phosphoriel | (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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.