Pleasure tore through her, orgasm gripping her as her muscles twitched. She cried out, and he didn't let up, continuing the motions until the sensations subsided and she relaxed again.
She lay there, breathing heavily, body tingling, as he tore off his own clothes haphazardly. Her eyes trailed over his naked form, mesmerized by the lines and contours. He was stunning, absolutely perfect, no flaws or blemishes, nothing out of place. Even the mark that had not long ago been carved in his chest was gone, fully healed, having faded away.
Luce stared down at her, something brewing in his eyes, unexpectedly dark. Her back prickled with a sense of danger, but desire shoved it aside.
Maybe he was dangerous, but for some reason, she trusted him.
"So beautiful," he said again, voice rough and gritty as his hands massaged her breasts. "You sure about this?"
All it took was another nod.
She didn't even have to speak.
Luce settled between her thighs, meeting her lips again as he pushed inside of her. Serah moaned as he filled her, an overwhelming sensation swarming her. She felt warm, so warm, like he was kindling a fire in her bones. He moved slowly at first, letting her adjust to the feeling, before increasing the pace just a bit.
Breaking the kiss, he pulled back, his hand coming to rest on her chest, on top of the circular scar over her heart. His palm felt like burning embers, searing flames, as her heart frantically pounded against it.
"It's racing now," he whispered. "I can hear it."
He made love to her, thrusting again and again, propping himself up with one arm as his right hand stayed planted on her chest. Serah didn't just feel him in body. Luce was penetrating part of her soul. He wrapped himself tightly around it, gripping hold and not letting go, claiming parts of Serah she didn't realize existed until he awakened them in her. Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance, wind whipping against the windows as a storm neared.
Another orgasm seized her, and then another, back to back pleasure sending her over the edge. She could barely catch her breath as he drove her places she wasn't sure a human body was capable of being. His name fell from her lips, a gratifying whisper she couldn't contain.
Luce.
"So beautiful," he whispered yet again, his mouth finding her ear as she closed her eyes, wrapping her arms tightly around him, holding him even though it hurt. Stinging erupted across her skin, torturous pins and needles that left a burn in their wake. It felt like sunburn, rubbed raw, making tears prickle the corner of her eyes.
He moved faster, thrusting deeper, muttering into her neck about being close. Serah could sense it, could feel his body tensing, rock hard above her, his movements more frenzied. The ache inside of her intensified as she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, a tear leaking down her cheek.
"No," Luce growled. "No… no… no…"
All at once, the blackness ripped away with a blast of light, burning blood red behind her eyelids as another orgasm ripped through her. She gasped, struggling for air. It was as if an explosion went off inside of her chest, ricocheting out through her limbs. Her eyes snapped open, and maybe it was her imagination, but she could've sworn he was glowing again.
"NO!"
Lucifer screamed the word as the stark white spans of nothingness materialized around him, his bare feet planted dead center of the circle surrounded by those damned confining sigils. He glared down at them, anger building inside of him, brewing like molten lava.
He felt like he might explode.
He could feel the peculiar tingle from being summoned, but the rage overshadowed it, the concentration of sin inside of him so intense it made his body vibrate. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to restrain it, to force it back, but it had been building for too long.
It had nowhere to go.
"Fuck!"
The curse roared from his lips, the feelings purging from him at once. It had been so long, too long, since he opened up and just let it go, unleashing everything that he'd been bottling in. The release of energy was so intense the floor quaked, for just a moment everything surrounding him obscured in a haze, like the brightness of Heaven had been soiled by all of his sin. It cleared just as quickly as it happened, the ground stable as it was all sucked away.
Lucifer's fiery gaze lifted from the sigils surrounding him, imprisoning him, to the throne just a few feet away. His Father sat passively, relaxed, merely watching him with a bored expression on His face. Michael, on the other hand, sat hunched over, slumped with defeat, his face lined with concern and a tinge of something else.
Disgust?
"Are you done now?" His father asked calmly, "or do you want to throw another tantrum?"
Tantrum. Luce hated being spoken to like a child.
Luce didn't entertain that condescending question with an answer, keeping his eyes on Michael. No, it wasn't disgust, nor was it anger. It was hurt.
Hurt.
How many times had he tried to hurt his brother? How many times had he tried to destroy Michael only to decide, at the end, the archangel couldn't be wounded? Clearly, he'd been wrong.
He'd hurt him finally.
Luce didn't feel quite so good about it today.
He knew, taking in Michael's expression, that he'd witnessed what just happened, that he'd seen every bit of his evening with Serah. What kind of sick, masochistic voyeur would watch that?
"Lucifer."
His Father's voice was strong, an edge of authority to it that instinctively drew his eyes to Him. Luce suddenly felt extremely exposed, standing in the middle of Heaven in front of his dysfunctional family wearing nothing but Serah's scent and a hell of a lot of sin, his mind an open book.
She lay there, breathing heavily, body tingling, as he tore off his own clothes haphazardly. Her eyes trailed over his naked form, mesmerized by the lines and contours. He was stunning, absolutely perfect, no flaws or blemishes, nothing out of place. Even the mark that had not long ago been carved in his chest was gone, fully healed, having faded away.
Luce stared down at her, something brewing in his eyes, unexpectedly dark. Her back prickled with a sense of danger, but desire shoved it aside.
Maybe he was dangerous, but for some reason, she trusted him.
"So beautiful," he said again, voice rough and gritty as his hands massaged her breasts. "You sure about this?"
All it took was another nod.
She didn't even have to speak.
Luce settled between her thighs, meeting her lips again as he pushed inside of her. Serah moaned as he filled her, an overwhelming sensation swarming her. She felt warm, so warm, like he was kindling a fire in her bones. He moved slowly at first, letting her adjust to the feeling, before increasing the pace just a bit.
Breaking the kiss, he pulled back, his hand coming to rest on her chest, on top of the circular scar over her heart. His palm felt like burning embers, searing flames, as her heart frantically pounded against it.
"It's racing now," he whispered. "I can hear it."
He made love to her, thrusting again and again, propping himself up with one arm as his right hand stayed planted on her chest. Serah didn't just feel him in body. Luce was penetrating part of her soul. He wrapped himself tightly around it, gripping hold and not letting go, claiming parts of Serah she didn't realize existed until he awakened them in her. Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance, wind whipping against the windows as a storm neared.
Another orgasm seized her, and then another, back to back pleasure sending her over the edge. She could barely catch her breath as he drove her places she wasn't sure a human body was capable of being. His name fell from her lips, a gratifying whisper she couldn't contain.
Luce.
"So beautiful," he whispered yet again, his mouth finding her ear as she closed her eyes, wrapping her arms tightly around him, holding him even though it hurt. Stinging erupted across her skin, torturous pins and needles that left a burn in their wake. It felt like sunburn, rubbed raw, making tears prickle the corner of her eyes.
He moved faster, thrusting deeper, muttering into her neck about being close. Serah could sense it, could feel his body tensing, rock hard above her, his movements more frenzied. The ache inside of her intensified as she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, a tear leaking down her cheek.
"No," Luce growled. "No… no… no…"
All at once, the blackness ripped away with a blast of light, burning blood red behind her eyelids as another orgasm ripped through her. She gasped, struggling for air. It was as if an explosion went off inside of her chest, ricocheting out through her limbs. Her eyes snapped open, and maybe it was her imagination, but she could've sworn he was glowing again.
"NO!"
Lucifer screamed the word as the stark white spans of nothingness materialized around him, his bare feet planted dead center of the circle surrounded by those damned confining sigils. He glared down at them, anger building inside of him, brewing like molten lava.
He felt like he might explode.
He could feel the peculiar tingle from being summoned, but the rage overshadowed it, the concentration of sin inside of him so intense it made his body vibrate. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to restrain it, to force it back, but it had been building for too long.
It had nowhere to go.
"Fuck!"
The curse roared from his lips, the feelings purging from him at once. It had been so long, too long, since he opened up and just let it go, unleashing everything that he'd been bottling in. The release of energy was so intense the floor quaked, for just a moment everything surrounding him obscured in a haze, like the brightness of Heaven had been soiled by all of his sin. It cleared just as quickly as it happened, the ground stable as it was all sucked away.
Lucifer's fiery gaze lifted from the sigils surrounding him, imprisoning him, to the throne just a few feet away. His Father sat passively, relaxed, merely watching him with a bored expression on His face. Michael, on the other hand, sat hunched over, slumped with defeat, his face lined with concern and a tinge of something else.
Disgust?
"Are you done now?" His father asked calmly, "or do you want to throw another tantrum?"
Tantrum. Luce hated being spoken to like a child.
Luce didn't entertain that condescending question with an answer, keeping his eyes on Michael. No, it wasn't disgust, nor was it anger. It was hurt.
Hurt.
How many times had he tried to hurt his brother? How many times had he tried to destroy Michael only to decide, at the end, the archangel couldn't be wounded? Clearly, he'd been wrong.
He'd hurt him finally.
Luce didn't feel quite so good about it today.
He knew, taking in Michael's expression, that he'd witnessed what just happened, that he'd seen every bit of his evening with Serah. What kind of sick, masochistic voyeur would watch that?
"Lucifer."
His Father's voice was strong, an edge of authority to it that instinctively drew his eyes to Him. Luce suddenly felt extremely exposed, standing in the middle of Heaven in front of his dysfunctional family wearing nothing but Serah's scent and a hell of a lot of sin, his mind an open book.
