[ 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. ]
no subject
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. ]