I don't think it would have mattered. In terms of the warning. It would've happened one way or another, feeding that thought into Istredd's continued smugness.
There's no explaining this away to Hayle. Even if they claim mysterious accident, it's their room, the repercussions are on them. At the moment he doesn't feel particularly guilty, though he has to wonder how many people heard that. Maybe should've considered some warding.
Way too late now.
He smooths down overtop Istredd. Never let it be said that he's not a reciprocal partner, if a troublemaker in his own right. He catches one of Istredd's wrists, pulling it to his mouth and coiling his tongue around a finger.
And then rudely captures the other one to stop it from its work, momentarily depriving Istredd of anything at all, manhandling both wrists together above his head, held secured by Lucifer with one steady grip. Casual, deceptively lazy thoughts drift between them.
Lucifer may not have telempathy but he is a fast learner and he does know how to read people and quite literally use things against them. It's never been in this exact light. He can stretch his manipulations, adapt. It's why he looks Istredd in the eyes, maintains that eye contact, wisps of mental energy now more languid but very attentive, and latching into parts of Istredd's mind. He easily hands off the truth. Simple. Possessive. Alive and bright. You're mine mingled with his own desires and want for Istredd.
He leans in, ghosted breath cresting around Istredd's ear, presses their cheeks together, draws away once more to resume eye contact. He trails a cool touch up Istredd's inner thigh, following no prescribed pattern, watching, calculating. "My hands are cold," is his warning; a genuine one at that. Rarely the chill is ever quite gone. He's not sure that's going to be too much a hindrance in this moment.
no subject
There's no explaining this away to Hayle. Even if they claim mysterious accident, it's their room, the repercussions are on them. At the moment he doesn't feel particularly guilty, though he has to wonder how many people heard that. Maybe should've considered some warding.
Way too late now.
He smooths down overtop Istredd. Never let it be said that he's not a reciprocal partner, if a troublemaker in his own right. He catches one of Istredd's wrists, pulling it to his mouth and coiling his tongue around a finger.
And then rudely captures the other one to stop it from its work, momentarily depriving Istredd of anything at all, manhandling both wrists together above his head, held secured by Lucifer with one steady grip. Casual, deceptively lazy thoughts drift between them.
Lucifer may not have telempathy but he is a fast learner and he does know how to read people and quite literally use things against them. It's never been in this exact light. He can stretch his manipulations, adapt. It's why he looks Istredd in the eyes, maintains that eye contact, wisps of mental energy now more languid but very attentive, and latching into parts of Istredd's mind. He easily hands off the truth. Simple. Possessive. Alive and bright. You're mine mingled with his own desires and want for Istredd.
He leans in, ghosted breath cresting around Istredd's ear, presses their cheeks together, draws away once more to resume eye contact. He trails a cool touch up Istredd's inner thigh, following no prescribed pattern, watching, calculating. "My hands are cold," is his warning; a genuine one at that. Rarely the chill is ever quite gone. He's not sure that's going to be too much a hindrance in this moment.