[The Bible ; Jeshua/Lucifer ; Emotions ; Fic ; #16 - #20]

And here is the final batch - done, then.

WARNING - These pieces contain mature content & references to mental illness, drugs, crossdressing/shapeshifting, m/m sex, character death and the end of days. Reader discretion is advised. Please don't read any further if you feel any of this might disturb, hurt, or offend you.


Drabble: #17: Happy. The 3rd and last part of my response to dr_zook's ficlet Institution.

Rating: PG-13

.:.

"Arms up." Lucifer laughs under his breath as he peels him out of the dirty t-shirt.

Jeshua throws him a doubtful look. "You're enjoying this," he says with a small voice, sweatpants pooling round his ankles. His hands reach down to cover his shame.

"Why clearly." The angel flashes teeth. "I mean... ecce homo, right?"

Ecce homo, yes. He's scrawny and pale, except where he's bruised. His hair is matted, his eyes are bad, and there's the withdrawal to deal with. "Are you happy now?" he murmurs.

Gently, Lucifer pushes him towards the bath. "I am happy you're back. Lord."

.:.


Drabble: #16: Excited.

Rating: PG-13

.:.

Trembling fingers reaching, not quite touching.

Electric first contact, tiny sparks flying between sweaty fingertips and velvet skin.

Lifting cloth of gold covers, murmuring blessings,

He cradles and sways, pulled into a slow waltz.

Making love to His unspeakable sweetness,

He closes his eyes and swirls in a widening gyre,

Giving, receiving, clutching it to his heart-

-and almost drops the Torah when, behind him, Lucifer starts to laugh like an oilspill.

"Getting a little excited there, rabbi," the angel guffaws, "humping the book?"

There's no reason to, yet Jeshua blanches... then blushes a fiery pink.

.:.


Drabble: #18: Hot. [Sequel to #11: Confident].

Rating: NC-17

.:.

Her wrists have never felt more twig-like, painted nails scrabbling at the wall. "Ow," she whimpers as Jeshua hitches her up his knee and onto the dresser, "ow, you fucker," but that last bit gets smeared round her chin in red paraffinous streaks.

Breathing in her scent, Jeshua twists her arms and mouths a line down her neck. She smells of something complicated like ambra and honey mixed with cadaver, and while it's vile, it also reassures him he need not be gentle;

not with her who bites off grueling curses in Enochian while she wetly slides down his cock.

.:.


Drabble: #19: Cold. You can tell we're gearing up for a Grand Finale here, can't you.

Rating: PG-13

.:.

His nights are more restless, now that he sleeps alone. He never thought he'd miss him.

The constant jabs, the nagging. The pain that ensued whenever they got too close.

He bundles up and burrows, lies awake at night. The world outside... it's not doing so great, and he rarely ventures out these days. Not after the clinic.

When Lucifer returns, he doesn't say much, just lifts the blankets for him.

But Lucifer makes no attempt at spooning; no frozen feet pushed between Jeshua's calves, no icy nose poking his back, and in the dark, the angel's body grows cold.

.:.


Drabble: #20: Author's Choice: Love II: "... you'll surprise yourself. Isn't that what love is about?" And so we've come to the last drabble. I'm sorry to let them go, but they need to take wing... and make room for fic. Thank you all who kept reading.

Rating: PG-13

.:.

"So this is where he crawled to," Azrael says, tapping ash on the carpet.

Jeshua has bound the liquefied flesh where Michael struck true. Now he holds on, uncomprehending, fingers curled in Lucifer's hair. He's home, he wants to say, he is safe, but Death already yawns behind kid gloves. "Take a look outside, Lord. You've missed the floor show."

Grief-stricken, Jeshua keeps silent. Lucifer's locks are soft.

"At least preside at Mount Olivet." Michael steps forward. "So it has been written."

"Thus so it shall be done?" He raises his eyes. "Forgive me; I'm not interested."

Another time, perhaps.

.:.