[ 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. ]
no subject
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. ]