Always Beautiful

Fandom: Star Ocean 2

Type: Fanfic

Word Count: 595

Characters: Gabriel/Lucifer

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Don't own Star Ocean 2.

Summary: Gabriel just loves to 'play' with Lucifer

Notes: None, really.

Lucifer is always beautiful. I could describe him forever and yet find my words failing me. Ever since I have known him, it has always been the same. He glows like the Morning Star I call him and grins with a cockiness that muscled men would envy. He could be in a barrel and still defy description. I can say that he is as slender as I am, but his hair is like a moonbathed sea foam.

I am always doing this. I have known him for years, but time itself never stops me from admiring his dazzling darkness. Interesting, eh? He can sparkle like a diamond and yet his heart lies in the longest night. He often wears black with only an occassional white and red to give him a hint of color. I do not recall seeing him in any other shade. I prefer it that way. I am the one who basks in light.

Tonight he is wearing a lace shirt, with dark pants, and black boots. He even wearing gloves of the softest leather. I wish to grab him on this fine Elurian night, but I am too busy staring at his chest, at the nipples poking under the fabric. He does it on purpose. He knows I like to look at him. He has always known, and enjoys every second of it. I see it in his steely blue eyes. He walks around his chambers, watching the curtains surrender to the wind.

I grow tired of just looking, so I stand in front of him, noting how my white gloves contrast soft, sable lace. I ghost them over his chest and smile when I hear him gasp. He helplessly arches back a bit, just enough for me to hold his nipples between my fingertips. Silk against cotton. I pinch. He gasps. He does not think to pull away. I enjoy doing this. I know how cloth feels against tender areas. Every shirt he wears exposes him in some way, and I can barely resist touching him. Sometimes he playfully swats me away so that I might pout while he is a smile full of mischief. Most often, he does no such thing because he knows what follows.

I remove my gloves now and my hands move over the folds of his shirt. I can feel the ridges of his nipples against my fingertips. I feel their hardness, much like the one I know is between his legs. I know which tiny area to touch, to ghost over, to make sure that his breath catches with every little swipe. I know how to push a part of his breast inward while my fingers glide over exposed nipple.

I know how to make sure that he climaxes. He will soon enough, but for now, he is only breathing against the wind while I gently push him against the wall. I feel his leather gloves guide me, show me where else to pinch, and I follow. I love the feel of his hands against me. Soon, I will make sure that he is stroking my chest. Leather against nipple followed by naked fingers. The mere thought sends signals between my legs, but I wait for him to send quiet messages of his own. I do not have to wait long before a few simple motions send him gasping for air, clutching at my shoulders while his seed no doubt spills beneath his clothing.

Lucifer is beautiful, as always, and as long as he is with me, nights on this little planet will pass like lightning.