[ He's finished sending the good Doctor on her way because party poopers aren't allowed in his vicinity tonight, the King's spoken and you can fucking well bow to that. He empties his shot glass like he's emptied all the others that have gone before, the three lovely ladies by the bar following his lead, their laughter running like metal gears, a little bit shrill, a little bit odd. It had felt like pushing a heated blade through hot butter when he'd pushed Azrael's Blade into Uriel's gut. There's been a sort of wet, sucking sound, squelching, kind of, and he's never killed anyone before, it's just... very peculiar. These details. The way they flitter about inside his head, like flies on a rotten slab of meat.
Just, bzz, bzz, bzz. Buzzing.
He gets another shot and downs it while the ladies draw away, shifting out of his field of vision. He forgets about them instantly. Doesn't matter. They aren't really here, anyway. Leaning against the bar in a complete slouch, the buttons on his shirt undone and his vest holding it all together because nothing else is currently doing that job, Lucifer lets his gaze glide over the dance floor. Full of shadows, this place, dancing and spinning and bouncing off the walls. Uriel hadn't expected him to do that, he'd said. I didn't see that coming. Despite everything, he hadn't thought nearly lowly enough of him, apparently.
He blinks. Sees someone familiar making his way through the crowd and grins, holding up his shot glass in greeting and yelling over the music: ]
Elio! How good of you to come - there's some great tequila on the menu tonight.
[ The other man's voice reaches him first. His name, then how good of you to come and a sales speech for the tequila apparently on the menu tonight. If the looks of the man wouldn't be sales speech enough, really, Elio realizes as he comes up next to Lucifer at the bar, eyes gliding up his front slowly. A frown, he looks disheveled, like he's rolled right out of bed, his own or someone else's, his shirt unbuttoned and his vest ensuring it isn't flapping everywhere, to all sides. Elio cocks his head a little, fixes his gaze on his face, his broad and open features, he's grinning, he looks like it's the time of his life, here and now, here and now.
Here and now.
Softly, Elio smiles back at him, before catching the nearest bartender's gaze, nodding at Lucifer's shot glass. The bartender produces a glass for him as well, though Elio leaves it sweating on the counter at first. Instead he meets the other man's eyes and moves close enough to be heard over the music without having to shout quite as loudly as Lucifer had moments ago. Like that, they end up standing close enough for Elio's hand to accidentally brush Lucifer's, fingertips over knuckles, nothing invasive. Elio steps back just a little in response regardless.
Another smile, happy. ]
You've been at it for a while already, haven't you? [ The tequila, the letting himself go... It's just the obvious conclusion, Lucifer looks like he's been partying since noon, pretty much. There's no judgement in Elio's tone of voice, though. ] Do I stand a chance of catching up?
[ Oooh, and sweet, un-presumptuous little Elio plays along, doesn't he, smiling back at him softly whilst moving just a little further into his personal space, enough for them both to imagine that it doesn't have to mean anything at all. If they wanted to. Elio brushes his hand against Lucifer's and it's much, much too little now, his skin buzzing with the wrong kind of electricity, the kind that burns and stings and leaves you scorched. Takes a lot more to numb him tonight and seeing as he's definitely going for a hundred percent flat-on-your-back-with-a-broken-spine numb, Lucifer's going to push this train into motion, stat.
He closes the distance between them just like that, slipping his arm around Elio's waist and spinning him around a few steps, not quite in time with the music pounding across the dance floor. They're pressed up like that, front to front, and people are clapping and whooping around them because they so rarely get the man-on-man action that they're all secretly lusting for. Even the straight blokes. Especially those. ]
Why would you want to?
[ He stops, releasing his hold around Elio's waist enough to allow the man to step away if he wants to. Oh, look how courteous a cold-blooded murderer can be. Bet you never knew. Bet you never saw. He's smiling still, speech slightly slurred as he leans in close, lips brushing the shell of Elio's ear: ]
Catching up only gets you in the know and trust me, you don't wanna be there. Stay confused. Stay blind and stupid and unwise.
[ It happens in the blink of an eye, Lucifer slipping his arm around Elio's waist and spinning them around, a beat after the music and people are cheering and whooping in a way that should make him blush, except it doesn't, this isn't Michel and him in the bistro, touching hands and hoping no one notices, this is different. Something else. Someone. He's staring up into Lucifer's face, his wide grin, the sheen of sweat on his face, the dark, dark expression in his eyes. Dangerous, he thinks and swallows hard, his body feeling overheated and oversensitive. Everywhere they touch, he's burning.
Then, Lucifer lets him go, obviously daring him to take the opportunity, but Elio doesn't budge, instead letting his gaze trek across his face, noticing little details like the age that shows at the corners of his eyes, corners of his mouth, the sharp line of his stubble, dark against his skin, like a shadow. When he leans in to speak against the shell of Elio's ear, Elio turns his head towards him slightly. Cheek brushing over temple. Chin over jawline. ]
Because I don't want you to stumble on your own.
[ That's why, it means. His voice doesn't shake or tremble in the least. Maybe that makes him blind and stupid and unwise. Maybe it doesn't.
When Lucifer draws back, so does Elio. His whole front is tingling and telling him to move back in, more, but this is Lucifer's call to make, really. Whatever Elio might want, it's secondary to what the other man needs from him. If it's a talk, they can talk.
If it's a fuck, they can fuck. Elio would like listening to him and touching him equally. He's got both hands and ears. ]
[ Elio leans into his personal space, such a fool, such a complete fool and even as they step back, he tells him that he doesn't want him to stumble on his own and what sort of a comment is that, like there's any other way to be? Lucifer stares at him for a long moment, the music beating a strange pulse around them and their audience reduced to faceless shadows, moving in the very outskirts of his vision. He doesn't want any of them. Does he want Elio? Hasn't he, for quite a while?
The man isn't susceptible to his mojo so naturally, if he can find another way to ruin him, why wouldn't he? He's the Devil. He ruins people. He feels like his eyes might be burning and runs his palm thoughtlessly across his face, leaving his eyeliner lightly smushed and his hair sticking to his brow. The buzz is still there. He thinks it's very probably here to stay.
Stupid, foolish, beautiful Elio. There's nothing but alone, not when it all comes down to it. He thinks about Uriel's face, about his breath, hot and uneven as it shattered against his ear. The peace is here, he'd said, like Lucifer's supposed to understand what that means. He's not the bright one (look at that irony!), is he, he's not the one who knows how to research, to take riddles apart and discover their hidden meanings. To find patterns.
He grabs onto Elio's waist with both hands, mindlessly, and pulls him close, up against his front. Leaning down, he kisses him roughly, tongue plunging past his lips, the sudden onslaught of wetness and warmth making his cock hard in half an instant between them. Alone, he'd said.
[ The moment stretches on between them and Elio watches Lucifer from a short, short distance away, how he runs his hand down over his face, smearing his eyeliner and messing up his hair and Elio wants to hold him, so badly, he wants to link his arms behind the other man's neck and pull him down into his body, meet him, embrace him from all sides at once. He thinks he sees, now, pretty clearly, too - that Lucifer's in pain, that something's happened and since they aren't playing the catch up game, Elio has no idea what it is, but it's left the man who doesn't get drunk drowning, hasn't it? It looks horrible. It looks lonely.
And falling on your own means there is no one to break impact. Elio knows.
So as Lucifer grabs onto his waist and steps all up in his face, pulling him close, pushing their mouths together and his tongue past Elio's lips, Elio decides in an instant. He could insist on keeping the other man talking, could insist on bringing whatever pains him to light, his own, obviously, but for someone who is always asking others what they want, Elio wonders how often Lucifer gets what he desires. How often he lets himself have that. If, tonight, what he wants is mindless, numbing sex, because that's the only companionship he believes in, Elio will give it to him. He'll give him anything. Anything. Apricots and bodily contact. Silence.
Breathing in harshly, he reaches up and spreads all ten fingers out over the other man's neck, keeping him bent over and close, curling them, fingertips digging into skin and hair. He tastes like tequila and all the other alcohols he's probably drunk before Elio got here, he tastes like darkness and shadow and desperation. He tastes familiar. Elio latches onto him and pushes his tongue up against the underside of his, giving him back as good as he gets.
Between them, he can feel the huge bulge of Lucifer's cock hardening, his own responding eagerly, because that, too, has a familiar feel to it. ]
[ For just one, blessed (oh, really) moment, there's just the feel of Elio's open mouth, their tongues gliding together wetly and the harsh lights of the dance floor, heating everything up. Elio's holding onto him, fingers spread out over his neck and he's getting harder, too, like they're just here for the fun of it, for the warmth. Lucifer's been warm enough, granted, considering how Hell used to be a literal fiery pit but maybe there's a part of him that'll always belong to that place more so than to anywhere else. Maybe that's what it means to bring light - because light is heat and at some point, if you let it, it's going to scorch you.
He groans into Elio's mouth desperately, one hand slipping into his hair. He wants so badly not to think. Every time he thinks, he remembers. Pulling away, lips parted and wet, he stares down at Elio. Around them, people have started getting frisky themselves, snogging each other left and right, because Lux is his and it takes its colours after him. Lips thinning, he draws Elio close, slipping one arm around his waist and leaning in, drunkenly still, his movements just the tiniest bit uncoordinated. ]
Let's go, darling. [ He reaches down between them, briefly grasping Elio's hardening cock through his trousers and giving him a small squeeze. ] Upstairs, yes?
[ He's not too far gone to ask for permission, though he is leading the other man towards the elevator while he speaks, the club pulsing behind them, Elio's taste bright and crisp on his tongue, a clear contrast to the sour aftershocks of Scotch and tequila. ]
[ It's heated, their kiss, and the other man's warm, where Elio's grabbing on to him. As soon as he draws back, because Lucifer's the first to do so and Elio only follows suit, because he's here for him, right, he wants to cling to him still, prolong it, his system beating in time with the hard pulse of the music, the hard throbbing of his crotch, his hardening cock feeling heavy and stiff between his legs. Instead he lets the other man draw him closer by his waist, drunkenly - and didn't he say he didn't get drunk(?), he must have been drinking all day, sucking in a sharp breath as Lucifer gives his cock a squeeze. Let's go, it says, upstairs, yes - and Elio likes this side of him, asking permission, not just presuming that because they kissed, they'll do the rest. It reminds him of some of his past lovers, standing in contrast to others. ]
Upstairs.
[ A murmur, as much to himself as to Lucifer, because he's only being asked insofar that he can keep up with the other man as he leads him towards the elevator, his big hands on him, and Elio picks up the pace, half-trotting through the crowd, dodging snogging couples left and right. All the while, his fingers are grasping the sleeve of Lucifer's shirt, fingers curled in the fabric, clinging. As soon as they've ascended the stairs and the doors to the elevator have dinged open, he steps inside, turning towards Lucifer, hitting the right button blindly, eyes gliding down the other man's face. His breathing's shallow and fast, his lips feeling slick still. He licks them, tasting Lucifer there.
When he speaks, his voice is hoarse and breathless. ]
Do you want to kiss me again?
[ Please say yes, is implied. Please hanging in the air between them, like an echo. I want to be here for you. ]
[ The elevator doors slide closed and then, Elio's looking at him with his gentle eyes, licking his lips, his voice dry as he asks him - do you want to and yes, oh, he wants to kiss him, drown in him, maybe even melt into him until he's nothing whatsoever, until Elio's all that's left with his sweet nature and echoes of apricots. The other man's been praying to him without realising it (honestly, how sweet is that, how sweet is that?) and Lucifer's left him a little present in response, just because he can, because yesterday, he'd been a different person altogether. He'd wanted to, back then. Because it made him feel like...
Well.
It wasn't something he took, was it? It was better.
But this time, he simply looks at Elio, his own gaze dark and hard around the edges, before he closes the distance again and kisses him, crowding him up against the wall of the elevator while they surge upwards towards the penthouse on the top-floor. The ride is very fast - seconds later, there's a ding and the doors slide open and Lucifer's basically attached to Elio's face as he drags them both out, trying with all his might to get lost in the sensation of it, his cock rock hard at this point because if nothing else, his body has always known which way to go, right?
He pushes Elio's suit jacket off his shoulders as he walks them towards the orange leather sofa, leaving it to land where it falls amidst the shadows. The other man's not as broad as him and not as fit as his other male lovers have been but he feels strong against him all the same, his body firm, long lines and flat planes. He doesn't break the kiss, not even when he starts working on the buttons on his white shirt because the Devil's a multi-tasker and also, he's in a bloody hurry to forget about - about -
[ The other man answers by doing and Elio welcomes it, welcomes the forward motion and the crowding sensation of close proximity as he's getting kissed with his back against the wall of the elevator. His arms come up, sliding along the slopes of Lucifer's upper arms, shoulders, broad, and once the elevator dings open, they're stumbling out into the penthouse, Lucifer leading while reversing them through the living room. They keep kissing. They keep touching, Elio's hands dropping down the other man's front, feeling out the outline of muscle where Lucifer's shirt is parting down the middle. He's burning hot beneath Elio's fingertips, like he's brought Hell with him here and seeing Lux tonight, you have to wonder if he hasn't, in bits and pieces and glimpses of fire. Elio's seen his eyes when they flash red. He knows.
As Lucifer works his suit jacket off, walking him towards the couch, Elio has to release him in turn to make the sleeves slide off completely and they both ignore it once it's fallen, because it's not the fall that's important, it's where you go from there. Gasping into the other man's mouth, Elio reaches up to bury his fingers in his hair, dragging his hands through the strands, pushing his bangs out of his face and biting his lip, sucking on his tongue. It's mostly to have his own hands out of the way while Lucifer works on his shirt, unbuttoning it fast and nimbly, because he's the Devil and the Devil, unsurprisingly, has capable hands. He's an even better pianist than Elio, of course he does.
Once he reaches Elio's waistband, Elio releases him, though, only long enough to pull his shirt from his pants and finish the remaining two buttons, shrugging out of the thing, letting it fall as well. They're still kissing. It's still hot and frantic. Elio feels slightly dazed from it. Their bodies are doing the talking right now, there's only remnants left of Elio's please and let me, but the hardness of his cock is its own kind of plea, he thinks and if nothing else, he can feel how it's an echo of someone else, pleading, too. They're pleading with each other, aren't they? With their mouths and their hands and their everything. ]
[ Off comes Elio's shirt - when the other man pulls away from him to shrug it off, Lucifer actually grumbles beneath his breath, into Elio's mouth. He's not at all prepared to decrease their proximity, quite the opposite. Lips wild and wet, he mouths his way down the side of Elio's neck, across the long stretch between shoulder and ear. The other man tastes of salt and skin and smoke, traces of Lux, carried up into Lucifer's realm which seems only fitting. Place of origin, you know, it's important. Or so they say.
He's trying not to think about these things.
With a harsh exhalation, he works open his vest, panting against Elio's shoulder all the while. Shrugging out of it quickly, his shirt falling looser around his upper body because, well, it's only partway buttoned up anyhow, he runs both palms back up Elio's naked upper body. Finding Elio's pulse along the side of his neck, he licks at it greedily while he seeks out his nipples with his hands. He fingers them both, pinching them lightly, feeling them harden beneath his fingertips. He wants, he thinks, oh, but he wants to drown and he wants to... feel Elio fall with him, into the depths.
Oh.
The thought makes him freeze up, palms flat now over Elio's nipples, his lips pressed against the side of his neck. He breathes in shakily, taking in the other man's scent, the feel of his slighter body beneath his hands. He'd thought... with the two of them, he'd thought it wouldn't be... Uriel's startled face flashes across his inner vision, then, his body weight as he'd crumbled to the ground in Lucifer's arms. End of the line, he thinks, randomly, it doesn't make any sense, just like the way his chest is heaving now, his breaths coming out too fast. With each intake, Elio's scent settles in his senses and for some reason, it seems to make everything worse, like setting off a chain reaction that refuses to finish before its time. ]
One moment, Lucifer's shrugging out of his vest, getting increasingly more bared, mouthing at Elio's pulse point and fingering his nipples in a way that makes Elio ache, the next? The next he freezes completely, heaving desperately against Elio's shoulder and Elio remembers Oliver, then, he remembers himself the day after they'd had sex the first time, his body overcome with nerves and nausea. Self-loathing. Tempering his breathing with a little bit of effort, Elio raises his hands, resting them lightly on the other man's shoulders, not imposing himself in any way and draws back from him, from the presence and weight and warmth of his front. He misses it the very second they're no longer touching, but this wasn't about him to begin with. Lucifer doesn't need his desires right now, he doesn't need to carry the burden of his wants. So, Elio clears his throat, his voice slightly hoarse when he speaks: ]
Do you want to - [ He could have asked him if he's alright, but it would be a silly question overall, because it's been evident from Elio turned up at Lux and found him there that he isn't. Which really makes this question as well rather stupid, because no one in this much pain wants to have sex, really. Elio should've realized sooner. He frowns, lets his hands run down the length of Lucifer's arms to his wrists, gently holding him by them rather than his hands, because intimacy might be too much to ask right now. ] Let's stop, Lucifer.
[ Swallowing hard, Elio doesn't step back further, because he doesn't want the other man to think he doesn't want to be here, that he can't handle his emotions. Elio isn't afraid. He isn't afraid of him, he isn't afraid of neither his own nor Lucifer's feelings and whatever's happened, he isn't afraid of that either. One thumb rubbing over Lucifer's skin slowly, he looks at him, gaze steady. ]
[ Do you want to asks Elio and he doesn't finish the question which is maddening because Lucifer's head already spinning and now he's trying to imagine what in the world the other man's on about, he should get his hands moving again, he should get the two of them flying. Figuratively. Obviously, it takes an actual angel to fly.
Let's stop, Elio says then, holding him by his wrists, rubbing his thumbs over them. He's got warm hands, does Elio, and for a moment Lucifer's mesmerized by the combination of warm pressure over his pulse points and his eyes, warm, steady. He's hard, still, and when he glances down between them, feeling dazed and wrong-footed, he notes that Elio is too. It's okay. Let's stop. He swallows heavily, running his palms up Elio's chest and folding them over his shoulders for a moment. Slowly, he makes eye-contact with the other man, his own gaze empty.
He thinks about waking up in the dead of night with Elio's dreamscape painted across his mind, tasting apricots on his tongue along with the breeze from a very different night sky. It seems like such a long time ago, now, though it's been a few days at most. He remembers feeling delighted, almost, like he'd stumbled across something glittering and shiny completely by accident. Then, the knife. Uriel, threatening Chloe's life, threatening to wipe their mother out of existence for all eternity.
Then.
He shuts his eyes. Shakes his head and steps away, dislodging Elio's grip gently and running one hand roughly through his hair. Mouth twisting, he takes another shaky breath, then another, then another. He turns away from the other man stiffly. ]
Nothing.
[ His voice is trembling. How awful. How humiliating, that he's tumbled so far past his own, hidden depths that this is all he's left with. Poor Elio, having to witness this. Elio, who prayed to him in his sleep, the first human to do so in eons and eons. ]
[ When Lucifer dislodges himself and releases him with a squeeze of his shoulders, Elio doesn't make any attempts to reestablish contact. He lets him go, well aware it must feel like humiliation and defeat, letting anyone see him this way. Showing your feelings is like that, it's like baring a part of yourself that you thought was meant only for your own eyes. The other man's eyes are empty, the glimpse Elio gets of them before he turns away, a rough hand through his hair. His voice is trembling when he speaks. Nothing's okay, he says and Elio doesn't hesitate before answering: ]
I know.
[ I can tell, it means. I can see. It's not spoken in any accusing fashion, he isn't telling Lucifer to show him less of himself, to get a grip, to pull himself together, but instead to let go. Show him. He can take it. He thinks this is the closest they've been yet, even closer than in his dream where he leaned his head on Lucifer's shoulder and basked in his companionship. Where they ate the same fruit and tasted the same sweetness. This is even closer than that.
Elio takes a deep breath and steps forward, just one step, two. Following Lucifer with his eyes, he doesn't let him go, not even with his gaze. If he thought Lucifer would want him to, he'd walk up to him, link his arms behind his head and pull him down, resting his face in the nook between his shoulder and his neck. His arms are tingling, muscles tense as if preparing for the movement beforehand.
Back home on his small balcony, the apricot tree's standing with its bow still attached, because he couldn't bear removing it. ]
If you want to talk about it, I'm here. [ His voice is soft, the hoarseness mostly faded. His hard-on's slowly subsiding as well, it can be heard. Then, without asking permission this time, Elio walks over to the couch and sits down on it, still shirtless and half-naked, looking up at the other man from his seated position. ] And if you don't want to talk about it, I'm still here.
[ Elio seats himself behind him and he listens to the rustling of his clothes, the squeak of the leather. They're all fundamentally bearable noises, impressions of daily life when it's normal, safe and... remarkably unremarkable. In his mind, however, the wet squelch of Uriel's guts when he'd skewered him on the blade is much louder, still, it permeates everything and makes the quiet, blessed normalcy around him shatter. He'd like nothing better, really, than to return to the way things were, back when he wasn't his brother's murderer. When he'd only hurt himself by going against the stream rather than others.
Instead, he's free-falling.
And Elio's still here but he shouldn't be, really, he shouldn't be anywhere near him. Sweet, patient Elio. It's like he doesn't even belong to the world on a regular, stupid day - let alone in this context, sitting on Lucifer's expensive leather sofa, shirtless and half-bared and unappreciated.
There's no pleasure for him here, tonight. ]
No.
[ He walks to the bar, putting distance between them. His hands feel empty and he's still half-hard, somehow, like even the thought of murder isn't enough to put him off. What does that say? What kind of a monster... Shaking his head sharply, he grabs a bottle from the counter and chugs down a third of it, just like that. It tastes like flames. ]
No, you have to go. [ A handwave in Elio's direction. ] Leave.
[ Elio knows immediately as Lucifer turns his back on him and walks over to the bar, grabbing some bottle, nondescript, and chugs down a third of its contents. He knows that, like with their initial text correspondence, he's pushed it too far tonight. So when the other man says no, you have to go and follows it up with a wave that says leave more than his words do, he expects it, he really isn't surprised. ]
Alright.
[ Nodding his head slowly, he gets to his feet once more and walks over to his abandoned shirt, putting it on quickly, quietly. The same goes for the suit jacket, on it comes, no comment. He moves just a tad stiffly, his erection mostly gone, but the tension in his muscles hasn't followed suit, it lingers, it clings to him.
The same way that he won't cling to Lucifer now. The man doesn't need his insecurities on top of whatever's troubling him of his own issues. Once the bottom half of his shirt buttons have been done up, Elio leaves the rest as is, kind of awkwardly closing the suit jacket over his chest. He has no regrets, it's not anything like that, he'd do it all again, the kissing and the coming with Lucifer up here, hitting his head on the emotional barrier standing between them. But he wouldn't have sat down on his couch and presumed he was welcome to stay, maybe that part he does regret. A little bit.
Because Elio is used to not staying. He's used to leaving and he's used to being left. ]
You know how to reach me. [ It's said in a soft voice. It's an offer, not an expectation. Moving over towards the elevator, he throws one long, last look over his shoulder at the other man, not that he'll see and not that Elio needs him to. This one gesture is for his own sake. ] Night, Lucifer.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Just, bzz, bzz, bzz. Buzzing.
He gets another shot and downs it while the ladies draw away, shifting out of his field of vision. He forgets about them instantly. Doesn't matter. They aren't really here, anyway. Leaning against the bar in a complete slouch, the buttons on his shirt undone and his vest holding it all together because nothing else is currently doing that job, Lucifer lets his gaze glide over the dance floor. Full of shadows, this place, dancing and spinning and bouncing off the walls. Uriel hadn't expected him to do that, he'd said. I didn't see that coming. Despite everything, he hadn't thought nearly lowly enough of him, apparently.
He blinks. Sees someone familiar making his way through the crowd and grins, holding up his shot glass in greeting and yelling over the music: ]
Elio! How good of you to come - there's some great tequila on the menu tonight.
no subject
Here and now.
Softly, Elio smiles back at him, before catching the nearest bartender's gaze, nodding at Lucifer's shot glass. The bartender produces a glass for him as well, though Elio leaves it sweating on the counter at first. Instead he meets the other man's eyes and moves close enough to be heard over the music without having to shout quite as loudly as Lucifer had moments ago. Like that, they end up standing close enough for Elio's hand to accidentally brush Lucifer's, fingertips over knuckles, nothing invasive. Elio steps back just a little in response regardless.
Another smile, happy. ]
You've been at it for a while already, haven't you? [ The tequila, the letting himself go... It's just the obvious conclusion, Lucifer looks like he's been partying since noon, pretty much. There's no judgement in Elio's tone of voice, though. ] Do I stand a chance of catching up?
no subject
He closes the distance between them just like that, slipping his arm around Elio's waist and spinning him around a few steps, not quite in time with the music pounding across the dance floor. They're pressed up like that, front to front, and people are clapping and whooping around them because they so rarely get the man-on-man action that they're all secretly lusting for. Even the straight blokes. Especially those. ]
Why would you want to?
[ He stops, releasing his hold around Elio's waist enough to allow the man to step away if he wants to. Oh, look how courteous a cold-blooded murderer can be. Bet you never knew. Bet you never saw. He's smiling still, speech slightly slurred as he leans in close, lips brushing the shell of Elio's ear: ]
Catching up only gets you in the know and trust me, you don't wanna be there. Stay confused. Stay blind and stupid and unwise.
[ He draws back slightly, his smile fading. ]
It's how you keep your footing.
no subject
Then, Lucifer lets him go, obviously daring him to take the opportunity, but Elio doesn't budge, instead letting his gaze trek across his face, noticing little details like the age that shows at the corners of his eyes, corners of his mouth, the sharp line of his stubble, dark against his skin, like a shadow. When he leans in to speak against the shell of Elio's ear, Elio turns his head towards him slightly. Cheek brushing over temple. Chin over jawline. ]
Because I don't want you to stumble on your own.
[ That's why, it means. His voice doesn't shake or tremble in the least. Maybe that makes him blind and stupid and unwise. Maybe it doesn't.
When Lucifer draws back, so does Elio. His whole front is tingling and telling him to move back in, more, but this is Lucifer's call to make, really. Whatever Elio might want, it's secondary to what the other man needs from him. If it's a talk, they can talk.
If it's a fuck, they can fuck. Elio would like listening to him and touching him equally. He's got both hands and ears. ]
no subject
The man isn't susceptible to his mojo so naturally, if he can find another way to ruin him, why wouldn't he? He's the Devil. He ruins people. He feels like his eyes might be burning and runs his palm thoughtlessly across his face, leaving his eyeliner lightly smushed and his hair sticking to his brow. The buzz is still there. He thinks it's very probably here to stay.
Stupid, foolish, beautiful Elio. There's nothing but alone, not when it all comes down to it. He thinks about Uriel's face, about his breath, hot and uneven as it shattered against his ear. The peace is here, he'd said, like Lucifer's supposed to understand what that means. He's not the bright one (look at that irony!), is he, he's not the one who knows how to research, to take riddles apart and discover their hidden meanings. To find patterns.
He grabs onto Elio's waist with both hands, mindlessly, and pulls him close, up against his front. Leaning down, he kisses him roughly, tongue plunging past his lips, the sudden onslaught of wetness and warmth making his cock hard in half an instant between them. Alone, he'd said.
There's no alternative, Elio, don't you see? ]
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And falling on your own means there is no one to break impact. Elio knows.
So as Lucifer grabs onto his waist and steps all up in his face, pulling him close, pushing their mouths together and his tongue past Elio's lips, Elio decides in an instant. He could insist on keeping the other man talking, could insist on bringing whatever pains him to light, his own, obviously, but for someone who is always asking others what they want, Elio wonders how often Lucifer gets what he desires. How often he lets himself have that. If, tonight, what he wants is mindless, numbing sex, because that's the only companionship he believes in, Elio will give it to him. He'll give him anything. Anything. Apricots and bodily contact. Silence.
Breathing in harshly, he reaches up and spreads all ten fingers out over the other man's neck, keeping him bent over and close, curling them, fingertips digging into skin and hair. He tastes like tequila and all the other alcohols he's probably drunk before Elio got here, he tastes like darkness and shadow and desperation. He tastes familiar. Elio latches onto him and pushes his tongue up against the underside of his, giving him back as good as he gets.
Between them, he can feel the huge bulge of Lucifer's cock hardening, his own responding eagerly, because that, too, has a familiar feel to it. ]
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He groans into Elio's mouth desperately, one hand slipping into his hair. He wants so badly not to think. Every time he thinks, he remembers. Pulling away, lips parted and wet, he stares down at Elio. Around them, people have started getting frisky themselves, snogging each other left and right, because Lux is his and it takes its colours after him. Lips thinning, he draws Elio close, slipping one arm around his waist and leaning in, drunkenly still, his movements just the tiniest bit uncoordinated. ]
Let's go, darling. [ He reaches down between them, briefly grasping Elio's hardening cock through his trousers and giving him a small squeeze. ] Upstairs, yes?
[ He's not too far gone to ask for permission, though he is leading the other man towards the elevator while he speaks, the club pulsing behind them, Elio's taste bright and crisp on his tongue, a clear contrast to the sour aftershocks of Scotch and tequila. ]
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Upstairs.
[ A murmur, as much to himself as to Lucifer, because he's only being asked insofar that he can keep up with the other man as he leads him towards the elevator, his big hands on him, and Elio picks up the pace, half-trotting through the crowd, dodging snogging couples left and right. All the while, his fingers are grasping the sleeve of Lucifer's shirt, fingers curled in the fabric, clinging. As soon as they've ascended the stairs and the doors to the elevator have dinged open, he steps inside, turning towards Lucifer, hitting the right button blindly, eyes gliding down the other man's face. His breathing's shallow and fast, his lips feeling slick still. He licks them, tasting Lucifer there.
When he speaks, his voice is hoarse and breathless. ]
Do you want to kiss me again?
[ Please say yes, is implied. Please hanging in the air between them, like an echo. I want to be here for you. ]
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Well.
It wasn't something he took, was it? It was better.
But this time, he simply looks at Elio, his own gaze dark and hard around the edges, before he closes the distance again and kisses him, crowding him up against the wall of the elevator while they surge upwards towards the penthouse on the top-floor. The ride is very fast - seconds later, there's a ding and the doors slide open and Lucifer's basically attached to Elio's face as he drags them both out, trying with all his might to get lost in the sensation of it, his cock rock hard at this point because if nothing else, his body has always known which way to go, right?
He pushes Elio's suit jacket off his shoulders as he walks them towards the orange leather sofa, leaving it to land where it falls amidst the shadows. The other man's not as broad as him and not as fit as his other male lovers have been but he feels strong against him all the same, his body firm, long lines and flat planes. He doesn't break the kiss, not even when he starts working on the buttons on his white shirt because the Devil's a multi-tasker and also, he's in a bloody hurry to forget about - about -
To forget. ]
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As Lucifer works his suit jacket off, walking him towards the couch, Elio has to release him in turn to make the sleeves slide off completely and they both ignore it once it's fallen, because it's not the fall that's important, it's where you go from there. Gasping into the other man's mouth, Elio reaches up to bury his fingers in his hair, dragging his hands through the strands, pushing his bangs out of his face and biting his lip, sucking on his tongue. It's mostly to have his own hands out of the way while Lucifer works on his shirt, unbuttoning it fast and nimbly, because he's the Devil and the Devil, unsurprisingly, has capable hands. He's an even better pianist than Elio, of course he does.
Once he reaches Elio's waistband, Elio releases him, though, only long enough to pull his shirt from his pants and finish the remaining two buttons, shrugging out of the thing, letting it fall as well. They're still kissing. It's still hot and frantic. Elio feels slightly dazed from it. Their bodies are doing the talking right now, there's only remnants left of Elio's please and let me, but the hardness of his cock is its own kind of plea, he thinks and if nothing else, he can feel how it's an echo of someone else, pleading, too. They're pleading with each other, aren't they? With their mouths and their hands and their everything. ]
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He's trying not to think about these things.
With a harsh exhalation, he works open his vest, panting against Elio's shoulder all the while. Shrugging out of it quickly, his shirt falling looser around his upper body because, well, it's only partway buttoned up anyhow, he runs both palms back up Elio's naked upper body. Finding Elio's pulse along the side of his neck, he licks at it greedily while he seeks out his nipples with his hands. He fingers them both, pinching them lightly, feeling them harden beneath his fingertips. He wants, he thinks, oh, but he wants to drown and he wants to... feel Elio fall with him, into the depths.
Oh.
The thought makes him freeze up, palms flat now over Elio's nipples, his lips pressed against the side of his neck. He breathes in shakily, taking in the other man's scent, the feel of his slighter body beneath his hands. He'd thought... with the two of them, he'd thought it wouldn't be... Uriel's startled face flashes across his inner vision, then, his body weight as he'd crumbled to the ground in Lucifer's arms. End of the line, he thinks, randomly, it doesn't make any sense, just like the way his chest is heaving now, his breaths coming out too fast. With each intake, Elio's scent settles in his senses and for some reason, it seems to make everything worse, like setting off a chain reaction that refuses to finish before its time. ]
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One moment, Lucifer's shrugging out of his vest, getting increasingly more bared, mouthing at Elio's pulse point and fingering his nipples in a way that makes Elio ache, the next? The next he freezes completely, heaving desperately against Elio's shoulder and Elio remembers Oliver, then, he remembers himself the day after they'd had sex the first time, his body overcome with nerves and nausea. Self-loathing. Tempering his breathing with a little bit of effort, Elio raises his hands, resting them lightly on the other man's shoulders, not imposing himself in any way and draws back from him, from the presence and weight and warmth of his front. He misses it the very second they're no longer touching, but this wasn't about him to begin with. Lucifer doesn't need his desires right now, he doesn't need to carry the burden of his wants. So, Elio clears his throat, his voice slightly hoarse when he speaks: ]
Do you want to - [ He could have asked him if he's alright, but it would be a silly question overall, because it's been evident from Elio turned up at Lux and found him there that he isn't. Which really makes this question as well rather stupid, because no one in this much pain wants to have sex, really. Elio should've realized sooner. He frowns, lets his hands run down the length of Lucifer's arms to his wrists, gently holding him by them rather than his hands, because intimacy might be too much to ask right now. ] Let's stop, Lucifer.
[ Swallowing hard, Elio doesn't step back further, because he doesn't want the other man to think he doesn't want to be here, that he can't handle his emotions. Elio isn't afraid. He isn't afraid of him, he isn't afraid of neither his own nor Lucifer's feelings and whatever's happened, he isn't afraid of that either. One thumb rubbing over Lucifer's skin slowly, he looks at him, gaze steady. ]
It's okay.
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Let's stop, Elio says then, holding him by his wrists, rubbing his thumbs over them. He's got warm hands, does Elio, and for a moment Lucifer's mesmerized by the combination of warm pressure over his pulse points and his eyes, warm, steady. He's hard, still, and when he glances down between them, feeling dazed and wrong-footed, he notes that Elio is too. It's okay. Let's stop. He swallows heavily, running his palms up Elio's chest and folding them over his shoulders for a moment. Slowly, he makes eye-contact with the other man, his own gaze empty.
He thinks about waking up in the dead of night with Elio's dreamscape painted across his mind, tasting apricots on his tongue along with the breeze from a very different night sky. It seems like such a long time ago, now, though it's been a few days at most. He remembers feeling delighted, almost, like he'd stumbled across something glittering and shiny completely by accident. Then, the knife. Uriel, threatening Chloe's life, threatening to wipe their mother out of existence for all eternity.
Then.
He shuts his eyes. Shakes his head and steps away, dislodging Elio's grip gently and running one hand roughly through his hair. Mouth twisting, he takes another shaky breath, then another, then another. He turns away from the other man stiffly. ]
Nothing.
[ His voice is trembling. How awful. How humiliating, that he's tumbled so far past his own, hidden depths that this is all he's left with. Poor Elio, having to witness this. Elio, who prayed to him in his sleep, the first human to do so in eons and eons. ]
Nothing's okay.
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I know.
[ I can tell, it means. I can see. It's not spoken in any accusing fashion, he isn't telling Lucifer to show him less of himself, to get a grip, to pull himself together, but instead to let go. Show him. He can take it. He thinks this is the closest they've been yet, even closer than in his dream where he leaned his head on Lucifer's shoulder and basked in his companionship. Where they ate the same fruit and tasted the same sweetness. This is even closer than that.
Elio takes a deep breath and steps forward, just one step, two. Following Lucifer with his eyes, he doesn't let him go, not even with his gaze. If he thought Lucifer would want him to, he'd walk up to him, link his arms behind his head and pull him down, resting his face in the nook between his shoulder and his neck. His arms are tingling, muscles tense as if preparing for the movement beforehand.
Back home on his small balcony, the apricot tree's standing with its bow still attached, because he couldn't bear removing it. ]
If you want to talk about it, I'm here. [ His voice is soft, the hoarseness mostly faded. His hard-on's slowly subsiding as well, it can be heard. Then, without asking permission this time, Elio walks over to the couch and sits down on it, still shirtless and half-naked, looking up at the other man from his seated position. ] And if you don't want to talk about it, I'm still here.
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Instead, he's free-falling.
And Elio's still here but he shouldn't be, really, he shouldn't be anywhere near him. Sweet, patient Elio. It's like he doesn't even belong to the world on a regular, stupid day - let alone in this context, sitting on Lucifer's expensive leather sofa, shirtless and half-bared and unappreciated.
There's no pleasure for him here, tonight. ]
No.
[ He walks to the bar, putting distance between them. His hands feel empty and he's still half-hard, somehow, like even the thought of murder isn't enough to put him off. What does that say? What kind of a monster... Shaking his head sharply, he grabs a bottle from the counter and chugs down a third of it, just like that. It tastes like flames. ]
No, you have to go. [ A handwave in Elio's direction. ] Leave.
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Alright.
[ Nodding his head slowly, he gets to his feet once more and walks over to his abandoned shirt, putting it on quickly, quietly. The same goes for the suit jacket, on it comes, no comment. He moves just a tad stiffly, his erection mostly gone, but the tension in his muscles hasn't followed suit, it lingers, it clings to him.
The same way that he won't cling to Lucifer now. The man doesn't need his insecurities on top of whatever's troubling him of his own issues. Once the bottom half of his shirt buttons have been done up, Elio leaves the rest as is, kind of awkwardly closing the suit jacket over his chest. He has no regrets, it's not anything like that, he'd do it all again, the kissing and the coming with Lucifer up here, hitting his head on the emotional barrier standing between them. But he wouldn't have sat down on his couch and presumed he was welcome to stay, maybe that part he does regret. A little bit.
Because Elio is used to not staying. He's used to leaving and he's used to being left. ]
You know how to reach me. [ It's said in a soft voice. It's an offer, not an expectation. Moving over towards the elevator, he throws one long, last look over his shoulder at the other man, not that he'll see and not that Elio needs him to. This one gesture is for his own sake. ] Night, Lucifer.