it means he can't remember all the things he usually knows when he comes down from his high; the notion of impact, for instance, of finding your feet and looking up, up, up... He blinks. Changes tracks and it's that easy, it truly is. He sighs, relaxed from his toes to the top of his head, Elio leaving soft imprints along his jawline, lips, nose that stay, even as he draws away.
Lucifer's dimly aware of his cock going flaccid gradually in Elio's body. Can't be very comfortable for him, though, stretched as he is and no doubt sensitive to the point of rawness - but all the same, Elio's definitely resting languidly in his arms and he's fairly certain they might just go to sleep in a moment.
As gently as he can, he shifts his hips and slides out, nuzzling the nape of Elio's neck by way of apology for the resultant burn before he finally comes to a rest next to him on his side, pulling Elio up against his front and letting him get comfortable as he wishes. Whether he'd like to spoon or just stay on his stomach, well, Lucifer's all for whatever. Just stay. Stay right here.
He smiles into Elio's hair, his own, charred lips finding the expression easier these days, with less constriction. He pushes his nose against the side of his head, breathing his curls in, getting one up his nose and that's kind of cute in a weird way - but oh, it was so good, Elio's so good and he runs his big palm over the other man's hip, holding him there, keeping his wings wrapped around him and thinks -- ]
I love you, darling. I love you so much.
[ It makes something loosen the rest of the way in his chest, the way it doesn't even feel the slightest bit wrong to say it. The only thing that feels wrong is the time they've put behind them, how he's never dared... But he does, now. He isn't afraid of it, of lying to himself or to Elio. They're going to be down here for all eternity, most likely, and though Elio will pop back up to Earth at intervals, he'll always return. This one will not be lost to him.
[ There's always that uncomfortable, clingy moment after sex when skin's sticking together from sweat and fluids, when everything's either too warm or chilling too quickly and normally, those moments would be what made Elio want to run. He doesn't now. He stays right in place, even as Lucifer shifts against him, popping his cock out of Elio's abused asshole, wide and gaping as he leaves his body, Elio wincing just the tiniest bit, because although he loves the burn, that reminder that his body has been had and loved, it does hurt like a bitch. Still, he rolls onto his side enough to push his back up against Lucifer's front, feeling the other man nuzzling his hair, his neck, holding him close and letting him settle in as he wishes. Always as he wishes, with Lucifer. That's the Devil's work, after all. Elio smiles and lets his eyes fall closed, feeling an unusual rest descend over his body, like a deep-sated ache that's been treated right. The darkness behind his closed eyelids is brownish, almost red at the edges. Hell-like. He stays like that. Exactly like that.
Then, Lucifer curves his wings around him just a tiny bit further, like he's embracing him twofold and Elio wants to reach out and touch those beautiful feathers, even blindly, but Lucifer tells him... He tells him... And out of nowhere, although Elio hasn't thought about Michel actively in a thousand years, more or less, he remembers the other man asking him whether Lucifer had said the words, whether he could, whether Elio thought he would and Elio who'd insisted that was Lucifer's own business, it didn't belong to Elio, certainly didn't belong to Michel. At no point between then and now, there and here, has Elio claimed his right to Lucifer's love, but satisfied himself with being shown, being cared for, being prioritized, chosen, wanted. No, Elio hasn't waited for Lucifer to tell him he loved him, because Elio knew he did. Maybe, however, he has waited for Lucifer to realize it as well.
He blinks his eyes open, stares straight ahead, melting into Lucifer's front. Normally, if someone told him they loved him after he'd allowed them to come in his body, he wouldn't have counted it for much, but Elio knows this is the language Lucifer speaks best. Elio couldn't have asked to be told more clearly, never. So, he blinks again, vision feeling wet at the corners and smiles widely, leaning his head back against Lucifer's face, nose, forehead, staring up into angry red skin. ]
I love you, too. All of you, and there's so much, Lucifer. So much to love.
[ His beautiful Lucifer.
Reaching up, Elio caresses one of the other man's eyebrows with curious fingers, then his temple, then the shell of his ear. Just touch. Just love. Elio closes his eyes again and once more, he's in Hell. Home. ]
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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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He's never been indispensable to anyone in his life before.
Then, Lucifer halts completely, for a long moment, leaving Elio just sitting there on his cock, feeling full and still and restless, move, move, his balls are lead-like and all but crawling up between his thighs. Making a small sound and about to turn his head a little, the other man bends in over him, taking hold of his arms by the wrists and stretching them out in front of him on the lid, leaving Elio's chin to rest uncomfortably, but who cares, on the wooden surface. Elio blinks, feels the Devil kiss his hair, so close to him his shadow's got company or competition. Slowly, he's being tipped backwards, more of his weight against Lucifer's front, more of his weight pulling him down over his cock. He gasps. Curls his hands into fists against the lid of the piano, nails digging into his own palms. Oh. Oh. Yes.
Ready for a little more, Lucifer wants to know, then, and as always between them, any such inquiries are to acquire consent, there's nothing the other man would ever do without Elio's full willingness to engage. It's rarely been an issue, with Lucifer, Elio will try most things at least once and a good percentage of those things twice, if not more, but he loves that he always gets the choice. And not just that he does, but that anything else would be unthinkable. For the angel who went to war for the sake of free will. He smiles, a bit shakily, granted, but wide enough that Lucifer might even see it, and inclines his head to the side a little. Feels Lucifer's nose brush along the curve of his skull, amidst all his hair.
There are so many things it could be, this little more and maybe he should be concerned with all the possibilities, but he isn't. He's never concerned in bed with Lucifer, Lucifer will care for him.
Think, to be cared for. Just for good measure, he tightens his asshole a bit around the girth of Lucifer's cock, feels it stretch, open him up. If only he could be more open, more and more and more... When he speaks, his voice is raw and husky: ]
Does it have to be little?
[ It means yes. It means do it, whatever. It means, do what you want with me, I'm yours.
It means, I trust you. ]
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There's just the briefest, briefest moment of hesitation when he thinks about changing, the way he's done hundreds of times over the past years. Once he realised that he could, once he dared to truly believe that he'd achieved that kind of control over himself, it became almost second nature but there'll always be a part of him, however diminished, that can't quite stand it.
To shift.
With a long, outdrawn breath against Elio's neck, he lets it roll over him, feeling his hands grow just a bit larger, his spine breaking through the skin of his back without causing any damage or pain. His wings burst from his shoulders, huge and blood-red, covered in feathers, the talons longer now, sharper. They come to a rest on either side of Elio's head, huge and dark, the tips pointing slightly inwards towards him.
His cock, meanwhile - oh, yes, fantastic - his cock, well, it grows. It widens just enough that he can feel Elio's arsehole, his inner walls, stretching with it, the heat intensifying and the tightness absolutely mindblowing. He gasps, his voice a dark growl, and keeps himself firmly buried in Elio's body, letting the other man feel every last second of the change. The piano wails underneath the extra bodyweight and he lets it.
Lets Elio take it, too, because he knows he can. ]
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Oh.
The first give-away is how Lucifer's breath changes, how he seems to expel something from himself which Elio feels then, as something tangible in his body, with how close they are currently, he feels every little change acutely. The next give-away is his hands, closed over Elio's wrists, like shields, like shackles, and they're growing bigger, growing red, and Elio stares at his left one with huge eyes, unblinkingly, seeing how they go from human hands to his Devil ones, claws curving over his knuckles, scraping against the piano lid and leaving thin scratches. Elio will definitely need a new piano after this, won't he? He'll make himself a better one next time, too.
Lucifer is showing him how.
Elio pants breathlessly, trying to catch himself beforehand, knowing what will come and prepare for it, but even his vast imagination has to give up trying to map out the difference between the wonders of Lucifer's ordinary cock (that is never ordinary, of course) and the wonders of his cock, bigger, thicker, wider, growing in his asshole and hollowing him out from the inside, making his very flesh yield to it. He whimpers, loudly, a long, outdrawn, keening sound that rings in the silence, his muscles actually contracting violently, from the rim of his asshole to his thighs to his arms, shaking beneath Lucifer's fingers and palms. He can't, oh, he can't... ]
Fuck, Lucifer...
[ It's small and thin and Elio so rarely swears, but the overwhelming stretch of Lucifer's cock like this, stretching him open, all but ripping him up, the head large and round and pressing straight past his prostate is making him lose it completely, his body feeling tiny and pliant and giving and he always wanted to be all that, giving and accommodating and small, right? To meet and be met. Feet fighting for purchase against the floor, socks sliding over the floorboards futilely, he whines and presses back, taking more, taking.
Around him, Lucifer's wings are curving, but they're not his bat wings, they're feathered and red and beautiful and Elio carefully dislodges one hand from Lucifer's grip to reach out, fighting to touch the arch of the nearest one. So him, this is so him. ]
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Yes, that's how it is, now.
Letting Elio grab whatever he likes of the feathers, he nibbles along the line of his jaw before he simply puts his hand - free, now that Elio's dislodged his grip - against the side of his head and turns it enough to catch his lips. He kisses him, shifting his hips to pull out a bit, then in, rocking into Elio's body slowly. He pushes his tongue past the other man's lips and tastes him, letting him taste himself in turn, holding onto his other wrist and keeping him flat against the piano. He's so lovely like this, too, when he gives himself over, when he takes it and loves it.
When he loves...
Lucifer starts fucking him, setting a slow but even rhythm of in and out, his cock gliding back and forth easier as Elio's body adjusts to the larger girth. He takes care to hit his prostate at every instroke because he wants him to feel it, to feel the pleasure of it and drown in it. Even down here where pleasure means nothing to everybody else, he wants Elio's very existence to be formed and shaped by it, he wants that for him and distantly, yes, he's aware of the irony. Of the Devil, who fought and Fell for free will and choice, wanting something for someone else, fighting to make it happen.
He snaps his hips forward, kissing Elio all throughout and thinking that regardless of his own principles or whatever that might even mean at this point, this - this - cannot be wrong. ]
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So close. Oh.
Then, finally, finally, comes the thrusting, Lucifer carving his way into him slowly, evenly, going straight for his prostate while keeping him on his tongue, letting him taste himself, ass and cock and the dark undercurrent that's Lucifer's own. Elio feels faint at this point, like his body's doing overtime, like he should have come hours ago, honestly, but he meets every forward snap of the other man's hips with pliant acceptance, like his ass is embracing him and all of Elio, really, would embrace all of Lucifer, any day. He moans, loudly, into Lucifer's mouth, feeling his thigh muscles tighten and his balls draw up, knowing he can't give him more now, this is the last of it, this is the time.
Leaning in over the piano more, to gain a better angle, all up on his toes, he feels the first tremors of contraction around Lucifer's cock, like hard squeezing, someone shaking someone's something... He can't think anymore, there's just the pleasure, his body opening and closing and that cliff's edge that he's standing on the verge of, balancing, waiting. ]
Make yourself come in me. Be rough, I can take you.
[ Panting, he's breaking away from the kiss, whispering hoarsely against Lucifer's lips. ]
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Make yourself come in me says Elio, whispering against his lips and sounding stretched beyond all sense and reason and Lucifer, in turn, moans and snaps his hips forward. The piano rocks beneath them, the legs groaning from exertion and at his next instroke, he senses it, how the structure begins to disintegrate. Instinctually and lightening-fast, he folds both wings around Elio's body, sheltering him, his cock buried to the hilt in his body. Another thrust. Another. Another.
The piano comes apart first. The legs give in and the soundboard tilts, breaking beneath his wings, the wood splintering against his feathers. He keeps Elio curled up close against him, hidden away from his own world, too, and he fucks him hard and fast, pressing his face against the side of his neck. The pleasure isn't even truly pleasure anymore - it's just the urge to fall, yes, to tumble down with Elio stretched and open and lovely against his body. He's got one arm wrapped around the other man's small waist, keeping him balanced against his own body, the rest of his body lying against his wingspan as he goes - deeper - oh, oh, oh -- ]
Elio! Ah, fuck --
[ His climax is long, feels almost endless in its sheer intensity and his cock pulses harshly in Elio's body as he spends himself deep within him, load after load, distantly amused at how much there seems to be. Well. The Devil's definitely breeding his Queen, isn't he? Heh. Eyes shut, he feels rather than sees how the broken remains of the piano cracks beneath his wings and oh, isn't this the best way to wreck a piano, possibly the only proper way?
He'd say. ]
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It has to be this big. It can't be any different.
Somewhere halfway through his climax, his body goes slack and he's only half-aware of Lucifer fucking him through his own orgasm, only half-aware of the placement of his arm and his face, how he stays close even this way, their socked feet running in parallel on the floor, piano wrecked in front of them. Elio's never run in parallel with anyone before. He loves it, he thinks.
Lucifer keeps sheltering him from the broken wood they're halfway leaning on and halfway lifting off. After a long while, Elio hasn't kept count, he regains some kind of presence again and the Devil's done filling him with his seed, too, and they're just lying there, on top of the mess they've made. Of Elio's little piece of Heaven in Hell, of each other, Elio's asshole is still wide open around Lucifer's slowly softening cock, feeling sore and had. He'll be open for a while to come after this. Definitely won't be able to sit on anything even resembling a piano bench. Elio smiles and snuggles in against Lucifer with a content sigh.
It was beautiful. I'll drop you, let you fall and catch you again, right? Humming softly, he kisses Lucifer's jawline, still angrily red and the skin scarred, then his lips, lightly, then his nose. He tries to move as little as possible to do it, because everything hurts and that is beautiful, too. To be hurting and to be held.
The wood of the piano groans and creaks beneath them. ]
This is the best I've heard that piano sound until now.
[ Elio sounds a bit like it, actually, the piano. Half-dead. Well-fucked. ]
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In any case.
He's got no brain left and that's good, that's bloody amazing because it means he can't remember all the things he usually knows when he comes down from his high; the notion of impact, for instance, of finding your feet and looking up, up, up... He blinks. Changes tracks and it's that easy, it truly is. He sighs, relaxed from his toes to the top of his head, Elio leaving soft imprints along his jawline, lips, nose that stay, even as he draws away.
Lucifer's dimly aware of his cock going flaccid gradually in Elio's body. Can't be very comfortable for him, though, stretched as he is and no doubt sensitive to the point of rawness - but all the same, Elio's definitely resting languidly in his arms and he's fairly certain they might just go to sleep in a moment.
As gently as he can, he shifts his hips and slides out, nuzzling the nape of Elio's neck by way of apology for the resultant burn before he finally comes to a rest next to him on his side, pulling Elio up against his front and letting him get comfortable as he wishes. Whether he'd like to spoon or just stay on his stomach, well, Lucifer's all for whatever. Just stay. Stay right here.
He smiles into Elio's hair, his own, charred lips finding the expression easier these days, with less constriction. He pushes his nose against the side of his head, breathing his curls in, getting one up his nose and that's kind of cute in a weird way - but oh, it was so good, Elio's so good and he runs his big palm over the other man's hip, holding him there, keeping his wings wrapped around him and thinks -- ]
I love you, darling. I love you so much.
[ It makes something loosen the rest of the way in his chest, the way it doesn't even feel the slightest bit wrong to say it. The only thing that feels wrong is the time they've put behind them, how he's never dared... But he does, now. He isn't afraid of it, of lying to himself or to Elio. They're going to be down here for all eternity, most likely, and though Elio will pop back up to Earth at intervals, he'll always return. This one will not be lost to him.
He'll come home.
There's nothing to be afraid of. ]
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Then, Lucifer curves his wings around him just a tiny bit further, like he's embracing him twofold and Elio wants to reach out and touch those beautiful feathers, even blindly, but Lucifer tells him... He tells him... And out of nowhere, although Elio hasn't thought about Michel actively in a thousand years, more or less, he remembers the other man asking him whether Lucifer had said the words, whether he could, whether Elio thought he would and Elio who'd insisted that was Lucifer's own business, it didn't belong to Elio, certainly didn't belong to Michel. At no point between then and now, there and here, has Elio claimed his right to Lucifer's love, but satisfied himself with being shown, being cared for, being prioritized, chosen, wanted. No, Elio hasn't waited for Lucifer to tell him he loved him, because Elio knew he did. Maybe, however, he has waited for Lucifer to realize it as well.
He blinks his eyes open, stares straight ahead, melting into Lucifer's front. Normally, if someone told him they loved him after he'd allowed them to come in his body, he wouldn't have counted it for much, but Elio knows this is the language Lucifer speaks best. Elio couldn't have asked to be told more clearly, never. So, he blinks again, vision feeling wet at the corners and smiles widely, leaning his head back against Lucifer's face, nose, forehead, staring up into angry red skin. ]
I love you, too. All of you, and there's so much, Lucifer. So much to love.
[ His beautiful Lucifer.
Reaching up, Elio caresses one of the other man's eyebrows with curious fingers, then his temple, then the shell of his ear. Just touch. Just love. Elio closes his eyes again and once more, he's in Hell. Home. ]