[ 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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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. ]