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High Angel Lord Rosiel, curled in the crook of Lucifer's arm, he lays his head against one broad shoulder, silver-gilt hair mingling with dark against the pillow. The Fallen One's hand rests on his bare skin. Blue tracings of discoloration have spread across his ass now, but it's still got the same sweet curve of Alexiel's ass. His legs are still her legs, and when he curls close like this, his toes touch just where hers did. His smell is the same fresh sweetness she always had, and he sleeps the same, quietly and completely, resting in Lucifer's arms.
Only he almost never sleeps. "I'll have her soon," he says, "our bodies will merge – We'll be the way we always should have been, one whole united, instead of two broken halves." He shifts – again – looks teasingly up into the other's golden eyes, "and will you love your Alexiel then evil one? Will you love her when she and I are one?" Why does he always have to talk after fucking? Why does he insist that they do it – He doesn't pretend to enjoy it, doesn't even come most times, but the evenings are always the same: Lucifer goes to his room, and one of Rosiel's servants is there. He takes him to his bedchambers, and Rosiel is right there in his arms.
He's so small now – Lucifer thinks he might be smaller than Alexiel, and his body feels delicate, breakably fragile in his arms. "Fuck me," he says, "take me, evil one, you have to if I want it." But he doesn't want it, "take me hard," he says, "I want to feel you inside me," and he spreads legs that are getting bonier, less like his sister's, with every day that passes. He doesn't want this; what does he want? The only time Lucifer ever brought him to climax, he screamed Katan's name as he came. Then he swore he hadn't said anything, and rolled away from the Fallen Angel's arms and pretended he was asleep.
What does he get out of doing this? Is it the sight of the pain in his servant's eyes whenever he sees them together? Is Lucifer anything more than a distraction from the clamor of his own mind? There, he's asleep now. Finally, his breathing smoothes out, becomes regular; his face finally calm, he rests his head against the Fallen One's chest.
It's a while before Lucifer sleeps though. He lies on his back in Rosiel's bed, and stares up at his beautifully painted ceiling. His shoulder is a pillow for the High Angel, now so shrunken that he's barely a weight in his arms. He's not picturing God, but he's hearing his voice. That booming voice, that hurts your mind, as well as your ears, Lucifer never stops hearing the tone he used, when the Creator doomed him to Fall. He's going to see God again one of these days. His ticket into Etenamenki is lying here in his arms.
"Rest easy, Rosiel," Lucifer murmurs and then, smiling, he closes his eyes.