Michael looks young and is so beautiful it hurts to look at him. He’s distant, he’s loyal, and he’s everything Lucifer’s ever wanted. He wants to tear him apart and mend him and hold him until the pain goes away, and then do it all over again.
They’re the same age, really. Michael was taken earlier is all. It’s rank, not age, and Michael has no room to talk about who is better than anyone else, because Lucifer could rip him down any time he wants to. But he doesn’t want to. Not yet. Not while Michael is still at his side, and Lucifer is at his.
They’re twelve when Gabriel comes home, ten and so sarcastic it grates on them, so full of life that Lucifer wonders if Father would be upset to find Gabriel dead on the carpet. Probably. Michael certainly would; he abhors disorder. It means he hates Gabriel too, but he’s not a killer, so Lucifer lets him be.
They let him live, but they don’t smile or play with him. They tangle together instead, him and Michael, and Michael twists around him and holds him close in bed. They go to school and ignore the others, ignore everyone but each other, because the others don’t matter.
Lucifer can remember getting picked up from the orphanage, still passed around from house to house because the cats disappear and the children don’t like the things he says and does sometimes. They don’t tell the man this, of course. The man – Father – just looks at him. Michael looks at him too, and Lucifer decides then and there that he doesn’t want Michael ever looking anywhere else. Michael holds Father’s hand, though, even though Father drops it after only a few moments and Michael tries to get it back. That can be taken care of. Michael can forget Father, just like Lucifer’s made sure to forget the people who used to take care of him.
They run away from home after Raphael comes home, because Gabriel has a new target for the first time in a year and a half and Lucifer needs Michael to stop caring about them, needs Michael to look at him again. They hide in an old building with a winding staircase and broken glass on the floor, and instead of letting Michael hold him to his chest Lucifer pins his arms above his head. He sees the shock on Michael’s face, and he struggles, but Lucifer is bigger.
Lucifer could rip him apart, but he won’t, not now. Now he whispers let me and Michael opens his mouth but never gets any words out because Lucifer consumes them. He kisses Michael through the flailing, straddles him to keep his legs still and then to grind against him, and Michael moans then. Lucifer frees a hand from its grip on Michael’s hands to fumble at his own pants and underwear, and it takes four tries to push them down to his thighs because he can’t stop pressing himself against Michael, dragging himself up and down his body and thrusting against him. Michael pants desperately into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut while Lucifer couldn’t close his if his life depended on it, and when Lucifer manages to pull Michael’s pants down the breaths become moans, shaking into Lucifer’s lips.
God, how Lucifer wants.
He comes against Michael’s stomach, ruining the hem of his shirt and biting Michael’s lip so hard it bleeds. Michael arches against him, groaning, and Lucifer lets go of his hands. They immediately snap down and grip Lucifer’s ass, pushing him down as Michael thrusts helplessly against him, and Lucifer licks the sweat off his forehead as Michael shouts and comes, still thrusting through it, still mouthing at Lucifer’s shoulder.
And when Michael opens his eyes, Lucifer is all he sees.
They go back home because nobody bothers to look for them and they’ve run out of money and food. It’s slow going, since Lucifer takes every available opportunity to touch Michael. He shoves Michael against brick walls in polite neighborhoods’ alleys and kneels and gets his hands and mouth on his still-soft cock as fast as he can. Michael’s belt snaps against his cheek, and Michael starts by protesting, demanding he stop, but the hands trying to push Lucifer’s head away eventually hold him in place. Lucifer can barely breathe he wants him so bad, wants to be gagging and used so long as Michael is still whimpering and moaning his name and so completely absorbed in Lucifer that the rest of the world goes away.
Michael tells him straight-out that this isn’t happening at home, that they have to just be brothers, for the sake of the others. Lucifer doesn’t care, but he agrees, for the most part. They share their bed still, and Michael tries so hard to be quiet when Lucifer jerks him off or blows him or grinds against him at night. Gabriel and Raphael have the bedroom next door, and the walls are so very thin, and Lucifer knows that Gabriel knows. He knows, and he doesn’t do a thing. And it’s not like Father cares. Lucifer hasn’t seen Father in seven months, since Raphael showed up.
It only takes three weeks for Michael to skip the protesting stage and want it as badly as Lucifer. He’s hooked, even if it’s just on sex. As long as the sex he’s hooked on is coming from Lucifer, he doesn’t care, so long as Michael doesn’t look anywhere else.
Things change when Father brings Anna home. She is small, and redheaded, and Michael sighs and tells him that they need to take care of her. They’re sixteen and she is seven, so Lucifer tries to think of it as them adopting their first child. When Gabriel tries to prank her, Lucifer breaks his arm. Michael is angry about it, but Lucifer fucks the fury out of him that night, so hard that Michael forgets to be quiet and rips the cheap sheets they put on for fucking, moaning shamelessly and holding onto the headboard like it’s the only life preserver in a vicious ocean as it slams against the wall over and over and over.
When Father brings Uriel they are seventeen and Lucifer is considering moving out, with Michael in tow of course. Michael refuses, though, choosing to stay and watch over Anael and Uriel. Gabriel runs away. Lucifer takes the opportunity to suck Michael off in his abandoned bed and come all over the bare mattress, but Michael seems worried about Gabriel, so Lucifer hunts him down and drags him back.
It’s not the worrying that makes Lucifer realize Michael needs a stable basis in his life other than Lucifer. It’s a girl in his college classes, a girl that Lucifer wants to kill and scalp and bury in asphalt on a busy road so that everyone in the city drives over her corpse. She’s beautiful, and Michael is beautiful, so of course there’s an attraction, and with mutual attraction comes threat. Michael is looking at someone else. Oh, he wouldn’t do anything about it – too loyal – but Lucifer knows.
So he offers a threesome. And, since Lucifer is attractive and seems nonthreatening to her untried eyes, she agrees, ignoring the apprehension in Michael’s.
By the time she gets to the hotel room, Lucifer’s already won. Michael is already out of control, helplessly fucking into Lucifer while Lucifer uses every single one of their nights together to drive him insane with need. Even when she walks through the door, he doesn’t stop. He looks at her for a moment, and dismisses her the moment Lucifer runs a hand down his neck. The girl doesn’t even close the door, just stares at them from the cold of the open doorway, and Lucifer has won, he’s won. He can tell from the way her eyes are glazed over with lust and her mouth is open in shock and the fact Michael doesn’t give a shit about the way her nipples are so hard they could probably cut through the fabric of her shirt.
He knows how to take Michael over the edge. He’s experimented, tried to see how to give him the quickest thrill and the most satisfying orgasm, and Lucifer smirks, riding him hard and digging his fingers into Michael’s ribs, and whispers god, I love you, Michael, you feel amazing inside me, if they could see us, god, Michael, what would Father say? in his ear. Michael comes so hard he collapses onto the bed, despite his hips still pushing into Lucifer for a few more moments.
Lucifer has to clench down on his arousal and the urge to use Michael’s body, because he’s won, he’s claimed Michael and made him come so hard he passed out. The girl is still in the doorway, flushed and stunned, and Lucifer figures she deserves a reward of some kind for helping him prove his point. He offers to fuck her, and she ends up slammed against the barely-closed door, gasping, and Lucifer gets her off with his fingers again after fucking her, and then he sends her home. He likes the shock on her face when he hands her cab fare. He likes giving Michael a wake-up blowjob even more.
After that, things are good. Michael is his in every way Lucifer can think of, the family is stable, and there are no visible threats to either fact. It’s inevitable that something happens. The something ends up being adopted twins, older than Anna and five months younger than Uriel, and Lucifer knows they’ll be trouble, because these are actual biological brothers. They’ll know, and they might do something about it, so he resolves to make them absolutely certain that nothing strange is going on, not in the least. Not by changing his behavior with Michael, but by changing the twins’ perception.
The family was already a bit unusual, anyway.
He and Michael do move out, when they turn nineteen and Father seems to have finally left them completely alone. Lucifer gets a job he doesn’t care about, and Michael gets a degree and job that Lucifer doesn’t care about, and things are fine. They visit the house and eat dinner there every night, controlling the younger siblings and hopefully keeping Gabriel’s influence to a minimum.
Things are good. For over a decade, things are good. And then a woman steals their littlest brother away, and Michael isn’t the only one who is worried.
The marriage, they can accept. Jimmy was always the strange one, the least related-seeming, and they still own Castiel. They can accept the squealing little human that they make too, even though adoption is the only sane way to get a child. They accept the three moving into the old family apartment, and changing it, and they accept Raphael making them a bizarre stove, and they are amazingly tolerant, really. Amazingly.
But then Jimmy plans to leave, and Michael starts trying to find Father so he’ll keep Jimmy from going, but Lucifer knows Father doesn’t care. He just gathered them, and left them. It’s up to Lucifer to take care of it all.
Lucifer knows two things that must always be true: Michael is his, and the family stays together. If one is not true, the integrity of the other is questionable, so the family must stay together. Or else.
The wreck is easy to engineer, and Jimmy and Castiel and the rest are easy to manipulate. His brothers (and sister) are killing each other, but those who aren’t dead are, technically, together, so Lucifer doesn’t mind it all that much. Not with Michael still his.
He doesn’t expect Michael to keep waiting on Father, though.
Michael is looking at someone else more intently than Lucifer, and the man isn’t even there.
Absolute horror and untamable rage crept into Lucifer when he realized that their Father had always been in Michael’s heart. Lucifer had claimed his body and mind and soul, but their Father, their fucking Father, Michael still care about. Their absentee owner, the man who had done nothing but shove orphans together and left them alone, had somehow claimed a piece of Michael’s heart that Lucifer seemed unable to grab and take for his own. He’d accepted their family’s presence in Michael’s heart and thoughts, because they were Lucifer’s too, but Father he could not tolerate. He could never accept. He wants everything, he needs everything that is Michael.
And there’s no way to get it.
If Lucifer can’t have all of him, nobody can have anything of him.
Lucifer draws a bath and fucks him raw and slow and torturously on the bathroom rug, and then gives him his favorite kind of blowjob, and then, even though there’s no way in hell either of them are ready for more sex, Lucifer fingers him viciously, slipping his index finger inside and brushing Michael to a second impossible orgasm, until he’s so tired and pleasured he can barely move. This is his favorite kind of Michael, a Michael that is totally reliant on him and pliant to the extreme.
When he sets Michael in the bathtub, Michael sighs, and welcomes him with spread legs and arms when Lucifer climbs in, straddling his waist. He sighs, and smiles, and pins Michael’s hands to the rim of the tub, murmuring do you remember our first time? Michael nods, says he does. He says there was glass under his ankles the whole time. I pinned you, just like this. And I thought holding you helpless and making you see nothing but me made you mine.
I am yours, Michael says, voice distant, still blissful. Lucifer is very, very good at making him like this. He even enjoys it.
Not completely Lucifer says, and kisses him, shifting his grip on Michael’s arms until he’s holding them securely with one hand. He kisses Michael hard and deep, a hand holding his head in place, but Michael isn’t responding, not entirely. He’s tired. So is Lucifer. Lucifer is so very, very tired.
He holds Michael’s arms down, and shoves Michael’s head under the water. He thrashes, but Lucifer has been able to hold him down expertly since they were fourteen, this is child’s play. He holds Michael down under the water, and wishes Michael would open his eyes, but he doesn’t. He drowns with them squeezed shut.
Lucifer climbs off him and watches him float for a while, and then puts on a shirt and pants without drying off, and leaves their life behind.