[ 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
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.