Dumat: The Dragon of Silence (nearestvessel) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-12-05 22:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, lucifer morningstar, samandriel |
Who: Samandriel & Lucifer Morningstar
What: A conversation about boundaries
When: 12/5
Where: Their house
Rating: Medium-ish for srs adult conversations. Just talk though. Standard Samandriel warnings apply for the next twenty days.
Status: Complete
Samandriel had just finished sending back edits of a paper where his history teacher had told him that while he appreciated the levity, could he please actually cite his sources and not write the whole paper using personal experience as the primary source and then just using IBID from there on. Of course, his out of the box thinking was praised and Samandriel would have been smug about it if he hadn’t actually been relaying the events as they happened and not what history remembered.
Regardless, he fixed it and didn’t even so much as fake publish an article to manage it. He was pretty sure he’d be yelled at for not using scholarly enough articles, but his points were solid and mostly inarguable. Mostly.
Lucifer was still upstairs likely working on paperwork for the uptick in holiday events and things his boyfriend would have to attend, but Samandriel himself wouldn’t be able to until after the new year. So, he did the only reasonable thing he thought he should be doing. He made Lucifer a fresh pot of tea and a finely crafted sandwich. Just because he didn’t need to eat anymore didn’t mean that he’d forgotten how to cook.
Lucifer had taken to wearing the silly reading glasses more often, but currently had them rested on the top of his head as he pinched at his nose and sighed over the many charity dinners he had to accept invitations to. Christmas was nearly a burden with the things, and some days he wished very much it wasn't rude to just beg out of the events and just send a check.
It was probably some kind of angelic mind reading, really, because Lucifer ended up wandering into the kitchen (since cleaned of Dean and Gabriel's food fights and mess from Thanksgiving) just as the pot of tea was finished. "Oh," he said, sounding infinitely pleased and smoothing his hands over an eye before smiling at his angel. "Cinnamon. For me?" Not like Samandriel actually drank it unless talked into it, but it was his favorite kind.
“You looked stressed,” Samandriel said as he put the finishing touches on the sandwich. “So I made you lunch. I was going to bring it up to you but…” But now Lucifer was down here and it seemed silly to make him go all the way back upstairs just so Samandriel could complete his good deed the way he intended.
“Is everything alright?” Samandriel asked, once he set the table and hopped up to sit on the counter facing the dining room table.
Resisting the urge to ask Samandriel not to sit on the top of the counter, Lucifer only shook his head, bemused. This place was the both of theirs, and while he might never have thought it proper to sit on things that weren't furniture, Samandriel was certainly allowed his own free reign.
"Thank you, in that case," he said, seating himself at the table and picking up his mug of tea. "A little stressed. It's just holiday nonsense. Nothing to be very concerned over."
Samandriel frowned slightly, considering things carefully before he asked, “is there anything I can do to help?” Mostly, he was hoping quite a bit that this wasn’t somehow his own fault. Birthdays and proposals looming and all.
Those things weren't concerns -- nor were they things Lucifer considered work. Or something he was going to talk to Samandriel about, currently. Surprises, and all. Not that it would actually be a surprise.
"Mm," he said, thoughtful, and scratching his ear behind the frame of his glasses. "Probably not. It's mostly just a matter of deciding which charity events I can be assed to go to. What's on your mind, Sam?"
“If you’d like me to see what events your brother’s committed to, I can. It might make the choice easier.” But that was clearly not what was on Samandriel’s mind. He knew the minute the words fell out of his mouth that Lucifer would realize exactly why he was putting himself on the counter instead of in a chair. In a chair wasn’t an option. If he got off the counter right then, it would be to be on his knees or in Lucifer’s lap.
“Will you take your glasses off please?” he asked softly, looking down at his nearly perpetually bare feet. They were distracting. Over the past several weeks, they’d become too much of a symbol of impending sex for Samandriel to be okay with them just now. He didn’t wait for Lucifer to grant or refuse his request. The giving of an answer to the question he’d been asked was far more important.
“I think,” he said, still looking down so he could focus, “I think that after...after what happened,” and really, there was only one incident significant enough to be referred to as What Happened, “and then what kept happening in my head, I got...somehow more desirous of pain, of wanting to be hurt like somehow I might be able to reclaim my own body through having a choice of when and how someone laid a hand to me or broke skin.” It made sense. Hell, it made textbook sense, and that was why it kind of annoyed Samandriel.
Finally, he looked up at Lucifer, “And I think it had the opposite effect on you. I think that...that maybe at some point you might’ve been the kinkiest little fuck, but that no matter how many times you tell yourself that I wasn’t dead in those photos or that the thing you killed wasn’t me, you still see me dead and you still see yourself pulling the trigger. And...and I need you to know that I’m okay with that, that you’re allowed to say no to me, but I also think maybe we need to talk about this so we’re both on the same page and...and I know where to go from here. I mean...you asked me if this whole thing was something I still wanted, but I don’t think you really asked yourself.” Or if Lucifer had, he’d clearly refused to listen to it in favour of providing for Samandriel.
Waving away the idea of his brother in general (they were masters at avoiding each other at this point, he really didn't need Samandriel's help for that), Lucifer took his glasses off, folding them and then hanging them on the collar of his shirt just so he wouldn't misplace them.
While he hadn't necessarily been expecting this conversation, Lucifer should have seen it coming. Possibly, it should have come up earlier than it had. He was pleased, now, that he was sitting at the kitchen table with tea for it. The light in this room, and the cherry woodgrain of the table made everything seem a little less dire than what his office usually had to offer.
He didn't even take offense to being called a hypothetical past tense kinky little fuck. He only smiled and shook his head a little, glancing down at his tea and considering the words. "It could be that," he said, as if he hadn't thought of it, as if he didn't know where his newfound distaste in extreme situations and violence had come from. No. They both knew. "It's -- yes. Exactly the opposite, perhaps, as you say."
It was strangely relieving to get that off his chest. He said he'd try for Samandriel, and he still would if that's what the boy wanted. But it wasn't comfortable, not like it used to be. "I'm not entirely disinterested in what we have," and they were comfortable enough with each other where Lucifer knew that Samandriel wouldn't assume their relationship in general, just certain aspects of it. "I've always had a more direct interest in control over everything else."
Samandriel nodded, still considering his words carefully. “Then we can cut down to you ordering me, playing with my focus, and all the things you like so much, but...but I would like you to still tie me up. I enjoy that quite a bit and while I’m completely comfortable satisfying my need for pain elsewhere, I really only trust you with rope.” And not leather, because leather had been what was used in the photos and he didn’t think either of them wanted to think about that.
He looked down again at his feet, swinging a little in the air while he thought. “I’ve found buyers for the big stuff downstairs. I thought...I mean I know money’s no object to you but that’s not a need I’d like to indulge under your roof and if we’re not going to use things…” It made the most sense to get rid of them. “I was thinking maybe a dark, comfy home theatre instead. Big couches and pillows and just a place to escape.”
Well, wasn't Samandriel a preemptive little shit. Lucifer was actually a bit silently proud over the fact, and smiled to himself over his cup of tea. "I have no problem with any of those things." Tying wasn't an issue, as long as it was rope. Neither were some toys. He just didn't have it in him to watch Samandriel squirm in real pain that wasn't prompted only by discomfort. Maybe he never might have. "Just so long as I know where you're satisfying your other needs." But they'd already had that conversation, and this was just a gentle reminder.
Nodding was enough permission so far as the resale of the other items went -- Samandriel could give them away for all Lucifer really cared. They were both on the same page there. "Home theatre, huh?" Honestly, he rather liked the idea. It was definitely one of the benefits of having a finished and furnish-able basement. "I'm more than alright with that. Although I'd like to see any couches you pick before you buy them." Lucifer liked his furniture, and wasn't about to relinquish control over that.
“You’ll find out where I’m satisfying them as soon as I do,” Samandriel said softly. Damon was a long way off from becoming what he was going to and they both knew that though Dean put up a big front, the elder Winchester brother burnt hot and ran through his intensity quickly.
“I was thinking dark brown or black, not anything leather. It’d reflect the light off the screen more and that can be a little distracting.” He got off the counter and walked over to put on Lucifer’s glasses. “I like you taking Command more anyway. It’s a role that suits you and I can feel you hesitate, become uncomfortable when we do more than that.” Honestly, it was kind of a boner killer, but he supposed that was at least part of what happened when you were fucking an angel who made a habit of being aware of far too many things.
He smoothed his fingers through Lucifer’s hair, holding his gaze from the other side of stolen glasses. “I love you, and I want you happy, but sometimes you have to let me do that okay?” Lucifer could have dropped a bomb right then and there that he never wanted to have sex with anyone again, and Samandriel would have stayed with him. It just would have meant more of satisfying physical needs elsewhere, but Lucifer meant more to him than getting off. He hoped his boyfriend knew that.
He didn't know why he so often forgot that Samandriel could read everyone and everything around him with hardly any effort at all. All that doubt and hesitance couldn't have possibly been attractive during a scene, during much of anything. Particularly since Lucifer was usually always so sure about everything.
"You'll have that," he said, honestly, eyeing the boy in his glasses and thinking maybe he could see why there was an appeal to those silly plastic frames in the first place. "I like it too." He did like it. He might even like more of it, honestly. But for now this was good -- an angel wearing his glasses, a fancy sandwich and cinnamon tea. Honest conversation.
"Black is preferable," he said of the couch, because it would match with all the rest of his furniture for the most part. Or it could, depending what else they got for the basement. "And yes, I know. I do. I love you too. And I'm in no way unhappy as it were, Sam." It wasn't. Slight discomfort on occasion didn't mean he was generally displeased or unhappy, after all. If he wasn't happy, he wouldn't be planning any kind of not-so-secret wedding proposal.
Samandriel tipped Lucifer’s chin up and kissed him slowly. “No, but there’s a chance if we kept on like this, you would be.” He wasn’t interested in taking that risk. Another kiss to Lucifer’s forehead and Samandriel finally sat down in a chair properly. “Has your lawyer started drawing up a pre-nup yet or have you generally convinced him that money isn’t something I actually care about?”
Lucifer did not forget that Samandriel was more clever than people gave him credit for, but he was occasionally surprised at how many ways in which he was clever. He nodded, chewing his lip thoughtfully at the words. Wise, really. Too wise for a boy he’d originally just ogled in a smoothie shop.
He leaned forward, taking his glasses back, and then shook his head. “There’ll be no prenup. My lawyers know better than to argue with me about personal over business decisions.”
“I was enjoying those,” Samandriel teased, ducking in to steal one more proper kiss for himself. “I’m glad you trust me, even if they’re probably screaming at themselves that this is a bad idea and I’m just trying to be some kind of gold digger.”
"They can think that all they want. I'm of the opinion that if you were actually concerned about money, it wouldn't be terribly difficult for you to rob Fort Knox." Lucifer grinned teasingly, settling the glasses on the top of his head. "Which is a bit more substantial than my fortune, from what I've been told."
Samandriel leaned back in his chair, thinking about it. “No, it wouldn’t, but people would notice if that went missing and then got spent somehow and...well I suppose there is only one way to find out what’s actually in there.” He paused another moment longer, looked at Lucifer, and just to give him a mild heart attack, dropped out of the visible spectrum entirely. The Winchesters had one thing right: Angels were dicks at least sometimes.
The heart attack wasn't coming, though. Lucifer only rose his eyebrows, offered a little puff of amusement and leaned forward again in order to pick his sandwich up. "I hope pictures are taken," he said, not amazingly sure if it was only to himself or otherwise.
“You know that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting you to have,” Samandriel said, slipping back to visible. “No photos. I didn’t even leave the room. It wouldn’t surprise me if someone high up the power chain got wind of what was going on out here and had detectors places for...things that can do what Castiel and I can.” And eventually Gabriel. God help them when Gabriel could.
"I didn't actually expect you to do it," Lucifer pointed out between sandwich bites. He gave a thoughtful little hum though, considering. "That's … rather healthy paranoia on your part. It wouldn't surprise me either." And it really wouldn't. There was no way this sort of thing wasn't noticed, after all. "But I don't think it'd stop either of you if you wanted something terribly, either."
“No, if I truly wanted something that badly, I’d have it.” He tilted his head, watching Lucifer a little. “Sort of makes you wonder which one of us actually snared the other?” Samandriel winked as he stood, getting up to go tend to the dishes in the kitchen. “Is the sandwich good? I remember liking that one a lot during finals.” Back when he still ate.
"I think I'm still taking credit for that one," Lucifer said, sounding smug and watching Samandriel as he moved. It was nearly funny how it seemed so far away -- the time he'd stared at Sam in his silly work uniform.
"The sandwich is fine," he murmured. "I do like it." He couldn't imagine not eating anymore, really, and sort of felt poorly that Samandriel got no pleasure from it.
“I can still feel it when you watch my ass,” Samandriel said from the kitchen. “Don’t think that sense has gotten the slightest bit dulled.” He smirked as he looked over at his shoulder. “Only fine? I’ll do better next time.”
"I didn't think that for a moment," Lucifer said, just this shy of cheeky. It wasn't as if he were trying to be subtle in his staring. After all, he didn't have to be.
"It's perfectly fine," he corrected himself, finishing the sandwich off and wiping his hands on a napkin. "No need to even try out doing it."
No, he didn’t have to be and he never had been in the first place. He returned with a mug of tea for himself, knowing that it made his partner feel just the slightest bit better when he actually made an effort at eating even if he didn’t have to. Just like how he made an effort at sleeping, but it was mostly laying there in the dark curled up with Lucifer watching over him from being wrapped up by him.
Lucifer nodded at Samandriel and his attempt at placating with the tea. It was well appreciated, even if it was only because Sam was well aware that Lucifer very much enjoyed creature comforts. "I'm back to paperwork in a moment," he admitted with a half sigh. "But I am glad we spoke."
“Me too,” Samandriel said. He ducked down to steal another kiss from Lucifer. “Don’t work too late. You’re mine tonight,” he teased like Lucifer wasn’t his nearly every night he wanted him. “I’m going to practice for a bit. Let me know if I’m being too loud.”
“I know for a fact you know how to soundproof if you felt so inclined,” Lucifer pointed out, arching a brow and standing to clear the table of tea and plate. “Be as loud as you like. Consider that practice for later, too.”
Samandriel smiled a little, “and I know for a fact that you just like listening to me play,” he murmured once Lucifer was upstairs. This was going to be a very good night indeed.