Angels Before Man

by Rafael Nicolás

More bones escaped the cage of flesh to join the host of Heaven. And even if the angel screamed, there must’ve been something pleasurable about it, about the release, the escape from skin.

His voice was warm, almost physically so, as if he were a quilt coming over your shoulders.

— “I remember when you were created, Lucifer. I saw how our Father sewed you from coppers, how He handled you when you were burning coals and when you were settings of gold. He embroidered a nose on you, a sweet mouth on you, then the outline for a pair of eyes before He placed suns there. He sculpted your face with wet clay; He opened you like a citrus and planted a garden of budding flowers inside. Then, He weaved your hair from the streaks of three stars and your wings out of four wandering crescent moons.” He breathed but was not finished: “And your hips — those came the tides of a sea, the same one whose pearls He took to carve your feet and hands. There was so much jade, so much marble; He fit it into the last places you were hollow. When He was done, I watched Him breathe life into you, then cradle you as if you were His first angel, before He settled you into fire and let you simmer.”

Wow wow wow

Lucifer found enjoyment in brewing tea, sweet lavender and chamomile, and he liked serving wine and working dough with his hands. He loved watering all the plants of his house, and he enjoyed wrapping himself in blankets, and he found that maybe being a simple, thoughtless adornment was not so bad.

Lucifer couldn’t stop gushing: “He’s so incredible. I want to say it over and over. When I met Him, I saw every sun and moon on His face, and His steps sweetened the dirt so that it tasted like honey.” He remembered the mud on his lips. “When I kissed His rings, I saw all the stars on the gems. And I touched His robes, I remember, and I saw that it was made of time, time itself, smoothed out. All the light that has ever existed was falling from His eyes, there was light of every color, more than I thought existed,”

Lucifer describing meeting God for the first time.

‘I feel aged. I feel as if you’ve aged me with your own hands, Michael. Ripened me. Like a red fruit, at the edge of a branch, hanging at its peak. Beautiful — and just about to fall.’

Michael was staring at his lips, eyes dazed with lingering drunkenness. His tongue darting out, licking his own mouth, as if he were dry and needed to drink, drink Lucifer. He leaned in and Lucifer, frozen, heard the prince’s low, shuddering breath. When Michael brushed his lips against his, it was the simple tap of always, but slow and forward — like the press of ink to paper, like Michael wanted Lucifer’s lips to read of him forever.

You’re killing me here

‘Are you hunting for new places to kiss? I’m out of them. I can’t offer you more of me. I’ve run out of myself to give.’ A soft, pleasured breath, then a loose, flimsy thought, ‘But if I were like God, I’d create a new piece of me every day for you to kiss. I’d remake myself, chasing that mouth.’

‘My entire body throbbing in beats like a heart. Wanting to be yours.’ Every breath dense, steaming and boiling. ‘Help me.’ Closer, Michael leaned closer. ‘Devour me like a pomegranate and stain your tongue.’

“I feel drunk,” Michael murmured against him, then shuddered. “Your mouth— When you were created, your lips must have been laced with liquor.”

‘I wish I could get even closer to you — I wish we could sink into each other and become one.’ Lucifer clutched Michael’s clothing. ‘What is inside of you, archangel? Did Father plant flowers within this body too? I want to peel you open and suck the nectar from them.’

what is love if not parting these ribs like a sea and finding fitting you inside. like a pearl.

I want us to embrace until these bodies curl like vines, turn inseparable as debris, knotted together, our mouths interwoven. your divinity in my mouth, your worship salted on my lips.