"Am I?" It draws a smile, those words from Balthazar, though his smiles, as always, come easily enough. He has not changed, neither in appearance nor in nature, thirty years an eyeblink to him, shorter in his perspective than in that of any mortal's, even one as old as his sorcerer. His own radiance is a subtle thing, his wings shining as though lit from behind, the room seeming brighter now for his presence. His skin where it's bared is smooth and unmarked for today. Feathers rustle as those wings flicker outwards and then settle, closing in again against his back.
"Our bond lingers. Would linger, no matter how many years passed." It's no surprise to him that Balthazar sensed his approach. With the passage of time, that intimate awareness only grows deeper. For all that Balthazar calls him master, it gives the man a kind of power over him, to know where he is, but Lucifer doesn't trouble himself with that; he knew perfectly well what would come of it when he claimed this man as his own. "Have you not always felt me?" Soft words, and a slow approach, drawing nearer. He could make Balthazar come to him, could make him come on his knees if he wished to, but such games are for other times. The radiance in that room is his love, flawed and faceted though it is.
His arms go around the man first, and then his wings, drawing him into an intimate embrace. Lucifer murmurs inarticulately and lifts his face in a cupping hand, brushing his mouth with his own. It's a fleeting light kiss, his fingers searching tenderly through the sorcerer's shortened hair. Desire recalls itself easily even at so chaste a gesture, but for the moment he only holds him close, without pressing for more.
no subject
"Our bond lingers. Would linger, no matter how many years passed." It's no surprise to him that Balthazar sensed his approach. With the passage of time, that intimate awareness only grows deeper. For all that Balthazar calls him master, it gives the man a kind of power over him, to know where he is, but Lucifer doesn't trouble himself with that; he knew perfectly well what would come of it when he claimed this man as his own. "Have you not always felt me?" Soft words, and a slow approach, drawing nearer. He could make Balthazar come to him, could make him come on his knees if he wished to, but such games are for other times. The radiance in that room is his love, flawed and faceted though it is.
His arms go around the man first, and then his wings, drawing him into an intimate embrace. Lucifer murmurs inarticulately and lifts his face in a cupping hand, brushing his mouth with his own. It's a fleeting light kiss, his fingers searching tenderly through the sorcerer's shortened hair. Desire recalls itself easily even at so chaste a gesture, but for the moment he only holds him close, without pressing for more.