It was almost too dark. Shadows clung to the wall, some living, some… not so. The music was almost too loud, a primal throb, drawing the visitors to the club onto the floor, figures swaying, taking what little light there was, winding it around them. And always, the inner hue of their ever watchful gazes varied. Blue. Red. Shimmering.
One set of eyes, dimmed, empty, looked at nothing save the drink cradled between pale hands. Once-perfect nailed thumbs brushed the cool rim, watching the faint misting, the heat of mortal skin warming the chilled glass.
In days gone by, he could have made that very drink last an eternity, or vanish into nothing with the merest of thoughts. Power had been his. His jaw clenched, knuckles growing white. Yet, the glass did nothing more than shake slightly in his grip.
All the power reduced to nothing, leaving him unable to even shatter a glass with his bare hands.
"Missing something?" The voice seemed like it was in his head, unheard, but felt so intensely that his eyes squeezed shut. "Ah, ah, ah…" The reprimand buzzed in his head, making him gasp. "Can't run, can't hide. You know that."
Seated on the stool at the bar, the golden-haired man shivered, turned. His mortal eyes scanned the stretching silhouettes on the dancefloor, the shadows at tables, lining the walls and booths.
Abruptly, the sea of people parted as if by an unseen force and beyond them, on the skirt of the floor, a figure stood. His head was bowed, sandy hair curling against the edges of his bearded jaw, hands folded behind his black-clad back, but his eyes slowly lifted to the one watching him.
Slowly, as slowly as he had fallen, those lips curved into a smile.
"Now you see me."
His lips didn't move, but the words were as clear as day.
Then he started to walk. Like snake, he moved. Weaving between figures without effort, smooth, slow, suddenly on the vacant stool beside the new Fallen, that same smile still in place.
"Still hanging around with the old crowd," he breathed, his head rolling sinuously on his shoulders. "Not really your kinda people anymore are they?"
Turning away sharply, the golden-haired man grimaced. "Leave me alone."
Heat. Searing, aching heat. A body pressed to his side, an arm looped around his waist, another fisted in his hair, pulling his head back, lips against his throat, warm and wicked and burning like damnation.
"Like he did, beautiful?" The hand jerked, the hair ripped, the Fallen whimpered in pain. "Never saw this coming, did you? Never thought he could be so cruel?" Now, the Fallen trembled, teeth tugging a soft lobe, a devilish tongue curling along the cusp of his ear, breath whispering against skin. "Mortal."
Jerking his head away, the mortal's hands pressed together, forcing away the base impulse to strike out. The action did little to help, only eliciting a further gasp of pain, amplified by the crackle of the glass against his palms.
Tutting softly, his lips brushing the golden-haired man's ear, Lucifer chuckled, rich and sinful. "Well now, Gabriel," he murmured, dragging his hand up the mortal's chest, fingers drifting along his arm to curl around Gabriel's closed hand. "That was just..." He stared at the once-angel, then squeezed. Gabriel could not smother the cry, blood welling between compressed fingers. "Silly."
"You..."
Palpating his fingers lazily against Gabriel's knuckles, his eyes half-closed, hooded, reptilian, but drinking in every ebb of pain on the mortal's face, Lucifer's teeth were a flicker of white. "Now, now, Gabriel, you know how rude it is to call me names."
"Snake," Gabriel's voice was tremulous. "Damned snake."
Lifting his bloodied hand to his lips, Lucifer deliberately licked the stains from his fingers, sucking indulgently on every tip, his tongue teasing around his own black-flecked nails.
"Not so original, pretty little mortal," he murmured. "Had that name a while now."
Shaking, Gabriel's palms pulled apart, spilling fresh spots of darkness on the neon-hued surface, the broken glass tinkling as it collapsed. Wide, pale eyes stared, watching the spreading pool of shadow, which shimmered and flickered.
"So," Turning, leaning back against the bar, elbows on the edge, Lucifer's gaze drifted, threading through the crowd, unacknowledged, masked behind the once-angelic countenance, hidden from friends and foes alike. "How's life?"
Trembling fingers picking slivers of shattered glass from his palm, Gabriel flinched at the words, jerked again as a knuckle, hot as fire, skimmed the curve of his hollowed cheek.
"You're just no fun, beautiful," Lucifer murmured. "So petulant, so... angry, but I could make you feel like you wouldn't believe." Terrified mortal eyes turned on him, were met with a smile. Lucifer's nostrils flared and he leaned close. The whisper brushed the pale, quivering lips, "You ever take the time to smell the fear, Gabriel? Ever just want to wrap yourself in it, suffocate in it?" Snake-like, Lucifer's tongue flickered. Gabriel flinched, shying back. Lucifer grinned like a cat. "Taste it?"
"Go home." The once-angel's vehemence was lacking, his legs quaking as he pushed off the stool, only to cry out aloud as a solid body pressed against his back, an arm about his waist and a hand pulling back his head until he could swear his neck was breaking.
"Room for two, Gabriel," Lucifer's words poured like liquid sulphur into his ear, scorching, searing its mark onto his consciousness even as Lucifer's hold shifted. The palm, like a brand, moved, touched, teased.
Torn palms slapped down against the bar, the golden-haired man's body taut and shaking, through fear, through pain, through grief, through... no. No! Not that!
"Yes," the devil whispered, mouth close to Gabriel's ear. His tongue flickered, the snake, the tempter. The heat changed, moved, and Gabriel whimpered, hands quaking on the bar. Lips, too warm, too sensual, too close...
"Stop!" Gabriel's cry was little more than a choked whimper, one hand jerking up to push that teasing mouth away.
There was motion, sudden, hard, and he cried out again. Lucifer's hand had moved from his hair, arm locked around his throat, caught his treacherous hand and slowly, eyes holding Gabriel's, Lucifer dragged his tongue across the torn palm.
Against his back, he could feel every inch of the Morningstar, burning as fiercely as the sun, searing his consciousness, his mind going white.
"You always were jealous of me, weren't you, Gabriel?" Blood dripping down his chin, his eyes glimmering red-gold, Lucifer's teeth shone pink. "Never the boss's favourite, not even when I was gone."
Gabriel's face crumpled in pain, a pain far surpassing the physical. His free hand was scratching uselessly at Lucifer's forearm, tugging futilely, but the fight had fled from him. "Leave me alone," he whispered.
Placing a mocking kiss on the centre of the torn skin of the once-angel's palm, Lucifer shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Never," he purred. "You're in my domain now, beautiful. You walk in the world and you're anyone's prey, above or below." The snake-like smile returned. "You have a choice, Gabriel, and I'm sure I'll lead you to the right one."
Silent tears slipped down Gabriel's cheeks, eagerly lapped up by the demon at his back, a low, purring growl of satisfaction rolling through Lucifer's chest.
"You're mine, Gabriel, and you know it."
"I'm going home," Gabriel's weak whisper was inaudible to any but the supernatural. "You... you can't make me choose..."
As suddenly as Lucifer had been at his back, the once-angel was jerked around and found himself face-to-face with the smiling devil. Hands pinned his wrists to the bar, Lucifer's body oppressively close, every exhaled rush of breath washing over Gabriel like molten lava.
"Wrong, beautiful," Lucifer's gaze was locked with the mortal's. "You watched and waited and walked among them, but you don't understand what you are now. You are mine and, if I want you, I will fucking have you."
Trying to pull back, but unable to move, Gabriel stared back defiantly, though the rapid flutter of his heart was unmissable, wild and frenzied. "I-I have f-free will," he stammered, the curve of Lucifer's lips, the flicker of white, even teeth, beyond the blood-stains, making him shudder.
"Free will," The whisper was little more than a hiss. "Is bullshit. We make them pick and choose as we want them. Our whims, our pleasures, are to pick the ones we want, the innocent, the pure, the good, and bring 'em screaming on home," This was said with a self-deprecating smile and nod, "to Poppa."
"They can refuse you," Gabriel whispered fiercely. "They can and they do."
"Sure, some of them can," Lucifer acknowledged, leaning close. His cheek brushed Gabriel's, a soft stroke, his lips touching Gabriel's earlobe as he murmured, "But you won't."
A helpless tremor ran through the mortal's body. "I will," his voice was a thin treble, his eyes squeezed closed as if it would barricade his senses against his surroundings.
He could still feel the closeness of Lucifer's broader form, could hear the soft inhalation, feel the warm breath, could taste the sulphurous tang that clung to every molecule of the air like a stifling mantle.
"I think you're lying to me, Gabriel," the whisper was silky against his lips, making him writhe in what he tried to fool himself into believing were struggles against the demon. The amused chuckle tore a whimper from his lips. "And yourself."
Jerking his head back, turning his face away, Gabriel clenched his teeth against the litany of curses rising in his mind. Against Lucifer's grip on his wrists, his arms tensed, taut, sinews burning with pain.
"Let me go." Even forming that word so sharply, so clearly, startled him.
To his shock, one of his wrists was immediately freed.
Yet in a heartbeat, that same scorching palm pressed to his cheek, turning his face back to that of Lucifer and warm lips met his cool ones. The gasp was ripped from his lips and he found himself clutching wildly at Lucifer as he felt the very breath stolen from his lungs.
Blackness pricked on the edge of his wide-eyed vision, Lucifer's hand at the back of his skull, holding him fast. And, against his lips, he could feel the devil smile.
In his mind, that taunting voice purred silkily, "You know I could kill you right now, don't you, beautiful? Kill you with a mind full of hate and a body full of lust."
Pressing his palm hard against Lucifer's chest, Gabriel whimpered deep in his throat, his body quaking as he tried to break free. Though untouched, it felt like steel bands were lashing around his ribs, his vision blurred.
Groping desperately behind him, one hand found the long shards of the broken glass, a futile weapon borne of desperation.
"Ah, ah, ah," the mocking voice echoed in his mind, the force of it driving through his skull like iron. "Play nice, Gabriel."
Unwillingly, his fingers were forced open around the broken glass. It tinkled deafeningly as it bounced across the floor, seeming louder than the music, than the voices, even than his blood rushing in his ears.
On the very edge of consciousness, he teetered, swaying and trembling, when suddenly, agonisingly, those savage lips were torn away from his and he collapsed back against the bar, drinking in the pungent air in frenzied gulps.
One hand tucked behind his back, Lucifer delicately wiped a smudge of blood from his lip with his index finger and examined it thoughtfully. Dark, scarlet-hued eyes glittered and rose to Gabriel's face.
"Well, beautiful," he murmured, one side of his mouth curving wickedly. He leaned closer, chuckling softly as Gabriel shied back, staring at him in wild-eyed panic. "Looks like we're going to have some fun."
His chest heaving, Gabriel shook his head, pressing back against the bar.
Lucifer licked one pointed canine and slowly smiled. "I do love a challenge," he said. His strike was faster than a snake, his lips placing a bloody kiss on Gabriel's forehead. "I'll see you very soon."
Then he was gone, vanishing like a shadow caught in a spill of daylight, leaving the new Fallen alone and more terrified than he had known was possible.