(AP) ˟˟ : friends in high places. ❞

I’VE MOVED!

         “  ———- bit late to try and play the “divine intervention” card, isn’t it? “   a breathy chuckle follows the response, the corners of his lips curling upwards so as to match the smirk that the other wears. it may sound as though he’s only being smart, but make no mistake – he knows, for a fact, that there is some measure of truth to his words. here, lucifel is a long way from heaven, from god. he lounges in a den of impurities and damnation, and not only does he do so knowingly, he does so with a smile … and a cellphone leisurely held in-hand.  “ really, angel. lying in the lap in the king of the damned, telling him he can’t be let up to sin. to do what he’s supposed to do, according to you lot.     you’re … ———-  “  an idiot, he wants to say, but lucifel settles into him, gives him that look, – that smirk – and he manages to convince himself that the string of insults ( vaguely teasing as they may be ) can wait. a disheveled tie’s not enough to rob him of his amusement ( not this time ), but the close proximity’s enough to tempt him to steal in kind: namely, a kiss from the lips of the angel that keeps him, ever-smug in the face of his achievements. as far as he’s concerned, he’s earned it —– and so he wastes no time in laying claim to what he’s come to refer to as his, a hand moving to catch the other’s chin in its grasp, turning his head so that they look one another in the eye. there’s the devil in his smile, but it’s visible for only a moment; before long, he’s upon him, like a vulture set upon pretty, pretty prey.

        “  ———- … insufferable. “   in the moment, the volume of his voice is a bare murmur. in place of any other colorful ( read: insensitive ) moniker, he seems to have settled upon this  —— and in the same breath, he chooses to relent. “ but – ‘know what? you’ve got ten more minutes before i send you packing. you don’t deserve it – not with the way you’re talking to me, time-outs and all that – but what can i say? i’m feeling GENEROUS.     better make the most of it. “  and his hold on the other is still firm, unwavering, unlikely to break. he hasn’t let go. he’s hardly moved away, giving himself only as much space as was required to speak. he’s expectant. as is his nature, he only wants more.

         Lucifel creases an inconvenienced brow, tries to keep an eye on the screen while Crowley doses him his daily spoonful of heresy.  He supposes the occasional Game Over and a distinctly sulfuric aftertaste are reasonable prices for VIP seating in the lap of perdition, for clandestine visits that leave him stinging sweetly with illicit kisses and savor of wetted blades, bloody annihilations, fateful contracts.  Sin and cinder; open and swallow.  A mouthful of prayers for a mouthful of poison.  He mewls a lazy note of complaint against the demon’s lips, but the subtle arch of his neck is compliant.  — Who’s he to question the going exchange rates, these days?

        “ … You? Generous?  Well, why didn’t you say something? Sounds serious.  You got any other symptoms? ”

         Chiming a familiar time limit, a cluster of bright numbers tallies an unimpressive score on the screen of his phone.  Lucifel makes to turn, but the blunt nail of Crowley’s thumb nips his chin, his domineering grip holding him stiffly, demandingly in place.  And for an instant Lucifel meets his gaze at sharp, adversarial points.  He isn’t used to being handled like a coveted object.

         “ … Y’know, Crowley. You make me feel downright merciful. ”   His smile blooms slow and wary.  —  Some nerve, this guy.

         But he gives him a little taste of Laocoon’s sons twisting in the serpent’s grasp, squirms indolently with a lazy kick of the leg, clasps Crowley’s wrists in both his hands and strains halfheartedly, a caught delicacy in a make-believe web. Damsel in damnation.  Crowley plays for keeps, but Lucifel enjoys a casual game between sworn enemies.

      From the distance: “SHE’S ALLOWED.”

          Ari, posing in the direction of the voice of God. Thanks big guy.

      An’ if he had a problem with th’ view I’m sure I’d hear about it.

      I am grown af what are you doin’, Lu?