( pushing up on a supportive elbow, luci again feels a bit embarrassed by himself — hard to say why or how, but he can see he's done danny a disservice. no one should have to rut in the dirt. still, he watches, taking danny's debasement of himself the way angels take on holy worship. bent knees with rug burn, dirt in his open, messy mouth. disconnected but endlessly interested, a mechanical kind of look to luci while he tilts his head, watching danny's devastated work. it doesn't take a long time, a fact which he decides to pocket away like a shiny pebble to deliberate over later — is the degradation part of the arousal? or did luci really just leave him that high and dry? — but for now he opts to stay in the moment with danny, something like perfectly crystalized understanding crossing over his features. danny, for one whole second, is perfectly legible to lucifer, who looks at him as if looking into a mirror.
the moment passes. luci chooses to forget the revelation this time, taking the thought and plopping it into his brain's recycling bin just like that. click. a hand reaches over, paternally clapping the back of danny's head, an agonizing second of having his butter soft hair filtering through his fingers like feathers on wings. )
Good boy.
( suspiciously shy the second the words leave his mouth, luci gives him a little push back into the dirt, rolling back on top of him. a smaller transformation, as lucifer would rather not deal with the consequences of his actions, has a tiny, purring kitten laying down in the center of his back, black fur and red eyes, sharp claws kneading against his shoulders. luci moves his tiny kitty head to cradle in the space of danny's neck, pawing over him until he can rub a sandpapery tongue over his cumshot burns — which all need to be healed up, if he doesn't want the scar of it to forevermore detail what the devil did to danny, while looking like his father. )
no subject
the moment passes. luci chooses to forget the revelation this time, taking the thought and plopping it into his brain's recycling bin just like that. click. a hand reaches over, paternally clapping the back of danny's head, an agonizing second of having his butter soft hair filtering through his fingers like feathers on wings. )
Good boy.
( suspiciously shy the second the words leave his mouth, luci gives him a little push back into the dirt, rolling back on top of him. a smaller transformation, as lucifer would rather not deal with the consequences of his actions, has a tiny, purring kitten laying down in the center of his back, black fur and red eyes, sharp claws kneading against his shoulders. luci moves his tiny kitty head to cradle in the space of danny's neck, pawing over him until he can rub a sandpapery tongue over his cumshot burns — which all need to be healed up, if he doesn't want the scar of it to forevermore detail what the devil did to danny, while looking like his father. )