Owner	Pose
Lucifer	There seems to be a going trend - or cycle of events - that happens when deep talks are had. When Nathaniel and Lucifer spend a night being more with each other than just bed mates. Deep talks, certain promises (without the use of such a word), and other matters of mind and heart take place so that the two are balanced in their lives together once again. And then the morning comes... It's usually Lucifer that's up first, letting his lover contemplate eyelids for a bit longer while he makes breakfast. Knowing that Nathaniel spent himself a bit last night, he's making something the man loves but is also known to be full of protein and vitamins that a healthy body needs to re-up and keep it's energy. Kippers. Fried kippers at that, with a squeeze of lemon and a couple sprigs of rosemary. They're cooking in one pan, while he poaches eggs in a pot, wilts spinach on another burner, brews coffee and makes toast. The breakfast knook is already laid out with red currant jam, butter, and cutlery. Everything else just waiting for the food to all finish cooking.
Sinister	There are a few very solid adages that have persisted in society for good reason. Sometimes they're said with a chuckle, but there's nevertheless truth in it: The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Occasionally at the end of a knife. Most often in the love put into food. Food IS love. To prepare and give food to another is to actively say 'I want you to keep on living' and 'this is how I show you how much you mean to me.' And it isn't really just men that get that, after all, grandma's cookies bring back love to the mind of most children. Mother's recipes similarly. And the smell of kippers is very, very distinctive. Herring. Such an understated fish! Fuzzy raven slippers and his dressing gown, WILD bed hair and oddly, his wings still out, the whirr and shuffle of them heralds a sleepy Nathaniel poking his head around into the kitchen. "Lucifer Morningstar, I love you dearly," comes easily and with clear sentiment in the tone. "That smells hellishly good."
Lucifer	Still learning love languages, that's Lucifer's thing. Spoken word, unspoken gestures, food, affection, space... there's so many variations. And while most people have a single way of speaking love... some have a few. It varies, which is another thing Lucifer has learned. Sinister has bits of several love languages - some of them wrapped in anguish and guilt - while others have grown through adaptation decade after decade. He smiles upon hearing his name, glancing towards Nathaniel then. "I love you too, Nathaniel Essex. I am glad it smells good. It's also almost ready." Though he seems to be contemplating a thought. "Do you think hollandaise sauce would go well with this? I might have asked it last time. Perhaps it's too heavy for a fish dish...but I think kippers could handle it, really... and it would go lovely with the poached eggs and spinach..."
Sinister	"Kippers can handle a hollandaise, yes. They're such a strong flavour. It's usually because fish is delicate and gets subsumed, but if we had neighbours up here, everyone would know we're having smoked kippers by now." Sinister grins, but he shuffles up close and behind, wraps arms about and places his face upon the devil's neck, just breathing in there, with a warm, meaningful squeeze. He holds for half a minute or more, then kisses, squeezes and steps aside. "Is there anything I can do to help?" He might be surprised that his love language has some of its roots in anguish and guilt and might even be surprised he even HAS a love language, as it's not something he usually thinks on at all. He probably should, to be honest.
Lucifer	"Then I will make a hollandaise sauce..." Lucifer offers as he scoops out four perfectly poached eggs and sets them on a plate covered in a paper towel to drain off a bit. It's just after, that he feels arms around his waist and that face upon his neck. He stills for the moment, offering a smile, shivering at the kiss. "Mmn...If you want to serve up the coffee? Put the toast on a couple of plates? Pretty much at the tail end of everything else..." Lucifer's done some studying, has seen a therapist, and has learned a bit. Still learning, but none the less. It's a thing he's picked up on, reminded himself of. Don't ask what his love language is tho, he's not even sure.
Sinister	Sponteneity is probably one, he likes to indulge his loves on a whim, whatever, whenever, with money being no barrier. Feeding people is DEFINITELY another -- both his lovers he likes to feed, in the best and most pleasurable ways for both of them. And learning, to understand. "Right, toast. I can do toast, I'm not going to ruin the end ferrying process, I feel." Sinister chuckles, the end of his wing brushing Luci's calf as he walks past to do just that, gathering coffee carafe and the little things to sweeten on his part -- demarara sugar in a tiny little pot, as he only ever takes a little bit in coffee. No cream for either of them, but the good cups. He slides onto the stool at the breakfast nook and hooks his slippered feet on the footrests, watching fondly as the archangel Samael fusses with hollandaise like a professional, NOT curdling it. "Have you ever had wing issues?" he asks, nodding over his shoulder. "They're behaving just fine, but they don't want to go away. No rebelling at the moment. Just don't want in again."
Lucifer	Lucifer smiles a little when he feels those wing-tips brush against his calf and then a chuckle comes as Nathaniel says he can do toast. That out of the way, the Devil focuses on hollandaise sauce, and it comes out practically perfect. Spinach, kippers, a poached egg and a drizzle of the sauce before he turns and places a plate in front of Nathaniel. Then he does another for himself. All the burners turned off then, he moves to take a seat on the stool next to Nathaniel. "Sometimes. When I've had my wings cut off and they grow back... they don't like to leave. Like they're scared of disappearing again. Suppose I can't blame them given the times I've cut them off..." He offers this and then takes a breath. "Some of your dream might have tripped them. I surely don't mind it...I like how they look on you."
Sinister	"I think that might be the case, they don't behave just like limbs. They never have," he considers it and glances at his back, watching them draw a little tighter, but not go away. They're determined. "They are shadows. I think they know that they are, too. And as I've said before, they feel like they're part of my natural shape." But then there is the breakfast and it does look smashing. "My my, I am a spoiled doctor, that's for certain. This looks absolutely spiffing, darling." A little butter and the red currant jam applied in a thin layer to be tart to the sweetness of spinach and hollandaise and cutting to the kippers, Nathaniel tucks in. It is a matter of mere minutes before he's wiping his mouth with the edge of his napkin like a proper gent, dab-dabbing and tossing it to the side of his plate, cutlery in the middle and side by side. "Breakfast of champions. You do look after me, Love."
Lucifer	It's that comfortable silence that comes with eating which takes hold of them both as they devour the food in front of them. Once done, Lucifer settles back a moment and lets out a contented breath before glancing to Sinister. "They also might just need affirmation that they are still rightly attached. Perhaps we should go for a flight..." He offers this before shifting to stand and then gathers up their plates to take to the sink. Once there, he begins to put away the few leftovers. "Also, I wouldn't really call you spoiled. I like feeding you, even though we don't really need to eat.. you enjoy eating. Especially if it's a dish you delight in. I might make some sticky toffee pudding for dessert tonight... if we stay in the Penthouse one more evening." He smiles. "But... that, and the preferance of affection and action over words... I think that while they are an extension of your personal social preference as a whole.. it's also your love language." A pause. "I'm still learning up about that a bit... but it makes sense. If I speak your love language, it shows that I understand...and can often...hold a deeper meaning." He smiles, "Make sense?"
Sinister	"Love language," Sinister repeats that, though his eyes lit up at the possibility of sticky toffee pudding. Quite literally given that they glow. "I've not heard that term before, but then... there's likely a lot of terminology I'm unfamiliar with." The upper shoulder feathers all stood up at the notion of a flight and a flicker of a flare took them, before Sin corralled his wings. "Yes though, it makes sense in principle. You're right, it... it feels as if you know what makes me tick, which I'm more than a little impressed with. It... makes every moment feel stronger." He reaches out a single hand, lays it upon fingers and curls his own over a moment, in simple contact. "I just feel like it's easy to say, not so easy to do. Doing therefore means more. Speaks louder."
Lucifer	Lucifer notices how Nathaniel's eyes light up at just the idea of such a dessert and he smirks. Oh yeah, they're likely definitely staying for one more night at the Penthouse. They should go back to the Savage Lands at some point, however. Work must be done at some point! None the less. When Sinister comments about the idea of love language and agrees with the principles and how it fits for him. He smiles and squeezes the hand that holds. "I get that. I do. My love language is a little different. Cooking, is what we share. I lean on affection, but also verbal statements. It's likely the deal-maker in me... heh. A verbal commitment means something." He tilts his head then and smiles. "I noticed how your wings reacted to me suggesting a flight. We should do that today, fly around. Come back for dinner and dessert..."
Sinister	Sinister's fingers lift the hand then, bring it to lips to kiss the ends, smoothing thumb pad over nails in a brief but meaningful gesture. But yes, work must be resumed at some point, there's a mystery or two to solve. Add in that there's the catalogue of plants to define mystical properties of, to boot and that's a whole different project. Meanwhile, the black lifts up, fans a little like an eagle in the sunlight, causing a glance sent to either side with a laugh. "I think you are likely right on the flight. It would be good though, to climb high into the cold." He quietly considers all else spoken though, giving it all due consideration. "At least our ven diagrams do overlap in spots," he says after a while, humour in his tone. "I... shouldn't be so wary of promises you know. I know that. At least not from you."
Lucifer	Lucifer smiles as his hand is lifted, kissed and that thumb is grazed over his nails. He listens to all that is said and then works a little backwards from the words offered. "I appreciate that sentiment. I have been toeing the line of saying the word itself, but I think I finally understood that words hold value. Perhaps not everything needs a verbal promise behind it. However, if I do say it, it is because I mean it. The promise I mean." Then, he grins, and shifts to slip around and closer to the man so he can nuzzle him and stroke wings. "Now...where shall we flutter off to today?"
Sinister	Sinister smiles. The hand is released after its beneson. He had been corraling wings once again, grooming feather a little with fingertips whilst he listened, giving a slow nod at the communication exchanged. "My soul-mate," and many other words denoting a bond, which shall not be said. Not startled precisely at the stepping close, he does however stiffen up a fraction, mostly because the extra limbs get excited easily by contact and he licks lips at the first nuzzle, eyes closing. Another brings him to a flash of a grin, dimples showing as wings curve around, boffing feathers against head in an effort to give their own embrace. The rustles get noisy for a bit. "What about the pine barrens? It's a bit of a flight, but not that far as the raven or the angel flies. There's lots of things to see there, maybe we'll find your so-called son, hiding someplace there." His tone is amused, but then there's something else to do; indulge in a very purposeful and deep snog, ending in lifting Lucifer up to sit on his crossed wrists, so he can look up at and wing-hug at the same time and provide extra space for stroking. And also because he rather likes looking up at the lightbringer.
Lucifer	Lucifer feels that moment of stiffening, but he knows it's because the wings are so sensitive. This is where Lucifer proves he may just be a little evil, because even with the idea of a flight in mind, he shifts to stroke hands where he can reach upon wings. Even as he's lifted up a bit, looking down on Sinister, smiling, stroking, and loving in all ways that he can. His own wings flare out after a moment, desiring to be with their companions, to share in this moment. The Lightbringer and his Raven.
Sinister	Sinister's breath quickens, nostrils flaring just a little with the added intake. A little evil? Oh a lot evil, but usually in all of the good ways. Impish in all of the sneaky ways. All of those infernal adjectives have an origin after all; this is the poster child for an entire language culture! The trouble is, when you're holding someone up, you can't also reach to that white canopy, unless you grow an extra pair of arms. Luckily, it's entirely possible to become an aracnid, for Essex. Moments are spent like this, doing a bit of mutual stroking, letting the hoist slide a bit downward to let a body know just where it's at on how good that feels, he eventually lowers his lover entirely, though keeps closely pressed as excitement and anticipation have created a rustling, flick-flaring, buffetting jostle in the black. "If we're going to go, we'd best go soon, else I'm going to be beset with other intentions."
Lucifer	Lucifer grins, and then feels himself being lowered, being shown just where to give his attention to. Yes, there, and then there, and that other spot just so. When strokes become mutual, Lucifer makes his own sounds until he's set upon the ground again. It's no secret what this type of attention does to them, and those last words of a sort of warning have the Devil giving a low chuckle. "Are you afraid we're going to be late to something that's happening on our own time?" A pause, a press, and another deliberate stroke. "I don't think it such a bad thing we give in a little to this and then set off to the other thing...unless... you'd rather I stop completely..." That grin of grins beset on his face once more.
Sinister	"Well, when you put it -that- way it does seem ridiculous," Sinister replies, in a thick murmur. Stop? Completely? Oh, now that's practically a -threat-! Two Hands dig in underneath, plunge into the tertiaries right at the underwing and comb through the pinions, stroking them each and closing digits for a gentle tug at the end. The other two hands make a keen observation of how thin bumming-about-the-house pants are, giving a cheeky squeeze of the bum, pressing hip to hip. Now that that has been thoroughly affirmed as a consquence, Sinister gazes at that grin. "Sometimes, I'm rather glad that the soul-dealing myth is all so much blowhard attribution. I don't know if I'd still have that currency any more, if it were not. You have an incredibly engaging grin. Probably on purpose."
Lucifer	A threat indeed! As fingers plunge into plummage and pin feathers, Lucifer can't help the sound of pleasure that emerges from his lips. It's followed by a sharp gasp when secondary hands also move to grab against a thin-fabric-covered bum. Hip to hip, he wonders if there's any stopping this train of thought - not that he wants it to stop in any way now. "You probably wouldn't. Not when I was done with you." A smirk. "If I ever would be done with you, which at this point is likely never..." The Devil whispers words back, captures lips in a brief albeit heated kiss and then noses against neck. "Shall we away to bed then?"
Sinister	"I find it likely that I'd be agreeing on that," Sinister replies, then bursts into a fit of snickers. "What would you do with my soul if you could've claimed it?" He asks this as he backwings a bit, buffetting the air and drawing the devil with him. Not that his shorter, broader based wings could really fight against the overwinged, but he's backing it up with feet, waltzing backwards and then genuinely dancing; one two three, one two three, one two three, toward the couch. Who needs beds? Sometimes it's fun to use the couch. Or the piano. Or the bar. Or the floor. Or the elevator, with a lot of button smashing. "And what would you possibly have offered me in return for my soul?"
Lucifer	"Well see, that is a sort of conundrum of sorts. Because, for you my love, I would have kept it safe. It would have likely remained in the throne room where none but myself could have real access to it unless I gave such." Lucifer offers, following in the waltz they dance all the way over to the couch. "In return? You would have received anything you wanted. Power? Money? Fame? ... A gift of talent for anything you could think of?" He shrugs then. "But see, I'm a bit bias now, because I love you. So...I can't quite think of anything but offering myself..."
Sinister	"And I didn't need to offer my soul for that," Sinister replies, drawing closer to Lucifer's face, almost nose to nose, his gaze steady on those dark blues that are sometimes summersky bright. One two three, one two three, pause. He presses Lucifer up against the arm of the couch, a void behind, a man in front. Just a little pressure forward puts the world off balance, the hope perhaps to get the wings to flare for stability. If so, they'll be captured in black and buffetted, caressed in turn. "Ironic, that all those things, the only thing I would've prized is the one thing I didn't need to give, in order to get. Power, money, fame and infamy, gifts unusual and exotic, I needed no hand to help me with. But you? Only you could've given me your heart."
Lucifer	"Indeed you did not..." Lucifer agrees with Nathaniel in the moment and catches that gaze upon his own eyes. A smile, gentle in it's offering, and then one two three, one two three, and he's against the arm of the couch. Wings do as they were suspected to do and flare in order for Lucifer to maintain balance. When they become caressed, the Devil shivers. "Which is likely why you would have never willingly offered your soul to me in the form of a deal... and why, for my heart, I would never accept it. You have to give to me as freely as I give to you, in that regard. Soul mate. Love of mine. You have my heart. You have all of me.."
Sinister	And so, two arms seize wings and force them to curl a little inward so that nothing gets crumbled, as two other hands cup the back of head and skirt the back to hold hip, Sinister fwips his own wings in and around to form a cushion for the white and bring them closer, as he tumbles the devil over backwards onto the couch. Drawing him close. Drawing him in. Drawing him up and against, then to come down atop as they tumble over, he makes it quite clear that the flight will be later. Possibly quite a bit later, at least an hour, maybe two. Because he will have all of Lucifer. Every last inch.