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The building is cold and crumbling. It looks ready to collapse in on itself at any moment, and Castiel pauses to wonder if that is a cause or an effect. It doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t have come here, but now it’s too late. Mud squelches under his shoe as he stumbles back, but they’re there before he can run, grinning with pale faces and black eyes. If he were himself, they would be of no consequence to him. Castiel is not himself.
“Hands off that one, boys,” comes the too familiar drawl. Castiel looks up, stomach flipping when he finds that she is just as pretty as she was before. She didn’t lose that smug smirk in the fire either.
“He’s the--”
“I said hands off,” Meg snaps. The other demons defer to her, grumbling as they shove the angel forward. “Come on,” she says, leading the way. “You’ve been expected.”
That cannot be good.
***
Lucifer’s skin is burnt and blistered, but it’s not disgust that makes Castiel’s insides churn when he looks at him. It’s pity. You are not supposed to pity the Devil. Something in Lucifer’s eyes makes it worse. It’s hard to tell if the pinkish outline is his vessel breaking down or something else entirely. Worst of all still is how beautiful he manages to be in spite of his condition. The door clicks. Castiel never noticed Meg leave.
“Congratulations,” Lucifer says dryly. “You found me. Now leave before things get unpleasant.”
“Things are already unpleasant.”
“More unpleasant then, Castiel.”
“You were happy to talk to me before.”
“I’m happy to talk to you anytime, little brother.” Lucifer hesitates, one eyebrow arching. “Is that it? You came to talk?”
Castiel nods, and Lucifer’s shoulders drop in something akin to relief. They’re tense a moment later, an involuntary spasm.
He sinks down to the couch with serpentine fluidity. “How did you find me?”
“The Winchesters said you mentioned Detroit…”
“Come to tell me things I already know?”
Castiel squints, trying to find meaning in those words, knowing there’s something under the surface that he’s just not getting.
“Never mind, Castiel,” Lucifer says softly. He waves his hand towards the opposite end of the couch. “Come sit.”
“I am not here to betray them,” Castiel replies firmly. “I am not here to--”
Lucifer gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “I know, I know. I know a lot of things you don’t, in fact. Don’t look at me like that. Just sit down.”
Castiel hesitates, but the fading curl of grace inside him leaves his body feeling heavy. The couch looks soft. It is. Despite the chill, Castiel finds himself as comfortable as he can ever remember being, at least on Earth. He turns to look at Lucifer, frowns at the intensity of his stare.
“What?”
“You said you wanted to talk, Castiel. If you’re not reconsidering your position, I’m curious as to what we have to discuss.”
Castiel stares down at his hands. They tremble, rebellious as he is, curl into the fabric of his pants. “I’m considering many things,” he confesses. “I don’t want the Winchesters to die. I don’t want humanity destroyed. But…”
“But…?”
“I have given… thought to your pain as of late. I don’t agree with you, Lucifer. I don’t think I can. But I’m sorry that you’re suffering so much.”
Lucifer tilts his head, a familial gesture, and his lips twitch in something almost like a smile. “That’s very kind of you,” he says softly.
Castiel swallows hard, forces another nod. It’s difficult. Stupid rebellious body. Why is it behaving in this way?
“The situation is not as simple as you think it is, Castiel.”
Something about the way his name rolls off Lucifer’s tongue makes him look up.
“It’s not black or white. There are a million shades in between. But tell me, do you think Michael and his soldiers would let me walk away?”
Castiel thinks for a moment and then shakes his head. “No.”
“So I am the villain or the prey, perhaps both.”
“I have heard Sam use the term ‘between a rock and a hard place.’”
“I am.”
“...It sounds unpleasant.”
“It is.”
Castiel feels a strange tickle before the little droplet falls on the back of his hand. He moves quickly to wipe his eyes. He feels crushed by the realization of a pain that is not even his own.
“Rest, Castiel.”
Castiel opens his mouth to protest, but his voice dies in his throat.
“I already know. There’s no shame in your condition. You’ll be safe here. You have my word.”
Lucifer doesn’t lie, Castiel knows. He shuts his eyes.
***
The room is the same when Castiel wakes up. He has no concept of time, of how long he was asleep. The curtains were closed when he arrived. The only change he can perceive is that Lucifer has reclined back and closed his eyes as well. Castiel watches him. His lips are parted in slow, even breath, pale but unblemished from the breakdown of his vessel. Lucifer must be sleeping, he decides. Perhaps that is why he sent Castiel to sleep too. No shame in your condition, he’d said. Perhaps he is afflicted too.
The tattered beauty of Heaven’s light lures Castiel in like a moth to a flame. He still doesn’t understand how he could ever betray humanity, but he is beginning to see flickers of himself in Lucifer’s visage. Never so beautiful, though. Castiel could never be so beautiful. His smooth skin means nothing. Lucifer’s mouth alone is more lovely. Castiel’s mouth is dry and hungry. He leans forward. And yes, it is everything he imagined.
Lucifer’s eyes open, and Castiel jerks away, hot with shame and want. He mumbles a hasty apology and starts to flee, but a cool hand wrapping around his wrist stops him.
“Stay.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Castiel… We can, if you want to.”
He shivers. How easily Lucifer sees everything.
“I want to.”
“I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. We’ll go slow. How ever you want.”
Castiel creeps back to the couch. He draws close, and God help him, he doesn’t want to go slow. Mere proximity to Lucifer has him on fire, trembling as need flares inside him.
“It’s okay,” Lucifer tells him, one hand under Castiel’s coat, fingers splayed across the small of his back.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Castiel says, and he knows how foolish he sounds the second he hears himself.
But Lucifer smiles. “You won’t.”
One leg moves, nudging into the space beside Lucifer’s hip and the arm of the couch. Castiel rests himself on the archangel’s lap. A bundle of tan fabric hits the floor, and they kiss again. Lucifer’s tongue is pleasantly cool, not so icy that it feels strange tracing Castiel’s lips and luring his own mouth into a dance of caresses. He makes a noise in his throat that Castiel swears he feels reverberating down his spine.
“You’re warm.” Lucifer sighs, pulling Castiel’s body against him. “You’re so warm.”
Burning, Castiel wants to say, but he doesn’t. His mouth is too busy seeking Lucifer’s for a third time. Harder now that Castiel is beginning to understand what to do. He still shakes when Lucifer pauses for a moment, licking softly over Castiel’s swollen lips. Lucifer nips him lightly, and Castiel is surprised at the noise that comes out of his own throat. He’s ashamed for a moment, starts to withdraw, but Lucifer holds him by the waist.
“Shh, no, that’s good. Let me know what you like.”
“I want more,” Castiel rasps.
“You’ll have it.”
Lucifer kisses Castiel that time, leans up and guides him down until their mouths are joined again. The tip of his tongue traces Castiel’s lips until they’re sensitive, and then he bites them lightly to make the younger angel whimper. Castiel starts to forget to be nervous. He rests his hands over Lucifer’s, gripping his wrists just enough to pull his hands up. Castiel doesn’t know where he’s going, just that he needs Lucifer’s hands on him. They wander idly, and Castiel reaches up to clutch at his collar and yank at his tie. Lucifer is more coordinated, untying the knot and sliding buttons open all the way down to Castiel’s stomach. Castiel doesn’t have to ask to have his skin touched. The very moment his flesh is exposed, Lucifer’s fingertips are grazing over him, up his sides and across his chest, circling around nipples that Castiel finds are so sensitive he gasps when touched. Lucifer’s hands are exquisite, but when he leans forward and presses his lips over Castiel’s hot skin, Castiel forgets how to think.
He’s been hard in his pants for what seems like an eternity now. It’s a dull ache that begs to be soothed but is only stoked by each little flick of Lucifer’s tongue. Instinct cries out inside him, and Castiel grinds himself down against Lucifer’s hips. A dying voice in the back of his head says he should feel guilty and filthy and wrong, but the way Lucifer hisses against his neck drowns it all out. When Castiel realizes that Lucifer is erect too, he feels beautiful and powerful and alive. Lucifer wants him. He wiggles under Castiel’s hips, adjusting his posture so that they’re better aligned. Castiel is thankful for it. He’s too eager to stop.
Arms wrapped around Lucifer’s neck to steady himself, Castiel rocks against the archangel’s lap. He tilts his head back, exposing his neck, and Lucifer obliges him with bruising kisses across his throat. Castiel moves his hands through Lucifer’s hair, clutching the soft strands between his fingers. It makes Lucifer growl against him and bite the side of his neck. Castiel rocks faster. He squirms, he writhes in Lucifer’s lap, desperately grinding against him through the barrier of too much fabric. It doesn’t matter now. Castiel can’t breathe. His toes are curled in his shoes, and his fingers are shaking in Lucifer’s hair and across his back. His muscles are too tense. Castiel doesn’t know how he’s moving like he is until he realizes Lucifer’s grip on his hips is pulling and pushing him back and forth. He tries to speak but only succeeds in making an incoherent noise. Lucifer nods against him, tells him it’s okay.
Lucifer’s hips are moving too, and his breath is fast and uneven against Castiel’s skin-- two details that start the shudder moving through Castiel’s every nerve. He lets his head fall back, his lips open, his voice cry out in pleasure. Lucifer’s fingers dig into his hips, and he murmurs, “Don’t stop,” in a voice Castiel can barely hear. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to, but he doesn’t want to anyway. So he lets it go. He lets himself move and twist and squirm until Lucifer is moaning underneath him, hips jerking up abruptly. Finally, they slow down, riding out the waves of orgasm together. Castiel slumps forward, draping himself across Lucifer’s chest and resting his head on his shoulder. He kisses the side of Lucifer’s neck softly, undaunted by the painful looking red lines. He feels Lucifer’s lungs fill with air underneath him and kisses again, softly, delicately. Lucifer exhales in a sigh, and despite the heavy stickiness of his underwear, Castiel feels very peaceful lying there with Lucifer’s arms around him.
“It could be like this forever,” Lucifer whispers, kissing the top of Castiel’s head.
“Could it?”
“Yes.”
Castiel bites his lip. “I might not have forever.”
“I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you everything.”
“Everything?”
“Whatever you want, Castiel.”
He stays quiet for a minute, feeling his heart calm in his chest. Lucifer’s is slowing too, but Castiel can still feel it where they’re pressed together. “I want peace,” he says at last.
“Peace…” Lucifer echoes thoughtfully.
“Yes.” Castiel nods. “I want peace.”
“All right… Then you’ll have it.”
Castiel kisses Lucifer’s neck once more before he shuts his eyes again.