[ 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.
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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.
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.