milliways_bar | (no subject)

Careful.

*But Lucifer sounds almost bored; his eyes flicker over Thom unconcernedly.*

Boy's done two blood spells in a short time. Wouldn't want to tire him out, would we?

[there could be a Delia watching.]

[there could also be a Delia nodding once, closing her book, and slipping upstairs before Thom sees her]

[there could also be no Delia]

[it's hard to tell, really.]

*Thom grabs Schuldig's hands, shoving them away.* I don't . . . no. No, no, no you do not we are in public no.

And Lucifer. Shut up. I'm perfectly fine.

*He tries to get up again to prove it.*

*Funny thing, though - he can't. Thom's legs aren't working too well at the moment. In fact, they're not moving at all. Lucifer blinks at him.*

Careful.

*Schuldig laughs, suddenly, and his gaze when he watches Lucifer are heated, mouth still on Thom's throat and body going liquid over him like a human blanket.

He reaches out his mind, and he'd forgotten how much it BURNED, making him arch down into Thom with pain-pleasure-shock.*

*That was unexpected, and Lucifer sends another Careful into Schuldig's mind before breaking free.*

I'm not here for your amusement, asssassin.

*He pulls his legs up onto the table, curling into a sitting position with a slow kind of grace, his eyes still on Thom.*

*Thom swallows, narrowing his eyes up at Lucifer. (Probably can't break that . . . )

The calculation takes only an instant. Thom reaches up, tangles his fingers in Schuldig's hair and kisses him hard.

Then he slides out from under him, pushing himself up with shaking hands. And will. Mainly will.

He looks rather drawn, painfully exhausted.

Schuldig isn't moving . . . *

You think this is funny?

*A tilt of the head.*

From the right angle.

And I'm impressed. There can't be much left in you.

*flatly* Enough.

Do you really want to be using up your energy right now?

*He looks at the assassin.*

*Thom glances at Schuldig as well, snorting and lacing his collar back up.* He'll be fine soon.

And . . . I'll be all right.

I should go.

Or you could stay.

*Thom's hands still where they are. Lucifer's smile is unpleasant.*

And we could see how long it takes before you run out of energy altogether, and what he chooses to do when I wake him up.

*Thom stares at Lucifer for what feels to him like a very long time, chewing on his bottom lip.

He sighs at last, looking away, the dart of his eyes emphasizing the dark circles beneath them.*

If that's what you want . . .

I won't back down.

*Lucifer stares back, and it is for a very long time. He thinks something like stop looking like him, except it doesn't even form words in his consciousness before it is pushed away. He sighs.*

Go. Sleep. One of these days you'll kill yourself. I don't need to do it for you.

*Thom . . . grins, and hops off the table. He singsongs* Yes, Mother.

*and brushes Schuldig's hair out of his face, bending to kiss his cheek and whispering sweetly* Enjoy.

*before going on his way.

Just a little unsteadily.*

Lucifer laughs and leans his chin on his hand. Schuldig looks quite funny, really.

*Schuldig stretches, not as concerned as he ought to be about the restriction of his liberty. Maybe he was pissed off about it; maybe he wasn't. He's fucked up like that.

If he'd been really annoyed, he probably would have spammed Thom with telepathic abuse. Still, the fact remains that the person he HAD been playing around with is gone, and that never pleases him.

He smirks, come-hither, and stretches again.*

So?

Having fun over there?

*Schuldig rolls his eyes.*

I'd be having MORE fun if I weren't fucking horny. Which you could help me with, you know.

*Whilst indulging his kink for exhibitionism, but THAT goes without saying.*

Could.

*Lucifer isn't moving.*

But I'm sort of comfortable here.

Bastard.

*Never let it be said that Schuldig allows minor obstacles to impede him. He takes this as a sort of backhand, inverse invitation because it suits him to do so, and slides off the table to climb into Lucifer's lap in a pliant straddle of warm limbs. When he speaks again, his tone is highly sardonic.*

Comfortable enough?

*Coldly -*

I preferred it before I became furniture, thank you.

*Schuldig sighs, irritably, and his eyes turn as cold as Lucifer's voice as he shoves himself off, standing with only a hint of unsteadiness. He's thinking something along the lines of: fuck this.

This is too much like Crawford, anyway.*

Yeah, whatever.

*He snags the dagger from where it dropped, tests it carelessly against his finger.*

Did you want something earlier, or were you just bored?

*A shrug.*

Thom's always good for entertainment. Though not so much when he's half-dead of overuse.

Mm.

*Non-committal murmur. Schuldig feels tired, all of a sudden, and dull with something like undirected resentment or bitterness.*