“Show me,” Lucifer says, and for a moment Amenadiel just stares at him, his face as expressionless and inscrutable as ever. Then he pulls his shirt off, turns his back to Lucifer, and spreads what’s left of his wings.
Lucifer gasps. He can’t help himself. Amenadiel’s wings had been a glory of burnished onyx, each feather as beautiful and dangerous as a blade. Now they are a ruined mess, broken and wrecked, nothing of their former magnificence remaining. Lucifer gently drags one finger down a section of still-intact feathers, and Amenadiel trembles beneath his touch.
Amenadiel says, “Do you remember when we used to hide in the Silver City? We’d stay gone for ages, and it was like we were the only beings left in the cosmos. No Mom. No Dad. No brothers or sisters. Just you and me.”
“Of course, I remember,” Lucifer says, and he does. He remembers running and hiding, secreting themselves away on the outskirts of the city, and he remembers touching Amenadiel’s wings for the first time all those eons ago, almost exactly as he is doing now, tentative and afraid and as full of wonder then as he is full of sorrow now. “You’re the one who seems to have forgotten.”
Amenadiel laughs, an ugly sound. “Oh, no, brother. I haven’t forgotten.” He retracts his wings and shrugs his shirt back on. “I’ve always wondered if Dad found out what we were doing when we hid, if maybe that was why he sent you away. I don’t know. Maybe that’s why you rebelled in the first place.” Amenadiel hangs his head, his voice a whisper, still talking to the LA skyline. “Maybe that’s why I’m being punished now.”
“Let me get this straight,” Lucifer says to his brother’s back. “You think you’re to blame for my fall? You think, what, you kissed me seven times literally a billion years ago and that ruined me for all of eternity?”
Amenadiel turns around and instead of the frown Lucifer expects to see, he’s almost smiling, which is the equivalent of a grin for Amenadiel in Lucifer’s estimation. “Were you counting, Lucy?”
Lucifer remembers each kiss with startling clarity—Amenadiel’s wings enfolding him, the warmth of shared breath, his hands clutching Amenadiel’s shoulders tightly enough to bruise.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Uh huh,” Amenadiel says.
Lucifer says, “For all his faults, I don’t think dear old Dad has ever cared what we do beyond following his bloody orders. If I were king of hell again, we could shag all day on the ninth circle, and I bet he wouldn’t even bat an eye.”
Amenadiel shakes his head. “What about all the rules he laid out for the humans?”
“As you are so fond of reminding me, dear brother,” Lucifer says, “we are ever so much more than human.”
In the instant before he reaches out for Amenadiel, Lucifer can see the vague outlines of a plan beginning to form. He can win Amenadiel over, make him see the beauty of this world and the value of the humans that populate it. He can show his brother all of Los Angeles and the joys of silk sheets and wagyu beef burgers and Ferris wheels, and maybe instead of trying to drag Lucifer back to hell, Amenadiel will start fighting to stay here on Earth. With Lucifer.
“What are you doing?” Amenadiel says, but the protest is halfhearted. He doesn’t step back when Lucifer invades his space and cups one hand around his neck, tilting Amenadiel’s head down and giving him every opportunity to push Lucifer away. He doesn’t.
This kiss is different from the ones they shared so long ago. For one thing, Lucifer can tell that Maze has taught Amenadiel a few tricks in their short time together; he’ll thank her handsomely later. For another, none of Amenadiel’s kisses in the Silver City were ever this intense, this desperate. Lucifer feels a bit overwhelmed.
He pulls away and says, “What do you desire, Amenadiel?”
Amenadiel doesn’t answer, not with words. He drags Lucifer back into the kiss, his teeth scraping along Lucifer’s jaw before sinking deliciously into Lucifer’s bottom lip. Lucifer supposes that’s answer enough. He wants nothing more in this moment than to unfurl his wings, to tangle his feathers with Amenadiel’s, but his own wings are gone forever, and touching Amenadiel’s wings brings only pain now, not the pleasure Lucifer envisions. These mortal bodies will have to suffice.
And suffice they do—Amenadiel’s back arching when Lucifer traces the curves of his ribs and the flat planes of his hips with his tongue. His breath turns ragged when Lucifer sucks down his cock, and Lucifer’s name in his brother’s mouth is the only kind of prayer Lucifer ever wants to hear again.
“Now it’s my turn,” Amenadiel says, panting, his hands still clasped behind Lucifer’s head.
Lucifer is glad that Maze has taught Amenadiel the value of reciprocity, but he expects Amenadiel’s touch to be unsure, hesitant. Instead, Amenadiel surprises him, his hands confident and his mouth even more so. He touches every part of Lucifer with strong fingers, his mouth moving wetly over all the places he’s touched. When Amenadiel turns him over and starts slowly sliding oil slicked fingers into him, Lucifer thinks for just a moment that this is some kind of play for dominance, some echo of their long-held sibling rivalry, except that Lucifer can see Amenadiel’s face in the mirror he just installed above the headboard, and the expression Lucifer sees there is far too tender, far too raw and open, for Amenadiel to be playing games. Amenadiel fucks Lucifer like he’ll never get another chance, like this is the one and only time they will ever be together like this, and Lucifer resolves to disabuse his brother of that notion as soon as possible. After they both come, Amenadiel stays inside Lucifer until their heart rates slow and their breathing evens. Then Amenadiel rolls over on his back and steals Lucifer’s best pillow, plumping it under his head. He’s got that same almost smile on his face from earlier, the one that means he’s extremely pleased with himself. Lucifer shares the sentiment.
Lucifer pulls the sheet up around their waists and lays his head on Amenadiel’s chest. Amenadiel’s arms wrap around him, and Lucifer grins. “Have you ever been to Wally’s?” he says. “The beet and blueberry salad is simply divine.”