tryingitall | Beside the Still Waters (Locked to the_rebel

Beside the Still Waters (Locked to the_rebel_son)

The river is wide and placid, water a deep greenish-brown from a distance, clearer the closer you get, with patches of whitewater toward the center. The rocks Balthazar has set them on are a small island, more than enough space to house dozens of sunbathers, and surrounded by water weeds on all sides. There are chalk drawings on one of the boulders. Looks like a crude mermaid, a few birds, and several games of tic-tac-toe.

Balthazar looks around to make sure they're alone, and then takes Lucifer's hand and holds it against his chest, looking up into his face. "This should be safer."

His wings are still flared, in that quantum state that hides them from human eyes, but visible to Lucifer once more. If anything, they look slightly fluffier. That's either a response to the energy or some kind of semi-physical reaction to arousal. He's blushing a little, too.

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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.

Lucifer hadn't realized he could want a lover this intensely, but he'd never experienced the incredible magnetism his fallen spirit felt toward the Grace of a heavenly angel. Even in the madness of lust, he responds to the loneliness that seems to pour out of the other angel with honest affection and a tug to pull the other angel closer. Lucifer was too long isolated from connection to resist embracing Balthazar both physically and spiritually.

Balthazar's pants are tossed aside with little thought of anything other than a vague notion that throwing them too far would be the river. Lucifer is completely lost in the moment, a thrall to his impulsive nature. The sounds of pleasure brings a long purring growl and a recklessly hot kiss as he lays heavily on the clinging angel. A tangible sense of bliss permeates his emotions just from the feel of Balthazar's skin against his. The words and thier emotion flare his presence brighter, almost blindingly so physically. Fire starts curling through the feathers of his wings, though warm not scorching.

"I won't." The kiss broken just enough to speak, ragged and hungry. There's a pause, lips lingering but not touching, hips pressing down sensually, "What do you want?"

He's vaguely aware of the sun-warmed, smooth stone on his skin, but aside from that singular grounding influence, he's all caught up with the other angel, celestial eyes unable to see anything but his feathers, vessel's eyes focused on his face. Skin against skin is exquisite, and Balthazar wraps his legs around the other angel's hips without hesitation.

When Lucifer asks what he wants, Balthazar blinks at him hazily, blue eyes dazzled even as they glow with his own energy. What does he want? What doesn't he want?

He strokes Lucifer's hair back with shaky hands, smiling up at him with utter adoration. "You, all over me," he answers with a breathless laugh. "I...you've got me swept off my feet, so to speak."

He's not sure he has the control to top right now. He's not sure he could stand up to save his life, either. He pulls Lucifer into a deep kiss, softer and less desperate than before, but sensual. "Take me, fuck me," he murmurs, squeezing his legs against the other angel's. "I need you to do it."

Lucifer all but forgets to breathe when legs wrap around him. He just stares down into the blue glowing eyes, breath coming back ragged, and lusty. All he can do is shake his head slightly, grinning.

"You are incredibly beautiful." The voice is angelic but low, seductive, and Lucifer meant it. The words so strong they echoed in his presence. He'd felt those words every time the angel blushed, or acted recklessly.

The kiss and invitation gets the angel a rough bite on the shoulder before he pulls away from the embrace. Lucifer is beginning to second guess his own self control as he takes hold of Balthazar's waist. He drags the other angel with him as he kneels, knees wide, unwilling to lose the feeling of the legs wrapped around him. The smaller pair of wings slide underneath the angel to give him something a bit softer than the rock to lay on. He lets his hands slowly drift down Balthazar's legs, one wrapping around the angel's shaft and stroking him. The other hand he spits on to wet himself. He's desperate for the angel but unwilling to rush.

Lucifer's eyes are locked on the angel spread out in front of him. There's a little more roughness when he grabs his hips, pulling him up and closer. Given his inexperience with what the tolerances are for a human inhabited by an angel, the penetration is slow, but he'll willingly take Balthazar's lead on how fast and rough he wants.

Balthazar doesn’t stand a chance, really. He’s not walking away from this unchanged; there’s a better than zero chance he’s already falling in love. Which is just not a good idea, not for either of them, but then they’ve both already felt the relentless pull toward one another. Kinship, loneliness, desire. Maybe it’s not because Balthazar is in any way special, just that he’s still an angel, still clean, but wide open to the kind of affection that the rest of the Host would deny. Ironic, really, if Love is so dangerous that it makes an angel fall, and yet so powerful it prevents his complete corruption.

He knows how flawed he is, the things he’s done, the things he is still doing without any intention of changing his ways. And he doesn’t have Gabriel’s flair or Anna’s strength or Castiel’s quiet, reckless determination, but when Lucifer says he’s beautiful, Balthazar believes him.

“Look who’s talking,” he whispers, as if it’s a clever comeback.

Balthazar’s tolerances within his own vessel are significant. He shows not a hint of trepidation, instead parting his legs wider helpfully, breathing deep when the other angel leans over him. There’s heat, there’s friction, it’s glorious, and the slow breaching of his body leaves him moaning, both his vessel and his celestial voice, but he’s not hurting. Quite the opposite.

He loops his legs around Lucifer’s waist, locking the ankles together.

“Feels like we’re the only two people in the world,” he pants out. “Your wings all around me like this.”

His Grace pulses in the momentary stillness, and then as he squeezes Lucifer closer, encouraging him to move, that Grace and that celestial body reach out, bright and luminous, trying to touch, trying to give as much pleasure and tenderness as they can.

Somewhere in the back of his concious he knew the danger, every angel in his creation was going to want to tear into him for laying with a heavenly angel, but the affection was burning too hot and too fast to resist. None of this was safe, for anyone, and he didn't care, refused to care about anything other than right now. This angel was somehow worth all the pain he knew was coming, and that was both terrifying and irresistible.

There's a growl in response to the moaning that starts verbally but spreads into Lucifer's presence. The spiritual walls are slowly breaking down. There is no way to resist pull on him, physically and spiritually, so he relents.

"Eístenama óloina ekeísiellä, petaloúdo." Lucifer spoke, forgetting, in the swirling desire, the language wouldn't be understood but the emotion behind it was lusty and a little possessive. Even without an understanding of the Fallen language, the last word was Greek, petal fly, or more correctly, butterfly.

His wings wrap tighter as he starts to thrust, slowly but the pace quickening. His mind is open, looking for the rhythm that would drive his lover to madness, as much for Balthazar's pleasure as a desire to hear his name cried out.

Edited 2019-08-22 23:34 (UTC)

Balthazar, at least, doesn't have to worry about shock or disapproval from other angels. He's already earned their disapproval. If they run into him, most of them, they'll kill him before asking about his sexual history. Castiel might notice something, but he doesn't ask many questions about Balthazar's private doings, either.

The greatest danger to Balthazar here is from himself, ultimately, and the second-greatest from Lucifer. He's too wild with affection, and too sex-addled, to fully comprehend the risk Lucifer himself is taking, but through the link between their celestial selves, he can sense, dimly, that he feels Balthazar is...worth something. Special. He's never been special before, to anyone. There's probably some kind of sin in how alluring he finds that feeling. Pride? Envy? Ehh, fuck it, one transgression at a time.

He's not clear on the full translation of the murmuring. Angels can know any human language, but not necessarily all of them at once, and this is not quite like an earthly tongue, but he recognizes the word for butterfly, interprets it as a pet name, and his Grace all but sings with joy. Giving affection is easy. Being offered it is utterly irresistible.

This is crazy, this is madness, he's known this Lucifer for only a few hours. He doesn't care. Every motion of their bodies sends him higher. His own endearments are gasps in Enochian my heart, my jewel, my treasure. They don't have to pace themselves, they don't have to hold back to wait for the other to come to climax with them. They're so closely linked now it's inevitable that one will follow the other, although whose pleasure is leading and whose is following is hard to say.

"Lucifer, yes," his vessel is breathless, the gasp almost inaudible, but the sentiment since through his Grace.

In the madness Lucifer finds calm. He is always in a flux of emotions too intense for most to comprehend, let alone survive with any sense of sanity. Lucifer pulls Balthazar into his arms, close as he can, right into a wildly passionate kiss. He's not thinking clearly enough to remember to speak human languages but speech and emotion are so closely tied that the burning passion and affection are felt even without clear words. The erotic bliss is rolling untamed through his essence. His presence is starting to scorch things around them, though thankfully nothing important.

Lucifer is definitely following, it's his Pride, intent on satisfying his partner, and no lack of desire to feel the other angel's emotions drag him over the edge. He feels drunk on Balthazar's rising pleasure. "Balthazar.." He whispers, voice shaking, he can't think or speak in human language, just a flurry of lust and desire in his thoughts.

If Balthazar's world is split between people who make mistakes due to love beyond control, and people who make mistakes by shutting love out of the picture entirely, he's always going to cling to the former. (some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice) He's trembling with the shock of so much passion, but he's drinking it in nonetheless, savoring every drop, and so utterly relieved he's not the only one to feel so much.

The physical pleasure of each rock and thrust is nothing to be ignored, either. Lucifer seems to be hitting exactly the right spot each time he pushes into him, and even without the absolute conflagration that is their essences mingling, Balthazar would be crying out his pleasure by this point. It's good that he doesn't actually need oxygen.

"Close, close, just a little more, love," he gasps out, and while the temptation to just fling his head back and let sensation take him over is strong, he reaches to cradle Lucifer's face in his hands instead, wide eyes meeting his gaze. It's important, it feels important, to come open-eyed, looking into his lover's face.

Every millisecond, every pulse of pleasure as he climaxes, sparks through his Grace. It feels like a moment of breathless calm in the midst of the storm of emotion, and he hopes Lucifer can feel every bit of it.

There are tears at the corners of his eyes as the sensations start to wane, and he can't form words, just soft, ecstatic little whimpers.

Being an empath and telepath who only possessed a physical presence by choice, Lucifer often chose to drive his partners into unimaginable physical ecstacy for the sheer pleasure of emotional experience. This certainly did not mean he refrained from wallowing in physical pleasure as well. Every touch of thier skin sent waves through his spiritual aspects and drove shivers through his physical.

Lucifer kept himself to growling with the rising cries of his lover. Even in the delirium of lust he knew better than to let his angelic voice cry out without control. He wanted to bury his face into Balthazar's neck to help resist but he relented quickly to make eye contact. It was an intimate gesture that Lucifer met with pure awe and affection.

Between the intense gaze, his own climax, and the electricity racing through the other angel's Grace, Lucifer's spiritual control slipped. He was feeling too much too fiercely. For a moment his full power is present and exposed, though thankfully not in physical manifestation. In his own creation Lucifer was second only to God, too forceful for God to destroy even when they had clashed. And he struggles to regain enough control to keep from overwhelming the other angel again. As the intensity subsides his control returns. Lucifer pulls Balthazar close, wings, arms, and very essence wrapping around him protectively, lovingly. He's truly grateful for the other angel's presence and makes no effort to hide that from the angel in his arms.

"Odottase perísinua." The words come breathless as he presses his lips gently to Balthazar's. He still didn't have the mind to remember he needed English to communicate, or at least something human.

For a moment, Balthazar cannot perceive a single thing outside of Lucifer, and the cascade of pleasure pouring between them. For a type of angel that exists to observe, that's a Hell of a thing, to cease watching suddenly and just feel. He's heard humans talk about participating in games of dominance and submission, growing focused and high on adrenaline and sinking into an altered state of consciousness. He thought he understood, but apparently he did not, until now.

The sheer force of Lucifer's essence completely shorts out his control over his vessel--though fortunately not the protections laid over it. There will be no harm, but the mortal body goes slack, held up only by the other angel's touch and glowing from within. It's a new experience for Balthazar to black out after an orgasm, too, but that's more or less what happens, just for a few blissful moments.

He comes around again cradled in wings and arms and tenderness, and he's got no idea what Lucifer just said. It's possible it was even in English, as far as Balthazar knows, and his brains are just so scrambled he's not perceiving it properly. He feels floaty, contented and safe and very much satisfied. He kisses back weakly, a soft smile on his lips.

"...what..." he breathes out dazedly, slowly piecing words together as he comes down from the climax. "What does that mean?"

Lucifer shook his head at himself when the angel passed out. He had certainly never had an angel pass out in his arms. In the future, he would have to watch himself or at the very least be ready to catch Balthazar so he didn't get hurt falling over.

Still he is relieved to see it passed swiftly. His brows furrow at the question, what had he said? He felt the same shorted out kind of feeling but more emotionally than physically. There's a huge grin though as he stares into the angel's eyes while trying to recollect what he had just said.

It comes back and it startles him when he realizes what was said. "Odottase perísinua."

He repeats it and a nervousness seems to appear in his presence. "It does not hold its meaning when translated into English. To translate it directly would be 'I have been waiting for you.'."

He pauses not sure why he had said it in the first place outside of being completely lost in the presence of this angel. "It is affectionate."

He was suddenly remembering that he had said a lot of things in his own language. Maybe it was better this angel didn't understand what was said but this he would have to explain. The thoughts over that phrase brought a turmoil of depression, sadness, and utter elated happiness all at once. Lucifer knew why he said it and it frightened him but he focused on just explaining what it meant in general. "When we were cast into the fire, The Fallen did not all break free at the same time. The pain of being immortal and burning to the point you could barely heal prevented the angels from rescuing others who were still trapped in the fires. We could hear and feel them screaming. It is a phrase used by those who waited for their companions on the bank, unable to rescue those they desperately wanted to. Odottase perísinua was the greeting used when angels were reunited."

Edited 2019-08-24 02:52 (UTC)

Look, in the grand scheme of sex-related mishaps, a moment of swooning is nothing. Balthazar seems only a little sheepish as he recovers, and very happy about it all. The really crazy thing is he's as certain of Lucifer's affection right now as he has ever been about anything in his life. There is no lie possible in such close emotional contact.

Balthazar's lips move as if he's trying to repeat the phrase, but no sound comes out, and maybe that's for the best. He strokes Lucifer's hair, hands shaky and uncoordinated, but he's trying to be reassuring as he senses the uncertainty. "You called me a butterfly," he says, recalling the only bit he did comprehend. "I liked that."

His heartbeat was slowing down from the exertion, but it picks right back up again, fluttering rapidly, as Lucifer explains. It's awful to think of angels burning, in pain. He's not sure what to think about the fact that that didn't happen quite the same way, in his world. Their Lucifer certainly suffered from the fight with Michael, probably lost his mind in solitary confinement in the Cage, but burning? Not quite like that. And any of his angelic followers have either been put to death or escaped into other parts of the cosmos, because as far as Balthazar knows, there are none now.

The very idea of his siblings screaming for help, and him being unable to reach out, is more or less his worst nightmare, and suddenly he's clinging to Lucifer again, half trying to comfort, half seeking reassurance.

"I'm here," he murmurs. "I'm here now."

The vulnerability was surging back and with it the discomfort. Then there is the touch and he leans into the hand in his hair. Lucifer feels emotionally fragile and exhausted. Still, he was already heading down a path of war and destruction why back down now. There was no sense to it.

"Eístenama óloina ekeísiellä, petaloúdo." He repeated what he had said earlier. He remembered saying it and doing so with purpose. His eyes were on Balthazar but he felt flighty inside. "You are all there is, my butterfly."

Lucifer shifts and sits down with Balthazar in his lap, holding him. He seems as shaken by the description of why the words were spoke as Lucifer felt about saying them. "I do not fear the fire. I have been chained in it more than once."

He touched Balthazar's cheek intent on encouraging him to see the scars on his wrists from where his bonds had burned him. "I am stronger now than I was when God first cast me aside."

If Balthazar was inclined to look. Lucifer had a matching set of shackle scars on his ankles, and a rather large scar down his shoulder and across the back under his wing that, as a weapons expert, Balthazar could easily identify as being from a sword.

Edited 2019-08-24 03:22 (UTC)

Other angels might at least attempt a veneer of righteousness and judgment here--you do the crime, you do the time?--but Balthazar is a long way past that, and all he can feel is compassion. Maybe that's one of the things that makes him different. He favors mercy over justice, and he favors love over mercy. He adjusts carefully when Lucifer moves, not surprised to feel how strong he is, to be lifted and moved effortlessly. He puts both arms around his shoulders and embraces him.

If he minds that possessive connotation, his butterfly, he's not saying so. Actually, it's alluring, the idea of being wanted with such determination.

He studies the scars somberly, missing none of them, and takes Lucifer's hand to kiss the marks on his wrist. "I'm just...an ordinary Ofan, you know. Nothing special, except for having walked out of Heaven."

If he's actively seeking scars he could easily feel the ones on Lucifer's lower back where his third pair of wings were ripped out too. Those scars were ragged compared to the others, one on each side just below the bottom of the ribs.

Lucifer smiled, gazing at Balthazar like he was insane as he spoke. He even laughs quietly in disbelief. "I am a pariah in my own Universe. The angels would see me bound in fire to suffer for eternity, many of the Fallen confront me to usurp the throne, or seek to bind me themselves as an offering to Heaven in attempt to return."

The flightiness was still inside, like panic. "I have faced God himself as He condemned me to this existence, and yet, It is an ordinary, nothing special Ofan who feels dangerous."

He wanted to stay, knew he had to return to his kingdom, and accepted the outcome of not walking away. As he watches Balthazar, Lucifer knows that he wouldn't change his choices, and that was terrifying.

In the end, Balthazar decides, it's not up to him to say who's right and who's wrong, between Lucifer and God. He's bound to be biased in the former's favor right now, given that he's being cuddled in his arms, that he's being so loving and so attentive, whereas he doubts his own Father has a clue he exists. But there are so many differences between worlds, and anyway, what the hell does one little angel know, except that he loves his family. Which now includes this Lucifer.

Righteous judgment can go fuck right off, he thinks. Warmth, love, compassion, is what all angels need--and deserve.

His fingers brush over those scars, and he shudders inside. Awful, awful. Balthazar was trained as a combat medic for a while, for his garrison. The Rit Zien would have had him, actually, but he knew he could never do their duty, to mercy-kill an angel too far gone to save. He can imagine what the wounds that left these scars were like, and the pain that must have come with them.

His wings flare briefly only to circle around Lucifer's in a secondary embrace.

Balthazar was fully aware, when they got started with this, that it wasn't a casual hookup or a one-night (day?) stand, but it seems they've both stumbled into something bigger than they expected. "I'm not dangerous," he says with a strained laugh, an attempt to lighten the mood. "It's just that everyone else is dangerous in my immediate vicinity."

"I...don't know what to do about it," he admits softly. "Anything I could do to try to help you would probably just get me killed. All I can do is promise to be here when you want me."

"I mean, there's considerable danger in my world, as well. Raphael isn't happy with me at all, and his loyalists won't pull their blows, and there's always a chance the entire planet will go tits-up, and I'm trying to keep Castiel from getting himself killed. But we're feeling the same thing, you and I. I don't even have to ask, because as close as we've just been, I know. I want to see it through."

Edited (typo) 2019-08-24 15:54 (UTC)

Lucifer relaxed into the way they just seemed to fall together but still shuddered when the scars on his back were touched. He often forgot the missing wings but the contact brought the loss to the forefront. And with it the memory of the pain and disgrace.

It was reckless, incredibly dangerous, what he was doing but the moment this angel had cuddled up to his arm he had thrown all sense of caution to the wayside. "I am a king." He stated it but he felt the fear rising again. ".. and I do not want to leave you. It makes you dangerous."

But all of that is forgotten at the mention of someone injuring Balthazar. Lucifer's presence lights up with pure wrath and pride. He doesn't say anything but the emotion is rather plain in the shift of his essence. He would tear anyone, anything, apart that even dared to harm him. In his own world Raphael was among the seraphim, even should the one in Balthazar's world be the same Lucifer knew he would hunt them down and destroy them, it would be inevitable and unstoppable. And this realization made the angel in his arms even more dangerous.

Despite the wrath he is dealing with, in addition to the fear and affection and sense of pain to come, he manages to jest. "You have found somewhere to go if your creation ends."

There's relief in the admission that he will stay but it amplifies the concern. Lucifer was going to war, he knew it for certain. There would be no avoiding it. He laid his head against the angel laughing because that was the only way to deal with his mental state. The words come flirtatious and just a bit teasing. "Are you looking to become the Devil's consort? An unexpected title for a celestial angel."

Edited 2019-08-24 17:20 (UTC)

Balthazar has never seen an angel with lost wings before. He saw Anna, though, Annabiel, his superior officer, who cut out her own Grace to escape detection when she left Heaven. The determination it must have taken to cause herself that kind of pain still disturbs him to think about, as does the way she died.

She was a kind of canary in a mineshaft, the first strong hint that something was not right with the rank-and-file angels. They had known Gabe and Lucifer were lost before. Logically it was only a matter of time before the rest of them started to hurt from the loss, but Anna was the first to show it.

He listens to Lucifer, at a loss for what to tell him. He's got no clue. He's been in command of mission teams before, but that's nothing like kingship. He wouldn't even begin to know how to offer advice. The surge of emotion is almost a relief, although the depth of wrath Lucifer feels is terrifying. "Oh! Oh, ssh, no, he hasn't actually done anything...it's all right."

He tucks his head against Lucifer's shoulder. "He's a basket case, honestly. I feel sorry for him. But the last time I ran into him, I came out of it much better, so don't, don't worry."

It's nice to be that important to him, but the last thing Balthazar wants is for Lucifer to start smiting other angels because of him. He doesn't want anyone else dead, even angels who would see him killed. Which is exactly why he's not with Castiel's forces fighting now.

He refused. Anything else Cas needs from him, he'll do, but he won't kill other angels.

"Consort," he laughs softly. "That's so formal! Maybe I've watched too many human films, as well; it sounds rather Gothic, like I should be dressed in black lace and dark lipstick and hovering at your side."

Lucifer would worry. He couldn't stop it but at least the commentary on Raphael simmered the wrath down to a slow, quiet burn. He just holds on a little tighter, a little more protectively.

He knew what happened when he experienced loss. In the two times it had occurred it shook the foundations of creation and order. He couldn't even imagine what would happen to another creation, unprepared for a Lucifer with the kind of power he had, if he walked into it with the wrath needed to destroy another seraphim.

The laughter brings him out of all the dark thoughts for the moment. His emotions are leveling out to a calm and coquettish demeanor. "I am anachronistic, lounging naked with a glass of wine, or scotch, would be more appreciated."

"I stole a number of weapons when I left Heaven," Balthazar confesses, half proud, half sheepish. "One of them was the crystal that transformed Lot's wife way back when. It turned his vessel to salt. Frankly, I think I did the human soul a favor in the process."

And it didn't actually harm Raphael, just a major inconvenience. He's probably still out for blood, but Balthazar feels his conscience is clear, at least. "If you can't beat him, iodize him, I suppose."

Balthazar hums contentedly at the mental image he conjures up. It sounds very relaxing, naked with alcohol. "That, I can definitely do. Cognac would be my first choice, personally, but scotch is a close second."

He strokes the back of Lucifer's neck idly, relaxing slowly. There's a moment of peaceful quiet, and then he murmurs, "Incidentally, there's another angel I've met here, not from my world. Aziraphale. And his friend Crowley, who happens to be Fallen. Though it sounds like it was a less traumatic process for him than it tends to be in my world, or yours. They're endearing. Will you try not to terrify them, for my sake?"

Okay, that's a tall order. They're both likely to freak out the moment they become aware of any Lucifer in the Nexus, but at least Balthazar can try?

He can't help but grin at the pride. Lucifer listens to his descriptions, still facinated by the differences in creations. "Only angels bear weapons in my Creation, and each has thier own that is bound to them. So, is our armor. God manifests his punishments from his creative power. He used lightning to strike me down when I wounded Him."

He would remember the preference for drinking. The quiet is welcome, he opens his wings to stretch them. They had been curled around the other angel for so long they felt cramped. Though when they relax again he lays them against Balthazar.

"There is another angel with a Fallen?" Lucifer laughs at the idea, even if it is just friendship. He had a deep appreciation of the lines it crossed, even if they didn't matter here. Maybe here this would be a little less dangerous and out of place than in either of thier own Creations. "I do not go around randomly terrorizing, usually, but I can do nothing for my reputation."

"Oh...we have our own blades where I come from, too," he says softly, a little sadly. "Each of us. One of the only ways one of us can be killed, really. It's an extension of our Grace. I don't have armor. I think some of the seraphs do. Castiel does, but his is a little weird in comparison. Non-traditional."

He thinks he could happily live in the shadow of Lucifer's wings. If it can even be called a shadow, bright as they are.

He smiles at the laugh. "Mmhmm. Apparently they've known one another since the Beginning. It developed into friendship somewhere along the way...and if you ask me, it's not going to stop at 'just' friendship, but I thought it might be better I didn't tease them."

"Yes, you don't seem like you're here to hurt or frighten anyone. My world's version of you can't stand humans, but you're far less uptight." There's a smile in his voice.

"The blades of the Seraphim, and my spear, were forged from the essence of God, so is our armor." Lucifer smiled a bit when he saw the sadness. "Michael and Azrael have both tried to kill me but it was not successful." His hand drifted up to the scars on his shoulder. "Other angels can kill each other with their weapons, but the seraphim are still difficult to destroy."

Lucifer laughed even more when he heard the way Balthazar described the other angels. "Is this a trend when angels and Fallen get together?" It was a jest, sort of. A group of two cases wasn't really a trend but it was curious.

"I ruffled your feathers when you realized who I was." He kissed Balthazar's temple but at the mention of humans his mood dropped, drastically. "I loved Eve too much to hate humanity in general."

The punishment of Eve was one of the few things that Lucifer might say he regretted, if he was capable of regretting anything. There was simply too much history there to feel anything but pain. Still he managed a smile, though some sadness lingered. "Sin and rebellion do not lend themselves to being uptight."

"It's dangerous," he says. "We shouldn't be killing one another. Fallen or not. We don't reproduce. There aren't going to be any more of us."

He hesitates a second, and then murmurs, "I'm afraid in my world we're going to end up making ourselves extinct. I can't be a part of that."

But their time together shouldn't be a recounting of fears and melancholy. He glances up into Lucifer's face and gives a small, weak smile that quickly becomes a wider, brighter one. "Darling, you can ruffle my feathers any time. I suppose that's the power of the Nexus, though. Neutral ground, anything can happen."

He responds to that kiss to the temple by sighing contentedly, then tilting his head again to kiss softly along Lucifer's jawline. "I have a few human friends, as well."

And he's glad that won't be a problem.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs gently. "About Eve." That's definitely not something that's a parallel between their worlds, but it's nice to hear him talk about love, even when it's love lost.

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