phosphoriel | (no subject)

(no subject)

He let the man forget for a while, after setting him free, after lifting the paralysis from his spine and giving him back something resembling the wholeness of his body: all injury healed, all left perfect and unmarred but for the tapestry across his back, the unfurled flower of scars. He took from his mind the hours and hours in a room which existed nowhere, the agony of that sweet silver knife, the hands that held him down, the cock that moved through him. It didn't matter what lingered in his mind; the taint would remain in him, a splintering madness that had no explanation, no words for the scars, for anything that had come before. It wasn't permanent. It would come back to him when Lucifer did.

The bar belowground didn't cater to anyone who wasn't looking for ruin, dark, desperate and smelling of liquor, buried underneath a city without sanctuary, and he found the man there again, came to him dark and beautiful, with hidden wings. He drew him into a black corner, pulled him into his lap and silenced his mouth, his hands touching anything they wanted to, his tongue taking the sharpness of the liquor he'd drunk from his lips, and Lucifer didn't give him his name or give back the memory of his hands on him, not yet. Matt was his, he always would be, and there was time to show him. The man's body was smaller and weaker and easily manipulated, his hands holding his wrists to the wall when at last he lifted his mouth from his to brush it across his ear instead.

“Show me where you live.” The grip loosened, his hands lowered. He cupped the man's cock in long fingers, the heel of his hand grinding slowly against him, over the front of his pants.

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“You were waiting for me.” His fingers tightened viciously on Matt's balls for a few moments, then the grip eased away. A hand slid curiously beneath the hem of his shirt, brushing across the familiar pattern of scars, dozens and dozens of them. Tenderly he pushed the man's shirt up and laid the hand against the center of his back to push him forward, bending him from the waist. He dragged his hips back to meet his, nudging his feet still further apart.

“Squeeze my cock with your ass. The sooner I'm finished here, the sooner we can go to your home and give you more of what you want.” There was laughter in his low voice, slightly breathless, his hands gripping his hips while he thrust smoothly and shallowly and quickly, shoving him forward against the wall. The man's body was his toy to be used, to fuck in hard, short motions while he watched him kiss the filthy bricks of the wall, his face, his mouth pressed to it, his hands grasping for purchase. He didn't give him the chance, tearing into him with a few last, brutal strokes before he came, pumping forcefully into his ass, his seed spilling thick and hot and copious. He was silent, only his breath catching, tightening like the grip of his fingers, and at last releasing again in a slow breath; then he slid from him, spilling a last time as he withdrew, staining his asshole and the insides of his thighs. His fingers rubbed tauntingly through the slick trails of semen, pressing against his used hole.

“Let's go.” He slapped his ass affectionately and then stepped away, doing up the front of his own clothing.

The fingers tracing out the scars on his back startled him. There were moments when he stopped thinking of them at all, when they became such a part of him that he didn't need to attempt to understand where they'd come from or what they meant. Lucifer's touch reminded him of his uncertainty about them instantly, making him shiver while sliding down along the wall. He reached up as he went to wrench the goggles down his chin when they pressed too insistently against his face while it scraped over the bricks and he could taste the rain on the them this time while he was fucked hard to the wall, his breath gasped, each thrust leaving him unsteady on his feet. He attempted to do what Lucifer asked unconsciously, because the voice commanding it felt gorgeous running through his mind, making him crave even Lucifer's amusement if it meant hearing the laughter inside of it. "Wait," he started when Lucifer started to come, forgetting that he wasn't supposed to find relief in this at all and straining to anyway, his hands climbing over the wall in an attempt to steady himself while Lucifer spilled in him and then on him. Pushing back against the fingers that pressed against his asshole, he half hoped they would slip inside of him and felt disappointed when they didn't. The slap made him look back and he grimaced, straightening.

Pulling his pants up over filthy thighs and over the evidence of what Lucifer had done to him, he fastened them and the belt up quickly. Glancing at Lucifer, Matt combed his fingers messily through his hair, pushing the goggles back over his eyes after a moment too. It didn't him get a hold of himself and he gestured back the way they'd been walking. "It's this way."

He couldn't focus on anything but how Lucifer's cock had felt on the way to the car. He went to the driver's door and let himself in, unlocking the other door automatically before starting the car. Seeing Lucifer through the glass of the window flustered him and he looked away to hide it, going for a cigarette this time. The window went down while he did and he waited only for Lucifer to be inside the car beside him pulling away from the curb with tight fingers on the wheel and distraction infesting his attempts to concentrate on the road, on the cigarette, on anything but the fact that he could still feel the semen on his skin. Shifting uncomfortably, he smoked when he remembered to and didn't really see the road as he drove.

The other man's tension and discomfort was something he could taste in the air between them, thick as he drove them through the damp streets, and Lucifer, smiling, didn't speak, didn't attempt to ease it. Matt was thinking of him, remembering him, still feeling his cock inside of him and that was enough.

At last they were stopped and climbing the stairs to the place where Matt lived, an apartment that couldn't really be called a home, as desolate as he expected it to be. He could see the man's ruin lurking in the corners of this place, the shadows of the forgotten things he had done to him. There were scars in his mind, too, and they lingered even when the memory of who had put them there didn't, tearing at the very fabric of his being. He moved through the apartment as though it belonged to him as much as Matt did, taking it in, turning at last to face him and crossing the room again to him. He took the cigarette from his mouth and let it fall to the floor, tugged the lenses up and over his head. His fingers brushed the hollows of his cheeks and Lucifer took his mouth again with a gentle, single-minded possessiveness.

“You want me,” he murmured against his lips, his hands lowering to unbuckle his belt, to undo the fastenings of his pants as easily as he had in the alley, dragging them down his hips. He palmed his cock, fingertips finding the fluid at the tip and spreading it with the strokes of his hand, then sliding down to his balls; he tugged at them almost idly, licking at his mouth, and then broke away to go to his knees. Pushing his cock up towards his stomach, he ducked his head to press the flat of his tongue to his balls and suck them into his mouth. The other hand slid between his thighs, fingers pressing slowly into his asshole, still open and slick with his semen.

"I do," Matt agreed, staring at the cigarette on the floor and then on Lucifer's hands on his belt and his pants and how easy it'd been for the man to invade the space of his home. The apartment already felt like a stranger's. He never bothered with many personal touches and there was more trash on the counters than there were possessions but at least they had always been entirely his. The only couch was riddled with holes born out of cigarette burns, stinking of alcohol and nicotine in a way that said it would never be clean again. He never really felt clean enough either.

Being suddenly undressed aroused him instantly, as if he had just been waiting the entire time for this, for the way Lucifer stroked down to his balls and drove his hips forward in want. His hips jerked uncontrollably the moment it was Lucifer's mouth on him and anticipation started to crawl in then, making its way down his spine to grip his cock, his legs inching apart when Lucifer's hand went between them to push fingers into his ass. He moaned, breathing out the sound, his fingers finding Lucifer's shoulder and his hair while his eyes sought Lucifer's. "Suck me off," he urged, drawn to the way Lucifer looked on his knees despite the way he knew this wasn't exactly what he wanted. Reaching back he found Lucifer's hand and ground back against his fingers, arching hard toward him, wanting every insinuation that hid inside his smile.

He licked the seam of his balls, his tongue stroking, toying with him, his teeth catching at the skin and tugging lightly. Lucifer glanced up briefly and smiled without response; his lips drew his scrotum into the wet suction of his mouth again and he drove his fingers into him to the knuckles, fucking them into him, ignoring the way the man gripped his hand and arched towards his touch. It was intriguing, being on his knees before him; they'd never had the chance to do this before, when Matt's paralysis meant that he couldn't move let alone stand, that his body was entirely Lucifer's to manipulate; he'd taken a great deal of pleasure in the use of him. Perhaps someday he would give him back the paralysis, let him be mired once again in the helpless fury and loathing of being his toy.

He kissed the side of the man's cock, rubbed his cheek against it, pale lashes lowering over his eyes, but he didn't put it into his mouth. He fit another finger into him, rocking them into him smoothly and hard, forcing him to stretch, forcing him open; his eyes opened and lifted again. “I'm not going to suck you off. Slowly he stopped, let his hand fall away and got to his feet again, his hand curving over the nape of Matt's neck; his teeth sank into his lip to drag it apart from the upper and his tongue forced its way into his mouth. He kissed him as though to take the breath out of his lungs and then murmured against his mouth, “I'd rather break you open than let you come in my mouth. I think I'll fuck your ass with my fist. I want to linger in you this time, my love.”

The endearments were different from what he was used to. The familiarity Lucifer took with his body was close to something he'd felt before though and he ignored the unease, straining to feel their bodies close against each other. He answered Lucifer's words with a kiss, teeth against the other's lips to tempt and taunt while his bare hips pushed against him. "You want both," he said against Lucifer's mouth, finally pulling away. "Let me come in your mouth while you fuck me with your fist."

He took steps away now, feeling his way around the couch with hands on the arm while he reached down to pull off his boots and tossed them aside. He finished pulling off his pants and his skin still felt Lucifer's mouth and hands on it, making him shudder and his skin feel tight with desire at the memory. When he started forward he ran his fingers through Lucifer's hair like he'd been itching to the moment he'd seen him. "If I run, will you come after me?" He licked his lips and thought he could taste Lucifer's skin too from how close their faces. Thinking of being simply overwhelmed by this stranger was intoxicating and made him forget everything he thought he wanted.

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