whatwas | (no subject)

"We haven't really started yet."

He sounds so happy saying it. After all there is an end goal here.

"Stirrups and a turkey baster."

Break informs him, dazedly. She isn't moving.

That gets an almost-laugh.

"Riding the wave of the future?"

He can be patient, but he's not moving until she does. And neither of them are going anywhere near the door.

"I'm going to have to do all the hard work for this anyways."

She reminds him, poking at his shoulder.

"I could have if you'd asked."

Gender means less than nothing to an angel.

He kisses her, a little smug, a little teasing.

"This part was your idea."

"Be quiet and fuck me."

She orders him, managing to push herself up, sitting upright.

"If I'm quiet you'll just have to make more noise."

But he wastes absolutely no time in pushing up into her.

Break lets out a gratifying yowl, eyes rolling up in her head.

She'll have to deal with him massaging her nerves as he fucks her hard; he likes those sounds, that look on her face.

She has to focus to keep herself on top of him, writhing, riding him and the waves of dizzying pleasure and pain that slide through her.

Break could probably go mad like this.

A small part of Lucifer knows that would really only be a mercy to her. That was, after all, what the fake break up had been about in the end.

But another part of him wants to be utterly irreplaceable, and it's that as much as the need to mend things and have something that's just theirs that keeps him going. He holds her as steady as she can be, leaving light red marks with his nails.

You're like the sea.

She thinks at him, nearly insensate, drowning in him.

The sea--?

It's hard, even for him, to be fully coherent right now.

Mine.

That doesn't really follow. But. She drives herself down hard, with a last wail.

And he follows soon after, holding her tight against him, shuddering. His hand reaches down to trace his name in her foot, making sure it's still there.

You're sure about this?

Not the foot, of course. Everything.

It's there, firm and raised under her skin. She cries for him, tears starting up again, nodding and trying to rock herself into a last, uncomfortable, raw orgasm.

He manages to stir himself enough to help her, and when she does come he'll just let her lie on top of him until she decides to move.

Given the wrenching scream he gets out of her, it won't be for quite some time. Break just braces herself up over him and tries to breathe.

"All right- you- hurry."

He flips them over so she doesn't have to try to balance, and lets himself just focus on fucking her until he's senseless. There's a mindless desperation to him at some moments, but by the time he hits orgasm there isn't a thought in his head that can be translated.

Never mind one in hers. She's wailing, hanging on to him, riding it out with wild sobs, clutching his shoulders for all she's worth.

The tears don't stop, even after he does.

He brushes her hair back--it's the same as when she's male--and murmurs to her softly.

"Xerxes...."

"I'm sorry!"

She nearly wails, hanging on tight.

"I'm so sorry, I just-!"

"Sorry?"

He lets her nails dig in, kisses her--mostly her neck.

"Why are you sorry?"

She can't stop crying. Really, genuinely, reduced to tears. All of the tension of the break up, the lingering pain of him killing her-

thinking about that opens the floodgates. Him hating her so badly he'd killed her. Not in a quick snap, either, no broken neck and darkness, a slow, agonizing, death by peeled soul.

He sees it then, and it strangles the faintest sound from him.

It hadn't been about hate--not exactly, not all. It had been helplessness, fear. Inability to imaging her dying on the other side. A refusal to let anyone hurt her but him--the same way that he had loved Gabriel so fiercely and still been able to drive a sword through his heart.

He doesn't realize how sick that is, of course. Lucifer still doesn't even realize he's evil.

"I never wanted to lose you," he whispered. The moment he'd thought she was dead, the despair had nearly swallowed him back up. He can't share that with her; he offers just a glimpse, the way he would try to explain Hell.