He stayed with him, stayed close behind him through the room that was dark and filled with smoke and despair, the men turning their faces from him as though to hide the impossibility of yearning; Matt belonged in a place like this, haunted by nameless fears. They were something that Lucifer could taste in him when they kissed. It made him want to lick his eyes and put his fingers over them and blind him in the dark, make him feel nothing but the relentless invasion of his presence, the sweet madness of divinity. He would feel it, Lucifer thought, once he helped him to understand what he was. Someday he would wish for the oblivion that pain could give him.
With a shift of his senses he could have had them back in the man's apartment, a step from one reality to another, but instead he followed him into streets damp and slick with recent rain, air heavy with humidity; the sky was thick unbroken dark and the lights of streetlamps and storefronts glowed. And there were shadows, too, at the edges of light, black wells that reached for him, reached for them both, and in one patch of darkness he dragged Matt into the alley between two buildings and forced him against the rough wall, facing forward, reaching from behind to undo the front of his pants and wrap his fingers around his cock. “How often do you go there?” His voice was soft, his hand hard, brutal around the length of him, the hot weight in his hand; he dragged his pants down his hips and ground forward against his ass, rubbing taunting insinuations. “Is this what you look for? Or is it enough to feel the excess and the ugliness spilling into you?”
His own pants were easily undone. His cock was a hot and thick brand rubbed against the man's ass, guided to his hole to split him open, to ease inch by slow inch inside of him. Lucifer pinned him to the wall and invaded him ruthlessly, kicking his feet wider apart, his fingers expert around his own erection. The heat between them crawled, Matt's skin damp when he licked the nape of his neck. “I think you've always looked for this. Haven't you?”
no subject
With a shift of his senses he could have had them back in the man's apartment, a step from one reality to another, but instead he followed him into streets damp and slick with recent rain, air heavy with humidity; the sky was thick unbroken dark and the lights of streetlamps and storefronts glowed. And there were shadows, too, at the edges of light, black wells that reached for him, reached for them both, and in one patch of darkness he dragged Matt into the alley between two buildings and forced him against the rough wall, facing forward, reaching from behind to undo the front of his pants and wrap his fingers around his cock. “How often do you go there?” His voice was soft, his hand hard, brutal around the length of him, the hot weight in his hand; he dragged his pants down his hips and ground forward against his ass, rubbing taunting insinuations. “Is this what you look for? Or is it enough to feel the excess and the ugliness spilling into you?”
His own pants were easily undone. His cock was a hot and thick brand rubbed against the man's ass, guided to his hole to split him open, to ease inch by slow inch inside of him. Lucifer pinned him to the wall and invaded him ruthlessly, kicking his feet wider apart, his fingers expert around his own erection. The heat between them crawled, Matt's skin damp when he licked the nape of his neck. “I think you've always looked for this. Haven't you?”