#sinnermantm

@sinnermantm​

oh, it’s an unfair thing to ask of him, and they both know it ;  it hits like a physical blow.  like it’s supposed to.  lucifer just barely manages not to flinch, but the way his eyes flicker speaks volumes.  he doesn’t lie, and he knows cain knows it  —  he wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t already know the answer, after all.  if he didn’t already have some suspicion that the ring is still tucked away in a drawer upstairs.  safely out of sight, but not out of mind.  and the song lucifer was playing before cain showed up at lux certainly can’t help matters.  a quiet melody, achingly tender.  the devil’s heart, raw and exposed ;  lyrics that only lucifer and cain can understand the true meaning of.

‘  the birds, they sang a melody ; my heart was keeping time, and we were dancing on the edge of something new ...  ’

(  hands intertwined, skin to skin.  matching wedding bands that weren’t supposed to mean anything.  sleepy mornings spent curled up in each other’s arms.  closer than they should have ever allowed themselves to get to each other ;  this was only ever going to end in ruin.  )

their chin lifts, defiance a thin veneer that just barely manages to cover the conflict inside.  the way their gut churns at the mere sight of him.  tense  —  they look into those emerald eyes and stand their ground, even when cain’s very presence feels like a knife is being driven into their own chest.  teeth gritted.  hands curling into fists. 

@sinnermantm

the words should not sting the way they do  —  after all, elijah knows exactly what he means.  he feels that ache every single day, the prick in his heart, the way his throat tightens and his stomach burns.  frustrating.  it’s frustrating to be around someone who makes him feel the way marcus does.  it feels like all his good judgement goes straight out the window when this man is involved ;  he’s done things in the past months that make him feel crazy when he thinks about them, with no rational explanation as to why.  obsession.  the way he’d looked for marcus, dug for any scrap of information about the sinnerman, stayed awake until his head throbbed and his vision blurred from exhaustion just trying to fucking find him.  so many secrets kept for the sake of a man who he very much should not love.

and yet, every time they’re together, every time he looks into those green eyes, elijah ross feels himself falling all over again.

loving you.  they have not spoken those words to each other, not before now  —  but eli doesn’t doubt that he loves marcus.  it’s hearing them from the other’s lips that surprises him, makes blood rush to his face despite the way his brow knits, pained.  the sun has not yet risen, a bit of grey light seeping through the windows, and eli is still drowsy and unkempt from sleep, a contrast to the way marcus stands by the door, dressed and ready to leave.  in truth, eli doesn’t even need to be out of bed yet, but he never allows marcus to leave without saying goodbye.

fingers gently smooth down the lapels of marcus’ jacket, eyes downcast as he searches for something to say.  for some kind of a response to words that feel like they crack something open inside of him.  but nothing comes ;  instead, eli rises on tiptoe to press lips to marcus’ cheek.  fleeting.  the gentle kiss grounds him, a little, makes his soul feel a little more settled.

❛  be safe.  i’ll see you later.  ❜   there is something almost hesitant in his tone.  the slightest lingering worry, in spite of  —  or maybe because of  —  everything between them.  even this small moment feels like something he’s stealing.  like he’s getting away with something he shouldn’t be.

@sinnermantm

it’s been a long fucking day.  it’s one of those cases, the ones where ross ends up down in homicide for most of the day  —  his least favorite kind.  not because he dislikes working with the homicide detectives, but because death always weighs heavy on him, especially when it comes to cases like this.  cases with kids.  this victim was young, too young ;  a nine-year-old girl.  she shouldn’t have died there, alone, waiting for someone to come find her.  

she shouldn’t have died at all. 

the voice startles him ;  hazel eyes wide, muscles tensing before relaxing slightly at the sight of pierce.  too deep in his work, he hadn’t even noticed the lieutenant approaching.  a glance around the precinct shows that many of the lights are off, now, most of the detectives having packed up and headed home.  but not ross. 

❛  ah.  ❜   a defeated sigh ;  he’s been caught.  fingers tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind an ear, gaze averted.   ❛  yeah, i know it will.  ❜  the problem is that if eli goes home, he’s going to be thinking about it all night, grief and guilt keeping him awake  —  and even if sleep does come, it will bring nothing but nightmares.   ❛  m’just ...  ❜

@sinnermantm

it’s the worst kind of surprise, seeing him here.  𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐍, in the flesh.  back from the dead once again, or so it would seem ;  for a moment, lucifer isn’t sure if they’re hallucinating, if the man is a figment of their imagination.  a phantom from the past  —  those damned green eyes that have haunted their dreams time and time again in the months that have passed since they drove a hell-forged blade through his chest.  since his blood stained their hands.  since they sent him to hell.  cain is supposed to be dead and yet here he is, standing in front of lucifer like a fucking ghost.  oh, he certainly looks real enough ;  but if they touched him, would their hand pass straight through?

a step forward.  bringing him closer. lucifer reaches out. fingertips brush cain’s chest, featherlight  — directly over the place where he’d stabbed him. they find him warm.  solid.  alive.

he scoffs a laugh.  quiet.  disbelieving.  the corner of his mouth quirks, an incredulous little smile as he looks up to meet cain’s eyes.  his hand falls back to his side, but he stays close ;  only a few inches away.  oh, cain has changed during his time in hell, that much is clear  —  but the months have not been kind to the devil, either.  there is tension in his shoulders, a tightness to his jaw, lines under his eyes that were not there before.  he just hopes cain won’t look too closely, won’t catch a glimpse of the heartache that simmers just beneath the surface.  the pain.  the guilt.  try as he might to ignore it, being in cain’s presence again brings all of that crashing back down on his head.