Foreword: First and foremost, I apologize for being completely and painfully inactive over here. I've been sick and flooded with school work, so between the two I haven't been doing much writing of anything.

I hope to work on Mother's Eyes and Lips this weekend. I won't make promises though. I'm still sorry D: So have some angelcest 3

Michael and Lucifer are trapped in the cage. With everything that happened in heaven before Lucifer's fall, it was about time they talked.

Michael refused to talk to him.

Since the first day Sam Winchester had thrown them both, Michael accidentally, into the pit the fallen General of Heaven had not spoken a word. All he did was look at his younger brother with nothing in his expression telling Lucifer what he thought. No twitch in his mouth, no glint in his eyes. Nothing to tell Lucifer…anything at all.

Michael had been like this even when Lucifer had been the light of Heaven. Before Michael had struck him down into Hell. It was almost nostalgic how nothing had changed. It was more infuriating.

But Lucifer had spent an eternity alone in the pit, and any anger he felt towards his brother had settled into a hollow remorse; because, at the end of the day, Michael was still his brother. His big brother and no one could understand the bond they had.

The fallen angel remembered his time spent in Heaven. Beautiful, shining moments that kept him from going completely mad in the pit. Those times they spent alone... far from prying eyes that would condemn actions no angel was supposed to partake in...

Lucifer had spent most of his time playing with the Winchesters up until now, and so had Michael. It vented their anger at least, and it provided the distraction for both of them to pretend the other didn't exist. At least on Michael's part he pretended he was alone. But Lucifer couldn't, not with Michael right there for the first time since he was cast out. Lucifer needed to speak to his brother. To really speak to him, because it had been so long and it physically ached not to exist with his brother as they had before and go back to the way things once were.

"Michael," Lucifer spoke the name in reverence, but also in command. Michael looked up, as he always did simply out of courtesy, and stoically stared at the younger.

Lucifer resolutely stepped towards him, until they were inches apart and he watched the faint twitch of confusion crease Michael's borrowed brow. It smoothed out almost immediately, and Lucifer sighed.

"Michael, remember… when we were in heaven?" Lucifer whispered to his older brother, his hand sliding up to rest on Michael's cheek. The reaction was immediate as well; Michael turned away from the touch and kept his stoic gaze down, an obvious resentment to the touch. Lucifer frowned a little and curled his hand into a fist, dropping it back to his side.

"That was a long time ago, brother. Things have changed," Michael replied quietly, demurely, and Lucifer sighed shortly. It startled Lucifer that he finally spoke to him, but it wasn't enough and it wasn't the answer Lucifer was looking for.

"No. They haven't, brother. We're still…locked in this stalemate. This silly notion that you must please our father. Remember what…it was like before? When we… were closer. You took care of me, Michael."

"Of course I did," Michael whispered softly, still not looking up. Lucifer watched Michael intently, searching for any little nuance that would give him away. And Lucifer decided to take a chance, do something he hadn't done even ages before the humans were spawned.

The Morningstar threaded his fingers through Michael's hair and tilted his head back, exposing the long column of his throat to him in a completely vulnerable gesture. The elder did not react but didn't protest the frighteningly invasive touch. Lucifer leaned in close and brushed his nose along Michael's jaw, a gentle caress he hadn't given Michael in so long. His older brother didn't move, didn't even blink, but Lucifer caught the slight stutter in his slow breath and watched the small clench in John Winchester's jaw with satisfaction. Lucifer felt the borrowed lips of Nick twist into a grin from the sight and heat curled in his stomach. It was a sensation he had felt before, but not so…concentrated. Not so obvious and physical.

The vessels were addicting things. The most terrible of drugs they were, these carnal, lascivious bodies. It made it near impossible to deny the sins of flesh humans were so prone to succumbing to. These imperfect creatures were now infectious with their mortal forms do to their father's forcing of vessels onto them. Lucifer couldn't say he hated it though, not anymore. Not with the haze filling his mind.

Now that he had touched Michael, with a mortal hand and mortal heat, the realization that he could touch his brother in so many more ways than he ever had before made him need. While Lucifer knew he had ached for his brother before, the added physical want an angel could only experience through the touch of a borrowed human was entirely new. And they both felt the ache. It was the only reason they let themselves manifest in such a way down here, to keep the forms rather than keeping to their angelic existence. It was also so the Winchesters had something solid to look at when they played their games.

Of course…the basest of instinct surrounding the mortal touch was not lost to either of the angels. Lucifer knew how he felt, but Michael… Michael loved to paint excuses and deny the claims. But no matter what he said, the truth would always remain clear and unspoken between them. Michael took care of his little brother. In ways…no one, could understand.

"Is it because I repulse you now, brother? A fallen soldier of God?" Lucifer purred to his brother, making sure his breath washed over his ear even though the question was bitter. He felt the hair prickle when Michael fought a shudder, and he reached a hand out to grasp Lucifer's arm tightly. He didn't pull or push away, so Lucifer kept pressing.

"Answer me. Brother."

Michael swallowed thickly and looked him in the eye, his eyes cloudy with an emotion Lucifer couldn't place, something Michael had long ago mastered how to hide.

"You know that is not the reason. We were told to… It was not something we could exemplify," the ex-General of Heaven whispered in the still air, loud despite his soft voice.

"Who said? God? We are the most beautiful, the most powerful in all of Heaven, Michael; no one but God could command us. And all he did was abandoned us, like…like a prototype for a writhing, despicable creature lesser than us. I told him I couldn't love those things more than him and… he made you cast me out. He took me away from you. And it seems Heaven didn't do too well after my Fall."

"Were," Michael said numbly, his eyes now shadowed with regret, "We are no longer mighty beings, Lucifer."

Lucifer frowned and narrowed his eyes on his brother, his beautiful, radiant brother who would always be the greatest of archangels in his eyes, now forced to crawl on the ground like a lesser beast; enough of this foolish denial and pity. Enough of Michael pretending his breath hadn't quickened the minutest of fractions, that his pupils were just a hair larger as he stared at Lucifer with silently widened lids.

Not wasting any more time Lucifer thread both hands through Michael's hair and dragged him into deep kiss, taking in a sensation he hadn't felt for an eternity and relishing it. Michael's eyes shot wide and he tried to push Lucifer away but he refused to budge, tightening his hold on the elder's hair and dragging him closer, his lips firmly slotted against the first archangel's. After many long moments of Lucifer's lips moving slowly against Michael's pliant but still ones, his older brother finally relaxed and parted his lips slightly, the wet press of Michael's mouth finally responding to Lucifer's an electrifying jolt. Lucifer smirked triumphantly and pulled away so he could speak, reveling when Michael sought out his lips unconsciously and his breath caught imperceptibly in his throat.

"If we're fallen Michael then why…deny ourselves? We punished ourselves and suppressed our desires in the past. Not anymore. I am not refraining from this ever again."

"Lucifer-" Michael almost stammered, a color of panic in his voice but the Morningstar didn't give his brother a chance to continue. He pulled Michael forward and kissed him again, harder and not coaxing his mouth open this time. Instead he took advantage of his open mouth and shoved his tongue in deep, smirking when Michael whimpered in surprise. He felt Michael grip his shoulders tightly, clutching almost desperately as he poised to push away but unable to bring himself to do it. They both knew better than that, had spent an eternity too long knowing the truth; Michael wanted this as much as Lucifer wanted him.

Lucifer pulled away and panted against Michael's swollen lips, feeling the heat of plump flesh so close to his own throbbing from the force of his kiss.

"Michael-"

This time Lucifer was interrupted when Michael's hands flew up to grab his hair and he pulled Lucifer back into another desperate, passionate kiss. The sensation was nostalgic and welcoming as much as it was foreign and exciting; they knew each other's essence, the way each other responded, but the clash of teeth, tongue, and lips was a new concept entirely. Both of them quickly became accustomed to the heat that sparked between them and they ached for more. Lucifer bit and sucked at Michael's lips and tongue until his brother finally broke his careful control and moaned deeply into his mouth. His entire body thrummed with desire and he couldn't help but moan again for him.

The stoic demeanor dropped and Michael's fingers tangled wildly in Lucifer's hair, tugging and pulling to force the impossible tasking of drawing his younger brother closer, drawing the kiss closer, deeper, more. Lucifer rewarded him with a moan meant only for him and stroked his jaw gently, lovingly. This was his brother, and Lucifer loved, craved, and wanted nothing more in his existence than the being before him.

Lucifer ran his fingers through Michael's hair and reluctantly forced himself to draw back from the kiss, losing the touch and heat. Michael's eyes were dark, glazed with his own want that would have caused him to fall with Lucifer, but still guarded with apprehension that saved him. Lucifer frowned slightly and he pulled Michael close so he could whisper in his ear.

"I spent an eternity…wanting you, brother. I refuse to continue this…hatred, this battle. Never again, I will not allow us to be driven away."

"Lucifer…" Michael breathed out, worry still in his voice but not so frantic.

"Do you hate me?" Lucifer asked, his voice quieter than he meant it to be, but no less bitter, "Do you plan on spending another eternity, despising me Michael?"

Michael stilled and for a few agonizing moments he was silent. Finally, he shook his head, and whispered back, "Never."

This time the kiss was gentler, but no less deep or passionate and the heat came back just as powerfully. But the need to claim, take, force it; make each other feel faded with the final acquiescence. They didn't need the force. They were both fallen, trapped. Together. Finally, they had an eternity.