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Entry tags:
the firm 8 & 9
Mmmmmmm, I must go.
( 8 )
That morning, Lucifer stopped him on the way to pick up an assignment.
“Wait, Belial. I have a request.”
“What is it, Lucifer? If it’s a different assignment, you’ll have to wait.”
“No, it has nothing to do with the firm. It’s about Lucilius.” At Belial’s pause, Lucifer continued, “Forgive me if this is too forward, but I’ve seen you speak with him every week that he’s been here. I wondered if you’d be interested in seeing him outside of the firm.”
Everything about that was ludicrous, and the hilarity of it all nearly had Belial laughing in Lucifer’s face. “You want me to date your brother?” he asked, mirth etching into his words instead.
“Only if that’s what he wants. Lucilius has always been . . . distant. No one has ever expressed as much interest in my brother as you. So please: if you’ll take it, this is my selfish request.”
When Belial later relayed this to Lucilius while he sat on the counter with his legs crossed, the latter gave a scathing huff. Lucifer’s dearest brother was more prone to showing his contempt nowadays; it was a step up from his usual impassivity, though that did nothing to improve his pessimistic outlook on everything. Belial didn’t especially mind—in fact, there was a certain charm to Lucilius’ unerring negativity.
“Lucifer is naïve,” said Lucilius.
“Aren’t you curious about whether I accepted the offer or not?” asked Belial.
“Not particularly.”
“So you won’t find it strange if I ask you to come over tonight?”
Lucilius paused in the middle of straightening a sheaf of papers, then said, “Give me your address.”
“No problem. I’ll give you a lift.”
They piled into Belial’s old car that evening. The drive to his flat was, for the most part, eventless. Lucilius was more interested in looking out the window than engaging in small talk, and that was fine with him: They’d have plenty of time to talk and do once the welcoming embrace of night rolled in.
Economic and minimalist, Belial’s flat boasted the bare necessities to entertain a guest or two. It was otherwise clear of clutter and clean, with a kitchenette that he strolled into as he waved toward the couch in the communal area.
“Sit down and take a nap or something. Oh, but don’t get too comfortable, or I’ll be tempted to get down on you in your sleep,” he said.
Lucilius obeyed insofar as sitting down on the couch before staring at the blank television screen across the room. When Belial returned with a plate of cake slice and a handful of chocolate bars in tow, he said, “I’m lactose intolerant.”
“You tell me this now?” sighed Belial. He set the plate down on the table and dropped onto the couch. “Oh, well. Guess it’s mine, then.”
He sat with his knees spread, his right thigh pressing against Lucilius’ left. Silence settled between the little space between them as Belial scarfed down the slice of cake he’d baked the previous day. But he left the bars be, and soon he was licking his lips to clear the last of the spongy crumbs.
“You know why I brought you here and not some fancy restaurant, don’t you?” he asked as he leaned back and hugged the back of the couch, his arm snaking around behind Lucilius.
Lucilius had made himself comfortable where he sat on the far end of the couch, one leg crossed over the other and his arm propped up by the elbow on the armrest. If not comfortable, he looked bored out of his mind; such ennui was his natural state. His raised fist, on which his cheek was resting, dropped as he turned to face Belial.
“Of course I do,” he said. “Subtlety isn’t your forte.”
“You’re right. It isn’t. So I can do this and you won’t stop me, right?”
Belial turned, seized Lucilius by the shoulders, and surged forward. The push sent Lucilius onto his back, his legs still in their original position and twisting his waist at an awkward angle; however, he made no move to correct the discomfort. He smirked derisively. Above him, Belial’s eyes widened with unbridled lust.
“That’s why I like you, Cilius. You never say, ‘No,’ to trying.”
With a wolfish grin, Belial leaned down and captured Lucilius’ lower lip. His hands crept up to pull the billowy coat by the collar down to Lucilius’ elbows, exposing thin shoulders clad in black. A guttural growl erupted from his throat as he sucked on the swollen lip, and Belial undid the belt securing Lucilius’ tucked shirt to slip his hands to places unexplored.
Their coupling, if it could be called that, was carnal. Belial took as he pleased, and Lucilius denied him nothing.
( 9 )
“I’m surprised, Cilius. I didn’t expect your stamina to be so poor that you’d doze off right after you’d gotten your fill. You didn’t even let me finish.” Belial chuckled as he sat up and watched Lucilius blink the sleep away from weary eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
Evidently, he still lacked the energy. Lucilius, who worked a total of four jobs (and who knew, how many hours) with multiple degrees and a doctorate under his belt, had overslept and yet made no attempt to so much as his lift his head from the armrest on which it lay.
“Is that so surprising? I’m not accustomed to excitement. Consequently, I lack the excess energy to spare,” said Lucilius, dryly.
“Considering that, your body seemed plenty excited last night. You’re just so pliable.”
“It’s a natural physiological response. Even I’m human.”
“Hm? Did I hear you right? Licking chocolate off of you was a natural thing to do? If you liked it that much, I can do it again.” Lucilius grunted, a noncommittal response. “The sounds you made last night were amazing. I’d love to hear some more. We can keep practicing until you learn to stay awake: I’d hate for you to keep missing half the show. But you should probably get up now. I'm sure you've got work to be doing in at least three places.
“Are you listening, Cilius? You’re not asleep again, are you? Hey, Cilius!”
That morning, Lucifer stopped him on the way to pick up an assignment.
“Wait, Belial. I have a request.”
“What is it, Lucifer? If it’s a different assignment, you’ll have to wait.”
“No, it has nothing to do with the firm. It’s about Lucilius.” At Belial’s pause, Lucifer continued, “Forgive me if this is too forward, but I’ve seen you speak with him every week that he’s been here. I wondered if you’d be interested in seeing him outside of the firm.”
Everything about that was ludicrous, and the hilarity of it all nearly had Belial laughing in Lucifer’s face. “You want me to date your brother?” he asked, mirth etching into his words instead.
“Only if that’s what he wants. Lucilius has always been . . . distant. No one has ever expressed as much interest in my brother as you. So please: if you’ll take it, this is my selfish request.”
When Belial later relayed this to Lucilius while he sat on the counter with his legs crossed, the latter gave a scathing huff. Lucifer’s dearest brother was more prone to showing his contempt nowadays; it was a step up from his usual impassivity, though that did nothing to improve his pessimistic outlook on everything. Belial didn’t especially mind—in fact, there was a certain charm to Lucilius’ unerring negativity.
“Lucifer is naïve,” said Lucilius.
“Aren’t you curious about whether I accepted the offer or not?” asked Belial.
“Not particularly.”
“So you won’t find it strange if I ask you to come over tonight?”
Lucilius paused in the middle of straightening a sheaf of papers, then said, “Give me your address.”
“No problem. I’ll give you a lift.”
They piled into Belial’s old car that evening. The drive to his flat was, for the most part, eventless. Lucilius was more interested in looking out the window than engaging in small talk, and that was fine with him: They’d have plenty of time to talk and do once the welcoming embrace of night rolled in.
Economic and minimalist, Belial’s flat boasted the bare necessities to entertain a guest or two. It was otherwise clear of clutter and clean, with a kitchenette that he strolled into as he waved toward the couch in the communal area.
“Sit down and take a nap or something. Oh, but don’t get too comfortable, or I’ll be tempted to get down on you in your sleep,” he said.
Lucilius obeyed insofar as sitting down on the couch before staring at the blank television screen across the room. When Belial returned with a plate of cake slice and a handful of chocolate bars in tow, he said, “I’m lactose intolerant.”
“You tell me this now?” sighed Belial. He set the plate down on the table and dropped onto the couch. “Oh, well. Guess it’s mine, then.”
He sat with his knees spread, his right thigh pressing against Lucilius’ left. Silence settled between the little space between them as Belial scarfed down the slice of cake he’d baked the previous day. But he left the bars be, and soon he was licking his lips to clear the last of the spongy crumbs.
“You know why I brought you here and not some fancy restaurant, don’t you?” he asked as he leaned back and hugged the back of the couch, his arm snaking around behind Lucilius.
Lucilius had made himself comfortable where he sat on the far end of the couch, one leg crossed over the other and his arm propped up by the elbow on the armrest. If not comfortable, he looked bored out of his mind; such ennui was his natural state. His raised fist, on which his cheek was resting, dropped as he turned to face Belial.
“Of course I do,” he said. “Subtlety isn’t your forte.”
“You’re right. It isn’t. So I can do this and you won’t stop me, right?”
Belial turned, seized Lucilius by the shoulders, and surged forward. The push sent Lucilius onto his back, his legs still in their original position and twisting his waist at an awkward angle; however, he made no move to correct the discomfort. He smirked derisively. Above him, Belial’s eyes widened with unbridled lust.
“That’s why I like you, Cilius. You never say, ‘No,’ to trying.”
With a wolfish grin, Belial leaned down and captured Lucilius’ lower lip. His hands crept up to pull the billowy coat by the collar down to Lucilius’ elbows, exposing thin shoulders clad in black. A guttural growl erupted from his throat as he sucked on the swollen lip, and Belial undid the belt securing Lucilius’ tucked shirt to slip his hands to places unexplored.
Their coupling, if it could be called that, was carnal. Belial took as he pleased, and Lucilius denied him nothing.
“I’m surprised, Cilius. I didn’t expect your stamina to be so poor that you’d doze off right after you’d gotten your fill. You didn’t even let me finish.” Belial chuckled as he sat up and watched Lucilius blink the sleep away from weary eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
Evidently, he still lacked the energy. Lucilius, who worked a total of four jobs (and who knew, how many hours) with multiple degrees and a doctorate under his belt, had overslept and yet made no attempt to so much as his lift his head from the armrest on which it lay.
“Is that so surprising? I’m not accustomed to excitement. Consequently, I lack the excess energy to spare,” said Lucilius, dryly.
“Considering that, your body seemed plenty excited last night. You’re just so pliable.”
“It’s a natural physiological response. Even I’m human.”
“Hm? Did I hear you right? Licking chocolate off of you was a natural thing to do? If you liked it that much, I can do it again.” Lucilius grunted, a noncommittal response. “The sounds you made last night were amazing. I’d love to hear some more. We can keep practicing until you learn to stay awake: I’d hate for you to keep missing half the show. But you should probably get up now. I'm sure you've got work to be doing in at least three places.
“Are you listening, Cilius? You’re not asleep again, are you? Hey, Cilius!”