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Something Wicked

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The coffee maker at the precinct is broken again. 

Cold, congealed caffeinated sludge sits inside the pot, heavy as sediment; the last remains of yesterday’s stirring beverage. It’s still early – it’s not even eight o’clock yet – but someone’s already tried to resuscitate the coffee maker, without much success. The lathered sponge in the sink, an open can of ground coffee, and a depressingly clean mug, abandoned in rage, all serve as witnesses to this despicable tragedy. 

Chloe sighs dejectedly and taps the ON switch aggressively a couple of times, praying for an unlikely miracle.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t count on that,” she hears behind her and turns around to find a very sympathetic Ella Lopez regarding her with understanding. “At least five people tried to do what you just did, Decker. The patient is dead, doctor; just sign the death certificate already and let the family move on.” 

Chloe’s shoulders slump in final acceptance, and she leans against the counter and crosses her arms. Just her luck. She was too hyped up thinking about today and what it’ll bring to have breakfast at home, strongly depending on the precinct coffee. 

Ella joins her and nudges her shoulder, smiling encouragingly.

“What’s up, Chlo; something wrong?” she asks, voice quiet and caring. “You look like you could use a few shots of tequila and a good massage.”

Ella’s not wrong; Chloe is a wreck. She should probably just get hammered at a spa. That would save her some valuable time. 

“I’m just nervous, I guess,” she admits lowly, afraid that someone might overhear her. “I’m feeling like a stupid teenager at the moment.”

Realization dawns on Ella like a lovely sunrise.

Her eyes widen, smile broadens into a full-fledged grin; Chloe really hopes she doesn’t end up squealing.   

“Oh my God!” Ella cries and detaches herself from the counter. “I totes forgot! Lucifer is coming back today, isn’t he? You must be so excited, Decker!”  

Chloe frowns. ‘Excited’ is probably not the word she’d use to describe her nervous state of being. Truth is, she’s much closer to ‘terrified’ and ‘nervous wreck’, than she is to ‘over-the-freaking-moon-delighted’. Because, apparently, it’s somewhat heavy on the nervous system to meet your newly-minted boyfriend again after a two-week separation; the first two weeks of your fragile, newborn relationship, in fact. 

Well…” She cringes and shrugs. “I’m definitely something .”

Ella stares off into space and chews on her lower lip in deep contemplation.

“Where did you say he ran off to again?” she asks with that eerie, far-away voice she sometimes employs when she thinks out loud, trying to solve some forensic puzzle. “Reno, was it?”

“Vegas,” Chloe intones, response ready for a quick draw, “On business - he thinks of opening a club there; took Maze with him. She still handles his books.”  

He didn’t want to leave on the trip. Didn’t want to leave her right after they’d finally decided to ‘just be’, but he had seemed excited about this new possibility before that motel case, and she thought he should go. She knew he was restless, knew he needed this new project in his life, so she encouraged him to pour his own brand of vice into Sin City.

Making out on her sofa, after Trixie fell asleep, he even whispered into her hair to come with him, take that well deserved vacation, but she only kissed him some more and politely declined.

It was too soon, too precious a thing to ruin after months of misconceptions and egg-shell dancing; she just didn’t want to risk it. 

She loved him. What were two-weeks of being apart?

“Sounds interesting,” Ella quips, wiggling her eyebrows. “So, did you have a nice weekend in Vegas? Did you even leave the hotel room?”

“I’ve not seen him since he left, actually,” Chloe admits, shrugging. She tries for indifference, but the nervous twitch of her fingers gives her away. She flexes them into fists and crosses her arms. “I had Trixie with me, and I didn’t want to – you know – rush things.”

Ella stares at her for a second in disbelief.

“You two were literally stuck at the motel room from hell, Chlo,” she intones, arching both eyebrows.

“It’s not the same,” Chloe blurts, squaring her shoulders on an almost unconscious level. “It’s not.”

Ella smiles softly and nods her head, no doubt trying to pull the conversation back from the argument zone.

“Hey, I get it,” she says, steering back into ‘naughty territory’. “I bet you must have had long, extremely naughty video chats, instead. Am I right?” 

Chloe blushes to the roots of her blonde hair and coughs in mortification. She can’t help but recall a very particular phone conversation that took place a few nights ago; can’t help but remember his deep voice in her ear, and the sound of her own rapid breathing, and the soft whisper of his moans as she cried out into the receiver, breaking his name in her throat as she came. How he begged and pleaded and reached his own high, the breathy notes of his sighs and cries causing her to break and shake and ache so deliciously that she could still feel it the next day. 

 Ella takes one look at her expression and crows.

“You did!” she cries gleefully, and Chloe tries to shush her, her hands waving frantically in front of her face. 

“Oh, no way, Decker,” Ella shakes her head, beaming almost manically. “You gotta give me some details, sister. I’ve been waiting for ages, just gathering dust, for you two idiots to hook up!”

The catch in his voice when he uses her name in reverence, the filthy little encouragements he utters in her ear, the dip in his voice when he whispers that he can’t wait to be inside her again-

“I’m not telling you anything!” Chloe squeaks, heat climbing up her ears. Ella grins slyly.

“All right,” she sing-songs, turning on her heels, “I bet Lucifer will shout it from the rooftops anyway.”

Chloe grabs Ella by the hood of her jumper and yanks; the startled forensic scientist yelps in surprise. To their left, sitting at his desk and nodding off into a steaming cup of herbal tea, Detective Rodriguez jumps at the sound, nearly upsetting his boiling beverage in the process. 

“Don’t you dare!” Chloe squeals quietly, mortified at the mental image of Lucifer leaning down to Ella’s level and whispering about how ‘the Detective’ sounds when she –

“Okay, okay!” Ella giggles, reaching out to touch Chloe’s arm placatingly. “I won’t encourage him or  anything. But, just tell me this – is he as good as people say he is? Come on, you gotta give me something , Decker!” 

The touch of his fingers against her heated skin, the ghost of his lips on her quivering throat, the slant of his hips, long and deep, as he moves within her with skill and ardent determination.

Chloe nods hurriedly, the conflagrative heat reaching her scalp, and watches as Ella’s eyes widen with this little tidbit of information.

“Chlo’,” she breathes, leaning in, “are we talking multiple orgasms good?”

Her belly tight with his moving fingers, the look in his eyes when she shudders above him, the rush of warmth as he spends himself inside her, his hands shaking slightly against her skin.

“Okay, going now!” Chloe yelps, and turns on her heels, all but bolting towards her desk and away from the lovely, albeit nosy, forensic scientist. 

“No biggie, Decker!” Ella calls in her wake, giggling and snorting in a rather unladylike manner. “I’ll just get it out of you on the next Tribe Night, when you’re drunk off your ass!”

Chloe makes a mental note to never drink alcohol in Ella’s presence again. 

 

                                                                             


 

 

Half an hour later, she finally manages to focus on her latest case file. The victim is a young woman in her late twenties, found strangled in her own house, with ligature marks around her bruised neck. Chloe solves this case alone but chats about her hunches and suspicions over the phone with Lucifer, who seems happy enough to fulfil his consultant role in the free gaps in his busy schedule. He tells her to trust her instincts, offers encouragements, and proposes his own conclusions based on the information she relates to him. She catches the killer, a rejected co-worker, after following one of Lucifer’s suggestions, and she tells him as much just a moment before he offers phone sex.

Brilliant, Detective, I knew you would catch the rascal; now, what are you wearing?

Despite the abominable lack of caffeine, Chloe finds herself utterly engrossed in the paperwork. She scribbles away, her pen rasping loudly on the page, as she’s filling out the arrest report. That part didn’t go smoothly; she had to run five blocks to catch the bastard. Perhaps it’s time to lay down the lemon bars and join the local gym? She could do with more exercise. Some cardio will no doubt do her good.

She reaches out for a sticky note, intending to write ask Dan about recommended gyms , and jumps a little when she notices the Grande Starbucks cup on her table. The strong smell of ground coffee with just a splash of caramel syrup awakens her taste buds and stirs her heart. It rattles in her ribcage and flutters in her throat, making her breath hitch and her lungs constrict. Her eyes follow the cup upwards, catching on dark green wool and stumbling on charcoal-coloured cotton, until they land upon the Light of Creation. 

“Hello, Detective,” Let There Be Light says, and his voice is mellow, like wine and honey and root beer and mead, and Chloe’s lips part at the smile on his face, and the edges of her mouth curve upward.

“Lucifer,” she sighs, and blushes at the breathy tone of her voice, at the infatuated nuances of her speech, but his eyes light up at the sound of his name on her tongue, and shame becomes irrelevant. 

“Miss Lopez texted and related the horrible news to me,” he points to the paper cup, his eyebrows arching. “So I brought you coffee. Just the way you like it.”

“Thank you,” she says softly and takes a grateful sip. The beverage is bitter and a little salty, and Chloe sighs in pleasure at the familiar taste, as it slips down her throat, hot and comforting. Lucifer’s eyes follow her movements greedily, and there’s famine in his expression when he looks at her, an unrestrained want in his ancient gaze. 

Chloe nearly chokes on her coffee at his heated look and places her cup back on the table.

“Come, sit down,” she rushes, pointing to her right; if they don’t tone it down, the entire precinct will be privy to their ‘eye-fucking’, as Ella would, no doubt, eloquently put it, and Chloe really doesn’t want that. “I’m just finishing the paperwork for the case I was telling you about.”

Lucifer rounds the table and pulls an errant office chair over. She marvels at the way he folds his tall form gracefully and lowers himself onto the narrow confines of the chair, sliding incredibly close to her so he can peer over the open case file.

“Yes, the Maddie Jones case,” he muses, leaning over the papers, his leg and arm brushing against Chloe’s side. 

His almost impossible proximity, the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his body seeping through the soft wool of his expensive suit – they’re all doing quite a number on her already weak restraint. She is fire next to him, ready to burn, willing to be incinerated with a single touch. Her fingers shake a little as she moves to retrieve her pen, and he notices the movement and turns his head just so, bringing the strong line of his jaw closer to her moist lips.

“Hi,” she breathes softly, when she’s certain that everyone around her is occupied and paying them no heed.

“Hello,” he answers just as gently, and moves his head a little higher, so that her lips brush his stubbled cheek.

This is ridiculous. So very utterly ridiculous. Chloe’s heart hammers in her chest, thudding wildly and threatening to burst. She is a grown ass woman, for crying out loud! Teenagerly infatuations are nothing but history to her, stuck somewhere in the past behind one failed marriage and a brief engagement to the world’s first murderer. She feels almost sick, anxious in her bones, the blood in her veins boiling and rolling, unable to settle. Is this how being in love with the Devil feels? One giant bag of rampaging rhinos in her gut, all the time ?

“I missed you,” she confesses, her lips unbearably close to his left ear. “But, please , Lucifer, can you move a little further away?”

He catches her meaning instantly, and his face breaks into a leering grin. He leans even closer to her, making her gasp almost inaudibly, before moving away and folding his hands in his lap. He’s pleased with himself, she can tell, and the easy smugness in his posture threatens to ignite a fire of a different nature in her belly, but when her gaze glides to his face and she can see his eyes, she knows he’s affected too. 

His expression softens when he looks at her, the remains of longing shining through. 

“Chloe,” he begins earnestly, his voice low and gentle, and her heart stutters and gasps, “all I thought about was – ”

“Dude, you’re back!”

Both Lucifer and Chloe start and turn guiltily to the source of the excited outburst, to find Ella Lopez standing with her eager arms outstretched. Heaving a sigh, the Devil rises gracefully to his feet and, with an air of a condemned prisoner accepting his punishment, moves into the anticipated embrace.

“Yes, hello, Miss Lopez,” he exhales as she squishes him with her arms and leans her face into his waistcoat, beaming beatifically. His hands twitch at his sides for a few moments, indecisive and awkward, until they finally come to rest on Ella’s back, tapping on her jacket in an uncomfortable ‘there, there’ gesture. Chloe tries not to laugh.

Ella leans back and cranes her neck upwards to peer at Lucifer’s face, her arms still holding him tight.

“Man, we’ve missed you! The precinct is not the same without you here.”

Chloe has to agree.

Lucifer’s hands move to Ella’s arms and pry them gently off his body.

“Yes, well, of course it isn’t,” he agrees, still a little uneasy, “but I’m here now, and I have no intention of leaving.”

He says the last bit with his eyes on Chloe’s face, clear and bright and full of meaning. And Chloe’s heart jumps a little in her chest and stumbles. Ella notices the look and smiles slyly.

“Awww,” she coos, elbowing Lucifer in the gut playfully,” you two are totes adorable! Just do us all a favour and bo-“

“Not another word, Ella!” Chloe rushes in, before the forensic scientist can complete her lewd suggestion. Lucifer’s posture finally unstiffens, and he eases into a carefree pose, leering wickedly. 

“Well, she’s not wrong, Detective,” he offers unhelpfully.

Chloe jumps from her seat, red-faced and a little too hot under her jacket.

“Right,” she commends, rounding the table, and pointing at Lucifer. “You, stop talking, and come with me!”

She grabs his sleeve and pulls, and he, delighted at the bossiness and the possibility of office canoodling, lets himself be yanked towards the evidence room. 

“Oh, are we going to now, Detective?” he asks hopefully, his voice eager and ready. In the background, Chloe can hear Ella’s excited ‘get it, Decker! , accompanied by some loud whooping .

“No,” she hisses through clenched teeth, her face threatening to explode, “you and I are going to collect Maddie Jones’ belongings and return them to her grieving mother. I promised.”

“You’re so good, darling,” comes his softly spoken reply, and with a lurching jolt she realises that he’s suddenly much closer to her than he was a few moments ago. His breath is hot on her nape and she can almost feel the hard muscles of his torso, can nearly touch the solid mass that is his body. Fire courses through her veins, licking at her blood with eager greed, and she shivers, casting worried glances around her.

Lucifer ,” she pleads, and her voice is low and shaky, and he understands and takes pity on her, moving just a few steps back.

He helps her carry the cardboard box out of the precinct, aids her in neatly putting it in the trunk of her car, shoving her army of reusable bags to the side for more space. They get into the vehicle in total silence, not a breath or a word shared between them, but when she reaches for her seatbelt, twisting her torso slightly for leverage, he pulls her to him with gentle hands; the belt whirls back into place with a light ‘thud’. 

His mouth is hot and slick and desperate against her pliant lips, and his eagerness twists her belly into knots, yanking at the nerves in her lower abdomen. She gasps into his mouth when his bites at her lower lip, her fingers digging as deep as they can into his arms, and he moans filthily and pulls himself a little closer. 

One of his hands is on her nape, drawing her closer into the kiss, and Chloe wishes that she were the kind of person to just throw caution to the wind and climb him in the middle of the precinct parking lot. But then he pulls away, and she's left bereft, her chest heaving and fingers still stiff against him. 

"I wanted to do this from the second I laid eyes on you today," he breathes, his hand clenching a little on her wrist. "Wasn't I good to behave, Detective?" 

"Very," she gasps, nodding frantically. "Very good." 

"And I'll be even better tonight, if you let me." 

"Yes!" she agrees, her hands slipping from his arms and settling on the wheel. She needs to ground herself. 

"Can I come to dinner, darling?" Lucifer asks, looking at her heatedly. "Is the spawn with you?" 

“Yes, of course you can come,” she replies a little breathlessly, staring forward; she doesn’t trust herself to turn and look at him. “No, Trixie’s with Dan tonight.”

"I'll bring some wine, then." He announces lightly, and Chloe almost laughs with giddy relief. 

He's back. He's back. And they will be tonight

She pulls out of the parking lot carefully, her heart light.

                                                                   


 

 

Chloe is still in her work clothes when Dan comes to pick Trixie up for the night. He watches in amusement as she rushes around the kitchen like a headless chicken, cutting potatoes into fat rings and rubbing salt and thyme into the steaks with inexperienced fingers.

“I take it Lucifer is back,” he pipes from the living room, his hip leaning against her sofa, “and that you two are…”

He trails off, but she doesn’t need a freaking GPS to find his meaning.

“Yes, we are,” she replies shortly. 

At least, she thinks they are.

Dan raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Hey, I didn’t say anything,” he says defensively, his eyebrows arched. “If you’re happy, I’m happy. Lucifer… he came through, back then, you know…and, there are worse men – “

“Gee, thanks Dan,” Chloe interjects dryly, her eyes narrowed and a little bit crazed with cooking fever.

Dan laughs awkwardly and shrugs.

“I only meant that I no longer think he’s the ‘Devil.’” He winks, seemingly proud of his witticism. Chloe nearly chokes on her spittle. 

“Right,” she replies weakly, and goes back to cutting the greens.

Trixie flies out of her room, backpack at the ready, and frowns at the image of her mother toiling over skillets and pots.

“Why can’t I stay, too?” she whines, frowning in petulance. “I want to see Lucifer!”

Above her head, Dan arches an amused eyebrow.

Because mommy really wants to have the Devil on his knees tonight, monkey.

Chloe sighs.

“Next time, babe, okay? I promise.”

“Come on, munchkin,” Dan supplies, steering the frowning girl towards the door, “let’s give mommy some space to cook. God knows she needs all the help she can get.”

“Hey!” Chloe exclaims, brandishing her knife theatrically at their retreating backs, “I heard that!”

Dan throws a laughing ‘see you, Chlo’ over his shoulder and shuts the front door behind Trixie and himself.

Chloe looks at the rubbed down steaks and at the chunks of greens forlornly. Dan is right; she really does need all the help she can get.

Too bad she didn’t think of takeout.

 

                                                                           


 

In a fit of naughtiness, she wears a tiny skirt to dinner. It’s short, and it’s tight, and it’s black, contrasting very nicely with the alabaster skin of her shapely legs. She has a wonderful time imagining Lucifer’s reaction to this little piece of garment, and she wonders what else she can do to drive him just a little bit wilder.

She leaves her hair down, knowing he likes it when it’s loose and tumbling over her shoulders and finds a pretty green top in the back of her wardrobe. She stares at herself approvingly in the mirror when she sees how well it accentuates her breasts.

Now, what was it they said about tempting the Devil?

The look he gives her, standing in her doorway looking for all intents and purposes like sin incarnate, is worth all the anxiety over dinner and dress code. His gaze glides down her body in sultry fire, taking in every detail, drinking in all the features in quenched dedication. His hand rises to clutch at his heart.

Darling ,” he gasps exaggeratedly, staggering a little. Chloe rolls her eyes affectionately, her blood thrumming in her veins.

“Get in, you big dork,” she mutters, colour high in her cheeks. She doesn’t miss the want in his eyes, clear and obvious; doesn’t overlook the flexing of his restless fingers as he stares at her. 

He walks in, places the frightfully expensive bottle of red wine on the table next to the door, and inhales deeply.

“Mhhmmm,” he moans appreciatively, closing his eyes and tilting his face upwards a little. “Something smells lovely !”

Chloe smiles and preens just a bit, gratified and pleased with his compliment.

“Yes, I cooked!” she breathes out a giddy little laugh and beckons him to follow her into the kitchen, “I made steak and potatoes, and – “

Lucifer grabs her wrist and pulls her to him, kissing her soundly on the lips, and Chloe starts at the unexpected reaction to her cooking, her surprised squeak muffled by his eager mouth. He hoists her upwards by her buttocks, his fingers drawing dangerously close to the line of her underwear and slipping downwards, brushing against her centre. 

“Lucifer!” she yelps, clutching at his shoulders and clinging to him. “What about dinner?”

“Sod dinner, darling,” he growls, nipping at her jaw, licking at her skin. “I’d rather eat you out, instead.”

And suddenly she’s not even disgruntled at his reluctance to eat the meal she painstakingly made, not the least bit bothered by his dismissal of her culinary toils.

“Oh,” she breathes, craning her neck to allow him better accesses, “I – “

“Say ‘yes’, Chloe,” he pleads with her, moaning softly, his teeth dragging against the shell of her ear. “I’ll make it so good, I promise. Let me make you come, darling.” 

“Okay,” she replies shakily, thighs straining around him, fingers catching in his perfect hair – and when he smiles, all teeth and sin, his tongue darting out in filthy invitation, she mutters a little, “ fuck ”, and cants her hips forward.

“That’s the idea, darling,” he groans and bites his lower lip, and Chloe just can’t believe – can’t perceive – how this being, this sinful angel, full of vim and lust and all the best parts of damnation, is hers and hers alone.

They stumble to the sofa, drunk on their kisses, high on endorphins, and collapse onto the cushions in an undignified heap of limbs, laughing like two naughty children.

And as the giggles and laughs die down and are replaced with soft gasps and quasi-silent moans, they fall into each other, burning bright with fire and desperation. 

“Oh G – damn it ,” Chloe mutters into his mouth, remembering herself just in time, “I missed you. I missed you.”

Lucifer’s lips quirk and flex beneath her, his tongue slick against her teeth. One of his hands is fisted in her hair, the other massaging her exposed thigh.

“And I you,” he groans, sinful and desirable, all want and fire. “Such a wicked little skirt you have here, darling.”

She’s straddling his narrow hips, pressed tight against his hardness, and pushes him into the armrest, gasping when his trousers rub softly at her skin.

“It’s for you,” she admits hotly in his ear and feels him shudder beneath her, his fingers tightening on her thigh. “Do you like it?”

“Bloody hell, Chloe,” he mutters, pressing his lips to the column of her neck, his hand dropping from her hair to brush against her collarbone. “I think you may just end up giving me a heart attack.”

She laughs and presses into him, eliciting a repressed groan from the depths of his belly.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” she sighs and pulls his lower lip into her mouth. “I missed feeling you.”

“Like this?” He breathes and pulls her impossibly close, the plains of her stomach pressed tightly to his clothed abs. “Or, maybe, like this?”

His hand on her collarbone drops to her left breast, skimming it softly on its way down to her hips; the fingers at her thigh inch higher and brush at the edge of her cotton panties. Chloe gasps into his mouth, and arches into his inquisitive touch. 

Lucifer smirks delightedly, pushing the fabric out of the way.

“Oh, darling,” he moans in her ear, his tongue darting out to lick at the shell. “I’ve dreamed of this for – “

The shrill sound of her phone ringing interrupts the torrid teenage snogging session, and they both freeze, darting calculating glances at the offending device on the coffee table. Lucifer recovers first, sliding his fingers against her, kissing at her neck. Chloe gasps and bucks into his hand. 

“Ignore it,” he sighs into her ear. “Let it go to voice mail.”

“I-it may be…work!” she gasps, pushing herself upwards and over him to reach for the phone.

“Spoilsport,” he pouts, eyes shining mischievously, his slick fingers resting against her naked thigh. She blows a raspberry at him, earning a chuckle, and picks up her device. Sure enough, the caller ID reads ‘Dispatch’.

“Decker,” Chloe answers, settling back onto Lucifer’s lap, drawing out an exaggerated moan from him at the sudden friction. She pushes at his chest a little forcefully and he smiles, integrating his fingers behind his head and relaxing into the arm of her sofa.

The voice on the other end of the line delivers bad news. Chloe sighs dejectedly and looks over at Lucifer with clear apology in her bright eyes.

Their first night back together is cut short. There’s been a murder.