[ 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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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. ]