Beside the Still Waters (Locked to the_rebel_son)

[tryingitall]

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.

Comments

[the_rebel_son]

Lucifer could sink into terrible melancholy and sadness due to torture, isolation, and pain. However, when the taint of despair rises in the other angel his response is very different. Hope rages through his presence, pure and eternal. For all the sin, especially lust and wrath, that often controlled Lucifer's moral compass the virtues remained as they had existed when he was created. Hope and passion suddenly burned the brightest.

As the contact with Lucifer grew in intensity and duration the wild shifts between his states would become clearer. He's in flux between emotions, sins, virtues, vices and significantly effected by the external environment, at the moment the influence is Balthazar and little else.

Lucifer's wing comes around, pressing into the center of Balthazar's back, pulling him closer, and his grip on the angels hair tightens. The lips trailing across his skin brings a carnal gasp and rush of feeling races through the Fallen Angel. It's lust and a touch of surrender to the younger angel.

[tryingitall]

Hope? Hope. That's a strange emotion even to an angel in good standing. Hope is for humans who are not programmed to expect a certain outcome. Hope requires a certain amount of free will, and Balthazar has only just started to learn free will. But he recognizes it, knows what it is even as he realizes he has lacked it.

It's a bit like making out with a storm, he thinks as the roil of emotions and states of consciousness and being tangle around him. It's beautiful, Lucifer is beautiful, in all his terrible energy, wild and dangerous and a taste of the home Balthazar always wanted to believe Heaven could be. He recognizes the call to take the physical lead, even as the blend of Grace to Essence absorbs him, and his fingers tug at fabric, undoing buttons and pushing clothing aside, gently but urgently. He bites at Lucifer's throat, the juncture where neck and shoulder meet, kisses down his sternum.

"Light still green?" He whispers, nuzzling lower.

[the_rebel_son]

It's euphoric to feel the way this angel views his presence, not an adversary or enemy but something beautiful. To go from utter desolation to drowning in passion within the span of a day is disorienting but welcome.

He's never had another angel undress him. It's much more than just the temptation of a heavenly angel into carnal desire, whether or not he happens to be a hedonist. This angel, and only this angel, of all the celestial host he had encountered since the Fall elicited maddening desire instead of wrath. Lucifer has to let go of Balthazar's hair for fear he might rip it out when his neck is bitten. He shifts wings and rolled on to his back, dragging the angel on top of him, unless he resisted.

Then there were lips on his bare skin which took his breath for several heartbeats, though those beats were getting wildly fast. It brought another growl from the fallen angel, though with the contact between essence and grace the underlying primal emotions are clearer. As if there is something in his presence that is caged and pacing the bars to get free. His hands seek out the other angel's wings as he presses kisses farther down as much to pleasure the other angel as to stabilize himself.

"Yes." The word comes low, sultry, and completely angelic. Lucifer only had so much focus for control, better his voice slip into it's true form than scorching the landscape and possibly the angel with him.

[tryingitall]

Sometimes Balthazar uses sex as a focus for his attention. He has thousands of eyes, he's built to observe, and when he's with another being he can pay attention to every minute shift of their body, every breath, every incremental flicker of their expression, all at once. It's healing, and addictive, to lose himself in someone else's expression of pleasure.

This is also why he's a fan of orgies and group sex. The more people to observe, the better.

He's definitely watching Lucifer's reactions, but he can also feel them far more keenly than any human lover's, thanks to the blending of Graces. Balthazar can feel that he is wanted, and that's a drug unlike any he's tried before. He rolls on top of Lucifer when pulled at, happy to take the invitation. He gasps and makes a throaty groan as their legs tangle together, hips pressing close. And then the hands holding onto his wings pull a cry from his angelic body. It feels like they're being held as handles and he didn't know he would love that, but very clearly he does. His hips jolt, rocking against the other angel's instinctively.

The rest of the clothes are really gonna have to go, and soon.

[the_rebel_son]

As a rule, Lucifer is self-centered and arrogant, except as a lover. In the throes of passion he can be generous, probably the effect of being aligned so strongly with lust and passion. Intertwined with the tempest of desire is a very clear pull for Balthazar to indulge himself, even more than he normally would given the situation, and a companion offer to meet those indulgences.

His body presses into the weight of the angel on top of him, eyes closing, and wings stretching wide in response. Lucifer instantly matches rhythm with the rocking of the other angel, breath a little more ragged and the grip on the wings tighter, though not painfully so. Through the haze of lust he's still aware that he is physically and spiritually much stronger than his lover.

He can feel the desire to be rid of clothing, which he wants with a great impatience. As much a sensual desire to feel the angelic skin against his as it is the animalistic side of his sex drive. The offer to remove Balthazar's clothes echos through their connection laden with sexual abandon. The temptation is there to simply use the ability to manipulate matter to rematerialize them in a heap somewhere else on the rocks but he was unwilling to forfeit the sensuality of undressing the other angel.

[tryingitall]

It doesn't really matter which of them is on top. Gravity might as well not exist at all for the way Balthazar's head is spinning. Luckily, he's built like a giant wheel so spinning is something he's comfortable with. Shivering, he presses and grinds their bodies together, as if he resents every centimeter of air between them. As if he wants to blend their bodies the way they can their Graces.

Fabric is in the way, though, and as his hands slide down to undo Lucifer's belt and the fastening of his trousers, he responds to the offer to undress him with an emphatic, wordless affirmative. Unwilling to move back too far, he sits up a bit nonetheless to let Lucifer work at his clothes, but his wings arch forward, feathers brushing feathers and tangling gently.

[the_rebel_son]

The grind of their bodies together focuses the chaos of Lucifer's presence. Not that it is less tumultuous but all the emotions are erotic, lusty, wanton, passionate. Then his belt comes undone and there's a flash through his presence of desperation and anticipation. He sits up to stay close, just as unwilling to be far from contact.

His hands go to Balthazar's shirt intent on removing it but he's too frustrated with its presence. He yanks the shirt as if to rip it off but it dematerializes and swiftly rematerializes as he tosses it aside. His own shirt and jacket, hanging unbutton, join it in a similar fashion. The pants though he's intent on sliding off the other angel as soon as he has them undone. He's willing to move however will best help his pants join the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Lucifer tucks his larger pair of wings under Balthazar's wings and the smaller pair up over them. Smaller wings caressing the peacock feathers, flight feathers drifting across the bare skin between the other angel's wings. He knew this might be the equivalent of a blindfold but suspects his lover might not mind.

[tryingitall]

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.

[the_rebel_son]

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?"

[tryingitall]

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."

[the_rebel_son]

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.

[tryingitall]

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.

[the_rebel_son]

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.

[tryingitall]

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.

[the_rebel_son]

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.

[tryingitall]

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.

[the_rebel_son]

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.

[tryingitall]

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?"

[the_rebel_son]

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."

[tryingitall]

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_rebel_son]

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.

[tryingitall]

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."

[the_rebel_son]

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.

[tryingitall]

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."

[the_rebel_son]

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."