[ 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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]