Somehow, in between all the petting and kissing and desperate need, Balthazar manages to get Lucifer stripped the rest of the way, pushing the discarded clothing side, then thinking better of that and bringing some back closer again under the assumption that someone, sooner or later, is going to need a softer spot to rest either the back of their head or their knees.

The atmosphere is infectious. Balthazar seems to have lost the ability to form words, anxious and desperately needy despite his experience. His Grace is wide open, broadcasting how painfully lonely he's been. He could lose himself in this easily, with no real regrets, just let the sheer power of the other angel swallow him up--but there's a sense of security in being pulled so close, mentally and spiritually.

He sinks onto his back and angles his hips helpfully to let his pants be removed, and then his celestial body all but vibrates with pleasure as Lucifer curls his wings against Balthazar's, sort of sandwiching them between his two sets. It might almost be like a blindfold, if a blindfold could somehow be combined with the physical effect of a full-body erotic massage. He can only cling to Lucifer for a moment, a litany of moans in his celestial voice turning the waters around them choppy. He manages to find the voice of his vessel again somehow, gasping out, "Oh! Oh, oh, oh, that's so good, Lucifer, please don't stop--"

Not the most intellectual observation, really, but utterly heartfelt.