(no subject)
The door slams behind Thom; he crashes straight into Lucifer, who stands looking down at him, tall and powerful and very much awake now.
"I suppose you think yourself charming," he says casually, pushing two fingers under Thom's chin and forcing it up, though he needn't: Thom is already looking at him. "Like a little boy with a stick after the rain who just can't seem to stop stirring up mud."
Hands loose at his sides, Thom says softly, the underside of his jaw moving smoothly over Lucifer's fingers, "Don't treat me like a child."
Lucifer laughs, and shoves Thom's shoulder back hard against the door, watching as the boy pales and bites his lip. "You think I do this to children?"
"You think I'm kidding?"
"Aren't you?" The same arch look. "I hear everything's a joke to you. Is this funny, Thom? Do you like this?"
And as his nails bite into Thom's shoulder, he answers himself, "Of course you do."
Savage now, the heel of his hand twisting sharply up to cover Thom's mouth, "Is it nice to stop talking? You're ridiculous, you know. All the blathering. All that begging for attention."
In that instant there's no puff of breath against his palm, and the clean scarlet sweep as Thom veils his eyes is, Lucifer realizes, distracting.
So he observes quickly, lightly, "All flash and no substance," digging in and feeling the blood welling up: such thin skin. He bears down with his hand, knocking Thom's head roughly up and into the door. "Always pushing limits."
Thom's breath comes quicker and Lucifer would not be surprised if he bit his fingers but instead somehow his legs have already slipped apart when Lucifer shoves his own thigh between them, "Fair's fair. You had your turn. So now we'll see what we can do for you, won't we, Thomling?"
And Lucifer blinks down at him, eyes darkening deep and blue, "Thomlet.
"Boy."
Thom is trembling faintly and he won't meet Lucifer's eyes but when, smug, Lucifer lets go of him he collapses forward, laughing hysterically. The way he shakes his head is plain: you know me better than that, and for a moment Lucifer is given pause.
He waits for Thom to calm down and explain himself, expressionless, before suddenly it's all there, clearer than crystal or sunbeams when Thom grins cheekily up at him and says, "Sorry, no, I'm done talking now," and his split lip (had he, after all, been biting it that hard?) and wary eyes are tied together by the curious tilt of his head, the red hair he pulls aside before tipping his head back in that irritating compelling way he has, perfectly expectant.
You know me as well as he ever did, says that last slanting gesture, and: that trick won't work on me again.
Seized by a surprisingly pleasant feeling, Lucifer regards what's offered him, wondering whether he'd like to kiss the boy or kick him until Thom's foot smashes into his shin and decides it for him: both.
He'll do both.
"I suppose you think yourself charming," he says casually, pushing two fingers under Thom's chin and forcing it up, though he needn't: Thom is already looking at him. "Like a little boy with a stick after the rain who just can't seem to stop stirring up mud."
Hands loose at his sides, Thom says softly, the underside of his jaw moving smoothly over Lucifer's fingers, "Don't treat me like a child."
Lucifer laughs, and shoves Thom's shoulder back hard against the door, watching as the boy pales and bites his lip. "You think I do this to children?"
"You think I'm kidding?"
"Aren't you?" The same arch look. "I hear everything's a joke to you. Is this funny, Thom? Do you like this?"
And as his nails bite into Thom's shoulder, he answers himself, "Of course you do."
Savage now, the heel of his hand twisting sharply up to cover Thom's mouth, "Is it nice to stop talking? You're ridiculous, you know. All the blathering. All that begging for attention."
In that instant there's no puff of breath against his palm, and the clean scarlet sweep as Thom veils his eyes is, Lucifer realizes, distracting.
So he observes quickly, lightly, "All flash and no substance," digging in and feeling the blood welling up: such thin skin. He bears down with his hand, knocking Thom's head roughly up and into the door. "Always pushing limits."
Thom's breath comes quicker and Lucifer would not be surprised if he bit his fingers but instead somehow his legs have already slipped apart when Lucifer shoves his own thigh between them, "Fair's fair. You had your turn. So now we'll see what we can do for you, won't we, Thomling?"
And Lucifer blinks down at him, eyes darkening deep and blue, "Thomlet.
"Boy."
Thom is trembling faintly and he won't meet Lucifer's eyes but when, smug, Lucifer lets go of him he collapses forward, laughing hysterically. The way he shakes his head is plain: you know me better than that, and for a moment Lucifer is given pause.
He waits for Thom to calm down and explain himself, expressionless, before suddenly it's all there, clearer than crystal or sunbeams when Thom grins cheekily up at him and says, "Sorry, no, I'm done talking now," and his split lip (had he, after all, been biting it that hard?) and wary eyes are tied together by the curious tilt of his head, the red hair he pulls aside before tipping his head back in that irritating compelling way he has, perfectly expectant.
You know me as well as he ever did, says that last slanting gesture, and: that trick won't work on me again.
Seized by a surprisingly pleasant feeling, Lucifer regards what's offered him, wondering whether he'd like to kiss the boy or kick him until Thom's foot smashes into his shin and decides it for him: both.
He'll do both.