Who: Samandriel, Lucifer What: Talking, lessons in focus When: 9/3 Tuesday, early evening Where: Lucifer’s Rating: High. Relations with an adult / person not quite 18. Status: Complete
Samandriel hadn’t slept in his own bed since he’d gotten his wings. It’d been an unspoken thing so far, but he was beginning to worry he was wearing out his welcome. Surely, his mother wasn’t going to notice he was gone, but that didn’t mean that Lucifer wanted him there really.
Still, he was all stretched out in one of Lucifer’s t-shirts and his own boxers (Lucifer had made him switch, he was okay with it,) reading a book for class and twitching a pencil between his fingers while he took notes in his head.
Boxers trumped briefs, that was all there had been to that line of thought. Lucifer was sitting at the end of the bed, leaned against the footboard and book between his fingers. Paradise Lost, naturally. It was a bit like getting a head-start.
He glanced over at Samandriel, looking a little too cute for his own good while he studied. "What's the point of a pencil if you aren't actually taking notes?"
“It’s the safest thing to fidget with,” Samandriel said, not looking up at Lucifer. “Old habits.” He finally finished the last paragraph in his chapter and looked at him. “I don’t really need to take notes anymore.”
"Ah." Lucifer wasn't really concerned about the angel's grades -- he was clearly smart. Smart enough to get ridiculous scores on the SAT.
He closed his book, folding the page in to mark his spot. "You've been avoiding your own house for some time now," he said, pointedly.
“You’ve been dancing with my sister,” Samandriel countered.
How he stayed on top of that subject change wasn't even something Lucifer knew. "Yes. She's quite a talented dancer. It might have been more enjoyable if she hadn't been threatening me at the same time."
“Dancing with my sister and not dancing with me,” he pointed out. He shut the page and set the book on the end table. Abigail’s threats meant nothing. He’d probably end up being able to heal other people soon and then nothing she could do to Lucifer (if he hadn’t started changing himself,) would matter. He would fix it whether they were together or not.
The look that Samandriel got for his sassy efforts was a wry one. Lucifer arched an eyebrow at the boy, and shook his head. "Yes," he repeated, "you had not been there at the time, and she requested it. What does this have to do with you avoiding your house?"
“Nothing, I just thought it was my turn to be annoyed at you a little bit,” Samandriel said calmly. He sat up properly. “My mother’s been screaming at me more lately, and my father’s been drinking to ignore it and since the dreams aren’t half so bad when you’re around I thought that perhaps you’d appreciate me doing what I can to preserve what remains of my mental health.” He could handle dreaming the Fall or being cut off from humankind (and still able to see the cage far, far below, no matter that no one remarked on it,) if he could wake up to the archangel he loved and be sure he was okay.
"I hadn't been planning to kick you out of my bed," Lucifer said, scooting a little farther back against the footboard, until his back was straight and posture more even. "It was more of an inquiry."
Samandriel's answer had been a bit on the bratty side, and if Lucifer wasn't always so remarkably even tempered he might have found himself annoyed with it. "Is it your turn to be annoyed? I'd been unaware we were taking turns. Feel free to continue."
Samandriel sighed and looked down at his toes on the bedspread, slightly ashamed. “I can’t go back there for long, that’s all.” He laughed dryly. “I can feel myself going crazy and you’re the only thing that keeps me tethered to reality.”
Moving one hand, as if beckoning the younger man to his side, Lucifer frowned slightly. "I wasn't asking you to leave," he repeated. "I'm here to help." Although Lucifer wasn't amazingly sure how helpful really it was to have Samandriel be so dependent on him. He wouldn't object, currently, he was aware this was a hard time for the younger man in a lot of ways.
Samandriel shifted where he was on the bed to go lean against Lucifer instead. “In the beginning you told me I couldn’t stay here once my parents got back,” he pointed out quietly. “And I’ve been flagrantly breaking that rule the whole time.” He closed his eyes, just listening to the pulse of life in his boyfriend’s body.
“Do you read my journal?” It was a stupid question. Samandriel was certain Lucifer did. He would if Lucifer made public posts. It was one of those easy ways to keep tabs on him and probably for Lucifer to keep track of who it was Samandriel spoke to on a regular basis.
"In the beginning, I was unaware of the fact your mother was emotionally abusive and your father had no spine," Lucifer pointed out. Lots of things were fluid, rules could change easily if there was a good reason for it.
Arm wrapped around Samandriel's waist, he pulled him ever closer, until Lucifer could settle his chin atop the boy's head. "Sometimes I do, yes." Even though he never commented, and so rarely wrote on anyone else's either.
Samandriel closed his eyes. “It’s not abuse,” he said softly. “She means well. She just doesn’t know how to be a mother even after all this time.”
His arm slipped around Lucifer’s waist. They didn’t talk about the nights that Samandriel awoke in the middle of, crying silent tears. He’d stopped screaming most of the time, but that didn’t mean that things didn’t hurt.
It was abuse, of course. Samandriel's mother did not mean well -- not in any way that benefited her son, anyway. But Lucifer wasn't going to be the one to argue that. Not now, anyway; not with Samandriel clearly already feeling down about it and everything else. There was only so much he could make someone hear, particularly when he should have been listening.
"Tell me what's on your mind."
Samandriel’s eyes opened while he gazed across Lucifer’s chest. His wings stretched and spread out behind him, something he tended to do when he was feeling anxious or in any way uncomfortable.
“How can four months seem like forever?” he asked softly. “I just...want to take the GED and be done with it. I want to be done with her. I want to...perhaps care more about walking away from my humanity than I do.”
Lucifer wondered if it was strange that he was getting used to those wings. It shouldn't have been normal, but it just kind of was these days. Often he had to resist the urge to touch them since they were such odd things -- half there, half not.
He ran his fingers comfortingly down Samandriel's sides, instead. "I was under the impression that it bothered you greatly," he said, thoughtfully. "But I could understand why it wouldn't, when all you have to remind you of your humanity is a poor example." Which wasn't technically true -- Lucifer was still human, after all. They both thought a little too much on the future, perhaps. When he wouldn't be.
"You owe it to yourself to finish high school." Lucifer would, in fact, put his foot down on this one. College was a decision Samandriel could make on his own.
I don’t owe anyone anything, Samandriel thought, but decided against saying. It was petty and hurtful and Lucifer wouldn’t appreciate those words coming from his boy’s mouth. “It does bother me greatly,” Samandriel said softly, “but at the same time, it seems to only bother me in the sense that I’m not certain how to live in both worlds. It’s a very odd balance to keep to be sure. I don’t much like it, but even if it was just a matter of tipping over into angelhood, it wouldn’t quite matter since people see what they want to see. They expect human.
“I just don’t know if the incentives for hanging on are enough anymore.” He closed his eyes and tried not to think about how much this conversation sounded like it could be speaking of something else.
Oh, like his parents in general? Lucifer got that, he really did - on both accounts. He could understand too, why it would be hard to hold on to humanity when wings and knowledge and who knew what else really was a thing.
"What about your sister?" Abigail was as human as they came, but Samandriel clearly considered her a sister and a best friend. It wasn't every day someone cared about you enough to show up to a bar and threaten to shoot a boyfriend if anything were to go wrong.
“That’s the only incentive I’ve got,” Samandriel confessed. “Both she and you will accept me no matter what I am, and I think...I think even my brother half expects me to be more than what my humanity allows for.”
Samandriel did have a point there; Lucifer was going to like him either way. It didn't matter what he was so much as who he was. And if that wasn't a bit sappy, Lucifer didn't know what was.
"Why do you say that? Castiel seems particularly drawn to humanity, from what I've seen." Or at least one small aspect of it.
“Castiel is drawn to Dean,” Samandriel said simply. “Pretty sure the world could be exploding around him and he’d only really be paying attention to the Winchester’s safety.” He stretched out a bit more, shifted to rest his head on Lucifer’s stomach instead. “They’re training me in the dreams,” he whispers, “moulding me into a warrior even though it’s clear that’s not a box into which I fit. And Gabriel’s been missing for a few ages now and nobody seems to care. Heaven isn’t really heavenly.”
Now probably wasn't a good time to point out that Lucifer would probably agree with that assessment more than most might; and probably would feel more slighted by Heaven than even Samandriel. He expected he didn't really have to say so, either.
"That's what I meant. He clings to his own bit of humanity more than a human might, even. Certainly he can't expect higher things from you." He pressed his lips to the younger man's forehead. "You can't change the dreams. But you can be anything you want here. No one is asking you to be a warrior."
“Humanity is,” Samandriel said softer. “All the prayers, the thoughts, the dreams I seem to somehow wander into...people at school who’ve seen the video and turned me into a minor celebrity. I actually have people picking fights with me now. It’s disgusting.”
Lucifer sure as hell wasn't going to be the one giving Samandriel the cause and effect lecture, but mostly only because it would be a moot point by now. It was a bit disgusting -- reminding Lucifer very much of that fact that he so often disliked people Samandriel's age, how it was a bit a wonder he'd stopped to flirt at all.
He had no real argument to give -- Samandriel would eventually learn how to turn off that radio in his head, to ignore the annoyances of people trying to make a name for themselves by bothering those who already had. "It sounds to me like you need something to take your mind off of it."
“I could, probably yes,” Samandriel said, tilting his head to look up at Lucifer. The light behind him almost made him glow and Samandriel had to remind himself that he’d learned how to turn his Seeing down. He would learn to turn his Hearing down as well.
Lucifer was … pretty sure Samandriel hadn't caught on to that innuendo. If he had, the response probably wouldn't have been so flippant. Arching an eyebrow, he willed himself to look a little bored and somehow flirtatious at the same time. It was an effort. But a mastered one.
"Probably? You're usually a bit more interested than that. Yes or no, Samandriel."
What...oh. Oh! Samandriel cleared his throat. “Yes, Lucifer,” he said watching him, wondering if perhaps he should move, but knowing he probably shouldn’t until he was told where he should move to.
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the fact that it had even taken Samandriel (who was usually too full of libido for his own good) that long to catch on.
"Very good," he responded, because that response was better, more proper. He tilted his head down to nip at the boys' neck. "Now," he murmured thoughtfully. "What possibly could keep you distracted?"
Samandriel tipped his head to accept that, groaning while he let his troubles melt away and Lucifer become the center of his world again. “Whatever you’d like, sir,” he murmured.
"Lucifer," Samandriel was corrected easily, as he had been so many times before. He wondered, at this point, if it was just more of a game for them than anything else. He nipped once more before pulling himself away and off the bed -- moving his book along with him to settle atop Samandriel's studies on the night stand. "Remove your clothing, if you would." Everything, as always, was a choice.
Samandriel got up smoothly to stand and remove his clothing, placing it where he always did in a neat pile on the chair. He liked order. He was pretty sure that was somewhere in the angel genetic code. “Yes, Lucifer.”
Lucifer was wearing jeans tonight -- rare for him ever, really -- but he saw fit not to remove them quite yet. It seemed easier to think when there was something to distract himself, and denim would have to do for the moment.
He did work at the little buttons on his shirt (oxford, but still somehow casual). "Lay down, on your back. Directly in the middle of the bed."
Samandriel nodded and obeyed, stretching out bare in the exact center of the bed (he measured in his mind,) with his arms spread just to make it easier for Lucifer to do what he willed.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Lucifer leaned over a little to pet his fingers slowly across Samandriel's chest. It was a slow movement, touch dipping with every little curve, every bump of bone or muscle. "Pay attention to me now," he said, soft. "Ignore anything and everything else as best you possibly can. Close your eyes."
Samandriel closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “Yes, Lucifer,” he said, and somehow, though it was difficult, he was managing as best he could. It was getting easier. “Will you keep talking? It makes it easier if there’s more sound.”
"Of course." Lucifer wouldn't say so, but he tended to like it when Samandriel asked for things; he wasn't into the stuffy idea of only speaking when spoken to, or answering direct questions. It was all a bit of a bore, the expected norms of whatever kind of relationship this was.
"I know it's been hard on you, Angel," he murmured out, quiet on purpose, so that Samandriel would absolutely be forced to focus on him. He kissed the spot where the younger man's ribs stopped in a little dip, and then moved to rummage through a the little drawer of the nightstand. "You are aware I'll help however I can? You need only ask." He returned with one of his more unfortunate ties (he'd set a few aside for this, now) and gently wrapped it over Samandriel's eyes, tying it efficiently. No peeking.
The tie smelled like Lucifer, which was probably the other man’s intent. “Yes, Lucifer,” Samandriel said, voice trembling while he tried to anticipate where the next move was coming from or going to.
“I’m just not certain how anyone can help. Even Castiel.” Then again, Castiel occasionally seemed near useless when it came to anything that wasn’t related to Dean.
Castiel seemed more like a listener, if Lucifer had to guess. A good trait in its own right, but not necessarily always helpful. If he had to be honest, he didn't feel too bad about that. Lucifer wasn't jealous of the other angel, but it did occasionally get tiring to hear his name so often. Not that he'd admit it, because it seemed poor form to tell Samandriel to stop speaking of one of the only men whom he could relate to.
"I know," he said instead, because he did. "Even talking, though. Perhaps it will circumvent you deciding when it's your turn to be annoyed the next time around, won't it?" He watched the boy for a moment before looking idly into his drawer again, considering. It was no secret he liked building anticipation in the other man by making him wait.
“Jealous,” Samandriel corrected. “I used the wrong word before. I’m jealous. I’d like to be the one dancing with you, not her or anyone else.” He was aware that Lucifer was going to have to dance with other people. He was in Society after all. He was certain that his mother expected it of him eventually as well (but fuck her,) and there would be no way around it. Still, he thought he was allowed to be Jealous.
He really doubted it’d be any time soon, if ever, that he and Lucifer would be able to be seen dancing in public or that they’d get to the point where they’d have the one dance in public that mattered. Lucifer was the kind of man who wanted Samandriel to always have options, and the boy rather thought that since his parents’ marriage was so fucked up and his father probably felt like he didn’t have a choice when it came to leaving, that Lucifer would take all that into consideration and putting a ring on it as Beyonce so eloquently put, wasn’t going to be on the table. He was okay with that on an intellectual level, but somewhere deep inside, he really did want a big fancy affair. A celebration and an obvious statement to the world that Lucifer had a right hand, small and seemingly timid as he may be.
It was true; Lucifer lived the sort of lifestyle where dances were often called for, polite society expected it of him, and he did not mind so much doing it. There were an odd amount of deals and business propositions brought up during. That it made Samandriel jealous was unfortunate, but there was little he could do about it. Particularly since he could not dance with the younger man. Not publicly.
"Someday you'll have the chance," he murmured, because it was all he could offer for the time being. It wasn't much, but sometimes the promise of more later would have to do. In any case, he had no real reason to be jealous -- no one else was in his bed or his favors and that should have counted for something.
He had rope now -- stupidly expensive rope that was silk and black and would look strikingly nice against Samandriel's pale skin. "Roll over, hands behind your back."
Samandriel did, shifting in such a way that wouldn’t disturb the blindfold. “Not yet,” he said softly. “Someday when you can fire me so that you’re not seen to be fraternizing with your employees.” He crossed his arms comfortably at the wrists at the small of his back. He was half certain that some of the staff suspected. Lux was a piano bar after all. Their shared looks spoke volumes for how brief they were, and Samandriel was pretty certain that it was obvious that when he played, he played for Lucifer. Perhaps it wasn’t obvious to Lucifer, but there were times when the other angel left the room and the soul of the song from Samandriel’s violin changed to something a little more somber. And all the time he spent upstairs instead of in the break room proper, or all the personal deliveries of beverages and moments spent alone.
“They suspect, you know,” he said softly. “Your pianist for certain has it figured out.” But he was a musician and perhaps Samandriel shouldn’t have been in his head, but maybe the guy shouldn’t have been thinking it so loudly in the first place.
Letting out a snuff of breath at the idea of firing Samandriel just to date him openly (when he was legal), Lucifer couldn't help but be quietly amused. It was a wholly unnecessary theory, considering he owned the place, and there were certainly no rules about dating within the work place. But that wasn't really the matter at hand currently, and wouldn't be for some months -- so he brushed the thought aside for the time being and instead focused on slipping the soft rope around Samandriel's wrists, tying them diligently.
"I'm sure they do," he said, sounding unperturbed, "and they can suspect all they like. It's not particularly worrying." And it wasn't. He only had a dozen or so employees and they were all too well paid to rock the proverbial boat with suspicion. The piano player, in particular, was a friend of his. If he was bothered, he'd come to Lucifer himself. "None of them will talk, they know how to mind their own business."
It was hard to focus on Lucifer’s words when his hands were doing far more interesting things. Samandriel licked his lips, and when Lucifer was finished tying, tested his bonds gently. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.” Lucifer was his. You looked after your own.
"You needn't worry about me, little angel," Lucifer said, but there was an honest smile in his tone. He watched Samandriel test the ropes and noted that he'd done them rather well. Not too tight (silk didn't stretch well), but clearly sticking.
"Now then," he said, lifting Samandriel up to kneeling with an easy hand on the boy's wrists and rope and the other on his shoulder and biting roughly at the space between neck and shoulder. "Let's worry about you."
Samandriel gasped sharply, crying out while his focus really did narrow down entirely to Lucifer for that moment. He was having trouble keeping his balance and was more than glad to have Lucifer there to help him manage. “Yes, Lucifer,” he gasped.
"Good." The only reason he wanted Samandriel to look distracted was because Lucifer had made him so -- not because the younger man was tuning in to some sort of prayer radio that was playing in the background (honestly, he couldn't even begin to fathom or imagine). So he'd keep talking, switch things up a little.
Shortly cropped nails bit into skin, digging against hip bones and then lower. "Don't fall over," he warned even as he released his hold on Samandriel's wrists.
Samandriel, bit hard onto his lower lip. He wobbled, but to his credit managed to hold what remained of his balance. A whimper pushed its way out of his throat, one of pain but not displeasure or protest.
Pain was a good a focus as any -- particularly since Lucifer was well aware that Samandriel liked it. And maybe that was all Samandriel really needed in the first place -- the boy had said himself that in his dreams he was a bit hyperactive, a bit flighty going from here to there and never really stopping. Maybe that was why he couldn't seem to ignore all these new things in his mind.
He took his hands away from Samandriel completely, letting him half wobble until balance returned a little better. "You are lovely, you know," he told the boy, enjoying the view -- all pale skin and slender hips. Lucifer couldn't help but think that the view would be all the nicer once he introduced some more red and pink into the palette and fuck him if he wasn't thinking like some kind of artist.
“Thank you, Lucifer,” Samandriel gasped once he’d settled his balance properly. It was hard like this on his knees on the bed. He was pretty sure that with one wrong move from Lucifer, he’d be falling forward unable to stop himself. “I’m glad to please you.”
"I know," Lucifer murmured, tone kind. If Samandriel couldn't see it, he'd have to focus to hear it, and it would be remiss of the older man not to be a bit helpful with tone.
If he had to be honest with himself, he wouldn't much mind the idea of Samandriel tipped over, focusing on balancing awkwardly, cheek against the comforter, hands useless behind his back and ass in the air. He gave a little sigh at the thought of it before going back to his little nightstand drawer.
He seriously did need Dean to come over and look at his basement, a little drawer of items just wasn't going to cut it for much longer. "Have you been through this drawer recently?" Lucifer really had a thing for being entirely too slow, nearly lazy in times like these. It made his angel squirm very attractively.
“No, Lucifer,” Samandriel said, ear twitching just a little while he tracked the other angel across the room. He tried to catalogue the contents of the drawer just by sound, but he wasn’t nearly that good yet. The condoms they hadn’t used in ages though, that was a sound he knew, plastic coated foil being shuffled out of the way.
Probably it wouldn't be too easy to catalogue things in there when Lucifer kept adding new stuff to it when Samandriel wasn't looking, anyway. It wasn't a huge collection by any means, but it was certainly more than he'd started with -- which had been nothing.
"Shame," he said, pulling a few things out and setting them on the bed. They would, no doubt, roll into the dip of the bed where Samandriel was kneeling.
Back in the middle of the bed, Lucifer knelt in front of Samandriel, fingers brushing against his cheeks before he pulled the boy forward to kiss him.
Samandriel kissed him back gratefully, still unable to tell what Lucifer’d brought from the drawer even with touch added to things. “It seemed an uninvited invasion,” he murmured, “and I was more concerned with keeping out of your thoughts than digging into other personal belongings.”
It seemed like an odd stance to have on invasion of personal privacy. Samandriel shared the bed with him, took whatever damned shampoo and soap he wanted, and dug through his closet for shirts more often than not lately (and okay, maybe he encouraged that last one more often than not, but there was something wholly satisfying about seeing his much smaller boyfriend in his clothes. It was a thing). Personal thoughts -- yeah. That was invasive. But Lucifer doubted Samandriel would find anything terribly incriminating beyond a disturbing amount of sappiness anyway.
"Mm," he said, and it wasn't very helpful. He took another kiss -- rougher, less lazy and more insistent -- keeping Samandriel's balance by holding on to one of his elbows.
Samandriel kissed him back as best he could. The hand at his elbow helped a bit with his balance, but not enough and so his form was off while he tried so hard to be good. “What’s against me?” he asked. It was cool, but that could be said of anything just pulled out of a drawer and not fabric.
"It isn't glass," Lucifer offered, almost smugly. Because it was an item from a topic brought up the other day, one that hadn't actually been a conversation with so much as for Samandriel, since he'd been listening in.
“Oh,” Samandriel said, cheeks turning a shade of crimson that very much wanted to match the dark red tie over his eyes. “I see.”
"Do you?" Lucifer wasn't above a bit of teasing -- Samandriel did, after all, look good flushed like that. "Because I'm sure I haven't quite shown you yet. Would you like me to?" Choices choices.
“May I see without seeing?” Samandriel asked, shifting on his knees in the lean forward that Lucifer had him in. “Would you give me that gift?”
"It had been my plan," But it was apparent that Lucifer was pleased he'd been asked. One of these days all their play would come together properly, until they both knew completely what the other liked, and no words would really have to be spoken at all.
He had lube too, and snapped the top of the bottle open -- that noise was familiar enough he was sure. "Do you think you can stay kneeling, or would you like to move?"
“I would like to try to stay kneeling, but if I can’t manage may I move?” Samandriel asked. He would do his best. Lucifer deserved nothing less than that from him.
"If you can't manage, I'm sure it will result in you having moved." Lucifer? Kind of sassy sometimes. It just came naturally. Still polite too, though. "But good. Very good." He moved, until he was behind the angel -- seated cross legged and still in jeans as if this were the most casual thing he could be doing on a weekday night. He offered Samandriel a little swat on the ass before slicking his fingers and moving to prep him.
“If I can’t manage, it will first involve me telling you I can’t and then moving,” Samandriel quipped back, smirk evident in his voice. He shifted his weight, legs spread as much as he could and yelped happily when Lucifer swatted him. He was pretty sure this wasn’t supposed to go like this, but he didn’t much care for the rest of the world defining his relationship.
It was meant to go exactly like this. Lucifer honestly wouldn't have had it any other way; he wasn't interest in a silent and meek doormat, instead preferring infinitely Samandriel's snarky humor and attitude. Of course, he also liked that Samandriel knew when exactly to curb that attitude. Everything had a place and a time, or some such nonsense.
Even as he teased his fingers around Samandriel's entrance, he used his free hand to swat him again. If only because he'd liked the noise. "I suppose the devil is in the details." Heh.
Samandriel gave him that noise again, though it was punctuated with a whine for Lucifer’s teasing. “Perhaps soon the devil will be in my details,” he said, though it wanted to be the sassiness he usually gave Lucifer, the words instead came out almost needy. Nine words when simply two would have sufficed. Please, Lucifer.
This was possibly the lamest conversation they'd had in a while -- just short of silly. But Samandriel's need was obvious, and Lucifer always did tend to try and give the boy what he needed. He slipped his fingers into the boy one at a time -- not exactly slow, but careful and thorough enough where it wouldn't be a problem later.
There was absolutely no reason not to sink his teeth into the curve of Samandriel's hip while he worked, and so he did just that.
Samandriel cried out. His balance completely shot with that bite to his hip. “Can’t!” he said, true to his word, warning Lucifer just before he tipped forward and landed rather abruptly on his shoulder and collarbone. At least it was the bed so it didn’t hurt more was uncomfortable, and at least he’d managed to twist before he made contact.
Well, at least the kid was unfailingly honest. Lucifer blinked, had to bite his lower lip not to chuckle over it, and pulled his hand free to stroke Samandriel's hip bone. "Alright?" Clearly he was though, or else he would have said something, Lucifer was sure.
Which was why he just went on with his initial plan -- slipping more lube onto the plug before slowly (too slowly, purposefully) sliding it into his boyfriend. It wasn't huge, just a modest little thing, but enough, he was sure.
It was just enough to make Samandriel ache for more. He whined, low and completely undignified while he took it and felt the flat base sit against his skin. He gasped his lover’s name, mouth moving as if to bite something but finding nothing but air and need.
“The tie’s slipping,” he said, finally, not moving and with his eyes squeezed shut. Lucifer should fix it. Samandriel needed him to fix it.
Lucifer fixed it with steady careful hands and a fond sort of feeling in his stomach.
"Are you focused?" He asked, tone as soft as the touch he offered the boy -- everywhere, but never lasting.
“No,” Samandriel said. The unexpectedness of the fall had jolted him out of it, brought flooding back all the things he was trying to ignore. He hated himself a little for failing so much. He’d tried.
It wasn't disappointment or anger that made Lucifer bring his hand down hard against the curve of Samandriel's ass. The sound was sharp, probably sharper than the pain, but it was something that would probably help him focus again. "You'd best find it, then," he said, mild but not unkind.
Samandriel cried out loudly, “yes, Lucifer!” The strike jolted the plug in him and made things that much more awful. Careful not to jostle the tie around his eyes, the younger angel shifted his shoulders and then his legs under him to find his balance again and pull himself back up to the position Lucifer originally put him in. He whimpered and whined the whole way, but didn’t ask for help. He could do this on his own and likely it would give Lucifer pleasure to watch him.
It really did, though. Lucifer leaned back, just watching for a moment, and having to resist the urge to help by yanking on the rope between Samandriel's wrists. Really, it was his effort that made it beautiful, all tense muscles and flushed skin.
Of course, Lucifer ruined all that effort as soon as Samandriel finally managed success. He wrapped his arm around the young angel's shoulders and pulled him backward until he was sitting in Lucifer's lap; definitely a different angle for that plug the older man imagined.
Samandriel could feel Lucifer’s pleasure with him, such pride went and settled into his bones, warmed him all the way to the core and kept his cock way too fucking hard. His back pressed against the other angel’s bare chest. He couldn’t help but move his hips. He hadn’t been told not to and was looking forward to just that if it happened. Otherwise, he’d simply content himself with moving the buttplug inside him by teasing Lucifer in turn. “Sometimes,” Samandriel said, “when I dream Creation and remember you always by my side encouraging what I was more than anyone else would, it feels less like I was made for imagination and fertility and more like I was made for you to have someone in heaven to love.” And wasn’t that the tragedy of it all? Samandriel made for Lucifer and then Lucifer cast out and Samandriel forced to stay because he had been made Good and Obedient.
Lucifer was pretty okay with the hip grinding, even if he was starting to regret not having removed his jeans. It was of no real matter though -- so often he preferred to just pay attention to Samandriel that his own discomfort was hardly a concern.
"I think imagination suits you," Lucifer murmured, not really agreeing or disagreeing with the assessment (because how would he know?), even as he slipped sure fingers around Samandriel's cock. "Don't mourn over the loss of something you have in the now."
“You miss the point,” Samandriel said, moaning softly with the pull of fingers around his cock. He turned his head to speak against Lucifer’s skin, as close to his ear as he could manage. “Made for you.” He liked feeling bare arms against Lucifer’s chest where he could, the pull of the rope while he moved, his fingertips brushing against denim.
He got it. He did. It was just that he knew Samandriel had a propensity for feeling a bit sad about things like these; those dreams.
"Mm," Lucifer said, breathing into Samandriel's neck before biting a mark into it. "Perhaps you're right. It only makes sense that we are here, too." His grip found rhythm, steady and slow.
Samandriel bit his lower lip and responded to that by grinding a bit more lewdly as much as he could. It was challenging with his arms as they were. His body didn’t quite want to listen to him. “Love you too, Lucifer.”
"Stop turning my words into complete sop," Lucifer didn't quite bemoan it, but it was clear he might. He offset his words be offering sweet kisses and a faster stroke.
“You do that on your own, just takes you longer to say it.” What Samandriel wanted was that cock in him, but he didn’t think he was going to get it. Lucifer liked making him wait. “Lucifer” he gasped. Normally, Samandriel was so very good about asking permission even if he couldn’t stop himself. Tonight was different. Tonight he couldn’t get the words out fully before he came, flooded with a conflicting sense of relief and deep shame for what he’d just done without permission.
Luckily, Lucifer was nothing but forgiving when he wanted to be. He'd made this about Samandriel for a reason -- his boy was having a hard time with things, and he would not perpetuate that by punishing him. Instead he slowed his strokes until the boy was through, and murmured vague words of encouragement between kisses (Sam was right, Lucifer always did get to it, albeit in his own time).
"I'm never one to rush things," he said after a moment, amused.
Samandriel was breathing hard, but managed to collect himself and settle back against Lucifer to listen. The plug still in him was sending pleasant little tremors every time he moved his hips. “I’ve noticed,” he murmured, “not gonna stop me from telling you. One day you’ll say it back properly and not just feel it at me.”
Sighing almost dramatically, Lucifer rubbed his nose against Samandriel's cheek. "You're going to be insufferable when that happens, I'm sure."
“Pretty sure I’m going to be married by the time that happens,” Samandriel quipped. He turned his head in hopes of kissing Lucifer. “Will you undress me again so I can look at you and touch you properly?”
“I’ll undress you,” Lucifer helpfully undid the blindfold even as he spoke, looking amused over it. "But no to the rest. It's a school night." What? He was Satan.
Samandriel opened his eyes. “I didn’t mean your cock,” he said, “if you wanted that, you’d’ve put me on my knees already or at least taken your jeans off. I still have every intention of falling asleep all tangled up with you.” And completely naked because he could.
"Of course you do," Lucifer said, pushing Samandriel forward enough to undo the knots at his wrists. "I'll allow it, only because I love you."
Far from being insufferable about it, Samandriel merely smiled to himself. When his wrists were free, he leaned forward so that Lucifer could take care of the plug. There was a warmth settling in his chest and expanding through the rest of him. This was exactly how he wanted hearing those words to feel.
Free of the plug, Samandriel turned, touched Lucifer’s face and kissed him again slowly. This was home. That was a brand new feeling too. He liked both of them, and planned to hang on to them for a long while.