Lucifer has gotten used to carrying memories that aren't his own. He has no idea how typical that is of angels, but to him, it's as important as settling into muscles and nerves. Some of the memories are Sam's, very few because of their short time together, but most of them are Nick's.
They come out of nowhere sometimes.
Lucifer's pulling his boxers up after a shower. (Winter makes the apartment too cold to wander around naked comfortably.) He has to reach down to adjust himself, and he half-hears, half-remembers his own voice, or Nick's voice, muttering, "It's just inconvenient, is what it is," and Sarah's answer, a little more faded in his memory, "You paid for it. You were just making sure you got your money's worth."
Lucifer's on Nick's side. His cock is bigger than it needs to be.
There's an old scar on his leg, the pound of flesh Nick paid along with the monetary price. Lucifer knows it as well as the even older ones on his chest by now, as the less faded one on the right side of his abdomen. Nick's body was a battlefield long before Lucifer was invited in, long fought for comfort. Nick doesn't get to enjoy it anymore, but Lucifer does. He's grateful for that. Even for the penis, ridiculously proportioned as it is.
He gets it situated comfortably in his underwear and slips on a shirt before he leaves the bathroom. Michael's sitting on their bed when Lucifer walks into the room. He hasn't been sleeping well. Not, for once, because of nightmares or guilt, but for the simple reason that he's having a rough time adjusting from the air mattress to this new one. Michael's body likes change about as much as he does. The fact that he's a little out of it from sleep deprivation is probably why, when Lucifer walks in, Michael spends a good minute looking at his crotch.
"You're staring," Lucifer tells him, once it's clear Michael isn't going to come to his senses and look away on his own.
"I'm not," Michael lies, badly, as he jerks his head to the side. Lucifer crosses his arms and leans back against the wall. The bedroom door creaks quietly as its own weight pulls it shut.
Lucifer reaches down absently to adjust his cock. He thinks he might have picked up one of siblings' boxers instead of his own. Probably Michael's. Raphael's wouldn't fit him at all.
Michael's staring at him again.
Lucifer pushes himself off the wall and walks over to the bed. Michael hasn't gotten dressed for the day, matching Lucifer in his own sleep shirt and briefs. His toenails are painted, Lucifer notes and thinks he remembers Gabriel talking about that the other day. They're a pretty dark blue. Michael could keep his feet pressed together where he's sitting and thwart Lucifer's path forward, but instead, he spreads his legs and makes room for him.
It always surprises Lucifer how easy it is to settle into Michael's space.
Michael's not quite pinned by him, but he's also not free to move without pushing Lucifer away. He doesn't. His chest rises and falls as he breathes, watching his brother with a facade of calm that almost fools Lucifer. He's about to steal a kiss from Michael and leave him alone when Michael's eyes dart down his body again, to where they're only held apart by their underwear, and Michael goes red.
Lucifer's gotten good at reading Michael's flushes. He turns pink with embarrassment, scarlet in anger, and when he's really aroused, he's red from cheeks to chest.
Their vessels reflect them, after all. Michael's got a body that's as bad a liar as he is.
Lucifer sits up a little, trying to figure out exactly what Michael's looking at. There's the bulge in his boxers that his dick makes. Below him, there's one in Michael's underwear, too, but it's not nearly as noticeable. Michael squirms under him and flushes more as Lucifer watches Michael's cock twitch and harden under his clothes.
When he's hard, it looks a little closer to the size of Lucifer's cock.
"Do you want me to get off?" Lucifer asks. Michael's cock gets hard at everything, from good food to cuddling to sitting in a nice patch of sunlight for too long. It's good practice to check, even if the way his brother won't look him in the eyes now is very telling.
"No," Michael mumbles. Lucifer reaches down and cups his dick through the fabric. Michael thrusts up against his hand, rubbing himself against the first thing he's offered and then looking embarrassed about his own eagerness.
Gabriel's got theories, that Michael's so deeply repressed that it's taken being human and completely out of control of his own arousal for his body to hijack his mind and let him indulge in pleasure. Lucifer can see it. When Michael tries to restrain himself, Lucifer provides, stroking his dick through his briefs until he sees a dark spot stain the fabric where the tip of it pokes into them. Michael swallows, breathing hard.
Lucifer goes to pull his underwear down. Making Michael come in his pants is easy, they've all done it once or twice, but Lucifer likes the feel of him in his hand more. Michael reaches for him at the same time, and their arms awkwardly bump into each other.
"You first," Lucifer says. There's lazy-sweet arousal rolling in his gut, but his doesn't shoot down to his dick and make it spring up the same way Michael's does. Lucifer's in complete control of that mechanism, and he'll get hard when he wants to get hard. He undresses Michael first. Slowly, dragging the briefs down enough that the head of his dick pokes out. Lucifer rubs it with his thumb until he hears Michael groan. He exposes the rest of it after that, though there isn't that much to find.
Finally, he goes to get rid of his own boxers. There's some relief in getting them off. He lowers to grind his soft cock down into Michael's hard one, enjoying the way he feels Michael twitch beneath him. Like this, Lucifer might be thicker, but they're about the same length. He rolls his hips against Michael's cock in an indulgent rhythm, listening to the noises Michael makes. Michael's shirt rucks up as Lucifer grinds into him, exposing more of his stomach and the trail of hair leading down to his crotch, inch by inch.
"Lucifer," Michael moans, and it takes him repeating Lucifer's name a second time for Lucifer to realize it's not just him enjoying himself, but a call for Lucifer's attention. "Would you..." Michael falters. "Can I make you..." He tries again and fails a second time. Lucifer leans down and nips at his shoulder where the neck of his shirt has been worn loose with time.
"Use your words, brother," he teases, grinding down against Michael again. Michael sucks in a breath.
"I want you to be hard," Michael breathes. "I want to- I want to see it." Lucifer nibbles at Michael's collarbone, making no move to give him what he wants. Michael holds out long enough that Lucifer makes a bruise to admire later. "Please," he chokes out.
"You only had to ask." Lucifer could reach down and do it himself. He takes Michael's hand instead and drags it down to his balls. "Squeeze. Gently." Michael does. Lucifer sighs as he feels the mechanism kick in, fluid pushed up with each of Michael's tentative squeezes until Lucifer's fully erect. He pulls Michael's hand away when the work is done. Michael tries to touch it, but Lucifer puts his hand on his stomach and holds it there until Michael understands he's not allowed to move.
Lucifer lets his cock rest next to Michael's, heavy and hard and much bigger. Now, he understands what Michael's wanted this whole time, what he's been imagining during all his staring. It's this, their cocks side by side and Michael not measuring up.
Lucifer is suddenly very, very grateful to Nick, and to his younger, more reckless self, who looked his surgeon in the eye and demanded he go as big as he could. Inconvenient? Sure. But it was all worth it to see the way Michael's eyes went wide as Lucifer wrapped their cocks in his hand and couldn't even stroke all of his if he didn't want Michael's to slip out of his grip.
"And here I thought you were my big brother," Lucifer says. Michael's hips twitch up and his breath catches. Lucifer looks at him curiously. "What?"
"Nothing."
Terrible, terrible liar. Even his dick is betraying him, leaking precome that Lucifer smears up his own shaft as lube.
"There's other vessels out there, Michael. If you wanted a bigger cock, you should have gone looking for one. Unless you like that it's so small." There it is, a swallow, averted eyes, and Lucifer's caught him. He strokes both their dicks in his hand again. "Look at that, Michael. My vessel had to make his own, and he still ended up bigger than you."
"Shut up," Michael says, a little too breathless to actually be upset.
"Do you want to fuck me?" Lucifer asks. "It won't take long to prepare for you." It's not a real offer, but only because Lucifer's enjoying the feeling of rubbing their cocks together. He wouldn't say no to it later. Michael only has a few inches to thrust inside, but at the right angle, it feels like... No, better than Heaven.
Michael's a panting mess. He's no longer restraining himself, thrusting up against Lucifer's dick. He plants his feet on either side of the mattress and pushes. Lucifer lets him do all the work. The head of Michael's cock drags along Lucifer's shaft, precome and sweat easing the slide. One more way to deal with the winter chills, especially when Michael's skin is still warm and flushed.
Michael comes as though he has no control over it. As his eyes roll back, his hips jump against Lucifer's. His come spurts out and leaks down his shaft. Lucifer lets go of his own cock to stroke Michael through the last pulses of his orgasm until he starts to soften in Lucifer's palm. Lucifer keeps holding him. Michael's cock is tiny when it's soft, all sticky with his own come and vulnerable.
Michael is catching his breath. Lucifer leans into him, and Michael takes the weight of him like a grounding comfort. His arms wrap around Lucifer's back. He doesn't seem to realize the position it puts him in until Lucifer starts frotting against him again. Michael lets out a desperate sound, nails digging into Lucifer's back. Lucifer grinds his cock up against Michael's oversensitive one. He ignores Michael's squirming to get away and his whimpers that are half-pain, half-pleasure, focusing on what feels good for him.
Michael's not in any serious distress. The longer Lucifer fucks his cock against Michael's, the more Michael's squirming to escape turns into trying to rub himself against Lucifer all over again. He's overwhelmed, but he wants more and Lucifer gives it to him.
Lucifer can feel his orgasm peak, long, steady rolls turning into rapid thrusting. Michael moans under him as Lucifer works himself higher and higher until- Stars burst behind his eyes, and he collapses into Michael. His cock bumps Michael's on a few final thrusts.
Michael cries out again. Lucifer feels a little bit of come squirt onto his skin. When he looks, Michael's still soft, but the head of his cock is newly wet with ejaculate.
That's never happened before. Lucifer scoops it off with his thumb. Michael gives a full body shudder at just the touch against his cock. Lucifer licks his finger. It's thinner, less bitter than how Michael usually tastes when he comes.
He rolls off of Michael, giving him space to come down. Lucifer shuts his eyes and gropes blindly for his own erection, tilting it down until the fluid drains. In a minute, he's soft again.
He opens his eyes for a sideways glance at Michael's soft little dick and then at his own. He smirks.
"I didn't break you, did I?" he asks after a minute. Michael groans, frustration completely replacing arousal.
"You did not break me." He scoots closer to Lucifer, pressing them together. "That was... That was good. I enjoyed that." He sounds hesitant.
"If you're not sure, I can always make you come a third time," Lucifer says. Michael chuckles, worries eased.
"I do want to fuck you later," he says, rolling onto his side to get closer to Lucifer. Lucifer's happy to laze here with him until they both get sick of feeling sticky and sweaty. If they shower together, they won't even be wasting any water.
"I'll make sure to stretch myself open on a finger first," Lucifer teases. "Maybe even two, if you really want me to feel loose around your dick."
"Stop," Michael groans, "I really can't come again." Lucifer turns and bumps Michael's forehead with his own.
"How annoyed do you think Gabriel will be when he finds out we broke in the new bed without him?" Michael chuckles again, sleepily. Maybe a short nap. Then, they'll get up and clean off.
Lucifer can't think of a better way to start their day.