(no subject)
Huff. Huff. Huff.
Bodies moving together, almost silent except for gasps and other sounds of breathing. It’s one of those times when making noise isn’t important, loud aching cries and pleading for more, yes, more. This is slower, more concerned with comfort than pleasure.
Charlie lets his head thunk backwards against the pillow as Mr. B-Lucifer, Lucifer buries his face in the young man’s neck, hips undulate and meet and hands twist and pleasure. Their sweat is mingling where their bodies are together, smelling sweet. Charlie’s body tightens before he comes with an almost silent hiss between his teeth. Lucifer follows not long after, grunting quietly. Charlie sighs, almost happily with the endorphins that come after sex, and with the mixed feelings that come after sex with Lucifer.
He knows his employer’s fond of him-more than fond-but he doesn’t know. Nothing’s been said, only implied, and even if Charlie does spend so much time in Box’s room he might as well take up permanent residence, he isn’t sure.
Lucifer mumbles something into Charlie’s neck, and the younger man reaches to the bedside table for his fags and matches. He lights two and nudges at his boss to move, putting the lit cigarette in his hand.
Maybe it’s okay that nothing’s ever said, he considers, trying to blow smoke rings and failing. He loves this job, even if he’s still learning and slowly, and if things are said that’ll just make things messy. He glances down, and Lucifer’s staring at him, that smile on his face that’s softer than the one he uses outside.
Or maybe not.