Even the clothes he wore on ascension day, when becoming officially a mage and the place filled to the brim with royalty, were picked for him and he managed to keep it bland. It was the first time he really dressed up and the last thing he was there to do was to draw attention.
Mages do feel different from average humans. Most people with supernatural abilities can sense it on them. Chaos consumes them, empowers them. Hundreds of years they will be sustained on that power. It's just that Istredd is more subtle than most of them. He's always felt the difference in Lucifer. Before he knew what an angel was, something in his Chaos pinged against it. That has never mattered in the end. The details were. The more he learned, the more the cracks fractured, the hungrier he became for the man.
It is why he couldn't be satisfied with a normal polite bond. Official, guarded, proper. They were doomed to end up here, he knows that much. And regrets not a single thing about it.
For example. Istredd's nerves succeed in keeping him just distracted enough not to sense him coming near and he turns to look at him as well. His cheeks immediately flush from the compliment and Lucifer can feel the pleasure of his success bleed through. He has never dressed up for anyone hoping for a compliment. Everything between them is new and impossible.
A compliment from Lucifer for something so shallow as appearance does the trick, his blush followed by a wave of smugness and confidence. "Well I am trying to draw attention for once." In theory, attention from the Thorne officials, in practice, Lucifer.
Now it is his turn to give his partner a look over and he has found him obnoxiously handsome for so long that it seems unfair to dress up on top of that. Istredd would want him if wearing a burlap sack, but the clasps on the shirt. The leather tight pants. The bright blue snakeskin that feels so very him and also matches his own clothes to perfection. Istredd takes his time to look at him from top to bottom.
No, you need to change, you're too attractive. Half-joking, half-serious. He wants to devour Lucifer whole. For months Istredd has successfully pushed away his attraction to Lucifer to protect him from unwanted attention. But there is no hiding the desire that bleeds between them and he wants to put his hands on him.
He gives in a tiny bit by walking close to him and reaching out to touch the jacket in particular. The fabric is scale-adjacent, it is reasonable to want to feel that for himself. "I'm going to be distracted all night," he whines.
no subject
Mages do feel different from average humans. Most people with supernatural abilities can sense it on them. Chaos consumes them, empowers them. Hundreds of years they will be sustained on that power. It's just that Istredd is more subtle than most of them. He's always felt the difference in Lucifer. Before he knew what an angel was, something in his Chaos pinged against it. That has never mattered in the end. The details were. The more he learned, the more the cracks fractured, the hungrier he became for the man.
It is why he couldn't be satisfied with a normal polite bond. Official, guarded, proper. They were doomed to end up here, he knows that much. And regrets not a single thing about it.
For example. Istredd's nerves succeed in keeping him just distracted enough not to sense him coming near and he turns to look at him as well. His cheeks immediately flush from the compliment and Lucifer can feel the pleasure of his success bleed through. He has never dressed up for anyone hoping for a compliment. Everything between them is new and impossible.
A compliment from Lucifer for something so shallow as appearance does the trick, his blush followed by a wave of smugness and confidence. "Well I am trying to draw attention for once." In theory, attention from the Thorne officials, in practice, Lucifer.
Now it is his turn to give his partner a look over and he has found him obnoxiously handsome for so long that it seems unfair to dress up on top of that. Istredd would want him if wearing a burlap sack, but the clasps on the shirt. The leather tight pants. The bright blue snakeskin that feels so very him and also matches his own clothes to perfection. Istredd takes his time to look at him from top to bottom.
No, you need to change, you're too attractive. Half-joking, half-serious. He wants to devour Lucifer whole. For months Istredd has successfully pushed away his attraction to Lucifer to protect him from unwanted attention. But there is no hiding the desire that bleeds between them and he wants to put his hands on him.
He gives in a tiny bit by walking close to him and reaching out to touch the jacket in particular. The fabric is scale-adjacent, it is reasonable to want to feel that for himself. "I'm going to be distracted all night," he whines.