Walking, Lucifer came to realize Michael wasn’t at all like the angels they had just left behind. He never quite lost his reasoning whenever he touched or kissed him, he never really shuddered with timid want, never panted like an animal. Of course, Michael loved to take in his body, to watch, to stare, to even put his hands all over him, as if he were going to mold him as wet clay. But he looked at him differently, calling for him always differently, uttering his name fearlessly, taking and grabbing Lucifer in a way no other angel had the pride to do. ‘You do not desire me.’ A pleased smile
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