whatwas | (no subject)

Break dives in head first, hurling his own soul and grace at him, lining up with him metaphysically and taking the burn with his own peculiar masochism.

He won't be able to stand it long, but-

-But he won't be permanently damaged by it now, either. And now, there's a clarity with it that is impossible otherwise--the reason Lucifer resisted human sex so long was because it felt so disjointed.

Break will be able to see every thought and every emotion Lucifer has, as long as he holds onto him. He's bewildered and delighted and suspicious and hopeful. He's exhausted and stubborn (no surprise there) and more determined to win now that he has his own family.

And, slyly coiled under the mess of images of the future and their history, is a thread of mischief. Oh, he does have so much to teach.

He gives that string a curious twang, like a child with a guitar, and then pulls back when the intensity gets to be too much.

He comes to on the floor, blinking.

Lucifer is sitting beside him, holding the baby against his shoulder. He doesn't have to worry about Break being damaged now, and it's given him a curiously playful side.

"And how was your first trip to Oz?"

"Pretty."

He tells him, reaching out to curl a hand around his ankle.

"Do you know the best thing about this?"

He smiles, Grace turning a pale blue.

"What?"

"The things I'll do to you."

For all the Break can bring him down, with a hand on his shoulder or a word in the right tone, that's really nothing compared to what they'll be able to do now.

Lucifer isn't able to see much more than he normally does of Break's mind--souls are enigmas. But he isn't at all worried about letting Break see the ripples that sends through his Grace, the way it sparks a little, and chills the air.

"You'd better."

"Are you afraid? You've never bowed to someone who could hurt you before."

He points out, idly, with impressive presence for someone sprawled on the floor from a faint.

"No, I haven't. And you'll have to make me."

He smirks, a wing brushing his leg.

"Be creative with me."

"Although I see the others more often, I haven't really topped in a long, long time."

He muses. Al babysitting is a pg affair. Even if they sometimes make Ryo sit in the corner.

"When was the last time with me?"

He has a long memory, but little details like dates are scant.

"Four years."

He smiles, as the four year old in question races across the hall upstairs, little feet slamming on the carpet.

Lucifer lets her draw on the walls, and he hears her settle in to finish a masterpiece in her bedroom.

"Four years," he echoes.

He looks down at Break and lazily slides his hand inside his shirt.

"Too long."

"Mind-"

He orders him, firmly, nodding at their second oldest on the couch.

"She won't mind."

Lucifer will have her nap, peacefully dreaming of lollipops and unicorns.

"Tch. You know the rules."

Pulling away.

"We can make our own rules now."

Laws of physics, time, nature--they get to bend or break or recreate them at will. Surely, Lucifer's look cajoles, they can remake this little house rule.

"You can teleport her to bed."

One house rule, there.

"Just this once. And then spell us some privacy."

He touches their daughter gently and she's gone, safely up in her crib. The room is sealed to them, and he turns back to Break.

"Good?"

"What do you want to do to me?"

He asks, curiously, knees parting.

"I want to test what you can do."

He kisses him, hands exploring slowly.

"...The room is sound-proofed. You can top, if you're creative."

He starts with the chains, he'd stolen from that priest all those years ago. Claps once- and they appear in the center of the room, landing with a heavy clink.

Lucifer looks at them, then at Break, curious and waiting for answer. His Grace is green at the edges, burned wings stretching slowly.

"Do you consent to this?"

He checks, softly.