Virtue and Vice & Vice Versa
Prologue: Heav'n
And the heavenly Father was an angel, too, with a lover to His name. In the pale dawn He took His brightest star into His arms and felt the burning of his being and touched the sides of his thighs, the backs of his knees, the softness of his calves. He felt with His lashes, for the Lord God had lashes in those days, soft and dark, the curve of his angel's cheeks, the softness of his lips and the tickle of his breath.
They made Love on that which was to be Earth.
They made the angels of the air together, the Lord's severity and wisdom birthing the structure of them, the first angel's youth and laughter birthing their innocence.
They were resplendent, replete, in having each other, to touch, and to hold, and to kiss.
And then it all went Wrong.
It was part of His Plan, of course, Meant To Be and all that, but it hurt all the more to see those blue eyes that caressed Him so gently, just in looking, turn away towards other things. The clouds, and what was behind them. The newest invention: Fire. Edges of Heaven that could look out over the precipice of What Was To Come, where the angel would sit with his legs dangling over the edge and wonder the impossible as if it would one day be real, right at the tips of his toes. And there began to be questions in the golden sunshine, doubts in the warm air, distant looks in those blue eyes once reserved for His own image.
When Lucifer, an angel, fell, it was a long time coming. They were two pieces that fit together so well for a time and then, they had broken apart, one to rule Above and one to rule Below. Because of how He trusted his angel, the very first of all of them, he had let him Fall. He had let him Know. It would be a burden, a weight His Love could carry.
...but still He remembered the times, the places, when they nestled themselves in the not quite dirt and laughed as they kissed and kissed as they laughed...
...and still He remembered the silences, the tender, butterfly-winged quiet, what inspired the delicate creatures vivid wings, their trembling flight, when later He began to Create again...
...still, too, He remembered the arc of His angel's wrist as it moved translucently upwards and fluttered translucently down again, thin and without a skeleton yet finely boned...
...and the fingers against His cheekbone, and the kisses to the hollows of His cheeks, and the eyes upon His, knowing as He did that Heav'n was good, and good it was, this Heav'n they made for themselves in the dew-drop air...
...pregnant...
...breathless for change...
So when, later, they met upon a darkened street in bodies they wore like old, custom tailored fedoras, hips at jaunty angles, cheeks flushed with the night, it made sense that millennia of loneliness and longing took its proper course, Lucifer and He on such opposites sides of the multi-faceted spectrum, isolated from their vassals, and indulging in the memories of Love Lost, and they found themselves in each other's arms once again, tangled up so that it was unclear where one body ended and the other began, the black blurring with the white, the good with the bad, until all you could see was Love, and in that love, completion.