'You are so attractive.' Simple, nonsense, from anyone else. Not a misguided fool issue. Even an Istredd not-firing-on-all-cylinders wouldn't be so lost to forget Lucifer's personal issues with form and appearance, and that he can feel, just under the surface layers of Emotion.
So the more Istredd gets words in--short, nearly pointless--the more Lucifer's created narrative doesn't quite fit and that's.
Alarming.
Because he knows he's right. He has to be. It's what makes the most sense. Lucifer wants something, ergo he's disallowed. Istredd isn't in the most stable state, using him--though certainly not on purpose--as a replacement for Yennefer, because they're practically the same person most days, and she is not here right now. Istredd will eventually wake up and realize the mistake and that'll be that.
It's how this is supposed to go. Lucifer indulges, gets some fun in while it lasts, and then it's up in smoke.
Lucifer...
Doesn't like being wrong. Even if it's in his benefit. He puts a lot of value in being right and that's quickly crumpling under his hands despite losing himself in the warmth of Istredd's touch.
He needs to take a step back and look at this from an angle that he'd really prefer not to, as that involves the sole problem with everything that is currently happening. Gee, Istredd, maybe if you didn't forget you were bonded when you slept with someone that was definitely intent to lay claim, this would also be simpler. (Maybe if Lucifer had ever brought up That Moment instead of burying it down with everything else, this would also be simpler.)
Billions of years and he's never been so hot at playing an adult.
He licks and presses his tongue in right under Istredd's chin, sucking at the pulse point, hands both moving around to cup his face much like he had done to Lucifer. You keep adding rules like that, he sings, though Istredd might catch just the faintest flutter that something is off. And I might have to make a scoreboard.
He pulls his mouth away and rests his forehead to Istredd's, breathing unevenly as he looks into his eyes. "I can stop you thinking," he says, as though he's accepted another challenge, only his gaze is revealing. He knows it is. He smiles, brief. Sorry, he murmurs. He means it. Before Istredd can question it, Lucifer brushes pointer and middle fingers feather-light against Istredd's temple, and drops him completely, blackout, into unconsciousness.
The small mercy: this way Istredd will actually sleep without thinking.
Lucifer groans, displeased, his own mind now abysmally quiet, and flops down alongside Istredd. Pauses. Shuffles. Pulls out awkwardly the pillow that had ended up somewhere beneath Istredd, and shoves it under the man's head, and then he resumes his position alongside him.
"I hate you," he says, loudly, folding his arms over his own face. He throws his voice, imitating Istredd, "'You don't.'" Lucifer grumbles. "You can't possibly..."
He has to know for sure and the person to ask is not Istredd himself. Funny how that works out. He's sure Istredd will take some offense to that. But there's also a little 'issue' on claim to settle and two equally-obtuse people need to learn to share. May as well get both problems out of the way. "Where did I go wrong? That's the big question here."
Is he talking to an unconscious body? Yes. Shut up. He's processing something and psyching himself up for something else.
"My life was easy before I met you, you know."
Was it, though? No. Just different problems.
He sighs. Bemoans his existence for the umpteenth time, stretches his arms out above him, and then messages Yennefer. Which is going to be real fun if she's not awake in these pre-dawn hours, but with how difficult all the Summoned have been dealing with sleep, he thinks he has good chances.
And, anyway, he can easily keep Istredd knocked out until he has his chat.
congrats to waking up to another round of Lucifer's Existential Crises
'You are so attractive.' Simple, nonsense, from anyone else. Not a misguided fool issue. Even an Istredd not-firing-on-all-cylinders wouldn't be so lost to forget Lucifer's personal issues with form and appearance, and that he can feel, just under the surface layers of Emotion.
So the more Istredd gets words in--short, nearly pointless--the more Lucifer's created narrative doesn't quite fit and that's.
Alarming.
Because he knows he's right. He has to be. It's what makes the most sense. Lucifer wants something, ergo he's disallowed. Istredd isn't in the most stable state, using him--though certainly not on purpose--as a replacement for Yennefer, because they're practically the same person most days, and she is not here right now. Istredd will eventually wake up and realize the mistake and that'll be that.
It's how this is supposed to go. Lucifer indulges, gets some fun in while it lasts, and then it's up in smoke.
Lucifer...
Doesn't like being wrong. Even if it's in his benefit. He puts a lot of value in being right and that's quickly crumpling under his hands despite losing himself in the warmth of Istredd's touch.
He needs to take a step back and look at this from an angle that he'd really prefer not to, as that involves the sole problem with everything that is currently happening. Gee, Istredd, maybe if you didn't forget you were bonded when you slept with someone that was definitely intent to lay claim, this would also be simpler. (Maybe if Lucifer had ever brought up That Moment instead of burying it down with everything else, this would also be simpler.)
Billions of years and he's never been so hot at playing an adult.
He licks and presses his tongue in right under Istredd's chin, sucking at the pulse point, hands both moving around to cup his face much like he had done to Lucifer. You keep adding rules like that, he sings, though Istredd might catch just the faintest flutter that something is off. And I might have to make a scoreboard.
He pulls his mouth away and rests his forehead to Istredd's, breathing unevenly as he looks into his eyes. "I can stop you thinking," he says, as though he's accepted another challenge, only his gaze is revealing. He knows it is. He smiles, brief. Sorry, he murmurs. He means it. Before Istredd can question it, Lucifer brushes pointer and middle fingers feather-light against Istredd's temple, and drops him completely, blackout, into unconsciousness.
The small mercy: this way Istredd will actually sleep without thinking.
Lucifer groans, displeased, his own mind now abysmally quiet, and flops down alongside Istredd. Pauses. Shuffles. Pulls out awkwardly the pillow that had ended up somewhere beneath Istredd, and shoves it under the man's head, and then he resumes his position alongside him.
"I hate you," he says, loudly, folding his arms over his own face. He throws his voice, imitating Istredd, "'You don't.'" Lucifer grumbles. "You can't possibly..."
He has to know for sure and the person to ask is not Istredd himself. Funny how that works out. He's sure Istredd will take some offense to that. But there's also a little 'issue' on claim to settle and two equally-obtuse people need to learn to share. May as well get both problems out of the way. "Where did I go wrong? That's the big question here."
Is he talking to an unconscious body? Yes. Shut up. He's processing something and psyching himself up for something else.
"My life was easy before I met you, you know."
Was it, though? No. Just different problems.
He sighs. Bemoans his existence for the umpteenth time, stretches his arms out above him, and then messages Yennefer. Which is going to be real fun if she's not awake in these pre-dawn hours, but with how difficult all the Summoned have been dealing with sleep, he thinks he has good chances.
And, anyway, he can easily keep Istredd knocked out until he has his chat.