This time he didn't need the instruction. After Gabriel's release, that outpouring of energy, it was the gentle embrace of his arms that most promised him completion. His brother held him, and welcomed his touch, and when he rolled his tongue against the heated mark he'd left behind on Gabriel's skin, all the elements clicked neatly into place.

If only Gabriel hadn't run from him. The ways that they might have been together, the oceans that would have parted beneath them. He could have been inside him in every way, but most importantly this way, spilling over with his seed, spilling over with divine light; his skin, his eyes, his mouth, and Lucifer warm to the touch for the first time in a long time. Even the mark he'd left glowed, pulsed in throbbing time with his release.

Lightbulbs didn't shatter. Or eardrums. Beyond the light, any earth-shattering power poured into Gabriel alone, though the limbs of the bed did break, depositing the sommelier on the floor. And then the lightbringer fell, exhausted, into the safety of his younger brother's arms.