[ It's a quarter past midnight when he clocks out, still in his dark uniform as he shrugs into his jacket, because he can't be bothered to make the change into the faded jeans and the white t-shirt he's brought from home. Anyway, he'll get naked when he gets back to the Hokusai wave house, he'll probably get fucked, too, if either Oliver or Noah's still up. Sounds nice, actually. He's still kind of... raw's the best word, from his encounter with Mr. Morningstar. Like, he couldn't imagine anything better than a hard cock just about now.
He smiles, zips up his jacket and is about to swing his bag over one shoulder when Diego comes out into the back room and nods upwards, unspecified, but the implication pretty clear. They all know the way. Who lives on top.
Boss wants to see you, he says and gives James a sideways glance as he turns away, not a lot of guys get the invitation, so consider yourself lucky. In the meantime, James only has time to slide his bag off his shoulder again before the bartender's out the door, returning to work. His shifts are always long, he won't be off until five.
That's how you earn a living around here, supposedly.
James doesn't know what he's earned, comparatively. Apparently an invitation to Lucifer Morningstar's private apartment. A frown. His bag goes back into his locker while he hangs his jacket away once more, leaving him just in his waiter's uniform. He exhales deeply, then heads for the lift that'll take him where someone, in this case, maybe the devil, wants him to go. He thinks about the other man's features, the way he'd leaned in close. Then, he thinks about free will.
Unconstrained and voluntary choice, yeah? While he'd no doubt lose his job, he can still just go home. Instead, James presses the button that says up and waits for the lift doors to slide open.
[ The nightair's making the curtains quiver, the terrace lit up primarily near and around the jacuzzi because, well, it's a bit like a runway, yes, lights leading the way, everything irrelevant shrouded in darkness? A runway reserved primarily for sex, granted. Sounds better than the actual thing if you ask him.
Lucifer's currently naked, save for a rather skimpy towel slung around his hips because, again, subtle is boring and James's had a long evening, there's no need to beat around the proverbial bush. He's left a fresh glass of Scotch next to his own on the piano where he's currently seated, playing an appropriately soulful rendition of Randi Laubek's The Promise and waiting for the doors to slide open in the background.
Outside, LA's going steady in the darkness, the sounds of the city muted this close to the sky but the distance isn't quite enough to drown it all out and he likes it that way, likes it better than the quiet. Quiet is tiresome. Means your brain starts working on some noise all by itself and that's not why he's here, vacationing far, far away from his godgiven duties.
[ The doors slide open to reveal, possibly, the most luxurious penthouse James has ever seen and Richmond, Virginia isn't short of millionaires and their abodes, is it? This is another level, not just in terms of how high they're up. He didn't actually count the stories, but the ascend was tangible, like going from one world to another. Without hesitating, he steps inside the room, hearing the lift doors slide shut again behind him and just like that, he's in the private sphere of his boss who wears the devil's name and a body to go with it, obviously, seeing as the man's sitting at his piano mostly naked. There's a towel, around his hips, but besides that, it's all Randi Laubek, skin and shadows.
Which means James' hard-on is back, give it a warm round of applause.
He licks his lips and crosses the floor, getting an eyeful of terrace further back where lights show the way to the jacuzzi and he could make the comparison to the swimming pool back at the house, but save it for a day when you want to lose, you know? Just, save it and savor this. He stops by the piano, reaches out and takes the second glass of Scotch which is clearly an offer. An invitation.
One eyebrow goes up slightly as he takes the first sip. ]
[ And finally, there he comes - the hero of the night. Lucifer doesn't pause in his playing, though his gaze strays sideways from the windows and the city lights as James crosses over, grabbing his designated drink. It's an invitation, certainly. But it's interesting, all the same, how he presumes straight out of the gate. Gutsy of him, really.
There's something about his energy that gets his blood pumping. ]
Are you?
[ He doesn't bother eye-fucking him, seeing as he's already done so a-plenty and besides, he's curious about the package underneath more so than the wrapping. That's another interesting aspect of this whole... situation, isn't it, how he's getting all hot and bothered for a bloke who, on the physical level, more or less mirrors everyone else he's ever hired, none of whom he's actually fucked.
Indeed, what's so special about little James who's studied religion and failed to make it his living? Not like it doesn't happen, after all, that people immerse themselves in religion, philosophy, the questions and answers related to existence, only to push all that complexity aside for the sake of carnal pleasure, the simpler things. Isn't that human nature?
It is, isn't it. ]
Then perhaps you should get with the programme, James.
[ He locks eyes with the other man. Smiles, sharply. ]
I'm rather anxious about getting you naked, you understand. All these preliminary maneuvers, they aren't really doing it for me.
[ He reaches for his glass and takes a sip, leaving his left hand to keep the dark tones of the melody floating between them. The piano has a bright sound, crisp. ]
[ It's not the other man's directness that gets to him, really, when you fuck around like James does these days, directness is par for the course. The rule rather than the exception. No, it's the... well, it's the music, the atmosphere hanging between them in those crisp, bright notes. Not to make the comparison, but his dad plays the piano, the piano feels like home, at least. When everything else, including Mr. Morningstar, is a little bit crazy and a little bit strange.
Get with the program, he's told and they lock eyes for a long moment, James looking at the angular, strong shapes of the other man's face over the rim of his tumbler. His breathing feels slightly shallow, fluttering. Putting the glass back on the coaster, he nods, pursing his lip and cocking his head. ]
Okay.
[ Mr. Morningstar keeps the melody going and James is feeling equal parts nostalgic and horny as fuck. Reaching up with both hands and holding the other man's gaze, he starts working on the bowtie of his uniform, yanking it off after two seconds' worth of not-quite-fumbling. Drops it. Starts in on the buttons of his shirt, fast, precise movements of his fingers opening the fabric up down his middle, his skin peaking out until he shrugs out of the entire thing. Drops it, the lights playing over his abdomen, pecs, the staircase of ribs where Proverbs 4:23 reads stark black against his skin.
He begins toeing out of his shoes, socks, fingering his belt. ]
We'll cut to the chase. [ With a yank, he slips open the belt buckle, letting his pants slide to the floor as well and stepping out of them. The whole bundle of clothing is easily pushed aside with one naked foot. LA beaches have tanned him up for the summer, so he looks more bronze than anything, the final bastion of his underwear stark white in comparison. James looks down his own front, at the evident bulge of fabric over his half-hard cock, then over at Mr. Morningstar. ] I'm dropping mine if you drop yours.
[ Ah, there he goes, with his cute little strip show. Lucifer watches him for a moment, placing his glass back on the piano and cocking his head slightly sideways, gaze narrowing a fraction in appreciation. Nice, shapely pecs there, mm, abs -- and what's that, against his ribs? Gasp, shock, horror, is that proverb 4:23? Guard your heart. Above all else, even.
And yet, here the man is, living it up and giving himself away so freely in the city of angels.
The irony. Why, it's bloody beautiful, just like the rest of him, his tanned skin, leg muscles, hmm, surfer? - and oh, underwear, that's a bummer. I'm dropping mine if you drop yours he says, like he isn't gonna drop it all anyway, not exactly a worthy deal. Lucifer watches him for a moment longer, a cold half-smile playing around his lips. Then, he gets to his feet smoothly, leaving the towel on the bench.
He straightens to his full height, towering over the other man by more than just a little. ]
So.
[ He steps around the piano. Moves in on the other man, movements slow but quivering, almost, like a prowl. Smile sharpening, he pauses about a foot's distance away, tilting his chin a bit, eyes landing on the outline of James' half-hard cock. It's a pretty average size (unlike Lucifer's because he's a bloody celestial and also, ugh, creation, Dad, goodbye to that train of thought) which is how he prefers his men. Big enough to be interesting. Serviceable, you might say. ]
Did you get that written on you - [ He waves his hand at the tattoo, fingertips brushing lightly over his skin for a second. ] - before or after you gave up your studies?
[ Mr. Morningstar's only response is to get to his feet, leaving the towel behind and thus, revealing what's... wow, okay, a big cock, not even half-hard, so there's potential for good work there. His own cock jerks a little bit at the sight, just a pitiful call for attention. The other man steps around the piano and moves, prowls, it's the predatory attitude again, closer until he's about a foot away. James follows him with his eyes the entire way, appreciating every inch of skin that the light hits, the way the shadows soften up his lines a bit, his facial features standing out all the starker for it. He's beautiful. Just, it's the best way to put it. Fuckable, sure, but beautiful.
Did you get that, he asks and brushes his fingertips over the tattoo, so James' skin breaks out in goosebumps and his nipples go stiff from it. He breathes in once, hard, quickly reaching up to grab the other man by the wrist. Not holding him back, no, just feeling him out, the heaviness of his limbs, his big hands. You know.
James was right in the end. One thing implies the other.
Tilting his head upwards, because the man is towering over him by a head, he looks directly into his eyes, blinking a couple of times. Dark brown. He's so dark throughout, to be honest. Like shadows. Like the taste of good whiskey. Like all temporary things which is maybe a bit on the symbolic side, but no less true for it. ]
What difference does it make?
[ It's not that he won't necessarily answer, it's just that for someone whom these preliminary maneuvers don't do anything for? Mr. Morningstar is certainly asking the kind of questions that don't bring them onwards in the script. ]
[ James grabs him by the wrist, his hand warm and strong. Lucifer's hand pauses at the motion because he might as well - even if the other man follows up by being decidedly unhelpful, answering his question with a question. Rude. Stepping closer yet, enough to bring his naked crotch up against the other man's thigh, he leans in close, dipping his neck to whisper against the side of his temple: ]
You know, darling, up here? [ He curves his hand over James' hip, fingertips brushing over the fabric of his pants. ] A deal's a deal.
[ He reaches down and squeezes one, firm buttock quickly - but there's a touch of strength there, maybe more than a touch - then steps away, pulling his hand from James' grip with ease. His own cock is more than half-hard now. Brushing his hair back, he steps around James and heads towards the open terrace door, the golden lights from outside reflected in the window glass. ]
Come find me when you've lost the rest.
[ He steps outside into the cool air beyond, feeling it brush over his naked body, nipples stiffening in response. Padding over to the jacuzzi, he stands by the edge for a moment, watching the lights lining the tub as they make the water blink and glitter. A quick glance upwards - thinking, have fun with this, then - and he's stepping in, seating himself on one the benches along the side and stretching out his legs lazily. Grabbing a flute of champagne from the nearby tray, he sips it and leans his head back against the edge. ]
[ He steps closer. James can smell him, notes of alcohol and cologne and man, which makes his cock harden the rest of the way. Doesn't help as Mr. Morningstar pushes his crotch up against his thigh and mutters against his temple, fingertips brushing over his underwear, still very much in place. Up here, a deal's a deal. You don't say. Inevitably, James is reminded of his dad who would often conclude that deals with the devil bind without contract.
Breathing out harshly as the other man grabs his buttock and squeezes it, like he's giving back as good and, it definitely feels like, better than he gets, James turns his head enough to follow him with his eyes as he continues out on the terrace. The lights play off of him while he slides into the water, seats himself on one of the benches along the side and reaches for a flute of champagne.
Well, old man, it so happens that James has realized at this point that a little bondage isn't so bad.
Prying his underwear off, leaving his cock springing free, more than ready, James steps out of the small slip of fabric and abandons it to the shadows of the room, following the other man out onto the terrace. Only the most necessary parts of the place are lit, right, just enough not to trip over your own feet, because that would be unsexy and they're not here for that, obviously. Though, you have to question whether Mr. Morningstar could manage unsexy, even when blindfolded and tied up.
The mental image indicates no.
James raises his chin and sits down on the edge of the jacuzzi, an arm's length from the other man, slipping into the water with a small splash that the night mostly swallows up. He ignores the champagne, though. Honestly, if this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience? He is going to enjoy it sober. ]
After. [ He replies, willingly. Finally. A glance over at Mr. Morningstar, followed by a cock of his head. ] Is this a two-way street? Will you answer one of mine?
[ One moment, two - and then, James joins him, finally, gloriously naked, his cock hard against his abdomen and his gaze dark, heavy. Mmm. This happens to be exactly what he wants tonight, he realises, watching as the other man gets in the tub next to him, the water splashing slightly as he seats himself. A flat chest, hard muscle. The scent of man.
It's not his preference, sure, but sometimes it's just what does it.
Glancing sideways over the rim of his flute, he licks his lips and shrugs, stretching one arm out, leaving it resting against the side of the tub (and consequently, along James' back and shoulders, such a happy coincidence!). ]
If you don't try, presumably - [ He runs his fingers up James' back, along the ridge of his spine, all the way to the nape of his neck. It's a brief touch but steady. Unwavering. ] - you'll never know.
[ After, he said. So, it's the sort of promise you make when you've already been burned, huh, when you've felt the heat and as such, the necessity. The thought makes his own back tingle, like the scar tissue's alive and well back there and not dead, inconsequential. You make your own reminders, don't you? Doesn't have to point backwards, doesn't have to point forward either. Sometimes, it's just a thing of the moment, something that feels imperative enough to commemorate.
[ Mr. Morningstar lands his arm along the edge of the jacuzzi and so, it runs along the curve of James' upper back and shoulders, too. It's not a subtle move, it's not trying to disguise itself as anything else. It's in plain view. He likes that, he likes that the man is so adamantly unapologetic about what he wants. It makes things easier between them. This feeling of tension and rubbing shoulders comes down to them as people, not to the rest of the world. The rest of the world's pretty much non-existent from this vantage point anyway.
The motion of the other man's fingers running up his spine makes him shiver, the way they slide all the way to the nape of his neck and James leans his head back against his hand when he gets there, finding himself staring up at the night sky above, the lights from the city washing out the stars. His breathing shudders out of him and he slowly turns his face to the side, looking up at the other man's profile. Hard lines, strong jaw, prominent nose. Mm. He smiles, just a small tug at the corner of his mouth, amused.
Edging closer, his side brushes up against Mr. Morningstar's, underwater. James reaches out and slips his flat palm from the curve of one knee to the taut muscle of the man's thigh. ]
How do you punish a vain man with a mirror?
[ There are a ton of questions he could've asked, true. Is Lucifer Morningstar your real name or why am I here, why me, but he's not here to drag out foreplay with the big truths. The big truths will probably reveal themselves, if he actually manages to get out of this night without being fired and sent home without pay, let's be real.
Still, it's a sincere question. James raises an eyebrow slightly, just to go with the smile, lazy but intrigued. Sounds like something out of Dante. ]
[ James' breath shudders out of him, that small smile at the corner of his mouth distinctively amused, unafraid. Extremely so. A lesser man, surely, would've been intimidated to some degree or another, if not by Lucifer himself, then by the prospect of sleeping with your boss in his mightier-and-far-richer-than-thou penthouse. But of course, there's nothing particularly lesser about James - as he's sliding into Lucifer's personal space, running his palm up his leg, from his knee to his thigh, he's pretty much larger than life in his own, human way. Smiling slowly, Lucifer curls his arm more fully around the other man's shoulders, pulling him in closer, letting him touch as he likes. That's a nice hand, after all. Warm. Soft.
A good contrast to all that distinctive hardness.
Leaning in, he licks a heavy, wet trail up the side of James' neck all the way to his ear, tasting salt and the remnants of smoke - club life, alcohol, sweat. Lux. He gives his earlobe a little nibble before nuzzling in against the hair right behind his ear, his scent clear in his nostrils whenever he breathes in.
His cock gives a little jerk underwater, even. Look at all that excitement!
Drawing back a bit, he says, voice low, mostly a sharp rumble from deep in his chest: ]
Oh, that's easy.
[ He runs his hand slowly down the other man's back, shoulder, ribs, back up, stroking the soft skin there, his knuckles slapping against the water's surface. ]
[ Although on the surface it's light-hearted conversation, there's something underlying the words they're saying that James thinks speaks at far higher volumes than just the question, the answer. He thinks about all of Los Angeles, so inherently appearance-fixated, so distinctively vain, seeing itself for what it really is underneath. Dark and gritty and ugly. Then, he thinks about himself in front of that kind of honesty mirror.
A hard intake of breath. Yeah, definitely something out of Dante. Purgatory. Hell. Which, supposedly, everything considered...
Instead of giving it anymore thought, he focuses on the other man's proximity, the feel of his tongue's trail of saliva up the side of his neck, his nose pushing in behind his ear, his hand on his back, stroking, stroking, almost soothingly, except not really. Nothing's really soothing with Mr. Devil, is it? His own voice, when he speaks again, sounds hoarse and noticeably affected.
It's the way he can feel the weight of Mr. Morningstar's cock jerk slightly against the back of his hand where he continues his own stroking over his thigh, inner thigh, running the tips of his fingers over the thin stretch of skin that separates leg from crotch. ]
I think - [ Twisting slightly on the bench, he turns more fully towards the other man, coming face to face with him, not quite on eye-level, because he just has to be a tiny bit imposing, doesn't he? He has to be just a tiny bit out of scale, down to the physicals. James glances up at his face, catches his eyes, holding his gaze, his breathing slightly shallow at this point. His hand pushes in between the man's thighs, just urging, inviting him to spread them further, rather than actively forcing anything as he leans in slowly, their noses bumping for a second, their lips brushing. He talks directly against his mouth. ] - we should end the Q&A here, Mr. Morningstar.
[ He exhales a little bit unevenly at the feel of James' hand sneaking in between his thighs, his cock brushing against the back of his hand, the barest bones of friction. Meeting the other man's gaze steadily, chin tilted upwards (proudly, indeed, he's got his own hang-ups, he's got a veritable tonne), he finally chuckles, voice low, slightly scratchy. Leaving the flute on the tray, he slips his other hand around James' waist, digs his fingers in just slightly - for leverage, you know, the angle's a bit awkward - and pulls him into his lap. It's a fairly easy thing to accomplish because James is slim and nimble, strong enough to be physically graceful and Lucifer, well, he's stronger than he looks.
And considering the way he looks, that speaks volumes.
As the other man slides down against him, their cocks rub together deliciously, caught between their bodies, the wet slide of friction suddenly very much present. With a groan, Lucifer pushes upwards against him a bit, just feeling the weight of him, the hardness.
Then, he spreads his thighs because he got the message the first time around, sure, but this is a far better way to go about it, isn't it? With James in his lap, his legs fan out at the movement all by themselves, just one thing leading to the next. Grabbing his buttocks roughly and spreading him open the rest of the way, Lucifer finally leans in - up, just slightly - and kisses him, pushing his tongue hard between his lips. He tastes like Scotch, of course, and that's always a pleasure. Breathing harder now, he leaves himself open as well, giving the other man the option of taking him right back in his own, small way.
[ In response, the other man puts away his champagne flute and slips his arm around James' waist, maneuvering him easily onto his lap, one leg on either side of his thighs, hips and James has to spread wide to accommodate him. Especially as he finally spreads his legs and pulls James' buttocks apart at the same time, oh, their cocks rubbing up against each other so good from this position and Mr. Morningstar's (Lucifer's, got to be Lucifer from hereon out) tongue is pushing into his mouth, opening him up there first. Strong, imagine how strong he's got to be, lifting him around like that, James is slim but not exactly lightweight. He groans, too, balancing himself with one hand grabbing Lucifer by the shoulder and the other pressing against his chest, keeping himself hoisted over him as he drags his cock up along the underside of the other man's big, hard dick. Repeat, the friction wet and smooth thanks to the water.
He breathes hard through his nose, taking everything the other man is giving, hands, mouth, sudden overwhelming heat and nearness. It's good. He's good with it. James follows the line of the man's neck, caresses his jawline briefly with his thumb before unceremoniously burying the fingers of his right hand into Lucifer's hair, angling his head by pulling at it and pushing his tongue back inside his mouth in turn, the wet slide of muscle making his toes curl. He groans, louder this time.
With his other hand, he reaches down and closes his fingers around their shafts, managing just barely, because - well, Mr. Devil's hung, pretty much, and hears the splashing of his wrist, fingers, breaking the surface once, twice, three times, as he starts stroking them both, just a slow, firm grip to amp up the friction, right?
It's not like this is the end of it. They're just getting started. James knows he's getting preyed on tonight, he's going down.
He's going down, and you won't hear him complaining about it, maybe until tomorrow. ]
[ The heat goes up exponentially, with James burying his fingers in Lucifer's hair, angling his head and pushing right back at him, the wet slide of his tongue equal parts lovely and challenging, like he's spurring him on to get harder, to make it feel even better. More pleasure. More release. Then, the other man curves his free hand around both their cocks and strokes them, it's not tight enough or slippery enough but it's good, it's extra. Moaning against the other man's lips, he pushes upwards into his grip a couple of times and kisses him back, keeping the flow of pleasure, the give and take between them, constant.
Mm, but it's not quite sufficient in terms of friction, this. They both know it, too. Breathing out heavily, Lucifer slides both hands over his buttocks, feeling him out, fingertips digging in. He spreads his cheeks apart with one hand, holding him open for a couple of seconds, letting him feel the hot water against his rim. Then, with his free hand, he brushes two fingers over the hot muscle there, feeling it flutter against his fingertips.
Breaking the kiss, he mutters, voice quieter now, more focused: ]
You seem a bit tight, don't you? James.
[ He presses one fingertip in, no more than an inch, feeling the muscle give a little in response. ]
Sure you can take me? Or would you rather - [ He smiles, planting a sloppy kiss on the side of James' mouth. ] - be less adventurous about it?
[ Sure, there's a tint of something mocking, something a little too sharply edged, in his voice. But it's an offer, too, and a question because he's just not in the habit of fucking people who'd rather not be fucked. They can do other things, after all. If he pushes James' hand away and takes over, he could give them a wonderful little ride of frottage, for instance. They could get oral about it, too. Lots of ways, none of them boring. ]
[ There's a moment where it's just that, their tongues, James' hand, cocks sliding up and down each other in the half-snug tunnel of his fingers, their bodies close, their breaths mingling. Fuck, it's so good, it's better than most James' had in at least a couple weeks, sorry, guys. Lucifer's spreading him apart, keeping him open against the water, first, then against the probing of two fingers, fingertips slipping over his rim and making his whole ass clench in response, like it knows, like it's a promise. When he breaks the kiss, he leaves James audibly panting for it, fingers gripping the man's hair tightly, staying close enough that he's looking down his nose at his face, features, strong nose, lips wet and swollen from kissing. Shit.
Dipping his finger into him, just an inch, nothing much, except he has huge fingers and he can feel him, he can feel his asshole give around the penetration, Lucifer asks him whether he can take it. Whether he can take him. In his loosened grip, his own cock's growing impossibly harder.
The people he usually fucks don't ask, do they? They assume, you're here, you're in, you'll take it whichever way, right? Whichever way. James straightens up a bit, pushing back against the other man's hand, finger inside him, forcing it deeper. Oh. Yes. Fuck. The man asked.
That alone would make him want to take him. Their lips slide over each other again, slick and hungry. So hungry. ]
You're big. [ A mutter, then a intake of breath as he tightens around the other man's finger, letting him feel how very tight he can get. He turns his head a little and presses his forehead against the side of Lucifer's face, breathing hard against his ear, kissing the stubble along his jaw. ] And you're going to fit inside me perfectly.
[ It's not just dirty talking either. James has taken big guys before, Oliver's not small, for a start. None have had quite the impressive size of Lucifer's, but he's survived DP and they're still a stretch from that. If he's as courteous in his fucking as he is in his foreplay? They're going to be fine, better than fine. ]
[ James responds by tightening his hand in Lucifer's hair and pushing back against his finger, taking him in another inch, his body furnace-hot and tight around him. That's gonna feel amazing in a moment, isn't it. Smiling wickedly against the other man's lips, he angles his chin a bit to give him better access for all his kissing-related desires (teeth optional, true, but never unwanted). Then, he frees one hand and reaches sideways, fingers searching for a moment along the side of the tub before coming up with -- ]
Aha! Knew I'd left one.
[ He holds up a small tube of lube between them triumphantly, then unscrews the lid single-handedly because the Devil's bloody well dexterous, particularly in matters concerning soon-to-be anal sex. He pushes his finger inside James' arse a bit further, just letting him feel it there for a moment while he squeezes out some lube onto his palm - stuff's silicone-based because he's got lube for all occasions as well as a jacuzzi that he really rather likes having sex in. ]
Now, darling, do tell.
[ Hand nicely slicked up, he drops the tube on the side of the tub and slides his fingers right back between James' buttocks. He doesn't remove his finger - instead, he simply pushes another in right alongside it, the lube making everything feel a lot smoother. He feels the other man's arsehole stretching to accommodate and pushes in deep, all the way to the last knuckle. Then, he stills, leaning up close to speak against the shell of his ear. ]
You came to LA to escape yourself, didn't you? You want me to make it all sweet and precious - [ He slips his finger out, halfway, then pushes it right back in. His cock jerks. ] - or do you want me to fuck you into utter oblivion? I'm asking because I'd like to hear you say it.
[ True, he could ask him about his true desire right now and get the answer for free but what's the fun in that? James deserves better than that, at least, with his warm lips and his pliant body. He's doing the best he can, presumably, as people - humans - tend to do. They try.
He's convinced that James does too, even if he's pretending not to. That's usually a dead give-away. ]
[ Drawing back a little as Lucifer pushes his finger a bit further in, just filling him up and giving him the feeling of fullness, stretch and slide, he looks up as the other man procures the lube, opening it in an impressive display of dexterity that only goes to show that he's definitely not dealing with an amateur. It's comforting, let's be real here, he's had enough of those messing him up before. Another finger goes in and his eyes fall closed, wet strands of hair slipping into his face, sticking to his brow as he focuses on breathing, relaxing, not tightening up, but just taking it, just taking it all to the very last knuckle of him. Fuck. So intense. James groans and releases their cocks, just in time to feel Lucifer's cock jerk in response to another half-thrust of his fingers. Reaches up and brushes the hair out of the way, breathing shallowly.
Sweet and precious or utter oblivion, the other man wants to know, concluding that he's here to escape himself. Not here here, but a general here, Los Angeles here. Well, he's certainly here here to escape something which is why sweet and precious isn't going to cut it. James has done sweet and precious for far too long, has done it for everyone else's sake, too, and he's through with that act, he thinks. If not forever, then for a good while to come. However, with Lucifer heavy against his ear, he licks his lips and opens his eyes again, staring out into the night around them, balancing himself with his hands on the other man's shoulders, using the leverage to pull off his fingers slowly, achingly slowly, before seating himself over them once more, letting him sink all the way in. Like that, he's fucking himself on him, feeling his asshole stretch and clench in time. ]
I'm not here to forget. [ He begins, voice remarkably calm, if a little airy, dreamy while he's pulling off and pushing back over Lucifer's fingers again, again. Not oblivion, then. But not sweet, either. Give him a third option. ] I want you to fuck me hard enough that I don't, tomorrow.
[ James knows, after all. He knows what he keeps chasing, a chance to be grounded. Basically, he wants someone to fucking nail him to the ground with their cock, right? Make something stick, make him stick. Turning his head enough, he licks a wet trail over Lucifer's jawline, little hairs tickling his tongue as he makes his way to his mouth, places an open-mouthed kiss against his bottom lip, teeth first, tugging. ]
[ The other man starts fucking himself on Lucifer's fingers and that, in itself, is an interesting answer, at odds with his actual, verbal reply. It means something in-between, an intangible answer, the kind of you get from humans because they lie too much and too often. Certain celestials, too, if he's honest (and Lucifer is, to a fault). I'm not here to forget he says and Lucifer's smile gains a tint of something different, something maybe a little bit softer because he likes people, he likes them, even if they come and go much too quickly.
Metaphorically speaking. ]
You know what?
[ He adds another finger to the mix whilst James tugs at his bottom lip, leaving his arsehole stretched around him obscenely, the wet slide of James' body sinking down and the splash of water around the other man's hips stealing his focus, making it narrow down to little but this, now, which is obviously the point of sex. Maybe not to forget but certainly, to get lost. Why else would you (except to procreate but you know, you as a general you). Why else? Breath coming out like a harsh moan, caught between his teeth, he pulls one hand, the un-lubed one, away from James' arse and grabs the tube again, squeezing out enough to slick up his palm.
He works his own cock then, slowly, taking pleasure from it. Hooking his fingers into James' arse at an angle, he catches his prostate very deliberately and rubs it, repeatedly. ]
I think, in essence, what we want - [ He releases himself, pulls his fingers roughly from the other man's arse and grabs his hips with both hands, pulling him up, over the water's surface. ] - is to be ourselves. To be exactly who we are.
[ He pauses, hands flat against the other man's hips, holding him up without even a tremble. His body weight is negligible at best. Humans, physicality aside, are little but air. Atoms and atrophy. He stares into James' eyes, unblinking, gaze hard and intense and full of arousal. Excitement. Nods, downwards, towards his own lap, the head of his cock breaching the water between them. ]
[ Another finger. Lucifer hooks them into him, then, fucks him and rubs over his prostate deliberately, repeatedly, so James' cock jerks visibly, leaking precum into the water, strings of it and he should probably feel dirty for it, but he just feels free, right? That's the thing with sex, for him, it's the only time he does, truly, feel unbound by all his shit. He moans, feels his hips work back against the pressure instinctively. The other man, meanwhile, is slicking himself up, working his cock with abandon and there's a brief moment when James looks at him, looks at his arm muscles tensing and releasing, the expression on his face intent and focused, when he sees something reflecting back at him. How do you punish a vain man with a mirror, he'd asked and gotten his answer, too. From Mr. Devil who should know.
Then, the other man releases himself and grabs onto him, catches him by the hips and lifts him up, over the surface of the water, leaving him kind of hanging there between his hands. Strong, he thinks again, almost inhumanly, impossibly so and - What we want is to be ourselves, Lucifer tells him, staring at him, into him somehow and James can't breathe, his cock so hard it hurts and his ass feeling void and ready. He inhales, exhales, inhales again. Looks down between them as Lucifer nods at his slicked up cock, poking out of the water like a lighthouse. Like rock. Raising his gaze to the other man's face again, he catches his eyes and balances himself with one hand on his shoulder, grabbing onto him hard, and the other reaching down, closing around the base of his cock, angling the shaft slightly as he lowers himself down over his lap.
The man's going to nail him to something, that's the point, isn't it? That's the basic mechanics of it. He's going to nail him to him. James breathes through an open mouth, water lapping up his sides as he feels the head of the thing, huge, slip up between his buttocks, pushing over his rim, loosened and open. All the while, he stares into the other man's eyes. As he licks his lips and applies pressure, feeling the whole girth of the head pushing against his hole, beginning to sink in, forcing him open. There's always this point where it feels impossible, but all impossible things have their moment of likelihood and this is it, for them. He's clinging to Lucifer's shoulder, leverage, feeling the enormous thing go into him as he sinks down little by little and it's stretching him to the point of the obscene, like he's going to pop. His breaths are shuddering out of him, little throaty sounds, a moan, then the man's cock is breaching him completely and the shaft follows, an inch, another. He releases his hold on him, reaches up and splays his fingers out over the stretch of skin where Lucifer's shoulder meets neck.
James is shaking slightly, sweaty, groaning. He glances down at Lucifer's face, swallowing hard. ] I know. [ A whisper. Me too, it means. I want that, too. ] I know. [ And with that, he seats himself with his legs spread wide over his lap, the man's cock sinking into him all but to the base. He feels massive. Like everything's hollowed out to fit him. Sure, it hurts. It's supposed to.
Only that way is his body going to remember. Tomorrow. ]
[ James stares into his eyes, licks his lips and holds onto him for dear life as he sinks down onto his cock, head first. Lucifer watches him all throughout, his own gaze dark and narrowed, the sudden onslaught of friction making him feel almost unbearably needy. He wants to move. To get - more. Oh. But James sinks down over him in stages, inch by inch, and his body's gotta adjust, that's how these things work. Don't want to hurt him, after all. They aren't here for punishment. Breath coming out slowly, very shakily at this point, he runs his hands up James' back, stroking him, fingers spread out wide. He's hot inside and out, his skin seemingly burning, and Lucifer simply has to push his hands into the water and splash it onto him, leaving his skin glistening in the dark.
He keeps his hips still until the man's seated. Then, he reaches up with one hand, folding it over one of James' and squeezing, pushing the other man's fingers into his skin. ]
There, darling. That's good. [ He looks up at him, breathing raggedly, his lips parted. ] Now, take it easy, yeah?
[ He curves his arm around his waist, keeping him down, speared on his cock. Very lightly, he pushes up into him, tiny thrusts, enough to stretch him a little wider without actively forcing him apart. Giving him time to adjust, hm, and giving Lucifer time to just enjoy the tightness of it, the heat. The strong grip of his arsehole around the base of his cock. He adds, smiling widely: ]
We've got all night.
[ With that, he leans forward and mouths wetly at James' shoulder, lips sliding up the slope of his neck, nibbling at the soft skin there. He keeps him close, his arm curled around him tightly, his cock buried deep within his body. Moment of connection, you know, that pivotal peak of sexual intercourse, when you aren't yet solely chasing your own pleasure. Everything always goes downhill from there. It's not bad obviously, but it's why he easily goes through ten people in one night or more.
[ As he's fully seated over the other man's cock, there's a moment of something he's only experienced a handful of times, probably because he usually fucks guys who don't ask, right? It's a moment of connection, as if he's bound to Lucifer by other factors than the physical ones. It's not a feeling of oneness, James isn't really a romantic anymore, but it's definitely a feeling of sameness. It's probably just a difference of semantics anyway. There's the huge fullness inside his ass, the other man's cock taking up all space there is and a bit more than that, too. And there's the sound of the other man's voice, comforting him, hand pushing his fingers into his skin, more touch, more points of contact.
His grip does tighten, then, when Lucifer starts pushing into him, just tiny thrusts that stretch James open without tearing anything, obviously he knows how to wield that gigantic cock of his right, huh? James catches a glimpse of the wide smile that accompanies we've got all night and despite his concentration, the way he's beginning to move against the other man, tightening his asshole around his length as he slides in, out, his eyebrows go up a little, amused. Feeling his mouth against his shoulder, he turns his head in against the side of his face, nose burying into his hair, lips over the shell of his ear. As such, he doesn't raise his voice, but the breathiness holds some humor now, his body warming up exponentially.
Oh, it's good. The slide, the stretch, the fullness. He hooks his arm around the other man's neck and pushes his whole front up against him, rising off his cock a little before sinking back down. His ass is coming around as well. He repeats the motion, angling himself a little, feeling - well, basically everything pushing against his prostate. He huffs out a breath, it's throaty, not quite a moan, but almost. ]
All night of this? Would kill me.
[ His free hand slips down over the other man's chest, palm flat, rubbing over pecs, nipple, hot skin. They're both burning. Like a fever. Like a fire. He turns his head more and runs his mouth over the other man's cheekbone, breathing shallowly against the curve of his upper lip, waiting for him to allow the right angle for a kiss. ]
[ At that, he chuckles, the sound morphing into a laugh as he leans forward a bit, into the other man's touch against his chest. Nipples. Mmm. He takes the cue and angles his head upwards, taking his lips in a slow, wet kiss and pushing up into him, following James' movements like they're drawing a circle together, start, stop, repeat, one starting things up, the other closing the loop. It's seamless, as sex tends to be and Lucifer loves it, honestly, he's completely addicted to it. Groaning, he reaches down between them and curves one hand around James' cock, letting him push up into the circle of his fist with each thrust. ]
Hardly.
[ He speaks against James' lips, his own wet and desperate at this point. He licks a fat trail along the other man's bottom lip before delving into his mouth, tasting him again, the taste of Scotch only secondary now, an implication of something that's come and gone. James' inherent taste, of course, persists. That's how these things go.
He thinks about the other man traveling to LA, getting himself good and lost in the city of angels, turning his back on what used to be, what used to give his life meaning. Human existence is so fragile, so brief. Such a decision speaks volumes.
Imagine what he used to be, this man. Imagine what he still is, once you peel away the rest. ]
Would take a lot more, wouldn't it, to bring you down?
[ He thrusts upwards, then, in, giving him more and filling him up, his balls tightening with every inward stroke at this point. He doesn't let go of him, though, doesn't lessen his grip on his waist or the way he's holding him close, keeping him safe and balanced and steady above him. Around him.
Instead, he goes back to kissing him as he fucks him faster, his cock sinking in all the way and his climax drawing closer and closer. ]
[ Supposedly, he is being asked a question that requires an answer, but James is getting increasingly lost in the feeling of the other man's lips, tongue pushing into him, cock pushing into him, he's being filled from both ends now and he's been brought up well, everything else aside, he knows not to speak with his mouth full. His mother would be so, so unhappy with him... Not that he nurtures that thought for long, instead focusing on the tightness of Lucifer's fingers around his cock, his cock in James' ass and the way they're moving together, in sync, against each other in perfect time. Oh. Oh.
Moaning now, loudly, against the other man's lips, he amps up the pace, riding Lucifer's cock harder, faster, the water splashing around them with every movement. He pulls out of the kiss, breath escalating, and presses his forehead against the other man's, tightening his asshole around his length as he goes up the next time, and the next time after that. He's so big that every inch of him is rubbing over his prostate and his balls are drawing up fast now, climax drawing nearer, like a wave. ]
Oh - [ A year and a half ago, he'd have said oh, God, but he doesn't anymore. He hasn't since he moved here. From one day to the next, he just stopped taking the Lord's name in vain. Mostly because he didn't feel like taking the Lord's name anywhere, you know? Didn't feel like using it. After all, what for? He gasps, whimpers, a long outdrawn sound and then finished with a more profane: ] - fuck.
[ When it finally hits him, it's like an overwhelming wall of pleasure. He moans, feeling his asshole contract harshly while his cock pulses in Lucifer's grip, his balls drawing up against his body. His hips work throughout, pushing in, pushing back, his back slightly arched and his skin shining from water, sweat, eyes closed, mouth agape. ]
[ The pace quickens, gets heavier and harder and all-encompassing and Lucifer follows along as he does so rarely otherwise, just lets it take him, pushing in, in, in, and then James is coming around him, his arsehole clenching wildly around his length. He gasps, lips parted against the side of James' mouth, feeling the other man's cock pulse in his grip. His own breath's stuck in his throat for a moment, his body overheated, oversensitive.
He looks up at James, eyes wide, like there's just something inherently surprising about a human in the throes of pleasure which, objectively, there isn't, not after such a long bloody time. All the same, here he is. Feeling... surprised. Taken.
Undone.
Growling, a primal sound coming from deep within his chest, he tightens his grip around James' waist, pulls him up a fraction towards himself and fucks into him, hard and fast, burying himself with every thrust. It takes him less than a minute to hit the edge - with a loud moan, he tumbles right over, a rush of pure pleasure flooding him as he spends himself, pulsing deep within the other man. Hip jerking a couple of times, rocking James' body from the sheer force of his thrusts, he finally stills against him.
The water stills in response. ]
Oh.
[ He licks his lips and looks up at the other man, his cock still hard inside of him. On impulse, he leans in and kisses his shoulder, tasting water and sweat there, before he pulls him forward against his chest a bit, enough to slide out of his body. His cock pops out, lube and cum sticking to its length. Tilting his head sideways, he kisses James again, slower now, his tongue slipping into his mouth with utmost familiarity, like they've done it across several life times. He's spent, though, truly and utterly.
Good thing he spotted this opportunity, clearly. Very, very good. ]
[ His orgasm seems to continue for a very long time. Not just the actual physicality of it, asshole contracting, cock pulsing, which seems to last at least a couple of seconds longer than normally, making him coil up like a spring, tight around Lucifer's snapping penetration, thrust, thrust, thrust, oh, oh fuck. His cock stays hard in the other man's grip for a seemingly endless amount of time, pulsing and spending itself in string of cum in the water. Afterwards, the man lifts him off of him slightly, fucks into him so hard that his whole body shakes from it, his ass getting a pounding like, he can honestly say, nothing he's ever had before. It hurts and it hurts so good and it keeps him caught almost painfully in his climax until the other man, too, comes. Growling. Staring up at him.
He won't be able to walk after this, that's for sure.
Finally, they're stilling against each other, breathing hard and fast, bodies slick from water and sweat and the rest, right? Lucifer kisses his shoulder. Then, he kisses him, tongue pushing into his mouth and James is kissing him back blindly, still riding high. The other man's cock pops out as he draws him in closer to his body, leaving his asshole wide open, gaping, hurting. It's beautiful. Perfect.
This? He won't forget.
Pushing back with his hands on the other man's shoulder where he's left huge red imprints from his fingers, he's been clinging to him so hard, James licks his lips, easing back to rest on the other man's thighs instead of his lap. Smiles, widely, after a second. Would take a lot more, to bring you down, the man had said, in the midst of it all. Shit, what's up with all these truths. ]
You're right. [ He's still slightly out of breath, voice raw from moaning, but he sounds playful, head cocking to one side, sex hormones racing in his body. ] I'm not dead yet. How are we going to take advantage of that?
[ His ass is, obviously, dead, but he's got other selling points. For example, he can play the trumpet. Perfect facial nerve and lip tension control. Lucifer should let him stay another round, two, James knows he's got it in him, after all, Mr. Devil isn't dead either, so really, he should let him show him. Should show him, in turn. ]
[ He smiles in response, a thinner expression now, doesn't quite reach his eyes. It's over, the rush is starting to feel like less, though they certainly had a nice time together, him and James. No doubt about that. I'm not dead yet, confirms the naked man in his lap and Lucifer strokes his back for a moment, listlessly. Does he want a second go? More to the point, does he want to do it with him?
On a slow exhalation, muscles still loose from orgasm, he lifts James off his lap and more or less drops him on the bench next to him, giving him another fast look-over before reaching for his champagne. He empties it, though it's a bit om the warm side at this point - alcohol is alcohol, particularly when you're post-orgasmic. ]
I suppose... [ He trails off. Stares towards the shadows for a moment, then blinks, hard, and gets to his feet, water rushing off him as he straightens up. ] We might find a way, you and I.
[ Glancing over his shoulder briefly at James, he steps out of the tub and grabs a towel from the nearby basket. He dries off his hair, first, quickly, before tying it around his waist. Then, he shrugs and nods towards the rooms beyond. ]
I'm grabbing a shower. You're free to come along.
[ With that, he's off, leaving his own, wet footprints to dry in his wake. ]
[ And there they go again, Lucifer lifting him off of his lap like he weighs nothing and sitting him down on the bench next to him, telling him we might find a way, you and I. James is a bit busy wincing, his ass feeling raw and sore, still pretty open and he has to clench as he moves to sit down on his bum completely. He won't be able to walk without a limp, if he's really supposed to follow the other man to the bathroom. He's going to anyway, of course, but he'll look a fuck feast the entire way.
Then, as he looks up to follow the other man with his eyes when he gets out of the tub and walks over to dry off, he pauses for a second, getting an eyeful of very broad, very strong, masculine back - with huge scarring across both the shoulder blades. Right where the bones join. The areas mirror each other, too, obviously done with deliberate care, more like scarification than some horrible accident. Incident. He could ask about it, true, but that would be unbelievably transgressive, right? They barely know each other, aside from the man's cock in his ass, he hasn't earned the right to that kind of info. At all.
Lucifer looks at him over his shoulder, the bones moving beneath the scarred skin at the turn of his head, curve of spine, James looks up and meets his eyes without blinking. You're free to come along. Consent, again, giving, taking. The man is particular about it and James likes that. Slowly, he gets out of the jacuzzi himself and grabs a towel, drying off his hair, his shoulders lazily. His ass, cum running down his thighs. Taking a moment to catch the worst of it, he lets his gaze glide up Lucifer's back again, watching as he walks towards the rooms beyond.
They look like wings, he realizes. The body mods. They look like someone has cut wings off of him. The fallen angel, it's not just an image, is it? It's something far more expansive, like a whole identity. A way of being.
He breathes in long and slow, heat pooling low in his abdomen again. Already. Dropping the towel, he follows along, wordlessly. ]
[ He heads inside, the tell-tale sounds of James getting out of the tub registering as background noise, not an answer, not as such. He's left it up to the other man to make his own decision here, as well. Whether he wants more, whether he wants to indulge. Passing through his living room, he grabs James' half-drunken glass of whiskey on the way and empties it, just, there. No need to waste it, after all.
In his walk-in closet, the motion sensors in the ceiling activate as he passes through without pausing, the lights dim and warm against the wood panelling. He leaves the frosty glass door open behind him, still inviting, still open to all likely outcomes, and goes straight for the shower. Naturally, he's got a claw-foot tub as well because why wouldn't he, but post-anal sex routines tend to call for running water and so, he steps inside the big shower cabin and hits the wall panel, the waterfall showerhead unleashing a soft but dense cascade of hot water from above.
Shutting his eyes, he soaps up blindly and leans his head back, his hair sticking to the back of his neck. The remnants of orgasm still linger in his muscles and his movements are slower than usual, a little more languid. Sex is... well, he's known since the dawn of man, hasn't he. It's bloody fantastic. He thinks about James and the look on his face, the change from flatness to pure, unadulterated passion. His cock gives an interested little jump, too.
From what he can tell, the man's coming to join him in a moment. He probably shouldn't be feeling all hopeful about it but fact remains, he's invited him up here for a reason and he doesn't feel quite done.
Then again, he's the Devil so that might also be par for the bloody course. ]
[ He follows at a distance, respectful, if you must. Through the living room, past the piano, past his left-behind pile of clothes that he'll probably only wear until he can get to his spare in the locker downstairs. Lucifer leads the way into a huge walk-in closet, bigger and more elaborate than anything James has ever seen before, sensor-activated lights glowing warmly above his head and leaving the shadows to flee to the corners, dark, soft velvet around the edges.
The frosty door leading to the bathroom, judging by the sound of running water, has been left open and he walks in, gingerly, every step a bit measured, because his ass still hurts and will hurt for a while to come yet. Outside the shower cabin, huge, elaborate like everything else in the apartment, he pauses for a moment and watches Lucifer soaping off, head tilted back, hair sticking to his skin, hands working mindlessly. Oh. Well. Okay, yes. ]
I like the way you're always showing off. Not just for me, but in general. [ This place, right? Or, as he's witnessed a few times, when the man performs at the club. The way he carries himself. The way they talk about him. Stepping inside, the waterfall showerhead making the transition from cool air to hot water very abrupt and leaving him gasping slightly, James moves up in front of the other man, looks up at him. And up. And up. Even his height is attention-seeking. ] You make it look natural.
[ The water drenches his hair, making it fall into his eyes in heavy bangs that he doesn't care to brush away immediately, just glances up at Lucifer, blinking against the spray. There's heat, between them, still. He wants to suck his cock, pretty much. He wants to get on his knees and suck him dry. He's heard it takes a few tries. ]
[ James joins him under the water, his drenched hair sticking to his forehead and falling into his eyes. Makes him look younger, somehow. Lucifer looks down at him after a moment, gaze a bit squinty due to the water dripping down his lashes. He's got a somewhat angular face, James, very pleasing, harmonic facial features, beautiful eyes. Very, very, enticing lips.
He's been a different person, once, wearing that same face, chasing his theology studies and all the thoughts associated with it, fairy tales and lies and truth, sure, buried so deep as to be imperceptible. In LA, people don't have to shapeshift to transform, they only have to be here and let themselves get carried away by the currents. He's well aware. Of course, he had to do some shaping but he's not one of them, obviously, and he never truly will be. Rules are different with angels.
Hard to say what shapes them, really, when the source of it all insists upon being so ridiculously illusive and silent.
Quirking one eyebrow, he spreads his legs a little, sort of tilting his hips forward slightly, his cock half-hard again. ]
Showing off, you say.
[ He licks his lips, tasting water and soap now, only the barest traces of Scotch and very little of James. Shame, that. Good thing he's up for a re-fill soon enough. ]
It's not about that, James. It's just that humans can't help but look. [ He curves one hand against the back of James' neck, dragging his wet fingertips through his hair, playing idly with the strands. ] And I happen to like that about you.
[ Said with a slow smile, easy and a little less sharp than earlier, a little more friendly. ]
[ It's a bizarre experience, being this close to him. Feeling his fingers playing with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck, running through them idly. Because at the same time, Lucifer's talking about humans who can't help but look and how he likes that about them. Not us, like he's part of the group he's addressing, but like he's something other, something different. And looking from his crotch, where his cock's half-hard again, James' only a step or two behind, up his wide, hard chest to his face, smiling, softer now, James thinks that he could believe that he is. Something different. If you told him that this man was the human incarnation of the devil? He'd believe it. It would all fit.
It's bizarre, but it's also recognizable and here, James will take whatever he can get of that, right? L.A. is still a strange, new place. Maybe it always will be. Maybe it won't, supposedly he'll figure that out soon enough, if he stays put for long enough.
Breathing out shakily, feeling his cock take a definite interest in the way the other man is angling his hips, showing off like he's proving a point, he rubs himself up against the other man's fingers, his palm, hand, taking whatever little scrap of touch he's offered. He raises both hands, presses them flatly against the man's chest and runs them down over his pecs, the water making the movement smooth, wet, his palms rubbing over nipples on both sides. Mm. He steps closer, until they're all but pushing up against each other.
All the while, he doesn't break eye contact. ]
Depends on what we've got to look at.
[ A rhetorical pause as he leans in and licks a trail over the other man's shoulder, from his upper arm to his neck. He uses the inclusive we, like an invitation - he could be talking about himself and the rest of the humans or he could be talking about Lucifer, too. James isn't going to shy away from the discrepancy of it. The strangeness. He's studied the Bible, he's seen worse. ]
[ Mm. Lucifer watches him, leaning into the touch of his palms as he presses them against his chest, rubbing over his nipples. His cock goes fully hard within the span of seconds because really, he's a sucker for touch, for stimulation and friction and excess. When the other man licks a trail over his shoulder to his neck, he shudders visibly, his grip against the back of his neck tightening a fraction. He pushes him down a bit against his skin, encouraging him.
He notes, of course, the way James is going along with his narrative, saying we which could be both inclusive and exclusive, depending on your choice of the night. Lucifer's, his, whichever. It's a silent acknowledgment that he doesn't need to reduce either of them to fantasy or fancy - which is unusual, granted, enough for Lucifer to actually notice now. He can't remember when he last slept with someone who didn't treat the notion of God or religion as something of temporary convenience; when they need it, they believe. When they're trying to have an orgy, they really don't.
Except here's James, clinging onto some very different notions altogether and Lucifer's intrigued enough to pay attention. Truth be told, the idea of bedding anyone who'd spent any prolonged time immersing themselves in the Bible - rot, from start to finish, lies and slander - would normally turn him off but James has grown wiser, hasn't he?
Wise enough (or hurt enough, he knows how that goes) to wonder. To push it away, keep it at an arm's length.
With a groan, he curls his soapy palm around the length of James' cock, rubbing slow circles over the head with his thumb. ]
[ With one hand, Lucifer presses his face in against his skin, encouraging him to keep exploring with his mouth, making him open wider, sliding his lips over the outline of muscle and tendons in the other man's neck, nibbling and kissing his way up to his ear slowly, catching his earlobe between his lips, sucking on it, noisily. Wetly. He's getting water in his face, dripping down his nose, his eyelashes, but it's just another sensory input. It fits the rest, somehow, the warmth and damp heat clinging to his skin. The way Lucifer with his other hand, soapy and huge, curls his fingers over the head of his cock, rubbing over it with his thumb, making the whole length of it harden the rest of the way in no time at all. James groans against his ear, places a light kiss against the shell of it before reaching up with one hand and grabbing the other man's chin, stubble tickling his fingertips, between his thumb and index, angling his head up to expose his throat, licking a fat trail up over his Adam's apple and scraping his teeth lightly along the jut of his jawline before drawing away, their lips inches apart. ]
With you, it's a matter of not wanting to stop.
[ Stop looking, stop doing, stop fucking...
Mostly distracted by more important things, like dick, James recalls their talk downstairs, about sinfulness, about inherently and willfully, the crucial, important difference. A harsh huff of breath, ghosting over the other man's lips and James lands his free hand on his hip, following the curve of bone underneath skin with careful, soft fingertips. Looking up through lowered lashes, because the water's still beating down, he slips his hand downwards, cupping the hard length of Lucifer's cock with his palm, rubbing up against it. His own hips are jerking forward into the other man's touch shakily. ]
[ He leans his head backwards into the spray to give James room to roam as he pleases, over his throat, Adam's apple (ugh, seriously, Adam was a bloody prat, why would they name anything after him). At his words, he chuckles, feeling his breath against his lips, his scent a bit stronger like that. His next exhalation shudders out of him, as James runs his hand down his hip, inwards, cupping the length of his cock. ]
Of course it is.
[ His voice is thinner now, decidedly airy. He folds his hand around the shaft of James' cock and starts stroking it at a lazy, unhurried pace, his hand sliding wetly up and down, following the small jerks James can't help but make, chasing his pleasure, naturally. What else? ]
It's greediness, darling, a fundamentally important aspect of human nature and if you don't mind indulging - [ He steps closer, pushing up against James' hand, his own cock twitching beneath his palm. ] - then honestly, I don't much care what makes you tick, specifically, so long as you keep ticking.
[ He leans down and kisses him, hungrily, pushing his tongue between his lips and giving him a taste of water as well, can't be helped; shower sex is fun but inherently impractical. Like this, they're basically just jerking each other off but Lucifer isn't particular about the how, so long as they get where they wanna go. He thinks about how tight he'd been out in the jacuzzi, burning hot, beautifully lost in it.
No, in this particular context, being helplessly lost certainly doesn't make James look bad. Of course, that's why he's still here, isn't it. Because he can stand himself like this, even with how low he's let himself sink, running away, straying, however the story goes. ]
[ Greediness... They're ticking off the deadly sins as they go, huh? James stands his ground as the other man steps up in his face, wrapping his hand around his cock, beginning to jerk him off at a slow, unforced pace. Not to hurry them along, but to tether them in the moment. James can tell the difference, having done too much of the former and never, never enough of the latter. He breathes out hard against Lucifer's mouth as he kisses him, parting his lips and letting him breach him again. Their tongues slide up wetly against each other and James tastes him, lots of alcohol, Scotch, remnants of champagne, he's a high class minibar, really, but it's all the same in the end. It's the greed. The want for more. As long as you keep ticking.
Honestly, James feels like a landmine currently. Just waiting to go off.
Cocking his head to one side to angle the kiss better, pressing back against the other man's mouth, stroking his tongue wetly, lots of water, he supports the weight of his cock against his palm, wrapping his fingers around the shaft and beginning to stroke him at an even, smooth pace. Slow. Not quite as slow as Lucifer's doing it, but still, it will only get them so far. He wants the feeling of it, though, the heavy, hard feeling of the other man's cock in his hand, the heat of his body, the slick sound of water and skin slapping against skin. He rubs his thumb over the head, dips it into the slit, feeling the water make the slide easy.
His other hand slips up around Lucifer's shoulders, cradles him by the nape of his neck and pulls him down into the kiss, making a low, keen sound at the back of his throat as he meets him.
All the while, he thinks that greed is many things. There are many, many things in the world you can want and whatever the Bible says, come on, they can't all be bad. This? This can't possibly be bad. ]
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He smiles, zips up his jacket and is about to swing his bag over one shoulder when Diego comes out into the back room and nods upwards, unspecified, but the implication pretty clear. They all know the way. Who lives on top.
Boss wants to see you, he says and gives James a sideways glance as he turns away, not a lot of guys get the invitation, so consider yourself lucky. In the meantime, James only has time to slide his bag off his shoulder again before the bartender's out the door, returning to work. His shifts are always long, he won't be off until five.
That's how you earn a living around here, supposedly.
James doesn't know what he's earned, comparatively. Apparently an invitation to Lucifer Morningstar's private apartment. A frown. His bag goes back into his locker while he hangs his jacket away once more, leaving him just in his waiter's uniform. He exhales deeply, then heads for the lift that'll take him where someone, in this case, maybe the devil, wants him to go. He thinks about the other man's features, the way he'd leaned in close. Then, he thinks about free will.
Unconstrained and voluntary choice, yeah? While he'd no doubt lose his job, he can still just go home. Instead, James presses the button that says up and waits for the lift doors to slide open.
He was going to sin anyway, wasn't he? ]
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Lucifer's currently naked, save for a rather skimpy towel slung around his hips because, again, subtle is boring and James's had a long evening, there's no need to beat around the proverbial bush. He's left a fresh glass of Scotch next to his own on the piano where he's currently seated, playing an appropriately soulful rendition of Randi Laubek's The Promise and waiting for the doors to slide open in the background.
Outside, LA's going steady in the darkness, the sounds of the city muted this close to the sky but the distance isn't quite enough to drown it all out and he likes it that way, likes it better than the quiet. Quiet is tiresome. Means your brain starts working on some noise all by itself and that's not why he's here, vacationing far, far away from his godgiven duties.
Godgiven, huh.
Thanks, dad. Joke's on him. ]
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Which means James' hard-on is back, give it a warm round of applause.
He licks his lips and crosses the floor, getting an eyeful of terrace further back where lights show the way to the jacuzzi and he could make the comparison to the swimming pool back at the house, but save it for a day when you want to lose, you know? Just, save it and savor this. He stops by the piano, reaches out and takes the second glass of Scotch which is clearly an offer. An invitation.
One eyebrow goes up slightly as he takes the first sip. ]
I'm feeling a bit overdressed.
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There's something about his energy that gets his blood pumping. ]
Are you?
[ He doesn't bother eye-fucking him, seeing as he's already done so a-plenty and besides, he's curious about the package underneath more so than the wrapping. That's another interesting aspect of this whole... situation, isn't it, how he's getting all hot and bothered for a bloke who, on the physical level, more or less mirrors everyone else he's ever hired, none of whom he's actually fucked.
Indeed, what's so special about little James who's studied religion and failed to make it his living? Not like it doesn't happen, after all, that people immerse themselves in religion, philosophy, the questions and answers related to existence, only to push all that complexity aside for the sake of carnal pleasure, the simpler things. Isn't that human nature?
It is, isn't it. ]
Then perhaps you should get with the programme, James.
[ He locks eyes with the other man. Smiles, sharply. ]
I'm rather anxious about getting you naked, you understand. All these preliminary maneuvers, they aren't really doing it for me.
[ He reaches for his glass and takes a sip, leaving his left hand to keep the dark tones of the melody floating between them. The piano has a bright sound, crisp. ]
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Get with the program, he's told and they lock eyes for a long moment, James looking at the angular, strong shapes of the other man's face over the rim of his tumbler. His breathing feels slightly shallow, fluttering. Putting the glass back on the coaster, he nods, pursing his lip and cocking his head. ]
Okay.
[ Mr. Morningstar keeps the melody going and James is feeling equal parts nostalgic and horny as fuck. Reaching up with both hands and holding the other man's gaze, he starts working on the bowtie of his uniform, yanking it off after two seconds' worth of not-quite-fumbling. Drops it. Starts in on the buttons of his shirt, fast, precise movements of his fingers opening the fabric up down his middle, his skin peaking out until he shrugs out of the entire thing. Drops it, the lights playing over his abdomen, pecs, the staircase of ribs where Proverbs 4:23 reads stark black against his skin.
He begins toeing out of his shoes, socks, fingering his belt. ]
We'll cut to the chase. [ With a yank, he slips open the belt buckle, letting his pants slide to the floor as well and stepping out of them. The whole bundle of clothing is easily pushed aside with one naked foot. LA beaches have tanned him up for the summer, so he looks more bronze than anything, the final bastion of his underwear stark white in comparison. James looks down his own front, at the evident bulge of fabric over his half-hard cock, then over at Mr. Morningstar. ] I'm dropping mine if you drop yours.
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And yet, here the man is, living it up and giving himself away so freely in the city of angels.
The irony. Why, it's bloody beautiful, just like the rest of him, his tanned skin, leg muscles, hmm, surfer? - and oh, underwear, that's a bummer. I'm dropping mine if you drop yours he says, like he isn't gonna drop it all anyway, not exactly a worthy deal. Lucifer watches him for a moment longer, a cold half-smile playing around his lips. Then, he gets to his feet smoothly, leaving the towel on the bench.
He straightens to his full height, towering over the other man by more than just a little. ]
So.
[ He steps around the piano. Moves in on the other man, movements slow but quivering, almost, like a prowl. Smile sharpening, he pauses about a foot's distance away, tilting his chin a bit, eyes landing on the outline of James' half-hard cock. It's a pretty average size (unlike Lucifer's because he's a bloody celestial and also, ugh, creation, Dad, goodbye to that train of thought) which is how he prefers his men. Big enough to be interesting. Serviceable, you might say. ]
Did you get that written on you - [ He waves his hand at the tattoo, fingertips brushing lightly over his skin for a second. ] - before or after you gave up your studies?
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Did you get that, he asks and brushes his fingertips over the tattoo, so James' skin breaks out in goosebumps and his nipples go stiff from it. He breathes in once, hard, quickly reaching up to grab the other man by the wrist. Not holding him back, no, just feeling him out, the heaviness of his limbs, his big hands. You know.
James was right in the end. One thing implies the other.
Tilting his head upwards, because the man is towering over him by a head, he looks directly into his eyes, blinking a couple of times. Dark brown. He's so dark throughout, to be honest. Like shadows. Like the taste of good whiskey. Like all temporary things which is maybe a bit on the symbolic side, but no less true for it. ]
What difference does it make?
[ It's not that he won't necessarily answer, it's just that for someone whom these preliminary maneuvers don't do anything for? Mr. Morningstar is certainly asking the kind of questions that don't bring them onwards in the script. ]
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You know, darling, up here? [ He curves his hand over James' hip, fingertips brushing over the fabric of his pants. ] A deal's a deal.
[ He reaches down and squeezes one, firm buttock quickly - but there's a touch of strength there, maybe more than a touch - then steps away, pulling his hand from James' grip with ease. His own cock is more than half-hard now. Brushing his hair back, he steps around James and heads towards the open terrace door, the golden lights from outside reflected in the window glass. ]
Come find me when you've lost the rest.
[ He steps outside into the cool air beyond, feeling it brush over his naked body, nipples stiffening in response. Padding over to the jacuzzi, he stands by the edge for a moment, watching the lights lining the tub as they make the water blink and glitter. A quick glance upwards - thinking, have fun with this, then - and he's stepping in, seating himself on one the benches along the side and stretching out his legs lazily. Grabbing a flute of champagne from the nearby tray, he sips it and leans his head back against the edge. ]
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Breathing out harshly as the other man grabs his buttock and squeezes it, like he's giving back as good and, it definitely feels like, better than he gets, James turns his head enough to follow him with his eyes as he continues out on the terrace. The lights play off of him while he slides into the water, seats himself on one of the benches along the side and reaches for a flute of champagne.
Well, old man, it so happens that James has realized at this point that a little bondage isn't so bad.
Prying his underwear off, leaving his cock springing free, more than ready, James steps out of the small slip of fabric and abandons it to the shadows of the room, following the other man out onto the terrace. Only the most necessary parts of the place are lit, right, just enough not to trip over your own feet, because that would be unsexy and they're not here for that, obviously. Though, you have to question whether Mr. Morningstar could manage unsexy, even when blindfolded and tied up.
The mental image indicates no.
James raises his chin and sits down on the edge of the jacuzzi, an arm's length from the other man, slipping into the water with a small splash that the night mostly swallows up. He ignores the champagne, though. Honestly, if this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience? He is going to enjoy it sober. ]
After. [ He replies, willingly. Finally. A glance over at Mr. Morningstar, followed by a cock of his head. ] Is this a two-way street? Will you answer one of mine?
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It's not his preference, sure, but sometimes it's just what does it.
Glancing sideways over the rim of his flute, he licks his lips and shrugs, stretching one arm out, leaving it resting against the side of the tub (and consequently, along James' back and shoulders, such a happy coincidence!). ]
If you don't try, presumably - [ He runs his fingers up James' back, along the ridge of his spine, all the way to the nape of his neck. It's a brief touch but steady. Unwavering. ] - you'll never know.
[ After, he said. So, it's the sort of promise you make when you've already been burned, huh, when you've felt the heat and as such, the necessity. The thought makes his own back tingle, like the scar tissue's alive and well back there and not dead, inconsequential. You make your own reminders, don't you? Doesn't have to point backwards, doesn't have to point forward either. Sometimes, it's just a thing of the moment, something that feels imperative enough to commemorate.
And sure, yes, sometimes it's more than that. ]
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The motion of the other man's fingers running up his spine makes him shiver, the way they slide all the way to the nape of his neck and James leans his head back against his hand when he gets there, finding himself staring up at the night sky above, the lights from the city washing out the stars. His breathing shudders out of him and he slowly turns his face to the side, looking up at the other man's profile. Hard lines, strong jaw, prominent nose. Mm. He smiles, just a small tug at the corner of his mouth, amused.
Edging closer, his side brushes up against Mr. Morningstar's, underwater. James reaches out and slips his flat palm from the curve of one knee to the taut muscle of the man's thigh. ]
How do you punish a vain man with a mirror?
[ There are a ton of questions he could've asked, true. Is Lucifer Morningstar your real name or why am I here, why me, but he's not here to drag out foreplay with the big truths. The big truths will probably reveal themselves, if he actually manages to get out of this night without being fired and sent home without pay, let's be real.
Still, it's a sincere question. James raises an eyebrow slightly, just to go with the smile, lazy but intrigued. Sounds like something out of Dante. ]
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A good contrast to all that distinctive hardness.
Leaning in, he licks a heavy, wet trail up the side of James' neck all the way to his ear, tasting salt and the remnants of smoke - club life, alcohol, sweat. Lux. He gives his earlobe a little nibble before nuzzling in against the hair right behind his ear, his scent clear in his nostrils whenever he breathes in.
His cock gives a little jerk underwater, even. Look at all that excitement!
Drawing back a bit, he says, voice low, mostly a sharp rumble from deep in his chest: ]
Oh, that's easy.
[ He runs his hand slowly down the other man's back, shoulder, ribs, back up, stroking the soft skin there, his knuckles slapping against the water's surface. ]
Just show him his true reflection.
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A hard intake of breath. Yeah, definitely something out of Dante. Purgatory. Hell. Which, supposedly, everything considered...
Instead of giving it anymore thought, he focuses on the other man's proximity, the feel of his tongue's trail of saliva up the side of his neck, his nose pushing in behind his ear, his hand on his back, stroking, stroking, almost soothingly, except not really. Nothing's really soothing with Mr. Devil, is it? His own voice, when he speaks again, sounds hoarse and noticeably affected.
It's the way he can feel the weight of Mr. Morningstar's cock jerk slightly against the back of his hand where he continues his own stroking over his thigh, inner thigh, running the tips of his fingers over the thin stretch of skin that separates leg from crotch. ]
I think - [ Twisting slightly on the bench, he turns more fully towards the other man, coming face to face with him, not quite on eye-level, because he just has to be a tiny bit imposing, doesn't he? He has to be just a tiny bit out of scale, down to the physicals. James glances up at his face, catches his eyes, holding his gaze, his breathing slightly shallow at this point. His hand pushes in between the man's thighs, just urging, inviting him to spread them further, rather than actively forcing anything as he leans in slowly, their noses bumping for a second, their lips brushing. He talks directly against his mouth. ] - we should end the Q&A here, Mr. Morningstar.
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And considering the way he looks, that speaks volumes.
As the other man slides down against him, their cocks rub together deliciously, caught between their bodies, the wet slide of friction suddenly very much present. With a groan, Lucifer pushes upwards against him a bit, just feeling the weight of him, the hardness.
Then, he spreads his thighs because he got the message the first time around, sure, but this is a far better way to go about it, isn't it? With James in his lap, his legs fan out at the movement all by themselves, just one thing leading to the next. Grabbing his buttocks roughly and spreading him open the rest of the way, Lucifer finally leans in - up, just slightly - and kisses him, pushing his tongue hard between his lips. He tastes like Scotch, of course, and that's always a pleasure. Breathing harder now, he leaves himself open as well, giving the other man the option of taking him right back in his own, small way.
Not like it isn't obvious anyway, who's on top. ]
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He breathes hard through his nose, taking everything the other man is giving, hands, mouth, sudden overwhelming heat and nearness. It's good. He's good with it. James follows the line of the man's neck, caresses his jawline briefly with his thumb before unceremoniously burying the fingers of his right hand into Lucifer's hair, angling his head by pulling at it and pushing his tongue back inside his mouth in turn, the wet slide of muscle making his toes curl. He groans, louder this time.
With his other hand, he reaches down and closes his fingers around their shafts, managing just barely, because - well, Mr. Devil's hung, pretty much, and hears the splashing of his wrist, fingers, breaking the surface once, twice, three times, as he starts stroking them both, just a slow, firm grip to amp up the friction, right?
It's not like this is the end of it. They're just getting started. James knows he's getting preyed on tonight, he's going down.
He's going down, and you won't hear him complaining about it, maybe until tomorrow. ]
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Mm, but it's not quite sufficient in terms of friction, this. They both know it, too. Breathing out heavily, Lucifer slides both hands over his buttocks, feeling him out, fingertips digging in. He spreads his cheeks apart with one hand, holding him open for a couple of seconds, letting him feel the hot water against his rim. Then, with his free hand, he brushes two fingers over the hot muscle there, feeling it flutter against his fingertips.
Breaking the kiss, he mutters, voice quieter now, more focused: ]
You seem a bit tight, don't you? James.
[ He presses one fingertip in, no more than an inch, feeling the muscle give a little in response. ]
Sure you can take me? Or would you rather - [ He smiles, planting a sloppy kiss on the side of James' mouth. ] - be less adventurous about it?
[ Sure, there's a tint of something mocking, something a little too sharply edged, in his voice. But it's an offer, too, and a question because he's just not in the habit of fucking people who'd rather not be fucked. They can do other things, after all. If he pushes James' hand away and takes over, he could give them a wonderful little ride of frottage, for instance. They could get oral about it, too. Lots of ways, none of them boring. ]
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Dipping his finger into him, just an inch, nothing much, except he has huge fingers and he can feel him, he can feel his asshole give around the penetration, Lucifer asks him whether he can take it. Whether he can take him. In his loosened grip, his own cock's growing impossibly harder.
The people he usually fucks don't ask, do they? They assume, you're here, you're in, you'll take it whichever way, right? Whichever way. James straightens up a bit, pushing back against the other man's hand, finger inside him, forcing it deeper. Oh. Yes. Fuck. The man asked.
That alone would make him want to take him. Their lips slide over each other again, slick and hungry. So hungry. ]
You're big. [ A mutter, then a intake of breath as he tightens around the other man's finger, letting him feel how very tight he can get. He turns his head a little and presses his forehead against the side of Lucifer's face, breathing hard against his ear, kissing the stubble along his jaw. ] And you're going to fit inside me perfectly.
[ It's not just dirty talking either. James has taken big guys before, Oliver's not small, for a start. None have had quite the impressive size of Lucifer's, but he's survived DP and they're still a stretch from that. If he's as courteous in his fucking as he is in his foreplay? They're going to be fine, better than fine. ]
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Aha! Knew I'd left one.
[ He holds up a small tube of lube between them triumphantly, then unscrews the lid single-handedly because the Devil's bloody well dexterous, particularly in matters concerning soon-to-be anal sex. He pushes his finger inside James' arse a bit further, just letting him feel it there for a moment while he squeezes out some lube onto his palm - stuff's silicone-based because he's got lube for all occasions as well as a jacuzzi that he really rather likes having sex in. ]
Now, darling, do tell.
[ Hand nicely slicked up, he drops the tube on the side of the tub and slides his fingers right back between James' buttocks. He doesn't remove his finger - instead, he simply pushes another in right alongside it, the lube making everything feel a lot smoother. He feels the other man's arsehole stretching to accommodate and pushes in deep, all the way to the last knuckle. Then, he stills, leaning up close to speak against the shell of his ear. ]
You came to LA to escape yourself, didn't you? You want me to make it all sweet and precious - [ He slips his finger out, halfway, then pushes it right back in. His cock jerks. ] - or do you want me to fuck you into utter oblivion? I'm asking because I'd like to hear you say it.
[ True, he could ask him about his true desire right now and get the answer for free but what's the fun in that? James deserves better than that, at least, with his warm lips and his pliant body. He's doing the best he can, presumably, as people - humans - tend to do. They try.
He's convinced that James does too, even if he's pretending not to. That's usually a dead give-away. ]
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Sweet and precious or utter oblivion, the other man wants to know, concluding that he's here to escape himself. Not here here, but a general here, Los Angeles here. Well, he's certainly here here to escape something which is why sweet and precious isn't going to cut it. James has done sweet and precious for far too long, has done it for everyone else's sake, too, and he's through with that act, he thinks. If not forever, then for a good while to come. However, with Lucifer heavy against his ear, he licks his lips and opens his eyes again, staring out into the night around them, balancing himself with his hands on the other man's shoulders, using the leverage to pull off his fingers slowly, achingly slowly, before seating himself over them once more, letting him sink all the way in. Like that, he's fucking himself on him, feeling his asshole stretch and clench in time. ]
I'm not here to forget. [ He begins, voice remarkably calm, if a little airy, dreamy while he's pulling off and pushing back over Lucifer's fingers again, again. Not oblivion, then. But not sweet, either. Give him a third option. ] I want you to fuck me hard enough that I don't, tomorrow.
[ James knows, after all. He knows what he keeps chasing, a chance to be grounded. Basically, he wants someone to fucking nail him to the ground with their cock, right? Make something stick, make him stick. Turning his head enough, he licks a wet trail over Lucifer's jawline, little hairs tickling his tongue as he makes his way to his mouth, places an open-mouthed kiss against his bottom lip, teeth first, tugging. ]
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Metaphorically speaking. ]
You know what?
[ He adds another finger to the mix whilst James tugs at his bottom lip, leaving his arsehole stretched around him obscenely, the wet slide of James' body sinking down and the splash of water around the other man's hips stealing his focus, making it narrow down to little but this, now, which is obviously the point of sex. Maybe not to forget but certainly, to get lost. Why else would you (except to procreate but you know, you as a general you). Why else? Breath coming out like a harsh moan, caught between his teeth, he pulls one hand, the un-lubed one, away from James' arse and grabs the tube again, squeezing out enough to slick up his palm.
He works his own cock then, slowly, taking pleasure from it. Hooking his fingers into James' arse at an angle, he catches his prostate very deliberately and rubs it, repeatedly. ]
I think, in essence, what we want - [ He releases himself, pulls his fingers roughly from the other man's arse and grabs his hips with both hands, pulling him up, over the water's surface. ] - is to be ourselves. To be exactly who we are.
[ He pauses, hands flat against the other man's hips, holding him up without even a tremble. His body weight is negligible at best. Humans, physicality aside, are little but air. Atoms and atrophy. He stares into James' eyes, unblinking, gaze hard and intense and full of arousal. Excitement. Nods, downwards, towards his own lap, the head of his cock breaching the water between them. ]
So, go on. Let's have it.
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Then, the other man releases himself and grabs onto him, catches him by the hips and lifts him up, over the surface of the water, leaving him kind of hanging there between his hands. Strong, he thinks again, almost inhumanly, impossibly so and - What we want is to be ourselves, Lucifer tells him, staring at him, into him somehow and James can't breathe, his cock so hard it hurts and his ass feeling void and ready. He inhales, exhales, inhales again. Looks down between them as Lucifer nods at his slicked up cock, poking out of the water like a lighthouse. Like rock. Raising his gaze to the other man's face again, he catches his eyes and balances himself with one hand on his shoulder, grabbing onto him hard, and the other reaching down, closing around the base of his cock, angling the shaft slightly as he lowers himself down over his lap.
The man's going to nail him to something, that's the point, isn't it? That's the basic mechanics of it. He's going to nail him to him. James breathes through an open mouth, water lapping up his sides as he feels the head of the thing, huge, slip up between his buttocks, pushing over his rim, loosened and open. All the while, he stares into the other man's eyes. As he licks his lips and applies pressure, feeling the whole girth of the head pushing against his hole, beginning to sink in, forcing him open. There's always this point where it feels impossible, but all impossible things have their moment of likelihood and this is it, for them. He's clinging to Lucifer's shoulder, leverage, feeling the enormous thing go into him as he sinks down little by little and it's stretching him to the point of the obscene, like he's going to pop. His breaths are shuddering out of him, little throaty sounds, a moan, then the man's cock is breaching him completely and the shaft follows, an inch, another. He releases his hold on him, reaches up and splays his fingers out over the stretch of skin where Lucifer's shoulder meets neck.
James is shaking slightly, sweaty, groaning. He glances down at Lucifer's face, swallowing hard. ] I know. [ A whisper. Me too, it means. I want that, too. ] I know. [ And with that, he seats himself with his legs spread wide over his lap, the man's cock sinking into him all but to the base. He feels massive. Like everything's hollowed out to fit him. Sure, it hurts. It's supposed to.
Only that way is his body going to remember. Tomorrow. ]
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He keeps his hips still until the man's seated. Then, he reaches up with one hand, folding it over one of James' and squeezing, pushing the other man's fingers into his skin. ]
There, darling. That's good. [ He looks up at him, breathing raggedly, his lips parted. ] Now, take it easy, yeah?
[ He curves his arm around his waist, keeping him down, speared on his cock. Very lightly, he pushes up into him, tiny thrusts, enough to stretch him a little wider without actively forcing him apart. Giving him time to adjust, hm, and giving Lucifer time to just enjoy the tightness of it, the heat. The strong grip of his arsehole around the base of his cock. He adds, smiling widely: ]
We've got all night.
[ With that, he leans forward and mouths wetly at James' shoulder, lips sliding up the slope of his neck, nibbling at the soft skin there. He keeps him close, his arm curled around him tightly, his cock buried deep within his body. Moment of connection, you know, that pivotal peak of sexual intercourse, when you aren't yet solely chasing your own pleasure. Everything always goes downhill from there. It's not bad obviously, but it's why he easily goes through ten people in one night or more.
Simply put: you're alone until you aren't. ]
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His grip does tighten, then, when Lucifer starts pushing into him, just tiny thrusts that stretch James open without tearing anything, obviously he knows how to wield that gigantic cock of his right, huh? James catches a glimpse of the wide smile that accompanies we've got all night and despite his concentration, the way he's beginning to move against the other man, tightening his asshole around his length as he slides in, out, his eyebrows go up a little, amused. Feeling his mouth against his shoulder, he turns his head in against the side of his face, nose burying into his hair, lips over the shell of his ear. As such, he doesn't raise his voice, but the breathiness holds some humor now, his body warming up exponentially.
Oh, it's good. The slide, the stretch, the fullness. He hooks his arm around the other man's neck and pushes his whole front up against him, rising off his cock a little before sinking back down. His ass is coming around as well. He repeats the motion, angling himself a little, feeling - well, basically everything pushing against his prostate. He huffs out a breath, it's throaty, not quite a moan, but almost. ]
All night of this? Would kill me.
[ His free hand slips down over the other man's chest, palm flat, rubbing over pecs, nipple, hot skin. They're both burning. Like a fever. Like a fire. He turns his head more and runs his mouth over the other man's cheekbone, breathing shallowly against the curve of his upper lip, waiting for him to allow the right angle for a kiss. ]
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Hardly.
[ He speaks against James' lips, his own wet and desperate at this point. He licks a fat trail along the other man's bottom lip before delving into his mouth, tasting him again, the taste of Scotch only secondary now, an implication of something that's come and gone. James' inherent taste, of course, persists. That's how these things go.
He thinks about the other man traveling to LA, getting himself good and lost in the city of angels, turning his back on what used to be, what used to give his life meaning. Human existence is so fragile, so brief. Such a decision speaks volumes.
Imagine what he used to be, this man. Imagine what he still is, once you peel away the rest. ]
Would take a lot more, wouldn't it, to bring you down?
[ He thrusts upwards, then, in, giving him more and filling him up, his balls tightening with every inward stroke at this point. He doesn't let go of him, though, doesn't lessen his grip on his waist or the way he's holding him close, keeping him safe and balanced and steady above him. Around him.
Instead, he goes back to kissing him as he fucks him faster, his cock sinking in all the way and his climax drawing closer and closer. ]
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Moaning now, loudly, against the other man's lips, he amps up the pace, riding Lucifer's cock harder, faster, the water splashing around them with every movement. He pulls out of the kiss, breath escalating, and presses his forehead against the other man's, tightening his asshole around his length as he goes up the next time, and the next time after that. He's so big that every inch of him is rubbing over his prostate and his balls are drawing up fast now, climax drawing nearer, like a wave. ]
Oh - [ A year and a half ago, he'd have said oh, God, but he doesn't anymore. He hasn't since he moved here. From one day to the next, he just stopped taking the Lord's name in vain. Mostly because he didn't feel like taking the Lord's name anywhere, you know? Didn't feel like using it. After all, what for? He gasps, whimpers, a long outdrawn sound and then finished with a more profane: ] - fuck.
[ When it finally hits him, it's like an overwhelming wall of pleasure. He moans, feeling his asshole contract harshly while his cock pulses in Lucifer's grip, his balls drawing up against his body. His hips work throughout, pushing in, pushing back, his back slightly arched and his skin shining from water, sweat, eyes closed, mouth agape. ]
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He looks up at James, eyes wide, like there's just something inherently surprising about a human in the throes of pleasure which, objectively, there isn't, not after such a long bloody time. All the same, here he is. Feeling... surprised. Taken.
Undone.
Growling, a primal sound coming from deep within his chest, he tightens his grip around James' waist, pulls him up a fraction towards himself and fucks into him, hard and fast, burying himself with every thrust. It takes him less than a minute to hit the edge - with a loud moan, he tumbles right over, a rush of pure pleasure flooding him as he spends himself, pulsing deep within the other man. Hip jerking a couple of times, rocking James' body from the sheer force of his thrusts, he finally stills against him.
The water stills in response. ]
Oh.
[ He licks his lips and looks up at the other man, his cock still hard inside of him. On impulse, he leans in and kisses his shoulder, tasting water and sweat there, before he pulls him forward against his chest a bit, enough to slide out of his body. His cock pops out, lube and cum sticking to its length. Tilting his head sideways, he kisses James again, slower now, his tongue slipping into his mouth with utmost familiarity, like they've done it across several life times. He's spent, though, truly and utterly.
Good thing he spotted this opportunity, clearly. Very, very good. ]
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He won't be able to walk after this, that's for sure.
Finally, they're stilling against each other, breathing hard and fast, bodies slick from water and sweat and the rest, right? Lucifer kisses his shoulder. Then, he kisses him, tongue pushing into his mouth and James is kissing him back blindly, still riding high. The other man's cock pops out as he draws him in closer to his body, leaving his asshole wide open, gaping, hurting. It's beautiful. Perfect.
This? He won't forget.
Pushing back with his hands on the other man's shoulder where he's left huge red imprints from his fingers, he's been clinging to him so hard, James licks his lips, easing back to rest on the other man's thighs instead of his lap. Smiles, widely, after a second. Would take a lot more, to bring you down, the man had said, in the midst of it all. Shit, what's up with all these truths. ]
You're right. [ He's still slightly out of breath, voice raw from moaning, but he sounds playful, head cocking to one side, sex hormones racing in his body. ] I'm not dead yet. How are we going to take advantage of that?
[ His ass is, obviously, dead, but he's got other selling points. For example, he can play the trumpet. Perfect facial nerve and lip tension control. Lucifer should let him stay another round, two, James knows he's got it in him, after all, Mr. Devil isn't dead either, so really, he should let him show him. Should show him, in turn. ]
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On a slow exhalation, muscles still loose from orgasm, he lifts James off his lap and more or less drops him on the bench next to him, giving him another fast look-over before reaching for his champagne. He empties it, though it's a bit om the warm side at this point - alcohol is alcohol, particularly when you're post-orgasmic. ]
I suppose... [ He trails off. Stares towards the shadows for a moment, then blinks, hard, and gets to his feet, water rushing off him as he straightens up. ] We might find a way, you and I.
[ Glancing over his shoulder briefly at James, he steps out of the tub and grabs a towel from the nearby basket. He dries off his hair, first, quickly, before tying it around his waist. Then, he shrugs and nods towards the rooms beyond. ]
I'm grabbing a shower. You're free to come along.
[ With that, he's off, leaving his own, wet footprints to dry in his wake. ]
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Then, as he looks up to follow the other man with his eyes when he gets out of the tub and walks over to dry off, he pauses for a second, getting an eyeful of very broad, very strong, masculine back - with huge scarring across both the shoulder blades. Right where the bones join. The areas mirror each other, too, obviously done with deliberate care, more like scarification than some horrible accident. Incident. He could ask about it, true, but that would be unbelievably transgressive, right? They barely know each other, aside from the man's cock in his ass, he hasn't earned the right to that kind of info. At all.
Lucifer looks at him over his shoulder, the bones moving beneath the scarred skin at the turn of his head, curve of spine, James looks up and meets his eyes without blinking. You're free to come along. Consent, again, giving, taking. The man is particular about it and James likes that. Slowly, he gets out of the jacuzzi himself and grabs a towel, drying off his hair, his shoulders lazily. His ass, cum running down his thighs. Taking a moment to catch the worst of it, he lets his gaze glide up Lucifer's back again, watching as he walks towards the rooms beyond.
They look like wings, he realizes. The body mods. They look like someone has cut wings off of him. The fallen angel, it's not just an image, is it? It's something far more expansive, like a whole identity. A way of being.
He breathes in long and slow, heat pooling low in his abdomen again. Already. Dropping the towel, he follows along, wordlessly. ]
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In his walk-in closet, the motion sensors in the ceiling activate as he passes through without pausing, the lights dim and warm against the wood panelling. He leaves the frosty glass door open behind him, still inviting, still open to all likely outcomes, and goes straight for the shower. Naturally, he's got a claw-foot tub as well because why wouldn't he, but post-anal sex routines tend to call for running water and so, he steps inside the big shower cabin and hits the wall panel, the waterfall showerhead unleashing a soft but dense cascade of hot water from above.
Shutting his eyes, he soaps up blindly and leans his head back, his hair sticking to the back of his neck. The remnants of orgasm still linger in his muscles and his movements are slower than usual, a little more languid. Sex is... well, he's known since the dawn of man, hasn't he. It's bloody fantastic. He thinks about James and the look on his face, the change from flatness to pure, unadulterated passion. His cock gives an interested little jump, too.
From what he can tell, the man's coming to join him in a moment. He probably shouldn't be feeling all hopeful about it but fact remains, he's invited him up here for a reason and he doesn't feel quite done.
Then again, he's the Devil so that might also be par for the bloody course. ]
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The frosty door leading to the bathroom, judging by the sound of running water, has been left open and he walks in, gingerly, every step a bit measured, because his ass still hurts and will hurt for a while to come yet. Outside the shower cabin, huge, elaborate like everything else in the apartment, he pauses for a moment and watches Lucifer soaping off, head tilted back, hair sticking to his skin, hands working mindlessly. Oh. Well. Okay, yes. ]
I like the way you're always showing off. Not just for me, but in general. [ This place, right? Or, as he's witnessed a few times, when the man performs at the club. The way he carries himself. The way they talk about him. Stepping inside, the waterfall showerhead making the transition from cool air to hot water very abrupt and leaving him gasping slightly, James moves up in front of the other man, looks up at him. And up. And up. Even his height is attention-seeking. ] You make it look natural.
[ The water drenches his hair, making it fall into his eyes in heavy bangs that he doesn't care to brush away immediately, just glances up at Lucifer, blinking against the spray. There's heat, between them, still. He wants to suck his cock, pretty much. He wants to get on his knees and suck him dry. He's heard it takes a few tries. ]
That's a compliment, by the way.
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He's been a different person, once, wearing that same face, chasing his theology studies and all the thoughts associated with it, fairy tales and lies and truth, sure, buried so deep as to be imperceptible. In LA, people don't have to shapeshift to transform, they only have to be here and let themselves get carried away by the currents. He's well aware. Of course, he had to do some shaping but he's not one of them, obviously, and he never truly will be. Rules are different with angels.
Hard to say what shapes them, really, when the source of it all insists upon being so ridiculously illusive and silent.
Quirking one eyebrow, he spreads his legs a little, sort of tilting his hips forward slightly, his cock half-hard again. ]
Showing off, you say.
[ He licks his lips, tasting water and soap now, only the barest traces of Scotch and very little of James. Shame, that. Good thing he's up for a re-fill soon enough. ]
It's not about that, James. It's just that humans can't help but look. [ He curves one hand against the back of James' neck, dragging his wet fingertips through his hair, playing idly with the strands. ] And I happen to like that about you.
[ Said with a slow smile, easy and a little less sharp than earlier, a little more friendly. ]
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It's bizarre, but it's also recognizable and here, James will take whatever he can get of that, right? L.A. is still a strange, new place. Maybe it always will be. Maybe it won't, supposedly he'll figure that out soon enough, if he stays put for long enough.
Breathing out shakily, feeling his cock take a definite interest in the way the other man is angling his hips, showing off like he's proving a point, he rubs himself up against the other man's fingers, his palm, hand, taking whatever little scrap of touch he's offered. He raises both hands, presses them flatly against the man's chest and runs them down over his pecs, the water making the movement smooth, wet, his palms rubbing over nipples on both sides. Mm. He steps closer, until they're all but pushing up against each other.
All the while, he doesn't break eye contact. ]
Depends on what we've got to look at.
[ A rhetorical pause as he leans in and licks a trail over the other man's shoulder, from his upper arm to his neck. He uses the inclusive we, like an invitation - he could be talking about himself and the rest of the humans or he could be talking about Lucifer, too. James isn't going to shy away from the discrepancy of it. The strangeness. He's studied the Bible, he's seen worse. ]
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He notes, of course, the way James is going along with his narrative, saying we which could be both inclusive and exclusive, depending on your choice of the night. Lucifer's, his, whichever. It's a silent acknowledgment that he doesn't need to reduce either of them to fantasy or fancy - which is unusual, granted, enough for Lucifer to actually notice now. He can't remember when he last slept with someone who didn't treat the notion of God or religion as something of temporary convenience; when they need it, they believe. When they're trying to have an orgy, they really don't.
Except here's James, clinging onto some very different notions altogether and Lucifer's intrigued enough to pay attention. Truth be told, the idea of bedding anyone who'd spent any prolonged time immersing themselves in the Bible - rot, from start to finish, lies and slander - would normally turn him off but James has grown wiser, hasn't he?
Wise enough (or hurt enough, he knows how that goes) to wonder. To push it away, keep it at an arm's length.
With a groan, he curls his soapy palm around the length of James' cock, rubbing slow circles over the head with his thumb. ]
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With you, it's a matter of not wanting to stop.
[ Stop looking, stop doing, stop fucking...
Mostly distracted by more important things, like dick, James recalls their talk downstairs, about sinfulness, about inherently and willfully, the crucial, important difference. A harsh huff of breath, ghosting over the other man's lips and James lands his free hand on his hip, following the curve of bone underneath skin with careful, soft fingertips. Looking up through lowered lashes, because the water's still beating down, he slips his hand downwards, cupping the hard length of Lucifer's cock with his palm, rubbing up against it. His own hips are jerking forward into the other man's touch shakily. ]
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Of course it is.
[ His voice is thinner now, decidedly airy. He folds his hand around the shaft of James' cock and starts stroking it at a lazy, unhurried pace, his hand sliding wetly up and down, following the small jerks James can't help but make, chasing his pleasure, naturally. What else? ]
It's greediness, darling, a fundamentally important aspect of human nature and if you don't mind indulging - [ He steps closer, pushing up against James' hand, his own cock twitching beneath his palm. ] - then honestly, I don't much care what makes you tick, specifically, so long as you keep ticking.
[ He leans down and kisses him, hungrily, pushing his tongue between his lips and giving him a taste of water as well, can't be helped; shower sex is fun but inherently impractical. Like this, they're basically just jerking each other off but Lucifer isn't particular about the how, so long as they get where they wanna go. He thinks about how tight he'd been out in the jacuzzi, burning hot, beautifully lost in it.
No, in this particular context, being helplessly lost certainly doesn't make James look bad. Of course, that's why he's still here, isn't it. Because he can stand himself like this, even with how low he's let himself sink, running away, straying, however the story goes. ]
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Honestly, James feels like a landmine currently. Just waiting to go off.
Cocking his head to one side to angle the kiss better, pressing back against the other man's mouth, stroking his tongue wetly, lots of water, he supports the weight of his cock against his palm, wrapping his fingers around the shaft and beginning to stroke him at an even, smooth pace. Slow. Not quite as slow as Lucifer's doing it, but still, it will only get them so far. He wants the feeling of it, though, the heavy, hard feeling of the other man's cock in his hand, the heat of his body, the slick sound of water and skin slapping against skin. He rubs his thumb over the head, dips it into the slit, feeling the water make the slide easy.
His other hand slips up around Lucifer's shoulders, cradles him by the nape of his neck and pulls him down into the kiss, making a low, keen sound at the back of his throat as he meets him.
All the while, he thinks that greed is many things. There are many, many things in the world you can want and whatever the Bible says, come on, they can't all be bad. This? This can't possibly be bad. ]