( the devil does get hard, but he doesn't get — what? interested? that can't be it, or he wouldn't be hard. under the last bloody gasp of a fading daylight, danny sizes luci up with the information he's learned in the past half hour, trying to blunt-force misshapen jigsaw pieces together into one easily digestible whole. it feels like an especially bad omen to be making a deal with the devil at sunset in the center of a strange maze, blood spilled in ritual sacrifice. if it's not a bad omen in this universe, then surely it is somewhere else. danny knows there are bigger things than god (his god) and God (his God) and the devil. danny knows they're always listening.
the puzzle so far: the devil does get hard, the devil has shy eyes, the devil will fill your mouth until your cup runneth over but he won't touch your dick back. because danny was only raised busted as fuck and not ill-mannered, he wipes his messy mouth onto his sleeve, gold smearing like shimmering paint over stark black. he spits in his hand back and gives luci's hand a gentlemanly shake, one and done, before he lets go, staring at the sticky leftovers on his palm. then, after zero deliberation: kitten-licks their spit cocktail from his fingertips.
tastes like the rest of him, syrupy. the puzzle so far, addendum: the devil tastes like maple syrup, but like, the good shit you bottle yourself or buy at some cutesy farmer's market, not the shit from safeway. )
Okay, ( and a pause, while he waits for the sky to crack open, the entity carried in on a bolt of lightning like some war of the worlds shit. nothing, so: ) Deal.
( his name and a favor in exchange for a knife, that's more than fair. danny's still made worse deals, and lucifer has probably never made an easier one. that makes them some kind of even. )
no subject
the puzzle so far: the devil does get hard, the devil has shy eyes, the devil will fill your mouth until your cup runneth over but he won't touch your dick back. because danny was only raised busted as fuck and not ill-mannered, he wipes his messy mouth onto his sleeve, gold smearing like shimmering paint over stark black. he spits in his hand back and gives luci's hand a gentlemanly shake, one and done, before he lets go, staring at the sticky leftovers on his palm. then, after zero deliberation: kitten-licks their spit cocktail from his fingertips.
tastes like the rest of him, syrupy. the puzzle so far, addendum: the devil tastes like maple syrup, but like, the good shit you bottle yourself or buy at some cutesy farmer's market, not the shit from safeway. )
Okay, ( and a pause, while he waits for the sky to crack open, the entity carried in on a bolt of lightning like some war of the worlds shit. nothing, so: ) Deal.
( his name and a favor in exchange for a knife, that's more than fair. danny's still made worse deals, and lucifer has probably never made an easier one. that makes them some kind of even. )