[ 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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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. ]